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just-jordie-things · 3 years ago

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Insecurities - Richie Tozier

word count: 4319 warnings: swearing summary: Richie’s greatest fear is not being good enough for her- and It knows to use that against him ___

Richie Tozier loved his girlfriend. He idolized her, he prioritized her, and every day that he was with her felt like a miracle. She was his favorite person, the light of his life, and he was so goddamn in love with her that it consumed his entire being.

Thing was, (y/n) was out of his league, and his friends and peers reminded him of it, every, fucking, day. Either with a joke about how he landed a girl like that, or a comment about how she’ll find someone better too. His friends weren’t purposefully being assholes, and they never knew how deep their words could cut into Richie. But he’d never told them how insecure he really was.

(y/n) never thought anything of it. She loved Richie and that’s all that mattered. He made her happier than she ever could have imagined herself being in this town. In this dreary place she lived, he managed to be a ray of spontaneity and sun that she was grateful for every day. She longed to tell him how much she loved him, she’d never gathered the courage to say it before, but always felt the words burning in her throat. She knew her friends were teasing, and never second guessed them or Richie’s feelings about it.

That is, until Neibolt. ___

“This, is a bad fucking idea” Richie had muttered into her ear when they’d walked onto the property.

She wasn’t sure if it was out of annoyance for wasting a day that they could have spent at the arcade, or out of his own fear for trekking into the obviously haunted house.

If it was fear, she knew he wouldn’t say anything about it. So instead, she grabbed his hand and gave him a smile.

“But it’ll make for a great story!” She’d declared.

(She has a tendency to reprimand him on his idiotic ideas, and he always argued that he would have a good story to tell later. So when she repeated his words back to him, he glared a bit)

(y/n) winked, before giggling because Richie always made a funny face when she winked at him. After dating her for a year or so, he has never gotten used to the sight of her winking at him.

But then again, a part of him was still in disbelief that she was his girlfriend and she was winking at him.

He tugged her closer to his side by her hand as they walked into the house.

“Oh, gross” Eddie winced, and continued to complain the further they walked into the hall.

The clubs’ steps gradually slowed.

“What the fuck?” Richie hissed, eyes narrowing while he looked around. “This is a fucking crackhouse-“

He stopped abruptly when there was a loud creaking, and the whole group froze in place. They went silent, ears on alert for the next haunting sound.

Richie’s hand tightened around (y/n’s), making sure that she was secure at his side. She looked up at him, brows furrowed a bit, clearly conflicted about Bill’s plan.

Another creak sounded, and her eyes shot towards the sound, just in time to see a door slowly swinging open. To their surprise, no one, or nothing, appeared in the doorway. It only revealed an empty room.

When Mike took a few tentative steps towards it, (y/n’s) feet also began to move, as if on instinct, her brain told her not to let her friend investigate alone.

“(y/n)” Richie called for her in a hushed voice as she pulled her hand out of his hold.

She glanced back at him as if to say ‘I’m alright’, and then moved swiftly on the tips of her toes up to Mike. They shared a look, before nodding their heads, and walking into the room.

As she examined the old run-down bedroom, she felt her heartbeat steady, as did her breathing. The floorboards were worn and creaky, and the walls had indescribable stains on them, but there was nothing more to it.

“It’s just old” Mike said, a similar expression of relief on his face.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” (y/n) looked back out to their friends to assure them that they were safe. “It was nothing-“

Before the word could even leave her mouth, the door creaked again, and slammed shut before anyone could move.

“(y/n)!” Richie was the first to leap to action, but by the time he’d gotten to the door, it was already locked. And no matter how much he yanked and pulled on the rusty knob, it would not budge.

She was pounding her fists against the other side of it, and from the sounds of it, he was pretty sure Mike was trying to kick the door down from the other side.

“(y/n)! (y/n) it’s gonna be fine! I’m gonna get you out!” RIchie hollered, enlisting in the help of Bill and Beverly in trying to kick open the door.

But even as everyone was kicking, it was no use. The door would rattle in it’s frame, and not crack even a little bit.

“It’s It!” Beverly declared, trying to get the boys to halt in their frantic kicking before they hurt themselves. “Guys- Richie- we won’t be able to break it open, it’s like- cursed, or something”

He didn’t want to give up that fast, he wanted to keep kicking this door until his shoes were worn through and his feet were bruised, until (y/n) was free.

“It’s alright!” (y/n) called from the room. “Mike found a part of the wall that’s caved in, we’re gonna try to break through it to the other side of the hall, okay?”

“W-we’ll meet you o-over there” Bill said, already heading around the corner of the hallway with Stan. Even though it was clear she’d only been informing one person.

“Richie,” She spoke again. “Go on, I’ll be fine, Mike’s here with me, I’ll see you in a couple minutes, okay?”

She was trying so hard to keep her voice brave, but he could hear it begin to crack, even through the door.

“I’m not fucking leaving you-”

“Richie, go, I don’t want you standing alone out there,” (y/n) ordered. “I gotta go help Mike with the wall, see you in a minute”

He could barely hear her footsteps take off, and then leaned forward to press his ear against the wood, hoping to hear them breaking through with ease. But now he couldn’t hear a thing.

Richie spun around, about to alert Eddie and Ben how oddly enough he couldn’t hear their friends tearing through a wall.

But Eddie and Ben weren’t there.

“Guys?” Richie hollered, breaking into a jog in hopes to catch them around the corner, where Mike and (y/n) were supposed to meet everyone.

But no one was there either.

“Hello!? Guys!? Where’d you go!?”

He began to yell a bit louder now, rushing around anywhere he could in search of his friends, but he hadn’t found, or even heard anyone. How had they abandoned him so fast? Didn’t they notice?

“Richie?” A scratchy but familiar voice called from behind him.

He turned on his heel and was instantly relieved at the sight of (y/n).

“Oh, thank fucking god” He breathed out heavily, taking swift steps towards her.

She, however, took a sharp step backwards.

“Don’t come any closer” She snapped, and Richie froze on the spot.

“W-what-?”

“Stay the fuck back!” She screeched now, so loud that the harsh words echoed down the halls. They seemed to ring in Richie’s ears for a lifetime.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” He asked worriedly. But he did as she asked, and didn’t move any closer to her. “Did something happen-?”

“Jesus Richie fuck off!” She snarled now, and if that wasn’t shocking enough, she stormed up to him, and shoved him against his chest with both hands, mustering all the force she could.

Richie stumbled until he tripped over his feet and fell to the ground. He couldn’t believe she was strong enough to push him to the ground like that. (y/n) wasn’t frail by any means, but she shouldn’t have been able to knock him down with such ease.

“Blabber and hover- blabber and hover with you!” She was yelling down at him now, and Richie pushed himself up on shaky arms.

This was incredibly unlike her-

“You can never just leave me the hell alone! Can you!?” She went on, voice booming unnaturally with each bark. “Always on my ass, always crowding me!”

If he wasn’t so afraid, he would have noticed how with every word, her teeth turned more ragged, and sharper.

“Do you think I enjoy it? Being stuck with you? It’s a goddamn burden! I can’t stand to be around you- I fucking hate you Richie Tozier!”

“Y-you’re not- this isn’t-” He could barely speak his throat was burning so bad from holding back tears.

This couldn’t be (y/n)... (y/n) would never…

“What, I’m not real?” The word came out in a vicious snarl, and suddenly she warped into another figure.

He wasn’t sure if this one was worse.

“You piece of shit!” Henry Bowers barked. “Haven’t I told you to stay the fuck out of this town!?”

Richie lunged himself backwards, trying to crawl away from this horrible nightmare as fast as possible. But the more he tried to scurry away, the worse the image in front of him became.

“You’re a freak!” (y/n) screamed in his face again. “You’re a loser, Richie. You think anyone would want to be with you?”

He couldn’t breathe- the tears- the panic- it all welled up inside of him and he knew he was going to explode soon.

“This isn’t real, you’re not real, you’re not her”

“Aren’t I though?” Her voice dropped to a haunting whisper, and she leaned in close to him. “Aren’t I!?” She screamed.

Richie closed his eyes, shaking his head rapidly and hoping that when he opened them again, she’d be gone, and he’d wake up in his bedroom. This was just one terrible fucking nightmare, it’ll be over soon-

“The real (y/n) doesn’t have the guts to fucking tell you” She snarled, reminding him of his reality.

“Stop it!” Richie yelled, unable to hold back his tears any longer.

“She’s never been able to speak up and say-”

“Go away!” He begged, voice cracking in desperation.

“She knows she’s too good for you, and let’s face it fuckface, I am too good for you”

He didn’t have it in him to beg It to leave him alone, as he broke down sobbing into his hands, enduring the cuel wrath.

“She hates you, for dragging her down, for hanging off of her like a dog,” Her tone slowly warped into something more squeaky, and masculine, until she wasn’t exactly the image of (y/n) anymore. “Ohhh… she haaates you Richie”

When he dared to look, he was met with the gruesome sight of a circus clown. A rather large circus clown.

“But you can stay, Richie, you can float with us!”

“No- no…. no no no!”

He covered his face again as he pleaded and wept uncontrollably. He wished that It would just get it over with, because he couldn’t take this torture anymore.

“Richie!” A voice screamed. Not the scream that he’d heard just moments ago, but a worried shriek.

Even still, he kept his hands planted safely over his eyes. It couldn’t get in his face if he couldn’t see the form it had taken.

“Richie- Richie,” The voice panted again, this time soft, and close to his ear. “Hey, it’s me” She murmured.

Gentle hands grasped onto his wrists, and pulled on his arms until he revealed his face.

He was met with the concerned eyes of his girlfriend, her brow so furrowed there were lines on her forehead, and a pout on her lips that he’d never seen there before.

“Babe,” She whispered so soft he was certain that he’d imagined that too. “What happened?”

He flinched when she reached for him, and the action shattered her heart to pieces, but she tried her best not to show it. Tentatively, she reached her hand out to place against his cheek, pulling her sleeve over her palm to wipe away the flow of tears.

“You’re- are you-”

“I’m real,” She nodded, beginning to realize what had happened. “It’s me, promise”

His eyes wandered her features unsurely, and she sighed.

“Do you want me to prove it?” She murmured, and began to speak before he could even nod his head. “On our first date, you called me sweet cheeks, and then got so embarrassed about it that you tripped and dropped your ice cream” There was a weak smile on her lips at the memory, hoping that it would be enough to calm Richie down.

He let out a shaky whimper, before surging forward and wrapping his arms around her torso. He held her so tightly that she had to control her breaths, but it was alright because he believed her and things were going to be okay.

“It’s alright,” She cooed into his ear as he cried into the crook of her neck. “I know, it’s awful”

One of his hands cradled the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair. The other was fisting the material of her jacket. He couldn’t speak, he was crying so hard, ut it was enough to know that she was here right now.

(y/n) rubbed his back in soothing circles as she held him for a few moments longer, until she knew it was time to go, and pulled away.

“Come on, we gotta get out of here,” She whispered, wiping his opposite cheek tenderly. “Eddie broke his arm” She told him as she helped him to his feet, and intertwined their fingers as they raced out of Neibolt.

The others, besides Eddie, were standing in the front yard.

Eddie was being shoved into his mother’s car, while Mrs K was scolding their friends.

“I knew my boy shouldn’t be playing with the likes of you all,” She rambled, snarling at Beverly in particular. “This is all your fault. All your fault! I hope your proud of yourselves for maiming my boy!”

She stormed off to her car, and Eddie could barely wave out the window before she’d driven off.

“I know where It is,” Bill spoke after a beat passed. “And n-next time we’ll come p-prepared”

Richie’s eyes widened before glaring at the boy, finding it ridiculous that he thought it was a good idea to not only come back, but to come back and retaliate.

“No next time, Bill!” Stan begged, shaking his head.

“We have to,” Beverly said. “Ben, you said so yourself, It comes back every twenty-seven years-”

“Fine! I’ll be forty and far away from here!” He answered.

With his words, a layer of tension settled over the group.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t save Georgie,” Richie grumbled, pulling away from (y/n) to head to his bike. “But you can still save yourself” He finished, brushing past Bill’s shoulder.

“N-no,” Bill stammered, pushing Richie back by the shoulder. “T-take it back!”

“Face the truth, Bill! You’re chasing a lie-!”

He couldn’t even finish before Bill pushed harder, and swing a fist against Richie’s cheek.

“Bill!” (y/n) screeched, leaping forward to break them up before something could happen.

She grabbed Richie by the elbow before he could land a punch, and yanked him back while Mike grabbed a secure hold on Bill.

“Face it! We’re losers! That’s it!” Richie snarled.

He shrugged (y/n’s) hold off of him, and her eyes shot to his, broken, and hurt.

“I’m going home. I don’t want to get fucking killed too” He muttered, and when he stormed off to his bike, Bill didn’t stop him this time.

“R-Richie?” (y/n) called brokenly, stumbling forward on wobbly legs, but it didn’t matter, he was already zooming down the street as fast as he could.

Before she could crumpe to the ground, Beverly grabbed a hold of her, hugging her against her side comfortingly.

It was silent as everyone dispersed, barely giving each other a second glance as they rode off.

Beverly hugged (y/n) tight before she got on the back of Bill’s bike. Murmuring a soft, ‘see you later’ that (y/n) wasn’t quite convinced of.

She didn’t have the energy in her to bike home, but the only other option was to sit outside Neibolt, alone, and the sun was beginning to set, so she gathered what little strength she had left in her to slowly make her way home. ___

When she came home past dinner, covered in muck and bruises, her parents barely batted an eye. Even as she let out a soft cry with every step up the stairs, it was like they tuned her out completely.

It had thrown her around like a ragdoll after she tried to defend Eddie. As brave as she’d tried to be, she’d been terrified, shaking straight down to the bone as she forced herself to stand in front of him.

The demonic clown had simply swing an arm, and sent her tumbling across the ground.

It took a long shower to get all the dirt scraped off her skin. But even as it was washed down the drain, the memories of this afternoon would haunt her for life.

Maybe Bill was right. Maybe It needed to be stopped now, before he could just keep coming back and traumatizing a new generation of children every thirty or so years. But even if she really wanted to kill the creature, she wouldn’t even know where to begin. And her brain was already swarmed with a worse thought,

Was Richie done with me?

She sniffled a bit at the idea, but wiped her eyes before they could be filled with tears.

No, he was just angry, and scared, he would never… he wouldn’t just leave like that… would he?

A few knocks on her window made her jolt up in bed, nerves spreading throughout her body like electricity. She instantly thought that It had found her, and was back to finish what he’d started.

But as she rushed to turn on the lamp sitting on her bedside table, her muscles relaxed to see it was only Richie, waiting rather impatiently for her to unlock her window.

She threw the covers off of her, and moved as quickly as she could to let him in.

As soon as she pushed the window upwards, he was crawling in, oddly silent.

“Hey,” She murmured, not wanting to alert her parents downstairs that her boyfriend had snuck in.

He’d done so a million times before, and they’ve never gotten caught, but today was a rather awful day and she didn’t want to have one more thing ruined.

“Are you feeling be-”

“We need to talk” Richie mumbled, effectively cutting her off with the upsetting words.

“O-Okay…” (y/n) answered, trying not to jump to conclusions. “What… about..?” She asked slowly.

“I think-” He started to speak quickly, but just couldn’t seem to finish the sentence.

He couldn’t even look her in the eyes.

“We- we should- we need to break up”

It was like her heart plummeted right out of her body, sending every nerve to go numb. She had to have heard him wrong- this wasn’t like Richie- maybe this wasn’t even the real-

“I- I want to break up” He added in an even quieter voice. She caught the crack in his words, and she shook her head in confusion.

“What?” She could barely manage to say the one word.

“I know you heard me,” Richie sighed, eyes finally flickering up to hers. “Come on (y/n) don’t make this any more difficult than it-”

“You’re the one being difficult!” She whisper-hissed, eyes widening a bit in frustration. “What are you doing? Wh- why are you-”

“Come on,” Richie whispered. “Don’t do that-”

“Give me one reason why we should break up” (y/n) crossed her arms. She wasn’t going to let him walk away that easy. Something was up, and she was going to get to the bottom of it.

“We’re not a good fit, alright?” He answered, volume raising a bit above his previous murmur. “We don’t work, and I was a fucking idiot to think that we would”

“Richie…” (y/n) sighed in disbelief.

“You wanted an answer-”

“Where is this coming from?” She asked with a shake of her head. “I know you don’t really want to break up-”

“Well we have to!” He yelled, and they were both silent for a minute, trying to see if her parents had heard him.

When there was no response from downstairs, she snapped back at him.

“Why?” She stressed the word, desperate for him to just fess up whatever it was that was bothering him.

“Why? Do you even have to ask, (y/n)?” Richie asked.

Her eyebrows knitted together as he spoke in such a harsh tone. Richie never talked to her like that.

“Look at me, (y/n)! I mean, come on, it was only a fucking matter of time before you got bored and realized how much of your time you’ve wasted on me!”

If she’d thought him trying to break up was horrible, this was even worse.

“Oh, Rich-”

“I’m a loser, (y/n), don’t you see that? Don’t you see how terrible for you I am?”

He was breaking her heart with every word.

“Haven’t you heard them? What people say? What our own friends say?” He asks her, but she doesn’t answer, because she can’t. “I am dragging you down with every second of being with you”

“N-no-” She can’t hardly choke out the word, but Richie vents on anyways.

“Might as well just end things now, before one of us gets hurt”

He turns around, as if to head back out her window, but (y/n’s) faster. She wedges herself in between his body, shutting and locking the window before he could just walk away.

“No, s-stop running away,” She cried, and when she looks up at him, she realizes that he can’t look at her because he’s crying too. “Richie,” She whimpers, shaky hands reaching up to cup his face, making him look down at her. “That’s not true, none of that is true-”

“It is” He replies, brokenly.

She shakes her head, and steps closer to him.

“It lied to you,” She tells him. “I know It probably told you some terrible, nasty things,”

Richie squeezes his eyes shut, and the next thing he knows, he’s falling to his knees. But (y/n) follows, kneeling down with him and shuffling even closer.

“But babe,” She murmured, “It was lying, it was all a trick”

She could feel his tears slipping down his cheeks and over her fingers.

“I just- I don’t want to drag you down-”

“Drag me down?” She repeats in a whisper, thumbs stroking away his tears once more. “Richie,” His eyes open when she says his name, soft and sweet-like.

She pushes his glasses up on top of his mess of curls so she can swipe away the tears under his eyes.

“You do nothing but lift me up,” She tells him. “You’re my ray of sunshine in this terrible fucking town,” An anxious and uncertain smile trembles on her lips. “And all those things you’re so worried about, I love about you,”

There’s a pause as her eyes flicker between his, before gently placing his glasses back on his nose.

“I’m in love with you,” She murmurs. “I love you so much,” She repeats in a sigh, just in case he didn’t hear her the first time. “So much”

A short breath of a laugh escapes him, and a small smile begins to tug on his lips as he looks at her. He knows she means it, he can feel it, he can see it in her eyes that she’s being genuine.

He takes her hands from his face, setting them gently in her lap before cupping her face in his own hands.

“I love you too” He tells her, and before he can lean in, she’s shooting forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting her lips on his firmly.

It’s unlike any other kisses they’ve shared. It’s desperate, and careful, and loving, and conveyed every last drop of fear that they’d had in losing each other. She’s kissing him so passionately that her chest is heaving, but she can’t bear to pull away now.

Richie holds her in his lap, and she’s wrapped up in his arms so securely that she’s sure, and she hopes, she’ll never be able to get out of them.

When her lips are swollen and her lungs are burning for oxygen, she finally leaned back slightly, but only by a few centimeters.

“You can’t leave me,” She tells him through heavy breaths. Her eyes are still closed, but he’s staring intently at her anyways. “I need you too much- don’t leave me”

He nods in agreement, caressing her cheek affectionately.

“Okay,” He hums, and kisses her lips chastely. “I won’t… I won’t”

She falls forward, and embraces him tightly.

Richie’s arms wind around her lower back again, and they sit for a long time like this, catching their breath and holding onto one another firmly, so that neither can leave.

“We have to go back” Richie says after a long time.

“I know” She murmurs against his neck.

“We have to kill that fucking clown” He says, voice dropping it’s gentle tone, turning hard, and final.

“I know” She repeats, the same vengeful tone in her own voice.

Nothing was ever going to come between them again, that was for sure.

___

taglist: @thegr8kush

xoxo ~ jordie

#it 2017 #it 2019 #richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier scenario #richie tozier fanfiction #finn wolfhard #finn wolfhard x reader #bill hader #bill hader x reader

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astrabear · 2 years ago

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Sorry y'all, I'm having a day. This one goes behind a cut because it's actual for real MCD, not just possible or anticipated or impending MCD.

Life on Earth is as risk-free as they could possibly imagine. It isn’t like when Andy was mortal and they worried over her constantly. Medical science can address nearly all the ills flesh is heir to, and the vast majority of people die peacefully of advanced age. But accidents can still occur.

You might, for example, find yourself heading to the moon, on your way to a museum exhibit that the love of your life isn’t interested in, when a freak solar flare interacts in all the wrong ways with an otherwise harmless design flaw in the shuttle. There will be inquests and lawsuits and investigations, but it’s really no one’s fault. Sometimes things just happen. If it’s your time, it’s your time. And you would tell them that, if you and the other passengers weren’t spread out over several hectares of the lunar surface.

******* Joe isn’t sure how much time he loses to pure shock. A day, he thinks, no more. He spends another day agonizing over how to tell the others, until he finally takes the easy way out and sends a message by text rather than live call. (He doesn’t have the heart to face them. He doesn’t have a heart at all.) “There’s been an accident,” is all he says. “Come get me.” By the time they arrive, as fast as they can from the Jovian moons but still not fast enough, the details will have made it to the news services and he won’t need to explain.

He packs up the few things he’ll want with him; everything else can be sold with the house. There’s no body to make arrangements for, and he’s grateful and relieved. He has seen Nicky dead in all the ways a body can die, bloody and broken but never without hope, never without eventually gasping back to life. He can’t think of anything he wants to see less than a body that looks like Nicky that will never be Nicky again.

******* Nile sits with him on the balcony and they watch the stars’ reflection on the water. The moon isn’t visible tonight, which is just as well. This is the last time he’ll look upon the Mediterranean – once he leaves, he isn’t ever coming back. The silence is sad but comfortable; she learned that from Nicky, how to be calm and warm and present without saying anything.

At last he sighs and says, “I wish I could be angry.”

“You’re not?” Her voice is thick and raspy. “I am.”

“We had thousands of years together. Thousands of good years. And I’m supposed to say… what? That it isn’t fair? We got so much more than was fair. I can’t be mad about that.”

“You wanted to grow old together.”

He runs a hand through his hair, pulling gently at the grey at his temples. “If my life had gone as my parents hoped, I’d have been a grandfather by this age. We’re old enough.”

Her voice rises in indignation: “You were supposed to go together.”

He shrugs. “What’s 40 or 50 years, compared to the time we’ve lived? Just a rounding error. He hasn’t left me behind, he’s just… he’s just getting us good seats. Getting up early to start making coffee, so it’s ready when I get there. Same as always.”

A whisper, this time, on the verge of tears. “You didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“Oh, Nile.” He laughs, and while there’s sadness in it, it’s a real laugh. “What would I have said, if I’d known it was the last time? That I loved him? I told him every day.” He turns to her and takes her hand. “And he knew you loved him too. In the whole history of the human race, there has only ever been one man more loved, and more sure of being loved, than Nicolo di Genova.”

She squeezes his hand and wipes her eyes with her other wrist. “And that’s you?”

“That’s me.” He releases her, but only to pull her tight against his side. “It’s all right, Nile. I hate it, and I’m heartbroken, and I always will be, but. It’s all right. I’ll be all right.”

#the old guard #the old guard fanfiction #my fic #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #kaysanova #nile freeman #major character death

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shurisneakers · 4 years ago

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harmless (v)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, ghosts, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, rats

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: why did i like this chapter sm someone explain. anyway!! y’all are so passionate about these two i love it mwah

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He dislikes the subway.

Other than his other valid reason to have disdain for trains, the subway is dark, it’s shady and he’s sure he’s seen rodents fight to the death here on several occasions.

Still, he’s following you down the stairs of the station, watching as you whistle along to the song blasting through your headphones. There’s a backpack swung over your shoulders, hands stuffed into the pocket of your hoodie and converse doing a skip every now and then. There’s a bandana that’s tied across your face, acting as a mask to hide your identity.

He realises that you’re dressed like a commuter. Were you going to dress the part every single time?

You walk along with the crowd. He follows, a few feet away.

Until you stop. He abruptly stops too, leading someone to walk right into him.

“Watch it, dumbass,” they hiss with the courage of someone who has no idea who he is. He ignores them.

He looks on as you dig around your backpack and pull out a roll of paper. A poster, he realises soon when you peel off a layer from the back and press it to the wall.

Was it legal to put up posters in the subway? He wasn’t quite sure.

He observes as you turn around and continue down the path. He waits a few seconds before trailing up to the poster.

Volunteers needed!

If you’re interested in being turned into a ghost for a couple of hours, this is your chance! Should be okay with being on camera so that we can make money off of taped paranormal sightings.

Paid opportunity. You get to pick your outfit. Randos don’t apply.

He yanks the poster of the wall before continuing down the same place you did.

He finds another poster along the way. He doesn’t hesitate in pulling it down. You were advocating to kill people.

He knows he’s going in the right direction because more posters creep up along the wall.

The both of you are on the platform by now but to him, something changes about the placement of the posters. They were growing in frequency, the distance between them decreasing as they were situated close to each other.

He pauses in front of the next one, hand hovering over the paper.

All it reads is ‘STOP’.

He furrows his eyebrow, pulling it down before peering over at the next one.

‘TAKING’, is all that it says.

It doesn’t take him very long to make his way through all the posters in the hallway.

‘THESE’

‘DOWN’

The train’s arrived by now but a quick scan over the crowd and he knows that you haven’t entered. That, and he knew that you were too dramatic to leave without a trace or a small conversation with him.

‘DICKHEAD’

Tasteful, he thinks.

“It took effort to make them, stop ruining it,” you whine from the end of the hallway. It’s empty, given that rush hour was over a while ago.

Even though the mask covers half your face, it’s obvious that there is mischief etched under it. The twinkle in your eye is telling.

“You’re literally killing people.” He holds up the poster. Not the ‘dickhead’ one. He pockets that for later.

He knows there are a few minutes before the next train arrives and more people flood the station. The eccentricity of today lay in the lighting from the incandescent lamps and acoustics of the platform. It made his voice echo like a movie scene.

“I very much am not,” you huff.

“You’re turning them into ghosts. That’s what a murderer does,” he says pointedly.

“Well, only if you keep saying it like that. You’re making me look bad.” You cross your arms across your chest. “What are you, Fox News?”

A scurry next to him earns his attention. Two rats nibble at a piece of fallen food. He wonders when they’ll starting brawling.

“Explain this.” He waves the poster around. He isn’t taking it too lightly he hopes. If it’s actual murder then it’s going to be an issue.

You pull out a black cylinder, slightly bigger than a pen. He can’t really see any more details, but you hold onto it like a wand.

“I’m turning them into ghosts. I’ll post videos of them doing stupid shit. I get famous and then boom, cash money.” You rub your index finger and thumb together. “I’ll give you a share if you volunteer.”

“You’re not explaining the death part.”

He can feel it. You’re about to start derailing.

“Winter Soldier, the ghost story. Literally.” You grin, yanking down the mask from your face to prove it. It pools around your neck. “That’s so funny, c’mon, it’d be amazing.”

It’s been years since he’s heard that. Never in this context.

“No,” he says sternly, “and I’m going to have to bring you in if you’re going to kill people.”

The rats were ignoring everything that was going down like the hardened criminals that they were. They had probably seen worse. He can’t stop paying attention to them.

“I’m not killing them, bro.” You raise your hands in exclamation. “I’m just moving some molecules around, some frequency shit. They’re alive, just ghosts.”

He’s always been one for science. Straight As throughout high school, attended science conventions as a hobby, alive even at 100 through some mad experimentation, definitely seen some weird shit during his lifetime.

But this doesn’t make sense.

“No,” he repeats. “Give me the thing.”

“Fine, I’ll show you.” You roll your eyes. “Since you have absolutely no faith in me.”

He does a quick review of his surroundings.

No one’s around, which is good.

But that just leaves him in front of you, which is bad.

“Don’t you even thin-” he starts, muscles tensing as he shifts into a defensive stance.

You whip out the little pen thing from beside you but before he can react you turn around and duck.

The click of a button releases a bright light, small but intensely stronger than the fluorescents in the station.

He reels back, feet carrying him away from where you’re crouched. His eyes quickly look down at his body.

Nothing’s changed.

He lifts his hand to check, runs it over his face. Still alive. He thinks.

“Behold,” you declare, “Ghost rat.”

He looks to where you’re pointing. The two rats from earlier were still nibbling on their food but something was off about them.

He could see the faint outline of the tiles on the wall behind them, almost like they were... translucent.

You aimed at the rats, not him. He doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or annoyed at the fake threat.

He watches as they move. They don’t look hurt or injured.

“Cool, huh?” you say smugly.

He can’t stop staring at them.

“Bring them back.”

“They’re fine, look how abstract it is.”

“Bring back the rats.” He can’t believe this is what his life has come to.

Bucky Barnes, Rodent Protector.

You aren’t fazed by his indifference, instead wonder filled eyes gaze at the animals. “Astral mice, sarge. Embrace the miracle of modern science.”

“You killed them.”

“They’re alive, they’re just ghosts.” You raise a finger to point. “Look, they’re still eating. Biological functions are still taking place.”

Which was true. But still. He doesn’t know what is going on.

“Bring them back to... non-ghost alive.”

“You sure you don’t want one? That one kinda looks like you.” One hardened glare after you realise the answer. “Jeez, alright then.”

You dig through your bag before pulling out a matte black replica of your current invention.

“Sexy colours, right?” You hold them up. “I modelled them after your arm.”

He looks down. Sure enough the gold and black matched his cybernetic limb. It was oddly flattering.

“Say thank you, Y/N, for letting me be your muse-”

“Un-ghost the rats.”

“Ungrateful,” you narrow your eyes at him.

Still, you comply with his demands, ducking down to their level again.

A click of the button, a bright light and the rats are back to normal. Non-transparent normal.

“Okay, give me that.” He takes a step towards you.

“Nuh uh.” You pull your arm back. His mouth twitches at your response; what are you, five?

The black one is stuffed back into your bag but you wave around the gold like a threat.

He sighs, making a pass for it. In a second his arm is twisted and shoved against his back, forcing him to spin so that he’s facing away from you. His eyes widen.

What the fuck?

“Now we’re having a good time,” you whisper into this ear.

He swiftly turns around, grabbing your wrist to rotate his own out of your grip.

“Since when can you fight?” he asks.

“Are we getting to know each other now?” You raise your leg to give him a semi gentle kick in the side, using his momentary distraction in blocking it to give him a knock on the head with your free hand. “This is so romantic, sarge.”

There’s a low rumble in the distance and he knows the train would soon start pulling into the station. It was still a distance away, but his heightened senses warned him that it wouldn’t take much time.

He groans. How much longer would he have to go at this?

He could easily win this fight and he knew it. But something in him itched, pulled him back from doing it.

He blocks another attempt at his head. “Stop that.”

You grin. “You know what’d be fun?”

He knows you’d reply even if he didn’t encourage it. The lights from the train light up the tunnel around the corner.

“This.” You don’t give him a second to recover before you flick your wrist away from him.

The device flies out of your hand and right onto the track. The both of you watch, you in glee, he in horror, as the train runs right over it, unleashing the brightest light he had ever seen. His eyes shut instinctively before it blinds him.

He forces himself to pry open his eyelids, look at the damage caused.

The train, sure enough, is translucent. He can see the posters on the other side of the platform through the carriage, through various people holding onto the poles for support or seated on the seats.

“Ghost train!” you cheer. He’s mortified.

“Fuck no,” he mumbles, yanking the backpack off your shoulder. He rummages through it, looking for the gold version.

“You lookin’ for this?” you ask nonchalantly, holding it up in your hand like it isn’t the solution to stopping a bunch of ghosts from wandering around New York.

“Turn them back.” He gives you a chance.

“Do it yourself, coward.” You grin, holding it above your head. The train is going to stop and he needs everyone to be alive and non-ghost before they leave.

He doesn’t wait this time, instead turning to you. The thing is still held in your grip above your head. He rolls his eyes, doing a quick assessment before grabbing your free hand, tugging you closer and plucking the device out of your hand before you have the opportunity to retract it.

“Great, now figure out which button to press.” You’re dangerously close to him. He can feel your hoodie brush against his tactical jacket. “Also if you wanted to be all pressed up against me, you could have just asked.”

He furrows his eyebrows, letting go of you as you give a loud laugh. He looks down at the device. It has several buttons, littering up and down the side. Each look the same.

The train’s slowing down.

“They’re both the same device; this version is not a magical solution to the other one. If you press the wrong button then both of us are going to be fucked.”

The last carriage is getting closer.

“Say I win this round and I’ll fix it.”

There’s a gleam in your eye. He knew this was exactly what you wanted.

He wishes he was as stubborn as Steve, just run through each button until the right one worked.

“You win this one.” He hands it back. He wasn’t like Steve and judging by the number of items the idiot jumped out of planes without a parachute on a daily basis, Bucky was glad about it. At least Bucky did it sporadically.

“Yay, two each for the both of us, then,” you say, taking it from him and twisting, eyes running down the sides. “Close your eyes, old man, or else your cataract’s gonna get worse.”

Right as the train pulls to a stop, you press down on the button before throwing it and the blinding light that emanates from it. It lands on the top of the train right as the doors open.

The passengers start stepping out. Some of them are looking at their hands and legs in a little disbelief, most just push through the crowd to leave.

He can’t see through them. It’s a good sign.

He turns to look at you but you’re not there. Instead, the weight of the small device weighs down in his pocket.

The sound of a thud on glass draws his attention.

He looks up at the train. The window of the carriage in front of him has a bit of fog on it. You trace a heart in the condensation and blow him a kiss before pulling your mask back on.

The train starts moving, leaving him alone in the platform again with your invention.

He lets out an exhale, wandering outside to grab a sandwich before waiting to catch the next train to go home.

Later in the evening, he catches hold of a bit of tape and the ‘Dickhead’ poster finds a place on Sam’s door.

He doesn’t appreciate it.

So now it’s tucked away in the shelf of Bucky’s bedside table along with a freeze ray, a ghost-inator, and some discount Pym Particles.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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fanficimagery · 3 years ago

Text

Lost and then Found pt. II

Imagine being taken by HYDRA. After years with them, they set you loose on someone you haven't seen in a while. Unfortunately for HYDRA, you weren't as susceptible to their mind experiments like they thought. Now away from their influence, your only worry is making sure you're prepared for your baby to enter the world.

Words: 11.3K Author’s Note: I won't say I don't like this because there are some parts in here that I absolutely adore. However, it is rushed and it feels forced to me, but I needed to get this out so here it is. Also, I've never experienced childbirth so please ignore my mediocre take on it. Haha.

Tags: @aya-fay @70s-chic @sipsteacasually @kaitlyn2907 @scarlettwitch99 @thingsforimagination @b1sexualtonystark @living-that-best-life @alexnicolaidisss @l0ve-0f-my-life @eliwinchester99 @mimilh @rosesloml @blackxwidowsxwife @meredeph @lexy9716 @wxnderingthoughts

The Avengers have grown accustomed to having a werewolf living among them and sitting in on mission briefings, but they put their foot down when you attempt to join them for missions. You want to desperately prove yourself to the group of assembled heroes, but you also very much want to protect the life growing inside your womb. So agreeing to stay home while pregnant, they eventually task you with setting up your own apartment the first time they all had to leave you behind.

Of course you weren't totally alone and Pepper had flown in to help you set up, her excitement for your pregnancy spurring on your own excitement even more.

You get settled quite easily and it shows how much trust you have in them when the full moons don't affect you like they normally would. Now others could come and go during the full moon, and you barely batted an eye at them. Unless it was Tony. Tony needed to be watched at all times after he attempted to rile you up purposely on the night of a full moon to see exactly how much control you had.

The slight swell to your abdomen eventually sets in and you couldn't be more proud of the roundness that was obvious when you wore a tight shirt. Wanda, too, was absolutely smitten with the small bump and the whole team was relieved to see her genuinely happy after everything she'd recently gone through. But Wanda wasn't the only one who doted on you- oh no. For some reason, the sight of your bump made the two super soldiers absolutely melt when your shirt was fitted and the bump was on display. Everyone knew it was inevitable for Steve to turn to mush, but it was Bucky who surprised everyone.

Bucky always made sure to sit close to you, snacks on hand and ready to make a run to the store when your cravings got the best of you. You'd even caught him reading a pregnancy book, but he looked so embarrassed when you caught him that you couldn't bring yourself to mention it to anyone else. And for that he was grateful- always letting you crawl into his lap when you had the urge to scent mark everyone.

Your cuddle sessions became more frequent, which made Wanda pout and Sam and Steve rather smug for some unknown reason to you.

It's cooler than normal around the living quarters given the rising summer temperatures and, though you normally run hot, your own body temperature has been up and down since you've become pregnant. So on this particular day you find yourself cuddled up to Steve, your left arm thrown over his waist and left leg draped over his legs. Your bump is resting near his hip and he smiles down at you every time you grumble about needing to pee.

"This baby is going to be the death of me," you mumble. "All I wanna do is cuddle, but no. I have to pee. Again!"

Leaving the comfort of the new couch that had been ordered for your specific cuddling tendencies- it could honestly pass for a bed with how spacious it is- you get up and take care of business in the bathroom. And then when you get back to the living room, you find that Bucky's taking up the other side of the sofa Steve is on.

"Yessss." You nearly skip back towards the sofa, crawling in between both men. "Supersoldier sandwich."

Steve snorts and then yelps when you manhandle him into scooting down until he's laying down again, then wrapping yourself around him like you had previously been. All the while Bucky is laughing at his friend's misfortune, but then you reach behind you and drag Bucky closer until you whine at him to spoon you. You smell rather than see his embarrassment, especially when Steve teases him to just spoon you already, and then you practically purr when you're enveloped in their warmth.

As Bucky settles behind you, you end up grabbing his metal arm and dragging it over your waist. He tenses, but you run your fingers up and down the back of his hand until he gets that you're okay with him- metal arm and all.

Stuck between two solid bodies, enveloped in their warmth and scent, is enough to send you off into a content light doze.

And then you're jolted back into consciousness when you feel Bucky freeze behind you. "What was that?"

"What was what?" You sleepily mumble.

"Your stomach. Are you- was that your stomach grumbling?"

This time it's your turn to freeze as you place your hand over his that's still crawling your bump. "You actually felt that?"

"Yeah." He chuckles.

"Holy shit," you muse. "It's way too early for anyone other than me to feel the baby. How the hell-"

"Wait, what?" Steve says, a whine lacing his tone. "Bucky got to feel the baby?"

You laugh as you move to turn so you're laying on your back, and both Steve and Bucky try to maneuver their hands around your small bump in order to feel the fluttering sensation. "This is insane. I can't believe you guys can feel it."

"I don't feel anything." Steve frowns.

"Don't pout, punk." Bucky smirks. "I can only feel it because of the arm."

Grinning, you reach up and lightly pat Steve's cheek. "Don't worry, Rogers. When the kicks start coming in, I'll go find you first."

The two men are distracted when the elevator dings open and Wanda steps off, the scent of food wafting from the bags she's carrying. Your nostrils flare and your mouth waters, and you start to pull free from Steve and Bucky.

Wanda smirks. "Hungry?"

"Always." Now free of the men, you hurry towards the kitchen where Wanda is laughing and pulling out containers. "Is that," you inhale deeply, eyes closing in bliss, "medium-rare steak, baked potato with the works, and.. and fries?"

"I even got that sauce from Arby's you like so you can dip your fries in it."

"Oh my god, you're my favorite."

"Hey!" Steve and Bucky shout from the living room. Wanda preens.

A couple more months pass and you're in awe of what your body is doing.

You're absolutely in love with your growing bump which now looks like there's a volleyball under your shirt, but for some reason you're unreasonably uncomfortable. You've been meaning to go shopping for maternity clothes, however, everything you've found online is not to your taste. You just want a simple loose shirt, but all maternity clothes seem to either have a floral theme to it or ruffles that you're not a fan of.

So stuck in one of your usual t-shirts that feels like it's stretched too tight and showing off the bottom portion of your bump, you walk around your apartment grumbling and shifting uneasily and trying to find a way to make yourself feel comfortable.

You're pacing around the room, hands rubbing along your swollen abdomen when there's a knock on your door. Agitated, a growl slips free. You stomp towards your door, another growl threatening to slip free, when you're stopped short at the sight of Bucky.

His eyebrow quirks at you and you sigh, trying to shake off your agitation. "Why are your eyes glowing, sweetheart?"

"I'm annoyed. I can't help it."

You swing the door open wider, but Bucky remains rooted to his spot. "Why are you annoyed?"

And just like that, the tears well up and start dropping one after the other. "I am so uncomfortable!" You cry. Bucky's eyes widen before he steps forward, arms loosely wrapping around you. "I just- I want to be comfortable. None of my shirts are fitting me and I- I just- I need-"

"Okay. Okay, shh." Bucky gently rocks you side to side. "Come on. Come with me."

Miserable, you agree and follow after Bucky to his own apartment that's just a few doors down the hallway. You're not sure what's going on when he tells you to wait in his living room and then disappears into what you can only guess is his room, and your brow furrows when he returns with a shirt in hand.

Sheepish, Bucky rubs the back of his neck with one hand while holding the shirt out with the other. "Here. You can use one of mine until you find something more comfortable."

You glance between him and the shirt, reaching for it as a smile starts to take form. And when you have the shirt in your hands, you readily strip out of your own shirt and huff a laugh when Bucky blushes and averts his gaze. Pulling on his shirt then, you groan with satisfaction as the material hugs you just right. "Oh heck yes." And then picking up the collar of the shirt, you can't help but deeply inhale the material and groan yet again. "This is exactly what I needed."

Bucky slowly smirks. "Good. Now let's go grab something to eat." He can't help but laugh as you latch yourself onto his arm, mumbling about him leading the way as your eyes close in pure bliss.

Your senses tell you Bucky's just leading you towards the communal kitchen, your nose twitching at the smell of food coming from it's direction. There are a few voices too and it's easy to pick out Wanda, Steve, and Sam.

Upon opening your eyes, you're met with amused and/or surprised expressions. "What?"

"Do my eyes deceive me or am I sensing a walk of shame?" Sam slowly smirks.

You and Bucky both frown as Steve and Wanda laugh at their friend's assumption. "Huh?"

"You're in Barnes' shirt," he says. "You cannot stand there and tell me you two ain't foolin' around."

It takes you a second to realize what he's saying, your mind connecting the dots when you feel Bucky tense next to your side. The slight embarrassment wafting off of him nearly makes you whine, but you swallow down the urge. Instead, you roll your eyes and say, "First off, if I was getting dicked down by this beefcake, there would be no walk of shame. I would happily tell you about length, girth, and every goddamn ridge on this man's dick." Wanda cackles as Sam's eyes bulge in shock, Steve then choking on his orange juice. "And secondly, I'm fat, Wilson!" You let go of Bucky, turning to the side and grabbing the sides of Bucky's shirt to pull tight over your swollen tummy. "None of my shirts fit comfortably anymore and Bucky was just helping a girl out." His mouth drops slightly as if he hadn't thought of that and you shake your head at him. Letting go of the shirt, you walk forward to sit at the kitchen island. "Do you seriously think anyone wants to get it on with a pregnant chick? Use your head, Samuel."

As you settle down, Bucky takes a seat next to you and you automatically lean into his side with your head on his shoulder. Wanda and Steve both smile, but neither of them say a word. Sam, however, just can't let this go. "So let me get this straight- you two are not boning in secret?"

"No," you say, fighting off a smile. "We're just friends. Which means you just lost the bet too because my bump is fully set in and there has been no sex." Sam, Wanda, and Steve slowly lose their amused expressions and this time it's your and Bucky's turn to be smug. "What? Didn't think we knew about that, did 'ya?"

"Y/N, I am so sorry," Wanda says, but you wave her off. "I didn't think-"

"It's fine, Wanda. We thought it was funny."

Bucky remains quiet, but his little grin lets Wanda know he was fine with the supposedly secret bet as well. Her shoulders seem to sag in relief and you readily accept the plate of bacon Sam nudges in your direction.

"So," Wanda muses, "you need to go shopping? I'm free today and tomorrow."

You grimace. "I guess so. As much as I want to, I can't steal the guys' shirts for the next few months."

"Good. We'll head out after you get something to eat."

Leaving the medical facility, you aimlessly walk back towards the family compound with several black and white photos in hand. You had known there was a baby growing inside of you, but it's just now truly sunk in after seeing your baby's profile instead of a blob with still-forming limbs. A slip of paper with your baby's gender is tucked into your back pocket, Doctor Cho having given it to you in case you wanted to know.

You're not exactly looking for the quiet of your apartment, so you remain in the communal living spaces in hopes of someone distracting you. Only when you get there, all is quiet.

Turning on the large screen flat TV, you put it on a random cooking show after crawling onto your sofa and getting comfortable. You've only managed to watch one entire episode, your interest captivated by the meals the chefs are putting together with only a few certain items from their basket, when the elevator dings.

You don't bother looking back, Bucky's scent wafting over to you before he even steps into your peripheral. "Hey doll, want some company?"

"Please," you groan.

Bucky toes off his boots and sits on the edge of the sofa, scooting back towards the middle until he's shoulder to shoulder with you. You sigh and lean against him, laying your head on his shoulder while your arms remain on your lap. "What's wrong?" Bucky immediately says.

"Nothing. Why?"

"Because you're not cuddling me."

The tone of Bucky's voice makes you freeze, amusement blossoming. Slowly you lift your head and attempt to meet his gaze. "Are you- are you pouting because I'm not cuddling you?"

"No."

You huff a laugh, letting your forehead fall on his shoulder once more. After a moment, you lift his arm and settle underneath it as you cuddle him. Bucky chuckles and squeezes you just a little tighter against him. "Is this better?"

"A little. Now tell me what's bothering you."

You quietly groan, shifting under his arm until you reach to your other side and pick up one of the sonograms. "I had an appointment today," you say while handing him the picture. "It's just- I guess it's just sinking in that there's an actual living being growing inside of me."

"You mean all the kicking these past two months didn't give it away?" Bucky huffs in amusement. "Wow. Would you look at that?" He says. "The little nugget is really growing. Huh?" Your hormones get the best of you and you end up sniffling, tears filling your eyes. Bucky freezes. "Doll? Are you- are you crying?"

"How the hell am I going to do this, Buck? I'm a foul-mouthed werewolf who just recently escaped the clutches of HYDRA. What business do I have raising a baby?"

"Hey. Hey, look at me." Bucky gently nudges you so you'd glance up at him. With his flesh arm still tucked around you, his metal hand gently holds your sonogram between two fingers as he makes you look at it. "You're going to do just fine. You wanna know how I know that?" You sniffle and wipe the tears from beneath your eyes. "Because you have all of us- you have me- in your corner. This little nugget of yours will never want for anything as long as we're around."

His words only make the tears fall even more and you hide your face in his shoulder once more. He holds you tighter, shushing you and murmuring words about how you're going to be a good mother. If you could overlook everything HYDRA did to you in order for you to conceive this child and then go on to keep the child, then there was no doubt in his mind you were going to be a great mom.

As you sit there against Bucky and work on getting yourself under control, you can't help but notice that he turns the sonogram back towards himself to stare at it. You shift your head just right so you can see his face and it warms your heart to see him smiling at the profile of your baby.

The elevator dings again, this time dropping off Wanda. When she walks around the sofa and takes in your puffy, red-rimmed eyes, she freezes. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"She had a bout of insecurity." Bucky tattles on you. "It's fine now."

Wanda blinks at Bucky in surprise before looking back at you and you offer her a small smile. "New sonogram pictures. It's.. just sinking in that this is really happening."

Wanda glances at the small piles of pictures next to you, squeals, and then hurriedly picks one up. You chuckle as she coos. "Has Doctor Cho mentioned whether it's a girl or boy yet?"

You nod. "I, uh, I have the slip of paper that tells me. I haven't looked at it yet."

"Well what are you waiting for?" Wanda immediately takes a seat and you slightly lean to the side in order to pull the folded piece of paper out of your pocket. You hold it out to her and her eyes subtly widen. "You don't want to do it?"

"I do, but.." You trail off, shrugging. "It doesn't really matter to me. As long as I have a healthy baby I'm fine. You seem more excited for this than me anyway."

She slowly smiles, only taking the slip of paper when Bucky shrugs. He seems confused for a split second that Wanda would even seek his opinion, but then his expression is neutral once more and that's all the approval Wanda needs. She takes the slip of paper, opening it to peek at the gender. She gives nothing away. "Last chance. Are you sure you want to know?"

"Lay it on us, Maximoff."

Wanda glances at the piece of paper once more before looking straight at you, a smile blossoming from ear to ear. "It's a girl."

Your breath hitches. "Yeah?" Your voice then cracks and tears immediately well in your eyes again.

Bucky squeezes you tighter to his side, chuckling, and Wanda's own eyes fill with tears as she nods. "You're having a little girl." A sob breaks free, even as you laugh, and the tears flow faster. Wanda crawls towards you and pulls you into a hug, crying softly as she rejoices with you. "If Pietro were here, he'd spoil that little girl rotten."

"Right?" You wetly laugh, pulling back and settling against Bucky once more. "I can already hear him. A little prinţesǎ," you coo, putting on an accent that was nowhere near what Wanda or Pietro sounded like. Both Wanda and Bucky laugh at your horrible accent, and your smile slowly falls as you fondly remember Wanda's twin. "I really wish he was here to meet her."

Her smile drops too, nodding in understanding. "Me too."

Wanda moves to replace the sonogram picture, but you shake her head and push her hand back. "No. That's yours."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You too, Bucky." You then glance at him, gesturing to the sonogram he still held. "I got copies for Steve, Natasha, and Sam as well. Even Doctor Cho happily kept one," you say.

"Thanks, doll." A kiss gets pressed to the side of your head and you can feel a rumble of content threatening to come out, but when you catch Wanda's gaze- her eyebrows wiggling causes you to frown and stomp down on the urge. "This is going up on my fridge."

Wanda smirks at you as you flush. "Yeah, well you're welcome."

Your friend can't stop smirking, but she's kind enough to not call you out on it in front of Bucky. "So baby shower?"

Now you groan. "Do we have to?"

And without missing a beat, Bucky and Wanda say, "Yes."

When word got around that Wanda was to plan your baby shower, you were surprised at how excited it seemed to make everyone. Apparently no one was immune to the impending arrival of your daughter, Clint having flown in to toss around some ideas and secure an invite for he and his family. Then when Tony and Pepper got involved, you had to make them promise that the shower was to not be over the top. But according to Tony, only the best was allowed for the next baby Avenger.

No one would tell you a thing about the baby shower, not even Bucky who you found yourself hanging out with more and more as the weeks went by. The surprise of finding you curled up in his lap was long gone and now when anyone was looking for either of you, it seemed they went to the other for your whereabouts. So a couple days before the shower, you thought you had won Bucky over and that he was moments away from telling you what you wanted to know about said shower, but Sam and Steve had given him one look and then quickly marched him out of the kitchen to keep him from spilling the beans. Afterwards, he stayed pretty tight-lipped, up until the day of said baby shower when Natasha, Wanda, and Pepper had you contained in your apartment while the boys took care of everything else in the communal living space.

As Natasha had you sit in front of your bathroom mirror, she did your hair and makeup for the party. So as you sat through her torture, you couldn't help but take a selfie with your fangs on display as you snarled at her smirking reflection in the mirror. Bucky had laughed at your picture and the only clue he gave to you about your baby shower was a picture of a sunflower.

Pepper and Natasha had several dresses for you to try on for the shower, but the outfit that won you over had been chosen by Wanda. It was an off-the-shoulder white short playsuit with lace detailing around your clavicle and thighs. You vetoed every heeled shoe until a pair of sandals were dropped in front of you and you let Wanda help you into them.

Once you were fully dressed, Natasha came to stand before you with her hands behind her back. When you narrowed your eyes at her, she smirked and produced a floral crown from behind her back. The flowers were fake, but the small versions of sunflowers and daisies were still pretty. So you bent your knees a little and let Natasha settle the crown atop your wavy hair, fixing your hair once more around your shoulders.

Then arm in arm with Wanda, you let your friends lead you out of your apartment and into the elevator. Your excitement was very obvious and the women couldn't help but chuckle as the elevator doors opened. Your excitement turned into awe at the sight of all the pink and white balloons, and the pink and purple floral garlands hanging from the corners of the room and around each table. There was a table for gifts and a table for finger foods, and of course there was no missing the three tiered pink and white cake. Everything was chic and girly and you absolutely loved it.

Tony, Bruce, and Helen Cho are huddled together, no doubt deep in a conversation about science. Clint and his wife Laura are there, along with their three kids milling about with another young girl who you remember is Tony and Pepper's daughter. And then there is Steve, Sam, and Bucky who each have a drink in hand and are chuckling quietly amongst each other.

"You know from all the stories I've heard, baby showers were meant for women only." At the sound of your voice, conversations taper off and smiles are directed towards you.

"Are you kidding?" Tony huffs. "I know all about the games played at these shindigs. I wanted in on the games and prizes."

"Of course you did." You then direct a smile at everyone gathered. "Thank you all for coming. This pregnancy wasn't exactly.. you know," you trail off, eyes lingering on the gathered kids who are surprisingly paying attention to your stomach, you say, "but I've grown to love this tiny human so much already before I've even met her and I'm just happy she's going to have such a great little community surrounding her."

"Aw look. You made Wanda cry."

You immediately glance to your right where Wanda's laughing, wiping beneath her eyes. "Shut up, Barton." And then, "So what are we doing first? I've never actually been to one of these."

"Games!" Laura and Pepper muse together.

Everyone chuckles at their enthusiasm and you let Wanda lead you to a seat. Pepper sits with Tony and Natasha finds herself being drawn to Clint and Laura, but she doesn't take a seat quite yet. You, however, are led to a sofa chair that Wanda takes a seat on one side of and Bucky the other.

"So the first game is a word unscramble," Natasha says. She walks over to a table and picks up numerous clipboards, along with a cup of pens. "There's a three-minute time limit and the one who unscrambles the most words wins."

Tony claps his hands together, rubbing them in anticipation. "This is so my game."

Natasha passes out the clipboards and pens, and you're happy to realize that this is a game you can play with them. Lila is the only child interested in playing, so Cooper keeps Nathaniel and Morgan busy with a gaming console just on the other side of the room.

Once everyone has a clipboard and a pen in hand, Natasha takes a seat with her own set. "Everyone ready?" At their agreement, she says, "FRIDAY, please set a countdown of three minutes."

"Timer is set, agent Romanoff." A timer is suddenly displayed on the wall across from them.

"Start it now."

The moment the first second ticks away, everyone rushes to pay attention to their piece of paper on the clipboard. You hurriedly scan the words, unscrambling the most obvious words- bottle, crib, bib, booties, blanket, nightlight, and car seat. The others give you trouble and as your eyes dart to the timer, your anxiousness kicks in to unscramble a few more.

Tony is grumbling about impossible words as Laura and Pepper laugh at his misfortune. Wanda is humming, happily it seems, whereas Bruce has just plain given up. Stroller and pacifier give you trouble, and your grumbling starts then. But when you get umbilical cord and morning sickness, it causes you to unknowingly dance in your seat.

Hearing a chuckle next to you, you glance at Bucky and see him peering at your clipboard. You gasp. "You dirty little cheater!"

Steve and Wanda both snort, and you angle yourself away so Bucky can't steal any more of your answers.

You think you've got a good lead, but just as the timer hits thirty seconds Laura calls out, "Done!"

"WHAT?!" Tony shouts.

As the unofficial person in charge of the games, Natasha takes Laura's clipboard to double check her answers. Sure enough, they're all correct. Steve, Sam, and even Clint boo Laura as Natasha grabs a small wicker basket that contains several envelopes inside.

Taking an envelope, Laura opens it and her eyes nearly bulge out of her sockets. "Wow. Every baby shower I've been to had gifts consisting of candles or Bath and Body gift baskets or even kitchenware. This- this is a lot."

"What'd you get, babe?" Clint asks.

"A check for twenty five hundred dollars."

"What?!" Sam yelps.

"Is that a normal prize for a game?" You wonder.

"No. No it's not," Sam says. "Come on. Bring on the next game. I need to know what those other prizes are."

You laugh as everyone suddenly becomes a bit more invested in winning one of the games. But as your laugh tapers off, you glance at Pepper and Tony. Pepper merely smiles when she sees your slight concern. "Don't worry about it. You didn't want an extravagant party, so Tony got a few prizes that were just a little bit more expensive than your average baby shower prize. Trust me, these were the least expensive prizes I could talk him down to."

"Well as long as you're sure.."

You shift uneasily in your seat and then Natasha's walking into the center of the room with a roll of toilet paper in her hand. "Come on, Mother-to-Be. We need to measure your bump and then let these idiots figure out how many squares you are. Whoever guesses the exact number, or closest to, wins."

Natasha helps you stand and you can't help but grumble, "None of you assholes better think I'm huge."

Lila giggles and you send an apologetic look to both Laura and Clint.

Hidden behind the kitchen island, Natasha has you stand still so she can wrap the toilet paper around you. You laugh as you hold the beginning of the first square on your stomach and Natasha reaches around you, unrolling the paper. It's an exact eleven squares.

Taking note of how many squares your bump is, you and Natasha rejoin the group.

"Alright. Give us a twirl. I need to see the bump all the way around," Tony says. Then looking at Wanda, he narrows his eyes. "And no cheating!"

Rolling your eyes with a small huff, you give a slow twirl. Natasha hands Steve the roll of toilet paper and he eyes your stomach before unrolling several squares of it. Bucky goes next, followed by Wanda and Lila. When Clint gets a hold of the roll and unfurls it dramatically, you can't help but growl at him. The others laugh and then take their turn, and then everyone is eagerly awaiting to see if they guessed correctly.

"Are you ready?" Natasha muses. Everyone nods. "It was eleven squares."

"Dammit! So close," Sam whines.

Everyone's looking around, but it's a smug Steve that raises his hand. "I guessed eleven."

"Boo!" Apparently, half the room are sore losers.

You laugh and then it's his turn to choose a prize. When he picks an envelope, he opens it up and his eyebrows raise in surprise. "An all paid expense trip to the spa and then a dinner reservation for two at some fancy restaurant."

"You're taking me to that," Sam immediately says.

Everyone laughs and then Pepper mentions taking a food break so you don't rush through the games. There are a lot of sandwich trays, fruit trays, and vegetable trays. And being the considerate pregnant werewolf you are, you let everyone else make themselves a plate before you, Steve, and Bucky make your own.

Eating carefully so as to not spill anything down the front of your outfit, the laughter and chatter around you makes you feel the most cherished you've ever felt. The finger foods itself is not enough to fill you up, but it does sate your hunger for now. However, with Wanda and Bucky still on either side of you even at the table, between the two of them they're constantly adding extra fruit and fruit dip to your plate.

A few more games are played afterward- Tony guesses the closest to the amount of jelly beans in a mason jar and wins a week-long getaway for two to Fiji, Natasha is the fastest with changing a diaper on a fake baby and wins another set of an all paid expense trip to the spa and restaurant for two, Lila wins at baby bingo and a check for twenty five hundred as well (Clint is clearly happy his family is raking in the cash), and Bucky is the fastest to suck all the apple juice out of a baby bottle which earns him a week-long trip for two to the Bahamas.

Everyone is having such a great time that a sudden alarm blaring immediately puts them on edge. But after Tony rapidly swipes through his phone to figure out what's going on, he realizes they're being called to assemble. Gazes dart in your direction, but you smile reassuringly at them.

"Go. The world needs you guys more than I do right now."

"But we didn't even get to see you open the presents," Wanda frowns.

"And that's fine. You already know I'm going to love whatever has been gifted. We'll gush about everything when you get back."

That seems to be all the team needs to hear before jumping into action and you're a bit surprised to see Bucky hang back. He waves Steve off when he notices his friend holding the elevator and you look up at Bucky with a furrowed brow. "You sure you're going to be okay, sweetheart?"

"Positive." You smile at him, stepping close to him and setting your hands at his waist. "And besides, opening these presents will not only distract me but it'll distract the kids as well. Go save the city or wherever you're needed, Sergeant. I'll be waiting in my apartment for when you get back."

Bucky's hands, both metal and flesh, reach up to gently cradle your face. His gaze darts all over your face for any signs of deceit, but finding none he finally grins. "Okay." He leans forward and kisses your forehead. "I'll be back soon." And then in a move that has you freezing and Pepper, Helen, and Laura's eyes widening, Bucky's hands drop to either side of your stomach as he bends at the waist and addresses your bump. "And you be good for your mama. I see the way you're making her flinch." He brushes his nose from side to side against your stomach and then chuckles when there's a kick in retaliation.

Before Bucky can straighten, you quickly paste on a smile but there's nothing you can do for the burning blush on your cheeks. And the damn prick smirks proudly at how flustered he's made you. "Go," you utter. "Go before Steve comes down to drag you to the jet."

Bucky gives you a nod before stepping back and turning around to saunter towards the elevator. You manage to keep it together until the doors close behind him, the elevator whisking him away, before someone says anything.

"Spill. Right now," Pepper says.

You glance at her, shoulders rising and lowering in a shrug. "I have no idea what the hell just happened, but I'm torn between crying at how cute that just was and wanting to desperately jump his bones." Lila giggles and your eyes widen. You point at her in an accusatory manner. "Stop giggling. You're not supposed to know what that means."

The other women snort as Laura urges her daughter to go play with her siblings and Morgan. Reluctantly she goes. Then as soon as she's out of hearing range, the ladies give you your full attention.

You sigh. "Bucky is.. a very attractive man. Too attractive if I must admit. And if I wasn't knocked up by some random guy's baby gravy, then I could definitely see myself turning on the charm and seeing if he's actually interested."

"First of all," Laura says, "never say baby gravy again."

Pepper snorts as Helen's nose wrinkles. "And secondly," Helen then pipes up, "that man adores you, baby and all." You huff in disbelief. "Don't think I didn't see him pacing outside my office at your last appointment. Or see the way he lit up when you gave him one of the sonogram pictures."

Laura smirks. "Clint told me Bucky keeps a copy of a sonogram in his vest."

And that- that's news to you. Yes you're well aware of your attraction to him as well as his attraction for you (being a werewolf really helps out when you can scent someone's emotions), but you wanted him to make the first move in order to be sure you and your baby were what he wanted.

"Whatever you decide to do, just know we all support you," Pepper says. You're still reeling at the fact that he carries your sonogram picture with him that you have nothing to say. "But until that day comes, why don't you start opening your gifts? I'm dying to know what the men thought were acceptable gifts."

Giving a feeble nod, Helen and Laura hurry to get up and start bringing over gift after gift. Then once you make yourself comfortable, Pepper hands you the gift she had gotten herself with squeals and coos following soon after you pull out onesie after onesie. The booties and floral headbands melt everyone's heart as well.

At the beginning of month nine, HYDRA starts to become a thorn in everyone's side. You figure they're looking for you and their precious cargo, but Natasha assured you everyone in the base you were held at had been taken care of and every file wiped from their computers. As far as other HYDRA bases knew, you did not exist. It was just a coincidence they were active again.

As the weeks slowly pass, your due date is any day now. So it's no surprise when you wake up in the middle of the night one evening, uncomfortable as can be, with pain in your back and lower abdomen.

It's four in the morning and you don't want to wake anyone, but Helen said to call her at any time in case something felt off. And this definitely classifies as something off. So after placing a call to your doctor and friend, Helen tells you to keep track of your contractions and head to the medical wing if they get too close together. She's currently in another state, but after a quick word with FRIDAY the A.I is sending for a quinjet to pick her up.

Moving from your bed to the couch in your living room, you work on trying to find a comfortable position. Sitting or laying down doesn't work, so you take to pacing. But you get tired of pacing very quickly and end up pulling out a yoga ball to bounce on.

By six in the morning, the contractions are about twenty minutes apart. The pain has amped up as the time passed that your claws and fangs have ended up elongating, and you've already shredded two of your couch cushions when you were suddenly seized up by a contraction. Eventually it becomes too much for you to endure so you have FRIDAY alert Wanda with a Code Pink. And not even four minutes later, Wanda is barging into your apartment with concern-filled eyes.

"Is this it? Is the baby coming? What's going on?"

You grimace, hands rubbing your stomach as you lightly bounce on your ball. "Uh, I'm in labor. This sucks."

"Well why aren't you in the med wing?" She asks. She comes closer to you, looking you up and down to make sure nothing else is wrong. "And what happened to your couch?" Instead of saying anything, you end up showing her. Another contraction hits and you snarl in pain, claws digging into your thighs and eyes blazing blue. Wanda's eyes widen. "Oh. I see." Then glancing upward, Wanda asks, "FRIDAY, how close are Y/N's contractions and can you please contact Doctor Cho?"

"The contractions are only eleven minutes apart now and Doctor Cho is still twenty-five minutes out. She has, however, advised me to inform Y/N that she should be heading to the med wing now. The nurses have been alerted and are waiting to have Y/N admitted."

A breath of air whooshes from your lungs just as you get yourself under control and you watch as the claw marks on your legs start to close themselves up. "Wanda," you pant, "I'm not going to be able to walk there."

"I got it." Your eyes watch as Wanda walks over to your kitchen, her hands glowing red as the same energy envelops one of your kitchen chairs. Right before your eyes, the wooden chair turns into a wheelchair. She then wheels the chair over to you, putting on the breaks before walking around to help you into the seat. "Now come on." She beams down at you. "Let's go have this baby."

Since the medical building isn't far, you don't bother with your pregnancy bag. The building is equipped with anything and everything you could possibly need and if you wanted your own stuff then you'd just send Wanda to get it. The elevator ride and walk towards the medical building is filled with your heavy breathing and pained grunts, as well as Wanda's encouraging words that are honestly starting to annoy you.

As soon as the nurses lay eyes on you, it's a whirlwind to get you situated as quickly as possibly. Wanda watches from the corner of your room and as soon as you're settled and the baby's heartbeat is resonating around the room, the terror sinks in.

You're about to have a baby. A BABY!? You're about to push out a baby that you're going to have to take care of for the next eighteen years and who will depend on you for the rest of her life. She will most likely be enhanced too and have to be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life as well.

"Hey. You okay?" Wanda asks.

"No." Your voice cracks and the tears immediately well up as you meet your friend's concerned gaze. "I don't know if I can do this."

"What? Of course you can!" Wanda rushes towards you and takes a seat next to you on the bed, wrapping one arm around you and holding your hand with her other free hand. "This is just the pain and the realization that you're about to give birth talking, Y/N. You're going to be fine. And on the days where it does become too much, you have a whole team at your beck and call. You and baby Wanda are going to be fine."

Wetly chuckling, you say, "Nice try. That's not her name."

"Well you can't blame me for trying."

A wave of pain courses through you and you squeeze Wanda's hand. She hisses, you snarl, and when it finally passes you can sense a wave of pain radiating from your friend. Glancing at her, your eyes widen. "Oh no. I'm so sorry!"

Cradling her hand to her chest, she weakly smiles. "It's fine. It's not broken. I just- I never realized how strong of a grip you have."

You quickly take her injured hand within your own, concentrating on siphoning her pain away. You know it works when she tenses and pulls her hand out of your grip. "What was that? You had black veins-"

"It's okay. I was just taking away your pain. See?" You say, gesturing to her hand. You watch as she glances at her hurt hand once more, flexing her fingers and then looking at you in surprise. "Yeah. I kind of forgot I could do that."

"You forgot?" She laughs. Then sobering up, she says, "I bet you wish you could take your own pain away right about now."

"You have no idea."

When you become truly uncomfortable, Wanda has you sit in the middle of the bed and pulls your hair up into a messy bun before having you lean forward. Using as much pressure as possible, she presses her fist into the small of your back in hopes of alleviating some of the pain. Then when Doctor Cho finally makes her arrival, she comes with a cup of ice chips in hand and tells you to crunch on that while you're waiting.

Doctor Cho is just as excited as Wanda and you can't help but glare at them when one particular contraction has you groaning out in pain for over a minute. "Oh fuck HYDRA!" You shout once it's over. "There's so much fucking pain and I didn't even get to have the fun part of sex!"

Wanda's eyes are wide as Doctor Cho tries to hide her smile, moving around the machines to make sure you and baby are doing okay still.

"Um, bad time?" You glance at the doorway to find Steve and Bucky standing shoulder to shoulder. Steve looks rather amused whereas Bucky is looking at you as if you have bad news to deliver.

"Steve, the next time you go after HYDRA, kick them in the balls. Hard."

He snorts. "Sure thing, sweetheart. How long have you been in labor?" He nudges Bucky and the two of them walk in when Doctor Cho doesn't immediately shoo them out.

"Since four this morning."

Bucky and Steve are both about to admonish you, no doubt, when a contraction hits yet again. Your features immediately transform as you snarl and Wanda makes sure to keep her hands tucked close to herself. "They're getting closer," she muses. Then looking at Bucky, she says, "Come over here and hold her hand. She nearly broke mine earlier."

Bucky gulps. "Doll?"

"Give me your fucking hand, James!" Steve snorts as Bucky hightails it towards the bed, slipping you his vibranium hand for you to squeeze. And once the contraction passes, you slump back into bed and sniffle. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you."

"It's, uh, it's fine. I understand."

"Just so you know, I got that on camera." Tony saunters in, Pepper at his side.

But while Tony is far too amused at your pain and yelling at Bucky, Pepper is elated for the life you're about to bring into this world. Wanda relinquishes her spot next to you so Pepper can slip in. "Hey Y/N, how are you holding up?" Her gentle touch as she brushes the sweaty flyaways off your forehead makes you cry once more.

"This sucks."

"I know it does, sweet girl, but trust me. It's going to be all worth it the second you hear your baby's cries."

Another contraction hits and you're grateful that Bucky had never pulled his hand back. You squeeze his vibranium hand and whimper in pain, and Doctor Cho comes forward. "Okay, Y/N, I'm going to have to see how far you're dilated now since the contractions are only two minutes apart."

Doctor Cho helps you prop up your knees and, though the blanket is still covering you, Tony blanches. And that- that makes you weakly laugh. "Alright, everyone, if you're going to stay I'm going to need you to stand near my head and not my feet. Got it? Cool."

Pepper quietly laughs and leans in to press a kiss to your temple. "We're going to go, but good luck! I can't wait to meet her."

"Thank you," you say just as she pulls away. "For everything."

Pepper winks at you and grabs Tony's hand, he willingly letting her take the lead. Wanda reclaims her spot and Bucky doesn't budge an inch. Steve, however, nervously rubs at the back of his neck. "I'll be in the waiting room and alerting everyone." Then meeting your gaze, his expression softens. "You're going to do great. I'll see you after."

You smile at him, but another wave of pain prevents you from saying anything. And once Wanda and Bucky are left alone, Doctor Cho pushes the blanket and your hospital gown up to your knees so she has an unobstructed view of your lower half. You wiggle at the sudden pressure between your legs and then she's looking up at you and smiling. "You're ready to push."

A sob stutters out as your fear comes back tenfold. You hold tighter to Bucky's hand and reach for Wanda's with your other hand, but you don't squeeze her like you are Bucky. "L-Last chance to book it out of here," you say without meeting their gaze. "Because the second I start pushing, you guys are stuck with me."

It's quiet and then, "As long as you want me, you have me. I am not going anywhere, sweetheart."

Your bottom lip trembles and Doctor Cho smiles adoringly at Bucky's words. Wanda chuckles. "Yeah. What he said."

"If you two are going to stay, I'm going to need you to wash up real quick and put on a sterilized cover."

Wanda and Bucky both assure you they'll be right back, and Doctor Cho leads them to a small room connected to yours where they can get ready. You can hear water running a moment later as your friends lather up and then the rustling of the paper coverings they have to put on that covers the front of their bodies. Then when all three return, Doctor Cho hurries around the room to prep what she needs for the delivery while also calling in a couple of nurses that you had okayed to be in the room when the two of you had made your birthing plan.

Bucky and Wanda take their places on either side of your bed, and Bucky immediately slips his hand into yours. Wanda just watches from her spot, anxiousness rolling off of her even though she's smiling widely. The two nurses finally enter the room, taking their place by flanking Doctor Cho when she slides a stool to the end of the bed you're laying on.

Doctor Cho smiles at you and gives you a nod. "Okay. You ready? We're going to push on three."

"Ready or not, she's coming," you say.

"That's the spirit." Doctor Cho then glances down at your lower half. "And push on one, two, three!"

Immediately you push with all your might for the first six seconds, but the excruciating pain flares up and you roar out in pain. You don't need a mirror to know your face has shifted and you barely hear Doctor Cho telling you to take a breath and that that was a really good push. So when you're allowed to take a break, you fall limp against the bed and start crying. "That hurt so fucking bad."

"Hey. That was good," Wanda assures you. "It'll be over soon."

You shake your head, denying her words when you come to the conclusion that you honestly don't know if you can do this. And then, "I think you dented my hand."

You startle at Bucky's words, snorting and then pulling your hand free and swatting him. "Shut up. No I didn't."

"You didn't," he grins. "But I got you to laugh. Now take a deep breath and do it again. Push."

Giving yourself a moment, you do exactly as you're told. You reclaim Bucky's hand and then push again, roaring out seconds later. When you fall back against the bed, tears are rolling down from the corners of your eyes. "I can't. I can't do this," you cry.

"You can and you have to," Wanda says. When you look at her, her own eyes are filled with tears. "You can do this, Y/N. You can. Now push again."

You continue to whimper until Doctor Cho tells you to push again. You do and it feels like the pain is even more excruciating now. Cho smiles. "Oh wow. There's the head." She glances up at you in surprise. "Your baby really wants out."

The nurses behind Doctor Cho immediately go into action, grabbing blankets and preparing for the baby's arrival. "Helen, I don't- I can't-"

"You can." You glance up at Bucky and nearly stop breathing when he leans down so his forehead is against yours. "You can do this, doll. You're almost there. Just a little bit more pain and then the most precious being ever will finally be here."

There's a lump in your throat, but you manage to swallow around it. "Easy for you to say. Your vagina isn't being stretched open way further than it's supposed to be."

He smirks. "Shut up and push."

"Fuck off, Barnes."

There's no malice behind your words, but it doesn't stop Bucky from acting as if offended. Then when you position yourself to push again, Wanda grabs onto one of your knees as Doctor Cho instructs her to and then Bucky does the same. You grunt, you scream, and you cry harder than you've ever cried, and after several more pushes there's a piercing wail that emits from the end of your bed.

All noise ceases except for the piercing cry and your eyes widen when you see Doctor Cho lift your baby still covered in a mess. She's laughing as she lightly wraps the baby in the blanket and then stands to lay her on your chest. "Congratulations."

The tears immediately come back tenfold as your arms come up to hold her against you. "Hi," you cry. "Oh my god. Hi."

The baby continues to wail as you glance between Wanda and Bucky, and you don't think you've ever seen them so stunned before. As your head falls back in exhaustion, Doctor Cho says, "We have to take her now. She needs to be cleaned up and we need to run a few tests before we bring her back."

And though you know she's right, you can't help the growl that bubbles up when you see one of the nurses step forward. You manage to suppress it seconds later, but the nurse is glued to her spot in fear. Bucky moves and you don't make a peep as he gently wraps the baby in the blanket once more and lifts her from your chest. Your eyes are glued to him as the smallest of smiles turn up the corners of his lips and then he's handing the baby to the waiting nurse.

"S-Sorry," you manage to say to the nurse.

And a moment later, she grins. "It's fine. New instincts are wreaking havoc on you, no doubt, but we we'll be back as soon as we can."

You nod at her, heart aching as you watch the nurses walk out of the room with your newborn daughter. Doctor Cho taps on your ankle and says, "Ready for the afterbirth?" Your nose wrinkles and she chuckles. "I know. I need to get you cleaned up and then tell you all about what your body's going to go through for the next month or so."

Sighing, you look up between your friends. "Go. Go find out how much Baby weighs and then tell the others she's here."

Wanda chuckles and her nose wrinkles in a cutesy manner as she gently cradles your face in her hands and leans down to kiss your forehead. "You did so well. I'm so proud of you."

"Mhm. Thank you for being here."

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

Wanda takes her leave, no doubt to find the baby, and then you look up at Bucky. The emotion in his blue eyes is enough to make your heart stutter, but instead of repeating Wanda's actions, he grabs your hand and gently squeezes it. "Thank you. Thank you for letting me witness that. I-"

His own voice cracks and you smile knowingly up at him. "I know." You then bring his hand up to your lips, pressing a kiss to the back of his vibranium hand. "And thank you for being here. I wouldn't have been able to do this without you or Wanda."

He grins. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

Chuckling, you gently push him away. "Go. Go find my girl and then tell the others. I'm sure they're dying to know what happened."

Bucky smirks before backing away and then turning on his heel to take his leave. As he makes it to the door, he rips off his hospital covering and trashes it. Then walking down the corridors, mind reeling over everything he's just witnessed, he lets his hearing take him to where he can hear a baby fussing.

He finds Wanda not long after and she glances at him, smiling. "Six pounds, three ounces."

He exhales in awe. "Jesus. She's tiny."

"She is."

Side by side, Bucky and Wanda watch as the nurses give the baby a washcloth bath. The entire time she's screaming her lungs out, but it only makes them smile and laugh and joke about how Y/N is going to have her hands full. They continue to watch as her foot prints are taken for the birth certificate and measured, then rocked back and forth until she calms down.

When she's placed in a bassinet to rest, Bucky clears his throat. "I'm gonna go find Stevie and the others. Give 'em the good news."

Wanda just hums in response and then Bucky's on his way once more. This is the lightest he's felt in a long while and he can't quite explain the pure elation that he felt the moment he watched Doctor Cho put the baby on Y/N's chest.

"Hey there, Tin Man," Sam calls out. "Any news?"

Bucky glances up, masking his surprise that his feet had taken him to the waiting room without really knowing. "Uh, yeah." He slowly grins. "Six pounds, three ounces." Pepper gasps, smiling wide. "She's, uh, she's in the observation room right now. Wanda's there if you wanna see her before they take her back to Y/N."

Pepper is the only one to get up while Steve, Sam, and Tony hang back. A moment later, all three watch as Bucky numbly takes a seat.

"I- that was.."

"Intense?"

"Beautiful?"

"Grotesque?" Tony muses.

Bucky briefly glares at Tony before looking at Steve. "I didn't know seeing the birth of a baby would feel like that."

"It usually doesn't," Sam says. "I mean childbirth is a beautiful thing, but it's not usually so intense unless there's feelings for the lady giving birth. Come into any realizations lately?"

Bucky opens his mouth to retort, but nothing comes out. Slowly closing his mouth, he frowns and then takes a moment to think about everything since Y/N was brought back to the compound. He thinks about every moment he had with her one on one, and one particular moment stands out to him. He'd been sitting in the communal kitchen when he heard someone approaching, their fucking fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck being a dead giveaway as to who it was. Y/N had rounded the corner, hands on her lower back and complaining about the full moon taking a toll on her body this time around.

Bucky suddenly sits up, eyes widening. "And there it is," Steve chuckles.

Sam starts to swear. "That doesn't count! Feelings have to be returned. We don't know how Y/N feels."

"Please." Tony scoffs. "If you can't tell that she's in love with Robocop, then the muffled sex noises from when they're boinking like bunnies after she heals will be a dead giveaway." Sam groans as Steve snorts and Bucky stands up without a word. "Atta boy, Buckaroo. Go get your werewolf."

Back in the room, you're cradling your baby and staring down at her in complete awe as you run your forefinger down the bridge of her nose. Wanda and Pepper sit in chairs next to the bed, and Helen stands at the end of your bed. "So everything checks out perfectly," she says. "Ten fingers, ten toes. Perfectly healthy."

"But," you muse, eyes never leaving your daughter's face. When she doesn't say anything, you glance up and smile sheepishly. "You're nervous about something. I can smell it."

She grins. "Right. I forgot you could do that." You continue to stare at her until she shifts nervously from foot to foot. "Well, um, when we took a sample of her DNA it was automatically entered into the system."

"Okay."

"I wasn't looking for anything. I promise," she pauses to gulp, "but it pinged in our system. We got a hit for a DNA match to someone who was already in the system."

"W-What?" Helen nods, uncomfortable. You glance between Wanda and Pepper, and both are equally shocked as you are. Then meeting Helen's gaze again, you ask, "Who?"

"James Buchanan Barnes."

The air seems to whoosh out of you at that and you don't know how to feel. On one hand, you're absolutely delighted. But on the other hand, he had no say in this and you don't want him to feel obligated when he no doubt finds out. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. I ran it twice more and Bucky's the father."

"I'm what?"

Dread pools in your stomach as your gaze darts to the opened door. Bucky stands there frozen. "Shit," you quietly curse.

No one dares to say anything, so Bucky stumbles further into the room. "Did you just so I was the father?"

You gulp. "I-It would make sense. Why HYDRA was so ecstatic," you explain, tears stinging your eyes. When he glances at you, you say. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't," he says. "I'm not- I'm not mad." And in a move that surprises you after he's just found out that he's a father now, he sits on the bed just right in front of you. He smiles at you before his gaze darts down to your daughter and he chuckles softly while reaching up to gently caress her beanie clad head. Lowering his voice, he says, "I'm.. happy that it's me. That she's mine. Ours." He then looks up at you, his smile vanishing at the sight of your tears. "I mean, I won't push my way into your lives if you're not-"

"Shut up," you sniffle. "She's ours. Of course I want you there, but only if you want to be there."

Bucky's radiant smile in response makes you swoon, and Pepper and Wanda finally chuckle.

"I hate to break up this moment," Helen says, "but I need a name for the birth certificate. And signatures."

Guiltily looking at Bucky, you say, "I already chose a name. If I had known-"

"It's fine, sweetheart. I'm sure you chose a good name."

You nod and then glance over at Wanda. "I, uh, I wanted to honor the pseudo big brother she'll never get to meet." Wanda's smile falters, eyes glistening. "Her name is Petra. Petra Amaris." Pepper immediately coos and Wanda loses her composure. Your eyes widen and you glance at Bucky, gesturing for him to take your daughter. Panic flits across his features, but then he steels himself and reaches to carefully take her from your arms. Then once you're free, you maneuver over to the side of the bed closest to Wanda and reach for her hand. "Hey. Hey, shh. If you don't like it, I can-"

"No," she's quick to cut you off. "I love it. I'm just surprised, that's all."

"It's a beautiful name," Pepper assures you.

"Good."

Bucky looks so enthralled with Petra in his arms that you look for Helen and gesture for her to hand over the birth certificate. Taking it and a pen, you get to work filling in your name and signing it at the bottom. Then looking at the father portion of the certificate, you figure you'll let Bucky fill it in if he wishes. But as for Petra's last name, you fill it in without even thinking about it.

"Here. Your turn," you say. "Only if you want to though. No pressure."

Bucky glances at the birth certificate, reading it over. He grins before glancing at Petra once more and then takes the pen from you, gesturing for you to place the clipboard down on the bed so he can write. It takes only a few seconds and then you're handing it over back to Helen with a beaming smile.

It doesn't seem like Bucky is going to relinquish Petra anytime soon, so you take the moment to lean back in the bed and rest for a bit. However, you only get to relax for a few minutes before there's a knock on the door.

"Aw man, you're lookin' awfully cozy with that kid in your arms, Barnes," Sam says.

Steve elbows his friend as Tony makes a beeline for Pepper. "Huh. She's actually pretty cute," Tony says. "I thought I was going to have to come in here and lie about how cute she was."

"Tony!"

You grin at him, but Steve steals your attention away as he hovers over Bucky and reaches in to touch your daughter's tiny hand. "What's her name?"

You and Bucky meet each other's gaze, silently communicating about whether or not you should tell them. You give him a nod and he slowly smirks. He moves so both his feet are planted on the floor, and Sam and Tony have a better view of the baby cradle in his arms. "Her name is Petra."

"Aw damn. Named after the Maximoff speedster," Sam says, shaking his head. "Should have seen that coming."

Wanda giggles as you snort, but then you have to bite your lip to keep from bursting into laughter when Bucky tells them her full name. "Petra Amaris Barnes."

The men seem to all freeze, but then Pepper and Wanda coo about how adorable it is that you gave her Bucky's last name.

"Wait, what?" Poor Steve. He looks so confused. "Barnes? She has your-"

"I'm the random HYDRA operative who apparently supplied the other half of Petra's DNA."

"Holy shit."

"You got that right, birdie," Tony mutters.

You giggle and then shrug when Steve meets your gaze. "It was a surprise to us all, but apparently Bucky's more than okay with it."

The room goes quiet as the situation sinks in and then Tony starts to giggle. All eyes turn on him when says, "We sent in Barnes to seal the deal with Y/N and he really sealed the deal, huh? Got him a baby momma and everything."

You blink in surprise and then stare at Bucky, grinning softly when he seems to pink in embarrassment and refuses to look at you. You glance at Wanda and gesture towards the door, and she seems to get the hint. "Right, well," she says, standing up. "Why don't we give these two a bit of privacy while we go make some phone calls to Clint, Laura, and Nat. I'm sure they'd like to know Petra is healthy and that Y/N is doing fine."

Steve and Sam get the hint, but Pepper has to push Tony out of the room. Then left alone with Bucky, you smile at him. "Care to explain what Tony meant about you coming in here to get the girl?"

You watch as he gulps and you can see him trying to piece together what he's going to say. "I might have come to the conclusion that I liked you more than a friend and was coming to see how you felt about that."

Your breath hitches. He.. likes you? That was something you kind of already knew, but were waiting for him to say something. And leave it to him to confess after giving birth and your emotions were kind of haywire at the moment.

Unable to speak at the moment, you carefully lean forward until you're on your knees and Bucky glances up in surprise. And without warning, you press your lips to his in one of the most softest of kisses since he is still holding Petra.

It takes a minute for his brain to reboot and when he does, you smile against his mouth as he returns the kiss. "Is that," he mumbles, "is that your way of saying you like me too?"

His eyes sparkle and you huff a quiet laugh, biting the bottom corner of your lip as you nod. "I do. Have for a while, but didn't want to scare you off since I was pregnant."

"You wouldn't have," he assures you. "I adored the two of you long before I found out she was mine. I'm all in if you'll have me," he says.

You nod. "I want you."

"Good. 'Cause you're not getting rid of me. Ever."

"That's fine by me."

#marvel gen fic x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #bucky barnes #wanda maximoff #steve rogers #sam wilson #pepper potts #tony stark #natasha romanoff #helen cho #avengers #marvel

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jadequeen88 · 4 years ago

Text

A Waitress’ Worst Nightmare

A/N: Written for the BNHA Degeneracy 9-5 collab! THIS IS 18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: TW.sexual harassment, TW.oral(recieving), TW.degredation TW.nipple play, TW.Mommy kink

Pairing: busboy!Keigo, linecook!Dabi, f!waitress!Reader

You’re a college student just trying to get by. The biggest worry you should have right now is if you had enough time to finish that psych paper or when you were going to meet up with your calculus study group. Instead, you’ve got a much larger problem facing you...A problem that has permeated through every aspect of your life. Your coworkers were Grade-A-Assholes who decided making your life miserable was on the top of their to do lists.

You thought waitressing at the 24/7 diner downtown would be a breeze. Money was tight and since you were 21 and almost done with your undergrad, you wanted a little more financial independence. Little did you know when the owner hired you that you’d have to work alongside the two biggest shitheads in the city.

First there’s Keigo. To the untrained eye, he could almost seem charming. But you found out pretty quickly what a dick he was. He was working as a “busboy”, but in reality he didn’t do anything but flirt with every woman within his field of vision. Keigo would leave the tables a mess until there wasn’t a clean one left in your station and you’d be forced to do his job for him.

“What, babe? Stop getting your panties in a twist. I’m real busy these days. You know I’m practically running this place now.”

Oh yeah. How could you forget? He took every opportunity to remind you of that fact. Keigo’s dad happened to be buddies with the owner, garnering a sense of trust with the old man. He slowly weaseled his way into running day-to-day operations while the elderly owner stayed home most days.

Although the diner needed another busboy to pick up his slack, Keigo refused to tell the boss to hire another. You overheard a phone conversation between Keigo and your boss just last night:

“Nah, boss. We’ve got it covered here. No need to hire another busboy. The waitresses are just finding reasons to nag. Women, am I right?”

You were fuming.

***

As bad as Keigo was, his friend Dabi was exponentially worse. The line cook was, without a doubt, a drug dealer. The only motive he could possibly have for working there is having a place to do business with his “customers”(and of course, to help Keigo make your life a living hell). It clearly wasn’t because he needed the money since you’d seen his “friends” slip him generous wads of cash when they stopped by the restaurant. If cleaning up Keigo’s messes sucked, trying to put in customer’s orders with Dabi was pure torture.

“Eggs over easy instead of scrambled? I dunno, Princess. Sounds like it’ll be a pain in my ass. Whatcha gonna give me if I do it?”

Then he’d lick his lips with his long pierced tongue, leering at you over the counter. Gag... You wondered if that ever actually worked in his favor.

One semi-decent thing you can say about Keigo is that he’d never actually laid a finger on you. The same can’t be said for Dabi. You learned after your first day to wear shorts under the skirt of your uniform. You were behind the counter slicing lemons when he took his spatula and lifted the hem of your skirt. Before you realized what he was doing, he was calling out to his partner in crime.

“Fuuuuuck, Kei! Look at the ass on the new girl!”

You wondered what was going on until you felt a breeze and realized it was your ass that was on display. You’d slapped the spatula away and straightened your skirt, but not before they both got an eyeful of your black, lace panties. You cried for ten minutes in the bathroom after your shift that day.

***

The day you’d been dreading was finally upon you. No, it wasn’t a big test or project due... You had to ask off work for your cousin’s wedding. That meant dealing with Keigo (who was now in charge of making the schedule each week).

You squared your shoulders and went over what you would say over, and over in your head so you wouldn’t stumble over your words when you had to face him.

“I need to have Saturday off for my cousin’s wedding. I can work the Sunday morning shift instead.”

This was repeated on a loop in your brain as you walked down the darkened corridor towards the office. You let out a long sigh and gently rapped your knuckles against the wooden frame. The sound of shuffling and muffled voices seeped through the thin faux wood and a moment later, the door swung inward. The thick cloud of smoke and strong, skunky smell almost knocked you flat on your ass. Instead of seeing Keigo alone working on the schedule, you saw that he and Dabi were hotboxing in the small office.

Knowing they were back here getting high while you closed the diner by yourself was the last straw. You slam the door behind you and stomp forward to lean over the desk Keigo was propped up behind.

“Listen you shit heads!” you slammed you fists on the desk knocking over a jar of pens. “I am so fucking sick of slaving away in this shit hole while you two get high and fuck off back here. You’re going to let me have Saturday off or I swear to Christ, I’m calling the boss and spilling my guts! About the weed, the drug deals, the snarky remarks, the groping, EVERYTHING! I’ve had enough!”

There was a moment of silence then the two of them burst into a fit of laughter. In a blind fit of rage, you leap across the desk and grab Keigo by the throat. When you made contact and squeezed as hard as your small hand would allow, a whimper escaped his throat and his eyes rolled back.

Now it was your turn to laugh.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you gripped your fingers tightly again to see if you could pull any more sounds from him. He didn’t disappoint. This time it was a whimper followed by him nervously mumbling.

“Heh, Kid... Seriously, knock it off. This shit isn’t funny.”

Your eyes traveled down the front of his body and when they landed on the crotch of his baggy khakis, your suspicions were confirmed. This loser who acted like a certified pussy-slayer popped a boner just from you choking him.

You leaned in close to his face, using this as your chance to get revenge for all the hell he had put you through. “Aww little Keigo... Not used to being roughed up?” you cooed. “Dumb little baby Keigo...I bet if I kept this up, you’d come in your pants like a dirty slut, wouldn’t you?”

You felt movement over your shoulder and heard a deep chuckle. “Dude you’re so pathe-”

Dabi gasped as you grabbed him by the crotch with your free hand and squeezed. He was already hard. You met his eyes and see panic etched across his features. A sadistic grin spread across your mouth as you tightened your grip. His head fell back and let out a whimper almost as needy as Keigo’s.

“You’re both going to do exactly what I say or I swear, I will tell every girl you ever try to speak to what a couple of pathetic virgins you two are...”

***

“Ungh! Plea-please... Harder! I... I need more!”

*SMACK*

Your hand lands hard across the blonde’s face, drawing a pathetic whimper from his throat. He thrust his weeping cock along your shin whimpering, craving more pressure to relieve his suffering.

“You don’t get to tell me what you need, Keigo. Shut your fucking mouth and be grateful you get this much.”

You throw your head back against the office chair and hum as Dabi eats your cunt like it’s his last meal.

“Mmm... See Keigo? See what a good boy Dabi is being? He knows his stupid mouth is only meant for one thing... Making Mommy’s pussy feel good.”

The praise causes the dark haired man between your thighs to moan into your clit sending a pulse of pleasure through your lower body. The ball of his piercing circles your clit and you feel the familiar ache of an impending orgasm begin to tighten in your belly.

Keigo starts shoving Dabi away from you with a growl. “This is bullshit! I haven’t even had a chance yet!”

Dabi elbows him, ”Fuck off Kei! I almost had her finished off!”

Furious from being jerked back from the edge of your orgasm, you grab a fist full of blonde hair in one hand and black in the other. You pull their flushed faces up to look you in the eye.

“If you want to come at all, you will shut...the fuck...up... and get me off. Now”

Dabi wasted no time in diving back into your dripping slit, panting heavily while he ran his pierced tongue in and out of your swollen entrance. Keigo attacked your neck, whimpering as he planted sloppy kisses down your collarbone until his tongue was licking long stripes up you clothed nipple.

“I think you can do a little better than that, baby,’ you cooed into Keigo’s messy blonde tresses, sweetly tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He took that as his cue to remove the clothing between your hardening bud and his hot, wet tongue.

Keigo latched onto your nipple, nursing it with vigor while he gently grazed his fingertips over the other. You heard him mumble something into the soft swell of your breast.

“Speak up,” you pull him away from your nipple with a pop, “I didn’t catch that...”

“I-I said... I...”

Your attention was drawn to the man between your legs as he began to suck down hard on your clit. The hand you had wrapped in Keigo’s hair tightened causing him to cry out.

“Mommy! Please! Wanna be your good boy! Wanna make Mommy come...” He sobs as he starts frantically licking and sucking your neglected nipple. This pushes you over the edge and your long awaited orgasm rushes over you.

After you come down from your high, you push them off and begin getting dressed while the two men you left on the floor look up at you with wide eyes.

Dabi, still panting from eating you so vigorously, chokes out a little half sob.

“But.. where are you goin? We did what you asked!”

“Yeah babe! what the fuck!”

You eyed both men and let the tension hang in the air before turning and walking to the door.

“Give me the whole weekend off. Then we’ll arrange something Monday,” you look over your shoulder, “As long as you don’t piss me off before then..”

You walk out of the office with the biggest grin you’ve had in a long time and feeling a lot more relaxed. Maybe this job was going to turn out better than you expected.

#bnha dabi #bnha smut #dabi x you #hawks x y/n #tw mommy kink #bnha eijiro kirishima #mha hawks #mha x reader #bnha reader insert #jade writes smut

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gernades · 3 years ago

Text

Ace is gone. He’s been gone for five weeks.

Nancy has had a lot of time to think.

She sees the places where he used to be- the kitchen, his house, the spot in his driveway where Florence is always parked- and can’t stop looking at them.

“Nancy?”

Nancy blinks and looks up. Ace’s mother is watching her, hands resting on the dough, eyes concerned. “Are you okay?”

Today they’re making babka-chocolate bread, braided in sections and glazed with egg wash. Nancy looks down. She’s not very good at braiding, but it mostly looks like Rebecca’s dough.

“I’m fine,” she says, a half-smile working its way across her face. “It’s just been a long week.” Another week without Ace. She doesn’t know why she’s here, in his house- in his kitchen- but Rebecca doesn’t seem to mind. She never has.

Nancy’s here every other day, now. They’ve made bread and biscuits and a dozen Jewish desserts that Nancy is now addicted to.

Sometimes, Thom joins them.

( “He’s taken quite the shine to you,” Rebecca whispers on one such day, eyes sparkling. “He’s not like this with everyone.”

Nancy doesn’t bring up the ASL textbooks sitting new and shiny on her desk at home.

Talking about me again, Thom signs over his shoulder, and Rebecca laughs, flicks him on the shoulder. )

Now, Rebecca gently sets down her dough and wipes her fingers off on her apron. “Do you want to talk about it?”

No, thank you, is Nancy’s knee jerk reaction. She pauses before letting the words come out. She’s been doing that more often, as of late. Sana-her therapist- would be proud.

Nancy purses her lips and drags a finger through the loose flour on the counter. “It’s nothing, really. I’m just… going through a lot with my dad’s business, and... I can’t help but feel like I’m never going to be happy again.”

The last part she doesn’t mean to say out loud. “I’m sorry,” Nancy says immediately, and lifts her head up. “That was…”

“Oh, honey,” Rebecca whispers. Her eyes are shiny. “I don’t know exactly what’s been going on, but I can tell that it’s been hard on you. You’ve always been so strong. Just like your mother.”

“Hm,” Nancy manages, throat tight and vision blurry. When Rebecca bustles around the table and wraps her arms around her, she doesn’t pull away.

Rebecca smells like soap and rosemary: she is warm and accepting and she makes Nancy’s heart hurt less. This will have to end eventually, but she can’t help but lean into it anyway.

***

“You’ve been spending a lot of time out of the house,” Carson remarks later that night.

They’re sitting at the dinner table, doing their best to eat what is supposed to be spaghetti, courtesy of Ryan. He’s still learning how to use basic appliances: his cooking is dangerous.

Nancy wrinkles her nose and stabs at a coagulated lump of pasta.

“Yeah. Nothing bad. I’ve just been… baking.”

Ryan hums and shoves a forkful of food into his mouth. Nancy and Carson watch in amazement as he gets it down without gagging. “You’re really good at it, too. That, uh, chocolate croissant thingy you brought home yesterday was amazing.”

Nancy raises an eyebrow, amused. “The rugelach?”

Ryan jabs his fork into the air. “Yes. So good.”

“Spending time with Rebecca, I gather?” Carson’s voice is light and free of judgement. Before the whole Wraith thing, Nancy would have pulled up her walls, deflected the conversation.

It’s a little different now, though, so Nancy just nods. “It’s just... nice to have someone to talk to who’s normal.”

Carson sighs and rubs her shoulder. “I understand that completely.”

“Hey,” Ryan states, expression pinched, “is pasta supposed to make my stomach bubbly?”

Nancy and Carson exchange a long, tired look.

They take Ryan to the ER for food poisoning.

***

George slams a palm down onto the table. Her engagement ring sparkles in the afternoon light. Nancy jumps. “It’s been quiet, Drew. Too quiet. I don’t trust it.”

Nancy takes a long look around the Claw. It’s nearly packed to the brim with customers- their Yelp ratings have skyrocketed since the staff have actually started working again. “This is your idea of quiet?”

George groans and slides into the opposite booth. “You know what I mean. We’ve had nothing supernatural happen for almost a month. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Good,” Nancy replies mildly, and takes another bite of her crab roll. “I’m taking a sabbatical from sleuthing.”

Sana was the one to suggest a break from anything stressful- like sports or large events! Avoiding murder and possession via the paranormal probably isn’t what her therapist means, but Nancy can read between the lines.

George screeches. Half the restaurant turns to look at them. They turn back when they see who it is.

“What?” She narrows her eyes and leans in. “Okay. I never thought I’d live to see the Hero of Horseshoe Bay gives herself a break.” She crosses her arms. “I’m proud of you, Nancy.”

Nancy’s heart hums. She sends George a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

George smiles back. “Your lunch break was over ten minutes ago, by the way. I need you to clean out the grease traps.”

Nancy’s smile drops.

The grease traps are gross, hard work. They’re also the last normal thing Nancy did with Ace, which is equal parts sad and amusing.

She grits her teeth and scrubs her cloth against the dirty metal. At least it’s cool here, in the kitchen, and away from the always-prying eyes of customers.

The bell above the restaurant door tinkles faintly. Nancy sighs and dips her rag into the bucket of degreaser.

Bess screams, high-pitched and excited. “Ace!”

Nancy stands up so quickly that she knocks the bucket onto its side. No way.

He can’t be back- it’s too soon, too late. Nancy needs to think more. If he’s back, she can’t go to his house again, can she?

Heart pounding, she creeps over to the window and peers into the restaurant. He’s surrounded by Bess and George- and, after a moment, Nick jogs in from the parking lot, smile blinding.

Nancy wants to go see him. She does. Her feet seem to have other ideas, though. She can’t seem to move at all.

Ace looks good. His hair is longer, and sun-bleached; his skin is tanned. Even from this distance Nancy can see the new freckles on his face.

There’s a leather jacket, black and tight around his shoulders- and two new silver studs in his ears. He’s smiling. He looks happy.

Nancy’s chest aches.

“Hey,” she hears him say to George, “Where’s Nancy?”

Nancy takes a half step backwards.

“Cleaning the grease traps in the kitchen,” George replies, spreading her arms in a grand gesture. “The best job in the world.”

Ace laughs.

Nancy runs.

She doesn’t really run- she simply makes a strategic, tactical retreat into the staff room and out the back door.

There’s no time to overthink it- not yet, her brain and heart agree. Not yet.

Nancy thanks her former self for parking her car at the very edge of the lot. Nobody notices as she pulls out onto the road, a full two hours before her shift is supposed to end.

Ooh, she’s a little runaway! Bon Jovi croons on the radio. Daddy’s girl learned fast-

Nancy grits her teeth and pushes her foot against the accelerator.

All those things he couldn’t say! Ooh, she’s a little runawa-

Nancy spins the radio dial with fumbling fingers, and spends the rest of her drive listening to germanic opera.

“Shit.”

***

“Jesus,” Ryan says when he opens the front door. “You look worse than I do, and I spent three hours getting my stomach pumped last night.”

Nancy pushes past him without a word.

Ryan’s voice lowers, softens. “Nancy. Hey.” He reaches out, gently wraps a hand around her wrist. She stops walking. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Nancy says, but her words come out wobbly, uneven.

Ryan scoots a little closer. “Okay, well… that’s a lie.”

Nancy snorts. “Ace is back.”

Ryan smiles, relieved. “That’s great!” He pauses. “Isn’t it?” When she says nothing, he squints his eyes, searches her face. “Oh,” he says finally. “I see.”

Nancy stiffens, alarmed. “How did you-,”

Ryan sighs and taps his cheek. “We make the same kind of face, you know. Genetics and all that.”

“Shit,” Nancy says again, and tries very hard not to sink through the floor.

“Don’t worry,” Ryan promises. “I wont say anything.”

“What’s going on?”

Ryan and Nancy turn to face Carson, who is wrapped in a purple robe, fresh out of the shower. He takes one look at the expression on Nancy’s face and rushes over. “Is there another entity-,”

“No,” Nancy says vehemently. She drops her head onto his shoulder, breathes in the smell of his aftershave. “I’m just not feeling well.”

Neither of her dads press her for more- they simply stand like that, the three of them, for a very long time.

***

George: where the hell are u??

George: hello? nancy?

George: are u ok

Bess: ACE IS BACK!!!! :D

Bess: wait where r u

Nick: Did something happen?

Ace: hey. i just got back. where are you?

“No,” Nancy says softly, and turns off her phone. “I am not good.”

She needs a plan. Something to protect herself, and to spare everyone from the complications that one-sided feelings often bring. It’s been a good five weeks, if she doesn’t include the whole Ace thing. It’s been peaceful. Happy.

She doesn’t want to ruin that.

Nancy draws her knees up to her chest and stares out the window. I think I’ll just have to pretend. It’s either that, or avoiding Ace altogether- which would be impossible.

No more baking with Rebecca and Thom, either. That hurts more than Nancy wants to admit- but she’s already made up her mind. She’ll keep her feelings on the back burner, and do her best to keep things normal.

With a sigh, she stands, and goes upstairs to take a much-needed nap.

She dreams again. It’s the same one she’s been having every night for the past five weeks.

Nancy dreams of silk and cigarette smoke- because Ace always has to light one up after he has a joint- and of the ocean. The waves lap at the shore, rhythmic and quiet. It’s peaceful, here. Safe.

She dreams about a cliff, soft grass: warm, roving hands and a familiar mouth against her own. If she calls out his name in her sleep, that’s her problem.

If she wakes up sweaty and teary-eyed, that’s her problem, too.

#VERY quick thing before work #just thinkin. yanno.#nace #ficlet #t

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biaswreckingfics · 4 years ago

Text

To Be Replaced: Part 2

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 3.4k

Previous Chapter

For the next few days, every time you see Baekhyun, his face is buried in his phone. He spent the majority of his free time working on his line, setting up meetings with investors, and doing everything he could to make sure his and Maya’s designs were perfect. You were proud of him but also worried about his health. His lack of sleep and self-care concerned you, so you were relieved when you finally got him to agree to having a relaxing day together.

You thought the two of you would spend the day being lazy around the house, binge some shows, and either cook or order takeout. You figured it would be a good way for the two of you to relax together... Of course, you didn’t expect Baekhyun to completely ignore his phone during the day either. He had calls and emails to answer, and you expected that… What you didn’t expect was for him to have his face buried in his phone the entire day.

Finally, you sigh and pause the show he had wanted to watch and ask who he’s texting. You give him a little bit to respond, and when he doesn’t, you turn your body towards him and watch him type away on his phone. You ask a second time, and it’s like he doesn’t even hear you. You weren’t even sure he knew you were in the same room as him at this point.

You turn your head and glance around the room, trying to decide if it was worth it to keep asking or if you should just let it go. Debating, you knew it would bug you for days if you let him get away with ignoring you during the time you were supposed to be spending together, so you know you have to say something.

You turn back to him and poke his cheek, finally getting his attention. “I’ve been talking to you… Who are you texting so furiously?”

“Oh, it’s Maya. There was a problem with one of our fabrics, but she figured it out.”

Ah… That would make sense why he was so invested in his phone. Letting it go, you let him finish what he needs to do and go inspect the food you had in the kitchen. You didn’t really want to cook, and it looks like you didn’t have enough ingredients to make something delicious anyways, so you leave the kitchen and head back to the living room.

“Hey, do you want to get takeout instead? We don’t really have anything to eat.”

Baekhyun pauses mid text and looks over at you with a slightly guilty look on his face. “Didn’t I tell you Maya and I were going to go get dinner?”

You blink a few times, almost sure you were in a sudden state of shock. “No?”

He hums in thought for a moment. “I swore I did… Well, I want to thank her for fixing the fabric mix-up.”

“Wait a minute… You made the plans today? Even though we already had plans together?” you feel annoyance quickly filling you at the thought of him ending your day together halfway through it. Also, he couldn’t remember if he told you something that he literally just decided to do not even five minutes ago?

“I figured you’d be okay with it… We can have dinner tomorrow.” Baekhyun says as he shrugs like it’s not a big deal.

You try not to let it show, but you are hurt by his actions and the lack of care towards your plans… However, you knew this was important to him, so you would let it go, just like everything else.

“…Oh…okay.”

He walks up to you with a smile and gives you a quick peck on the lips. “I’m gonna go get ready for dinner. You should order yourself some food, though. It’s not good to skip meals.”

You silently watch as he walks toward your bedroom with a noticeable spring in his step. Suddenly, you didn’t feel hungry at all, but you pick up your phone and text Sehun to come over for dinner, anyway. Baekhyun was right. You shouldn’t skip meals.

You hang out on the couch and listen to Baekhyun hum as he gets ready. You try to ignore the hurt you were feeling about the sudden change in plans and how happy he seemed at the thought of getting dinner with Maya. Whether to celebrate a fabric mishap or not.

After what feels like forever, you hear the sound of your apartment door opening, and you glance up to see Sehun entering with bags of food. You quickly jump up to help him carry everything, completely used to him walking into your apartment unannounced.

“Thanks for coming over…” you say as you set the bags on your kitchen counter.

“Yeah, it’s no…”

When Sehun trails off, you look up at your friend’s face and see him staring over your shoulder in confusion before he glances back down at you with a questioning gaze. You turn to look at what had caught his attention and see Baekhyun grabbing his keys and wallet from the table before looking around the room to see if he had everything.

It wasn’t his actions that Sehun thought were weird. It was his appearance. Baekhyun was… decked out to put it slightly. He had on an all-black suit with matching dress shoes, and his hair was tousled artfully like you’ve seen on him a million times… He looked like he was going to an award show, not a dinner with a… business partner? …Now, you understood why it had taken him so long to get ready.

“Did you have a schedule today?” Sehun asks in a weird tone.

Baekhyun pauses his actions, finally taking in the fact that Sehun was here and the two of you were standing there watching him.

“No. I just have some business for Prive to attend to.” Baekhyun decides he has everything he needs before coming over to you and giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. “I don’t know when I’ll be home, so don’t stay up and wait for me.”

With those words, Baekhyun quickly takes off towards the front door and leaves without so much as a goodbye to the two of you. You look over at Sehun to see him glancing around the apartment in confusion.

“Am I in the twilight zone? Why does it look like he’s going to MAMA, and what does he mean don’t stay up late? It’s 6 pm. How much work does he have to do?”

You turn away from the apartment door and lean your elbows on the counter with a sigh. “He’s going to dinner with Maya. She apparently fixed a mistake with fabric… I don’t really know to be honest…”

“Okay… but why is he dressed up like that, and why are they going to dinner over fabric? Also, how long does dinner take?”

You take in Sehun’s questioning state. You were curious about all those things too, very curious in fact, but why was Sehun so worked up about it?

“What’s wrong with you?”

Sehun looks at you in surprise. “You’re not curious about all of that?”

“Well, yeah, I am… but you seem even more worried about it than I do.”

Sehun sighs and turns to begin unpacking the food he brought over. “I just… They kept pulling this shit on tour too. Always going to dinner, always staying out late, and working on Prive. You would think this was a project they were launching from the ground, but it’s not. Baekhyun already has all these connections, so why does it seem like they are doing so much?”

You chew on your lower lip as you take in Sehun’s words. Hearing how much time Baekhyun and Maya spent together and knowing Sehun sees it enough to pay attention to it was bothering you, but you didn’t want it to. You didn’t want to question Baekhyun because he had never ever given you a reason to doubt him before. However, you didn’t see the need to go to dinner over something small like fabric being fixed, and you certainly didn’t see why he had to dress so nicely for it.

“They’ve been texting each other constantly… and today, the two of us were supposed to spend time together, but he… Well, you know…” you trail off and indicate everything that just happened with a wave of your arm.

Sehun hums in thought while he searches your face. A moment later, he shakes his head. “She’s harmless. Ignore me. I’m just making something out of nothing. I’ve only ever heard them talk about designs and other fashion crap, so don’t worry about them.” He holds a food container up in front of your face to distract you. “Here, I got your favorite noodles.”

You grab the container from Sehun, but your mind is still with Baekhyun and Maya. You hadn’t realized how much the two communicated, and it surprised you it was enough that Sehun took notice of it. That Sehun was questioning it…

Over the next week, your communication with Baekhyun drops to nearly zero. Usually, when Baekhyun was at work, he was constantly texting you every chance he could, but now it was just short one-word answers he would reply with. When he’s at home, it’s no different. He spends most of his time coming up with designs or being busy on the phone with Maya.

You try not to let it bother you and to be the supportive girlfriend he deserves, but you can’t help it. It definitely bothers you. You couldn’t even remember the last time you and Baekhyun had a conversation that wasn’t interrupted by or about Maya. Not only that, but you were worried about him. It was like he was being consumed by this new line.

You glance towards the second bedroom that Baekhyun had dubbed his office and come up with an idea, or a reattempt at an old idea. Getting up from the couch you were currently sitting on, you make a beeline for Baekhyun’s office and feel grateful that he left the door wide open.

You peek into the room and find the man in question with his head down on his desk. You knew he wasn’t sleeping from the way he was sighing to himself, so you tiptoe until your behind his chair and slowly let your hands fall onto his back. He jumps at the sudden contact but relaxes once he figures out it’s you.

You slowly rub his back until he sits up, and you begin to work on his shoulders. His head falls forward as you give him a much-needed massage.

“Babe… I think it’s time you take a break… You seem exhausted.”

“I’ll do whatever you want as long as you don’t stop what you’re doing.” He mumbles in a daze.

You knead a little harder as you already plot a way for this to be an advantage to you. “Anything I want, huh?”

He lets out a soft laugh once he hears your tone. “Whatever you desire, love.”

“So many things come to mind when you say that… but I already know what I want.”

“What’s that?” he asks lightly. From the sound of his voice, you can tell he’s almost zoned out from the conversation.

“Take the night off from work, and let’s have a little date night at home…”

You feel him tense up, and you know he wants to protest, so you stop him before he can. “Please, Baek… You’ve been working nonstop since you came home from tour. You’ve barely even had time to rest… One night. That’s all I’m asking.”

He sighs before nodding. “You’re right. I need a break…”

He straightens up and turns his chair around to face you. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he rests his chin on your stomach to look up at you. “Plus, I’ve missed you…”

You run a hand softly down the side of his face with a smile. “I’ve missed you too…”

You get Baekhyun to follow you to the kitchen, and the two of you search for a good meal to make. Once you’re both satisfied with what you find, you begin prepping the meal and get ready to cook.

At least, that’s how it started out. In the middle of chopping up some vegetables, you glance over at Baekhyun and see him smiling at his phone. You ignore it the first time, even the third time, but once you notice Baekhyun has completely stopped helping you make dinner and is instead smiling at his phone, your heart drops.

You were sure it wasn’t work because you’ve never seen him smile at his phone for work. You didn’t think it was the EXO group chat or his friends because he never would stay glued to his phone when the two of you were together for them. Which could only mean one thing… He was talking to Maya.

Baekhyun suddenly lets out a loud laugh, startling you and making you knock some carrots to the ground. You sigh and bend down to pick them up, trying to decide if you even want to try to keep his attention right now.

“What’s so funny?”

He looks over at you in confusion before he remembers where he is.

“Maya sent me a pubg meme.” He tells you before waving his hand. “You wouldn’t get it, or else I’d show it to you.”

Feeling your shoulders drop, you bite your lips at his words. Baekhyun loved showing you stupid memes, especially about what he was interested in… Apparently, now he has someone else to share them with?

“I thought you and Maya only talked about fashion stuff?”

He shakes his head and looks back down at his phone. “We talk about everything. We actually have a lot in common. She’s a really cool girl.”

You ignore the twinge his words cause in your heart, but before you can say anything, his next words have you completely shutting down.

“She’s happy you’re making me take a break, and she thinks your little date night idea is cute.”

Your little date night idea… You mentally scoff. Why did the words sound so condescending all of a sudden?

“Right… Do you think you could actually help me with that little date night idea?”

Your eyes fall to the meat he has yet to season, and his own follow your stare. He jumps once he realizes he hasn’t done a single thing to help you and gives you a sheepish smile before muttering a small apology.

The next half an hour is filled with Baekhyun joking with you, filling you in on his past week, and overall, remembering you were still in the room with him. (Yes, you were being bitter.) He did his best to ignore his phone through cooking and even through dinner, but his eyes slid to it every time there was a ding… and there were a lot of dings.

Once it’s time to settle down and watch a movie, you choose a movie that you and Baekhyun had both been wanting to watch and settle down on the couch next to him. You lay your head against his shoulder and begin watching the movie, but it doesn’t take long for you to feel slight movement beneath your head.

You look over at Baekhyun’s other side and see him responding to a text from Maya. You mentally sigh and sit up, putting your focus back on the movie in front of you. Though, now your attention is derailed because you keep seeing Baekhyun texting from the corner of your eye.

“Wow. That was crazy.” You suddenly say, pretending you’re talking about something that happened in the movie. When he doesn’t even hear you, you try again. “I can’t believe the sister did that.”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” He mumbles in agreement, even though what you’re saying has no relevance to the movie whatsoever.

Hurt and disbelief flow through you once you realize Maya has somehow come in between your date night again. That Baekhyun couldn’t even give you a couple of hours of his attention…

“Baek…” you wait until he acknowledges you. “Are you even gonna watch this movie?”

He looks up at you and blinks before looking at the tv. “Oh, I already watched this.”

You open and close your mouth a few times in a complete loss of words. What did he mean he already watched this? When? …Why? The two of you talked about watching it together when it came out…

“You’ve already seen it?”

“Mhmm. Maya and I needed a break the other day, and we both wanted to see it, so we watched it… but you can keep watching it. I don’t mind.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and try to keep the anger you feel in check. All you can do is laugh in disbelief and frustration. Of course. Of course, he watched it with her.

After the anger comes the sadness and hurt. The two of you were supposed to watch it together. He wasn’t supposed to go and watch it with someone else… It felt like Baekhyun was totally disregarding your feelings. Not just about the movie, but about everything at this point.

You sit in silence for another ten minutes before you get up. Your interest in the movie or watching Baekhyun continue to text Maya was long gone. You walk away from the couch without a single word to Baekhyun, and if you were honest, you don’t even think he noticed.

You trek into your shared bedroom and immediately start getting yourself ready for bed. You didn’t care how early it was or that you didn’t say anything to Baekhyun. You were just completely done with the day and wanted nothing more than to crawl under your covers and hibernate, so that’s exactly what you do.

You lay there and try to slip into a different reality, but your mind can’t escape from Baekhyun or Maya. It was like you wanted to torture yourself and replay every word and moment over and over again. This goes on for 20 minutes, and the only reason you can escape the continuous hell is because you hear the doorknob to the bedroom door turn.

You hold your breath and open your eyes to see Baekhyun slowly opening the bedroom door. He creeps in, taking in your covered form with a frown.

“Why did you leave?”

“I’m just tired, that’s all.”

He studies your face for a moment before crawling into bed with you. A part of you wants to turn away as a small form of punishment, but the other part of you just wanted attention from your boyfriend.

He wraps his arm around your back and drags your body toward him without any help from you. He pulls you close until your face is buried in his chest, and he brings his chin down on top of your head. You feel him adjust to kiss the top of your head before settling back down again.

“I’m sorry… I should’ve waited to watch the movie with you.”

You sigh. “Baekhyun, it’s not just about the movie… I’ve hardly seen or spoken to you in a week, and your face is always buried in your phone… That’s not okay…”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He immediately says while squeezing you tight. “I should’ve given you more attention, especially tonight when you tried so hard to give me a relaxing day… Do you forgive me?”

You ignore him because you aren’t entirely sure if you’re ready to forgive him yet, but Baekhyun knew how to always get his way. He nuzzles into your neck, and you feel his lips brush against your skin.

“Do you forgive me?”

“Okay, I’ll forgive you…” you quickly relent before he goes for a ticklish area, though the words seem meaningless at the moment.

You feel him smirk against your skin before he suggestively says, “Good… because you can have all of my attention right now if you want…”

“Baek…” you whine, definitely not wanting to give in with how he’s been acting lately.

He pushes you onto your back and crawls on top of you, pushing his legs in between yours. “Let me make it up to you, baby…”

Tagging: @gyukult @marovekian1 @making-me-blush @softforqiankun @sebootyforlife @nothingbutadeadesceane @cardtak @brie02 @jungkooksworld18 @insta1010 @suhappysuho @purple-bell @sorrowinblood @softysuho

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javier-pena · 4 years ago

Text

denial

Pairing: Max Phillips x f!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Rating: Explicit (and I mean EXPLICIT/18+/strictly no minors thanks)

Summary: This is the longer version of that drabble I wrote a few weeks ago. There is no plot, and I have no excuse for this apart from that I really like vampires.

Notes: I can’t start every fic with “Dani made me do it” but yeah, Dani made me do it. She just knows what to say to me to get me to write stuff like this. Thank you for reading this in advance and for your advice and for screaming at me at one in the morning, this one’s for you, Ms @javierpcna!

***

“Stand up.”

A shudder runs through you when you hear his calm voice; and yet, there is something there, an undercurrent you pick up on almost subconsciously. The nerves in your body begin to tingle as you turn your head to look at him, your mouth suddenly dry. You’re both sitting on the couch watching a movie, his arm is draped around your shoulders casually, his gaze on the TV. It doesn’t appear like he’s interested in you as his eyes follow the action on the screen with tiny flickers of movement. Did he even say it or did you just imagine it?

But then he turns to you, raises his other hand to catch your chin between his thumb and index finger in a firm grip, and repeats, "I said, stand up."

You don't know what has gotten into him; maybe he thinks the movie is boring – you certainly think so –, maybe it’s the fact that you haven’t been this close to each other in over a week – both too busy with your jobs – or maybe it’s because you put on the perfume you know he likes, but he has never talked to you like this. He knows you would do anything he asked you to, couldn't refuse him when his brown eyes cloud over with a darkness that makes them appear black. You couldn’t refuse him when those eyes pin you down more than a firm grip on your wrists or hip ever could. It makes him look like a predator ready to pounce, ready to sink his teeth into his victim's throat to draw blood.

He is looking at you like that now and his unrelenting gaze makes you squirm against the couch. You can feel the evidence of what he does to you between your legs as something down there clenches around thin air and your own gaze is drawn to his left hand casually resting against his thigh.

You're instantly wet.

Without hesitation you jump up to stand in front of him, waiting patiently for him to make the next move. It isn’t your place to take the lead. As you look down at him lounging on the couch, knees falling open in an inviting motion, his right arm propped up as if still slung around your shoulders, you feel a tense calm, like a taut rope shortly before it snaps. The longer he makes you wait, the tenser you become until you feel you’re the one ready to pounce, ready to jump him. It’s all part of the game, all part of his seduction technique, to make you want him even more. Still, you don’t make a move because it’s what he wants. He wants to see you crack, cave in, so he can exploit that, turn the tide in his favor, use you. And you’re not prepared to let that happen without putting up at least the semblance of a fight.

So you wait patiently, even though your whole body is straining, itching for him. You know what’s about to happen, that there is nothing you can do to prevent it, but you’ve come to accept your fate and this knowledge fills you with tranquility.

And then he moves – finally! – and it takes you every ounce of your willpower not to mirror his movement because you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. He leans back until he's almost lying down, his back pressing into the soft cushions of the couch. He watches you, doesn't even blink, as if what he’s seeing isn’t affecting him at all, and then he runs his thumb across his bottom lip. “Take off your shirt,” he finally says in a low tone of voice that makes it impossible to resist him.

You comply, lifting the thin, blue fabric over your head to reveal you’re not wearing anything underneath. Thankfully, the air in the room is quite cold so you can blame your hardened nipples on that and not on your heightened state of arousal. The TV behind you fills the otherwise quiet, dark room with flashing lights and the sounds of explosions. He doesn't seem to hear them, doesn’t seem bothered by the alternating flashes of bright white and almost complete darkness. You have his full attention, and it makes you squirm, your heartbeat picking up speed, your blood rushing in your ears.

Again, he makes you wait, lets his gaze wander over you from the top of your head to the waistband of your jeans, as if he has all the time in the world. You notice how his eyes linger on your breasts for a moment, one of his hands closing around nothing as he imagines squeezing them. And you want him to – you’re so wound up everything irritates you, the noises, the lights, his eyes; an itch is crawling over your skin, one you’re desperate to have scratched. You want his hands on you, doing to you what he’s clearly imagining right now, but you know that being impatient will only make things worse. Max likes to take his time with you and if you act up, he knows how to punish you. You swallow hard in anticipation.

“Now your pants,” he finally orders, raising his eyebrows in what you can only interpret as a challenge.

You let your hand wander down your exposed belly, your touch relieving some of the pressure that’s been building inside of you, the muscles of your throat moving as you try to swallow. You know he notices how they strain, it’s in his nature. His eyes flicker up to your face before following your trembling fingers, watching as you struggle to open the button on your jeans. Your fingers refuse to cooperate when he’s looking at you like that, like you’re a delicious meal he can’t wait to devour.

And then he moves too. He’s almost mirroring your motions – but his hand doesn't stop at his waistband. Instead, it moves lower, lower and lower, and then he’s palming himself through the fabric of his expensive dress pants.

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he lowers his to glare at you. He’s never done this before, always relying on the feeling of your body under his. This? This is different. You feel watched, studied, completely exposed, as he uses the sight in front of him – uses you – to chase his own pleasure. And you like it. You're almost ashamed to admit how much you like it.

As you push down your jeans, you let your thumb brush over your clit to relieve some of the pressure building between your legs. It’s dangerous and you shouldn’t do it, you know that, but you can’t help yourself. Your whole body seems to be shaking with the tension and you crave release, even if it’s just for a second. And for that short second, you think you’re getting away with it, you think he doesn’t notice. But he does. He sits up straight with a snarl.

"Don't ever do that again." It's a low growl, almost animalistic. "You don't get to touch yourself."

You still your hand, but it’s unfair; you know that, he knows that. Yet, you don't protest. Being whiny or needy won’t get you anywhere. Instead, you set your mind on trying it again. You step out of your trousers and kick them to the side. He relaxes again, as much as he’s ever going to, his hand resting between his legs, pressing down lightly. You want to feel some of the relief he must be feeling right now, so you let your hands run up your thighs slowly, relishing how his breath hitches. You can feel the heat between your legs as you press your index finger against your clothed clit. A quiet moan tries to tear itself from your chest at the touch and you do your best to keep it down, fight it even, but you fail. You lose that battle.

The next thing you know is that his hand has your wrist in a vise-like grip. "I'm not gonna fuck you tonight," he tells you quietly and this time you can’t help yourself – you groan in frustration. He just tightens his grip on you, his black eyes gleaming dangerously. "Kneel," he growls, forcing you down until your knees hit the carpet. It sends a jolt of pleasure through you, from the base of your spine to the top of your head. Shivering, you watch him free his hard cock, thick and heavy, the tip glistening. You wet your lips in anticipation.

But then he shatters your dreams with three words. "You're gonna watch." His voice is a menacing hiss, nothing more. "You'll take what I give you. And you're gonna be grateful."

You nod your head to show him you’ve understood, hoping that if you behave yourself now, you might at least get to touch him. He seems unimpressed by your submissive display, just watches you with mild interest as he runs his hand lightly over his cock, from base to tip, collecting some of the pre-cum, before repeating the motion. The air is thick with anticipation – you crave his release as much as you crave your own, his slow movements only making you strain, yearn for more. You wish you could hear him lose himself, deep moans and filthy, whispered praises for you, but he’s completely quiet, watching with interest what he is doing to you. It’s almost like he’s not that interested in his own pleasure but rather in your reactions, your desperation, in the power he holds over you. You squirm again, chasing a tiny bit of friction between your legs.

“Am I boring you?” he asks. He’s trying to keep his voice level, but there’s a ragged quality to it that makes you look at him.

Oh.

He’s not as composed as he would like you to believe he is. His brows are furrowed, and his chest is heaving, his breath coming in short, aroused pants. It makes you shudder involuntarily, because with these obvious signs of the effect you have on him comes something else, something dark and demanding and sinister, something he can’t force down. And you don’t want him to force it down; you want him to take what’s rightfully his, want to give him everything he craves, want him to use you until you’ve forgotten everything about your own pleasure, until you’re both just chasing his. You want to see him come undone with the softest of touches, with the whispers of the dirtiest things you can think of.

“No,” you say, and tentatively put a hand on his thigh just above the knee. Your eyes are wide with innocence, a silent plea written all over your face. “Just let me touch you.”

“No,” he repeats your own answer back at you, the hand on his cock stilling for a moment. Then he lets go of himself and holds his hand up in front of you. “But you can have a taste.”

You let your tongue run from the heel of his hand to the tip of his middle finger before sucking two fingers into your mouth. He lets you, helps you by pushing into you even deeper. The taste of him on his skin, on his strong hand, his thick fingers, is almost too much, too overwhelming. He picks up on that quickly and begins to pull out only to shove back inside your mouth with brutal force. Repeating this motion a few times, he watches as you swallow around him, determined to show him what he’s missing. You suck on his fingers, force him to press down onto your tongue until you gag, until his eyes are impossibly dark with lust. Your eyes flutter shut as you moan and he curls his fingers at that, stilling his movements, giving you a short break to taste him, to cherish what he’s giving you. When you open your eyes again, you see a red glimmer in his, which makes you suck and swallow even harder.

When he pulls his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop, a thread of spit still connecting you to him, you moan at the loss. This time, you don’t have the desired effect on him. Instead, his hand, his fingers that were just in your mouth, grab his cock again and he runs it up and down his length with obscenely wet sounds accompanying his movements. You keen, both hands on his knees now, watching the spectacle in front of you while you can feel yourself clench around nothing over and over again in time with his motions, like you’re missing something inside of you, a vital part, a piece of a puzzle that belongs there. You can feel him like a ghost inside of you, stretching you, and you’re jealous, jealous of his hand wrapped around himself, getting to experience the feeling you so desperately crave. The air is heavy with a scent entirely unfamiliar to you, an intoxicating fragrance that makes your head swim, that makes you feel brave and bold and ready to defy the rules.

You grab his wrist in an attempt to still his hand, to replace it with your own or your mouth or your warm, wet folds – you don’t care, you just need to feel him somewhere, but he growls deep and dark and dangerous and lunges forward, his other hand wrapping tightly around your throat, the ring he’s wearing on his middle finger digging into your skin. You gasp, a new jolt of arousal making your entire body convulse and vibrate and ache for him as he tightens his grip, as he holds you in the palm of his hand. You know he can feel your racing pulse beneath his fingers as he stares at you silently, his slightly parted lips revealing the edges of his teeth, making them look like fangs. It’s a battle of wills, a battle that can only have one victor, and you back down too soon when you let go of his wrist. You can see it in the mocking glint in his eyes, in the way the corners of his mouth move upwards in a contemptuous grin.

“Giving up so easily, doll?” he asks. “Would have figured you were more of a fighter.”

“Well,” you say, swallowing around his tight grip, “give me something to fight against.”

He hardens his grasp to a point your breathing becomes labored, your chest rising and falling in an attempt to suck in enough air to keep going. His ring feels cold against your skin even though his hand is warm, and that difference in temperature helps you stay grounded. You push your chin forward in defiance, showing him you can take it, and he accepts the challenge. The hand he has wrapped around himself begins to move again, slowly but deliberately. You know he’s not some kind of inhuman, supernatural being who can hold out forever. He’s human, just like you. But what he says next makes you question this knowledge.

“Tell me.” His voice is so low and raspy and yet fills the entire room to a point it makes your skin crawl. “Tell me what you would do to me if I’d let you.”

You swallow again and your tongue darts out to wet your lips before you trust your voice enough to speak. Still, what you say comes out pathetically high, your pitch raw with lust. “I would make you feel so good,” you manage before your voice gives in and you have to swallow again. His grip doesn’t weaken. “I would let you come wherever you wanted to. I –”

He interrupts you harshly. “You’re about to let me do that anyway,” he points out, still mocking you.

“I –,” you try again, desperate to come up with something that will make him crumble, will make his façade come down in a mighty explosion. “God … I … I would touch you … I – I would wrap my hand firmly around your … your cock,” your eyes flicker down for a second, “I would stroke you and squeeze you and … my hands are much softer than yours. Wouldn’t you like that? Wouldn’t you –”

“No,” he interrupts you again, crudely. “I like it rough.”

You try to nod, but he doesn’t let you. Instead, he tilts back your head until you are forced to look at him, at his dark eyes blown wide with desire, and he lets you see the desperation in them, if just for a very brief moment, a split second, for the amount of time it takes a helpless little hummingbird to beat its wings once. And you are just like that bird – fragile and delicate, ready to be crushed by this man.

“I would let you fuck my mouth,” you say. “I want you to make me choke, push me, make me- I want you to come down my throat, make me swallow every last drop of it.” Oh, you have him now. The movement of his hand is becoming frantic, desperate. A wet sound fills the room, increasing in urgency with each pass of his hand. “I want you to make me beg for it,” you continue. “I know you want to take whatever you need. And I would let you. I’d let you do anything you want to me, Max.” A small tremble in his hand makes his grip on you falter briefly. You take this opportunity to lower your voice. “You have no idea how much I need you right now. Don’t you want to find out, Max? Don’t you – don’t you want to flip me over, push into me, fuck me into the … into the carpet, use me until you fill me up, with no regard for me? I want you to do that, Max, I want you to stretch me open and make me scream and –”

His grip tightens so suddenly it cuts off all airflow. His ring cuts into your skin and you’re sure it will leave a mark. You feel your own arousal against your leg at that thought.

“Shut up,” he snarls. “Just shut up.”

“Oh, Max,” you moan. Where his voice is rough, yours is soft. “Do you want that, baby? You can have it. I’m right here.”

You begin to shift, but his hand leaves your throat, his fingers now resting against the nape of your neck, and he pulls until you are on display for him and he can see how your pulse races, a steady throb under your fragile skin. Before you have time to adjust to this new angle he’s coming with a low rumble in his chest, his grip on you tightening to hold you completely still. You feel his release hot against the tender skin of your neck and chest, you can smell him, and you make a sound that rings entirely unfamiliar in your own ears as he marks you like this.

Before you can make any move to clean yourself up, he pulls you up towards him, your neck straining with the effort, and then his tongue is on you and he’s hungrily licking you clean, sharply biting down on your skin once or twice when you squirm. You’re so desperate for this man that you’re prepared to let him do anything as long as it means he’s finally going to touch you. His tongue and teeth only drive you towards the edge even more, but it’s not enough, and you realize too late that you’re rolling your hips in desperation. He pulls back, his lips swollen and glistening, and then he shoves a hand between your legs so suddenly, your hips jerk and a frantic scream tears its way out of your throat. Two of his fingers move upwards, pushing the fabric of your panties into you. Your hands find his thighs again, and you squeeze with all your might.

“You’re dripping,” he observes with a cool smirk. “My fingers are wet, and I haven’t even touched you.”

“Please, Max,” you moan, rolling your hips again.

His free hand grips your side to still you. Then he removes his fingers, and you sob at the loss, tears shooting into your eyes. “Looks like you need to take care of that yourself, doll,” he says with a raised eyebrow, a smirk making his eyes sparkle. “I want to see how the movie ends.”

tagging (a few people who showed interest, mostly by liking the announcement post): @acdeaky @ah-soka, @darksber, @doin-stuff, @kashyyyyk, @leannawithacapitala, @light-yaers, @millenniumsfalcon, @minervadobbs, @pedropascaldice, @odetokeons, @phoenixhalliwell @piscespussybabe

#bloodsucking bastards #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #max phillips #pedro pascal #fanfic #yes i am asleep like the coward that i am #i had completely forgotten about the ring until i started editing this fic lmao #if someone has an answer to the question why vampires are so hot please let me know

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legoshi-plz · 4 years ago

Text

Pretenses Part Five (Louis x Reader)

Summary: Louis is a spoiled prince and you are a clumsy maid. Prince! Louis x Canine!Dog! Reader.

Warning: NSFW (+18)

Despite Louis’ outwardly composed nature, inside he was in full blown panic mode.

He had just finished up yet another uneventful dinner with his father and his future bride; now it was time to return to his chambers. His chambers he hadn’t been in since this morning. His chambers where he was currently holding you hostage.

Louis stood in front of his door for who knows how long before finally opening it with great hesitation, preparing himself for your angry, perhaps even violent response. Instead he was greeted with.... silence. You were on the bed where he’d left you, sound asleep.

Louis couldn’t help the relieved flutter of his tail at the sight of your sleeping form.

You had curled under the covers, probably to keep warm in the cold air of his chambers, your form rising and falling peacefully as you snoozed. Louis approached you slowly, checking to make sure you were actually asleep before his hands flew to throw off his royal regalia.

Once free from the confines of his complex uniform, he was under the covers immediately. Bringing your snoozing figure into his arms. You didn’t move a muscle; it was evident you were a heavy sleeper. Louis already knew this from his time watching you as you took your midday naps in his chambers but he didn’t know it was to such a great extent. He shifted so that he could lay his head on your chest, arms encircling your waist. He listened to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, his breathing slowing down to match your own.

He was asleep in minutes.

////////

You awoke to a weight on your chest and the smell of Louis’ cologne surrounding you. When you opened your eyes, the brightness assaulted your vision, making you attempt to turn away but that attempt was futile.

The Prince, who definitely wasn’t there when you fell asleep yesterday, was laying directly on top of you with his head on your chest, arms in a deadlock around your waist. You were caged beneath him, his weight pinning you down. You contemplated screaming bloody murder, hoping you could shock him into letting you go and make a run for it but decided against it. You doubted he’d remember to lock the door behind him, that could possibly be an opportunity for you to escape. You slowly began trying to pull his long arms from you when you felt his grip tighten.

“Don’t even think about it,” Louis mumbled, nuzzling further into your neck.

“My liege, please stop this indecency. As rightful heir to the thrown, a lowly maid such as myself would only sully-

“How long did you practice that one? Is that what you were doing yesterday while I was gone? Rehearsing pleas so I’d let you go?” Louis chuckled, finally opening his eyes. Sleepy amber orbs met your own irises and you couldn’t help but notice how beautiful his brown eyes looked in the morning sun. They didn’t reflect the light but instead nearly consumed it, a complete contrast to the brown of his fur.

“You must be hungry? You haven’t eaten anything since yesterday, if that. I’ll call the kitchen and have them bring us something up. Breakfast in bed doesn’t sound too bad,” Louis bit his lip as his eyes drank in your form beneath him. He definitely looked hungry, yet for something other than food; his eyes were burning with barely contained lust.

“I-I have to go, my Prince. I have to perform my duties in the kitch-AH,” you were cut off when Louis sat up and brought you with him as he pulled you onto his lap to straddle him. You felt your fur prickle with embarrassment as you realized not only was he shirtless, but he also seemed to be only in his underwear, the dark blue embroided material providing a very thin barrier to the Prince’s most precious asset.

“What about your duties to me?” Louis hummed, rubbing his hands up and down the fur of your outter thighs. The top of your uniform was still very much ripped open, so you brought your arms up to cover yourself, the blankets you’d been curled under no longer providing you coverage.

“Ah ah ah, you should know better than to hide yourself from me,” Louis hummed, prying your arms from your chest. He leaned forward, his mouth capturing once of your hardened nipples. The feeling of his hot tongue on your sensitive peak sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“Pr-pr-princeee, pleaaaase,” you moaned lightly, your voice nothing more than a breathy whisper.

Louis ignored you, instead moving to the other peak while his hands found themselves back at your plush hips. He rocked upwards into you, his hard member making its presence know.

“Take these off,” Louis mumbled against your areola, tugging at your panties. When you hesitated, he simply sighed before ripping them off himself.

“My Pri-

“Shut up,” Louis groaned against your chest, the vibrations further stimulating your raised peak. Louis plunged his fingers into your arching cavern just as he had the day before. You felt your head swirl in embarrassment and arousal, the two emotions battling for dominance.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you? How long I’ve desired you?” Louis asked, his free hand coming up to cup your jaw. His eyes burned with such passion for you, it was hard to not look away.

“That’s it, ride my hand. Just like that,” Louis grunted and you hadn’t even noticed your pelvis had begun grinding into his hand to meet the thrusts of his fingers. Your body was moving completely on its own, anything to help relieve the pressure growing in your lower belly.

Suddenly, Louis ceased his movements, lifting you up slightly with one hand while he pulled his underwear down with the other. His member sprang to life, resting against his abdomen as it stood glistening with precum. Being a stag and royalty, it was natural to assume he’d be well-endowed but nothing could have prepared you for the vision that was his impressive length.

He took your hands in his own larger ones and wrapped them around his weeping shaft. He let out a soft “fuck...” as he guided your hands up and down. He let go once you found your own rhythm, no longer needing his assistance for such a simple act.

“You’re so good at this- too good, actually. Did you touch Azuki’s mutt like this? Huh?” Louis asked breathlessly, his death grip returning to your thighs.

“I already told you yesterday, we aren’t like... that...” you grumbled, swiping your fingers over his sensitive cockhead, causing a needy groan to tear from his throat.

“Then what were you two like? You were already letting that filthy mongrel close enough to scent you, it’d be nothing for you to get on your knees for him.” Louis said angrily and you suddenly remembered exactly where you were and, more importantly, who you were with.

No amount of pretty words and declarations of desire were going to keep Louis’ true nature at bay for long. He was vile and malicious at heart. You knew this. He’d proven it to you time and time again. So when was it finally going to register in your dumb little brain?

You released his cock immediately, and climbed off his lap and out of his bed. You headed straight for the door but Louis was faster, grabbing and pinning you against the very door you’d been trying to exit from.

“Why do you keep running away from me? Can’t you see what I’m trying to do here?” Louis groaned into the nape of your neck. It sent shivers down your spine and you resisted the urge to arch into him.

“You’re trying to control me, to manipulate me”

“I’m trying to love you.” Louis craned his head back to look into your eyes. He saw no warmth in them.

“You have a peculiar way of expressing your ‘love’, my lord,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Annnnd we’re back to the incorrect formalities. Every time I feel we’ve taken one step forward, you move three spaces back. Why do you insist on fighting me so? I know you feel it, I can’t be imagining this attraction between us,” Louis finished, the grip on you wrists that previously had you pinned against the door now residing so that he could caress your forearms with the pads of his thumbs.

“I fight it because I know my place. I’m a dog, your highness. Lower than any other Herbivore commoner, and amongst the unfavorable even within Carnivore spaces. Most of the animals around here think I should be banished for even working within the castle during the day, let alone catering to you.”

“Their opinions don’t matter, they have no authority here-”

“It does matter, your highness. Because once your infatuation with me ceases, which is inevitable, you will return to your fiancé, marry her, be crowned King, and produce heirs. And all I’ll have is my life as a lowly commoner. That’s the natural order of things.” You lamented, your voice feeling thick with emotion.

“So what, you believe your future is with Azuki’s guard dog? Popping out litter after litter for him until you die? That’s no way to live, he can’t commit to you. His life already belongs to another woman and that’s Azuki.”

“You don’t think I know that? I’m fully aware of the hold our future Queen has over him. I’m just grateful for every moment he chooses to share with me. Makes my life a little less lonely...,”

“I could make your life less lonely! I could do that for you, better than he ever could!” Louis was slightly begging now, he could hear it in his own voice but he was beyond the point of caring.

“Don’t you see I feel my loneliest when I’m with you? All you’ve ever made me feel was small, and stupid, and unworthy. Legoshi doesn’t point out how I misuse words just to remind me of how uneducated I am. He doesn’t point out how unrefined my taste pallet is or force me to eat food outside of the carnivore diet. He doesn’t drag me out of bed at night to look at some stupid star a million miles away on some balcony when I’m afraid of heights. He doesn’t tell me where I can and can’t go, who I can and can’t see, just because he felt like it. He doesn’t humiliate me every chance he gets! He doesn’t boss me around just because he can!” There were hot tears streaming down your face. You had been holding this in for a long time.

“I see...,” Louis said finally breaking the silence. He released you from his grasp and took a step back. He adjusted himself, tucking his forgotten member fully back into his underwear. Though he had a beautiful body envious to those of Gods, he seemed almost shy about his lack of clothing now.

He glanced at your tattered uniform before muttering a “wait here... please...”, and walking towards one of the humongous wardrobes in his room. He pulled out a pristine, new uniform and walked back over to hand it to you.

“I kept a lot of these on hand, in case you ever wanted.... a more comfortable bed to lay your head at night...” Louis’s voice had never seemed so clouded. You silently accepted the uniform.

“You have my deepest apologies for my behavior. Such veracity was never my intention. I hereby relieve you of all obligation to me. You may return to the kitchen or to the gardens or to somewhere new if you like. Whereever you choose to go is fine, I’ll notify Stallworth of my approval. I...” Louis hesitated, finally bringing his eyes up yours.

“You’re free to go.”

/////////

A/N: I finally know how I want this story to end so hopefully they’ll only be two more parts for this series and it’ll reach it’s completion! Also thank you all again for 1K!

#beastars #beastars louis #beastars louis x reader #louis x reader #louis x you #louis #beastars Louis x you

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thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

Note

I may or may not have just sent the 3 word challenge in my real account instead of anon... I'm sorry. Please don't answer there. :)

When you post, post answering here please.

Again, much love,

📚🌻

Don't worry dear! Your identity shall remain a secret 🥰 Here's yet another fic with my Resident Evil OC: Gwen Winters (she’s an adult guys, don’t worry. However this is still an Older Man/Younger Woman relationship)

The words dear 📚🌻 Anon gave me in their previous ask were: Unruly, endurable and system. Please enjoy!

What happens in the gym....

Pairing: Chris Redfield x Female OC

Warnings: Swearing, Spoiler Free 😊

Genre: Angsty Romance

“Sure, throw me in the fire like you always do, Leon!“ Chris snaps, clenching his fists tightly as he glares at his best friend while the two stand in the dimly lit gym.

“Chris, you’re a BSAA captain, for the love of God! You should know better than to complain about something as little as this!“ Leon, while significantly calmer tone and demeanor-wise, is glaring daggers of his own.

“Why me, damn it?! And why her?!“ Chris is not done with his attempts to get out of the situation Leon’s trying to land him in and his partner’s honestly done with it.

“And why not?! You see the same potential I see, why would it be so hard to train her? She’s a quick learner, she’s disciplined when she wants to be and she’s already skilled to a certain degree. You’ve made soldiers out of total wimps before, why is she such a hassle to you?!“

“Because she’s disciplined when she wants to be and I guarantee she won’t want to when she’s around me. She’s unruly, selfish, arrogant and a Chris-phobe. I’m telling you, she hates me!“

It’s about time Leon’s had enough of this conversation. To be honest, he was done with it as soon as it started but he stayed, thinking he’d be able to change Chris’ mind but seeing as how this is a hopeless case, he’s just been wasting his time. “Does she? Or are you projecting your hate for her onto her?” Slinging his duffel bag containing his training gear over his shoulder, Leon finally makes that realization that these are ten minutes of his life he’ll never get back and storms out of the gym without another word.

Chris doesn’t attempt to stop him, in fact, he’s relieved he left. He sighs, silently hating himself for all the shit he said and how he meant none of it. It was all hard bullshit and he doesn’t know whether to be thankful or disappointed that Leon didn’t realize. Either way, he’s been cleared of possible suspicion, even if training the newest BSAA rookie still remains as his task.

Gwen Winters, she’s such a fucking handful. One cannot tell if it’s because she’s angry with the world, angry with herself or just straight up picked up on the habits of the family that took her in when she was rescued from Raccoon City where she was held as an experiment hamster. A chemistry project basically. Ethan and Mia were recovering from the events back in Louisiana at the time, still probably are, that is not some shit you get over, so they thought having another person in the house would help them. And help Gwen did. See, Gwen isn’t a handful with everyone. In fact, she’s a real sweetheart and Chris knows it too, despite his bogus claims. He knows she’s got a heart and soul of gold and is built with the will of a BSAA soldier already. All she needs is a bit better fighting skills and she’s good to go.

He sees how she acts with everyone around him. She’s been quick to make friends with Jill and his sister Claire and she’s even got Leon’s liking and trust which is hella hard to get, especially after all the shit with Ada. She’s overall a super sweet and lovely girl, even with him from time to time. He’s seen her welcoming, friendly smiles whenever he stops by the Winters’ home. He’s heard her laugh at the jokes he rarely cracks.

Then why does she act like she hates him so often? And why does he claim he hates her?

Chris is snapped back to reality by the sound of rough impact. It’s a very distinct noise, one he places immediately: the sound of fists hitting a punching bag. It’s the middle of the night, almost midnight actually, and knowing how lazy the soldiers on his team are, he can only assume it’s either his sister or Jill, given that Leon just left. However, they’ve had people sneak in to train for free before, so it’d be for the best if he went to check who was releasing some pent up energy on the poor punching bag. Judging by the intensity of the punches being thrown, sounds like the person might be angry as well.

And they have every right to be. Because they are Gwen.

Chris’ face goes a bit red at the sight of the infuriated rookie giving the punching bag her all, punishing it the way she’d want to do to her superior she just heard call her all the names she hates being referred by.

“Winters I-“

“Unruly?“ Punch “Selfish?” Punch “Arrogant?” Punch

She stills herself, sighing and wiping the droplets of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, “You say all that and expect me not to be a Chris-phobe?” She lets out a bitter laugh, rolling her shoulders before continuing her wrath over the piece of equipment she’s threatening to destroy. She hasn’t spared him a single look yet, something he’s rather grateful for because the last thing he wants to see is whatever her gaze is hiding right now. “I’ll talk to Leon.” She says, her voice leveled and breathy, far from the pissed off tone she was just using. This calmness is a lot scarier though. “I’ll tell him I don’t want you to be my trainer. To be perfectly clear, I never wanted you to train me in the first place. I’m just not the type to complain, you know. I’m not picky. Beggers can’t be choosers. I take what I can get. And you were all I was offered, but...” she trails off, delivering a particularly hard punch, “It’s not gonna work. I may not be picky, but I know when to draw the line. I know when I deserve better.”

“Kid, you really have no idea what the case really is here.“ He attempts desperately, taunted by the thought of acting on his instincts and approaching her even if that means being the recipient of one of those hard punches.

“You know, I’m strong. I’m skilled. I can hold my own in a fight quite nicely. I’m endurable. I’m not afraid to work my ass off and sweat and pant like a dog after workouts. There’s not a line I wouldn’t cross, but you still choose to make me feel lesser than any soldier you’ve ever come across, that’s really lovely of you, Captain Redfield.“

“Winters, please...“

“It’s ok, I won’t tell Ethan and Mia. I’m sure they’ll send you to hell over it. I’m not petty like that.“

He’s had enough. He’s had enough of hearing that hurt tone in her voice. He’s done hearing these words she’s so certain are true but aren’t. He’s done lying to her and to himself. Before he can even think twice about it, he grabs her by the arms gently but firmly, turning her to face him despite her hostile attempts to free herself from his hold like a wild animal caught in a trap. He’s surprised when she relaxes, probably seeing that as a quicker way out of the situation rather than struggling though if she tried to free herself any longer he would’ve probably let her go.

“Fucking hell, Gwen, listen to me.“ He looks her dead in the eyes, catching onto the spark of shock created by his use of her first name. But he also sees something else, something that looks dangerously a lot like tears. He knows she won’t cry, especially not in front of him, but knowing that he’s the cause behind the welling of those crystal droplets in her always shiny, always smiling eyes breaks him. When she doesn’t look away nor protest, he continues, “I can’t be your captain. I can’t be your trainer. I can’t be any of that. I’m a strictly professional man, and it’d be highly unprofessional of me to take you in as my soldier.”

“But why?“ She’s fully aware she sounds like a whiny kid - exactly how she thinks he envisions her sometimes - but she couldn’t care less. She wants and needs answers. She knows she won’t be able to fall asleep or keep coming back to the training center if she doesn’t get them.

It’s blatantly clear this is far from easy for Chris. His first instinct is to look away, let go of her, run away like he always does - not that she’d let him do such a thing but still. He’s finds the words impossible to spit out yet he oh so desperately feels the need to get them out of his system. And so, he gathers all the strength within him and finally forces himself to say it.

“Because a captain isn’t supposed to look at a soldier the way I look at you.“

Sure, it sounds cryptic as heck but he has no doubt she’ll catch on. Gwen is a smart and sharp girl, among many other things. She confirms this when barely three seconds after he’s said it, he notices her eyes widening

“Sir, I-“

“Don’t.“ He says simply, a small, regretful smile playing across his lips as his hand slides down her arm to take hold of hers, “I just admitted my dirtiest secret to you and you are still gonna remind me how unprofessional I am by using my title, Kid?“

She purses her lips, the shock momentarily replaced by her signature mild glare, “Well, you just admitted your biggest secret to me and yet you still choose to call me ‘Kid’, huh?”

He chuckles, letting his other hand repeat the movements of the first, “Sorry, force of habit.” His thumbs brush against her knuckles briefly as his head falls, his gaze fixating on where their bodies are connected, “You know, I didn’t tell you this to get myself any pity or anything. I just wanted you to understand and....wanted to get it off my chest. Ethan will kill me if he finds out, won’t he?” He suddenly asks, regaining the courage to look up at her once again.

She giggles, “Who says he’s gonna find out?”

Chris bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head, “You’re right, there’s nothing really to find out abo-”

Gwen has never been a chatter nor can she tolerate when people beat around the bush so she’s quick to cut them off sometimes, no matter how rude that may seem or sound. However, just to clarify, her chosen method of cutting a person off isn’t always kissing them. Just saying - this is a special situation requiring special methods.

Taken aback by the sudden feeling of her lips on his, Chris’ eyes close automatically but not even a second later he responds to the kiss properly: wrapping his arms around Gwen’s waist as her hands travel up to cup his face. The kiss is short - too short if either of them is to be asked - but it’s worth all the words they didn’t say despite wanting to.

When they pull away, Gwen gives him a mischievous smile, “Now he could find out about that and then shit would go south. That’d suck, wouldn’t it Chris?“

He’s only ever heard her say his name twice, once in passing conversation with Claire and once earlier when she paraphrased his term ‘Chris-phobe’, both time spoken with some dose of dislike he now realizes was a cover-up all along. Turns out the two are a lot more alike than they initially thought. Regardless, hearing her say his name with fondness instead of bitterness makes his heart flutter, his body yearn to have her closer, his lips wanting to be in contact with hers again. But he’s a patient and self-controlled man, he’s nothing if not willpower sculpted in a human body, so he keeps his distance, waiting for her to pick the moves, waiting for her to make the decisions just like she’s his captain.

“Big time.“ He manages to say, voice coarse all of a sudden, barely able to leave his throat. “So it stays here, right?”

She giggles again, bringing her lips within an inch or two away from his, taunting him, threatening to break his self-control, “What happens in the gym stays in the gym, Redfield.”

Golden rules of discretion, ones he mustn’t break ever. Especially not when his captain - Captain Gwen Winters - holds so much power over him.

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softyoongiionly · 4 years ago

Text

Fear and Dumplings: Chapter Seventeen

Confronting your fears for a final grade sounds unappealing but, with Yoongi as your partner, things might not be so bad.

Summary: You’re in your final semester at University when your Abnormal Psychology professor assigns you a partnered project surrounding your greatest fears. Lucky for you, your partner just so happens to be a cute boy named Min Yoongi.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Underground Rapper! Yoongi, Soft!!! Yoongi, Fluff!!!, College! Yoongi, Sub! Yoongi

Word Count: 9.1k

A/N: Hi friends! Here is a new chapter for you. I know it’s been a super duper long time since I’ve updated this series but, I plan on wrapping up the current timeline (wink wink) within the first half of the year! Special shoutout to my amazing friend @bulletproofbirdy who I love so so much. Without her big genius brain, I would literally not be able to get through any of my wip. Another huge shoutout to @gldnrecs @kithtaehyung @yoonia and @randombtsprincessa for being my lil hype team. I love you! Also, thank you to everyone over at @bangtansorciere. I am so grateful to have met so many lovely new friends this year! okiii bye. I hope you like it!

NOTE: all bolded words indicate when characters are speaking Korean

Warnings for this Chapter: ok here we go…(TRIGGER WARNING)

moderate angst, drug use (marijuana), mentions of anxiety, brief allusions to physical abuse, very brief allusions to drug addiction, alcohol

Chapter Seventeen: Daegu and Dirty Laundry

No thoughts, head empty (and in Yoongi’s lap)

The two of you are in his living room, bags packed by the front door, awaiting the cab to take you to the airport.

In a few short hours, you were leaving on a plane to Daegu to visit Yoongi’s older brother and, you can tell by the way he’s shuffled around all morning that he’s anxious.

Thankfully, Hoseok and Namjoon woke up with him, knowing that emotions would be high and well- offered to get him high.

“This is a really good indica strain hyung,” Hoseok assures him as he hands over a zip-lock bag, “I rolled a joint with this last night and passed out in like 30 minutes.”

Yoongi, dressed in an all-black sweat outfit, accepts the bag into the palm of his hand, before grabbing the pipe that’s resting on the couch cushion beside him.

“Did you get it from that same guy?” Yoongi asks, his voice heavy beneath the obvious tension he’s feeling.

Despite his attempts to remain casual, you know him well enough to feel how nervous he is. He’s practically vibrating beneath you but, you know that pointing this out will only make it worse so instead, you merely rub the outside of his thigh whilst he packs his pipe.

“Yeah, Jin’s friend-” Hoseok responds before nodding to Namjoon, “He’s honestly killing it right now. Jin told me he’s made like 5 grand already.”

Namjoon raises his brows, “Really? Damn, that’s impressive, I’ve never heard of anyone taking off that fast.”

“Jin has a lot of contacts-” Yoongi offers, adjusting the bud once more before grabbing his lighter, “it probably helped him get started. Plus, I think a lot of people around here have been looking for a good plug. Whatever he’s doing is working though, the high from last night was pretty good.”

At Yoongi’s comment, Hoseok’s lip melt into a salacious smirk as he raises his brows and jerks his chin towards you, “Are you sure it had nothing to do with that one over there?” He teases, “Yah, what are you so quiet for? You haven’t given me shit all morning...”

His comment makes you giggle but Yoongi cuts in before you’re able to respond.

“She’s tired, leave her alone.” He scolds but his lips twitch at the sound of your laughter.

Hoseok snickers as you finally decide to sit up. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on you even as he lifts the pipe to his mouth. Tucking yourself into the side of the couch, you finally decide to add to the conversation.

“Is the guy you pick up named Yugyeom by chance?” The sleepiness in your tone is more obvious than you were expecting and, it makes Yoongi smile to himself whilst he lights his pipe.

Namjoon nods, “Yeah, it is. Do you know him?”

Yoongi’s attention is on you even as he inhales his first hit, the nerves in his body standing at attention, waiting to be soothed.

“He was in my human sexuality class.” You remember, with a grin on your lips, “That’s actually where I met Jin too. I just had a feeling that it was him because, he literally always came to class high. Plus, him and Jin were like inseparable.”

Namjoon winces, “Of all the people to get stuck learning about sex with. I’m sorry...”

This makes you laugh, as your mind journey’s back to all the days you spent trying not to make a scene as Jin made sexual puns in the middle of a serious lecture.

“It definitely kept things interesting...” You offer, “I’m glad to hear that Yugyeom is thriving on his own. He mentioned his dad wanted him to join the family business but, I could never picture that man in a suit.”

Hoseok chuckles before his face tightens with intrigue, “Oof that makes one of us. He would look fine as hell in a suit.”

Namjoon grins, nudging Hoseok with his foot, “You got a thing for him?”

For the first time, you see a hint of shyness overcoming Hoseok’s demeanor but he shrugs it off, trying to appear casual, “I mean- I don’t know about all that. I’m just saying that he would look good in a suit.”

“You’d both look good in suits- together...” You offer, grinning at him, “Maybe in a private venue somewhere...”

Hoseok rolls his eyes but the smile creeping onto his lips is unmistakable, “Shut up- you guys are fucking wild. All I said is that he was hot...”

Giggling, you shrug your shoulders before nodding over to Yoongi, “Yeah well that’s how it starts-” You warn, “Then the next thing you know, you’re sitting on the subway, simping over a selfie he sends you.”

Yoongi’s soft lips immediately turn up in a small smile, the shy boy in him peeking out. At first, he says nothing as he merely passes the pipe to Namjoon, who mirrors a similar expression.

Hoseok is back to his normal mischief, feeling relieved that the heat is off him for the time being.

“Are you saying you’d marry Yoongi then?”

He expects you to be flustered by this question but, the answer is simple.

“This man?” You raise your brows as you point to Yoongi, “You’re asking me if I would marry this man right here? Hoseok- I would wife this man up so quickly, it would give you whiplash.”

Your comment causes the three of them to laugh and, to add to the shifting vibe of the room, you feel Yoongi wrap his arm around you in an effort to pull you into his side.

“You can’t say shit like that right in front of them, they don’t need to see me soft...” He mumbles shyly in your ear before kissing your cheek, his heart singing with validation.

“Hyung, you act like we don’t already know who whipped you are for this girl.” Hoseok laughs, eagerly accepting the pipe from a coughing Namjoon.

Yoongi ignores him with his arm still around you, checking his phone with the other hand, “The cab should be here soon, do you need anything before we go?”

“Hyung, you’re gonna leave your piece here right? Cause we kinda need it-”

Namjoon eyes him suspiciously, “What happened to your bong?”

Hoseok cringes, “I may have accidentally dropped it off the rooftop...”

Namjoon’s eyes blow wide open, “What the fuck were you doing on the rooftop to begin with?”

“I wanted to vibe! The bud was good and, I wanted to listen to the J. Cole album and get in my feelings hyung, get off my dick-” He laughs, playfully defensive.

“Hey that’s J Cole song-” You point out giggling at the double meaning, the exhaustion from earlier finding you once again.

“Exactly, I’m glad you caught that-” Hoseok winks at you before Yoongi finally responds.

“I’m not going to take my pipe through international security. Pot isn’t legal in Korea so, I wouldn’t be smoking while we were there anyway.”

“Oh shit that’s right-” Namjoon remembers, “I really need to keep up with what’s been going on back home, I heard they were opening the discussion about it recently but, I haven’t kept up with it.”

Hoseok interjects, “What about your brother? He probably has connections.”

Yoongi shrugs, “He might but, I'm not going to worry about it.” He glances at his phone again before turning it towards you, “Our car is here, you ready to go?”

You offer him a small smile as you nod, your cheek tingling still as he places another kiss to it.

He stands up first before holding his hand out to you. Eagerly, you lace your fingers with his and, hoist yourself off the couch.

“Alright you two-” Namjoon stands too, brushing his hands over the front of his hoodie, “Try and send us updates when you can yeah?” He shoots a look towards Yoongi that is filled with an emotion that breaches casual concern.

Yoongi understands perfectly, offering Namjoon a solemn nod in return as he pats his shoulder, “Yeah I will. I’ll text you when we land...”

Moments later, the two of you are in the back of the cab. Yoongi takes the middle seat so he can be close to you, his fingers are interlaced tightly with your own despite the fact that his hand is already sweating.

He’s anxious.

You can feel it and, you’re faced with two options.

Address it

Distract him

It’s not an easy choice but, you figure this weekend will already be filled with heightened emotions so, you’re not sure if you should breach this topic so early. At the same time though, you don’t want to act like nothing’s wrong and dismiss what he’s clearly feeling.

So, you land somewhere in the middle.

Yoongi’s jaw is loaded with tension as you reach over and turn his face towards yours. He doesn’t register what you’re doing at first but he is in tune with your touch as always so, he doesn’t question it.

Leaning in, you tuck your lips between his own, whilst your free hand comes up to encase the side of his face. You feel him relax beneath your kiss, a sigh leaving his nose as he kisses you back slowly.

You pull away, pecking at his lips a few times, your thumb rubbing over his cheek.

“It’s going to be ok.” You murmur softly for the sake of his privacy, “We’re going to get through this.”

Yoongi’s eyes open just enough to show you the sheer amount of trust present in them.

He believes everything that comes out of your mouth and, despite the anxiety that’s raging inside of him, he knows you’re right.

Pressing his cheek against your hand, a soft smirk graces his lips as he resists the urge to pour his heart out to you for the millionth time.

“I wish it was socially acceptable for you to kiss me like that every time I feel like this...”

You giggle, pecking his lips again for good measure, “It would make our psych presentation really interesting that’s for sure.”

He chuckles, his face adorably smushed against your hand, “I keep forgetting that we have to do that. I don’t even remember the last time we worked on it...”

“Me neither.” You say at first before your eyes light up with realization, “Oh my god wait- the last time was when we watched that horrible spider movie at my apartment! Ugh no wonder I couldn’t remember, I’m pretty sure I've blocked those images from my mind as a coping mechanism.”

Yoongi’s face lights up along with you, “Oh shit, that’s right-” He laughs, “Did we even finish our lists?”

The two of you share another round of laughter, caught up in the ridiculous realization that you had lowkey abandoned your final project.

You lean over to pull your phone out of your purse, “Here let me check-” Scrolling through your notes app, you find the project tab before allowing your eyes to wander over it, “It looks like I still have deep water and you technically still have night clubs and horror movies. But I mean- you did perform in a night club recently so I feel like that should count.”

He nods thoughtfully before his face lights up with realization once more, “Oh yeah, I already wrote about that in the research journal, I forget to tell you. That was definitely more of a direct confrontation than I was planning.” He chuckles, “We did sit on the beach and read terrifying facts about the depth of the ocean for mine, would that be enough for you to write about?”

The two of you have maneuvered so that you’re tucked into Yoongi’s side again, his arm draping comfortably around your shoulders.

“You still have horror movies left though so, I feel like I should maybe confront one more directly too. Besides, I have a feeling that I’ll be able to distract myself in the water if you’re there-” You mumble suggestively, which causes him to smirk as he leans his head back against the seat.

“Oh yeah?” He jerks his head towards you “How so?”

Resting your face on his chest, you smile to yourself and think of a response that’s appropriate for a perfect stranger aka your cab driver, to hear.

“Cause if something touches my feet in the water, I could simply latch myself to your back for safety purposes.” You explain matter of factly.

“If something touched your foot while we were in the water, I’d swim away so fucking fast- I don’t think you’d have time to latch on.” He explains through his laughter

Scoffing, you smack your hand against his chest as you sit up fully, wiggling out of his grip, “So you’d just leave me to die???” You accuse, “Also, last time I checked- you weren’t an Olympic swimmer, what makes you think you’d just zoom out of there???”

Yoongi’s cackling at this point, his hand on his stomach, his previously tense features now smoothed out beneath his amusement, “I’m not saying I would leave you necessarily-”

“Necessarily!” You point out, laughter erupting from your lips as you pinch his side, “After everything we’ve been through, you’re really just gonna let a sea monster eat me!?”

His eyes widen, as his laughter increases, “A sea monster?! Who said anything about a sea monster? Where did they come in????”

“I said something touched my foot???? Obviously that means there is a sea monster, lurking in the depths, trying to eat me and you-” You poke his sternum, “You just said you would leave me to die!”

Yoongi’s face is reddened with the force of his own laughter, his hand subconsciously coming up to cover your own. With his eyes tearing up and his mouth parted to make way for his giggling, you can’t help but admire how beautiful he is.

Especially when he’s laughing...

He wipes his eyes with his free hand, still chuckling lightly to himself even as he brings your hand to his mouth, “Alright, alright- let's be clear- I would never leave you to die.” He promises, still smirking as he kisses the back of your hand, “Realistically, I’d probably panic and jump on YOUR back.”

With narrowed eyes, you wiggle the fingers he has pressed to his lips, “Well I don’t know how that would work out because, I’d probably you know- swim away so fucking fast that I don’t know if you’d have time to latch on...”

Yoongi snickers as you imitate his voice but, rather than retaliate he simply tugs you by the hand his currently holding and, kisses you.

It’s soft and sweet- lasting only for a few seconds until he’s pulling away.

“Thank you for coming with me.” He says suddenly, the volume of his voice decreasing significantly.

And as usual, you know that he wants to say way more than he does. But you’re perfectly fine with that.

Yoongi’s subtly is a specific brand and, you’ve grown to love how the little things he does allows him to pack so much emotion into a simple phrase.

You feel lucky to love such a special person.

“Of course.” You return his simplicity, pecking his lips once more before settling back in your original position.

The airport was a blur.

You’re thankful it passes quickly because, the process of getting through security makes you anxious.

Yoongi ushers you into your seat before taking both of your bags and, storing them in the overhead compartment. You can’t help but smile as he turns to help an older woman with her luggage as well.

He smiles ( :] ) at her, bowing his head slightly as she thanks him. Yoongi offers her a tiny wave and takes his seat beside you, not noticing the way you smile fondly at him.

When he takes his seat beside you, the two of you settle into a comfortable silence. Once the flight crew permits it, Yoongi takes his laptop out and begins toying around with one of his songs. You pull your headphones out as well and find one of your favorite playlists. Leaning back against the seat, your eyes eventually begin to droop until you can no longer keep them open.

The next thing you know, you’re being woken up by someone gently patting your thigh.

“Sleepy girl...” Yoongi croons in Korean, the sound of his voice alone making you smile, “We’re landing soon.”

Slightly disoriented, you blink your eyes a few times before you’re finally able to focus on your boyfriend’s face.

You slump against him, rubbing your cheek against the material of his hoodie. He chuckles softly, his arm sliding out from underneath you in order to drape across your shoulders.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep.” You mumble

He chuckles again, nodding with a false sense of consideration, “Ah yes, you missed so much. Two hours ago, the flight attendant came by and asked if we wanted anything to drink. It was a wild ride...”

Giggling sleepily, you shake your head at his sarcasm before pointing at his laptop.

“Were you working on your composition project?”

He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head, a bashful expression on his face “No, it was just a song I’ve been working on for a while now.”

He leaves it at that and, due to the signal from the flight crew, Yoongi begins putting his stuff away as the rest of the cabin prepares for landing.

“Are we taking the train?” You mumble, still fighting off the remnants of your nap.

Yoongi purses his lips, his eyes narrowed in concentration whilst he scrolls through his phone.

“No, I have a cab waiting for us.” He responds, “It says it’s already here. So, when you get out of customs, just meet me right outside. It should just be a straight shot from immigration.”

You nod and rest your head back against his shoulder, “Okay.”

He puts his phone away, allowing his hand to find yours. Intertwining your fingers, he takes a deep breath- his mind clearly elsewhere. You squeeze his hand to acknowledge this but, the two of you don’t comment on it.

There is no need.

With the tightening of your grip, so much has already been said.

Less than a half hour later, the two of you are once again seated in the back of the cab.

“It’s probably going to rain a lot while we’re here.” Yoongi explains, his voice low and slow, “This is Daegu’s rainy season. I’ve been checking the weather periodically and it looks like there might be a storm coming but, it doesn’t look too severe.”

You look at the window after his comment, noticing that the sky is overflowing with heavy clouds, swollen and gray with the promise of rain.

“We’re approaching monsoon season, we call it uh- jangma.” He tells you and his explanation makes you smile.

Despite the circumstances, you’re very honored and excited to be in Yoongi’s hometown. You know the memories he associates with this place are complex but, there is a shift in his tone now and, he sounds eager to teach you about this place: the place he called home for so long.

And you’d gladly listen for hours.

“Jangma-” You repeat, trying to get the pronunciation right, causing him to refocus his attention back on you. He smiles softly and nods,

“Good job.”

Your heart skips a beat at his approval as you return his smile, “Is there gonna be thunder?”

Yoongi chuckles, “Do you want there to be thunder?”

You nod eagerly, “I love storms. When I was little, I would just sit at the window and watch them go by. I’m pretty sure our neighbors thought I was crazy. But I don’t know- I've always had a thing for bad weather...”

He smirks, glancing out the window and then back at you, “That explains a lot.”

Giggling, you cock your head, “What do you mean?”

Yoongi gestures to himself, his now playful gaze looking at you expectantly. You laugh at his insinuation,

“I see the resemblance.” You concede, gently patting his cheek, “You’re not nearly as gloomy as you think you are though.”

“To you-” He retorts, “You always forget that...”

“Pleaaaase.” You disagree, “You’re soft for other people too, don’t lie. I’ve seen the way you deal with Namjoon and Hobi...”

He shakes his head, “Yeah but things are still different with you, I don’t think you realize that.”

You nudge yourself underneath his arm once more, cuddling up with him as best as you can in the back of a cab.

“I know you’re especially-” You emphasize the word, “soft for me. I’m just saying that you come across more approachable than you think you do.”

Yoongi smirks to himself, seemingly understanding something that you don’t.

“Soft is an understatement.” He retorts, turning to kiss the top of your head.

“Whateverrrr.” You tease him, your eyes trailing down to focus on his hands, “I’m still right.”

He chuckles, his figure shaking lightly beneath you, “You usually are.”

The cab pulls off of the highway, and it’s then that you begin to notice the way the scenery around you shifts from a middle class/ metropolitan vibe to something much much...fancier.

Through the winding streets, the cab begins taking the two of you up a pretty steep hill before turning onto a street full of ridiculously nice houses.

White marble, giant glass windows, and driveways filled to the brim with luxury vehicles zip by as the car turns down another street. Similar in theme but greater in size, the new street had much larger houses on more sizeable plots of land- likely designed to give the owners privacy amongst their neighbors.

You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on you then and, you know very well that he’s observing your reaction.

He knows that even though he told you his brother was wealthy that, that phrase alone wouldn’t be enough to properly convey what that entailed.

“This neighborhood is really beautiful,” You observe softly, eyes still glued to the window, “The architecture is so different than anything I’ve ever seen.”

And of course, this makes Yoongi smile.

Because of course, you aren’t making a fuss about the degree of luxury before you. You’re finding the beauty in what otherwise is a very stressful situation.

Finally, the cab pulls into a driveway right behind a black Tesla before putting the car in park.

He and Yoongi exchange a few words in Korean as Yoongi hands him a small wad of money.

“Thank you.” You murmur to the cab driver with a slight bow of your head to which he responds with a tight smile and a similar bow.

You and Yoongi unload your bags from the trunk and as he is reaching for your hand, the front door of the house swings open.

A man a few inches taller than Yoongi steps out. His black hair is neatly arranged in a middle part and he’s dressed in a beige turtleneck and white slacks. As he comes closer, the resemblance between the two of them is staggering.

“Hello!” He calls with a warm smile, his voice bright, “Welcome! Come on in, the rain is supposed to pick back up soon.”

His expression only glows as he spots his younger brother. He looks excited to see him but, his movements are apprehensive.

The unspoken tension is already present and, you can feel Yoongi almost freeze up as he draws near. Subtly, you coax him along offering his brother a warm smile as the two of you approach the landing just in front of his door.

Normally, you don’t get nervous when meeting new people but, this situation is laced with so much complexity- you aren’t sure how to act.

Thankfully Yoongi finally speaks, “Good to see you hyung. Thank you for having us on such short notice.” His tone is almost unrecognizable as he gestures to you, “This is my girlfriend Y/N. Y/N-” He gestures back to his brother, “This is my older brother Geum-jae hyung.”

Bowing your head slightly, you smile once more, “It’s very nice to meet you, thank you for having me.”

Geum-jae nods, eyeing you softly as his lips press into a tight line, “It’s so nice to meet you Y/N. I promise you, the pleasure is all mine.”

Yoongi motions for you to step in front of him so, you follow his lead and trail behind his brother through the doorway.

Geum-jae's home resembles a marble statue. It’s clean, beautiful and, elegant- but lifeless. Geum-jae has artwork of various styles all over his walls, crisp white couches, sleek granite countertops and, stainless-steel appliances however, there is not one bit of evidence that anyone even lives here. The house feels empty despite the amount of effort put into its appearance.

It makes you sad.

“You have a beautiful home.”

Your voice echoes off the dead weight of the walls, the paintings themselves seeming to arch a brow at your comment. Geum-jae however, smiles and nods graciously,

“Thank you. I just moved in not too long ago so, there is a lot I want to do. I definitely could have used this one’s expertise-” He nods to Yoongi, “He was always really good at that kind of stuff...”

Your boyfriend smirks, his eyes taking in his surroundings but failing to really focus on anything; he was too wound up, “You could have. I would have charged you though...”

Geum-jae chuckles and you see him glance at Yoongi fondly for a split second before he quickly reverts to his casual demeanor.

“I put you guys on the second floor facing the skyline-” He gestures to the ivory staircase, “I’m sure you want some time to freshen up and relax so, please take all the time you need. I’m having BBQ brought over tonight but, if you’re hungry- feel free to help yourself to whatever is in the kitchen.”

Yoongi allows you to step in front of him whilst taking the suitcase from your hands. The two men follow behind you as Geum-jae continues laying out the plans for the evening,

“I have a few virtual meetings to attend that I wasn’t able to move around but, I will be free as of 7 this evening. Until then, please make yourselves at home. I am really-” He seems to take a deep breath for emphasis, “really happy to have you here.”

“Thank you hyung.” Yoongi smiles slightly once the three of you reach the outside of the guest room, “Good luck with your meetings. Let me know if you need help with dinner.”

Geum-jae responds with a tight nod, “Will do. I’ll be in my office so, feel free to explore.” As he pushes open the door for you, he allows his own pained expression to meet yours, “I’m honored to meet you Y/N. Thank you for coming all this way with my brother.”

“Well-” You squeeze Yoongi’s hand gently, “He’s lucky I like him so much...”

Cheeks flushed, Yoongi rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but his lips are practically puckered against the smile he’s trying to stifle.

“That’s fair.” Geum-jae chuckles, “Let me know if you two need anything. I’ll just be downstairs...”

With that, Yoongi pushes open the door and allows you to step inside before following behind you.

“Wow.” You whisper to yourself as you take in the scene before you.

The walls are painted a soft gray and surrounding only three sides of the bedroom. The fourth wall is made entirely of glass and given that the house rests upon a hill, you’re able to make out the skyline of the inner city. A giant four poster bed sits in the middle of the room, covered completely in a white duvet and three rows of pillows. Dark gray curtains sit on either side of the massive window as various muted colors accent the room in the form of a dresser, two nightstands and, a set of couches at the end of the bed.

Yoongi is silent behind you as he sets the bags down at the entrance of the room. He pushes the door shut and allows his eyes to move over the space for a moment.

It's nice, he thinks, but he can’t find himself to be very impressed.

He knows where this money comes from and, even though his brother is out of the crime sector now, it still feels strange to acknowledge his wealth.

Noticing his silence, you turn towards him, eyes tracing over the features of his face to assess his mood.

With a slight and subconscious pout, he looks at you, his body seemingly full of a breath he wants to take.

“Do you want to lay down for a bit? I know you didn’t sleep on the plane.”

At your offer, he seems to deflate slightly, lips turning up at the corners, “I think I want to shower first...”

Immediately, you nod with an encouraging smile, “Yeah go shower babe, I’ll just-”

He interrupts you, sticking his hand out and flexing his fingers in a grabbing motion, “Come with me.”

His offer makes you giggle, “You want me to shower with you?”

Yoongi closes the distance between you, using his grabby hands to lock onto your hips, “No, I meant like come with me as in come watch me...yes I want you to shower with me.”

Your laughter heightens as you pinch his side, causing him to recoil before chuckling.

“You’re such a punk today...” You scold.

Yoongi simply chuckles warmly as he kisses the side of your head, the tone of his voice lowering significantly, “That usually means something to you doesn’t it?”

It does.

It usually means he’s having trouble vocalizing his needs and, he’s in need of attention. And the type of attention is usually a specific brand.

And it usually comes with a little bit of pain.

However, you don’t think it’s a good idea to indulge that side of Yoongi’s desires at the moment because, his emotions aren’t fully organized. You know the talk with his brother is causing him a lot of stress and, as much as you liked to wreck his body right now- you know it’s best to wait until later.

That doesn’t mean you can’t take care of him though...

“Come on-” You urge him, grabbing his hand and practically running towards the bathroom, “Let's get you clean, king.”

He laughs, stumbling into the bathroom which is just as nice and similarly colored as the room.

“I’m a king now?”

His question goes over your head as you notice the ridiculously oversized bathtub in the center of the room. Biting your lip, you turn towards him and point at it.

“Do you want to take a bath instead? The shower looks amazing and all but- this thing literally looks like a jacuzzi.”

Yoongi eyes it curiously, his teeth finding his bottom lip, looking a little apprehensive, “How would you want to sit in it though? I kinda uh- I kinda thought maybe we could stand under the water for a bit together, like last time...”

He wants you to hold him.

He’s not going to say it but, he needs it.

Like really bad.

You can see his nerves creeping into his posture so, you decide to act quickly before he somehow convinces himself that he’s being too needy.

Looking around the room, you spot a few things that could aid in his relaxation: candles, bubble bath, a neatly folded pile of fluffy gray towels...

“I’ll show you.” You assure him, “Close your eyes really quick- no peeking. I have a plan...”

Yoongi looks at you, suspicious all over his face, “I’m scared.”

Giggling, you raise your brows for emphasize, “Oh you should be-”

He can’t help but smirk at your tone despite the anticipation swimming in his gut. He trusts you though so, instead of arguing- he shuts his eyes.

Shuffling around the bathroom, you set things up in record time, turning the water on, pouring the rose scented bubble bath beneath the stream, and lighting a few candles along the ivory counter. Yoongi maintains his smirk the entire time, folding his arms across his chest, stifling his desire to make a snarky comment.

“Alright,” You sigh, dusting your hands off, “Ta daaaaa.”

Yoongi opens his eyes, blinking a few times before taking in the scene in front of him. It changes his smirk into a grin really quickly as his cat-like eyes flit over to you.

“Are you planning on sacrificing me?” He quips, nodding to the candles.

Snorting, you roll your eyes, “If you keep talking shit, I just might-” You threaten, laughter forming on the tail end of your sentence, “Get naked...”

Yoongi snickers, his face full of satisfaction as his finger tuck beneath his hoodie to tug it over his head. The two of you undress in a small bout of silence and attempt to sneak glances at one another’s naked form.

“I’m going to get in first and then you’re going to sit in front of me, between my legs...” You explain, trying not to shiver as the cool air of the bathroom begins to grow uncomfortable.

His brows raise, “Between your legs?” He confirms, “Say no more...”

Once again, your eyes are rolling but this time, there is a smile on your lips as you move to take your spot beneath the warmth of the water. Yoongi has to take a deep breath as he watches you, his emotions brewing dangerously beneath the surface at the sight of the woman he loves.

He still doesn’t fully understand it.

He is still meet with endless confusion when he starts to think about why you’ve chosen to be with him but, he knows better now than to question it.

You have your reasons, he thinks, and he has a million of his own.

Looking up from beneath the mountain of bubbles, you pat the top of them, looking at him expectantly, “Come here.”

He grabs the hand that you extend towards him, balancing himself on it whilst he steps into the tub. Modestly, he turns his body away from you for a second so he’s able to bend down before pivoting beneath the water and settling against your chest. The bathtub is big enough for the water to go past his shoulders and, he feels his entire body relax once he feels your body against his.

“Comfy?” You check, draping your arms across his chest.

Yoongi nods, his head leaning back and resting against your left shoulder. Once it lands there, you turn and kiss his temple which then prompts one of his hands to reach up rest on yours. Silently, you place a few more kisses against his hairline, allowing him to decompress however he wants to, not wanting to pressure him into talking about anything.

And he doesn’t, at least not for a while.

The only sounds between the two of you are the dribbling of water from the faucet and the low whisper of breathing. Every so often, you kiss his temple, just so he knows that he isn’t alone.

“Seeing my brother is really difficult.” He mumbles, eyes still closed, hand still on top of yours, “Even just seeing his face- it brings back a lot of memories.”

You nod, “I can imagine- especially since it’s been so long.”

Yoongi sighs, his eyes fluttering open and honing in on the ceiling, “I haven’t seen him since I was 18. He came to Sejin’s place just before I moved in with Namjoon. He tried to talk to me to let me know that he was leaving the business but, I barely said anything. I was too angry at him.”

Using your free hand, you rub softly at his chest under the water, silently encouraging him to continue.

“He never helped me when my father would-” He takes a deep breath through his nose, his throat bobbing as he swallows on the exhale, “the time I told you about, when my father hit me...that wasn’t the only time. It happened often towards the end.”

Your eyes shut momentarily, the pain of Yoongi being harmed stinging your heart like a shot.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper, kissing his temple again.

Yoongi’s face turns slightly into your lips, his hand squeezing over yours, “Don’t be. It was a long time ago. I held onto my disappointment in him for a while until I realized something: the only reason my father every laid his hands on me and not Geum-jae hyung was because, I stood up to him.”

“Geum-jae hyung never did and, I think he still carries that regret to this day. I can see it all over his face...” His voice is so low now that it barely makes it above a whisper, his eyes seemingly elsewhere. “Is it wrong that I feel like- like I didn’t just come here to save Sejin’s studio?”

You shake your head, “Not at all...”

He swallows again and takes another deep breath through his nose, “It’s hard you know- during winter break especially; everyone would leave campus and go home for the holidays...and I never knew where to go. For the first two years at school, I spent Christmas alone until Namjoon’s mom finally called me and told me that if I didn’t come back with him, that she was going to make him sleep outside.” He chuckles, smirking slightly at the memory.

Your heart fills with despair then. You didn’t piece it together that Yoongi would have stayed behind during the holiday season. There was so much to unpack from the tragedy that he’s endured; it didn’t even cross your mind.

“Namjoon’s mom was right to threaten you-” You affirm but then you shake your head, “I don’t think there could be a wrong reason to come here. You deserve to have whatever kind of closure or healing that you need.”

“I wish I knew what I needed...” He admits, licking his lips before turning towards you, his brown eyes holding all the emotions he can’t vocalize, “I wish everything was as easy as this.”

Following suit, you turn your head so that you’re facing him, “So do I. But I’ll always be here through all the not-so-easy stuff.”

Yoongi smiles then, soft and sweet, delivering a kiss to match. He relaxes into you, brushing his tongue along the inside of your lip just for a moment before pulling away.

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too Yoongi.”

Eventually, you both got out of the bathtub and into the shower so, that you were able to get clean properly. After a few hours of catching up on missed calls/texts and relaxing, Yoongi gets a text from his brother saying that dinner would be ready in 15 minutes.

Geum-jae had the finest BBQ in the city delivered and prepared right in his dining room. Banchan lined the center of the table, slabs of meat were grilled one right after the other until the three of you tapped out.

It passed easier than you thought it would. Yoongi and Geum-jae relaxed in the face of a meal, the conversation flowing effortlessly between them as if no time had passed. It was a touching sight to see and, you hoped that it meant their discussion would come out easier.

You take your leave after you help clean up, thanking Geum-jae for the incredible food and, letting Yoongi know that you’d be up in the room checking on something for school if he needed anything.

Which was a total lie but, you needed an excuse to leave them alone for a bit.

Yoongi feels his heartbeat pick up a bit as he watches you leave the room, the realization of what was coming finally hitting him.

“Hyung-” He wants to rip the band aid off. “Is it alright if we talk for a moment?”

Geum-jae raises his brows at the switch in languages and nods immediately, gesturing to the table, “Of course. Can we sit here? Or would you rather talk in the living room?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “Here is fine.” He sits back down in his original seat and, rubs his palms against his jeans.

Geum-jae takes a seat across from him, gazing expectantly at his younger brother, “What did you want to talk about?”

Despite Yoongi’s anxiety, he understands that being to the point would be the most effective way to communicate. He wasn’t sure if any past issues would come up but, right now his concern was on Sejin.

“I know that I told you I needed your help with something but-” Yoongi begins, “It isn’t me who needs your help exactly...it’s Sejin.”

Geum-jae purses his lips, his hands coming out to clasp rest on the table, “Is he alright?”

“The landlord for the studio he runs is increasing his rent again and, he doesn’t have the money to keep it open...” Yoongi’s explanation gets a little rushed as he gets more and more nervous, “I have some money in savings to help out with rent for the next few months but, it’s not enough to keep it open long term and-”

Geum-jae cuts him off, “Tell Sejin to call me. I will send a team to his location to sort everything out. It wouldn’t be a bad building to purchase but if Sejin is willing- then maybe he can look at other properties and I’ll have the money wired over to him.”

Yoongi can’t hide the shock on his face, “Wait- are you serious?”

“Of course. Sejin is one of my dearest friends. I owe him a lot for what he’s done over the years.”

In this moment, regret washes over Geum-jae's face, his eyes reaching out to Yoongi’s in hopes that he understands what he’s alluding to.

And obviously, he does.

“Why didn’t you just call me?” Geum-jae continues, tilting his head to get a better look at Yoongi’s expression, trying to read him, “I’ve always told you that if you ever needed anything-”

“I haven’t talked to you in 8 years hyung, I wasn’t just going to call and ask you for a favor.”

Geum-jae nods, his face tightening with solemnity, “I understand.” A brief moment of silence passes between the two of them before a sigh comes from Geum-jae, “There is so much I want to say to you Yoongi, I don’t even know where to begin...”

Yoongi stays quiet.

He doesn’t know either.

He just knows that the only way to get rid of the heaviness in his chest is to talk about it.

“I suppose I could start with an apology.” Geum-jae concludes, shaking his head as a light scoff leaves his lips, “I could never find the words to express how much regret and shame I feel inside. I could never explain how sorry I am for not protecting you, for not being a better example, for not having a backbone, for being selfish...I was blinded by greed. I couldn’t see what was in front of me.”

Yoongi swallows back his emotion, dreading the way his eyes begin to sting.

Geum-jae continues, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I just want to apologize and tell you that, even though I played no part in the man you’ve become, I am incredibly honored to call you my brother.”

It isn’t easy but, Yoongi manages to contain the tears that desperately want to fall from his eyes. His chest tightens as he hears his brother’s words. He wades through all the bitterness he feels towards him, allowing himself to feel the full force of his approval.

“I forgave you a long time ago.” Yoongi swallows, avoiding direct eye contact with him, “I just wish I understood your actions. You were my hyung, I thought you would have protected me and-” Yoongi blinks away the tears as quickly as he can, “and I still haven’t been able to accept the fact that you didn’t...”

Geum-jae shakes his head, “I wanted to protect you. I just didn’t know how- I was scared of him too. You had more courage than I did. It doesn’t excuse my actions but, it’s the truth.”

Suddenly, he reaches out and places his hand overtop of Yoongi’s, a pleading expression on his face, “That’s why you got out. That’s why you have a life. You have friends, you’re about to graduate university and, you have Y/N...” Geum-jae's voice breaks at the end, “Because of your strength, you finally found happiness.”

Yoongi looks at his hand, observing the evidence of his life present on his skin. Scars, burns, callouses, needle marks...

“Are you saying that you haven’t?” He asks, still not meeting his brother’s eyes.

“I’m not even close.”

Finally, the two meet each other's gaze. For a moment, they just stare, glistening eyes to glistening eyes. Overcome with years of repressed emotions, fueled by the desperate need to try and break the cycle, they wordlessly convey an unspoken emptiness.

They have missed each other so much.

“I am here now.” Geum-jae promises, the first tear dangerously close to falling, “Hyung is here if you’ll have him. I want to be in your life but, I understand if you want nothing to do with me.”

Yoongi blinks now, and the tears land upon his cheeks, “You’re my hyung...” And it really is a desperate proclamation, “...you’ll always be my hyung...”

The chair screeches against the tile, causing Yoongi to jump in his seat until he realizes what his brother is doing. Rounding the table, stands to the side of Yoongi with open arms and his own tears atop his cheeks.

He eyes him for only a few seconds before standing up suddenly and accepting Geum-jae into his arms. The two of them seem to collapse against one another. Yoongi breaks down and sobs in the arms of his older brother.

Just as he would have when they were young.

When times were hard and he could take shelter behind the one person who made him feel safe, the first person who ever showed him love.

“I’m so sorry Yoongi-ah.”

His words cause Yoongi to squeeze his eyes shut as he nods against the expensive fabric of his brother’s dress shirt, “I know.” He sniffles and pats his back, “I know you are.”

Meanwhile...

You’ve been upstairs, straightening up the bedroom and trying to pass the time without worrying excessively about your boyfriend’s well-being.

Which turns out to be impossible...

Cleaning around the room/bathroom only takes you about 20 minutes before your flopping onto the massive bed and, pulling out your phone. Scrolling through Tik Tok, you hope for a substantial distraction and, lucky for you- one arrives.

But, it isn’t on Tik Tok...

Jungkook: So you know Jimin right...

The text from Jungkook confuses you as you’re pretty sure it's like the middle of the night back home and, it’s not like him to text you outside of the group chat.

You: I have heard of him yes

You: Isn’t he like your boyfriend or something?

Jungkook: ha ha

Jungkook: about that

Jungkook: what if he wasn’t my boyfriend anymore?

Your eyes widen and, you immediately sit up in bed and hover anxiously over your phone.

You: !!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN

Jungkook: shhhhhh don’t yell

Jungkook: my future fiance is sleeping...

You’re about ready to get on a flight back home to kick his ass before your vision focuses on the word he’s just sent.

You: excuse me

You: YOU’RE WHAT ???????????

Jungkook: …

Jungkook: What did I just tell you smh

You: *whispers* WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT JUNGKOOK

Jungkook: -____-

Jungkook: can I call

You: ?????? Obviously!!!!

Seconds later, Jungkook’s name illuminates your screen.

“Good evening,” He begins calmly, “I’m having a panic attack...”

You giggle, “What’s going on????”

“Well you see- I am in love with Park Jimin and I fear it may be terminal.”

“Terminal huh? Is that how you describe a lifelong partnership with your one true love?”

“...yes.”

“Jungkook,” You urge him through your laughter, “What is going on?”

You hear him sigh, “I think I’m going to ask Jimin to marry me.”

Squealing, you jump up on your knees, “Wait seriously?! Jungkook!”

“Yah! Don’t yell at me! This is all your fault!”

“My fault??? How is this my fault?”

“Well technically I guess- it's Yoongi’s fault because, he’s the one that convinced me to get in touch with my feelings or whatever- either way, I am STILL the victim. And now I want to be with him forever and it’s disgusting...”

You flop back against the pillows and laugh again, “If Jimin knew this was how you were telling people you were proposing, he would kill you.”

He doesn’t hesitate, “He’s going to kill me either way Y/N...it’s bad- the other day, he sent me a selfie and, I had heart palpitations for like 15 minutes.”

“If your man doesn’t give you heart palpitations then, that isn’t your man.” You conclude.

“Y/N...” Jungkook whines now, sounding very much like the boy you met back in middle school.

“Jungkook...” You whine back causing him to finally chuckle on the other end of the line.

“I’m scared...”

“I know but, you and Jimin are so perfect for each other, there is no way that this wouldn’t work out.”

“More perfect than you and Yoongi?” He teases, reverting back to being a little shit.

And his question makes you scoff, “Oh sweetheart- obviously not. But second place isn’t bad!”

He laughs now and it’s the full bellied sound that you love hearing.

“You really think we’re perfect together?”

Despite his inability to see you, you smile at his need for validation,

“Duh. You two are literally soulmates.”

Jungkook is quiet on the other line but when he speaks again, you can hear the giddiness in his voice, “Ok so...will you help me then???”

Back downstairs, Yoongi and Geum-jae are sat at the bar in front of the window that faces his backyard. As he predicted, the rain came back in full force and is now propelling itself against the clean glass. After their emotional encounter in the dining room, Geum-jae suggested that they have a drink together and relax for a moment.

He had poured each of them a glass of wine, ensuring not to fill his glass up too much.

“Your girlfriend is a wonderful woman; you made a good choice.”

At the mention of you, Yoongi’s lips twitch, his eyes watching the droplets of water chaotically race down the window, “Thank you. But, it was her who chose me, I’m still working out exactly why.”

Geum-jae chuckles, “I see you’re still selling yourself short ah? Did you two meet at school?”

Yoongi smirks, “Yeah, we met 6 months ago in my psychology class. She was my partner on our final project.”

“Ah.” He nods, “Things blossomed that way then?”

Yoongi’s heart throbs a bit as his brain begins its recollection of his time with you.

So much has happened during your relationship, he forgets that he hasn’t known you all his life.

It certainly feels like he has.

“Yeah.”

Geum-jae chuckles, “You’re so reserved about her.”

Yoongi knows what he means. In the Min family, you always say things as they are. You don’t sugarcoat your sentiments and you definitely don’t play coy.

“I can’t help it-” He admits, and he can feel the heat on his cheeks now, “I find it difficult to talk about her...”

His brother bites his bottom lip, unable to help how endeared he is, “Can I ask why?”

Yoongi leans his cheek against the palm of his hand, still focusing on the rain, “It’s overwhelming.”

Geum-jae seems to understand but he chuckles anyway, “Do you plan on marrying her?”

His question hangs in the air for a moment. Yoongi’s brain once again travels elsewhere, and he is bombarded with images of you walking down the aisle. He has to take a deep breath as he forces the thoughts out of his head; he’s cried enough this evening.

“I would marry her tomorrow.”

Geum-jae's laughter increases now but now it bubbles over his lips in an excited fashion.

“Yahhhh! Look at that eh?” He congratulates him, “It’s safe to say you’re off the market for good then? Because I have a few of my friends who have been asking about you.”

This finally makes Yoongi laugh as he turns towards him, “That’s flattering.” He means it too but, he speaks the next set of words with all of the conviction he can muster, “There is no one else for me though.”

Geum-jae grins proudly and with a raise to his brows, he lifts his glass, “Well, let’s drink to that then.”

The clinking of crystal signifies so much. For now though, Yoongi allows it to represent the future and, all of the possibilities it may bring.

#ficswithluv #yoongi #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi fics #yoongi fanfics #yoongi fic recs #yoongi fanfiction #bts yoongi #min yoongi #suga #min suga #agust d #agust d fics #yoongi x reader #boyfriend! yoongi #yoongi cute #yoongi hot

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get-shiggy-with-it · 4 years ago

Text

Scream Therapy

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x gender neutral!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: extremely vague allusions to mental illness, metaphors about wounds, angst with a relieving ending, let me know if i’ve missed something

AO3 mirror

So you know those tiktoks where people go out into the woods and scream? Just like expel all the shit that’s been holding them down into an open field and let the earth reclaim all their dark, restless energy? Reveal the burdens that have been creaking in their joints and trapped in the prison of their ribs for the trees to swallow?

I’ve been thinking about that and Shigaraki a lot.

Like the rest of the league too, but mostly Shigs.

Just imagine:

It’s late, it always is when shit is going down at the hideout. The League of Villains is practically nocturnal at this point. Shigaraki’s mind is a loud place—lot’s of rabid, train tearing down the track lines of thought that clatter and roar and gush toxic coal smoke.

So as annoyed as he makes himself out to be, he doesn’t actually mind the din of the bar all that much. Twice and Toga chattering in the corner, random bits of too loud laughter and the clink of Kurogiri polishing glasses as he tells off Dabi for the umpteenth time about smoking inside—hell, even Compress rambling about the health benefits of high quality wine to nobody in particular is somewhat...comforting?

That’s not quite the right word, but their noise settles around him a bit like a thick quilt and dampens the rampage inside his head for a while.

He thinks about a lot of things.

Some good, most bad, all obsessive. He’ll get stuck in these loops sometimes, small questions evolve into bigger, more complicated webs, and suddenly it’s been four hours and he’s done nothing but stare at the same spot on the wall just left of his desktop monitor.

Sleep is a terrifying venture for much the same reason. Once he gets caught in that cycling it’s so hard to break out, and that’s when he’ll stumble down the stairs and sequester himself away at the end of the bar.

There he will sit and listen to the incessant white noise of his team—which is frustrating too but infinitely better than whatever anxiety coated sludge his brain will come up with if left to its own devices, so he bears it.

And then there’s you.

Who you are isn’t entirely important.

Maybe you’re just another member of the League, dedicated to helping your boss spread villainy across the city. Maybe you’re a morally ambiguous civilian who just stumbled in much like a stray cat into a depressed college student’s apartment and simply never left.

Whatever the circumstances, where you came from doesn’t matter.

To him, your contributions to the din are just another layer of insulation against the storm. He couldn’t really care less what you do, or where you go when you weren’t there. As long as your voice could offer a different type of grating against his ears than the silent throbbing of his head when he is alone, then your presence is justified.

Shigaraki only takes notice of you when you leave, when your voice is no longer adding to the uproar drowning out whatever new thought spiral he was trying to claw his way out of.

It’s very late then. That odd, in between time when it’s closer to the sunrise than to it’s setting but somehow also the darkest portion of the night. Of course, it’s never totally dark—not with all the light pollution laying an ever present, glowing haze across the horizon—but it’s as close as it gets out here to pitch black.

He catches the tail end of your coat, a glimpse of your shoe soles as you slip up the stairs and climb the wrought iron ladder that leads to the roof. Shigaraki often catches himself wondering how you figured out exactly how to avoid each board that creaked. He thinks sometimes it’s because you like going unnoticed, that too much attention makes you feel just as shaky as he gets when he’s been inside his head too long. Or possibly you just don’t want to wake anyone up in the rare moments that some League members are actually asleep.

Regardless, he watches you go and feels strangely...compelled to follow and because he rarely feels compelled to do anything unless it’s furthering the downfall of hero society, he does.

He takes an unsteady step, then another until the brisk, cusp-of-summer air is washing over him. It bites through his thin black top and the worn holes in his jeans, but the sting feel likes something.

And since he almost always feels nothing at all, it’s good.

You’re stood a few feet from the edge of the building, where the ledge has begun to crumble away from age and poor maintenance. The wind is strong enough that it makes your limp arms sway by your sides. Shigaraki is so thin now, he’s almost afraid for a moment it might blow him away. He’s found himself feeling so insubstantial as of late, it’s shocking when his feet don’t lift off from the roof entirely. He crosses the distance towards you slowly.

If you hear him approaching, you don’t show it.

Normally he wouldn’t start a conversation of his own volition but he did follow you up here and the silence is getting a bit deafening, even with the breeze.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

It’s simple, but it’s all he can think to say. Funny, with how many words that run through his head, he can never find the right ones when he wants them.

You turn then, and your face is...well it’s a face. He tends not to look at people’s faces much—doesn’t want to see their expressions when they look at him, but from what he can tell you aren’t upset that he’s here at least.

“I love the city at night.”

That’s all you offer in response and he knows somehow that you’ll keep talking even if he doesn’t answer. That you know how much he hates the quiet but can’t ever fill it himself.

“When you’re up high enough, you can pretend the streetlights are stars,” you divulge, as if it’s some sort of great, long kept secret.

Maybe it is.

Maybe you have a lot of secrets. You seem to him like the type of person who would. Who keeps life changing truths tucked under your tongue to drop suddenly over convenience store dinners and cheap beer.

He thinks that maybe he’d like to know them.

“It’s always so alive during the day, the streets I mean,” you continue, eyes trained out on the buildings below, tracing constellations from block to block. “But I can’t shake the feeling that it’s rotting too like….”

You trail off and don’t finish the thought, but you don’t have to. He knows what you mean: like the city is a wound that’s festering. That all the people and the heroes that corral them like cattle are just an infection waiting to spread.

“What are you doing here?” he asks again, because he hasn’t been able to come up with anything else.

Your gaze flits over his face this time, and Shigaraki almost misses the small smile that plays at your lips. He’s close enough now that you could touch him, and you almost do, shoulders just inches away from brushing. But you don’t close the gap.

You touch the others, a lot actually, though he gets the sense you’re the type to ask first. And with his mind running on overdrive every waking second, he gets overstimulated easily. He should probably be thankful you aren’t as familiar with him. That you bother to notice the distance he keeps even when he rarely pays you any mind.

Maybe you’re thankful for that too.

“You know, scream therapy is a very effective and cheap alternative to professional intervention,” you say matter of factly in response.

He waits for you to continue and you do.

“There’s no one out this late but heroes on patrols and they won’t come to help us, so this is a perfect opportunity to give it a try.”

He can feel his brow knitting together and you raise your hand for a second as if to smooth your thumb over the wrinkled skin. Shigaraki doesn’t move, but watches your fingers pause in mid motion and drop back down.

There’s a strange charge in the air between you—a spark he distantly wishes would ignite if only so he could stop churning in his gut.

“How do you do it?”

He’s never asked so many questions of anyone in his life. But he finds he truly wants to know.

And you’re the one that can show him.

You breathe deeply beside him, letting your eyes drift shut and taking a step towards the ledge. With hands balled into righteous little fists, you bend a bit at the waist and you...scream.

Shigaraki isn’t quite sure what he’d expected, but for some reason it wasn’t that.

He’s heard shouts before, cries for help or out of fear, but nothing like this. The sound seems to bubble up from some deep, dank pit inside you and bursts forth from your mouth like a geyser spewing boiling water from the earth. It’s long and low and loudloudloud. It isn’t a sound he could ever imagine you making, but it rumbles in his chest as if it’s his own.

Just watching has a weight lifting from his shoulders.

You keep going even when he knows you should have run out of air. But you aren’t really making the noise, you’re just letting it escape. He’s not sure how he knows that but he does.

Your voice cracks and snaps and rages forth and you scream in a way he feels in his very bones. The garbled, awful sound is so clearly understandable despite the wind that carries it away.

It says: I am free and young and can feel none of it.

And then it’s words. Words that tumble from you in a torrent.

About your family, about what’s been done to you, what you’ve done to yourself.

About the lies and the injustice of it all.

You’re heaving by the end, deflated as though all the screams had left behind an empty space—an abscess drained and ready to heal over or fill back up.

“It’s your turn.”

Shigaraki stares at you, silhouetted by the dull, silver glow of the city and panting. You both look at each other for a moment, reveling in the odd connection that sometimes forms between strangers who know far too much about each other.

He doesn’t think he could top that, but the energy you’ve created is invigorating and he’s determined to ride the wave while he has it.

Taking a step, he joins you by the ledge again, and you back up as if allowing him into the spotlight. The wind will swallow whatever he says, it will eat the words like a starving behemoth and he finds himself ready to feed the beast.

He has to dig deep, scratch at old sores to make them bleed again, tear at scabs so he can let the contaminating thoughts leak out. Once he feels like he’s breached far enough, Shigaraki takes a breath.

And he screams.

His body doubles over with the strength of it, foot slamming down onto the roofing and four fingers fisted in the hem of his shirt.

It hurts coming out, rips at his vocal chords and has his throat raw to bleeding after just the first few seconds but he pushes past it.

He wonders if this is what a runner's high feels like, when you’ve pushed beyond the side stitches and knee aches and your blood finally rushes with all those elusive feel good chemicals he never has enough of.

Whatever it is, the feeling is addicting.

Shigaraki is dimly aware of you in his peripheral, encouraging the tsunami thoughts in his head to be thrust out into the uncaring arms of the city skyline.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t have to search for the words. They simply come. All his frustrations, some he wasn’t even conscious of, spill fresh and steaming like blood. Physically, his body remains but somewhere in the depths of his mind he is younger and hurt and alone and trying desperately to scream.

“I destroy everything I touch!” he roars at the apathetic, grey sidewalk below.

After the last word leaves him, he feels the same weightlessness he’d seen in the sag of your shoulders. The same snapping of the coil slack in his spine.

And suddenly, with this glorious, awful sense of revelation, Shigaraki realizes that everything in his head has gone quiet.

He’s over taken by a silence that requires no filling, a peace that he’d imagined only existed at the bottom of abandoned wells, far away from any chubby child’s hands that may toss foolish wishes down them.

He thinks about kissing you then.

And he knows now that this thought has always been there, but it was drowned like a subway rat in the aftermath of the hurricane brewing in his brainstem. He has always noticed you no matter how hard you try to blend into the background. Your voice has always been a bit better at shutting out the unending, worthless choir in his head.

He wouldn’t have followed anyone else up here—not Dabi, not Spinner, not Compress or even Kurogiri.

He can see that now. In this new enlightened state, everything is so much clearer. Though he is quickly thrust back into the present, into his body once again, as another kind of soft weight settles on his shoulders. Your coat is skin warmed and smells like you and everything he’s ever loved in his own screwy little way. He realizes then that you’ve been trying to talk to him this whole time.

“Shigs,” you call again and tuck the coat tighter around his shoulders, “you were shaking.”

Shigaraki nods, feeling relief from the cold he hadn’t quite been aware of till now. He’s not sure if you’ve ever addressed him so informally before, but he decides he likes the nickname.

It feels a bit like a gift.

“Better, yeah?”

He’s not really sure if it’s better, but it is different and it’s been impossibly long since anything has been different, so he thinks it must be good.

“Yes,” he says.

It’s a general yes, both to your question and to you, whatever that might mean. He doesn’t say anything more because he’s done enough talking and you nod like you understand.

Neither of you moves to leave the roof, but you do inch closer to him this time, closing the gap and tucking him into your side. Your arm is slung gently across his shoulders and he finds the weight of it relieving.

That seems like it shouldn’t make since but it does—a paradox of sorts, weight being a comfort.

Then the sun begins to rise and it’s as if he’s seeing you in a new light.

Your profile outlined by the stark daybreak rays, so horribly strong despite the scream he knows is forming again under the surface.

And Shigaraki wonders if you see him that way too.

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #bnha x reader #tomura shigaraki imagines #gender nuetral reader #slight manga spoilers #bee.writes

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acourtofsnakes · 4 years ago

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Ret'urcye Mhi - Rogue, Chapter 7 | The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (F)

Summary: Can things go back to normal after the Mandalorian saw you break down? Or have walls been torn down that can’t be replaced?

Warnings: Light swearing, I don’t want to give it away but no smut but… a ‘moment’ with some certainly hot thoughts and pining but nothing heavy though, reader has a back tattoo, let me know if I forgot anything!

AN: I have brought in Cara Dune in this, and she will be a frequent character. I by no means condone what Gina Carano did, and I am pleased and relieved that she is gone. However, I do like her character, as many others do. She IS only mentioned in this one briefly but will be a main character in a few future chapters.

Also, Readers tattoo is loosely based on this design!(link) I’m not sure who the exact creator is, but it was posted by Urban Threads on Pinterest, but if you know, please tell me! ❤️

Word Count: 8231

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jackgrzs

Mando’a Translation: Ret'urcye mhi - Goodbye

Neither of you mentioned that afternoon.

It hadn’t come up in the 3 days since, and it hadn’t come up today. You made sure of it.

Every time Mando looked at you, and you just felt he was going to mention it, you’d change the subject. Or just walk away. You didn’t need to have that conversation with him. You couldn’t have that conversation with him. Or anyone.

The Mandalorian had sat there, holding you for the hours it took for you to cry yourself out. When the shuddering sobs had given way to hitched breaths and a numb stare, he’d still sat there. Rubbing your back in gentle circles, in time with Duru’s tail gently swaying over your arm. He hadn’t uttered a single word either, just letting you break down in his arms.

When the quiet ambiance of the ship and the pressure of his hand had lulled you into sleep, he’d carried you to his bed – well, the narrow cot that jutted out from the wall in what was supposed to be the medical area. He’d given up his sleeping compartment to Grogu a long time ago, to keep the little creature warm and safe.

He’d laid you in, covering you with the blanket and then one more that he pulled out from a unit.

You were asleep, so you hadn’t seen the way his gloved fingers gently brushed back the hair from your tear flushed cheeks, the way they’d lingered for a moment as he’d looked down at the soft strands gliding over his fingers. You hadn’t felt the way he’d frozen when a sudden want crashed through him, to yank off his gloves and run his bare hands through your hair, feel the silkiness and the texture for himself.

And you also wouldn’t have noticed the way his breathing went ragged for a moment and he’d lurched back, stumbling away so quickly he nearly overturned a box on his way out of the door.

Your sleep hadn’t remained easy. Only a few hours later, you had woken up screaming, unsure of where you were, why you were on a thin cot that smelled like metal and smoke and something distinctly unique and almost like sandalwood. It was somehow comforting, soothing. You had inhaled the scent, trying to calm down your pounding heard and regain control of your breathing.

It was only when you could suck in a full breath that you realised where you were, who’s bed this was.

A feeling of gratefulness had crashed over you, only to be immediately wiped out by shame. You had broken down in front of him, spat such awful, awful things to his face.

And when you heard footsteps outside the compartment door, the husky baritone of his voice as he called out your name softly, you’d gone still. Like you were back on the run, mere inches away from a hunter and one move would mean disaster.

He’d lingered, you could see by the shadows of his feet under the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. A wild thought had come to you, that he had his hand pressed to the door and you could just.. open it. Open it and let him come in, let him carry the burden of your nightmares and your feelings even If it was just for a little while. You could share some of those plaguing thoughts that you’d unleashed today. And he would listen. You didn’t know him that well, but you knew him enough to be confident he would sit there, let you talk. He knew what it was like to be alone, to have emotions and worries that you had no choice to bear yourself.

The temptation was so strong, you craved that contact and connection so much that you were halfway across the room before your snarling argument came back in full technicolour. The things you’d said to him. The appalling way you’d acted.

No.

You couldn’t see him. You couldn’t face him after that. After what you had said and the way you had cracked. You shook your head firmly, waiting until you heard a sigh so soft you might have imagined it and retreating footsteps.

It was only then you that you returned to the bed, pulling the twin blankets up high over your shoulders.

You’d deal with seeing him in the morning, but for now, all you could do was bury your face in the thin pillow and try not to notice how it smelt like him.

Something had changed between the two of you since that afternoon. He had glimpsed a part of you that you normally kept perfectly hidden, even from yourself.

…

You were on your way to another bounty, one of the last couple of pucks that Mando had left.

Mando had mentioned it was a hot, desert planet and he’d prefer it if you stayed in the ship with Grogu. It’d be far too hot for the little guy out there. You had obliged happily, more than fine to stay in. You didn’t like to be too hot, it made you uncomfortable and agitated.

The cockpit was quiet, a peaceful silence had descended upon it as Mando flew the ship.

You’d found yourself drawn to watching his hands lately. There was something… oddly soothing about it. Watching him work the controls, hold Grogu, clean his weapons.

You wondered if he missed the sensation of touch, and then wondered if yours and the kids presence here made it harder for him. Meant he had less chances to take off his armour and be free of it.

Of course, that had then led you onto the thought of wondering if he slept naked when he was alone.

The thought of him lying there, nothing hiding him, separating him from the world.

The thin blankets sliding over the body you knew was toned, yet soft enough in all the right places.

It made your mouth a little dry, your cheeks a little pink and you struggled to find something else to think about.

Your eyes drifted to his hands again, remembering the sound of the gloves being drawn off the other night.

They were mesmerising, agile, and you couldn’t stop thinking about them in your hair, on your skin.

Stars above, get a grip, girl.

You mentally scolded yourself for these thoughts, trying to steer your damned imagination onto something more appropriate.

Luckily, your saviour came in the form of Mando himself. He tilted his head back slightly, enough for you to know he was talking to you, “What’s your favourite planet? Or one you’d like to visit?”

The question surprised you, you had to admit. You weren’t used to people asking about your likes and dislikes. You smiled though, perhaps this was his gentle way to break any tension left over. “Hmm… I think… I’d have to say the planet I’d like to visit most... either Hoth or Coruscant.”

Mando laughed, that gorgeous rough, honey laugh, “Okay, Coruscant I can understand, but Hoth? Really?”

You pouted at the back of his head, “Yes!! It sounds beautiful.”

The Mandalorian laughed more, “Beautiful? Sweetheart, it’s covered in ice. It’s freezing there. All you would see is ice and snow… and more ice and more snow.”

You scowled at him now, throwing the leftover wrapper of Grogu’s cookies at his helmet, “And? Snow and ice are stunning. They’re powerful and strong. I’ve only ever been in a proper snowfall once, and I fell in love. The way the flakes float down and.. dance even if there’s the faintest breeze. And then when they land on your skin or your eyelashes like little cold kisses… The sound it makes under your boots when you walk on a fresh fall. And it softens everything, makes it easier on your eyes to see across the landscape… it’s quiet, muffled… Besides, I like the cold.”

Little did you know, Mando was grinning like an idiot under his helmet, adoring the way you defend it to him, the way you describe something as simple as ice and snow. “You like the cold, huh? Then why are you always grumbling that the heating is broken?” The teasing lilt to his voice was evident, so animated and content, compared to his usual cooler, calm silence.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. “That is… completely irrelevant.” You looked at the back of his head, “What about you? If my choices are so hilarious.”

The Mandalorian made a thoughtful noise, “I wouldn’t say there’s one place in particular… But… there’s a few sanctuary planets dotted around. Places with really pretty, dense forests where you could walk for days and not spot anyone else. They’re protected and safe, no dangerous animals or anything allowed… literally sanctuaries. I’d like to take Grogu there… let him wander and have fun and eat things he shouldn’t without having to look over my shoulder.”

It was the most you’d ever heard him speak in one go, and there was a tenderness in his voice that brought tears to your eyes. This man truly loved his little green adoptive son and would do anything for him. “That sounds... stunning. I’ve heard of those planets and always wondered what they were like...”

He made a hum of agreement, fingers working over the control panel as he put it in autopilot. “One day…” He turned around in his chair, “What about your favourite colour?”

You moved to sit cross-legged in the seat, defying the concept of a chair. “Blue. Darker blues, like a midnight blue.” You swayed your chair from side to side slightly, “Actually, the same colour as the cloak you got me. So well done, kudo’s for you.”

Mando leant back in his own chair, tapping the side of his helmet before resting his hands on his thighs again. “This thing lets me read minds; you know.”

You began pulling the pins from your hair, “Mmhm, and I can fly.” You raise an eyebrow at him, grinning.

He chuckled, watching you intently behind the helmet though you wouldn’t know that, watching every pin get removed from holding up your hair, “It wouldn’t surprise me at this point, princess.” He tapped his thighs absently, “You wanna know the real secret?”

You nodded, reaching in for a pin that had become stuck deep in your hair, the last one. “Surprise me.” Got it. You yanked the pin out, letting your hair fall down and your fingers through it. You sighed a little in relief as you rubbed your fingertips against your scalp, chasing away any tightness from the day.

Mando didn’t say anything. He was too distracted, to struck into silence by the sight of your hair.

The light from the ship and coming in through the windows turned some of the strands to gold, igniting them with that fire that blazed within you – and that he’d been on the receiving end.

His hands tightened over his thighs, because he was overtaken by a craving, a need to remove your hands and feel your hair for himself.

It wasn’t the first time he’d had these thoughts.

Fuck, he’d been having these thoughts since he first saw you. He just hadn’t realised them until that night he’d nearly lost his life and woken up to you passed out on his chest.

He’d frozen, even his breathing stopping as he felt the warm weight of you, even though the armour.

He couldn’t bear to move you, to take away that pressure, the closeness of another human that he had missed for so long.

So, he hadn’t. He left you there. Spent hours watching you sleep, the warmth of your breath slightly fogging up the armour on his chest.

“Lori? Anyone in there?” You tilted your head, watching the man before you that was staring at you intently, his breathing somewhat ragged.

He startled slightly, coming back to himself, “Huh?”

You chuckled, “Where did you go? I was waiting for you to knock me off my feet with your revelation.”

He made a noise, “Uh… I.. actually can’t remember...” He tugged at his glove, an odd gesture so at odds with his usual confident demeanour.

You tilted your head, still smiling a little, “Are you okay?”

Luckily, he was saved from answering by the beeping of the controls behind him.

You’d arrived at the planet.

It was hot.

Beyond hot.

The air was warm, the water was warm, you were warm.

And already awake, having just calmed your breathing down from another nightmare, when you heard Grogu, his little coos and gurgled filtering down the hall to you.

The poor little creature had probably woken up from the heat. You had been on this desert planet for a couple of days, opting to stay in and look after the Child whilst Mando hunted down the bounty. The days here were scorching, a dry heat that sucked the life from you immediately. Even the nights were hot, unlike normal freezing desert nights.

Mando had returned this evening, panting from the heat after coming up from the carbonite chamber. “I swear it’s getting hotter out there.”

The cooling system on the Crest was just as temperamental as the heating, so it wasn’t exactly cool in here. The metal floors, which were normally always chilled, were warm underfoot. Mando had let you keep his room, and it was just as hot, being contained in with itself, so you’d been sleeping with the doors open.

Not that it made a dent. Every single closed space was like a heat trap, especially Grogu’s little compartment. So, no wonder he had woken up.

You stretched, then slipped from the cot and made your way to Grogu.

It didn’t take long to settle him, he was all tuckered out from the games you’d been playing today, so after patting his skin with a cool cloth, he had fallen back under.

You were now at the small ‘kitchen’ area in the ship, washing out the cloth. You huffed, splashing some water on your wrists and pulling out the pin that was holding up your hair, and falling out. Grogu had a habit of tugging the ends of your hair in his little fist.

You’d taken to wearing a thin floaty dress to bed, one you’d picked up in that market before it had turned into a horror show. The material was gauzy, allowing the heat to escape your body without it sticking to your clammy skin. What helped enormously was the large cut out in the back. It secured at the back of your neck, and then fell open, exposing almost your whole back before joining again at the base of your spine.

It was probably the flimsiest, most sinful thing you’d ever worn, but it was gorgeous and hey, it did the job.

You rolled your shoulders, pressing the cool cloth to your neck and you couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your lips and you could have sworn you heard a sizzle.

Footsteps behind you startled you, breaking you from your reverie, and then Mando’s voice filtered through the silence, “Are you okay?”

You turned around, smiling when you saw him because he was still in all his armour… not that you were surprised. He must have been boiling though, under all those heavy layers.

You nodded, lifting the cloth from your neck, “The kid was awake, but I settled him down, he was really warm.”

His head was covered, naturally, so you wouldn’t have seen the way his eyes followed a bead of water rolling down your neck, and the unbidden thought of his tongue catching it “Thank you for seeing to him, I didn’t hear..”

Weird. Normally he was so attuned to Grogu, hearing him before he even woke up if you were sitting together. Maybe he was tired, from his hunting.

What you didn’t know, couldn’t know, was that he had been staring at the ceiling for the 3rd night in a row. Having thoughts that he should not be having, his body yearning for things it shouldn’t.

You shook your head, still smiling and turned back to the sink area, “It’s no worries, I was awake anyway so… And you’ve been hunting. You deserve the rest.” You set down the cloth, running your hands through your hair and reaching for your pin to secure it back up. You faced him again, gathering your hair in your hands, “How was it?”

But he wasn’t listening.

He suddenly moved forward, and then he was in front of you. “Wait.” His voice was low, almost strained. There was a husk to it that hadn’t been there before, but it ignited something within you.

You froze, your hands still stuck in your hair. You looked up at him, raising your eyebrows slightly, “What..?” It was only now he was right in front of you that you could see his chest, rising and falling rapidly. “Mando, are you okay?”

He shook his head quickly, his helmet tilted down to you, his hands curling and uncurling at his sides, “Let your hair down.” His voice was still that rumbly order, and it was such an odd request that you did just that, letting it tumble back down again. Your own hands trembled slightly as you lowered them.

A shudder seemed to roll through his body, and he rocked forward on his feet, lurching toward you in a movement that lacked his usual smooth elegance. It was unsteady, unsure.

He stopped when he was a mere few inches away, the closest you’d been to each other since that afternoon.

This close, you could practically feel the heat roiling off of him under his armour, and you tilted your head up to meet him, concern in your eyes, “Mando, you need to go and have a cold shower.. You sound like you’re burning up… do you feel flushed?”

He shook his head jerkily, his hands raising, “Shh… please. I just.. I need to..” He broke off, a sharp intake of air cutting his words.

Something else began to curl through the worry in your belly, like some instinct knew things you didn’t. You swallowed, your voice low when you next spoke, “You need to what..?”

The Mandalorian was shaking, his body tensing and untensing like he was fighting himself, telling himself not to do this. “I.. I need to touch your hair.”

Stars, you could feel the flush that crept up his neck and cheeks, like it burned through his helmet but you stayed completely still.

His words were whispered through gritted teeth, like he was physically trying to bite them back, “I just... I need to do this, please… I’m sorry, but I cant-” He sounded like he was in pain, still breathing raggedly.

Heat flared through your blood, igniting a flame within you that was irresistible. You nodded, letting him see you, “Okay.” Like you could say no to him.

The vocoder nearly didn’t pick up the huff of relief that escaped his lips and he curled his hands into fists again, “Turn around. And close your eyes.” That rough command was back and you were more than obliging to let him navigate this moment.

You turned around, facing the kitchen area, looking over the darkened surroundings before shutting your eyes. It immediately threw all your other senses into overdrive, so you could hear every single rasp of his breath as you exposed your skin to him, and the pounding of your own heart.

“You have to keep them closed. You cannot turn around or look.” There was a desperate plea in his voice, an edge to it that hurt your very soul. He was audibly torn, between his Creed… and this desire that he seemed to have given into.

You nodded again, aching to reach back and reassure him, “I won’t. I won’t open my eyes or turn around until you tell me, I swear on it, Lori.” You let every ounce of truth and understanding seep through your words, praying that it would be enough to convince him he could trust you.

Seemingly, it was, because the next noise that you heard could have struck you dead.

It was the sound of leather rubbing against skin, the friction as they were pulled off, then a soft thump of the material on the floor.

He had taken off his gloves.

He was standing behind you… with his hands bare.

You. A person he hasn’t known for very long at all, and he was partially bare, uncovered.

Your head exploded, a million thoughts racing through it once, sending your heart into overdrive and your own breathing rapid and unsteady.

There was a pause, like he was steeling himself and then… then the slightest sensation, like he was catching the ends of your hair, just brushing them.

That simple movement sent a shiver down your spine, and it was enough to get him to move more. He lifted his hands and then you felt fingers slide into your hair at the back of your head, then slowly, slowly, drag down the length.

You heard a sharp intake of breath behind you, and then a soft mutter, “It’s so soft..” You barely picked it up, even though the ship was silent. The fingers ghosted through your hair again, and his voice was bewildered, “How do you get it this soft in that tiny ‘fresher..” It was like he was talking to himself.

You couldn’t help the soft laugh, a release of tension from this whole thing, “I can’t reveal my secrets, Lori. Can’t have your hair being softer than mine. There’s only room for one on this ship.”

He chuckled, and it ran over your bones like honey, dousing them in such a sweet sensation. “I’ll get it out of you one way or another, princess.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t get the chance to speak because then his fingers were running up your scalp from the base of your head to the crown, with a light pressure and the feeling was so unbelievably good, that you couldn’t help it. Your head leant back into his touch and the faintest sigh left your lips. “Keep doing that..” Your cheeks flushed, embarrassment crashing over you. Why did you have to say that?

The Mandalorian’s hands had paused, absorbing that soft sigh of pleasure and trying to cool his body. But you had a hold over him, he couldn’t say no. He merely did it again, with a firmer press of his fingers against your scalp, a light scrape of his nails just to get you to make that noise again, to be convinced that you were enjoying this just as much as he was.

You didn’t stop the next sigh, this one louder, more delighted. It was like you knew what the other was thinking, could read each other that well.

He was driving you insane, rendering you speechless just from playing with your hair.

You don’t know how long you stood there for, his hands running through the soft locks.

He lifted it slightly, then made a soft noise. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo.”

A tattoo? Oh right.

It was true, you did. It was a delicate piece, spanning from the top of your spine to just above your hips, lining your spine. It showed the phases of the moon, drawn in a minimalist style, with small stars and additional lines coming out of every other piece.

You nodded quickly, “I’ve had it for years.” Fuck, could your voice sound anymore needy?

“What does it mean?” His words were murmured and then the next thing could have had you on your knees.

You heard a sound that had haunted you since the night he nearly died, the sound of leather sliding over skin. The soft plop as it fell to the floor.

No way. Has he just..

His fingers, his bare fingers ghosted down your spine, following the line of it with a touch so fleeting it almost made you whine.

In fact, it did, a whimper rising from deep in your chest.

He was touching you.

His bare skin, skin that he had sworn by Creed to keep covered and hidden until marriage, was trailing down your spine as light as wings.

Pleasure shot straight though you, making your nerves and blood sing, making your knees shake and your belly hot.

A tug on your hair, a tug that was sharp enough to send a faint tinge of pain through your scalp had you moaning, you couldn’t help it. Your lips parted and the moan fell from them, soft, a little high and drawn.

Mando swore under his breath, his whole body twitching behind yours, “I asked you a question, sweetheart.” There was a hoarseness to his voice that hadn’t been there before, a straining note like your moan had shot right through him. Which is had.

What does it mean… what does it mean? Focus!!

“Um… right. When I was on the run, initially in the beginning, I never had a place to call home. Everything I knew had been torn away, and I could never settle anywhere. Every night, I would look up into the sky and watch the moon. No matter what planet I was on, no matter where I was, or if there two moons or 4, it was always there. I only had to look up, and there was something up there to ground me, give me some sense of comfort. It might look smaller, or be a different colour, but it was still the moon. And it made me feel… safe. Like it was a… a companion in a way. I just had to look a little closer, beneath the colours or the distance and there it was. It was always in the sky, so I wanted to get it tattooed so that it would always be with me. No matter if I was outside, as free as I could be, or inside and trapped.” You flushed a little, “That probably makes no sense and sounds so stupid.”

You could sense the Mandalorian shaking his head, his voice still low and soft, “No.. I think it’s beautiful. And I get it. I move around so much too, there’s only a few things that always remain the same. So I know the value of having something familiar.” He ghosted his fingers down it again, trailing all the way down to where the cut out portion of your dress stopped and then back up again.

When his hand reached the top of the tattoo, he slid it up further, cupping the back of your neck in his broad, warm hand.

It sent electricity shooting across your skin, that blazed as he wrapped his thumb and fingers around either side of your neck, just a gentle pressure there.

You moaned again; you didn’t even try to hide it. Your head fell back, exposing your throat to him in a sign of instinctual submission, even though you knew he wouldn’t kiss you. You didn’t mind, you just needed more, more than this teasing touch, more than the faint brush of his fingertips. Your chest shuddered, knuckles white as you gripped the counter in an effort to stay still, “Lori…” You whined his name, hoping it would spark something in him, would force him to do something.

You felt him shudder again, felt his hips draw back from your body like he was trying to hide just what these noises did to him.

Fuck.

It burned you, turned your belly molten and the power that washed over you was heady. You had turned him on just from your hair, your skin and your moans.

The voice that came out was equally as tight, husky and you might have lived and died inside the low baritone “What is it, princess?”

Your fingers curled around the side of the counter in front of you, and you were glad he couldn’t see your face when you whispered, “Please..”. Your voice was low, pleading and aching.

You felt him shudder behind you, a tiny groan echoing through the helmet.

His next words nearly undid you there and then, “Like I could say no to you.”

Then his fingers pressed into your spine, caressing down your back over the tattoo with such admiration, such warmth that it arched slightly, chasing more of that sensation.

Your head was spinning, convinced you were dreaming, that this wasn’t real.

This didn’t happen between you both.

You flirted, sure. But that was harmless, playful.

This… this was real. He was letting you feel his bare skin, uncovered and unhidden.

And it was tearing you apart.

The scrape of his thumbnail on your skin tore you from those thoughts, ripped you back to the present as it ran down the curve of your back. If your eyes had been open, they would have rolled into the back of your head.

Your head fell forward, back arching completely into him and the sound that you let out was sinful. You could only concentrate on the that sharp, pleasurable hurt that you felt in your belly, the feeling of his other hand as it held your shoulder, holding you in that arch.

Heat pooled low in your belly, and every dream, every thought you’d been trying to suppress about him came blasting into full technicolour. All because of his hands.

Those damn hands you’d been pining over since saving his life.

His head was so close over your shoulder that you could hear the low pant of his breath, the coolness of his armour barely brushing your shoulders as you pressed back into him.

Fuck, did he want this as much as you did?

By the way his hand tightened, he had to. You didn’t know how you knew it, but you did.

You swallowed, licking your lips to say something, anything, spur him on but a harsh beeping suddenly broke through the thick tension on the room. A light was flashing, and by the time the fog of pleasure cleared in your head, he was gone.

Gloves picked up and yanked on, boots disappearing up the ladder into the cockpit to check on the autopilot.

The taut sensation in your body snapped, making you sink to the floor as though the strings had been cut.

You lifted shaking hands to your face, burying them in them with a low noise. Your head was a mess, you couldn’t get over it. Couldn’t stop feeling his fingers on your back, your hair. Hear the ragged pant of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest against your shoulders.

It was just touch, just the simple act of touch but it had igniting something so fierce within you.

Something had changed.

What the fuck was that?

You sat there on the floor for Maker knows how long, before dragging yourself up and hurrying off in search of a very, very cold shower.

You weren’t quite sure how to face him the next morning.

You had taken your cold shower, and it had done nothing to cool the fire in your blood so you had to take the initiative, hoping the crash of the water and the fact you were biting down the back of your free hand would cover the desperate moans you made.

Little did you know, the Mandalorian was going through the exact same thing, back arched, lips biting into his lip to stop the groans.

You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, stop thinking about what had occurred between you.

Surely it broke some kind of rules of his Creed?

He had touched you with his bare skin. You weren’t married. You weren’t together. You didn’t even know his name.

Yet he had touched you and.. reacted to you.

Maybe that was just instinct, his body’s natural response to such things.

But he had carried on… until you were disturbed anyway.

Your head went round and round in these circles until your body had calmed down enough to sleep.

…

You rose early, wanting to be washed, dressed and ready and doing something to occupy you before you had to think too much about what you were going to say. Maybe just… Good morning?

Sure. Good morning was fine.

Normal.

It totally didn’t reveal what you’d had to do in the shower, or the thoughts you were still having about it.

You had this discussion with yourself all the way up the ladder of the cockpit, and when you rose to your height, you blurted it out in a cheery voice before you could bail, “Morning!”

Breezy. Nailed it.

The Mandalorian was sitting in the pilot’s chair, fiddling with controls and levers, gloves firmly on. “Good morning. Did you sleep okay in the heat?”

You nodded, sinking down into the pilots chair and feeding Duru a treat, “Yes, thank you. Finally.” You stroked under Duru’s chin, your eyes straying to those hands as he slide them over some switches.

The same hands that had cupped the back of your neck and trailed fire down your spine.

A flush started to creep along your cheeks, so you quickly looked away, “Did you?”

The light bounced off of his helmet as he nodded, “Yes, thank you.”

Polite. His words were polite. Almost... distant.

Okay… Okay, so maybe he just feels awkward?

You bit your bottom lip, worried if you should say something.

No, leave it. He no doubt feels over-exposed and maybe shy about what happened last night. Don’t bring it up. Just act normal.

You nodded faintly to yourself and returned your attention back to Duru.

Mando was ignoring you.

You had been trying to deny it, but he most certainly was.

Yesterday, he had engaged in talking to you now and then throughout the day, but only passing comments and a few spare words.

You had spoken more when you were beating the shit out of each other.

You kept telling yourself that it was just lingering awkwardness from how to go back to normal after that night, but the gnawing in your gut told you otherwise.

It had been shouting at you this morning when he had parked the ship on a planet, announced he was going hunting and he’d be back in a few hours.

Then he’d just gone.

You had waited for him all day, mooched around the ship, played with Grogu and Duru and tried not to worry.

You sat up for hours, even when the little ones had gone to sleep, waiting to talk to him.

You’d convinced yourself that you should talk about. You should tell him you didn’t expect anything from him. That you didn’t hate him, that he didn’t hurt you or anything like that.

Just to tell him whatever you needed to stop this frostiness.

You had it all planned, had every phrase and comment worked out to stop this atmosphere.

About 15 minutes ago, you’d heard the ramp open. 3 minutes after that, the hiss and echo of the carbonite chamber.

Then you’d heard him go and check on the kid, then go to his quarters.

And now, it was his booted feet on the steps to the cockpit that held your attention.

You took a deep breath, prayed to the Maker and spun your seat to face him as he rose up.

The mere sight of that beskar-clad body set your heart thumping, but you coaxed an easy smile on your lips anyway. “Hey, how was the hunt? Cause you any trouble?”

Mando didn’t turn his head to look at you, just padded over to his seat and spun it to the control panel, “It was fine. Easy.” His words were clipped, not harsh, just… efficient. Straight to the point.

You swallowed, your courage faltering a little.

Mentally, you scolded yourself. You didn’t falter in the face of a man who’d touched you and now wouldn’t talk to you. You didn’t whimper and pander to a tense atmosphere.

You sat up a little straighter, pulling your shoulders back and you looked over at him.

Now or never.

“About the other night-”

“I’m taking you to Nevarro.”

What?

You had both spoken at the same time, your eyes now bewildered as you beheld him. “What?”

He said nothing, just fiddled with some controls.

“Mando, what do you mean?” Your voice was shocked, but steady. Did nothing to betray the shock that had just hit your chest like a punch.

You didn’t hear him swallow, only heard his words, “I’m taking you to Nevarro. We’re on the way now.” He said them softly, evenly.

Hearing it again only made your heart drop to somewhere around your waist.

He was leaving you. Dumping you on some planet. And going.

Your hand tapped your leg as sort of nervous habit, and then the words were out, “Is this because of the other night?”

It was his turn to sound bewildered, his head just turning to the side, but you knew he couldn’t see you in his peripheral, “What? What do you mean?”

Your heart was starting to beat uncomfortably in your chest, a sense of shame beginning to creep over you, “Because of what happened in the kitchen. I didn’t see you, I didn’t see your skin.”

Mando turned to face you, one hand still on the panel, his hair half turned but head rotated all the way to look at you, “No, no it’s not because of that-“

You cut him off, “You didn’t… you didn’t offend me. Or hurt me. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry if.. if my reaction made you feel awkward or think something. I don’t.. I don’t expect anything from you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I never have, so please don’t think that.” You flushed, the shame colouring your cheeks. You couldn’t help it. But this was the reason, right? The only reason why he would be dumping you.

He shook his head, “Stop. Stop..” His voice softened slightly, “No. It’s not because of… that. I know you didn’t see me. And I know you don’t expect anything from me.” He took a breath, “I’m taking you to Nevarro to keep you safe. That’s all. I have friends there, Cara Dune and Greef Karga. They’ll look after you. They’ve already set up accommodation for you, so you don’t need to worry about that.

They already knew?

Something like hurt flashed in your eyes, colouring your tone, “They… You already planned this..?” There was no bite in your voice like you would normally have in this situation, you were too shocked by the sudden change in direction your journey was taking.

Mando tilted his head, “I contacted them whilst I was on the hunt… I wanted it set up before we got there, so you wouldn’t stand out to anyone looking.” He still looked at you, “Is that okay?”

You sensed you wouldn’t have a choice in this. So you decided to take the high road. You wouldn’t whine about this.

You smoothed your expression over into a mask of calm, “Yes… I was just a little surprised that’s all. But thank you, really. I’ll… set about packing my things.”

He sounded confused, his head tilting back to watch you rise from your chair, “We have a couple of days yet.”

You nodded, “Oh, I know, I just want to make sure I have everything. And all the things I want to steal from you.” You laughed, even going so far as to nudge his shoulder before escaping.

You were gone to quickly, so you wouldn’t have seen the way he slumped in his chair, dropped his head into his hands. You wouldn’t have heard the pained sigh that escaped his lips at the thought have having to part with you.

The Mandalorian stood at the top of the ramp with you, staring out across the dusty, volcanic terrain of Nevarro. Your new home for… however long.

You said nothing, running your fingers along the edge of your cloak, observing the landscape and trying not to let any emotion show on your face. You had kept up natural conversation the past few days. Saying nothing of the wrenching pain that tore in your chest every time you remembered you were departing.

Mando cleared his throat, one arm holding Grogu and the other hand resting on his hip in a gesture that was becoming painfully familiar, “Cara and Greef know you’re coming. They’ll be waiting in Cara’s office for you.”

Grogu was sulking, squirming every now and then to try and get out of Mando’s grip. He had screamed the whole morning, and only calmed down when you hugged him and sung to him on the way here.

You nodded, also trying to ignore the thoughts swirling round in your mind as to why he was leaving you here. Was it because of your argument? The way you had broken down in front of him? Or was it because of the other night? The way his fingers had run through your hair, and then trailed down your spine, mapping your tattoo. His bare fingers. The things he’d whispered to you, “I just... I need to do this, please… I’m sorry, but I cant-”

“I’ve been thinking about this for days..”

Had he known then that he was going to leave you here? Or was it after that, that he’d decided he had broken one too many rules and had to get rid of you.

Words floated over to you, and you realised he was talking again so you hauled your attention back to the conversation at hand.

“-safe here. No one will come looking for you. Greef has taken all the pucks that have come through with your name on them and Cara will do sweeps every couple of days to make sure.”

You looked down at your feet, a bitter feeling leeching through your veins that was getting stronger with every moment you got closer to leaving the Crest.

“Hey… look at me..”

It was that honey softness of the Mandalorian’s tone that finally had you looking up at him, your expression perfectly masked to hide every ounce of emotion in you aside from a calm neutrality.

He tilted his head a little, turning his body toward you, “Please don’t think I’m dumping you here. I had planned to bring you here since I destroyed the puck and the fob.”

Like that made you feel any better.

He must have read the flicker in your eyes, because he stepped closer, his hand lifting to your upper arm, “I want you to be safe.” You could almost feel his eyes boring into yours, “I am more than grateful for everything you’ve done for me. And the kid. More than you’ll ever know. But, travelling with me.. it only increases the target on your back. People know you’re with me. I don’t want that for you.. you deserve to be free..”

And what about what I want?

You only smiled, forcing your expression to one of a lighter one and you nudged him gently, “Hey, I get it. You have to get rid of me because I’m showing you up on hunts. Can’t have anyone destroying your infamous reputation.” You rolled your eyes, laughing even if it did send daggers into your heart.

And his.

He squeezed your shoulder playfully, then dropped his hand. “You’re hilarious. I told you, the day you beat me is the day the stars implode.” You could feel a line of humour in his voice though, and it softened your shoulders, made you relax.

He was doing this to keep you safe. He had planned this for weeks so you could have a break, a chance to rest.

So, you lifted your head a little higher, your smile becoming more real. “Thank you, Mando. For everything. I can’t ever repay you for this, for what you’ve done.” You motioned to the outside.

He nodded, his hand resting at his sides again now, “We’ll call it even.” His head remained focused on you, lingering on you and then he reached into a pouch and held out his free hand, “Here.”

You let him drop the objects in your hand, a small stack of credits.

“It’s not much, I know, but it’ll be enough to get you some food and supplies you need. You don’t need to worry about a place to stay, Cara will show you but… You can get what you want and need.” He withdrew his hand slowly, almost reluctantly.

You swallowed, closing your hand around the credits and you slipped them into the pocket inside your cloak. “Thank you..”

The Mandalorian merely nodded again, leaning back against the threshold of the ramp, his thumb absently rubbing circles on Grogu’s belly.

It seemed that there was nothing else to draw this goodbye out, so you took a breath, straightening your cloak. “Well… I guess I’ll say goodbye then.” You looked up at him, then stuck out your hand for his, realising only a few seconds later how dumb that was.

Before you could pull your hand back, he reached out and clasped your hand in his own, wrapping his fingers around your distinctly smaller hand. “Goodbye… princess.” You heard the smirk in his voice, and you couldn’t help the chuckle and the eye roll again, not failing to notice the way his hand tightened involuntarily and then withdrew.

You looked at Grogu in his other arm, who was still avoiding looking at the pair of you, wriggling in his father’s arms. You bent down to draw your face to his level and you stroked his ears, “I’ll miss you, little guy. Make sure to keep your dad on his toes, okay? You gotta make up for both of us now.” You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, feeling his little hand pat your cheek with a mournful noise. Tears burned the back of your eyes, so you leant back, instead picking up Duru so she could say goodbye.

Grogu cooed sadly again, stroking Duru’s cheek, looking up at her with his glossy eyes.

You let Duru but her head against him, chitter a goodbye and then you stepped back, allowing her to climb up your shoulders as you looked up at Mando.

You just watched him for a moment, his armour reflecting the light on one side and then, with a soft inhale of courage, you turned and walked down the ramp, Duru padding at your feet.

You had only just cleared the ramp, stepping onto the hard, compacted ground when Mando called out, “Wait.”

You turned quickly, hope blooming in your heart, in your expression though you tried to stop it.

He had made a step onto the ramp, body poised like it was trying to run to you but he was holding back. He hesitated, almost as if he were torn with what to say – or what not to say, but all that came out was, “Ret'urcye mhi.”

You couldn’t help the shiver that licked down your spine, the way his voice turned into dripping honey when he spoke Mando’a. “What does that mean..?” You prayed he couldn’t hear the slight hoarseness to your tone.

He tilted his head down to look at Grogu, then lifted it back up to you, “It means goodbye…. And maybe we’ll meet again..”

Your heart swelled a little, a flush of pain going through it but you smiled softer, your expression melting and you inclined your head slightly, “I would like that.. very much…”

There were a million other things that threatened to roll off your tongue, pour from you but before they could, you turned around, walking toward the town and feeling his eyes on you the entire time, burning into the back of your head like a fiery brand.

You were about 4 metres away when you heard Grogu start crying, when your own tears broke through and spilled down your cheeks. You kept walking, even when your vision began to blur and go fuzzy.

So you didn’t see the way Mando hugged Grogu closer, whispered, “I know, kid, I don’t want her to go either.”

You’d be okay. It would be fine.

So you and the Mandalorian were parting. It was no big deal. You had helped each other; you had returned each other’s debts. You owed each other nothing.

The sound of engines whirring filtered into your ears, and you waited until you heard the Crest lift from the ground before turning round.

You paused, wiping your cheeks as the ship that had become a haven of sorts lifted into the sky. It hovered for a second, as if hesitating and then shot up higher, taking with it the two people that you had come to mean more to you than you realised. It felt like the Razor Crest had taken your heart with it.

How comes you hadn’t realised before how much they meant?

Too late now.

You remained watching the sky, long after the ship had vanished into the atmosphere.

With a shuddering breath, you wiped your cheeks. You kissed Duru’s tail, and then returned to walking toward the town.

You’d be okay… right?

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