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ragingbookdragon · 4 years ago

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The Brother's Keeper

A Dick Grayson and Batsis One-Shot

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst, References to Past Abuse

Author's Note: Another story edited and re-posted! Enjoy! -Thorne

Despite having not lived at the manor for almost a decade, she still knew every hallway and room like the back of her hand, every sound was a familiar net of reassurance she could count on. The hum of the hidden wall closing behind her, the creaking of the third step from the top that they always avoided, the clicking the bats above made. She descended the steps into the cave, balancing the heavy manila files in one hand, the other holding two protein shakes, knowing her father probably hadn’t consumed nutrition in at least a few hours since he called her.

Her eyes fell on him where he sat at the Batcomputer; he’d changed out of his suit and was in a pair of joggers and a long sleeve shirt. She walked over, setting the files down beside the keyboard. “Here’s the files you asked about, dad. I alphabetized them too…and color tabbed ‘em but that’s not important.”

He glanced at her with a warm smile before nodding and turning back to the screen. “Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate you doing so.”

She leaned an arm on the back of the chair, propping her chin on his shoulder as she stared at the screen. “New antidote for Scarecrow’s toxin?”

“He’s synthesized a new formula, so I need to make a new antidote in case anyone gets gassed,” he replied, tapping at the screen until the numbers were apparently in approval with whatever he was thinking about—who knew.

She hummed, taking note of the lack of noise. “Where’re the chuckle-heads?”

He chuckled and tipped his head towards the locker room. “They put their suits away and went to change.” She nodded again and patted his shoulder before walking off in the direction of the room.

When she got there, she didn’t see them, but she could hear them harking on one another in the locker room, and she moved in that direction. She stepped into the room and took in the image of the four of her brothers standing in front of the mirrors in their underwear, pointing at each other like they were shocked to see the other.

“Do I even want to know?” she asked, unblinkingly.

Their heads shot up and they saw her; Dick greeted, “(Y/N)! What are you doing here? You usually don’t come to the manor.”

(Y/N) shrugged and stepped inside, taking a seat on one of the cool metal benches. “Dad needed some files over a few previous encounters I’ve had with galactic enemies. And me being here brings me back to my original question.” She gestured to them with a wave of a hand, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why are you guys in your tighty-whities?”

They snorted, and Jason turned around. “We’re comparing scars.”

(Y/N) let out a ‘pfft’. “Of course, you are.” She paused for a second and observed them. “Who’s got the gnarliest one?” Immediately, they pointed at Damian who simply motioned to his chest, and she looked at the faded scar that rested over his heart.

A frown instantly drew her lips, and Damian, being ever so vigilant, caught it and shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault, sister. You tried to save me.”

She met his eyes and murmured, “I didn’t try hard enough.” She glanced at Jason, seeing the scars line his chest, her voice just as soft. “For either of you.”

Jason’s lips pulled downwards, and he walked over, sitting on the bench beside her. “The fact that you tried is good enough for us, Queenie.” He reached out, patting her head.

She sighed and shook it off, giving them a smile before she turned to Tim. “Any on you Nerd-bird?”

He grinned and turned around, running his hand along a scar that rested along the left side of his ribs. “When I fought Ra’s, he got me right here.”

(Y/N) looked at it, then leaned back, a curious look in her eye. “Other than dad, aren’t you the only person he’s called ‘detective’?” Tim gave her a firm nod and she pulled a grin, nodding at him. “Look at the Nerd-bird kicking all our asses in the game. I’m proud of you.” He gave her a sheepish smile and she turned to Dick. “We’ve all had brushes with death, but I don’t think you have a lot of noticeable ones. Which is surprising because out of all of us, you’re the most reckless.”

The others laughed while Dick glared at her, then he shrugged and showed his back, and they saw faint white lines that resembled lightning strikes. “When Wally came back out of the speed force, he accidentally shocked me. Of course, it wasn’t enough to damage me severely, but it’s here.”

They looked at him once more, then Tim tipped his head to the side. “What about you, sis? You’ve been doing this longer than we have. Do you have any good ones?” (Y/N) looked at him before pulling off her jacket and pulling off the tank top she had on. She stood up, walking to the mirror and staring into it.

She pointed to one that lined across her left breast. “Even covered by my bra, you can see how badly this one was.” She paused running a hand down it, gaze far. “When Jason died, I got into it with Joker some time after.” (Y/N)’s eyes drifted to Jason’s, who’s were wide with shock. “I beat him worse than dad did, but he left me with this one before I did.”

“I…didn’t know you did that, Queenie.”

“Of course not Jason. I didn’t tell you.” (Y/N) pointed to a patch that rested on her right hip. “Took a bullet for Tim a few years ago.”

“That was when Deadshot was running around, right?”

She nodded, answering his question. “Mhm. They say he never misses. But that day, he did.” Her hand moved and she touched a curved scar that ran down her neck. “After you died, Damian, I found Talia and we had it out.”

“What happened?” he questioned curiously.

(Y/N) met his eyes in the mirror and frowned. “She and I gave each other a fair share of wounds…but I think the ones I gave her hurt more than the ones she gave me.”

“And those were?”

(Y/N) looked back at her reflection and stared at herself. “The infuriated words of a grieving sister.”

Silence enveloped the room and after a few moments, Dick pointed to a particular scar on her back that ran down the length of it. “How in the world did you get that one?”

She looked over her shoulder and reached behind her, fingers brushing over the raised, jagged skin that had sealed unevenly. “On my back?”

Dick snorted and nodded. “The only one on your back sis.”

She went silent for a moment then she admitted, “…Tarantula gave it to me a few years ago.”

No one noticed the way Dick froze for a split second at her admittance, and Jason asked, “Why did you and Tarantula get into it?”

Her eyes met Dick’s for a flash before she looked at Jason. “She killed an informant of mine and I got even with her.”

“Looks like she rocked your shit, Queenie.”

The others laughed, save for her and Dick, then (Y/N) muttered darkly, “I beat Catalina Flores within an inch of her life that night.” Her statement brought their laughter to a grinding halt, and she continued. “Hell, I almost killed her. But I didn’t.”

Damian crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “And why not? It would not be the first time you’ve killed someone.”

(Y/N) rolled her shoulders and moved back to her clothes, pulling on the tank top and jacket before turning to him. “Because then she would’ve gotten of scot free, and she wouldn’t have to live knowing what she’s done.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed and he followed Damian, crossing his arms and leaning against the lockers. “Not to be nosey, but the way you’re talking about her almost seems like you’ve got a vendetta against her. And I mean like, me to Bruce vendetta.”

(Y/N) met his gaze before reaching down and tossing his muscle tank to him, then passing the others their shirts. “The informant she killed was a good friend of mine. There was…a lot of fury.” She paused, meeting Dick’s gaze once more. “There still is.”

The others simply stared at her before pulling on their shirts, and she looked at them. “I’m gonna get dad to go out and eat somewhere with me. You guys go on out and start working on him, would you?” The three nodded and started towards the door, (Y/N) following.

She was almost out of the door when Dick’s voice reached her quietly. “…(Y/N)?” She paused, turning around, and looking at Dick, who wore an unreadable expression; he glanced up at her, his eyes searching as he inquired, “Was there another reason that you two fought?”

“Me and Catalina?” He nodded and she shrugged. “There might’ve been. But the immediate fight was about my informant.”

Dick stared at her for a few moments before whispering, “…You didn’t start your informant network until I donned Batman.”

(Y/N) tipped her head back and leaned against the door frame, eyes narrowed as she mentally picked his words apart as only an older sister could. “What are you getting at, kid brother?”

He fell silent all at once, but when he finally found it in himself to bring his eyes to hers, she saw such pain in them. “Did you fight her…because of me?”

“No,” she immediately replied, firmly and confidently.

Dick’s eyes widened momentarily, but he looked down and nodded. “I see.”

She kept staring at him, then cleared her throat and turned, grabbing the doorknob. She pulled the door open and stopped, murmuring, “Dick.” He glanced up at her, but she faced forward and said, “I don’t know what happened to you in Blüdhaven all those years ago, and frankly, it’s none of my business.”

Dick’s heart sunk at her words, but then she looked over her shoulder, a solemn tone matching her stance and gaze as she affirmed, “But I am your sister…and I run the best damn informant network this side of the galaxy.” She paused, her words taking on an underlying tone. “There isn’t anything that happens in Gotham and our sister city that I don’t know about.”

Something passed between their eyes and she declared, “I am the family keeper. And I will always be the safety net that catches everyone when they’re in their darkest hours. When there’s something you can’t handle, I will for you.”

Her words made his eyes shine with unshed tears and she gave him a faint smile and a wink before she stepped out of the locker room, leaving him sitting alone, his thoughts drifting back to the rooftop in Blüdhaven.

***

She walked across the floor of the cave to see her father standing there, Jason and Tim hanging off his arms and Damian around his neck; he wore the expression of a tired dad and she couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Having fun, dad?”

He shifted slowly as to not knock one of her brothers off and glared at her. “This is your fault.”

“Guilty as charged father dearest! But it’s food time! Let’s get street tacos.”

Jason grunted at her and shook his head. “No, let’s get gyros!”

“Gyros are disgusting, Jason.”

His features contorted in something only described as an insulted disbelief and he declared, “Just because you don’t like limes and lemons, does not mean gyros are gross, (Y/N).”

“We’re not getting gyros, Jason,” she shot back.

“What about Chinese food?”

(Y/N) looked at Damian and nodded. “I’m down for tacos or Chinese.”

“Can we stop and get some shawarma?”

“Tim, which part of tacos or Chinese sounded like shawarma to you? It’s one or the other. Take your pick.”

“But last night was pizza night! And if I eat Chinese or tacos, I’m going to eat more carbs than I need!”

“You do need more carbs, twig-boy.”

“That was mean, sis.”

“Truthful. I mean how have you not been snapped in half yet? You look like a toothpick.”

The others laughed at her comments, and Bruce looked at her. “Where’s Dick?”

(Y/N) tipped her head back to the lockers. “Still changing.” She motioned to the stairs. “You guys go ahead. I’ll wait on Dickie.” They nodded, and she watched her father trudge past with her three brothers hanging off him.

A smile crossed her lips and a few minutes later, she heard footsteps behind her. “Where’d everybody go?”

She turned around and nodded to the stairs. “Told them to go ahead and get ready.” (Y/N) had barely made it up the first ten steps when she felt Dick stop beside her, and she glanced back at him. “Dick? You good?”

He gazed up at her. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

She gave him a knowing look and said, “I didn’t do anything, Dick.”

“You did.”

“Agree to disagree.” They stared at each other for a second then she tipped her head to the stairs. “Let’s go get some food, kid brother.”

He nodded and started climbing the steps beside her. “I don’t tell you enough, sis…but I love you.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and mumbled, “God, you are so sentimental.”

“It’s one of my perks.”

“More like a curse…but yeah…it is.” She paused and he stopped beside her, and she reached over, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I love you too, little brother.” His arms wound around her, and they shared a moment before she patted his back. “Alright. Let go. I’m done being overly affectionate.”

He laughed, letting her go and she walked up ahead of him. He kept his eyes trained to her back, and he remembered something she once told him.

The two of them walked silently down the twisting and turning garden path, following the little white concrete plates that made the trail. Dick looked up from his hands, calling out to the older girl in front of him. “(Y/N)?”

She hummed in response but didn’t look at him. “What is it, Dickie?”

“Why won’t you let me walk beside you?”

(Y/N) glanced over her shoulder. “Because I’m protecting you.”

His head tipped to the side and he stopped walking. “But were at the manor?”

“And something could always happen. I’m in the front, so that if something comes, I can protect you while you run.” She turned around and looked at him. “One day you’ll be old enough to walk beside me instead of behind me.”

Dick’s eyes widened and he jumped excitedly. “When! When do I get to walk beside you instead of behind!”

(Y/N) giggled at her little brother and reached out, holding his shoulders to stop him from jumping up and down. “When you don’t need me to protect you anymore…you can walk beside me.”

“When will that be?”

(Y/N) pulled her hands away and spun back around, continuing her walk. “When it happens…you’ll know.” It was all the answer she gave the young boy, but he continued following her, still behind.

Dick blinked, the memory flashing away as fast as it had come, and he saw her back once more; he called out to her. “When do I get to walk beside you instead of behind?”

(Y/N) halted, mid-step and she glanced over her shoulder, a faint smile playing her lips as she replied, “When you don’t need me to protect you anymore, you can walk beside me.”

“And when will that be?”

She huffed a laugh chuckled at him before she turned back around, though she paused just as she was about to cross the threshold and peered back at him. “Don’t you already know the answer to that?”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever know the answer to that one, sis.”

(Y/N) shrugged and turned back around, declaring, “Then I guess you still need me to protect you.”

Dick watched her disappear into the manor, listening as she got into the argument that her brothers were bickering about with each other, and he smiled faintly. “Yeah…I guess I still do.”

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imaslutforremusandsirius · 4 years ago

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You always get what you want

Warning: 18+

Have fun babies! ;)

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

---

You had been walking around the castle uncomfortably all day, stumbling in the hallways, clenching your legs together before regretting that move immediately and spreading your thighs apart again, all the while your boyfriend Sirius grinning at you, obviously content with your squirming. Nobody would suspect that you had a pussy plug lodged deep inside of your cum filled cunt, because Sirius is a kinky bastard like that. And a fucking tease, because that fucking toy is rubbing at your spot every chance it gets. Why had you agreed to doing this again? Ah yes, he is way too adorable to say no to. Do you regret it? Every. Damn. Time.

Right now you are in your potions class in the back of the room, your desk right next to Remus‘. He had watched you sit restlessly in your seat for nearly thirty minutes and tried to capture your eyes with his, but you were way to concentrated not to cum, to look in his direction. Finally you found a position that didn’t rub the pussy plug against all the pleasureable spots in your cunt and threw a quick glance in his direction. He was already watching you with confusion and a little concern, mouthing a „What the hell is up with you today“, making your cheeks heat up and you promptly look away again. It‘s not like you‘re gonna look at him and say „Hey Remmy, your stupid best friend fucked me silly all night long and wanted me to walk around with his cum in my pussy and now that pussy plug is rubbing against my clit. You wanna help maybe?“

Wait. What was that last part. You took a sharp breath. Fuck, that wasn‘t planed. You squeezed your eyes shut so hard you saw whole planets, no galaxies behind your lids and pressed your thighs together. Shit shit shit mental images of Remus‘ strong, veiny hands. His long thick fingers deep inside of your pussy, pushing out Sirius‘ cum. His other hand on your swollen clit, making you cum over and over again and fuc-

You must have made a noise, because suddenly everybody turned around to look at you. Fuck play it cool. You started coughing and squeaked out a I need to see the healer before you slid out of your seat and raced out of the classroom, ignoring Remus‘ concerned gaze. Fuck the plug was rubbing against you clit even more and after you shut the door you collapsed againt the brick wall, leaning your forehead against the cool surface and tried to calm the ache in your needy, wet, cum filled pussy. Fuck me.

After a few minutes of deep breaths and motivational monologues of how you‘re not gonna cum in the deserted hallways of Hogwarts, you decided to just go to the boys room and wait for Sirius there. You still need to fucking cum. You were in such a haste, that you forgot your bag in classroom, but didn‘t bother going back. Remus would bring it.

You had been laying down for some time now. Sirius should be back any minute now from his transfiguration class with James. Peter and Remus had plans for after class and James wanted to go bother Lily. You snorted at that, James that persistent prat. Everyone would be gone so you and Sirius would have the room to yourselves for at least two hours. All lot can be done in two hours, especially between the both of you. He’ll probably wear you out with overstimulation and plug you up again. No, you thought, if he wants to plug me up again, I’m gonna fucking peg him until he can’t walk anymore. You smiled at the thought, it wasn’t such a bad idea after all and Sirius would definitely give it a go. You were laying on your belly, one leg pushed up with your head resting on your arms. Sirius would clearly be able to see your pussy and finally fuck you. You didn‘t even bother to turn around when you heard the door open and shut closed again. Two bags were thrown on the floor. Yours and ..?

„Are you alright?“

Fuck its not Sirius and half of your bare ass is showing. You shot up into an upright position, face already flushing with embarrassment because Remus just saw your bare ass and oh my god you just want to dissolve. Evaporate. Anything. Oh and your pussy did absolutely not just clench when you heard that deep, smooth voice.

You gasped and rushed a „Oh my god, Remus! Uh, yes, yeah I‘m alright, my stomach just felt a little off I guess. Where‘s Sirius, he wanted to meet me here?“

Where the fuck is your boyfriend when you need him for once. You are gonna die if you don‘t cum soon. Why the hell is Remus here, didn‘t he have plans with Peter?

He regarded you with an intensity that you weren‘t used to, not from him, and spoke lowly, „James and he wanted to practice a bit for the upcoming Quidditch game. He told me to tell you when I met him in the common room.“ He was stepping closer while he talked and towered over your body, giving you a slow one-over that had you stuttering.

„Oh, um okay. I‘ll just go then, thank you for bringing my bag.“

„No, sit down darling. Are you sure that you‘re alright love? You look flushed. Here drink something.“

Your pussy clenched at his caring tone, your mind already slipping into your usual submissive headspace and you sat down, hands playing with your short skirt. He retrieved his water bottle from his bag and opened the cap, pressing the cool opening against you lips. You drank slowly, eyes looking into his, but he was to busy analyzing every detail of your face, eyes glazed over, sharp teeth chewing on his lower lip. He crouched infront of you and fuck even in that position his face is level with yours. He must have noticed too.

„Mm, I never noticed how small you are compared to me pup. C‘mon tell me why you have been squirmy all day, hm darling?“ His voice is so deep and soft and his bright, intelligent eyes are looking at you. You moved your head away from the bottle, a trail of water running down the corner of your glistening lips. His eyes never left that spot, only after you wiped the water away with the sleeves of your thin sweater.

„Jus‘ a little tired, s‘all.“

His eyes flashed devilishly and his lips twitched upwards. „Is that why you are walking all weird?“

Shit

„What? No, I‘m fine Rem, I don‘t know what you-“

„It‘s because Sirus fucked you sore all night isn‘t it? Fucked you until you couldn‘t cum anymore, fucked you so deep and hard that your pretty pussy got all sore? Glistening with your cum? Hm? Pup, look at me. C‘mon be a good girl f‘me.“ His tone was soft and nearly endearing, but god his words did something to you. Your legs clenched and your small hands gripped the fabric of your skirt tighter.

You look at him breathing heavily.

„Good puppy. Want to show Remmy your achy pussy, hm? Want me to make the belly ache go away?“

Fuck yes you wanted that. You wanted it so bad, it physically hurt. You were in so deep, you would do anything he asked of you.

„But Siri-“

Hands grabbed your jaw, caressing gently, pulling your face closed to his. Your nose is touching his, his body so close as he was crouching between your thighs.

„S’not my name pretty girl. Now do you wanna show me your pretty pussy? If not, I will stop and we will never talk about this again love, promise m‘not gonna be mad.“ The way he switched from his strict dom tone to the caring Remmy you knew for so long made you want him even more. And you always got what you wanted.

„Yes, Remus. I want this, I want you.“

He released you but stayed put between your legs.

„Go on, spread your legs wide open. I want to see you. Maybe I‘ll even touch your needy cunt.“ He pushed your legs up slightly, before pushing the sleeves of his jumper up, revealing veiny, muscular forearms. The scars on his callous skin made him more attractive and you ached to feel his skin on your own. Resting his arms on his crouched legs, he licked his lips slowly, looking at you expectantly. He didn‘t rush, letting you set the pace.

You leaned back against your elbows and spread your legs slowly, feeling the toy between your legs rub against your cum covered, sensitive walls. Your legs were pulled towards your body, knees apart and Remus took a sharp breath.

„Fuck, you are a naughty slut aren‘t you pup. Is this why you’re walk around like a new born deer? Because Sirius plugged you up?“ His fingers moved up to trail your fluttering pussy lips with his fingers. You gave a silent gasp, knees drawing together to trap his hand. His other hand pulled them apart pressing into your hip to keep you from moving. His hand pushed the toy in and out of your wet cunt and his face came closer to your bare pussy, breathing in deeply.

„Mmm, I can smell you both on your needy cunt. Let me have a taste darling, please?“

How could you say no to that soft smile and delicious plead?

„Remmy please help me, please touch me, please it hurts“

That was all the encouragement he needed, before he leaned in and smeared his nose on your swollen clit, eyes on yours to gauge your reaction. You moaned loudly, hands grasping at the bedsheets. One hand held you down by your belly, stroking the soft skin there and the other continued to play slowly with the toy. His tongue gave your clit little kitten licks, teasing you in slow circles. Suddenly he withdrew the pussy plug, making you gasp sharply at the sensation of Sirius‘ cum leaking out of your sore hole. He was kneeling now, face close to your clenching cunt, hot breath against your glistening skin. All of his patience gone, he licked a broad stripe from your asshole to your clit over and over again, strong hands on your belly keeping you pressed down into his mattress. Your hands grasped at his hands, intertwining them and you let out a loud moan, hips bucking against his face. He gripped your hands tight, his nose dragged against your clit in a fast pace, skilled tongue lapping up Sirius‘ cum that kept leaking out. He is sucking and licking at your pussy, growling lowly at the back of his throat, obviously delighted by the wonderful taste that was you and Sirius.

„There is more in your slutty cunt, isn‘t there puppy? Oi, look at me! There is more isn‘t there you slut, fuck, keep squeezing my fingers baby yes, c‘mon push out your boyfriends cum f‘me“

Your moans are getting louder and louder, hips dragging on his face in quick thrusts, basking in the vibrations of his voice against your clenching pussy lips. He took his fingers out, replacing them with his mouth sucking and licking at your pussy until every bit of cum vanished. He is a messy pleaser, not caring that his face is covered in your juices, hands squeezing yours to encourage you to ride his face. The knot in your stomach was building up and just as you were about to cum, he stopped.

„You taste so good baby, you are so good f’me. So good for your Remmy.“, he drawled smiling at you from between your spread thighs. Remus stood up and hooked his hands under your armpits, flipping your body on your belly.

„On your knees pretty girl“

You obeyed, pulling your knees up and pushing your ass towards him, arching your back as low as possible. Believe it or not, Sirius had taught you that. Your boyfriend is quite flexible, when he wants to be. You thought that he‘d continue fingering you, but the taller boy had other plans. Dirtier and more devilish than you could have imagined. He leaned down. Draping himself across your back, his clothed chest against your clothed back, easily engulfing your smaller body with his and pressed his lips on your ear. Somehow the fact that you were still dressed made everything better. You felt like a sexy vixen with only your school skirt flipped over, showing your privates.

„You little slut, did you enjoy walking around with cum in your pussy? Hm? Does that make you hot? I bet you wouldn‘t care who it belongs to. Now I‘m gonna fuck my cum deep into your little pussy and you are going to take all of it, you hear me? Then I‘m going to plug you up nice n‘ full.“

„Fuck me Remus please, gimme your cum, please make me cum“

You were so desperate your didn‘t even know if you wanted to cum first or make him cum. You only knew that you needed cock and if it was Remus who made you orgasm, you would gladly let him.

„Dirty whore, letting your boyfriends best mate suck on your pretty pussy. Letting him fill you up nice n‘ full. Bet Sirius won‘t even notice, but you will know. When he takes out your pussy plug and you see my cum leak out of your pussy, will that make you wet puppy? Will you tell him it‘s my cum he is licking out of your dirty pussy hmm?“

You could only whimper at that, so deep in your lusty haze that you didn‘t care about Sirius right now. Rubbing your ass against his hard cock you whined.

„Please, god, please Remmy“

His cock was dragging up and down, leaking little beads of precum, rubbing against you clit. He positioned his cock at your hole and slowly pushed in, nice enough to give you a few moments to get used to the stretch of your pussy. Slowly he fucked you deep, the veins on his cock rubbing against your sensitive walls. He went faster when you started moaning and clenching around him, desperate for release that‘s been building up in your belly the entire day. He is fucking you in a punishing pace, one hand on your hip pulling you to meet his thrusts and the other at the back of your head, pushing your head onto his pillows, that smelled just like him and made you even wetter.

„Mmmhh, ah, fuck yes that‘s it puppy, fuck, squeeze my cock, oh, good girl.“

„Remmy, Remmy, m‘gonna cum, god please“

You are sobbing and whimpering against his hold, grinding your hips against his, hoping to get some friction against your clit.

„S‘not enough Remmy, more-“

He stopped, breathing heavy.

„Not enough?“ His voice dangerously low, angry. Hands gripping tighter, no doubt leaving bruised behind. He pulled his hard, leaking cock out of your cunt, your pussy clenching around nothing, missing the delicious hardness. You let out a broken sob, fingers gripping his arms trying to pull him back. Gripping your hair he turned you around, sitting on the edge of his bed with his feet planted firmly on the floor and pulled you onto his lap. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms snaking around his neck, gripping the locks on the back of his head. His cock trapped between you two, he made no move to fuck you. His hands took their time taking off your sweater and bra.

„Obviously Sirius has been spoiling you too much. I don’t like my sluts greedy, darling. So sit still and don’t make a noise.“

His soft lips kissed your forhead, cheeks, jaw and moved towards your neck sucking softly, sharp teeth teasing the skin behind your ears. He blew at the trail of spit, attaching his lips on the soft skin of your breasts, licking the skin. He caught your nipple in his mouth licking it with his tongue, sucking hard. You clamped your mouth shut, pussy clenching and leaking on his thighs making him smile against your breast, looking up at you with amusement in his pretty eyes. That sight alone made you nearly lose control and you bit your lip drawing blood. He stopped tormenting your nipples, both of your tits bruised and swollen red. His thumb caught the bead of blood from your bottom lips and he made you suck on his finger, enjoying the way your tongue curled around it and steadily fucked your mouth with his finger.

„You take what I give understood?“

„Yes, Remmy.“

Thrusting his cock inside of your tight walls again he pushed his forehead against yours and fucking you even harder than before.

„You dumb slut, spreading your legs for others and then having the audacity to tell me s‘not enough?“ His hand went to your clit, rough pad of his thumb rubbing against it, other hand squeezing at your cheeks, your mouth falling open. „You are just a dumb puppy wanting to be fucked, aren‘t you? Is that why you laid down on my bed and not your boyfriends? With your ass hanging out? You cute little pussy begging to be filled? Hm?“

You had been so needy, you didn‘t even notice it was Remus‘ bed you laid down on.

You were screaming now, pleasure raking through your body making you delirious with satisfaction, pussy clenching tight. Your hands yanked at his head, mouth panting into his and he moaned. And fuck if that wasn‘t the most beautiful sight to see. His eyes glazed over, looking at you with such neediness it made you breathless. Made you want to please him. Made you want to be good for him.

„Fuck your pussy is so good, mmm, so tight fuck. Gonna cum soon? You gonna come on Remmy‘s cock?“

You voice hoarse, whining a „Yes Remmy“, holding onto both of his wrists, blunt nails digging into his skin. You wanted to leave your own scars on him. His pushed his fingers into your mouth pulling out your tongue and spitting on it. „C‘mon swallow, yes, good slut“

He was going so fast you couldn‘t breathe, every thrust of his hips against yours pushing the air out of your lungs and you came. Hard. Your nails digging into his flesh, drawing blood, mouth open to let out a scream, as your pussy squeezed his cock. He didn‘t slow down, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm, hand leaving your clit to grip your hips as he chased his own release. His mouth next to your ear, he let out loud moans, not caring that others might hear him. His pace started to stutter and you felt his cock twitch inside of you before he let put a string of fuck fuck yes that‘s it take my cum’s and he came deep inside of your fluttering walls.

He fell backward on the matress, your bare tits pressed against his jumper, his hands holding you down. Slowly he pulled out, careful to not waste any of the cum he fucked into you and removed your legs from around his waist. You rolled on your back, blissed out and closed your eyes, calming your heartrate. He pushed your legs against your chest again, knees spread wide and softly traced his fingers on your twitching pussy.

„Look at your pretty pussy darling, so thristy for my cum. Now now, no pushing you need to keep it inside or Sirius will know. You don‘t want that, do you puppy? Don‘t want Sirius knowing it‘s his best mates cum inside of your pretty pussy?“

He tone was mocking, obviously making fun of the situation that he put you into. Or you put yourself into.

He reached for the plug and brought it up to his lips, keeping his eyes on yours as he smeared to remainders on his mouth. His lips glistening with Sirius‘ and your cum before he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. Your first kiss and it was with Sirius’ cum on his lips. You kissed back eagerly. The taste had you melting and now you understood why he nearly licked your pussy dry by trying to catch every bit of the cum inside of you. He kept kissing you, tongue brushing against yours, moaning and panting into your open mouth as his steadily pushed the clean toy in your well fucked hole.

„There, now he won‘t suspect a thing. Replaced all of his seed with my own“

You only looked up at him with lust glazed eyes as his got up and puts his softening cock back in his pants.

„I‘m gonna go and meet with Peter now, you better make yourself look presentable. We‘ll be back soon.“

He was already at the door, totally nonchalant, acting as if it was normal to fuck his best mates girlfriend and plug her up nice and full with his cum.

„Oh and maybe lay on Sirius‘ bed the next time. Unless you want to do this again“

With that he grabbed his bag, closed the door and left you on his bed, thoroughly fucked and full of his cum.

What have I done what have I done what have I done fuck Sirius what if he finds out

You got up and noticed that you really had laid down on the wrong bed. You don‘t know if it was the shock, but you just couldn‘t bring yourself to feel guilty. Remus had been to good of a fuck to feel bad. Maybe Sirius won‘t mind, you thought. He did talk about sharing once, even if it was before we got together. Maybe he‘ll be okay with it?

It wasn‘t that your sex life with Sirius wasn‘t satisfying, Sirius knows his way around sex and ladies, but Sirius would never treat you the way Remus did. He told you once, that he was uncomfortable with degrading you and throwing you around like a ragdoll, completely taking control as Remus had minutes ago. He was way to traumatized with the way his parents had humiliated him, that he couldn‘t do that to you, even if you liked it. Loved it. You could introduce him to the idea through Remus. You could show him that dominance isn‘t something to be scared of. Besides, no straight male would lick his best mates cum out of his girls pussy, so Remus must like Sirius a lot more than he lets on.

You dressed yourself, making sure to look presentable and took your bag, leaving to go find Sirius.

You smiled.

Fuck, you wanted it to happen again. And you always got what you wanted.

#remus lupin smut #remus smut #harry potter smut #smut #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius x y/n #remus x y/n

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notsowrites · 3 years ago

Text

No Place Else I Could Be (But Here In Your Arms)

A 3x10 Malex Coda

I got an anon prompt asking if I could write the couch sex. This is not that... well, not exactly. There’s sex, just not that specific sex. So I wrote this, and then in typical fashion, worried about it until I remembered something someone told me once: "in the time you're spending worry about it, they've already taken their pants off.”

{AO3 Link)

So here ya go, enjoy! <3

--------

Michael wakes slowly, acutely aware of Alex sleeping next to him. Legs tangled, Alex has his face buried against Michael's shoulder, tiny exhales as he sleeps blowing cool air across Michael's skin. They'd somehow managed to fall asleep on the couch afterwards, the afghan pulled over their naked bodies.

He’s beautiful, he’s perfect, he’s home, Michael thinks as he watches Alex sleep.

Last night had been different from anything that had happened before between them. Michael had made the decision, especially after everything with Alex the last couple days, and particularly in regards to trying to learn how to let go of his anger with the past, to finally tell Alex this is what he'd been working towards, this had been the mission he'd referred to the night he'd kissed him at the Pony. To finally be able to answer the question Alex had posed in the song he'd sung a year ago, to finally be able to say he was home.

Max, Isobel… Dallas - they were family. He knew he'd only just met Dallas, but after their talk on the pier, he wanted to get to know him more. To explore that hope Theo had expressed that they would form their own triad.

It's all broken without three, Max had once slurred out in the midst of a bender on their 21st birthday. And maybe Michael hadn't realized it at the time just how true that statement actually was. Because he had a triad, he's had Max and Isobel since the moment they emerged from the pods. But he also had another triad in Isobel and Dallas, one that was brand new and he couldn't wait to explore more.

Alex had been right, he did need to start letting go of his anger about his childhood. But he's relied on it for so long, it's been a constant companion to him almost since the moment they came out of the pods. It's not going to be easy, but he had realized today he needed to start putting in the work. And in the bunker, Alex had listened as he'd broken apart, giving him the details he'd never shared before about that part of his life. As the tears had fallen down his cheeks, Alex had been there to wipe them away. To remind him that the past didn't define him. He'd rolled up the sleeve of his jacket, exposing his arm and the faded scar of a long healed burn. Alex had reached out, fingertips tracing along the skin.

I'd thought it was just a junkyard accident. I never asked.

Michael also knows that before today, he never would have answered with the truth.

He'd seen his own pain reflected back in Alex's eyes, a kind of tether between them he still didn't fully understand. Because it wasn't the first time he thought it appeared as though Alex was able to feel the pain he was experiencing, though it's the first time he thinks to explore it and understand it. It was one of the reasons, on the list of many, that had kept him awake at night over the last decade, curious about their connection, about what it meant and how to exactly describe it.

Cosmic had fit the way no other word had. The vast reaches of the universe, the galaxy, the cosmos. There was too much of it, it was impossible to truly put into words, to quantify - and that's how his connection with Alex felt.

Indescribable and infinite.

Dallas had asked, afterwards. He's more than the guy who fixed our parents' machine, isn't he. Michael had, at first, been floored by the recognition. That Dallas had picked up on that already. But for the first time he's eager to answer in the affirmative, to be able to say that, yes Alex is more than that to him. It's the way you look at him.

He'd told Alex later as they'd sat here, how easy they were for everyone else to read. And he'd watched as Alex had smiled as he spoke, staring back at him with a bit of a knowing look. You should ask him about it, next time you talk. At first, he hadn't understood the meaning, why he needed to ask Dallas how he knew, why it mattered. But as the night progressed between them, it wasn't until they were skin to skin, coming down from their orgasms, that it hit Michael.

Dallas has his own Alex.

He hears the change in Alex's breathing a moment before Alex is pressing his nose to the skin of his chest, slowly waking up himself.

"I love the way you smell," Alex says, the words spoken against his lips. "Like after a rainstorm, but with a hint of motor oil and grease. The rain always makes me think of you."

"Every time it rains?" He knows Alex has mentioned the smell before, made a joke about it that day they'd been investigating at the Long Farm. But no one else has ever said anything, commented on the way he smells before - well, about the grease and motor oil they have, sometimes a comment about how he would smell better if he showered more. But Alex is the only one to mention a rainstorm.

Alex nods, propping himself up on Michael's chest so they can look at one another. Michael reaches up, pushing Alex's hair back off his face, watching as Alex leans into his palm.

"In a way, I was glad it doesn't rain very often in the Middle East. It meant something of you didn't follow me to distract me."

Michael smiles. "I'm a distraction?"

It's the way Alex smiles in return, it's the way he leans forward and pushes their mouths together, pulling Michael's lip between his own. It's the way Michael has his arm wrapped around Alex, his hand resting on his back, slowly moving up and down against his skin. It's the way Alex trails a hand down his chest, fingers dancing across his chest hair as Alex continues kissing him.

Alex wraps a hand around his dick, palm against the sensitive skin, their lips still moving together, and Michael can't stop the gasp that escapes at the sensation. He reaches up, his hand going to the back of Alex's neck, pulling him in and closer, closer, closer as Alex's hand moves. Their foreheads stay pressed together, they breathe the same air as Michael feels his dick harden under Alex's careful motions.

It disappears in the next moment though, Michael opening his eyes just as Alex is pushing up and off his chest. He's about to protest, about to ask what Alex is doing, when Alex straddles his hips.

"Alex," he whines, hands immediately moving to Alex's hips, fingers pressing into the skin and muscle. He watches helplessly as Alex reaches behind himself, a second later feeling Alex's hand on him again, his dick pressing against Alex's hole. He's about to protest, because he would enjoy nothing more this morning than being able to finger Alex open, to hear his particular moans and groans, when Alex pushes down, because Michael is unable to focus on anything except the feeling of tight muscle and heat, and Alex.

Closing his eyes, he gives himself over to the feelings, fingers tightening slightly on Alex's hips before he feels a set of hands on his face. He opens his eyes to see Alex in front of him a moment before their lips collide, their foreheads pushing together. He kisses back, pulling Alex's lip between his own, sucking on it, running his tongue along it. Slowly, Alex starts to move, small gyrations of his hips, and Michael slides his hands down to grab onto the flesh of his ass, urging him, encouraging him, to move faster.

But Alex keeps his dizzyingly slow pace, their lips pressed together, and Michael goes. He gives himself to the heat building low in his belly, the way he can feel his balls tightening. Focuses on Alex's lips against him, Alex's body against his, until he can't take it anymore.

He pushes up, guiding Alex with him, and gently flips their positions on the couch. He pulls Alex's legs up around him, and pushes back into him, sealing their lips back together as he thrusts forward.

"Michael-"

He doesn't answer, not with words, just holds himself above Alex as he chases every feeling that is building up inside him. Michael feels his arm shaking again, they'd done the same thing last night when he'd been overwhelmed by everything happening as he’d held himself up above Alex. Because it's been months upon months since he's had Alex like this. And if he's being honest, also never quite like this. Everything feels better now, he doesn't have the impending sense that when this is done, when they're sated and letting their bodies cool, that it won't mean one of them is planning their escape. Because he's home, and neither of them are leaving now. There was last night and waking up this morning and Michael knows that there is going to be a tonight as well.

A future.

He leans down, pressing his lips to Alex's chest, to the space near his heart where he'd been injured by the crazed bootmaker. Michael slows his thrusts enough to find the scar - small and barely visible but another constant reminder of how close he came to losing Alex forever - and kisses it again. He doesn't know if Alex knows what he's doing, until Alex slides a hand up his neck and into the hair at his nape, guiding him up to kiss him again that Michael thinks he does.

"I'm right here," Alex breathes against his lips, short kisses over and over, their foreheads pressed together tightly. "I got you."

His hips jerk faster, and he feels Alex tighten around him as he spills onto his stomach. Michael presses down towards him, keeping their foreheads pressed together, catching every sound that escapes Alex’s lips. He feels Alex’s hands on his back, gripping his ass, fingers digging into the skin and muscle, urging him on. It doesn’t take much longer before Michael’s own orgasm hits, ripping through him with one final thrust, Alex holding him still as he spills into him. He chokes out an embarrassingly loud moan into Alex’s mouth, overwhelmed by everything he is feeling, before sealing his lips around Alex’s own.

Neither moves right away, and Michael feels Alex’s hands on his back, fingers tracing patterns along the skin as their lips continue to brush together. Gently, he falls forward, his arm no longer caring to support him, and he tucks his face into Alex’s neck, pressing a kiss to the underside of his chin. Alex shifts his arms, one hand moving up to bury itself in his curls, and Michael leans into the touch.

He doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to stop touching Alex, not yet. Maybe not ever. But there’s cum cooling on Alex’s chest, and Michael allows himself to be pulled back to the present, that they should probably clean up first.

But it's that thought which has him thinking about last night again, and this morning, and how eventually they're going to get dressed, and they're going to have to face whatever the day brings. But tonight, when it's all said and done - he won't be going back to the junkyard to an empty trailer. No, tonight will be different. Tonight will mark their new beginning, new steps forward in their relationship.

On the coffee table, his cell phone buzzes from where he'd left it last night. Whatever and whoever it is can wait a little longer, he thinks. He has something - someone - more important to take care of first.

#roswell new mexico #malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #notso writes fanfic #hope you like this anon <3 #itried.gif

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thewidowsghost · 4 years ago

Text

A Tour? (Natasha Romanoff x Thor!Sister!Reader)

confusinggemini612 asked:

Hey, I was hoping you could do a Natasha x Reader where the reader is Thor's sister & new to Earth. Maybe Natasha takes it upon her self to show the reader things about Earth. Please & thanks.

So like, I think I’m tripping, because I thought I posted this already. I guess if I have, it’s being posted twice . . .

(Y/n)'s brother, Thor, had convinced her to come down to Midgard to meet his friends, The Avengers.

(Y/n) had been reluctant to follow her older brother after what had happened to her adopted brother Loki the last time he was there.

Now, (Y/n) was more like Loki than Thor - mischievous and more prone to make jokes- but she did have an aura of power around her.

(Y/n) Odinsdóttir was the goddess of fire, which, paired with Thor's thunder, made the two an unstoppable duo.

Thor and (Y/n) take the Bifrost down to Midgard. (Y/n) looks uncertainly at the large box-like building in front of her. She was used to all the palaces and forestry of Asgard, but this place was new.

She follows Thor into the structure, her sword swinging at her hip.

(Y/n) immediately stops when she catches sight of a gorgeous figure through a room surrounded by floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

"Thor?" (Y/n) asks, and Thor stops, turning around.

"Yes, Sister?" he asks.

"Who is that?" (Y/n) gestures to the woman.

"That's Lady Romanoff," Thor tells (Y/n), and his sister nods, flushing a little.

Later, the rest of the Avengers meet in the Common Room of the Compound - Thor had told (Y/n) the name of the box-like building.

(Y/n)'s (E/c) eyes had been drawn to Lady Romanoff once again when the Avenger had entered the Common Room, and, as if sensing (Y/n)'s eyes on her, she looks up, meeting (Y/n)'s gaze.

(Y/n) quickly looks away, her cheeks going red.

While (Y/n) is talking to her brother, she doesn't notice Lady Romanoff walking up to her. The redhead sits down beside (Y/n) on the couch, and when Thor finally leaves, the redhead speaks.

"Hi, I'm Natasha," the redhead's voice is soft, and (Y/n)'s cheeks go scarlet, and she smiles shyly at the redhead.

"H-hello," (Y/n) says, her voice equally soft, a shy smile on her face.

Natasha smiles softly, and (Y/n)'s heart skips a beat. She must be the most beautiful woman in the whole galaxy, (Y/n) thinks.

(Y/n) glances away and meets the gaze of a young brunette across from her. Wanda shoots (Y/n) a knowing look.

"Have you had a tour of the Compound yet?" Natasha asks and (Y/n) glances over, meeting the redhead's striking green eyes.

"N-no," (Y/n) answers, "I've only seen the training room."

"Would you like a tour?" Natasha asks.

"With you?" (Y/n) asks stupidly.

Natasha laughs and nods; (Y/n) scratches the back of her neck in embarrassment at her own stupidity.

You're literally the definition of gay panic, comes a voice in her head, and (Y/n) looks around rather startled and catches Wanda's knowing gaze.

"I'd love a tour," (Y/n) says, turning to meet Natasha's eyes shyly.

Natasha stands up and (Y/n) follows Natasha as the redhead around the Compound.

After a while, Natasha takes (Y/n) up to the (E/c)-eyed woman's room.

"Tony said you could use this room as long as you need," Natasha tells her. "My room is a door over on your right if you need anything."

"T-thanks, Natasha," (Y/n) says. "I had a lot of fun."

"I'm glad," Natasha says with a smile. "I had quite a bit of fun as well."

"Good night," (Y/n) says, smiling as well. "I suppose I will see you in the morning?" she asks.

"Yeah, I actually have some things I want to show you around here," Natasha pauses as though considering something. "I mean if you'd like to, at least."

"Yeah, sounds like a lot of fun," (Y/n) answers, and Natasha grins.

"Cool, I'll see you in the morning," Natasha says.

(Y/n) opens her door and enters her room. Looking around, she is pleasantly surprised at the number of things in the room.

The walls are painted a soft sky blue, and the walls are lined with shelves and shelves of books.

(Y/n) finds a pair of silk pajamas and walks into the bathroom to change into them. She pulls her hair out of its braid and lies down on the bed, instantly relaxing at the comfort of the mattress.

(Y/n) wakes early the next day and searches the shelves of books before settling with one with cats on the cover.

"Into the Wild?" (Y/n) reads off the cover.

The book is still clutched in her hand; (Y/n) moves to sit in one of the chairs and opens the book.

A few minutes later, there is a knock on the door, and Natasha pokes her head into the room.

"Hi," she says softly, and (Y/n) looks over.

"Come on in," (Y/n) says, and Natasha steps into the room.

Natasha is holding a set of clothes and sets them on the bed.

"Here's a change of clothes," Natasha tells her.

"Thank you, Natasha," (Y/n) says politely, closing her book.

Natasha smiles and walks out of the room, "I'll give you a minute to change."

(Y/n) rises from the armchair and walks over, grabbing the clothes. There was a pair of pants that are cut off above the knees and a short-sleeved shirt and some sort of outer layer with a weapon holder - at least, that's what (Y/n) supposed that's what it was.

When (Y/n) emerges from the room she catches Natasha's eyes which are glittering with amusement.

"(Y/n)," Natasha laughs. "You put the hoodie on backward. The hood goes in the back."

With help from the redhead, (Y/n) turns the hoodie around and looks over at Natasha, whose face had gone red in containing her laughter.

"Haha," (Y/n) teases with an eye roll, and Natasha actually finally laughs. "What do you have planned then?" (Y/n) asks once Natasha stops laughing.

"I figure we got out to eat for breakfast and then I show you around New York," Natasha says and she steps into her room to grab her purse and a jacket.

Natasha's room - at least what (Y/n) could see of it - was nice. It matched what (Y/n) had seen of the redhead's personality. The walls were painted gray and the black curtains over the windows are open, letting the natural light flow in.

"Sister!" Thor's voice booms and (Y/n) jumps a little before glaring at her brother.

Thor wraps his sister in a hug, lifting her off the ground.

"Thor! Put me down!" (Y/n) says sternly and Thor drops (Y/n) - who falls to the ground before jumping back up.

"Do you and Lady Natasha have plans?" Thor booms.

"Yes Thor," Natasha answers rather calmly.

"Good I hope you and Lady Natasha have fun," Thor says. "I think it's nice you're getting along with my friends."

Thor claps (Y/n) on the shoulders before walking away.

Natasha leads (Y/n) out of the Compound and to her Black Corvette Stingray.

The two don't talk and (Y/n) just listens to the music coming from the car's radio.

Natasha parks the car outside of what she called a diner and they get out.

The two walk inside and after a few minutes, they sit down at a table.

"What do you recommend?" (Y/n) asks, looking at the menu uncertainly.

"I usually get coffee to drink," Natasha suggests, and (Y/n)'s eyes light up. Natasha laughs and shakes her head, her green eyes sparkling. "And pancakes are always great."

(Y/n) and Natasha order coffee and pancakes for breakfast and (Y/n) enjoys the pancakes so much, she orders another stack.

The two leave the diner and are walking down the street when (Y/n) spots something in the window of one of the stores.

Natasha sees what catches (Y/n)'s eye and stores the item in her mind.

When the two return to the Compound, the other Avengers crowd around (Y/n), and Natasha sneaks back out and grabs the item that had caught (Y/n)'s eye earlier.

Later, towards bedtime again, Natasha knocks on (Y/n)'s door, and (Y/n) calls back, telling whoever it was to come in.

"Hello Natasha," (Y/n) greets and Natasha smiles in return.

"Hey," Natasha pauses. "I saw what caught your eye earlier," she admits, and shows (Y/n) what it was.

(Y/n)'s eyes soften as she looks at the stuffed black wolf in Natasha's hand.

"Thank you," (Y/n) says softly, taking the wolf from Natasha.

Natasha smiles and after a moment, she steps forward and presses her lips to (Y/n).

(Y/n) is frozen in shock for a moment, before she responds, wrapping her arms around Natasha's waist, pulling the woman closer.

After a minute or so, Natasha pulls away, taking in (Y/n)'s bright red cheeks.

"I knew it," comes a squeal and Natasha turns around and both women - (Y/n) and Natasha - look at Wanda, their hands on their hips.

"Were you spying on us?" Natasha asks Wanda.

"The door was open," Wanda says simply before walking out of the doorway.

Natasha turns, looks at (Y/n), and shrugs, a sheepish look on her face. "Oops," she says and (Y/n) chuckles.

Taglist:

@just-dreaming-marvel

@marsromanoff

@procrastinatingsapphictrash

@theofficialzivadavid

@chickenhavewisdom

@fayharper

@acertainredhead

@capsicle118

@rail-me-romanoff

@ssa-sapphic

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x odinson reader #thor x sister reader #loki x sister reader

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fragileizywriting · 4 years ago

Text

the stars are nothing (compared to your constellations of freckles)

pairing: Adrien / Marinette word count: 7,521 chapter: 1/1 rating: G summary: “I used to have a huge— huge— crush on you when we were younger. She took hold of it and has been running with the idea that we’re perfect for each other ever since then.” Adrien nearly choked on his drink. “Really?” “It was embarrassing.” Marinette placed the cup down and rubbed her fingers together for warmth. “B-but trust me, the crush is gone now, don’t worry.” “G-gone?” Was the sky spinning, or was he just seeing things? Was he melting? Even while sitting, he felt like the world had been pulled out from underneath him. She used to have a crush on him. She used to have a crush on him. Only to give it up so she could— so she could— Date Chat Noir. Date him. His breath crumbled in his lungs, suffocating and painful in the cold air. AO3 link

He heard her first before actually seeing her. His back turned to their tent in the cool, chilly night— he knew just by the sound of her voice she had tucked herself into her knitted cap, and layered long sleeves to keep the cold air from permeating into her skin. “Oh— Hi, Adrien.”

“Did I wake you?”

“No, no. Just— just looking for something to do for a little while. Couldn’t fall asleep?”

He poked a bit at the firepit with a metal prong, watching the flames lick the sides of the sticks he’d put inside the bowl the way Nino had taught him to do. He sat back onto his little floor cushion, turning just so to catch a hint of Marinette’s pink lips pulled into a shy smile as she zipped the tent behind her closed.

He shook his head, warm in the chest as Marinette pulled out another cushion from the small laundry bag they had brought to store them in, and she sat close to the fire. Close enough for him to wrap his arms around her, if he were any bolder, or if he was any less terrified. “Not yet. Nino is moving too much, and I can’t find his phone to stop the music blaring from his headphones— I’d follow the wire, but they’re bluetooth. He’s going to go deaf in his sleep one day from how loud it is.”

Her laughter filled him to the brim with warmth, and he couldn’t stop himself from letting his own smile form.

“What about you? What are you doing out here instead of sleeping?”

She laughed to herself, rubbing her hands together, trying to keep herself warm. He wished he could reach over to her and warm them for her— but he was nothing more than a stranger to her. He turned his attention back to the fire to keep himself from acting on impulse. “Oh— well— It’s embarrassing to admit, really.”

He smiled into the collar of his sweater. “Try me.”

Always up for a challenge, Marinette’s eyes sparkled as she took his bait. “I move a lot in my sleep, too. I’m a hugger.”

“Oh really?” Adrien wanted nothing more than to tell her that he knew exactly that. He knew what Marinette looked like tucked under his chin, arms somehow making it to his hair and petting behind the ears. The sweet smell of milk soap on her skin making up for the headbutts he’d get as she tossed and turned in his arms. The way to only manage to get her to hold still for even a brief period of time was to sleep on top of her, blanketing her in his own weight.

He knew that she hated his fake snoring. He wasn’t sure if he did it for some backwards irony to make up for the lack of sleep he always got, but he loved the sweet and generous laughter he got out of her from it.

He knew that her laughter was contagious past nine at night— where her smile would take form into one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen, where her eyes would twinkle like stars.

He knew that when she finally did sleep, and finally did stop moving for the night, her weight was comforting on him— assuming that somehow she’d flipped their positions throughout the night to rest her head on the space on his shoulder. She’d always complained about the sleekness of his hexleather costume and how it was impossible for her to feel comfortable without slipping off, and yet she fell asleep for hours on him without having her head slip off him uncomfortably.

He knew that her hair tickled his nose when she slept, and that he only slept well when he could smell the easy scent of her shampoo pressed up against him.

And he knew that Marinette only slept well when she could press the meat of her palm on the space just below his clavicle, letting her hand rest where his chest rose and fell.

“Oh, yeah. I’m a total annoyance— Alya hates it— she feels claustrophobic whenever she sleeps near me, so I’m letting her get some sleep before I head back in.” Marinette sat back, humor lining her own voice, completely oblivious to the way Adrien was buzzing in his seat with yearning— wishing to the point it hurt to just reach out to her and kiss her. “How long have you been out here for?”

“I’m not sure. An hour, I think?” Adrien poked at the fire again, flipping one of the sticks over to the other side and watching the fresh bark crumble and burn. Ever since they’d tucked in for the night, he hadn’t been able to sleep. It’d been a long while since he had to sleep without Marinette with him, and the experience was foreign.

His hands had gravitated so much towards the other heat source in bed— Nino— looking for a hand to hold or someone’s neck to nuzzle. He’d nearly pulled Nino onto him like he was used to doing with Marinette— and while he was sure Nino wouldn’t mind, Adrien had left the tent before it had gotten embarrassing. He missed her warmth.

He didn’t know heartache could be so strong.

Marinette fiddled with her phone, swiping through her conversation on her apps, waiting for the circle bar to finish loading and refresh for new messages. Nothing. Adrien tried not to pay attention to what was on her phone— he was just a friend, she didn’t know him— but he couldn’t help himself watch her refresh their conversation over and over again on a blackened messenger app, lilac pink chat bubbles jumping back and forth on her screen with every refresh.

Waiting for a response from him.

Him.

Chat Noir him.

But not Adrien him.

She sighed to herself, biting her bottom lip, accepting the lack of internet. “I guess there’s no signal out here?”

“I tried sending out a couple of messages already,” He nodded, admitting to her face that he had tried to respond. She didn’t know he was referring to that— was it obvious in his eyes at how much he wished he could say it to her? “Nothing— uhm— nothing went through.”

They break eye contact after a moment.

His heart felt heavy.

“Oh, wow. The service here must be a lot worse than I thought. I hope we don’t need to contact anyone this weekend, or anything like that.” Marinette crossed her legs in front of her, wiping her palms on her pajama pants. Chat Noir paw-prints dotted all on the legs— a gift from him last christmas. He’d bought it off of the original fan merch website after spending a while looking for what to get her. She’d laughed about it, given Chat Noir a glare that had dissolved into laughter as he had opened his own gift and confetti had ruptured out of the small box.

He loved the bed slippers she had given him, and always made sure to hide it away under his bed or in his closet whenever his friends came over.

It wasn’t a gift for Adrien. Because it wasn’t for this half of him.

It was a gift for Chat Noir— and he made sure to keep it away from his civilian friends. The mint green color for the bunnies was incredibly endearing.

She wore her own gift for laughs sometimes, always finding it incredibly humorous that he’d gone out and bought his own merch. He always made sure to pepper her face with kisses every time she wore it, telling her that she looked like she was his biggest fan. It never failed to make her laugh to the point of losing her breath.

Adrien never felt so far away from her than sitting right next to her in front of the fire.

It made him want to cry that Marinette had put it on willingly, unknowing that he was here, most likely for the simple reason to have a bit of him with her while she left the city for the weekend. Adrien blushed to himself, staring away from Marinette’s hands, who he’d gotten entranced to looking at the way they moved. He wished he could hold her hand. His voice felt weak. “W-well I’m sure we won’t need to call anyone for a while. We brought enough food to last for a week, Nino’s decision. If we hike up more of the mountain tomorrow, we’ll probably have more signal.”

A private smile filtered to her face, one that he shouldn’t be able to read. But he knew everything about Marinette now. She was excited to have service. She wanted to text him. She curled her legs in closer to her, holding herself tight, resting her forehead and tired eyes on her knees. The small lock of hair that escaped her cap fell from her shoulder, spilling softly onto her collarbone.

Adrien tried not to stare, the words he so desperately wanted to say and had practiced for the entire night getting stuck at the edge of his throat. He— he couldn’t do it.

Coward. Coward.

Marinette would hate him, wouldn’t she? She’d trusted her entire life with Chat Noir— but he was a nobody to her when he was Adrien. What chance did he have to ruin her trust like that, and hope that it turned out okay?

“I won’t be able to send a goodnight text tonight. I hope… I hope that’s okay.” Marinette murmured to herself, speaking into her knees. Adrien wondered if she missed him as much as he missed her— regardless of her being right next to him.

He wondered if he’d be able to tell her the truth like he had planned to. His mouth refused to move, his tongue pretending to be made out of cement. He’d fought countless of Akumas, stared at death hundreds of times— he faulters now. Here. An entire galaxy and universe between them, even as they’re just centimeters away from each other.

He pretended not to hear her, favoring on bringing the subject back to the cold. He poked a bit more at the fire, letting a fresh new stick fall into the pit, enjoying the way the flame licked the surface. “Hey, I think there’s hot chocolate left in the container from dinner. Do you want to share the rest of it?”

“Oh, that’s a great idea. Let me go find it. It’s in the cooler, right?” The fire coated her cheeks rosy pink. She’d gotten so much better at communicating with Adrien him the last two years ever since Chat Noir him had shown up at her doorstep— and while she was finally able to maintain eye contact with Adrien without squeaking, she was always outspoken with him whenever he was covered in hexleather as Chat Noir— always so opinionated and passionate. Adrien couldn’t help himself by falling in love. Smitten as a kitten.

Marinette would’ve loved that pun. He wished he could tell her it.

Just three words. Just three words. All he had to do was just say three words.

He poked at the fire listlessly, trying to hype himself up to tell her the truth. She deserved to know. She deserved to know that it was him. The boy who showed up at her door every night was nothing more than her classmate that she had managed to finally stop sputtering in front of. He wanted to tell her that he loved her outside of his suit— he wanted to tell her that he wanted to be with her always, hexleather or genuine skin— he wanted to fall asleep with her tucked underneath his chin every day for the rest of his life.

He continued to poke at the fire with his prong. He couldn’t tell her.

Marinette found her way back over to him and she pushed her floor pillow closer to him with a foot, trying to balance her phone in one hand and the camping insulation bottle in the other. Her smile shy, she sat down before she had even made up her mind. Adrien tried not to scare her off.

She passed him a cup, and Adrien wept on the inside at their fingertips touching each other. Why was he such a coward? Why couldn’t he turn to her and tell her— “Adrien? Everything okay?”

“Sorry,” He dropped the metal fire poker in his hand, leaning forward to give her better attention. She held the hot chocolate bottle in between two mittened hands, smile soft and curious on her face. He tried not to dissolve into a blush, cursing himself for letting his thoughts run away without him. He bit the inside of his cheek as she poured his drink for him, the sound of the fire crackling and hissing loud against the silence of their breaths.

He hadn’t been joking when he had said that Nino’s music had been too loud. Even when Adrien had originally gotten over trying to cuddle with Nino under the covers, the music blasting in his headphones was enough to wake Adrien up from the edge of sleep. Leaning back against the fallen log, cradling the cup of hot chocolate in his hands and looking into the fire, Adrien reasoned that he could fall asleep in the position he was in. He was sure his back would protest the hike they would go on the following day if he did, but at least he wouldn’t be waking up to his hand searching for body warmth.

“I feel kind of bad for the both of them.” Marinette pulled her legs up to put her chin on, hugging her knees with her arms.

“Who?” Adrien took a sip out of his cup. Lukewarm and agonizingly sweet from all the undissolved sugar that sat at the bottom of the bottle. Perfect for the chill. Perfect for him to get his mind off of things for a bit.

He could see from the corner of his eyes that Marinette was gazing into the fireplace, the strings from her cap falling across her shoulders. He wanted to reach over and tuck that stray piece of hair under her hat— brush her bangs back and kiss her forehead. “Alya and Nino. I feel kind of bad that they have to sleep in separate tents because of us.”

“I’m sure they don’t mind it.” He kept his tone polite, trying not to devolve into his usual banter of flirts. I wouldn’t mind sharing another bed with you. He was Adrien. He was just a friend. She didn’t know him well enough. She didn’t know how well their fingers intertwined.

A short chilly breeze cut through their conversation, sending a plume of smoke from the fire into their general direction. The two of them parted, jumping quickly off their cushions as they tried not to laugh too hard. The smell of smoke burned in his nose and stained his clothes— no doubt his hair smelled like smoke, too. He should’ve worn a hat to keep the smoke smell off. Too late now.

Marinette laughed from the other side of the firepit, the light bright enough for him to see how sparkly her blue eyes were. He could probably see stars in them, if he got close enough— he knew that they lived there often whenever she was with him. “Was that the fire telling us to go to bed?”

“Not a chance,” He kept his voice low, and took a sip from his cup. It just barely tasted like smoke, which was a good sign to keep drinking. “But it may have been the fire telling us to get warmer. It’s freezing out here.”

As if she’d noticed only when he said it, she nodded in agreement, suddenly shivering under her three layers of clothes. He hoped she wouldn’t catch a cold from how much shivering she was doing.

He passed her the handle of his mug and asked her to wait, unzipping his tent to grab for his blanket. He almost hit the back of Nino’s calf in search for an end of the blanket to pull on. He brought the blanket’s edge around his shoulders, letting a big portion of the fabric drape across his shoulder as he accepted his cup back. He held the rest of the blanket with his long arm and shrugged his shoulder, beckoning Marinette to come closer and share the blanket with him.

As a friend. Just a friend. Always a friend.

He was miserable without being able to touch her.

They sat back down on the pillows, shoulders barely touching. She accepted the other end of the blanket with a thankful smile, and draped the remaining fabric over her thin frame. They sat in comfortable silence, letting the smoke billow up and the blanket cover them from the chill. He sipped from his cup contently, trying his best to stay at ease with her next to him.

Soft, strained laughter made its way out of Marinette’s throat. “No, I don’t think Alya’s okay with sleeping away from her boyfriend. Alya’s been trying to get me to change tents with Nino the entire trip over. This was supposed to be their getaway from home, you know. I’m sure she doesn’t actually mind sleeping in another tent, but I think she’d like it a lot more if they were together.”

“Is that what the both of you were talking about in the back of the van?” Nino had wanted to drive for the majority of the car trip, saying that whoever drived was always considered the designated controller of the speakers. Alya had sent him in the passenger seat, claiming that his kilometers of model-legs would cramp in the back seat no matter how much space he was given. His chance to try to warm himself up to talking to Marinette had been squished.

Marinette and Alya had spent the entire car ride talking in hushed voices in the back of the van, and Adrien wasn’t able to hear them over the sound of the speakers. Marinette had been stained permanently red from whatever blush had come up throughout the trip by the time they had made it to the park they were camping at. At the time, Adrien hadn’t understood what the fuss was about.

“Y-yeah.” She took a sip from her own cup.

“I’m sorry.” He found himself speaking before he was able to think of something to say, fingers white-knuckling around his mug. “Uhm. I know I make you uncomfortable sometimes— so the switch— it wouldn’t have been ideal.”

Marinette turned to him as best as she could on her floor pillow, trying her best not to jostle her hot chocolate. “No— no you don’t— make me uncomfortable. Honestly— I— I’m just really shy.”

He knew that wasn’t true. He knew for a fact that Marinette wasn’t shy with anything except when it came to Adrien. Marinette was vocal about everything and anything with everybody— he’d seen her bicker with akumatized people just as he showed up to take her away from trouble, and even when tossed over his shoulder to run she’d continue to ask them to let go of the akumas in them. Marinette was brave— and he knew that— and she knew that— but she couldn’t tell Adrien.

He wanted to cry. He was a coward who couldn’t tell her.

“Still though,” He cleared his throat as he felt a wave of tears threaten to take over his voice. “I don’t ever want to purposely make you uncomfortable, Marinette. You’re one of my closest friends. Being in a tent together would’ve made you uncomfortable, wouldn’t it?”

And incredibly difficult to explain if he had pulled her on him in the middle of the night, like he usually did under the context of being Chat Noir. It was one thing to explain doing it when he did it all the time. It was another to try to make an excuse when he was just his civilian self.

“No, no! I promise— I promise you don’t make me uncomfortable. Alya’s just been pressuring me to pair up with you since the beginning of time, it feels like.” She ducked her head, shy. Her cap’s strings bobbed at the movement, and she pulled at her collar as if she was struggling with admitting it. “I used to have a huge— huge— crush on you when we were younger. She took hold of it and has been running with the idea that we’re perfect for each other ever since then.”

He nearly choked on his drink. “Really?”

“It was embarrassing.” She placed the cup down and rubbed her fingers together for warmth. “B-but trust me, the crush is gone now, don’t worry.”

“G-gone?” Was the sky spinning, or was he just seeing things? Was he melting? Even while sitting he felt like the world had been pulled out from underneath him. She used to have a crush on him. She used to have a crush on him. Only to give it up so she could— so she could—

Date Chat Noir.

Date him.

His breath crumbled in his lungs, suffocating and painful in the cold air.

“I mean it’s been years now, and we’re good friends like you’ve said and— well I just— well— I have a boyfriend.” He saw her visibly bite her tongue at that. Her eyes widened at what she’d just said, nervously patting at her Chat Noir pajama pants, finally realizing that she’d admitted to having a crush on him. “I don’t think— and the tent is so small— it would be like sharing a bed and—”

“I— Oh— you do?” He had no words, staring at her with wide, slow-blinking eyes. Marinette had never referred to him as her— her— oh. Oh. Wait. Hold on. “But Marinette I would never— uh— and I never knew— I’m sorry—”

Something rattled in his chest, threatening to make him cough. Inhaled the hot chocolate into the wrong tube, he reasoned, but he couldn’t focus on it now.

Marinette referred to him as her boyfriend.

She used to have a crush on him.

The firepit was too loud in his ears. It was too hot under the blanket, surely that was it.

She smothered her nervous laughter into her cup, gazing behind her to see if Alya stirred at all in her tent. They didn’t have to worry about Nino, with his noise-canceling headphones. A bear could come in and take all their food and Nino wouldn’t notice. Or a boar. Many boars. Wolves. Cows. An entire procession of cows. With cowbells.

Adrien could scream at the top of his lungs— and he was very close to doing it— and Nino would be completely deaf to all of it.

“No, no, I didn’t— I didn’t mean to suggest that you’d do something, oh my god I’m so sorry, that’s not what I meant at all— I know you wouldn’t.” She groaned. “It— I just meant— it just wouldn’t feel okay to me.”

“Right. Yeah I’m— sorry. I never knew you had a boyfriend— god— I’m so sorry for—” Adrien couldn’t breathe, trying to clear his throat. She had a crush on him. Had. The stars in her eyes were blinding. “How— uh— how? How long, I mean?”

She blushed. How was he supposed to survive this? Oh— and she’d never called him her boyfriend before, at least not to his knowledge. They kissed a lot, they played video games, he helped her study and she would let him catnap on her chaise during the afternoon sun, but— well— there was only so much dating they could do when one of them was masked as one of the Heroes of Paris and was also a coward that couldn’t tell the girl he loved and dated that he was a civilian that she knew and— Adrien wanted to kick himself.

“Two years, maybe. That sounds about right, I guess?” She spoke so softly that he almost missed it in his turmoil.

He felt faint. “Two years?”

“We don’t really have an anniversary.” She had the idea to be sheepish as he stared at her, scratching the back of her neck with her fingers while she worried her lip between her teeth. She broke eye contact with him in favor of looking down at her cup which was only left with the small dots of undissolved chocolate spots. Adrien couldn’t stop staring at the way the firelight illuminated her face.

“He’s… very lucky to have you.” Adrien managed to say after a long pause in the conversation, his hands flexing hard around his own cup. Thoughts of being called her boyfriend so casually to anyone else made his entire body heat up in warm thoughts, and it made him want to take off his sweater from how sweaty the back of his neck was starting to get. If he could drown himself at the lake, he would’ve.

“He’s a private person,” She tried reasoning to him, under the impression that he was upset. “I don’t mention him because I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

Only half-true. Everyone knew who Chat Noir was, and even Marinette herself knew that he talked about his life as best as he could under the circumstances of not being able to reveal his secret identity. It would make him absolutely delighted to hear Marinette mention him even more in casual conversations like this.

“I can relate to being a private person,” Adrien chose to say, leaning hard onto his life-of-fame outlook. “Does Alya know about him?”

Marinette frowned. “Oh, god, no. Please don’t tell her— she’d never let me hear the end of it of how excited she is and the double dates and so many things we could do. We’ve never really discussed if we were ever going to tell others but I think it’s for the best we don’t. Alya wouldn’t be happy finding out that it’s already been two years, we’ve dug ourselves into a pit with this one honestly.”

Especially since it was Chat Noir. Alya would suffocate the both of them. The fact that he could envision it with such clarity made him grit his teeth.

He winced sympathetically. “I get you. Don’t worry, Marinette. Your secret’s safe with me. I promise. And don’t worry about your— ah— boyfriend. I hope he’s a nice guy.”

She nodded a bit too enthusiastically. “Oh. He’s wonderful.”

She gladly took his cup once he was done drinking the rest of the hot chocolate, and stood up to bin it. His hands clammed cold against the fabric of his pajama pants, and he wiped them against his thighs. He needed to tell her.

Seriously. He needed to tell her.

It wouldn’t be okay to continue this lie in front of her— especially since she called him her boyfriend to his face even though they’ve never talked about it— god what was he supposed to say to her when they saw each other again back at her house? How was he supposed to continue doing what he was doing now that he knew that she had a crush on him once?

He was going to faint.

He pulled out his phone while she pittered behind him, and cursed at the blinking empty spot on the top left corner of his screen. No signal. He couldn’t even text it to her even if he wanted to. He refreshed the messaging app just as a last measure, looking for anything that could come through. Nothing.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried earlier today, hitting refresh over and over on the app looking for new messages. He’d typed and then untyped messages on how he would tell her what he’d been trying to prepare himself to say for weeks. Everytime he thought he had gotten a message that looked perfect, he thought of the way Marinette smiled and laughed, and realized that he would break into a thousand little cataclysm pieces if he messed this up and lost it. Lost her.

Was he a coward? Could he truly not just turn to her and open his mouth and say the words that he’s been trying to say all night ever since he came out of his tent and started poking at the fire, longing for her to be right next to him and happy that they were together? And not have to hide behind a stupid hexleather domino mask and have Plagg complain to him that he was being too much of a lovesick idiot to do anything about it except just continue to go to her house?

Was he not able to confess his true feelings to a girl who had literally just spoken about having a crush on him to the point that their friends had tried to set her up on numerous occasions with him? And yet, his mouth remained shut. Coward. He was a coward.

“Marinette?” He turned to look for her, surprised that she was returning to her seat with an apple. He pocketed his phone, shy. He watched her eat, battling his mouth and brain for words to form and speak and say it.

“Adrien? Everything okay?” She looked as nervous as he did.

“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s okay.” His tongue felt too big for his mouth. He didn’t want to ruin this. She was the greatest thing to happen to him. He couldn’t do it. Even if it made him flounder and upset at his cowardice, he couldn’t tell her. If something happened to their relationship because she was upset about it being him, Adrien would never be able to live it down.

“Are you sure?” He watched a trail of juice from the apple curl down her wrist.

“Oh, yeah. You should tell me more about him.” Adrien almost thunked his head back into the log behind him, disappointed in the way his voice sounded desperate. Anything to get Marinette from questioning why he looked like he was about to faint.

She looked up at him in between long lashes, adoration so crystal clear on his face. No. He definitely couldn’t tell her that it was him. “He’s my best friend. He’s my whole world.”

“More than Alya is?” He hoped he didn’t sound winded.

“Absolutely more.” She passed the apple between her hands, the puff at the end of her cap bobbing with her movements. “Oops. Don’t tell her that.”

He grabbed for the metal poker, letting his hands fidget with the sticks and the slow crackle of the fire. “What makes him your best friend?”

“He just knows so much about me. We spend so much time together. We’re hardly ever apart.”

“What’s your favorite moment with him?”

He knew her well enough to recognize her nostalgic gaze up to the starlit sky. He recognized her smile— reminiscing with such raw longing that Adrien had to give a double take in her direction. He wondered what specific moment she was thinking about. He wondered what moment he would pick if she ever asked him.

He remembered the days he would show up at her trap door, looking for somewhere to stay after a fight with his dad. Back when things were simple and Marinette was the only thing that could fix it.

Who was he kidding? Marinette was still the only thing that could fix it.

He remembered after the first few Akuma fights, when he would show up at her door just as a courtesy to check in if she was okay— the Akuma fights where Marinette would be in the middle of the fight begging the akumatized person to change their mind— and he would stay for hours. Under the pretence that he was concerned for a citizen of Paris, of course.

He remembered when she cried on his for the first time— something had happened at school that he had never understood because Marinette was a silent cryer when she cried, and didn’t speak other than the occasional curse word. He remembered when he cried on her for the first time. That was when he found out that she smelled like milksoap— and the scent had clung to his nose like a blanket for the entirety of the following day. The following school day he had felt that he was floating, drifting away in a cloud of milksoap.

He’d been useless during that following Akuma attack.

He remembered their first kiss— how could he not? The memory was seared into his head for the rest of time. It was one thing for him to lay on her bed while they watched cartoons together. It was another to lean towards her, hogging her body pillow, while she looked at him with wide expectant eyes. She wanted something from him, and he wasn’t sure what. A gentle little smile. Her breath caught on something. He couldn’t stop looking at her. What other choice did he have but to kiss her in that moment?

In her soft pajamas? Hair down? Cherry lip balm? The smell of hot chocolate on her breath? He wasn’t a fool. He had never been more sure of something in his life.

He still couldn’t remember what the cartoon was about.

Plagg had made fun of him for the entire day following it. He couldn’t help himself. All he wanted to do for the rest of his life was kiss her.

“My favorite memory would be… well. There was a day where he found out I have freckles.” Her voice took him out of his thoughts, and he nearly missed it.

“Your— your freckles?” He tilted his head, trying to give the impression that he had been paying attention.

Marinette’s eyes softened towards the fire, completely lost in thought. Adrien tried not to lose his breath. Even wind-chilled, and lips chapped, she made his heart hurt. “It was late, once. I think we were watching a movie at my place.”

It had been his idea to watch the movie. He had been absolutely certain that she would’ve loved the movie— and he was still sure— but they’d never finished. The entire time he had completely ignored it in favor of playing a game with her on trying to put his head on her lap without her trying to push him off the bed. She had laughed the entire time while he was trying, advocating on closing the movie app in favor of letting him cuddle. He’d gotten too close to her face, in the process— her laughter had died down. Her eyes were so much more bluer up close.

She had freckles. He remembered counting them— a smattering of dots across the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheekbones. He’d lost track after twenty, since she’d broken away from him, stammering over her words that reminded him of when she talked to him as Adrien. It hadn’t taken a lot of brain power to realize that their movie night was done. He’d gone home after apologizing, and could barely look at her in the eye the next day.

“He looked at me like he had finally realized what I looked like,” Marinette laughed to herself, taking a bite of her apple. She was nearly done with it, Adrien noticed too late. She was going to get up soon. Maybe even head to bed. “It was the sweetest little moment we had, I feel like. I think about it all the time.”

Adrien could only keep the polite smile on his face for so long. Was she yearning for him? Did she know how much he wanted to burst from being so close to her but having to be a complete stranger? Did she know that he wanted to drown himself in the lake from how awake he was? If they parted for the night, he wouldn’t be able to sleep for the next week and a half. Plagg would never stop teasing him about it for the rest of time. If only she knew what he was going through. He tried not to choke on his tongue as his mouth ran over itself. “Marinette? I want to tell you something.”

She turned away from the fire to look at him fast enough to give him whiplash. “Oh. Did I— I’m sorry— did I over talk?”

“No, no not at all!” He could hear the strain in his voice. I’m here. I’m right here. It’s me. “I just. I just. Uhm.”

She tried to appease him. “Oh. If it’s about me having a crush on you, it’s okay. We’re just friends.”

He was an idiot. A huge idiot. Say the words. Say them. She was right there. Hugging distance. Kissing distance. He wanted to kiss her so badly. “No— well. It’s about the ‘you having a crush on me’ part, yes, but not just that.”

“Go on?” She winced at the weakness of her voice.

“I’m sorry.” Oh, he really wanted to drown himself now. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he say it? He fought akumas harder than this, and he had bruises to prove it. Why couldn’t he just say the words? His hands were shaking in his lap. He was freezing and on fire. His miraculous ring was never more interesting than it was as he twisted it on his finger with his other hand.

She frowned, not at all understanding. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I’m sorry for not knowing you had a crush on me when we were younger.” He was the emotional equivalent of grasping at straws, desperate for himself to be able to say the words in the most graceful way. Chat Noir was a coward. He wondered if Ladybug would be mad if she knew that he was floundering on telling a girl his true feelings.

“Oh— oh. That’s— that’s fine.”

“It isn’t. I should’ve realized.” He was nervous enough to rake an entire hand into his hair. “I should’ve seen the signs. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I thought you had been just a best friend at the time.”

“Seriously— it’s— it’s fine.” She waved him away. “It was such a long— long— time ago. We were children.”

Adrien could do nothing but be silent for the following minutes. Marinette had a boyfriend now. Of course she would be over him. Even though she was still dating him. What a confusing mess…

Would she still be over him after he told her? If she walked away, or zipped herself in her tent? The following day of hiking would be awkward and terrible. Oh, God. He didn’t want to lose her. If he sat here and ignored everything— continued to stare into the fire, with her at his side— would he be able to withstand the rest of the weekend? She was understanding, and she was kind, but he couldn’t help himself from trying to preserve one of the best things to happen to him.

Would it hurt if he fell face first into the fire? Anything would be more bearable than this. He would never be able to model again— no more money, fine. Who cared? He’d be dead. Maybe. He could feel it bubbling in him, threatening to escape his mouth in whichever way it could.

“I— I’m Chat Noir.” He bit his tongue so hard he could taste copper, trying to stop himself from talking. He managed to hold back a string of curses that tried slipping through.

She nearly dropped her apple, which was now mostly cored, searching his face for a joke. “I— hold on— what?”

“I’m Chat. I’m Chat Noir.” He barreled through it like ripping off a bandaid, refusing to make eye contact. “I know you were talking about me being your boyfriend. For two years. It’s— I’m— I’m Chat Noir.”

“Are— are you sure?”

“What?” It was his turn to frown at her. Was she starting to smile? “What— huh? What do you mean ‘am I sure’?”

“Are you sure you’re Chat Noir?”

He had the audacity to look down at his miraculous ring, wondering for a split second if he had hallucinated the past four years of his life. “I think so.”

She threw her hands around him tight, fisting the back of his sweater with her hands. The apple went flying from her hand, past his tent, and somewhere into the bushes— snapping twigs along its path. The fire crackled low as the last stick in the firepit burned, the branding heat leaving way to the chill air. He paid no mind to any of it, his nose full of milksoap, and his hands full of soft fabric from her layers of long sleeves.

Laughter bubbled in his ear as she clung to him— soft, sweet laughter that gripped his heart to the point it hurt. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I already knew, Adrien— I’ve been waiting for you to tell me for a couple of hours now.”

“What? How— how did— you—” He couldn’t help himself from pulling her closer, burying his face into her shoulder, feeling faint and overwhelmed. He couldn’t feel the log behind him, and he couldn’t feel his toes.

She curled her hand in his hair, and Adrien nearly lost his mind. The entire time he had felt guilty about keeping this from her and she’d accepted him with open arms. He would argue that crying was absolutely a valid response. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t cry, kitty-cat— it’s okay.”

He sucked in a breath. “How long have you known?”

“Just today. I found out this morning.”

“What do you mean? How did you—”

“You left early from my house today. You— you told me you needed to get ready for our trip, which was why you left so early from my house” She whispered. “I thought that was your way of telling me that you’re Adrien— but— you never mentioned it when we met up again at Alya’s house so I thought I’d— hallucinated it in my sleep.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” His mouth pinched. “Please— why— why didn’t you?”

She wiped a tear from his face. And then another. And then another. “I— I didn’t know if I’d heard you correctly, Adrien! I didn’t want to give something away just in case— so I’ve been trying to drop hints this entire time, instead.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, kitty-cat. You’re okay. Please don’t cry.”

He smothered her, pulled her into his lap to wrap the blanket around them, sucking in breath after breath. “I hadn’t even realized what I did— I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you waiting for me to admit it— I’m sorry that I took so long to tell you— I’m so sorry that it took me this long.”

“It’s okay.” She shook her head, the strings of the cap falling across her shoulders again. “It’s okay, Adrien. We’re okay. Everything is okay.”

He tucked the stray piece of hair back underneath her cap, hands buzzing from the ability to touch her. He followed the outline of her eyes with his thumbs— he followed the outline of her cheeks and jawline, as well— petting each individual freckle that dusted her cheeks. “Marinette— my god— I’ve— I’ve been going crazy this entire day— I couldn’t do it anymore. I needed to tell you— I’ve been wanting to— to tell you— for— for the past two years. God. God.”

He tried his best not to squish her while he hugged her, but he couldn’t contain himself as soft peels of laughter mixed with his tears escaped. She laughed, and hugged him just as hard, squeezing all of the air in his lungs out.

Everything was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

“I couldn’t fall asleep without you, Princess.” He managed to say after they’ve cried enough.

“I couldn’t either,” She confessed into his shoulder. “It was terrible— so horrible. Alya hogs the sheets— and then she has the audacity to complain about me moving around too much. I honestly was starting to go nuts, I’m so tired without you. I can’t sleep without you anymore, kitty-cat— I was about to somehow convince you that we needed to sleep in the same area together.”

“I wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with you.” He kept his laughter down at the little pinch she gave him at his side. He couldn’t stop himself from pressing kisses to her forehead, at the edge of where her cap met her hairline when he brushed her hair back— when he kissed each individual constellation of freckles that dotted her upper cheekbones. “I’ll have you know, I’m an expert sleeper.”

She kissed him sweetly on the lips, giggling to the point it looked like it hurt. Adrien tried not to sniffle too hard as warmth after warmth filled his chest. “Believe me— trust me— we’ll sleep fine from now on.”

#fragileizyfic #fragileizyoneshot #marichat #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #marichat fanfiction #i hope you're having a good day!!!!!💕

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ginkgomoon · 3 years ago

Text

I Like You A Latte- Gavin ☕️

Happy blog birthday to @cheri-cheri. Another gift would like to present itself to you! 💙

“The exam is officially over,” you sigh.

All those years of studying and recurring late nights pouring the blood, sweat and tears for you push towards the finish line were all worth it.

You are now free.

Kind of… but not really.

For once, you were outside not catching the train to go university, heading off into another library or exam room. You had thought to savour this rare time to yourself before heading off to find a job. Thankfully, public transport is convenient enough to take you just about anywhere in Loveland City.

With only your phone, wallet and keys in hand, you stroll along the all too familiar building blocks near your home, pondering on where to go for the long awaited first day out by yourself. Should you go for some udon? Bingsoo? Pudding, perhaps?

While breathing in the sweet air of freedom, you admire the city that you grew up in, absorbing the view from down below and up at the infrastructure that the city was so renowned for.

The height, distance and those buildings haven't changed. But you- the stages of your life, experiences and perspectives have. The city almost seemed a little bit more… brighter. More alive. Or maybe… would it be for just this once?

This, you fear.

The glare of the sun continues beating down, its light reflecting off the glass buildings passing its judgement on the entire city. The heat is suffocating and you long for a cool drink or nice air-con to rely on to keep you sane.

A vision suddenly intrudes, presenting the clean pastel coloured store-front of the café that had just opened up nearby. You remember that you had power-walked right past the “WE ARE OPEN” sign on your way home from a past exam to prepare for the final one a few days ago.

You know you rarely enter any cafés at all, but your love for coffee and urge to explore someplace new begin to steer your legs into the walking direction of where you had remembered it to be.

As you soon reach the entrance, the sign you saw from the peripheral of your memory greets you.

“BRUNCH CAFE. WE ARE OPEN.”

You push open the heavy glass door, instantly entering a world of relief. Still in between the two opposing temperatures, you hastily swing the door back and encase yourself in paradise.

You take a moment to briefly scan your surroundings. The café, although it claims to be open, has everything but the barista. It wasn’t as big as the Starbucks down at the shopping centres, but it was humble enough for its size and able to fit all the requirements a café needs.

Soft instrumental music starts to reel you in further, like a siren hypnotising a sailor. You feel... peaceful. Though you wonder if you were hearing the non-diegetic music of the film occurring right in front of your eyes instead of your almost-dream café.

The minimalist designs, the ambience, and the extremely posh and elegant windows that you didn’t admire enough the first time strikes your appeal. You also confirm with yourself that this was the café that you would choose to break the cycle of drinking instant coffees everyday.

Just this once.

On the left side, those posh windows were flaunting on display, and to the right had little cubicles laid out perfect for providing spacious privacy. You marvel at what a genius idea the store owner had to create such a comforting and unique interior for a café. There was not a thing out of place.

Except of course, the barista.

You head over to where the cubicles were waiting and as you turn into the corner, you almost trip over something that looks like… a foot?

Following the coffee-stained sport shoes, your eyes slowly drift up on its owner, locking on a sleeping figure on the seats of the cubicle.

A young man with a soft aura.

You squint in confusion.

The poor cubicle clearly wasn’t big enough to fit his entire body. His hair seems to have fallen into place like dominos having slightly covering his eyelids, and appears to be breathing in a gentle rhythm with his chest following in sync. Your eyes also end up emphasising his jawline as you continue to stare.

His chest- wait.

A little badge on the right corner of his shirt immediately becomes the salient object.

So, he is the barista.

Barista… Gabin?

You lean closer at the words printed out on it.

No, it’s Ga-vin.

Apart from how attractive he looks, you question yourself- why is the barista sleeping during opening hours?

The man’s eyes slowly crack open, like a shell opening to display the pearl from inside, and you finally see his eyes of beautiful amber squinting back at you. Though, you can’t tell if it was because of the bright lights inside the cafe, or if he was solely observing you- and why you were so close to him at this very moment.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” you cry, instantly retracting from your forward-leaning position. Your brain tries to racks up reasons why you two were in this situation incase he asks.

“There was something on your face” or “your foot was in the way” could work. No- “sorry, I’ve never seen another human being before” sounds a lot more believable.

Gavin, the barista, furrows his eyebrows in confusion then seemingly in frustration.

Your body tenses.

It’s coming.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep…” he sighs softly.

You do another quick scan and take that only the two of you were in the cafe now, unless there was another sleeping barista somewhere else you didn’t notice.

“If you're here for coffee, it’s on the house. An apology for what you saw just now…. Just don’t tell the boss if he’s here,” Gavin lightly coughs.

“Oh okay... Thank you. A latte please,” you say, rather not wanting to question it further. For now. But free coffee made by this gorgeous barista? How could anyone refuse this offer? All you did was stare. In that case, you would gladly do it again.

You settle your belongings on the table and catch Gavin rolling up his sleeves, putting on the display of his toned forearms. Luckily, your cubicle entrance was facing the direction of the workbench allowing yourself to watch him set up.

You start to wish for your coffee to be as hot as him.

Scalding hot.

Gavin steadily handles the jug and effortlessly pours the milk into the latte glass with the espresso already inside. Despite your sight of his expertise, he still can’t hide the subtle droopiness of his eyes and the slight furrow of his eyebrows again.

You figure it would be better if you come up to him instead so he wouldn’t have to travel the whole way to your cubicle with his current state being like this.

You gingerly make your way to his workbench while fumbling for a topic to break the awkward silence in your head.

“Is it just you working here today or…?” you ask.

“Is there another hot sleeping barista I should know about?” you continued in your head.

Gavin hands you the transparent cup accompanied by the saucer, a little spoon, a packet of sugar and a complimentary ginkgo-shaped cookie on the side.

The art displayed formed a symmetrical heart with perfect one centimetre foam to present the perfect latte.

“There’s the chef who’s actually the boss of this place but sometimes he dashes in and out. Especially when there’s no customers as of late. I have no idea where he goes, actually. Right now is no exception,” he replies, sweeping the remains of the coffee grounds into the knock box.

“And you do all the work for him? That doesn’t seem fair. Does he allow you to make your own cup of coffee at least?”

“Well, not exactly. I just work over-time till late. Plus, I think my body is practically immune to caffeine by now,” Gavin laughs.

"Me too," you comment.

As tired as he looks, he still has the energy to light up a smile, even with a stranger. His mouth forms an effortlessly handsome arc and you feel something emerging from within your heart, so subtle that you almost think that you could have mistaken yourself as the protagonist in a romance novel.

Though working overtime till late… at a brunch cafe?

You don’t question him any further. You take a whiff at the single delicate-looking plain ginkgo cookie and have a bite. This moment of peace and serenity was offering the much needed break from all that tension and pressure you were under- apart from Gavin being here, though he didn’t seem to mind your presence.

You lean forward to place your elbows on the counter and stare at the coffee in front, frowning a little at the reality of ruining the beautiful heart. You rip open the sugar and pour in half, then give it a stir with the spoon. The foam is perfectly silky and frothy, fusing with the crema like a starry galaxy.

You remind yourself that "it was okay" because this moment would forever remain in your own heart instead. Delicious, creamy arabica coffee.

Like those ginkgo leaves dancing in the wind that autumn day.

You smile at the memory before multiple begin to overlap with another. Ones where you had passed by the senior classrooms catching a glimpse of a boy staring out of the window or down in a random alleyway on your bicycle.

You didn’t think much of it back then either, but he had always looked familiar and seemed to be everywhere you were too. Crossing paths in hallways and even at the library, reading. That upperclassman boy named-

“-Gavin?”

He looks up.

“From school?”

You wonder why you hadn’t realised.

His facial features are now more defined, sharper, and still a head taller than you. Who would have thought the hot barista was actually an old schoolmate. You put your coffee down and internally scream.

“You remember me?” he softly asks.

“Just a little bit. Wait, do you know who I am?”

“Just a little bit.”

Gavin smiles.

You break eye contact and continue drinking, not wanting the coffee to get cold during this exchange. But even now it tastes different than before.

“So, what brings you here?” he asks.

“Taking a break before I find a job. See if any place will accept me…”

“Of course they will. You’re brilliant at what you do. I have no doubts that you will be successful.”

You smile in response, taking in the last of the remaining coffee.

“How do you know? We haven’t seen each other in so long. And I don’t think we’ve ever interacted this much in the past."

“I just do… Trust me.”

You look back up. His eyes light up with so much sincerity that could power a whole entire city’s electricity.

"I never thought I'd see you again," you say.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. You seemed like... you were just so difficult to figure out, especially for people like me who don't know you that well. So I never gave it a second thought either. And now here you are, making my coffee. Anyway, this is probably not making any sense..."

"No, I understand," Gavin states. "In your opinion... what kind of man am I?"

Before you could formulate a proper response, hot heat suddenly finds its way in, corroding with its cooler counterpart and signalling the entrance of another person.

Your eyes catch sight of a tall and handsome man, his aura so dominating that the heat you feel could just be from him instead.

“That’s the boss,” Gavin whispers.

The boss saunters his way in straight towards you two. His black hair matches his suit and tie, making him appear more like a CEO than of a chef.

“Don’t worry, I’m just going to the back to restock some things, I’ll be right back,” Gavin says, shooting you a comforting smile.

While trying to process all of this, your eyebrows are the ones to furrow now instead. How could this boss treat an employee like this? Working overtime without proper breaks? This to you was appalling and certainly see this as an act of injustice. Being the good and lawful citizen that you are, you decide to treat this like one.

“Excuse me.”

Before he enters the kitchen, he turns, offering his full attention to you. You thought you had a good grasp on what you wanted to say, but it seems that your head had disconnected from your voice box.

“Your employee…” you begin, “he seems very fatigued. I think you should be sharing the workload equally instead of leaving the cafe. Haven’t you ever heard of a collegial workplace before?”

His eyebrow lifts- in amusement, mockery or consideration, you don’t know. After all, your words carrying the “sense of justice” did sound a lot better in your head.

“I don’t interfere with anyone’s personal lives,” he said, his deep voice shattering your “prosecution”. But before you could have another go at him, he retreats into the kitchen.

Gavin returns with takeaway cups and lids and sees you standing flabbergasted at your interaction with the boss.

“You okay?”

You reply back with a little “humph” at the direction of the kitchen then turn to Gavin restocking the items on the cup warmer of the coffee machine.

"I-it’s nothing."

After all, this was your first and last time here, and maybe you shouldn't have acted so impulsively on a situation like this. Plus, how would Gavin react if you push the topic further?

You sigh. Hopefully the plan to have a drink and catch up with an old friend later in the night will settle the agitation you feel.

A soft ding is heard from your phone reminding you to get ready to leave.

Perfect timing.

As you reluctantly pack your things, you glance at Gavin’s way, who looks like he’s about to end his shift for the day as well.

You don’t want to be supporting a business owner who treats his employees like this, but yet seeing Gavin this way made you feel helpless. It’s a shame that you won’t see another handsome barista like this again. Or see him again. Or probably enter another cafe at all after this.

“I have to go.”

Your voice interrupts his workflow, and he frowns.

“Now?”

“I have somewhere to be, unfortunately.”

Gavin takes a moment to process this.

“Why don’t you wait till I leave? That way, I can see you off. It will only be a minute.”

More like a minute's time to sob about this man who could have been your boyfriend in a parallel universe. But as long as you won’t be late to meet up with your friend, you agree to wait for Gavin to finish up.

You linger by the entrance, not wanting to intrude his workspace again and steer clear from the awkwardness that could arise from watching him up close.

But after that literal minute, he steps outside with you and the heaviness in your heart starting to simmer back up again. The air already seems to have to cooled down, providing a thankful comfort to your surroundings.

Looking at him now, you almost change your mind. You could maybe see him again when you have time in the future. To... catch up.

Just maybe.

“Thank you for today," you say. You remind yourself to not get too attached, having really not know if you would be ready for all of that, especially for what was to come in the future.

You slowly walk backwards into the direction of your home, back where you need to get ready for the night out again.

“Thanks for coming. It was nice meeting you again,” he replies.

As you turn to leave, in your peripheral vision Gavin tracks forward to cover every step you took away from him, pulling a hesitant arm up to say something more.

But by then, you were already turning the corner and out of sight.

-And after all this time, your thoughts keep returning to those moments.

A couple of hours pass and your mind still orbits Gavin and that café. You wonder if there was something more you could have done or said. Hopefully he didn’t mistake your hurried steps for something else.

You soon arrive at the venue that you and your friend unanimously agreed on, though as you tippy-toe your way through the crowd to spot her, it seems that she hasn't arrived at the agreed time yet.

As you wait, you fiddle with the side of your dress. You decided to go with the classy minimalist look- a black dress and simple ginkgo drop earrings you bought recently. You didn't want to draw any attention to yourself, but you were satisfied that you were well-dressed enough to feel glamorous for the night. However, wanting to avoid the additional heat of the weather sticking on your body like a tattoo, you decide to head in first.

The music gradually becomes clearer and definitely louder as you weave your way through the hallway entrance towards the heart of the club, with the lights dimly lit and its walls enclosed for the darkness to rule.

You haven’t been in a place like this for so long, especially when you got used to the quiet and calm environment of libraries, the home, and the café earlier…

You could feel everyone’s body heat from a good healthy distance away, even at the seat of the bar. You don’t plan on getting drunk tonight, but you know your alcohol tolerance is so low that you figure it would be best if you should order a little fruity mocktail first instead then perhaps have a real drink with your friend when she arrives later.

You give a quick text notifying her of your location and place your phone back into your purse, ready to order.

Darkness continues to stir as you struggle to locate the bartender.

What kind of bartender is this person if they’re not at the bar?

Lights rotate and blind its way in every direction. For a fleeting second, it lands on the person across from you, illuminating those unforgettable eyes and smile of its owner.

His eyes are just as wide as yours.

"It's you."

The barista- no, bartender, was Gavin.

#I had so much fun with this one #happy birthday Cheri #I CANT WAIT FOR YOU TO READ THIS SIDISJSJS #3k words!!#THIS WAS THE SPECIAL POST I WAS TALKING ABOUT #mlqc #mr love queens choice #love and producer #恋与制作人 #gavin #mlqc gavin #mlqc fanfic #Gavin week

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years ago

Text

and the stars (they all aligned)

Fandom: Sex Education Pairing: Ola Nyman/Lily Iglehart Rating: E Word Count: 3887

Summary: Ola knows there's more to outer space than aliens with penis-fingers, and from their spot on the hill, gazing up at the night sky with Lily, it's never felt closer. They've never felt closer.

“Life can get small, you know?” Ola says sadly. The gravity inside her body still feels a little off, like her heart’s bobbing around, unsure whether to float or land. She’s sad, she’s elated, she’s aching for her mum, she’s grateful to have her girlfriend next to her on the grass.

“Like when I stopped writing my stories,” Lily suggests, frowning thoughtfully under her silvery makeup.

“Yeah. But the stars are so beautiful out here. I feel like, if I laid down and just looked straight up… blocked out the people and the lights from the houses… I could see really far into space.”

“You are seeing far into space, with some of these.” Lily points a pale, precise finger up above them. “The light’s coming from such a long way away that you’re basically traveling in time. And that’s real,” she quickly emphasizes, “not science fiction.”

Ola smiles widely.

“Cool.”

The other spectators are beginning to walk back to their cars and homes, but Lily and Ola lie back on the plaid blanket. Lily’s arm pulls her gently closer until Ola’s resting her head on her girlfriend’s chest. Just when it seems that the star shower has ended, another lone light flies past.

“They’re meteors, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” Lily says, but Ola can tell she’s held something back.

“If you want to say what you imagine them to be,” she prompts, “I’m here to listen.”

“Aliens,” Lily blurts, given permission, but then she adds: “Or angels.”

Ola lies very still for a minute, breathing, feeling the plasticky pink stripes on her girlfriend’s outfit pull on her cheek a little when she repositions her head.

“Angels?”

“Well, this was your mum’s favourite place,” Lily says, straightforward and unflinching, the way she explains everything that can’t possibly be real. “So maybe angels. Cosmic angels who ice skate on Jupiter’s frozen moon, Europa.”

“Aww, that’s lovely.”

“And hump the rings of Saturn.”

“That’s not really how I’d like to picture my mum’s spirit.”

“Sorry,” Lily says. Ola can hear the wince in her voice and gives her waist a quick squeeze to show she isn’t upset. “The cosmic angels could also be juggling moon rocks.”

“Tanning on planets that orbit three suns.”

“Riding spiral galaxies around like a carousel!”

“And when we see shooting stars,” Ola says with a smile, “they’re surfing.”

“Yes, I think that’s right,” Lily agrees, sighing contentedly beneath her. “You know—” She taps the nape of Ola’s neck like Ola’s seen her tap her desk when she’s writing and pauses to consider the next turn her intergalactic saga will take. “—you’ve got a really good imagination.”

Delighted, Ola lifts her head and smiles at her girlfriend.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“So do I,” Lily says while Ola nods, “but maybe I use it too much? If I’d been better at living in reality, you wouldn’t have gotten sick of me.”

Ola frowns. She’s big on showing affection through physical contact and instinct tells her to brush Lily’s hair back from her face or something, but it’s too slicked down tonight, the silky length of it twirled into a magnificent pair of space buns, wound through with metallic thread. Her girlfriend is so creative, and so many beautiful things come from her brain. Ola hates that Hope, their classmates, and even her made Lily believe her ideas and the way she expresses them aren’t valuable.

“Lily. I was never sick of you.” She reaches to adjust the gleaming pleather collar of Lily’s outfit, then leans down to nuzzle her nose against Lily’s. “And I never want you to use your imagination less, or try to turn it off, or anything like that. The answer might even be to use it more.”

“More?”

“Yeah.”

Ola drops her head onto her girlfriend’s chest again, hugging into her side as a chatting couple wheel a stroller up the hill past them. She thinks of the new baby while Lily mulls over what she’s said. Joy. They’ll have to sedate her dad if they want him out of the hospital tonight while that tiny girl slumbers there. Joy will learn, when she’s older, what a good dad she had from the very beginning—watching over Joy and giving Ola, well, space. She stares up at the sparkling scatter of stars.

“Because there are other ways for us to enjoy having sex,” Lily says a few minutes later, no preamble.

Ola nods, face shushing across her girlfriend’s costume.

“We’ve done so much together already, but I’m sure there’s loads we haven’t explored.” She shrugs. “I might never have tried any sort of alien roleplay if I hadn’t met you, and you come up with new things you want to try all the time. You inspire yourself, through your writing, and I think that’s amazing.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Ola says confidently. “I do.”

“Your mom must have loved you really well,” Lily murmurs, “because you love really well too.”

Ola is a box. A clear, plastic box with a hatch where her heart is. She is an incubator, like Joy’s, housing a very fragile thing, and Lily has reached inside to cradle that thing in her careful hands. Ola sniffs and the stars smudge into a big, messy glow up above. She blinks fast as her eyes brim.

“She did.”

“I wouldn’t want to be abducted without you.”

Ola laughs wetly.

“Thanks, Lil.”

Lily speaks some more, but it’s not to her. She mumbles and traces lines up and down the sleeve of Ola’s green jacket. Ola can tell she’s thinking out loud; the words ‘pulsing’ and ‘Glenoxi’ and ‘penis-fingers’ hum in the air over their heads. She’s prepared to flip off anyone who looks at her girlfriend strangely, but the final stragglers march by in their own wild costumes, dragging signs with hopeful and blatantly sexual pleas. Huh. Some of these really are Lily’s people.

Once they’re alone on the hill, Ola sighs and rolls fully onto her back, head on Lily’s oversized round belt buckle as she lies perpendicular to her girlfriend. She kicks her legs out, feet apart, and folds her hands over her stomach. Lily’s fingers creep over and toy with her rainbow pin. Smiling at the warmth of her girlfriend’s hand through her jacket, Ola’s finally ready to do what she said before: block out everything else and look up.

The dark is comforting and lovely. When she relaxes the muscles in her face, lets her gaze go unfocused and fuzzy, all of that celestial light becomes a soft background for her thoughts and feelings. She imagines that she (and Lily, of course) are someplace else, far from this hill and the wonderful, painful complexities of their lives. Would she be able to see Earth? She supposes that she would, diving back through her memories to her childhood treehouse, the telescope her dad hauled up there for her and her sister. Ser du det, Ola? Det är planeten Venus. She’d forgotten about that clunky old telescope.

From a distance, Earth would twinkle too, reflecting the light of the sun. Magic. There are so many incredible things, Ola thinks, that are true. Facts that inspire fiction, and are in some cases more wonderful than anything most people could make up.

She rolls onto her stomach, propped up by her elbows.

“I’ve… had a thought,” Ola says, gaze sweeping up Lily’s torso to her face, where wide eyes swivel to stare back at her.

“About what?”

Ola stretches a hand out to trace her girlfriend’s upturned nose with a fingertip.

“Something we could do,” she says slyly. She brings her finger down to cover Lily’s lips and Lily bites the end with faux-ferocity.

“Here?”

Ola nods, grinning.

Eagerly, Lily sits up.

“Well, tell me,” she says.

“We’re going to go on a journey,” Ola informs her. Lily smiles reservedly, waiting for more. “And you can narrate.”

“Where are we going?”

“Space.”

Lily glances from side to side, at the hilltop that’s darker now everyone’s left with their torches and camera flashes and glow-in-the-dark clothes. Only their candle remains.

“Where are we really going?”

“Nowhere, technically,” Ola says, scrunching her nose. “We’ll do it right here.”

“Ok,” says Lily gamely. “What is it we’re doing?”

Pushing up onto her hands and knees, Ola leans forward to kiss her. It’s quick, but when it’s over and her girlfriend inhales like she’s going to ask another question, Ola kisses her again, smiling against her lips. Sometimes doing is better than explaining.

Lily’s hand raises and cups her cheek. It’s when Ola feels the other hand curl around the back of her neck and flex as Lily presses more enthusiastically into the kiss that she knows she’s got it, she’s understood. They kiss faster and Ola’s hands skitter across Lily’s belt, searching for a piece to undo until she realizes its overlapping ends Velcro together in the back, hidden by the cape. The ripping sound of the strips unfastening makes them both laugh. Ola lays the belt out on the blanket before planting one hand on her girlfriend’s far side, bracketing her as she reclines slightly onto her elbows and they continue to kiss.

Lily’s cape is designed like a vest, with holes for her arms to go through. Ola tugs at one, then accepts that she won’t be able to get it off over the massive, padded shoulder spike on Lily’s bodysuit. Not without help.

“You won’t be too cold, will you?” she checks, sitting back to allow Lily to maneuver out of her cape.

“Not yet.”

“And if I want to take this off as well?” Ola asks coyly, sliding her hands along her girlfriend’s outfit, up from the waist to knead Lily’s breasts through the quilted fabric.

Lily smiles back and tips her chin up, encouraging the deep kiss Ola sinks into, already feeling her arousal climbing with the anticipation of trying out this new idea. Maybe she should have found a way to talk to Lily about introducing some variety sooner, because it’s been a while since she felt this level of excitement for sex. She always enjoys herself, but it has been a little hard, acting out one of Lily’s fantasies after another without ever taking the lead herself. Hopefully, tonight establishes a revised balance in this area of their relationship—a fusion that’s partly Lily, partly Ola.

Locating the zipper at the back of Lily’s costume, Ola pulls back.

“This is ok, right?” she asks, because Lily never said out loud that she wouldn’t be cold.

“I think so,” her girlfriend says. She looks down. “I can snuggle into the blanket as well, don’t forget.”

Ola scans their surroundings.

��And there isn’t anyone around,” she says, grinning. Could she be into the idea of getting caught? She’s never considered it before! Not actually caught, of course, because she very much wants to keep this about the two of them, but there’s a thrill surrounding the possibility that Ola didn’t expect.

“Five, four, three, two, one,” Lily counts down. “Ignition.” She holds Ola’s gaze and lifts her eyebrows, some sort of a cue.

“Oh, got it,” Ola says, beginning to unzip the silvery bodysuit.

Arms wrapped around her girlfriend from the front, her hands slide down as she exposes Lily’s skin to the air. She can tell through the material that there isn’t anything underneath it—no lines, no ridges but her spine, her shoulder blades—so when the zipper hits the end of its track at Lily’s lower back and Lily peels the front of the outfit down, Ola isn’t surprised to be confronted with her girlfriend’s bare breasts.

The shinier segment of the costume winds up being a sort of torso-less shirt—the sleeves connecting to the high collar that encircles Lily’s neck. That part stays on as Lily wiggles and hops, getting the sleeveless bodysuit over her hips and bum, and Ola sees that the shiny leggings are separate as well.

“This is really cool,” she notes.

“Thanks,” Lily says, working the bodysuit off over her nearly-knee-high boots. “The cape…?” she wonders when she’s done.

“You can put that back on.”

“And you want me to talk?”

“Yes please. Just not about aliens,” Ola adds, watching her girlfriend’s expression cautiously for signs of hurt.

But Lily’s face is open, unoffended. She shrugs into her cape.

“Alright.”

“I mean, if you find you have anything you want to say,” Ola clarifies. She smirks as she slips her hand between Lily’s thighs, cupping her and rubbing a bit through the leggings.

“I think the ship—the normal, regular Earth spaceship,” Lily clarifies, breathing slightly unevenly, “—is monitoring a disturbance. A buildup of energy.”

“Oh?”

Ola smiles wider, then bends over her girlfriend, running her mouth along her skin below where her sleeve-top conceals her collarbones. Gradually, Lily lies back. As Ola hoped she would, Lily narrates, easily spinning a science-fiction story that’s heavy on the science for once. Ola kisses back up her throat as Lily’s high voice speaks clearly of stellar nurseries, dense with dust and gas. In spite of her flowing words and dreamy descriptions, the actual subject matter doesn’t sound that nice to Ola, until Lily announces the mission of this particular spaceship. (“Mmm?” Ola asks wordlessly, kissing below Lily’s jaw; Lily nods to acknowledge that Ola’s mouth will indeed be playing the role of the spaceship in this scenario.) It’s closing in on this cloud of stellar stuff in search of the new star that’s about to be born.

“Passing between huge planets,” Lily says, while Ola hunches hungrily over her body and kisses down between her breasts. “Gas giants. Jupiter, maybe.”

Ola nearly starts laughing when Lily confirms one of the planets to be Jupiter by the fact of ‘the ship’ spying its Great Red Spot—Ola’s focused in on Lily’s nipple, dragging it tenderly between her teeth before sucking to deepen the colour; with the blue of the night, that’s closer to purple than Lily’s normal rosy pink.

She keeps going and so does Lily, infusing every lick and tug with the richness of her imagination, as well as actual knowledge of the solar system, about which she seems to know quite a lot. For a risky, romantic hookup under no roof but the sky, it’s rather educational.

The minute Lily’s bent knees go flat as she straightens to her full length, Ola swings a leg over to hover above her. She redoubles her attention to her girlfriend’s breasts and caresses her hands swiftly up Lily’s sides. Lily shivers and Ola thinks it’s the cold getting to her after all, but when she raises her head to check in, Lily’s eyelids are drooping with pleasure. So Ola continues to touch her. And Lily continues to unravel their tale.

She recounts the rushing of a meteor shower as smoothly as if she was up there when it happened, half an hour ago. Ola matches her pace with her mouth, skimming kisses down her ribcage. Lily’s imagination turns her own bellybutton into the deep crater of a moon which the ship sets down to explore. (Lily is very kinky about her bellybutton being probed by Ola’s tongue, and Ola’s not going to leave that out, even if they are going in a different direction than usual.)

Progressing, Ola hooks her fingers into the waist of Lily’s leggings and, undistracted, Lily makes the story sound like something she’s reading out of a book—the spaceship setting a course that will take it beyond the most distant line humankind has ever drawn in the universe, farther than it’s ever been before. For Ola, touching Lily below her navel is far from uncharted territory. And yet, she’s sort of enjoying the dramatics.

Lily keeps the story fertile with details another storyteller would make dull (spaceship maintenance, the sleep schedule of the crew), but which grow like lush, otherworldly flora coming from her. The human interest side of things accompanies Ola’s descent as she strips the leggings down. Although they only get as far as the top of Lily’s boots, the leggings are stretchy enough to let her girlfriend part her knees so Ola can kiss lower.

A little lower.

Barely.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” Ola says with a laugh, raising an apologetic hand to interrupt her girlfriend.

“I do think I might be cold if I take everything off completely.”

“Well… hmm…”

While Ola’s still appraising the situation, Lily’s face lights up with epiphany. Legs locked stiffly together, she raises them into the air. Ola climbs off of her to see what she’s up to.

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to stay like that?” Ola questions, watching her girlfriend’s legs waver at a 45-degree angle to the ground.

“I won’t need to if you crawl underneath!”

Thank goodness Lily isn’t shy with her. Instead, it’s funny for them both when Ola moves down to lie on her stomach. Lily parts her legs enough to hook the half-lowered leggings behind Ola’s head, Ola’s face poking between her thighs. Lily lowers her legs back down until they rest on Ola’s shoulders and, basically, they’re in business. Holding happily to the top of her girlfriend’s naked thighs, Ola peruses Lily’s body admiringly before ducking her head.

“The nebula,” her girlfriend breathes, as Ola’s kisses near the soft nest of Lily’s pubic hair. The boundary’s been made unnatural by the squiggly shape Lily’s attempted to shave into it (something Ola might have called silly before her resolution of open-mindedness), and Lily uses that as fuel for the plot, making the spaceship’s journey treacherous, full of objects to navigate around. In reality, Ola pecks a straight line down to Lily’s cunt. Honestly, she’s relieved at the extra evidence—beyond Lily’s expression, her readiness to undress out-of-doors, and the quick pants that’ve become part of her breathing pattern—that Lily’s into this.

Ola wraps her arms farther around the top of Lily’s thighs until she’s able to brush her fingers between them, thumbing her girlfriend’s labia apart. Gosh, they haven’t done this in weeks, which is ages for them. The last vulva Ola saw was iced onto the top of a cupcake.

With Lily held open, Ola licks deftly between her legs with the tip of her tongue. Her girlfriend’s voice trembles. When Ola’s worked her way inward until she’s ringing just inside Lily’s vagina, Lily’s hand comes down and lands on the top of her head. She doesn’t really want it there though, isn’t being forceful. Ola understands this reaction, a common one from her girlfriend when she’s being eaten out, and frees one hand, blindly offering it up. Lily links their fingers together. Their joined hands fall next to her hip.

“Closer,” Lily gasps, arousal seeping slowly over and under Ola’s tongue. Her other hand slips down Ola’s neck and into the back of her top where she’s warm, almost sweaty, with the heat of being turned on. “They’re getting closer to the star.”

The commitment to the story, every time, is something Ola loves about her.

And so she indulges her girlfriend, sliding her tongue higher, easing a finger into Lily’s vagina to perform an unhurried in-and-out while her mouth closes in on her clitoris. Ola’s own clit is desperate for a fingering, blood pumping strongly towards her groin inside her baggy jeans, but she can wait, get Lily off first. Whenever they pleasure each other in that order, Lily always comes alive after, flipping Ola onto her back and smothering her in enthusiastic kisses and caresses.

Picturing this as the likely near-future, Ola hums blissfully against Lily’s clit (Lily squirms and lets out one of her moans that sound like a ghostly wail—yeah, Ola kind of loves those too). She closes her eyes to intensify the sensations and does the rest by familiar feel.

Her girlfriend babbles now, about the spaceship orbiting the new star that’s forming while Ola teasingly orbits her clit with her tongue. It takes a lot of effort to separate Lily from one of her stories when she’s on a roll, but broad, firm licks to her clit are enough to pull even Ola’s one-foot-in-outer-space girlfriend into the present moment.

“Oh god, Ola, I can almost see the cosmic angels,” Lily whines, striving exquisitely towards climax. “I’m going to see cosmic angels.”

Ola believes her. She believed this hill was special, she will believe in aliens, and right now she believes that Lily’s imminent orgasm looks like a flock of cosmic angels behind her eyelids. Sure. Why not? Her hand clasps harder to her girlfriend’s. She doesn’t care that Lily’s rerouted to the fantastical right at the end. They’re real. The elements that got them here are real: Lily’s storytelling, Ola’s desire to feel close to her in a world that wasn’t only Lily’s, loneliness, love.

Without speaking very loudly, Ola knows her voice will carry to her girlfriend’s ears—this evening, silver and pointed.

“Glenoxi,” she groans rapturously against Lily’s clit.

Lily’s hips buck once, then her body buckles, fingers twisting with Ola’s. Her voice rises brokenly into the night and Ola is on fire with how much she wants her.

Ola wipes her mouth on the blanket while Lily catches her breath. She quit moving her finger when her girlfriend clenched around it and came, but now she begins to hook it shallowly inside Lily’s sopping channel, coaxing her.

“You wanna again?” Ola asks, grinning between planting gentle kisses on Lily’s inner thigh.

“Yes,” Lily sighs. She twitches their joined hands. “But come up here beside me so I can take your jeans off. I want—”

There’s a snapping sound and Ola jerks her head up as much as she can in her current position. Under a hundred feet from them, someone’s standing, raising the chunky green glowstick they must’ve just found, dropped in the grass by an Eighth attendee, and cracked. The person turns, looks their way. Freezes. They won’t be able to see everything in the dark. Not everything, but enough. Ola hears a noise of surprise.

“Um,” she says, thinking quickly. Louder, she calls to the accidental intruder: “The aliens just beamed down this human woman! Quick! Go find a scientist!”

The person spins and runs in the opposite direction, back over the crest of the hill.

Ola looks down at Lily, who stares curiously back.

“Do you think they’ve gone to find a scientist?”

“No,” Ola yelps giddily, “I think they’ve gone to call the police because they’ve just seen two people fucking on a public hillside.”

“Are you sure they’ll think that? Your cover was rather good.”

“Thanks,” Ola says, extricating herself from between her girlfriend’s legs, “but yes! We’ve got to go!”

They scramble to their feet, Lily yanking her leggings back up. There isn’t time to fuss with the rest of her costume, so she snatches it up, clutching it to her chest along with the sign she brought. Once Ola’s grabbed their candle and gathered the blanket into a sloppy bundle in her arms, they sprint for the road and onward to Lily’s house.

The glow of the candle and Lily’s cape, reflecting it, are streaks of light in the black.

A blaze of brightness and joy. Their own two-person audience of believers.

#my writing #Sex Education #Sex Education spoilers #Ola Nyman #Lily Iglehart #Ola x Lily #Lily x Ola #Sex Education fanfiction

17 notes · View notes

moonlightsolo · 4 years ago

Note

Hey, so I noticed that you were asking for requests, and I was wondering what your stance is with Dad!Din parenting a teen reader? It’s just that I have so many ideas based around the concept compared to just a regular Din/Reader, so I just wanted to ask if you’re ok with writing that type of thing, for any character really, not just Din.

Ad’ika

pairing: the mandalorian x teen reader (platonic!!!)

wc: 4.8K

warnings: mild violence, cursing, adult language/humor

a/n: at the end!!

Being an orphan deprived of maternal affection is a common thing to come across in this galaxy.

Most of us are left witnessing our parents demise at the hands of their owners. Yes, owners.

On the planet Kessel, adults are worked tirelessly into the ground and when they didn’t comply with the rules or too exhausted to do so— they’re killed. Simple as that.

Some are lucky enough to be born into wealth; to live the lavish lifestyle of not having to be a slave to another species.

You’re honestly not even sure why your parents decided to pro-create.

Who would want their child to experience the same thing? Probably an accident—Didn’t pull out in time.

Once you found out your parents had disappeared, you weren’t surprised. They were always disobeying orders and were caught up in some shady shit with some nasty people.

You ran and kept running because you knew those fuckers were coming for you next. Why would they want a useless kid? Who knows, but you knew your ass would be grass if you didn’t.

So you snuck onto a freighting ship and left your old life behind. Everything. All you had was your worn backpack, an old dusty picture of your family and a barely filled water canteen.

You conceal yourself behind a large package, next to a small port-hole like window as you look down to watch the planet below you grow smaller. The ship accelerates into hyper-speed and your vision of the only home you’ve known is gone.

Slowly, your eyelids grow heavy and your body goes limp from exhaustion. A quick nap won’t hurt right?

It seems as if only a few minutes went by... The ship trembles as it lands on a rocky planet, shaking you awake. By the squeaks of the foreign language the pilots are speaking, the planet is named Nevarro. You’ve picked up a few languages living on Kessel.

When the ships ramp finally settles into the ground, your eyes dart around the empty dirt field. It’s now or never.

You bolt for the exit, your legs picking up speed as the protests of the alien pilots yell after you.

After solely surviving on adrenaline, you make it to a little town as the big-headed blue skinned things chase you through a gigantic archway. You weave and bob through the crowd, gasps leave the people’s mouths as they scatter out of your path. “Sorry!” You yelp out as you shoot by.

As you glance behind you to attempt to find the pursuers in the crowd, your legs continue moving yourself forward. “Aha! Bye!” You wave your fingers tauntingly.

Just as you whip your head back around to look forward, all you see is metallic silver and then the sky.

Ouch.

You groan as you rub your head, the instant thumping tells you that you must have a concussion.

“What did I just hit?” You grumble groggily.

The crowd disperses from the area slowly, whispering and continuing with their day as if this is a normal reoccurrence.

The pilots finally catch up to you, screaming obscenities with their blasters flailing in their hands dramatically.

“Calm down.” A modulated voice rasps out in their language.

Either you’re really hurt and your brain is bleeding or the person talking has a really weird voice.

You blink as your vision clears, the silver blob focusing into view. What the fuck is that?

Your feet scramble to push yourself away from the... robot person thing? The holes in your boots fill up with the dirt your pushing around in attempt to flee. You advance backward too far and you’re now too close to the aliens who want to kill you. Fuck!

Their oddly long slender fingers grip your forearms to pull you to your feet, “Get off of me, you assholes!” You scream as you attempt to shake them off but their grip is too tight.

“You don’t have to hurt the kid... I understand, I understand... I’ll take care of it... How much?” He hisses out in their language.

You’re finally able to stare at the towering thing who is attempting to reason your actions. The black visor turns toward you now, knowing the thing underneath must be glaring at you.

The aliens loud voices slowly die down, the grip loosens on your skin which makes you yank yourself away from them. You scoff and brush off your shoulder as if they were the ones who were dirty.

The silver man takes a step toward you, making you squeak and tense up. Instead, he slides past you and slips a few credits into their slimy hands.

That’s when you notice the oddest thing of all. A small fuzzy green child peeks out from the sack hanging on the side of the man. A rare smiles breaks through your dusty face when a tiny hand reaches out for you. Just as you reach out, the tin man interrupts

“Come on.” He speaks regularly now, his gloved hand grips your arm to pull you forward.

“Why does everyone manhandle me as if I’m some sort of child?” You scoff obnoxiously and roll your eyes.

“You are.” He says simply which makes your upper lip curl in annoyance.

“I’m sixteen.” You bite back, “A teen-nay-ger.” You sound out the word as if the man was too stupid to understand.

He doesn’t respond.

“Is that Beskar you’re wearing?” You mumble into the awkward silence, staring at your dirty reflection in the surface.

“Yes.”

You grumble under your breath as you look over him once more. The built in weaponry, the shining armor, the jet pack...

Then the ship. It all clicks into place.

The tin-man presses something on his forearm, causing a ramp to lower itself from the side and settle into the ground with a swoosh. He guides you up the surface, his grip still tight on your upper arm.

“You’re a Mandalorian!” You gasp in awe.

“That took you long enough to figure out.” He almost let’s out a chuckle.

“And now you’re kidnapping me? Great.” You cross your arms as you look at the inside of the ship. Messy, yet somehow organized.

“Not kidnapping— Saving. You could’ve gotten yourself killed back there. I saved your ass.” He busies himself with the little toddler, tucking the sleeping thing into a compartment then closing it. His feet slide over to a work station, busying himself with unloading his weapons.

“What is that thing?” You swiftly change the subject.

“Not sure. All I know is that I have to protect him and keep him safe.”

You hum sarcastically in response with a little eye roll. It’s almost as if he has eyes on the back of his head.

His motions still as his helmet turns to the side to stare at you. “Stop that.” He grumbles about your attitude then continues with what he’s doing. “Whatever.” You huff.

Since the Mandalorian is busy, you take the free time to look around. Infinite weaponry and ammo, then you click a button and revolving carbonite blocks appear from inside the wall. “Frozen people in walls? Cool.” You chuckle as you walk around more.

You pick up some knick-knacks, examining the other-worldly objects. “Stop touching everything.”

He mumbles incoherently under his breath, which sounds like static coming from his helmet as he moves to climb up the ladder. Most likely to the cockpit.

So you follow, of course. The windows expand across the front, the engines growl and whirl as he clicks bright buttons on the dash.

“Where are you taking me?” Your voice croaks out as the ship rises into the air.

“Back to Kessel. I’m not getting chased by whoever you’re fleeing from. You need to deal with your own problems.”

The statement sends a chill through your whole body, “But— no. You can’t. I’ll die. I’ll be killed. Come on, just like you said, I’m just a kid...” Your hands grip the back of his seat to steady yourself as the ship rises into the air.

“Sit down.” The ship levels so you could safely move to a seat.

You can feel the emotions overcome you, unable to hold them back as you buckle yourself in.

“I’d rather be thrown out of an airlock then go back there.” You mumble to yourself.

A soft raspy laugh leaves the helmet.

“Really? An airlock? Who is chasing you anyway?”

You sniffle as you wipe your tears and runny nose on your sleeve.

“I don’t know. My parents... They were caught up in some sketchy shit, they were killed... or they went missing, I’m not even sure, but I was left alone to fend for myself. I escaped before... whoever got them came looking for me.”

The Mandalorian lets out a pitiful sigh, “Look... I don’t have any room for you. No bed, no clothes. I don’t know what you want me to do.”

He clicks a few buttons to let the ship hover between outer space and the planets atmosphere below. He turns his seat to stare at the shaking, fearful teenager.

He notices how your arms are wrapped around yourself in a way of comfort, your inflamed nose, watery eyes, and your quivering bottom lip. You remind him of himself as a child.

Just by the image in front of him, he mentally battled himself to made a vow to protect you. Just how the Mandalorians did for him.

He’s unsure how to comfort in this situation, so he swivels back around to steer the ship into space. He clicks a few buttons which causes everything to shake as it shoots forward into blue swirls.

“Wow.” He hears you whisper softly behind him. He couldn’t help but crack a smile under his armor.

Silence radiates through the bridge of the ship. It’s awkward and tense.

You think you’re going to be dropped off on Kessel to encounter the impending doom of your death, to be worked until exhaustion catches up to you.

The Mandalorian finally breaks the silence as he stands tall from his seat and down the ladder. You squirm uncomfortably in your own as your eyes dart around the small area.

Once he returns, he’s followed with coos and babbles from the big-eared fuzzy adorable baby. He slides past your seat into his.

“Do you want to hold him?” He breaks the tension as his chair rotates around so he’s facing you again.

A subtle ray of happiness bursts through your chest as you nod and reach for him. The baby also reaches for you as the Mandalorian hands him over to you.

He’s much heavier than you expected. His little green hand comes to rest on your cheek, making your bottom lip begin to quiver even more. It makes an odd noise of approval then settles into your lap.

He makes grabby hands for something. You watch as the Mandalorian unscrews a metal ball from a lever to hand to the kid.

It suddenly flies from his gloved hand into his green ones like an invisible force brought it to him.

The energy in the room buzzes with excitement and goosebumps tickle the surface of your skin. “What was that?” You mumble in astonishment. Your lips part in surprise as you look between the magic child in your lap and the tin-man.

“Not sure. I just know that he’s special. He does that sometimes.” He says nonchalantly through his mask, his shoulders rise and drop as if it was nothing.

The pitch black visor eyes you for a few more moments before turning to direct his attention to the dashboard.

The kid allows you to take the ball and gently toss it into the air so he could let it float down slowly to him. You watch in awe, eyes twinkling with amazement.

You’ve heard of such powers, but you didn’t know if it was just a folktale.

After playing with the metal ball and his powers, he relaxes against your body with the ball secured between his tiny fists.

“I’m not bringing you back to Kessel.” His modulated voice breaks through the silence. His words make your chest swell with hope.

“It’s going to be rough... Staying here. Only for the time being, until I can find you somewhere safer and more comfortable to live.”

He doesn’t turn to look at you as he talks, but it doesn’t even matter. At least you’ll have protection. “Thank you.” You muster up a croak and he responds with a curt nod.

The ship drops out of hyperspace, a spherical giant in view as he closes in on the atmosphere of the new planet.

He lands the ship smoothly in a loading bay, droids clamber around the ship below to work on it. You watch as an older lady with very curly hair waltz into view.

“Stay here.” He orders as he stands to his feet and disappears down the ladder. The child squeaks as he watches his caretaker leave him with you.

You almost wince as you prepare for a tantrum, but it never comes. The baby settles into your lap once again with a tiny yawn.

You couldn’t help but grow suspicious as you stand with the child on your hip to look out the front window. You instantly spot the shiny armor and the woman talking to him. Her arms are obviously expressing her feelings as they flail around her.

Then her eyes dart from him to you, she squints. Then the Mandalorian takes notice of her divided attention. He whips around and stares through his black visor. Even if you can’t see his face, you read his body language that he’s a bit upset.

I guess he didn’t want you to be seen yet.

The lady turns back to him and it seems as if she’s scolding him. His shoulders drop a bit then his hand raises to beckon you to come down.

Excitement rises in your chest as you slowly, and carefully, make your way down the ladder with the child. When your feet hit the metal flooring, you hear footsteps ascend the ramp.

With a gulp and a rise in your anxiety, you turn around to look at him and the lady staring at you. The child makes a noise of happiness when he spots her and she smiles in awe when he reaches for her.

As the lady walks up to grab the child, she smiles at you. “Hi, I’m Peli.” She gently scoops the child from your arms. “He told me a lot about you.” She points her thumb behind her to motion toward him.

“Hi.” You mumble, a bit guarded by her being a stranger.

Peli moves to walk down the ramp, your eyes go wide as you point at her. “She’s taking him!” You yelp as you go to run after her but his arm juts out to scoop you up.

Your legs kick as you’re lifted from the ground, a grunt falls from your lips. “Let go of me!”

“Stop it. I trust her. You should too. She watches him for me when I’m busy doing other things.” His grip loosens from your waist once your fierce demeanor sizzles out.

You wriggle away from him, annoyance evident on your features as you glare at him. Although, you’re secretly glad he caught you before you got to her.

“Come on. We’re going into town.”

“We?” You squeak with wild eyes as you watch him tread down the ramp.

Not wanting to stay in the ship by yourself, you follow him. Your eyes scan the area for anybody else, but it’s only you, him, the lady, her droids, and the kid.

He leads you up some stairs into a bustling market above the ship stations, “So, what’s your name? Or nickname? What should I call you?” You ramble as you walk side by side with him.

You can’t help but take notice to everyone scurrying out of his path.

“My name...” He mumbles hesitatingly, “My name is Din. You can also call me Mando, I guess. Some people call me that.”

“Din... Mando...” You mumble softly, letting the words roll off your tongue experimentally. “Cool, I like it.”

“What should I call you?” He questions softly, almost as if he isn’t sure you’ll want to tell him, but you do. You reveal your name to him, as well as some nicknames. Even the not-so-nice ones your mother called you when you were in trouble.

Suddenly, the sweetest, most delicious smell wafts by and you can’t help but suddenly search for where it’s coming from. Your stomach lets out an animalistic growl, even making the Mandalorian comment on it.

“Hungry?” He puts a hand between your shoulders to aid in weaving you through the crowd to the food stand. The smell gets stronger once you spot it.

“What do you want? Get anything.” His own helmet moves as he looks over the menu.

“Anything..?” You breathe out in surprise as you look up at him. You’ve never been offered that, not even by your own parents. Din looks down at you and nods.

“I want... That, and that. Also that.” You point to a spiraled fried blue spotted vegetable on a skewer, as well as a sugar coated donut and a fizzy drink.

He hands over a few credits as the vendor slides the food over to you. You mumble a grateful thanks and instantly dig in.

Mando leads you down the alleyway in the market as you eat, you can feel his eyes on you since you’re not really watching where you’re going. Too occupied.

He stops at another stand, this one has clothing. You swallow your food thickly, “Are you seriously buying me clothes too?” You almost cough out from a piece of food getting stuck in your throat.

“I couldn’t help but notice you’re a bit dirty. Don’t know if you knew that.”

His words make your cheeks heat up, sending a death glare toward him.

“Obviously.” You huff sassily as you eye the clothing hanging up behind the elderly lady.

You pick out two pairs of pants and a few shirts, “Don’t worry, pick out some more, I’ll be right back.” His hand rests on your shoulder for a moment, his other hand plops a bag into your bag on your back. “That should cover everything.” Then he just disappears away into the crowd.

You didn’t even get time to respond, you’re left alone, your mouth open with food sitting inside. You realize the old lady grimaces at the view of the chewed food so you swallow it and continue shopping.

Once you have armfuls of outfits picked out, some new boots, and your food wrappers are strewn around various places of the shop, it’s time to cash out.

After laying your pile of clothing on the counter, you fish for money in your pack, listening for the jingle of credits. The old lady keeps an eye on you suspiciously, but of course you’re oblivious to her stares.

She packs everything into two canvas totes and croaks out the price. Your eyes bulge wildly as you search for the correct amount to hand to her. The Mandalorian had given you way more than enough.

Why is he trusting you with this much money?

After you slide over the amount, you quickly seal up his bag and slide it back into your pack. You shoot her a smile when she hands you the bags, but she doesn’t reciprocate the same positive energy.

Swiftly, you snatch the bags to hang them on your arms and gather the garbage you left around to throw in the nearby trash can. Where could he have gone?

Your eyes search the crowd for his infamous beskar armor, hoping you catch the gleam of it in the sea of people.

You start to grow nervous. He wouldn’t desert you on this planet right? He said he was going to find you a safe place to live. He got you food, clothing, and gave you money...

Your heart drops. He did. He’s left you here to fend for yourself. Suddenly your brain goes into flight or fight mode and cranks with ideas to survive the night.

The credits he gave you could easily get you comfortable lodging, you could shower and then tomorrow morning you could hop on someone’s ship.

Tears prick at your eyes. You’re going to miss that fuzzy baby. Anger whirls through your body when you think of the back-stabbing Mandalorian.

Then you stop in your tracks, sniffing loudly when you realize you’ve been walking away from the shop. You don’t even know where you are right now.

A few people curse at you to move out of the way of traffic. A hand grips the pack hanging on your back, causing your small frame to stumble backward. You yelp fearfully when you look behind you, seeing a cloaked man attempting to rob you.

No, no, no, no.

You drop your shopping bags to defend yourself without the heavy clothing weighing you down. You throw a mean right hook, hitting the person right on the jaw. The thump into your knuckles instantly begins, but you choke down the grimace on your face.

“Don’t make this hard on you, kid. Just give me the damn money.” Their hand extends in attempt to grab you again but you swiftly dodge out of their reach.

Your eyes frantically search the people around who seem to not care you’re getting robbed. “Just leave me alone. You don’t want to do this. My dad is a Mandalorian, he’ll rip you to fucking shreds.” You spit out furiously.

Dad? Why did you just say he was your father?

The person under the cloak chuckles, showing off their rotten teeth, a switchblade opens at their side. “A Mandalorian? Ha. Well, where is he right now?”

“He’s right here.” The familiar modulated voice sounds from above you, a smile instantly breaks across your face as Din floats down, his jet-pack whirring with life.

A wire shoots out of his arm, wrapping itself around the thug’s ankles. The jet-pack accelerates upward, bringing the man with him. Now hanging upside down in the air.

He lets out the most horrified scream as they shoot upward into the sky, the only thing you can make out is the fire flowing from Mando’s back.

“Get him! Yes!” You cheer as the wire swings him in circles and finally retracts, making the man fly out of your vision in the air. Hopefully to his death.

Mando slowly makes his way back down to the ground, landing away from you. He picks up your totes full of clothing off the sandy ground, his black visor stares a hole through you as he marches toward you.

You couldn’t help but feel bad for him hearing you call him dad, you don’t want to put that responsibility on him. Then anger beats through your veins, your hands instinctively push against his chest but he doesn’t budge.

“You left me! Why did you leave me?! I thought you fucking dropped me off and ditched me! You gave me food, clothing and money. What else was I supposed to think?!” You screeched as you ball your fists at your sides. Realizing soon enough that your outburst was not needed, nor is his silence.

“I’m sorry. Thank you for saving me, but why?” You mumble, your eyes drop to look down at your shoes as you attempt to calm the fire burning in your chest.

“I didn’t think you’d roam around and get into trouble. I went back to the shop and the old lady was gone, the shop was closed. I had a feeling something was wrong.” He took another step toward you, “So I went into the skies and then I found you.”

The Mandalorian knew deep down that he had some kind of maternal instinct take over him to protect you once he saw you crying in his ship, but when you called him dad he suddenly got emotional under his layers of armor. “I’m... sorry. I won’t let you out of my sight. Ever again.”

His arm rises to rest on your shoulder comfortingly as he watches you break down slowly in front of him again.

It started with your bottom lip quivering, your arms instinctively wrap around your body in attempt to console yourself. Your shoulders cave forward as a sob wracks through your body.

Din hesitantly pulls you into his metal chest, unsure on how to comfort but he guesses a hug could help.

And it did.

His secure arms that are wrapped around you makes you feel safe, like the tin-man really is the father figure you never truly had. As your tears steam up his beskar chest plate, his hands gently pat your back reassuringly.

The universe finally felt as if it was on your side. As if everything has clicked perfectly into place and this is where you’re meant to be.

“Let’s go back to the ship, ad’ika. I bet the little one will be excited to see us. You can get cleaned up too.” A soft relieved sigh falls from your lips when he mentions the green baby and a shower.

Yep, if this is what the universe has planned for you— You won’t complain.

a/n: um i don’t usually write stuff like this, but i had so much fun with this one. y'all know i love romance and angst, but this is so good. i’m proud of myself. hope u liked it!!!

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian oneshot #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars oneshots #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars x y/n

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thethousandyearwitch · 3 years ago

Text

The Show Must Go On! Chap. 8 [The End]

- A Youtuber AU you didn’t want and didn’t need -

Hisoka Morrow, italian Makeup Youtuber, enjoys his life in the comfort and occasional drama of his profession. But nothing brings more drama into his life than the eldest son of the Zoldyck fashion magazine empire.

Meanwhile, aspiring australian Twitch Streamer Gon Freecs forms a special bond to a Speedrunner commonly going by "Kil".

Chapter 8 "Born To Run” out now! The Last Chapter!

AO3 Link

Illumi Zoldyck has rarely made mistakes in his life, and any mistake was met with immediate punishment. It was supposed to lead to a perfect adult life, free of foolish mistakes and mishaps, for the prosperity and safety of the family.

But now there was an arm curled around his side, hot breath hitting his neck in a steady rhythm as the morning sun was rising, and there was no other way to say it:

He fucked up.

He let himself be lured into the lion’s den, and now the ‘lion’ was curled up asleep next to him, hair a mess, and a self-satisfied smile on his bruised lips.

Hooking up with Hisoka was objectively a mistake, but it wasn’t going to be the end of the world. He was an adult after all, capable of making his own decisions regarding relationships of any nature. Furthermore, whether this was going to be a temporary or a more permanent ordeal, the long distance would keep Hisoka far away enough from any family affairs, and with enough bribery it could kept out of the public eye.

Illumi grabbed his phone from the nightstand, disconnected the charger, and ignored the half-asleep murmurs from the other side of the bed. Whatever thiswas, could work out, no repercussions, no mistak-

’18 Missed Calls from Mother’.

Oh No.

’27 Missed Calls from Mother. 19 Missed Calls from Father’.

“Oh, my folks are soooo pissed right now.” Killua snorted and pocketed his phone again. Gon and him had decided to take a trip to a larger city that framed the Area that the young boy lived in, mainly to buy essentials that Killua didn’t remember to pack for himself, which resulted in him finally having phone reception again. Mito insisted on driving them there, mumbling something about keeping them under control, but generously stayed behind in a café to give the boys some space. It’s been almost 3 days since Killua had arrived, and so far, nothing had been set on fire and there were no trips to the ER, which she considered a personal win. The afternoon sun was beating harshly on them, at least to the standards of the young boy who had spent most of his life either in mildly weathered England or sheltered in the shade cool shade of the Japanese mountain-mansion.

“Aren’t you afraid that they are going to punish you?” Gon frowned.

“What are they goin’ to do? Double take my computer away? House arrest? I could probably set the world record at breaking out. They are just mad that I’m not dancing to their tune, like my stupid brother. My dad’s not even home most of the time, so I don’t know why he’d care.” He stopped in front of a clothing store that advertised bright flower-print shirts. “These look awful, we need them.”

His friend laughed but nodded his head enthusiastically.

There was something incredibly exciting about having a friend. Someone who agreed to go along with your whims and spontaneous ideas, not because they are paid to or want to gain something from it, but because they actively want to.

Inside the store, the boys decided to pick out shirts for each other, determined to dress the other one as ridiculous as possible, hiding whatever they picked out from the racks while giggling like madmen. After a couple of minutes, they shoved each other into separate dressing room cabins, and exchanged the meticulously picked out shirts via throwing them over the cabin separations.

Killua disregarded his black sleeveless hoodie vest and quickly clothed himself in the new shirt without having properly looked at it, to preserve the surprise. On a count of three, the boys simultaneously stepped out of the changing rooms, and stood next to each other, in front of a large mirror.

Gon wore a dark green shirt with the repeating pattern of a shirtless Santa Clause in a lawn chair, with sunglasses and a cocktail in hand. Killua had a galaxy print button-up with various pictures of cats with taco and burrito bodies.

The young teens stood there in silence for a second, before they broke out in loud laughter.

“You look like you’re a middle-aged dad on vacation with his wife Karen!” Killua snorted.

“Well, you look like your name is ‘Bradley’ and you sell knock-off sunglasses on the beach!” Gon replied, and as the boys continued to laugh, he slapped Killua lightly on the upper arm.

Barely a touch, really, and yet: “YEOWCH!”, Killua flinched back.

“Woah, you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, that just kind of stung weirdly. Maybe you’re loaded with electricity or something.” And Gon was ready to write it off, before he got a good look at Killua in the dimmed lights of the shop, away from the bright sun.

“Hey, get your arm out of that sleeve.”

“Huh? Why- “Before he could object, his arm was already being yanked out of the, frankly too big, sleeves of the tacky shirt. “What the hell, Gon?!”

“Killua, did you put on sunscreen this morning?”

“Uh, no? Sunscreen is for dorks.”

By now, Gon could barely supress his laughter, cheeks puffed out to hold it back. “I can tell.”

Killua looked back into the mirror and stared. There was a clear divide between the skin on his shoulder that had been covered by his vest until now, pale porcelain skin inherited from his mother, and the rest of his arm that had been exposed to the sun, now glowing bright red. Cautiously he pressed a finger against his skin, but retracted it immediately with a hiss as a burning sensation shot through his arm.

Gon laughed again, though this time with a bit more sympathy, and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we have something at home against that.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to rip off my skin, that’s not cool.”

“Nope! That comes later, all by itself.”

And Killua laughed, as they made their way towards the cashier, because of course they were going to buy those hideous shirts.

“…Wait, you weren’t serious, were you? Gon?!”

“This is the medicine?” Killua looked at the large plant with scepticism.

“Yup!” Mito took a kitchen knife and sliced off one of the larger leaves. She sliced the leaf vertically and squeezed out transparent goo from it into a bowl, which she handed to the boy with a smile. “There you go. Aloe is good for your skin and will help with the burning.”

A cautious look toward Gon, who didn’t seem suspicious at all, and Killua took the bowl. “Thanks.”

“And starting tomorrow you’ll put on sunscreen before you go anywhere near the sun, young man.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He rolled his eyes with a smile, and the boys went back upstairs to Gons room before Mito would call them back later for dinner. Killua immediately jumped on his sleeping cot, eyed and poked at the contents on the bowl. “So, I just slap this on?”

“Yep!” Gon threw his shopping bag into his closet and flopped on his own bed.

A couple of moments passed, Killua continued to poke at the plant-goo. He wasn’t going to admit out loud that it looked gross, the consistency weirded him out, and that he thought he was being pranked. Though in the end, he didn’t have to say anything, as Gon sat next to him and took the bowl from him. “Looking at it isn’t going to help. Here- “He took the others boy wrist and yanked his arm forward. With his other hand, Gon started to smear Aloe Vera on Killuas arm, who briefly hissed before he relaxed at the welcoming cold of the mixture. The heat and stinging of the sunburn slowly subsided.

While his friend was already getting to work on his other arm, without being asked to, all Killua could think about is that this was…nice. He experienced something new even if it hurt a bit. He didn’t get scolded for it, but instead was just told how to prevent it for his own health. And now his friend was helping him with this as well- because he cares. This shouldn’t be something new to kids his age, he knew this, but the past few days still felt like something secret he unlocked, invisible to everyone else. A welcoming, caring environment, a vast open space to freely explore, not alone but with someone who looks out for you and who you want to look out for, too.

Suddenly, two cold hands were at either side of Killuas face, thumbs stroking over his cheek bones. He flinched with a yelp of surprise, though the others grip on his face kept him in place. “Hold still, you burned your face as well.”

Killua gently but assertively took Gons hands in his and slowly removed them. “I’m good, really.” He hesitated and looked at both their hands. “…I’m really happy that you’re doing all of this for me.”

“Don’t worry, I used to get tons of sunburns when I was little!” Gon snorted, and Killua gave him a playful nudge against his arm.

“I don’t just mean this, I mean like…everything. I’m happy you’re my friend. I didn’t think that could be this nice.” He looked nervously at his hands, uncomfortable with the sudden vulnerability, though before he could react, Gon pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’m happy we’re friends too, Killua. And no matter what happens, I will always be your friend. That’s a promise!”

Killua let himself be hugged for just a few seconds longer, indulged in the kind of physical intimacy that he now felt had been seriously lacking in his life.

“Gon! Killua! Dinner’s ready!”

The boys immediately separated and jumped of the sleeping cot with overlapping “Good talk”s and snickering, before they chased each other down the stairs and into the dining hall. Downstairs they were greeted by a sweet, savoury smell as Mito heaved a large pot onto the wooden table, decked with 3 dinner plates and another larger bowl with mashed potatoes. Gon was the first to arrive at the pot and took a curious peek inside. “Short ribs! Nice!”

“I thought that if I give you boys something you can stuff yourselves with, maybe you’ll be too full to spend the entire night up again playing video games.” She gestured for them to sit down with a proud smile. The teens didn’t hesitate and helped themselves immediately to full plates, the aroma of the food spread even more throughout the room.

As Killua tried to slice into the ribs, the meat parted from the bone after barely just a touch. As he took a bite, the tender meat tasted sweet, spicy, and everything in between. “These are the best ribs I’ve ever had. No Doubt.”

Mito laughed. “They better be! The trick to getting the meat this tender is to really just let them sit in the slow cooker for a full 9 hours, better even 10, and only interrupt to season to taste now and then.”

“Mhm. You know, I don’t think my mom even knows how to cook.”

“…Do you know how to cook, Killua?”

“Pff, no. Why?”

Gon swallowed another large bite of food before speaking. “Not even breakfast eggs?”

“Nope!” Killua continued to eat, as Gon and Mito exchanged a somewhat concerned look.

“Killua, would you like to help me cook breakfast tomorrow? We could try making pancakes.” Mito tried not to sound condescending as she suggested this, and Gon supported her with enthusiastic nodding.

“I-…Sure. But don’t blame me if anything catches on fire, okay?” The group laughed, and the rest of the dinner passed by peacefully, until the landline phone rang.

Mito got up and cleared her throat before answering. “Hello? …” She glanced at Killua. “…Mhm, sorry, who is this?” She covered the receiver with a worried look. “Killua, do you have a brother named Illumi?”

In a matter of seconds Killua had gotten up and snatched the phone from Mitos hand. “What.”

“Killu, it’s Illumi, how are you enjoying your spontaneous vacation?”

“How did you get this number?”

“I’ve got my ways.”

“Are your ways called Milluki?”

“Doesn’t matter. I hope you had fun these couple of days, but its time to come home. Mother is worried sick. If you come back now, you may even get your computer back.”

“HA! Fat chance. I’m too busy getting sun burned, buying ugly clothes and- and I’m going to learn how to cook with my friend tomorrow. So, suck it and leave me alone.”

There was a deep sigh at the other line, and what sounded like a second person snickering. “Killu, you have 24 hours to pack your things, book a plane, and think about how to properly apologize to mother and father for the trouble you have caused. If you fail to do so, I am going to have to come over there and take you back myself.”

“Don’t forget to pack sunglasses and sunscreen, Illumi. Bye.”

“Kil-“

Killua slammed the phone back into the loading station and sat back down at the table as if nothing happened. Silence weighed heavy in the room, but Mito was the first to find her words again and walked over to Killua to put a supporting hand on his shoulders.

“Are you alright, Killua?”

“Yeah! He’s kind of a control freak, I’m used to it.”

“But what’s going to happen when he actually gets here?” Gon asked nervously, though Killua merely shrugged as a response.

“Don’t know. Probably house arrest, maybe they are going to take my phone away but I’m sure I can just take my little brothers if I ask nicely.”

“This is so unfair… You practically just got here! There’s so much more I wanted to do together with you! And if they take your phone, we can’t even talk once you leave…”

And Killua was about to try to give some reassuring statements, but then it struck him-

“Hey, Gon, remember when you thought that me coming over spontaneously was kind of wild, crazy, but fun?”

“Y-yes?”

“Wanna do something wild, crazy, but fun with me?”

The woman behind him picked up faster on what he meant than Gon did. “Wait a min-“

“Huh?”

“Want to go to Japan with me?”

“Yes! Of course!!” Gon started to slap the table in excitement.

“We can visit my sister, and there’s servants there who definitely won’t snitch on us, and we can go hiking in the mountains! It’s great!”

“There’s so much food I want to try! And we need to go to one of those cool Zoos!”

“Definitely!! And there’s this great-

“Boys…”

“Hell yeah! Maybe there will be- “

“BOYS!”

The teens stopped in the middle of their lively conversation and starred at Mito; eyes blown.

“Do you seriously think you can just take a plane together, while running away from your family, without any supervision?”

Killua hesitated before speaking up. “Well, I did make it over here…”

“And now you’re in trouble with your family!”

The young boy sighed and hung his head in defeat, to which his friend took his hand in an attempt at comfort. Gon had the most well-trained puppy eyes, which locked onto Mito as their target.

“Well, if you had adult supervision though…”

Immediately both of the teens jumped up and hugged her. “Of course you can come!” “It’s going to be so much fun!”.

And as Killua explained how he can book last minute tickets to the nearest airport where his sister resided, Mito thought to herself that she may have bitten off more than she could chew. But maybe that didn’t matter. Because rarely had she seen Gon that happy, and maybe taking a risk once in a while for the sake of someone else wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“He hung up on me.” Illumi dropped his phone and starred at the wall.

“Well, did you really expect he was going to be obedient and say, ‘why yes dear brother I am on my way home right away’?” Hisoka was still in bed and rolled around leisurely, seemingly not a care in the world, though his grin was telling that he enjoyed the situation unfolding in front of him immensely. Illumi had been pacing the room ever since his mother called, hair a mess and Hisokas bathrobe half-heartedly thrown on, it was a welcomed view.

“He was supposed to. But this is fine. I can manage this.”

“Mmh, sell me on your plan~”

“I’m going to pack my things, then I will fly back home, make sure mother is well cared for, and then fly to Australia to drag my little brother home by his ears if I have to.”

“Then let me ask you this, caro mio:” The artist slowly separate himself from the comfort of his bed, and stood behind Illumi, slender fingers carefully combing through the black, sleek hair. “Have you ever been to Australia?”

“No, but I don’t see how that should be a problem.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if you had a guide? Someone who isn’t going to chase you down some backroad that’ll turn into a dead end 30 kilometres in?”

Illumi turned around to face his weird companion. “When have you been to Australia?”

“I’ve been around~” He lied smoothly, one hand running along Illumis chin. “Doesn’t a little road-trip together just sound lovely? I promise I’ll be on my best behaviour~”

“Somehow I have trouble believing that. And even if I would agree to have you accompany me to Australia, I have to drop by home first, and I don’t want you stepping foot anywhere near our property.” Illumi slapped his hand away. “I might come visit after Killua is back home, though.” He turned to go and pack his things, but Hisoka had an arm around his waist and kept him still.

“Tesoro, listen to yourself. Your mother has a billion butlers, your father, and your siblings by her side. Why don’t you fly to Australia immediately to get the job done quickly? Otherwise, you’re just inefficiently wasting time, aren’t you?”

“You do have a point, unfortunately…” He tilted his head to the side, and immediately felt warm lips on his neck. “Still doesn’t mean I’m going to take you with me.”

“What if I say please?”

“How old are you?”

“What if I contact Machi for you and negotiate a collab that will contractually play out majorly in your favour?” Illumi let the thought run through his mind and considered the pros and cons. “And I won’t show anyone the candid photo that is my screensaver now~” Before he could ask what he meant, Hisoka was dangling his phone in front of him, with a shirtless picture of Illumi as his screensaver, just as promised.

“Hey- Give me that!”

Hisoka jumped out of slapping-range and snickered. “Take me to Australia, and that will turn back into a picture of myself.”

“This is blackmail, and I can sue you for this.”

“See you in court, amore.”

“Fine! If you insist, you can come with me. But I will bury your body in the desert if you give me enough reason to.”

Immediately Hisoka threw himself at Illumi. “Yay~! Our first couples’ vacation!”

“We aren’t…forget it.” Illumi sighed, though Hisoka could have sworn he saw a slight smile as he pressed a kiss to the designer’s cheek.

What’s the worst that could happen?

#hunter x hunter #hisoillu #killugon #hisoka marrow #illumi zoldyck #killua zoldyck #gon freccs #hxh fanfic #fanfiction #hisoillu fanfic #hxh fanfiction #AU #i can finally lay myself to rest

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absideon-ephemeral · 3 years ago

Text

II - Roommates, Commanders, and Generals.

A/N: And they were roommates - I'm sorry. The next chapter will be a lot more interesting as we finally get into the plot. And just as a heads up, THERE WILL BE NO SMUT AT ALL. Idk how to write it and I don't want to make a complete fool of myself if I do so. If I ever learn I may add some.

Warnings: mild language, curse words.

METANOIA Masterlist

——————————

Who knew a ship could be so damn big.

I had walked and walked, following the map on my datapad to my quarters, which seemed to be on the other side of the ship. It was nearly midnight and I still hadn't reached it.

During the entire walk, I couldn't get the strange encounter with Kylo Ren out of my head. Why had he just stared at me? What was that prickling sensation? My mind was going so fast, asking so many questions, that I almost ran into a wall. I had stopped myself just short a couple of inches from slamming right into it. I stood there, recollecting myself, as a quiet, minuscule beeping came from my datapad.

Looking down, the beeping was signifying that I had reached my destination. In front of me were my quarters and not some random wall.

"For kriffs sake, finally," I muttered.

I shut off my pad and went to reach for the control panel next to me, but I stopped myself from hitting the door button. Are my roommates already inside? What if they're already asleep? I don't want to get on their bad side, who knows how long I'll be rooming with them.

"Hey!"

My head whips to the side to be met with a stormtrooper.

"What are you doing here?" They asked. From the sounds of it, the stormtrooper was female.

"I asked you a question."

"I'm sorry, I'm supposed to be rooming here." My words flew out fast and uneasy.

"Whose orders?" The stormtrooper asked.

"Head technician Ademir. He said that there were no available rooms in the technicians' quarters and that this was the first available spot," I explained.

The stormtrooper made a noise of understanding and hit the door button on the panel. It slid open with a slight whoosh and was pitch black inside. The stormtrooper went in, turning the lights on in the process. I stood there, awkwardly, almost waiting for an invitation.

"Well, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to come in?" The stormtrooper said.

"Uh, yeah right." I hurriedly walked in, the door closing behind me.

The room was semi spacious. It had two dressers, three beds, each with its small nightstand; a refresher, and a window that outlooked the galaxy.

I made my way further in and sat on the bed that looked unoccupied. I sat rather stiffly as the stormtrooper began to take off her armor.

Her helmet came off first, revealing dark skin, that almost seemed to have a honey glow to it, brown eyes, and a pretty face.

"So what's your name little technician?" She asked. Without the helmet on, I could hear an accent that was unfamiliar to me. I gave her my name and asked for hers.

"LN-7245." She answered as she continued to undress.

"LN-72- okay, that's a lot to call you by. Do you have a nickname or something I can use?" I asked.

She momentarily stopped her movements. "No. All we ever go by is our numbers." She then resumed, sitting down on the bed to take off her shin armor.

"Well, what about," I pondered for a second, "Leonora or Leo for short." She looked up at me.

"Leonora," she tested the name on her tongue, "I like it. Sounds nice. Where'd you come up with that?"

" Your number started with LN. I just took it from there and made something out of it that sounded pretty."

"Well, thank you for that." Leonora stood up, grabbed a case from under her bed, and began to pack away her armor for tomorrow.

When she finished, she grabbed some clothes, presumably sleep ones, out of the drawer on her nightstand. Before walking away to the refresher to change, she turned to the bed farthest away from me and smacked the person, who I honestly didn't even see, that was lying in it. They awoke with a start, cursing in Durese, a language known by space travelers.

"Why would you do that? I was sleeping so nicely!" They groaned. It was another female. This one had blond hair with brown streaks, blue eyes, and a pretty face as well.

"We have a new roommate. Be nice." Leonora smacked her again with her clothes and went to the refresher to change.

The girl grumbled something then turned to me, leaning back on her elbows, her head cocked to the side.

"So, what's your name?" She asked. I gave it to her. She peered at me curiously.

"You don't look like a stormtrooper." She pointed out.

I laughed. "What gave that away?"

She looked me up and down, "You don't have the body of a stormtrooper. And the way you seem to carry yourself, I'd assume you're a technician."

"Right you are." She laughed.

"I'm ZA-7283."

"Nice to meet you. Can I give you a nickname?" I asked.

"Nickname?" She asked. Leonora walked out of the refresher, dressed in comfy, all-black, nightclothes.

"She gave me one," Leo laid down on her cot, putting hands behind her head, "I'm Leonora, Leo for short." She had an air of pride around her.

The other girl gasped. "That sounds so cool! I want one too!"

"Okay, um, how about Zariah?" I suggested.

"Ooo, I like that. Makes me sound badass!" Zariah exclaimed. Leo and I laughed at her enthusiasm.

After we all calmed down, Zariah asked me a question.

"So why did they put a technician with two stormtroopers?"

I told her the same thing I told Leo.

"Ahhh okay. Well, at least you got two roommates who aren't sticks in the mud. That would've sucked." Zariah laid back down. I nodded in agreement.

—————————

"Shit, shit, shit, shit."

I hoped to maker that there were no higher-up officials around, because if so, I would've most likely faced punishment. I was currently running through the halls like a mad man with my jumpsuit half on and struggling to carry my small tool bag.

I had completely forgotten to set an alarm last night, causing me to wake up 20 minutes late, which is by no means acceptable. Leo and Zari left way before me, as troopers have to get up earlier than the techs, and they didn't even bother to wake me up.

So now I had to resort to dashing my way through the metal halls, weaving in and out of other technicians and stormtroopers. As I slid around a corner, I suddenly ran straight into something. The force I hit it with was enough to send me sprawling backward onto the cold metal floor. I groaned in slight pain and made an effort to sit up. Regaining my bearings, my sight is immediately met with black boots.

My blood ran cold.

Trailing my eyes up, all I see is black. Black pants, a black shirt, a black cloak, and a black helmet.

The prickling sensation returns. This time it's sifting through my mind, weaving in and out of the crevices.

Kylo Ren.

I scramble to my feet as quickly as possible and bring my arm into a salute. Once again, the black soulless eyes of his mask stare into the very depths of me.

"Please forgive me, Commander, sir!" The wavering words flew out. He said nothing, and I feared that he would whip out his lightsaber and end me right then and there. But he simply stared for a few more moments then briskly walked away, the prickling fading with him.

I watched as he left, not dropping my salute until he disappeared completely and I could no longer hear his boots on the metal floor.

When I had deemed it safe, I dropped my arm and breathed a sigh of relief. Gathering myself together, zipping up my uniform properly, and grabbing my bag, I made my way to my task for the day.

I was assigned to fix some damage in a meeting room, presumably caused by Kylo Ren during a meeting that had gone sour.

But when I walked through the doors metal blast doors, I couldn't help but curse.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

In front of me was one of the biggest messes I have ever seen. The poor innocent wallhad been slashed many times by a burning saber, leaving deep jagged lines. They crossed and weaved in and out of one another, forming some type of chaotic artwork. No matter the strange beauty, this was going to be a pain to fix.

Setting my bag down, I went closer to inspect the damage. The wiring underneath it had been damaged severely. Some areas are worse than others, but half of the underneath panels would need to be replaced.

Looking away from the wall, I took notice of a larger bag of tools and a welding cart set off of the side; free for me to use. I walk over to the bag, open it, and grab my first piece.

——————

Four hours and counting. That's how long I've been fixing this mess. And I haven't even gotten to re-welding the slashes yet.

For the last hour, I've been working in a tight space. Literally.

To fix some of the wires in one of the deeper slashes, I had to go inside the wall. It required me to remove the vent cover, which resided right below the slash near the floor, and crawl inside; upside down. It took me several tries and having to unzip my jumpsuit halfway, revealing my black under tank, and tie the sleeves around my waist to finally weasel in. My back was flat against the air vent as I worked and I could hardly hear anything. Honestly, it was a miracle I even fit. After removing the air duct lining, I was able to finally access the wires.

Which leads me up to now. I was in the process of attaching one of my last wires, peacefully working and oblivious to the outside world, when something unexpectedly nudged my foot.

The sensation made me jolt up, my head slamming into the roof of the duct.

"Kriff!" The word escaped as pain now radiated through my head. My foot was nudged again. "One moment please!" I shouted. I began to weasel my way back out, having slight difficulty due to not being able to see much.

Once I finally got my head and arms out, I sat on the ground, blinking my eyes to adjust to the harsh lighting, having been in a dark vent for the last hour.

"Did you hear me?"

My head whipped up, and I was met with someone you hoped to never meet; the infamous, General Hux.

I stood immediately, getting a slight head rush from the fast movement, and saluted. "General Hux, sir." I addressed him.

He looked at me with distaste; not pleased to see me without my uniform on properly. But there was no going back now. He looked me up and down, a frown forming on his face. He was just like I've heard him to be. Short, red-haired, and a not-so-pleasing face that was always screwed up in a face of displeasure.

He huffed and spoke again. "Did you hear me at all?" His voice was snobby and pitched.

"No sir, I couldn't hear anything in there." I curtly replied, taking notice of the men behind him. Other Generals and officers, I had never seen, but by the way they presented themselves, they were important.

"Well, I had asked what you are doing in here. This is a restricted area to those without permission." He sneered, obviously not liking me.

"I was tasked to fix this damage, sir. Some of the wirings needed to be replaced but I could only access it through the vent, sir." I remained still, keeping my salute.

"On whose orders?"

"Head technician Ademir, sir. I have the assignment on my data-pad if you wish to see, sir."

"That won't be necessary. Do you have any other tasks to do?" He was growing frustrated at my presence.

"No sir, I don't. This is my only one due to how much work it requires." I answered. He huffed and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the blast doors opening, and someone walking in. My view was blocked by the other men, but General Hux rolled his eyes, already knowing who had entered.

"Ah, Commander, how pleasant of you to join us."

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader

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kookicat · 4 years ago

Text

The Price of Peace

He gives in, in the end, to the doc's increasingly worried questions, coupled with concerned looks from the team and lets the man drive him to the hospital. Maybe he’s more blasé about injuries than the rest of the team, but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid. He knows his body well enough to know when to worry, and while he’s pretty sure there’s no need now, he’s no longer responsible for just himself. He has a team who relies on him now, and that’s enough motivation to accept the offer.

Nate herds Hardison and Parker back to the hotel and Eliot expects Sophie to go with them, but she follows him to the doctor's truck. His zip through hoodie is in her hands and she offers it to him, because the night air is taking on a chill and his skin and hair is still damp from the exertion. He slips it on, keeps his eyes averted from her as he eases his left arm into the sleeve, biting back a curse because moving hurts. It’s been a while since he did any real wrestling and the muscles in his back and thighs are letting him know they’re not happy about it.

The doc unlocks the truck doors and climbs into the driver's seat, cell phone in hand as he makes quiet arrangements. Eliot tucks himself in the back seat next to Sophie with a groan he can't quite stifle. There's a nasty throb starting in his left shoulder and his left eye has started to swell closed. The gloves have worked to mostly protect his hands but his knees and elbows are already sore. It's nothing that he hasn't been through before, but he's not used to anyone looking out for him, more used to retreating to that week's safehouse and bunkering down until the worst injuries heal and he can take his next job. Having a team to care about -for- him is new, and he'd be lying to himself if he said he's totally comfortable with it.

Sophie wordlessly hands him an instant ice pack and he presses it to his cheek, leaning back against the seat and letting his good eye close. His head aches, a sharper pain wrapping around his cheekbone and down through his jaw. The ibuprofen he'd swallowed back in the gym aren't doing anything but making him feel vaguely sick. The truck is chilly despite the hoodie and the ice pack isn't helping. He shivers once, a quick quake working through his body.

"Here," Sophie says quietly and shakes out one of her giant scarfs so it mostly covers him. The silk is cool on his skin at first but it warms quickly. It smells like Sophie- jasmine and musk and some hint of spice that he’s never quite figured out. It helps, blocking some of the cold sir and he feels himself relax, just a little, which helps his tight muscles.

He has to swallow twice before he can answer and even then, his voice isn't quite as steady as he would have liked. "Thanks." He forces his good eye open and rolls his head so he can look at her.

It's just dark enough to hide the expression on her face, but he thinks that she's frowning. "We could have found another way, you know," she says, softly. "No-one would have thought less of you."

Something in his jaw clicks when he starts to speak. "How long would that have taken? We did the right thing." He shifts, fingers clenching under the scarf as his battered ribs join in the chorus of hurts playing on his body. "The Howorths are safe now, and Rucker can't try the same trick on anyone else."

"Damn hard," the doctor says, "watching you taking that battering. Never seen anyone do that before." The doctor glances at them in the mirror, then turns his eyes back to the road.

"It's what he does," Sophie says, with a tone in her voice Eliot can't quite figure out, because he’s exhausted and hurting and still feels vaguely sick. There's reluctant admiration in it, coupled with worry, because they all know there's only so much damage a body can take before something breaks beyond repair.

It's not something he wants to think about, at least not while he's battered and bleeding. He closes his eyes again, leaning back against the seat, and lets himself doze, just a little, knowing it's a risk but doing it anyway. Trust has to start somewhere, and this is that place.

"Eliot," Sophie calls softly as they pull into the hospital parking lot. He's quiet and still on the seat next to her, enough to worry her if it wasn't for the steady rise and fall of his chest. There’s a little blood on the corner of his lip, more caked in his hairline and the sight of it makes something fierce clench in her chest. We should have found another way, she thinks, even though she knows it would have taken too long, left the family they were trying to protect defenceless. As much as she hates it, he’d been right.

He blinks awake, muscles in his jaw clenching as the pain hits again, sending measured breaths through his teeth until he gets it back under control. "Fuck," he breathes, fingers flexing in a way that makes her want to take his hand. He catches something in her expression and smiles, softly. “I’m okay,” he says and hands the scarf back to her.

“Eliot, you’re bleeding,” Sophie replies, and hears the doctor chuckle dryly at her tone. He is though, a slow trickle threading through his hair. His face is lined with pain and she hadn't missed the slight shake in his hands when he passed the scarf back.

He shakes his head, lost for words, and twists to open the truck door, bracing himself as he swings his legs out. Moving is a bad idea, because the slow, sluggish nausea that’s been plaguing him suddenly becomes much more acute, and he has to close his eyes, leaning back against the truck until the worst of it passes and he can breathe again.

Cool fingers find his wrist, and he startles a little, twitching his arm away. “Sorry,” Sophie says, and reaches for his arm again. “May I try something?”

He squints at her, then nods, once, and regrets it as a galaxy of stars filters through his brain. It’s all part and parcel of a concussion, and while he’s lived through it before, he’s not too thrilled to be living through it now.

She presses her fingers against his wrist, feeling for the right spot, knowing she's found it when some of the tension in his jaw fades. "I learned this on a cruise. The ship had some wonderful art I was going to relocate, but we got hit by a tropical storm and I spent three days throwing up until one of the stewards took pity on me."

It helps, as does her warmth as she leans against the truck, close but not quite touching him. "Let me tell you, when he showed me this, I wanted to kiss him and kick him at the same time."

He huffs a quiet laugh at that and starts walking, gently disengaging her fingers. They follow the doc towards the hospital doors and Eliot wonders why in hell he let himself be talked into this. He has no love for hospitals, has spent more time than he'd like inside of them, and he already can't wait to be walking back out of this one.

It's a handsome redbrick building, newer than he'd expected. The doc leads them straight into the ER and points to an open bay, where there’s already a nurse waiting. Eliot stops, thinking about walking back out to the truck, going back to the hotel and sleeping for at least twelve hours. A quick glance at Sophie’s face dissuades him of that idea; she’s frowning, clearly worried, and her eyes keep darting from the blooming bruise on his cheekbone to the still oozing cut on his hairline.

“Eliot?” she says, and the frown deepens. “What’s the matter?” Her hand drifts to his elbow and he draws in a soft breath because the contact hurts. He's pretty sure that come the morning, he's going to be covered in nasty dark bruises.

“Nothing,” he says, and resigns himself to god knows how much poking and prodding, taking a seat on the bed, idly rubbing his thumb over one aching knee. “Can we get this over with?” he asks the nurse, with the best smile he can muster and sighs.

----

He walks out again four hours later, after enough scans and xrays to make him feel like he's glowing, a bag of prescription meds dangling from one hand, a pretty good buzz running through his veins and ten stitches in the cut in his scalp. All he wants is to find a vaguely horizontal place to occupy and sleep for at least eight hours. His limbs feel like they're made from lead, heavy and stiff and vaguely achy. His back aches too, each step jarring through him like he's in a car with a blown suspension. His left shoulder is taped, supporting a torn muscle, and he's starting to wish he'd accepted the offer of a sling.

Sophie is sitting in the waiting area, silk scarf wrapped around her. She looks exhausted and he pauses, feeling a wave of fondness wash over him at the sight. She has nasty oily coffee from the ancient vending machine and she offers him the cup when he walks up to her.

The smell makes his stomach roll and he shakes his head. "I'm good, thanks," he says, voice just a little hoarse, and thinks about sitting down. He's pretty sure he won't get back up any time soon if he does so he rests his hip on the row of chairs instead.

He can see the question in her eyes just waiting to escape, and while she's not frowning any more he's got to know her well enough to know that she's still worried. "I'm fine. Nothing major," he says, carefully avoiding mentioning the hairline fracture in his cheekbone. "Worst of it is a couple of broken ribs and a damned concussion."

She presses her lips together, a mix of anger and concern drawing her brows into a frown. "Just a couple of broken ribs," she mutters and shakes her head.

"Soph," he says, fighting back a yawn. She looks up at the nickname, head tilting just a bit. "I'm fine. I've lived through worse. It'll suck for a couple weeks, that's all." He keeps his tone gentle, knows the anger in her is coming from a place of worry, knows she's probably blaming herself, because he knows for damn sure that's what he'd be doing if their positions were reversed. He'll tell Nate everything in the morning, because you don't hide injuries from your commanding officer, but Sophie doesn't need to know everything. It's just more weight to bear and God knows they're all already carrying enough.

The doc breaks the moment by ambling over, Eliot's chart tucked under his arm. He offers it to the other man. "Figured you wouldn't want a record of your visit leaving here," he says and pulls his keys out of his pocket. "Can I interest anyone in a lift back to their hotel?"

----

The gentle motion of the truck is soothing and he leans on the door, bruised temple resting against the cool glass and lets his mind drift. His eyes don't want to focus, turning the passing street lights into a pleasing blur. He's not sure if it's the concussion, the exhaustion, the drugs, or a combination of all three but he's content to just watch the darkened streets go by. He blinks heavy a couple of times, realising that he's dozing again and they're almost back at the hotel.

The doc swings the truck into the parking lot and drives up to the door, pulling to a gentle stop. Eliot knows he should thank the man but he can't find the energy and settles for an exhausted nod as he opens the door and practically falls out of the vehicle. He desperately needs sleep, preferably before the painkillers start to wear off.

Sophie waves the doc goodbye and comes to stand at Eliot's side, one hand raised like she wants to help but isn't sure how. He digs deep, trawling reserves of energy he rarely ever uses, and forces his legs to move. They stumble into the waiting lift and he leans against the wall with his good shoulder, all the words he wants to say jumbled on his tongue.

She reads something of it in his expression and nods, once; message received and understood.

The lift stops and they walk out. He expects Sophie to head to the girls' room but she doesn't, pulling out a key card and leading the way to the third room they'd hired, the one Hardison had dubbed the control centre. "The doc said someone should keep an eye on you tonight. He listed a few gruesome ways in which you could come to peril," she says dryly and pushes the door open. "Besides, Parker snores. I hope you don't."

"No one has ever complained," he says and limps into the room, heading to the recliner, glad he's got running shoes on that he can just toe off unlike his usual boots. He's pretty sure he's going to have enough trouble getting up in the morning and the bed just seems like tempting fate. "I'm fine here," he tells her and eases down into the soft leather, tapping the button to raise the leg support. It takes him a second to get vaguely comfortable but he's honestly so exhausted that he's not sure comfort is really going to matter.

Sophie shakes a blanket out over him, watching him fight to keep his eyes open. There's something oddly endearing about it that makes her smile. "Go to sleep," she says softly and with a sigh, he does.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907364/chapters/70920525 part two is posted here too. 😊

#leverage #whump #eliot spencer #fanfic #hurt/comfort #sophie devereaux #the tap out job #A little what if #episode tag

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star-killer-md · 4 years ago

Text

My Foolish Heart

Requests:

@worm800 : babe, let's get some kylo fluff in here. KING of minimal and accidental kindness lmao. there's an option at the bottom of fluff prompts that says "writer's choice," so consider this a wildcard. some /suggestions/ i have are from the kiss prompts 7, 26, 25, 44. <3 <3 <3

@obsessionprofessional : I don’t know if you’re still taking requests (thanks, shitty tumblr functions) but may I request Kylo being sweet with the reader after you’ve had a bad day? Thank you!!!! Also please disregard this if your requests aren’t open!

Thank you both so much for requesting and waiting for me to actually write things. I hope you enjoy 💖

Summary: A little companion piece set before the events of DALDOM, one of RC’s very first dreams of Kylo after her promotion.

Warnings: the set up is angsty cause it’s me, but there’s some fluff at the end, you don’t really need to have read my longer fic to understand, but it might be helpful

Word Count: 1.5k

It was the yelling that did it.

That set you reeling and made your heart pound in your ears and your hands shake and your breath rattle in your lungs and—

And you wanted to put your fist through the top of your desk to relieve some of the pent up adrenaline, but that would mean admitting it got to you. Either way you came out wounded. At this point it was just a matter of what’s more important: your hand or your pride.

Hux’s voice still bounced around in your skull, bruising neural pathways with the way it echoed. Logically, you understood that sometimes situations were simply irreparable. That there were occasions in your line of work when egos had been too badly damaged or high ranking individuals too personally insulted for you to do any sort of patch job. To be fair, you were most certainly not the one who had shot down multiple allied space crafts during the invasion of a resource rich, outer rim planet killing the son of one very important ambassador in the process, but somehow it ended up on your desk nonetheless.

And there were not enough credits at your disposal to make up for a dead son.

You suspected there may not be enough credits in the whole of the galaxy to negate that loss.

Not that you would know—holodramas can only get you so far in understanding conventional family dynamics—but it seemed a cheap move even as the offer of compensation left your mouth.

Turns out, you were right.

The negotiations ended with a severing of ties from the Order and your ass in Hux’s line of fire. Of course it was you on the receiving end of his verbal arsenal seeing as Commander Trigger Happy Ren was conveniently predisposed in the medbay.

How fortunate for him.

You’d escaped to your office just in time, closed the door and sat and wished you had a pillow so you could scream into it. Because if you screamed, the stinging in your eyes might go away and take the growing knot in your throat with it.

You weren’t bad at your job, in fact you had just been promoted.

You thrived in fast paced environments, you could think on your feet and Hux must not believe you’re a complete moron—he did hire you—but you just…

There was nothing you could have done to salvage that meeting. Nothing you could have said or offered, but it felt like there must have been something you missed.

You wanted to be impressive, needed to be impressive. To whom you weren’t sure, maybe everyone. The look of disgust and disapproval on the General’s face was burned into your eyelids. You simply couldn’t stand the thought of failing.

This was the only thing you were ever actually good at.

And you needed to be good at it, because you didn’t have anything else.

Something wet and shameful dripped from your chin and onto the cold, metal desk. The stream continued until there was a veritable puddle forming, threatening to spill over the edge and soak your uniform trousers. What was it Hux had called you?

Pathetic.

Damn if you weren’t just proving him right.

You thought sourly of Kylo Ren. He’d surely be surrounded by medical droids and basking in the light of his victory, completely unbothered by its consequences. He stood on a pedestal—the hero of the First Order, its strongest weapon, a god in his own right leading you on the path to glory—while you were swallowed up in the shadow he cast.

Trapped in the dark trail left behind, you carried the weight of massacred planets and dead sons on your shoulders.

And how dare you falter.

How dare you be anything but grateful.

That’s what all your coworkers said when you got this position. What an honor, they said.

What an honor.

What an honor it was to work so closely with such powerful men.

And, gods, you had actually believed that.

What an honor?

What a load of shit.

You sniffed, wiping your face and nose on your jacket sleeve. This wouldn’t be the first time you’d been screwed over, and it most certainly wouldn’t be the last. The least you could do was finish the report quickly. That way it could be sent off to rest in the graveyard of all the Order’s other failed alliances and you could forget it had ever happened.

Which would give you more time to stew, more time to focus on who was truly at fault here.

You’d known very little about Commander Ren coming into this position—and while a reluctant part of you was enamored by his strength—the more you learned, the more he enraged you. In fact, you didn’t even know what he looked like behind that ridiculous mask he insisted on wearing at all times, but that mattered very little.

Your anger did not need a face.

Swiftly, you typed the report, forwarded it to the appropriate recipients and went directly to your quarters. The shifts would be changing soon and you wanted to escape into sleep for a while. The cafeterias would be open when you woke up anyway.

Something felt strange as you stripped and slid into your bunk, the hard mattress pressing into your spine. The blankets were thin and scratched painfully at your skin in the low light. Your eyes fell closed somewhat against your will, like it wasn’t quite sleep that pulled you hard into a dark unconsciousness, devoid of thought. But you didn’t have the power to resist it regardless. In seconds the room faded out into a drowsy haze and you surrendered into the comforting oblivion.

***

It felt like waking.

A sort of gradual coming into existence starting from your toes and working up until you could just barely peel your eyes open.

Your head was spinning in the way it often did when you woke up at your desk expecting to be in bed. That same, strange disorientation flitted about your brain as it registered whatever was laying underneath you was much softer and warmer than your mattress. It rose up and sunk every so often like it was breathing. Maybe it was. Certainly felt that way, considering the cool prickle of moving air on your neck.

Everything was still black, so you concentrated on the placement of your limbs in space. You were face down. There was something large and solid squeezed between your thighs, what felt like bone under muscle pressing in when you shifted. It felt very much like a body, with arms crushing you to a massive chest, and your head tucked into the crook of his neck. That explained the warmth then. You burrowed deeper into him, breathing in the scent of mint that fanned across your face.

After a few moments of settling, the body shifted. He dropped his head, grazing the softest, plushest, pair of lips over the shell of your ear. You shivered and his arms tightened around you, eclipsing your body in his. The lips wandered lower, ghosting across your neck and licking a wet stripe down until they reached the joining at your shoulder and nibbled at the skin.

Like he was tasting you, drinking the tension in your bones. With every press of his lips to your flesh, you went limp and melted into the body below you.

Long locks of hair brushed your nose as he moved, descending on the other side to suck and bite at the skin. Teeth dug in, stinging as they printed marks across your chest.

It was so…

Familiar.

A quiet hum escaped you and was muffled by the broad expanse of torso. That made him still, made him pause, and tilt your head back by the hair. His hand cupped the whole of your skull in his palm.

So big, so firm.

So all encompassing.

You couldn’t see, but you felt eyes on you—searching, though not finding.

There was breath on your lips, and it wasn’t your own. It was sharp and clean and so close you could taste the warmth of it. The burning inside your chest and eyes was laid to rest under his scrutiny. A hand, with calloused, thick fingers ran along the curve of your jaw, clenching every now and again as though they were accustomed to such a soft touch. Used to more force. A tighter grip, a more violent purpose.

But not here, and not now.

You inhaled deeply, stealing some of him and hoarding it deep inside yourself. It felt warm, like his hulking body below you.

It felt good.

It felt right.

It felt safe.

It felt like a beginning.

His hand tensed, and tucked you back into him like his ribs might crack open and swallow you whole. By degrees, your awareness faded out. Your limbs lost their physical presence and everything faded into this odd, in between space. This time it was sleep that called. So, calm, content, and willing you followed its call.

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

#kylo ren x reader #daldom #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren drabble #kylo ren fluff #angst and fluff #prologue piece #dream cuddling

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certifiedskywalker · 4 years ago

Text

Worked to the Bone - Poe Dameron

You have gone without seeing Poe for too long. So when he comes back without telling you, you’re surprised and hurt that he didn’t come to see you. When you ask about the mission he was on, you’ve given sour looks and wary eyes. You miss Poe, even though he has returned to your side.

“Finn?”

“Y/N?”

“When did you get back?” You strode up to your friend, curious eyes glancing around the Falcon. “And where’s Poe?”

Finn turned his head and furrowed his brow, giving you a slightly worried look. “You mean he hasn’t gone to see you?”

Your blood ran cold. The worst things that could happen suddenly happened in your mind that split second and Finn, almost as if he sensed it, reached out to you. His hands gripped your shoulders and held you steady. You could see his mouth moving, see him asking if you were alright when you so clearly were not.

“Y/N, Poe’s fine,” finally, Finn’s voice broke through your haze. Although, what he said left you more confused than before. Where was Poe then? “We landed two hours ago maybe. I thought he went to look for you.”

“Well,” you swallowed and shook your head, “he didn’t find me.” Finn’s hands dropped from your shoulders as he shifted his weight.

“I wouldn’t worry,” Finn said, but he scratched at his neck nervously. You eyed him, unconvinced and frowned.

“How’d the mission go, Finn?”

He let a hiss out of the side of his mouth and screwed up his face in a timid half-smile. “I mean...it wasn't...bad or anything. It just wasn’t to plan. We had to uh...improvise.”

You pressed your lips in a thin line knowing all too well what a mission gone awry would do to Poe. After Crait, after Holdo, he liked to plan out as much as he could. He liked to have back ups, sometimes even back ups for his back ups. All of his thoughtfulness was a nice change but it left so little time for just the two of you, together.

Poe’s work, the Resistance, was beginning to swallow him whole while worry for ate away at you, hungrier than ever before.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean...” Finn sighed, “the First Order got to the village before we could do anything. We barely got out of there ourselves. We wouldn’t have if it weren’t for-”

Chewbacca roared softly, alerting you to his towering presence just behind you. He raised his furry arms and Finn sighed.

“Yeah, I know and he knows.” Finn turned his eyes back to you, his expression almost shameful. “Poe wanted to stay and fight. Chewie jumped before he could go after the Order’s scouting party.”

When Finn went quiet, you fell into your thoughts. If one thing could make Poe scrap a plan, it was the slaughter of innocents. You frowned at the thought and wished you had been there. Your presence wouldn’t have changed anything but you would have been with him, at Poe’s side, felt the same guilt and carried the burden with him.

“I’ll find him,” you said, meeting Finn’s dark eyes. “If you see him first-”

“I’ll let you know.” He gave you a nod, a small reminder than he cared about Poe almost as much as you did. “Give him time, he’s probably...”

Finn trailed off, his words dying on the tip of his tongue; but you knew what he meant.

You gave him a gentle smile before turning your back to the ex-Stormtrooper. Time, a precious thing, was something everyone was in short supply of these days. The Resistance was still trying to piece itself back together and Poe was helping lead the effort. It felt as if the First Order’s hold on the throat of the galaxy tightened everyday. You couldn’t shake the gloom over your shoulders and in your head anymore, not like you used to.

You knew that it was partly because of Poe’s absence. More often than not, Poe was away. His side of your shared bed was always cold. When you woke to the empty sheets and pillow, you were reminded of his hair, how messy it would get in sleep. You missed his bedhead and his eyes, his smile, and just, simply, him. It was that emptiness that drove you to walk a little faster through the base.

Although, it was more cave than base. People and fighters littered the stone floor. Droids skittered and chirped as they worked on repairs. Everyone was doing something for the cause. And there you were, looking for Poe in the hopes of having him to yourself even for just a second; how selfish.

“Y/N, you have a minute?” You had to force your feet to stop when you heard Roses’ voice. Turning, you met her tired eyes.

“Um, I,” you thought of Poe and his selflessness. Time, Finn had said, and you could spare a little more. It’s what Poe would do. “Yeah, I do. What’s up?”

A minute turned into hours. Planning and strategy took time and led you no closer to Poe than you were before. Two hours in, you had hope he would walk into the war-room and you would share a knowing glance; a look that read ‘I missed you’ or ‘Thank the Maker I found you’. Four hours in, you felt that hope leave you. By hour six, your heart ached with the same emptiness of your bed. When the eighth hour rolled by, your bed was all you wanted.

“We’re getting no where,” Rose grumbled, rubbing her forehead. “Maybe we should come back to this tomorrow.”

“Yes,” you mumbled in agreement. Your eyelids felt as heavy as twin Banthas. “Tomorrow then.”

Rose nodded and, without a word, you made your way out of the war-room. The bright lights installed in the base hurt your eyes and you cringed. Slightly blind, you wandered deeper into the winding, carved halls of the cave. Soon, you reached a fumbling hand towards your numbered door. It opened in your presence and you nearly fell inside the safety of your makeshift home.

Even with your drooping, misty eyes, you could make out the familiar orange of Poe’s flight suit. At the sight, you perked up and saw him in full. He was sat at the desk in the corner of your shared, cramped quarters. The sleeves of his suit were tied around his waist and through the material of his shirt, you could see his tense shoulders as he worked. Working, always working.

“Poe?”

He didn’t even look up as he spoke. “Yeah. What?”

You were so tired and you missed Poe so much. It took all you had not to run over to the desk and pull him up in your arms. Yet, you were hurt and that stung your heart more than the relief at seeing your love soothed it. Tears welled up in your eyes and the door shut behind you.

“Why didn’t you come find me?”

“I had work to do,” he said, a slight edge in his voice. He was tired too. “Debriefing the General took a while and I was running behind.”

“I was worried.” You didn’t mean for your words to come out in a whisper but you didn’t have the strength to throw your voice any further.

“Hmm, what was that?”

When you didn’t reply right away, Poe craned his neck and met your gaze. His face looked rough. Dark stubble lined his jaw, crawled up his cheeks with the promise of quick growth. The facial hair did little to distract you from the bags under his eyes. Poe looked as if he had flown for three cycles straight, with no rest in sight. Somewhere, looking into the face of the man you loved, you found your voice once more.

“I was worried.” When your words reached his ears, you saw Poe’s face fall. He turned back to his work and sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” You fought the continuing urge to cry and shook your head. You had waited, worked, and labored to see him again and that was all he had to say? “That’s it?”

“Yes, Y/N, I’m sorry. What else would I be?” You curled your bottom lip between your teeth and took a deep breath through your nose in an effort to calm yourself. Sleep’s claws sunk deeper into your skin and made the ache in your chest hurt all the more.

“We...look at yourself,” you whimpered, “you’re barely awake let alone alive. Finn told me about the mission. Please just...sleep. Come to bed with me.” You were desperate to hold him, feel him and his heart under your fingers. It was all you wanted. And you knew, in your bones, as worked as they were, Poe wanted it too.

“I can’t.”

“Poe, you’re exhausted. I-“

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Poe was standing now, his tiredness replaced by anger. Though, he wasn’t angry at you. It ran deeper than the new wildness in his sleepy eyes. Knowing well that his rage was merely his lack of rest, how he felt that he had failed. You stepped towards him, reached a careful hand out towards the side of his face and let your palm cup his cheek.

"I love you."

Poe’s anger fell away into pain. His now bleary eyes closed and he shook his head. With the movement, Poe’s dark hair fell and his scruff tickled your skin. "I know that."

A heavy quiet fell over you and, for a moment, you fear that you've lost him for good. The Resistance finally worked its way between you and Poe, tore you apart. General Leia once told you about her brother, about how married he was to the Rebellion, to the Jedi, that he was blind to anything else. Perhaps Poe had fallen into the same dark vision.

You were about to let your hand fall and let the still-stinging tears finally fall when Poe spoke up. His voice was soft; like a cool breeze on the hottest day Tatooine had to offer.

"I love you too, more than…” His dark eyes met your gaze and you could see his sincerity. “More than anything.” Poe’s hands were now grabbing at your waist, pulling you flush to him. “I’m sorry.”

Before you could protest, tell Poe that you were just as tired as he was and that there was no need to apologize, he pressed his lips to the crown of your head. You closed your eyes at the touch, let yourself melt into his warmth. Then his moved his lips to your forehead, the tip of your nose, then your cheeks. Smiling lazily, your threw your arms over Poe’s tense shoulders. You would have to remind yourself to rub them later.

“I love you,” he whispered, meeting your eyes. You blinked slowly, savoring the feeling of being looked at with all the love Poe could offer you.

“I love you,” you returned to sentiment and leaned up, capturing Poe’s lips in a full kiss. It was sloppy, though the two of you could have cared less. Messy or clean, it was something you shared, with that kiss, your love. Moments like these were so often missed.

Slowly, in the hopes of stretching out this stolen moment a little longer, you pulled away. Your eyes met Poe’s and you couldn’t help the small smile that spread along your lips. His hands tightened on your waist. While standing there, your lingering tiredness returned in full force. Each of your limbs felt heavy and you slumped against Poe’s chest.

“Can we rest now, leave the work for tomorrow?” You felt a rumbling in Poe’s chest; a chuckle. You had missed the sound. All of your worries about time slipped from your mind.

“That’s what we’re fighting for right? A tomorrow?”

“And the day after that,” you added and Poe leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “For every day after.”

Wordlessly, Poe led you over to your shared bed. You fell next to him on your thin mattress and scooted close to his warmth. Poe’s arm was slung over your waist, holding you as close as he could. Tomorrow would come with its own challenges. For now, it was just you and Poe and you let yourself sink into the feeling of being whole again. Your eyes closed and the ache in your chest, in your bones, melted away.

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thetorturerwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Lamb: Ch 5 - With Firm Faith

***This amazing artwork was gifted to me by @elmidol. Please do not re-use or re-post it without permission from them and/or myself. Don’t be a dickbag.

Previous Chapter

Summary: It was three steps. Three steps and a world away.

A hundred questions rose in your throat. Did he speak to them? What did he say? Could they see him? Would you be comforted if that version of The Ren was the last thing you saw? What did the team moving behind and around him actually do? What happened to these people after they died?

A/N: Y’all aren’t new. This is adult content. Potentially triggering. Tread carefully.

Word Count: 2.7k

"Hail Leia, full of grace and blessed among women," you grimaced through the prayer, twisting in the sheets, all composure lost.

After the row at the Demarcation, and the nights after, he took you to his bed.

He no longer chased you down in the hallways for his kisses. He saved them. Every day, he scooped you up from wherever you were in the keep, herded you into his bed, and plied you with hungry kisses until you squirmed with senseless desire.

He didn’t immediately leave, either. After that bourbon butterscotch flavor rolled over your tongue, he would capture your gaze, mesmerizing you with the way his irises never quite picked a single hue. Like this, every time, he spun you into spellbound sleep.

Sometimes, he stayed with you. You would wake up groggy and entangled in his sculpted limbs. He told you it was because your nightmares drove you to somnolent sobbing, the sounds of which echoed annoyingly.

You remembered them all. Dreams of your family, their deaths, your journey here, and its purpose.

Any moment you had his attention, you tried to ask about the bargain you’d struck, but he would brush the words away from your lips, rubbing at them absently. In exchange, he would answer another question.

Sort of.

You learned that there truly had been countless others to sacrifice themselves for his favors, and you were right about the altar being stained with blood over time, but he wouldn’t tell you how many he’d actually granted. He confirmed that he tracked the passage of time, but his answer confused you. Nothing here was linear, he said. He simply liked the sound of the clock moving ever forward.

Last night, you asked how many he’d brought back here, kept as a pet, but his eyes darkened with irritation. Then, because foolish was your genetic code, you asked what made you not ready to make good on your end of the deal. On the heels of your stupid curiosity, you’d slept alone.

Besides waking up disoriented next to a deity, he kept you in a constant state of arousal. With kisses that would melt marble, nips to your earlobe that raised goosebumps, and the barest brush of knuckles against your flushing skin. He was relentless, ensuring that it was, in fact, only a matter of time before you begged him to fuck you.

It was this sweaty, weighty, vulgar need that sent your hands roaming, mapping the curves and valleys of your body. You pressed your face into his pillow to inhale the sickly sweet aroma that lingered. You groaned and twisted, feeling light-headed and too full of raw energy for your limbs.

Try as you might to endure his delicious torture chastely, you could only handle so much before the screaming in your cunt demanded you take action.

Digging your fingernails in roughly, you scratched angry red tracks into your inner thighs and the outer, meaty labia in an attempt to subvert the craving, but it only loosed a shudder that lifted your shoulders off the bed.

It would be fine, you coached yourself. He was never here. Just a bit, just a touch would be fine.

Letting your knees fall apart wide, you surged into a painful arch as your fingers connected with your long neglected clit. You skipped everything else; there was no need for foreplay or build up. You hit that wet hot target and worked it desperately, hurriedly.

“Is this what you do when I’m not here?”

You shrieked as his voice broke through the commotion in your brain. You rolled away to hide what you were doing, burning with shame and bristling with unsatisfied lust, but he caught your ankle and pulled you down the bed. Your shirt, his that you’d been wearing since he caught you in it, hitched up around your ribs, baring the evidence of your hunger.

He crawled onto the bed’s corner, inching nearer, and you couldn’t make yourself breathe.

He skimmed your inner thighs, tickling through the stickiness, and tutted at what he found there. Easing down to lie beside you, he turned your face to his and pressed his now tart fingers to your mouth.

“Harlot.”

It was a low rumble, nearly a purr; and in response, your pussy clenched hard around nothing. Dipping his head down slightly, he caught your gaze and held it, the entrancing array of changing color and depth beckoning you in.

You couldn’t have looked away for anything in the Galaxy. It was murky and hypnotic. And when he slipped his fingertips past your lips, you were gone.

“Look at you,” he said, peering into your very soul. “I quite like you like this. Mindless, panting, begging to be filled.”

Slipping wide fingers beneath your jagged collar, he held you to the bed, a physical counterpart to his mental bondage. His free hand wandered, squeezing your breasts, barely grazing through your dewy sex. Emptying you of everything but this all-encompassing yearning.

“Concentrate, little lamb.” He nipped at your lower lip to draw your fluttering eyelids back open and your eyes to focus upon him. “What shall I say to bring you back here? Hm?”

Your insides pooled to lava, painting your thighs and perfuming the air. Your lips wobbled, the feeling building and threatening to tip you over. You were little more than insatiable, feral need made human; and from somewhere, your gray matter produced only supplication.

“...please.”

Please put your hands, your mouth, your dick in me, on me, somewhere, anywhere. Please let me cum for you. Please please please please.

His lips tugged up into a smirk. His eyes flashed with a devilish spark. He leaned down to line his mouth up with the lobe of your ear, his cool breath eliciting a delectable shiver. He was ice to your fire, and you wanted nothing more than to die of hypothermia.

“All right, girl.” His fingers lazily pet your pussy, just a hint of pressure. “I’ll say it. I’ll say please; and when I do, you’ll feel exactly this way — swollen with want, throbbing and feverish, your cunt aching to be stretched and used.”

Absent his narcotic stare, your eyes slammed tight shut on an obscene moan. Sluggishly, your mind worked its way around to functioning, and you clutched at his sleeves with all your might. The thinking part of your brain knew this was manipulation, that he was conditioning you to behave the way he wanted.

The rest of you couldn't care less.

Nearly there, you dug your toes into the soft covers and tipped your hips in just that right way. If he stayed right there for another moment… If you could just hang onto the way you were feeling right now…

As though he could hear the pitiful pleas inside your mind, he pushed his thumb into your mouth to smear that candied drug across your tongue, and your brain exploded. Your body bowed painfully as electricity sizzled up your spine and into your cranium. It was so tight and so sudden of an orgasm you left your body on a sharp cry.

You felt unstable, combustible, and you could do nothing but writhe and shout as the satisfied seizure rolled through you. He spoke through it all, his voice raspy and barely controlled, but whatever he said was lost, each word a victim of the inferno.

At the other side, where you were wrung dry and buzzing from head to toe, guilty tears stung your eyes.

You shouldn’t feel this good. You shouldn’t feel good at all until your purpose here was fulfilled. The purpose he kept you from. And the reward he withheld. Sniffling, you pushed at his shoulder and tried to wiggle from beneath his hands.

Whatever sort of intimate moment this was passed quickly, and the man who’d coaxed you to the sort of orgasm you’d never had before shifted into stoic silence. His features hardened, and his eyes grew cold. Grasping your upper arm, he slid from the bed with you in tow.

You didn't understand what you’d done; but finally, you knew better than to speak.

You jogged next to him, trying in vain to not dawdle, but his legs were so ridiculously long that you struggled to keep up. The dismal, narrow hallway opened up into an immense room so breathtaking you stalled. The walls stretched up forever and disappeared into a sparkling night sky. Sconces twinkled about the room, firelight dancing inside demure, perfectly spherical glass bulbs. You stared at the oddity of it so long you crashed directly into your captor, who had stopped to open a chest at the foot of what you decided was the largest throne you’d ever see.

Too intrigued to let it go, you tugged yourself free so you could investigate the lights. You stood on your toes, trying to get a better look. On a gasp, it registered for you just as he spoke your name.

Stars. The sconces held stars.

You marveled at how, daily, you found something to remind you that you were in The Ren’s clutches. He didn’t just create flowers; he made luscious killers. It wasn’t just a bath; it was magic water. They weren’t just lights; it was trapped starlight.

That cosmic snap cracked to draw your attention, punctuating the vast difference between you as a human and him as decidedly not.

Once you were within his grasp, he stole your shirt in seconds and tossed it over his shoulder as a cadre of men walked into the room. You covered your breasts and squeezed your thighs together, shooting him an angry stare, but he only slapped your hands away and wrapped something long, flowing, and midnight blue around you.

“As much as I enjoyed you in my shirt, lamb, it’s time for something different.”

It resembled a cloak, but with sleeves and a hood, and the flowing bottom portion barely covered you. All he had to do was move one fold aside, and you would be on lewd display. He buttoned the thing around you, tucking the sides in about your breasts, lingering to skim a knuckle over one until it tightened for him.

You didn’t know if you should say thank you. Everything he did was for himself, for his pleasure; so, you didn’t think this was a gift just for you. Pressing your lips into a thin line, you watched him for any hint as to what you should do next.

In the very center of the room was a massive, free-standing obsidian wall, toward which you were hastily led. Bewildered, you frowned at the dull shine of the thing, at the subtle ripple radiating out from the center, at the way you could almost hear voices the closer you got.

What came next, though, set you to anxiously fidgeting.

The Ren stood to one side, and the unit of men who’d appeared from nowhere took up flank. You faced that wall, trapped by the wraiths hulking between you and what you now considered safety. Stealing your focus, the god to your left tipped your face up and searched it for what felt like an agonizingly long time. Etched into his beautiful features was uncertainty, doubt, but what was he looking for? What was he deciding?

“Close your eyes.”

His tone was gentler than you expected, and his fingers didn’t gouge into your skin the way they had when he was angry. With his heavy arm about your shoulder, he tucked you in tight against his body.

It was three steps. Three steps and a world away.

When his hold loosened, you lifted your head and peered out from beneath his shroud. You stood onto your toes and looked over his shoulder, piecing it all together. What you thought was a wall was more like a window, a portal to anywhere, it seemed. On that side was the keep you knew, the familiar corridors and rooms you’d started to figure out.

On this side was a whistling, wicked wind, prophetic gray clouds, and a raging battle. The Ren, too, had transformed. He towered above you, a looming destiny. The cozy shroud you just enjoyed came alive, whipping and billowing around its Master. Worse, a terrible black helmet and mask hid his face. The visor was an onyx void, not reflecting even the smallest shard of light.

This was The Ren you expected that first day.

Subconsciously, you took a step away, but a hard glove latched onto your biceps, and the hammer of your heartbeat intensified.

“Stay here.” The voice that came from inside the helmet was crisp, almost hollow, and you shied away from it. “You touch nothing. You speak to no one. You stay here.”

Dumbstruck, you nodded, ready to prove that you could be more than an idiot girl. They left you at the top of a knoll in the very center of a haunted, stormy sky. Mere steps away, The Ren’s red death saber blazed into existence.

The weight of what you saw dropped you to the ground. The stories were true. He was a ghastly specter, and he reaped in a carmine haze.

The vastness of the universe shrank to this hill, this battlefield. It was all you could process. Gunshots rang out. Blaster fire shot sparks high into the air. Muffled shouts and curses mingled with wailing, with horror and hurt. The boom of a bomb in the distance infused your very marrow with terror, even if you weren’t sure you could die here.

Swallowing down your fear, you tracked the only thing you knew.

Through the fray, The Ren’s path was measured, purposeful. He whirled from fighter to fighter, spinning agilely to miss those who weren't ready for him, but it wasn’t clear if he ever spoke. Each time he paused, still as stone, interminable seconds would pass; and then, they would fall, lifeless.

A warbled sound interrupted your fascination, and you hunted for its origin. Your breath caught at the sight of a young man at the bottom of your hill. Attempting to crawl away from the battle, he hiccuped and sobbed on each painful inch gained.

In a flash, you succumbed to stupid and threw yourself down the hill. Scrambling near to him, you cursed this day, these people because he was just a boy, barely old enough to hold a weapon. There was no way to know if he had been sold to war or was trying to defend his home; but either way, he was too young to be here.

Conscious of at least some of your instructions, you didn’t touch him, but doing nothing to relieve this boy’s suffering was out of the question. His distressed howls cracked apart your heart.

You knew that pain.

Lips trembling, you lay down beside him and pressed your face to the grass near his wounded head. You had no idea if he could see or hear you, but you had to try; and at the first sound of your voice, his panic lessened. He bit down on his lip to keep from crying, listening intently, and you strove to make your voice as kind and warm as your Nona’s always was.

We believe in the Balance, Grandfather Sky Walker, and the makers of heaven and earth, of all things visible and invisible.

We believe in our Fathers, the rightful heirs of the Galaxy, born before all others and all ages.

We believe they made the Balance for our salvation. For our sake, the Fathers hold creation and death in their hands, and we believe them to be just, steadfast, and eternal.

We believe in one true way and the promise of peace in the Balance. We strive to live it, day by day, that we will be fairly judged at the hour of our death.

With firm faith, we make this proclamation and pray it reaches the ears of our Fathers, for theirs is the way, the life, and the Balance.

At the end of your litany, your young warrior was calm. His fingers loosely held his chest, splayed over his heart. He had joined you in prayer; and though you weren’t certain he could see you, he was looking directly at you with such gratitude, such grace and love.

It was a long moment before you realized the boy’s wasn’t the only gaze on you.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #lamb

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