#and let's all go read kath's i could stare at your back all day again. there could be 99 lussads in the room and if just one of them was | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

havethetimeofyourstyles · 4 years ago

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in which harry’s your soulmate and you don’t quite know that yet.

a/n: hello angels! i bring you soulmate!harry for my loveliest friend @sweetcreatureinthedark ‘s fic party! i chose the prompt “i’ve been in love with you, i’ll be in love with you.” i’ll be honest, this was tough to write, and somewhat was testing my writing abilities lol, but we made it through and I love it! so i hope you all do too! be kind and pls leave feedback and rb! :’)

thank you to @sunflowers-styles for beta reading and putting up with the mess lol love you always <3

WORD COUNT: 15.4k of friends to lovers, soulmates, physicaltherapist!harry x professor!yn

WARNINGS: slight angst, mentions of heart condition and flatlining

COME INTO MY INBOX AND LETS TALK ABOUT ‘YOUR BEATING HEART’ i’d love to know your thoughts!

pls rb to share! <3

There was a saying that your Nonna had always said to you ever since you were a little girl, one that she made sure was ingrained into your mind for the rest of your life.

‘Someone is destined to your mind, soul, and heart.’

Your mother, Kath, had told you that she had repeated those words ever since you were barely a year old. Nonna had said them so much that they could’ve practically been your first words. She would say that statement along with: ‘There is someone out there who already loves you, they’re just waiting for the right moment. That right moment will be up to the universe.’

The concept of soulmates has been around for thousands of years, and Nonna was such a sucker for it. Having met hers when she was sixteen years old, she made sure she taught her family the power of having a soulmate. She told Kath that if she wasn’t around for you, then Kath was supposed to teach you. Luckily, she’s still around though because that woman is one of the best you’ll ever know.

When you were old enough to go to school, the teachers taught you about soulmates as well. When you turn thirteen, you’re able to find who your soulmate is because the power inside of you ignites, guiding you through the world to find your person. The universe was…weird like that; teaching children that they were going to find love at such a young age. You were taught that you were born to be loved by someone, and since you didn’t know any better, you listened. Nonna then started to explain the meaning and importance of soulmates. You were fascinated by it as she would explain it so enthusiastically to you while you listened with wide and curious eyes, making sure you didn’t miss a single word of what she said.

As a shy ten-year-old, you couldn’t wait till you were older so you could find your soulmate, thinking it would be a fun adventure to see who you would click with. Nonna always said that ‘when you know, you know.’

Once you hit seventeen, however, you slowly believed less and less in the idea of a soulmate, and maybe that was because you were trying to force the feeling of trying to click with every person you met, but you lived through your adolescent years listening to your friends rave about how their soulmate was so perfect when yours hadn’t even shown up. They were all smiles while you were all frowns, a disappointed look was planted on your face when you would come to realize you were probably going to be alone and that the universe had forgotten about you.

At eighteen, living in a world of soulmates, you believed you didn’t have one.

That’s how you lived your life.

When you went to college, the idea of being bound to another person was pushed to the back of your mind and you started to live your life more freely. You didn’t have the constant pressure in your head, telling you to find your one true love because you believed there wasn’t a ‘one true love.’ Your Nonna was a bit sad to see you live thinking that no one was out there to love you, but you realized that you didn’t want to sit and wait around for the perfect person, you wanted to venture out.

Throughout college, you lived…a lot. You met new people, hooked up a bit, and didn’t have the recurring thought in your head about your particular soulmate.

That was until you met Eric.

You met him your last year of college; and he was a year older than you. You met him on campus while he was meeting up with one of his old professors whose classroom you just happened to be in as he walked in, and you had immediately taken a liking to him. Besides the fact that you were sexually attracted to him, you didn’t think you would see him again until you met him again at a coffee shop that was not too far from campus. Eric invited you to take a seat with him, to which you said yes, and the rest was history. You and Eric were together for three years. In that time you were able to find a stable job, and you lived life together before he proposed to you. You thought life couldn’t get better than this--you had the greatest fiance and a job you didn’t hate, which was teaching Anatomy at a community college.

Eric had made you believe in love. Soulmates, however? Not quite. Although at times it felt like he was your soulmate, that was just you trying to force something again. He was your soulmate without all of the characteristics a soulmate would have.

Nonna had always told you that your eyes would sparkle while looking at them, so intently to where you couldn’t stop staring at them, thinking you two were the only ones in the room even with so many people around. That you would feel the spark igniting between you and your soulmate, causing your body to feel warm as the physical pull would bring you together. That your heart would beat ten times faster when you knew who that person was, and that the erratic beating wouldn't seem to stop because your soulmate’s heart was also beating at the same pace.

When it came to Eric, you were able to look away and you were aware of your surroundings. When you were close to him, you didn’t feel that magnetic pull. When you looked at him, your heart seemed to calm down to where you didn’t feel like it was pounding through your chest. When you looked at him…you didn’t think he was your soulmate anymore. It’s crazy to even think that you thought he was before when you didn’t believe in the concept, but there was no attraction or pull towards him, and the timing could have been better. Actually, it could be so much better.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this,” you muttered into the mic as several gasps were heard from the family and friends that had gathered for the moment.

You were dressed in a white, lace dress with a veil clipped onto the top of your head. It was your wedding day, and you were telling the supposed love of your life that you couldn’t marry him anymore because the thoughts about soulmates had barged inside of your mind during Eric’s vows, making you think thoughts that you wished you wouldn’t, but you couldn’t help it. Eric wasn’t your soulmate, and you damn well knew that you weren’t his either.

“W-What are you doing?” Eric whispered as he looked at you with wide eyes that told you not to embarrass him right here, right now.

“I’m so sorry, Eric. I can’t marry you,” you said more clearly, not really telling him but also telling the crowd.

The officiant of your wedding was your friend, Vic, and she looked at you with a shocked expression as she was just as speechless as everyone else. You knew they didn’t have to say or ask anything for you to know what they really wanted to say; they wanted to ask you what you were doing and what caused the sudden decision to not marry someone you’ve been with for four years.

You could ask yourself the same question. Better yet, you would like to ask the universe why, especially on your wedding day, why they decided to suddenly pop inside your head, reminding you all of the bullshit people feel when they find their soulmate.

Eric looked at you with worry, eyes slightly watering as if it was his worst nightmare come true. But you couldn’t carry on with this while neglecting the feeling that was inside your heart and mind. You couldn’t marry him as those thoughts were screaming at you, telling you that you made the wrong decision. Those said thoughts were telling you that your true soulmate was out there somewhere, physically and emotionally hurting because their soulmate decided to marry someone else. Your marriage would be ruined entirely if you went through with it.

“I-I’m sorry…” is what you said to him with a pout on your face as he shook his head. You started heading down the aisle, ignoring the disappointed, sad, and angry looks your guests, especially his family, were giving you as you walked away from the altar that held the man you had given four years of your life to.

Once you reached the middle of the aisle, you started to jog. Picking up your dress so you wouldn't trip over it, you started to run as you couldn’t take the way the people were looking at you.

Without glancing back, you headed over to the black Mercedes that waited for the newlyweds on the curb. Your driver, Jackson, had turned around in his seat, smiling but when he didn’t see the groom, his smile disappeared, also noticing that you had a disappointed look on your face as well. You found a clean napkin on the side of the door, asking him if he had a pen.

“How long are you willing to drive?” You asked.

“I’ll take you to wherever you need me to,” he replied. You smiled gratefully, writing down the address that made you feel at home before handing him the napkin.

He immediately started the car before typing in the address into his phone, driving away from the venue that had relied and counted on you being a wife today.

And you didn’t regret your actions for one second.

Soft, cold winds rushed through you as your skin pebbled from the sudden draft while standing against the white wooden railing of the balcony in the main bedroom. The calm waves immediately put you at ease from the anxiety that you were feeling hours prior, as harsh thoughts pushed their way through your head, telling yourself that you were a disappointment—that you disappointed everyone at the venue.

The shakiness of your hands was replaced by the grasp of the railing as you looked out to the distant sunset. The day wasn’t all that sunny, since the sun was setting behind the clouds. There weren’t that many people out on the beach either, but you were glad because you needed to feel like you were the only person on this Earth.

Coming to the beach house was the first thing that came to your mind when you decided to walk out. You knew that Eric wouldn’t find you here because he didn’t know about it, plus you just wanted to be alone without the constant questions that came from your ex-fiancé and your family.

You felt bad, of course you did, and you didn’t know how to begin explaining to Eric that he was just someone that you couldn’t marry because the previously pushed thoughts had come back to your mind right as you stood at the altar. But right now, you were wallowing in fears that overtook your mind, thinking that everyone was going to absolutely hate you, which you think they did anyway once you walked out.

Setting the wine glass down onto the railing, you looked down at the few pedestrians who walked by on the beach, getting in a last-minute venture before it got too dark. You smiled, thinking about the soulmate crap the universe had made you think about your entire life because any of these people could be the person you would love for your entire life, and you wouldn’t even know.

You groaned to yourself, leaning your body away from the railing and putting your forehead on your forearms. You stayed there for a moment, thinking about how exhausted you were, especially since wine makes you tired, including the long day of getting ready all for nothing.

When you stood back up, you had accidentally knocked your glass over the railing, the glass barely making a sound once it landed on the sand.

“Fuck…” you looked over the railing to see where your glass landed before you headed down the stairs. Once you made it near the bottom, you hadn’t seen the last two steps because they were covered by sand, so you completely fell on your face into the sand, making you gasp loudly from the sudden fall.

Laughing hysterically at your fall as you felt the embarrassment on your cheeks, you rolled over onto your back as you closed your eyes and laughed until you cried. You covered your face as you began to sob, feeling truly sorry for yourself. You never meant for this to happen. You were supposed to be happy, and you were sure you ruined someone else’s happiness.

After a few moments, you got up and brushed the sand off your clothes and face, and shook your hair so the excess sand could fall out. You sniffled, walking over to where your wine glass landed before your phone rang in your pocket. It was your mom calling, and you knew you couldn’t ignore it. You were planning to ignore everyone’s calls and texts before you went back to your hometown in just a few days, but it was your mother--you couldn’t hit decline, especially right now.

“Hello?” You answered.

“Hi, my lovely. You okay?” Kath was surprisingly calm because you thought she would’ve been freaking out.

“Hi, Mom. Yeah, I’m good.” You walked back to the stairs and decided to sit on the bottom of the steps as you watched the calming ocean in front of you.

“Can I ask where you are?” She asked hesitantly.

“I’m at Papa’s house and I’m safe. No need to worry,” you reassured, smiling softly, even though she couldn’t see you.

“Okay, good. I figured you were there. I understand you need space, but call me if you need anything, got it?” Kath was always a worrier, like every mom, but she seemed to worry about you a lot more than usual.

“Got it. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, my lovely. Oh, and,” she caught you before you were able to hang up. “I get why you did what you did, and I’m not mad. You’ll find them soon, okay?” Your eyes watered a bit, and you nodded, even though she couldn’t see you. You heard Kath blow a kiss through the phone before she hung up. You always loved how your mom was always able to understand you without you having to say anything at all. She was great like that, and you loved her dearly for it.

Pressing decline to what felt like the hundredth call from your in-laws and friends in the last two weeks made you roll your eyes and want to turn your phone off completely.

You knew that you had to call and text these people back eventually, but right now, you didn’t want to explain. You already had the anxiety from your actions weighing you down already, and these people would most likely scream over the phone as they demanded an explanation as to why you did what you did, and you really didn’t need that at the moment.

All you wanted to do was go back to the beach house and sit on the balcony as you watched the ocean; all far away from your problems.

You were unofficially a single woman, and you could look at all the men and women you wanted now that you were single. The nagging voice in your head was constantly bothering you, leaving you no room to think about what you might say to Eric when you meet up with him. He had stopped calling you a week ago, and since you weren’t entirely cruel, you shot him a text, saying that you were fine and that you’ll talk to him when you were ready because quite frankly, you needed to wrap your head around your thoughts. He was a sweetheart in that way, giving you space when you were the one to walk out on him and needed to explain things. You truly didn’t deserve him.

Unlocking the door to Nonna’s house with your spare key, you found her sitting on the couch watching TV. “Hey, Nonna,” you greeted, and she perked her head towards the door.

She softly smiled, getting up from the couch before she walked over to you. She didn’t greet you like she always did, which made you a little nervous because you thought she might be mad at you, but when her arms wrapped around your body, pulling you into a hug, you relaxed.

“Hi, Chip.” Her nickname for you came out with a smile against your shoulder. She had started calling you ‘Chip’ ever since you were a toddler. You had always wanted a bag of chips to munch on, and the nickname seemed to stick because you were still the same.

Nonna pulled back, guiding you to sit with her on the couch. “How are you, love? I haven’t seen you in weeks,” she asked as she pouted, giving you a look of concern.

You smiled to ease her worry. “I’m doing okay. How are you?” You grabbed her hand from her lap to hold it, the gesture making her smile a bit.

“Okay as well. Worried about you. Haven’t seen you since the wedding…”

You huffed out. “Yeah, Nonna, I just wanted to say I’m sorry-”

“Chip, what do you need to be sorry for? It wasn’t like it was my wedding. I understand why you did that,” she reassured you.

“You do?” You looked at her with a soft look. If there was anyone that you wanted approval or reassurance from, it was your Nonna.

“Of course, I do. Look, I know I told you about soulmates ever since you were younger, and throughout the years, it pained me to see you think that you didn’t have one. So, I didn’t push the idea onto you anymore. I wanted you to live your life, and when you met Eric, I thought he was nice, but I just knew he wasn’t the one,” she explained, making your brows raise.

“You knew?” Nonna nodded. “H-How?”

“Because you would’ve told me right away when you met him. You would’ve told me that you felt everything that I had told you for years, and suddenly when you met Eric, you didn’t talk about those things. I knew on the outside, you made it seem like you weren’t into the idea of soulmates, and that may be the case, but I know deep down that you still care about it. You want someone to cherish you and love you as we all do. You were excited up until you were seventeen because your friends had found theirs already, and all of a sudden you didn’t care. I know you’re still looking, but just wait a little, yeah?” Nonna always had a way with her wisdom, and she had that kind of intuition that made you feel a little less worried. The words that came out of your mouth weren’t much of a shock to you because Nonna was smart like that. You hadn’t realized all of the things she had picked up throughout your relationship with Eric, but you were grateful that she caught those things because it made it easier to talk to her.

“You know way too much, stop,” you joked, making her laugh. You laid your head on her shoulder, embracing the moment with her as you thought about how grateful you are for her. She was truly the closest person to you, and you didn’t know what you would do without her. Suddenly, the doorbell rang as she got up from the couch. “Expecting someone?”

“Must be my personal delivery boy,” she raised her brows teasingly, and you furrowed your brows in confusion. She had always mentioned someone dropping by to drop some things off from her next-door neighbor, and yet, you hadn’t met this neighbor of hers. Nonna opened the door and the person behind it wasn’t someone you were expecting. “Oh, thank you, dear!” She grabbed the set of glass bowls. “Would you like to come in?”

The man behind the door said, “I wouldn’t want to impose-”

“No, please! Come and meet my granddaughter.” Nonna opened the door wider, so her guest could look into her house, and that was when he saw you, standing in the entryway with your mouth slightly open. “Harry, this is my lovely granddaughter--the one I’ve been telling you about.”

“Hi, I’m Harry,” he said breathlessly. His gaze was trained right on you, and Nonna looked between you two as the both of you looked at one another with shock.

“Hi, uh, Y/N,” you shook his hand as you were quite speechless. He was quite attractive and looked young. He had short, curly brown hair that was pushed back with a red patterned bandana. He wore a black Nike jacket, shorts, and running shoes.

There was a moment of silence between you two as the both of you looked at each other. His expression was soft as his eyes seemed to burn into you, making you captivated by his stare. It felt like time had stopped for a moment as you two looked into each other’s eyes, trying to map out what the intent stare really meant. Could it be? Before you allowed yourself to feel the imaginative spark, you broke out of your trance, placing your head down as you thought for a moment. He cleared his throat to relieve the silence as he scratched the back of his neck, looking anywhere other than you.

“I’m just going to put these away,” Nonna broke the silence as she smirked to herself while leaving the room and to the kitchen before you let out a breath.

Harry smiled amusingly, chuckling a tad bit. His dimples popped out when he did so and you thought he was the cutest thing to ever walk the Earth. You walked closer to him so you were in the spot Nonna was prior as Harry was still standing on the doorstep.

“Hi,” you simply greeted.

Harry’s smile widened. “Hello.”

“So, uh, how do you know Nonna again?” You asked curiously, tilting your head as you placed your hand on the doorknob on the other side, leaning against the door.

“My mum lives next door actually. She and Tallie are quite close friends, so I would see your Nonna every time I would visit Mum, and Mum would have me bring things over sometimes—whatever the two talked about,” he explained, and you nodded understandingly, thinking that it was truly a small world.

“How long has your mom lived there?” You wondered.

“About a year and a half now,” he answered. Your brows furrowed as you were genuinely confused about why you haven’t met Harry before because you would always visit Nonna. He looked at you oddly as well, wondering the same thing.

He’s known Tallie ever since Anne moved next door, and also found it strange that he’s never met you before. Tallie had mentioned her daughter, which was your mother, and has met Kath before--many times. She also mentioned you briefly, but he’s never seen any pictures of you, so he wouldn’t have recognized you if he met you.

“That’s strange, isn’t it?” You suddenly asked, and Harry nodded his head. Before he could say anything more, Nonna walked into the room.

“You kids doing okay?” She asked, and you smiled at her, nodding your head. “Do you two want to make some bread?” She suggested enthusiastically. You and Harry both chuckled, looking at one another briefly before you both said yes. Nonna clapped her hands, urging you two to follow her into the kitchen. “The dough has been resting for an hour already, so if you two could do me a favor and knead it for me, that would be great.”

After the three of you washed your hands, Nonna instructed you on how she would like her bread to be shaped like breadsticks. You and Harry complied as she was making the butter.

“So, Y/N, what do you do for a living?” He sparked up a conversation as he kneaded the dough; you were doing the same.

“I teach at the college about an hour away. Anatomy and Physiology professor,” you said humbly, and his brows raised.

“You sure know a lot about the body then…” he suddenly pointed out, eyes widening immediately as he stopped kneading. “That was really weird, I’m sorry.” You laughed loudly as he cringed at himself. “I was just trying to state the obvious since you studied anatomy, and it went smoother in my head.” His cheeks turned into a pink tint color as he scratched his neck--something that you already noticed he did when he felt nervous or awkward--feeling the embarrassment rush through him.

You chuckled, looking up from the dough. “No worries. You’re…cute.” Harry didn’t say anything but shyly smile.

“What about you?”

“Besides living in general,” he started, and you laughed. “I’m a physical therapist. I work at the hospital downtown.”

“Ah, interesting. So, you would know a lot about the body too then, huh?” You teased, placing his words in your mouth.

Harry genuinely laughed loudly, filling the kitchen with his sounds. “Perhaps I do. That was a good one,” he said once he calmed down from his laughter. You beamed at him before you studied him a bit, trying not to get caught.

You were so caught up in how focused he looked while kneading the dough, and the way his lips curled in as he rolled it between his hands. His hands were naked from the rings that you had seen prior before he took them off for this task, but the way his hands were built and what they could do had you limitlessly daydreaming for what seemed like forever. They looked strong, but they were pretty. The orange nail polish contrasted between the bulging veins in his hands, leaving a very fine line between it all.

If you looked any longer, you would be drooling at the thought of this man’s hands, but luckily, Nonna tapped you and by the look on her face, she had caught you eyeing her delivery boy. “Yes, Nonna?”

“Might wanna speed up the process, yeah?” She suggested, with her voice in a teasing manner. All you did was nod as you huffed out a chuckle before proceeding.

After a bit more conversation with Harry, the dough was finally going into the oven, leaving an excited Nonna while Harry was placing the tray onto the rack.

“Tallie, I would hate to not try the bread after it’s done, but I should probably get back to my Mum…”

“Oh, go ahead, dear! I’m sorry to keep you for so long. I’ll be sure to bring some by when it’s done.” She reached up to hug him. “Be sure to tell Anne I said thank you for lending me the bowls, and thanks to you for delivering it.”

“Always a pleasure. I’ll see you soon. Uh, Y/N,” he called out as you gave him your attention. “Walk me out?” You smiled, nodding your head. Harry said one last goodbye to Nonna before you followed him out of the house.

“It was nice meeting you,” you told him, walking onto the sidewalk. You two were walking slowly since Anne’s house was right next door, and it seemed like you two wanted more time with one another even though it wasn’t said out loud. It was like you two already knew.

“You as well,” he said honestly. You were standing right in front of you in Anne’s driveway, not quite wanting to leave just yet.

Your heart started racing uncontrollably fast as you looked up at him. His green eyes still shined bright in the gloomy sky that looked like it was about to downpour any second, but they had caught your eye immediately, and you were completely lost in them. You weren’t able to look away and think how alluring his trance was. Your mind had stopped itself from long jumping into the conclusion that was begging you to finish the story, so you pulled your stare away instantly.

“Uh, well. I’ll see you soon probably?” You asked, backing away from him. Harry slightly frowned but made sure not to make it obvious.

“Yeah, you will,” he nodded, stepping back as he offered a friendly smile.

“Bye, Harry,” you waved at him before you turned around and walked away.

Harry walked into Anne’s home and straight to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He took a deep breath as he tried to calm down, heart beating outstandingly out of his chest that he felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore. When Harry walked into Tallie’s home, his heart was beating ten times faster ever since he saw you. He simply couldn’t stop staring at you, and the only way he stopped was when you had broken the stare. He definitely felt the spark there, and he wondered if you did too. He sure hoped so because he had never felt that strong of a feeling inside of him with anyone else.

Anne walked into the kitchen once she heard the commotion from upstairs, and saw her son leaning against the counter, head down and eyes closed, and that’s when she began to worry.

“Harry? Love, are you okay?” She ran to his side, placing her hand on his arm. Harry continued to take deep breaths, increasing Anne’s concern. “Answer me, please. You’re scaring me.” The sound of her voice was breaking Harry’s heart as he never wanted his mother to be concerned or scared, but naturally, as a mom, it was her job to be.

“Mum, it’s her. It’s really her,” he breathed out a laugh as his voice was strained from the lack of breath he had.

“What?”

“Her name’s Y/N. She’s Tallie’s granddaughter. My soulmate.” His eyes watered that was quickly followed by slight tears that streamed down his face, feeling so overwhelmed by the joy that overtook him.

“She’s here, huh?” Anne had tears in her eyes as she felt extremely happy for her son. All the heartbreaks and search for his soulmate had ended once he met you, knowing that it was going to change his life forever. Harry nodded, brushing the tears away from his face.

All the signs were there; the gleaming stare, the spark that shocked him, the magnetic pull between you two, his heart rate rising, and he felt like you were the only person in the world when he looked at you. That’s when he knew.

You were his soulmate.

The rain had poured down quite heavily as Harry ran inside the apartment complex with his small umbrella that had barely kept him dry.

Shaking the excess water on his umbrella and wiping his shoes onto the floor mat, he rushed towards the open elevator before it closed because it always took a while to land in the lobby.

“Hold the doors, please!” He called out, quickly running his fastest while trying not to slip. A hand was seen between the doors as the doors reopened. Harry got into the elevator, taking a deep breath.

“Harry?” He looked back at the other person who was in the elevator, and you were softly smiling at him as you took off your hood. You were wearing a burnt orange raincoat that he thought looked absolutely adorable on you, a university sweater underneath, black pants, along with black leather boots. Your eyes lit up at the presence of him, making him smile widely, feeling the attraction from you once again.

“H-Hi,” he stumbled over his words, to which he mentally slapped himself. He cleared his throat, “How are you?” I miss you, he wanted to say. It had been about two weeks since he last saw you at Tallie’s house, and considering you were his soulmate, that seemed like a very long time. There was no doubt that Harry had been on your mind since you met him. There was something about the way he looked at you that made you overthink every possible thing he could mean to you. It was crazy to think that he wouldn’t leave your brain considering you had just met him. You concluded that Harry was just an attractive man, the first man you’ve ever looked at that way since Eric.

“Good!” You said too overly excited, making Harry chuckle at your chirpy voice. You fake coughed, making your voice a tad bit lower. “Good, yeah. What about you?”

“Doing great!” The elevator doors open, and Harry stepped aside, letting you in first before he followed. “Do you live here?”

“Yeah, I do. This is me,” you stopped walking and stood in front of apartment 425 as you fiddled with your keys, nervously. You’ve been living here ever since you graduated college, and you didn’t fully move in with Eric because you planned to move in with him after you two got married, so luckily, you didn’t get rid of this place. “Do you also live here or are you visiting someone?”

“I live here too. I’m actually on the floor above yours, like directly above.” Harry realized that he didn’t even press the button to his floor in the elevator.

“525?” You asked as your brows furrowed. Harry nodded, giving you a small smile. “No way! Guess we’re neighbors…in a way?” You chuckled, and Harry grinned.

“Guess we are,” he slightly giggled.

“Uh, did you want to come in?” You asked. Harry’s eyes widened a bit, surprised by your offer, and you saw how shocked he was. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. It’s raining and thought it’d be nice to have some company.”

“I’d love to. Thank you,” he responded, nodding his head. You smiled as you proceeded to unlock the door, stepping inside as Harry followed behind you.

The layout of your apartment was the same as his since he was on the same side and right above you, but there was something about your apartment that felt like…home to him. He thought it had to do with the fact that it’s your space and you were in it because no one’s home felt like this besides yours. You had a few small potted plants along the windowsill along with a large one in the corner. Right next to the plant was a small wooden table with your red record player on top of it. A mustard yellow velvet couch was pushed against the wall facing the TV that rested on a white shelf bookcase that held many books and vinyl records in the cubbies along with random knick-knacks on the surface. A wooden round coffee table was placed in the middle with a vanilla candle on top of a few fashion magazines. Underneath the table was a white rug that looked warm to dig his feet in on a cold day. Three concert posters that were framed were hung on the wall, and he knew you were his soulmate because the three bands that you had on your wall were his absolute favorite; Fleetwood Mac, Queen, and The Beatles.

His heart fluttered as he looked around, feeling like this was a part of you that he finally knew now. This part of you felt like home to him as he was immediately washed over with the feeling of comfort right when he stepped into your apartment. He felt so welcomed that it was going to be difficult for him to leave your space.

“Make yourself at home.” Definitely home, he thought. “Would you like some hot chocolate?” You asked, taking out a saucepan from the cupboards.

“I would love some,” he smiled, sitting on the couch where he could see you pour the milk into the pot. After a few moments, he saw you rush back into the living area.

“Sorry, let me put some music on.” You kneeled on the hardwood floors to look at your collection before you turned your head back to him. “Any requests?”

“Any Christmas song would be lovely and very fitting,” he requested. It was the beginning of December, and Harry was in the holiday mood. Plus, you were preparing hot chocolate, so it is more than appropriate.

You smiled, nodding your head as you ran your fingers along your selection before pulling one out. Harry noticed the cover art as you pulled the record out. Ultimate Christmas by Frank Sinatra played on the record player, filling the room with melodious tunes. You walked back to the kitchen before flashing him a smile. He sat on the couch and soaked in the music as he heard humming from the kitchen, and he grinned. Harry felt a warm feeling in his chest as he saw you stir in the hot cocoa into the hot milk as you hummed White Christmas. This moment right here and right now was something he wanted to experience every single day--where you would make hot cocoa as he would watch you with sparkling eyes, thinking how Frank Sinatra’s voice fitted so well with the holiday vibe.

You came back with two red mugs with a bright smile on your face. “Do you mind placing the coasters on the table?” Your eyes pointed at the coasters underneath the candle. Harry nodded and placed two glass coasters onto the table, and he took a good look at both of them. One of the coasters stated ‘Be Kind’ in pink, and the other printed ‘Love Wins’ in multiple colors. He smiled, knowing the smallest things in your apartment was making him fall for you even more.

“Hope you like it. I also should’ve asked what you liked with your hot chocolate but I just assumed you liked the same thing as me,” you chuckled nervously. You didn’t know why you were so nervous, but you think it had to do with the fact that another man was in your apartment that wasn’t Eric.

Harry looked down at his hot chocolate. There were several marshmallows in the hot drink and a scoop of whipped cream with chocolate shavings to complete the drink. He smiled to himself as he took a sip, covering up his flustered demeanor.

“It’s exactly what I wanted. I drink mine the same way,” he replied, and you smirked.

“Glad I know a man with great taste,” you teasingly winked at him, and Harry nearly melted in his seat, and it for sure wasn’t from the hot cocoa because he wanted to reply with ‘More like your soulmate.’ He wanted to know what you were thinking in that beautiful head of yours.

He wanted to know if you felt the same things he does. Did your heart beat uncontrollably fast every time he looked at you? Did you get sucked into a different dimension every time you looked at him? Did you have the urge to move closer to him, closing the gap between you two? Because Harry felt all those things with the simple act of you sitting next to him, and he really wanted to know if you felt the same way.

You crossed your arms as the chilly weather rushed through you. “To be honest, I’m quite shocked that we live in the same building. I wasn’t planning on going back to Nonna’s until the end of the month, so I didn’t expect to see you.”

“So, you were thinking about me?” He raised his brows teasingly.

“And if I was?” You decided to tease back but came out more like flirting.

Harry paused for a moment, drinking his hot drink as he looked up at you through his lashes. “Then…I would say I was thinking about you too.” You nodded slightly, quickly grabbing your drink as you took a sip from it, hiding away your blush behind the mug. “What’s it like being a teacher? Can’t imagine standing in front of everyone and practically perform, I guess.”

You breathed out a laugh, thinking the opposite. He had the look of a rockstar, and his name sounded badass.

“It’s great. I try being their friend rather than a teacher because I feel like if they’re comfortable with me, they’ll retain and understand the material better. I learned that if you’re comfortable with someone, you’ll listen to them, so that’s what I did. And most of them are doing exceptionally well. Some of my colleagues are always surprised with how many students I get during office hours because I encourage using office hours and my email, so I’m quite busy,” you explained humbly. Harry admired your hard work and dedication, and he already knew you were a great professor just by what you told him.

“So, what made you want to become an anatomy professor?” Harry changed the subject, feeling a bit flustered himself.

“I was undecided with my major in college until I had to take a few science classes. One of them was anatomy, and I just fell in love with it. I really enjoyed learning it, and just fell in love with the subject,” you explained.

“The professor part?”

“My anatomy professor was the best. She made teaching look so fun and enjoyable. Plus, I’ve heard one too many stories about students having teachers who weren’t compassionate or sympathetic, and I didn’t like that at all. So, I wanted to be one of those teachers who made sure students learned and have a professor who was understanding,” you said humbly.

“That’s very sweet of you. Unfortunately, I’ve had those professors who were pretty tough and not so compassionate.” You pouted. You always hated hearing or reading tweets when students would type out an email and express what they were currently going through to their professor, only for their professor to lack compassion and support to students who were trying to do their best.

That’s why you wanted to become an educator. You wanted to make learning fun for your students and have them enjoy going to class rather than dreading it and being nervous to walk in.

“What about you? What made you want to become a physical therapist?” You asked.

Harry set his mug down onto the coaster. “The same as you. Something about bones and the muscles fascinated me and how they worked. I grew up loving sports, so that helped a bit, but wanting to help people recover properly was a main goal as well.”

“You’re kind like that; someone who wants to help out others,” you complimented, and Harry blushed.

“Thank you. It also has to do with the fact that one of my friends in secondary school, Max. He got injured pretty badly. He played football, or soccer, and he tore his ACL, which you probably know already, but it takes about six to twelve months to recover from that—physically and mentally. He loved the sport like no other, and couldn’t wait to get into it. His doctor cleared him when he was four months into therapy. Four. Doctor said he was looking good, so he cleared him earlier than usual.” Harry shook his head in disbelief as he told the story and you sat next to him, listening as your mouth was slightly open. “Like most of us, we listen to doctors more than we listen to our bodies. So, Max started to play again, and as expected, he hurt himself again…” he trailed off.

You placed your hand on his knee, comforting him. You could tell that Max meant a lot to him, and by the way he was acting at the moment, he cared enough to dedicate his life towards wanting to be better to people who rely on him.

“And he couldn’t play again. That was when I realized that I wanted to study the body. It was a long journey to get my doctorate, but I eventually got it at twenty-seven, and I’ve been working as a therapist for about a year and a half now; the same amount of time I’ve been here,” he said humbly.

“That’s great, Harry. You must be so proud of yourself,” you offered him a smile.

“I am, yeah. You must be too. Guess we both have a knack for changing some perspective, huh?” He softly smiled.

“Yeah, we do.”

Throughout the rest of the night, both of you got to know one another. You found out that you had a lot in common with him, such as your interests in the body (given both of your careers), movies and TV shows, books, and food; told each other childhood stories, and talked about your families. It was nice to talk to someone who didn’t judge you, especially with what happened a month ago.

It was nearing midnight as the time seemed to go by quicker than usual. After two more glasses of hot cocoa, Harry let out a yawn as he checked the time on his phone.

“I should probably get going--let you rest up,” he said politely, grabbing his mug.

You nodded, agreeing as you didn’t realize how late it was. “Okay. Oh, you could just leave it there; I’ll clean up.” Harry was too tired to debate, so he put the mug down before you walked him to the door. “I had a great time. Thank you for inviting me in and giving me hot chocolate.”

“Of course. I had a lovely time as well. Maybe…we should do it again sometime?” You suggested. Harry’s eyes gleamed as he slightly smirked; a tint of pink formed on his cheeks.

“I would love that.” You said a soft ‘okay’ as you smiled. He looked at you for a moment, noticing your eyes sparkling in the dim light of your apartment as you stared up at him in such fondness, making his heart melt in every way possible. Harry cleared his throat as he was so caught up in your stare that almost hypnotized him. “Well, you know where I live, so come visit if you want or maybe I’ll see you on another elevator ride,” he playfully joked, earning a giggle from you.

“Sleep well, Harry,” you told him as he walked out the door, away from the space that felt most comforting to him.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.” He flashed you another smile, and your knees nearly melted at the sight of his gorgeousness. Your grip on the door handle tightened, holding you up from falling to the ground.

You waited for him to turn the corner to head to the elevator before you closed your door. Placing your back flat against the door, you covered your face as a rush of giddiness hit you as your face began to warm up. That was the most fun you had in a while, even if it was just as simple as a long conversation.

You thought about Harry as you cleaned up and got ready for bed. Thinking about how sweet and kind he was. You never had met anymore who was so polite and nice while looking like that. There was no denying that you found Harry attractive--anyone with eyes could see that, but there was something about his inner aura and personality that you found extremely alluring and intriguing. You wanted to uncover and unravel all of his traits. That was when you knew you were collectively fucked.

As you went to bed, you dreamt of his green eyes and beautiful smile; drifting off to sleep, unaware that your heart was completing the gaps of Harry’s heartbeat.

Two weeks had passed since your first hangout with Harry, and you two had been hanging out ever since. Throughout those two weeks, you’d seen him at Nonna’s three times. The first time was unexpected, when you pulled into her driveway, you saw Harry helping her walk. Nonna had a sprained ankle from missing a step when she was walking down the stairs, and luckily, Harry was a physical therapist. Seeing the sight made your heart warm. The other two times were planned and you two decided to drive to her home together. It was very domestic of you two, and the level of comfort was something you never experienced with someone you just met. Nonna was happy to see you two getting along so well, she obviously knew something you were yet to figure out.

It was nice hanging out with him, you thought. He was a great and funny friend that could make you laugh for hours. But he was also someone you trusted that you could talk to about anything. It was bizarre to think considering you’d only known him for a short amount of time. Harry was just so open-minded, exciting, and new. Plus, you didn’t have many friends that lived close to you, so Harry living upstairs was just a walk in the park.

You were getting ready to have brunch with Harry and Anne. It was your first time meeting her, and you were a bit nervous if you were being honest. As Harry’s friend, you wanted Anne to like you, and you really hoped Nonna had talked you up a bit.

A knock was heard on your front door, and you took a deep breath before answering. Harry was standing behind it, wearing a plain white t-shirt, pink corduroy pants, and a black coat. Something that took you by surprise was that he was wearing brown tortoise framed glasses that fit him so well and nearly made you melt.

“Harry, you look very…nice.” Your breath hitched in your throat causing you to choke up a breath as he was completely breathless.

The corner of his lips turned up. “Thank you, so do you.” You smiled. Shall we go?” You nodded and followed him out, locking your door.

The restaurant Anne picked was not too far from your apartment complex—about 20 minutes. The entire drive to the restaurant, you and Harry sang your heart out to ABBA, pointing at each other as you both screamed out ‘You can dance, you can jive!’

“Y/N, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” Anne greeted you with a hug, and your nerves slightly dropped as she welcomed you with a hug. “Harry’s told me so much about you!”

Harry gave Anne a knowing look as a way to tell his mum ‘don’t tell her everything,’ and Anne gave him the same look saying ‘I won’t.’

“I can’t wait to get to know you. Our table is ready,” Anne said as she pulled away from you. You nodded your head in agreement as you all followed the hostess to your table.

Talking to Anne was something so refreshing. She was so sweet and kind, and you immediately knew where Harry got his best traits from. She also knew how to crack a few jokes here and there, making you almost spit your mimosa out or choke on your food.

Harry watched you two interact and his eyes watched with so much fondness. His mum and soulmate getting along was something he was so grateful for because he wouldn’t know what he would do if you two hated each other. The interaction was so natural between you two that he thought you were going to be the best of friends.

“So, I hope this is not a personal question, but have you found your soulmate, sweetheart!” Anne suddenly asked, and Harry choked on his water, making him cough reluctantly as he struggled to breathe. Anne rose from her chair as you gently slapped his back a few times to help him out. Once he was okay from his cough attack, he wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Darling, are you okay?” She gave him a concerning look.

Harry nodded, his face slightly red from the lack of air. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good, yeah.”

“You sure?” You asked. Your hand hadn’t left his back, and you could immediately feel the tingly feeling that spread throughout your arm like his touch shocked you throughout. Harry nodded again, reassuring you and Anne. You turned back to Anne, realizing that she had an unanswered question. “Uh, back to your question—no I haven’t found my soulmate.”

“Really?” Her tone coming out surprising.

You nodded. “Yeah. I thought I did, turns out he wasn’t the one.” Harry was eyeing you nervously as he sat beside you. He gulped, wanting to know everything.

“I’m sure you’ll find them soon, sweetheart,” Anne reassured, and you gave her an appreciating smile. “Your Nonna seems quite keen on soulmates,” she pointed out.

You nodded. “Yeah, she is. She started talking about soulmates since I was young. She found hers when she was sixteen. Her and Papa’s love was so special. Unfortunately, he passed away about five years ago you explained, and Anne frowned slightly.

“I’m sorry to hear that, love.”

“It’s okay! Feel like he’s always somewhat around. He owned a beach house that he passed down to me, and I go there every month, but I never change the furniture or take anything down, so it very much feels like he’s still with me,” you smiled as you told them.

“That’s lovely, sweetheart. I’m sure he is, and I’m sure he’s proud of you.” You softly smiled at Anne’s words, appreciative of them. You felt Harry’s hand on yours that was resting on the table, and you warmed up at his touch. Turning your head towards him, you flashed him a smile and he sent you a subtle and innocent wink, making your stomach turn into knots. Luckily, you were sitting because you would have surely fallen if you were standing.

“Where’s your beach house located, by the way?” Harry asked.

“Monterey.” You answered and you noticed Harry’s eyes widen, glancing towards Anne. “What?”

“I actually have a house there.” Now, that was new news.

“Really?” He nodded.

“Yeah, it’s in Pebble Beach. Where’s yours?”

“New Monterey.” Pebble Beach was about a fifteen-minute drive from where your beach house was at, on opposite ends of the coast.

Something was interesting about the fact that Harry was on the other side of your beach house. You’d been to Pebble Beach many times, sometimes walking the hour walk there to get away. If you hadn’t met Harry at Nonna’s, would you have met him at the beach house?

You shook off the thought, realizing that Anne had changed the subject, so you listened.

Brunch went by, and you were parting ways with Anne. You promised you would visit her when you visited Nonna, to which she beamed and hugged you tightly. Harry and Anne hugged, and they said ‘I love you’ to each other. Your heart warmed at the mother and son duo, thinking they had the best dynamic.

You and Harry drove back to the apartment complex in comfortable silence, all the way up to his apartment. You two would take turns sharing your apartments because they both made a great hang out spot. His place was your favorite, though. The first time you stepped in it, you felt an immediate calmness to the disarray of what your reality felt like. It was like you never wanted to leave his apartment, simply wanting to cuddle into his couch with a soft blanket over you. You could possibly stay there forever, you thought.

Harry made you both a cup of hot chocolate as it was starting to become thing for you both. It was nice; having a thing with you. It made him feel involved and important in your life.

“Do you want to have an honesty hour?” You asked once he set your mug onto the coaster before he took a seat right beside you.

He raised his brows. “Were you not being honest with me before?” He teased, and you nudged his shoulder.

“I’m serious,” you giggled, and it was music to his ears.

“I am too, but yes we could always have an honest hour. Tell me something.” He curled his lips in, and you couldn’t help but look at his mouth before you quickly glanced back up to his eyes.

“What do you wanna know?”

“Whatever you want to tell me. I’d be happy to listen,” he reassured. You decided you wanted to tell him what happened a month ago with the whole Eric situation. It was something you could open up to him about since he wasn’t at the wedding, so you knew he wouldn’t judge you.

You smiled softly. “It’s funny how we live in a world full of soulmates, huh?” You started. Harry’s breath hitched into his throat. He started to feel anxious right as you mentioned soulmates that led him to be speechless; he nodded instead. “Well, my Nonna has been telling me everything about soulmates ever since I was born. She constantly went on and on about it--always asking me if I’ve found mine ever since I turned thirteen. I was excited, y’know? She hyped it up so much that I couldn’t wait until I was older to find my soulmate.” Harry gulped, not saying anything. He felt a ‘but’ coming in, so he waited until you were finished. “I went through my teenage years with my friends talking about their soulmates that had found them when they were fifteen or sixteen. I was the only one alone. I don’t know why, but the universe must hate me.”

“The universe does not hate you,” he disagreed, shaking his head at the hateful words as he slightly frowned.

“No, it does. When I went to college, I stopped believing in the soulmate shit. I dated whoever I wanted without that pressure. But there was this one person that almost made me believe in soulmates…” you trailed off, and Harry took a deep breath. Maybe she does feel all those things for me? He thought. “His name’s Eric. I met him my last year of college…and we’re engaged--or were engaged.” Harry’s eyes widened as they slightly watered. His heart pounded through his chest as if he couldn’t breathe anymore.

“Y-You were engaged?” He stuttered, holding back his tears.

“Yeah. I said the universe hated me because I ran out and left him at the altar. When he was saying his vows, I thought of everything Nonna had told me. The heartbeat, the stare, the pull, everything. I didn’t feel that with him, and it was shit timing as well, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t feel the same way for me too,” you explained before taking another sip.

“So, do you believe in it now?” He slipped in the question.

“I mean…possibly. I know there’s someone out there for me--maybe. But I really pushed back the idea of my soulmate ever since I felt left out when I was a teenager, so I’m not entirely sure what the exact feeling you feel when you see your soulmate because I just pushed it out of my head and forgot about it.” Harry nodded understandingly.

It made much more sense to him, and you answered all of his questions. He knew that you weren’t feeling all of those things with him. It definitely hurt him, but he’d hoped that those feelings would come around soon because he’d sat right in front of you, waiting for the right moment to tell you that he was yours.

“Have you seen him since?” He carried on the conversation, wanting to know all the details and information that he could get.

“Since the wedding?” Harry nodded, and you shook his head. “No, I haven’t. It’s been about a month since I saw him last. I’ve just been texting him to see if he’s doing okay because I don’t know where his head’s at, but he told me that he would call me when he’s ready to talk, which I have to respect and understand.”

“A month?”

Your brows raised slightly. “Hmm, yeah, a month.” Harry's heart began to beat faster, and he clasped his hands together to prevent them from shaking. “I feel bad, y’know? I feel like I’m now painted as this horrible person, but I know I am-”

“Hey, no, you’re not,” Harry disagreed, shaking his head. “You’re pretty amazing.” Your eyes lightened up a bit. “I’ve only known you for a couple of weeks, and you’re possibly the sweetest person I’ve met. You’re funny, smart, and really fuckin’ kind. You made a decision that was going to affect your entire life. That doesn’t mean you’re a horrible person.” You didn’t say anything but nodded your head slightly with a small smile at his words. He didn’t need to hear anything from you to know that you were appreciative of his words.

“I wanna know everything about you, H.” You changed the subject, not wanting to talk more about your failed relationship.

His body turned warm at the sudden nickname. “Everything?” He raised his brows as he took a sip of his drink. He was a bit wary about your sudden want, but he knew that he could trust you.

You nodded. “Tell me all your secrets,” you whispered. Your words came out seductive, which you didn’t mean to, but by the way he was looking at you, it seemed like your words had some effect on him.

He curled his lips into his mouth as you pierced your eyes into his as his heart began to beat harder. He smirked a little, chuckling to himself at his reaction.

“You're in for it, love. Have a lot to cover.”

A blush formed onto your cheeks. “The floor’s yours.” He took a deep breath before he proceeding to tell you something very important to him. and he hoped he wouldn’t overwhelm you with this information.

“When I moved here, a year and a half ago, I was diagnosed with Bradycardia Arrhythmia—my heart would beat slowly as you know. They put a pacemaker in after my second collapse. It was so sudden, and I have no idea where it came from, maybe smoking for an entire year when I was in uni, I’m not sure. But I moved here in August, so around that time, I collapsed. Mum rushed me to the hospital and they did a bunch of tests and diagnosed me, and now I have a pacemaker,” he explained calmly.

The feeling in your chest was something you’ve never felt before. The heart tightened as he spoke every word, causing the pain to increase as your heart sank. Your eyes watered, not wanting them to fall because he didn’t need your pity.

“Harry, a-are you okay now?” You asked, voice small.

“Yeah, I think so. Uh, on Saturday at around eleven in the morning, two weeks before we met, I collapsed again. This time, I really couldn’t breathe. It genuinely felt like it was my last day on Earth. My lungs were closing in and my heart was slowing down. My mum was with me at my beach house, and I was lucky that she was there because she immediately called 911 and got me to the hospital.” You looked at him with fear in your eyes as you listened to the gut wrenching story. “I was gone for fifteen minutes, Y/N. Fifteen. It was some sort of miracle…”

Then it suddenly hit you.

It all made sense.

Your heart suddenly opened up fully and the traces of doubt were left behind. Your mind started to piece together the reasons why you haven’t met your soulmate, and it was all right in front of you. The stories and journeys Harry had gone through had all added up.

The beating organ in your chest had pounded so hard that you felt the beat through your ears, making it impossibly hard to hear, but your heart was fluttering uncontrollably that you couldn’t help but smile and blush. You could see it now—his stare. His eyes captivated yours as he looked so deeply into your eyes that you could stay lost in them forever and never worry about a thing. The magnetic pull and attraction towards him felt like you couldn’t hold back; that you wanted to continue being close to him as you inched closer to him.

Your mind was coming up with different theories on why your soulmate was taking so long, but they all concluded to him. To Harry.

It all made sense.

The reason why it took so long for your soulmate to show was because Harry hadn’t moved here until a year and a half ago. He was still back in England getting his doctorate, and the separation between you two made it impossible to meet. Somehow your mind made up the conclusion that the only reason why you two met after Harry living here, in the same building, for a year and a half was because you were still with Eric; your time was spent on someone who wasn’t your soulmate.

“Harry…” you whispered.

His brows raised. “I’m okay now! Really, I am. I don’t think I’ll have any more collapses…” he said knowingly. His tone was like he knew something you didn’t, like he knew you were his soulmate.

“Harry…” you repeated.

“Yeah?” You reached forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Your actions took him by surprise, but he immediately hugged you back, hurrying his face into your shoulder.

You had instantly felt the warmth that he provided, not wanting to pull back. You took deep breaths, and you could physically feel Harry’s heart beating in sync with yours as you two sat in front of each other.

“Why didn’t…you tell me?” You breathed out, eyes glossy as you pulled away from the hug.

Harry noticed your change of emotion and he looked at you with a concerned face. He gently placed his hands on the sides of your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb as your tears spilled out.

“Tell you what?” He asked, still clueless.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were my soulmate?” You questioned.

Harry’s breath was caught in his throat. He didn’t know if you were angry or disappointed with him, but you didn’t show any sign of anger, so he slightly relaxed. Your face was filled with confusion, and he wanted to take that away quickly.

“You know?”

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded, tears threatening to spill out.

“I, uh,” he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I felt it immediately when I first met you, and I didn’t think you did yet. I should’ve told you…” he grabbed both of your hands and brought them up to his lips, kissing the back of your hand sweetly.

Harry’s eyes watered. He didn’t know if you were happy that he was your soulmate because you haven’t said anything, so he anxiously kept kissing your hand.

You inched forward, placing your forehead against his as both of your hands were in between you two. Your lips met with his hand before you pulled away.

“I felt it. I felt it all when you told me your story and about your condition. It was like your heart opened up for me and my heart finally had the realization that you were right in front of me—this whole time.” You sniffled. Harry’s tears streamed down his face as the overwhelming feeling was present in his chest, making his heart pound through his chest. Your hearts were in sync with one another, so you placed your hand flat on his chest, feeling the beating organ that was giving you so much life.

“I can’t believe this is happening…” he said in disbelief.

“Harry…I should tell you that, uh, the first time you collapsed—when you were diagnosed with your condition, that was when Eric proposed to me. Your second collapse, a month ago, that was my wedding day. The time you collapsed was when I was at the altar. There were just so many thoughts running around in my head that I physically and mentally couldn’t be in front of my ex because I just knew he wanted the one for me,” you explained.

Harry’s mind immediately clicked. “Then when you left the altar was when I was brought back to life…” he pieced together like a puzzle. His missing puzzle piece was you. Your eyes softened, smiling at him because at least you did some good in the last month. “You saved me.”

“I can’t help but think that I was the one that caused all of this,” you poured, and he shook his head.

“No, no. You didn’t. If you’re going to blame yourself for that, then I’m going to blame myself for getting together with other people back in England, causing you to not believe that you have a soulmate,” he challenged. You shook your head in disagreement. “Then we have nothing to blame ourselves for, okay? We’re here now.”

You placed your forehead against his as you whispered,” Yeah, we are.” You close your eyes for a moment, trying to take in the events. You couldn’t believe that after knowing Harry for more than two weeks, he was your soulmate this entire time.

Pulling away a bit, you looked at him as your eyes glimmered. The tips of your noses touched in the most delicate way as you looked at each other. The room was filled with so much clarity, light, and…love. You smiled softly as the corners of Harry’s lips turned up into a grin, dimples poking out.

“Can I kiss you?” He finally asked, eyes looking down at your lips and back to your eyes.

You nodded, your heart beating ten times faster. He moved your hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear before gently placing his hands on your cheeks as he moved forward to capture his lips with yours. His touch and lips ignited you as the sparks ran through your body, making you pull him closer. His lips were something you’d never felt before. They were soft, gentle, and loving as he moved in sync with you, meeting your tongue with his in such a passionate and deep way.

You felt completely overwhelmed with happiness as you smiled into the kiss, tears rushing down your face as you knew the wait was finally over. He was here.

Harry moved you on your back as he hovered over you, lips never disconnecting as it was something he wanted to do forever. You ran your fingers through his hair, slightly grabbing onto his curls as you earned a moan against your mouth from him. Involuntarily bucking your hips against him, you felt him grow between your legs in his flared pants as he grinded against your leg.

He pulled away from the kiss only to kiss your jaw and neck, nibbling and sucking your skin, leaving a decent hickey on your skin. Your hands raked his clothed back, and Harry felt the way your nails dragged against his shirt, making his excitement increase because he couldn’t wait to actually feel it against his skin, only if you’d let him.

“C-Can I, uh,” he stumbled with his words.

“Harry, do you think we could wait?” You asked, indicating sex. His eyes widened, immediately getting off of you.

“Oh, yeah! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, don’t be sorry. I just want to wait to do that with you,” you caressed his cheek.

“Okay, that’s fair.” He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips to see if he wasn’t dreaming.

The rest of the night was like this—you laid in his arms, stealing kisses from one another. He held you tightly, afraid that you would leave once he loosened his grip, but you were right where you needed to be.

A week went by, and you were happier than ever. You were in complete bliss with Harry, and you never wanted that feeling to stop. It seemed like Nonna was happier than you because she’d been waiting for this moment for so long. She wanted to see you happy, even Harry, you being happy together just made her heart warm.

You were just getting back home from doing some shopping when your phone rang. Assuming that it was your soulmate, you smiled as you searched for your phone through your purse. But what you didn’t expect was to see the contact that you have been waiting a month for.

“Eric? Hi,” you said surprisingly.

“Hey. Uh,” he chuckled. “This is a bit weird, isn’t it? I just wanted to call to see if you were free to talk.”

Your eyes widened. “Yeah! I just got home. Do you want to swing by right now if you’re available?”

“Yeah, that’d be great. The same apartment, right?”

“The same one. I’ll see you soon,” you confirmed before you bid each other goodbye.

You waited for Eric for about thirty minutes, distracting yourself by cleaning and tidying up your place as you constantly overthought what you were going to say to him. This was going to be the first real conversation you were going to have with him in a month, not to mention the first time you’re seeing him after you ran away and left him at the altar.

There was a hard knock on your door, startling you. You took a deep breath before you answered it, revealing your ex-fiancé.

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiled, giving you a hug. He seemed happier and in a better mood than you’d expected.

“Hi, how are you?” You invited him into your home. It still looked the same the last time he came over, which had been quite a while.

“I’m doing good, you?”

“Good as well. Coffee?” You offered.

“Please.”

You made him a cup of coffee, remembering the way he liked it because of the amount of times you’d made it for him in the morning. Setting it on the coaster, you sat on the other end of the couch, facing him. There was a bit of silence between you two—both not knowing where to start the conversation, but you figured you needed to get everything out of your system, so you went first.

“Eric, I’m really sorry for how I left things. I shouldn’t have done it the way I did, and I should’ve talked to you first before we even proceeded to the wedding, but all of a sudden, it clicked. When you were reading your vows, I was just thinking of all the things Nonna said to me, and I realized…you weren’t the one. You weren’t my soulmate,” you explained. Your shoulders relaxed, finally feeling like this was the first step before you got to live your life with Harry.

“Hey,” he reached over to grab your hand. Now, you could say that you really don’t feel the same love as before. His touch wasn’t the same as Harry’s. Eric didn't give you the spark that crawled up your skin, only Harry did. “It’s totally okay. I mean that. I understand why you did that, and I’m glad you did because I knew you weren’t the one for me either, and it took me a while to realize that until…” he trailed.

“Until?” You encouraged him to continue, but it clicked so quickly for you. “You met someone?” He smiled, nodded his head. “Holy shit! What?!” You exclaimed surprisingly. You were the furthest from mad, and you were actually really happy for him.

“I did, yeah. She’s great, honestly. Her name is Mandy and I met her the night of our wedding,” he chuckled. “I went to a bar and met her there. And then I felt it. It’s the most exciting and exhilarating feeling in the world,” he excitedly said.

“Isn’t it?” You raised your brows, and Eric furrowed his brows until he got what you meant.

“Hold on…you…wait…you met yours didn’t you?” He speculated, and you laughed.

“Yeah, I did. Two weeks after our wedding. Actually met him at Nonna’s. Turns out, they’ve known each other for a year and a half. Can you believe that?”

“Actually, I can. Nonna Tallie knows everything. I’m pretty sure she knew that I wasn’t your soulmate too,” he said, laughing. You laughed along, deciding not to tell him that she actually did know.

The rest of the night went on like this. You two caught up, and shared stories and memories that made you laugh when you looked back while pouring yourselves glasses on glasses of wine. You realized that you and Eric were much better as friends, and you’re glad that it didn’t end in a horrendous way because you really cherished and appreciated him.

The night was getting late, and you two were giggling your tipsy hearts out as your eyes were trying theirs best to stay open. You realized you couldn’t fight over your exhausted and drunk self, so you decided to call it a night.

“Uh, you could take the couch since it’s late and you can’t drive,” you offered.

“Really? Thank you,” he smiled. You grabbed him an extra blanket and pillow, and bid him goodnight because you went to the restroom to do your skincare because you never forget to do your night routine no matter how drunk you are.

You crashed onto your bed, closing your eyes as you let sleep and your dreams take over you, dreaming about the loveliest man just above you and how you couldn’t wait to see him again.

When you wanted to see Harry again, you didn’t expect it to be the way you did.

After a long eight hours of dreaming of him, you heard a loud knock on the door, causing you to jolt awake. Still groggy as you were sitting up in bed, you heard footsteps walking towards the door, and you had nearly forgotten Eric was still in your apartment and that he was going to answer the door.

What you didn’t expect was to hear the familiar raspy and deep voice that said ‘Who the fuck are you?’ making you quickly get out of bed and heading towards the door. Eric was shirtless, clearly still sleepy, and Harry was standing on your doorstep with a bag of food in his hands.

The picture looked bad and wrong. With you and Eric just getting out of separate beds, respectfully, and Eric not wearing a shirt, it really wasn’t what it looked like.

“Harry-”

“A-Are you cheating on me?” Harry asked, not knowing if those were the right words. Sure, you were his soulmate, but he hadn’t made things official yet.

“Hey, man-”

“I’m clearly not talking to you,” he interrupted Eric, giving him a stern look.

You gently pulled his face down so he could look at you. “Listen to me, please?” He didn’t say anything, so you continued. “This is Eric, my ex. He came here to talk last night and we had a few glasses of wine and I let him crash on the couch, that’s all.”

Harry nodded, but his face clearly said that he wasn’t convinced. You looked at him with a sad expression, feeling useless on what you could do to get him to believe you.

“You know…” he started. His face looked disappointed, and you wished he flashed you his smile. “I found it odd that you didn’t know I was your soulmate when I first met you, and it hurt me, to be honest. It broke my heart. I waited patiently for you for my entire life, and I waited even more when I met you and you didn’t know that it was me. I get that if you’re still in love with him, I get it. You were together for years, almost forever. But this…” he gestured towards you two. “It looks bad and it hurts me more than ever.”

With that, he walked away. Rushing towards the staircase, you ran after him, calling for him, but he ignored you. His long strides beat yours as he took two steps at a time, and you barely kept up with him, so you just let him be for now. You sat on the cemented stairs, placing your face in your hands as you cried. Your sobs echoed throughout the empty staircase, and your heart felt like it was ripping in half—Harry’s heart breaking just added to your pain as well.

And just when you had gotten your soulmate, you felt like you lost him.

A week had passed since you last saw Harry, and it was one of the longest, frustrating, and painful weeks you ever had to live through.

The face Harry had given you was something you never wanted to see. The displeasurable look made your heart drop every time you thought about it, closing your eyes, it was the only thing you could see.

He wasn’t talking to you, no matter how many times you knocked on his door and said sorry to him through the door that most likely came out muffled from the other side. Throughout the week, you tried your hardest not to get angry for being ignored as you refrained from telling him how unreasonable he was being. But you looked at things from his perspective, and you understood why he felt that certain anxiety of seeing Eric in your apartment…shirtless, might you add.

It took you a while to figure out how that Harry was your soulmate, and you couldn’t imagine the doubt and discouraging feeling he had when you didn’t figure it out right away. You couldn’t imagine what he felt like when he first met you and felt everything indescribable.

For what seemed like the millionth time this week, you walked into Nonna’s house, immediately feeling the warmth and comfort you felt every single time. But it wasn’t the kind of warmth you longed for from a certain someone.

“Hey, Nonna,” you greeted once you entered, finding her on the couch, looking through her photo albums.

“Hi, Chip. Come in and sit with me,” she patted the space next to her, and you gladly walked over, taking a seat, looking at the pictures of her and your grandfather when they were younger.

“My soulmate. Miss you so much,” she said to the picture of the two of them smiling at the camera, touching Papa’s face.

Nonna flipped through the album, telling you stories about every single picture. You loved hearing memories about your grandparents as they brought so much joy to you. Nonna’s stories were the last bit of hope you had in soulmates, and you made sure to never let it go.

You saw Nonna take out a picture out of the slip, pointing at it as she told you another story. “This was me and your Papa when we went to the beach. We were with some friends, and he told me he was going to marry me. This wasn’t where he proposed, but this was when I heard it for the first time. I was surprised, but so in love.” She smiled at the photo of her and her soulmate. Nonna handed you the picture so you could get a better look.

In the picture, they were both sitting in the sand and she was smiling at the camera while Papa was holding her waist, looking at her with so much love. They were such a beautiful couple and quite the lookers.

As you studied the photograph, you noticed a couple in the back who equally looked in love as Nonna and Papa were. But to what shocked you was that the couple in the back looked just like you and Harry. You softly gasped, bringing the picture closer to your eyes, making sure you weren’t just imagining things, but sure enough, the couple looked exactly like the two of you.

“Nonna, look at this. This couple right here,” you pointed at the picture.

She squinted before she gasped herself. “Well, that looks quite like you and my delivery boy.”

“W-Why is that exactly us?” You stuttered, a bit spooked out.

Nonna grabbed your hand, holding it tightly. “Soulmates are destined for your future. What they didn’t tell you, or what I didn’t tell you was that, before you’re born or even conceived, the universe already plans for your soulmate because they’re quick like that. They have this stronghold that they can’t help but put together two people who are made for each other, even if they’re not even on this earth yet. In your case, the universe put you and Harry together in your past lives, way before you both were born. You and Harry were made for each other. Don’t let him go, ever.”

Without even realizing, you felt tears fall from your eyes as she explained. Your heart felt like it was exploding with so much love.

You needed him. You needed the air he provided. The light in your darkest days. The love that fulfilled your heart.

You handed Nonna the picture back, but she waved you off. “Keep it. Go get him, yeah?”

Kissing her cheek in gratefulness, you sniffled as you headed to your home.

You found yourself exactly where you needed to be, knocking on the dark green door with the number 525 in gold.

“Harry, please open the door,” you called out from outside. A frown settled upon your face as you continued to knock. The thought of Harry being on the other side of the door and ignoring you, made your heart ache.

“Can't do that when I’m out here.” You turned your head to see Harry fiddling with his keys with a bag of groceries in his other hand.

You smiled softly, rushing towards him before wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pressing yourself against him. “Missed you so much.” Your heart warmed when you felt his arm wrap around your waist, and you smiled into his shoulder. “Can we talk? Please?” You asked once you pulled away, looking at him with pleading eyes. And who was he to say no to that?

“Let’s go inside.” He walked past you, opening the door to let you in. You missed the homey feeling, and one week was too long without stepping foot into his place. He offered you a drink, but you declined, and he joined you on his sofa.

There was an unfamiliar silence where you didn’t know if you should speak or let the silence take over you until the tension finally breaks. Harry wasn’t speaking either as he was waiting for you to speak since you were the one who almost knocked down his door with your fist with the constant knocking.

“I’m sorry, Harry. This week has been brutal and I never want to go without you ever again. I looked at things from your perspective, and yeah, I would be frustrated and disappointed and hurt at me too. I couldn’t imagine what you were going through when you finally found me and I didn’t even know you were right in front of me. And I just want to say I’m sorry. Eric and I are over, and I don’t love him anymore. He’s already found his soulmate, and I have you…at least I think I still have you…” you said all in one breath, and your mind had gone into a spiral because you really didn’t know if you screwed things up.

Harry breathed out a chuckle, smiling to himself as he looked down at his lap. You knew you hadn’t convinced him enough just by the way he’s silent, probably debating with himself in his head if he should believe you. So, you took out the picture Nonna had shown you from your purse, hesitantly giving it to him.

He grabbed the picture and looked at him before he asked, “Who’s this?”

“That’s my Nonna and Papa. Think they were, like, twenty here. But that’s besides the point…look at the couple in the back.” Harry squinted, observing the couple behind Nonna and Papa. The couple were facing the ocean; the woman was sitting in front of the man as his arms were warmed around her body. They were looking at one another, smiling brightly when the world was right in front of them. But their worlds were right in their arms.

You noticed Harry’s eyes widen, looking at the couple again just as you did to make sure he’s not just hallucinating. He turned back to you, speechless, and you nodded.

“That’s us in our past life. Nonna told me that the universe puts couples together even if they’re not born yet. Our souls were born to the stars and the moon. We were destined to be together decades ago, and we are now,” you hesitantly grabbed his hand, and you’re grateful that he didn’t pull away. His touch was on fire that the spark ignited into something so relieving. You looked at him so intently, and you couldn’t pull away. No matter how disappointed he was in you, there was still that sparkle when he looked at you. “Harry, I’m sorry if I made you think that I wasn’t in love with you. There is nothing more in the world than you, and you’re all I want. We’re made for each other, baby. I’ve been in love with you, I’ll be in love with you. Forever.”

Silent tears streamed down Harry’s face as he curled his lips in. His heart was beating at a normal pace, only because it was now filled with the love and warmth that he’s asked for, and it all came from you. You filled that hole in his heart that’s been waiting to be sealed, and now you vowed to take care of it, and love and cherish it.

Harry shifted closer to you and you smiled through your tears. He delicately touched your cheek like you were fragile glass, and you soaked in his touch that made your cheeks warm. You turned your head to kiss his palm as he cradled your face. He brought his face closer to yours and kissed the tip of your nose before resting his forehead against yours. You smiled to yourself; you thought the gesture was sweet and you missed his touch and lips so much that it had made your heart physically ache.

“I’m gonna make you happy, baby, I promise.”

He nodded as his heart forgave you. “And I’ll do the same. Forever.” Butterflies erupted in your stomach as he spoke so softly, and his voice was deeper and raspier. “I was overreacting the last time--I’m sorry. I just closed myself off and-”

“Hey, it’s okay. Your feelings are valid. Let’s talk about it next time, okay?” You softly suggested, and he offered you a small smile of acceptance.

“I’m gonna love you forever,” he said.

“You better,” you teased, smirking slightly as he chuckled.

The tip of your noses touches as you closed your eyes before Harry leaned in and connected your lips together. The lips that were molding with yours had taken you back years, and it was like you had been kissing his lips for the entirety of your life, along with your beating heart that was beating for him all along.

pls let me know your thoughts and feelings on this! thank you for reading <3

#caitlin's fic party #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles ff #harry styles writing #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #solo harry #doctor!harry #professor!yn #harry styles friends to lovers #friends to lovers #soulmate!harry #soulmate!au

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wille-zarr · 4 years ago

Text

The Mandalorian: “I’ll Tie You Up, Princess”

In Fields of White ~ Chapter Ten ~ “I’ll Tie You Up, Princess”

masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x f!reader

warnings: rated M for language; canon-level violence; angst; brief discussion of hunger/starvation; themes of parent/child separation; discussion of pregnancy; flirty rough-housing; character death

word count: 15.3k

chapter summary: when a dreaded face from your past emerges, everything in your new life, including your relationship with the mandalorian, is put under threat.

story summary: fleeing from the life you wish more than anything to forget, you are left to navigate the galaxy alone as a wide-eyed wanderer. in the process of evading the dangers linked to your previous life, your destiny is forever altered when you cross paths with an intimidating mandalorian and his unusually gifted child.

a/n: I’m really, really nervous for this one. 🙃Please read using the Ao3 link below if the length causes your app to crash! Also, MAJOR THANKS TO @sana-katarn WHO WAS A HUGE HELP.

also found on: Ao3

In Fields of White

Chapter Ten: “I’ll Tie You Up, Princess”

If Grandpa was alive to see this mess, he’d roll over and die again.

No.

No-

He’d find Thall.

Kill him.

Then die again.

“Stars,” you groan, leaning both palms on either side of the sink. Lifting your head, you glare at the face staring back at you from the refresher mirror.

Your face… it feels like it’s all you recognize of yourself these days…

You grit your teeth as shame weighs your eyes low, down your bare body, down to the speckled floor beneath your toes. You wiggle them to ground yourself- to reign in the disgrace squeezing at your chest.

…Dank Ferrik.

You press your eyes against the voice pushing, pushing at your consciousness.

…

I told you so…

I know, Grandpa.

I told you Thall was sketchy.

I know! Maker! Do you have to rub it in, Gramps?

Just wanted to point it out. And don’t call me Gramps. Makes me feel ancient.

Kark off. You’re dead.

…

I love you, Grandpa.

….

Kriff.

No one warned you that the worst part of growing up would be the realization your family was blasted correct about a lot of blasted things.

Hissing through your teeth, you fling your hand through the current of water flowing from the faucet, the droplets glittering across the reflected crown of your head.

Oh, fine. Fine!

You twist away- hand snapping up your shirt from the floor.

You’re used to everything going wrong. What’s new?

Another day, another “you’ll maybe possibly probably die.” Only this time, everyone’s survival rests upon you.

Big karkin’ yay.

If you survive this, you’re writing a book.

“Thall, how about you just kiss my- erf!-” the collar of your shirt catches your nose- “kiss my butt!” You yank on the edge of the hem until your head pops free.

“Just kark off-” you mash on the control panel, and the door opens with a snap- “straight to- YIPES!”

You fling backwards.

“GET OUT!”

Face exploding with warmth, you press behind the door. “What the hell! Can’t you knock?! I’m in my underwear, for Maker’s sake!”

Your shrieks are met with silence… so you peer around the corner…

Your wide eyes are greeted by the back of your Mandalorian intruder, the ends of his cape still twirling around at his heels from his own startled spin.

“Din, get OUT!” you hiss, ducking back behind the frame. You pull on the ends of your shirt, fighting to cover the bare skin of your thighs.

A strained, modulated groan slips around the doorframe.

“….d…r -s unl-ked.”

“What!?” you squeak, head ducking around to gawk at him. “Stop garbling, Djarin! I can’t-”

“Your door was unlocked!”

His words are sharp, strained.

“Anyone c-could have come in while you were showering and- and-”

“-Go away!”

You pat around the refresher counter, fingers gripping the closest thing within reach, and you hurl it-

“Out!”

“I can’t- Ka’r’ika! Is-… fresher paper?”

You bend around the door, watching as his gloved hands pick at the ribbon of white paper trailing across his shoulder.

You can’t help but grin.

“You look like shit, Mando.”

“Damn it, girl,” he grumbles, so low you’re sure you weren’t meant to hear it. “Can- can I… Dank Ferrik. Can I turn around now?”

“Blast it- no! Go away! I’m in my underwear!”

“What are you wearing underwear for-”

“Why am I wearing underwear? Did you really just-”

“I- I didn’t mean-”

“Some of us sleep in our underwear, Din! Gosh! What- do you sleep in your armor or something?”

...

“Oh my Maker. You sleep in your armor.”

...

“…No.”

...

A smirk quirks at the corner of your mouth, and you’re grateful he cannot relax at its sight. Stars, you take too much pleasure in making him squirm…

“Y-you’re not staying in here alone-” his voice strains- “not with hunters-”

“I’m safe-”

“-get in the bed.”

…

You blink.

…

His hands rise to his waist.

“Get in the bed.”

“Hmf.” You purse your lips. “Yes, karkin’ sir.”

Sticking your tongue out for good measure, you spin on your heel to sweep your pants up from the floor.

“Gosh,” you grumble, sticking a leg in as you hop one-legged towards the bed. You glance down at the print on your underwear. “I hope you didn’t get a good look- urg!” You lose your balance, slumping across the mattress.

“Wouldn’t want this to be the way you find out I’m a horse girl…”

“What?”

…

“…nothing.”

You hook the last button of your pants. “I guess you’re free to spin around now.”

He hesitates- then turns at your words.

“Look at you,” you snort. “Creeping in that dark corner.” You slide both legs beneath the comforter, pulling it up to just beneath your chin. “I’ll never get any sleep if you lurk over there. I’ll wreck my bike tomorrow, and it’ll be all your fault.”

…

Heavy sigh.

The Mandalorian emerges from the shadow-shrouded corner, and he flicks his fingers out at his side.

“Better?”

“Hmf, fine.”

You crinkle your nose.

“You can stay, but don’t stare at me all night like some dang rakghoul-” you scooch forward, pulling the comforter up over your head like a scarf, only your face visible- “trying to scare me.”

-a puff of modulated air.

“You’re not afraid of anything.”

The Mandalorian lumbers forward, fingers hooked on his belt.

“And that’s what concerns me.”

He pauses right beside your head, visor angled down to stare into your eyes.

“Come now, Mando. You scared the shit out of me on Taek.” You dramatically flop out flat across the bed, letting the comforter crumble around your body. “Thought for sure you’d kill me for being annoying.”

…

“You were afraid of me?”

You let your weak smile speak for itself.

“Hmf.”

He re-hooks his fingers on his belt.

“Could have fooled me-” his voice is light, teasing- “you were a mouthy little thing.”

Mouthy.

Mouthy??

Oh, you can show him mouthy-

You part your lips to snot off at Din, but his hand extends, pats the crumpled comforter, ripping your response straight from your mouth. You watch, brow quirked, as he pulls, smooths out the comforter around you. His visor lifts-

Oh.

Oh Maker just cast you in the Pit of Carkoon-

He can be so kriffing thoughtful and it’s really hot and you want to die-

Lowering your eyes, you grunt, picking at a loose thread to distract from that familiar squeeze, that ache in your chest.

Stop-

Stop.

You can’t get mixed up with this man-

You’re… you’re not able to-

…Someone’s going to get hurt.

…

“I… I- uh- talk a lot when I’m nervous.”

…

He tilts his head at that.

“Fine!” You throw a hand up, swallowing quickly. “... And- and when I’m not.”

“Hmm.”

“Still-” you jab a finger towards him, eager to just talk, distract yourself from that familiar warmth blooming in your chest- “I’d rather have been killed by you in the desert than spend another day on Taek.”

With a groan reminiscent of a wounded Kath Hound, you roll over onto your stomach- away from the Mandalorian.

“Kriff, so many sand stingers!”

A second roll, this time pulling the comforter along with you.

“And you can’t even eat them!”

A third roll.

“And I would know.”

A fourth roll- you stop, satisfied with the level of burrito-wrapping you’ve achieved.

“I tried.”

The Mandalorian has the audacity to chuckle.

“My lips were swollen for two days-” you wiggle, freeing your arms from their burrito prison- “and you laugh?”

“Ah.”

A small, strangled cough slips through the modulator.

“Sorry.”

You try your best to look angry- but you can’t resist the cheeky grin.

“Well, anyhow,” you sigh, re-crumpling the comforter around your body like a nesting mother bird. “Thank the Maker you flashed that Beskar of yours around like a baited hook, reeling me in like a fish.”

“Hmf.”

The Mandalorian leans forward, hands on his hips- his body casting a light shadow across your cheek.

“You would have found a way off without me.”

Rolling your eyes, you can only huff, “Yeah, blasted, right.”

You plunge your face, your grimace deep within your pillow.

“Blast it- I was so damn hungry; I was this close-” you lift up two fingers held closely together- “to resorting to cannibalism.” Your hand drops with a plop.

…

Truth be told… you have always wondered if Toydarian tastes like Nuna…

Heh.

…

-The bed jolts.

Your head shoots up.

You blink.

…

The Mandalorian-

-sitting beside you.

Close.

Very… close.

“Din?” Your hands fumble with the tangled comforter. “Wh-”

“I’m sorry.”

His tone is…

Angry.

He turns away from you, striking his fingers against his thigh armor in rapid succession.

Your eyelashes flutter, taken completely off-guard by his harsh admission.

“Uh…”

You sit up straight, eyes glued to the gleam of his helm.

“What exactly for?”

Oh, kark, what did he do?

Did you forget you should be mad about something?

“I should have taken you back to the Crest-” his shoulders shrug forward- “…the night we made our deal on Taek.”

The Mandalorian stops tapping- balls the comforter into his fist.

…

You blink.

…

“Maker, Din!”

Flopping back, you slap your hands across both eyes.

That’s it? Damn man is fretting over that?

With a dismissive flick of your hand, you can’t help but snicker. “Oh, come on, even if you had asked me to, I would have just written my obituary first- left it behind for the sand stingers.”

Grinning ear to ear, you, again, gather the comforter up over your head like a protective cocoon-

-just like the child does with his blanket, now that you think about it…

“I must say though, Mandalorian, you could have at least lugged off those two dead dudes you killed.” Crinkling your nose, you narrow your eyes at Din as he shifts, eases back against the wall, observing your movements with careful attention.

“Leaving me all alone with dead people-” you cluck your tongue- “very improper of you, Mr. Djarin.”

The Mandalorian tucks his head aside.

“You weren’t alone.”

“Yeah, no kidding!” The comforter slips forward, consuming your head entirely and entombing you in darkness. Pushing against the quilt, attempting to free yourself, you continue, “I- erf- had two decomposing-”

“-I stayed.”

Your hands drop.

…

“The entire night... on the roof.”

…

“Oh.”

Oh.

…

You sit in darkness.

…

The bed shifts, tilting you towards the movement-

The comforter is flung off your head, and your squint is met by your own face reflected in the Mandalorian’s visor.

“Are you still afraid of me?”

His words are tentative, but you hear their teasing edge.

Fine.

He wants to play.

You can handle “play.”

It’s easier than the truth.

…

“No, Mando.”

~Yes, Mando~

“I’m not.”

~I am~

“My terror for you was eradicated from my head the moment I was assaulted by the sight of your revolting bedroom quarters.”

~My terror is you’ll learn the truth about what I am~

“Your hair might be exceptionally soft and astoundingly fragrant, as your hair conditioner collection would imply-” you tap a finger atop his helmet- “but you’re messy, Din.”

~Seven Corellian hells, my life is messy oh my stars~

…

Silence.

…

“Hmm.”

His head jerks to the side.

“You’re welcome to clean it-” he shifts forward- “if it offends you.”

A smirk tickles at the corner of your mouth.

“I’d probably find something sentient growing in a dirty sock pile.”

The Mandalorian chuckles- a rumble… deep, low.

He leans forward-

-and you scuffle to the other side of the bed.

“S-Stars! Uh, well, enough about my fears. Um, tell me-” you let your feet dangle off the side of the bed opposite from him- “what scares a Mandalorian?”

Uhg.

You tried to force a light-hearted tone; pull on one of your phony masks- but…it seems the longer time goes on-

-the more it’s impossible to pretend with Din.

This… is bad.

Especially when you have as many damn secrets to keep as you do.

You can’t help but cringe.

Kriffin’ dune worm on a stick!

Cautiously, you sneak a quick glance over your shoulder, finding Din’s position on the bed unchanged. He stares down at his hands as if lost, buried within his own thoughts.

“I’m-”

He pauses.

…

“I’m afraid of making the wrong choices...”

…

“Not being strong enough to protect... who I care about.”

…

Your lips part.

Well.

…

A light-hearted question.

A serious answer.

You take a deep breath, letting it steady, refocus your spiraling, spinning mind.

“Din,” you mumble, throwing his name over your shoulder. “If… if this is about the baby...”

Stars, the baby.

…

Hell… you- you can’t have this conversation right now.

How do you-

Do you just-?

“The- the responsibility of a child-” you reach up; rub your browline with trembling fingers- “it’s the single most…”

You pause.

“Th-the single most-”

…

terrifying-

exhilarating-

rewarding-

punishing-

fulfilling-

painful-

you- you can’t breathe-

“Ka’r’ika?”

You jolt forward at your name.

“Ka’r’ika, are you-”

“Being a parent-” put on your mask put on your mask- “you feel so… big and so… small.”

Dank Ferrik…

“You’re too small to forge the galaxy you want for them, no matter how much you fight for it.”

Your hand slips beneath your shirt, clenching the pendent you wear close to your heart. “But you’re big, so big- you’re everything to them- their whole galaxy.”

Your eyes slide shut.

Her- her voice will come back to you if you just stay quiet and- and-

…

“Mama, what this for?”

Even your excruciating exhaustion can’t suppress your grin. “Your belly button?” With a grunt, you lift Valera up from the cot, placing her down atop your legs.

“Well, you little womp rat… uh…”

Stars, how do you explain this to a kid?

“It’s… uh… how you ate food when you were growing in my tummy.”

She shoots you an incredulous little eyebrow lift.

Oh great-

She’s already picking up your sass.

Serves you kriffin’ right.

Your fingers wrap around the pendant hanging from Valera’s neck.

“Watch the attitude, kid.”

You give the necklace a few short tugs, sending her into a fit of giggles.

“Mama!”

“Ka’r’ika?”

Oh!

You jerk around-

-Din.

“Is something… wrong?”

“Yeah- uh, yeah.” You cough- clear your throat. “I just, dang it-” you slap your thigh- “get emotional thinking about little kids, ya know? So darned cute, the little monsters.”

He’s… not convinced.

But he doesn’t push it.

That’s… all you need from him right now.

“Look, Din. I- I know you’ll make the decision you think is right for the kid…” You lower your voice- make it easier to hide the waver. “It’s- it’s all we can do.”

...

“But you don’t… approve of my choice.”

No.

You don’t.

“I stand by everything I said before... mostly.” Your eyes lower, glaring down at the comforter. “Just make sure you aren’t making the choice to send him to a Jedi out of fear... fear of not being good enough for him.”

…

You glance back up.

“Because you are.”

...

“Ka’r’ika…”

So soft.

He always says it so soft-

“Your opinion…”

His visor dips away, almost bashfully.

“It means a lot to me.”

You blink.

“Really? Mine?”

It certainly didn’t feel that way during your argument on the Crest…

Sliding his fingers across the leather of his belt, he makes a slight choking sound.

“I… regret the things I said to you before.”

…

“I- you were saying things I didn’t want to hear...”

He turns, stares over at you.

“You’re not selfish.... far from it.”

You hold his gaze.

That damn daze.

…

“Well...” you mumble. “I shouldn’t have blown up on you either. I- I let my personal bias cloud my head and heat my tongue...”

You break the gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

…

Silence.

…

Oh stars.

You shouldn’t do it.

…

You’re gunna do it.

“Well, Mando-” energy floods your voice- “I’m flattered you hunted me down and killed a Rancor just to apologize to me.” Crawling beneath the comforter, you don’t fight the smirk cracking across your face

“Truly, Din, it means the galaxy to me.”

You scooch over further, further until-

“W-what are you-”

“Shut up.” You shove a hand into his side. “I’m trying to sleep.”

You lean against his arm, your head drooping down…

…

“Din.”

…

“Din.”

…

“Oh my gosh, kriffin’ relax, Din!”

You pull away from him. “Stop tensing! It’s like trying to sleep next to a blasted boulder!”

“It is not.”

“Loosen up!”

“I am loose.”

Oh.

You know how to loosen him up.

You jump up to your knees, staring him down.

“Hand. Now.”

…

The Mandalorian gawks at you. Or, at least, you imagine he’d be gawking if it weren’t for the, ya know, helmet.

“Din Djarin.”

You shove your open palm at him.

“Let me hold your damn hand.”

One breath-

…

Two breaths-

…

Three breaths-

His hand, warm and- kark!- so damn large, slips into your own.

“If I die tomorrow-” you give his hand a tight squeeze- “I want you to remember me like this.”

He grunts.

“Domineering and demanding?”

“You know I can hear you.” Rolling your eyes, you sigh dramatically, “As I was saying, remember me like this.” You squeeze his hand a second time-

He returns the squeeze-

“Maybe I’d rather remember the time you fell into that mud-hole on Arvala-” his free hand reaches out- tugs on your ear lobe- “and I had to pull you out while the kids laughed at us.”

You whack away his hand. “Oh, come on, Din-”

“Or maybe I’d rather remember the time you sang to the Blurgs.”

“I was bullied into tha-”

“Or the time you fell asleep in my shirt- drooled all over it.”

“Kriff off! I did not.” You yank on his hand, drawing him forward. “How would you even know?” You lean into him, squishing your nose to his visor.

“You never-

do-

your-

karking-

laundry.”

…

Din just chuckles.

Oh oh Maker his chuckle is so sexy and damn it damn it-

…

You’ve… you’ve got it bad.

Crinkling your nose, you pull away, sinking down- down- down into the comforter. “Well, you’re being mean to me. I’m going to bed.”

A… thought occurs.

…

Oh, Banthabreath.

Life is short. Do it.

“Din?”

Your eyes twist, staring up into his visor from where you lay on the bed. He watches; does not break the gaze as you reach out- grab his hand again. With a sharp tug, his glove slips right off, revealing- stars- that hand, those fingers that have haunted your daydreams since they first brushed across your lips.

Warm.

Callused.

Scarred.

Oh Maker.

If you’re losing it over a blasted hand and voice- a kneecap reveal would have you deceased.

You sigh.

“Din, tell me- uh…”

Naked skin dusts across your jaw- “Uh… Din?” -traces your earlobe- “Do- do you really plan to, uh…” -trails down your neck- “…s-stay all night?”

-his fingers pause at your collarbone.

…

“Yes.”

He resumes stroking his fingers slowly, languidly across your collarbone.

“Humor an old man, Ka’r’ika.”

You blink at him.

Old?

Huh.

Now that he mentions it…

“How old are you?” you blurt.

He freezes.

…

Oh, you just killed the mood, didn’t you?

…

Dank Ferrik.

“I’m just curious.” You lift a brow, a slight smile upon your lips. “You do grunt and groan a lot.”

The Mandalorian makes a sharp noise- tears his hand away.

“Young enough to pull you out of mud holes.”

…

You narrow your eyes at him.

…

“…Late thirties.”

Ah.

“Sorry,” you chuckle, shoving against his shoulder. “Just trying to construct a mental image of how I think you might look.”

Din huffs- crosses his arms across his chest like a sullen child.

“I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“Come on, it’s not like I’ll ever see it!” You jump up to your knees. “I should at least be allowed to imagine.”

“I could never live up to your fanatical imagination, Ka’r’ika.”

“What, are ya ugly or something?”

“…No.”

“Are ya hot?”

“Hardly.”

“Oh my gosh don’t say that about yourself.”

“You’ve never seen my face,” he grumbles. “You don’t know what I’m working with here.”

“Shut up.”

“The helmet is an improvement.”

“It is pretty sexy,” you laugh.

…

Silence.

Oh kriffing hells-

Did you just say-

Oh stars-

…

You hope you die tomorrow.

Shaking your head, you snort. “Fine. Whatever.”

-just change the topic change the topic-

“Uh, so, uh, tell me-” you lean in closer to him- “what does Ka’r’ika really mean? You can’t lie to me anymore- I know it doesn’t mean brat.”

“You’re right.”

He, too, leans forward-

“It means pain in the ass.”

“DIN DJARIN!”

The comforter launches over your head, plunging you into darkness. You kick and roll and yell- the comforter and sheets tangling up around you- but you can’t get free-

-because the kriffing metal idiot is holding it down.

“Let me OUT!” you shriek, kicking upwards with your feet. “I’m going to KILL YOU!”

Weight lifts from the comforter.

You fling it off, and your flaming eyes immediately turn towards-

“So, you’re going to kill me?”

Damn that smug voice!

Your hand shoots out, a sharp smack landing against his unarmored thigh.

“Ouch!”

“Eat. Banthashi- OOF!”

You’re catapulted backwards- heaved across the bed. You roll, landing up on all fours.

“Why YOU-”

“Go to sleep.”

-smack-

“DJARIN!”

You grip your ass.

“Did- did you just spank…?”

…

Oh.

Oh, it’s on now-

You fling up, firing yourself at his chest, bursting into shrieks as he easily knocks you aside.

“HEY!”

But the Mandalorian goes for you this time.

His hands grasp your hips, shoves you back behind him. You pounce again- wrap your limbs around his back- you’re yanked forward with an oof. You retaliate, jabbing your hand towards his exposed side- he grabs, stops you- but then-

His arms have you pinned- trapping you against the bed with his weight.

“G-give u-up now, bounty hunter!” You wriggle; his grip only tightens. “I-I’ve- erf- got you, Mando!”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak…. just… stares down at you.

“Yeah.”

He dips his helmet to the side.

"You’ve got me.”

…

You both burst into giggles.

“Hell, M-Mando!” you say, gasping for air between your giggles. “I’m- stars!- crying!”

"Hm.”

A light -pat- smacks against your thigh.

“Go to sleep.”

Your grin stretches ear-to-ear. “Yes, sir.”

…

Oh Maker, you’re really done for.

You quiet your laughter, shimmying back beneath the comforter, keenly aware that you might regret every bit of this impulsive behavior in the morning…

But for now?

You roll up against the Mandalorian, curling up against his side. You tuck your face-

Safe.

His hand drops to your shoulder- moves up- stops… a tickle against the back of your neck, his fingers tracing tiny circles…

“Ka’r’ika.”

"Mhm? What? Leave me alone.”

….

“It means… ‘Dear Star’.”

…

Oh-

Oh.

...

Oh shit.

“Sweet dreams… Ka’r’ika.”

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

“See you later, Babycakes.”

“Bye, Cara!”

“The hell-” you shoot Pablo an incredulous look- “Babycakes?”

“What?”

“Please don’t answer to that in public.”

“It’s too late,” Pablo sighs, turning your racing helmet over in his hands. “I’ve answered to it twice today.”

A small smirk tickles your lips.

“Then can I call you Sweetcheeks?”

“Oh, I think the hell not-”

“Fine,” you chuckle, taking a pinch of his cheek. “Sweetcheeks it is.”

“I hate you.”

A grin cracks your face. Hey now, if he can call you Sweetheart, you can call him Sweetcheeks.

It’s only fair.

With a heavy sigh, Pablo shoves the helmet back into your hands. “Well, guess it’s back up to Thall’s skybox for me. I- uh-” his hand shoots out, pats your shoulder- “…Don’t die.”

“Pablo, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” You press a hand to his chest. “I knew you cared.”

“Yeah, well,” Pablo sighs, knocking your hand off his chest. “I’ll admit, my motivations are sullied… I might have credits down on you.”

“Oh karkin’ dunes.”

“Karkin’ dunes, what?” He throws out his hands. “That’s good! It means I believe in you!”

“Kark you.”

But your smile betrays your words.

Pablo laughs- flashes you a quick wink before turning away. “Now go- win me some credits, Sweetheart,” he yells over his shoulder. “I’ll take you to a casino and let you spend them!”

“Love you, too, Sweetcheeks!”

“Love you more!”

“You answered to it!”

“… Damn it!”

…

Heh.

Pablo really is just-

-“LINE UP WARNING.”

Oh stars-

-“REPEAT. LINE UP WARNING.”

Oh stars oh stars oh stars-

Groaning like a dying Bantha, you press a gloved hand to your browline.

Hell, that cocky, confident little shit you were as a teen?

��

Yeah, you’re not so confident right now.

“I know you’ll win-”

You spin around.

“-you always did.”

“Tesen,” you say, reaching out to accept his hug. “Dank Ferrik, man! I looked over my old speederbike this morning and- wow- you really did a fantastic job on her!”

Maker- the trouble you got into on that old bike… How are you even still alive?

Tesen chuckles- a rumble beneath your cheek. “After you disappeared, others tried taking her out on runs. But only you could get her to do the things she’s capable of.”

He pulls back.

“I kept her for the memories.”

A cheeky grin bursts across your face. “You know I’d trust no one else but you with her.”

His eyes brighten, and he opens his mouth to-

-“LINE. UP. WARNING.”

Groaning, you stare up into Tesen’s eyes.

“I’d wish you luck-” he winks- “-but I know you don’t need it.”

“Maybe not....” A coy smile turns up your lips. “But I could still do with my traditional good luck kiss. As my friend, would you mind… since Gavon isn’t here anymore to do me the honor?”

Tesen laughs- deep, hearty-

“Well, I am a good friend.”

He bends down- hesitates- hovering just above your face-

“Tesen, yo-”

Warm lips press to yours.

Oh hell yeah-

You wrap your arms around his waist.

Gosh, you’re pathetic. One friendly little kiss, and those cocky, confident teenage vibes are pulsing through your bloodstream.

Pretty sure you could wrestle a dewback…

“Aww! How sweet!”

Pulling away, you grit your teeth at Thall’s voice booming over the loudspeaker. Your eyes shoot up to the sky.

Stars, you could kill that man…

“Hello, hello everyone!”

Tesen tears away from you- meeting your eyes one final time before sweeping away-

-leaving you all alone.

Just you and your bike.

To win this dang race.

Or die.

At this point, if your friends didn’t need you to actually- you know- win, you’d accept either outcome.

“As we all know, one half of our kissing duo down there-”

“We’re just friends!”

“-is none other than our long-lost Blazing Womprat-”

The nickname snaps you into gear.

Oh yeah.

Time to play the part.

-“former champion of the Boska Springs Classic!”

Climbing up on your speederbike, you stand on the seat, throwing both hands in the air. You stare up into the cameras defiantly, as if you’d already won the kriffing race.

You wave your hands again, the crowd exploding into jests and cheers and shouts.

Dank Ferrik-

You swallow back the goofy grin itching to bloom across your face.

-don’t ruin your image.

You know you must play the part they expect to see on the circuit.

Blazing Womprat-

Brash.

Arrogant.

And batshit crazy.

Maker, how you missed this- this rush. Whether it be racing, singing, or otherwise, you love playing to the crowd…

And they’re eating it up.

“E CHU TA!”

Well…. almost everyone…

You sneer down at your fellow racers, observing their rather rude gestures.

“EAT MY BIKE EXHAUST-”

Your middle fingers jab at the sky.

“-YOU ABSOLUTE ROAD WORMS.”

The racers start towards you-

“How exciting! Back to your bikes… yes, thank you, yes, please don’t kill her… thank you!”

Snickering to yourself, you fall down into the seat, hooking your boots in position on the pedals.

“The race is simple enough- first out to the Castle Rock to run up their flag and back, wins!”

You slip your helmet on-

“I don’t care what path you take-”

You tug at your gloves, ensuring they’re snug between each finger-

“Nor do I care what you do during the race!”

You flip down the visor of your helmet, your entire head and face protected-

“It’s all part of the fun!”

You lean forward- gripping the steering-

“Now, various organic beings… start your engines!”

-and your speederbike roars to life, pulsating beneath your body like a caged racehorse ready to run.

…

Wait-

…

It… just hit you…

Din- he-

-he never showed up.

…

Why would he avoid you, especially before an event this serious? Sure, he was… strange, aloof this morning just before he left you. But to be honest, so were you.

Waking up tangled in each other’s arms tends to do that.

…

Hells… if- if your behavior last night… ruined your friendship with him…

Oh stars, you’ll never forgive yourself.

He… but he promised that he’d speak to you before the race…

…

He never showed.

He never-

“Ka’r’ika-”

You scream-

“Hey, it’s me.”

“What the kark, Mando!” You lean back, twisting your helmet around to stare up at the crowd. “Get out of my helmet! You’re ruining my focus.”

You grin.

The Mandalorian kept his word… sort of.

“Sorry… just…”

You stare up at Thall’s skybox, the teasing gleam of Beskar vaguely visible through the glass.

“…stay safe.”

The static of the connection cuts.

…

You’re alone.

…

“READY…”

Your engine revs-

RED LIGHT-

Your bike pulsates-

YELLOW LIGHT-

Your grip tightens-

…

Wait a minute…

…

GREEN LIGHT-

The speederbikes burst into the distance- gone, out of sight within a blink of an eye.

…

You stay still.

Unmoving.

Staring out at the distance.

“Uhhhh…. Go?”

You stare.

You feel it…

You… feel it…

You-

The wind lashes, nearly knocking you from your bike with a yelp. You hold on for dear life as the crowd screams, ducking down into their own seats to avoid the brutal pounding.

But more importantly-

The sky darkens in the distance-

A monstrous dust cloud swoops across the sand-

-straight for the scattered bikers blasting across the dunes.

And-

you grin.

High-pitched screams and crashing metal reverberate across the dunes.

…

…time to go.

You push forward-

-and blast off.

…

Avoiding the starving, all-consuming dust cloud, you swing to the right.

It’s a risky route.

But you’ve studied it.

You know what you’re doing…

…hopefully.

Movement catches your eye-

A miniature speederbike zooms up to your right- a creature no bigger than the baby just- screeches at you.

“What the fuck!”

A second bike smashes into your left.

“What the fuck!” you shriek, swinging to avoid another swipe.

You accelerate- push forward on the controls.

Get away get away-

Ah!

There- looming in the distance.

The cliffs.

Turning knobs with a snap, you hold your speed steady- maintaining your direction-

“OOF!”

The end of your speederbike slides to the right- the attacking biker heaves back- preparing to try again-

You blast forward-

-straight for the cliff walls.

You release a bark of laughter- the sound swallowed by the wind whooshing past.

Try following me now.

The cliff wall looms closer- closer- closer-

You drop to the right, hanging off the side of your bike as far as you can without falling off-

-shooting beneath the cliff walls and straight into a small cave that’s barely tall enough for even your bike to fit.

The handles of your bike scrape the rock formation looming mere inches above your head- you yelp at the sparks showering your body.

Well, thank the Maker this jumpsuit is fireproof…

Movement-

Your head twists to the right-

That karkin’ little creature on his karkin’ little speederbike… grins at you- waves his hand as if to say “See? I fit, dumbass.”

You growl.

Oh, hell no.

…Approaching light.

You bust out of the cave, shooting straight up in your seat. You swing to the right- kick your foot out-

-the little creature flings into oblivion.

…

You’re alone again.

You push forward, gritting your teeth, and accelerate to full throttle.

You’re coming to an intersection in the path- this is where other racers might start to- ah! There!

Three bikes, crowding into one another, swerve around a column of boulders-

The lead speederbike trails straight for you.

Oh, Dank Ferrik.

Not again-

You scream as your speederbike lurches- rolls into tight, spinning loops. The bike that smashed into you barrels past-

You grit your teeth.

Get back here, you little-

You ram the back of his bike, grinning as he flings forward over his handlebars- run over by his own bike.

And yours.

Oopsie.

Castle Rock is approaching- it should be directly to the left- on the opposite side of the cliff wall blocking your line of sight.

You cut the corner- the roar of the remaining speederbikes still howling in your ear.

You punch the booster controls on your bike- but…

You’re painfully aware of a new shake, a new tremor of the bike that wasn’t there before.

Oh dear…

Hope this doesn’t backfire- literally.

With a groan, you blast into the canyon between the cliffs- giving your bike all it’s got.

Your mind blanks-

Instinct.

…

You’re running on instinct.

You swerve to the left- right- sharp right-

The roar of the speederbikes fade into the distance, left completely in your dust.

Heh.

The Blazing Womprat lives up to her name.

Oh, heck, here we go-

-You need to take a sharp left up ahead or you’ll completely miss Castle Rock-

You lift your left boot from the pedal- slide it across your seat- throwing every bit of your weight into the turn.

Your grip starts to slip- gloves desperately hold on for dear life. With a pathetic groan, you straighten, lift-

-There, Castle Rock!

And not another bike in sight.

You hit the brakes, sputtering to a stop. The thunder of engines storm in the distance behind you- you leap from your seat-

And you run for dear life.

The flags- the flags! Up ahead! At the top!

With a grunt, you scurry, fumble your way up the boulders-

“Get out of my way!”

Your head shoots back- other bikers have arrived, parked at the base of Castle Rock.

Oh, you don’t think so…

“Oops!” You grunt, shoving hard at a loose rock with your boot. “Sorry!” you yelp as they leap out of the tumbling rock’s path, screaming at the top of their lungs.

Giggling beneath your breath, you scamper to the top, the flagpoles just within r-

-PING-

You scream- a bullet ricochets off your helmet.

“Seven Corellian hells!” you screech, stumbling to the ground.

Tuskans!

Damn it!

You clamber to your feet, pushing forward with all your might.

Bullets shower the ground, the pings mixing with the yelps of your fellow racers. “Kark off!” you scream at a Weequay as he barrels past you-

then drops dead.

Well, he karked off, all right.

Nice shot, Tuskans.

Not slowing in the least bit, you snatch up your flag color, hooking it to the-

“OOPS… heehee!”

You gasp- a Rodian- he… he cut your flagline.

You snarl at his fleeing back.

…

Fine.

Sticking the flag between your teeth, you grip the pole with your hands and begin to climb. Dank Ferrik- what the hell even is this race?

Ignoring the pings flying around you and praying they miss, you reach the top and tie off your flag.

A bell rings.

Done.

You’re first.

You’re cleared to go.

With a pained sigh, you take advantage of your height to observe the sight down below.

Grinning at the scuffle, the fight breaking out between the racers all fumbling to avoid both bullets and one another’s sabotage…

…an idea occurs.

You reposition your weight, careful to not lose your grip and slip down the pole into the chaos below… One deep breath… and you leap the gap, clasping onto the second flagpole for dear life.

“Hey!”

You stare down at a furious Twi’lek.

“Get down!”

You grin.

“Okay!”

Biting your lip, you wrap the flagline one… two… three times around your glove, tugging to ensure a good grip.

Oh, this is the dumbest idea ever-

With a grunt, you release the pole and-

You swing forward- and back- forward- and back-

…screaming like a wild Lothcat in heat.

With each swing, you feel the pole shift beneath you, loosening from its shallow base.

“WHAT ARE YOU-”

“Yipe!”

With an audible snap, the pole breaks from its foundation- cascading to the ground…

…and taking every single flagpole to the right down with it.

With an oof, you hit the ground, hard. Peeling your head up with a groan, you turn-

…

“Get her!”

Time to go.

You jump- jump- jump- down the boulders, not bothering to check the height. You just gotta to get the kriff out of there.

You’re so close.

Flinging yourself across the seat, you blast into the horizon, straight in the direction of the starting line.

You’re so close-

Engines rev in the distance.

…

You’re so close.

Thumb hovering over your thrusters- a speederbike emerges in the distance-

…it’s time for a shortcut.

A cliff to your right, it’s a steep drop, but you think you can…

Gritting your teeth, you accelerate, pushing what power is left within your bike into- you scream, sailing straight over the edge of the cliff.

Your thumb punches the reverse boosters, keeping your bike from smashing into a thousand pieces on the ground below. Speederbike clattering and clanking from the stress, you hit level ground and-

You made it.

“Holy Hutt!” you groan, the words shaky in the air from the brutal reverberations of your engine.

You’re… you’re going to win.

You keep your path straight, flying over the sand dunes.

You’re going to win.

You’re going to-

You scream-

A force-

A burst of light-

You soar through the air-

You scream-

…

Darkness.

…

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

…

Ignoring the abrupt shock of the harsh Sularian winter air, you race from your home, running straight down the mountain path.

"Starlight?”

You don’t stop at your father’s voice. You run faster- swiping at the tears dripping down your cheeks.

“Starlight!”

A hand grabs at your shoulder.

“Let m-me go!” you yell between your sobs, shoving at his hand. “I-I’m going to l-live wi-with G-Grandpa!”

“Hey, little one-” he spins you around; pulls you into his chest- “deep breaths, hm?”

“I’m- I’m not… little!” You sniff, pushing away from him. “I’m ten and r-running away!”

"Can I come?”

…

You stare at him, the sobs easing from your body.

“Huh?” -sniff- sniff- “What?”

He plops down on the snow beside you- staring up at the stars dusting the sky.

“Running away doesn’t solve anything, Starlight-” he looks at you, flashes you a lop-sided smile- “you know that, right?”

You pout your lips.

“But Mama is so… so… unfair!” You stomp your foot and flop down beside him. “She’s so mean with me! She likes Kalara more!”

He doesn’t chastise your outburst.

He just… grunts- rests his rifle across his lap.

"Starlight.”

You keep your eyes turned to the ground, shame burning your cheeks.

"What happened?”

…

“I… I hit Kalara- but she said I was mean first! And Mama took her side!”

…

A heavy sigh.

He reaches down, grasps your pendant in his hand.

"Do you know why you wear this?”

You scrunch your nose at him. “Because I’m the ‘oldest’,” you mock.

He lets it drop back against your chest. “Watch the attitude, kid. You wear it because, as the oldest-” his tone, while gentle as always, eases into something more serious- “you set an example to your little brothers and sisters. They look up to you and want to be like you.”

“They do not!”

“Do too.” He pokes your stomach, and you can’t help but giggle. “This necklace is a reminder of your responsibility…” His mouth quirks into a smirk. “Of your influence.”

"I don’t want it!”

“Well, Starlight,” he chuckles. “I can’t help you being born first, but I promise, one day, you’ll appreciate your little brothers and sisters.” He hooks a finger on his belt. “And one day, you’ll give that same pendant to your first born, if you wish, just as generations of our family before you have.”

“Eww!”

“Eww!” he mocks back.

You blink down at the pendant, curiosity blooming in your chest…

"If this was yours before I was born and you gave it to me-” you look up at him- “does that mean you were the oldest?”

He stares into the distance, quiets…

…

“Yes.”

…

“Oh.”

…

"Did… did you apr-chi-ate them?”

"‘Appreciate’. And yes.” He looks down at you, that lop-sided smile slowly returning. “I did very much.”

"…Do you miss them?”

He glances away, stares up into the starry sky.

“Very much.”

You blink- a wash of fear- fear for your brothers and sisters hitting you like a blizzard breeze and- and-

“Don’t be sad, Starlight.” He taps your pendant; points to the sky. “They are with the stars… I’ll see them again.”

He stands, heaves his rifle against his shoulder, and motions you to follow.

“Come, let’s go inside. I think someone has a few apologizes to make?”

“But Mama is mad at me…” you groan.

“I promise,” he chuckles, taking your hand in his own. “No matter what you do…”

…

“…your mother and I will hold you in our hearts…”

…

“…for eternity…”

…

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

The Mandalorian’s licking your face what the HELL-

Your eyes blast open-

“W-what?”

Something wet swipes your eyes. “Yipes!” You squint, throwing your arm across your face. “What the blasted- oh.”

…

A… dog.

Massiff dog.

…

Not… Din.

…

Oh.

The dog tilts his head at you, his tongue drooping out the side of its mouth.

“In my defense, you kinda look like Din though,” you giggle, patting the dog’s hard exterior. “You goofy little thing…”

Sighing, you reach up to rub your face…

Wait.

Where- where’s your helmet’s visor…? Why’s it… busted out…?

…

“OH BLASTED STARS.”

You scramble to your feet- a mistake. You cry at the pain that shoots, throbs from head to toe. “Damn it, damn it!” you groan, hobbling forward as your memory floods you all at once.

The dog mistakes your agony for playtime, hopping up and down, up and down, dancing little wiggle-butt circles around you.

“Back, dog! Back!” Your eyes scan the sky-

…Oh no.

It’s… the sun’s setting.

It’s evening.

No, no!

“Kriffin’ hells!” you moan, fingers digging into your palms. “My bike! My bike? I got to- where?”

…

There.

In the distance.

You grit your teeth.

…

…Sandcrawler.

“Stupid JAWAS!”

You burst forward, growling through every last ache. “Get BACK here!” you shriek, launching your helmet at the still-very-much-far-away sandcrawler. “Little thieves! I ought to- OOF!”

The dog cuts in front of you, dashing alongside your right.

“Dang it!” you yelp. “If you’re coming too, then help, not hinder!”

The dog just howls- gleeful and blissfully unaware of everything but “run. fast run.”

“Oh, Maker help me,” you moan.

You’re close enough now that the Jawas have noticed you. Hanging out of their little windows and doors, they begin screeching at you.

“Kark off!” you scream back, nearly tripping over your own feet. “And give me my blasted bike, or I’ll- OUCH!”

Whatever they threw- it damn well hurt.

…You shoulda left your helmet on.

The dog picks up the object in its mouth and brings it straight to you.

“O-oh… st-stars!” you puff, increasing your speed. You throw the object at a Jawa hanging from an open window. “H-hey, dog, maybe you are useful, hmm?”

Your praise must have confused the dog. He yelps once, turns around, begins running butt-first.

“Oh hell.”

Close enough now, you reach up, grip a pipe on the side of the crawler.

“Open, now!” you demand, banging on the metal.

A slot opens- you slap at the Jawa- it screams- slams the slot shut.

A higher window opens- something’s launched- you scream- it screams- the window shuts.

You wish you could say playing whack-a-mole with Jawas was the strangest thing you’ve done today…

“Dank Ferrik,” you groan, eyeing the Massiff dog running circles below your feet.

You’re getting into this thing if it kills you, so help you-

“Dank FERRIK!”

The jolt of the sandcrawler sends you hurling towards the ground.

“Force…”

You slowly, gingerly lift your head…

Stopped.

The sandcrawler… stopped.

…

Why…

You look up- the Jawas have the slots and windows peaked open, glancing around towards the front of the crawler…

…

They slam them shut.

…

Uh oh…

“Dog, I… I think we might be in trouble- wait!”

But it’s too late- the Massiff dog is darting towards the front of the crawler.

…

Silence.

…

Oh, what the hell.

You’re not leaving without your dog.

Pressing against the sandcrawler, you ease, creep your way forward. Closer… closer… closer-

-until you’re just one head peek away from seeing what’s caught the Jawa’s attention…

…

Do… do you peek?

Or run?

…

Oh Huttsludge.

Maybe the Jawas-

“I’ve been watching you, little one.”

OH STARS OH STARS STARS STARS.

…

WHAT DO YOU DO?

…

You squeeze your eyes closed.

Oh, what the Corellian crap use is there in hiding?

He’s knows you’re here!

So-

You peek around-

…

A man.

…

A terrifying man.

…

You duck your head back.

…

You’re dead.

…

“Hey!” you hiss up at a Jawa. “Whatever beef we had before, we’re on the same side now. Let me in!”

The door slams shut.

“Why you-”

“Hello there, Princess-”

You shriek.

“Stay away!” you yelp, pressing your back up against the sandcrawler. “Or I’ll- I’ll stick my Massiff on you!”

Right on cue, the Massiff bolts past your legs, flying straight for the strange man-

-and drops- wiggling around on his back, begging the scary man for attention.

…

Great.

The man huffs, bends down to pat the Massiff’s exposed belly.

“I see you’ve trained it well.”

…

“Thanks…?”

Wait, was that an insult?

…

“I mean you no harm, Princess.”

Amused.

He’s… amused.

The man glances up at you, throws his hood back.

My stars, you observe his gnarled appearance. What… what terrible thing happened to him?

You almost blurt the question… almost.

“Who are you? What’s your name?” you ask instead, rather empowered by the fact he hasn’t yet- you know- killed you.

“I’m just a simple man making my way through the galaxy-” his gaze intensifies- “like my father before me.”

…

“Got an easier to remember name?”

“I’d rather learn yours.”

…

Is he… flirting?

…

Oh my gosh he’s flirting. Okay, you know what? The grizzled look is actually really hot. Like hot, hot. And, wow, he’s a big guy and you like big guys oh my gosh he’s flirting-

With a lop-sided smirk, you call out your first name. “But you can keep calling me Princess.”

The man chuckles, pats the Massiff one last time, and stands.

“I was speaking to the dog.”

…

“Oh.”

Damn it.

…

You glance at the Massiff.

“…Noodles?”

“A solid name.”

“Thanks.”

…

Okay, what the actual hell is this conversation-

You shake your head, knowing you should be afraid, terrified... but in your defense, it’s rather hard to feel that way while bonding with your potential killer over a dog.

“So… uh, what the hell do you want?”

The man lumbers forward, hands folded behind his back, as if… contemplating something.

“Your Mandalorian friend-”

He pauses, his imposing frame casting a cool shadow across your face.

“-he has something that belongs to me.” The man turns his eyes, so kriffing intense, to stare you down.

“And you can take me to it.”

“Uhhh….” You blink, words escaping your brain. “What… is it?”

“My armor.”

…

“All I request… is my armor returned.”

Gulping, you shake your head, afraid to give him your honest answer. “I-I’ve not seen any armor, but-”

“You might want to consider my words carefully, little one.”

His words slice the air.

“You and the Mandalorian have a rather large bounty on your head.” The man bends down, crouches upon the sand. “According to this chip-” he lifts his hand; a small data chip gleams in the setting sun- “that I took off the corpse of the man… that blew you in the air.”

Your mouth plummets to the ground.

“W-what?!”

He just stares up at you, waiting patiently for you to process his words.

“Damn it,” you growl, sinking down to the ground in front of him.

“If- and that’s if- I knew where this armor might be located-” you look up at him, brows furrowing- “why should I trust that you won’t still try and claim that bounty on us?”

He doesn’t speak- just holds your gaze.

…

His fist holding the datachip rises in the air-

-and crushes the chip into a thousand microscopic shards.

“You and your friends need to leave before more return.”

You gape down at the shimmering shards.

Stars, note to self, do not piss this guy off…

“News of this race, and your presence, will spread to the wrong ears.”

“Uhh…” You turn to stare at the retreating figure of the man in black. “Hey! Wait!” You leap to your feet, rushing right after him. “See that’s the problem- my friends are kind of…. uh, trapped by Thall.”

The man makes a noise.

“I will assist you if-”

“-you regain your armor,” you finish, rolling your eyes.

The first hint of a smile dusts his lips.

“What is your answer, then, Princess?”

…It’s not like you have a choice.

Your friends… Din… are still under Thall’s snare. For all you know, now that you’re out of the way, Thall- kark!- might make Din fight again!

…

You can’t let that happen.

You throw both hands on your hips- purse your lips.

“We have a deal.”

The man nods sharply, accepting your answer before turning, prowling down the length of the sandcrawler.

“I have an insider feeding me information from within Thall’s complex.” His strides are heavy, yet quick. You struggle to keep pace. “She will contact me with the necessary information, but for right now-”

-a screech splits the air.

You gasp- twist-

The Massiff stumbles around from the back of the crawler-

-dragging a behind it a writhing Jawa.

…

The man in black grunts.

“We need your bike.”

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

You need to scream.

Of all ways for this day to go, you never dreamed it would be riding back to the Razor Crest sitting in a strange man’s lap.

Well, not in his lap… but might as well be.

You wanted to drive. After all, it is your bike, which was thankfully undamaged enough to still ride at lower speeds, but he didn’t exactly give you a choice… You press back against his chest, sneaking a sharp glance to the left and right, gulping at how blasted thick and strong his arms that have you caged in are…

Boba Fett.

At least you now have his name.

It’s the very least you should know, considering your current intimate positioning.

Boba’s hand releases the bike’s handle- grips your shoulder to steady your body as you turn-

Stars-

Stars this is so awkward and you want to fling yourself to the ground you don’t care how fast you’re going-

But if you did that, Noodles would have to go too, since he’s squatted on the seat in front of you, your arms wrapped tightly around his body to keep him from jumping off at high speeds. And no matter how much you’re willing to potentially threaten your own life, you draw the karkin’ line at endangering animals.

Noodles glances back at you, tongue flapping in the wind, as if to say thank you kind ma’am for the hug.

…

The sky is pitch black, the air cool, biting, by the time you arrive at Peli’s hanger. Almighty stars, it feels like centuries since you last saw… there!

The Razor Crest!

You can’t believe you’re actually home!

You pause.

Home?...

…huh.

Stars, you can almost imagine… Din. Standing at the base of the ramp. Head angled at you as you run forward, holding the baby-

…the baby. Din. Cara. Pablo. Kark.

You… you need to hurry.

“Let me find someone before you go inside-” you yank off your gloves, toss them aside- “and your armor should be inside the ship… somewhere- I guess-”

A shrill squeak rips the rest of the words from your lips.

“Baby!” you gasp. You rush forward, crumpling to your knees. “Hey, little fella!” Your voice shoots ten octaves high as you squeeze, squish the little guy to your chest.

“Hey, hey-” you whisper, rubbing his head as his little squeaks intensify.

Crying.

He’s… crying-

“I know, I know.”

Kriffing hells.

“You’ve been alone too long.”

Damn it, damn it.

You’re going to cry. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry.

“But you’re not alone now, hmm?” You pull back, force a cheesy grin to stretch across your face. “See? I’m back. Did Peli take good care of you?”

“AHHHH!”

You press the baby close- spin-

“4PO!” Peli screeches, racing around the side of the Crest. “MASSIFF DOG! PROTECT US!”

The droid hobbles around- stops-

…

…

“Oh, kriffing hells…”

You glance over at the hanger door, locating the deadly Noodles…

…all four legs in the air as Boba pats his belly.

He gives you a bare hint of a smile.

“Excellent.”

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

“Handsome little mister,” you sing, grinning ear-to-ear. “Gotta look snazzy to go rescue Daddy, hmm?”

The baby just stares at you, clearly unimpressed with his new threads.

“Come now. I’m the fun parent,” you laugh, straightening his little suspenders. “Tell you what, if you don’t like it by tomorrow-” you sit down beside him- “I promise I won’t make you wear it again. We’ll try something else I bought you in town.”

The baby grabs a sock off the table- throws it to the ground with a scream.

“Okay.” You quirk a brow. “We hate socks today, that’s fine.” You lean forward, pressing a quick kiss against his head.

The baby’s grabby hands reach up, begging to be held. Without hesitation, you lift him up and place him down in your lap.

“That nice man should be finished dressing soon,” you absentmindedly mumble, twisting your eyes to watch Peli buzz around the back of the hanger. “And then we’re going to- oh.”

A little tug around your neck pulls your attention back down-

The baby- he’s tugging on the twine of your necklace.

“Ah,” you chuckle, pulling the pendant out from beneath your shirt.

“You want to look?”

He stares up at you, into your eyes.

…

-pressure-

…

you feel…warm pressure-

…

it dusts against…

…

It’s… it’s like…. something’s pressing against a- a membrane…

….

-pressure-

…

-a thick membrane in your mind and-

…

w-what- is-?

Body trembling, you press back-

the membrane slips and- and-

…

“Mother?”

You gasp, clapping a hand over your mouth.

Who..? Wh-what just-?

Something dusts your hand, and you jolt in your seat- eyes shifting down…

…

“Was… was that you?” you whisper, eyes blasting wide open.

The baby only giggles.

…

Oh kriff.

…

You flop back in the chair, stare up at the sky.

“Is this a… force thing?”

You’re speaking to yourself more than anything…

“Holy kark,” you groan, slapping your hands across your eyes. “…These kinds of powers are beyond my pay grade….”

Dank Ferrik, you knew you should have paid closer attention to your mother’s lessons… She was as close to an expert on the force as any Jedi, you suppose... Was it your fault you would rather be with your dad, learning how to effectively hit your siblings with stick spears? Mama damn near bored you to death with her long lectures of “light side energy.”

…Whatever that means.

See? You should have paid attention, Dank Ferrik!

The baby tugs on your necklace again.

You blink.

-pressure-

This time, you let the membrane slip right away.

“You are Mother?”

You just… stare.

“Feel force.”

…

“I, uh…”

“Feel her.”

…

His… his question-

Are you a Mother?

…

Emotion scalds the back of your throat.

…

“Yes…”

He… he feels her.

“This… this belonged to my little girl.”

The necklace-

…He feels her.

“A-and mine. And my father’s.” Your voice softens, affection dusting each and every word. “Going back generations.”

Swallowing down the lump, the ache squeezing in your chest, you force a tight smile.

-the warmth brushes against your mind-

-you open up- let him back in-

…

“Grogu.”

…

You blink-

“Grogu?”

He bursts into little squeals.

“Is that your name, Bean Dip? Grogu?”

The little toothy grin he flashes you is the only confirmation you need. Matching his grin with one of your own, you laugh- pull him close.

“Can I still call you Bean Dip sometimes?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer- instead grabs at your necklace again, studying it intently.

You can only… smile at his interest…

You… remember Valera doing the very same thing… grabbing at it- sticking it in her mouth- drooling all over it-

…

Hell.

…

“Hey, hey, Grogu-” your voice wavers- you clear your throat- “You know… I’m- I’m always losing things.”

Deep breath.

“Would you mind… keeping this for me?”

You slip the necklace over his head, letting it fall loose. You reach out, pat it against his belly.

…yes.

For the time being…

…this is where it belongs.

Ignoring your welling ache, you force another tight smile.

“I think-” you give the necklace a few short tugs- “it completes your ‘let’s rescue daddy’ outfit perfectly.”

…He agrees.

“Holy Mudslug!” Peli’s yelp tears at your attention. “Look at ‘em!”

You glance up-

-and your stomach squeezes.

…

Oh.

Oh no.

…

Mandalorian.

…

“Fett!” you bark, setting the baby down. You leap to your feet, stomp to the bottom of the ramp.

“You mean to tell me that you’re a Mandalorian?” You stare up at Boba defiantly, feet set apart and hands thrown on your hips. “And you just… forgot to mention that?”

Dank Ferrik! When Boba said “armor,” you assumed it was, like, biking armor or something.

…

But Beskar?

…Well…now you understand why he wanted it back so badly…

Boba doesn’t react to your little outburst- just… crosses his wrists in front of him, staring down at you with that damn unreadable visor.

“Oh! Great! Another Mandalorian,” Peli grumbles, sweeping past you, a broom gripped in her hand. “You know, my hanger was the safest place on Tatooine-” she shakes her broom at Boba- “until you Mandalorians started showing up!”

“Peli! Come now-” you grasp her broom, forcing her to lower it- “how many have you even serviced? Mandalorians are practically extinct.”

“Counting yours and this green guy?”

You nod.

Peli glances up at the sky, counting on her fingers.

“Two.”

…

“But I want him out of here!” she squawks- shoving a hand in the air at him.

“You’ll have your wish soon, ma’am.”

Amusement laces Boba’s deep tone- thank the Maker.

“And I am beholding to your…kind hospitality.”

“Weeellll,” Peli blushes, eyes darting around at the ground. “I- I guess it’s fine if you stay- but not much longer!”

Peli shoots you a glare and snatches her broom back from your hands. She jabs her thumb at the ship. “Watch him; he’s a big -un.”

…

Sigh.

…

Twisting back around, you frown at Boba's darkened visor.

“I thought Mandalorians didn’t show their faces?”

-a sharp huff.

“Never said I was one.”

You blink.

“Then… the armor…?”

“Mandalorians are complicated, Princess.”

…What the hecking Hutt does that mean? Is he or isn’t he one?

…oh.

…forget it.

Crossing your arms, you shift your weight to one leg.

“Well, what now?”

“My contact has informed me that your friends are to be taken to a location out in the desert- unsure why.” Boba hulks down the ramp, patting your shoulder as he passes by.

“Stars!” you groan, pulling your hat down low.

This… can’t be good.

Din…

Just… hold on, Din.

“I have the coordinates.” Loading his belt with charges, Boba steals a quick glance at you- noting your expression. “Don’t worry, little one,” he chuckles. “We’ll have your babysitter back in one piece shortly.”

“I can assure you,” you huff, a small smile teasing at the corner of your mouth. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Undoubtably.”

You release a pained sigh, flick your hat back out of your face.

“Well then, I guess it’s time to-” movement draws your attention; you turn just in time to watch Grogu slide the remaining pile of socks to the ground- “…go.”

“Hey, if you’re leaving-” Peli stalks forward, cleaning her hands with a rag. “I guess that means I won’t see the rest of you again, huh?”

You give Peli a wry smile.

Peli sighs, slaps the side of your arm.

“Do me a favor then.”

She scurries away, muttering under her breath.

…

“Uhhh… Peli?”

She turns back around the corner, arm motioning at something hidden behind a stack of crates.

“Come on- don’t be shy.”

…

Oh, hell no-

“I’ve decided to make the ultimate sacrifice-” Peli pushes 4PO forward- “and gift 4PO here as a parting gift-”

“No.”

-“to Pablo.”

“Oh.”

…

Peli leans into you- covers her mouth with a hand.

“I think the two of them really bonded.”

…

“Peli-” you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from bursting into laughter- “I would be more than happy to present to Pablo 4PO on your behalf.”

“Oh ho! Fantastic!” Peli cackles, clapping her hands together. “Droid, get on up that ramp!”

4PO shakes- falls prostrate on the ground.

…

You’re beginning to relate a little too much to this droid.

…

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

“I’ll tie you up, Princess.”

“No!” You rush after Boba, pulling your blaster from its holster. “I’m going too! You can’t-”

“You want to help?” snaps Fett’s contact, a helmeted woman named Fennec. “Then stay out of our way.”

You sneer. “How about I-”

“Princess-”

Boba turns on his heel, grips your shoulder.

“Stay with the ship.” His tone is hard, biting. “And stay in this cave.”

…

“Do I make myself clear?”

…

Your mouth opens… closes.

Please…

Please just let me come.

But Boba is not the kind of man to relent to a pair of pleading eyes- he reaches out, nudges your chin with his knuckles.

“Keep your commlink on-” his voice is… softer, but nowhere near sympathetic- “and keep it close.”

And then just like that-

They’re gone, blasting away across the sand dunes.

Leaving you all alone in eerie…

Silence.

…

Corellian hells.

You crumple to the ground, your face buried in your hands. You inhale sharply, squeezing your eyes tightly closed in a poor attempt to keep from absolutely losing it.

…

A fight to the death.

A fight to the death-

What if-

What if they don’t get there in time? What if someone’s already dead? Stars! Pablo is all bark and no bite- he’ll be the first to croak! And- and Cara- and Din, kark… damn it, damn it, damn. IT-

“ARG!” You leap to your feet, snarling up at the rising twin suns, as if they were somehow to blame for your mess.

Stay behind?

…

You blink.

Stay behind, your ass.

With one final glare, you spin around- marching back inside the mouth of the cave. You rush past Boba’s own starship- making a direct path towards the Razor Crest.

“Grogu!” you yelp, racing inside the belly of the Crest. “I’ve got to go, baby. Stay in this ship-” you fling open the Mandalorian’s storage unit packed with weapons- “and do absolutely nothing.”

Chewing on your lower lip, you let your eyes graze across Din’s pride and joys-

What the hell do some of these even do?

Which should you-

…

Oh.

You… you’ve seen that one before.

…

Your hand hesitates, then snatches the rifle from the rack.

“4PO-” you bark, loading your pockets with ammo. “Keep the ship on lockdown. You can manage that, hm?”

“That’s kind of the point of a lockdown,” you grumble, slamming the storage doors shut.

<excellent. your request is acceptable.>

You spin around on your heel, looking for-

“Grogu.”

There he is- sound asleep, little face buried against the Massiff’s belly-

-and your pendant clenched tightly in his hand.

…

Stay.

You should… stay for him.

If- if something happens to Din, he will need you.

…

He needs… he needs-

-hold on.

…

…Rumbling?

The ground outside the ramp is… rumbling- pebbles and loosened dirt sprinkling down from the cave’s ceiling.

Something’s flying overhead.

This… can’t be good-

With a miserable groan, you start forward, pausing just before the exit.

You glance back-

“We’ll all be back soon, Grogu, I promise.” You stare at the sleeping child’s form. He doesn’t so much as even stir at your words.

“And I mean all of us.”

…

“I promise.”

…

And with one final breath, you run down the ramp- the baby left behind, cocooned within the belly of his home.

Dashing forward, you emerge from the mouth of the cave just in time to catch fleeting sight… of…

…

-a hitch, a catch in your breath.

…

Damn it.

…

Th-the symbol on that ship-

You… you only caught a brief glimpse, but…

…

Shit.

…

Nok.

Kriffing Nok is here?

You- you have to leave Tatooine.

-kriffing now.

…

If- if you take your speederbike, leave immediately, y-you could take a shuttle and…

…

Leave?

…But-

But if you leave again…

Heart squeezing- shredded into a thousand fraying strands, you glance back at the mouth of the cave.

…

Running away doesn’t solve anything, Starlight.

…

Kark it.

…

You’re done running.

This time, you fight.

…

You’re not leaving Tatooine without your boys.

…

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

-BOOM-

You slam on your speederbike’s breaks, the bike groaning against the force. You waste no time in shutting it off, launching from the seat before it’s even fully stopped.

-BLAST-

Dank ferrik dank ferrik dank ferrik-

-BLAST-

Growling through your teeth, you push forward, rifle held in a death grip against your side.

“Gunna try and kill my Mandalorian?” you snarl. “And my friends? Oh, I think the hell not, Thall. Eat blaster dust!”

You skid to a stop- boots sliding within inches of an…. uh, extraordinarily high descent.

Dropping to your knees, you peer over the edge of the cliff, peer at the canyon floor far, far down below.

What’s going on?

Where-?

You gasp, pressing a hand to your mouth.

Holy Kowakian monkey lizard!

Your eyes widen, watching as flamethrowers and blaster bolts and bodies fly and fling and throw-

Those who aren’t sprawled out on the ground karkin’ dead are certainly about to be karkin’ dead. The crowds- the pleasure barges- Thall- are long gone, no doubt fled when extra firepower arrived in the form of a pissed-off Boba Fett and co.

In fact, to you, it looks like they’ve just about wiped the canyon clean.

Holy Huttslug! You purse your lips. They didn’t leave anyone for you, darn it.

Ah well.

Grumbling beneath your breath, you lay out flat on your stomach. You knock your hat back, positioning the scope of the rifle against your eye.

“Din!” you laugh, watching as he stabs a Weequay in the chest. “Get ‘em, baby! Oh my gosh GET HIM! Hell YEAH!”

Reaching down into your pockets, you retrieve the extra ammo- loading the rifle with-

“Ayyeeaaaaa!”

You gasp, and you peer back through the scopes, zooming in to watch as your friends… whoop and cheer.

Oh, they did it! They actually blasted did it!

A grin cracks across your face, your anxiety pushed to the back of your mind for the time being. Because for now?

THEY BLASTED DID IT!

Giggling, you pull up your knees, prepared to leap up and-

…Wait a minute- who is that? He’s not-

-you freeze.

…

Oh.

…

Oh no.

Hissing through your teeth, you drop to your belly, press the scopes against your eye. There- Nok- approaching the group. He stops- stands several yards away from your friends.

…

Nok… what the hell is he doing here? That slimy Huttscum! Shavit! Just… shavit! What does that- that spiteful man want?

…

“Crink it!” You smash your fist against the ground. “Blast!”

This is bad. Really, really bad.

…

They’re- they’re all talking together. His hands are up now- What- what are they saying?

Kark

Kark!

What- what do you- oh kriff oh kriff-

You pull your twitching eye away from the scope- glance down at your belt.

…an idea.

“Fett,” you mumble into the communicator. “No questions- turn on your comm.”

You watch Boba through the scopes- he does not scan his surroundings, does not try and look around for you. He just… reaches up, taps his helmet.

-static- “-not here ..r you.”

Nok’s voice is faint, hard to make out. You curse, turning up the comm’s volume as loudly as it will allow.

“What do you want?”

You jump at Din’s voice, cutting in loud and clear through your comm channel. Biting your lip, you are frozen with panic and fear and oh blast what should you do Nok will ruin everything what do you do-?

…

Kriff!

You press, squeeze your eyes closed-

You… you can’t go back.

Your lower lip trembles.

…You can’t go back!

…

“Don’t shoot the messenger. I don’t particularly want to be here either, but I wasn’t exactly given a choice,” Nok answers Din. “I’m here to present to you an offer.”

No- no you trust nothing coming from Nok- nothing!

“ …What kind of offer?”

Oh stars. With a sharp inhale of air, you raise, hover your scopes just above their heads, watching, listening-

“There’s a woman you’ve been traveling with. If you hand her over into my care-” Nok sighs, leans to one side as if bored- “you will be compensated generously in return for your cooperation.”

Oh-

Oh stars- NO!

You’re not going back to Nar Shaddaa. You can’t-

Nok- he needs to shut up-

Shut up before he ruins everything!

“Request- denied.” The Mandalorian’s tone is… hell- he might kill this man himself. “How much-” he steps forward- “how much to call off the hunters you have on her?”

Nok just chuckles.

“You mean my patron? My patron is not the one who called the hunters on her … Believe me, I’d enjoy nothing more than watch her hunted down, personally. But my patron is… concerned for her. Wishes to shield her. And, alas, I am at his beck and call.”

“Your patron?” you snarl, tightening the grip on your rifle. You hover it just above Nok’s head. “Your patron can eat Banthashit, Nok, and you along with him. I’m not. going. back. Especially not with you.”

“What makes you think that I’d agree to this?” The Mandalorian’s tone is… dangerously calm.

“You can keep running, but she will be tracked down eventually,” Nok chuckles, clearly amused by all this- this mess you’re in- the kriffing creep. “This isn’t going away, Mandalorian.”

Hell-

You’re so… tempted to shoot him before he talks, blabs and ruins everything! Din- kark!- your past, it would ruin everything. He’d… he’d be disgusted and… and-

“This isn’t your problem, Mandalorian,” Nok sighs.

“…Her problems-” the Mandalorian’s hand inches towards his blaster- “are my problems.”

You blink.

…Stars.

“You really don’t have any idea what this involves, do you?” Nok laughs- brighter than you ever thought him capable of. How comforting to know your predicament brings him so much blasted joy. Maker knows the man is miserable otherwise.

Nok takes a step forward.

“You may know who she is, but it’s clear you don’t know what she is.”

Shut up shut up shut up.

Nok’s going to ruin everything. Din will- he will… damn it. You’re going to burst-

“My patron had hoped we could do this the clean, easy way. Avoid future bloodshed.”

…

The Mandalorian takes a slow, deliberate step forward.

“That’s where you were mistaken.”

He draws his blaster-

“Because not only would I die for her-” he points the weapon at Nok- “I’d kill.”

You pull away from your scope, mouth gaping open.

You- you never realized…

…

But… of course that’s how he feels.

“So, you go back to your patron-” the Mandalorian reholsters his weapon, his tone cool, even- “and you tell him that.”

Nok shakes his head, sighs. “Well, only if you promise to tell her I look forward to seeing her again very soon… in the latest fashion of prison restraints.”

The Mandalorian storms forward- drawing his weapon- Nok draws his-

They freeze- stare at each other.

“Oh great, she really has you under her thumb, doesn’t she?” Nok snorts, waving his weapon to the side. “You should reconsider. She’s selfish, you know. She’ll throw you aside as soon as she no longer needs you. Never cared about anything or anyone except herself and that little brat of hers.”

He chuckles- leans forward-

“Let’s just say it was hilarious irony …

…what happened to the little girl.”

…

Hilarious irony…

…

Hilarious irony-

…

Hilarious-

Red flashes- flashes in your eyes-

…

You- you’re-

…

…Hilarious irony.

…

The dam holding back your terror and grief and fury…

Erupts-

…

See you in hell, bastard.

…

You pull the trigger.

…

And you don’t miss.

Shouting- shouting from down below-

Damn it- they… they can’t find you here! You need to go!

With a sharp inhale of breath, you aim your rifle sights at a safe, yet convincing, distance from your friends, and-

-BLAST-

“Take cover!”

And at Cara’s muffled cry, you stumble up to your feet… and run.

Oh Maker, how are you- yipes! Jetpack- you hear a jetpack! Go-

GO!

Pressing a hand to your mouth, you choke back the sob, the howl threatening to tear from your lips. Flinging yourself across the speederbike, you ignore the warning tremors of the damaged bike, blasting across the dunes and away from the scene of your crime.

…

But you’re not finished yet.

You have to find Nok’s ship.

Wipe the computers.

Dump it out in the desert to rot.

…

But… but before it’s wiped… there’s something you must take from the starship’s computers…

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

-security code: 345-453

-begin download on all encrypted data filed under: valera dayne

-security code: starlight-2171

-yes

-have i not suffered enough today?

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

“WHERE have you BEEN?”

You lift your dry, burning eyes, spying Pablo- baby on his hip and Massiff at his heels- rushing down the ramp of the Crest.

“We’ve been searching hours for you!” He pulls you into a one-armed hug. The Massiff- Noodles, you suppose- not one to be left out of the fun, wiggle-butt dances around you for 3.5 seconds until he’s distracted by a moth.

“Stars,” you groan, every achy muscle and bruise throbbing at Pablo’s touch. You open your mouth to say something, but a sharp squeak steals those words from your lips.

You glance down.

“Little fella.” Flashing a tired smile, you reach out, taking the babbling child from Pablo’s hip. “See? I told you we’d be back!”

He stares up at you- giggles, and your tired smiles warms. The kid didn’t need the force to communicate with you this time. You know- can feel- what he’s feeling…

He’s… he’s really, really glad you’re back.

“Well, looks like you’re all in one piece, Bean Dip.” You quirk a brow, reaching out to stroke Grogu’s ear. “A miracle, if you’ve been in Pablo’s care all day…”

“The hell, Sweetheart?” Pablo throws his hands on his hips. “Is that the thanks I get? I’ve done nothing today but wipe up drool, chase after the kid, clean up after him- oh, and that thing?”

He glares at Noodles- busy running laps around Fett’s starship and howling at dust particles.

“It shit on the floor.”

Heh.

Good dog.

“Look Pablo, we can fuss about that later,” you sigh, legs trembling with exhaustion. You pull the baby closer, his presence a… comfort… A comfort you need right now as things are about to get…uh, complicated.

“You said… everyone’s out searching for me?”

“All day practically.” Pablo crosses his arms. “Mando was hell-bent on finding you before sundown… which is just about now, coincidentally.”

You swallow back the lump in your throat.

“I… I see.”

…

“What- what happened-” you bite your lip- “after my bike… kaboomed?”

Pablo huffs, flashes you a look. “The cameras following your bike cut immediately. And Thall refused to let us go rescue you and said he’d send his own men instead… which, uh, the Mandalorian did not take well… to put it mildly.”

You grit your teeth.

Thall- you scumbag.

“Mando annihilated half his security team, and-” Pablo shrugs- “according to that Fett guy, you know the rest of the story. With their help, we demolished Thall’s men- we didn’t die- and now you’re back! Overall, a successful trip to Tatooine, I suppose…”

…

Dank Ferrik…

That… look he just gave you. He’s… holding back about Nok, about the- the things he said. Maker! You- keep it together.

Keep it together for the-

“Ka’r’ika?”

You whirl-

“Din, I-”

-you’re swept up.

His arms clutch, grab at your body like you might disappear, float away, if he dared let go.

“Ner Ka’r’ika.”

His voice is hoarse… strained.

You bury your grimace against his chest.

Stars stars stars! What- does he suspect? What does he think of you after- after Nok’s… rantings?

You-

You can’t do this-

You can’t do this!

You lift your free hand, and shove at his chest. Din jolts, tears back, and the comfort of his hold slips away, leaving your body abandoned and starving for warmth.

You’ve startled him. He’s giving you that little head-tilt, the one he uses when he can’t quite figure you the kriff out.

“Din.” You force a light-hearted tone, adjusting the baby against your hip. “Uh, hi.”

…

He pauses, then dips his helmet forward- scanning your grungy appearance up and down. Keeping his left hand stiff against his side- he reaches up with the other, presses the gloved hand against your cheek.

“Look at me.”

You swallow- staring at anything but his visor.

He tentatively, carefully turns your face- inspecting the flowering bruises.

“Are you okay?”

…

“Nothing’s broken.” You swallow again. “I’ll live.”

“Kid’s built of tough stuff.”

Your eyes widen, shoot to the right-

Boba.

Kark- he knows- he knows you were at the canyon. He… he answered your comm. Of course he knows! Did he tell?

“She launched a hundred feet into the air and was up and fighting Jawas within the hour.”

You flash him a faint smile. “I landed on my hard head.” You grip Din’s hand still pressed to your cheek, drawing it away.

“Good to see you in one piece, Blazing Womprat,” Cara chuckles, unstrapping a rifle from her side. “Which is truly astounding after some of those insane stunts you pulled.” She steps forward, stops beside Pablo. “Pablo almost passed out from cheering too hard.”

“That was nothing.” You can’t resist the self-satisfied smirk that flicks up at the corner of your mouth. “You should see me-”

“-on a swoopbike.”

You stare at Din.

“Where have you been?”

Kriff, you knew the question would come eventually. You… hope your story checks out- that Boba doesn’t ruin things.

You place the baby down, letting him toddle across the ground towards Pablo.

“I decided to go a bit outside the cave, check around, you know?” Shaky breath. “One of Thall’s transports spotted me- recognized me… So, I, uh, took the bike out, far, far away from the Crest, as fast as I could in its damaged state, hoping to keep it… hidden.” Trembling hands in pockets. “Worked great until I got turned around. Took me a while to find my way back.”

…do they believe you?

Your eyes sweep across their faces- their shoulders relaxing...

They believe you.

…

But… then there’s Boba, and possibly Fennec. You- you need to talk to them.

“Well,” Pablo sighs. “What a way to spend the day… So, what now?”

“We’ve talked it over-”

You turn to Din.

“For tonight, we stay in this cave. Lay low. Analyze the situation tomorrow.”

Heavy sigh.

You… can’t argue with that. Laying low- resting… For one night, you need it. You need it desperately.

“Sounds like bedtime,” Pablo sighs, already blazing a path for the Crest. You watch, blinking, as the rest follow suit, each leaving for their respective ships.

“Pablo,” you call out, voice traced with exhaustion. “Take Noodles inside.”

“The hell?”

“My dog.”

“…No way! That thing is not sleeping in-”

“Noodles!” Cara calls, laughing as the dog highspeed races up the ramp.

“Your dog?”

You turn at Din’s rasp-

Stars… you want to cry at the stiffness, the rigidity in his body… You know you caused it, but…

“It’s going to eat bad people for me on Keolith.”

…

He just grunts at that.

Stars…

Pulling your hat low across your brows, you sigh, “Go on to bed, Mando. I- I think I’m going to spend some time on… Fett’s ship…”

You need space.

…

You need space to think.

…

“And maybe… maybe stay the night.”

The Mandalorian’s arms drop.

…

“……Okay.”

…

And just like that, he’s scooped the child up into his arms- trudging away towards the Razor Crest, cape fluttering at his heels.

…

Damn it.

You stare at the Crest.

…

That… came out wrong.

…

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

“Princess,” Boba smirks, lifting a glass as you walk through the door.

You discovered Boba and Fennec where you expected- sitting in the cockpit of his ship… as if they knew you were coming.

“No thanks.” You throw your hands on your hips. “We need to talk.”

Something flies at your head- you catch it.

Opening the palm of your hand, you gawk down at-

“Next time,” Boba chuckles, “don’t leave your commlink at the scene of a hit job.”

…

“Oh.”

You swallow.

“Oops?”

“Nice shot.” Fennec smirks. “And here I thought you were inexperienced.”

…

You are inexperienced…

“Lucky first-time assassination, is all.” A pang knocks against your chest cavity. “Beginner’s luck?”

Oh stars, stop trying to be cute. Now’s not the time- you’re having a mental crisis for Maker’s sake-

“Thank you for not saying anything,” you mumble, eyes flicking between Boba and Fennec. “It… would have put me in an awkward position.”

…

You bite your lower lip…

Just blurt it out.

“Boba,” you sigh, “why are you helping me?”

…

Arms pressed against his thighs, Boba leans forward.

“Just fulfilling my end of the deal.”

Something… flicks in his eyes- the first time you’ve seen his mask… falter.

…oh.

…

He’s lying.

“Go, Princess-” a dust of a smile shadows his face- “you’re with the wrong Mandalorian tonight.”

…He’s right.

And with a deep grimace, you head for the door-

“I would have shot him too-”

You glance back at Boba.

“-if that helps you.”

You flash him a small smile.

…

It does…

…

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

“Where’s… uh, Mando?” you ask, head popping up into the Crest’s cockpit from the ladder below.

Pablo shrugs, focused intently on his card game with Cara.

“In his room.” Cara smashes a card on the dash- Pablo erupts into groans.

"Pay up, Babycakes…”

With a roll of your eyes, you begin descending the ladder. When your feet touch the floor, you freeze- overwhelmed, paralyzed with… anxiety?

Damn it… it’s… just Mando…

Just… do it!

Pursing your lips, you march past a prostrate 4PO with a snoring Noodles- all four feet in the air- resting beside him. And with one final march forward, you find yourself right at the Mandalorian’s door…

…

“…Mando?”

knock- knock-

“Uh, can I… come in?”

…

“It’s unlocked.”

Chewing on your lower lip, the door snaps open beneath your touch.

…

“Din?” you call out hesitantly, sticking your head inside.

“Thought you were with Fett.”

Your eyes turn in the direction of the refresher.

…

“His… ship smelled weird.”

The refresher door snaps open, and Din steps out-

“BLAST!” you yelp, stumbling backwards. “What the hell! Where’s your armor!?”

Dank Ferrik! It’s- it’s like looking at the man naked! Should you, you don’t know, spin away!?

Din just… tilts his helmet at you- rests his hands at the waist of his flight suit.

“I don’t sleep in my armor.”

…oh.

You lean back against the closed door, listening as Din shuffles around the room.

Kriff! What do you say? … Why isn’t he saying anything? Oh gosh oh gosh-

“Where’s the baby?” you blurt, beginning to turn towards him. “Is he- OH-”

ARM REVEAL.

…

OH SHIT.

SHIT.

KRIFFING GUNS-FOR-DAYS.

“I put him down in the bunk.”

“Huh?” you puff, snapping your eyes away from his… his big-ass GUNS- oh kriff.

“The child-” Din steps over a pile of junk to open a drawer- “he was... fussy.” He pauses… hooks his thumbs on his suspenders. “I thought… maybe he’d sleep better near your scent.”

Oh-

Oh stop just throw you into the pits of Carkoon will you.

Shoulders slumping forward, you groan inwardly- using every bit of your determination to not bolt right out the door.

Oh kriff, you hate this- this awkwardness. Just… ask him something! And for the love of all things good and holy- DON’T STARE AT HIS ARMS.

“What are you, uh, doing?”

“Going to bed.”

“Oh.”

…

You blink.

…

“Okay, goodnight-”

Flinging around, you reach for the door, but a hand, a grip on your wrist pulls you back.

“What are you doing?” you snap, stumbling at the motion.

“You need a real bed.”

“So do you.”

“I know.”

Oh.

…

Well then.

…

Hell yeah.

…

You let him lead you, guide you around a pile of clothing- like a shepherd leading his flock through a minefield… only instead of a minefield it’s Din’s rancid room.

…But that’s an argument for another day.

Pausing at the foot of his bed- his visor trails down your legs…

"Sit.”

Damn it if you won’t obey. Stars, you’re pathetic.

“Din, what are you-”

He drops to his knees- bare fingers fumbling with the laces of your dust-caked boots. You watch- fighting to keep your expression neutral as the ridiculous man begins to remove your shoes for you.

…You also have to fight to not stare at his exposed arms and blasted-broad shoulders, but you’re much less successful at that part…

“Best be careful, Din Djarin.” A small smirk begins to grow. “I could get really used to this kind of treatment.”

“Who was he?”

You blink.

“…Huh?”

“That-” Din’s fingers pause- “that man.”

Your mouth pops open at his… vehemency.

“Boba?” You quirk a brow down at him.

Blast- what does Din… what does Din think?

He remains… silent, removing your second boot without a word.

“That man you kissed,” he puffs.

You blink… oooooohhh….

Leaning to your side, you pick at a loose thread on the bed. “He’s a… friend.”

“Looked like more than a friend,” the grumble slips beneath his helm. He stands, flicks a hand at you.

“Get out of those clothes.”

Thank the Maker- a topic change!

With a heavy sigh, you march yourself over to his drawers. You didn’t have to ask- you’re well beyond the asking stage.

“Mando?” you toss over your shoulder. “Um…What’s your favorite color?”

…

“Red.”

…

You can do red.

Snatching a scarlet flannel from the drawer, you slam it shut- sweeping into the refresher to change. As you remove your grimy clothes, you stare in the mirror at the scars- the marks on your forearm.

“You know, Mando,” you shout through the closed door, forcing your eyes away from the baggage of your past. “Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if the world hadn’t imploded under your feet as a kid? I know I do.”

Talking comes easier when you can’t see him….

…

Footsteps… shuffling… drawers opening and closing-

“Working my father’s trade…” Silence. “He was… a carpenter.”

Your fingers pause mid-buttoning. “Sounds… peaceful.” Unlike bounty hunting, goes unsaid.

“I think-” you reach for a towel- “that I’d have left Sularia, for sure. As much as I loved it…”

As much as you miss it…

“…There wasn’t much to do in the mountains except get married, have kids, chase kids, heard animals, shovel snow, fucking yodel… you get the picture.”

The door snaps open, and you press the side of your face against the doorframe. “I’ve always craved excitement, much to my parent’s displeasure…”

There he is- Din- sitting on the side of the bed… watching you.

He tilts his head forward- leans against his thighs. “I’d say you found yourself that excitement,” he snorts.

Understatement of the year.

Aches mixing with your exhaustion, you release a pained groan as you ease next to him on the bed. Body sinking in on itself, you brush, lean against his side.

Safe.

“Will you leave us again?”

His voice is but a whisper.

“If I left-” you lift your chin, flashing him a small smile- “I’d have to buy my own flannels.”

Silence.

…

He reaches out, tugs on your flannel sleeve.

“Can’t have that.”

…

“Go to sleep.”

A weary smile dusts your lips.

Yes, sir.

…

Scrambling up to the head of the bed, you shove your legs beneath the blankets and flop over to face the wall. Burying deep beneath them, you squeeze your eyes shut.

Blankets lift-

Weight on the mattress-

Heavy sigh-

Blankets pull and drop.

…

Oh kriff, he’s right behind you… Guess that’s how sharing a bed works…

…

Oh kark it.

You blink at the wall.

…

Time to make things weird.

“Roll over!” you shout, flinging up out of the bed. Din jolts back- startled by your outburst.

“W-what-?” He pulls the blankets up to his neck.

“MOVE!”

You yank on his arm- forcing him to roll over.

You can’t help but giggle as he obliges.

See? You don’t have to spend all night worrying about accidently touching him if you’re already touching him.

Life hack.

Now that Din’s properly flopped over and facing you in the bed, you crawl back under the blankets. You tug on his exposed arm- snaking it across your middle. You wiggle backwards until your back is pressed, squashed against his chest.

…

“Din?”

…

“Yeah?”

…

“This okay?”

…

His hand creeps up your hip, splays across your stomach.

…

“Yeah.”

…

“Then loosen up.”

…

��I am loose.”

…

“Goodnight, Din.”

…

“Goodnight, Ka’r’ika.”

…………

………

……

…

Guns-for-days holy shit-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter

taglist: (in the reblog)

a/n: Oooooh boy. With a chapter this long, there’s a LOT I could say! I am reaaaaallly nervous for this one hsjdhdhd. Feel free to ask me anything in the comments so I can address specific topics! For now, I’ll just say things such as Din’s reaction to Boba taking his helmet off, Fennec still be alive, etc. will be addressed next chapter.

Chapter ten really came so easily yet so hard at the same time. I put a LOT of time and love into this fic... So, if you, too, find any sort of enjoyment from it, I’d love to hear about it! I have made so many kind friends through this story. I love hearing from you!

And heh, things be heating up in this chapter, hm??? 👀 Any thoughts/theories??

Anyway... I’m sure I’ll think of things later I’ll wish I’d said... but for now... I hope you enjoyed!!!

#din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x oc #the mandalorian x oc #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #star wars #star wars fanfiction #willezarr #in fields of white #wille writes #ifow #chapter 10 #i'll tie you up princess

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phantasticworks · 4 years ago

Text

If You Don't Love Me, Pretend - Epilogue

Well. So here we are. it's been a long time (about three years actually) since I started writing this fic and it's grown significantly out of my control since then :') if you've been along since the start, or if you've just found this fic today, thank you for coming along this journey with me. It's been incredible and I'm forever grateful for all the support this fic has gotten <3 thank you so much for reading. keep your eyes peeled for bonus content!

read on ao3

Words: 3.9k

Summary: Three years later

Warnings for this chapter: none

It’s nearly six in the evening and there’s a chiming noise coming from the laptop in the lounge. Dan curses under his breath as he makes his way from the kitchen, hoping and praying the volume isn’t loud enough to wake a certain someone.

He gets there just as the Skype call is about to end, and is quick to press the “accept” button as he scoops the laptop up, retreating back to the kitchen with it. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hey,” Phil says from the screen, a little smile on his face. “I thought you forgot about me.”

Dan rolls his eyes, setting the laptop on the island countertop and settling on a barstool. “Right. God forbid I’m two seconds late to our Skype call.”

Phil does an adorable pout. “I’ve been gone a week, I miss your face. Is that a crime?”

Dan smirks. “Yep. I’m gonna call the police, have them arrest you on the spot.”

“Hm.” Phil considers it for a moment. “I don’t think I like handcuffs enough for that.” He’s got this smug little look on his face, like he knows a secret.

Annoyingly, Dan blushes at that. “Shut up. You don’t get to flirt when you’re, like, on the other side of the freaking planet.”

Phil gives him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, hon. I’ll be back home in a couple days, though.”

Dan nods, propping an elbow up and resting his chin in his hand. “I know. I just miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Phil replies easily. Dan loves that even now, after all this time, they’re still this disgustingly obsessed with each other.

“How’s work been?” Dan asks, changing the subject before he gets sad. He hates it when he gets sad during their Skype calls, especially when he starts crying.

Phil sighs, shrugging. “It’s been alright. I’m exhausted, though. You’d think I’d stop offering to go to these sorts of things for the BBC, but apparently I can’t help myself.”

Dan smiles at him. “You’re a dedicated worker. It’s a good thing.”

“Not when it takes me away from you guys for weeks at a time,” Phil mumbles petulantly. Dan has to agree there. “Speaking of, where are our kids?”

Nearly three years since the adoption was finalized and Dan still adores the sound of that. “The twins are upstairs, I think doing homework. I was starting dinner when you called.”

“Oh, sorry,” Phil says, smiling sheepishly.

Dan waves him off. “It’s fine. I’m doing stir-fry tonight, it won’t take long anyway.”

Phil nods at this, then asks, “Levi out with Charlotte?”

Dan smiles and nods. “Yeah. They went to see a movie, I think.”

“Did you make sure he had enough money?” Phil asks. He’s always got this perpetual fear that their son will be stranded somewhere with no money and no way home, so Dan’s gotten good at reassuring him.

“Yes,” he says patiently. “I let him borrow the car, and I told him that there’s some in the console if they need it.”

Phil nods, but his face is stricken with another worried look. Dan knows what’s coming before he says it. “Did they wear seatbelts? Are you sure he’s ready to drive on his own? I mean-“

“Babe,” Dan interrupts. “He’s nearly eighteen. He’s passed all his tests, gotten his license, and he’s practiced a lot. He’s earned a little bit of trust, yeah?”

He can tell Phil is still a little nervous and weary, but he nods in agreement. “Okay,” he says with a breath. “I just worry about him.”

Dan looks down, hiding his smile. His husband could be such an anxious mess when his kids were involved. “I know. But he’s fine. They’re fine. Charlotte’s aunt said she could stay the night, so they’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

“Oh, make sure you make her a separate serving of the stir-fry. She’s still doing the vegetarian thing, and I don’t want her to go hungry,” Phil says.

Dan’s heart clenches. He’s so full of love and that ooey-gooey affection that hasn’t dulled at all over the years.

“Sure,” he agrees with a smile.

“How’s-“ Phil begins to speak, but before he can, a piercing cry comes from the lounge. Dan jumps, and Phil laughs. “Speak of the devil,” he grins.

Dan makes a protesting noise. “Don’t you dare call our daughter a devil,” he chastises playfully.

Phil rolls his eyes. “Go get her, I’ll wait.”

Dan nods and quickly makes his way to the lounge, straight over to where the crying noise is coming from the bassinet in the corner. “Oh, dear,” Dan tuts in a high-pitch voice. Phil makes fun of him when he does that, calling him Winnie the Pooh every time. Dan leans down, smiling at the little bundle resting there, the crying softening to a sniffle when Dan scoops the baby up.

“Shh,” he whispers. “There we go. Daddy’s here, love.” He strokes her little fingers, grinning wetly when she clutches onto his pinky. “Aww, what a sweet thing. Do you wanna see your other Dad? Yes! Let’s go see Dada.”

He’s careful as he makes his way back to the kitchen, and he glances up at the laptop, smiling when he sees the way Phil is beaming at him through the screen. “Hello there,” he coos softly. “Oh, sweet angel. How’s she been today?” His tone shifts when he speaks to Dan, and Dan glances up at him again, having gotten lost in staring at her cute little face.

“She’s been a lot better today. I think Kath was right about the colic,” Dan says, absently stroking her little hand as he rocks her gently.

Phil nods. “So it was probably just gas?” He asks.

“I think so. I gave her a warm bath and did the bicycle thing with her legs earlier and she seems to be loads better now,” Dan replies.

“Good,” Phil says with a smile. “I read somewhere that if they’re still having trouble you can have them lay on their tummies and that might help.”

Dan nods. “I’ll try that if she gets fussy again. But the crying finally stopped, thank god.” He’s not religious but he’s not kidding in his thanks. The crying was literally about to drive him insane.

“I know, babe. I’m sorry I haven’t been there this week,” Phil says, his eyes dropping with something like shame.

Dan wishes he could kiss him right now. “It’s fine, Phil. We’ve been fine.”

“Still...” Phil shrugs. “I wish I would’ve been there.”

Dan smiles. “I know. But next time you will be, yeah? At least the BBC isn’t sending you out all the time these days.”

Phil nods. “Thank god. And thank god that Bryony lets you work from home.”

“I know, right?” Dan grins. He’s still a little over the moon about his career shift, even though he does find himself struggling to do both jobs part-time. But that’s something he won’t let himself worry about now.

The baby gurgles in his arms, and Dan coos at her. “What? Is our baby girl hungry? Hm? Time for din-din?”

“I guess I should probably let you go,” Phil says, sounding sad.

Dan glances up at him, frowning at the thought. He really does miss him a lot. “You don’t have to. Do you want to talk to the kids before you go?”

Phil smiles and nods. “Yeah, I’d love that.”

“Let me go grab them. Hang on,” Dan gently bounces the baby as he goes to the end of the stairs, covering her little ears gently before calling out, “Mia! Jai! Come here for a second!”

There’s some shouts of agreement and then Dan listens to the stampede of little feet as they race down the stairs. Thank god they’d finally moved into a house that they actually own, with neighbors far enough away that they can’t complain about the sounds that fill a house full of children.

Still, old habits die hard, and Dan gives them a look when they reach the bottom. “What did we say about running?” He asks.

The nine-year-olds at least have the decency to look ashamed. “Sorry,” Jaiden says, stepping closer and stroking his baby sister’s cheek with a gentle finger. “Hi, Nat-Nat,” he coos.

Dan smiles at that. “Dad’s on Skype, he wants to talk to you guys,” Dan says, and the words are barely out of his mouth when the twins are barreling off towards the kitchen. He rolls his eyes as he follows after them, mumbling to the baby all the while. “Sure, Daddy’s been feeding them and keeping them alive this week, but as soon as Dada is mentioned, it’s like I’m chopped liver,” he complains with the same baby-voice he always uses when talking to her.

She gurgles and Dan sighs. “You’re right. Dada is the best.”

When he reaches the kitchen again, both kids are hovered by the laptop, rambling about their day. They’re interrupting each other more often than not, but Phil seems to be getting the gist of everything regardless. Dan busies himself with preparing a bottle for Natalie, humming to her as he heats up the water. He smiles and makes faces at her to keep her occupied, and his heart leaps when her lip curls just a little.

“Aren’t you Daddy’s little angel? Hm? Our precious girl?” He says in a sweet voice, smiling when she smacks her lips. “Oh, someone is hungry, huh?”

Apparently Amelia is listening to him, because she pipes up from across the room. “I’m hungry,” she says loudly.

“I know, love, I’m going to start dinner as soon as I feed Nat and put her down for another nap,” Dan replies.

Amelia huffs. She mutters something, and Dan tenses. Things had been a little tense since they brought Natalie home over a month ago, and Amelia was not shy about telling them how much she didn’t want a little sister for the months leading up to Natalie’s birth. Dan hates to think that this is their reality for the rest of forever, Amelia disliking her little sister to the point of contempt, but at this point, he wasn’t sure.

“Amelia,” Dan hears Phil say over the Skype call. He’s using his fatherly warning tone, and Dan is partially relieved. This week has been hell trying to balance four kids and a job (thank god it’s summer and his school counselor tasks were more sparse this time of year) as well as the weird energy Amelia has towards the baby, so it’s a relief for Phil to finally step in.

“I know,” Amelia says with an irritated sigh, rolling her eyes. Dan gives her a look, and she looks down.

“Honey, I know you don’t like this change in our family, but that’s just the way things are now, okay? Natalie is here to stay, and sooner or later you need to figure out how to live with that,” Phil tells her firmly.

Dan’s careful not to say anything. There’s been many times, over the years, where he’s been inclined to argue with Phil over their parenting methods, and there’s been times when those arguments have become proper fights. But they’re working on communication, both with each other and their kids, so this time, he keeps his mouth shut. Honestly, there’s not anything Phil said that he doesn’t agree with, so it’s not a hardship to let him take the lead on this one.

Amelia rubs at her eyes. “Fine,” she says tersely.

Dan’s heart clenches. He hates to see any of his children in pain, and he knows that Amelia isn’t wrong to be upset. A new sibling is an upending of her life, and especially since she’s gone from being the only daughter to just the oldest. He thinks about how he felt, at seven years old, when Adrian was born. He gets it.

“Mia, do you want to help me cook dinner tonight?” Dan asks.

Amelia brightens a little at that. “Can I chop peppers?”

Dan smiles. “You sure can. I need my favorite sous chef if I’m going to feed the masses in an orderly time,” he says with a wink.

She giggles, and he relaxes. Amelia starts to tell Phil about something that had happened earlier that day when Dan took them to the park, and Dan hurries about finishing Natalie’s bottle so he can feed her. She’s starting to get fussy, and he’s bouncing her carefully as he readies the bottle, checking the temperature on his wrist.

“Here we go,” he says softly, tucking the bottle nipple in her mouth. “Good stuff, huh?” He smiles down at her, stroking her soft little cheek. Her eyes drift shut and he allows himself to relax, wandering back over to the laptop and standing behind the kids so he can see Phil again.

“And Daddy said that tomorrow we’re gonna go to the zoo,” Amelia announces proudly.

“Might,” Dan says, emphasizing the word strongly. “I said we might go to the zoo.” He rolls his eyes at Phil, shaking his head in exasperation.

“But Daddy-“ Amelia whines.

Dan’s already shaking his head at her. “Nope, don’t start. I said we might go. Honestly, I don’t know if I can handle toting all three of you around by myself.”

“Toting all three of them around where?” A voice says, interrupting Amelia’s next complaint.

Dan turns around where Levi and Charlotte are walking into the kitchen and smiles at them. “The zoo. Possibly. Hi, Lottie. How was the movie?”

Charlotte shrugs, going to settle on the barstool closest to Amelia, accepting the hug Amelia gives her with a smile. “It was alright. The special effects were horrible. You’re going to hate the ending.”

“No spoilers!” He protests, shaking his head adamantly since he doesn’t have an empty hand to gesture with.

She grins and pretends to zip her lips before turning to the laptop, the Skype call still open. Phil is smiling at them, that goofy kind that Dan knows well. It usually means Phil is thinking about how lucky they are to have this life. Dan understands the feeling.

“Hi, Phil,” Charlotte greets with a little wave.

“Hi,” he waves back with a smile. “Did you guys wear your seatbelts?”

Charlotte nods, but Dan notices her give Levi a pointed look and Levi sighs, pulling out his wallet. Dan watches in amusement as he takes out a couple pounds, handing them to her with a roll of his eyes. When she notices Dan looking at her, Charlotte shrugs, looking only a little bit sheepish. “We had a bet on whether or not one of you would ask us about that,” she explains.

Dan snorts. He turns to Levi, giving him a fake disappointed look. “Probably should’ve seen that one coming, Levi.”

Levi sighs. “I knew that you probably wouldn’t, and I wasn’t counting on Dad being here when we got home.”

“Sorry,” Phil says with a grin.

“Are we ever gonna have dinner?” Amelia wails, interrupting whatever it was Phil was going to say next.

“I’m starving,” Jaiden agrees from beside her. He turns to look at Dan, pouting. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just order pizza?”

Dan looks straight at Phil, giving him a very pointed look. “That one is all yours,” he says, nodding to Jaiden.

Phil at least has the decency to look almost embarrassed. “I mean... he’s got a fair point, babe,” Phil says with a little grin.

Dan sighs. Natalie’s bottle makes a snapping noise and Dan looks down to find she’s only got a couple swallows left in the nipple. He’s careful to watch and pull it out of her mouth before she can start swallowing any air, placing it on the counter to be washed later as he grins at her. “Well done Nat-Nat! You finished all your din-din.”

The baby gurgles at him and Dan smiles as he takes her up to his shoulder, burping her gently. The kids are still talking amongst themselves, but Dan catches Phil watching him through the screen. He smiles helplessly, shrugging at his husband, and Phil grins back.

“I guess I should let you go so you can put her down and start dinner,” Phil says, a resigned sigh in his voice.

Dan hates it, but he’s right. Dan could sit here talking to Phil all evening instead of ever bothering to cook dinner, and with a houseful of hungry children, that’s hardly an option. “Yeah, I guess so,” Dan agrees. “Everyone, say goodnight to Dad, he’s gotta go eat some dinner and get to bed, and so do we.”

The kids all make their noises of complaint but he watches, rocking the baby with a smile, as each of the kids tell Phil goodnight. Dan shoos them all out of the kitchen with Levi’s help, and then it’s just Phil and Dan and the baby.

“I miss you,” Dan says.

Phil smiles. “I miss you more.”

Dan shakes his head, resting his cheek gently against Natalie’s little head. “I seriously doubt that,” he says softly.

“It’s true,” Phil replies, dropping his chin to rest in his hand. “But I’ll be home soon, okay?”

Dan nods. “Right,” he agrees. “I love you.”

Phil blows him a kiss, their usual parting on these calls. “I love you too, bub. I’ll text you later, yeah?”

“Okay. Goodnight. Love you.”

Phil grins when Dan repeats himself. “Goodnight, Dan. I love you. Tell the kids I’ll be home soon.”

“Of course. Bye,” he says, waving for a second before the screen goes black. He sighs, looking down at Natalie’s sweet, sleepy little face. “I can’t wait for your other Dad to come home, munchkin. This one needs a break and a good snuggle.”

She smacks her lips and closes her eyes and Dan smiles, rolling his eyes. “I know, your life is so hard, being a baby. Let’s get you down for another nap, love.”

~~~

The next night, Dan wakes up from a deep sleep to warm breath on his neck. At first he’s confused, grunting as he tries to roll over, but a heavy weight around his waist stops him. “What the...”

“Shh,” a deep and unmistakable voice murmurs in his ear. “‘M tryin’ sleep.”

Suddenly, Dan is wide awake, rolling over quickly despite the protests from his husband. “Phil,” he breathes, warm and happy.

Phil blinks at him, a goofy, exhausted smile on his face. “Hi,” he says sheepishly.

Dan wraps himself around Phil immediately, peppering kisses to everywhere he can reach. “I missed you,” he kisses across Phil’s brow bone, feeling Phil’s breath on his collarbones. “So much.”

“I missed you too,” Phil replies with a little laugh, kissing at Dan’s throat.

Something occurs to Dan then and he pulls away, staring at Phil with a furrowed brow. “I thought you weren’t coming home until tomorrow.” He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t help but be a little accusatory. He wanted to make sure the house was clean, maybe do some laundry. Just the sort of husband things one did when they were in the best relationship of their life.

Phil gives him a sheepish smile. “I changed my flight so I could come home early and surprise you.”

Dan feels so much all at once, it reminds him of how it was in the early days, before the kids, before the fostering, before they even knew that they had feelings for each other. It’s overwhelming for a moment, and then Phil is tilting his chin, guiding their mouths together in a perfect kiss.

“Mm,” Dan hums against his lips. “I love you.”

Phil laughs. “Love you more.” His hand slips down Dan’s waist, his fingertips dipping just under the hand of Dan’s pants. Dan is hit with a wave of arousal so strong, and it’s not lost on him that it’s been more than a month since they had proper sex. He loved Natalie more than life itself, but raising a baby on top of the three children they already had was proving to be much more difficult than they’d anticipated. But after all they’d been through, the strain of no sex was nothing they couldn’t handle. After all, they’d gone ten years without it before.

Still, he’s only human, and when his husband is petting the soft skin at his hip, he can only react like any mortal man would. “Baby,” he sighs.

“Hm?”

It hits Dan what he’d just said, and he quickly remembers the other inhabitant of this room. “Phil. Phil, the baby,” he mumbles, tapping Phil’s arm.

“Already took care of her,” Phil replies back, kissing at Dan’s jaw.

“What? When?” Dan asks, pushing him back a bit.

Phil smiles. “When I got home. You were already asleep so I checked on the kids and then took Nat downstairs for a bottle and some cuddles.”

“Oh.” The image of that, of Phil coming in late and taking their baby down for her midnight bottle, is nearly enough to make Dan cry and definitely enough to turn him off. “Well, thank you for that, but I don’t think I feel like fooling around tonight, if that’s okay.”

Phil pecks him on the cheek with a little giggle. “Of course that’s okay, you idiot. I didn’t just come home early for that, you know. I mostly missed having my little space heater,” he says with a grin.

Dan rolls his eyes, but can’t help the way he smiles and leans in for another kiss. “Sometimes I think you only married me for my good looks and my stupidly hot body temperature.”

Phil kisses him back, but he’s smiling so hard that it’s sloppy. “Oh for sure. Those were my top two requirements for a husband. Is hot, runs hot.”

Dan snorts. “Right. So, father of your children was somewhere further down that list, I’m assuming?”

“Something like that,” Phil teases.

“You’re such an idiot,” Dan smiles, kissing Phil’s cheek before snuggling in for the night.

“But I’m your idiot,” Phil says in a stupid, sleepy voice.

Dan smiles, pressing one last kiss to Phil’s chest. “Always.”

#phan #phanfiction #parent!au #foster parent au #parent!phan #foster parent #bbc producer!phil #school counselor!dan #fake relationship #friends to lovers #best friends #if you don't love me pretend #iydlmp epilogue #epilogue #my fic

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 4 years ago

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Meeting Abel Morales Headcanons

Pairing: Abel Morales x Reader Rating: T Notes: Well, this was going to be short(er). I let it get away from me! as I do all things. Whoops. It’s... Ramble-y. For the purposes of these headcanons, there is no Anna Morales In the Picture™, thank you Not beta-read Warnings: Cursing; uuuhhhh boss/employee power imbalance kind of Length: 1.7K Summary: Meeting and getting together with Abel Morales

- You initially take the part-time job as a secretary at the Standard Heating Oil Company because you need a little more job experience - A little extra cash while you’re working on your master’s degree was nothing to sniff at, either - You’re doing administrative work at the college part-time as well - Your best friend and roommate, Kathy, is a dispatcher at the company, too. She put in a good word for you with Debbie and Mr. Morales

- The secretary that was working previously is leaving to have a baby. Mr. Morales has guaranteed that her job will be there for her, should she choose to return to work, so she’s been very clear that you’ll be a temporary fit.

- Kathy is pretty sure that she won’t be back, but you aren’t pressed either way. You don’t want to be a career secretary. You don’t see anything wrong with it, but you have higher ambitions

- You work mostly for the sales team, and you report directly to Debbie, Mr. Morales’ secretary. For your first week, you’re so busy getting acclimated that you hardly have the time to get to know anyone that isn’t Debbie or people on the sales team. - You don’t see Mr. Morales once (he’s hardly in the office that week, anyway, so you can’t be faulted for not introducing yourself to or not being introduced to the man)

- But when you do meet Mr. Morales

- Oh boy

- The eye contact is… Intense, but you’ve been warned about that by Kathy in advance - She’d given you a whole spiel - “He’s going to shake your hand with both of his. Don’t look down at your hands, don’t comment on his grip - and don’t barely shake his hand back. Firm grip.” - “He’s gonna hold eye contact for a little longer than comfortable – whatever you do, don’t look away. If he offers you anything to drink, take the fancy option.” - You’d asked, “The fancy option? What the hell, Kath, you hit your head on the way home?” - “No, just—Look, I know how he operates.” - She does, too, she’s dating one of the guys on the sales team, so she knows all of the tricks �� - And because she knows all of the tricks, you do, too

- You’re careful to hold his eye contact for as long as he holds yours, and you do see a little quirk of his brow when you do

- It’s not hard, though, because his eyes are beautiful. When Kathy had warned you about the eye contact, you’d expected some cold, heavy stare - Mr. Morales’ eyes are dark and warm, and if you’re not careful, you could find yourself staring into them for a long time

- You answer all of his questions as calmly, clearly, and accurately as possible

- Before he leaves, Mr. Morales gives you one small smile - You think he might’ve winked, too, but it was so fast that you’re sure you’re wrong

- The following weeks are maddeningly Morales-free - Not that you’re thinking about him

- You’re a busy person, between this job, your administrative work at the college, and your classes, you’re kinda swamped

- When you’re in the office, you’re basically glued to your desk, even during your breaks - Thing is, apparently Mr. Morales notices that - He notices that when you’ve got a few moments, you pull whatever memo you’ve been typing up out of the typewriter to type up a paper for one of your classes - Or you pull a book and a notebook out and outline your notes - But you never go over your allotted time; you always go right back to work when you’re meant to

- “He asked about you,” Kathy tells you one day when you get home from your other job - “Hm?” - “Mr. Morales.” - “Oh? Did I do something wrong?” - “I don’t think so.” - “What’d he ask?” - “What you’re studying at school, stuff like that.” - “Huh.” - “Uh-huh.” - That’s the end of that conversation, but you think about it for weeks.

- The semester gets busy, and you stop having time to simp over Mr. Morales, though he does check on you every once in a while, to make sure you’re doing alright

- Whenever he does, you remember the eye contact thing - But seriously, looking the man in the eye is not a chore. He’s got gorgeous eyes. - Hell, the man’s got a gorgeous everything.

- You don’t have much free time. What free time you do have usually gets devoted to things like your laundry or your half of the neatening in the apartment

- You do take one night to yourself, in early November – a man from your master’s program asked you out, and you like him well enough, so you agree to go to dinner with him. - The date’s not bad. He’s … Fine. Honestly, kind of a dick. - But you kinda get distracted. You see Mr. Morales while you’re out. - He’s not on a date, he’s at dinner with an investor

- You only know this because you overheard Debbie reminding Mr. Morales what time it would be

- And you do try really, really hard to focus on your date, but you can feel Mr. Morales watching you all night

- You give your date a handshake goodnight before you turn to walk to the train

- “Heading home?” You hear, and you realize that Mr. Morales is leaning against the front of the restaurant and 1000% saw you shake your date’s hand and heard you say, “See you in class.” - And dear god you shiver and you hope you can pass that off as the November chill - You’re not successful, though, you can just tell by the little smile affixed on Mr. Morales’ (really really) nice lips

- “That was the plan,” You answer before something dangerous (and possibly stupid) sparks in you and you tack on, “Do you have a better idea?” - That little smile of his gets wider, and your stomach flutters, and you never thought you could get addicted to a look

- You wind up in a cozy little bar with him, one that you’ve never been to or heard of, eyeing one another in the dim light, feet brushing one another under the table.

- It should just be one drink - Frankly, it shouldn’t be any drinks. This man is your boss. - But he’s intrigued you since you met him, and if the stuff that he’s asked Kathy about you is any indication, you’ve intrigued him, too

- It’s far more than one drink - You don’t get drunk. You will have to see this guy at work - Beyond that, though, you really don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him

- When you tell him what you want to do when you’re done with your degree program, he doesn’t laugh at you like your date did - He asks more questions; he wants to know how you plan to get where you want get - You feel like you’re talking too much, but… Hell, the man’s asking, right? So you answer. And he keeps asking, and you keep telling him - And that smile he gave you outside of the restaurant hasn’t gone away. It’s gotten softer. Warmer.

- He asks you if afraid you’ll fail. - And of course you are. You say as much. - “But if I let that stop me, then I’ll never fuckin’ get anything done.”

- And, oh shit, you just swore in front of your boss. You should apologize, right?

- But he just chuckles, and gives an approving little nod, and he murmurs, “Good girl.” - And oh… Man, that should not do what it does to you, but thank god you’re sitting down because you just went a little weak in the knees. - You turn the conversation around after that - At least, you try to. - You’re flustered, you’re still reeling from the way he murmured those two words, so you let out a nervous little laugh, “I feel like I’m talking too much.” - But he shakes his head and murmurs, “I could listen to you all night. I want to.” - “Mr. Morales—” - “Abel.”

- So much for turning the conversation around.

- He waits for you to repeat his name, as if to make sure you understand - When you do, when those two syllables roll off of your tongue, he nods and murmurs, “Good girl,” again. - You realize that the bastard knows exactly what he’s doing to you, he knows exactly how flustered you are - You can’t help but wonder if the man is just toying with you for the hell of it - But those warm eyes of his have gone from dark to molten - At the end of the night, he gets you a cab and bids you goodnight - Are you disappointed when he doesn’t kiss you? Yes. - Do you say anything about it? No. Because you’ve got to see him at work tomorrow. - Thing is, that is not the last drink that you have with Mr. Morales off-hours - You start seeing him after work a couple of times a week

- As Christmas rolls around, Debbie tells you that the previous secretary will be coming back to work in January, and you feel weirdly sad about leaving the Standard Heating Oil Co.

- Your last day is bittersweet. You get a professional handshake from Abel with that same intense eye contact before you leave.

- You’re not expecting any more, and it’s alright - You’re getting a drink with him later, anyway

- The two of you have been going to that same cozy bar, sitting at that same table, but tonight, the two of you are shown to a booth in a quieter corner, side by side

- Abel wastes no time in sidling up close, pressing his thigh to yours, sliding his arm around behind you

- You don’t shy away from him, and you’re graced a smile – one of the ones you’ve become so addicted to

- Abel gets more bold - So do you

- You reach up and brush a stray hair away from his face when it falls out of place

- The hand that isn’t resting on the back of your chair rests on your thigh - The hand that was on the back of your chair lifts, and the pads of his fingers tease over the nape of your neck - The sensation sends shivers trickling down your spine

- You don’t want to wait all night; you’re a little worried that you might lose your nerve - “It’s getting late.” - “What would you like to do?” He asks. - “Take me home, Abel.”

- He grins, lowering his head and brushing his lips against yours as he murmurs, “Good girl.”

#I'M SORRY ABOUT THE FORMATTING TUMBLR H8S ME #Abel Morales #Abel Morales x Reader #Abel Morales x You #Abel Morales/You #Abel Morales/Reader #Abel Morales headcanons #Well... we all knew i would wind up here #as soon as i watched that movie #siiiiigh #maybe i will write more for this man #but for now #here u go

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we-are-inevitable · 4 years ago

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bright lights, bright lives // javid

SMALL TOWN AU PART: One

A/N: AHHHH IT’S HERE IT’S HERE !! THE FIRST INSTALLMENT !!! AHHH !!

tag list: @angstyfangirl32 @orestes-fasted @angelslibrary @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @tarantulas4davey (if you’d like to be added to the list, send me an ask!)

Read On AO3!

***

The lights in the arena are blinding, casting harsh shadows on the dirt below. It’s intoxicating. The heat, the adrenaline, the anticipation- it’s addicting, captivating, and this right here, right here in this arena, is something special.

Special as he unloads the trailer. Special as he gets ready in the stalls. Special as he waits eagerly at the railing, watching his competitor make the traditional cloverleaf pattern in the dirt.

Everything moves in slow motion, and he feels his heart pound deep in his chest. He straightens his shoulders as the rider goes past him, heading to the stables again, and then, he’s moving toward the gate. And then, he takes a glance up at the crowd, taking in the faces and the excitement.

And then, the ‘go’ signal sounds through the speakers, and everything picks up the pace.

Jack Kelly is barely aware of pulling the reins and giving Dolly’s underside a gentle nudge, and then they’re off. The roar of the crowd is deafening as they go through the tight turns, the continuous loops around three barrels in the middle of the arena, and Jack is smiling- he’s smiling so wide it hurts, because this is where he belongs. Where he wants to be.

Here, under the blinding arena lights, at the best local rodeo in the state, with his favorite horse and a crowd cheering his name.

It feels like hours have passed by the time he reaches the finish line, and a loud blow horn sounds, signaling the end of his ride. Jack is panting now, watching the judges table with wide eyes, watching the timekeeper write down four little numbers- and then it’s announced.

“Jack Kelly’s time is: fourteen-point-three-two seconds.”

The crowd erupts into an uproarious applause. Jack lets out a breathless laugh as he watches his score be written on the blackboard, and covers his mouth with his hand. He hasn’t had a time that good since last summer- most of his times this year have been in the fifteen-to-seventeen second range- and knowing that they still have a long rodeo season ahead of them… It’s hard not to focus on the prospect of potential wins, but Jack gives himself a few moments to bask in the attention before coming back down to Earth.

There are still racers waiting for their turn, Jack reminds himself. You haven’t won yet. Don’t get cocky.

Regardless, Jack keeps his head held high as he drops off of Dolly and begins walking her back to his trailer. He rubs her side all the while, smiling wide. “I knew ya had it in ya, girl,” He whispers once he’s away from everyone else, and runs his hand along her back.

Jack’s quick to tie her reins to a post just behind the trailer. He drops the gate carefully, and walks up inside to check on her feed and water situation. Once he pours her some more water into the trough and adds some more hay to the feed container, he walks back out of the trailer- though he stops in his tracks when he sees someone standing next to Dolly.

A certain someone, with curled red hair, settled over her shoulders perfectly, with a black western hat seated snugly on the crown of her head. Someone wearing tight Wranglers, with a studded belt and a white button down with purple accents tucked into the jeans. Someone with dusty boots and a stare that could make even the strongest man weak in the knees.

“‘Scuse me, ma’am, I’m gonna need ya to step away from the horse,” Jack says with a smirk, leaning against the edge of the trailer. “What are you doin’ back here? Shouldn’t ya be gettin’ ready?”

Katherine makes eye contact with him, and flashes a grin. “There’s still six riders ahead of me. I just wanted to congratulate you on your race, Kelly.”

“Mhm. Sure.”

“Besides, I wanted to see what you look like before I wreck your time.”

“There she is! Atta girl,” Jack grins wide and laughs, then walks forward with open arms. “C’mere, Kath, give me a hug. I’ve missed ya, smartass.”

Katherine hurries toward Jack with a megawatt grin, squeezing him hard around the torso. “I’ve missed you too, Jack. We need to get together sometime!” Katherine huffs as she pulls away. “I’ll be around for a while, but we’re leaving again soon. I have a few races down in Texas that I'll be going to. You up for dinner at Cattleman’s this week?”

“When am I ever not up for dinner at Cattleman's?" Jack shakes his head. “I'm good any day this week.”

“Good,” Katherine smiles. She leans up and gives Jack a kiss on the cheek- an affectionate gesture. “Hey, I need to go get ready, but I'll talk to ya in a bit, okay?” She says with a smile, backing up. “I'll text you. Bye, Dolly,” Katherine gives the horse one more stroke along her side, then nods toward Jack. “Bye, Jackie.”

“Good luck out there! Give Shakespeare some love for me!” Jack calls after her while she walks away, then shakes his head with a grin as he walks toward Dolly. He unties the reins, leads her onto the trailer, and works on getting the saddle off.

Part of him wishes he had help, but… No, he has himself. He can do this. He’s been doing this since he first learned how to pull a trailer. It’s fine.

Fine, Jack remembers, as he sighs and hangs the saddle on the hook. He stays in there for a few more minutes, checking her over while humming to himself. There’s a lot left to do, and he still has to drive home, but eventually, Jack leaves Dolly safe in the trailer and goes out to walk around the booths set up outside the arena.

The rodeo is in full swing, and the energy is buzzing all around him. There are people lined up to get food at the concession stands, countless others milling from boutique booth to boutique booth, and kids playing in the dirt down under the stands. As he walks through the crowd, he hears bits and pieces of conversations- one little kid is going to be mutton busting, according to his enthusiastic comment to his buddy; a teenage girl has a crush on one of the bull riders; a mother and father plan to leave early so their children aren’t out too late.

It’s domestic. It’s a community. It’s a family that Jack is proud to be a part of.

Jack finally comes to a stop at the end of the concession stand’s line. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and squints to see the menu; it’s all typical food, like pulled pork sandwiches, loaded hot dogs, and burgers that rival even the best sit down restaurants. The sign says that the proceeds are going to a local 4H and FFA chapters, too, so… that’s better than getting something shitty at McDonald’s for a higher price, right?

Right.

Jack is still weighing his options when he hears a small voice from behind him ask, “Are you Jack Kelly?”

Blinking, Jack turns around, and he’s met with a young boy. He can’t be any older than ten, Jack notes. He has brown eyes, freckles, curly hair, and a crooked smile- he seems to be missing one of his front teeth as well. He’s wearing a cowboy hat, too; it looks a little cheap, which Jack can appreciate. He remembers how proud he was of his first one, too, even if he did get it from the dollar store.

“That’s me,” Jack responds with a smile, then tilts his head. “What’s your name?”

“My name’s Les!” The kid responds with an enthusiastic smile. “Les Jacobs! I watched you, earlier- you’re really cool!”

And, oh, if that doesn’t make Jack’s heart burst. He kneels down so he can look up at the kid- Les- while he talks. “Well, thanks! That means a lot. Y’know what?”

“What?”

“You seem pretty cool, too.”

The kid’s face lights up. His smile gets impossibly wide, and he giggles- an airy sound that makes Jack chuckle. “Really? You think so?” Jack nods, and Les bounces on his toes. “Can I get a picture with you?”

“‘Course ya can,” Jack affirms with a laugh. “Do ya got a phone?”

“I got a brother!” Les exclaims, and not even a second later, he’s gone. Jack watches him as he races through the crowd, and he grabs the hand of someone standing off to the side- a tall someone, Jack notes. A tall someone with dark hair and light skin that rivals Jack’s own dark tan. A tall someone with a piercing gaze that makes Jack take in a deep breath when they lock eyes.

He looks calm and collected, until Les starts running and pulls the older boy behind him. There’s a flash of panic on his face and, suddenly, his cold expression is gone. Instead, he seems to be scolding the boy, but he quickly calms down as they approach Jack.

“David, take a picture! Please?” Les asks, and the older boy- David, presumably- raises a brow.

“Did you ask for a picture first?” He asks, giving Les a look, and Jack steps forward.

It takes him a second to find the words, feeling a bit thrown off by the boy’s voice, but he soon nods and clears his throat. “I don’t mind if you don’t,” He says easily, and even goes as far as to put his hand on Les’ shoulder. “It’s alright. He’s a good kid.”

“He’s a menace,” David replies, though he’s grinning- until he winces when Les punches his arm. “Ow! Okay, don’t hit the one with the phone.”

“You deserved it!”

“I think that statement is incorrect,” David deadpans, then gestures for Les to get closer to Jack. “Let’s do this,” He grins, then pulls out his phone.

Jack squats down again and throws his arm over the younger boy’s shoulder. Before they take the photo, though, Jack reaches up and takes off his hat. He then hands it to Les, who looks at him with wide eyes. After nodding, Les races to put the hat on. It’s a little big and a little lopsided, but his smile is worth it.

With that, Jack looks over at the camera and shoots his best smile, as well as giving a little thumbs up. He doesn’t move until David puts the phone back in his pocket. He stands and looks down at Les, who is holding out his hat. After a split second decision, Jack says, “Keep it. It’s yours, bud.”

Les blinks, then looks down at the hat in his hands. “Wait- Really?”

“Yep,” Jack says with a grin, popping the 'p'. “Keep it! You deserve it, little guy. Like I said, you're cool."

“You’re awesome!” Les yells, jumping up and down. He then puts the hat on, looks at David, and says, “I’m gonna go show Smalls!”

With that, the boy runs off, leaving Jack in a fit of laughter. He smiles wide and shakes his head, then turns to face David. “Your brother’s sweet,” He says with a grin, taking a step forward. After a moment, he holds his hand out to shake. “Jack Kelly. It’s nice to meet ya.”

David stares at his hand for a moment, then grins and shakes it. “David Jacobs,” He replies, and bites his lip as he pulls his hand away. “Thanks for that hat. Les isn't going to shut up about that for a while," David laghs softly, and Jack does, too, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. David looks over Jack for a moment, head to toe, then clears his throat. "You, uh… You were really good out there.”

“Thank you,” Jack says with a smile, then rubs his arm. “Are you from around here? I ain’t seen ya before.”

“We just moved here,” David nods. “A few weeks ago. Uh, like… the first week of summer.”

Jack nods and clicks his tongue. “Nice, nice. I’ll make sure to remember that, Davey,” He responds nonchalantly, the nickname rolling off of his tongue. He can’t help it; giving nicknames is his thing, and it’s a thing he’s good at.

“Davey?” David repeats with a chuckle, and crosses his arm. “That was quick. Not unpleasant, though.”

“Well,” Jack starts, and looks David up and down. He’s pretty cute- for a guy, that is. Not that Jack is interested, because Jack doesn’t like guys, not like that, but… “Meetin’ you has been a very pleasant experience so far. I ain’t complaining,” Jack smirks, and shoots David a wink. He’s about to speak again until he hears a name call over the loudspeaker, and he quickly straightens up. “Shit-- Hey, I gotta go, my friend’s ‘boutta go into the ring, but-- I’ll see ya around, okay?”

David nods, and Jack gulps when he sees him smile. God, that smile… It’s nice, and Jack hopes he can see it again. “I-- Yeah! Yeah, I’ll see you around,” David responds quickly. “Uh- Good luck with the, um, scoring stuff! I hope you did well.”

“Thanks,” Jack says with a laugh, then points his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m gonna… I gotta go, but--”

“Yeah, that’s-"

“Yeah- Okay, uh-”

“Sorry, I- Bye!”

“Bye,” Jack says with a breathless little laugh, and he stands there for just a few more seconds, holding David’s gaze, before he nods and takes off running back toward the arena, all thoughts of getting food flying out of his mind. He reaches the guard rail just as the signal goes off, and even climbs onto the first rung of the railing to cheer Katherine on. She’s going fast- really fast- and Jack can see that cocky smirk on her face. She knows she’s good, and Jack is undeniably proud of her.

But, even so, he can’t help but laugh when the timekeeper calls out her official time. Fifteen seconds.

Jack: one. Katherine: zero.

This will be fun to bicker over at dinner.

#small town au #jack kelly #katherine pulitzer #davey jacobs #david jacobs #javid #javey #les jacobs #livesies #newsies #jack newsies #davey newsies #newsies broadway #newsies musical #newsies fic #jac writes

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livesincerely · 4 years ago

Text

and you bring me to my knees

Also on Ao3. Rated E

00000

“I’ll see you again on Monday,” Davey calls as the other students file out the door. “Make sure you do the readings, and bring questions if you have any.”

He hums to himself as he tidies the classroom he hosts his tutoring sessions in, sweeping up loose bits of paper and eraser shavings and dumping them in the waste basket. He’s in the middle of stacking textbooks back onto the shelves when he hears the classroom door creak open.

Davey glances over and smiles. “Hey, Jack,” he greets.

Jack shuts the door behind him and sets his bag down with a soft thunk but doesn’t reply. His expression is strange: his face is flushed and there’s a look of intense focus burning in his dark eyes. Davey doesn’t think much of this—Jack must still be amped up from practice—and turns back to the textbooks.

“I’m almost finished,” Davey says, bending down to place the last of the books on a lower shelf. “Just let me get these put away and we can go.” He straightens up and stretches, giving everything one last survey to make sure all is back where it should be.

Then abruptly, Jack is right behind him. Davey lets out a yelp of surprise as Jack pushes him, hard, up against the bookshelf he was just organizing, his strong hands moving to settle on Davey’s hips, holding him so they’re pressed flush together, back to front. He leans in to nose at the sensitive spot behind Davey’s ear, then places a kiss there.

“What are you playing at, Dave?” Jack murmurs, his breath tickling at the nape of Davey’s neck as he speaks. He’s absolutely plastered along Davey’s back, his hips seated tightly against Davey’s ass. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

“What?” Davey asks, uncomprehendingly.

“Do you have any idea what your ass looks like in these jeans?”

“I— what?” Davey tries again. He feels hot and a little dizzy, sudden desire spreading through him like warm honey. He’s usually quicker on the uptake, but he can’t focus on anything other than the feeling of Jack’s dick pressed against him, thick and hard through their jeans. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been distracted all day—everyone’s noticed except you. Spot and Albert spent all of practice laughing at me and I nearly set mine and Kath’s chem station on fire in class today because I was too busy staring at’cha.” Jack says, dragging his mouth down the length of Davey’s neck, one hand moving from its place at his hip to massage his inner thigh.

“But how am I supposed to focus,” he continues, “when my boyfriend’s wearing the tightest pair of jeans known to man, prancing his sweet ass around like the world’s most oblivious fucking tease?”

“Jack,” Davey whimpers, and god, he already sounds wrecked. “Jack, I— Mmm.”

Davey’s head falls back onto Jack’s shoulder, unable to help the soft, keening noise that escapes him as Jack rolls his hips into his ass, nibbling at his pulse point. Jack’s hand slides up his thigh and over his stomach, as if to somehow pull him impossibly closer, then starts working Davey’s zipper open.

“Jack,” he manages to protest, even as he widens his stance to give Jack more room to maneuver. “Someone could hear, someone could walk in.”

“Then I guess you’d better keep quiet,” Jack growls, then wraps a hot hand around Davey’s dick.

“God, Jack,” Davey moans, overwhelmed by the efficiency of Jack’s ministrations.

His eyes flutter closed as he pants, tilting his head to give Jack better access to his throat. He can’t decide whether to cling to the bookshelf in front of him or hold onto the strong arms wrapped around him, if he wants to thrust forward into Jack’s hand or grind back against the hard length of Jack’s dick.

Jack gives him a few hard, fast strokes, then stops, using his grip on Davey’s hips to pull him away from the shelf. He nudges him forward, and Davey takes a few shaky steps until he can brace himself against the edge of a nearby desk.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Jack demands in a low, raspy voice, dragging Davey’s jeans and underwear down his legs in one rough motion. He flattens a hand across the small of Davey’s back, easing him down until he’s completely bent over with his bare ass thrust out in offering. “For fuck’s sake, Dave, I’m only human.”

Davey lets out a shaky breath and glances over his shoulder. Jack kneels on the floor behind him, staring transfixed at his exposed ass and thighs, and the look on his face… Davey bites his lip, pulse racing.

“Christ, Davey, you’re gorgeous,” Jack breathes, reverent. His hands slide down Davey’s back and lower, cupping the soft globes of his ass and squeezing.

“Jack!” Davey whines, feeling the beginnings of a blush spreading across his face. He opens his mouth—maybe to say something, maybe to beg—but lets out an embarrassing squeak when he feels Jack’s hands part him and a hot puff of air cover his hole.

“Shhh,” Jack soothes, mapping a slow, hot trail down Davey’s thighs. He presses a kiss against the curve of Davey’s hip, then scrapes his teeth against the smooth skin of his ass. “I thought you were worried someone would hear?”

“Well maybe you should hurry the hell up and—ah!” Davey’s retort is lost in a moan as Jack circles his tongue around Davey’s rim. His legs tremble, his hands clutching, white-knuckled, at the edge of the desk, desperate for something to hold onto.

Jack hums, pleased, dipping his tongue into Davey’s hole, Davey’s panting breaths his only reply. He thumbs Davey’s cheeks further apart, then buries his face in Davey’s ass, alternating between slow, firm laps and teasing flicks of his tongue.

“Oh, god, don’t stop,” Davey pleads, tilting his hips up to give Jack a better angle. Each pass of Jack’s tongue threatens to tear a whimper or moan past Davey’s lips, and it’s taking everything he has to stay mostly upright, to brace himself as best he can and hold on.

“Fuck, Jack, please,” Davey gasps.

Jack presses in again, sucking at his hole, then scraping his teeth against his rim, and Davey cries out, his back arching at the sensation. His hips jerk and twitch in Jack’s grip—he tries to rock back against him, but Jack’s hands are unyielding, pressing him down and spreading him open, forcing him to take every stroke of his tongue.

Pleasure zings up his spine, blooming in sparks behind his closed eyelids. Davey can feel the heat coiling tight in his stomach, can feel himself getting closer and closer to his peak, but it’s not enough, he needs more—

“Jack, Jack, come on, please, I need,” Davey babbles, incoherent.

Jack pulls away, circling a finger teasingly around his hole, then reaches around to wrap a spit-slick hand around Davey’s neglected dick, red and leaking against Davey’s stomach.

“Fuck, Jack,” Davey whimpers, hip jerking violently in Jack’s hold. “Jack, I—fuck, Jack, I can’t, I’m gonna—“

“Come for me, sweetheart,” Jack orders, and Davey’s helpless to do anything but obey, spiraling over the edge with a cry. His legs and arms tremble and he can’t hold himself up anymore, collapsing in a heap on the desktop.

There’s a long moment where Davey just lays there, trying to catch his breath. He hears Jack climbing to his feet, hears him fumbling with his belt, and he cracks an eye open to look at him. He looks about as wrecked as Davey feels, his lips red and shiny, a hand wrapped around the base of his dick to stave off his orgasm.

“Dave,” he rasps out, his eyes dark and his pupils blown wide, and Davey thrills at the idea that just the sight of him, fucked out and sated, is almost enough to make Jack come. “Davey, can I, will you—”

Davey licks his lips, tilting his head invitingly. “How do you want me?”

Jack bites back a groan, then staggers forward. “Like this—no, like this.” Jack gets a hand under Davey’s thigh and lifts until one of his legs is up on the desk with the rest of him, leaving the vee of his legs open for Jack to step between. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Davey breathes, dropping his head so his cheek is pressed against the center of the desk. He lifts his hips experimentally—Jack is a warm, solid weight behind him, his dick hot and hard against the curve of his ass, and even though he just came, Davey feels a fresh surge of arousal thrum through him. “Come on, Jack,” Davey says, looking up at Jack through his fringe. “Fuck me.”

Jack’s hands go to Davey’s hips and his dick slides between Davey’s ass cheeks, catching against Davey’s rim with each thrust and sending sparks up Davey’s spine. It’s a little overwhelming, the pleasure-pain of Jack fucking up against his sensitive hole, and Davey can’t help the little gasps and sighs that escape him.

“Christ, Davey, you’re so good, so perfect for me.” Jack leans forward and kisses the marks he’s left on Davey’s neck and shoulders, and Davey hums, low and pleased in the back of his throat.

He can’t help but babble, “Mmm, yes, Jack, just like that. Come on, darling, come for me. Please, Jackie, do it, please, please, please—"

Jack moans, his thrusts going wild as his hips spasm. He pulls away, one hand roughly stroking his dick while the other presses down between Davey’s shoulder blades, holding him in place. Davey just manages to turn his head in time to look: Jack comes hard, painting white stripes across Davey’s ass and thighs, expression slack with pleasure as he pants and sighs.

Davey bites his lip, watching as Jack’s chest heaves, his mouth parted slightly as he shivers through the aftershocks. God, he loves him.

They clean themselves up the best they can with some tissues, straightening out their rumpled clothes and smoothing their hair back into some semblance of order. As Davey buttons his fly, he feels the weight of Jack’s gaze on him, heady and heated.

“So, you like my jeans, then?” Davey asks lightly, trying and failing to hide a smirk.

Jack stills, caught, then huffs out a laugh. “I’d say ‘like’ is a bit of an understatement, sweetheart.”

“They’re a little tight,” Davey concedes, “but I had to wear them—the washer’s been out all week, these are my last pair of clean pants.”

“Well, next time, have some pity and warn a guy.” Jack says, his hands moving to Davey’s hips to pull him closer, before sliding down to fondle his ass. “I need advanced notice if I’m gonna to get through the day without ravishing you.”

"Duly noted," Davey says, reeling Jack in for a kiss.

#newsies #javid #*the writing desk #*final cut #*editor's note #tease series #this is housekeeping #I've got a few fics that predate this blog so I'm posting them here now so everything's up to date #and this gave me an opportunity to go back through and edit some older fics #will get the other one up at some point but I'm thinking of giving that one a major overhaul so not sure when #don't mind me im just trying to create some kind of order here

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addie-your-queen · 4 years ago

Text

I Feel it, Can't You Feel it too?

"Can't you feel it, Davey?"

Davey closes his eyes, trying not to let the tears slip past, because, hell, he can feel it. He's felt it for a long time. And as much as he's tried to tell himself it isn't there, he knows it is.

~~~

"Are you asking me on a date, Jack Kelly?"

"I dunno," Jack said with a smile. "Are you saying yes?"

~~~

Davey is 15, Jack is 17, Sarah is 16, Kath is 17, and Charlie (Crutchie) is 14

Ship: Javid

Summary: Basically just Jack being in love with Davey and everyone knows it except him (: And also Jack interrupting everything Davey says.

Word Count: 2,295

Trigger Warnings: None

Read on AO3

Read on Wattpad

Jack lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. The door opened. Jack didn't even glance over.

"Hey sweetheart," Medda said softly.

"Hey."

"Whatcha thinking about?" she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling his head into her lap.

He stayed quiet for a while. Finally, he let out a sigh. "Mama?"

"What sweetheart?"

"Do you think... Am I good enough?"

"Of course you are, baby. What makes you say that?"

"Then how come no one likes me?"

"Plenty of people love you, Jack. I love you, your brother loves you, all your friends, like Race and Spot and Davey. They all love you too."

"But how come no one ever wants to go on a date with me? Did I do something wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong, baby. Maybe there is someone else their heart belongs to. Maybe they just aren't ready for dating anyone yet. There's so many good reasons they could have, Jack, you didn't do anything wrong. One day you will find the right person to love you, I promise."

"But how do I find my person, Mama?"

"It just takes time, sweetheart. I can't tell you how to find them. You just have to let it happen. And when you do, you'll feel it in your heart. You'll know they're your person."

Jack sighed, looking up at her.

"You want to know my best piece of advice?"

Jack nodded.

"Sometimes, Jack," she said, "you can be so caught up in something new and spectacular that you forget what's been right in front of you the whole time."

"Who are you talking about? Who's the person right in front of me? Please tell me, Mama."

She smiled. "You will have to figure that out for yourself, my love."

He sighed. "Mama? Can you sing to me?"

She pushed the hair off his forehead and out of his eyes. "Of course, baby."

It's been a while since Jack has fallen asleep to Medda's singing. But lying with his head in her lap, her hand in his hair, he wondered why he ever stopped.

...

"Morning, Mama," Jack said, walking into the kitchen.

"Morning, Jack. Breakfast will be ready in a minute."

"Thanks, you're the best," he said, kissing her cheek and reaching around her for a glass. He held the glass under the tap for a minute.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Good," he said dismissively. "Where's Charlie?"

"He's still asleep."

"Oh. Want me to wake him up?"

"No," Medda said. "Let him sleep. I'll call into school if he isn't awake in time."

Jack sits at the table as she sets a plate of pancakes down in front of him. He eats them thinking about their conversation last night.

"Mama?"

"What baby?"

"What's it like to be in love?"

"It's not really something I can explain, sorry Jack. All I can really say is they will make you feel loved. They will make you happy. It's really hard to put into words. Sorry I couldn't be of more help."

"Oh. Thanks Mama."

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

Jack rinses his plate and puts it in the dishwasher. "I should go," he said, grabbing his backpack and keys from a hook by the wall and pocketing his wallet. "Bye Mama."

"Bye Jack. Don't forget you're driving Davey here this afternoon."

"I know," he called over his shoulder. "Just like every other day."

...

His friends always liked to come early to school, to hang out in the school newspaper room.

As he pulled up into a parking space, he spotted Davey getting out of Sarah's car. She didn't usually hang out with the rest of them before school, so she used the time to catch up on homework.

"Morning, Davey!" Jack said, falling into step beside him, the familiar fluttering feeling exploding inside him.

"Morning Jack."

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

Jack rolled his eyes and continued. "You're smart right?"

"I mean, I wouldn't say-"

"Great!" Jack cut him off. "Mama was speaking in riddles again. I need your help."

"Oh um, okay."

"She told me that there is someone who has been right in front of me the whole time that might be my person."

"Well-"

"And she wouldn't tell me who."

"Maybe..." Davey paused, waiting to see if Jack was going to cut him off. "Sarah Maybe. Or Kath. That's all I can think of."

"No, she said it wasn't anyone I've dated. Or asked out, I guess."

"Oh I... I don't know who else it might be then."

Jack narrowed his eyes at him. He didn't sound like he was being completely honest, but what reason would Davey have to lie to him?

"Hey Davey?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever been in love? Like, really in love, not just a stupid crush."

"I..." he trailed off. "Yeah," he said softly. "I have."

"What's it like?"

"It's really hard to explain."

"That's what Mama said," Jack said with a frustrated sigh.

"I can try-"

"It's fine, Davey, really."

"Why you asking anyway? Think you might be in love with someone?"

"I dunno," Jack said. "I just figure that since Mama thinks there's someone in love with me or something, that maybe I was in love with them too, and didn't know it. (Jack, honey, you're so close, just- *frustrated screams even tho I'm the author*)

Neither of them said anything else, as Davey reached for the door handle, swinging it open wide enough for the both of them to step inside the school. The walk to the newspaper club meeting room was a quiet one. Opening the door though, they were greeted with the usual morning chaos that resulted from being friends with the Newsies, as they called themselves.

...

Jack was usually bursting with conversation on the ride home, but today he seemed lost in thought. The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a while.

"I'll tell you," Davey said finally.

"What?"

"You wanted to know what it was like to be in love. I'll tell you."

"You sure? I thought you said-"

"I'm sure, Jack." He closed his eyes as if trying to imagine what it was like to be around whoever it was. "It feels almost- almost unreal. Like maybe I'm just imagining everything, and I'm going to wake up at any minute. It makes me feel... like I am on top of the world. Holding their hand, hearing their laugh, seeing their smile, makes me feel all warm inside. Being in the same room as them always gives me these stupid butterflies." He opened his eyes again, looking over at Jack. "That's the best I can explain. Sorry, that wasn't very good," he apologized.

"It's fine," Jack said. "That was actually really good. Thanks." Well, he definitely wasn't in love with Kath or Sarah or anyone he had dated before.

"You're welcome." It was barely a whisper.

"Tell me about them. About the person you are in love with. They sound like they make you really happy." He pushed away that stupid fluttering feeling.

Davey took a deep breath. "They do," he said. He paused for a moment. "Well, they have really beautiful, almost honey colored eyes and-"

"I don't think anyone could have eyes even half as pretty as yours, Davey," Jack interrupted.

"My eyes ain't pretty, Jackie," Davey said softly. Jack tried not to think about how cute he found it when Davey slipped into his accent.

"Course they is, Davey," he said. "Prettiest I've ever seen."

Davey looked down at his lap.

"Anyway," Jack said, "continue."

"Um," Davey said quietly. He sounded unsure of himself. Jack took a hand off the wheel, reaching over to grab Davey's hand, weaving their fingers together. He flinched a little before continuing. "They have really pretty golden hair and there's always this once piece that I really want to fix. And they have one of those smiles that you just can't help but smile too. I could see for hours staring at his smile and..." Neither of them seemed to realize the slip up of pronouns. "... And they are the kindest person I ever met. They're too kind for their own good really. They'd do anything for their friends at barely a moment's notice. Sometimes I think they are a little too self sacrificing to be healthy. And they're really sweet to me, even though they don't know I'm in love with them." The last part is barely audible.

"They sound really amazing," Jack says, squeezing Davey's hand.

"Yeah," Davey says, his eyes flicking up to Jack for a split second. "They are."

...

Later that night, after Davey had left, Jack sat at the kitchen table, homework spread out in front of him while Medda flitted around the kitchen preparing dinner. Though the homework was in front of him, he wasn't thinking of it, but rather the conversation he had had earlier in the car.

"Mama?"

"Hmm?"

"What's it like to be in love?" He knew he had already asked, but may as well try again.

"I already told you, baby, it's really not something I could put into words."

"That's what Davey said."

Medda smiled knowingly.

"Mama?"

"What sweetheart?"

"Is Davey in love with me?"

"You will have to ask him that, dear."

He considers all that Davey and Medda had told him. True, he had never felt that way about any of those girls but....

"Mama?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"I think I'm in love with him."

"Ah," Medda said, smiling.

"Every time I got that stupid feeling- it was butterflies and holding his hand and seeing his stupidly pretty eyes and-" he looks up to see Medda still smiling.

"You knew, didn't you?"

"Well I-"

Jack leapt up from the table, papers spilling onto the floor. Medda gave him an odd look. He sprinted up the stairs, bolting into his room. "Hey," he said to a confused Charlie, emerging from his room.

"Hi?"

Jack was back down the stairs in seconds, grabbing his keys and a jacket, fumbling to put it on as he unlocked the door.

"I'll be back for dinner," he called, finally opening the door and rushing out.

"Jack close the d-"

He was already gone.

Medda sighed, going to close the door before returning to her cooking. "That boy," she said, shaking her head.

...

Jack hastily parked his car, running into the apartment building, up a flight of stairs, and down the hallway, pounding furiously on the Jacobs' door.

"Dear heavens!" Mrs. Jacobs exclaimed. "David, get the door please."

Davey opens the door to find Jack, breathing like he just ran a marathon.

"Davey!" he pants. "Who is it?" he says between breaths.

Davey looked confused.

"Who are you in love with?"

Davey looked down at his feet. "Oh. I-"

Jack's eyes frantically search his features, looking for something, anything, that will tell him what he needs to know.

Mrs. Jacobs appeared over Davey's shoulder. "Hello, Jack, dear," she said. "Do come in."

Jack seems to suddenly realize he's been standing in the open doorway this whole time. "Oh, sorry," he said.

"No problem," she said. "But why don't you come in and close the door."

Jack steps inside, and Mrs. Jacobs closes the door behind him. Jack grabs a still frozen Davey's arm, pulling him in the direction of his room.

"Please, Davey," he says, shutting Davey's door. "Just tell me who it is."

Davey lets out a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his hands into fists. He knew Jack wasn't going to wait much longer. He takes another shaky breath. Be brave, he told himself. That's what Sarah's always telling you. Be brave. "It's you," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. Be brave. "It's you," he says again, a little louder. "I'm sorry," he says.

Jack lets out a sigh of relief. "Can I- can I kiss you?"

Davey inhales sharply, stepping back. "Don't just- don't just say that because you feel bad for me."

Jack laughed. "Davey, I don't feel bad for you. Every time I held your hand, every time I called you pretty... Why do you think I wanted to know so bad what it was like to be in love?" He stepped forward, taking Davey's hand in his own, rubbing his thumb over the back of his knuckles. "Can't you feel it, Davey?"

Davey closes his eyes, trying not to let the tears slip past, because, hell, he can feel it. He's felt it for a long time. And as much as he's tried to tell himself it isn't there, he knows it is.

"Don't you get it?" Jack says, reaching to brush a tear from his cheek. "I'm in love with you, Davey."

Davey doesn't even realize he's crying, until Jack's hands are on his face, gently wiping away the tears. And suddenly he's kissing Jack, clumsily pressing his lips to Jack's, Jack almost stumbling back in surprise.

Davey doesn't know what he's doing. He's never kissed anyone before. All he knows is he's in Jack's arms, kissing him, and he feels safe. He feels loved. And he never wants it to end.

But far too soon, Jacks pulling away, resting his forehead against Davey's. "God, Davey," he breaths, "I'm just so damn in love with you."

Davey shoves him, and suddenly they're both laughing, because Jack sounded so serious and intimate, and Davey's shoving him because he should say 'God' like that and he shouldn't 'swear' either, and it's really not all that funny, but there in that moment, it really is.

When they've finally composed themselves, Jack's pulling Davey close to him again, kissing him softly. "So," he said. "How bout I take you to dinner on Friday?"

"Are you asking me on a date, Jack Kelly?"

"I dunno," Jack said with a smile. "Are you saying yes?"

#I just realized I never posted this #because no one on here follows my wattpad or ao3 #I don't believe #anyway #here it is #92sies #livesies #newsies #jack kelly #david jacobs #davey jacobs #javid #medda larkson #medda larkin #crutchie morris

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itsreigns · 5 years ago

Text

Blurred Lines - Part 5

Henry Cavill x Reader

Henry especifically told (Y/N) that he didn’t do relationships. But lines get blurred. And crossed.

Warnings: Slight AU. Angst. Mentions of sex. Mentions of death.

Words: 1,378

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

Cavill Tags:

I sit there dumbfounded by his admission. I had no clue he had a fiancee, much less that she had somehow passed away. He must have sensed that I was lost in thought, because he reached out to cup my hand with his.

“How did she… you know.” I trail off not sure of how I should ask him that, especially when I just helped him through a meltdown over it, knowing how much it still hurt.

“Car accident.” He says blankly, as he continues staring at the stone, and running his thumb on the delicate skin of my hand.

I open my mouth to reply, but decide against it. Truth is I didn’t know what to say. It doesn’t happen to me many times, but now I truly didn’t know what I could possibly say to him. And to be honest, I think he needs more my support than any supportive cliche shit I’d end up saying, even though I’d truly mean it. So I just keep holding his hand too, silent.

After a couple of minutes of comfortable silence, he speaks up again. “I was supposed to be with her, you know?”

I look at him intently as he stares down, studying my reaction. Once again, I decide against speaking. He clearly wants to vent, and I definitely don’t want to push him. Sometimes all we have to do is listen. Just be there and listen.

“We had agreed to go to her parents’ house for dinner. But I had to cancel last minute because this meeting got delayed and my agent… I needed to be there…” He trails off, getting slightly emotional again. “I was supposed to be with her. I was supposed to be driving that car. Not her.”

I squeeze his hand in reassurance and support. He hangs his head, breathing slowly, as he takes his time before continuing.

“A drunk driver crossed a red light and drove into her car. She was killed instantly.” He mumbles, anger and hurt evident in his tone. “I was heading back home when I passed by the crash. The firefighters were taking her off the car. I tried to help but they pushed me aside. I understand why but… I saw her lifeless body on that stretcher. And I… I couldn’t do anything.“ He chokes out, as he recalls the events from two years ago. “They didn’t even let me get close to her. I promised her I’d always be there for her. That I would never fail her. But I did. I failed her when she needed me the most. I will never forgive myself. It should’ve been me.”

“Don’t say that. It wasn’t your fault. It was an accident. You can’t blame yourself for something you didn’t do or had no control over.” I say softly, staring at him, but he doesn’t match my gaze, he keeps his down, as if ashamed to face me. “Henry, look at me.” I plead, but he doesn’t comply. So I hook a finger under his chin, turning his head to me. “You are not at fault in this. She knows that you would do, and did, everything you could for her. And wherever she is, she is looking down at you and she is so proud.”

A couple of tears roll down his cheeks silently. He opens his mouth to speak, but he doesn’t say anything. I know he’s trying to gather his thoughts, so I don’t push it, I give him time.

“You know… after seeing what I saw, I started having these nightmares. They’re so fucking real, and I just… wake up, nauseated, wanting to throw up. It just never goes away.” He admits, shyly. Finally, he’s being fully honest with me, now I can understand and help him. “I barely remember what her laugh sounded like, what she smelled like. All I can remember, all that’s stuck in my mind is the image of her bloodied face, her lifeless body, the smell of gasoline sprawled on the road. It haunts me.”

Who could tell how much pain those beautiful blue eyes held behind them? I want to hug him until all the pain goes away. He has suffered enough. And he’s punishing himself for something he had no control over. He couldn’t have done anything.

“After her… I just, I couldn’t do relationships, couldn’t even think about it. She was supposed to be my wife. We were supposed to be together forever, until we were very, very old. But God took her away before we could do that.” He trails off once again. I’m listening to him intently, never letting go of his hand. “But then you came along. And you turned my world upside down. Everything I was so sure of, turned into doubt.” He lets out a sad chuckle before continuing. “You know, you were the first, and the only woman I’ve been with after Kath passed.”

Well that caught me by surprise. I think I just assumed he had been sleeping with other women, having casual sex when he wanted to. But now, knowing the full story, I can see that that’s all it was… assumptions. I misjudged him. Never judge a book by its cover, they say, and it’s so true. But his admission reminds me of something else too. I recall the day he took me to that spot on the hill, and told me I was the only person he had ever taken there. Hadn’t he taken Kath there?

As if reading my thoughts, that’s exactly what he brings up next.

“Remember that place up in the hill?” He asks, looking at me and I nod. “The day I found it... We had just buried her, so I just grabbed my helmet and my jacket and took my motorcycle for a ride, with no destination. That’s where I ended up. Staring at the most beautiful night sky I had ever seen. It was completely full of shining stars that day.”

“It really is a beautiful spot.” I agree with him, smiling at him. “Thank you for sharing it with me. It truly means a lot.”

“Thank you for coming here. You didn’t have to. I was fucking awful to you.” He admits, shame written in his features. “Thank you for giving me time to deal with my struggles. Thank you for dealing with my struggles yourself. After what I did, I didn’t deserve it.”

“You deserve the best this life can give you, Henry. You deserve the world, and you so deserve to be happy.” I say, confidently. “Don’t deny any of those things to yourself.”

“You really are a breath of fresh air. My guiding light. I was drowning in darkness, but you pulled me out.” He admits, his blue eyes locked on mine, holding nothing but pure adoration. “I still have a long way to go, but…”

I cut him, knowing exactly what he was going to say. “I’ll be here. If you want me to, I’ll be right by your side. Supporting you and holding your hand, every step of the way.”

A tear escapes his eye, but he wipes it off, pulling me into a tight hug. Suddenly, some water drops start falling from the sky.

“It’s starting to rain. We should probably get home.” I advise gently as we pull back, and he nods in agreement. “We can go to my house. You’ll get some rest, maybe take a shower, as I cook us some dinner, ok?”

“You don’t mind?” He asks, unsurely. I have the feeling he thinks he’s just bothering me, or that I’m doing it out of pity.

“Henry, I am here, and I’m not going anywhere.” I reassure him, getting up and extending my hand to him. “We’ll stop by your house so you can grab some clean clothes, first.”

He takes my hand without much thought, and that relieves me. So I help him up and we walk out of the cemetery hand in hand.

I don’t know what this means for us. But I do know that we need to do this slowly and carefully. It won’t be easy. I just hope he doesn’t wake up tomorrow regretting letting his walls down and opening up to me.

Give me feedback???

Part 6???

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fic #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill one shot #blurred lines

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koolkat9 · 3 years ago

Note

27, 4 or 14 (you can pick whichever one from those three) from the shipping ask with Nyo england and germany if that's okay with you?? I love love love ur writing!

I tried to use all of them, but I couldn't get 4 into it without making it drag out. Hopefully this is good!

Prompt: “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.” and “I’m pregnant.”

Pairing: Nyo England x Germany with a small side of Nyo!Frain

Word Count: 1580

Bundle of Joy

She couldn’t believe it. There had to be some mistake. She couldn’t be pregnant. She was a nation, nations couldn’t biologically bear children, but those two pink lines on three different pregnancy tests said otherwise.

“Ma chérie,” Marianne murmured, hand on Katherine’s shoulder, “It's okay, perhaps it's a mistake.”

“On all three-”

“Oui, I know...but let’s not freak out right away. I’ll call the doctor and-”

“We aren’t supposed...what does…How...” Katherine’s panicked rambling was cut short by a light slap on her face.

“None of that,” Marianne scolded, “now I’m going to call the doctor and we’ll figure this out. In the meantime be a dear and make us some tea.”

Katherine wanted to protest, but her growing anxiety over this new discovery far outweighed her anger. Perhaps some tea would calm her nerves. As she waited for the water to boil, her mind couldn’t help but go back to those pregnancy tests. She shouldn’t have been so shocked. All the signs were there. Her nausea in the morning, the fact her period was late, her tiredness despite getting a goodnight's sleep, headaches, all could be associated with pregnancy. Her mind then began to wander, would there be complications since she was a nation, would the child be like them or human, how could she raise a child with her nation responsibilities? All kinds of (negative) questions swirled around Katherine’s mind before they were interrupted by the whistling of the kettle.

Marianne was just bidding the doctor goodbye by the time Katherine returned to the living room. “You have an appointment at noon today. He wants to see you as soon as possible since...you know...this is a...special occasion.”

Katherine rolled her eyes. “How comforting,” she deadpanned. Taking a seat on the couch she tried her best to distract herself by sipping away at her tea. It worked somewhat, but it involved some willpower to keep the overhanging concerns away. At least Marianne picked up on her anxiety and began talking about the date she was planning with Carmen. Although The Spaniard had tended to be a thorn in Katherine’s side for most of the time she knew her, she found herself relaxing a bit as Marianne began asking her about which kind of flowers she should get Carmen. “You know as well as I that you can never go wrong with red roses,” Katherine suggested.

“Very true.” The French woman’s gaze drifted towards the clock. “Oh would you look at that, 11:30 already? Shall we head out?”

So much for that brief time of calmness. With a deep breath and a moment to collect herself, Katherine agreed, walking out of the door with her head held high. After all, she wasn’t 100% certain she was indeed pregnant.

---

“Well...there is a bun in the oven,” Dr. Dyer said, throwing down some papers.

Katherine couldn’t believe it. Her throat became dry and her nausea from when she first woke up had returned. Once again her mind began to race with so many questions and worries, she was almost too wrapped up in it to notice Marianne wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“I know this is...rare...for your kind Ms. Kirkland, but I assure you everything seems to be going fine so far. You’re about a month along.”

“That’s good to hear,” she managed to get out through gritted teeth.

He gave her a soft smile as he handed her over a paper. “I know you're nervous and it's quite a surprise in more ways than one. You have a few options outlined in that paper. I’ll let you sleep on it, discuss it with the father if you feel you need to and I’ll call back in a couple of days to outline the care you’ll need.”

Though her eyes were fixated on the paper, Katherine couldn’t process the words on the page and those Dr. Dyer was saying. She nodded all the same. Marianne thanked the doctor and then led a dazed Katherine out of the doctor’s office.

“Kath-” Marianne began only to be cut off by Katherine’s panic.

“What am I going to do? H-How did this even happen? A look of horror crossed her face. ``How am I going to tell Ludwig?”

“Katherine, let’s focus on one thing at a time. Do you want to keep this baby?”

Her brows furrowed for a moment as she contemplated the question. It would be easier to just put this all behind them, but at the same time, she had to admit she missed having a child to take care of. “Yes...o-of course,” she eventually concluded.

“Okay. Now the next thing, let’s tell Ludwig. He’s the father right?”

“Of course he is!” How dare she assume otherwise.

“Okay...Okay,” Marianne said, putting her hands up defensively, “Just making sure. Then we need to tell him.”

“H-He comes tomorrow...I’ll tell him then.”

Marianne took hold of Katherine’s arm and began guiding her down the street. “Parfait. Don’t beat around the bush. Just be direct and I’m sure everything will be fine. Ludwig loves you oh so much after all.”

Katherine nodded, though her stomach dropped at the thought of telling Ludwig.

---

She hadn’t slept well the night prior. Anytime she closed her eyes she was bombarded with questions and fears of the future for this baby and herself. The worst of it all was the fear of Ludwig leaving her as soon as he found out. He always had insecurities about being a father. Even just looking after Peter made him anxious (even though he was so good at it). So what would he say to know he would be having his own child. Katherine heaved herself out of bed around nine to ensure she got to the airport for ten to pick up Ludwig.

When she met that familiar pair of blue eyes at the gate, for a moment everything felt normal. She ran up to him to hug him and he practically picked her up as they embraced. Seeing Ludwig again never failed to fill her with joy regardless of how bad things seemed. Unfortunately, that happy feeling didn’t last long as reality soon came flooding back as they headed to the car.

Ludwig started picking up that something was wrong. The car ride was quiet and Katherine had barely looked at him since they left the airport. He hated to push especially when he knew Katherine sometimes had a hard time opening up, so instead, he opted for small talk.

“It's a lovely day,” he mused, looking out the window. It was indeed. The sun shone brightly in the clear blue sky. The temperature was still cool enough to not be boiling, but also not too cold that you needed a thick coat (a sweater maybe). “Perhaps we should have a picnic lunch or even dinner.”

The Brit only hummed half-heartedly as she remained focused on the road. After a few more attempts at conversation, Ludwig gave up on the hopes of a response and turned to look out the window instead. He trusted Katherine would let him know what was wrong in due time.

---

It had been two hours since Ludwig had been picked up from the airport which meant two hours of having to watch Katherine stare at nothing before distracting herself with preparing sandwiches and other small things for their picnic lunch. All the while barely even acknowledging Ludwig.

As she placed the last sandwich in the basket, Ludwig finally had enough of the quiet. “Okay, Something’s wrong. What is it?”

He was surprised when Katherine sighed a defeated sigh. Was it going to be that easy? “I’m pregnant,” she stated plainly.

Everything seemed to come crashing down at those words. Ludwig felt his throat go tight and his head begin swimming with so many questions, the main one being, ‘How is this possible?’ He opened and closed his mouth, trying to think of some form of reply.

“I-I know…” She sniffed, “I know it's a lot. There are a lot of questions and barely any answers, but I can say this: I’m pregnant and it's yours.”

At the sound of his lover breaking down into tears, all of Ludwig’s worries seemed to quiet. “Hey now." He gently took hold of her shoulders, rubbing them slowly. "Hey, I’m with you okay? Always. I was just...shocked... but it's okay. We'll figure it out."

"I'm keeping it,” she said sharply.

"I figured as much. You always did want another little one.” He gave her a gentle smile, guiding her gaze up.

"A-Are you sure you're okay with this? Just a moment ago-"

"You know me. Always a worrier, always wanting to have a plan, but I know we'll figure it out. We always do. I’m...We...You’re going to be a great mother."

She looked to the side, wiping her eyes quickly. "And you’ll be a great a father.”

“And we’ll be doing this together. We’ll have the doctor, we’ll plan, we’ll read up on whatever we can. Whatever we need. Nine months can be a long while.”

A sliver of a smile spread across Katherine’s face. “Mhm.”

“Now how about that picnic?”

She hummed in agreement, before pulling him down for a kiss. Taking hold of each other’s hands and grabbing the basket, the lovers set off to the park. As they exited the house, Katherine pulled Ludwig down for one more kiss before whispering, “Thank you.”

#hetalia #hws #fanfiction prompt #gereng #geruk #hws nyo england #hws germany #pregnant #pregnancy #fluff #angst #hws nyo france #hws nyo spain #nyo frain #fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction

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violetwolfraven · 4 years ago

Note

I already asked this in the @s, but I’ll ask it here too, javid with either 28 or 23, (I don’t really care) pleaseeee :0

We adopted a kid/kids.

and

What if we kissed because we were arguing and I really wanted you to shut up but we both enjoyed it? Lol jk... unless..?

How about kind of both? Lol. Get ready for a canon-era Something to Believe In scene rewrite with a side of The Truth About the Moon! Also, this gets corny as fuck towards the end FYI.

...

Davey was at home and he couldn’t decide if he wished he wasn’t or not.

He’d helped out at the Lodging House, comforting the others, as long as he could, but eventually, almost everyone was already asleep or dead on their feet, and Race just gave him a look that said he saw how drained Davey was, and told him to go home.

Besides, he needed to get Les to bed and tell Sarah what had happened, as she wouldn’t have heard with her factory job.

So, now, he was out on the fire escape with his twin, while their mom put Les to bed after he cried himself to sleep.

Davey wished Jack making Les cry made him angrier.

“Maybe he had a good reason, David. Maybe he—“

“Shut up, Sarah.”

His tone was barely above a whisper, but Sarah stopped talking for a second.

“David,” she said slowly, “We don’t have all the facts. We know Jack... we know he scabbed on us, but...”

She trailed off, seeming to realize there was no good explanation for this. There were no facts either of them could think of that would make this better.

“The point is, we don’t know what was going on in his head,” she said finally, “Jack’s smart. Maybe there was—“

“Shut up, Sarah!”

Davey turned around, ignoring how now that he had, she would see him trying not to cry.

“Saz, we both know there is nothing you can say to make this better, so why don’t you shut the hell up?!”

She only stared at him levelly, “Is it really me you’re angry at?”

Davey shook his head, “No. No, it’s not. I should be cursing Jack’s name; not yours. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not angry at him, either,” Sarah realized, “You can’t be. You’re angry at—“

“If you finish that sentance, I’m going to say something I’ll regret.”

Sarah stopped talking.

“Look, Saz... just... go. Please go.”

She sighed, “David, things don’t always have to make sense. Feelings rarely do, and... and that doesn’t make it better—in fact, it probably makes it worse—but... damn. I don’t know how to explain this. Just... I’ll go inside if you want me to.”

When Davey didn’t tell her to stay, she climbed in the window and left him alone.

Davey sighed. He was so messed up right now. He was so messed up because... because he wasn’t angry at Sarah. He wasn’t even angry at Jack. He couldn’t be, because...

Long story short, he was angry at himself, because he couldn’t be angry with Jack.

Davey looked up, seeing the moon shining above. At least one thing still made sense.

“Latin name: Luna,” he muttered absentmindedly, “Hundreds of thousands of miles away from here.”

He remembered reading about this. Thinking back on every fact he remembered about the moon was certainly better than thinking about his own emotions.

“No signs of water, or life, or atmosphere.”

At least facts never changed on him. They made sense. Davey wished everything could.

“This is the truth about the moon. The facts are black and white.”

He smiled, despite himself, thinking about only a few days ago, when things were simpler and nobody had gotten hurt yet.

About a boy who made it so not everything had to make sense, because you felt good when he smiled at you, and that was enough, even if it didn’t make sense. Facts didn’t have to matter.

Davey couldn’t deny what he was feeling, even if the facts didn’t make sense.

Jack was a boy.

Jack made Davey feel like no one ever had.

He smirked at the sick sense of humor the universe had and mumbled his thoughts to himself.

“Shall I try to deny all I know from moments that’s gone? Would my heart let me be someone different from me from now on..? No.”

Davey wished he could be angry, but he couldn’t. Because even if it didn’t make sense, he knew how he felt.

And he was completely, stupidly, still in love with Jack Kelly.

That handsome, charismatic, dime-novel cowboy who still believed in a fantasy called Santa Fe.

As confusing as they were, Davey still had some facts about Jack, and he might as well try to organize them.

“Given name: Jack Kelly. Someone who seems to get by with a smile.”

Jack was smart in his own way, could even have a way with words, sometimes, but he had never gotten an opportunity to go to school, or sit down and read a book, and often made his points by appealing to emotion instead of logic; something that was the opposite of how Davey had always done it, yet somehow was still effective.

“Having no substance, he compensates with style.”

It was so effective that he had everyone believing what he said. He had Davey believing in what he said, when he said he cared, when he said he wouldn’t give up.

The truth about that boy was that he was a leader, a protector, or at least everyone thought he was, and he had the kind of eyes that drew you in. That made you want to keep on looking at him and make him see you, too.

Davey still couldn’t quite be angry, but bitterness definitely crept its way into his tone.

“And if I first thought he was who he claimed he was, it’s just because that kind of boy must be good at what he does.”

Davey was so stupid. Jack had admitted that he had a way of improving the truth. He had proved that he didn’t have a problem with lying to survive.

The problem was that he was so good at improving the truth that everyone believed his truth was the real, actual truth.

Revising a previous thought, he lied to survive or to get what he wanted.

And he was too stupid to see that despite all he said, his dream was really of a home, of a family, and it was right in front of him. Santa Fe was nothing he didn’t already have and if Jack still couldn’t see that after throwing away what he had, then... then let him throw it all away and fly away to Santa Fe.

“Santa Fe,” Davey mumbled sarcastically, “You’re the scene of a dream, not a plan.”

A lovely, dream, sure, but nothing that was really out west, that was really real anywhere but right here in New York.

“The dream of a boy, not a man.”

Davey took a deep breath, realizing that he wasn’t close to tears anymore. Sorting through his thoughts and facts, about the boy and about the moon, had worked, for the most part.

He looked up. The moon was still there. It always would be.

“Latin name: Luna.”

He wished the boy was, too, like he’d made it seem like he would be.

It was what had made Davey fall in love with him, how he was clearly always there for his friends. His family.

He remembered that first day, how a few different kids had come up to him and Jack had hugged them, suggested how to fix a problem, helped patch up a scraped knee, all with the patience of a loving big brother even with no blood tying him to the others.

As much as Davey had loved his charisma, his fearlessness, it was that softer, gentler side that he’d really fallen for.

Maybe it had just been an act, but Davey was still in love with him, no matter how much he wished he could just be angry and hate him.

“Lovely name: Jack.”

“Davey?”

Davey reeled back towards the window as he realized who was climbing up next to him.

“Dave, wait, please.”

That tone in his voice, the broken, almost-crying one, was what made Davey pause.

“Give me one good reason not to go inside and lock you out here.”

Jack sighed, “I... I don’t have one. Not for me. I don’t blame ya if you never want to see me again, but... here.”

He held out a paper, and Davey took it, reading with suspicion.

“Katherine wrote it,” he explained, “Pulitzer has an old printin’ press in his basement we can use, and the idea is to pass these out to all the workin’ kids of the city. If we play our cards right, it might just work, but... but I can’t do it alone. And I know Race. I know he won’t so much as talk to me right now, but we need him to get the other fellas to help. Kath’s busy gettin’ some friends who know how to work the press, so... so I need you to get through to him. He’ll listen to you.”

“And who’s fault is it he won’t listen to you?”

Davey hadn’t thought he would be able to summon that much ice in his voice, but he was glad he could.

Jack took a shaky breath, “Mine.”

As he finished reading it... the article was good. Really good. It might actually work, if this was for real.

“Jack Kelly,” Davey warned, “I swear to God if you are bullshitting me right now, I will let Spot Conlon push you in front of a carriage. He already offered to do that, by the way. Race declined.”

“I’m not bullshittin’ you,” Jack promised, “I swear on my life, I—“

“What’s that worth?” Davey snapped, not meaning a word of the angry rant he stepped forward, getting in Jack’s personal space, “Two days ago, you told me you’d give your life for this strike, for these boys, and you betrayed them! You broke their trust, Jackie! You broke my trust!”

“I know, but—“

“No!” Davey shouted, “You don’t get to voice an opinion! You’re supposed to be the one that protects everyone! You know that more than a few of them cried on my shoulder tonight because they saw you as a big brother and you abandoned them? What—for a city you’ve never seen?”

Jack looked like he was going to cry. Davey tried to act like that didn’t bother him.

“Ya know what? Kath is right. You’re crazy, Jack Kelly. You paint a place you’ve never seen and call it home. You say you want a family and ignore the one right in front of you. And you are a goddamn idiot for trading your family in for a place where you will never find what you’re looking for.”

“I... I didn’t do it for Santa Fe.”

Davey scoffed, “Then why?”

Jack’s eyes still had something broken inside, but some of the strength from before everything started to go to hell was starting to come back.

“I did it for you.”

“What?”

“I did it for you,” Jack repeated, louder, “Pulitzer threatened you, by name. He mentioned Crutchie and Les, too, but he said he’d come after you and... dammit, I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let you go to the Refuge.”

“This was always going to be dangerous, Jack. That’s not good enough.”

“You don’t know nothin’ about the Refuge.”

“I knew the risk when I signed on to this strike with you!” Davey argued, “I knew from day one it could end in me goin’ to jail getting hurt or even dying, but I don’t care.”

Jack glared at him, and as he took a step forward, his voice sounded haunted and strong all at the same time.

“You have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

“What the hell are you—“

Davey stopped as Jack turned around, having pulled his shirt off most of the way, revealing...

Deep, criss-crossing scars across his back. More than Davey cared to count and certainly enough to shut him up.

“Snyder thinks it’s funny,” he said bitterly as he put his shirt back on, “First time was when I was 13. I got out the next night, but he got me again when I was 15, then again when I was 16. Each time, I barely made it out alive. Do ya think I would ever let one of mine go through that if I could stop it?”

“I ain’t one of yours,” Davey tried to argue.

“No, you ain’t,” Jack grumbled, “Mine let me protect ‘em.”

“I don’t need your—“

“Davey, don’t you get it?” Jack yelled, grabbing Davey’s shirt as he got all up in his face, “Pulitzer knew exactly how to get at me! He knew who to threaten because you won’t let me protect ya, but you’s probably the one I wanna protect the most! So hit me if you want, but agree to the Children’s Crusade because we don’t have time for this!”

Davey grabbed Jack’s wrists, “I ain’t gonna hit you, Jackie.”

“Just do it!” Jack shouted, “I know I deserve it! Kath already punched me in the face and she apologized but we both know I don’t deserve that shit because I’m a traitor and I hurt everyone including you so just—“

That was when Davey kissed him, needing him to shut up shut up shut up. To stop talking about getting hurt like he deserved it, to just be okay.

Jack gasped against his mouth and Davey almost pulled away, but then Jack was desperately kissing him back, gripping his shirt like it was a lifeline and half-sobbing as Davey let him pull him in closer.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as they pulled apart enough to breathe.

“We don’t have time for that,” Davey whispered back, “Be sorry later. Rally the troops now. I’ll meet you at the Lodging House.”

“Wait,” Jack said as Davey was about to climb in the window to grab Sarah and Les and let his parents know where he was going, “Wait, Dave. What... what’s this about?”

Davey knew he wasn’t talking about the strike.

“Am I... am I kidding myself, or is there really something..?”

Davey rolled his eyes in exasperation, “Of course there is.”

“Well don’t just say it like I happens every day!”

“Jack, I—“

“No! I’m not an idiot! I know boys like you and me...” he sighed, “I know we don’t get happy endings, but... standin’ here right now, lookin’ at you... I just wanna grab hold of somethin.’ Make time stop so’s I can just keep on lookin’ at you.”

“I know what ya mean, Jackie. But we have work to do, so we should just—“

“Wait,” Jack insisted, grabbing Davey’s arm, “Please. Can we just... can we talk? For 5 minutes?”

Davey could see how badly Jack needed reassurance. How bad he needed to see that no, this wasn’t just his imagination, a pretty painting in his head. This was real.

“Look,” he said quietly, grabbing Jack’s hand, “You snuck up on me, Jack Kelly. I never even saw it coming. Till the moment I found you, I thought I knew what love was. But now I’m learning what is true. The world finds ways to sting you, and then one day decides to bring you something to believe in for even a night. And if you’re gone tomorrow... what was ours still will be. I have something to believe in now that I know you believed in me.”

Jack nodded in understanding, “We was never meant to meet. And then we meet—who knows why? One more stranger on the street, just someone sweet passing’ by. An angel come to save me, who didn’t even know he gave me something to believe in for even a day. And if I’m gone tomorrow...”

He trailed off, and Davey grabbed his face gently to make him distract him.

“Do you know what I believe in?”

He hoped Jack could just look into his eyes and see.

They almost kissed again, but Jack pulled away at the last second.

“If things were different...”

They both knew what he was really saying, but neither of them said it.

“If you weren’t still chasing Santa Fe...”

Because he was. No matter how stupid that dream was, Jack couldn’t give it up just after a 10-minute talk.

“If Kath’s father wasn’t probably going to kill me.

“Wait, what?”

“Oh, it turns out Katherine is Pulitzer’s daughter. Don’t worry, though, she’s on our side.”

Davey decided to process that later, “You’re not really scared of Kath’s father.”

“No... but I am pretty scared of you.”

Davey slapped his shoulder gently, “Don’t be!”

“Well...” Jack smiled, finally, “I have something to believe in, now that I know you believed in me.”

Davey couldn’t help it. He kissed Jack again, quickly, then backed up.

“I’ll wake up Les and Sarah and meet you at the Lodging House, okay?”

“Yeah. And by the way, if we’s together now... I should probably warn ya that I might not always have time for ya. I’ve been sorta takin’ care of all the other fellas since I was 14, so...”

Davey rolled his eyes, “Jack, I’m already stuck with Les. I am more than happy to adopt all of your siblings, too.”

“Oh. Okay. Ya know they ain’t actually my siblings, though, right?”

Davey shrugged, “You always act like they are, so it’s close enough.”

“Fair. Guess ya have been helpin’ take care of ‘em these last few days, so the change shouldn’t phase ‘em too much.”

“Yeah, they’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

“So... you’re sure you’re in for... whatever this is? Cause there ain’t no goin’ back in time, so... are ya in for sure?”

Davey nodded, “For sure.”

Luckily, that seemed to put Jack’s mind at ease enough for him to leave.

#newsies #javid #javey #jack kelly #davey jacobs #jack x davey #angst #something to believe in #the truth about the moon #jack and davey are the mom and dad friends #canon rewrite #violet’s writing

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bitchiaintanonymous · 4 years ago

Text

Here we are, back at it again by popular demand.... Okay, so no one actually asked for this, but it’s here so get ready.

Oh also, just so you know, this is sadder than the last one.... like a lot sadder.

But hey, go ahead and read on, I’m like, 99.99% sure you won’t regret it. Enjoy, I guess.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of Alcohol/Alcoholism, Mild Description of Gore, Mentions of a Car Accident, Harsh Language.

Hold Me, Set Me Free

It takes ten seconds for a life to be ruined.

It took one second for Race to leave his house. It took one second for him to decide to cross the street. It took one second for him to fall. It took five seconds for him to get back up. It took one second for the driver to look at his phone.

It took ten seconds total for the car to hit him.

It took longer for Jack to find out.

The past few hours seemed like a blur to him. He remembers leaving the trial, hugging Crutchie and watching him go with Snyder. Then getting a phone call from the very same man not even a few hours later. After that, he remembers feeling hopeless. So incredibly hopeless. A feeling, strong enough, that it made him run to a bar, successfully breaking his two year sobriety. Although after that, his memory gets a little… flashy.

There are things he knows for sure. Race called him… he didn’t answer. Race left a voicemail…several actually. They ranged from as old as only half an hour after Jack got to the bar, to as recent as the moment everything changed.

After that Jack got another call, one that he answered.

It was a hospital.

He should have answered Race’s call.

It’s a thought that repeated in Jack’s head while waiting for his baby brother to get out of surgery. He should have answered the call, he should have called him back.

He should have done something.

Instead he decided to make, arguably, one of the worst decisions he could have made. He drank. Two suffocating years of sobriety and he threw it all away just because someone’s words got to his head. He knew he shouldn’t have listened to Snyder, but after how the last trial went, he knew how close Snyder was to gaining full custody. No matter how hard Jack tried, Snyder had one thing Jack never seemed to have enough of. Money. He could see the jury was siding with him, and now Snyder was taking away one of the most important people to Jack. And he wasn’t even blinking an eye about it. Now the only thing Jack was sure of, is that all he has is Race.

... All he had.

But Race got taken too. Taken by Liam. Truthfully, Jack can’t even remember the last time he saw Race properly. They used to see each other everyday, but things had changed. Now they only seemed to communicate through phone calls. Yet, even then, Race seemed different. His tone was never as happy as it used to be.

And God, Jack should have done something.

“How’re you holding up sugar?”

Jack recognized the person interrupting his thoughts as Miss Medda Larkin, the head nurse in the New York Presbyterian Hospital, and the person who constantly checked in on him for the past few hours.

Jack shot out of his seat hearing her voice, “Is he out? Is he okay?” It seemed that no matter how much Jack tried to appear strong, the shake in his voice gave him away.

Medda seemed to have noticed that as her look of pity intensified. Any hope Jack might have had in that moment left when she shook her head sadly. “Sorry sugar, we’re not sure when he’ll be stable enough to be put in a room. Only time, and our best doctors, can tell that dear”

Jack sighed and took his seat again. He was ready to wait days if that’s what it took for Race to be okay. Hell, he was ready to wait years.

“However… we do have someone here looking for you. A young red headed woman.”

Katherine.

Jack subconsciously sat up at that. He didn’t know why Katherine had come, but truthfully, he didn’t want to question it. “Yeah I know her, she was my girlfriend… not too sure what she’s doing here though.” Jack saw that Medda looked like she was gonna send her away and elaborated, “We left on good terms. She can come in.”

Medda looked skeptical leaving the small waiting room, but a few seconds later Katherine walked in.

Jack had never really gotten over Katherine. He thought about her a lot. More than you should think about someone who broke up with you, but he couldn’t help it. Katherine was... everything. Feisty and witty, intelligent, drop dead gorgeous, and the more Jack thinks about it, the more he understands why she left.

Seeing her again was like everything Jack needed, and everything he was trying to avoid.

She looked frantic coming in, different than Jack had remembered her. “Jack! Hey... how’s Tony?”

If it were any other time Jack might have teased her about not being happy to see him, but all Jack could think about was Race. “He's... hanging in there. The doctors don’t know when he’ll be stable enough to come out.... He was taken a while ago.” He assumed. Jack doesn’t know how long he had been blankly staring at the wall in front of him, and he wasn’t about to think too hard about it.

Katherine just looked at him with concern. “And how are you?”

Stressed, angry, concerned, worried, frustrated, terrified.

“I’m fine.” he replied.

She looked like she was about to argue, but he cut her off before she could.

“I’ll be happy when Race is happy” And it was true, Jack would not really be fine until Race was safe.

She pursed her lips like she did when she was getting frustrated. “No one is asking you to be happy Jack. Just asking that you’re okay.”

Jack was getting frustrated now too. “I’ll be okay, when Race is okay.” His tone suggested that that was the end of the conversation.

For a second, it looked like she might drop the

subject, but then, suddenly, she scrunched up her face. “Is that… were you drinking Jack?”

Jack stared at her for a few seconds then let out a humorous laugh, “Really? You really want to do this, right now?” Jack bit out harshly.

Katherine didn’t flinch at Jack’s tone. If anything, she seemed to get more aggressive. “Yes Jack, really. You have a problem. We broke up what, three years ago, and you’re still going on with this bullshit?”

It hurt Jack that she thought he hadn’t changed, but at that moment Jack didn’t want to be hurt anymore. He focused on the anger. “One, you don’t get to do that. You broke up with me, you don’t get to tell me how to live my life. And not that I need to tell you, but if it’ll get you off my back, I was two years sober until tonight happened.”

A small part of Jack took pleasure seeing Kath speechless. Another part felt guilty for making her feel bad. He wasn’t sure which side won control.

Katherine looked like she had more to say, but thankfully, didn’t push the subject further. Instead, she surprised Jack. “You’re right…. I don’t have any right to tell you what decisions to make. And, if it counts, for anything at all… you seem like you really did change. I didn’t mean to hurt you… I’m sorry.”

Jack didn’t respond, although he knew Katherine didn’t mind. Even after three years, Jack could still tell when she got lost in her mind.

A few seconds of silence passed before Jack felt a hand on his. He froze before looking over at Katherine who looked like she was mentally telling him to accept the comfort. Jack didn’t know what to think. It baffled him that she held his hand like it was perfectly natural. Although… In a way, Jack supposed it was. Natural, just uncommon. Very uncommon.

He accepted the comfort.

A few minutes pass with them sitting in silence before a question surfaced in Jack’s mind. “Kath,” to her hum of acknowledgement he looked up from the ground “how did you know Race was hurt? I thought… after we broke up you took your name off his emergency contacts.” When Jack looked to Katherine he saw a guilty look displayed across her face.

“I did,” She spoke the words carefully, as if she were breaking bad news to someone “but that’s not how I knew… Jack… have you watched the news lately?” Jack didn’t say anything, just shook his head and motioned for her to continue. “What happened to Tony is there… All of it.”

Before he could think, Jack grabbed the television remote from the small table in front of them, and turned on the news channel. Katherine tried to protest and grab the remote, but Jack was already standing up out of reach, turning up the volume.

“-An accident involving 22 year old Anthony Higgins, who got hit by a car at the Fort Washington Avenue and West 176th Street intersection. Anthony appeared to trip and fall in the middle of the intersection, and that combined with the driver, who was said to be on his mobile device, resulted in this terrible accident.” Jack couldn’t focus. For a second he thought the television was off, but then he saw a video on the device playing. It showed police cars lined up around the crime scene, and Race being loaded into an ambulance. He looked terrible. His face was covered in blood and even through the sheet that was covering him, Jack could his right arm and leg busted. He could vaguely hear Katherine trying to get his attention, but he ignored her in favour of listening to the television once more.

“The young adult is said to be getting medical treatment at a nearby hospital, but the future of Anthony seems to be unknown-”

This time the television really did turn off, and suddenly Katherine’s face was in front of him, her hands on the sides of his face and her eyes filled with concern.

“Jack? Jack, c’mon snap out of it…. God I knew I shouldn’t have told you about that crap… Jack come on, you’re okay, Tony’s okay, he’s gonna get out of surgery soon and everything is going to be fine”

“You don’t know that.” The words came out a lot harsher than he meant them to, but Katherine didn’t seem fazed.

“I do. He’s gonna make it Jack. I know he is. What they were saying on there was-”

“The truth, wasn’t it? We don’t know what’s gonna happen to him… We don’t know if he’ll live or…”

“Hey. Don’t think like that. If there’s anything I know, it’s that Race is a fighter. And he’s a good one too.... He’s gonna make it Jack.” Her tone left no room for argument and she said it with so much certainty, Jack almost believed her.

“A fighter...” She had no idea how true that was.

“Well I wouldn’t say that. More like... a mouse you know? In a game of Tom and Jerry.”

Jack stopped at that voice. For a second he thought he was imagining it, but when he looked over Katherine’s red curls at that unmistakable smirk, he saw red.

He was sure he blacked out, or he skipped a period in time, because one second he was looking at the face of his brother's abuser, and the next he was being pulled off of a bloodied Liam. Jack didn’t truly know if he was the one that caused all that blood, but he sure as hell hoped he was. And judging by the bruising on his knuckles, he had a pretty good chance.

Before he could say anything about it though, he remembered the situation at hand. Race got hit by a car, because he was running from his house, and he was running, because of Liam. All at once Jack realized he felt angry again. Murderous.

And he loved it.

He also realized that security guards were holding him by his arms to stop him from getting to Liam.

Jack tried to pull his arms out of their grip, but they were prepared and just held his arms tighter. He heard a gruff voice speak behind him, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you boy.”

Jack didn’t have time to decide if that was a challenge or a threat because not long after, Liam was talking.

“You’re fucking crazy man! Do just fucking attacked people for no reason? I didn’t even do anything to you.”

Even with the serious situation at hand, Jack let out a laugh. A crazy, psychopathic laugh. “Didn’t do anything?! Didn’t do anything my ass.” Faintly, Jack could hear Katherine trying to calm him down, but he wasn’t going to stop. Not until Liam was either dead on the ground, or in a hospital room himself. “You hurt my brother. You’re the reason he’s not here by my side but rather in surgery getting treated because he got hit by a fucking car!”

It was Liam's turn to look at Jack in humorous disbelief. “Me?! He went out in the middle of the night on his own. That’s not my fault.”

Jack was about to fight him back on it but Liam put on a smug smirk and cut him off before he could even open his mouth. “Besides, last I heard, he called you... and you didn’t answer. Maybe that’s what got him so distracted before he got hit. I think, if we should blame anyone here, it should be you.”

He knows. Jack knows it’s his fault, he’s been telling himself that since he got the call... but at that moment, he can’t help but think otherwise.

Seeing Liam at the hospital, acting like the douchebag Jack always knew he was... Jack’s not so sure it’s his fault at all.

“He was only outside calling me because he was running away from you… So that pegs the question Liam.” He spit the name out like venom, and smiled at his next words. “Why was he running from you?”

Before Liam could give some bullshit excuse though, Jack heard another voice enter the room.

“Jack, can I talk to you? It's about Anthony.”

As much as he wanted to expose Liam for the terrible person he was, Jack knew he had to go with Medda. Race was his first priority.

Without taking his eyes off Liam, he answered, “Yeah, of course.” Jack didn’t stop glaring until the door closed behind him.

After it did, Jack finally turned to face Medda. Upon seeing her troubled expression he immediately started asking about Race. “Is something wrong? Is he finally getting out?”

Meddas face fell even more than it already was. She spoke her next words carefully. “Jack… sweetie, he… he didn’t make it.”

For a second, everything around Jack stopped.

For a second, he forgot all about Liam, and Katherine, and Snyder. He forgot about the custody battle, he forgot about the bar, he forgot about everything. For a second his mind was quiet.

And then that second passed.

Jack didn’t know what was happening around him. If he focused really hard he could make out a floor underneath him and hands on his arms, a voice talking to him, and a head of red hair. But realistically, he didn’t have the energy to focus on that. Medda’s words played on a loop on his mind.

“he didn’t make it.”

It takes ten seconds to take a life.

It took four words to ruin Jack’s.

... Sorry. Yeah, that was... something. Anyways, I hope you liked it, I know there’s a lot left hanging in the air, and I’m planning to make another fic related to this at some point in the near future. But if you want to see anything specific, just send an ask and I’ll see what I can do.

#Jack Kelly #Racetrack Higgins #Katherine Pulitzer #Newsies #Major Character Death #Medda Larkin #Crutchie Morris #Past Jack Kelly/Katherine Pulitzer #Original Male Character #His name’s Liam and he sucks #Mentions of Alcohol/Alcoholism #Mentions of Car Accident #Mild Description of Gore #Mentions of Abuse #I think #Harsh Language

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80s-roger · 5 years ago

Text

Not On My Watch (pt 5)

Pairing: Dad!Roger x Mum!Reader

summary: you’re divorced with queen’s roger taylor due to constant cheating and irrational behaviour towards you. but u have one person in common: your daughter, Laura aka your favourite human on earth. Your marriage with roger had its ups and downs but laura was the happiness in it. Now that she’s 8 and starts to realise how your terms with roger are, you finally tell her that you’re seeing another man except her father and she took it really warmly. She seemed excited to meet the new man unlikely your ex husband who accidentally learns about it by Laura, the weekend you would leave her at his place: on weekends you had some cute getaways with R/N because the court decided that Laura could stay or visit her dad on weekends and stay with him for five days each Christmas and easter vacations. On summers he has the right to be with her for two weeks.

check: masterlist // dialogue prompts

If you haven't read the previous chapters, here they are: part one // part two // part three // part four

note: it wasn’t supposed to be this specific plot, but I promise you the good one is at next one ;)

warnings: flashback scenes, angst, fluff

words: 2,849

taglist: @madeinheavxn @namelesslosers @stacymaytaylor (send me an ask or a message if you want to be tagged)

You set the table, eating like a proper family for the first time in two and a half years. Laura was extremely happy seeing her family reunited. You were telling her stories from the past, which she found intriguing and interesting. You didn't forget mentioning about Roger taking you with him on tour in the United States, a year after started dating. It was the first time you went abroad. You fell for Roger hard. Losing him made you lose yourself too.

"Wow mum, you never told me stories with dad. Fairytales are boring." She gasped after hearing your US experience.

"Why didn't you tell her stories about us?" Roger curiously asked.

"Because at the time, our marriage was going downhill. You know, so I tried to not think of you." You answered.

"Oh.." he didn't have to say something. "So Laura, do you want to hear another story of mum and me?" He asked. Meanwhile, you prepared the dishes for the washing machine. Laura nodded, waiting for the narration.

Flashback

"So you're going out with Kath's friend?" Brian asked Roger.

"Yes," Roger answered while fixing himself at the mirror. "So Kath is your new girlfriend? I thought she was a groupie." He joked.

"Haha, very funny." Brian mocked him. "She's a nice company." He added.

"What about the bone zone?" The blond drummer pondered with a naughty smile on his face.

"That's good too, I don't complain." He shared a laugh with his friend. "So where will you meet her?" He questioned.

"Outside of the pub we met." He answered. "Where should I take her?" Roger nervously asked as if he never went on a date.

"Where do you take most of the girls you like?" Brian asked trying to help him think rationally.

"Bed?" He said back and gained an eye roll from Brian. "But Y/N is so hard to get, I don't know. I'm afraid if I say something wrong she'll lose interest in any second." He mumbled.

"Easy Rog.." Brian tried to calm his friend down. "She agreed to go on a date with you, that's progress, right?" He continued. Roger nodded. "Which means she finds you cute or hot or I don't know how girls describe us." He chuckled at the end making the blond drummer laugh.

"Alright, maybe if I take her to some other pub where we can talk?" Roger thought again.

"Excellent. She's not like the other girls you date, Roger. She's, you know, -" Brian tried to explain what type of girl you are.

"The I-want-the-man-to-chase-me. She's screaming that." Roger described what girl you are and he was right. "It was so hard for me to get to talk with her after our gig ended, I'm even surprised she finally agreed." He added, now wearing his perfume, ready to meet you.

"She likes you, pal. Good luck!" Brian hugged his friend and Roger was on his way to meet you.

You were nervous too. You didn't want to be late. You were used to never arriving on time, but this time, it was a date with a man you liked from the first moment, as much as you denied it. There wouldn't be any other second chance with him, he'd become a famous rockstar.

"There you are!" Roger spotted you coming faster to his place.

"Shit, am I late?" You asked, checking your watch.

"No, no, I just arrived." He was waiting for you, for about ten minutes. But he came at the checkpoint a little earlier due to impatience seeing you.

"Alright then." You stopped a little to catch your breath. Your high heels hurt your feet by walking so fast. But you wanted to look beautiful. The blue dress you were wearing had Roger staring at it and you all the time.

"You look so beautiful Y/N." He gasped as he was checking you out. "Nice dress, nice heels, nice hair, nice you." He ended the compliment with a hand kiss. He really wanted you to catch feelings for him.

"Thank you, Roger." You smiled after receiving his kiss and his compliments. "Where can we go?" You asked.

"There's another pub downtown that plays jazz music and we can talk without shouting." He joked and gently grabbed your hand, opened the door for you and placed you inside.

"Oh, I like jazz." You were surprised that he was probably into jazz. You waited for him to get into his red Renault car.

"Perfect, let's go." He started the engine and nervousness hit your body. You were shaking, feeling like throwing up. A handsome guy next to you, an upcoming legend wants to go on a date with you. "Hey, are you alright?" He asked after stopping at the red traffic light. He checked your hands trembling and gently placed his on yours. "You're not cold, are you?" He asked. You can't be cold on a May night.

"No, I'm just a little nervous." You tried to keep smiling. You're not the tough girl he met a couple of days ago, but a vulnerable nineteen-year-old girl trying to find love.

Roger was feeling split: He had two options in his head. Should he take you to the pub you both agreed or somewhere isolated to talk with no one seeing. That would make you feel more uncomfortable.

"What do you want me to do?" He asked waiting for any answer. "You want me to keep driving or stop somewhere? I promise I won't do anything." He shared his ideas with you. You looked at him confused.

"Could you stop somewhere, please?" You politely asked trying to not sound bitter after your sudden mood.

"Sure, are you alright?" He asked again, trying to find any isolated place for you two.

"Yes, it happens a lot when I'm feeling nervous." You explained.

He didn't say a word. Until he found that place, behind a church, with no soul around. It seemed creepy if you consider you are on the car with a man you met a week ago. But you liked him.

"Listen, if you are feeling nervous, we can call it off." He showed empathy at you feeling awkward.

"No, I won't have another chance with you if we call it off." You got out of the car, trying to get some air. Roger followed your moves, now standing behind you.

"What do you mean?" He asked raising his hands.

"I mean you'll become famous and everything that goes with it and you'll forget about me anyways." You tried to explain.

"Why would I forget you? I like you." He straightforwardly said, sending you shivers.

"I like you too, but I don't want me to love you." You are a person full of emotions, throwing that to Roger made him feel weird.

"Why are you talking about love? This is a date, not a wedding." He objected.

"Exactly, I'm afraid if we become a girlfriend-boyfriend thing, I'll eventually love you and then things will get nasty." You could look years away. Look at you now.

"Are you nuts? I wanted to get to know you, I want to know you well, be my girlfriend, how do we call these things?" He questioned.

"Relationship." You answered turning around, to face him. "Would you like that? I wanted that for years." You asked trying to hide your desperation. But you couldn't.

"Hold on, you never had a relationship?" He asked confused, coming closer to you.

"Don't make fun of that, I never liked the boys who approached me." You admitted. You could see his eyes, sparkling from excitement because he knew now how inexperienced you were on that part. A hopeless romantic with huge fantasy.

"Well, I'd like to be the one." He smirked and grabbed his hands around your waist, pulled you into his arms and kissed your lips. Your first kiss ever. His lips harmoniously moved onto yours giving them what they needed all this time. Tenderness. "How was that?" He asked, his eyes now focused on yours.

"Amazing." You licked your lips and smiled, not feeling nervous anymore.

"Is the pub still a plan?" He asked.

"Yes." You were so hyped after your kiss you couldn't focus on anything besides Roger. His hand caught yours leading you back to his car.

Flashback ended.

"Wow, mum!" She turned to your place. "Dad was your first kiss?" She asked fully awed by the narration.

"Yes, he was." You blushed as you both looked at each other. He was fluttered by your current reaction. Your first everything.

"Oh dad, tell me more!" She begged for more stories, but it was time to leave.

"No young lady, I need to have some other memories between your mum and me." He playfully berated her. "Besides, we have to take you to Laura." You stood up from the chairs and moved towards the hall, wearing your shoes.

"Mum, will you tell me these stories instead of fairytales?' She asked while Roger helped her once more with tying her shoes.

"Yes, I will." You answered. You wanted to tell her stories about you and her father, but most of these are explicit. Not special for children.

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

Roger drove off to John's house to leave Laura. "I'll take her inside." He declared and you stayed in the car to wait.

"Daddy, what about my stuff?" She asked.

"We're going to mum's place now to take your stuff. We'll come again." He rubbed her head before knocking the door.

"Hey Roger, I was waiting for you now." He smiled at his bandmate and turned his gaze to Laura. "Hello, Laura! The other Laura waits for you inside! Come in!" He kissed her head.

"Bye, daddy!" She hugged him and walked inside the house.

"I'll come back again to bring her clothes and tomorrow's books for school," Roger said.

"Sure. I'm waiting for the details tomorrow." John winked.

"Ah, I see where you're getting with that." Roger laughed. "Just the abstract." He joked and left the grand house to come back to you.

"You have the keys to your apartment?" Roger asked you.

"Yes. And a piper spray for any case." You showed him that, referring to R/N who could wait for you around the corner.

"He won't harm you, over my dead body." He reassured you and placed a kiss on your forehead. "Shall we go?" He asked and you nodded.

There wasn't any talk during the car drive, but that didn't make it awkward. It was a peaceful silence you used to have before the dark days arrived. You couldn't hide your fear though, it was visible. Your hands were rubbing your thighs nervously. Roger, noticed your behaviour and placed his hand on yours. "It's going to be alright. That's why I'm here, with you." He placed his head on yours, giving you a reassuring kiss. You hugged him in return, feeling his scent against your senses. He smelled amazing. His perfume combined with nicotine was what you could characterize him.

You opened your apartment's door, seeing the inside of the house upside down. You knew he would fuck it up. All you could think of was who's going to clean this mess?

"Oh God-" you gasped and closed the door behind you.

"Y/N, don't worry we'll fix this mess together." He reassured you. "Do you think he did it on purpose?" He asked trying to figure out what was R/N's intent.

"Shit." You gasped again, looking at your ex-husband horrified.

"What?" He asked after seeing you turning pale.

"FUCK." You yelled, running to Laura's bedroom, looking for your diary. He knew about it.

You searched for it at the place you're hiding it and thanked your lucky stars it was up there inside the pillows you keep at the closet. "Oh God, oh God, thank you!" You stared above, kicking out all your angst while holding your huge notebook. It was clever of you to hide something personal at your daughter's room, in a cupboard she never uses. Roger followed you and sat next to you.

"Y/N, you alright?" He asked placing his hand at your back. His eyes fell at the notebook you were tightly holding. "What's this?" He curiously asked and tried to hold it but you politely refused. "Oh. Is it personal?" He questioned.

"I was keeping a diary all this time." You confessed.

"A diary? How long?" He asked as he was checking all these used pages.

"Before you." You smiled and scrolled a few of your pages.

"Wow, that's a lot..." he was amused. "So I guess I'm in there, aren't I?" He asked checking for assurance.

"Don't guess. Be sure." You smiled.

"Can I see just one page please?" He politely asked.

"I'll show you my favourite." You seemed too excited to get to a specific page.

Roger next to you was smiling through the entire process, trying to read while pages were fastly zapping, until you stopped somewhere from the first twenty pages. He focused on your point of view, trying to understand what you were writing about.

"Oh, your first time." He awed. After reading the sentence: my heart was beating so fast at the moment he was inside me, even my soul could see his, from our eyes. "I didn't know you were so sentimental about it." His cheeks blushed from everything you wrote.

"Of course I was, it was my first time. I loved you, Roger." You opened your heart to him for one more time. His eyes were wide opened. It was the first time he got to hear from you how you really felt about your first time. He continued reading to the next day, how you behaved after your first time.

It had to happen right? Or not? My parents are going to kill me. It should have happened after marriage. That's what they've been saying all my life. I love Roger but he would never settle for a wedding. He's a rockstar now, he would probably abandon me if I ask him to marry me. I have to keep it a secret.

"Y/N, you never told me that your parents are against sex before the wedding." He was shocked at what you were writing.

"I know, I had to do it, otherwise you'd break up with me. I didn't want that at the time." You said feeling secure now that he's still by your side.

"Oh, baby..." he whispered and kept you in his arms. "Was it too important to your family to keep your virginity?" He asked.

"It was for them to keep it until my wedding night." You started. "But you know? I only wanted to give it to the man I loved so bad one summer night. And it was special for me, you made it all about me." You continued and stayed in his arms for a couple of minutes. "They always believed my first time was at our wedding."

"I think you have to take this with you. It's not safe on its own. We should grab Laura's stuff and drive them off to John's." You both stood up and put your daughter's stuff in a bag.

You got in the car again, still silent. You were just reading random pages from your diary, getting all emotional. From you meeting him, dating him, marrying him, giving birth to his child, divorcing him... You wrote many things in there. It has an emotional value. You knew by now that Roger was the only person you wouldn't bother reading it, after your permission of course, because almost every page has his name on it.

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

After giving Laura her stuff, you went back to Roger's fancy house. You were getting used to getting there. He looked like wanting to stay with you again, without including the disagreements. He opened the door and you both walked upstairs, leading to his bedroom.

"Do you think you should stay here now?" He asked.

"Why?" You returned as you placed your diary at the nightstand.

"That asshole could come to your place, any moment. You're not safe." He explained. "Maybe you should stay here. With me." He came closer to you, his face inches away from yours. You didn't say anything. Just let him do all the work for you.

His kiss was deep and his hands couldn't restrict themselves from touching your waist. These couple of days, you are much closer than you were when your marriage went downhill. You wanted to give it a chance.

"Tonight, I want you to be loud. I missed that." He stated, looking you into your eyes.

"Loud?" You asked, trying to understand his motives.

"Really loud. This is why Laura isn't here." He winked and left his room, going to the bathroom to take a shower.

"You're the filthiest man I know!" You playfully yelled at him.

"Oh, I know love!" He loudly answered from the bathroom and so on, you went downstairs to fix two glasses of red wine. Chilling situations like these, haven't happened since Laura was a baby.

#roger taylor #Roger Meddows Taylor #roger taylor fic #queen fic #queen band #queen #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x oc #roger taylor x female reader #roger taylor x Y/N #john deacon #freddie mercury #brian may

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jean-does-not-have-a-horseface · 4 years ago

Text

Icecube

@sasageyowrites birthday gift number 2 babyyyyyyy here you gooooo sorry it's a tad late I love youuuuu

A long little something with Shoto, Bakugo and your oc

The dull cloudy sky roared in chocked muffles. The cotton textured clouds collided rapidly as the wind blew stronger leaving no room for the dainty cobalt sky to bleed through. Kath looked up, her lagoon orbs flickering as they remained fixated on a particular tiny cloud, watching as it deformed and reshaped in numerous shapes. Puffing cold air towards the long bangs over her forehead, she blew the strand away from her face.

Miscellaneous little snowflakes fell on her nose and eyebrows, decorating her slightly tan skin in her most favorite manner. She chuckled to herself and pushed further back into the wall she was leaning on, her left foot roaming over her right one with a silent jab. She grunted to herself as she double tapped on the screen of her phone after checking the time.

4.42 pm

Shoto was unusually late. That much was all that she could comment on the situation, because frankly it was true, Shoto was known on being sharp and on time so this definitely seemed like an exception. As far as she knew he had run up with his father so there wasn't a point in bitching about it.

Hugging her chest, she grabbed the bang from before, fidgeting the lock between her fingers before eventually twirling it on her pointer finger. She could practically feel the clock ticking by each passing minute, the tight Lycra if her leggings freezing further with every passing second.

Not that she minded anyways, working out in the cold was supposed to help her deal with the aftermath of overusing her quirk. Shoto had always been kind enough to join her more than occasionally, always eager to consult her as to how to use her much similar to his frosting ability.

But this wasn't what was making her impatient today. What bothered her was rather irrational and idiotic, totally idiotic, she kept reminding her self but since Shoto was her childhood friend she felt like she could entrust him with the bothersome knot that sat on her chest and tightened with each passing day.

Shaking her head off her thoughts, her ears were filled with the faint shuffling sound of footsteps, ones she had grown used to over the years. Pushing her lip in a line she half smiled at Shoto, her eyes momentarily hazing over the strand on her finger, before deciding to put behind her ear.

"Hey, sorry I'm late." Shoto spoke nonchalantly, extending his fist towards her direction.

Kath puffed her cheeks up, pushing her lips further together, reaching her fist out to Shoto, her frozen knuckles meeting with his slightly warmer ones.

"Are you still in the mood for a run?" She asked, her voice stripped of any of the malice Shoto had expected to come out of her.

Nonetheless he slightly nodded his head, pushing his own lips together and between his teeth.

"Great," Kath cheered through a tiny stoic mumble "let me tie my hair."

Shoto run a hand through his hair, then slid it down his neck, scratching an itchy blotch of skin just between his right collarbone and the nape of his neck. Kath signed at him with her chin once she raised her head, her finngers working on wrapping the white elastic in loop around her makeshift ponytail.

Shoto sighed, his chest rising and falling as his heart heaped inside his chest. Most of Kath’s ponytail fell onto her exposed collarbones, slipping between the hood of her zip up sweater. It made him gulp hard and uncomfortably, the little droplet of saliva torturing its strainous way down his esophagus.

Sure it was normal that he felt like that. He was sooner or later bound to find someone to develop a crush on,a nd who was a better candidate that Kath, one of the few people he had known since elementary school, right? Well, it wasn’t like he was going to act upon it anytime soon, or with no confirmation that she liked him back, being her friend was more than enough.

Yet, the blooming passion of teenage love was planting sweet baby pink cherry blossoms inside him, acting as an indepented source of maroon heat inside himwhener he laid eyes on her. And for all that mattered, he didn’t know what exactly had made him feel the way he was feeling now, maybe it was the sight of her nose painted in that mellow contradictory crimson mimic of a blush, or the way her hair would shine a lighter shade of blonde under such cold environment.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” Kath whispered, her words transforming into small frozen fogs, vanishing before she opened her mouth to let out a few addiotional words “I need your help, Shoto.”

Shot shook his head, his hair straying left and right. “Shoot it, what do you want to ask?”

“Ah, here i go i guess” Kath sighed, her azure eyes fixating on Shoto’s mismatching ones as her form eventually jumped up and down from the workout. “I like bakugo so please please give me some advice.” She breathed out in one take, lips pressed together in a dumbfounded and embarrased manner.

“What?” Shoto almost chocked, his eyes growing wide at her sight

“Do I need to repeat my self? I like Katchuki so i need adv-”

“No, I mean why, what?” black straight brows furrowed as he spoke, his mind intoxicated by what he had just heard.

“Why? Why do I like Katsuki? That’s what you’re asking?”

Tasting the bitterness in his mouth, Shoto felt his throat run dry. Beside him, Kath run almost anthusiastically, her head turned to him as her hands stayed underneath her chest, supporting her bust from bouncing up and down while she kept on jogging. She purced herr lips in a small downwards triangle, adorably batting her dark blonde lashed to Shoto’s direction

“No, uhm, why me? isn't your sister a psychic? Have her read his mind, save yourself from the trouble.”

Shaking his hands back and forth, Shoto picked up his own pace, balancing his weight from foot to foot. His chest hitched, cursed to take small intakes of air to fill his lungs he felt his knees going week.

The small things of snowflakes grazed over his right side, dissolving upon contact, creating a momentum of discomfort as they blotched down in sheer freezing puddles.

"I asked her and apparently that's illegal. Also if I were to ask her again, she wouldn't hesitate to find an excuse to come here and flirt with mister Aizawa. You know..." Kath paused, her eyes squinting in such internal dispute that her eyebrows wavered their way to the tops of her eye sockets. "She's been making heart eyes at him for a while now."

"That's disgusting." Shoto commented nonchalantly.

"There's worse. Apparently he's subtly flirting back. Ugh why can't she just like your bother so we can adopt you all legally for fuck's sake."

Coughing up a little grazy knot that had formed down the pits of his throat in his effort to master up some words to speak. He backed away, taking a few steps behind her as he slowed down his pace to the point his bangs weren't leaping on his forehead anymore.

Family.

That's how she viewed him. Shoto didn't know why, but it jabbed a few holes in his heart every time the word played inside his head, bouncing around the cavities of his brain like a tiny little mantra. He hadn't suspected he'd actually live through this teeny silent heartbreak; despite having heard that no one could ever escape the mighty friendzone -or at least that was among Ochaco's lines- he hadn't believed, not even for a second, that it'd come to be so cold and raw like this.

Damn, he didnt even have the chance to get openly rejected.

"I'm not the best person for love advice, why don't you try Uraraka? Or Yaoyorozu?"

"Well you're my childhood friend." Kath said, slowing down her pace until she came to jog right next to Shoto once again. "And you spend time with Bakugo for your temporary license."

Shoto looked at you nonchalantly, face blank of any expression once again. Numerous thoughts bounced around his brain, numbing his already frost irritated face until he couldn't even feel his nose scrunching up. Closing his eyes in defeat he slowed down his movements, his hands moving automatically as his body came to an halt.

He only needed a moment to catch his breath, ripping himself of kneeling or bowing to rest his hands on his knees he stood almost proud, his back excessively straight as if he could always feel his father's fist bumping into him ordering him to fix his posture. He turned to face her, dual colored eyes searching for azure ones, the inside of his lower lip slightly being worried between his front teeth in anxiety.

Her blonde hair pooled over her shoulders as she nuzzled her nose onto the collar of her shirt, trying to get some friction onto the tip. She could feel a little droplet stuffing her nose, slipping down the side of her nostril.

"You know, when you get a frostbite from your quirk?" Shoto jumped straight to the point.

Subconsciously his fingers lingered over there, numb cold skin meeting its match upon impact, Shoto's frozen digit thrived between the openings betweet Kath's.With the tiniest double pat thrown to her direction Kath placed her fingers into Shoto's palms, receiving a little squeeze to the base of her thumbs by the dual hair colored male. The tipsof his fingers rubbed three soothing circles over her knuckles, his left hand emitting the most comforting heat.

The chocked sound of confirmation that came out of her made Shoto blink his eyes into hers, his lips pressing together and sinking bewteen his his teeth. He stared at her, noticing eacha nd every snowflake that fell onto her, decorating her golden locks under the cold gray afternoon light.

"Try to ask him to warm your hands up for you.”

“He’s going to blow my face off.” she snarls, her eck curving towards the ground, azure eyes burning holes onto the cobblestone material “You’re going to pay for my surgery if he does. Just a heads up.”

Shoto blinks his eyes, his gaze hooked by the the lock in which he held her hands in. If only he could warm up his insides the way he manges to warm her ands up, he wouldn’t have been in this position in the first place. Perhaps, he could try speaking up, he would just blurt out a fact and excuse himself in his dorm room, maybe sulk in there for a day or two until he had to go to his temporary license training. Sure Kath wouldn’t mind, despite being pulled away from him in her own will, he wasn’t that much of a fool for wanting to express how this rotting feeling in the depths of his stomach felt.

“He won’t do anything like that”

“Yeah, he’ll scream about me getting on his nerves, right?”

“No, he won’t.”

“I’m not telling him how i feel though, he’ll soo me off and i’ll be sulking like no tomorrow.”

Shoto didn’t answer, rather he tightened the grip on her hands, his quirk glowing like a warm candlelight lit in the back of his brain. His chest twithed, his heart beating extremelly fast at the action, but he managed to minimise the affect of his own feelings before the action of providing warm comfort to the blonde. He didn’t dare press on her or wrap a hand around her, he simpley stood there as both their pairs of hands mingled together, enjoying the violent nibbles of the weather on his skin, trying to find a way to pause his mind.

He didn’t need to drown himself in the self distracting thoughts he had just inflicted over his brain.

It was merely the not so nobble pain of one’s first heartbreak. It was supposed to be a story that he could look back to and feel a pulling in his heartstrings for the rest of his life.

“I can’t believe this!”

Water that came to a boil roared in hungry sounds even after the red boiler clicked to signal it had fulfilled its assigned task. Steam brushed over the wooden cupboards forming into tiny droplets that found their way down onto the marble counter.

Kath slapped a hand over her forehead as she wiped the counter with a rag with the other, the tiny little droplets seeping into the microfibers of the cloth as if they were being magnetized. A long sigh escaped her lips from the depths of her chest, the back of her nose growling in protest as he throat begged to be freed by the looping pain of an angry snarl.

Red eyes watched her meticulously, examining each and every single one of her movements, continuously moving back and forth whenever she took any step. Bakugo wasn't one to apologise; everyone that knew him knew that he was set on always doing things he was sure he wouldn't regret, not only because of his gigantic pride but also to save himself from the second hand embarrassment of having to admit his judgement wasn't right.

"I wouldn't have done this if you hadn't gotten on my nerves dammit!"

His protest is pathetic, he knows that much, but as golden hair sways before his eyes, as knee length sock clad legs move lazily over the counter he can't help but chock the hitch inside his throat and every his eyes away in annoyance.

Had he known how to act around someone he liked this could have been much easier for him.

So in half honesty, it was his fault that he melted down the cooker hood.

"Remind me again how I'm getting on your nerves Bakugo!" Kath supressed a screech, closing her eyes as she chewed on the inside of her cheek.

It was unavoidable. The way she felt like her heart was going to burst, the way her lips had turned dry, or how she felt her whole body freezing up in her attempt to cool down her nerves. But that was the reality of trying to speak rationally with Katsuki Bakugo. At least for her.

Her knees pressed together, the little squirming of her thighs covered by her skirt, though she could feel how cold her legs had gotten as her thighs collided.

"By existing." Bakugo grunted.

"I literally just asked you how you're doing with your temporary license."

The growl that came from her throat masked the look she wanted to put in her eyes. With the boiler in her hand she reached for a bowl from the lower cupboards, pouring the coiling water inside once she set it on the table. Bakugo's fist colliding with the mahogany made the water vibrate in tiny little circles, sending miniature waves from the center of the bowl to the outer strobe edges.

The clock read 6.17 am.

Bakugo hadn't meant to cause that accident, if he were to admit on certain things, but he needed to be excused for the fact that he had just woken up and maybe for the fact that it was early, oh, and also for the fact that his emotions angered him.

Kirishima had warned him about this, he had told him that he should be a little softer around the edges when approaching someone that he likes romantically, but Bakugo wasn't typically used to experiencing crushes or feelings of being smitten.

Right now, he was angry with himself more than he was with anyone else.

How dare he not know how to act around his crush? The yellow light in the kitchen beamed obnoxiously in his scarlet eyes, his platinum spiky locks falling over his hooded lids annoying him further as his heart heaped inside its skeleton prison.

Apparently, anxiety could make palms sweaty -Bakugo resented Midoriya now more than ever because he was the one who had warned him of his palms getting sweaty- and his sweat created explosions, and somewhere in between his need to impress and to cover up any trace of insecurity while he worked on the words he wanted to say he had accidentally blown up the cooker hood.

Key word. Accidentally.

But it was unlikely that Kath viewed it as an accident. And to top it all he couldn't explain himself without letting out his feelings pop in the surface.

"Help me clean or else mister Aizawa is going to tear us apart." Kath ordered, throwing a rag in his direction.

"Whatever! You damn idiot, you made me do it, tell that to him when he asks."

With sweaty fingers Bakugo clutched the peony cloth in his palm, his calve quaking as numerous veins popped up all over his bicep. The vein on his forehead throbbed dangerously as he brows were smitten together, squishing the small piece of flaky skin between them.

"Take responsibility for your actions!"

Bakugo's eyes squint in annoyance his right eye twitching as his jaws start jiggling, his sets of teeth crushing onto eachother.

"What did you say idiot?" He growled. "It's your fault I blew it up."

Kath's eyes widen, her pupils almost shrinking. "How is it my fault? Take responsibility because my sister will nail me if I cockblock her!"

Kath growled furiously, her chest churning with the sour bubbling of anger as she avoided looking at Bakugo at all costs.

"Yeah? So it's fine to cockblock us?"

With his eyes gleaming in demonic vermillion specs, Bakugo slapped a hand over the counter, the spit inside his mouth producing in gallons that he couldn't help but gulp down in an attempt to savor the bitter taste of anger. But sometimes one's words run faster than their mouth, he realised now how easy it was to slip up when going the extra mile to keep his feelings to himself.

"Us?"

Bakugo clutched his teeth together, his lips stretching as far as they could ever reach, his nose scrunching up, thousands of lines drawing their way into his pale skin. His eyes were impossibly squinted, his Adam's apple prominent as ever despite that his head was lowered. He brought a hand between his platinum locks, tugging at the roots before combing them through the numerous spikes that haloed over his head.

"Are you deaf or an idiot?" He screamed.

Kath looked at him with a quirked eyebrow, an uncalled expression on her face. Confused as ever she bent her torso, head probing right next to Bakugo's her hair falling over the counter. She resented the urge to poke a finger at him, touching him when he was mad had never seemed like a good idea, and to top it all she was as much scared as she was mad.

Deprived of sleep due to pulling an all nighter, her head buzzing in a mixture of equations and countless of paragraphs she had managed to free her self from in a matter of few hours, she felt hazed and confused as to what Bakugo was trying to utter in his newfound way of being mysterious.

But hot guys are sometimes assholes right?

"I said are you an idiot? Or deaf? Idiot!" Bakugo growled again. "I try to impress you and you can't even see that?"

"You try to what?"

"Forget it!" He said, violently tossing the rag on the cream colored tiled right next to his feet before stomping off.

"Get back here you spikehead bastard!"

At least that's something. The sound of her words makes Bakugo turn around, his foot twitching in his spot as his lips hide between his gums and his skin. With a long step he comes closer to his previous spot and watches as Kath walks towards him at full speed.

Sweaty foreheads bump together, teenage hearts compete as to which is going to burst through their owner's chest first, feet dig into the tiles beneath them in despairate need of support as scarlet meets azure.

"Be clear as to what you're referring to you bastard." Kath bites at him, despairately trying to wet her mouth before she runs out of breath. She can feel her chest freezing, her quirk quickly taking advantage of her.

"Imagine being such an idiot that you can't even understand when someone says they like you!"

"How was that telling me you like me?"

"Don't answer me if it's not going to be a reply to what I said!"

"I'll beat your ass if you don't learn how to to be clear with what you want to say!"

"As if," he screamed "I'm going to blow you up and they'll need weeks to stich you back to together!"

"You practiced that line a lot Kacchan?"

Bakugo pressed his forehead on Kath harder, his vein being pushed by her forehead. "You're either going to accept that I like you or I'm going to punch you!"

Kath raised a shaking clenched fist to rest on Bakugo's forearm, his throbbing veins pumping so hard that she could feel them under her touch on him. Growling, she felt her stomach churn and her gut ache as her mind commanded her to spill what was at the tip of her tongue.

"Okay then what if I like you too!?"

Bakugo retreated, pulling his forehead back as he tried to fix his posture, his hands extended towards the blonde expecting to catch her the moment she'd trip from his sudden retreat. But of course, it never came. It made him chuckle, the bubbling sound coated by a sheer tint or his remaining fury. He liked how she pulled herself back, or how she fixed her posture by herself, never needing anyone to act as her safety net.

With his eyes glued into hers he dared to take a step closer, extendeding a hesitant hand to touch the underside of her chin. Kath stayed nonchalant and unresponsive on the outside, the tails of her eyebrows arching dangerously as she stared at him with an angered pout.

"Tch, your lips are fucking purple icicle idiot."

"They wouldn't be if you hadn't enraged me like this."

Still he was hesitant as in making another move towards her, the clock was out of sight meaning he couldn't check the time yet, so he had no idea if the room was about to be flooded with his classmates. Anything that he could initiate he had to do it now. Additionally, her chin was frozen, he recognised hoe she would get when her quirk would get the best of her, the dangerous ultraviolet color that tinted them. Maybe he needed to help her warm up.

Dammit his legs were shaking.

"For fucks sake stop looking at me. Kiss me already!"

"Shut up icecube!"

And thus in the most cliche ways of teenage romance frozen lips met fiery ones as grizzling smoke covered two sets of squint closed eyes.

"Do you think we should separate them?" Midoriya asked, his emerald eyes gleaming with worry as they raced between the scene before him and Shoto.

"It's fine- just- let them be."

As Shoto tried to avert his gaze, his heart roared as it dripped to his stomach in full force. The numb feeling overtook him, but he masked it under his nonchalant expression.

Placing a hand on Midoriya's forearm, he shit him a knowing glare, his brow cocking upwards as he nodded to the opposite direction of the one which they were facing. Midoriya nodded in confirmation to his signal, taking the first leading step to the way back to the dorms. Shoto took a turn, not bothering to look behind despite how much he wanted to.

Your first heartbreak was something you would eventually look back to and feel a little pinch when thinking about how it hurt. But how did one get through it in the first place?

#gift #bnha #oc

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deafwestnewsies · 5 years ago

Text

there will always be someone to your rescue

Sarah Jacobs will stop at nothing to find her brother.

davey x jack, sarah x kath

read it on my ao3!

read part one (and from his lips came forth the world) here!

read part two (and oh, don’t you want to get better) here!

“What the fuck!” the girl barked, before slamming her fist down on the computer’s keyboard. Illuminated only by the light of her screen, the bags under her eyes became more prominent with every passing second. Typing away furiously, trying (and failing) another safety measure, she unconsciously began chewing on the ends of her hair. Another girl, more fair, more well-rested, slowly approached the working woman.

“Darling, I know this is difficult-”

“He’s missing, Kath. No one has seen him in days.” Sarah jerked her shoulder out of Katherine’s tender touch, the other girl backing away with practiced patience. She flicked on the overhead light, exposing the forgotten cups of coffee, the leftover crusts of a sandwich Kath didn't even remember making, to the 3am world.

It began with the phone call, the one Sarah made after her brother never returned home from what was supposed to be a run-of-the-mill job. Davey disappeared into the night and never came home again, causing Sarah to spiral into a cycle of worry and anger, with a hint of secrecy. Lying to her parents about where he was. Calling him, day and night. Trying to reactivate the tracker inside of his suit, the one that randomly sputtered out near the apartment village on campus. Sarah spent her days stalking the outside of that building, anxiously looking for her brother in every face that passed.

“Please come to bed,” Katherine pleaded with her. “He is smart, and he is alive. And he will stay that way when you wake up, I swear. How can you help him when you’re half-dead yourself?”

Sarah turned in her chair, the days of exhaustion clear on her face. Standing without warning, she crumpled into Kath’s arms, body wracked with sobs that couldn’t produce tears. “I hate him,” she whimpered. “Where did he go?”

Katherine pet the top of her girlfriend’s head, feeling just as useless as before. “He’ll come home soon. He’s Davey.”

&&&

“What the fuck?” Race asked incredulously before slapping Davey across the face. “First, you go around robbing people. Second, you try to kill my boy, multiple times. Third, we take you in because we are clearly superior and stronger than you,” Davey’s jaw clenched in anger, an angry red handprint already forming on his cheek, “Fourth, you break a window in an apartment we lease, and fifth, you try to kill Jack and set half of Kohler park on fire. I liked it there, you asshole!”

Jack did nothing but stand by, his body language steeped in anger. He wouldn’t protect David, not after what he had done, the lies that he had told him straight to his face. “I could do anything for you, too.” The words echoed in his head, louder than the blood pounding in his ears, causing him to blush furiously. He was so embarrassed. Jack had a duty to protect this city and the people he loved, and he let himself get distracted by a boy? A supervillain boy? It was enough to retire altogether.

“Race,” Spot came up quietly behind the (still yelling) boy. “It’s 3am. We’s got neighbors.” Race angrily shook Spot’s hand off of his shoulder, his pent up rage redirecting itself.

“We should kill you.” Race finalized, causing Jack to react for the first time.

“We aren’t killing him,” he said quietly. “We’re dealing with him in the morning. I’m-” Jack struggled to find the words as he locked eyes with David. He was silently pleading. “I’m going to bed.” Turning towards his bedroom, his final words followed him down the hall. “He sleeps on the couch tonight.” Pathetic.

&&&

“Wake up-” Sarah felt hands shaking her awake. “Wake up, darling. You’ve gotta hear this!” She sat up, confused, just to have a computer screen shoved in her face, the unnatural light blinding her. “I was reading the paper and look!”

Blinking through the pain, Sarah slowly read the headline of the article- Fire Set Late Last Night at Kohler Park, Source Unconfirmed. “Was anyone hurt?” She asked, the fog slowly clearing. Katherine, not answering, clicked to a different tab, revealing a police report. “How did you get th-?”

“Don’t question my methods, just read.” Robbery occurring at 52nd and West, unidentified white man, approximately 6’2, medium build. Witnesses saw a ‘bright light’ that appeared to be moving from one place to another that followed the culprit. $17,000 stolen, exactly. “And isn’t that how much Davey needed for tuition?” Katherine asked, practically bouncing off of her side of the bed.

“Zine behsechel,” Sarah muttered under her breath. “Once I know he isn’t dead, I’m going to murder him.”

&&&

Davey couldn’t stop counting the ceiling tiles. There were forty-nine in the living room, and thirteen that he could see in the kitchen. Round and round he went, the numbers always remaining the same, the only constant that was left in his life.

He was in deep shit. There was no better way of saying it.

The money had flown away as if by magic, all seventeen thousand that he had taken from that corner bank, the memory of bills slipping through his fingers stinging more than it should. The light of the fire still shone behind his eyes, the image of a lightning bolt, his lighting bolt, splitting a tree down the middle. His powers had grown in that moment and he felt it down at his core. Blinding light filling his lungs and carrying him across vast distances, Davey had felt faster than ever before. It was fueled by fear, however, and anger. He had just gotten so furious, so horribly angry at the world, the life he was meant to lead, that everything spiraled out of hand until it was all gone. Until there was only Jack.

Pathetic. He was so pathetic! In his most vulnerable state he had just outed himself like that, his absolute pea brain thinking that that moment was a good time to tell Jack how he felt. Good, righteous Jack, Jack who had never done anything with a hint of malice in his life, Jack who had given him ten thousand second chances, Jack. How could he resist him? Sure, he had been their ‘prisoner,’ but they poked fun at him, let Davey in on their inside jokes, helped him muddle through a midterm. He felt whole again, something he hadn’t had for a long time. And now here he was, lying on a grimy sofa, split again into a million pieces.

“Zine behsechel!” His mother’s favorite swear, and saying it out loud made him feel okay again, if only for a second.

&&&

Sarah stared at the hundred dollar bill caught underneath her foot, halfway burnt to a crisp. The park was taped off, policemen roaming the area, and Katherine and Sarah stood in the corner. Katherine had flashed her student reporter badge claiming she was with The World, and as an officer asked to see it a little closer, Kath thanked him loudly and pulled Sarah under the caution tape with her. They now stood still, clutching their hands together tightly, unable to tear their eyes away from the wreckage.

This was more than a fire by a long shot. One tree lie on its side, split clean in half, the scorch marks still smouldering slightly, and Sarah couldn’t stop imagining her dear baby brother in the middle of all of this. Davey, who cared so much about their family, Davey, who sat with Les as he cried over math homework and secretly paid the bills when their parents couldn’t. He was just a little kid in her heart, but he was forced to grow up so fast.

“I can’t believe he’s so… strong,” Kath whispered to her. “Where did he get all of this power?”

“He’s always been able to do this,” Sarah said, the pain clear in her voice. “He’s been holding himself back.”

Before Katherine could respond, a police scanner lit up behind them. “Sargent? We found a GPS device of some sort. We’re sending it your way.”

&&&

Jack set a mug of coffee between them. “Drink it.” He demanded, the first words he had spoken all day. David carefully picked it up, surreptitiously smelling the drink. “It’s not poisoned, David. Just drink it.” His voice was tired. Jack was tired.

“Can we talk about-”

“No.” Jack cut him off. “We’ll talk about that when I’m ready.”

David took a sip. “‘S good.”

Jack nodded, already getting up. “It’s infused with rosewater.”

&&&

“If I’m right, which I am, this will lead us to where he’s been the whole time,” Sarah crowed triumphantly. “Whoever disabled this was good, but I’m better and I-” she popped a panel out, “have all of the answers.” With a second of shaking, a small end ejected itself, and she plugged it into her computer.

Getting the GPS back had been one hell of a ride. Katherine had a small notebook on hand, so she began asking questions to the nearest detective about ‘citizen concern’ and ‘exactly what action they were taking to catch the person who had done such a dastardly thing,’ while Sarah eyeballed the evidence table behind him. After three minutes of Katherine making questions up on the spot (“Always the mark of a good reporter, Sarah.”) they watched another man lumber by, dropping the GPS Sarah had so carefully handcrafted on the table. She winced at the rattle of parts, but gently touched Katherine on the arm and said she was using the restroom, only to slide past the table and pick up her creation. Minutes later Katherine had met her in the car, wrinkling her nose and tearing up the police officer’s number, which he had given to her “in case she needs to know anything else.”

Now peering over her shoulder, Katherine scoffed. “That’s the same apartment building. That doesn’t help.”

“Maybe so, but I am smarter than that.” Sarah stopped for a moment, turning to face her girlfriend with feigned shock. “You know I am smarter than that, right dear?” She kissed her quick, turning back to her computer. “I could track his footsteps, too. That way, if I were his eyes on a job, I could keep him hidden. But right now, that tells us exactly which apartment he walked up to.” She banged on her keyboard some more until she had an address.

Katherine was already grabbing their jackets as Sarah swept out of the doorway.

&&&

Race was pleading with David, which was quite the feat. “C’mon. I know we’re like, fighting over whatever right now, but pleeease play along.” David sat stone-faced, holding the script to the Merry Wives of Windsor, refusing to read lines with Race. “I’m begging you. We start tech week tomorrow, and I’m not even half memorized-”

“I don’t know what a tech week is,” the disgust evident in David’s voice, “but I can’t exactly turn the pages with these on.” He held up his hands, still bound by the specialized handcuffs.

“Sure you can! Just kinda,” Race struggled to flip the pages with his wrists touching, “and then a little bit of,” adjusted the script in his lap, “and bam! Easy!”

Rolling his eyes, Davey moved his legs apart and let the script fall to the ground. “Oops,” he said plaintively. A knock at the door saved them both from sparking another argument, and instead slapped Davey on the top of his head with his script. It reminded him of messing around with Les, in a way. Goddamnit, I almost killed his best friend and they’re still nice to me!

David was not prepared for Race to fall to the ground holding a bloody nose as soon as he opened the door. Sarah Jacobs stood on the other side, eyes blazing, and shouting, “Give me back my brother, you dipshit!”

i just really wanted an excuse for katherine to call sarah 'darling' so i wrote this anyways this series is getting really dark and i don't think i can promise a happy ending just yet.

#newsies #newsies live #newsies on tour #newsies 1994 #newsies on broadway #newsies au #superhero au #jack kelly #davey jacobs #katherine plumber #sarah jacobs #racetrack higgins #spot conlon #sprace #javid #newsbians #javid au

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bijackkellys · 5 years ago

Text

thunderstruck ; part three

safe haven.

Fandom: Newsies (All Media Types) Relationships: Jack Kelly/David Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer Word Count: 4,352 Dedications: a huge huge shoutout to my beta and gf @mistyw273 without whom this fic would not exist! tag list (if you’d like to be added to this list just send me an ask or dm!): @dimenovelcowboy @santa-fe-maniac @pulitzers-world @yo-let-me-get-a-milkyway @verified-dumbass @jewishdavidjacobs @agentsnickers @thetruthabouttheboy @the-games-changing Author’s Note: yes i know what i said and i'm aware that it's been WEEKS since i posted and i have absolutely nothing to say for myself. except that i'm the worst. and also that i'm going to stop making promises and tell you guys straight out that i'm probably not going to be any better at updating from this point forward, especially considering i'm working on college apps and sat prep right now. but it's fine! i hope the fact that this chapter is only like 10 words less than all the other chapters so far put together sort of makes up for it? but i kind of hate this part; i have a ton of exposition to get through so i'm really really sorry if it sucks and you've waited this long for like 4.3k of bullshit. i'm also sorry that i still haven't introduced kath—she will get here in the next chapter and she will play no small role in this fic, i promise!! we've just got a lot to get through leading up to that. anyway, thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed so far, and if you're still here despite my questionable reliability (or lack thereof) i love you, personally. tws for this chapter includes a minor panic attack, mentions of vomiting but it's pretty brief, and that's about it.

read it on ao3

MEDDA IS SINGING when they get to her apartment.

Even through the closed door, Jack can hear her voice lilting down the corridor, a bittersweet melody that he can’t quite remember but loves all the same. It makes him falter, makes his throat close up as warmth and the ache of missing her spread through his chest in time with each other. He doesn’t know what she’ll say when she sees him, and the thought of her viewing him as a killer nearly makes his knees buckle. Distantly he thinks that it doesn’t matter what the world has been told as long as she believes him.

“Is this it?” the older boy says behind him, gesturing to the door that Jack is staring at. He’d mostly been quiet the whole walk here, but now he’s looking at Jack expectantly.

Jack nods and pushes back the tide of emotions swelling in his chest. If he waits any longer he might never be able to do this. He knocks twice on the door, and her singing cuts off abruptly; he hears her voice saying “Coming!” and then the lock clicking as the door swings open.

“Hi, Miss Medda,” Jack says hoarsely.

She stares at him. For this brief, terrible moment, he thinks she’s going to turn him away, and then she’s crying and oh, she pulls him into a hug. Something he’s been trying to hold back since he found himself running in the streets hours ago spills forth. In her arms he can’t stop the tears; he feels suddenly twelve years old again, scared and small but not alone, not anymore.

“You’re alive,” she’s saying, over and over, like a mantra. “Oh, baby, you’re really here.”

Jack clings to her tightly. “I didn’t do it,” he breathes, desperate for her to know as she runs a hand through his hair. “The fire—that wasn’t me.”

“I didn’t believe them for one second.” Medda pulls him back at arm’s length. “But where have you been?”

He winces, looks away. “The Refuge. I just escaped.” Her mouth opens again but he shakes his head slightly and she nods, understanding immediately.

“It’s okay, sweetie. We’ll talk later,” she says, and cups his cheek with a gentle hand. He leans into it, starved of positive contact like this for so long. “Jack Kelly,” she says warmly, her eyes shining—he’s gotten so used to hearing his name spit at him like a curse—“I thought I’d never see you again.” She huffs a laugh and smiles at him, wiping at his eyes with her thumb. “Don’t you ever disappear on me like that again, you understand?”

He gives a watery chuckle, maybe his first in months. “I’ll do my best, Miss Medda.”

She pulls him into another hug, squeezing his shoulders tightly, before her eyes come to rest on the two boys still standing awkwardly in the hallway. “And who are your new friends?” she asks.

“Oh, this is—” Jack breaks off, realizing abruptly that they had never gotten to introductions. The younger of the two steps forward and puffs his chest out.

“I’m Les, and this is my brother, David,” he says brightly. He’s been solemn since Jack met him, no doubt jarred by his experience with the Snatchers, but Medda’s warmth is notoriously infectious. Even the kid’s older brother—Davey—cracks a smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” he says politely, and Medda beams and waves a hand.

“None of that. It’s Miss Medda to you, darling. Come on in,” She steps out of the doorway and gestures inside, placing a gentle hand on the small of Jack’s back as she ushers him in. He’s grateful for it, a grounding presence that reminds him he’s really here in front of her. “Stay as long as you like, boys.”

In the last few hours alone, Jack has felt like he’s been thrust into an entirely different world. Entering Medda’s apartment is a burst of shining familiarity; there’s the elegant wooden piano in the corner, the blooming plants lining the windowsills, the photos of the theater and the paintings Jack has done over the years hanging on the walls. The faint smell of cinnamon in the air. He may never have lived here, but it feels like coming home all the same.

“I’ve still got the clothes you’ve left here, if you want to change,” Medda tells him. “I’ll get something going for us to eat—how does Sancocho sound? I don’t have any plantains, and now I know it’s not quite the same without them—”

“That sounds incredible, Miss Medda,” Jack says, his mouth already watering. For as long as he’s known her, Medda has always made it a point to give him and the other boys a taste of home however she can manage. She’d tested recipes for Sancocho for months until she’d perfected the warm, rich stew that always drew up distant memories of Jack’s mother.

Medda smiles at him and bustles into the kitchen, pulling vegetables from the fridge. “David, Les, is there anything you two don’t eat?” she calls to them.

“Oh, we keep Kosher, so no pork, shellfish, or meat and dairy together? And Les can’t have peanuts. Sorry,” Davey responds quickly.

“No worries, darling, this recipe doesn’t call for any of that anyway. Dinner will be ready in a couple of hours—Jack, why don’t you go clean up and get some rest? You look exhausted, baby.”

It’s one of those things he doesn’t fully realize until she points out, and then it hits him full-force; he thinks his legs will give with the impact of it. He’s tired and starved and wants absolutely nothing more than to take a hot shower and eat and sleep through the next day—and in truth the only thing holding him back is the still-stinging bite of the cuffs around his wrists.

“Uh, Miss Medda—you got a screwdriver somewhere around here?” he asks tentatively, rubbing at the skin underneath them.

Her gaze drifts to his hands and she winces in sympathy. “In the office down the hall. There’s a toolkit on the shelf—you need some help, Jack?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’ve got it,” he says as he heads into the room.

It turns out to be harder than he expected. He spends a good ten minutes hacking at the cuffs with a screwdriver, but all he really succeeds in doing is scraping his wrists raw. He’s getting desperate, though—the longer he’s stripped of his powers, the less he feels like himself, and the silver steel is nothing but a jolting reminder of everything that’s happened. He needs to find a way to get these stupid things off.

“It doesn’t look like you’ve got it.”

Jack’s head snaps up to see Davey standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. His expression is hard to read, half-concerned but laced with something else, and he’s sort of tentative as he steps into the room and kneels down beside Jack. “Here, let me.” He holds his hand out for the screwdriver.

Jack gives it to him and splays his hands out in between them. Davey switches out the head of the tool for a tiny flathead and gets to work on the right cuff, astonishingly careful. His slender, practiced fingers pry open a tiny panel on the side of the cuff, exposing the circuit board underneath.

“You seem to know what you’re doing,” Jack notes.

Davey pauses his movement for a split second and then continues without looking up. “I was captain of my high school robotics team for two years,” he responds. “And I’m an engineering major.”

Jack clings to this small piece of information; it’s the first thing he’s learned about Davey since they met, and he’s already desperate for more. “Where do you go?” he asks. At this, Davey tenses up, and Jack bites back a wince. “I’m not trying to interrogate you,” he says flatly, after a moment. “Guess I just...thought you’d changed your mind about me.”

Davey’s dark eyes latch on to Jack’s for just a moment before darting away. “I don’t know yet,” he answers finally. He prods at the wires of the cuff; there’s this crinkle in his brow that Jack can’t help but think is sort of endearing. “Miss Medda seems like a really good person,” he continues, still barely looking at Jack. “And she clearly loves you a lot. It’s possible you could be lying to her, too, but the way you were when you saw her—no one’s that good of an actor.”

“So what’s your holdup?”

“I’m not sure what to believe.” Davey twists the screwdriver and bites his lip, then meets Jack’s gaze at last. “After you—after the hospital burned down, the whole city was in chaos. No one knew what to think or who to blame—the police revealed that the sprinkler line had been damaged, and that some of the exits had been sealed, and that the fire started because the power box had been tampered with.”

Jack’s stomach twists. “I don’t understand...you—you’re saying it wasn’t an accident?”

“I think if it had been, it would’ve been contained a lot faster,” Davey says darkly. “It hadn’t even been a week before The World published a full story about how it was Strike’s doing. Jack, there were witness statements, sources explaining how your powers could’ve caused this—”

“I was trying to save people,”

“A lot of people thought you had done it by accident. Or that you’d...snapped, or something.”

“I nearly died in that fire.” He isn’t entirely sure he hadn’t, to be honest. Everything since then is blurry and out of place, and he feels like he’s been set right back to grappling desperately for a handhold, like he’s in the center of an inferno all over again—

There’s a click of metal on metal and the cuff on his right hand clatters to the floor.

“Got it,” Davey says, and suddenly Jack can breathe again. Even with the cuff still circling his left hand, he feels electricity surge through him, that familiar hum of lightning beneath his skin. A part of him he hasn’t felt in so, so long.

Sparks dance over his fingertips, and the air fills with static. He can see the hairs on Davey’s arms standing on end and despite everything, fights the urge to laugh. Davey looks at him, eyes wide with amazement, and Jack wonders if he can taste the power in the air, too.

“Thanks,” Jack says, breathless as he runs his hand over the torn skin of his wrist.

Davey nods and gently takes his left hand, starting the process again and evidently more sure of what he’s doing now. “Jack,” he begins, but whatever he’s going to say next, Jack doesn’t let him finish.

“Someone set me up,” he says fiercely, trying hard not to sound as desperate for Davey to believe him as he really is. “Whatever evidence and witnesses they had—it was fake.”

“Okay, but why?” Davey presses. “Why go through all this trouble to frame a dead man? How did they get The World to publish a bunch of false information? And if someone really is trying to pin this on you,” there’s a click, and the cuff around Jack’s left hand pings against the ground, “who set the fire in the first place?”

Jack can’t remember the last time he’d had a hot shower. Even before the fire—and god, Jack is really about to start categorizing his life events as before and after his death, like that’s not absolutely insane—the lodging house never really had a surplus of hot water, especially with so many of them. Standing under it now, though, everything else melts into the background. There are scars and bruises along his skin that he hadn’t even noted before, but the water is like instant relief; he doesn’t have to think, just lets it wash him clean.

By the time he gets out, the effects of the drugs, which have been weaning away for hours now, seem completely gone. Everything is sharper, like he’s been thrusted into high-definition, his thoughts clearer and his memories—well, his memories becoming more painful by the second.

It’s not easy, trying to push it all back. As he pulls on fresh clothes, Jack stares at himself in the mirror, at the jagged scars raised against his chest and the tiny spots that pockmark his forearms where he remembers needles going in, and tries to reconcile this picture of himself—exhausted and hollowed out and afraid—with the identity he’d spent so long building up from the ground. He doesn’t look like Strike, New York City’s favorite vigilante. He looks like a scared kid.

He doesn’t know what to do. Something bigger than himself is brewing in the city, he knows it, he has to stop it. But he doesn’t know how. People are counting on him and Jack just wants to forget any of this ever happened.

There’s so much noise. Davey’s questions are ringing in his ears and behind them there are voices telling him he’s never, ever going to get out, and he thinks he might be on fire. Everything is too hot and too loud and hurts.

There’s nothing in his stomach to throw up, but he dry heaves over the toilet anyway.

Jack sits back on the cold tile floor and drags his knees up to his chest. He could just go—break out the money he’s been saving and skip town, hop on a bus all the way to Santa Fe. Crutchie could come with him, and he could change his name—again—and start fresh. Never see this place again.

Except there’s an arsonist on the loose in the city. There are Snatchers all over the streets, and maybe Jack wants nothing more than to leave it but New York is still his city, still his place to protect. He can’t just leave.

Jack tilts his head towards the ceiling, biting back the urge to scream. The unsteady silence is broken by a tentative knock at the door, and then Medda’s voice—“Jack, honey,” she says, “Dinner’s ready. You okay in there?”

Slowly, he picks himself off the floor, pulls the loose hoodie hanging on the door on over his clean t-shirt, takes a shuddering breath. “I’ll be right out,” he calls through the door, and glances at his reflection one more time. He can be Strike again. He can do this.

And even if he can’t, he has to.

The Sancocho is perfect, warm and spicy and brimming with the taste of home. By the time he’s inhaled maybe three servings and helped clear the dishes, Jack is so exhausted that he doesn’t even make it to the guest room. He just stumbles towards the couch and collapses there with the sunlight still spilling in through the windows, falling hard and fast into a heavy sleep.

It’s dark when he bolts awake. He feels hot and breathless, his heart racing against his ribcage, and whatever awful memory had invaded his dreams left the sharp taste of metal in his mouth. Sparks flicker across his fingers, blinding blue-white in the darkness, and Jack curls his hands into fists to quell the lightning brimming in his veins. His eyes dart to the clock on the wall; it’s just past one in the morning. He doesn’t think he’ll get back to sleep any time soon.

He maneuvers around the coffee table to stumble blindly towards the kitchen instead. A dim glow catches his eye, then; Davey is sitting at the bar stools, hunched over his laptop.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Jack says, and Davey starts and then swears.

“Jeez, you gave me a heart attack,” he huffs as Jack chuckles lightly and fills a glass with water. “I thought you were still asleep. And...no. You?”

Jack shrugs. “I slept okay, got a few good hours. But I don’t think I can go back to bed. What are you doing?” he asks, nodding towards the open laptop.

Davey hesitates. “Miss Medda let me borrow her computer. I’m trying to contact the rest of my family,” he replies, his gaze flitting between the screen and Jack’s eyes. “When Les and I ran off there were already Snatchers at our house. None of them have powers, though. Just Les.” He works his lip between his teeth. “They said not to contact them in case the Snatchers found some way to trace it back to us, but I set up a separate email account and sent them a vague message, hoping they’ll know it’s me. I just need to know if they’re okay.”

Jack’s chest twists in sympathy. Davey’s family is just one more example of all the lives the Snatchers have torn apart—and Jack is the poster boy for their whole agenda. He has to fix this, for Davey, and for the rest of his city. “You’ll see them again soon, Davey,” he says—yet another promise he can’t afford to break—“I’m gonna make this right, okay?”

“How?” Davey scoffs. “You don’t even know where to start.”

Jack slips his hands into the pockets of his clean hoodie and feels the familiar weight of the flash drive he’d placed there. Actually, he might have some idea. “Can I use the computer?” Jack says, barely waiting for Davey’s nod before taking a seat on the barstool beside him and plugging the flash drive in.

“What is that?” Davey’s brow furrows.

“Honestly? I’m not sure. I took this from a computer in the Refuge’s control room, hoping I’d find something important. Maybe something here could give us a clue of what’s really going on.” There’s only a handful of files on the drive, and they’re labeled with numbers instead of actual names. Jack opens the first one and feels his heart sink. “Shit. It’s encrypted.”

“Let me try,” Davey says, pulling the laptop towards him and typing furiously. The computer makes a few error noises in protest as he works through the code, but Davey is laser-focused, seems to know exactly what he’s doing. He’s some kind of genius. “Got it,” he announces after a few minutes. Sure enough, the screen flickers, and rows of text begin to replace the numbers and symbols from before.

“That was incredible,” Jack tells him.

Davey shrugs and ducks his head, smiling just a little before turning back to the screen. “They look like email exchanges. Between some guy named Snyder—” Jack feels a cold trickle of shock run through him at that name, “—and...Joseph Pulitzer.”

“Wait, Pulitzer?” Jack leans forward to read over Davey’s shoulder. “As in the CEO of The World?”

“He’s running for mayor in next month’s election,” Davey explains. “It looks like he’s trying to get Snyder’s support? He’s promising money to fund the Refuge. But why would—shit.” There’s something dawning on his expression as he looks up at Jack, eyes blown wide. “Jack, a lot of his campaign has relied on anti-super propaganda. And...The World was the one who first published the story about you setting the fire.”

The realization crashes into him, hard and fast. “He’s the one who framed me.” Jack feels a hot rush of anger surge through him. “For what, a political platform? So that he could give the people a common enemy? Holy shit, did he set that fire for this...twisted agenda?”

“I can’t believe this,” Davey shakes his head, leaning back in his chair and tugging his hands through his dark hair, shell-shocked. “How could he do something like this?”

How could he?

“I’m going to kill him,” Jack says fiercely, and the lights above him flicker. He stands up, feeling wild, brimming with untamed fury—innocent people died for Pulitzer’s insane power grab, and he has to pay for that. He can’t get away with this, he won’t; Jack can’t find it in himself to mitigate his anger right now, he needs to find Pulitzer and fix this.

“Jack—Jack!” Davey’s hand latches around his wrist and a shock like static electricity bursts between them, making him pull back. “Wait. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“What, you just want me to let him walk? He killed people, Davey. Innocent people.”

“You don’t actually know that yet.”

“I know enough,” Jack snaps, pulling back. “This can’t all be a coincidence, it makes too much sense. He has to be behind this, behind everything.”

“I’m not arguing that.” Davey is astonishingly calm; Jack doesn’t know how he can keep his resolve right now, after finding out something this sick. “But what are you going to do, break into his house and murder him? What is that going to solve? Things are only gonna get worse for supers.”

Jack hesitates. Davey is right—a personal attack on one of the most influential people in New York would make him even more of a villain than he already is. And every super in the city would suffer from it. He can’t make this some sort of revenge plot; he has to be smart about it. He takes a shuddering breath. “Then I’ll expose him. These emails—”

“—aren’t enough. All you have from this is a theory. Pulitzer would just find a way to spin it, make you look like the bad guy here. Again.” He shakes his head. “He holds all the cards right now. We have to find hard, indisputable evidence. What we need is a way to get close to him.”

“We?” Out of everything, that’s the word Jack gets hung up on. Davey’s making it sound as though they’re partners.

Davey looks at him for a second. “I believe you, Jack,” he says finally. “I’m sorry I didn’t before. I don’t think you set that fire, and if we’re right, and Pulitzer did frame you, and we can find proof...we might be able to stop everything. Shut down the Refuge for good.”

“No, no—I’m not dragging you into this any further than I already have,” Jack stops him before he can go any further. His whole time as Strike, he’s been a solo act for a reason—not for lack of Race or Specs or Elmer trying to get him to let them join him—but because he can’t bring himself to pull someone else into this life. Especially not someone like Davey, who’s an engineering student, and a genius, and has a family. He’s got his whole life ahead of him. “I appreciate everything you’ve done to help me so far, I really do, but I can take it from here. You and your brother just lay low and stay out of trouble.”

“You can’t do this by yourself,” Davey argues. There’s something hardening behind his eyes, something bright and sharp and determined. “I’ve already shown you what I can do, so let me help you.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

He snorts, defensive. “I can handle it.”

“You think so?” Jack stares him down, skin buzzing. “I almost died because of this, and I may not remember everything about the Refuge, but I can tell you that it wasn’t pretty. If we try to take Pulitzer, there’s a good chance we don’t make it out alive.”

Davey doesn’t break his gaze. “But if we do it together, we double our odds,” he says quietly. When Jack snorts and turns away, Davey keeps going. “This is so much bigger than you or me, Jack. If we can pull this off, we could make New York safe for supers again. I promised that I would protect Les, but I can’t do that as long as there are Snatchers roaming the streets and as long as Pulitzer has power. And you can’t protect this city if you’re dead.”

Jack wishes he didn’t have a point. “You could get hurt,” he counters. “You don’t even have powers.”

“You’ll protect me,” Davey replies swiftly, and something in Jack’s stomach twists.

“You have an awful lot of faith for someone who didn’t trust me an hour ago,” he says grimly, eyes darting away from Davey’s fierce ones.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Davey presses, unrelenting, and god, the offer is tempting. Davey clearly knows his way around his computers and technology, a skill that could be really helpful here, and more than that, Jack stupidly, selfishly doesn’t want to do this by himself. He wants a partner. He’s tired of being alone, and he hates himself for it.

“We do this on my terms,” Jack says finally, and in the corner of his eye, he can see Davey smiling. “I say get out, you get out. You’ve got to be smart about this. Got it?”

“Understood,” Davey nods. “I’ll be okay, Jack. I promise. So where do we start?”

“It’s like you said, we have to get close to Pulitzer.” Jack sits back down, racks his brain for anything that could help. Pulitzer is a private person, watching the rest of the city from high off the ground; getting close to him would require someone who already knows him well. He can practically see the lightbulb over his head when it hits him—he knows the perfect candidate. He just hopes she’ll be willing to join them.

“I know someone who might be able to help,” Jack says, already drafting an email—coded words like the two of them used to use when he was just starting out as Strike. “She interned as Pulitzer’s personal assistant for a while when she was in high school, but the last time I saw her she was a journalism student, working for The Sun. She may not work for him anymore, but she knew Pulitzer as well as anyone.” Jack takes a deep breath and pleads silently that she’ll believe him, then sends the message.

“And you think she’ll know what to do?” Davey asks.

“I’m sure of it.” Jack has always had faith in her; he knows she’ll come through, will fight for what she believes in. “If cards are what we’re playing,” he tells Davey, suddenly brimming with a newfound sense of determination, “then Katherine Plumber is our ace.”

#THUNDERSTRUCK #newsies #writing #my writing #umanawrites #newsies fanfic #jack kelly #david jacobs #javid #jathvey #ot3: watch what happens #newsies the musical

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