#almost at the point with my laundry where there's none on the floor anymore! like 2 more loads

[lydiacatfish]

i think being back on the vitamin d is working. i did a BUNCH of chores today and we had extra time after dnd so i worked on my sewing project for the first time in a few months.

[sopejinsunflower]

Part 8

Warning: 18+

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“I’ve looked everywhere but I can’t seem to find it!”

We all look up to find an upset Jungkook storming down the stairs at Jin’s heels, Jin carrying a mountain of laundry. Jin, barely seeing his footings, says nonchalantly, “Maybe it’s in this pile, then, JK. I’ll let you know if I find it.” He almost misses a step, stumbling a little but Jungkook’s reflex catches him by the shirt collar and steadies him. They continue down the stairs and make towards the laundry room through the kitchen, their voices still carrying.

“But I’ve checked, hyung!” Jungkook whines. “It’s not there!”

Their voices fade into the distance. Cuddling in the crook of Hoseok’s arm, I look up at him, arching my eyebrows. He shrugs, eyes never leaving the TV screen. I continue to focus on the movie again; How to Train Your Dragon, on DVD. Seriously, who watches DVDs anymore? But of course, it’s one of those things that remind me that we are captives.

“He lost his favourite sweater,” Taehyung explains from on the floor by my legs.

“He has a favourite sweater?” I ask, wondering which one would that be considering none of our clothes are actually ours and which one did Jungkook grow fond of out of all the similar-looking clothes we all own.

“The black one,” Jimin answers from the other end of the sofa. He takes up half the sofa lying down on his side, hugging his knees to him. Hoseok laughs. “That could mean any of the eight black hoodies we all have between us.”

Taehyung chuckles too. “Yeah, which means his one could’ve been with someone else’s pile by now.”

“But,” I add, munching on the red licorice in Hoseok’s hand, “there should be an extra one somewhere.”

Namjoon snorts. He’s sitting at the table reading a book but he must have been listening to the conversation. “If you ask me, if it’s not in the laundry basket, it has to be somewhere in his room. With that mess, you could even get lost.”

We all fall back into silence with only the sound of the movie filling the room. Jungkook and Jin are coming back to the living room now, their voices, well mainly Jungkook’s, informing us that the hoodie of interest is not among the laundry after all.

“I’m telling you, someone has my hoodie,” Jungkook complains. “When I find it, that person is going to get an earful.”

Jin looks like he wasn’t even listening but he answers anyway. “Yes, yes. I’m sure it’ll turn out somewhere. If it doesn’t then that will be the problem.”

Jungkook looks around the room for a place to crash in and his eyes zone in on the small space between Jimin’s feet and me. Perking up, he launches himself in between us, squeezing himself to fit the space. Jimin grumbles but Jungkook bats at his legs playfully before leaning against me, rubbing the side of his head on my arm like a cat. Hoseok groans from being pushed against but his face looks amused. He adjusts his position so that his arm that had been around me, rests on the back of the sofa. Jungkook, a little uncomfortable from the lack of sitting space, easily lifts me up and settles me in his lap, hugging my body close. I giggle, snuggling my head on his shoulder.

“Has anyone seen my towel?”

We turn to find Yoongi scratching his head at the foot of the stairs. “I left it out over there this morning,” he points to a chair by the window, “to dry it but it’s gone. Did someone take it?”

The whole room erupts in a chorus of ‘I don’t know' and ‘I haven’t seen’ and a lot of ‘No’s. Yoongi shakes his head and lets out a slurping sound. “I’m sure I haven't taken it up yet.”

“Maybe it’s in the laundry?” Jin offers.

“I didn’t see a towel in there,” pipes in Jungkook, his forehead scrunching up. “My hoodie is missing too, hyung.”

“If you clean your room you’d probably find it,” replies Yoongi as he heads towards the chair he pointed at earlier. He checks behind it and around the area but even from where I am, I could clearly see the chair and its surrounding; no towel in sight.

“Maybe it grew a pair of legs and just walked off,” I say half-jokingly.

“If it did,” Yoongi says from somewhere on the floor as he crouches down, “I’d like to know if it found a way out because I’ve checked everywhere and I can’t find it.”

“The towel or the way out?” says Jin and he laughs out his windshield wiper laugh. Hoseok and I laugh, too. It was funny but Yoongi reappears looking unimpressed. He walks off, climbing back up the stairs, still scratching his head.

“Y’know,” Namjoon says, looking up from his book, chin resting on his fist. “If we clean up Jungkook’s room we might find everything!”

Jungkook frowns and huffs. “My room’s not that messy.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, so does Hoseok, who half turns to look at the youngest from the corner of his eyes. Taehyung, eyes still glued to the Night Fury that is about to drown right before Stoic saves him, nods. “I’ll probably find my sweater somewhere in there too.”

“Hoseok laughs. “You too?”

“Yeah, but like last week?” replies Taehyung, finally turning around. “I couldn’t find it, the forest green one. The one that was part of the reward gift for the…yeah, the gift.”

I exchange looks with Jungkook. “The reward gift for what?” we both ask at the same time. Taehyung turns bright red before whipping his head up front again, pretending not to hear. Jimin, meanwhile, has slipped off the sofa laughing noiselessly which further fuels our curiosity. Jin suddenly goes, “Aahhh! I know! Yaahh! That sweater is well-deserved. You should find it!” He then continues to laugh to himself as Taehyung looks pained. Jimin is blue in the face, holding his sides. I have never felt so left out before, pouting and crossing my arms over my chest. Jungkook nuzzles my neck in an attempt to cheer me up but he too is perplexed by the others.

“Come on,” I whine, “tell meeee.”

Namjoon gets up from the table, shaking his head with a smile before heading up. “I’ll give you a hint; Taehyung had to offer up a sample only a male can produce.” He winks at me as Taehyung groans in embarrassment. “I’m turning in for the night. You guys better don’t stay up too late. Good night.” As he walks up the stairs I see him look in my direction, his face unreadable. I wonder if it was Jungkook he was actually looking at. I feel Jungkook's nose prods the back of my ear, his breathing ticklish. “What are you doing?” I ask through giggles as I try to wriggle away.

“You smell different, noona,” he replies, face still buried in my neck. “Good, but different.”

“Really?” I pull my hair under my nose, trying to take a whiff. I pull the front of my shirt to inhale the smell but nothing. Hoseok laughs from next to us. “I don’t think you can smell your own scent, jagiya.”

“So what do I smell like now?” I say, extending my neck and leaning over into Hoseok’s lap. In the position I’m in, I’m more than aware that, as my upper half extends off of Jungkook towards Hoseok, the maknae is having a faceful of my ass. I arch my back a little, tilting my head to the side so that Hoseok’s nose is right where my pulse is. “Hobi,” I say, my voice lilting, “what do I smell like? Tell me.”

Hoseok entertains me, leaning in so that his nose touches my skin and I shiver. He runs it back and forth over the line of my neck and says, “Like a flower blooming.” He then grazes his lips to the pulse spot and presses a kiss. “You smell like cherry blossoms but not quite there yet.” He turns to Jin. “Our smells change?”

Jin shrugs. “Our omega does, I suppose. Not that I have much experience to compare with, y’know.” He gets up from his seat. “I’m going to bed, too. Jungkook-ah,” he says as he walks towards the stairs, “Tomorrow let’s clean up your room. Maybe we can find the hoodie.” Then, in a murmur, he adds almost inaudibly, “And maybe my RJ, too.”

Jin’s RJ had also been one of the reward gifts that comes after we carry out an order or instruction that is supposedly contributing to the experiment. RJ had been one of the gifts for an individual mission, which are usually private between the Master and the participants. Like Taehyung's green sweater. Or Hoseok’s instax camera, the printed squares of our faces littering the coffee table or stuck up on the fridge. Or my new set of clothes and underwears that I requested, something more for me personally rather than the same oversized, unisex clothes we all have in common. I insisted on the request after receiving my personal mission: a swab of my slick in an alpha induced arousal. All I can say of that mission is that Yoongi had the steadiest hand with the swab, right until he transferred it into the casing and down (or is it up?) the message chute. Namjoon had induced it, but Yoongi had let me ride his face to come down, lapping up everything. And, just like last time, Namjoon had licked Yoongi’s lips and commented, “You taste so fucking good, baby.”

“Okay,” Jimin says, frowning. “Maybe RJ did find a way out of here.”

Jin pouts and mumbles, “He could’ve taken me with him.”

“How can you lose RJ, hyung?” Hoseok says, incredulous, also getting up and following Jin. “He’s big! He must be somewhere in this house.” RJ is pillow-size but from the way Hoseok says it, it might as well be as big as me.

Jungkook sighs. “Fine, I’ll clean up my room tomorrow. I’ll let you know if I find him.” He looks at me. “Are you staying or going to bed, noona?”

I look at the TV. There’s still a little bit more left of the movie. “I’ll finish this movie and go. You?”

Jungkook nods, gathering me up to him. “Same.”

Jin and Hoseok both say good night and ascend to the upper floor, their doors opening and closing respectively. It’s only half past ten, still early to retire for people who no longer need to go to work. For now, I think, adjusting my thinking. I refuse to believe this is permanent. It cannot be permanent. Suddenly remembering what Jungkook says, I turn back to him. “Is your room that messy? How messy is it for RJ to be lost in there?”

Jungkook groans like a teenager being nagged. Well, the last part isn’t all that wrong. “It’s noooot! It’s just disorganised!”

Taehyung snorts and Jimin smirks. I give him a look that says I don’t believe him and Jungkook stands up, placing me on my feet as he did. “Come and take a look then.” He says, his voice all pouty and cute, his chin sticking out.

“Careful, or we might never find you again, too,” teases Jimin and Taehyung laughs. Jungkook rolls his eyes but he starts for the stairs, my hand in his. The movie is just about to end and I say good night to the other two. Jimin’s face darkens and he clears his throat, eyes on me. At first, I don’t quite get what he wants but after a second, it hits me and I skip back to him and give him a good night kiss. Unhappy, he pulls me straight into his lap and gives me a full kiss, tongue tracing my lips. I see white stars for a while before my head is turned and I only get to see Taehyung’s dark curls before his lips are on me, his tongue prodding between my teeth. Just as I’m giving him access, my head is turned again and Jimin is sucking on my tongue. I feel a nibbling on my ear and then somebody clearing his throat. These two can be needy.

I pull away, feeling a little dazed. Taehyung steadies me as I get up and Jungkook holds out his hand one more time. I take it and we both make our way upstairs, all the way to the third floor. Jungkook opens the door and we both step inside. He closes the door and flicks on the light switch. My eyebrows automatically go up, my jaw slacking and Jungkook looks sheepish.

There are clothes strewn everywhere; on the bed, on the back of the chair, on the floor in a corner, creating little bumps all over the room. The bed is unmade and the desk is littered with empty and half empty water bottles. The curtains are drawn but from the smell, it seems that the room has never seen sunshine. There are empty, but thankfully washed, instant cup noodles lined by the bathroom door and stacked haphazardly in one corner of the desk. The trash can is, of course, already full with more empty cup noodles. The wardrobe door is slightly ajar and from the T-shirt sleeve sticking out, I can picture what’s going on inside. Where did he get so many clothes from?

“This,” I say, struggling to keep my voice even, “is what you called disorganized?”

Jungkook scratches his head. “I was planning to clean up anyway,” he mumbles.

I sigh, getting irritated by the second. “We’re doing it right now.”

Jungkook looks surprised. “What? Now? It’s the middle of the night!”

I check the clock on the wall, the same looking clock that I have in my room. “It’s barely eleven, Kookie. We’ll get this done by midnight if we start now. Come on. Go and get me those big trash bags. Lots of them. Go!”

***

It’s half past midnight when we finally finished straightening out Jungkook’s room, only because I insist we should vacuum the place up, too, while we’re at it. I’d have mopped but Jungkook objected, taking the mop and throwing it back into the storage room and swore up and down that he would do it in the morning. We managed to air the room too by opening up the upper panel of the window - the only part of the window that could be opened, no matter which window it is in the house - and letting the cool night air ventilate the musty smell through the insect screen. We also turn on the bathroom ventilation with the door open wide. The bathroom, however, was already spick and span, thankfully.

We both throw ourselves onto his bed with the fresh sheet and blanket, sighing happily and tiredly. I curl up on my sides facing him. “What happened, Kookie? I thought you like things neat and tidy.”

He is still on his back, eyes trailing something on the ceiling that only he can see, one arm spread over his head, the other resting on his chest. He keeps quiet, not answering but in the silence, I feel like the answer is whispered to me. We all deal with this new warped reality in our own ways, and I guess for Kookie, it was more silent and growing. Like the moldy sock at the bottom of one of the clothes piles. That went straight into the trash instead of the laundry; it was too late for that lefty.

The wind picks up outside and I shiver a little. I get up and go to the window, deciding that the room is aired enough. I close the panel and am about to draw the curtain when something in the distance catches my eye: a blinking red light. I squint through the darkness, trying to make out what the red light is. It’s up ahead, quite far out in the distance, tiny and slightly below the eyeline. A boat? A buoy? Are we on an island? I lean in against the window, one hand pressing on the glass, staying on my tiptoe trying to get a better look. Then just like that, the blinking disappears. I crane my neck, wishing I could open the window but it’s too dark out and the light is gone. I stand back, feeling deflated. I catch Jungkook’s reflection through the window, sitting up on the edge of the bed, holding the shirt he was wearing just a moment ago in his hands and using it to wipe his forehead and neck, oblivious to me watching him.

I turn to have a proper look and I feel myself salivating; the omega is awake.

I’ve been living with these guys for a little over a month now and this is the first time I’ve seen Jungkook without his shirt. My eyes go over his body greedily; his chiseled chest, his toned biceps, those rock hard abs, the V cut that disappears beyond the band of his black sweatpants comes into view as he stands up. He throws the balled T-shirt into the laundry basket and then, as if he just remembers I’m there, turns to me with big, wide eyes. Him looking like a rabbit caught in headlights gives a sort of endearing feeling that I casually look away as if I didn’t care and start to pick up the full laundry bags in both hands.

“I’ll take this downstairs with me,” I say, half-dragging the bags towards the door. I underestimate the weight of them and struggle to get them moving. “Good night, Kookie.”

With one hand, Jungkook grabs both bags and swings it over his shoulder, his muscles flexing, the veins along his arms popping. “I’ll put them outside the door so I won’t forget. I’ll take care of them tomorrow,” he says but this time, instead of his usual high, cheerful voice, his tone has lowered a decibel, coming out husky and deep. The citrusy scent that comes off of him seems to be pulsating, growing stronger by the second. His presence, already a head taller than me, seems to increase even more that it feels like I’m a mouse in front of a hungry, hunting jaguar. A huge, sleek, powerful jaguar.

“You smell so good. You won’t stay the night, noona?” he asks, but the name he uses to call me doesn’t sound as respectful anymore, the sentence not a question. The cadence of his tone and the way he pronounces ‘noona’ sounds goading, the sentence a challenge. I shake my head no, a small, light movement but he catches my chin and tilts my head up. “What’s that? I didn’t catch your answer.”

Looking straight into his eyes, I can feel my legs withering beneath me. Those pools of abyss are so dark I almost drowned in them by forgetting to breathe. At the back of my mind, I’m thinking of how this is the first time I’m experiencing Jungkook’s full alpha mode. And damn, this boy is flexing it hard. My omega is already putty in his hands and it’s like a switch in him has been flipped; instead of my usual adorable bunny Kookie that sometimes follow me around like a puppy, the man standing in front of me oozes pheromones from every pore and is more the hunter than the prey.

He leans down slowly, minimising the distance between our faces not fast enough. When I think he’s aiming for my lips, he changes tact and makes towards my ear. “Stay,” he whispers. He stands back, eyes never leaving mine. He takes my hand, brushes the knuckles over his lips, then, slowly, places it flat on his chest. In that same husky voice, he asks, “Can you feel how you’re affecting me, noona?” I do but my mouth is too dry to tell him that yes, I feel the strong heartbeat beneath his ribcage thudding out a rhythm that is starting to match the throbbing I feel in between my legs. I want to tell him how smooth his skin is, how I want to run my fingers down his abs.

He snickers lightly, then, as if reading my mind and with his hand still on mine, drags my trembling hand down his chest to his stomach, pausing on his abs. I trace my fingers over the dips of the muscles before he moves my hand again, much more painfully slow, down the drawstrings of his sweatpants and, finally, settling at his crotch. My heart does a cartwheel of sorts, the omega ecstatic. Underneath my hand, with only the thick cotton material of the pants in between, is a very hard, very erect cock.

“Can you feel it now?” he asks, feigning innocence. “You should take responsibility. You made me this way.” My eyes flick up to him at the last sentence and, like he knows the question, says, “Your scent is so sweet, so delicious, I couldn’t help myself.” He presses his crotch into my hand, or presses my hand to his crotch, I’m not sure which, my brain is fuzzy. All I’m thinking of is that I never knew how much of a nuisance a pair of pants can be. He leans closer, placing his forehead against mine, breathing heavily now. “Noona,” he says again, a hint of his usual adorable Kookie just underneath the alpha, “please.”

I lick my lips and swallow. “What do you want, Kookie?”

He whines but doesn’t answer. A few seconds pass and he is still quiet. The omega, growing impatient, decides to take over. With my hand still pressed against his crotch, I give it a light squeeze. He whines again but it turns into a deep growl at the end. His breathing quickens and yet he still does nothing. I give his cock another squeeze, a little stronger this time and he grunts, his eyelids snap open and he flashes me a look that is predatory. He grimaces. I return it with a small twitch of my lips, feeling proud that I have this alpha in my hands. Jungkook looks like he’s fighting back something, an urge, a want, a need, I’m not sure.

“Kiss me,” he breathes out and I happily oblige, tipping my face up to catch his lips in between mine. He doesn’t kiss me back at first, letting me do as I please. I use my tongue to wiggle his lip ring, more out of curiosity for myself than for his pleasure, to which he smirks at. His lips are soft and pink and work on them until they become a shade darker. I pull on his bottom lip in between my teeth and he lets me, watching through hooded eyes. I palm him through the sweatpants, slowly and deliberately, feeling the length and girth of it. He inhales sharply when I press on the head and I take that chance to slip my tongue into his mouth as I back him towards the bed.

With one soft push, Jungkook falls onto the bed. He leans on his elbows looking up at me and I take in the view as I stand by the edge of the bed. His hair has fallen over his eyes and he’s playing with his lip ring with his tongue. The bulge in his pants is more obvious now as the cloth relaxes over it. I climb onto the bed, straddling him and putting my hands on his shoulders. I lean in to connect our lips again and this time he kisses back, sloppily. He sticks out his tongue and I suck on it like a sweet lollipop I can’t have enough of. My body is growing hotter, my heart beating faster. And the ache between my legs is increasing tenfold by the minute that I find myself grinding on his abs. I feel myself growing wetter and getting restless at the lack of touch from him.

He pulls away from the kiss and regards me, eyes sharp. A smile creeps up his lips. “Strip for me. I want to see all of you.”

I sit back a little to gauge his seriousness and he returns my gaze coolly almost daringly. My omega bristles. It feels like Jungkook is testing his alpha and my omega refuses to lose. I stand up over him, the bed dipping with my weight. My eyes lock on his, I do as I’m told. I start with my T-shirt first, pulling it up and over my head and throwing it aside. I go to work on my bra but he stops me. “Nuh uh. Leave that.” He gestures to my pants. “That’s next.”

I bend over and shimmy my pajama bottom off of me, leaving me with nothing but my baby blue bra and matching lace panties. Standing over him, he gets a full view of the growing wetness and, deep within his chest, he emits this low, guttural growl. He finally puts a hand on my left leg, rubbing my calf and then thigh. He places a kiss on the back of my knee and I shudder. I sit back down, careful to avoid his bulge this time on purpose. I give him another kiss before tracing my lips down to his neck following his jugular veins. I nibble where his pulse is, then, with my tongue, trace down towards that little hollow where the two collarbones meet. I go up again, this time with small wet kisses up his collarbone to his shoulder, peppering the curve of his shoulder with more kisses. As I move up towards his ear, I drag my nails lightly up his chest, and then down again towards his tummy. He hiss through his teeth as my lips descend on his earlobe, tugging and nibbling.

I start down his chest next, using my tongue to circle his right nipple once, twice, a third time before finally latching on to it, using my teeth to gently hold it in place as my tongue flicks at it. I glance up to see him throw his head back, biting his lower lip, trying to muffle a groan. I move to his left one, taking my time to tease and then attack. The little jerking motion he makes every time my tongue comes into contact with his nipple is very satisfying. Finally, I decide to have more fun by going further south. I trail kisses down towards his bellybutton, kisses down his happy trail that is peeking from under the waistband and I come eye to eye with his bulge. I take a peek at him and am met with his scorching gaze, that same challenging look in his eyes, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

Determined, I take fistfulls of the waistband and pull, releasing the little guy. Well, not so little, though, I think as his cock pops up right before my eyes; red, bulging and veiny. And dripping beads of droplets from the slit. My panties are soaked, my mouth salivating. Without waiting, I close my mouth around the tip, my tongue tasting his precum. Jungkook lets out a ‘nggh’ but I pay him no mind, only focused on what’s stretching my mouth open for now. He feels bigger than Jimin and, as I push down on it, I realise I can’t get fully to the base, and not because the tip is hitting the back of my throat but there’s something…there. In the dim lighting, I didn’t care much about it, chalking it up to me having a small mouth. I relax a bit, thinking hard on the best method for this situation.

Jungkook releases a low rumble. “Am I too big for your pretty little mouth, noona?” I hum in response and he growls, his cock twitching. “Shit…didn’t anyone tell you not to speak with a full mouth?”

I let out a moan, backtracking a little bit and adjusting my mouth over the first quarter of his length. I use the flat of my tongue to lick around the base of the tip, running my tongue along the underside a few times. The muffled noise and the small spasms are enough to tell me he’s feeling good. I circle my tongue around the tip, flicking side to side right on the tip. I hollow out my mouth and start to suck, using my tongue in intervals. I use my left hand to wrap lightly around the mid-length of his cock and move it up and down, applying pressure on the sides, feeling the bumps of his veins as I do. Jungkook is a mess of moans and cusses and my omega is proud of herself.

“Fuck,” Jungkook gasps, “how are you so good at this? Your mouth feels amazing. Don’t stop. Please.”

Because I’m your noona, is what I wanted to say but I’m too preoccupied in keeping my pace steady. Paying attention to my tongue work is crucial as my hand jerks him off to the same strokes, feeling the muscle tensing under my touch. As Jungkook’s words become a mix of incoherent compliments and curse words, I pick up speed, sucking on his cockhead a little bit harder and focusing more on the underside than the tip. It’s getting to be a bit more difficult now as he is bucking his hips, making my strokes sloppy. Knowing that he is close, I let my hand go and only keep my mouth latched as Jungkook grabs my head with both hands and starts to mouth-fucks me, keeping my tongue flat as he uses my mouth to get him off.

“Noona,” he moans as he looks down at his cock in my mouth, his forehead crinkling, sweats glistening. “Noona…shit. Fuck, I’m almost there, noona. It feels so good. So good, your tongue. Noona, please. Make me come. Noona, make me come.” He continues to fuck my mouth, head back once again and speaking in full Korean now, the words slurring before they turn into nothing but gruntings.

I feel his bucking become erratic, no longer following any rhythm. I feel his cock twitch and throb in my mouth before he finally spills hot cum that dribbles from the side of my lips and onto himself. There is a lot of it and even after two gulps, he’s still pouring out more. I continue to suck on the head, milking him dry until the last jerk of his muscle before he finally collapses against the bed, spent.

He lays there unmoving as I release him from my mouth. I stand up to take in the view of Jungkook on the bed, one hand over his eyes, naked except the pants scrunched up midway down his thighs, his soft penis resting a little to the side, covered in saliva and bits of his own semen. I wipe the sides of my mouth with my fingers and lick them clean. I lean against the bed and place a quick kiss on his cheek, whispering, “I win,” before picking up my clothes and tiptoeing out of the room.

As I’m about to go down the stairs, thudding footsteps are making their way up. I pause, panicking as I try to figure out if I should run back to Jungkook’s room until they go to their rooms when both Taehyung and Jimin round the bend of the staircase and halt in their steps, looking up at me. They both take in the sight in front of them, of this girl in nothing but hee bra and soaked underwear. Taehyung smirks. Jimin’s face looks amused, too, but the way his eyes flashes and how the staircase is now flooded with his scent, makes my heart jump.

He starts to come up the stairs but Taehyung stops him and whispers something in his ear. I can’t hear what is being said but I watch Jimin give me one last longing look before he slips away into Taehyung’s room. “You can come down, princess,” says Taehyung softly from the foot of the stairs. He turns the knob of my bedroom door but doesn’t open it. “Come on.”

I make the rest of the way down the stairs and about to slip past Taehyung into my room when he puts out his hand against the wall, barring my path. It shot out like an arrow so fast that my breasts are just resting against his arm. I look at him questioningly. He comes close to my face, the same playful smile still on his lips, his eyes almost cat-like. “You reek of Jungkookie, princess. I thought you were helping him clean, not make more of a mess.”

I lean forward a tiny fraction, our noses touching. “I made sure I cleaned him up good,” I reply sweetly. Taehyung smiles but his smile doesn’t look friendly. He closes the gap between us that I’m backed into the wall. He bears down on me, the rumbling of his chest just loud enough to be heard. With his other hand, he caresses my leg with his fingertips, circling towards my inner thigh. I feel goosebumps running up my arms and I shudder. My breath hitches as he grazes the wetness of the lace in between my legs. He runs his fingers back and forth for a bit before he presses down. I bite on my lower lip to stop myself from making a sound. I watch him bring his fingers up to his lips and insert them in his mouth.

Eyes never wavering, he brings his lips to my ear. “Try not to make too much noise, princess.” With that, he pushes the lace to the side and goes to work with his hand. He uses his middle finger to rub on my swollen clit, using my own wetness as lubrication. The sensation is overwhelming that I almost crumpled to the floor if he hadn’t caught me. Prop up against the wall with his one hand, my forehead flush against his shoulder, I bite on my lower lip so hard I can taste blood. His slender finger is now moving towards my entrance. Without hesitation, he plunges his digit all the way in and I press my mouth against his neck, whimpering, my knees shaking.

“Shh,” he warns as he starts to slowly pull out his finger all the way and then pushes in again. He builds up the speed and soon enough the staircase is filled with squelching sounds and my silent cries. I feel the fluid slowly running down my thighs and I’m barely even standing, only up on my feet by the sheer strength of Taehyung’s arm. I’m desperate for release as Taehyung shallow out his strokes, keeping his palm flat over my dripping core, the heel of his palm pressing just right on my clit. He curls his finger in, hitting that magic spot from inside. The wet, sucking sound is all I can hear as I grind against his hand chasing my high. When I finally catch up to it, I clench down hard around his finger and come, my body shaking and shuddering, screaming his name into his shoulder. We both collapse onto the floor.

I’m breathing hard and heavy, my heart thudding in my ear. Taehyung pulls his hand out from beneath me and stuffs his finger into his mouth once more, his eyes rolling back, his chest rumbling. I rest my head back against the wall, watching him through heavy-lidded eyes. I hear a door open and, thinking it might be Jimin coming out from Taehyung’s room, I lazily glance over, wondering if I have enough energy to turn down the alpha. Fortunately, it’s not. Jin approaches us, leans over to Taehyung and speaks gently, “Taehyung-ah, you can go back to your room. I’ll take care of her.”

Taehyung gives me an almost apologetic look and his mouth opens to say something. But he changes his mind, instead, giving me a soft peck on the temple before getting up and, almost swaying a little, ambles off to his room to where Jimin is. Jin sits down next to me, takes the pajama top that has fallen from my hands and, like a father with a toddler, puts it on me. He uses one finger to push my hair out of my face. “Hey, sweetheart,” he mutters, “let’s get you cleaned up.” He lifts me up easily into his arms and I throw both my arms over his neck, whining a little at the comfort as I nuzzle his neck, breathing in his scent. He chuckles, pushes the door of my bedroom with his toes and steps inside, kicking the door close again with his heel. He fumbles with the light switch while carrying me and steps towards the bed.

He pauses. I’m wincing from the brightness of the bedroom light, wondering why he hasn’t put me down yet. I look up to find him staring at something on the bed, a sort of confused yet pleased look on his face. “So that’s where my RJ went,” he comments.

I look at the bed, puzzled. RJ is sitting on my pillow, his smiley face looking like he has always been there. In the middle of the double bed are a pile of different towels and sheets and more pillows, arranged in a circle of some sort. Yoongi’s white towel, Jungkook’s hoodie and Taehyung’s green sweater are among them. I can even see Namjoon’s extra pillow, the one he uses to hug to sleep. From this vantage point of Jin’s arms, the pile of items look like…a nest? Jin and I share a look; me still baffled, Jin a kind understanding blooming on his face. He smiles knowingly.

Next part: here

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Da Capo

Dialogue Prompt 16- " because I love you, is that what you wanted to hear " requested by @sunflowerishdolphin ( your last remaining request ) | TW- NONE |

Da Capo-(Italian: from the beginning); at the end of a piece of music or a section of it, means that it should be played or sung again from the beginning.

He shut the door behind him, locking immediately, putting those grocery bags on the counter and turned on the voice Machine , picking up the mails from the corner table reading who addressed them as he simultaneously heard the voice messages like his usual evening, a routine that had became a practice.

" you have 2 new messages "

" hey harry, this is Clint. Send me those pictures via e-mail, could you ? Call me when you get back "

Harry subconsciously nodded as he read the next mail addressed from the burrow.

" harry "

He stopped dead in his movements as he stared at the tiles on the floor, hearing that very familiar voice.

" I- I know I should not- you know- never mind. Uh, call me or not, whatever. Just- how do you end this-" the voice message echoed with rustling until it ended with a beep and harry couldn't bring himself to stop the beeping.

When one of the apple fell down over the ground creating a thud, harry broke free from his locked moment of strangeness and shut off the beep. He stared at the number long enough to remember his past, the horrors, the pain, the anguish, the agony of it all but he couldn't resist himself from Noting down the number on the notepad and just staring at it.

He had called, 1 year and 6 months later, he had called.

Harry left the notepad like it had been resting on the counter and went out to the garden to water his plants and get some peace from the quick Sand of the emotions that had started overwhelming in the presence of the noted down number. But it didn't help the rail of his thoughts that resulted in overflowing of the pots.

The evening had turned into a chilly night yet without a care he kept staring at the TV screen blankly, finding it hard to forget that voice message. That familiarity in the voice had almost Haunted harry every night in dreams and that un-advanced way of not knowing still how to end a voice message made harry smile if only for a moment but he was strongly reminded of how had things ended, in fights, In rush, in sadness, in heart break.

He wanted to call back and ask him why had he called, he even stood before the phone, dialing almost the entire number but could never gather the entire courage to actually call him back. How could he ? After everything that had happened, how could he?

It had been almost 1 and half year since harry moved to a small town in Paris living in a muggle suburb and still learning French but he had sat in his balcony drowning in rain, yet he never felt at home. He never wanted to leave Britain, London but what choice did he had but to leave everything behind and start new, a fresh start and yet all he felt was moving backwards. He loved it here, the neighborhood, the children on the streets, the grocery man, Adrian's little shop around the corner yet the smell of the Rain, the smell of laundry, the Blooming garden, the sunlight, nothing felt the same, not like how it was when he was with him. Nothing ever felt the same anymore .

Somewhere around blankly staring at the TV, the screen had Turned grey with no more left to watch when harry forcibly picked himself up and put himself to bed, relentlessly tossing and turning until sleep had returned to him like previous night's.

You can't stop thinking about me .

That's not true.

Do you really think so? Then why am I here ?

You tell me.

He sighed, his voice flourishing and sounding like the softest of breeze, you can feel it too, can't you, you know I will be there with you..

I can't feel anything. A pause.

You're coming?

Do you want me to ?

Harry tossed one last time, slowly opening his eyes in the silence of the night and the street light outside flickering with yellow and black. He sighed to himself as he sat right up and followed the line of sight to where the phone was kept.

" hi, draco, hi- uh, you called. I- didn't know about it- just got your message- I wanted to check what you called for so leave me a message or call me in the mor-"

" harry?"

Harry stilled with the phone pressed against his ear, his breathing sounding very clear like he had held the phone very close to himself as if holding it too close would make the conversation more real.

He stared at his feets on the ground comprehending how to respond, he had not expected draco to pick up-

" harry, you there ?"

" yeah, yeah. Uh sorry- I just- " he breathed " isn't it late ?"

" sort of yeah. I just- I came from a run "

" this late at night ?"

" yeah " he breathed.

Harry breathed.

" you called earlier ?"

" yeah " a long pause before he released a rolling breath and spoke again " I'm visiting Paris and I- I know you're there, so I was just wondering if you'd like to meet sometime if you're free of course ?"

Harry's fingers coiled to the telephone loop, a little smile forming over his lips as he whispered " Sure. When ?"

" this weekend "

" I'll pick you up ?"

" that'd be- nice " he breathed.

" okay "

" okay "

They breathed.

" I'll send the details via mail " he added

" okay "

And they finally cut the call but all harry did was stare at his feets on the ground crossed together as if it offered any peace.

_______________________________

The sun had rose like usual with the birds chirping just outside Harry's balcony, the usual ringing of his alarm clock went unnoticed as harry stepped out of the long shower. He padded across the room water dripping down his neck due to his washed hair, finally shutting off the Alarm. He stared at the watch as minutes stroke by, his mind lost in the moving of the minute hands until a shiver has ran down his spine and he dropped the clock on the bed and fetched the shirt and the pants he has decided to worn a day before. The same blue flowy shirt and the same Khaki pants.

Anxiety was not a surprise visitor anymore as harry fidgeted wearing his watch over his rest and tying his shoe laces that at some point, harry left them be thinking that if he'd fall, he'd fall. He ran all around the apartment going from one room to another to living room because his things were scattered all across until finally the clock stroke 12 and harry left the apartment in his second hand ford from 1985.

Harry leaned against his car in front of the France ministry of magic building waiting for draco to come with sun bouncing over his soft brunette hair, checking his watch every minute or two.

And there he was, the same boy walking through the door carrying 2 bags in a soft cotton red faded shirt and washed blue jeans.

" waited for long ?"he asked awkwardly.

Harry shook his head as he took his bags and dropped them in back seat.

" I- harry- I just wanted to ask something "

Harry frowned but nodded as he opened the car door for draco.

" this isn't awkward, is it ?"

Harry huffed out a breath, glancing behind draco for a moment. Was it awkward,of course but he Wanted to settle through the awkwardness and not be like one of those people who can't visit their ex.

" it is a bit but we'll settle in. After all we're friends, right ?"

Draco chuckled softly before he nodded " we can be "

Harry smiled before he stepped away and let draco take the passenger seat and settled into his driver's seat as well.

" Hungry ?" Harry asked as the ignition roared.

Draco nodded " very "

" I know just the place " harry smiled putting on his sunglasses and drove to exactly where he needed to.

________________________________

Things remained a bit awkward with draco as harry adjusted to all new information and forgot thinking of draco as an ex he scrambled away from and reminded himself more to treat him like the way he used to before the relationship happened.

But despite that the wicked angels that remained on Harry's shoulder reminded him to be careful this time and even if he harry heard them, he ignored as he served draco the croissant he has freshly picked up from the bakery around the corner.

" what about the eiffel tower ?" Draco asked as he sipped his lemon tea, taking the plate of croissant away from harry.

" it's overrated but worth it. It's better in the evening, I'll take you there " harry replied as he ate his own.

" oh shit- I forgot. I had to be at work 15 minutes ago. I'll see you later yeah " draco hurried with his baked food and picked up his bag he has came with and disapparated from within the apartment.

Harry collapsed down on the chair thinking to himself what was he doing. How could he just forget everything and move on and pretend like nothing happened like he had been doing for days. He hated the pretending, the " I'm doing fine without you " act or we're better as friends act, he hated it but as draco would come from the hotel every afternoon and sometimes stay by till the evening, harry would allow himself to relish in those moments and let be.

"the real question is do you really want to be friends or not ?" Jade asks as she dressed the mannequin with new shirt introduced in this work fashion line.

" i- i don't know jade. Do I want to forget everything and move forward, yes but I can't just look at him pretend we don't have a past " harry kicked the ground as he was leaned against the wall in the cubicle with jade and the white mannequin for display.

" Harry, the past is the past. It doesn't matter anymore. And you know the whole thing about ex's can't be friends,it's shit, I'm friends with my first boyfriend " jade replied with the pin between her lips as he tucked the buttons together.

" your first boyfriend is gay now. You're not helping jade-"

" look harry. Is it worth it ? Is it worth spending time with him? Is it worth meeting him again everyday ? Is it worth being friends with him again ? Those are the real questions " She asked with her head titled for emphasis, her hands in the air waiting for his response.

Harry sighed closing his eyes, opening them again and spoke " I think. He's changed a lot and he's different now"

" well there you go and you know what, even if you don't want to be friends or anything, he's just visiting. He's not going to stay here forever you know and you barely visit home, so friends or no friends, it won't matter much" jade shrugged as she put the mannequin the hat and stretched her neck backwards to check the entire look before nodding to herself and stepping out of the cubicle, harry following him.

" I guess you're right " harry mumbled. Jade nodded and they departed to their response departments of work.

When the evening arrived he met draco Outside his work building and strolled off to where they could disapparate from without being noticed.

" it's a beautiful place " draco suddenly said as they were walking down the streets.

" it is " harry hummed nodding, pocketing his hand.

" don't you ever-" Breath " like miss home ? Everyone else?" He asked

Harry thought for a moment before he replied with all he could think of " it's a part of starting fresh. I miss people back home but I love it here too, everyone's nice "

" but doesn't it ever get lonely ?" Draco asked as he now walked right by Harry's side.

" sometimes but other times I just forget " harry shrugged looking forward before crossing the road.

" forget what ?" Draco asked as he ran to maintain his pace with harry.

" forget that I'm lonely. The best way to not get lonely is just not to think of being lonely " harry shrugged as he for a moment looked at Draco before he entered the dark Empty alley.

" is it easy ?" Draco asked as he stood before harry taking his hand for side along disapparation.

Harry gazed at draco, allowing the free sensation of holding his hand making him feel closer to home before he took a step forward towards draco.

" no "

And disapparated.

Part 2 & 3

might turn into a series fiction. @drarrywords thanks for beta reading this..

300 followers appreciate dialogue Prompt requests open

Angst prompt requests open

[auty-ren]

Tainted Heart: Chapter 2

The Agreement (Western AU)

Pairings: The Mandalorian x Reader. Din Djarin x Reader. Outlaw!Din x Reader. (Reader is female/fab)

Rating: Mature

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Mentions of blood/injury. Cursing. The kid being adorable. The reader is his babysitter. Pet names. Teasing. Soft-core Smut (kissing, heavy making out, groping, dry humping, mentions of virginity/inexperience, a few touches, unintentional edging.)

A/n: Thank you guys for being so patient, I hope it was worth the wait! We’re finally seeing a little action. Enjoy babes. (gif by @javier-pena​)

Tainted Heart Masterlist | My Masterlist

The wool was rough under your fingertips, a heavy dull gray that almost burned under the harsh tint of the midday sun. They were heavy, soaking with water and suds as you lifted them from the wash pan, squeezing what excess you could out of the fibers. A coo broke through the static that had filled your mind, numb with the monotonous action of wet, wash, rinse, repeat. The child stayed strapped in the high chair, peeking at you through white sheets you hung to dry, his inquisitive hands stretching out when the breeze blew white cotton out close, but just barely grazing the reach of his fingers. He babbled again at the sight of you, squealing when you threw the curtains of laundry away and broke the makeshift barrier between you. 

He repeated the snarl you had given him, playful and disappearing between fits of smiles and giggles.

“Are you a monster, little one?”

He was meant to scare you, giving a growl that was far cuter than it was fearsome in his pretend game of monster.

“You’re too sweet to be a monster.”

He kicked his feet in excitement, gnawing at the bread you tore into pieces on the plate attached to his chair. He offered you a piece of it, forming unrecognizable syllables as he prompted you to take it from him.

You wanted to be selfish, to hide away with your newfound companion and keep him perched on your hip permanently. None of it should be temporary.

It had been years since your home felt so warm; since the fogged windows were lit with a bright, new life that fumbled over every surface. It was sticky, the feeling you had laying on your chest when you were woken to the sound of shrill cries; the ache in your tired bones all but faded at the tear-soaked smile that greeted you in the dim mornings.

Maybe you were just lonely, growing tired of the same life you lived each day when it was just you and Papa. 

Maybe you had mistaken content for boredom.

And now it was unpredictable, a welcomed unpredictability.

You learned the hard way not to leave the little one unattended, even for a moment; not for a few measly seconds. The broken porcelain of an old vase had been enough of a warning, luckily it wouldn’t be missed and after you had cleaned up the mess, you could hardly notice any wrong had happened. 

At least, your father didn’t notice. 

But the child was just curious and his cries as he sat horrified at the pieces of glass surrounding his feet had been enough of punishment for the both of you. 

This arrangement took too much convincing on your father's part.

He only wanted to protect you, but at this point, you doubt he was thinking straight. Your father had sacrificed too much to keep you safe; to carve out a simple life for you on the edges of the real world, to keep it from crushing your spirit the way it did his.

You assumed your father’s anxiousness about the situation stemmed from something you didn't think you could understand; loved ones lost long ago to the evil that had spread to your quiet town.

But there were some things that only time could heal and it seemed for him there was never enough.

He wanted to send ‘Mando’ packing as soon as the wounds stopped bleeding, and the sun lit up the morning sky.

But you convinced him otherwise.

There was no way he would've made it twenty minutes without hurting himself, more so since he had to care for a child. A child who you found very difficult to say no to, especially since he became such good company.

Mando could stay until he was healed. But there was work to be done.

Mando’s right arm had been wrapped in a makeshift sling, leaving his less dominant hand available to carry out whatever your father asked of him. Although you argued he shouldn't be working at all, both of the men disagreed with you. Papa decided it was only fair for him to work, to repay the debt he owed you.

You wouldn't call it a debt, but you kept that to yourself and let your father negotiate the terms of Mando’s stay.

There wasn't much argument, Mando would work odd jobs around your homestead, things that Papa was unable to do anymore, and things he hated to ask you to do; in return, he and his child would be allowed to stay until Mando healed. But there were conditions, terms that your father had laid out and would be considered law as he saw fit.

Mando would not be allowed to sleep in your home.

Your father made sure to bolt the doors once Mando had left after dinner, checking each of them before he could settle enough to try and sleep. A place was made for him in the barn, blankets and an extra pillow for him to sleep with, the least you could do for someone about to work your entire harvest for practically nothing. 

The child would be allowed to stay inside.

Papa had gone into the attic in the early morning after he agreed to let Mando stay, and pulled down the old crib that had been yours once upon a time. You aired and cleaned all of the blankets and toys you had sorted inside of it, hoping that maybe they could get one final use before they crumbled from age. He slept in your room, just down the hall from where you and your father stayed.

You didn't like the idea of separating someone from their child, but your father insisted and Mando made no objection otherwise.

Your attention for the past week was wrapped completely around the fingers of a grinning child, smiling and keeping his curiosity at bay when he grabbed at anything within reach. He used unsteady legs, you being his shadow for the entire day; picking up the small toys that were left in his wake of discovery. 

He was a healthy little boy, just barely big enough to explore some on his own, and he had the energy to prove it. There were only a few times he slowed enough to nap, sleep that weighed heavy on his eyelids as he crawled into your arms, puffing small breaths into the crook of your neck while he rested.

He refused to fall asleep alone, if his fingers weren't gripping yours with an unusual force he didn't allow himself to sleep; he just cried, wailed until you picked him up again, and finally settled when the sound of your heartbeat was within reach.

You couldn't imagine what this child has been through.

There were a few things only you and Papa had spoken about, conversations and theories about your guests, the stranger who slept in the loft of your barn, and his precious companion. Papa wasn't very sentimental towards them, he was gentle with the child and polite to Mando; but the sooner both of them had left, the easier he would sleep at night. 

He repeated the same thing before bed, his voice shaking and eyes worrisome in ways you had never thought would come from him. You didn't protest, just nodding your head and trying to soothe the lines seemingly etched into his brow. You drifted off as he squeezed your fingers in his, tighter than he ever had before, and pressed a worried kiss to your hand.

“Do not trust him.”

You hadn't told Papa about what happened between you and Mando once he had gone to bed, and you'd keep it from him so long as you stay sane. He would never know about how much you thought about it, how part of you wanted something like that to happen again, how you wanted to feel that blossom of heat in your chest ten times over.

Papa was under the impression the two of you had never spoken and it was best it stayed that way. 

He couldn't be a good man.

He had the scars to prove he was a fighter, most of the wounds old and standing out sharply against his skin.

You remember how they looked, how tender and soft the damaged flesh felt when you ran your fingers over it.

That doesn't just happen.

He carried a gun, and two more sat on the saddle of his horse. One fell from the pockets of his rucksack when you lifted it off the horse's back, the other a long rifle that was heavy and awkward in your arms.

You didn't tell Papa about that, you just hid them in the haystack of the barn and hoped he wouldn't find them.

But he was kind.

He hadn't spoken much, not to you. Maybe to your father but, he hardly looked you in the eye; his face was mostly hidden behind the brow of his hat and sometimes by the cloth he wore over his face when he worked.

Or he was cunning.

Maybe Papa was right, maybe the sooner they left the better.

You didn't want them to leave.

Mando wasn't like other men, he had an attachment; something you doubt most low-lives ever considered having.

And you wanted to know why.

The baby was squealing for your attention again, and he giggled loudly when you shifted him in your arms. Papa looked in your direction, watching the two of you sitting on the porch. You gave him a small smile, one he returned in genuine, with promise that reached the crinkles in the corner of his eyes. You busied yourself with taming wisps of the baby’s hair, for the hundredth time that day, soft curls that gently framed his face sticking out in every direction. He giggled again, his hands reaching out in curiosity as he curled his fingers into his palm and babbling away as you sat him on the porch floor. He took a few unsure steps, then taking the lead as if he knew exactly where he was going and you kneeled behind him ready to reach out when he lost his balance.

He made his way to the railing, stopping above the steps that led down to where Papa sat working.

He had bushels of food sitting at his feet; vegetables that had been growing in the fields you kept behind the house. It wasn't too impressive, just enough to suffice with a little leftover that was sold at the end of the season; but it took far too long to pick any of it when the time came.

After years of practicing medicine, your father had fumbled his way through becoming a farmer. Papa had already been working for a few days, and at dinner last night he gave Mando the task of starting the harvesting of the far-garden in the morning while he’d work what had already been picked.

Mando wasn’t much of a talker; he was polite, sometimes even kind when he spoke to you, but it was few and far between. He did everything asked of him, sometimes even more.

You had mentioned at dinner last night you were planning to wash laundry in the morning, gathering clothes and sheets and rags Papa unintentionally littered about the house. It was tiresome and took most of the day, the clothesline filled with garments that took hours to dry even on a summer day. The chill in the air wasn’t the problem at all this time, the heat was.

It was tedious to fill and heat the washpans, sometimes you’d think it better to ignore that step, but the constant cold on your raw fingertips told a different story.

You hurried to eat this morning, making sure the baby was fed and occupied, so you could begin filling the tubs for laundry. 

But someone beat you to it.

You found both of the tubs were sitting out by the clothesline, filled to the brim with steaming water and the laundry stacked beside them.

Papa had been with you all morning, he couldn’t have done it.

You wanted to thank him, but it felt silly to do so, your cheeks getting warm with the thought like some smitten schoolgirl.

You had seen him one other time today, when he came in for some lunch, his boots kicking up dust that tracked from the back door into the kitchen. His pants were just as filthy from digging in the gardens all day, but his sleeves had been pushed up his arms, and his hands were still damp from when he had washed them.

At least he's not a slob.

You don't think he notices you, standing on the far side of the kitchen, quietly watching as he removes his hat, pulls down the covering on his face, and sits next to the kid. He checks on him with a ruffle of his hair, the baby babbling away with a grin on his face as he watches Mando stuff his mouth with some of the bread and meat you sat out for him on the kitchen table.

He ate in silence, quick and rushed as if someone would take it from him before he could get enough to be satisfied. You stood at the other end of the kitchen, watching him eat and interacting with his kid. He said something to him, something so quiet you barely heard it but you saw the way his hand brushed over the curls on his boy's head; just like you had been doing almost every day you watched him. He finished as he drank glass fulls of water, over and over until the pitcher was nearly empty. 

His eyes are like saucers when he turns around to see you standing there, and his mouth opens and closes as if he was thinking of some defense.

Definitely didn't see you standing there.

You try your best to smile at him and move to ask him if he'd like more to eat, but he's gone. He grabs his hat from the table and mutters a thank you before slamming the door closed behind him.

It couldn't be easy with just one arm, nothing your father had given him was gentle and no matter how much he dismissed it, you could tell he was still in pain. Even with the medication given to him regularly, he winced at the slightest movement and was slow compared to your father.

You could barely see his silhouette, still moving out in the gardens and shadowed by the sun setting behind him. He takes a moment, sitting on his ass and looking up at the painted colors of the sky. Delicate pink and orange hues fill a blue sky, mixing until there is a symphony dancing above your heads, dusk settling over the land as everyone prepares for sleep. He stretches his neck from side to side, wiping his face with his sleeve with a huff and pulling himself back to his feet.

“He's a very sweet kid.” 

Papa’s voice interrupted your watching, your eyes snapping over to him taking a seat in his chair, patting his lap, and asking for the child to join him. He waddled over, reaching up with grubby hands and squealing as he was lifted in your father’s lap.

“Why don't you take some time and wash up for dinner.” Papa insisted, nodding towards the door as he settled the child on his lap. “I’ll call for you when it's ready.”

“Nonsense,” you sigh, standing up with a smile and turning towards the door. “Someone has to help you.”

“And that someone has to be you?” He’s grinning, nothing evil or malicious; mostly playful, with just a hint of mischief sparkling in his eyes.

Your earlier intentions of dinner are forgotten as you lean against a wooden doorframe, the aged wood scratching at your arm when the sleeve of your dress is pushed up. You watch Papa coo at the child, patting his head with careful hands as the toddler yawned and laid against his chest. Your feet ache as you look down at the worn boots you wear, the leather cracked and crumbling from age at the soles of your feet; they throb as you roll your ankles, switching your weight from one foot to the next until some of the pain subsided.

 It’s just your breathing for a moment, the simple, rhythm rise and fall of your chest; occasionally dueted with the squeak of Papa’s old rocking chair.

“Looks like I'll need help taking this into town,” you gestured to the bushels sitting at the edge of your porch steps, cutting through the silence with a huff of your breath. “Kuill will be excited to see everything we've got for him.”

“Has he said anything to you?”

He took you by surprise, the change in subject hitting you with a force that had your chest seizing up. How pitiful you felt, your heart racing at the mention of a man who probably didn’t remember your name.

“No,” you offer meekly, hoping your father didn’t notice the change in your pitch. “Why?”

“He’s hardly spoken a word since he's been here.”

He rocks his seat back and forth in a steady motion, gentle as the baby in his arms drifts into slumber.

“Maybe he likes to keep to himself.” You shrug, moving to lean against the porch railing and face him.

Your father considered your reasoning, his brows knit with heavy thought and a frown set on his lips.

“Or he's guilty of something.”

There’s something you barely catch in Papa’s words, something like malice but with less bite as the words hit your ears.

“It's only for a few more days,” you pick at the splintered wood under your hand, the edges rough and pointed as they press deeper into your palm. “We'll manage.”

Papa nods his head, patting the baby’s back as he sleeps on his chest; his limbs stretching for just a moment before he settles back to sleep. You run your hands along the child’s back, soothing the tired grumbles that fell from his lips. Leaning forward, you pressed a kiss to your father’s temple, squeezing the free hand he had perched on the arm of his chair.

“You know they would've died if we hadn't helped.” You whisper it into his hairline with another kiss, turning to head back inside before anything else is said.

You keep quiet, somehow afraid of speaking nightmares into existence. They were safe for now, healing and resting what little they could on your farm. A stranger and his baby that dug tiny holes in your chest that you doubt were closing anytime soon. Part of you feared when the time came, you wouldn’t want to let your precious companion or his father go.

“I know.” 

-

An intake of breath is all he allows.

He says nothing, and his face is blank, staring in front of him with discipline as your father digs into his shoulder again. His wounds are still tender, pink, and fresh against his tan skin but he doesn’t even wince; there's barely a twitch in his eye, and the shaking push and pull of his breath is the only indication he felt any of it.

He does groan when your father pours alcohol over it, remnants of blood washing away from the openings in his shoulder, thrown away stitches sitting on the cloth with your father’s tools.

You didn’t ask how his stitches had broken, you could only assume it happened today while he was working, and it was almost dinner before you noticed the tint that had stained his shirt red.

You hold the child a little closer in your arms, turning his head and busying him when he reaches out for Mando. 

The painting hung mounted on the wall, just low enough it was about eye level with you and the child. You pointed to flowers caked in oil paints, their colors faded from years of the sun that breached the windowsill. He cooed as he followed your lead, tracing the petals with his fingers until he gave a big yawn.

You placed a kiss on the top of his head, the soap you used to wash him earlier still lingering on your lips as he laid on your chest. His blanket wrapped around him, the wool warm and green as you kept him snug in your arms.

“It’s time to say goodnight.”

You stayed at the threshold of the kitchen, Mando’s back turned to you as your father put new stitches into his shoulder. Papa paused for a moment, nodding his head in your direction until Mando turned his profile murmuring a ‘goodnight’ to the baby in your arms. He looked at you as he said it, something pulling deep in your belly as his eyes bore into yours; almost black in the darkness and twinkling from the light of your father’s lamp.

Papa cleared his throat, pulling your eyes towards him as you felt heat rush to your face. 

You hoped he couldn’t tell, that you didn’t look as flustered as you felt. When didn’t bring it up later, once the two of you were alone and everyone had gone to bed, you felt the pressure that built up in your chest dissipate. He went right to sleep, snoring loudly beside you while you laid wide-eyed and staring at the ceiling.

You're not sure what time it is, or how long you have been ‘asleep’ but everything blurs; your mind racing too fast for your drooping eyes to catch any sort of rest.

You laid warm beneath woolen covers as you watched the windows tint with fog, the barest hints of a cold breeze slipping between the cracks and leaving a chill in the air.

It must be very cold out in the barn.

You wouldn’t entertain the idea. Mando was a grown man, he didn’t need you to care for him or coddle him like he was a child.

Staying in bed was the right decision, but decision making was never your strong suit.

The doors to the barn looked wicked under the dim moonlight, tall and intimidating as you reached a shaking hand out to them. They groaned as you pulled open, the track they rested on squeaking and shrill in the quiet night.

You just hoped he was a heavy sleeper.

You carried the two blankets you had been washing just this morning, something Papa kept around for emergencies; thick, wooly blankets that were itchy and coarse on your skin.

They were better than nothing.

There was only one lamp lit, everything mostly covered in shadow save for the few feet of orange glow coming from the middle of the room. Hardly any sound in the air, nighttime completely dead save the occasional grunt and snort of the horses sleeping in their stalls. His belongings sat stacked in one corner, next to the makeshift bedding you had left in here just over a week ago. They were in a neat pile, a shirt and coat, his hat, the cloth he used on his face, and his holster.

He was nowhere to be found.

You put the blankets on his bedroll, hoping he would connect the dots whenever he came back. The hay crunch underneath your feet, even with your attempt at tiptoeing through the barn. You pulled the knitted shawl you wore tighter around you, shivering from the chill that seeped from cracked insulation in the walls.

You hadn’t even stood up before you jumped under the sudden baritone of his voice.

“Where are my guns?” 

The chill that ran down your spine wasn’t from the cold, but rather from accusation; deep, rich words that dripped from his words and held no real malice.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” You offered over your shoulder, slowly turning to face him head-on.

His arm was still in a sling, fresh bandaging that stood stark white against his worn clothes. He looked almost handsome in the orange hue of an oil lamp; his eyes bright even with the exhaustion pulling at his cheeks, his lips pouting and curls sticking out at his neck as if you had woken him in the embers of early morning.

“I know you didn't take them,”

He walked towards you, each step he took followed by your retreat until your back landed against the wall with a thud. Your eyes never leave him, never daring to break your stare even as your hand scrambled for purchase on the smooth wood at your back.

“So where are they?”

You counter him, thinking you're clever with a smile and a half-concocted comeback, batting your eyes when his lips quirk in response.

“How do you know I didn't keep them?”

He laughed, amusement hiding behind the rich color of his eyes and biting with the sparkle of his teeth.

“I doubt you've ever held a gun in your life, sweet girl.” His voice lowered at your pet name, sinful words that swirled at the base of your spine until you squirmed.

“I know you didn't take them.”

You take a deep breath, your cheeks burning when his hand comes to rest beside your head, his body coming just a hair closer until you feel pinned beneath him.

“I hid them.”

His eyebrow arches, questions stuck in the back of his throat that filter into one word.

“Why?”

You fiddled with the loose thread of your gown, wrapping the line excess around your finger until it pinched at the tip. Your ears thumped with the sound of your heartbeat, loud and racing as Mando drug his hand from your shoulder, across your neck. He cupped your jaw, squeezing your face in his hand for just a moment.

“You afraid of me, sweet girl?”

His voice rumbled, deep from his chest as he drags every word from smirking lips.

“Don't call me that.”

Any bite you had laced in your words was betrayed by the way you leaned into his touch, sighing when his fingers scratched at the hairs on the back of your neck.

“Yeah?” 

His lips were gentle, chapped, and sweet against yours with a tender kiss.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

You kissed him this time, testing the waters with a playful nip to his bottom lip; earning you a chuckle before he consumes you. Your lips slot lazily together in a clash of tongue as you taste one another, slow and sensual until your fingers thread his hair, tugging until he growls into your kiss.

“Thank you,” His breath puffed on your cheek, warm and wet on your skin as he trailed kisses over your face and neck. “For taking good care of my kid.”

“He's a sweetheart.” You huff out the words around a smile, your fingers tugging on Mando’s curls.

You almost moan when nips at your throat, his teeth leaving a mark on the juncture of your neck until he groans at the salty-sweet taste of soap on your skin.

“And you're beautiful.”

He steals the breath right from your lungs, gasping in between the short moments when his mouth wasn’t molded against yours. His hand on the back of your neck kept you pressed to his chest, your fingers ghosting over the stitches you could feel through the thin material of his shirt.

His leg was firmly pushed in between yours, his body supporting most of you as he hitched your leg to rest over his hip. The muscle of his thigh flexing when you barely rocked your hips against him. The cotton material of your nightgown did nothing to hide the feeling of rough denim on the softness of your thighs, scraping and molding red indents from the back and forth motion your hips made.

You nearly shout when he snakes his hand in between your bodies, cupping your mound while his fingers work against the bundle throbbing in between your legs; sparks of electricity shoot down to your toes and into the tips of your fingers with the slightest of touches. You ache against him, your body moving with him and seeking an unfamiliar end, a delicious coil in your belly that wound tighter and tighter with every swipe of his two fingers.

You’re panting, muffling pathetic whimpers against his ear while he mouths at the deliciously tender spot on your neck. You can hardly hold your head up, your mind swimming in a thick, intoxicating fog until the world blurred around the edges. You feel the build-up at the base of your spine boiling over, almost all-consuming to the point it tingles every nerve in your body with anticipation. 

You grip his forearm until your nails leave pale, pink marks in your wake, and push him away to finally breathe again.

He is about the only thing keeping you upright, slowly he dropped your leg until you stood alone; his touches stopped, leaving a dull, unsatisfied ache that seeped into your bones. The sweat gathered at your hairline was annoying, tickling you to the point of discomfort until you swiped it away with the back of your hand.

“I don’t want Papa...”

You can’t think, nothing on the forefront of your mind coherent enough; like you were hopelessly lagging while your thoughts raged and laid stuck on the tip of your tongue. You squeeze your eyes shut, rubbing your temple with your eyes opened, and find Mando looking right back at you.

If your father woke up to you gone, you’re not sure what he would do, other than assuming the worst.

And you certainly didn’t want him to catch you in the barn, not like this.

“I-I don’t…”

His eyes were almost gentle, sharp and consuming as always, but kind behind the harsh set of his brow.

He brushes pieces of your hair behind your ear, his touch still burning as it did before but with half the intensity felt a few moments ago.

“Go get some sleep.”

You collect yourself, pulling the shawl on your shoulders tight as you tuck your hands underneath your arms. He steps back once you regained composure and watches you even as you walk away.

You only make it a few steps before he calls after you.

“Tomorrow?”

There’s a hint of something in his voice.

Tease? Promise? Flirt?

Something that pulls harsh at your little heartstrings he had wrapped around his finger.

“How'd you like to go hunting?”

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pull

Sequel to Push

Warnings: noncon sex, oral, violence, abuse, and death.

This is Lee Bodecker (who is already dark!af) and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The sheriff keeps coming around.

Note: Okay, so probably a three-parter. I didn’t intend for this to go beyond a one shot but same old story, eh.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“Oh what the hell she says I just can't win for losing And she lays back down”

-Her Diamonds, Rob Thomas

🚔

You stared out the window. The trees along the edge of the yard were pale and barren, a sheet of frost laid over the ground. There was a wailing in your head. The tears blurred your vision and your fingernails curled into the lip of the sink.

"Goddamn it, girl," you flinched at your father's voice. "The kettle's fucking screaming."

You pushed yourself away from the sink and shook away the haze. You turned the knob and moved the kettle to the front burner. You took off the lid of the percolator and poured the piping water inside. You left the coffee to brew and turned your back to the stove.

"Are you alright?" Will asked as he cut up his eggs with his fork.

"She's fine. She just ain't wanna do her work." Your father growled through a mouthful. "Way she's been draggin' her ass lately like the rest of us ain't work a lot harder than rinsing a pan or sweeping a dang floor."

"I've been doing all that, daddy." You cringed after you spoke. Not just because you knew you're father wouldn't like it but because that word, 'daddy', tickled that memory in the back of your head.

"Try to do it without makin' a bigger mess," he snarled. "Your ma raised you better. She was still here, she'd be shakin' her head."

Not just at me, you thought but kept it to yourself. You turned and filled the four cups lined up with coffee. You set each before the men at the table. Your brothers thanked you, your father grumbled for the sugar. You set the dish in the centre of the table and backed away. 

You would eat after them. A bowl of porridge with cinnamon as your daddy went to his shed and the boys drove into town. Your only peace for the day although you hadn't had any since that night.

Six days. You counted each in your head. Laying in your bed, sleepless. Even after almost a week, you still felt the Sheriff's intrusion. You were still sore; bruises on your ass and thighs, a hole deep in your being. You closed your eyes and you were bent over the chair or the table. Your skin crawled and your stomach flipped. You couldn't shake the terrible shadow from your mind.

They left without ado, the boys in an argument over Mr. Calver's new car and what year it was. You cleared the table and sat to make yourself eat. It was hard but after a two day fast, you'd almost passed out against the burning stove. So you ate without tasting and washed the dishes.

You found yourself gazing out the window again. Snow began to fall and you shivered. You looked down, your hands mindlessly in the dishwater that had long turned cold. You pulled the plug and dried your pruned hands. 

The gravel crunched outside as the wind battered flakes against the window panes.

Your heart dropped. It used to be weeks between visits, sometimes a whole month. As of late, Sheriff Bodecker had taken to visiting more often. You were never very vain but you suspected it might be on your account. How could it not be?

You went to the door and peeked out the tall window beside it. It was him. The lights atop the cruiser and the emblem painted across the door. It was early but every visit was unexpected.

He looked at the house and you let go of the curtain. You pressed yourself to the door and listened. His footsteps trailed away and he knocked on the shed door. Your father answered in his usual gruff demeanor.

You felt brittle as you pushed away from the door. You walked to the stairs and looked up. The carpet was worn away by years of steps taken up and down. You leaned against the railing as you climbed. Don’t think about the man below and perhaps he wouldn’t think of you.

You took a cloth from the linen closet at the end of the hall and began to wipe down the plates that decorated the wall. Each was painted with a landmark; Niagara Falls, the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, the Pyramids in Giza. You focused on cleaning each, even as your hands shook and your legs threatened to crumple.

His hands on you, his sickly sweet breath, his body crushed against you. You gripped the plate with the image of the Coliseum. You stared at the hundreds of windows, the falling facade. Your eye overflowed and the door below slammed.

You sniffed and set the plate back in the hooks. You wiped your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater and wiped the top of the side table. Thick soles climbed the stairs and a figure stopped in your peripheral. You turned as Lee peered down at you, fingering the heel of his gun as he neared.

“Your pa said I could use the facility,” he said.

“Behind me,” you said quietly as you picked up the vase and wiped the inside. 

“What’re you doin’? Tryna hide from me up here?” He tapped two fingers on the table.

You shook your head and put the pot down. You looked at the old sepia picture of your parents beside it.

“You know, I was wanting to come back sooner but… duty calls.” He lowered his voice as he leaned close, “There’s not much to do sittin’ around in the cruiser. I end up thinking of you. Wishin’ it was your hand down my pants instead of mine.”

“Sheriff,” you breathed. “Please, don’t--”

“You mad ‘cause I been gone, I get it. Not right of a man to be with a woman than just leave her waitin’,” he touched your cheek as you looked away. “You smell nice.”

“You better do your business and get goin’, sheriff,” you uttered. “I got laundry to do.”

“No point in actin’ all coy anymore,” his hand stretched over your jaw and he forced you to look at him. “And I can’t hold out much longer. You remember the river, where I take my break, you meet me there at midnight, after your pa’s asleep.”

“It’s snowing,” you argued.

“I don’t care if it’s a goddamn blizzard. You come find me or I find you,” he snarled and his hand slipped down to the top of your dress. He undid the top two buttons and squeezed your tits together as he watched them with a lewd leer. “I gotta pay more attention to these… but that ass is so nice.”

“My daddy--”

“Half drunk, as usual,” he huffed, “I could fuck you on his bed right now and he’d be none the wiser.” He purred and admired your tits as he bounced them. “Midnight… I’ll keep the car warm for you.”

He winked and dropped his hands, his palm brushing over the front of his pants and causing him to groan. He turned away and unbuckled his pants as he entered the bathroom. He kicked the door closed and you whimpered.

If your daddy found out what had happened, even if it was the Sheriff, he’d string you up by your knickers.

🚔

You found the flashlight under the stairs and waited until the house was filled with snores. The old standing clock ticked as you counted down the hours sat on the stairs across from the front door. The snow wasn’t thick but enough to make it slippery. With the night, the temperature dropped and seeped in around the windows. It would take you a while to get through the woods.

You opened the front door carefully. You wore the old hand-me-down coat and your heavy boots. You hated the forest after dark. When you were kids, your older brothers like to tell tales of grisly murders and other atrocious acts there. You’d since learn much of those were fantasy but it didn’t make them any less sinister.

You flipped the flashlight on as you neared the trees. You hit it twice to get the bulb alight. You pointed it ahead of you and followed the glow like a beacon. If your daddy knew what you were about, if your mama was alive to know it… you could hardly bear it yourself.

Your teeth chattered as the bitter wind swept under your skirt and you crossed your free arm over your middle. You hunched against the cold as flakes began to fall once more. You heard the river ahead of you and came out onto the dirty shore.

Bodecker’s cruiser sat waiting, his flashlight on the dash as it lit up the interior. You saw him in the yellow haze as you neared. He got out as he spotted you and rounded the car. His breath fogged before him and he rubbed his hands together.

“Got the heat on, not that you’ll be cold for long,” he said, “Come on,” he opened the back door and reached for the flashlight. You handed it to him as he waved you into the car. “On your back.”

He was out of pretense, out of patience. You sat and shimmied back on the seat. He got in behind you and pulled the door closed as he huddled on his knees on the seat. He was bent awkwardly as he grabbed at your skirt.

“Common, let’s get these off,” he reached up and grabbed the waist of your wool tights and jolted them down your thighs. “It’s so fucking cold. I don’t know we can keep to the car through the winter.” He left your tights at your knees and tore down your underwear. He pushed your legs up so they hung around him, the wool stretched across his stomach. “There’s a hotel in town. We can drive in…”

His voice trailed off as he fumbled with his pants. He grunted and planted a hand beside your head as he bent over you. He slapped the tip of his cock against your cunt as you turned your face away from him. You pressed your lips together. Better to have it done with.

“What’s the matter, girl?” He grabbed your chin and turned your head. “Open your eyes…” he rubbed his nose against yours and pushed against your entrance. “Look at your daddy, girl.”

“Please--” You opened your eyes and begged. “Please, don’t make--”

He impaled you and let out a long groan. You yelped and as you curled beneath him and he sank to his limit. It hurt just as much as before. He hit the same bruises as he began to thrust.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said with each tilt of his hips, “You don’t know how I’ve been thinking about you.”

He pushed himself up as he continued to move against you. He unzipped your coat and unbuttoned your blouse with some difficulty. He ripped your jacket, shirt, and brassiere strap down your shoulder. He grabbed your tit as it fell loose and toyed with your nipple. He flicked with his thumb and circled the hard nub.

“You need to dress yourself up, girl,” He purred between thick breaths. “Show off what you got. Just for me, no one else.”

“I can’t-- I can’t--” You squealed as he sped up and sent a pang up your spine. “Ow, ow, ow.”

“I ain’t care about your pa,” he murmured, “I’ll buy you something nice, hmmm? Then I can fuck you in that.”

You blinked away the tears as they threatened. This man could use your body but he wouldn’t see you cry. You hadn’t truly done that since your mama’s funeral. 

The car rocked with him. He crushed you into the seat as his feet hit the door. He was too tall to be crammed in the back of the cruiser atop you but it barely seemed to matter. The leather of his coat squeaked as he hammered into you and the scent of his sweat permeated the air. 

He dropped down on you, smothering you as his hips kept going. He nuzzled your ear and gave a throaty grunt. He came and slapped the seat beside your head. He slowed and went limp over you, out of breath as he shuddered.

“Mmm, can I use my cuffs on you next time, girl?” He lifted his head and tickled your temple. “Hmm? You can be my perp?”

You stared at him, mortified. You nodded, unable to speak.

“Tomorrow,” he rasped, “I won’t wait another week.”

🚔

Your nights belonged to the Sheriff and the days had never truly been your own. Two weeks of his sick game, trekking through the dark, cold woods to his cruiser by the frozen river. Face down on his seat, cuffs behind your back, him behind you, on top of you.

That day, he’d been by to see your father. He found you in the kitchen before he went. “Forget the underwear tonight, girl.” That was all he said before he left you to dread him again.

The same path, the same bobbing light before you, the knot deep in your gut. You were as sick with yourself as you were with him. You let him use you. Maybe you didn’t have a choice but you didn’t fight. You just laid there and waited for him to finish.

As you walked through the woods, you still jumped at every snapped twig and every rustle. It all seemed louder that night. The wind was wild and the branches shook above, no leaves left to block the moonlight.

He took your jacket off that night. You shivered and he cuffed your hands behind your back. He bent you over the hood and hiked up your skirt. Your thigh highs began to sag as he entered you. Your cheek nearly stuck to the cold metal of the car as he pushed your head down.

“Fuck yeah, girl, you like when daddy fucks you?” He snarled as he slapped your ass. The open zipper of his jacket brushed your skin and his pants scratched the top of your thighs. “Hmm, you like being a whore?” He tugged on the cuffs as he fucked you harder. “That’s it.”

He snorted and slowed. You sensed a disturbance and he reached to his loose belt.

“Who’s there?” He called out as he slipped out of you.

“I fucking knew you was sneakin’ around,” Your father’s voice cut through the air. “Might be with a policeman but it don’t make it any better, you tramp.”

You tried to stand and Bodecker pushed you back down. “She’s a grown woman and times are changin’, Rhett. Why don’t you go back home? You know I’ll get her there safe.”

“Home? Uh uh, she can stay out in the cold. I won’t have no whore under my roof.”

“Now, let’s not be rash, Rhett, I’ll take care of her. You won’t have to. I was just--”

“Everyone knows about you, Lee,” your father barked, “This where you take your other whores?”

“I’m a changed man,” Bodecker insisted and you heard a subtle snap. You watched as their shadows got closer in the dark lit up only by the flashlight thrown onto the ground. “She’s--”

“You can keep her. Maybe you can find a man who will buy or sell her when you’re done.”

“Don’t be sayin’ that--”

“You fat fuck, don’t you--”

You were deafened by the sudden bang and your ears rang as your father’s body slumped to the floor. You stood with some trouble and stumbled back. You heard your father gasping as he twitched in the dirt. Bodecker turned and caught you before you could stepped away from the hood.

“I didn’t tell you to get up,” He growled as he bent you over the hood again.

“Daddy!” You cried out. “What did you do? Daddy--”

“I told you,” he pressed the gun to your head and poked around until he slid back inside you, “He ain’t your daddy no more.”

Your boots kicked in the dirt as he fucked you. The cold metal of the gun had you frozen, your eyes on your father’s body as the life slowly drained from him. You closed your eyes as his last, moist breaths escaped him. You bit down; you couldn’t cry, not even then.

You didn’t even notice as Bodecker finished and backed away. As his cum leaked from you and your legs folded. You fell onto the cold ground and he hauled you up into the back seat. He slammed the door and got in the front.

“Daddy…” You muttered.

“Pity. You never know what scoundrels are hanging out in the woods after dark,” Bodecker said as he started the car. “That’s some bad news to wake up to, isn’t is, girl?”

“Wh-why-why?” You stammered.

“Shhhh, you gotta be quiet, girl,” he coaxed, “‘Specially when drop you off. Better not wake any of your brothers, right?” He was quiet for a moment and cleared his throat loudly, “Right?”

“Right,” you whispered as your sticky thighs rubbed together, “Right, right, right…”

🚔

“Now, girl, you go inside and put your clothes in a bag and wash yourself up.” Those were Bodecker’s instructions as he dropped you off. 

You didn’t remember doing it but you awoke with damp sheets and a bag by your bed. You rolled over, stiff from the night spent tense and rolling back and forth. It hadn’t really been sleep. More shock.

You laid there. Numb. You heard the gurgling again. Saw the lifeless black form of your father’s body in the dirt. It wasn’t real. You’d go downstairs and he’d be there. Once you put on the coffee he’d get up and demand a cup. It couldn’t be real.

You sat up and kicked the bag under your bed. You wore the grey dress with the pleats, a black sweater over it, with black stockings, and your mary janes. You descended the stairs one at a time and put the kettle on the stove. You stared out the window. It had snowed more in the last hours of the night.

You got out the tray of eggs and the sausages. You searched for the large skillet and Will walked in with a yawn. He was always the first up. You stared at him as he sat at the table. You tried to say something, maybe you said ‘good morning’, and then you went back to your work.

Arn and Cal came shortly after. None of the three mentioned your father’s absence. It wasn’t that unusual. Sometimes he drank too much, sometimes he had been up for hours or hadn’t slept at all. You served them and added the bacon grease to the jar of lard.

Where was he? He couldn’t be there. In the dirt. In his own blood. Dead. No, he was going to come right through that door.

You heard the tires before the knock. Your heart raced as reality closed in around you. Arn got up to answer it and came back with the sheriff. He didn’t even acknowledge you as he nodded at the men around the table.

“Pa’s not awake yet,” Will said and chewed the edge of a strip of bacon.

“Well, I think…” Bodecker hooked his thumb in his belt, his stomach sticking out awkwardly, “I think we need to talk about your pa. Can I sit?”

“Course, sir,” Cal said, “Should be enough fixins if you want some.”

“No, no thank you,” Bodecker sat heavily and sighed. He was an effective actor. “Look, your pa… well, we don’t know exactly what happened but… we all agree he must’ve been drunk.”

“What’s goin’ on?” Arn snipped, “What do you mean? Pa is here--”

“You remember when he went to bed last night?” Bodecker asked.

“Well…” Cal frowned and looked at his brother. “Well, I think I laid down before him.”

“Me too,” Arn said.

“I’m always the first asleep,” Will added. “Same with my sister.”

You gulped as the sheriff finally looked at you. “Well, you know we had them flyers around town for the longest time about the woods. About the criminals we got hangin’ around these days and there’s really no easy way for me to say it but it looks like your pa ran into one of them last night.”

“All the way out in the woods? But why?” Cal asked.

Arn’s nostrils flared as he shook his head. “Because he got no sense. You remember last summer. We found him face down in a bog out there. Took the three of us to get him out.”

“Yeah, but so late…”

“You know how he’s been since ma.” Will intoned.

You were dizzy. You grabbed onto the counter as your legs turned to liquid and you cried out. “No!” You fell to your knees and touched your forehead. You knew it was real, you’d seen it, but you had wanted so badly for it to have been a dream. A nightmare.

Will was the first at your side. Bodecker helped him lifted you back to your feet and get you to a chair. Arn and Cal watched in concern.

“You sure it was our pa?” Arn asked.

“I’ll save you the sight. I can assure you it’s him.” Bodecker said as he rubbed your shoulder and Will stood over you. “She should be fine. Get her some water. It’s the shock. You know the ladyfolk and their temperaments. They aren’t so equipped for things like this.”

“Any idea who? Why?” Arn prodded.

“Don’t think your pa had the sense to take his wallet but his belt buckle was gone and we can’t be sure what else they took,” Bodecker took your hand and caressed the back of it, “Honey, you drink tea? You want your brothers’ get you some?”

“I-- I--- You--You--” You stuttered.

“Come on, boys, let’s get her laying down,” Bodecker said as he stood. “She’s just havin’ a moment.”

Will and Cal lifted you out of the chair and carried you to the sofa in the front room. You were stiff as a board as they angled you onto the cushion and you could only babble at the ceiling.

“Go get that tea going, Will,” Bodecker ordered, “Cal, you go get her something to keep her warm.” Arn stood in the doorway and watched. “And Arn, get some wood for the fire. We should get it going.”

The boys dispersed as you laid across the couch. Bodecker touched your shoulder and you latched onto his wrist.

“You--” You hissed.

“Shhh, I only did what I had to. What you made me do,” he whispered, “‘cause you weren’t careful.”

You turned your head back and forth and squirmed. “No, no, no! You raped me! You killed my daddy!’

He covered your mouth and leaned over you. “Shut up! Shut up!” He sneered and his other hand went to your throat. “Now you got your clothes in a bag.” You nodded with wide eyes. “Good. I’m gonna take your brothers into town and you’re gonna burn them. Got it?” You nodded again. “And you’re gonna shut up.”

He released you roughly and stood as Cal came in with a blanket and tossed it over you. Bodecker helped straighten it and looked around.

“Think y’all should come back with me. We can get you sorted at the station then see about the caretaker.”

“All that already?” Arn asked.

“I ain’t rushing. Bodies don’t keep long, though. Investigations neither. We’ll get some statements from you boys and you’ll be free to choose what you wanna do from there.”

🚔

Will stayed home from school to keep watch over you. You didn’t know what was wrong with you. When your ma died, you didn’t feel this empty. You had cried for her, mourned for her. But now all you could do was sit there. Was it your fault? Even if Bodecker had pulled the trigger, you had brought your father there. You had been so concerned with keeping the sheriff from telling your secret, you had failed to hide it yourself.

Bodecker stopped by almost daily. He claimed it was to ask more questions or check on the family but you didn’t miss the way he looked at you. The way he made the excuse to be in the same room when he talked to your brothers. The way he shifted on his feet and peered around the house in silent triumph.

On the fifth day, you made Will go to school. He shouldn’t miss class because of you. He was the only one out of the boys who had ever read a book full through. So you saw them off, a proper breakfast for them for the first time since that horrifying morning, and you went about the list of undone chores.

You looked out the window at the shed. Your daddy never said much to you but you were used to his presence; the noise of his activity just outside. You couldn’t blame him for his faults, he’d fought a war, he’d worked hard, and he’d lost a wife. And now he was dead because of you.

You were scrubbing the floor when you heard the engine and the rubber treads on snow. You didn’t stop as you tried to scour away the salt stains and layer of dirt from the hallway. Boots clambered up the stairs and you kept your head down. 

No knock, no warning as Bodecker opened the door. You looked up at him as he kicked the snow off his feet.

“You’re up and about today,” he said in a pandering tone.

You said nothing and focused on your work. He took off his jacket and hung it on the rack in the corner. He wiped his boots on the mat and watched you. He hummed as he tapped his toe.

“I like that. You on all fours.” He taunted.

You sat back on your heels and dropped the rag in the bucket. “I got cleaning to do, Sheriff, and if you don’t recall, my daddy’s gone… for good.”

“Oh, I know it,” he said as you lifted the pail and he followed you to the kitchen. “But do you? Do you really know it?”

You dumped the water down the sink and plunked the empty bucket on the floor. “I know it and I know who done it. I saw you. How could you?”

“Your brother Arn’s gonna get the house in the will. He’ll be lookin’ for a wife soon. Means Cal’s gonna have to get his own place, take Will with him or get a wife of his own. And you? Where does that leave you?”

“There’s jobs for me out there, I can clean, I can cook,  I’m sure I could waitress,” you argued as you crossed to him. You grabbed his arms and tried to shove him. “Go. You don’t need to worry about me. I’d prefer it if you left me alone all together. You got what you wanted, Sheriff.”

“Not all of it,” he smirked. “You gonna drive yourself mad with all this.”

“What do you care?” You slapped his chest with both hands. “You don’t care about no one but you. You killed him!” You hit him again, “You killed him!”

He grabbed your upper arms and shook you. “You shut up about that now. You say anything again and you’ll be lyin’ beside him. If that ain’t enough, I’ll put your brothers there first.”

You reeled as if he’d slapped you. Your lip quivered and you sucked it in to keep from sobbing. “What do you want from me? I never wanted any of this.”

“You can’t know what you want, girl,” he wrenched you back and turned as he dragged you through to the living room. “So let me show you what you want. What your new daddy can do for you.”

“Get off of me!” You wrestled with him as he angled you around the couch. He shoved you and you fell back onto the cushions. “Leave me alone!”

He forced you back as you tried to stand and grabbed your chin. He squeezed as he looked down at you.

“Take them bloomers off now,” he ordered. “And hush your mouth.” You gaped up at him. He turned his hand and rested it against your cheek. “There’s one sure way to knock some sense into a woman,” he slapped you lightly, “You can decide if this lesson is an easy one or not.”

You sat back as you shrugged away his hand. You winced and lifted your pelvis and slipped off your underwear. As you did, your stockings bunched at your knees. Lee watched you with thick breath and purred. He knelt down and pushed your legs apart.

“Put your arms up. Just across the couch. Relax.” He directed as he got closer. “I wanna show you somethin’ makes the girls happy.”

“What are you--”

“You stop asking questions before I make it so you can’t. Now,” he squeezed your knees and his hands slipped up your thighs as he urged them further apart, “Just don’t think. Just sit there.”

He lifted your skirt over your head, one hand still on your legs. His warm breath tickled your pelvis and you squirmed. He pinched you and you exclaimed. You stilled and he slid his tongue down your cunt and poked between your folds. You choked on air as he dragged the tip of his tongue around your bud and your legs tense as your feet tried to arch in your flats.

He delved more firmly into your pussy and you grabbed onto the sofa. Your heart sped up and you pushed your pelvis out without thinking. You looked down at his head draped in your skirt as his mouth made sloppy noises. You felt a strange tingle as he kept on and your neck was pricked as you filled with guilt. It should feel good, whatever he was doing.

“Stop, please, Sheriff,” you begged.

He lapped hungrily as he ignored you and his hands gripped your hips. He pushed you into the couch as he devoured you and drew your pleasure to a point on his tongue. Your breath hitched and you moaned without thinking. You wanted him to stop but more, you wanted him to keep going.

And he did. He seemed to enjoy it just as much as your core pulsed. Your fingers dug into the cushion and your toes curled. You cried out, a voice that didn’t sound like yours, and rocked your pelvis against his face as you were overcome with delirium. You’d never felt so delicious.

Every ounce of strength drained from you. You panted as you slouched against the couch and he pulled away. Your skirt slipped from his head and his lips shone with your juices. He rubbed your legs and watched you writhe as your nerves were overwrought.

He stood with a grunt and unbuckled his belt. He licked his lips and tilted his head. “I knew you wanted me and now you know it too,” he said, “Now you show me that ass. You know I can’t resist.”

[an-anticlimactic-bass-drop]

Tall Part 2/?

Prompt: Tech is too tall for his own good. Constantly hitting his head on objects and desks as he works on projects. The other bad batchers make fun of him for this but you find it endearing.

Tech X Reader

Slow Burn/ Angst

Warnings: Mild 1.11 Spoilers, Deviates from canon

Word Count: 1.5K

Part 2/?

partly inspired by this gif 

(it won’t let me put it in but its the one of tech catching omega)

Omega nudges you awake from where you are napping in the pilot’s seat. The small girl’s blonde head peeks over the arm of the chair as she looks out the window. 

“Look!”

The sounds of explosions and blaster fire are erupting from the city center a few klicks away. You quickly lean forward and start firing up the takeoff controls for the Marauder. You are sure your boys are the ones behind the explosions and you smile gently as you imagine Wrecker’s gleeful expression as you see a cloud of smoke rise into the air in the distance.  They can’t be too far off if the nearing sounds of blaster fire are any indicators. Omega rushes to the landing ramp as Hunter’s voice crackles in through the comms. 

“Omega! Get ready to bring the senator aboard!” Hunter sounds a little winded and Wrecker cackles in the background as another explosion rocks the tunnel they were in. You remember the new security system Tech put in place and shake the last cobwebs of your nap out of your mind as you recall the specifications that he had told you about before leaving. Your hands fly across the panels as you disarm the system and lower the landing ramp. You head to the ramp as Omega jumps up and down waving at the men as they trek towards the ship. 

“Ladies! Meet the newest passenger of the Havoc Marauder, Senator Avi Singh.” Hunter introduced you to the senator and you looked him up and down. The senator doesn’t look like he’s all that happy to be leaving his planet in the hands of the Imperials. Singh is wringing his hands and has a look of worry on his face. 

“I should not leave my people. They need me here!” The senator says quietly. Echo leans in with a hand on the senator’s shoulder. 

“If you stay here you will be hunted down and murdered. It is better to live to fight another day than to die unnecessarily.” The clone looks almost defeated as he tells the senator this. Singh’s shoulders slump forward as he takes one last look around his planet before boarding the ship, nodding in agreement at Echo’s words. 

The trip back to Cid’s bar was uneventful to say the least. The senator and his droid are quietly sitting in the cargo hold. You offered him a cup of caf earlier but he graciously declined. The men are scattered around the ship as hyperspace speeds by. Echo and Hunter are attempting to sleep in the bunks while Wrecker and Omega are playing Saabac on the box that functions as a makeshift table. You just poured yourself a piping hot cup of the precious brown liquid that keeps you going through bouts of insomnia caused by the nightmares and the general lifestyle of the Bad Batch. Wandering up towards the cockpit, you aren’t expecting to trip over Tech’s long legs that are stretched out into the aisle. 

“Kriff!” Tech curses as your cup spills slightly onto the top of his blacks. He slides out from the wall he was buried in and starts looking around for a towel to wipe the hot caf off of his shirt. 

“Sorry! I didn’t see you there!” You frantically bend down to help him. You grab one of his grease rags from the toolbox you notice off to the side and dab at the stain on his shirt. 

“No worries. I will be fine.” Tech strips off his shirt and you swear you can feel the temperature of the air heat up several degrees as you realize just how close you are to the taller clone. “There. No harm done. Would you mind putting this in the laundry for me? I need to finish this last bit of wiring before heading back to check on the flightpath.” You flush as you tear your eyes away from the bare chest of the man in front of you. 

“Hm? Sorry! I’ll just get right on that.” You hurry away with the stained shirt and a blush on your face. You left your cup of caf on the floor near where Tech was working. He let out a small chuckle as he steals your drink. Not his fault if you left it in your hurry. 

The ship lands back at Cid’s bar without incident. The senator thanks you all graciously and departs into Cid’s office to discuss payment. Wrecker and Omega not so sneakily sneak off to get Mantell mix and Echo follows them at a distance to make sure they stay out of trouble. Tech goes to the bar to get a drink and you sit beside him to discuss the mission. You flush as you think about the previous night on the ship and you clench your jaw to avoid licking your lips at the thought of the bare chest of the taller clone next to you. You aren’t ashamed to say you dreamed of the expanse of skin and what it might taste like while you were in your bunk after that episode last night. 

“Am I boring you? I can stop if you would like.” Tech looks concerned as you zone back into reality and realize you have been watching him with a blank expression for a beat too long. You blink in surprise as you shake away the untamed thoughts that have been plaguing your mind. You really can’t be anymore obvious in your crush can you? At this point you might as well have a giant sign that follows you around that says “This person has a crush on the tall nerdy one!” 

“No!” You exclaim a little too loudly and get some irritated looks from the other patrons of the bar. “Sorry I'm just distracted today. The mission has me a little rattled. I am not used to being that deep into enemy space.” You say in a quieter tone.

“We are also not used to it. I always knew we would make it to Raxus someday however I never thought about it being to save the seperatist leader. Echo was most displeased about the idea and protested greatly. I tried to convince him that it was just a job and we need to pay off our debt to Cid but he does not see it this way.” Tech seems saddened at his brother’s inability to see the mission without the politics. You can see Echo’s point of view and point out to Tech that Echo’s trauma probably makes it hard for him to trust the separatists seeing as they had kidnapped and tortured him for 2 years before he was rescued. 

“The Techno Union treated him like a computer! An algorithm! Barely even human! I really don’t blame Echo for not trusting the separatists. He has barely recovered from the trauma of being in that machine for so long. He is still really pale and frail and you haven’t finished working on his new limbs yet so he still has the prosthetics they forced on him. Speaking of which, if you need help working on those I am always available. He has every reason to be upset about this mission.” 

You are fully involved in the discussion and don’t hear Echo and the others enter the bar as they make their way over to you and Tech. Echo catches the tail end of the conversation and tries to announce their presence with a small cough that turned into a hacking one that left Omega looking concerned. Her big round eyes are full of unspoken worry as she gazes up at him. Echo glances down at the young girl and forces a smile, patting her head. 

“I am fine little one. Don’t worry about me.” He says reassuringly.

Hunter leaves Cid’s office with her and the Senator. He comes over to where the group has gathered and steals Tech’s abandoned drink. He chugs the rest of it and gestures for the group to follow as he heads back to the ship.  Tech stands up and offers his hand to you to help you off of the bar stool. He has a habit of making sure none of the Bad Batchers fall over, a habit he has picked up from their upbringing on Kamino where the other 3 clones were not the best balanced due to their enhanced abilities. Your face flushes again as you become uncomfortably aware of how close you two have gotten during the conversation. He leans away from your touch as if he also hadn’t realized how close you two had gotten. Tech turns to follow Hunter out the door and has to stoop a little to avoid hitting the door frame, Echo cracking a quiet joke about not having to worry about hitting the top of door frames since he lost a few inches. Only Omega and you caught the joke and you give a chuckle as Omega just looks confused. 

“The legs you see? Lost a few inches? Oh well.” Echo gave up on explaining the joke to the kid and followed Wrecker out the door towards the ship. 

Once back on the ship Hunter announces that they have been given a few days off courtesy of Cid since the mission went so smoothly. The other bad batchers glance at each other, not sure of what to do with their new time off.  You were pretty sure they have never had free time in their entire life.

“We could visit Cut and Suu? See how they are settling in!” Suggests Omega. 

“Too dangerous for them. We attract too much attention. The last thing they need is to be recognized as republic sympathizers.” reasons Tech. 

“I think we deserve a few days of downtime! We can take a well deserved vacation and rest up before the next mission.” you say as you pour a cup of caf from the pot Tech started when you arrived back at the ship. “We can get some repairs done on the ship and maybe even explore the city! I know Omega has been dying to go to the museums in the city center since we got here and I'm sure you boys would enjoy it too.” 

Hunter thinks for a moment and nods in agreement. 

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

Taglist: @haloangel391 @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s

[choiwrites]

kth | the day after valentine’s (m.)

Words: 4.5k Synopsis: Taehyung, your best friend, had asked you to come over to help him arrange his furniture after moving for the hundredth time. It’s the day after Valentine’s and all the getting laid stuff is over, right? Not for Taehyung. Also, who the hell buys condoms after Valentine’s day? Rating: 18+ Author’s Note: This is a messy drabble that I have no intention cleaning or editing. I wrote this at liek 2am so a lot of typo’s ahead y’all.

When you agreed to come over Taehyung's apartment, you thought he needed help with arranging the stuff that came from his moving van today. But no, your best friend's not the most truthful person you know.

He spreads across his dirty old couch, one he'd kept from his college dorm, wearing nothing but his basketball shorts that holds tight against his waist. Seven years since meeting him, he's done nothing to change his lifestyle. Every month, it's the same old scenario of him moving to another place after getting evicted for God knows how many times, and you watching him play a mobile game while you beg him to please start unpacking before a landlord sends him on his ass again.

"Let me finish this level, I'm so close." He looks for a second to study your reaction, annoyance painted clearly on your face.

You shrug, and your eyes dart over the cigarette pack that almost hides in one of his Goodwill boxes.

"I though you quit?"

Confused, Taehyung follows your eyes and he regrets in an instant bringing you here.

"I haven't had one in two months. I'm stressed lately."

Sighing, you try to understand. Taehyung's been on and off with cigars, he'd buy one in secret but sooner or later, you'd always find a lighter in his laundry when coming over. You advice him to keep his hand busy, and you'd even given him a bracelet that chimes. He removed it three months later and you never asked where he threw it away.

"Fuck," his finger swipes his screen as if he wanted to break it, "I almost got it!" he yelled.

He switches off his phone, now staring back at you. Your eyes fall, he's always intimidating. You couldn't blame him, you were always intimidated.

"What?" you croaked.

"What do you mean what? What's your plan?"

"My plan? Why do I have to make the plans?" Your fingers find the hem of your thin baby blue shirt.

"Because you're the smarter one. How do I arrange all my shit? You got any idea?"

"Taehyung, we've been doing this for ages. How come you still depend on me? There will come a day that I won't be here anymore and the only person you could depend on is yourself." Was it seeing the cigarettes that raised your voice, or remembering that he threw your handmade bracelet? You couldn't care less.

He was quiet. Then he opens his mouth, and he's quiet again.

"You sound like my mom," he says, meaning to tease you as if he hadn't used that for the hundredth time. "Was your date last night that bad? I told you you should come with Hoseok and I on Valentine's, we had an amazing night at Jungkook's crib."

There he goes again, ignorant of your troubles. Classic selfish Tae, the exact same one who stood you up on homecoming because he spent it having sex with Tilly Janes in his car. You're still upset about it, he didn't even think of going inside to give you at least a minute to dance with somebody on the dance floor.

"Mind telling me what happened? Did you get laid?"

"Do you ever think of maybe you shouldn't ask such inappropriate questions to someone?"

"Fine," almost tired in his tone.

And you spend a few more minutes in silence, guessing each other's thoughts with the way both your gaze lands on the floor. He clears his throat and forgets what he's about to say. You wish you didn't cancel your nail appointment today just to be with your best friend who still, in no surprise, doesn't have a single plan in his life.

Taehyung suggests he buys a stock from the grocery first, and when he says stock he means an awful lot of Oreo cookies and Lays. You agreed with him and he gets dressed, though the soles of your feet still hurt from walking in heels for three hours straight last night. If only you knew that Hyungwon would be bringing you to a walking spree, you wouldn't have worn a formal attire.

Taehyung spends his time choosing between peanut butter and double stuff. You tell him to pick the peanut butter one because you've never seen him finish the double stuff, he always throws the leftovers saying it was too sweet. He ignores your opinion and chooses the double stuff over the peanut butter.

He asks you again whether he should buy milk or pineapple juice instead, and you tell him to pick milk because whoever drinks pineapple is a monster. He nods in affirmation, commenting about how pineapple has a really weird aftertaste. And he brings the milk back to the shelf, putting the pineapple juice in the cart.

"You should dress like that." He points at a mannequin dressed in sportswear.

"You don't tell me what to wear, young man. I don't even jog."

"I'm just saying you'd look hotter." He scans you head to toe and your knees weaken a little.

He takes a route to the meat section, you already know why. He just wants to brag about being a vegan. Jungkook had convinced him last month to finally turn vegan, and he's been talking about it non-stop.

"I can't stand the smell of meat anymore, it's disgusting." He pinches his nose, wrinkles forming on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Vegan. We get it." You rolled your eyes.

"No, really. It's making me vomit," he says, nasally.

"Just make sure that once I cook chicken alfredo, your mouth wouldn't water."

Upon reaching the counter, Taehyung approaches the magazines and candy bars, leaving you in line.

What does he need this time?

And when you're up next in line, he comes back with a tight fist, hiding an item as he crosses his arms.

He thought he was sleek, but when he throws the condoms next to the Oreos, you couldn't help but laugh.

"You're buying condoms after Valentine's Day?" You throw your hand to your mouth, suppressing an uncontrollable laughter. "Did you run out last night or you're only getting laid today?" you added.

"Do you ever think of maybe you shouldn't ask such inappropriate questions to someone?"

You sighed. "But seriously, I know you wanna answer that question."

In the mood, you poke at his waist and he flinches like a worm. Taehyung was cocky, but he can be cute sometimes in ways he doesn't intend to.

"I ran out last night. Lucky you who don't need to buy another one since none of your dates ever pass your standards."

You couldn't point it out in what he said that made your heart throb, it felt a little offensive. Taehyung knows so much about you, it can get scary when he opens his mouth. What's he thinking right now? Cute little y/n, no one's ever good enough for her fragile heart. Cute little y/n, always finds a mistake in every part.

"That's not true, you know? I just don't settle that easily."

The corners of his lips lift, eyes rolling in disbelief. He was skinning you alive with that gaze, annoyed. He has a sarcastic smile sprawled all over his face, you just wanna punch it away.

On the way home, you thought about what he said for a second... For a while. You thought about it for a while. Was Taehyung right? Was his perception of you correct? Whatever it was, it did hurt. All you ever did for Taehyung was to be a good friend, and he gave nothing in return. You weren't expecting anything, but deep inside you knew Taehyung loves you just as much as you love him. But like every other person, insecurity gets in the way in relationships.

Maybe Taehyung doesn't even treat you as a friend.

No, you argued inside your head.

Sure, you've seen him in his most vulnerable moments. You've seen him break and you've seen him fall, you've seen him lose the inner parts of his soul. You've seen Taehyung happy, and you will always remember that specific laugh he lets out whenever he pretends something is funny. You know that he blinks when he curses because his body rejects it. He told you about his broken dream of becoming an astrologist, and you daydreamed together about the stars and the way they collide like magical dusts.

Maybe Taehyung doesn't know you like you know him.

Before the thought gets answered, Taehyung was already groaning as he puts the bags down to his counter. You had forgotten you arrived.

"We should start with your room. I'll place your clothes in your closet and you go arrange your miscellaneous."

He doesn't nod. Why won't he nod?  God, please, Taehyung, just agree with me once.

He remains standing with both his hands on either sides of his waist and he does nothing else. Still standing feet away from you, just knitted brows and a stern expression that you couldn't read. What is it this time?

"How was it?" His arms cross on the buff his chest, waiting for a response as he tries to read your reaction the same way you're reading where he's coming from.

"How was what?"

"The sex, y/n. Was it so bad you're in a bad mood today?" A laugh pauses in his throat, replaced by a rise of the corner of his lips.

It was a tug, or maybe a push, in your stomach that made your minds do wonders of spins. Such an unpredictable person Taehyung is.

There was nothing to deliberate inside your mind, nothing happened last night. Hyungwon went home without a kiss on his lips, and you're limbs gave out due to the amount of walking.

"There's no sex. We didn't have sex."

"Let me guess, he insulted your outfit? If not, he probably split the check." His index finger extends, eyes wrinkling to get out any more ideas from his dirty little head.

"Can you just- Ugh! What's with you and your insults?"

"How was that an insult? I was guessing which of what he did didn't pass your golden standard."

"If I had a better standard, maybe you wouldn't be my friend." Ouch. It wasn't directed to you but sometimes you just want to dissolve after saying something.

"I'm your friend because you have a high standard." He wasn't offended, not a single bit from what you have said. Was Taehyung that oblivious of how miserable he is? "If we weren't friends, I'm pretty sure I could get inside your pants."

You hoped he regret what he said, just as much as you wanted to dissipate earlier.

"I'm sorry, Taehyung. But my 'golden standard' would never, and I can't stress this enough, let you get in my pants, in an alternate universe where we aren't friends."

"Lies. Lies. Lies. I could easily get you swooning for me in just a matter of seconds, y/n. Stop, and I can't stress this enough, lying."

"Sure, Taehyung. Whatever you want me to fucking say." You turned your back on him to get a grip of yourself. You grunt, you shudder, and you sighed.

Cocky. Bastard. You could join those words together and it would still perfectly describe Taehyung. Perhaps you have a list of two words that could go either independently or together they'd still describe Taehyung well.

Arrogant. Pervert. Overconfident. Asshole. Striking. Idiot. Son. Of. A. Bitch. I. Just. Want. To. Punch. Him.

He places a grip on your arm to spin you to him. "I want you to say it," with a guttural voice coming from the pits of somewhere within his diaphragm, it's crazy how smooth it escaped from his lips.

"Saywhat?" as opposed to yours that escaped with so much tremble and crisp, thinner than air.

"Consent," he began. "I'm pretty sure I can reach your standard."

It was probably a bad idea. And a bad idea is followed by a spontaneous drive to try it, that's how it's done in movies. You'd probably regret it, right? But you'd regret it more if you don't get a chance to prove Taehyung wrong.

Fine. He needs a wake up call. He needs to wake up from that delusion he'd built inside his towering cocky arrogant head, no pun intended, that he's not every girl's cup of tea.

"You know what? Sure. What do you want me to do? Ride you? Then give you a blowjob after not finding the clit-"

He pulls you, hand reaching your lower back to push his groin toward your front. You were far behind than he was, Taehyung was already hard and eager. His lips were hot, warm around the tip of your tongue that vividly tastes the mint and smoke he had had earlier this morning. It was evident in the sloppiness of his kiss, swiftness of his wandering hands, and blazing fire underneath the lust of his eyes, Taehyung isn't exactly as what you have thought him to be.

The men you've slept with before, they were a floating fish in the sea. But Taehyung brings you sea deep into the weakness of your knees, the floor may have shaken 'cause you find yourself falling on his body and he catches you just perfectly, bodies molding with each other on the floor. Taehyung grips your thigh, to the north his hand traveled, his thumb harshly caressing your slit.

The position made it hard for him to move, he was struggling to reach every part of your body as he would have wanted so he pushed your body, and you look him in the eyes with question, both hands resting on his chest as he continues to play with your clit. He earns a sly grunt from you and he'd do anything to hear it again.

Then he was standing, carrying your body to the nearest stool he could find, desperate and quick. With one sharp thrust to lock you in position, he inhales the moan that went from your lips to his throat. Then he stops. He stopped.

"Moaning already, are we?" He lifts his brow, a crease forming on his forehead.

"Can you just get to it?"

He laughs. "That's not exactly how I always do it. I like to take my time."

You punch his shoulder, a questioning look taking over his features. Embarrassment flows through you. "This was a mistake."

He kisses you again, eating whatever insult was about to come out of your mouth. He wants to whisper it, that thing he have always wanted to tell you, in between kisses. Because now that he's got you under his touch, his tongue is burning just to say it. To distract himself, he digs into your waist deeper, sinking those three little words under your skin hoping you'd realize it.

You pull away, pushing him away from you. "Something wrong?" His nails have left their mark before you could figure out.

"No, no. Nothing's wrong."

There is though. You're not a stranger to not know the look on Taehyung's face. You recognize this one, it happened before. The trembling lips and crimson cheeks. They bring you back the day after prom, the day after Tilly Janes took his innocence.

"What happened last night?" you asked him, arms crossed against your chest.

"I'm so sorry I didn't come-"

"You came Tae. You came hard, didn't you? I can't believe you convinced me to go to prom just so you can leave me in there alone."

"I didn't want to. Listen, okay, I realized something last night."

"I don't need your apology, Taehyung. I don't need it. Jimin took me home last night."

"What? Why?"

"Why? Because some asshole left me without a ride. That's why!"

"I was looking for you last-"

"Shut it. He asked me on a date. So thank God, I'm at least in a good mood today to not flame on you."

"He asked you on a date? Are you going?"

Trembling lips and crimson cheeks. He gulped so hard you heard it.

"I am. Hey, are you okay?"

"I just can't believe someone would even ask you out. I'll be going, forget I came."

It's the same face, the same gulp. You put your hand on his cheek, like what a mom would do to an injured child, and he holds it so you won't ever let go of his face.

"We can stop. I know. This was a bad idea. We shouldn't have done it."

He shakes his head, his other hand creeping behind you. He latches his lips onto yours again, pulling your shirt up to reveal your stomach. The kiss was different, a touch of hunger for affection. A slow open one, mostly the breaths clashing in a soft whisper.

"I want you, y/n. I want you," he whispered to your mouth. You push him to the couch, straddling him and he groans in satisfaction. He pulls you closer, enough for his chin to land on your chest and he looks up in pure admiration of you.

There was more behind the words he said, but with the heat pooling in between your thighs, you couldn't care less as of now. It's something you'll resolve after. He tucks a strand of your hair as he makes thrusts underneath you, the thick cotton of his sweats didn't do anything to conceal his cock aching for you.

You remove his shirt, not being able to take your eyes away from his body. Sweet and honey under your gaze, he tenses them and you couldn't help but laugh at this. Kissing every inch of his exposed skin, you kneel as your knees approach the floor, not breaking eye contact with Taehyung while untying his sweats. His hand fails to fall steady on your arm and his Adam's apple bob in anticipation.

There's warmth that spreads across your stomach, different from the one in between you thighs. It's like electricity that continuously ignites a fire inside you when you notice his excitement, eager to have your mouth around him. A sign of reciprocation that he wants this just as much as you do no matter how hard you try to deny it, a catching fire of the thought that maybe he looks at you the way you look at him throughout all these years. Even now that you're not looking in his eyes, the continuous ignition of sparks inside you still teases.

You reach for his length, softly wrapping it in your hand and his breath quickens along with your heartbeat. Studying every detail, even the cold tones of the veins that spreads like tree roots. In usual occasions, giving head never takes your time. You suck it and finish it, no more and no less, nothing special really. But it's Taehyung, and his difference from others makes you uncomfortable in a way it shouldn't be possible. Trying to forget these unnecessary emotions, your thumb circles the head of his cock and he couldn't help but make his lip bleed, the agony of it keeping him awake to not fall into your dreamy touch.

His shorts reaches the floor and you made it quick to to kiss the base of his glistening length. Your index finger making lines on his thigh while the other keeps his cock steady as your lips move upward. You've never imagined how he would taste, but you were always sure he tastes exactly like he tastes now. Bittersweet. He throbs at the heat of your breath, thighs almost jumping when your fingers find his balls. He emits a groan that strengthens the force you're putting in your thighs to keep your core intact.

Down you go, the head of his cock deepening in your throat just like his grunts, getting lower and lower until he thrusts upwards making you gag and he releases a high-pitched whimper of your name. Tears blur your vision and a moan sends minimal vibration to his cock.

"I don't think... y/n, fuck, I'm not gonna last long," he confessed, and you finally look up to see him without removing him from your mouth.

You tongue swirling still and he has gone rabid trying to control himself, clenching your hair as he lets himself go maniac against your throat. He stares at you with mad eyes, his mouth failing in keeping him quiet. Only his groans, his throat-fucking, and your whimpers that you can no longer suppress. You're a little scared maybe he'll get too confident and tease you on your gagging, calling himself so big he made you cry.

He pulls your hair and he tries to get a hold of himself, catching his breath to gain stability. Before you can wipe the corners of your lips, he was standing up and taking your shirt off. He frames his chin with his index finger and his thumb, making you grow conscious of your own body. He had no reason to be looking so long, he'd seen you in a two piece more than one occasion. And he's going behind you, putting a finger at the waist of your shorts, bringing it down slowly until it lands by itself. He wraps your hair in a pony as the other grips your ass, a throaty growl escaping from his body.

He rotates you to the other side, an empty blank wall where you can see the fool you made of yourself. The argument ends here. The argument has ended since he had kissed you like no one had kissed you. You shouldn't have underestimated Taehyung, because he's now biting your shoulder as he slowly descends you to the wall. He hums, this close he can hear the tiny whimpers you try to keep to yourself, your fragile voice that can break once you open your mouth to say something. He can hear them all and he's aware of the power he has over you.

A hand holds both of yours behind your back, and once he has successfully taken your white underwear off, he's positioning the fat head of his cock right in your entrance.

"Make it easier for the both of us and just say it, y/n," he commands, his breath echoing in your ear sending voltage in your spine. He bites your ear and he whispers again, "Baby, please."

"What?"

Taehyung laughs at your adorable cluelessness. He doesn't answer. The next thing you hear was the expansion of his breaths, getting heavier and heavier it's almost a hum as he slides himself inside you.

"Taehyung," you say in a falsetto, "god, Tae, fuck!"

"Hmm, fucking tight. You're so fucking tight, y/n. Your pussy's taking my cock so fucking well," his knees bend to enter you deeply, this sharp thrust hitting a spot in you you never knew you'd feel, "maybe now you'd let me fuck you often, huh? You're gonna take my cock anytime you want, I'll fuck your brains out, ruin you and your cunt."

You respond with a soft murmur of you're not entirely sure what, because Taehyung was already fucking your brains out and you had no other thoughts but the feeling of his cock that slips in out of you so easily. He'd hit that one spot and you're going to release yet another cry and he'd enjoy every note of it. You're a mess with strands of your hair sticking to your face as the sweat trickle down your temples.

"Tell me what you want, y/n. Want it fast, baby?" He speeds up his thrusts, your ah's getting louder as he almost sends you to your high. "Or you want to cherish every inch of my cock?" He slows down which brings you wailing, whimpering his name over and over until you're no longer sure if it's even coming out right. His free hand lands on your ass and you gasp as if inhaling after suffocation. "Answer me," he speeds up his pace again, "answer me, y/n."

But you couldn't, there's nothing in your body that you trust right now especially your voice. He growls, unsatisfied with your silence which leads him to pulling your hair and pushing your back to the wall. You're almost embarrassed to see his eyes once more in the state you're in, overpowered by the despair of wanting nothing but to have Taehyung take you to your climax. Your eyes are begging for him, hell there were tears coming from them as he enters you again.

He cries out, "I want to fuck you all day long, would you let me do that?" He continues to carry you upward the wall and your weight would go down whenever he pulls himself from you. You nod and as he sees this, his head moves back to watch your body crumble before him, giving him no more than satisfaction. "Look at you desperate for my cock, such a fucking whore for me, aren't ya?"

In every "hm" he makes, he enters you harder and rougher, makes you want to stay silent. You bite your lip, feeling yourself come to a close. Your thighs pulling together like magnets, wrapping his waist while it shakes and he doesn't take one second to land your body on the couch, watching your orgasm hit you with spasms traveling your whole body. Taehyung wraps his cock in his hand, moving toward your mouth as he jerks himself off to his own orgasm. You take the spurts of his fluid landing on your tongue, his waist twitching while he groans for each drop of cum.

He sighs, falling onto the couch where your legs are still apart. He smiles at your nakedness, not giving a second thought as his middle finger enters you once more. Your body  sits straight, only to land on the sofa's arm. "You're so fucking pretty," he commented, his body hovering over yours again. He kisses you.

"I can't handle," you say before Taehyung cuts you off with another kiss, and another, and another, his finger in and out of you which as the minute grows only turns from pain into pleasure again.

"You're going to," he whispers and he kisses you again, until you're crying his name and he just studies the way you react to his slender finger. "So pretty, so, so," he curves his finger resulting to your second orgasm, "pretty." He makes sure you see his savoring your juices in his mouth, and once he was done lapping up his finger he puts them inside your lips, tasting nothing but his saliva.

"Do you get it now, y/n?" He unclasps your bra, and from then on he ignores your eyes. "This is why I run out of condoms."

[potentialproblem01]

More Padre!Domingo coming right up aka Daddy Sunday pt. 2

As per usual, all my immense love to @creme-bruhlee and my Daniel server for being a sounding board and to @gwaciechang cheering me on to the finish of this one. 

Contained herein is 1.7k of somnophilia, unprotected sex, ambiguously negotiated kink, and further disrespect to Spanish Catholicism. If you’d prefer ao3 and Part One. Stands alone. 

Rahab

Exodus 34, Joshua 6

You and Padre have been seeing each other for a while now, you’ve got a key to his place in the attic above the church. It’s a shame he’s an early riser since waking to the midmorning light above the city is one of the warmest things you’ve ever felt. 

Padre always gets up early for work and you always come in late from classes and there’s always so little time for the both of you. What little time you get to yourselves is used for fucking and sleeping, not that you really complain about it, it’s just how things are. 

It’s verging on summer, sticky heat tagging along to the end of the wet season. You’d gone out the night before and when you came in, he’d already been asleep. You were quiet, careful not to disturb his night before Mass beauty sleep. You had peeled off your boots by the door, yanked your socks and panties off and dived into bed still half clothed. He’d slung an arm around you, pulling you close, nuzzling into your sweat lank hair. The last uppers were worming their way through your system in a heady buzz as you snuggled into him like a second skin before conking out.

You woke when he got up for work the next morning, watching him dress lazily from the bed. Your head was cottony but you forced yourself up to hydrate and pull the rest of your clothes off. He watched you unzip your skirt, giving you a swat to the ass as you pulled it down. You gave him a filthy kiss before he headed out the door. 

You left your clothes on the floor and went to shower, scrubbing the grime from the club off. You towel off preliminarily, the heat of the day will dry you the rest of the way as you collapse back on top of the bed sheets to sleep the rest of the morning away.

---

The late spring sun rises through the upper windows, casting the afternoon in stained glass tinted light, not enough to wake you but enough that when Daniel comes in, your skin is painted in the most delicious colors. 

He undressed quietly, hanging his shirt up and dropping his slacks in the laundry basket before quietly coming up to where you’re sprawled face down on the bed, ankle twisted in the white sheets. He sits gently on the edge of the bed, sliding a hand from your ankle to knee, skin soft in sleep, clean of glitter and sweat. He traces the lax tendons on the back of your knee before travelling up, lingering on the inside of your thigh but you don’t wake. 

He watches you for a few minutes, tracing sigils into your thigh before nudging them apart, dipping into the crease of your thigh, rubbing smoothly. He keeps watch over your face, looking for signs of consciousness. All you do is readjust your head against the pillows. 

His finger gets more adventurous, skimming over your folds to tease at the other side, picking up a hint of damp. He smirks to himself before leaning over you, whispering into your ear “Good dreams, Princess?”

He shifts himself between your legs, careful not to disturb you before stroking himself as he dances fingers across your entrance before slowly inserting one, waiting for a reaction. When none comes he grows bolder, adding a second and gently pumping them, drawing out your wetness. 

You’re wet enough for him to not have to worry about lube but he goes for some anyway, wanting you to wake to his cock being fully seated in you and not a second before. He slicks himself generously before crawling up the bed with the grace of a polar bear on thin ice. He’s vigilant in positioning himself over your thighs to get the easy angle. He approaches haltingly, adjusting himself with one hand around the base of his cock to guide and the other holding your lips apart. 

He checks that you’re still sound asleep before he breaches you, hands falling to the sheets by your shoulders to avoid further stimuli that could wake you. It takes immeasurable self control on his part not to thrust in all at once. It’s smooth and a self-inflicted torture so severe it cancels out the sin of committing it. 

He comes to be fully sheathed in you. He lowers himself to his elbows, rosary falling against your back in a warm cascade of beads, his hot breath fanning over you. You twitch in your sleep but don’t wake. He breathes through another quirk of his lips, you were always such a sound sleeper, secure enough in your position with God to never worry if you’ll wake again. 

He straightens his back, moving to lay more fully over your back, dragging his rosary through your hair, shifting on his elbows to box in your head, pulling back a hand to loop his overly large heirloom rosary around your throat too. 

He pulls out and thrusts all the way back in with all the violence of a man trying to earn his place with a personal God. This is what wakes you with a disoriented moan, dreams blurring with reality. You go to push yourself up only to be restrained by the sharp scent of myrrh and smoke all around you, warm skin pressing you down, beard hair scratching at the side of your face. 

“Do you know what I preached about today, mi cielito?” A thrust, “Of course you don’t. Are you familiar with Rahab?”

You shake your head as he thrusts into you at a leisurely pace, soft and sleepy moans spilling from deep in your chest compressed between the pure sheets and his ribcage.

“The righteous harlot.” 

You roll your eyes and try to wiggle some space to stretch your staticky limbs but are restricted by his beads chaining you to him. He feels you pull on them and shifts his weight again, freeing a hand to put his first bead and cross in your hand. 

“Pray for me, Princess. Contemplate our sins for me.”

You make a half hearted sign of the cross, earning you a thrust and a kiss to the side of your neck. You begin to recite the Apostles Creed, each line earning you half a thrust. “Was crucified, died, and was buried- Fuck!” He pulled all the way out and proceeded to thrust back in with a rough surety, grinding down into you, digging his teeth into your shoulder. 

“I don’t think that’s part of it. Start over.”

You let out a sob as you start the Creed over, trying to hurry through as he resumes his half thrusts. You close with a slightly hysterical ‘amen,’ the last of the sleep warmth leaving you for the heat of passion. The blood flow is no longer sluggish but concentrated in your core, flaring out in need. You make it through the Our Father before another sob makes you deviate from the script. 

Daniel tuts in your ear, “Do you need to start over?”

“No, please. I’ll be good.”

“Are you sure? You keep messing up. Do you need a corrective hand, Princess?”

“No, no. I can do it.”

“Prove it.”

You struggle through the Hail Marys’ and pull in a shaking breath, really hoping he took Charity to heart. He hasn’t let up on his thrusts, he intentionally holds you in the limbo of regularity and almost but not enough. You know better than to beg, he’s given you an instruction and you have to thread the beads through your hand and pray. 

He nuzzles into your ear, telling you how good you’re being for him. You make it through the first Glory Be and go to announce the first Mystery before you can’t take it anymore and struggle under him, trying to force yourself back on his cock. He pulls out, worming a hand under you to paw at your breast, pull at your nipple, “Bad girl. You still have an Our Father.” He presses you up into his chest, kneading at your breast, “Be a good girl for me.”

You struggle, feeling empty without is cock but you make it, begging to be delivered from evil. When you finish, he mutters an ‘amen’ against your throat as he stuffs his cock back in you, pulling the rosary from his neck to leave on you as he sets his weight against your lower back, pinning you down. He widens his stance and drives into you without delay. 

The power in his momentum shakes the bed, causing the headboard to knock against the wall, a rhythmic tempo to accompany you being crushed into the mattress. 

The sheets stick to your clean sweat as you edge closer, breathing hard and inadequately through your pillow. You whimper with the strength he’s using, bending your spine, wetly slamming into you. 

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, shuddering through you in one violent motion before you go limp under him; underwhelming and way too much.

He nudges your legs closed and you let him, creating a tighter channel for him to fuck into. He rebalances, one hand planted on your back, the other climbing up into your hair, yanking it back on the knife’s edge of pain. 

His nails bite into your skin and the grip on your hair tightens before he lets out a long and low growl as he comes. He lets go of your hair but not before, “You’re my blessed whore aren’t you?”

“God, yes.” For that blasphemy he slaps the side of your face he can reach, the angle is awkward but the point is made, you wiggle your hips, clench around his spent cock, “But I’m still in your bed.”

He huffs out a derisive laugh, pulls out, “That you are.” 

The mess of come and lube starts to cool between your legs, sweat growing tacky. You pull the beads through your fingers again, suck the bottom of the cross into your mouth and give him a half lidded stare before rolling over into a dry spot. 

He leans down and licks a stripe up your stomach before latching onto a nipple before you swat at his head and he lets up, coming up to kiss you. He nips at your lips but you deny him, pushing his face away. 

He doesn’t listen, grabbing a tissue from the bedside table to wipe himself off with before laying down next to you, pulling you into an embrace and throwing an arm over his eyes, ready to fall asleep on a Sunday afternoon with you. 

Part 3

[sithsecrets]

five intimate moments | din djarin x reader

A chronicle of five moments that shaped the Mandalorian’s relationship with his one and only crew member.

---

3.5 k words

Mentions: illness, hallucinations induced by a high fever, minor injury to the reader character, NO SMUT!

(This is my first attempt at a Mando fic so please have mercy!!!)

---

1.

When the Mandalorian says he wants to hire you as his first and only crew member, you’re taken aback to say the least. Your first impulse is to laugh and tell him that his joke is very funny, because what else could an offer like that be from a man like him? He’s entirely self-sufficient from the look of things, and it’s not like he doesn’t have the credits to buy services from others when he needs them. But one long look into the darkness of that visor tells you at once that what Mando’s said is no jest, tells you that he’s serious.

He tells you that he’ll cut you in ten percent if you help him out a little bit. It’s standard stuff, really, just ship repairs, navigation, and taking care of the baby. You’ve learned a lot under Peli over the last several years, you’ve definitely sat in the pilot’s chair a time or two, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a soft spot for Mando’s weird little baby— so why not? Working for him would get you off this planet, and it would be a change of pace for sure.

Doubt sets in the night before you’re set to go off with the Mandalorian, though Peli waves your feelings off pretty readily.

“You’re being stupid,” she tells you bluntly. “He’s a Mandalorian. Just do as you’re told, help him with the kid, and let him keep to himself if he wants to. Everything’ll be fine.”

Peli’s words are of some comfort, though anxiety is still fluttering in your gut the next morning. You say your goodbyes to your mentor and the droids, and then you’re flying off in the Razor Crest on the way to somewhere.

The first day is strange as you try to pick your way around your new home, and you spend much of your time feeling as though you’re snooping around in someone else’s space. The Mandalorian is just as quiet as you thought he’d be, clanging around in his armor doing this and that while you try to make yourself busy. You run out of tasks quickly, however, and it makes you skin itch to sit idle like this.

You watch for nearly an hour as Mando fiddles with the mechanics in one of his arm guards, cursing under his breath through the modulator as he picks at this and that. You think you know what the problem is, but you’re not sure you’re brave enough to tell him that. Finally, though, you can’t let him struggle anymore.

“Let me see,” you declare, cringing as you realize your tone was more commanding than you’d meant for it to be. But Mando says nothing to this, letting you take hold of his arm without uttering so much as a sound. Just as you thought, there’s an issue farther up the guard, one he’d overlooked. A little soldering here, a change of wires there, and then the thing’s good as new again.

“Thank you,” the Mandalorian says, and you can feel his eyes on you through the visor.

“It’s what you hired me for.” You laugh nervously then, suddenly shy under the attention. “Gotta show you I’m not completely useless somehow, right?”

The Mandalorian stands, headed for the ladder on the other side of the room.

“Don’t call yourself useless.”

This is said without so much as a glance over his shoulder, and you find yourself rushing to explain for no apparent reason.

“I didn’t—”

“Yes, you did.” The Mandalorian pauses with one foot on the first rung, finally turning to look at you now. “You’re not useless.”

 2.

The Razor Crest’s interior, in the grand tradition of spaces owned and maintained by single men, is in desperate need of a tune-up. There’s a bit of clutter here and there, and the walls and surfaces and well, everything else could do with a good scrubbing. It’s a big project to say the least, but you think you can tackle it given enough time and supplies.

The perfect window for such an undertaking opens up just a few days after the idea strikes you. Mando’s got another assignment, and it’s brought you to a relatively safe planet nearer to the Outer Core. He’ll be gone a few days, or so he says, and you know already that the market in town will be the perfect place to get what you need.

You set about your task the same day the Mandalorian leaves to set about his, the baby secured to your chest in a makeshift sling. It’s a good thing you brought him, too, because his charm helps you score several bargains along the way.

Organizing everything takes almost a whole day by itself, but after that, the cleaning is easy. You scrub and dust and mop until everything sparkles, and then it’s time to do laundry and see if you can make some functioning garments out of the scraps you find in Mando’s small closet. The clothes he wears aren’t rags by any means, but a little patching here and mending there gives him two more shirts and another pair of pants to work with.

It takes two more days for Mando to come home after you’re done, and he notes the changes immediately. He stops dead in the little hall between the main hull and the place where he keeps his carbonite-contained quarries, looking to the left and then to the right very slowly. You can’t tell if he likes what you’ve done at first, his expression obscured by that damn helmet like it always is.

“I didn’t touch your weapons,” you declare, holding up your hands as if to ward off whatever anger Mando’s about to level at you. But he doesn’t get upset, doesn’t cuss or ask you what the hell your were thinking, so you think it’s safe to go on.

“I scrubbed the whole interior, organized some of the stuff you had laying around, and made myself a better place to sleep.”

You gesture to the pallet you’ve made for yourself on the floor, proud of how you’ve managed to tuck it out of the way. That was the problem with your old spot— Mando had to step around you a lot, and it was becoming impractical. This new space comfortable, too, plush thanks to some cushions and blankets you managed to score in the market. You even have pillows now, but this is something you delight in privately.

The Mandalorian stands silently before you, and you prattle on, showing him this and that.

“I got the baby a couple of outfits to wear, one for colder weather and one for warmer weather. I mended some of your old clothes and washed everything that was here, so that’s done.” You shut the door to the little wardrobe and go to Mando’s bunk, pushing the button so he can see inside. “The woman that sells upholstered goods in the market really liked the Child, so she gave me a great deal. I managed to get you a decent mattress, or something close to it, and a couple of new pillows. She fixed up your old quilt for me too, so I hope it’s warmer now…”

You trail off, words escaping you under the intensity of Mando’s gaze. He’s staring you down properly now, the visor trained right on your face.

“Why did you do all of this?” he asks, gesturing to his bunk, the wardrobe. The thought crosses your mind that perhaps you should have asked before you messed with his things, his sleeping space, and a wave of something not unlike embarrassment sweeps over you.

“I— Mando, I’m sorry, I should have—”

But the Mandalorian still isn’t cross, cutting you off before you can finish apologizing. “Don’t apologize for anything. This is… This is…” He stares at his bed for a long moment, searching for his words. “Thank you.”

Something about the way he says it makes your stomach flutter, though you can’t decide if that’s good or bad.

 3.

The cough is innocuous enough when it starts, just a tickle in the back of your throat that comes on one afternoon. You brush it off as allergies, even telling Mando you’re fine when he asks about it that night.

Two days later, you’re bedridden.

Mando insists you’re absolutely burning up even as you shiver and shake beneath a virtual mountain of blankets, so cold that you think you’ll never be warm again. He forces you to sip on broth and water, though it all settles like sludge in your stomach. It must be bad, whatever you have— you must look bad— because the Mandalorian’s façade is slipping. He’s having full-blown conversations with the baby now, asking the little green infant if he thinks it’s a good idea to cut this hunt short, if he thinks you can be left alone for even just a few hours while he collects the last quarry. And though your body is aching, though you can practically feel the fever cooking your brain at this point, you tell him to finish the job. He made an agreement, and you know it’ll kill Mando not to honor it— you’ll be fine by yourself.

The two of you touch down on some planet in the Outer Rim, and then Mando’s practically running out of the ship. He promises to be back within the day, the sincerity in his voice managing to pierce the haze clouding your mind, and the ache in your bones makes you hope he means it.

Sometime later, you begin to hear a voice coming from the ‘fresher, one that taunts and teases you. It speaks nonsense on and off, but the clearer messages are frightening nonetheless. The voice says that Mando’s not coming back, that he’s left you here forever. Why else would he have taken the baby, hm? He doesn’t care for you, he’s not going to help you.

“Yes, he is,” you retort weakly, becoming more and more upset with each passing hour as this faceless thing continues to fill your head with words and threats. Somewhere in the very back of your fever-addled brain, you know that none of this is real, that all of this is a fever dream. But still, you weep and twist in your bed, scared that the Mandalorian really has abandoned you.

True to his word, though, Mando’s back in record time. You cry out for him the minute you hear footsteps inside the ship, and even the quarry grows quiet at the sound of your voice. Things are hazy after that, but you know that Mando comes to you after just a few minutes, promising over and over again that you’ll be better soon.

You and the Mandalorian and the baby fly somewhere together, this much you know, and Mando comes to sit on the floor with you once the Crest is in hyperspace.

“We’ll be there soon,” he tells you, voice tense and nervous through the modulator. He shushes you when you become upset all over again, emotions stirred by more taunting from the voice in the ‘fresher.

“Make it stop,” you cry, so very weak, “please make it stop. It’s so mean, Mando.”

“Hey, hey,” the Mandalorian cuts, pressing a gloved hand to your forehead. “Nothing can hurt you while I’m here, I won’t let it. I’ll stay right here until we get you to a doctor, I promise.”

And that’s enough to calm you for a few hours, it’s enough to help you fall asleep. You only wake again when you feel arms around your body, when the plushness of your mattress is no longer underneath you.

“Come on,” Mando says, talking to himself as much as he’s talking to you. “The medic will fix this. He’ll fix this, and everything will be fine.”

The medic the Mandalorian takes you to does fix this, but things are touch and go for a few hours there. Your fever breaks in just a couple of hours, thank the Maker, but you’re still very weak from being so sick for so long. You spend two days confined to a medbay bed before you’re deemed well enough to be discharged, and even then, it takes about a week before you’re truly feeling like yourself again.

It’s not until much later that you realize Mando never left your bedside once, and not for the first time do you find yourself wondering what something like that means coming from a man like him.

4.

Mando’s been gone nearly two weeks, and the baby’s beginning to lose it just the slightest bit. He doesn’t talk, of course, not in a way you can understand, but you know he misses his father. If the Child isn’t in a sour mood, he cries, and you’ve caught him playing in Mando’s clothes more than once. It’s stressful, taking care of the baby when he’s like this, but you understand how he feels. You feel strange and almost embarrassed to admit it, but you miss the Mandalorian too. The rational part of you knows it would be best to chalk it up to proximity, but you know in your heart that it’s a little more than that. But just because you know this doesn’t mean you accept it, and you tamp down the feeling at every turn, focusing instead on getting the Child through this rough period.

At the sixteen-day mark, the baby refuses to sleep in his pram entirely, insisting instead that Mando’s bunk will do much better. And you would be fine with that, all things considered, if he wasn’t insistent that you climb in there with him as well.

“Bug, I know you want Mando to come home, and I know you like sleeping with me when he’s not here, but I’m not getting in there with you.”

The baby makes a most discontent noise, pulling on your fingers so hard that he tumbles back onto Mando’s mattress when he lets go. You tell him once again that you won’t be invading his father’s space like that, and then the Child is crying, sobbing so hard his little shoulders shake beneath his baggy outfit. I’m too tired for this, you think to yourself, and you finally give the baby what he wants.

“Alright, alright,” you acquiesce, climbing up into the bunk with a sigh. “But we’re not telling him about this.”

The Child is soothed at once, snuggling down beside you in Mando’s blankets as if he was never upset in the first place. You lie beside him in the dark, eyes already growing heavy as you breathe in the scent of the covers around you, the scent of the pillow beneath your head. All at once, you realize that this is what Mando probably smells like under all the armor and the weapons. Something about that only serves to make this whole thing feel even more like a violation, but you force that thought out of your mind.

At some point, you do drift off, only the be woken hours later by the feeling of a hand on your ankle. And there the Mandalorian is, standing before you in the flesh (and beskar) after all those days away.

“You’re in my bed,” he says to you, though there’s no edge to the words. It’s a simple statement of fact, a plain observation.

“We missed you,” is all you have to say in explanation, though it takes you about three seconds too long to realize which pronoun you chose to throw out in the front there. Now properly awake, you go to cover the mistake, but Mando cuts you off as he is so wont to do.

“I missed you too,” he says slowly, voice dropping almost to a whisper. “Both of you.”

5.

You realize that Nevarro may not be as safe as you thought about three seconds after a man with a vibroblade demands you hand over all the credits you have. You try to flee on impulse, your mind focused on protecting the baby—

Right up until the man catches your shirt, using the natural momentum of the action to propel you right into his clenched fist. Searing hot pain blooms behind your eye, spreading across the entire side of your face and into your nose. You’re completely stunned, unable to so much as form a coherent thought as your attacker moves to hit you again.

It’s like everything happens in slow-motion after that. One minute, your assailant is bearing down on you with murder in his eyes— the next, he’s grimacing, falling to the ground with thud. Two voices urge you to follow them now, and there are hands on your shoulders, your back. You’re so disoriented that it takes you a moment to realize that there are two fucking Mandalorians in your face, but when you do, the urge to fight back leaves you immediately.

Neither Mando is your Mandalorian, but you follow them anyway. They usher you into a tunnel system beneath the city, telling you to turn this way and that, and you do as they say without question. For some reason, they know you— they know your name, and they certainly know the baby because they ask about him the moment the lot of you are concealed. About a thousand questions swim around in your mind as you follow the Mandalorians deeper and deeper into the tunnels, but you aren’t given a chance to ask a single one.

Finally, you’re allowed to stop in a smith of some sort, coming to stand before a Mandalorian woman sheathed in maroon and gold. She regards you for a long moment, pausing over her work to take in the sight of your face, the way you clutch the baby protectively against your chest.

“Fetch him,” is all that she says, speaking to one of your saviors, and they turn and leave without a word.

A period of time elapses before you hear movement in the hall, though you can’t be sure how long. What you are sure of, though, is that you hear Mando’s voice drawing near, and the wave of relief that washes over you is almost overwhelming. You’re safe here, of course— anyone would be, surrounded by this many Mandalorians— but… but they’re not him.

“What happened?”

It’s the first thing Mando says to you, picking up the pace once he lays eyes on your injuries. You’re taken aback by how he crowds you, how he lets his gloved hands linger on your cheek.

“She was attacked by a chakaar,” says the Armorer, speaking from workspace. “He will not be bothering anyone again, though.”

Mando is satisfied by this, thanking his brothers and sisters for protecting you and his child. You thank them as well, though it’s hard to tell if the sentiment lands with the Mandalorians. The Armorer is the only one who responds at all, saying, “You are our brother’s cyar’ika,” she explains, confusing you with a word you don’t recognize, “we as his brothers and sisters must protect you. This is the Way.”

“The is the Way,” intones the group, and then you’re being ushered from the room, tucked under Mando— your Mando’s— arm.

The walk back to the ship is a quiet one, though the Child coos happily. He seems largely unaffected by all of this, even dozing off in his pram as though he’s had an uneventful afternoon. You’re glad he’s asleep, knowing it’ll give you and Mando some time to talk. You want to ask him about what the Armorer said, what that word meant. Mando’s cyar… cyar’ika? Is that what she’d called you?

But you don’t get the chance to speak a word, because Mando crushes you against him the moment you get the baby settled. His arms are strong around your back, the sensation of being held by him effectively knocking the air from your lungs. When he finally lets you go, every question you had stuffed in your mind is gone.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” the Mandalorian says to you, sounding more distraught than you ever thought possible. You shake your head at that— how could he possibly have known?

“I’m fine, Mando,” you press. “Don’t worry about my face, it’s—”

“I should have been there.”

The both of you just look at one another after that, and the Mandalorian doesn’t flinch away when you lay your hand on the side of his helmet. You know at once that everything is different now, but you need to hear it just to be sure.

“That woman—”

“The Armorer,” Mando corrects.

“The Armorer,” you begin again, speaking slowly and deliberately. “What did she mean when she said what she said about me? What is a cyar… cyar’ika?”

Mando’s hand comes up, and his glove is cool on your uninjured cheek.

“’Beloved,’” he says softly, “’cyar’ika’ means ‘beloved.’”

You think your heart’s going to beat right out of your chest, but you force yourself not to be calm.

“If you’re going to call me your cyar’ika,” you whisper, afraid you’ll shout if you don’t, “then what should I call you?”

“Din. You can call me Din.”

[writtingrose]

Goodnight, My Love

SUMMARY; for @abadamn . A late birthday present for an incredible friend. ❤️

WRESTLER; Jon Moxley

WARNINGS; sexual content, rough, dominant

REQUESTED BY; none

BETA’D BY; @hungmanhorsecarriage

CO-WRITTEN BY; none

WORD COUNT; 1,342

GIF CREDIT; unknown

*All GIF credits to the rightful creators. If they are not tagged it was because I wasn’t sure who it was. If it is yours or you know the creator please let me know. I would be happy to tag them as credit or replace the gif.*

Moxley chucked as his teeth grazed across her neck.

“Are you ready for me princess?”

She shuttered, reliving their night together as she stared at the phone in her hands.

‘Room 275. I’ll be waiting.’

Her mouth dried as moisture pooled between her thighs. She couldn’t help but look around the lobby. If someone saw her… figured out what they were doing, it would ruin everything. It wasn’t like it was bad, it was just… private.

‘Yes,’ she thought, ‘private is the perfect was to describe it.’

Not that they didn’t want to tell the public, but they liked the privacy; the ‘forbidden’ meetings.

Even now, as she stepped into the waiting elevator, she shivered in pure anticipation; her tongue swiping across her top lip.

Jon paced the floor of his suite; leather belt in hand. You could feel the aggression rolling off, eyes dark as he thought about the encounter in the ring. His title around the other man’s waist.

His. Not Kenny’s.

And now, he was seeing black. The only thing on his mind turning her pretty skin red. She could take it. She’d told him she could.

“I can handle it, Mox. Give it all to me.”

Even now, he could hear the breathlessness in her voice; could see her pretty eyes blown out in lust. His fist clenched as he remembered the way she’d cried out in ecstasy, even begged him for more. He could almost feel her nails raking down his shoulders; going as far to shake at the ghost-like feeling.

Y/N took a deep breath as she reached the room door. She wasn’t nervous, quite the opposite. If she didn’t take a second now she’d ruin it all; cum before he even touched her. After a few seconds, she raised her fist and rapped twice, as instructed.

“Sir?” SHe called gently, clearing her throat as she kept her eyes on the floor.

The door in front of her suddenly flew open as Moxley appeared before her. A small smirk graced his lips as his eyes knowingly fell over her figure.

“Did anyone see you, kitten?” His free hand darted out to lift her chin, their eyes burning into each other.

“Not that I know of, sir. I was careful.”

“I hope so.” He chuckled gently as he pulled her into the room, the door shutting with a ‘tick’ behind them.

She set her bag down quickly, just as his arms wound around her.

“You smell good.” He grumbled as he buried his nose against her neck. “Already wet for me, kitten?”

He nipped over her pulse point, causing her to suck in a breath.

“A-Alway, sir.”

Moxley moved quickly, stepping around in front of her. He settles himself in the arm chair, the belt laid over his thigh.

“Strip, kitten. Show off for Sir.”

Y/N whimpered as her hip began moving, a familiar melody filling her mind as her eyes stayed on him. Her shirt came up and off, following the beat in her head. Her hands effortlessly glided over her body; his eyes following their every move.

Dipping into the waist like of her jeans, she teases him with a look at the bare skin below them. Giggling at the growl he lets out, she allows her jeans to join her top on the floor.

“Behave, kitten.”

Her skin prickles at the warning in his voice, eyes falling to the belt in his hand. He’d never used it before but it was always close.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t intrigued. The black leather reflected in the soft light and she licked her lips.

His eyebrow knitted together as his eyes followed her path.

“Do you want this, kitten?”

His fingers instinctually tightened on the material, his jeans growing impossibly tighter.

It was always in arms reach when he was in this head space, yet he’d never even thought about raising it to her. However, now… a new heat filled his gut as he looked up at her.

“Bend over the bed, kitten. Grab fistfulls of the blanket.” He stood, towering over her easily. “You know your safe word?”

Y/N jumped gently and turned. “Yes, sir. Trampoline.”

She wiggled her hips as she bent over the bed, the soaked center of her panties now on display for him. “Though, I won’t need it, Sir.”

“Oh?” He snorted as he brought the smooth item down on her bare skin. “I should have known.”

He shook his head as she cried out at the sudden sting. Her back arched as her hands fisted the blankets. Her mouth fell open as her eyes widened in pleasure.

“A good little Kitten like you?” He brought it down again, this time on the other cheek. “Yeah, I should have known you’d like this.”

He watched as the skin began to darked, shades of red covering the area the belt met.

“Look so pretty all marked up, kitten. But it’s not enough.”

His mood changed. The aggression from earlier manifesting again as the belt continued to fall on her skin. Four more times, it happened, before he couldn’t take it anymore.

The belt fell to the ground as he unzipped his jeans and pushed them past his muscular thighs. Her head whipped around to watch him; eyes focusing on his cock; swollen and dripping. She couldn’t help the whimper that fell from her lips.

Moxley chuckled as he stroked himself, watching the way her moisture rolled down her thigh.

“Look at you, kitten.” He reached forward with his free hand, gathering the slickness onto his skin. “I’ve barely begun and you’re dripping for me.”

He let out a feral growl as he brought the soiled digit to his mouth and licked them clean.

“You taste fucking delicious.” His hands moved to the globes of her ass, spreading the skin so he can get a better look at her heat. “But that will have to wait.”

He doesn’t wait for her reaction as he buries his cock inside her. His fingertips dig into the skin, bruises forming under them.

“Fucking tight!” He gritted out, guiding her hips against his.

Y/N cried out as her head flew back. Her walls pulsed around him, stretching to accommodate his size.

“Please, sir!” Her voice came out like a cry, body shuttering as she struggled to keep up.

“Take it, kitten! Where’s my strong girl?” He gathered the belt in his left hand and licked his lips, entranced by the way her ass bounced as their hips met. “You’re mine!”

Y/N panted as she nodded, head resting against the mattress now.

“Yes, Sir! I’m yours. Only yours!”

She grit her teeth as she held her orgasm back, waiting to go together. Moxley reached to rub her clit, reveling in the way her tight cunt wrapped around him; as if it was always made to me his.

Her cries grew louder as his pace became ruthless. He possessed her with every inch he could, his chest coming to rest against her back. While his thrusts may have now slowed they were just as deep. Y/N shuttered and moaned with each impaling.

“F-Fill me, Mox. I want it all.”

His head fell back as pleasure shot through his body. Spurt after spurt if his cum filled her as her own orgasm took over. Their cries mingled, turning into Moans and heavy panting as the highs lessoned. Moxley rolled to the side, pulling her to his chest. He placed a soft kiss to her forehead and Y/N smiled.

Reaching for the blanket, she pulled it over them; she would just do a load of laundry when she woke. A soft snore filled her ears as she settled against him and she giggled. He always was quick to sleep after a rough night and she truly didn’t mind. Her hand raised to trace his jaw bone, a small smile on her face as she leant forward to kiss his cheek gently, a soft mumble falling from his lips.

“Goodnight, my love.”

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[writingsbychlo]

rapp-ed around your heart (01)

word count; 19,578

summary; stan and Irene have decided that mitch needs. a little downtime, and he’s pretty moody about it, until you put him in his place.

notes; this is the beginning of what is going to be a six part series, all based on the road. I really hope you guys like it, it’s about healing, and finding purpose.

warnings; none, really. mitch is moody, but what’s new?

The South East

“Whatever it is that you think I did, I am taking zero responsibility for it until you have proof.” Mitch announced his innocence loudly from the second he stepped into the office, and Hurley simply glared at him from where he was sitting on the other side of the desk, and he flopped himself down until the comfortable chair to wait for his latest bollocking over disobeying orders, being reckless, having an attitude, or whatever it was that he was about to be reamed for.

“That fact that you immediately have to defend yourself is a reason enough for me to be doubtful in your conduct, Agent Rapp.” He recognised that voice, rolling his eyes a little bit letting his lips flick up at the sides in amusement as the stoic face of his superior came into view via video chat, and Hurley leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms.

“Irene.” He nodded, eyes flicking between the pair, and brows shooting up as he waited. “So, why exactly am I here?”

“You’ve been working with us for almost three years now, and you’ve been working yourself hard since the incident in Ibiza, which would make it four years since you last gave yourself a break.” His heart clenched a little at the painful memories that flashed behind his eyes, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had once been, and he crossed his own arms, raising his shoulders and dropping them back down in a shrug.

“Your point?”

“The point is, Mitch, that we look after our agents. You are taking a break. A long one.” He let out a groan at the woman’s words, beginning to spew denial and complaints from the second he had processed the words, wiping a hand over his face and shaking his head in denial, but the slamming of an open palm down onto the table was enough to silence him as he looked up at Stan.

“Listen, this isn’t entirely altruistic. We aren’t sending you on a holiday to let you have fun in the sun in the Bahamas. You are going to wear yourself out, and one day you will fuck up in the field and that will cost lives of other agents, and a hell of a lot of civilians.” He huffed, glaring at his superiors in silence, and Stan smirked a little at finally getting him to shut up. “You don’t have anything to live for, Rapp.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Hurley held his hands up, and Irene rubbed her forehead with a sigh, mumbling under her breath about the subtlety of men. “What we mean, Mitch, is that you’ve spent so long throwing everything into work and revenge, that you don’t have anything anymore. Work is important to you, I get it, but it can’t be everything. You have to have something that motivates you, something that inspires you, makes you wake up in the morning, or else you aren’t fighting for anything.”

“What happened to ‘never let it get personal’, huh?” His words were pointed in sharp and bitter tone at Stan, a vicious stab at him for the tactic he’d once used to whip him into shape emotionally, and the older man didn’t even flinch.

“That was when you were unstable, but you’re one of our best agents now, and you train the recruits. When your anger was out of control, anything you latched onto becomes your primary focus, but now you have nothing to guide your direction or give you a purpose.” She sighed, and he slumped back into the chair a little bit.

“What, and you think two weeks in Europe is going to make me a new person?” He snorted at the thought, picturing himself in a striped shirt and a beret, with a curled moustache when he came back and an affection for pastries.

“Actually, you’re staying in the country. Start you up easy, and all.”

He wasn’t sure what to say anymore, and he didn’t see the point. Life felt drained of colour and entirely pointless, the only things that gave him joy were knowing that he was keeping others like him safe, people who hadn’t yet undergone the life-changing trauma he had getting a chance to skip over it and enjoy a life he didn’t get to have.

“My niece, she’s going on a little road trip. I talked to her, and she’s agreed to take you along with her.” Mitch was entirely unaware that Stan even had any family, but he dropped that in favour of searching his brain for an excuse not to go in a cramped car with a complete stranger, but he felt like he was short-circuiting, mind coming up a total blank as he was filled with white noise. The smirk Stan’s face was enough to piss him off even more, but he bit his tongue and waited to be dismissed, he could always come up with an excuse between now and then. “You’d better go and pack, she’ll be here in an hour.”

“Wait, what? And you didn’t think to tell me until now?” He seethed, standing in his seat, before watching between the two higher-ups who were staring him down for his outburst. “Can I be dismissed, or what?”

“Yeah, you can go, but you better be ready by the time she gets here.” He was already out the door before Stan had even finished speaking, the words being shouted after him as he left the door wide open, spite to make him stand up and close it himself, and he heard it slam shut only a second later. He enjoyed the easy recruits all but jumped out of his way in fear as he stormed across the courtyard, stomping up the outside stairs to the top floor of the dormitories, the floor that had been reserved for him and him only, the single perk of staying on to advise being getting to have his own space rent-free, even if it was a little small and cramped, with every little privacy from the group of people constantly moving through in the lower floors.

There was a bag under his bed, the one he usually used when being sent away on an assignment, and he dragged it out with his foot, dumping it on the bed. Opening up various drawers and cabinets, he shoved a collection of jeans and shorts, jumpers and t-shirts into a bag, enough clothes for about two weeks, and enough underwear and socks to match.

Laying out a fresh set of clothes for himself, he stripped off the ones he was currently wearing, dumping them into the laundry basket that he could throw into the washer before leaving, and have one of the interns clean up and leave outside his door for when he returned.

The water took a good minute or two to warm up, and so he busied himself with swiping his toiletries and cosmetics into the bag too, before stepping into the shower and letting out a low groan as the scalding water washed over his skin as he stepped under it. Dirt and grime washed away into the drain as he thought about the training he’d been taking part in during the day, cuts and grazes along his back stinging at the temperature, but washing away every ounce of blood and dirt, cleaning the wounds for him as he washed himself off.

His hair was washed too, until the water was running clean as his muscles had eased, the tension slipping away with every deep breath he took. Not only did he let the physical dirt drain away, but he allowed the water to take away the impurities he felt in his chest too, the way his angry moods and stubborn hatred for the idea of leaving were carried away into the drain.

The fear, however, that stuck around. The overwhelming anxiety that came just at the thought of not being busy. Mitch liked to work himself into the ground, he wanted to be sure that he woke up in the morning with things to get straight into, and he wanted to be so tired at the end of the night that he didn’t have time to lay awake in the dark.

It was no longer the flashes of Katrina on the beach that came up behind his eyes, that was a pain he had acknowledged and processed, breaking it down until he was able to move on, but he was haunted by a life he never got to live. When he was younger, he was such high aspirations, and he mounted for a future he would never get. He missed the thrill of playing lacrosse, or the excitement he got at the idea of experiencing something new, or the adrenaline rush from forcing himself to do something that gave him a little scare.

Everything felt numb now, like the world was in black and white, surrounding him with the buzzing of white noise as everything fell away into the background. It felt blurry, and out of focus, and he felt disassociated from his life, and so when the chance came around for him to fall right into that void and get lost in his insecurities, he wasn’t exactly jumping at the opportunity.

When the water finally began to run cold, he switched it off, stepping out and towelling himself dry, before picking up his watch and checking the time. Fastening the device onto his wrist, he had just enough time to run through his laundry and grab a snack before leaving, and his stomach rumbled at the thought of the smoked ham and aged cheese sitting in the main fridge, a roll that he could place it within, and his mouth salivated a little in excitement. Tugging black jeans up his legs and a forest green henley over his head, he was grateful for how tidy his space already was, before grabbing at his favourite sneakers and tugging them onto his feet. It was a little cold for his liking, and so he swiped the first jacket he could from his closet, a slightly too big leather jacket with only one rip in it, that could easily be hidden if he didn’t stick his thumb through it, and it was enough for him.

He grabbed at the laundry bag, swinging it over his shoulder before peeking his head out of the door, and flagging down the first recruit he could find. Dropping the bag into his arms, he smirked as the man looked between it and himself, scurrying away seconds later with the strict instructions to wash it, dry it, fold it and leave it outside his door for when he came back.

He patted himself down, checking for keys wallet and his phone, doing a final sweep to check he had everything, before he was setting off, locking the apartment as he went. His first call was the kitchen, stopping in to make the sandwich he had promised himself, before taking a bite out of it and hiking his bag up onto his shoulder, and making his way back through the cabin.

Rounding the large property, he could see a vehicle already pulled up, a storage box on top that was open, and his supervisor was leaning against the back of the large car, a cigarette in his mouth as he listened to a woman just out of his view chat excitedly, but he could hear his voice as he made his way over. It was clearly one of the CIA vehicles, one he was so used to riding along in, and he momentarily wondered about how you’d gained permission for it, but the almost unnoticeable patched-up holes along the side and scratches told him that it was a decommissioned one that had seen better days before being shot at during field days.

The closer he got, the more he could see. Slightly shorter than he was, the girl was wearing a flowy dress and a cardigan, ankle boots covering her feet and sunglasses sitting up in her hair as she showed off a large map to her uncle, one that he didn’t care for, but he seemed to grab both of their attentions as he shuffled over to them.

“Rapp, just on time.” Stan broke, his voice already going colder just from interacting with him instead of the girl he called family, and Mitch simply rolled his eyes.

“Oh, lighten up, Uncle Stan.” The girl was far too positive for his liking, especially while he was still angered over the entire situation, but he tried to be polite, shaking her hand when she offered it out to him, and gave him her name. She moved a little, trying to show him the large map as she attempted to redirect it so that he could see, and he dropped his bag to the floor, finishing his sandwich and sticking his hands into his pockets. “I got some places marked out, but is there anywhere in particular that you want to see, Mitch?”

“I couldn't care less where we go.” Your smile faltered a little, and he almost felt guilty for it, but you were shrugging him off only a second later, and he had to admit to himself that he was more than eager just to get on with this trip so that he could get it over with, the soon you both got on the road would be the sooner he could call this ridiculous holiday off, and the sooner he could come home and get back to his regularly scheduled timetable of running himself into the ground to avoid his thoughts.

Stan took the initiative to pick up his bag and place it in the open compartment above the car, before licking it shut tightly and double-checking it was all sealed up, before the older man was leaning down to press a fatherly kiss to the top of your head as you folded the map away. “You ready to go, Mitch?”

Your tone was a little cooler as you spoke to him, but still held no venom, and he simply nodded, making his way over to the passenger seat, all of the windows along the car blacked out, and he at least appreciated that privacy. Letting himself in, he stared right ahead, ignoring the scenery as he slumped into the plush leather and strapped himself in, crossing his arms and glaring at Stan as the man put out his cigarette and beaming sardonically at him from outside the windshield.

You were only seconds behind, hopping up into the vehicle with more pep than he thought possible, and getting yourself settled, before starting up the car, and dragging him away from the life he knew, on a ridiculous attempt to fix what he already knew to be broken, in his opinion, beyond repair.

It was an uncomfortable silence for at least an hour, only the humming you made along to the playlist that was ringing out softly within the car, your tapping at the steering wheel with your fingers to particularly catchy beats, and the attempts at small talk you’d given up on somewhere between fifteen and twenty minutes into your journey. He was upset, and frustrated, and absolutely did not ‘want to play the number plate game’ with you.

Eventually, his curiosity took over, and he turned to face you, sighing a little for emphasis in what seemed more like a huff, and you glanced over at him from your place behind the wheel.

“So where exactly are we going first?”

“Oh! We are off to Fort Monroe!” You were still too peppy for his liking, and he hummed discontentedly under his breath, before nodding along and twisting to stare back out of the window, this time, looking dead ahead instead of to the side. He almost felt like a petulant teenager, slumped in his seat with a frown, arms crossed and being unnecessarily huffy, the same exact attitude he’d had all those years ago when his parents had sent him away to boarding school. “I was thinking we could go to the beach, maybe?”

He grunted at the thought, and you chuckled under your breath a little, glancing back in your mirrors and slowing for only a second to allow another driver to overtake you, before your attention was back on him.

“Not up for the beach? That’s cool. There’s a restaurant I kinda’ wanted to try, but we can do anything, really. I don’t have much of a plan for it. Just some ideas. I marked out some places around here that seemed cool.”

“A road trip of Virginia, how thrilling.” He rolled his eyes a little, his anger only bubbling up further at the cheery laugh you let out in response, looking over at him.

“I mean, I thought we’d start out easy for today. We’re already halfway through the day, it wasn’t worth getting anything big.” You shrugged, and he turned to look at you for only a second, cringing at the next song that came up, and he did not hesitate in lifting his finger to press skip on your phone as it sat in its stand on the dashboard. “We move down towards Florida over the next week or so, taking it in a slow build, getting to the road so much can be hard on your stomach, but the drives are divided up pretty nicely.”

“Florida?” You grinned, nodding at him, taking your eyes over the road for only a second. “How long is this road trip?”

You glanced over him curiously, your confusion at his statement melting away only a second later, before you were grinning in a way that made his stomach flip with nerves, unsure as to whether he actually wanted to know that answer. Instead of answering him, you reached over to the glove box with one hand, opening it up as the drawer fell open into his lap, and you fished through to find the old-fashioned and large paper map, slamming the storage compartment closed again and dropping the paper onto his legs. “Uncle Stan didn’t tell you the whole truth, did he?”

He grabbed at it, unfolding the large paper. He expected a zoomed-in version of the coast you were along, maybe a little more, but it was a map of the entire country, a red marker drawn along, lines connecting at least thirty dots along the way, and his jaw dropped, trying to add up in his head how long this trip would be, simply with driving and minimal stay time, and he realised he was looking at months of travel here.

“What the fuck?” You jumped a little at his outburst, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from the paper before him. “This is one of those road trip things, right around the fuckin’ country! It’s going to cost a fortune in motels alone!”

You shook your head at him as he folded it down enough that it could sit flat, and you jabbed your thumb over your shoulder, causing him to turn and follow the motion with his sight. “We aren’t staying in that many motels.”

He almost felt stupid for how he’d missed it before, but the backseat was flattened down with a mattress laying over from the trunk to reaching almost all the way up to the seats, blankets and covers mixed with pillows, general amenities sitting around the edges, the largest portable phone charger Mitch had ever seen sitting on the floor, and he felt like the tiniest bit of hope he’d had toward this trip just flew out of the window, and at this point, he wasn’t even on control of the complaints that began to pour from his lips. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What?”

“I found out this fucking morning that I have to traipse around the goddamn country with a fucking stranger, and now you’re telling me I have to sleep in the back of a car, doing shit I don’t want to do and sending my money in places I don’t want to go to, all for what? Nothing, that’s what.” He ran a hand over his face, a highly agitated noise leaving him. “Fuck this.”

You let out your own growl, the first sound of anything other than pure glee that you had released, the car jerking roughly as you spun off onto the side of the road, throwing the vehicle into park and turning to him. His eyes widened a little with the fire burning in your glare as you turned to look at him, sunny expression turned sour.

You weren’t willing to let him ruin your trip, this venture meant the world to you, you had been planning and saving up for more years than you could count.

“Listen, Rapp.” You hissed the name out at him, with more venom than even your uncle ever had, and he felt a little intimidated at the sudden rage that had spiked up within you. “This is my road trip. I planned it, I initiated it, I bought the car and saved for fuel, and did all the research. You think it was my dream to have a tag-along stranger jump on board? No. Especially not one with the general etiquette skills of a fucking pebble and the manners of an ex-con with a diagnosis in psychopathy and anti-social disorder.”

He opened his mouth to retort, feeling almost a little intimidated, shrinking back into his seat as you took a deep and steadying breath, closing your eyes for a second as you tried to reign yourself in, before you were looking at him again, before he could even think of anything to say in reply.

“Look, my uncle told me he wanted someone to come with me, someone who needed a little peace and quiet, and something to brighten up an otherwise dismal life. He told me about you, and I happened to think that this road trip would be just as good for you as it will be for me, so I said yes to you coming along. I’m not scared of my uncle, Mitch, and I’m not scared of Irene either. They aren’t my goddamn superiors, and I’m not letting you ruin this for me, so if you keep up this killjoy attitude then I will put you on a bus home, I don’t care where we are in the country. Got it?”

He gaped a little, before swallowing thickly, nodding his head, and letting himself acknowledge the guilt that was creeping up within him. Logically, he knew it wasn’t your fault. You weren’t the one that insisted he go on holiday, you weren’t the one that set him up with months of duty, and you certainly weren’t the one that had caused him a lifetime and a half’s worth of pain all crammed into the last decade, and yet he had been taking it out on you. Clearing his mind, he cleared his throat, mumbling an apology which you were quick to accept, before setting the car back off into motion.

It was awkward and tense, and he knew he’d already fucked it all up, and the two of you had barely been on the road for two hours, but he forced himself to relax a little, listening intently to the song playing, and relaxing in the seat. Uncrossing his arms and letting them sit in his lap instead, his head pressed into the rest behind his head, and he watched the scenery sliding by.

“So, that terrifying glare and scary, angry brow thing is genetics, then?”

You looked at him for only a second, easing up a little from your rigid pose, and laughed lightly under your breath, shrugging a single shoulder. “He taught me everything I know.”

He felt a little better at having broken the silence, and instead opted to open the map back up, studying the stops carefully, as you pulled off of the highway at the first sign guiding you towards ‘Fort Monroe’.

To say Virginia had been an uncomfortable situation of you both would be the understatement of the century. Small talk was fractured and strained, and you had no idea what you were supposed to talk to him about, and you had figured he was feeling the same way about you. Instead, you had busied yourself with mumbled about the different things you were seeing as you wandered around the Nation exhibit of Fort Monroe, and then moved on to dinner.

There was no longer the looming tension of the argument waiting to break out, and in his defence, you could see that he was at least trying to be better, but the pair of you hadn't exactly hit the ground running when you’d started out, and it was having a staggering impact on everything else that was going on for the pair of you.

He had opted to sleep upfront, leaning the passenger seat as far back as it could go, and accepting the blanket and pillow you’d offered him, shuffling every few minutes for almost an hour before he had finally settled in his seat, and you were grateful for the reprieve, before finally being able to fall asleep yourself.

Sleeping that first night seemed to hit that refresh button for you both, because when you woke up, he had already been awake, but he’d mumbled a ‘good morning’ to you when he heard you stirring, actually putting down his phone to turn around and look at you when you sat up. He had shown you the google maps version of the guide that he’d downloaded for you both, to add a little extra navigation, and inform you about roadblocks on your routes, and other such information that you may need.

After sorting yourself out, a change of clothes, and finding a rest stop to freshen up at, you were back on the road, a far more positive atmosphere shared between you both as you set off on the fairly short drive which covered the rest of the distance between where you’d stopped in Virginia, and making your way down towards North Carolina. Your first stop was Crabtree Falls, wanting to take a little break as you got yourselves used to the amount of driving you were going to be doing, and opting to check out the Museum of Natural Sciences to stretch your legs out and get a little bit of fresh air before you were on your way again.

When you arrived, it wasn’t overly busy, no crowds and queues and masses of tourists, and you were grateful for the reprieve, and the fountain of things to talk about with the man beside you so that conversation didn’t have to feel as forced.

The second you stepped inside, you were in awe, glancing up at the beautiful glass dome that the floors all circled around, balconies overlooking from the upper layers, and you took a minute to appreciate the ornate workings of the decorations that were up and about, before a nudge on your arm caught your attention.

Turning to look at the man beside you, his hands were tucked into his pocket, but his elbow was brushing yours, before he nodded his head stiffly towards one of the signs before you both. “They have live animals. Wanna’ check out the snakes?”

“Only if we can look at the big whale skeleton first.”

He nodded his head, the two of you gathering your tickets, and grabbing a map to guide yourself around, unfolding it before the both of you and pointing out the various things you wanted to check out. You did not take it in order, wandering from the top of the museum to the bottom, several times, neglecting to follow the numerical path that had been laid out, but choosing to simply follow the numbers of things you wanted to look at each time you got curious about someone else.

The uneasiness between you both had fallen away somewhere between the butterfly enclosure and the ‘Mountain Cove’ exhibit. The feeling that you were just waiting to blow up at him again the second he began acting out of line once again had faded away, and the borderline silence he had allowed you to suffer through when you’d first arrived had changed into small comments and subtle attempts at conversations that varied between the attractions you saw, all dependent on the sights you were seeing, and just how much it caught his attention, but you certainly weren't complaining.

By the time you’d left, you had a large plushie of a dinosaur under your arm, and a smile on your face, and Mitch seemed fractionally less tense than you had seen him since this trip had begun.

You had a simple dinner, the two of you simply choosing to get by on a drive-thru meal that you could eat as you began the trip down to Georgia, a truck stop in mind that you could use for stopping at, as well as sleeping and cleaning yourselves up some more. Your third day had a dismal start, one of your tires popping from a particularly rough pothole in the road, the impact giving you a headache from the jerk of the car before you’d pulled over to the side of the road, and hours had passed before someone had been out to change your spare tire.

You’d had to pull out the mattress and blankets from the back of the car, balancing it on the top of the vehicle to stop it getting dirty just to be able to get to your tools and more than half of the day had passed you by before you were getting back on the road again, your plans ruined and your mood on the floor, at least five hours worth of driving still ahead of you, and the day had been lost entirely by the time you’d been able to get everything back to the way it should be.

It was quiet as you drove along, nothing cheering you up as you stared out at the open roads, feeling dismal about what had already gone wrong in your trip, the entire outlook making it feel like this was going to be the prediction for the whole trip, and despite your best efforts to be positive, the bad day had put a downer on your mood.

“So, tell me what this playlist is about? Because there’s songs from the sixties, and songs that are on the radio now, all mixed in together, and I have yet to hear the same song twice.” You were a little startled at him initiating the conversation, and you could hear the strain in his voice at actively starting a conversation that had no particular end place in sight, but you realised he was doing it purely for the purpose of cheering you up, and so your lips flicked up at the sides as you glanced at him. “It just seems wildly random to me.”

“Well, a lot of different genres and moods went into it.” He raised a brow at you to continue, seeming genuinely interested in the explanation, and you let out a little laugh at the thought. “Well, firstly you have your typical road trip songs. You know the ones. ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads’, ‘Sweet Home Alabama’..”

“Yeah? How about ‘Mr. Blue Sky’, and ‘Road To Nowhere’?”

“Of course!” You were a little happier now, this interaction with him being far more positive than he had been so far, and you rolled your shoulders, forcing yourself to relax as he hummed under his breath. “Then, there were just some of my favourites thrown in, like ‘Brandy’ by ‘Looking Glass’, and the ones that are just typical summer songs. ‘Shotgun’ and ‘Budapest’ by George Ezra, obviously.”

“Obviously.” He mocked, and you couldn't contain your grin as you looked over at him, that being the first piece of sarcasm that hadn't been a somewhat cruel jab towards you.

“Then, there are some of those songs that you can’t help but tap your feet and sing along to. You have to have a couple.” He sighed, muttered a ‘suppose so’, but there was no heat behind it, and quiet took over you both once again, the next song seeming to click into place as a way to end the conversation, and you cleared your throat a little, refocusing on the road. Maybe four more songs, five if you’d stopped paying attention at any point, had passed by before he spoke again, and you waited patiently as he formed his words.

“So.. there’s a random place on the map in Georgia, where are we going tomorrow?”

“There’s this little town called ‘Covington’, and I want to check it out.” He made a vague sound of confirmation, before he was pulling out his phone from his pocket a little awkwardly, and tapping his fingers at the keyboard on the screen, seeming to focus on whatever he was seeing for a good few minutes.

“It looks kinda’ boring. It’s just a regular town, I don’t see the big deal.”

“What, so you’ve never seen The Vampire Diaries?” You gasped falsely, and he clicked off his phone, shuffling a little in his seat and shaking his head, a motion you caught out of the corner of your eye.

“The what?”

“Oh, you need to add it to your list. It’s one of my favourite shows, and this is where it was filmed!” You were filled with enthusiasm just at the idea of getting to talk about it, and he huffed out in amusement at the idea of it.

“Vampires in Georgia, I thought it was supposed to be Transylvania? Isn’t it a bit too sunny in Georgia.” You felt your mind a little blown at how much there was to unpack in such a simple sentence, giggling as you sifted through your thoughts.

“First of all, it’s filmed in Georgia, but based in Virginia. There’s a lot you don’t know about modern vampires.” You had a falsely judgmental tone at his words, feeling your chest warm at the chuckle you managed to elicit from him.

“You’d better fill me on all this vampire shit before we get there, then. You only have a few hours, better get to it.”

Seeing the town in all its glory was the kind of experience that never could have been described to you, and if it had been, it would be nowhere near enough to amount to the way you felt. You weren’t sure how many photos you’d taken, your phone spending the majority of its time on the camera as you took a range of selfies and photos of everything you were seeing. You saw everything you possibly could, leaving Mitch to sit with a coffee in the gardens for an hour as you took the ‘Vampire Stalkers’ tour, before you’d wandered around Covington Square and pointed out different landmarks to him.

He had even offered to take a picture of you in front of the clock tower, and while he wasn’t exactly the most enthusiastic photographer, you were grateful for the offer, because it had felt like an olive branch between you both. You had described scenes and painted pictures for hi as best you could, and despite knowing you were going a little overboard with your passion, he had glazed over a little, no longer responding but simply choosing to nod and hum occasionally, throwing in the kind of replies that were able to pass for any kind of agreement, and you had fizzled out soon after that.

Instead, you’d offered to show him the Mystic Grill, the restaurant catching his attention from the second food had been mentioned, and he perked up a little as he agreed. You took pictures in front of the signs, forcing him to get into a picture with you, and he scowled at the camera as you sat on either side of the neon sign, before getting yourselves inside and settled at a table.

It was exactly how you’d pictured it would be, rustic and peaceful, a country theme that seemed aged and well worn, but you adored it no matter what, and the menu only made you fall in love with the whole town a little more. By the time you’d made your way back to the car and found your next place to stop, changing into your pyjamas and taking turns to change for bed in privacy as the other watched the car, you had made a promise to yourself that you would be visiting again one day, no matter what.

You were settled in the back, and he was once again slouched in his passenger seat, but this time when you’d said goodnight, he made a tired sound of acknowledgement in response, instead of the usual icy silence, before rolling onto his other side and settling into his sleep.

Georgia marked a change in the dynamic between you both, nothing extreme, but the two of you had shifted from mildly irritated passengers to mere acquaintances, and the overwhelming feeling that you’d made a mistake by agreeing to take him on was washing away, to be replaced with indifferent emotions aimed to him, and hope for your journey. This trip meant the world yo you, and you couldn't deny that you’d struggled to fall asleep the last few nights as sadness and fear crept up on you that it was all going to be ruined if you couldn't enjoy a single moment of it without Mitch putting a negative fog down on every happy moment you had.

But, he was showing a change. He was trying, he was putting in the effort to at least not be the complete and utter twat you’d taken him for when you’d first met him, and the man who had done nothing but complain for two straight hours before you’d put him in his place was showing no signs of reemerging. As long as he kept his negativity and pessimism in check, then you could find it within yourself to simply enjoy your trip the way you would alone, as though his presence wasn’t going to be one to affect you, he was simply another presence on the road with you, like the SatNav or the music.

You spent a second day in Georgia, unable to have chosen between the Natural Science museum, the Aquarium, and the botanical gardens. It had been an earlier morning, and for the first time so far, you had woken up before Mitch had. He seemed equally as surprised, pleasantly enjoying the fact that for the first time in God knows how long that he’d slept in. No alarms, danger, or blaring horns for training. He didn’t have to be up to do sprints around the woods or an intensive workout that would leave his entire body screaming out in agony by the end of the day, only to have a full day forced upon him next time.

He voices such things to you in the streetside coffee and pastry shop that you’d stopped at for your brunch, after having a walk around the botanical gardens, something that had been more than soothing for the both of you.

The flowers, the sights, the ornate placements and decorations, with buzzing bees and butterflies, a beautiful eco-system that was preserved and protected within a society that often allowed nature to be turfed over for infrastructure, and it was one of the most beautiful sights that you had ever seen. You touched soft petals, and felt your face heat up when a butterfly had landed on your forehead, your eyes crossing as you tried to look at it and cheeks aching from your grin, and through every thought of his own, without being asked, Mitch had snapped a picture for you so that you could preserve the moment forever, and sent it to your phone only a second after it had flown away.

Filling up on warm pastries and taking a to-go cup of herbal iced tea with you as you chose to walk through the little town centre and window shop, before making your way to the aquarium, while he offered to take over on the driving from you, for the fair few hours drive down to one of the favourited sunny spots in Florida, before you had found the building, and all thoughts about anything other than seeing the pretty fish had slipped from the front of your mind. Only after the two of you had entered, paper band sealed around your wrists and told to follow the green arrows, did he divulge to you that he had never actually been to an aquarium before, a fact that made you positively outraged, in a way that made his lips flick up at the sides a little as he watched you dramatically mourn for his loss of fish observations.

You had taken your time, showing him everything and telling him just what you loved about the scenes, the way the lower tunnels lit up with blue as fish swam overhead, and the way the larger ones like stingrays and little sharks would come right up to the glass, getting you closer to the predators than you ever could be, and yet being entirely safe, as the rehabilitated animals continued with their life, enjoying the safety of their home. You allowed him to take pictures, and made him take one himself, standing with his hands shoved in his pockets as he stood in the middle of the tunnel that changed colours, the first one being his usual stoic and emotionless expression.

The second shot, though, was one that you sent to yourself just to be sure that it wouldn't be deleted from existence, because it was far too precious to lose. In the second, the tunnel was between blue and red, a deep purple shade with a pink edge was cast over the man, making shadows appear across his face, the look of awe standing out as he stared up, the largest shark they had swimming directly overhead in the picture as he stared up at it, and at that moment, there was nothing in his life, except the astonishment at the creature that had passed over him.

He thanked you when you handed him his phone back, nodding his thanks to you as he paused on the second, not bothering to spend too much time focusing it, but not deleting it either, closing his camera app and holding the phone tightly in his hand. He was more conversational for the rest of the trip, the photograph unlocking something within him, and he managed to ask you simple questions about why you liked museums so much, and if you liked zoos too, as well as reading the information plaques aloud each time you reached one. The night had rolled around sooner than you would have thought, and the two of you grabbed ice cream cones from a small cart nearby, eating them slowly as you walked towards the car.

“I always wanted to swim with dolphins, y’know.” He shrugged a little, taking a bite out of the mint ice cream on his cone, and you hummed as you licked at the simple chocolate one you had while considering your options.

“You’re only, like, twenty-five. You still have time to do cool things like swim with dolphins.”

He glanced over at you, pausing in his steps for a second, and for a moment, you thought he might open up, that he would reply to you, let you in a little bit so that you could try and find a way to help him heal, but he simply shrugged, and your hopes caved in on yourself, a little quiet falling between you both again as those walls that had been slowly crumbling down seemed to build back up to twice the height they had originally been, keeping you sealed out in the cold from ever getting know him. Once he had finished his ice cream, he was reaching around behind himself, rubbing at his lower back carefully, but his features never even changed, though it wasn’t the first time you’d picked up on it.

“What’s up with you? You’ve been messing with your back all day, trying to stretch all subtle-like.”

“Backache.” The word was grunted out, and you sighed a little at the cold tone he had resorted back to, feeling like for every step forward you took with him, you were taking three steps back.

“Well, for the past three nights you’ve been sleeping in a car seat. Why don’t you take it easy, lay down while I drive?” He shook his head as the two of you approached the vehicle, and you rounded to the driver’s side, leaning against the door and giving him a pointed look.

“I’m perfectly fine, I’ve dealt with worse pains before.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to now.” It was a standoff between you both, and you reached out to place a hand on his arm, before deciding against his, swerving around him to tap on the tinted windows of the backseat. “Why don’t you lie down on the back, and I’ll drive. I’ll take it real slow, so you don’t get thrown about.”

“You’ll wake me up when we get there?”

“Yeah.” He hesitated at your assent for only a second, before he was dipping his head a little, and making his way around to the trunk of the car, allowing you to open it up with the car keys. Kicking off his shoes, he took them with him, his body flopping into the mound of cushions and pillows, and eyes already sliding shut the second he had, the door closing behind him as you got into the front. As promised, you drove slow, moving the pair of you down towards Florida, the night passing you by as you listened to your music so quietly that it wouldn't bother him, and in you slow pace, you were able to avoid disturbing him, the quiet tosses and turns he made causing you to glance back every so often.

Sometimes he was on the verge of being awake, blinking his eyes open a little in the darkness, to take in his surroundings, before adjusting his positions and laying back down. The darkness of the sky had been blossoming into pale pastel shades by the time you saw the entry signs for Orlando, and you could have cried with gratefulness as the journey came towards an end.

You were tired, having stopped once or twice to bolt into somewhere and grab a coffee, but you needed sleep, and as soon as the offer for such a thing had made itself known, you were more than happy to take it. The hotel felt like a godsend, the morning crawling on in as the sun rose up in early hours, the sun still a while off actually breaching the horizon, but the darkness of the sky was beginning to lighten at the horizon, and you were desperate to get some sleep.

You went to check in first, locking the car securely for the man, before registering a room with two beds for you both, opening the box atop the car to pull out your smaller bag, just enough clothes and provisions to get you through the morning until you were both awake again, before you were opening the back of the car once again. You weren’t sure how to wake him, perfectly aware of how jumpy he might be, and if he accidentally lashed out in shock, there would be a chance he wouldn't forgive himself for it, even if you told him it was okay.

Settling to place a hand on his ankle, you shook him gently, and while he awoke with a startled jump, he soon gathered where he was, letting out a little groan as he sat up, rubbing at his eyes tiredly, and shaking off his slumber.

“How long?”

“About seven hours.” His eyes widened a little as he looked at you, before shuffling forwards to swing his legs over the edge of the car, and he tied his shoes on a little as he took in the area around him. “I booked us in already, and got stuff, but I’m pretty tired, so I’m about ready to crash.”

He simply nodded, reaching out to take your bag from your shoulder and swinging it up onto his own, before grabbing the keys from your hand and locking up the car. The pair of you shuffled through the lobby, one groggy and one exhausted, before leaning against the walls of the elevator as you found your room. You simply dropped the bag on the floor, kicking off your shoes as he pulled the curtains closed, before sealing the door and crashing onto your separate beds.

It was a restless sleep, your mind not even dreaming as you refreshed yourself from the long day followed by a long drive, the time taking its toll on you, and you slept in later than breakfast and almost missed lunch, but you felt like a brand new person when you woke. You weren’t sore or achy, and the crabby mood you’d felt creeping up on yourself before the rest was washed away, and the excitement of knowing that you had the rest of today, plus at least two more days without any long drives was something you were more than excited for, and you stretched yourself out across the mattress, stretching out your limbs properly for what felt like the first time in years, before flopping back onto the bed with a cheerful smile.

The hours had ticked by, the sun rising high up in the sky and you were grateful for the thick curtains that were keeping out the rays out once the heat had begun to rise. It was hot, practically scorching, and you knew it would have woken you up - if not burned you - through the window had they been left open.

“Good afternoon.”

You jumped with a little squeal, completely forgetting where were and who with for one small and blissful moment, and you sat yourself up on the bed, embarrassment flushing you when snapped to sit up straight, and he snorted out a laugh that he muffled behind his hands when he watched you do so. His hair was still dripping wet, but he had changed his clothes, and the rest of your bags had been brought in from the car too. “Well, you’re in a good mood.”

“I slept well and went to the gym, of my own accord, with no interruptions. The last time that happened, I was a new college graduate.” His brightened expression faltered a little as he thought about the memories flashing behind his eyes, before he was stepping towards a covered dish on the counter. “I woke up a while ago, and I made it down in time for breakfast. I brought you some fruit and a croissant.”

“You’re like a whole new person today.”

He swallowed thickly, but quickly handed it over to you as you brushed messy bedhead hair away from your face and to take the dish from him, sitting cross-legged on the mattress as he settled on his own. “You did something nice for me, so I’m returning the favour.” You weren’t too sure how to reply, and you didn’t want him to ever feel obligated to you, but you did want him to be able to trust you with small and simple things, and so you were willing to let it slide, this time.

“I’m going to take it easy today, but you’re free to do whatever you want, take the car, or anything.” You waved a hand at him as you uncovered the bowl of freshly chopped fruit and a pastry, choosing to begin picking at the slices of apples and strawberries first.

“What are you going to do?”

“Oh, some laundry, I only brought a couple of weeks worth of clothes, so when we get somewhere with laundry rooms, I’m going to take advantage. Wash the bedsheets, too, keep everything fresh and cosy.” You bit into the flaky treat, catching the crumbs first before they fell away into the bedding. “I also want to take a nice bath. A hot bath. Washing up at rest stations hasn’t been all that amazing.”

He chuckled, nodding his head a little instead, and mumbling an agreement to you for your statement. “I’ll hang around and help out. It’ll be good to have a day without having to do anything, we can get on with things tomorrow.”

You studied him for a second, the look shared between you both sparking something that almost felt like an understanding, like a bond of something other than hostility or impassive civilship, before offering him a genuine smile. “Wanna’ take all the washing down, and then watch a movie later?”

“Can I pick the film?”

You scowled at his bargain, but nodded, and he wore a victorious look, and you finished up your food, the rumbling in your stomach settling down as you found yourself satisfied. He sat with you while you ate, and the silence wasn’t exactly easy going but it wasn’t the same tension that made you squirm in your seat as you thought of anything to just break the silence or get away from.

He helped you strip down the sheets in the car, and fill your bag, carrying everything into the hotel and setting it all off in the laundry. You plugged the portable charger in to spark back up, and you had your bath, spending a long time soaking in the hot water and letting your fears slip away.

It wasn’t exactly the beginning you had hoped for, or the trip you had dreamed of for so long in your mind, but this was different. You didn’t mind company, in fact, when you thought about it, it was probably nice that you weren’t going to spend so long alone, and getting to share the experience with anyone as you travelled around the country was better than being lonely, but every time Mitch shut you out and built his walls back up when they crumbled even the tiniest amount mad you feel colder and more isolated than if you’d never had a companion with you on the journey at all.

He was an enigma, sometimes he seemed almost like he was happy to be there, and other time, you and the trip seemed to be the bane of his existence, and you couldn't place exactly what it was you were doing that made him open up each time, or what it was you did that made him lock right back up tight.

By the time you’d snuggled down into the bedding, he’d managed to set up the TV and somehow found Netflix, logging himself in as he scrolled the options, a bag of popcorn out on his chest that you really weren’t sure where it was from, but he nodded his head in the direction of the fresh stack of laundry ready to be taken out to the car, and you found your own bag sitting on top. Leaning across to swipe it from where it was, you were quick to rip it open, the salty-sweet smell of freshly buttered popcorn drifting up into the air.

He had somehow managed to find ‘The Vampire Diaries’, a wicked glint in his eyes as he looked at you, lips twisted up in a smirk when he hit play, a blush flooding your cheeks as the opening scene came on, and as much as you adored the program, even you could admit that it was cheesy. You marathoned the episodes back to back, listening to his little commentary when he fell into his comfort zone a little more, and it wasn’t until late into the night that the two of you fell asleep, the ‘still watching?’ question still glaring on the screen when you stirred in the morning.

Your first full and energy-filled day in Orlando was bringing you a bouncy and peppy mood, that was surprisingly not shot down the second the man awoke, he simply groaned as he looked at you pulling open the curtains, before twisting to bury his head under his pillow and flipping you off.

“C’mon, Mitch, get up!” You sat on the edge of his bed, and he nudged his leg out in an attempt to push you from the mattress as he mumbled something indiscernible into the bedding. “I had an idea today for something that I think you’ll be into..”

Your voice was higher, almost singing the words out as you tried to tempt him, and he removed the pillow, huffing before turning to look at you, and while his face was entirely blank. You’d like to think you were able to understand the subtle twitches of his lips and eyebrows by now, and that he was a little less unreadable than he liked people to think, and so you were not perturbed by what may seem angry on the surface.

“I was thinking we could go to the Kennedy space centre for the day. It seems like something you’d want to do.” He sighed through his nose, but didn’t take his gaze away from your own, and you smiled a little, shuffling up the edge of the bed a little closer to him when he sat up in his pillows, wiping at his face and blinking into the morning light, yet to speak. “Was I right?”

He looked away, rolling his eyes a little, but a small smile twisted on his lips instead of the frown you’d been expected. “Yes.”

“Ha! I feel successful!” He snorted at your statement, using his knee to push you off the edge of the bed so that he could stand up, walking straight past you and into the bathroom, the door slamming shut before you had time to start telling him about all the cool things you’d read about online, but you didn’t care, because the two of you were already off to a good start, and you were determined to keep that same vibe going for the rest of the day.

Turned out he was taking a shower, a fact you discovered after lingering around for a good five minutes before he returned, and instead, you busied yourself with getting ready, the warmer weather of being sown somewhere with warmer temperatures, and you settled on wearing a lighter sundress, standing in front of the mirror in the room to braid your air when he finally emerged again. He had shaved, neatening up the messy scruff that had begun to grow out on his chin until it was in a more tidy scattering of hair along his jaw. One hand held the towel that was wrapped around his waist while the other grabbed at a pile of clothes, and you pointedly avoided looking at him in the reflection of the mirror as you focused on the movements of your fingers.

When he came back out, a black t-shirt that only reached halfway down his biceps, and sticking to him with bits of water, and a pair of blue jean shorts on his legs that brushed just above his knees, a jacket hanging over his arm for later in the night.

“Wow, you actually look like you’re on holiday, first time yet.” He rolled his eyes, dropping his head a little and running the towel over his head until it was merely damp instead of dripping wet. When he stood back up, strands were spiking up in random directions, the look of it making you laugh at the thought of it drying that way, and you tried to hide the noise, but he raised his brows at your snigger anyway. “Your hair is sticking up in all random directions.”

“Doesn’t matter, nobody cares, anyway.”

“Yeah, at the farm, maybe!” You stepped towards him, swinging your own plaited hair over your shoulder and out of your way. “When you’re all sweaty and covered in dirt after ten minutes, but you’re on your own time now. What if you want to take a picture and you look like you’ve been electrocuted?”

He simply sighed, but you could sense the amusement that washed over him as he caved, running a palm along the top of his head to try and push it flat, making it look like it had been badly gelled, and you placed your hands on your hips, biting on your lower lip to avoid the cringe you wanted to make at the sight.

“Can I just-” You took a little step forwards, and he hesitated, brows pulling together a little, and shoulders tensing up, but he gave you a single stiff nod and allowed you to enter his personal space. Reaching up a hand, you tried to style the slightly wet strands a little bit, quiffing them up just enough to look good while taming all the strays, and when you were appeased, you pulled your fingers away, humming to yourself with pride.

“Are you satisfied now?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” You stepped away from him, moving across the room to grab your purse, and he was holding the door open by the time you were ready to go.

“I’ll drive. I’m feeling a lot better.” You fished through your bag for the keys, dropping them in his hand as you both reached the elevator, and in return, he handed you the room key to seal away in your bag.

“You think they have those big floppy hats anywhere? I want one.”

“What are you talking about?” He pushed the lobby button, leaning against the wall and pushing his hands into his pockets, before fixing you with a quizzical look when you turned to face him.

“You know, those big sun hats. That celebrities where so they don’t get recognised.”

He shook his head, fixing you with a heatless glare as he pursed his lips. “If you buy and wear one of those hats, I will go home and face your uncle’s wrath of my own accord. I am not being seen with you in one of those.” You gaped at him, before letting your chuckle best through, and he had the decency to grin a little to himself at his own jab.

“They’re stylish!”

“They’re hideous is what they are.”

He mumbled his response as the door dinged open, rebuking your insistence on the ‘staple fashion’ item as the bickering continued on, all the way through the parking lot until you reached the vehicle, and he held the door open for you as you climbed in, slamming it shut on your argument that if it was good enough for Sarah Jessica Parker in ‘Sex and the City’, then it was good enough for you. Unfortunately, he wasn’t having any of it, ignoring you with a smirk as he started up the car, and cranking the music up so loud you winced, just to drown you out.

You took the hint, choosing to change the topic, hoping to keep him engaged in what was by far the longest conversation the two of you had participated in, in which he was actively talking with you in return. All of your conversations before this day had been mostly you talking to him, spilling every thought that passed over your mind just to stop the awkwardness from creeping back in, but today, he was chatting back. Whether it was playful arguments, subtle insults with no hostility behind them, or even just chit chat, he was taking an interest, and then, it felt like the two of you might be able to enjoy your trip, if it was anything like this.

From the second you had pulled up, he had been just as gentlemanly, and you swore you saw a flash of excitement pass over his eyes as the two of you bought your tickets, the key to unlocking him a little bit and tempting him out to being less than just a robot for the CIA may lie in his hobbies and interests, should you somehow be able to coerce him into acknowledging that he has some.

Your first stop had been to plan your visit, the two of you leaning over the touch screens as you read about each attraction, checking out a site map and trying to choose your way around. You had signed up for a bus tour, one that still had two hours until your allotted space, and so you busied yourself with the ‘Heroes and Legends’ exhibit, and the ‘Race to the Moon - Apollo Centre’, he had actually looked happy, willingly allowing you to take pictures for him in front of various things, and even standing beside you in a few as you forced him to take pictures with you when you found a good shot in front of the fountains and the rockets.

Sending them both off to your uncle as proof that you hadn't dropped him off at a bus station and fled, he soon replied, asking if you were sure that was really Mitch, or whether you’d just grabbed another shaggy and mood stray man along the road by mistake. He had let out a full-bellied laugh at the comment when you’d shown it to him, before tucking your phone back into your pocket.

The whole day seemed to fly by too fast, the bus tour crowding the two of you in, but neither of you had to drive so you were more than happy, and you had wrestled yourselves to the seats at the back, each of you by a window for maximum enjoyment of the experience, before you’d finished the day by reading everything you could, and exploring every miniature exhibit in the ‘Now and Next’ section, being completely awestruck by words you didn’t understand.

By the time you left, you both had a NASA themed jumper, as well as a shirt to send home for Stan, and a sticker decal to put onto your laptop, your purchases happily swinging by your side in a paper bag with the logo printed across the front as you made your way back to the hotel room.

The temperature had dropped a little, and you were in half a mind to get your jumper out and put it on, but you wanted to wash it first, unsure of how many people had already touched it before buying it. Your conundrum was brought to an end when warm fabric was draped over your shoulders anyway, his fingers brushing yours as he reached down to take the bag from your hold so that you could push your hands through the jacket he had given you.

His other hand was tucked in his pocket, eyes fixed ahead of himself as you walked the distance back to your car, but you nudged him with your elbow a little once it was wrapped around you and you were warm, giving him your friendliest and gentlest smile a little when he was forced to turn his sights on you.

“I think there might yet be hope for us to be friends, Rapp.”

“Lucky me.” He muttered, tone dripping with sarcasm, but he lifted his elbow from where it was folded against his body, allowing you to loop your own arm through his and move a little closer to him as you fell into step beside one another.

It was on your final day in Florida that everything seemed to go wrong, blowing up in your face for reasons that you didn’t even understand.

You were red in the face and entirely exasperated as the two of you stood in the carpark, your hands on your hips and his arms folded over his chest as you stared one another down. The air between you both was all but crackling with rage and unresolved anger, and you weren’t even sure where it was all coming from.

You didn’t exactly have the whole day, already having repacked the car and sorted out the sleeping zone in the back, just trying to decide what to do with the small handful of hours that you had to fill while it was too hot to begin a seven and a half-hour drive to Alabama for your next pitstop. He had no ideas what he wanted to do, absolutely none, saying he was just happy to do whatever, and so you’d suggested taking a trip to Daytona Beach, which seemed to be where his issue had started. Somehow, the simple suggestions had deteriorated into a row, people staring at you both as they walked past to get to their cars.

“We’re not going to the fucking beach!”

He was all but seething, and you wanted to stomp your foot like a petulant child in your frustration, but resisted the urge. “You’re not in charge here!”

“I don’t care, I’ve done all the stupid shit you wanted to do every other day!” You felt a little wounded at the insinuation, and you were sure that the hurt had flicked over your face because he seemed to flinch back a little bit at your change, before you stepped back, swallowing thickly and pressing the keys into his hand. He looked between the metal bundle in his palm and you, silence taking up between you both where raised voices had been only seconds before.

“Fine, you don’t have to go to the beach, but I am. Just drop me off and then go and do whatever you want to do for the day, and come back for me a few hours later.”

He gave you a look that made you want to scream, bursting out with rage, but you bit your tongue and resisted the urge. “What, do you expect me to just drop you off at a random beach and leave you there all day? Alone, when anything could happen?”

“Oh, relax. I won’t let Stan have your head if anything happens, you won’t get the blame for my mess.” It was his time to look a little hurt as you spat the words at him, before pulling open the passenger seat door, hopping up yourself and peering back at him. “Just take me to the beach, Mitch, I’ll be fine.”

He groaned, stomping around to his side of the car and making sure to slam the door extra-aggressively as he got in. This time when he turned the music up, it was to purposefully ensure neither of you would speak, and you fished through your bag to check that you had anything in order to busy yourself from the ruined atmosphere between you both. What had been so positive only a day ago felt like it had been shredded and burnt, and the everlasting anger that cooked you from within felt like it had been extinguished, only to come back as a raging inferno today.

When you finally saw the palm trees melt away into white sand and blue sea, you felt your nerves ease a little, relaxing into the car seat as he pulled up he car, fingers clenching the steering wheel, and you opened the door, hopping out and releasing a happy sigh at the smell of salt, fried food, and the sound of waves lapping at the shore.

“Are you really doing this?”

“Yep. You can just pick me up in a few hours. Call me when you’re back at this spot, and I’ll come and meet you.” With that, you slammed the door on him, not looking back as you began your journey down toward one of the little beach huts and stalls to find a bathroom to change in, and somewhere to buy an ice cream. It took a minute before you heard the car pull away, and you were certain he’d spent that time cursing you out and muttering insults about you that only he could hear, but you didn't care, because you wanted to sunbathe, and so you were damn well going to.

With an ice pop in one hand, and your bag in the other, you wandered across the sand barefoot, shoes in your bag with your clothes and towel tucked under your arm, freshly shining with suncream and a swimsuit clad on your body as you wiggled your toes in the soft grains and searched for somewhere to set yourself up. A couple of stray beach umbrellas were still free, and so you were more than happy to claim one of them, making your way over as you wicked at the drips of juice escaping from the frozen treat, and dumping your things down into the sand gleefully.

Rolling out your towel under the shade, you straightened it out before turning and sitting down on it as you finished up the lolly in your hand and sealed the wooden stick into the front pouch of your bag to dispose of later. You replaced it with your sunglasses and your phone, sitting comfortably on the cotton and looking out around yourself at the people surrounding you, and snapping some photos of the beautiful sight that you could print off and frame when you eventually got home.

The flapping of another towel, spraying a little sand up onto your legs beside you made you turn to look, a pair of legs in your view as somebody came to sit beside you, and you squinted at the owner of said appendages as they sat down beside you. Your eyes widened a little bit as a recognisable mop of hair came into sight, and you pushed your glasses up onto the top of the head as he sat down, tugging his shirt up and over his head to discard of it to sit with the rest of his things, a pair of swimming trunks he absolutely wasn’t wearing before on his legs, and they seemed somewhat familiar to you.

“Did you just buy those?”

You reached out to poke at his thigh, the silky blue material shifting under your touch, and he granted at the feeling. “I didn’t own any.”

You merely nodded, waiting for him to expand, but he didn’t and so you placed your glasses back on and settled down onto your back, feeling a little better at not being alone, even if his mood was sour, but it wasn’t going to affect your experience, not even a little bit. “So, what are you doing here?”

“I couldn't just leave you at the beach alone. It’s not safe.”

You turned your head to look at him, finding his legs stretched out before him, hands resting behind his body to support himself, and staring out with a distant look on his face as he watched the waves meet the shore, coming in all the way from the horizon. Something about the rasp in his voice and the tuned out look on his face made you feel a little guilty, and you popped yourself up on your elbows. “It’s just a beach, Mitch, I’ll be totally fine.”

“Yeah, well, the last time I was at a beach I got shot.” The realisation of his hatred of the location made a chilling coldness shoot along your body, from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, but he shrugged, giving you a glance out of the side of your eyes. “But, you want to go to the beach, and I don’t want to leave you, so we’re at the beach.”

You swallowed thickly, looking at him for a second, and watching as he took a deep and steadying breath. Sitting up a little more, you moved around the pole of the umbrella, perching yourself half on his towel and half in the sand, your thigh pressing to his as you seated yourself next to him. “Thank you.”

You whispered the words, but he turned to look at you, giving you a nod of the head as he watched you, whiskey brown eyes staring into your own as the tension between you both melted away. Rather than pushing your body away from his own, he shifted his arm to rest behind you back for support, before snapping his attention over to his bag. “I brought you something.”

“Yeah?”

“To say sorry for shouting at you. I’m not great at apologies, but I figured it would do the trick.” He produced a slightly crumpled but still pretty woven hat from his bag, and you laughed loudly at the sight as he reached up to push it down onto your head, the rim brushing his hair when you both settled back to look out at the ocean. The floppy hat on your head made you heart race the gesture making you warm up from the inside out. “I’m not going in the ocean.”

“That’s okay, you can stay with the stuff when I swim later.” He hummed under his breath, but twitched a little at the idea, and you pulled your legs up to your chest, reaching back across for your phone. “I’ll stay where you can see me, so you know nothing’s wrong.”

“Thank you.” You barely caught his response, and you weren’t sure what he was thanking you for; whether it was the simple act, the acknowledgement of his trauma, your forgiveness for his behaviour, or perhaps all three, but you just gave him a smile in response, the two of you finding a harmony one again as the waters of you friendship settled back out from the pebbles you’d thrown only a couple of hours prior.

He never moved from the towel, but he did watch you swim in the ocean, and he took pictures with you, and he looked after your stuff. He reminded you to reapply your sunscreen, and he laughed and joked with you after the two of you had moved on from the weight of your makeup conversation, and you decided that today had been even better than yesterday, because while you thought you’d been knocked down and your almost-friendship had ended, he had helped you up and confirmed that there was definitely hope between the two of you, there was a friendship forming.

After you had finished on the beach, you used one of the outdoor showers to wash yourself off of sand and salt, dipping back into a stall to change back into a simple sundress, treasuring the new hat on top of your head as he watched you, before you’d set off on enjoying the falling temperature before setting off on your journey. You had hotdogs for lunch, and walked along the pier, and even stopped in at some of the little gift shops, your arm linked with his as you went along, before finally getting to the car as the sun began to lower on the horizon, and the cool breeze was enough to make you shiver, the car no longer feeling like you were sitting inside an oven when you got in, but instead being a comfortable warmth to travel during the night in.

You weren’t too sure when it had happened, but you were certain that you had fallen asleep sometime after passing the signs for splitting off for ‘Lake City’, and you had woken up with a blanket tucked over your body that you were certain hadn't been there before. You stirred a little bit, a whine escaping you before you could stop it as you felt your muscles stretching and joints popping a little.

Mitch turned to look at you, his face neutral, a pleasant change to the scowl you were used to seeing, and the simple change had smoothed out the creases along the sides of his mouth, or the wrinkles on his forehead from the constant look of anger and irritation he had when he was at the farm with your uncle, and your hand itched with the urge to reach up and brush a finger over the place where the lines had once been.

“Sleep well?”

“I did, actually.” You snuggled down into the blanket a little more, muffling your yawn as you tried to shake yourself awake, despite the darkness still occupying the sky. “How long was I out? Do you want me to take over?”

“About four hours, there’s not long to go now. I was going to wake you soon anyway, I wanted to stop off for some coffee, and there’s a place up ahead. Is that okay?” You simply nodded in reply, and he returned it with a curt gesture of his own, before looking back to the open road, and reading at the signs that flashed by. You were more than happy to adjust into your morning, finding yourself taking a little longer to wake up than usual, because for the first time on this whole trip, you had felt truly comfortable in the presence of the man beside you.

No anxiety or anger was taking over, you were pushing down frustrations at his attitude and biting your tongue to stop from lashing out, but you were instead relaxed and happy, eyes fluttering a little as you tried to keep yourself away, rubbing at your eyes and sitting up a little straighter as the car began to slow down, pulling off onto a side-lane as the neon lights of a diner and truckstop just behind the trees made its presence well known to anyone travelling on the highway.

Finding a parking space was easy, one a decent distance away from everyone else, the car safe at the back as you hopped out, and you were begrudging to shed the blanket from your shoulder as the cooler air swept over you, arms wrapping around yourself instead. It wasn’t actually all that cold, but going from the coziness of sleep haze and blanket wrapped tenderness, to standing on your feet when you’re barely stable in the middle of a truck stop car park was a different story.

“Cold?”

The car flashed as it locked beside you, and you nodded a little, but forced yourself to peel your arms down from being wrapped around your body to sit at your sides. “I’ll be fine once we get inside, I was all snuggly under my blanket. Thanks for that, by the way.”

He offered you a flick of his lips in return, patting his pockets for his wallet and finding it in the front pocket of his hoodie, adding the car keys to it, before making his way over to you. Slinging an arm over your shoulders, you were curled in a little closer to his body, as he guided you across the lot, eyes peering around suspiciously as he took in everyone and everything he saw, from the placement of the car to the smokers standing outside and blowing clouds of smoke up into the air, his CIA training never letting up as he instinctively observed and memorised the area as best he could.

You were correct, the second you got inside the doors of the diner, warm air washed over you, and you let out a hum of contentment at the feeling, his arm dropping from around you as the two of you found a booth, settling in on opposite sides of it. You had a large mug of black coffee in your hands only minutes later, a large order of a breakfast meal at the all-hours kitchen felt like a god-send, and you blew the steam from the top of your mug as you watched Mitch stir creamer into his mug.

“So, can I ask a question?”

“I would love it if you did.” He rose a curious eyebrow at you, and you rose a single shoulder in a slightly embarrassed shrug, before taking a sip of the warm drink and letting out an inaudible moan into the drink, already feeling rejuvenated just from the first taste. “You don’t talk to me much, it would be nice to become more like friends on this trip instead of strangers.”

He ducked his head a little, and you worried you’d crossed a line, but when he looked up, he almost looked happy, and you brightened up yourself just at the sight. A smile from Mitch Rapp felt rare, but you were receiving one right now, and you were basking in the glory of it. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a friend. I’d really like that.”

“So, what was your question?”

“I wanted to know what the fuck we’re doing in Alabama.” His words were blunt, and you couldn't help the sharp laugh that left you, his eyes twinkling at the sight, before he was chugging almost half of the contents of his mug in one.

“It’s more of a stop off, really, to stretch our legs. Otherwise it was, like, a ten-hour drive, and I tried to split up most of the long drives as much as I could.” You shrugged, swilling your drink a little before taking another long sip of it. “I found this store that sells lost luggage, and you never know what kind of cool things we could find there. It’s like thrift shopping but even more obscure shit than thrift shops have.”

“Sounds fun.”

“We can get back on the road by later this evening, but I was also thinking we could stop somewhere and get a drink if we have time. There’s a bar that’s called ‘Rattlesnake Saloon’, I think, and it seemed fun. It’s only like a four-hour drive from where we’ll be down to New Orleans, so we can get it all done by the end of today.”

He agreed silently, and you took that as your queue to stop your internal monologue, the progress the two of you were making was too much to risk him backing out of if you overwhelmed him by talking non-stop just to fill the silence, but it seemed that he had different ideas; “How do I not know about you? I’ve been around for years, now.”

“I don’t come around so much. Uncle Stan comes to see me every Sunday for dinner, he updates me on everything, he just doesn’t like me hanging around over on your side, because if he’s off with trainees, he doesn’t really trust them not to get distracted.” It was a vague answer, but Mitch nodded like he understood, and made sure that he caught your eye as he tried to find his next words.

“For the record, if you did ever want to come around, I would like to see you.” He offered a smile, and you grinned into your mug, thanking the waitress as she placed down the meals before you both, cutlery soon following it, and your stomach rumbled slightly as the smell of the delicious plateful reached your senses. “So, when you say he updates you on everything, what kind of things do you know?”

“Oh, do you mean about the CIA black ops divisions, the Orion team specifically, or are you asking what I know about you?” His eyes widened a little, before he let out a deep breath, nodding his head with a small laugh that was masked by his sigh. “You’re surprised.”

“No, I’m relieved. I didn’t want to have to hide anything from you.”

You weren’t too sure how to reply, so instead you busied yourself with your hashbrown, the two of you falling into casual conversation between bites of food as you ate, opting to change the conversation to something a little more lighthearted, you were the main focus of the conversation, no matter how much you tried, you didn’t get through to him, he didn’t share much about his past, the things you didn’t know, but that was okay, because he was asking about you, and at least putting the effort in to get to know you. Another two cups of coffee were in your system before the sun was beginning to make its presence known, and the two of you decided that the rest of the journey was due to be completed. You took on the drive this time, and while you had insisted that it was okay for him to sleep, he opted against it, snoozing a little bit keeping up the conversation.

It seemed that the heavier weights of conversation had come crashing back over you both once you were back on the roads, dust kicking up behind you both as you continued on your adventure. The lost luggage shop was fun, the two of you seeming to shift through everything in that store, the hours passing far more quickly than you could control. You left with a pair of wireless and soundproof headphones, and a purple plaid jacket that Mitch said made you look like a lumberjack, and if it was three sizes too big and super baggy? Well, that was just even better.

He himself left with a new sports watch, his last having bee smashed by a recruit during a fight, and a pair of sunglasses with blue-tinted lenses that made him look like he was something from an intense spy film, the scowl and his body language only adding to it, and you couldn't help the picture you took as he did, showing it to him, and he’d quickly agreed with you.

As it turned out, despite how long you’d spent in the little store, you did have time for one drink at the bar you’d found, taking pictures of everything from the drinks to the cowboy style to the creative cliff top overhead, staring up at it in awe as you watched the nature from above grow over the top. You grabbed a quick bite to eat, to soak up any excess alcohol, before the two of you were on the road once again, with you excitedly singing along to the music as you drove, and Mitch poking fun at your driving, the light-hearted humour carrying you all the way along on the shorter drive towards Louisiana.

It was the asscrack of dawn by the time the two of you arrived in New Orleans, having swapped over on the driving a good two or three times, despite the tiny drive that it was in actuality, but you’d stopped a couple of times along the way at several little gift shops, and once to take a walk along the edge of a sweet little lake just outside of New Orleans, Lake Pontchartrain, the two of you watching as the sun came up over the water glittering across the slightly rippled surface, and you had found yourself once again tucked under the man’s arm, this tom daring to loop your own around his waist as you walked, and when you stopped, only detaching when you got back to the car for the final piece of the journey.

You had to admit, it was nice for you too, to be able to make a friend that understood everything about your life. A friend who understood that sometimes you would temporarily drop off the radar, and why you lived in the middle of nowhere, and why social media wasn’t exactly a big thing for you. It was nice to feel understood, and helping Mitch rediscover who he was was without the pain and suffering of his past and his job, was helping you to discover who you really were, and helping you work through some of your own issues.

You’d always been the most important thing in your uncle’s life and so he’d done his best at any given time to make sure you got everything out of life, but being so closed off from the world had made it difficult for you to get to know the social nuances of other people, and so you and Mitch were a learning experience for one another at the same time.

Your hotel was on Bourbon Street, because as you had so eloquently pointed out mid-yawn when he’d asked you ‘if you were serious’, you had confirmed that yes, you were very serious, because there was no what that you were going to come to New Orleans and not stay on Bourbon Street. You checked in and found your two beds, barrel even remembering to pull the curtains closed as you both made it through your nighttime routines, scrubbing at your teeth with minty toothpaste and changing into pyjamas, before crashing on your beds without another word other than some mumbled goodnights.

It was your alarm clock that woke both of you up, a shrill ringing that you’d forgotten you’d set and hadn't turned down, wanting to get up and have a shower before you got on with your day, and the sleepy man had glared at you from his bed, rolling over and face the wall as you snickered behind your hand. Sweet-scented shampoo and a very bubbly soap had refreshed you entirely, snapping you into your morning and giving you the wakeup call you had so desperately desired.

He was still in bed when you emerged, your clothes already on and simple skincare for the day completed, and your hair was still damp, but you weren’t willing to let the day slip away. “Mitch, get up!”

“No.” You barely heard him, before he was pulling the covers up and over his head as you yanked open the curtains, and he groaned out at the motion. You made your way over, standing on the edge of his bed and kicking at his legs from above, to which he promptly kicked back. “Go away, I thought this was supposed to be holiday hours.”

“It is a holiday! But I only have this room for two more nights, which means we only have three days in New Orleans, and I want to get some of the signature pastries from Café Du Monde before they sell out of the freshest batch!” You teased, and his messy bedhead poked up above the blankets.

“Pastries?”

“Freshly baked beignets.” You said, a sing-songy tone to your voice, and he sat up a little further, noticing that you’d caught his attention. “Little fried fritters, in powdered sugar. You can get coffee too, and fruits.”

He stared at you for a long minute, before seeming to crack, and he shook his head. “Fine, let me shower first, and I want a lie in tomorrow.”

“Deal!”

You watched him go, the bathroom door slamming at the water started up, and it took him about as long in the shower as it id for you to dry your hair, and the second he’d pulled on a change of clothes and prepared himself alongside you, he ruffled his hair dry on a towel, tipping it towards you for you to sort the strands, and he gave you a false glare for the giggle you let out at the action. Sifting your finger through his hair, you flattened them down into a reasonably decent smile, but not without making a comment about how he needed a haircut, to which he promptly shut down as he pushed you a little out of the way and headed to the door.

It was a short walk to the café, a warm breeze washing over your legs, even though it had barely reached midday yet, and as promised, you had been served the freshest of the pastries that the two of you could get, Two portions between you both, and several cups of coffee, you also split a fruit bowl, nibbling on the juicy treats as you chatted. You bought a box of the coffee to send to your uncle, taking it home forever as you collected it up, as well as a couple of the mugs that caught your eye, and Mitch had even purchased one for himself, brushing his finger over the lettering and the logo on the front as he purchased his first real souvenir of the trip.

Your next stop was the post office, the man shooting you a quizzical look as you went, browsing through boxes and shipping labels, before gathering up all the supplies that you needed.

“I figured we could box up and mail all out souvenirs and purchases back to my Uncle, and he can collect them up and keep them safe, so that they don’t all get lost or damaged in the car, and we don’t get overwhelmed.”

“If I send something back to be kept safe, your uncle will give it to the recruits to play soccer with before we get back.” He teased helping you carry all of the shipping items you’d purchased out of the door and back onto the street, the sun now shining down warm and clear from above.

“Send it all in my name. If we box it all up together, it gives me an excuse to see you once all this is finished, when we get home.” You spoke the words earnestly as you made your way back to the hotel, to spend the better part of a few hours wrapping, labelling and shipping it all, and he turned to look at you, face a little unreadable.

“You don’t need an excuse.” You were a little frozen once again, the lines between comradery and friendship between you both becoming blurred, but you still weren’t sure where you lay with it, and then his face split into a teasing look. “Unless I’m sick of you by then. I may have to hide when I hear you’re coming over.”

“Oh, shut it.” You jabbed your elbow at his side, his training making it easy for him to duck and swerve out of the way in time, which only resulted in a large grin taking place on his face. “By the end of all this, you’re going to be missing me like crazy. You’ll be calling and begging me to come and hang out with you.”

“Sure thing.”

You had just about made it in time for the post office, the woman a little perturbed at not being able to close up fifteen minutes early, but you’d left a healthy tip in the labelled jar beside the counter for her, knowing that the number of boxes labelled ‘delicate’ to all be shipped a good few states over was a hassle for her, but she completed it without complaint, and you couldn't have been more grateful.

It felt like a task taken off of your plate, leaving you both with a worry and stress-free evening to spend in New Orleans, quickly settling on getting the full experience, and going for a few drinks at a jazz and blues bar. Neither of you had to drive, and so you were able to indulge in a few more drinks than you had so far, your hotel only a short walk from the bar you’d chosen.

Bourbon Street by night was alive with energy, buzzing with excitement and thrill, and you could feel the atmosphere lifting you up onto their level, the idea of people getting to live here and experience it everyday making you prickle with a little jealousy, but you knew it was only as special to you now because you’d never experienced it before, that it was a rarity and something to be treasured, not envied.

The buildings were a mix of modern and ancient, still holding their beautiful French architectural designs with the balconies and the stylings of their decorations, but being lit up with neon signs that gave the entire road an ethereal kind of colourful glow. You felt pulled in every direction, not wanting to miss a single thing, and the pictures you took with the bright backdrop had been breathtaking. Blues and pinks and yellows, all glittering from signs above and around you, the kind of vibe that felt surreal while you experienced it, and made you wonder whether it was all just a dream when you thought about it later that night, laying in bed as your heart still raced.

New Orleans was beautiful, and your second day had only been more fun.

“I have a plan, Mitch!”

“You promised me a lie in!” He growled, and you took a seat on the floor beside his bed, placing your arms across the mattress and balancing your chin atop them, waiting for him to surface from the disturbance of the covers when you did so, a small giggle on your lips when you felt him shuffle, before glaring at you when his eyes finally met your own.

“I did give you a lie-in! It’s midday!”

He huffed, reaching out for his phone on the nightstand and almost smacking you in the head with it when he reached back, barely being able to duck in time, and from the look on his face, you couldn’t decide whether or not he'd done it on purpose. As though he hadn't believed you, his eyes widened as he checked the time to see that you weren’t lying to him, a few minutes fast twelve, officially making it the afternoon, and he groaned under his breath, running a hand over his face.

“Do you want to sleep longer?”

He gave you a pointed look, as though to say ‘duh’ without actually speaking the words, and you offered him a small smile, ducking your head again when he shifted to put his phone back down, placing his head on his pillow and closing his eyes once again, shutting you out in silence. “Give me, like, another hour and a half.”

“That’s cool, I’ll come back and get you later, we can go for dinner!”

You shuffled away from the bed, backing away across the floor as you took your hands from the mattress, standing up again and brushing off your pants of the dust and dirt it had collected when you’d sat down. A hand locked around your wrist, honey-brown eyes peering up at you, narrowed and curious. “Where are you going?”

“I want to go and check out all the places they filmed any and all scenes that had a Mikaelson in.”

“Another TV show tour?” He mumbled, letting out a low breath as you nodded at him excitedly.

“I would almost be surprised that you hadn't seen ‘The Originals’, but you haven’t watched ‘The Vampire Diaries’ either, so I’ll let you off.” You teased, and he rolled his eyes, hugging his pillow a little closer to his chest, his cheek pressed into it.

“Vampires aren’t my thing. Plots always suck.”

“Woman don’t watch the shows for the pl-” You paused, looking at the cheeky flick of his lips as you gasped. “Did you just make a vampire pun?”

“Yep.”

“It’s like I’m meeting a whole new person.” His eyelids shifted a little, and you could’ve sworn he’d actually rolled his eyes at you with his eyes closed, which isn’t something you would have put past him.

“Give me another half an hour, then, and I’ll come with you.” He sighed, turning away from you and waving a hand at the curtains you’d opened as his face scrunched up, and you closed them once again, the fabric barely doing anything to hide the light in the room that was coming from the bright sun sitting high in the sky.

“You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, but I want to.” He mumbled, and you nodded your head, taking a seat beside his legs on the end of his bed when he shifted them to the side and dragged the covers out of the way, letting you sit and wait for him as he snoozed a while longer, and you took the time to go through the list of places you wanted to visit. While you were well aware that not all of the filming was actually done in New Orleans, there were definitely a handful of places that you could see, and you were all but exploding with anticipation at the chance to do so. “What are we doing tomorrow?”

He sounded like he was barely present for the question, somewhere between this land and a dreamscape, but you turned to look at him anyway, despite knowing he wouldn't be looking back. “No plan, just figured we could go with the flow, or whatever.”

“We could go check out the ‘LaLaurie Mansion’, could be fun.” You gasped, staring at him in pure shock, and he cracked a smile at your reaction, stretching a little as he rolled over. “What, you’ve never seen American Horror Story?”

He was using your own words against you, pushing himself up to sit as he blinked into the light a little, and you shook your head to clear it, before grinning at him with a smile you didn’t even want to prevent. “Looks like you do know how to have fun, after all.”

He stuck his tongue out at you childishly, retracted his leg up the bad and you weren’t quick enough to move, being sent into a pile on the floor with a yelp as you were removed from the mattress, and he hummed in victory as you lay on the ground. He stepped over you a second later, looking at you on the floor with a smirk before swiping up some clothes and his toothbrush from the bag of his toiletries on the side, and switching on the cold tap to splash some water on his face.

You were practically pulling him out of the room ten minutes later, knowing that he was purposefully dragging out everything he did, changing his shirt three times just to make you wait, and with both hands on his forearm you’d dragged him all the way to the main door of the building before releasing him when he finally stopped dragging his feet and digging his heels in, laughing at your eager desperation to get on with the day as it approached one o’clock, and you still had things to do.

Tucking yourself under his arm to keep out of the way of others on the busy street, he adjusted you a little, his hand hanging over your shoulder as you pulled up the map on your phone for you both to see, covering your own eyes, as the sunglasses he’d purchased from the luggage shop in Alabama sat on his face.

“Thanks to someone changing his outfit like a diva, we lost a whole bunch of time.” You mumbled, his laugh rumbling up beside you.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“A whole bunch of time.” You nudged him in the side with your elbow, feeling him raise his hand from your shoulder temporarily to flick your ear, and you rubbed at it absentmindedly while looking at the directions on your phone. “Figured we could walk from here to the Lafayette Cemetery, it’s only an hour's walk, but our tour isn’t until five tonight, so we can take our time and check out other stuff while we go.”

“We’re taking a tour of a cemetery?”

“Yep!” He gave you a look like you were far too cheerful about the prospect of walking around a graveyard for a while, but you purposefully ignored looking at him. “First up, St. Louis Cathedral.”

You took photos in front of the beautiful building, the sun lighting up the exterior until it almost looked as though it was glowing, and it all seemed all the more natural that it did, a blessed appearance taking over your photos. You explored that end of the French Quarter in detail; visiting a Voodoo shop, even backtracking far enough to go to ‘Boutique Du Vampyre’, taking your time going around the store, checking out everything within the colourful and quaint little gift shop, the crowded building feeling out of place in the elegant and organised streets, like you’d stepped into an entirely new place when you’d walked through the door.

You listened to music and dropped change in the cases, cups and hates of almost every street performer you came across, and tried snacks from every street vendor you reached, sharing out the treats between you both as you made your way along, stopping at any and everything that caught either of your attention. You ended up with more photos than you’d expected, leaving you with a rapidly filling camera roll, hours worth of work when you finally got home and were able to sort through them all, printing off your favourites to build into a large photo album, ensuring that you’d never forget even a single moment of the trip.

After your tour of the cemetery, learning more than you thought there was a history to be had, and getting a chilling vibe all the way through, the two of you had settled on the Delachaise Wine Bar for your dinner, sampling different glasses and sharing them out as you filled up on french fries and bread rolls, before making the slow walk back to your hotel, seeing everything once again on you return, but this time by night.

The day had passed faster than you’d expected or hoped for, and yet, it was filled with priceless memories, the late hour making everything seem entirely new and different from the ay it had in the day, everything you passed seeming like a new building, signs lit up with glowing lights and the cheery and upbeat music from the day had taken on a lower and more sensual tone, changing with the mood as the early evening turned to night, seeing you off into your hotel with a smile on you face and a head full of thoughts that you’d never forget.

“So, I did a bit of research.” You started, and he turned to look at you, lowering his phone for a second from where he’d been taking photos, his attention now on you, waiting quietly for you to continue. “Turns out, that whole iconic witch’s walk in that one episode is outside of a restaurant and bar, and it’s only a few streets over. It’s called Vacherie Restaurant, and I made us a booking.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You were waiting with bated breath, hoping you’d made the right call, your suspicions being confirmed when his face cracked with a bright smile, and you let out a relieved sigh.

Much like he had spent the entire day with you yesterday exploring the sets and shooting locations of one of your favourite TV shows, you were now doing the same for him, the two of you wandering around the end of the French Quarter you hadn't yet gotten a chance to explore, taking in everything before you. Your first stop had, of course, been the LaLaurie Mansion he’d been so excited about, the man having been the one to wake you up this morning, pulling you from one end of the bed to almost falling out of it, hands on your ankles tugging you down the mattress until you’d been giggling and kicking at him as he dodged you, prompting you to get up so you could make the most of your third day.

It was only a short walk, the two of you grabbing to-go breakfast from a little café to eat as you walked, coffee and a breakfast burrito in your system waking you up considerably as you prepared yourself for the day. Neither of you had all that much of a plan, some quick googling as you walked had done wonders, however, guiding you through the already crowded streets as you made your way towards your various destinations.

Some were closer and some were further, the two of you working to create a list of your destinations, making your day a little easier to navigate. You were due to be on the road again by tonight, already having repacked the car and checked out of your hotel, but you were armament to spend as much time soaking up the sun and walking around as you could, before you were back on the road for a long drive up to Texas.

“So, when are we booked in?”

“I figured we could go for a late lunch, before we see the house they used for the academy, since it’s down in the Garden District, and we have to head that way anyway to get back on the main road.” He nodded, before he was reaching out to you a little, holding up his phone.

“Want to take a picture with me?”

You put your own away as you agreed to the request, his arm wrapping around you as he held up the device away from you both, positioning you to be able to see the house in the background, a smile on his face as you beamed brightly at the camera and squinted at the sun.

“I used to record and photograph everything, you know. I loved it, keeping a hold of my memories and all the moments that mattered, but for the last few years, there hasn’t been anything worth remembering, so I stopped.” It was a heavy confession, and you weren’t too sure what he was expecting from you, whether he was looking for comfort, or simply to get something off of his chest, but heat crawled up his face and made his cheeks tint pink as he looked at you, waiting for a response.

Instead, you wrapped your arms tightly around his waist, pulling him into you as his arms hung at his sides, your bodies pressed together in a hug, and you felt the way he stiffened underneath you, you laughed muffled as your shoulder pressed into his chest. It took him a minute to respond before his arms were wrapping around you lightly, holding you in return as his cheek pressed into your hair, and then, he was squeezing you like his life depended on it.

Only for a second, but he let his walls down, and then he was letting you go, breath rushing back into your lungs from where it had been squeezed from you, and his face was even redder than it had been, eyes shining a little, but he didn’t have his defensive stance or aggressive expression. His shoulders were slumped and he seemed relaxed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Mitch.” You hooked your arm through his, immediately soothing the tension building by asking if he wanted to stop by the patisserie shop you’d passed by on your way over here, getting a whole boxful to take with you in the car to snack on as you drove across the country to your next state.

You visited the ‘Marie Laveau: House of Voodoo’, before moving on to taking a wander around the St. Louis Cemetery to look at the crypts, before going for your lunch. It had consisted of thrilled discussions about everything you had done, comparing and swapping photos as you ate, and talking about the bits that you’d personally found the most enjoying. It wasn’t just the time in New Orleans that you discussed, but you managed to force him to open up about the rest of the trip you’d taken so far, the things he had fun doing even if he hadn't been willing to admit it at the time.

With full stomachs and smiling faces, you’d piled back into the car for the first time in days, upon making the walk back to the hotel parking lot. It was almost strange, having spent so much time on your feet and using the vehicle as little as possible, opting for you to drive the small distance down to the Buckner Mansion, the final location used as you drove along, through the Warehouse District and down to the Garden District, mitch taking pictures out of the windows as you went.

After his confession, which neither of you had risked to speak of again, he seemed like he was finally accepting that it was okay for him to live his life, and to admit that he was having fun, actually wanting to take photos and record the sights he was seeing, to relive them once you’d left and gone home.

You couldn’t go inside, but you could walk around the garden, peering inside as you leaned dup to the windows, and taking pictures on the steps up to the front door, talking about all the scenes that you could specifically pinpoint, and making the most of it, before having to leave as the lower light began to fade and the night came in, ushering out the warmer temperatures as a cool night breeze came in.

You flipped a coin, deciding who would do the first half of the journey, Mitch calling heads as it came spinning back down towards your hand, and that side had been the one facing upwards at you both when you’d both studied it, the man cheering to himself, even though you insisted it wasn’t much of a prize to have to drive for several hours in the dark when he’d rather be sleeping, but he was just happy to have won something.

Houston was your next destination, hoping to reach it by the time the morning rolled around, the shift between you both in New Orleans only making you happier about the rest of your journey to come.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “A bucket.”

I wrote this little fluff piece this morning because I didn’t have the energy to write anything else. Still fighting with my motivation right now, but I hope you all like it :)

The air smelled like fall, wet dirt, a chill, and the unmistakable tang of mouldering leaves raked into large yellowing piles. The sky overhead was blue, and it was just beginning to warm as the sun peaked higher into the sky.  Standing on the sidewalk, he stared down the street of his childhood watching orange and yellow leaves fall to the pavement. In the distance he could hear the shouting of children, and watched decorative skeletons clatter and blow in a light wind.

A soft crunching noise jogged him from his musings, and he turned to see Sunny contemplatively staring at a yellowed leaf, only to watch her pop it into her mouth and crunch on it like it was a potato chip.

He frowned at her and she turned to look at him, “What?”

“Seriously?”

“What do you mean, Seriously?”

“Gonna go ahead and eat the fall ambiance?”

She frowned at him,” The trees aren’t using them anymore, and I don’t see you eating them.” He just shook his head at her, and turned to walk up the front steps and onto the porch. She paused to stare at the cluster of pumpkins on the front steps, and the grizzly faces that were carved into them. His father was a master at pumpkin carving, evidenced by the fact that Sunny made, “What the hell.” she turned to look at Adam and he shrugged.

“What are those?”

“Pumpkins/”

“That does not answer my question.”

“THey are a type of squash or gourd or…. Or something. People grow and eat them most of the time, but it is traditional, in october to carve scary faces on them for fun. Maybe mom has another one lying around and will let you try it out.”

“But why?”

“Back in the day people thought that doing this would help to fend off evil spirits, but now it is more of a contest to flex who is the most artistic. Dad wins every year.”

They stepped onto the porch where fallen leaves were still clinging wetly to the front steps and knocked.

“It’s open!” Came the voice from inside 

The two of them slipped in, Adam taking off his shoes and Sunny wiping her damp feet on the entrance rug.

They walked into the living room to find his mother, Martha sitting on the floor at the center of an explosion of pictures, and a couple of open binders.

Adam and Sunny walked in very carefully stepping over the pictures.

“Sorting the photo album again?” “Again, the last time I did this was almost ten years ago.” 

Adam wantered closer to his mother and Sunny curiously examined some of the photos, until one caught her eye.

A very tiny, chubby human barely able to stand on his own, and with bright green eyes.

She picked up the picture gingerly in one hand, “Awww is this you? You and your fat little cheeks.”

Adam turned, and Sunny held up the picture. Adam blushed and Martha laughed, Sunny looked at the next picture in the line, which seemed to be paired to the first, but now the small boy had a large bucket on his head, his feet sticking out from underneath. The bucket had holes in the side.

“What are you doing.”

Martha laughed again, “We were playing hide and seek.” Adam was still blushing madly as she continued, “He grew into his intelligence late in life.”

***

Martha walked slowly from the back room into the living room, “Ready or not here I come.”

The house was mostly quiet. The rest of her brood was out with their father on a hike for the day, but their littlest had woken up with a slight cough so she had decided to keep him home. He had spent the first half of the day lethargic, but around lunch time after some strawberries he had perked up and become  his usual exhausting self.

“Come out come out. I’m gonna get you.”

It was the giggling that gave him away, but when she turned to look she paused, sagged a bit and rolled her eyes covering her smile and laugh with a hand. The living room was completely clean, aside from a round laundry basket sitting dead in the middle, and two chubby little legs sticking out from under it. Not to mention that since it was a laundry basket it had holes in the side, and she could see him looking at her from inside.

She discreetly took a picture and quietly to herself Lord child i hope you grow into your brains soon

But instead of calling him out on his hiding spot she wandered around the room hands on hips, “Now where could he have gone…. Could he be under here?”

Giggling 

She kept up the pretence for the longest time until he seemed to have gotten tired of her charade. She heard the bucket tip over and he ran over on his stubby little legs grabbing her by the leg.

She acted surprised, “OH there you are!. I have been looking ALL over.”

He grinned and hugged her leg again.

She reached down and picked him up and he rested his head against her shoulder.

That was another thing about her youngest. He was VERY VERY cuddly, and she idly wondered what that would translate to when he got older. She patted his back and tried to fix his unruly blond hair which stuck up from all sides of his head, but it was no use, she sighed and gave up.

Oh well, she tried her best.

***

“You know honestly sometimes he is STILL as dumb as a pile of bricks.” Sunny mused setting the picture back down.

Adam rubbed the back of his neck, “I got my masters in aviation and orbital physics.””

“And yet who is the one who insists on putting strange alien plants in his mouth without knowing i they are safe or not.”

Martha frowned at her youngest.

He frowned back, “That is hardly fair, you eat them.”

“I also eat leaves, doesn’t mean you can too.”

She sifted through the pictures and barked a laugh at one that caught her eye, she picked it up, what are you doing. She turned the picture around, and Adam blushed madly. Martha laughed, “Oh yeah, we had to call the fire department for that one.”

“No, no no we are not going to be telling that story.”

A firefighter and a cop framed either side of the picture both giving exaggerated thumbs up with a young boy\ mabe seven or eight in the background stuck, backside first in a bucket of some sort, looking very embarrassed.

Martha grinned, “I think you were seven or eight maybe.”

“IT was Jeromy’s fault.”

****

“I dare you.”

The four boys and one girl stood  at the top of the hill staring down.

Maya, who was fifteen years old, older by five years than Jeremy who was eleven, frowned down the hill, “What if he runs into one of those trees.”

“He's got a thick skull, he’ll be ok.” Thomas said ruffling Adam’s hair viciously so the younger boy squirmed protested and ducked away. Adam was a very small boy, shorter than average and very thin. His clothes always seemed too big, his shirts baggy, and the shorts he was wearing were forced to stay on only by the belt his father had had to poke three more holes into to make it fit.

Even his sneakers seemed too big flopping around on his feet with floppy untied laces. 

“Who is even going to fit in that?” David asked.

Arguably the smartest of the three brothers, it hadn’t occurred to the others that none of them would fit.

That’s when all their heads turned to look at Adam.

Adam frowned, “But I don’t want to.”

“Chiken.” Thomas said 

“Come on your the only one small enough.” Jeremy urged.

“I see your chances of dying as very low, “ David interjected helpfully.

Maya tossed her braid back over one shoulder, “We should at least put some padding down at the bottom. Because if he gets hurt mom will kill me.”

Maya was technically supposed to be babysitting them, and keeping them out of trouble. But as was common with their family, she was not immune to the pull of a hair brained idea especially not when she was just to curious to see how it turned out.

Adam stomped his foot, “But you guys ALWAYS make me do it.”

“Because the buckets are ALWAYS too small for us, “Come on don’t be a chicken.”

Adam sighed and walked over to the barrel. He tired crawling inside it backwards, and when that didn’t work he attempted to go in face first, but every time he was just to tall.

He shook his head, “Too small.”

David looked at him very thoughtfully, and then an idea seemed to jump into his head.

“Not if we fold you in half.”

Adam frowned at him.

“Come on, hold the barrel upright.” The other boys did as told, while David instructed Adam to sit inside butt first.

Adam frowned, “But that doesn’t sound very comfortable, and how am I going to get out.”

“We will tip you out, don’t worry.”

Adam frowned but then allowed himself to slide down into the barrel. It was immediately very uncomfortable.

He wanted to tell them to pull him out but by that time he had been tipped over onto his side, “Ready?”

“No.”

They ignored him.

Adam was near panicking now, it wasn’t exactly easy to breathe.

“Three, two, one.”

And then the world was spinning around him. He rocked and bounced and spun so fast his eyes rolled inside his head. He screamed but the scream was cut off as he slammed painfully into something.

Dazed and sure he was going to vomit, he heard voices.

“Oh no, Adam!”

“Adam are you ok!”

Footsteps raced down the hill.

“Oh no we killed him!”

“Shut up He’s still alive, look.” Something kicked his foot, and he groaned.

He’s still breathing.

“Let him out.”

Something tugged on his feet. But it only managed to pull him and the barrel with it.

“Here you guys hold the bucket and we will pull him out.

Wat ensued was a horrible tug of war on his legs and on the bucket neither of which seemed to want to let go.

“STOP!”

They dropped his legs.

“Um, what if we tipped the bucket upside down?”

“Ok.”

The four of them tried really hard, and at one point almost succeeded until someone’s hand slipped and Adam crashed into the ground very painfully. He was near panic now, “Guys! Get me out of here.”

David patted his foot, “Its ok, ill get you out, ‘we just need science.”

Science turned out to be a  shoddy pulley system that went over the swing set and was designed to let them lift the bucket by way of rope and shake Adam out onto the ground.

The problem was the rope kept slipping off the bucket.

“Oh… no.”

A car rolled over gravel.

“Oh no, dad’s home.”

They heard a car door slammed shut, and Adam felt as the others hurriedly rolled him behind the swingset.

A door opened and the jangle of keys followed their father around the side of the house.

“There you all are, glad to see everyone is still in one piece, you didn’t burn the house down.”

“Nope.”

“Nope.”

There was sudden silence, “Where is Adam.”

“Uh, he…. He is us, around here somewhere.” Jeremy had always been bad at lying 

Their father turned his gaze on Maya, “Maya what is going on.”

“Uh…. nothing dad, we….”

“Don’t even try it….”

She sagged a bit, “We got Adam stuck in a barrel.”

There was a moment of silence, he heard the shifting of footsteps, “You got Adam stuck in a-” The light filtering into the barrel was cut off and he saw the silhouette of his father’s head, “Huh, you weren’t kidding. You are okay in their kiddo.”

His muffled reply came.

“Yeah…. I guess.”

Their dad grabbed the barrel by one end, tipped it over and shook Adam a few times. WHen nothing happened he gently set him back down, “Huh.”

“I hold and you pull his feet, “” They tried again but it didn’t work the second time either.

“Well, I have some tools in the garage.”

Adam began to panic as he thought of his dad's circular table saw.

“NO!”

“Ok ok.”

He heard his dad quiet for a minute and then, “Hey Joe, yeah this is Jim Vir….. doing good, and you, how about the family….. Glad to hear it….. Yeah anyway, my kids got my youngest boy stuck in a barrel like the geniuses they are, and I can’t seem to get him out. You want to send me a firefighter or two with something that can help….. Yeah thanks joe.”

Adam was relieved.

Of course as it turned out it was a slow day at both the police department AND the fire station, so what came rolling up was a motorcade of emergency vehicles. Adam was so embarrassed he wished he could melt through the barrel and into the ground as a group of cops and firefighters walked over to peer down at him from above.

“That looks comfortable.”

“How are you doing there son?”

There barrel was tipped back over, and he even saw his father sna a few pictures as the firefighters and police went to work surrounding the barrel. Of course since the entire towns emergency crew were here that drew curious neighbors who couldn’t help but laugh along with Jim at the antics of his children.

The wors part is when Martha showed up, and ran from the car scared out of her mind assuming something horrible had happened, only to find her husband laughing and taking pictures with the local emergency response team, and her youngest stuck in an oversized bucket.

At the end of the day they were forced to cut him out, but the sweet relief when he tipped onto the ground free at least was almost worth the embarrassment. He might not have thought that if he had known there was still a picture in both the police department and the fire station of him as a kid stuck in a barrel.

***

Sunny was laughing at him by the time Martha was done with her story.

He grimaced, “Why do you only keep finding the embarrassing pictures.

“Oh what is this,”

“What are you wearing?”

Adam covered his eyes.

“Oh yeah, I couldn’t get my other boys to wear it, but he would model anything for me when I needed it. This was when I was doing a commission for a Seventies themed party. Isn’t he adorable.”

“Is that a jumpsuit, and what is with those glasses.”

Adam looked up at the sky.

“And of course when Maya moved out, and I didn’t have the money for a mannequin….”

Sunny picked up another picture, “That is one big ass dress.”

“Ah yes the bell skirts, doesn’t he look nice.”

Adam grunted and cleared his throat, “I think you'll find corsets are surprisingly comfortable. Second of all, I rock the regency and victorian periods, and no one can tell me otherwise.”

He might as well own it.

This was the 41st century, dresses weren’t just for women anymore, and some of them had been quite comfortable.

They would never really be his style, but he could see  why someone else would find them appealing.

By this point both Sunny and martha had migrated to the couch where they looked through embarrassing pictures of him as a baby and shared embarrassing stories. Sometimes gross stories as he sat on the other side of the room and suffered silently. Sunny seemed to be enjoying herself though, so he let it slide.

Seeing her happy was nice, since it hadn’t been very common over the past few months.

He blamed himself for that, and wondered idly how long it would take for her to fully forgive him.

He hoped not long.

[smegdwarf]

But Who Could Love Me? - Red Dwarf Fic (Rimmer X Reader)|Chapter 1 (1/2)

A/N: Did you really think I hold back? :P

Warnings: None, just fluff

Summary: Pretty much giving Rimmer the love he deserves 😌

Chapter 1

Your POV

Why was this happening? What was going on and how in the entire universe did you end up here? Scrambling to your feet and fumbling along the corridors, almost as if you had drunk several crates of beer on an empty stomach, you tried to figure out where you was and whether or not you was alone. After all there was only so much time before this was bound to happen again.

“Alright?” A voice boomed as a picture appeared on a screen near you.

“Christ!” You jumped back, almost falling to your feet again.

“Sorry didn’t mean to scare ya” The voice apologized “I’m Holly!”

“Where am I?” You stuttered, feeling the flickering approaching.

“JMC Mining ship Red Dwarf” Holly confirmed your suspicions.

“Is there anyone on this ship?” You asked, the flickering become more constant and harder to fight against.

“They’re in...” Before Holly could finish everything went black.

What felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds in reality you reappeared from your light bee with an almighty thud as you hit the metal wall of the ship.

“Did you guys hear that?” One voice exclaimed

“Probably another part of the ship falling apart ignore it” Another completely fed up voice grumbled as the door you had landed near opened.

“Sirs you might want to come and take a look” That was definitely a mechanoid.

“What is it Krytes?” A scouse voice asked.

“Ma’am are you ok?” The mechanoid asked as I finally opened my eyes.

“Oh great another human and it’s a female” The grumpy voice from earlier groaned.

“Alright Rimmer, keep your ‘h’ on” The scouser replied.

“Shut up Lister!” Rimmer growled.

“Mr Rimmer sir...” The mechanoid stuttered.

“What is it Kryten?” Rimmer rolled his eyes.

“I’m not human” You mumbled as you rubbed your eyes, the flickering feeling returning a little “Do you a medical bay on board?”

“Of course ma’am” Kryten looked over you concerned as you tried to stand up.

“I need to get there ASAP” You grumbled as you rubbed your eyes once more knocking your hair from your face and revealing what you truly were.

“You’re a hologram?” Rimmer stood stunned as you began to flicker in and out again.

“I need to go now!” You exclaimed as Lister and the remaining unnamed crew mate helped you to the medi-bay.

Hooked up to the red dwarf holo system, Kryten set up a scan to find out what was causing you to flicker out.

“You’re a hologram?” Rimmer repeated himself.

“Am I? I wondered why there was a big ‘h’ on my head?” You teased but it went straight over him.

“It appears your light bee has a crack ma’am, which is causing you to flicker in and out and glitch” Kryten eyed over the scan results as he explained the issue.

“Is it fixable?” You asked.

“Sure is ma’am” Kryten gave you a reassuring smile.

“And please call me Y/N” You smiled back.

“Hang on can’t the ship only maintain one hologram?” The unnamed crew mate pointed out.

“Shut it Cat!” Lister shushed him.

“A couple updates and a few adjustments and the ships system should maintain several holograms” You smiled “How long will it take to fix the crack?”

It was then that you noticed Rimmer had left the medi-bay, clearly not pleased about sharing the ship with another hologram. It didn’t take Kryten long to fix the crack and before long you were helping him update the hologram program to maintain both you and Rimmer.

“Well if you would excuse me ma’am I’ve got a load of Mr Listers laundry to catch up on” Kryten nodded in your direction “You’ll find the crew down the corridor on the left”

“Thanks Kryten” You smiled as you parted ways with Kryten to find the others “Hi, hope I’m not disturbing anything?”

Upon seeing you, Rimmer jumped up from his seat and took himself and the book he was reading to his bunk without a word.

“Of course not, sit down and help yourself to a beer” Lister grinned “Did Kryten fix you up?”

“He did and the hologram program has been updated to maintain both me and Rimmer” You replied earning a not so subtle scoff from the hologram throwing a strop.

“Ignore the smeghead over there” Lister rolled his eyes towards Rimmer.

Rimmer was a mystery, he avoided you at all costs for the 3 weeks you had been stuck on Red Dwarf. Even though in those 3 weeks you had become good friends with the rest of the crew. It was all about to turn upside down as Kryten had bad news to deliver.

“Are you coming?” You spoke towards Rimmer but you dared to look at him.

“Y/N, Rimmer we need to get to starbug NOW!” Lister burst in, Krytens bad news had to wait.

While Lister run ahead it left you and Rimmer walking to spacebug alone in complete silence. Lister had filled you in on Rimmer, on why he is the way he is and why he seemed to hate you with every inch of his hologramatic being. He didn’t trust anyone and perceived everyone as a threat due to his crappy upbringing and constantly being shot down. It was clear the man had issues but it would be wrong of you to treat him differently because of them and it didn’t help that the rest of his crew liked to play on his insecurities. If anything you just wanted to be acquaintances if friends wasn’t possible.

After all piling into Starbugs cockpit Kryten filled everyone in, an abandoned ship was slowly flying by Red Dwarf and it was up to this crew to check it over for remaining crew or supplies that could be useful on ship.

“Rimmer are you still sulking?” Lister decided to spark a conversation, apparently at the expense of Rimmer.

“I’m not sulking, I just don’t see why we need to check this ship, we’ve already got an extra crew mate on board ...we don’t need anymore” Rimmer kept his eyes on the console in front of him as he spoke however you couldn’t take your mind of the fact he referred to you as a crew mate. Maybe he’s finally warming up to you.

“Maybe we’ll bump into Ace?” The Cat decided to join in, Lister has briefly mentioned Rimmer’s alter ego Ace and from what you could gather everyone but Rimmer liked him.

“Ah I love that man” Lister joined in as Rimmer let out a groan “The only version of Rimmer that can be considered a man”

“Alright guys give it a rest, how would you like it we were teasing you?” You shut them down, noticing Rimmer turning from his screen to look at you for a split second from the corner of your eye.

“Did you just stand up for Rimmer?” Lister turned to face you as did Kryten and The Cat.

“Is that so wrong?” You raised your eyebrow.

“Yes!” Lister, Kryten and the Cat said in unison.

“Well you’re all a bunch of smeg heads” You grumbled.

“Ooh Y/N cares about Rimmer” Lister teased as Rimmer let out a tut.

“Have we reached the ship yet?” Rimmer growled as the ship came to a sudden stop with a jolt.

“Erm ...maybe” The Cat smiled awkwardly, clearly too interested in the drama in the cockpit than the spaceship we were hurtling towards.

“Here’s the plan, Y/N, Lister and the Cat look for any remaining crew members, Kryten and I will look for supplies” Rimmer ordered, he may not officially be an officer but 3 million years into deep space with the last human, a robot and a half cat wasn’t going to stop him pretending to be and it wasn’t until he looked up from getting ready that he noticed Lister, Kryten and Cat already down the corridor of the abandoned ship.

“Have fun you two!” Lister shouted down the corridor.

“Smeg!” Rimmer grumbled “Come on”

Of course Rimmer wasn’t pleased to be left alone with you and as much as you wanted to get to know Rimmer better you knew it was not going to be easy.

“Just to set the record straight I had nothing to do with this” You put it out there as Rimmer kept his focus on searching for supplies.

“Uh huh” Was the only response he was willing to give.

“Fine” You muttered under your breath as you too looked for supplies to take back.

“Nothing in here, onto the next room” You let Rimmer boss you about, after all standing your ground against him would just end in a fight.

“Yes sir!” You replied sarcastically, earning a frown before he walked off.

After a few more rooms it was clear there wasn’t much to salvage besides a few crates of lager, medical supplies and a bunch of stationary that only Rimmer would’ve spotted.

You and Rimmer sat in Starbug in silence as you waited for the others to return, Rimmer completely blocking out his surroundings as he went through his new haul of pens and notebooks. You knew Rimmer wasn’t like the others, as much as he hated to admit it he was shy and very awkward, his interests were on the opposite end of the scale to Lister and the Cat and he had clearly built up some very high walls in need to protect himself. Watching the way his face lit up over his new stationary made you smile, a smile you were completely unaware of until Rimmer looked up.

“Shouldn’t the others be back soon?” You immediately tried to change the subject as Rimmer tried to put his focus back on his notebooks but unbeknown why, he was struggling.

“Listy? Can you hear me?” Rimmer poked a button next to his monitor.

“Having fun Arnie?” Lister teased once more through the reciever.

“Have you found anyone?” You jumped in, you wasn’t in the mood to hear him taunt Rimmer more.

“Nah we’re heading back to Starbug now! What about supplies?” Lister replied.

“Found a few crates of lager and some medical supplies but that’s about it” You explained, leaving out Rimmer’s stationary supplies to save him from the teasing.

“Nice, we’re a few minutes away, see you guys soon” And with that the cockpit went silent.

Even though Rimmer acted as though he was ignoring everything it was obvious he had picked up on you leaving out his haul to spare him as his foot suddenly started tapping the floor beneath it not sure how to deal with the emotions he was currently feeling.

Rimmer was proving to be a tough nut to crack, either only talking to the boys, remaining silent or even leaving the room in some cases. He did talk to you but only when it was absolutely necessary and it became an extremely regular thing for the rest of the crew to run off and leave you alone together.

Another day ...or night ...it was a guessing game half the time and even if it did turn out to be midnight it didn’t stop You and Lister chowing down on a hefty bowl of cereal.

“Thanks Krytes” You smiled as Kryten placed a bowl of your favourite cereal and juice on the table in front of you as you remained focused on the book you was reading.

“You’re welcome ma’am!” Kryten smiled before scuttling off, after all there was always bound to be a basket of Listers socks and underwear in desperate need of cleaning.

“Hmm that’s good” You happily munched away on your breakfast, noticing Lister hanging over the side of his bunk from the corner of your eye “Don’t even think about touching that guitar”

“Yes please don’t” Rimmer walked in, eyes down on the papers in his hand.

“Alright jesus” Lister whined as he threw himself back in his bunk.

“Good morning Arnold” You called him by his first name in an attempt to get a reaction from him.

“Morning” Rimmer mumbled looking up from his notebook for a short second before looking back down, he definitely noticed.

“What are you up to?” You asked trying to spark up a conversation with the hologram sat opposite you.

“Probably studying to fail his Astro-navs again” Lister teased.

“Oi!” You shot Lister a look.

“Do you ever stop talking?” Rimmer snapped at Lister.

“Ooh someone woke up on the wrong side of the ship this morning?” Lister set off on his mission to piss off Rimmer.

“Shut up” Rimmer growled.

“Just ignore him” You spoke only loud enough for Rimmer to hear as he looked up and spotted the book you were reading.

“You’re reading the space corps directives?” Rimmer raised an eyebrow at the book.

“Yeah why not?” You smiled as you flicked the page, Rimmer’s eyes shot back down to the paperwork in front of him.

“I wouldn’t bother, we ignore practically all of them” Lister chimed in.

“Correction Listy ...you ignore all of them” Rimmer looked over at Lister sprawled out in his bunk.

“They are rules and rules are for goodie goodies” Lister huffed.

“Rules exist for a reason” Rimmer replied sternly.

“Rules are made to be broken Rimmer” Lister grinned “Not that you’d have the balls to do that”

“Alright that’s enough Lister” You shot Lister a look that shut him up instantly “Every conversation doesn’t have to end in you belittling Arnold”

And it was with that last sentence that Rimmer had up and left. This is how most days panned out, you’d finally get a conversation going then Lister or The Cat would butt in and insult or berate Rimmer. Being 3 million years into deep space you could understand that there wasn’t much to do and boredom would ensue but it wasn’t an excuse to treat Rimmer the way they did, especially knowing what they know about him.

“So are you staying on Red Dwarf then?” Lister asked, eyes fixated on the screen in front of him as he played his video game.

“I don’t know” You sighed, trying desperately to focus on the book you were reading and not on the nonsense in your head.

After a month or so of space exploration with the boys from the Dwarf you had obtained a substantial book collection ...a collection you knew was sparking the interest of Rimmer although he’d rather die again than admit it.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Lister paused his game to look at you.

“I love Red Dwarf I really do but I know someone doesn’t like me being here” You mumbled.

“Ahh don’t worry about that smeghead” Lister grinned.

“That’s quite hard when you lot keep leaving me alone with him” You grumbled, there was sounds of movement outside the doorway of the crews living quarters to which you assumed was Kryten “I’ve tried my best Dave and he still ignores me”

“You know what he’s like, he’s Rimmer” Lister tried to comfort you but it wasn’t helping, Rimmer being Rimmer was the problem, his personality was so much different to the others which made him all that more interesting but trying to get through those walls was like breaking them down with a plastic spoon, long and tiring.

“How do I get through to him Lister?” You grumbled once more “I’m not a bad person”

“Talk to him” Lister turned back to his game.

“You know he just ignores me” You sighed, maybe there something more than even you were aware of going on “I just want him to feel comfortable around me, I try and start up conversation, I’m nothing but nice to him and I stand up for him when you lot are being smegheads”

“Awh come on winding Rimmer up is fun” Lister smiled.

“Maybe you should take his feelings into consideration every once in a while” You scolded Dave as you left the crew quarters, seeing a faint blur of blue dash down the corridor. It wasn’t Kryten walking past earlier after all, it was in fact Rimmer, the one who you had just been talking about to Lister and he had clearly heard everything as he scarpered away to avoid being seen.

You spent hours traipsing the floors of the dwarf trying to find Rimmer but if there was one thing he was definitely good at it was a hiding.

“Rimmer please come out from where you’re hiding? I just want to talk” You called out with no response until a few moments later there was a loud bang and an ‘oh smeg!” coming from Starbug “Arnold I know you’re in there?”

After a few seconds of silence and no answer you opened the door to let yourself in.

“Can we talk?” You asked as Rimmer sat with his elbows resting on the console and his hands resting at the back of his neck.

“I heard everything by the way” Rimmer mumbled.

[jobean12-blog]

You're one of my favorite writers on this site and my first asking for a request 🙈. Based off what's going on with Seb and the real estate shit... Could I request one where Bucky and y/n are newly dating and he invites her over to his house but days later he's informed his address has been leaked online and immediately thinks y/n did it. They argue and don't speak for days (but miss each other so much) and then he's told a stalker went far and wide to find it and just some make-up loveliness?♥️

Trust in Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,454

Summary: Bucky invites you over to his place for the first time, you love his place and being there with him, but then he gets some crazy news and it upsets you both, however, it all works out just fine! HAPPY ENDING! 

Author’s Note: Hello my sweet friend! I want to thank you so much for your kind words and also for your patience with this. I know it’s been a few months and I apologize for the long wait. I hope you enjoy this and that you are doing well! Thank you all for reading! Much love always! ❤❤❤

Warnings: soft fluff, implied sexy times, sweet and sassy Bucky, angst in the middle but it isn’t too bad, Bucky gets mad and the reader too but it all works out and he fixes it and happy endings! YAY! 

Bucky walks around his apartment and runs his hand through his hair, checking everything over for the 100th time. Glancing at his phone he sees he has just enough time to shower before you arrive. This is the first time you’re coming over to his place and he’s both excited and nervous. He wants you to feel comfortable and happy while you’re there.

Your soft knock has Bucky rushing to the door, wiping his hands on his jeans before letting out a breath and opening it up. “Hey doll face. Come on in.” You walk through and put down your bag, jumping into his open arms. “Hi baby.” Before you can get a look around, he kisses you, effectively ending all thoughts and conversation.

The next thing you know you’re on the couch, his thigh pressed between your legs and his hand up your shirt. “I’m so happy you’re here,” he purrs against your lips, trailing them down your neck. You grasp his hair between your fingers and pull his face up to yours. “Me too, think I could get a tour before we break in the couch.”

He smirks, pushing his thigh harder and making you gasp. “Bucky,” you playfully warn. “My house, my rules baby girl.” You grin, easily giving in and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Fine. You win. But I get to pick where we order dinner from.” He nods, brushing his fingertips over the lace of your bra before ending any further arguments.

You’re sprawled out between Bucky and the back of the couch, your head resting on his chest as you dance your fingers over his abs and look around the room. “You have so many books. I love it! And this couch is pretty comfy!” His hands mindlessly comb through your hair and down your bare shoulder. “Just wait until you try the bed!”

When you finally get yourselves dressed and off the couch Bucky gives you the official tour and you’re already in love with the space. It reminds you so much of him. It’s warm and inviting, neat and cozy. “I’ve only been here a couple hours and I already love it!” You say the words and rest your head on his chest, giggling when your stomach grumbles. “I’m so glad doll. Now, let’s order dinner!”

The rest of your evening with Bucky is perfect. You eat yummy food and try to get through a movie before he hauls you to his bed. After breaking that in properly you sleep peacefully in his arms. The next morning arrives too quickly and he reluctantly lets you go so you can do laundry and prepare for the work week.

It goes by slowly and you and Bucky text and talk every day, constantly looking forward to seeing each other again. But when Thursday rolls around and you never get a good morning message from him you know something is wrong. Frowning at your phone you see that’s it’s almost lunch time, so you decide to check in. ‘Hey baby, missed you this morning. Hope you’re doing great and having a good day.’ You try desperately not to check your phone every 5 seconds, waiting for the text message alert.

It doesn’t come until the afternoon, his reply making your heart sink, ‘hey, not a great day, need to talk to you. Can I come by after work?’ You immediately answer and tell him of course and you hope everything is ok.  You try to get through the rest of day and push back thoughts that he is going to tell you something awful later.

When you finally make it home your stomach is in knots and you have a headache, pacing your apartment and waiting for him to get there. His knock is hard, and it startles you from your self-torment. You rush to the door and swing it open, wanting to throw yourself into his arms but stepping back instead when you see the stormy look in his eyes.

“Did you leak my address somewhere online?” You shoot him an incredulous look, pointing at yourself and shaking your head no. “What? Why the hell would I do something like that?” He stomps his way into the small kitchen, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t know, I asked myself the same question, but up until you came to my place I haven’t had any trouble at all. Then days later, I start getting messages that people know where I live. Little odd, don’t you think?”

You walk right up to him and poke your finger at his chest. “Hey, I know we’ve only been dating a few months, but I’d like to think you know better, I would never do something like that!” His eyes soften slightly but then his phone dings and he pulls it from his pocket, huffing loudly at whatever it is he read. “I have to go.” With that he brushes past you and turns when he gets to the door, “I have to go deal with this.” The slam of the door matches the thundering beat of your heart and you sink to the floor, trying to stop the tears that threaten to fall.

The weekend drags, your heart dragging along with it when you only hear from Bucky in short and curt texts. But as Sunday evening nears you start to get angry. You did not leak any information and you never would do that. You know it’s important that he have privacy and you respect that completely. Just as you’re about to grab your jacket and head to his place you get a text, ‘hey baby, can I come over please?”

At first you want to tell him no, but you need to resolve this one way or another, so you tell him to come. You hear his heavy footsteps on the stairs and wait at the door, opening it before he can even knock. “Hey.” His voice is quiet and sad and your shoulders slump, some of the fight leaving you. “Can I come in?” You open it fully and watch him walk through.

“Hey, listen baby, I,” he starts at the same time you say, “Bucky, I didn’t leak that info and I…” He smiles and you can’t help the small rise of your lips. He walks closer to you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. “Normally, I would always say ladies first, but I think you’re going to want to hear this.” You take his hands in yours, “go ahead, I’m listening.” He gives them a squeeze before he starts. “So, it turns out some crazy stalker leaked my address online and started his whole thing. How they got the info in the first place is something I’m still working on finding out. Luckily, Tony is a huge help and told me he would have it all taken care of asap.”

He takes a breath and looks down for a moment and when his eyes meet yours again, they look bright with emotion. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t trust you and immediately jumped to conclusions. You were right when you said that I should have known better and know that this isn’t something you would ever do. I was just so angry and upset because it was getting so out of control so quickly and I handled it very poorly. Do you think you can forgive me?”

At this point he has you pressed to his chest, his fingers brushing the hair from your face as he cradles your cheek. “Oh Bucky, I’m sorry it happened. It’s awful and I would have been angry too! Thank you for the apology, just promise you’ll trust me from now on. I’m here to help.” He dips his head, looking in your eyes for any sign of apprehension. When he sees none, he kisses you softly, pulling a low moan from your throat and tightening his hold on you.

His hands move down to cup your ass and he lifts you to the counter, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. “I’ve missed you so much, doll. I’m such an idiot, I’m sorry.” You smile against his lips. “You are but I forgive you and I missed you too, you have no idea.” He chuckles, “well, I’m your idiot and I most certainly do have an idea, worst few days of my life!” A light blush coats your cheeks and Bucky kisses them both, “can I stay tonight? I don’t want to be away from you anymore.” You nod and tilt your head, bringing your lips closer to his, “why don’t you spend the night showing me just how much you missed me?”

@book-dragon-13 @bugsbucky @buckstaybucky @buckys-broody-muffin @buckys-henley @breezy1415 @chuuulip @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @hailmary-yramliah @hawksmagnolia @ikaris-whore @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @loricameback @lorilane33 @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @lokilvrr @mushyjellybeans @marvelgirl7 @marvelandotherfandomimagines @nano--raptor @pinkdiamond1016 @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @tuiccim @the-wayward-robot @this-kitten-is-smitten @yansi1923

[hale-13]

Caved In

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 10 - Trapped

Despite Peter’s obvious enthusiasm to join missions, Tony tends to keep him away as much as possible. But this is just a simple raid of a defunct. There’s no trouble the kid can get into here right?

Words: 2534, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandom: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanov

TW: Medical Procedures, Claustrophobia

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

Tony coughs himself awake, the mask of the Iron Man suit cracked nearly down the middle and crumbling at the edges, gaping holes allowing for dust and debris to trickle in. His cough is dry and unpleasant but causes only a small twinge of discomfort in his chest and, beyond the minimal aches and pains that come from the regular wear and tear of trying to be a superhero in his late forties, he feels pretty solid.

“FRI?” He croaks, coughing dryly again on the end and trying to clear his throat. “You up honey?”

His comm that connects him to the rest of his team and his AI is worryingly silent for a three count before FRIDAY’s pleasant Irish lilt says “Here Boss,” with only a small amount of static. Score.

“Thank God,” he breathes out. “Status report.”

“It appears someone activated the self-destruct sequence,” she offers helpfully, a broken layout of the HYDRA base they were raiding popping up on his HUD, only partially visible due to the fractured mask but it gives Tony plenty of info.

“How’s the rest of the team?” Tony asks, still lying on his back and making no effort to move yet. He feels okay considering the situation but he doesn’t want to waste energy until he has to. “Why is my comm muted?”

“The collapse damaged the transmitter,” FRIDAY explains. “I have sent in a distress signal and pinged your location,” Tony lets out a relieved sigh that gets caught in his throat when his AI reports, “All Avengers accounted for except for Spider-Man.”

“Vitals FRI,” Tony says, a little frantic and struggling to sit up now around the dizziness that surely means a concussion. “Where’s the kid?”

“The suit is approximately thirty feet to your left,” FRIDAY tells him, marking it on the blueprint still in the corner of his HUD with a blinking blue dot. “Karen is offline so I’m unable to get vitals,” she tells him regretfully as he groans and rolls onto his hands and knees. The floor starts to rotate under him and he has to take a few deep breaths to control his nausea before he feels like he can crawl through the mess of concrete around him in the direction of Peter.

With FRIDAY’s help, Tony is easily able to navigate through the rough patches on his way to Peter and, though his comm is broken, she is able to relay rescue info from Nat. So far they don’t have much idea on how long its going to take and Tony can already feel his heart beating too fast in worry.

“The kid’s fine,” he tells himself firmly. “He’s okay.”

When he comes across Peter about a minute later he is, decidedly, not okay. His right leg up to mid-thigh is trapped under a large slab of concrete and he’s unmoving except for the stuttering of his chest and the wet sounds of his breathing. Tony’s heart beats ever faster when he notices how wet the suit is around Peter’s trapped thigh and the oddly shaped protrusion that surely indicates a compound fracture.

“Fuck,” he curses, settling next to Peter’s head on his knees and carefully removing the torn mask from his face. Peter is pale under the spandex, a bruise high on his cheekbone and his nose crooked and bleeding – clearly broken again – but he’s breathing and seems otherwise alright. “Up and at’em Petey,” Tony says, patting Peter’s unmanaged cheek softly with two fingers until his eyes scrunch up and crack open.

“Hey man,” Peter slurs, a lopsided dopey grin pulling up the corners of his mouth and his pupils obviously uneven as he looks up at Tony. “Come here often?”

“Oh yeah,” Tony tells him with an eye roll. “Love hanging out in decrepit buildings, you know me.”

Peter snots out a laugh and then winces, a hand coming up to probe at his nose. “Ouchies,” he mumbles, sounding a little nasally. Tony bats his hand away from his face.

“You’re not wrong,” he agrees, pressing a hand to Peter’s chest to keep him from sitting up. “Let’s just take it easy for a bit until the rest of the team busts us out okay kiddo?”

Peter frowns at him, his eyebrows pulling together in an expression that would be adorably confused if Tony wasn’t internally freaking out a little over their situation. Peter looks woozy and out of it from his concussion but the kid has always been pretty perceptive and Tony doesn’t say anything as he does an obvious full body check, gasping in pain almost immediately. “Mr. Stark?”

“You’re alright,” Tony reassures, trying to defuse the situation before it even becomes a situation. “Nothing we can’t fix. You’re just a little… confined until Nat can figure out how to get us out.”

Peter looks unconvinced and he has a tinge of panic on his face – leftover claustrophobia from getting trapped under a warehouse Tony knows – but he gulps and takes a few deep breaths to relax himself. “How long?”

“Whatcha got for me FRI? Any ETA on our imminent rescue?” Tony asks, one hand rubbing through Peter’s sweaty, messy curls and the other tapping on the side of his mask over the comm impatiently. He tries to hold in his grimace when she reports back that it may be a couple of hours for Peter’s sake and, instead, smiles down at him, only half his mouth visible through the cracked mask. He opens his mouth to lie through his teeth but Peter rolls his eyes before Tony has the chance.

“You know I have enhanced hearing right?” He questions pointedly, taking the wind out of Tony’s sails before he can even talk.

“Yeah alright,” the man agrees with a shrug. “It’s going to be a bit before they get here.”

Peter squirms a little uncomfortably, letting out a hiss when he jostles his leg, eyes crossing and sweat breaking out across his forehead at the pain and Tony feels his chest clench in sympathy. “Can you uh…” Peter starts, gulping and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, tears of pain popping up in the corners but stubbornly not falling. “Can you distract me?”

“Did I ever tell you about that time in college when Rhodey and I got blitzed on cheap vodka and flooded the laundry room with foam before our engineering final?” Peter lets out a little hysterical laugh and shakes his head ‘no’. “Well settle in because it’s a doozy. So it all started around ten in the morning in the fountain at the student center…”

Tony had plenty of stories about his and Rhodey’s misadventures through undergrad but he was really running out of semi-appropriate tales he could spin by the time the clock in the corner of his HUD had passed three hours. Peter, stubborn and ever the trooper, had stayed awake and cooperated every time had harassed him to keep the kid coherent. The shifting of concrete was definitely getting closer now.

Peter, however, had continued to steadily decline since Tony had found him. The wound in his thigh where the bone had punctured the skin but, miraculously, not the suit had continued to bleed steadily to the point that Tony had cut a hole in the tightly woven carbon and spandex fibers around Peter’s leg so that he could staunch the bleeding with specially made nano-particles. This had, unfortunately, clearly been a bandaid on a bullet wound situation.

Peter had steadily paled until his face was greyed around the edges and clammy. His hands were shaking and, since he wasn’t able to thermoregulate well and shiver, could only be from shock. The situation was quickly becoming dire and Tony knew he wasn’t doing such a stellar job of hiding his reservations anymore.

“Get me an update FRI,” he ground out, one hand moving methodically through Peter’s flat curls, overworked by how much Tony had been basically petting him for the past few hours. The kid’s brown eyes, half-lidded, flickered up to look at him and some quiet conversation passed between the two of them before Peter broke eye contact with a weary blink.

“Rescue is imminent Boss,” the AI reported. “Maybe fifteen minutes.”

“Here that Pete?” Tony asked, trying for bright but falling short. “Fifteen minutes. We can do that right?”

“Sure,” Peter mumbled, his own voice hoarse from coughing up dust and a little blood sneaking its way onto his lips when he wet them. His teeth were stained red and Tony could feel his heart stutter at the sight. He hated nothing more than being useless and that’s all he was right now. “Fifteen minutes. No problem.”

“Tell them to hurry it up,” Tony hissed into his comm before hitting the emergency release on his suit and peeling it off. Peter’s eyes were hazy and confused, a frown pulling his pale lips down as he watched.

“You can’t,” he said, fingers twitching in the direction of the defunct suit. “Need to be protected.”

“I’m fine kiddo,” Tony promised, moving them around until Peter’s head rested in Tony’s lap instead of on the ground. “We’re almost out; nothing’s going to happen.” Peter’s eyes narrowed but he clearly didn’t have the energy to argue further, letting his lids flutter shut and stay closed. Tony shook him none too gently to rouse him, heart aching at Peter’s low whine of pain and betrayal. “Stay awake for me Webs. Just a little longer.”

“I’m really tired,” Peter muttered, eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to keep them open. “Just a little nap. Please?”

“No can do,” Tony said, feeling on the verge or tears, running his thumb carefully over the bruises under Peter’s eye and up to his temple to gently massage it. “No sleeping until Bruce gives permission. He’s a stickler about these things.”

Peter hummed, his mouth pulling down at the corners. “Sorry Mr. Stark,” he whispered, his eyes closing and his speech starting to slur. “I don’t think I can.”

And then, terrifyingly, he went completely boneless in Tony’s lap.

“No!” Tony nearly screamed, shaking Peter as carefully as he could. “You need to wake up right now Peter I’m serious!” But Peter’s head just lolled to the side, his face and jaw slack and his skin, somehow, even paler than before. “FRI get them here now! I don’t care what it takes, Peter needs out!”

“Tony!” A voice echoed through the cavern not even a second later and Tony felt tears of relief prickling his eyes.

“Here!” He called back, sniffing hard. “About time you got down here!”

Moments later the dusty forms of Steve and Sam pushed their way into the small space that Tony and Peter had been occupying, dragging a stretcher and a bag of medical equipment behind them.

“Shit,” Steve breathed, taking them both in before hustling over to lift the concrete off of Peter’s leg.

“Stop!” Sam said, trying to body block him in the cramped space and having little success but Cap stopped nonetheless. “He could have compartment syndrome. You move that before I place a tourniquet and you could kill him!” Steve turned white and moved back, holding his hands up in surrender. “Tony you need to take the suit and get out.”

“Like hell!” He protested, bearing his teeth and gripping Peter’s shoulders possessively only to have his hands batted away so Sam could get Peter’s pulse.

“You’re in the way,” Sam explained firmly as he pulled the medical bag over and began to wrap the tourniquet tightly around Peter’s upper thigh making the kid gasp in his sleep but not wake up. “You can trust me with him,” Sam promised, making brief eye contact before getting back to his work. “I promise that I’ll take care of him for you but you have to let me help him and I can’t do that when you’re in the way.”

Tony let out a choking sound that he would never admit was a sob and covered his mouth. “That’s my kid Wilson,” he said, voice firm. “I’m trusting you with him.” Sam nodded solemnly and Steve just watched them both with a wounded expression. Tony ignored all this and bent down to press a feather-light kiss to Peter’s hair line before squeezing his eyes shut and doing the hardest thing he’s ever had to do – leave Peter alone.

“Tony,” Bruce said, relieved, when Tony emerged from the hole that the team had dug up. The man was shirtless and in his Hulk shorts, hands shaky and tired but looking alert and ready to do what he could to help them. “Where’s Peter?”

“Cap and Sam are getting him,” Tony said, feeling a little shaky and shell-shocked himself, not noticing he was swaying until Natasha ducked under his right arm to help steady him. “He um. His leg got trapped under dome of the rubble. It’s broken and he’s lost a lot of blood.” Tony explained, allowing Nat to guide him to sit on some of the surrounding debris.

“It’s okay,” Bruce soothed, bending down and grabbing Tony’s wrist to take his pulse with a frown before prodding at a couple of the tender spots on his head that made Tony wince. “We can fix it. I have blood on the jet and we’re only an hour out from the nearest SHIELD base with a full medical staff. He’s going to be fine.”

Tony nodded compulsively and submitted himself to Bruce’s exam, watching the hole intently until Cap emerged, carrying half of the stretcher with Sam following closely behind supporting the other half.

Things became a bit of a blur from there for Tony. Nat held him back from getting in the way of Bruce and Sam treating Peter and assisted him onto the jet and into a seat near the head of the gurney they had moved the kid to. Peter was still passed out, his hair and face covered in dust but he was getting a little color back in his face once Sam started the blood transfusion.

“What’s the verdict?” Steve asked, leaning against the wall and only his finger twitching showing how worried he was, taking the words right out of Tony’s mouth.

“He has a good prognosis,” Bruce reported, looking at the X-ray FRIDAY had taken and sent to his tablet. “He’ll need surgery to reset the bone but you know how quick he heals. I suspect he’ll be begging to get back in the saddle by the end of the week tops,” a collective exhale of relief passed through the team and Tony dropped his head into his hands.

“Thank you,” he said, voice thick with emotion, stumbling over to stand at the head of the bed and run soft fingers down the side of Peter’s peaceful face. This was enough excitement for a while, Tony decided, he and the kid would need to sit out the next few missions and take an actual break. Pepper had been looking at a cabin on a lake as a possible summer home and Tony couldn’t think of a better way to recuperate than sitting on the ample porch in the warm weather with his family.

[shadowywerewolfqueen]

Favorite

For Suptober Day 23.

“Sam, I can’t just tell Cas how I feel! What if he doesn’t feel the same way? We are roommates and I can’t afford for Cas to leave because he doesn’t want to be around me,” Dean said, laying on his bed while talking to his brother.

“If Cas’ money is the only reason why you want him as a roommate, then maybe he should leave,” Sam replied.

“Ugh, of course that’s not the only reason why I like having Cas around! The dude might be my roommate but he’s also my best friend! I can’t risk telling Cas the truth and losing him. I don’t know what I’d do without Cas,” Dean exclaimed, annoyed that his brother would insinuate that he only liked Cas for his money.

“Woah, dude, calm down! I didn’t mean to upset you. Dean, you’ve been crushing on Cas for years and you still haven’t made a move. If you don’t, someone else will,” Sam pointed out.

Dean groaned. “You don’t think I don’t know that! Hell, Crowley, Balthazar, and Meg have all asked him out multiple times. Thankfully, he’s turned all of them down.”

“So, what happens when he finally says yes to somebody?” Sam asked.

Dean buried his face in his pillow and screamed. When he was done, he answered his brother’s question. “Get really jealous and probably give the person the stink eye anytime they are around Cas.”

Dean could practically see the bitch face he knew Sam was giving him. “Exactly, so why don’t you grow a pair and tell Cas how you feel!”

“I don’t even know what to tell him!”

“Why don’t you make a list of all the things you like about Cas. Pick out a couple and come up with a way to spend some together focused around those things. Then, maybe hint at the possibility of it being a date and see how Cas reacts,” Sam suggested.

Dean frowned. “Dude, that sounds so fucking girly!”

“Then keep pining like a lovesick teenager and don’t ask me for anymore help,” Sam said, obviously annoyed.

“Fine, don’t get your panties in a knot. I’ll try, but we both know that all this mushy crap isn’t my thing,” Dean said.

“Well, if you want Cas to be your boyfriend, then you better make it your thing. Look, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll talk to you later. Love you,” Sam said.

“Yeah, alright. Love you too and good luck on your test.”

“Thanks Dean, bye jerk.”

“Bye bitch,” Dean replied, softly. He dropped his phone on the bed and lay there, contemplating if he could just jump in a hole and let it swallow him. He finally rolled out of bed and walked over to his desk. He grabbed a pen and paper and started writing.

A few days later, Castiel walked into the apartment he shared with Dean. He headed into the kitchen and grabbed a soda from the fridge. He drank half of it before walking to his bedroom and grabbing his overflowing laundry basket. He paused by Dean’s door before deciding to see if Dean had any dirty clothes. He opened the door and walked inside. He grabbed the few clothes he saw lying on the floor and then walked to Dean’s desk to grab the shirt that was lying on top. 

He picked the shirt up and something flew onto the floor. Cas went to drop the clothes into his basket before walking back into the room. He picked the piece of paper up and was surprised to see his name written on it. His curiosity was too strong to be ignored. As he read, his eyes widened with every bullet point.

My Cas List aka All My Favorite Things About My Roommate/Best Friend/Guy I’m In Love With

His hair. I love how it’s shining black, almost like a raven’s wings. Also love how no matter how hard he tries to make it lie flat, it always gives him a perpetually just got laid look.

His eyes. Holy shit, I could write an entire essay on Cas’ eyes. They are the deepest, purest, most gorgeous fucking blue I’ve ever seen. They remind me of the ocean when the sun is reflecting off the water.

His smile. I mean his real smile, where his gums show and his eyes and nose scrunch up. I love it so much because he rarely smiles that big. It’s like a freakin ray of sunshine! Although, I’ve noticed he smiles a lot like that when we hang out. Ha, suck it Crowley!

His body! Man Cas, has a killer fucking body with those broad shoulders, flat stomach, and them thighs! Oh my God, he could crush a watermelon with those things. Hell, I wish he would crush me with them. And he’s got a pretty impressive cock (what can I say, I was a peeping Tom a few times!) I wish I knew what it felt like to have it buried in my ass, man I bet he would fill me up just right!

His hands! He’s got huge ass hands and man I love to just watch him pick shit up. When he touches me with them, I get goosebumps all over. I just wished he’d touch me more often with them.

His voice. Whiskey on gravel and man the things it does to me! Man, what I would give to be in bed with Cas and have him order me around with that voice of his. Ughh, I get hard just thinking about it.

His fascination with bees. He’s so passionate and I love listening to him talk about how important they are for the environment and how they make their honey. I might not love bees, but I would listen to Cas all day because when he talks his eyes light up and he gets one of his gummy smiles.

His utter lack of understanding of pop culture references. I mean he literally gets none of my references but that just means I get to educate him. I love our movie marathon weekends because of all the time I get to spend with him!

He can’t cook worth a shit! That just means he loves my cooking all the more, especially my burgers! They make him very happy haha.

His baking skills! Dude might burn spaghetti noodles but he makes the best darn pies, cakes, and cookies I’ve ever tasted! The best thing in the world is coming home to a freshly baked apple pie made by Cas. It’s even better than Ellen’s (not that I would tell her that.)

He loves Sam as much as I do! Sammy means the world to me and to know that Cas loves him and treats him like his own brother means everything! Cas will hang out with Sam just as much as me and that earns major brownie points in my book!

He knows nothing about cars but he loves Baby! Enough said!

He loves animals. I never thought I would enjoy giving up a couple Saturday’s a month to go volunteer at the humane society but boy do I love it! I think I’ll ask Cas about adopting a pet and see what he says. I bet he’ll say yes.

His head tilts when he’s confused. It’s just so damn cute.

That damn trench coat of his. He’s the only person in the world who looks so darn sexy in a plain brown coat.

The fact that he will steal my clothes and wear them before wearing his own. God he looks sexy when he wears my stuff.

All the times we spend hanging out. Cas is always down to do anything whether it's going to the arcade, or the zoo or a football game. Hell we spent an entire day at a car museum and then at a natural history museum just so we could do what each other likes! Besides Sam, there’s no other person I would want to hang out with.

His personality! Wow, that’s a huge one but it’s true. Cas is the most caring, thoughtful, loyal, smart, funny, kind, awesome, brave, generous, etc, etc. Cas is the best friend a guy could ask for and I can’t imagine not having him in my life. He’s a freaking angel and I just wished I deserved him. I wish I had the freaking nerve to tell him how I feel because getting to spend the rest of my life with someone as amazing as Cas is better than all the free burgers and pie in the world.

I could keep going but my hand is getting tired and I’ve got work to get to or else Bobby will have my hide. Maybe, one day, I’ll actually show this to Cas but probably not. I only did this because Sam suggested it would help come up with a way to ask Cas out, but all it’s done is made me realize why I don’t deserve him in the first place.

Cas plopped down on Dean’s bed and just stared at the note, unable to believe what he just read. He sat there for nearly ten minutes trying to process his thoughts. Finally, he grabbed a piece of paper off Dean’s desk and started writing a letter of his own.

“Cas, I’m home! I figured I would make my burgers for dinner along with some homemade fries. Afterwards, we can watch that bee documentary you recorded,” Dean called as he headed to the kitchen. He smiled when he saw his friend sitting at the table, a cup of hot tea nestled between his hands. Cas had a real fondness for the stuff.

“Hello Dean,” Cas said.

Dean paused, Cas’ tone not the pleasant sound it normally was. “Uh, everything alright?”

Cas nodded and took a sip of his drink. “It is.” He sat his cup back down before reaching into his pocket and taking a piece of paper out. He unfolded it and slid it to the opposite side of the table. “Sit down, and read this please.”

Dean couldn’t help but eye his roommate as he took a seat and grabbed the paper. The blood drained from his face when he read the top line.

All My Favorite Things About My Favorite Person aka The Person I’m In Love With

Dean’s stomach was in knots as he looked at Cas. “Uh, what is this?”

“Just read it Dean,” Cas replied.

Dean sighed before looking at the paper once more.

       1. His looks. I am a sucker for blonde hair and he has dark golden locks that always seem to lie perfectly even when he just runs his fingers through it. His eyes are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. They are like a forest on a warm spring day.        2. His laugh. He doesn’t laugh overly much but when he does, he has a smile that lights up his face and his whole body shakes with joy. I could listen to his laugh from sunrise to sunset. I’ve noticed he laughs a lot around me and it always makes my heart beat faster when I hear it.        3. His body! The Greek sculptors couldn’t find a better specimen if they looked. He has the perfect face with plump lips, high cheekbones, and a strong jaw. Then he’s got wonderfully muscled shoulders, a wide chest, a toned stomach, and bow legs (which I find freaking adorable. I may or may not have seen his cock which is extremely impressive and I dream about wrapping my mouth around it and bringing him to orgasm.

Dean couldn’t help his thoughts as he read. “This dude sounds perfect but hell, I’ve got all of that. I mean my hair may not be gold and my eyes are just a plain green but I’ve got a pretty good body. I definitely have the damn bow legs and my dick is pretty spectacular.” He continued reading.

       4. Did I mention his bow legs? I know he hates them, but I think it just adds  to his overall physique. I wouldn’t mind having them wrapped around me any day!

       5. His voice. When he sings, it’s like water running over rocks. It’s clear and smooth and I wish he'd sing more often!

       6. His love of cars! He’s got the most awesome vintage car in the world and there’s nothing better than just going on long drives in her. I can spend hours listening to him talk about cars even if I don’t have a fucking clue what he’s talking about.

Dean tried to keep the scowl from his face as he thought, “Now wait a damn minute! Baby is the best car in the world and whoever this guy is can bite me! Maybe Cas doesn’t like Baby as much as I thought. I guess he was just pretending about enjoying our car rides together.”

       7. His ridiculous amount of knowledge about all pop culture related things. I don’t think he can say more than three sentences without referencing a movie, or TV show, or band. It’s ridiculous and sometimes talking to him is like trying to learn a foreign language! But that just gives me all the more reasons to have movie marathons with him so that maybe one day, I can be as savvy as he is.

       8. His obsession with cowboys! The man dresses as Clint Eastwood every year for Halloween! Need I say more?

Dean glanced at Cas, but he was looking to the side towards the kitchen window. “I want to meet this dude and show him I know more about pop culture than he ever could! I also bet my Clint Eastwood costume is better! I don’t understand why Cas is so caught up on this dude! I have all of this and I bet I do it better!”

       9. His cooking! If I could only eat his burgers for the rest of my life, I’d die a happy man!

“I thought my burgers were the best, though! Cas has said multiple times how they’re practically orgasmic,” Dean said inside his head.

       10. His love of sweets, especially pie! He would live on pie if he could and I love to spend all day baking sweets and watch him enjoy the fruits of my labor!

       11. He’s a family man and loves his brother with everything he has! They have one of the strongest sibling bonds I’ve ever seen and I’m so happy they took me in and include me in all their adventures.

       12. He knows nothing about bees but will listen to me ramble about them all day. He gets this almost dreamy look as he listens and it makes my heart melt to know that he pays attention even if it isn’t his thing.

Dean frowned as he thought, “I fucking enjoy Cas’ baking and I will listen to him all damn day talk about bees! Why is Cas so hung up on this dude when I’ll do all the same shit! What if Sam was right and Cas got tired of waiting for me, so found someone else that was a lot like me?”

       13. He loves coming to the animal shelter with me! He didn’t at first but now he never says no! Maybe one day, we’ll have our very own dog or cat.

       14. He has this small pudge above his waist from all the burgers and pie he eats that won’t go away no matter what! Again he hates it, but it’s the comfiest spot to rest my head on when we’re lying on the couch together.

Dean dropped his hand to his stomach and pushed against his own small pooch. Cas always used it for a pillow, but this mystery guy’s must be better. Since when did Cas go to the animal shelter with anybody but Dean? Dean thought it was their thing, but obviously he was wrong.

       15. His love of all things plaid! Like I’m pretty sure his wardrobe is 90% flannel and 10% everything else! Although, me stealing about ten of his old band t-shirts didn’t help, but they smell like him so I just had to.

       16. His necklace that he always wears. His brother gave it to him and he never takes it off. 

Dean wrapped his fingers around the amulet hanging from his neck. Sam had given it to him for Christmas when they were kids after their dad failed to show up yet again. It meant the world to him and if he ever lost it, he would be heartbroken.

       17. All the time we spend hanging out together. There’s never any telling where we’ll end up! It could be a zoo or a museum or some kind of sports game! We’ve gone bowling, golfing, and I even convinced him to go on a rollercoaster with me. He held onto me the entire time because he’s afraid of heights. Of course I went with him to a car show the following week to even it out.

“I thought hanging out with me was special,” Dean thought sadly. His shoulders dropped as he realized that maybe Cas didn’t enjoy hanging out as much as he thought. It was obvious that Cas enjoyed spending time with his crush more than Dean.

       18. His personality! There isn’t enough paper in the world to write everything I love about him. He’s wicked smart and has a great sense of humor! He’s loyal and kind hearted! He will help anybody who needs a helping hand whether it’s mowing their lawn or taking them to the store because their car broke down. He’s stubborn, sure, but he’s also brave and ambitious and full of life. He’s definitely the life of every party we go to! He’s the extrovert to my introvert. He’s extremely dependable and responsible. He’s strong but also gentle! He can be a little cocky but hey, he’s earned it! He’s the best guy I’ve ever met and I would never want to live another day of my life without him. There’s not another guy on this Earth that I love like I do him and I just wish he realized how much I care for him. He can be very self doubtful about himself even though he can also be the most confident person in the world. I love him with all of my heart and I just hope when I finally tell him how I feel, he won’t turn me down.

Dean dropped the paper to the table, unable to look at it any longer. He was barely keeping the tears from falling as his heart shattered into pieces. He had everything on Cas’ list, yet Cas had chosen another person instead of him. All because Dean had been too chicken to admit his feelings. He looked up at Cas and tried to plaster a smile on his face. “I hope this guy realizes just what a gift he has waiting for him. You’re amazing Cas and anybody would be lucky to call you theirs.”

Cas smiled. “Thank you, Dean. He is a pretty awesome guy, and there’s no one else I’d rather be with.”

Dean sighed, trying to keep the bitterness from leaking into his voice. “Then why aren’t you with him? Why didn’t you show him this list instead of me? Do you want me to proofread the damn thing for you?” So, he was being a bit of an ass. He just found out the guy he was in love with didn’t like him back. How else was he supposed to respond?

Cas laughed softly. “No, I don’t want you to proofread it. As far as why I didn’t just hand it to the guy, I actually just did. He’s being a little dense right now.”

“Wait, what?” Dean exclaimed, his eyes locking with Cas’. Had Cas just said what he thought he said? Dean tried to keep his hopes in check in case he had heard wrong.

Cas stood to his feet and walked over to stand beside Dean. He reached for Dean’s hand and wrapped his fingers around Dean’s. “You are the guy in that letter.”

Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times before squeaking out, “Me?”

“Yes, you. I saw your letter to me when I went to get your dirty clothes and figured I’d write one of my own,” Cas explained. He squeezed Dean’s fingers and smiled brightly at him.

Dean stared at Cas before reaching up and cupping his cheek in his hand. “You really mean it?” he asked as he searched Cas’ eyes for any sort of lie.

“Every word,” Cas said softly. “I love you Dean, so much it hurts.”

“I love you too, Cas! I’m sorry it took so long,” Dean said, a tear sliding down his cheek.

“That’s ok, we just have lots of time to make up for! There’s a few things on our lists that I want to make a reality ASAP,” Cas replied with a smirk.

Dean’s eyes went wide as a smile stretched his lips. “Oh fuck yes,” he cried before crashing his lips against Cas’. Cas responded immediately, sliding his hands into Dean’s hair and slotting their mouths ever tighter together. They finally had their favorite person in their arms!