#buddy just count the women in the war room

[agnisleftpec]

reblogs are off but i wanted this post on my blog

[jolenes-doppelganger]

Shooting the Messenger

Reverend Mother Jessica Atreides x Fem!Harkonnen Reader

Summary: Following the Battle of Arrakeen, House Harkonnen remains decimated. With Baron Harkonnen’s corpse slowly rotting in the sand and Feyd Rautha thrown amidst a pile of burning bodies, Reader is left with no choice but to hide amidst the rubble of the city in the hope of eventually escaping before being killed. Unfortunately, the bastard child of Emmi Harkonnen finds herself cornered, incapable of escaping from the clutches of the still surviving Atreides clan. (Emmi Harkonnen is the wife of Abulurd Harkonnen, brother to the Baron Harkonnen- NO INCEST!!!!).

Warnings: Dark circumstances (war, murder, death), complimentary Stockholm/Lima syndromes dynamic, grey-morality, abuse of power (Jessica), spitting

A/N: I’ve leaned more into the circumstances of the Dune books, specifically with Alia being born before the Battle of Arrakeen. If pregnant women are your thing, good for you, but I’m not into pursuing a relationship with a woman pregnant with a psychic, talking baby that observes everything going on from inside the womb. (Authored with inspiration and council from @ilovehotactresses- Here ya go buddy). This is all worldbuilding, no sexy times, I apologize. I legit cannot comprehend this woman fucking someone just 'cause she can. More sexy times later, I promise, promise, promise!!

Word Count: 3.3k

House Harkonnen had fallen. Baron Harkonnen was dead. Feyd Rautha, his successor, laid upon a pile of Sardaukar and Harkonnen soldiers, slowly being burned by flames on the sands of the fallen city. You had lost track of Beast Rabban, your oldest half-brother. It mattered not, you hated both of your half-brothers, the dead Feyd Rautha most especially. But regardless of resentment and old wounds, you were left without protection. Finding a dark, well hidden corner of the fallen city was difficult. But you did. Panting, in between collapsing from exertion and crying out of fear, you'd found a corner. Making yourself as small as possible, you covered your ears and froze.

"Reverend Mother, you cannot go into this sector! It is not secured!" a voice echoed down the halls.

"I don't have another option. Alia has spoken to me of her. I must find this remaining vestibule of the Harkonnen throne, the one that remains, the living heir." a voice rasped.

Silence. The room fell silent, and the footsteps disappeared. It must have been an illusion of some sort, a trick of the senses. Those voices and footfalls had been near, therefore the woman who spoke should have been near.

"There you are. Rise."

A force greater than you pulled you up, causing you to put pressure on your lacerated, probably fractured leg. You cried out in pain, but you remained standing.

"Nevermind. Kneel."

You kneeled, the force of your knees on the stone caused white hot pain to flash up your body. Hands cupped your face, pushing back the veil that hid your hair.

"Ahh, so you're half-Harkonnen? The rumours are true.. You're Emmi Harkonnen's bastard, her little mistake." the woman cooed, stroking over the hair repeatedly. "Precious, so precious. You'd make a poor heir. But we have to ensure that, don't we?"

You could only wheeze, looking up at the veiled woman in spite and fear.

"Oh, if you've heard the rumors, you've most certainly heard of my rumored fathers." you managed.

Reverend Mother Jessica drew closer.

"No, I most certainly haven't."

Glaring up at her intentionally, you smirked in recognition of the advantage you had.

"I was supposedly conceived during an Imperial caucus, the product of an affair. But I've heard the whispers. I may have been the product of none other than your deceased Duke Leto."

The slap that landed across your cheeks was resonant, and humiliating. No matter how much pride one has, slaps can never be any less humiliating than nature intends them to be. Tears collect in your eyes from the force, and you're knocked backwards, or to the side, depending on the direction of the slap.

"You will not speak of such things." Mother Jessica seethed.

"It doesn't matter if I was his bastard. This was several years before he met you."

Her hands encircled your throat, and you were met with the steely blue eyes of the Reverend Mother in the flesh.

"Shut your mouth. I have one purpose for you, and if you do not fulfill it, you will find how little life has left to offer you."

"-I'm a bastard child, there was never-"

"Sleep."

Jessica could only look with a mix of relief and victory as the Harkonnen slumped forward, pushed into a dream-like state by her command of the Voice. This child was a fighter, she knew it to be true. But she hadn't slapped the young woman out of spite, or fear, rather it had been merely annoying to suggest she was the Duke's child. Jessica knew her deceased concubine well, she knew that if he had made such a mistake as sleeping with the wife of a royal Harkonnen it would have come out before his death, most certainly under the pressure of the move to Arrakis. Not to mention the child in front of her did not look like her duke. She'd know his features anywhere; they were burned into her soul.

"Pesky, belligerent. More Harkonnen than I'd like to admit." Jessica muttered to herself. "Pick her up and have her treated for her wounds. She is useful, for the time being."

The Sayyadina that surrounded her nodded, and a Fremen soldier appeared, hauling the war-worn woman up, towards a medical unit. Jessica knew that her injuries would not be attended to at all if she did not press the matter, so she ensured that the girl was brought into her chambers, that her Sayyadina would oversee the matter to fruition. In the meantime, she had the council of her child Alia to attend to.

"It is done?" the toddler asked, voice uncharacteristically adult, in a tiny little body of a girl.

"Yes, the Harkonnen bastard will be attended to." Jessica murmured.

Her daughter came forward, crawling into her mother's lap. Regardless of her mental age, the body begged for connection from her mother, the soul too.

"She is more than just a bastard, she could be very useful to Paul's cause." Alia mused, childish voice still containing a hint of a lisp.

Jessica hummed, stroking the blonde curls that were springing from her daughter's scalp.

"How do I manipulate her to our needs?"

Alia furrowed her brow, thinking carefully. It seemed the little girl blessed with such mental and psychic foresight was momentarily at a loss for words, carefully considering her next proposal.

"She is like her brother. She has wounds, desires, all of which are accessed through physicality, through sexual manipulation." the girl spoke.

Jessica looked at her daughter carefully.

"So, I bed her?"

Alia shook her head.

"Seduction comes in many ways. If it pleases you to engage with her like that..." but Alia did not finish the thought. "It is not necessary to go all the way."

Jessica hummed, returning to petting her daughters curls. Upon inspection, they were covered in dirt and sand. It was natural for the Caladan born woman to immediately think of baths, but on Arrakis no such luxury could exist. Her daughter was of the desert, conceived upon Arrakis, of this Jessica was sure. Secondly was the matter of her daughter's strange connection to the sands. Alia smelled of the desert, an eerie quality Jessica could not explain. Truth be told, the warrior-child scared her. The mere toddler, the small body that contained such irreputable wisdom and violence, it was a body that should have glowed with innocence, of mindless naivety.

"Mother, of what do you think?" Alia asked, seemingly sensing the dark, contemplative nature of her mother.

"Of matters that you need not concern yourself with, my daughter." Jessica answered curtly. "... I have but one request. Stop wielding those knives. Your mind is old, but your body is young.."

"-I will be fine." Alia shrugged, hopping off of her mother's lap, walking away.

Watching her daughter display such independence was exhaustingly emotional. Jessica felt the tell-tale sign of her eyes burning, and the willpower it took to restrain the tears that begged to fall was more exhausting than just allowing her body to release a few drops of water. Walking away, Jessica moved towards the body that lay prone some distance aways. Jessica yearned for something to care for, something that needed her, someone that would be loyal, and innocent in the nature of the world in ways that her children could not be. Jessica wanted something to call hers, and hers alone.

<------------->

Glowing light burned through the windows of the conquered city of Arrakis. Smoke wafted through the main palace, the smell tinged with burning hair and flesh. It was grotesque, the smell unforgettable. It reeked of murder, of shed blood.

"Ahh, she awakes." a voice purred, hands encircling you, a face coming into focus.

Blue eyes of the desert came into view. Tattoos, marks of prophecy; symbols your mind could not comprehend adorned her face. Hair, brown and dark, hints of grey peppered in amongst the rest of her straight hair.

"Who are you?"

The woman smiled, and her breath was unnaturally odorless. The product of fasting, you assumed.

"You may call me Lady Jessica, if that suits you." the woman murmured. "Or Reverend Mother."

Lady Jessica Atreides, mother of Paul Atreides, the Lisan al Gaib, Muad'dib of the Fremen, prophet, the mind to bridge time and space. The mother of the demon-child Alia, St. Alia of the Knife, abomination, Reverend Mother, that which should have remained unborn. You knew her well. You knew of her hell-spawn, her corruption, her disregard for higher authority. She submitted to her son, but that was an illusion, you assumed.

"No." you rasped. "No, no, no, no!"

Jessica pressed a hand over your mouth, silencing you.

"Shh," she cooed. "No fear, no cries for help. None of it will make a difference for what I have planned for you."

Since you were a child, since before you had the ability to comprehend the complexities of being a Harkonnen, of being a but a half-breed, you'd always known that it had been okay to run to your mother. Scraped knee? Mother. Your older brothers cornering you? Run to mother. Maids jeering and bothering you? Mother. Lonely, scared and wet after an acid polluted thunderstorm caught you and burned your skin red and painful? Mother. It was in these moments of foolish vulnerability that your heart would sing for that connection, that safety. It was futile. Emmi Harkonnen had died years prior.

"Hmm... Alia may have made her first mistake." Jessica mused, dissecting your fearful micro-expressions. "Or only partly right."

Jessica's hands reached up, cupping your face, brushing hair out of your eyes. Thumbs glided over your brows, analyzing your expressions carefully.

"No... You'll be much easier to crack this way..."

Hauling you up and into her arms felt deceptively easy for Jessica. Her body had hardened and grown sinewy with tough, resistant muscle the longer she remained in the desert. She drew you to her breast, resting head in the crook of her armpit. She reeked of sweetness, of sweat long dried, of the unmistakable tang of spice.

"There... Don't fight it, don't try to hide away." Jessica whispered, her breath now sickly sweet, from low-blood sugar, you guessed.

"You need to stop fasting." you murmured. "Your breath is sweet."

Jessica laughed a little, cradling you closer.

"I have complete control of my bodily functions. You need not concern yourself with the matters of my health."

Hands dragged over the cloth clothes the Sayyadina had pulled over you. Bandages covered your body in innumerable places, your leg was especially bandaged, the product of the fracture you'd sustained. Jessica continued stroking your face, pulling you closer, fingers desperately combing through your hair.

"It's been so long since someone's needed me... Even my own daughter outgrew the need for me once she was a year old..." Jessica whispered, her face showing signs of paranoia, of unmistakable jealous rage. "The Bene Gesserit have taken so much from me... My mother first, then my innocence, my connection with my Duke, my son's innocence, the life of my beloved, even my own daughter."

There was a madness in her eyes that could not be explained. She was strong, ruthless, ready to take and take and milk the desert of every last devotion to her cause, to her children that it could offer. But yet with all that work, with all that pain and suffering she'd put forth, her children grew farther apart from her. Jessica grabbed at the Harkonnen woman with desperation, pulling her in as close as their mortal forms could allow.

"No, you will be mine and you will love me."

"Let me go, I want to go home." you protested, trying to wiggle out of the woman's arms.

The madness in her eyes grew brighter, and she smiled obscenely.

"But you are home."

"I live on Giedi Prime." you whimpered.

Jessica let out a laugh so harsh it might have been mistaken for screech.

"Giedi Prime? No child. I could not send you back to your decaying father, to the dark, colorless, soulless world of Giedi Prime. You belong to me now. Arrakis will be your home. Then, one day, when the time comes, you and I will return to Caladan. We will live on the cliffs, the oceans will sing to us, the breeze... We will remember the good days, and make them ours once again..."

The woman in front of you, the woman who cradled you was haunted, deranged in ways that could not be explained. Whether she had been pushed too far by the loss of her house and her beloved Duke, or whether it had been the Fremen Spice Agony that had caused her to be so utterly consumed by her desires, by her visions of Paul and his propheted status as the Lisan al Gaib.

"I want to be close to my mother." you whispered.

This gave Jessica some pause, she stalled her frantic massage of your scalp, your neck, your face.

"I could be your mother, if you wanted." she whispered. "I could be that for you... I could be whatever you needed, just so long as you needed me."

Jessica seemed on the verge of a breakdown of some sort. Whether it would result in violence, in verbal aggression, tears, yelling or complete psychosis, she was close to cracking all the way.

"I just. Need you. To need me." Jessica whispered.

Pity. The first feeling that came over you when she said those words. The woman in front of you was fearsome, yes. But the truth was she was broken. For all the psychic enhancement and wisdom she'd maintained, she was scarred and brutalized, a thing of beauty and willpower turned feral and menacing due to the elements of the desert planet Arrakis. It was a look you'd seen in your mother, days before Feyd had murdered her. An animal cornered, and animal bearing it's teeth and striking out at anything that dared confront it. Fear. For all of Jessica's training and years of containing her fears, she had never conquered one. Jessica Atreides, Reverend Mother and widower of the Duke Atreides, daughter of the Baron Harkonnen, mother of the most fearsome leader of the advanced times was afraid of being abandoned, of no longer being needed.

"... I don't want a mother... I don't think I could bear treating another woman with the same type of affections as I gave my mother."

Jessica's face spasmed in grotesque anger and betrayal.

"But I need someone. And I don't have anyone to turn to."

She swallowed, a vein on her forehead bulging with the stress of containing her emotions.

"I am that person." she rasped, voice coming out in violent puffs of air. "No one else will put up with you, no one else will bother keeping you alive. You are stuck on Arrakis. The Harkonnen troops are dead, Grossu Rabban is dead. No one will come to save you." Jessica sneered, violently digging her hands into your hair. "The Bene Gesserit will abandon Princess Irulan here as the bride of Paul, the Emperor will retreat back to House Corrino with the Bene Gesserit. They will not bother hauling a bastard such as yourself with you."

Her words rang harsh, true. You needed the woman in front of you to survive, and you suspected that without someone to love, to love her back in the ways she needed, she too would find herself irrevocably insane.

"I know."

"Silence!"

Your mouth clamped shut, teeth clacking together aggressively. Jessica let out a low whimper, holding you close. She seemed to be muttering in a foreign language, eyes glazed from effort. It was becoming apparent that Jessica did not have control over her body as she said she did, or, more accurately, she was pushing it to limits that were unsustainable. You managed to reach for a glass of water. Jessica did not notice. Your throat begged for moisture, you needed the water as much as she did, but if she died and you didn't... No one would keep you alive.

"..." you tried to speak, but the command remained.

Bringing the cup to her lips, you managed to coax her into drinking. Jessica's hands flew to the cup, gulping down the water greedily. You suspected it was the first time she'd had water in days. Dates lay on the table. Again you were presented with the dilemma of eating it and fueling your weak body or giving it to the weakened Jessica. You brought the dates to her mouth, one by one until they were gone. She appeared to recover gradually. As her senses came to her, she called out to a Sayyadina, requesting something.

"You are wiser than I thought." Jessica murmured. "I had not realized how long I had been fasting."

The Sayyadina returned with food, hot and earthy smelling. She handed you a bowl, allowing yourself to eat without help. But as you struggled with coordinating in the awkward position, she ultimately grabbed the bowl, spoon feeding you like a child. Water was provided, and the relief it brought was indescribable. Jessica finished her own portion of food, ingesting more water. She appeared to be healthier now, more content and less capable of descending into madness.

"There. Now we are both taken care of." Jessica smiled. "You may speak now, the command only lasts for as long as I wish it to."

You looked around, seemingly looking for something to say to test your ability to speak, but found none. Jessica noticed this, humming appreciatively.

"Alright then, if I must speak first, so be it. You said that you did not need a mother. Of that I can understand, but do not necessarily agree with. Everyone needs a mother figure in their life, until middle adulthood I would imagine. You are young still, you require coaxing, teaching, nurturing."

Jessica's words were wise, of that you could not argue with.

"But you do not wish for a mother figure. I will not press the matter. I will allow you to naturally find that mother figure, but, you will receive all of your needs for companionship, for safety, for community directly through me."

Her words contradicted themselves, but dwelling on it seemed unwise. Jessica leaned forward, searching your eyes with hers in a way that seemed uncannily invasive.

"I'll find exactly how you need me." Jessica whispered. "Don't worry."

Her breath smelled of the curry she'd eaten. It was hot, no longer tinged with sweetness. And her eyes danced in ways that seemed almost provocative.

"... Oh no. I retract my earlier statement. My daughter was right." she whispered, voice a little husky, slightly hoarse.

A hand trailed down your thigh, nails snagging on the thin fabric, making contact with the skin beneath your pants.

"Desire."

The command inflamed your injury-restricted desires, white-hot lust burning through your body in maddening ways.

"Oh, I've always wanted to try that." Jessica smiled, eyes a little manic as she watched heat bloom over your cheeks. "Open your mouth."

It wasn't a direct command infused with the Voice, but in your altered state, it might as well have been.

"Accept the gift of my water." Jessica whispered, spitting into your mouth.

In any other circumstance, the act would have been seen as ridiculously demeaning, but combined with your basic knowledge of Fremen culture and the lust-addled state of your brain, it was enough to cause a slight gasp to fall from your lips. Jessica let out a soft laugh, kissing your cheek forcefully.

"Swallow."

You did as obeyed, her spit sliding down your throat. Jessica caught the motion with her lips, savoring the act.

"Again." Jessica whispered, hand holding your jaw.

Her saliva hit your tongue, and you closed your mouth. You waited for her lips to find your throat before swallowing. Jessica hummed, bringing your body closer.

"Now my water lives inside of you. You'll be mine before you know it."

Slowly, about as slowly as it took for your body to absorb the moisture she'd delivered you, your body stopped desiring. But the humiliation of the act lingered. The claim, the power she had of you, her words. That remained for much longer than you cared to admit.

[anotherfuckingmarvelfanaccount]

T’Challa’s Birthday (T’Challa x Barnes!Reader)

Okay! Two posts in two days! I am warning y’all now that over the next couple days I am not going to be active at all. I’m going away with my family and will not be able to check tumblr until I get back. But, to make up for it, I have my T’Challa’s birthday post, finally. According to Google, T’Challa’s birthday is May 21st, so once again, I’m a bit late.

Warnings: Barnes!Reader is Bucky’s sister, mentions of CA:CW, it’s Nomad!Steve but not mentioned, T’Challa x Reader, Shuri probably needs a warning too.

Word Count: 2051

Summary: While waiting for Bucky to finish cryo, T’Challa was never as nice to you as he was to Steve. Now that Bucky’s awake, will things change?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had no idea what was happening. At all. You weren’t even from Wakanda. You were just supposed to be checking on Bucky, since he was in cryo-freeze to be deprogrammed from the Winter Soldier. And don’t get me wrong, Bucky was attractive and women had always been all over him. But you were always the reason they left quickly, since you were Bucky’s priority, his big sister. You could hold your own in a fight, a point that you would make to both Steve and Bucky many times over the years, all of them. When you found out your baby brother had been drafted, you immediately enlisted as a nurse. You quickly became the personal nurse for the Howling Commandos, getting into trouble with all of them as you had growing up with your brother and his best friend. Whom you had gone down on the plane with after your brother had fallen off the train.

And now, 70 some-odd years later, you are flying into a hidden country that is globally known as very poor, but is actually thriving and has the most advanced technology you’ve ever seen. And oh God, the king? Oh, the king. King T’Challa was literally the nicest person ever, after he discovered Bucky didn’t actually kill his father. Yeah, you definitely went with Steve during the Civil War, much to Tony’s dismay. But T’Challa, he was just so… you couldn’t even find the words for it, but Steve was always the poet anyway.

T’Challa had never treated you badly, but he was not as warm to you as he was to Steve, or even Bucky, and yet you had completely fallen for him. To the point where you actually dreaded coming to Wakanda to check on Bucky because you always made a fool of yourself. Every. Single. Time.

“Ms. Barnes, Captain Rogers, you are back.” T’Challa said suddenly, surprising you. “I assume you’re here for Sergeant Barnes?”

“Your Highness. I am, yes. I’m just wondering how Bucky’s doing.” You said, reiterating what he said. You closed your eyes and shook your head softly.

Steve placed his hand on your back. “It’s okay, N/N. Could we see him?”

“Of course you can. Shuri has almost finished deprogramming Sergeant Barnes, and we should be pulling him out of the ice tomorrow, if all goes well. You’re welcome to stay and be here.” T’Challa started leading you to the room Bucky was being kept in cryo in. Although you all knew he didn’t need to due to the amount of times you and Steve had visited Bucky, both separately and together.

“Stevie? Sissy?” Bucky said, sitting up in a hospital bed. T’Challa raised an eyebrow in Shuri’s direction at this new development, she only shrugged. “You guys are okay?”

“Buck.” Steve breathed out, fighting the urge to go and wrap him in the world’s biggest bear hug. You were not having the same issue, running over to Bucky and doing exactly what Steve wanted to.

“Kiddo. Buddy. Buck, you can’t ever do anything like that again, okay? We were all supposed to go home together, buddy, and all of a sudden you weren’t coming home, and then Steve and I weren’t going home either. But now we can go home. Please, Bucky, say you’ll never go again?” You were crying at this point, having missed your baby brother so much yet not having found the words to say it before, since Steve had the exact same feeling.

Bucky pulled you into his chest, kissing the top of your head. “I’m not going anywhere, dumbass. Gotta protect you and Stevie. Lord knows Steve can’t protect my big sister right. Speaking of, get your ass over here, punk. What are you waiting for?”

Steve came over to the two of you and also wrapped Bucky in a hug, kissing the top of his head. “I missed you, Buck.”

“I know you did. I missed you both too.”

“Given a few months of recovery, most of your memories should return, Sergeant.” Shuri interrupted the moment the three of you were having, but none of you minded. “The brain is a funny thing, so I cannot be sure when or if it will happen, I just have to hope that it will.”

T’Challa was standing there silently, shell-shocked. Bucky was your brother?! Your baby brother?! “I’m sorry, wait, you two are related?” He asked.

You looked at Bucky, and then you both burst out laughing. “Yes!” He said.

“I was there when you were born, I think I was either second or third to hold you, but I don’t quite remember that far back. I was young, two or three, and Daddy was off at war still.” You said, stroking Bucky’s cheek with your thumb. He nuzzled into your hand as he always did. “I remember sitting with Momma, in her hospital bed, and with her arms wrapped around my arms wrapped around you. I’m sure I wasn’t actually holding you, but that’s my first clear memory. There are little snippets from before and after, and the memory has faded over time, but I remember the first time I got to hold you. And now you’re bigger than I am.” You smiled, tears slipped down your cheeks at that memory resurfacing. It had been so long since you had had time to remember your childhood without your sisters.

“Oh, N/N.” Steve said, rubbing your back. 

Bucky pulled you back into his chest. “You’d never told me that before. I didn’t know you were there.”

You heard Shuri laugh at something T’Challa had said in their whispered argument. “Would either of you care to tell us what’s so funny about our touching reunion?” You said, muffled by Bucky’s red Henley.

Shuri, still giggling, explained. “Your last name is Barnes, so my darling brother thought you were married to the Sergeant.”

“That’s a new one.” Steve said, chuckling softly.

“I know we look nothing alike, but that is new.” You added.

Bucky was full-on giggling, which was nice to see after the events of the Civil War. “We’ve never been mistaken for being married before.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After T’Challa found out you weren’t married to Bucky, and you only shared a last name because you were his sister, he was much nicer to you. In fact, you could almost say he treated you like he was going to make you his queen. You and Steve had decided to stay in Wakanda for a few weeks to help Bucky with his memory, the new metal arm Shuri made for him, and it gave you both a break from being on the run.

Unfortunately, the entire time you had been in Wakanda, all anyone could talk about was the big birthday party they were throwing for the King. It was no surprise to him, of course, you were sure he was part of the planning committee. But it just bugged you, spending weeks talking about a fancy party that half of them weren’t even going to go to due to family issues, political reasons, or fighting with the other tribes. Bucky was going, of course, to repay T’Challa and Shuri for their kindness. So Steve was going to keep him out of trouble, and you were going to keep Steve out of trouble.

‘I had him on the ropes.’ Sure you did, Stevie. Sure you did. Steve Rogers, never one to start a fight he could actually finish. Although Steve was always picked on, he made sure he treated everyone well. He never let anyone mistreat a woman, and there were multiple times he stood up for you, even though you were closer to the guys’ height than he was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You glanced at T’Challa from across the room, sipping at your drink of choice. Happy birthday to him, you thought, bitterly. He gets fancy drinks, and women in nice dresses flaunting themselves, no, throwing themselves at him. They probably don’t even want to be with him, they just want the money and title. He deserves so much better. You sighed softly, making both Bucky and Steve look at you.

“Something wrong, doll?” Steve asked.

“No, no. I’m fine. I’m just a little tired.” You replied, faking a yawn to accentuate your point.

“You sure about that?” Bucky asked, wiggling his eyebrows and sticking out his tongue a little. “If looks could kill, N/N, the women swarming T’Challa would be dead.”

You rolled your eyes. “No idea what you’re talking about, brother dearest.”

He smirked. “That’s what you told me when you were in 11th grade and ‘didn’t like Tommy’. Busted.” He told you, properly using air quotes. He was catching on much quicker than you and Steve had.

“Just don’t say anything. I’m sure it’ll go away in a couple of months. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if you’re asking them not to say anything about it.” Shuri said, sitting down next to you. “Now spill the tea.” The three of you blinked in confusion. “Tell me the drama, what’s going on?” She clarified. Wow, the new generation really does have a term for everything. You looked between your brother and best friend, silently begging them not to say anything, much like when the three of you were in trouble as teenagers.

Steve, ever the snitch, broke first. “N/N likes T’Challa!” You were just happy the music didn’t stop, although suddenly if a pin dropped, anyone would hear it. The air felt thick and you felt like you were suffocating. You stood up, left the party, and walked back towards Bucky’s quarters, deciding the fresh air on the balcony near there would do you some good.

Once you got to the balcony, you sat down, put your feet up, took your heels off, and looked up at the stars. You had sat there for what felt like forever, entranced by the stars when you heard the door open behind you. “Stevie, have you ever kept a secret for longer than a minute?” You asked, assuming he was the one that followed you, probably to apologize, knowing Steve.

“Sorry to disappoint, Miss Barnes, but I am not Captain Rogers.” T’Challa said from behind you.

“Oh, Your Majesty.” You said, standing. “I’m so sor-”

T’Challa put his hand up to stop you. “Please don’t apologize, Miss Barnes. Your feelings are requited. That is why I was not as warm to you as I was to the Captain and the Sergeant. The most gorgeous lady I have ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. Married to Sergeant Barnes? Impossible. I was overjoyed when I discovered the two of you were merely siblings.”

“Bucky’s a good-looking dude, Your Highness. It’s not that hard to believe, other than the fact that he’s been in love with Steve since he was.. 13. Those two are idiots in love, especially since Steve’s been in love with Bucky from the first time they met.”

“How did you manage to miss the entire point I was trying to make?” He asked, chuckling and shaking his head. You sat back down, looking up at the stars.

“It just doesn’t seem real. A king falling for an army nurse out of her time?” You said, tracing the constellations Bucky had told you about as a teenager with your index finger.

T’Challa recognized it, “Ursa Major?”

You nodded. “I had the unfortunate pleasure of babysitting Bucky while doing my homework. He was obsessed with the stars, I had to take him to the library every week to get a new book about them. He learned about all the constellations, I would help him find the ones we could. I don’t know if more have been found, or if he even remembers, but I do. The stars helped me find him.”

“That’s lovely.” He said, sitting next to you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, T’Challa had finally asked if he could kiss you. You allowed it.

“May I take you to bed, my queen?”

“Of course, my king.”

He treated you like a queen that night, and you became his queen almost 2 years later, with Bucky walking you down the aisle. Steve waiting next to T’Challa, and Shuri waiting on your side. After T’Challa’s birthday, you were treated like a queen for the rest of your life.

[agoracactus]

Pt. 10 -"This is an order"

hi sorry im still alive

Pt.1   Pt.2   Pt.3   Pt.4   Pt.4.5  Pt.5   Pt.6   Pt.7   Pt.8   Pt.9  Pt.9.5

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x reader

Word Count: 7329

Warnings: the ushe

Tag list: @theojuicee @ayamenimthiriel @imthesnowinthedark ​ @distinguishedkryptonitecreator ​

§

You sat at the corner of a tavern, with a mug of warm mead between your palms, and a hood over your head, quietly watching people drinking and laughing, dancing to some bard’s stupid ballads.

There’s a war happening in the south, you heard that it’s moving north. But people in this tavern seemed to not know. Perhaps not care. But you do. That’s why you left, in the middle of the night, with a simple note on your bed saying you wanted to help. You don’t know how long you’ve got before they find you, but before that you were going to enjoy being on the road.

As the night grew old, people getting drunker and drunker. Some guy wobble past your table, tripped and spilled half of his drink on the floor. His friend--- equally drunk if not more--- came over to laugh at his buddy, and spilled more ale all over the table. You stood up, decided that it’s probably time for you to continue on the road. “H-hey beautiful.. W-where do you think you’re going?” the man said with hiccups and a terrible stinky breath, stood way too close to you. You took a step back, “Please excuse me, I’d like to go back to my room and rest now.” you gave him a polite smile, one hand hiding in your cloak ready to poke your finger for some blood. “Don’t leave so soon! C-come have a drink w-with us!” his friend reached forward to grab you.

“Gentlemen!” someone squeezed in between you and the drunks with an unnecessary spin, “Are you enjoying the night? Any request of the ballads?” “What? We don’t care, fuck off!” “Nothing? Shame, then I guess that’s it for me tonight! We can leave now my love-” the bard, still blocking the drunks, turned around and stick out his arm. He froze when he saw your face. You took the opportunity and hooked your arm around his, “Yes my love, I’m so tired, we should go now.” and dragged him towards the exit.

You made sure you were far enough from the tavern before you let go of the man. “Thank you for that, they were being... rude, and I’m glad that someone is willing to help.” you gave him a polite smile. “...It’s you.. It’s really you! Oh praise the gods!” he exclaimed, “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you! -So is Geralt! He misses you and he is very sorry-” You raised a finger to cut him off, “That’s enough, bard. There’s no one here now, you can quit the acting.” you took a step away from him. “Wha- No! Nononono you don’t understand! We’ve been lookin- HE! He has been looking... Oh I’m so excited he won’t believe this...” “Jaskier.” A voice came from behind.

You gently traced small circles on the pad of your finger with the sharp point of the ring, readied to draw blood. This man and the one behind you could be another group of scammers, hell they could be working with those two drunks back in the tavern. Men taking advantage of women traveling alone wasn’t news--- and you are more than happy to get rid of one--- or two--- more scumbags who prey on women.

“We need to go now, did you get all your things?” “Geralt! Look who I found! Of all the places, this shit hole is the answer! Ha! Look for yourself!” The bard was jumping around, throwing his fists in the air, yelling. You took another step away, turned to the man behind you. “...Witcher.” you recognized him. “... It’s you.” he didn’t seem surprised, though you swear you could tell he was. “I’m the best! I knew I’d find her!” the bard was dancing at the back. “Didn’t think we’d meet again.” you ignored the bard. “I don’t intend to be a competition, but I did just took care of the drowners outside the village.” You blinked, then couldn’t help but chuckle, “...I should apologize. I was quite a bitch last time.” “I wasn’t nice to you either. I’m sorry, for calling you a fraud.” “Well, most people are frauds. Can’t blame you for being cautious.” “...” “...”

“Wai- That’s it? Aren’t you suppose to be more excited?” the bard finally realized the situation wasn’t what he expected, “Give her a hug! A kiss! Pick her up and spin in circles! Oh and apologize, whatever happened that you wouldn’t tell me it’s your fault, you need to apologize.” “... Is he always like this?” you gave the bard a side-eye. “...Yes.” the witcher sighed, “Where’s your..” he looked behind you, eyes searching for something. “Sidekick?” you adjust your cape, “He’s not here. I, um, ran away. Sort of.” the witcher frowned. You bit the inside of your mouth, wondering why you’re telling him this, “...There’s a war, if you haven’t heard. I’m on my way there.” “Joining the army?” his frown deepened. “No. I don’t care about who’s ruling where, I want to help the people. Who are innocent and shouldn’t suffer from stupid ambitions of those men.” “But that’s dangerous!” the bard jumped in, “It’s a mess down there! And there’s nothing we could do!”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” you were finally done with the annoying bard. His eyes widened, words stuck at his throat. “Jaskier, she’s not her.” “What?” “I’m Itzel.” you gave the bard a quick smile, “I’m aware that I look like one of your acquaintances?” “...Acquaintance? Acquaintance?” the bard yelled, “She’s not just an acquaintance! She is- How- No! I can’t believe it!” he suddenly looked like a deflated balloon, “How?” “Jaskier, she’s never coming back. It’s about time you accept that.” For a moment you swear the witcher was going to cry, and for some bizarre reason you felt like crying as well. You shook your head.

§

You agreed to the witcher’s offer to travel with them, hoping traveling with others would throw your pursuers off the track, or at least confuse them and slow them down.

It’s not like you wanted any of this to happen, running away and hiding like a criminal, betraying who saved you and taught you how to protect yourself. You still remember the face of Helvit'tar when you told him you wanted to leave, it’s the first time you saw him getting angry. Even Eyle was visibly upset- although it’s possible he’s upset because his master was, and no one should upset the master. They were so upset you thought you could see their shadows cast on the wall turning into their true form.

You wondered if they were coming to get you. It’s not like you were really Helvit'tar’s daughter, you were more like a stray cat. Disobeying your master’s direct order, stealing his horse and basically betraying him after all he has done for you... If anyone was coming after you, it’s more likely to eliminate you.

The sound of the witcher sheathing his sword broke your messy train of thought. He does routine maintenance on his swords every day before he beds down. Your gaze fell onto the gold coin hanging from the hilt.

“Why do you hang a coin on your sword?” you asked quietly, didn’t want to wake the snoring bard, “Does it bring you more gold?” He let out a chuckle through his nose, “It should, it’s supposed to bring me luck.” he put the sword away. You gave him a puzzled look. “It’s a lucky coin.” he shrugged. You scoffed, “What are you, 5?” He shrugged again, adding more wood to the fire. You immediately regretted your tone. He didn’t seem bothered by your sarcasm, patted off the dust on his hands and finished making his bed.

“Good night Itzel, don’t stay up too late.” he said before laying down. “...Yeah good night.” you cleared your throat, feeling awkward about your absurd rudeness.

You spent some time contemplating why you tend to go aggressive towards the white hair witcher, before sleep finally found you and put you into the peaceful darkness.

§

“You m’lady, is a very well educated woman!” the bard with the name of a flower said, stroking his lute, “And what do you think about the Noir? It has to be one of my favorite poems, the raw emotions of their words-” “Ok that’s enough.” you raised your hand, cutting him off before another endless literature lecture, “I’m not really interested in liberal art.” “But you’ve read every great poetry out there!” “Well I wouldn’t say I read those... More like glancing through them?” you grimaced, “I only read them cuz Eyle was reading them and I needed conversation starters, and I fell asleep on the second page most of the time.”

You were riding side by side and the bard had been talking none stop, engaging in all sorts of conversation with you. You were actually quite amazed at how good he was at random small talks. The witcher, riding at the front, had been quiet all morning- not like he’s been a talkative person, but somehow you felt like he’s in a sour mood.

In the afternoon, you found a small stream and decided to take a break, let your horses have some water.

You parked your horse next to the witcher’s while the bard took off his boots and stepped into the cooling stream. “Are you sulking?” you casually asked, took out your almost emptied water skin. “...No.” the witcher frowned. You pursed your lips and shrugged, “M'alright.” walked away to fill your waterskin. The witcher stared at your back.

Two men stumbled out of nowhere.

“He- help us!” one of them yelled with a hoarse voice, “Please help!” You looked up. Their clothes were torn and there were some bloody scratch marks on their forearms. “Oh dear! What happened?” the bard exclaimed. You listened to them telling a story about some bandits robbing their house in the woods, burning everything down and killing the animals. “You need to help us! Please!” one of them said while holding onto their stomach. “You came to the right person! How lucky of you! This fine gentleman here, is a witcher! If anyone can help, it’s-” “No.” the witcher crossed his arms.

“B- but you have to!” the man with the hoarse voice and burn marks on his hands fell onto his knees, “I beg of you kind sirs and lady! My family... I left them behind... There’s nothing I could do!” “I’m a witcher, I fight monsters.” the witcher said firmly. The bard quickly looked at the witcher, then the two men, “Geralt, you can’t turn them away! They would die if we left them in the forest!” he yelled quietly. “We can’t help them.” the witcher turned away, tending to his horse.

“Well I can.” you hung the water skin to your hip, “This house of yours, is it far?” The two men quickly shook their heads. “I’ll go, you guys don’t have to wait up.”

The witcher grabbed your arm while you took a step towards the two men. You turned to look at him. “They are frauds.” he made sure only the two of you could hear. “You don’t know that.” you scoffed, pulled your arm away. “Look at them, all their cuts are at the front, if they were running away it should be at the back. Plus, why would they ask random people for help? If what they’re saying is true, how can three people fight off a group of bandits?” “Well, I’m not asking you to join.” you crossed your arms, “You could leave if you want.” “Please!” the one holding the side of his torso said, “We can pay you! I had some coins buried at the back of my house, I can pay!”

“I doubt you have enough to hire a witcher.” you turned to him, with a pitiful smile, “I, however, don’t require you to pay me with your lifelong savings. Just a little vial of your blood would do.” you reached inside the little pouch hanging on your waist, pulled out two small vials, “Here, you two already got cuts on yourselves, bet you wouldn’t mind adding one more?” The two men exchanged a look. “C’mon, chop-chop! Your families are suffering!” you said cheerfully.

The witcher snapped the two vials from your hand. You chewed on the inside of your mouth, narrowed your eyes and stared at him. He took out a dagger from his boots, made a small cut on his forearm, filled the two vials and handed them back to you. “Happy?” he said, sourly, “Lead the way.” he put away his dagger, grabbed his swords and helped the kneeling man up by his collar, “Now.” he gave him a little shove before letting go of his collar. You rolled your eyes.

§

You left the bard to look after your horses and belongings, following the two men deeper into the woods.

“I thought you said it’s close by.” you were a step or two behind the witcher, and was looking left and right at the scenery like you were just sightseeing. “We’re almost there, over this hill.” the man with the hurting side said, he’s no longer holding onto his side. “I don’t see smoke.” the witcher commented, “Nor do I smell any, I thought you said the bandits were burning everything down.”

“Oh? Did I?” The man with the hoarse voice turned around with a wide grin on his face. Two other men emerged from the back of the trees, one on your left, and two more behind you. “Oops, I must have mistaken.” the hoarse voice man high fived his companion. You turned your head to the side, eyeing the two behind you- they were obviously checking out your bottom.

“Careful, this one’s a witcher.” the man who no longer suffered from a hurt torso pointed at the white-hair one. “Relax, there’s six of us. We can take care of a witcher or two.” one of the men was swinging his club with confidence. “I strongly advise you to walk away.” the witcher said, “The odd for you isn’t very good.” “Ha! Listen to this guy!” the hoarse voice guy laughed, “Can’t you count? There’re six of us and only two of you!” “Wow bravo, and do you know what comes after six Billy?” you smiled. Other guys laughed. The hoarse voice guy turned red, “Wh- What the fuck did you say? Are you making fun of me?” “I am! Glad you figured that out!” “Itzel, stop.” the witcher gave you a stern look.

The hoarse voice guy got even redder, “I’m gonna kill you! I’ll let my boys have their fun with you after we took care of him and that skinny bard!” he drew out the rusty sword hidden behind the tree and charged at the two of you. You heard the witcher sighed.

The whole fight ended rather quickly, a bunch of bandits hardly were a match to a well-trained witcher. You mainly stood there, dodging the spraying blood and flying limbs, adding a few gasps here and there for flavor.

Then you spotted the hoarse voice guy sneakingly trying to crawl away.

“Going somewhere?” you stepped right on his wrist, putting most of your weight on, “Tell me, do you belong to a larger group of people?” The man desperately trying to pull his arm away. You squatted down, “Answer the question, Billy. Is there more of you?” He shook his head frantically. “Oh, you’re not very bright then. Should’ve joined some larger bandit group during this kind of time, would’ve worked out better for you.” you gave him a pity look, then smiled, “Well this has been fun, it was nice to meet you!” you grabbed onto his neck, fingernails dug into his skin. “No please!-” “Bye Billy.”

You curled your thumb, let the sharp ring sink into his neck. Billy’s skin started to grow darker, then wrinkled, as if something was sucking him dry. Your eyes were once again covered with a deep maroon, a malicious smile tugged at the corner of your lips. When you finally let go, Billy was merely a skeleton wrapped in wrinkly leathery skin.

Standing up, the fight was already over. You turned around, to find the witcher staring at you.

“Well,” you shrugged at all the deads around you, “I guess you are right then, they are frauds.” and clasped your hands together, “Glad we settled that! Should we go then? Shouldn’t let the bard wait-” “-Is this fun to you?” he asked in a cold tone. His gaze was awakening something deep within you- something familiar, something sad, and weirdly, you felt scared.

“...What? Are you feeling bad for these guys?” you scoffed, “They weren’t doing this world any good you know?” “So you weren’t really wanting to help them.” “Look I don’t need to explain shit to you ok?” “You don’t, I just thought you might be- Nevermind.” he turned and walked away. You felt this burning irritation rising from your stomach. You walked up and stopped him, “Hey! You don’t get to treat me like this!” you stared at him angrily, “I don’t know what kind of expectation you had of me, they are wrong. You don’t know me. Quit judging me with whatever standard you had in mind.”

“Yes, I don’t know you.” He stared back coldly, “That’s very clear now.” he took back his gaze and continued walking away. “...Fine!” you yelled at his back frustratingly.

§

The rest of the ride was pure awkwardness. With you and the witcher refused to talk or even look at each other, and the bard anxiously trying to find out what happened in the woods.

There’s no way that you were in the wrong. He’s the one assuming shit from you, and snapped when you couldn’t meet his expectation.

“Did Geralt do something wrong again?” the bard snuck up on you when you finally arrived at somewhere with an inn. You were busy taking things off your horse, didn’t want to make any comments towards the bard’s curiosity. “I’m sure whatever he did he doesn’t mean it! And he’s very sorry!” he tried to try harder, “Please, just talk to him-” “Are you his mother?” you scoffed, “Does he need his mommy holding his hand to a fight? Is he gonna cry if I tell his mommy to fuck off?” you said mockingly, untied the last string attaching your bag to the horse. “...You don’t have to be mean!” the bard looked hurt. “Boohoo, guess I’m the evil one here, what are you gonna do?” you swung your bag onto your back, rolled your eyes and walked away.

That’s it. You’re evil. That’s what’s wrong here. You got demons strapped to you, and they turned you into a monster. So what? You owed them nothing, you didn’t do anything to hurt them. And it’s actually rude of them to assume something totally not true about you.

So why do you feel bad? Why do you feel like you need to explain yourself to them? And why do you feel awful thinking about them considering you ‘evil’?

You grew grumpier when you found out they don’t serve hot meals in this particular inn, and practically stomped your way to the pub the innkeeper suggested you go.

The moment you pushed open the door, you were hit by a wave of different smells, food, drinks and body odors all mixed together and rushed into your nose. Your eyes immediately met the witcher’s--- he’s sitting with a bunch of dwarfs, they were huddling together and talking quietly amongst themselves, looking quite nervous. You didn’t bother to hide your disdain on your face, turned and walked to the table furthest away from him, and sat down with your back towards his direction.

§

When your meal came, it wiped away your sour mood.

For a short while.

"Good evening, Master Itzel." the cloaked figure sat down in front of you. You froze, slowly put down your spoon and stared at him cautiously. "You're allowed to finish your meal, then we are leaving." "No." you said firmly, "I've made myself very clear, I'm not here for sightseeing. I won't go back till this war is over." you sat back, crossed your arms to make yourself look more intimidating and firm. "Itzel," He said with a firmer tone, "don't make this more difficult for yourself."

"....Or what? Is that a threat?" He didn't reply. You pushed your untouched soup forward, "You can have it, I'm not hungry." stood up and quickly walked out of the pub.

Eyle swiftly caught up to you, "Itzel!" "I ran away once and for quite some time, I can do it again!" you were walking so fast it almost felt like running. "You don't really think that's true, do you?" Eyle was walking right next to you, without any effort. He took a few more steps to get ahead of you, blocking your way. You stopped, slightly panting, staring at him. "Please." his voice was soft and quiet, like always, "Come home." "..." you tried to look for any anger or disappointment, but there was none. All you were seeing was his calmness, and the worry flickering in his eyes.

You sighed. "...Can we at least stay for one night? I haven't slept in a proper bed for days and I'm really tired." "One night." his shoulders seemed less tense.

"Is everything alright?" the voice came up from behind. You turned to the white-hair man with annoyance, "..None of your business." you grabbed the corner of Eyle's cloak and was going to drag him away. Then you stopped, turned back only halfway--- so you didn't have to look at the face of the witcher, "I'm leaving tomorrow, thanks for looking out for me these days." and resumed walking.

§

"Itzel, wake up."

It was dark outside, the sun wasn't up yet. But there were a lot of noise outside.

Eyle was at the side of your bed. Orange light poured in through the window, swaying, flickering. Fire.

"...What's going on?" "We need to go." he handed you your cloak. You shook your head to wake yourself up, stumbled towards the window.

It was chaotic outside. People holding things weren't supposed to be weapons, shouting and dragging people out of their house. Blood splattered on the ground, glistening under the flickering torches. Smoke arising not far away and was spreading, families shutting their windows and blocking the doors. You heard screaming, begging and crying.

"Itzel, we don't have much time." Eyle putting the cloak on you. "Wh- what is happening? Are the soldiers here?" "No." Eyle quickly packed your bag, "It's the people, they are hunting down all non-humans." "What?" you snapped your head towards him, then turned back. Some of the mobs started banging on doors.

"..I can't go..." you mumble. "Itzel, now is not the time." "I have to help them!" you pointed towards the growing living hell, "Can't you see? Everything lead me to this place, this exact moment! We can help them!" Eyle stood there, lips pressed into a thin line. "Eyle, this is what we're here for." "..." he set down your bag. "I'll be right beside you."

You rushed downstairs, the innkeeper was hiding behind the counter.

"Are there any non-humans staying here?" you asked. The innkeeper was so scared he could barely form a comprehensible sentence, you managed to figure out that there were a dwarf and an elf staying in the other two rooms upstairs. "You don't want people die in your fine establishment, do you?" He hesitated. Some woman screamed outside, the innkeeper hid even further down behind his counter. "Look, you have to block the door. You don't know what they would do to you if they found out you got non-humans staying here right? Do you want to die for them?" he quickly shook his head. "Block the door behind us, now."

Walking out, the smell of smoke and blood made you winced. An elf woman holding a child in her arms almost bumped into you when she turned around the corner. She looked at you with eyes filled with fear, soot smeared across her face and a cut above her eyebrow. She held on tighter to the child. You quickly pushed open the door behind you --- and hit the innkeeper who's trying to black the door with large kegs, "Get in, and help him block the door." She gave you a grateful nod and rushed in.

Eyle got his pair of twisted daggers in his hands, took down some mobs who were coming your way, slit their throats with a clean-cut, then followed you towards where seemed like the main event.

§

You were rushing, you weren't sure where to, you let your legs carried you. You had this heaviness sitting in your stomach, a terrible feeling, and you knew you had to get there before it's too late.

§

The white hair one.

He's dancing with his sword, turning in circles knocking those holding shovels and torches and butcher knives back. Behind him were the few dwarves he was drinking with, swing their swords and shouting.

You stopped at a distance, panting, realizing you were running.

You saw a young man holding a rusting pitchfork. He's probably no more than 16 years old, a child if you were in your world.

...What world?

And you saw the witcher, sword in hand, hesitating.

Why is he hesitating?

You saw the determination and hatred in the kid's eyes.

You uncorked the little vial of blood.

§

At first you didn't feel anything, as if your body couldn't comprehend what just happened.

Then the pain caught on. The piercing paralyzing pain. Even breathing was too much for you to take.

You held onto the handle of the pitchfork before the too-young-to-be-called-a-man guy could pull away.

"...!! Magic! She's a witch-" "Y/N!!"

You heard Eyle's voice, like he was screaming and yelling and hollering at the same time with three different voices. He showed up right next to you in a puff of maroon mist. The guy who stabbed you was almost ripped in half, a giant hideous claw mark ran through his torso. Eyle tried to support you by gripping your elbow, while you fell to your knees.

"...Don't worry, Master is close by... He can fix this... We'll go to him..." You heard his frantic mumble, almost wanted to laugh for you finally seeing the day of him losing his cool.

You look to the side, where you were standing. The witcher was staring at you with disbelief, still processing what just happened.

It always felt nice when your magic worked.

"...Get him out of here..." you grabbed onto Eyle's hand, the other hand barely holding onto the pitchfork, using all your strength not to faint. "What are you talking about? We need to take you to Master now!" "...This is an order, Eylediön... Get him out..." "...." You've never seen that kind of expression on his face. The next moment, he vanished with the white hair witcher, leaving an afterimage of a shadow.

Foreign words leaked through your lips, at first it was broken, with shaky breaths. You slowly pulled out the pitchfork, blood poured out from the visible holes in your abdomen.

You squinted your eyes shut in pain, focus solely on the chanting. The air around you grew thicker, heavier. Blood slowly streamed down your face from the inner corner of your eyes. The night grew darker, the flames of the torches dimmed.

"Kill the witch!" "Kill her!"

Few of the braver men stepped forward. Thin black threads appeared from the ground and latched onto their feet, the threads wove and intertwined into something like a living web, climbing up their torsos and swallowed half of their bodies. In mere seconds their bodies fell onto the ground, dry like mummies.

You readjusted the pitchfork, one of its rusty tips aimed right at your heart.

You muttered the last word, raised your head and face the sky.

You pushed the pitchfork in with a thrust.

[mirkosintern]

Crawlin’ back to you

pairing: dabi x fem!reader

genre: smut with a lil angst and fluff if you squint

notes: reader is a member of the lov, set in the meta liberation army arc (before the war!), possessive dabi, wowee this is my first work!! I never expected myself to be able to write a piece but here we are ehehe this was inspired by a certain tiktok actually. U may have already noticed but the title is from the song do I wanna know? by the arctic monkeys<3

warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, breeding, cum play, dubcon-ish?, toxic relationship, degradation, vulgar language, alcohol

word count: 3k

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day Crawlin’ back to you Ever thought of callin’ when you've had a few? 'Cause I always do Maybe I'm too busy bein’ yours to fall for somebody new Now I've thought it through

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Dabi wasn’t one to do feelings. He’s screwed numerous women, but they were nothing more than some toys to fulfill his sexual needs. Neither did he want to have feelings, nor did he need to. Afterall, his side hoes who begged to stay with him even after all the degradation he’s given them disgusted him the most. He would snicker at their pathetic attempts and cut them off ruthlessly.

However, you were an only exception.

No, he did not have feelings for you, he swears he never did and never will. But you were different from his other disposable sluts--he kept you around. He didn’t ghost you, instead, he kept coming back. It is only because you’re a member of the lov as well, he thinks. You are easy to access since you’re always around the lov base, and he doesn’t even have to worry about getting caught by civilians or stupid bitches who suddenly decide to turn him into the police. You guys were practically co-workers with benefits, fuck buddies where the “buddies” part is questionable.

Dabi didn’t mind that he made an exception for you until that night. That very night where you sleepily decided to crawl into his arms after a rough round and whispered him how you loved the rough texture of his skin against yours. That very night where you pressed delicate kisses beneath his jaw. The moment of intimacy—making his heart pound and warmth spread beneath his cold skin—was threatening. You were threatening.

That’s where he cut you off completely. He did not knock on your bedroom door located in the lov base anymore. He stopped sending those “you up?” texts at 3am. He didn’t even lock eyes with you or talk to you anymore.

It feels as if something heavy dropped inside you, squashing your heart to the point where it’s painful. You try your best to ignore the pang in your chest and remind yourself that you guys were nothing more than co-workers with benefits. However, the enduring heartburn only functions to make you realize how attached you were to him. He’s Dabi, the biggest scumbag you will ever meet, what did you expect? What were you thinking? It should be no surprise this happened, right? But having to encounter his stupidly handsome face every day was not doing any help. You are a girl with dignity, you tell yourself, trying your best to ignore his strong scent of campfire and cologne drowning you every time you guys are in the same room.

The pain is suffocating you for weeks, and you finally decide to completely get over him. The night Dabi brings a bimbo to his room and fucks her loud enough for everyone in the lov to hear—for you to hear—you’re done with everything. You step outside, get drunk, do anything to numbify the pain the raven-haired guy has caused you, and even meet a nice-looking guy who seems to be interested in you.

You are doing good without Dabi.

You don’t need Dabi anymore.

You are not letting him get to your head.

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A party.

League of villains is all about privacy, but they also started having some fun after uniting with the meta liberation army. Now they had sufficient money, people and place to throw parties every now and then without the danger of getting caught by civilians. Afterall, a number of heroes were in their side as well.

“Not gonna lie, you guys do know how to host parties.” Keigo smirks, picking up a glass of bourbon whiskey. “It’s fuckin’ lame,” Dabi answers as he downs a glass of liquor.

“So, what happened with y/n?” Keigo throws a suggestive smile.

“The hell you mean what happened with her?” Dabi frowns.

“Y’know, didn’t you guys used to be a thing or something?”

“Nah, she was an occasional fuck and that’s it.”

“Oh really? The Dabi I know never fucks a same bitch twice though. I thought she was something special.”

“Special?”

“Yeah, thought maybe you actually wanted her.”

A smug grin appears on Dabi’s face. “Never even liked her.”

“Have you seen her and her new boyfriend?”

The smile is quick to vanish from his face after hearing the word boyfriend. Dabi’s eyes widen, immediately glaring at Keigo. Before he could say anything, Keigo tilts his chin to point something.

“There they are.”

Dabi turns his head only to find you clinging onto some guy’s arm. Your cheeks are flushed –a pretty, pink glow on your face—as you bat your eyelashes at the guy. Bubbly giggles escape from your lips while you stare at him through half-lidded eyes. The guy’s arm is secured around your waists, pulling you closer to him.

Dabi sees red.

His entire body freezes as his grip around the liquor glass tighten. Dabi doesn’t say anything for a moment, but there is no way Keigo wouldn’t pick up how his cerulean eyes are flaming at the sight. “Well, I thought you knew.” Keigo pats Dabi’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t matter anyways right? You never liked her.”

“…Right.” Dabi takes another sip from the liquor, his eyes still fixed to you.

Keigo’s words are true; at least they are supposed to be true. Dabi didn’t have feelings for you. He doesn’t do romance. No feelings were ever involved with any of the women he’s slept with, and he made sure of it. It was so clear for Dabi without a question.

But why is it unable for him to erase the sight of you with some guy as he forces himself to sleep that night? Why are your sweet giggles echoing his head? Why can’t he get rid of the thought of you in that tight, black dress that perfectly complements the curves of your body? Why is the moment where the guy places his hand on your inner thigh replaying in his head? Why are thoughts of you messing with his mind?

“Fucking hell.”

Dabi gets up. This was fucking annoying. You were truly fucking annoying.

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You tilt your head to check the glowing digits of your digital clock on the nightstand. 2:15am. It’s late, and you haven’t even taken off the dress you wore to the party. You are too tired both physically and emotionally. You’ve done quite a decent job in entertaining the man who’s accompanied you through the whole party, but it was truly an energy-consuming task. You and him walked around as if you guys were the happiest couple in the party; but the truth is that you guys aren’t even properly dating yet. Solely because you have constantly been refusing to properly answer him asking you to be his girlfriend. It’s not that he’s bad looking or anything, but the idea of being with him just doesn’t sit right with you. Ever since you’ve met him, he couldn’t keep his hands off you without asking you anything about consent. You always had to pull his hand away with an uncomfortable smile, yet he never took a hint. However, when a dating rumor about you and him started and spread quickly, you didn’t try to correct anything. Maybe it was because you wanted to pull out a reaction from a certain villain. Maybe your unusual actions at today’s party; clinging onto the guy and laughing at every single word he spoke; was to make Dabi witness how happy you were.

 Truthfully, you were dying inside.

 What was even worse was that none of your attempts seemed to bring an ounce of reaction from Dabi. When have you become so pathetic and desperate? You feel tears welling up in your eyes, hot and burning, but you don’t want to cry. Not for an asshole like him. You take out your phone, find the guy’s name, and text him that you don’t want to see him anymore. You feel a little guilty, thinking that you may have used him to provoke something from Dabi, but your thoughts are too worn out for you to comprehend anything. You flop onto your bed and bury your face in your pillow. You huff out a deep sigh, and the soft texture of your cotton pillow feels warm on your cheeks. In all honesty, you were thinking about Dabi the whole time you were at the party. Whenever the guy’s hand creeped up your thighs or gripped on your ass, you imagined it was Dabi’s, trying your hardest to feel something from the contact.

 You weren’t over Dabi. You never were. Realization hurts, leaving a sour feeling in your mouth.

 Your body shoots up at the sudden, loud slamming sound emerged from your door. Your teary eyes widen at the lean man slamming the door shut. “Dabi?” You ask, not believing your eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?” Without an answer, Dabi’s one hand reaches for your throat as his other hand grips your wrist. His large body is towering over you, and you feel your bed shift as he dips one knee in the mattress. His sapphire eyes pierce through your soul, and you can feel his raging anger just from looking at him.

“You’re such a pain in the ass, y’know that?”

“Dabi, what are you-“

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, pulling you in for a heated kiss. Your lips open reflexively, enabling him to deepen the kiss. The kiss is aggressive, and he doesn’t know whether it is because of his anger or his pent-up desires towards you that he has been suppressing. The kiss gets sloppier over time, hot and wet with saliva and tongue. He lets go of the grip on your wrist and starts tracing your inner thigh with his thumb, and you let out a soft moan. You finally pull away from the kiss to catch your breath, but he doesn’t cease to caress your thigh. Instead, he lowers himself to your ear. “You seem to really love thigh touches, don’t you?” His low voice and hot breath brushing the shell of your ear sends chills down your spine.

“Huh?”

“I always knew you were a slut, but never knew you were this much of a whore. You would bend over any guy who offers you some touches, right?”

Tears swell in your eyes again at his vile words, but it’s hard to talk when his knuckles are repeatedly brushing your clit.

“I’m… not a slut…nngh.” Suppressed moans escape your lips.

“Yeah? Why are you making those sounds then?”

“Dabi…”

He yanks your dress up and dips two fingers inside your lace panties, making you let out a weak yelp. Dabi raises his brows with a smug grin on his face.

“Oh, so she indeed is a slut huh? You get this fucking wet from a kiss?”

His two digits start pumping inside you, and you grip on his white shirt at the sudden sensation. Your gasps and moans get louder, and you suddenly feel his wet lips against your neck. Dabi sucks hard, making sure to leave dark purple marks from your jaw to your neck and shoulder, as he repeats the step of curling his fingers and pulling them inside and out your hole. “Dabi…too fast.” You whine out. “Yeah?” A sadistic grin appears on Dabi’s face. “Be a good slut and take what I give you.” His thumb reaches for your clit, making your legs shiver.

“Nngh…stop, I’m gonna… Dabi I’m gonna cum.”

“Stop? You want me to stop?”

“No!”

“Do you deserve it though?” he slows his pace while teasing your clit. “Beg.”

It’s humiliating, really—but do you have any other choice when you are this close?

“Please, Dabi… I’ll be your good slut. Please let me cum!” Your desperate cries have him pumping his fingers fast again, and soon you’re seeing white. Hot drops of release coat Dabi’s fingers as he pulls out.

“Say ah.”

“A-ah.”

You obey, and Dabi sticks his digits inside your mouth. Your mouth wraps around them immediately, sucking as if it’s a pacifier. “Good girl,” Dabi says as he pats your head, and it makes your stomach swoop with sick pride.

The bulge in his pants is becoming painful, and he contemplates on fucking your mouth. But he’s too impatient; He feels the need to abuse your cunt right now. He wants to hear your screams and cries as he proves who you belong to.

“Take that off.” Dabi gestures at your dress, and you start undressing as he demands. Dabi pulls down his sweatpants and boxers, causing his cock to spring out. It’s so pretty, you think, and you can’t help but admire his red tip, glistening with precum. He pumps his length a few times and lines it up with your entrance. You inhale a sharp gasp as you feel his whole length inside you. It feels so full; it feels as if he’s gonna split you in half if he starts moving.

“Ah, too big.”

“I know.” Dabi looks down on you. “Take it like a little slut you are.”

Before you could even talk back, he is moving inside you. Your moans blend with the noise of the bed creaking; a perfectly harmonized orchestra to Dabi’s ears.

You knew Dabi wasn’t one to prep you or go slow, but you feel like he’s going way rougher than usual. His wild thrusts have your head lolling backwards, and Dabi does not miss the chance to take a hard bite on your neck. You scream out of both pain and pleasure, and you feel two hot streams of tears on your flushed cheeks.

“Aww, she’s crying.” Dabi says in a mocking tone. “Bet you love the pain.”

Humiliation fills your chest and you turn your head away, but Dabi quickly grabs your chin with one hand, forcing you to directly face him.

“Who’s the one making you feel this full?” he asks.

“Y-you.”

“Did he ever make you feel this way?”

Wait, he? Who does he mean by he? Your alleged boyfriend? Could it be possible that Dabi was doing this out of jealousy? You try to comprehend, but it’s impossible for you to think clearly, not when Dabi is fucking you stupid. “No!” You shout.

Dabi’s free hand reaches for your clit and starts rubbing circles. “Tell me, who does this pussy belong to?”

“You…” You try to answer, but he suddenly lifts up your lower body and slams into your cervix in the right angle. It has you moaning even louder, your insides spasming around his cock.

“I can’t hear you.” He smirks sadistically.

“You, Dabi, it belongs to you! I belong to you!” You’re screaming his name like it’s the only word you know, making his cock twitch. “That’s right. You are all for me, all for me to use. Just a pathetic little slut for my cock.” A satisfactory grin appears on Dabi’s face.

Dabi lowers his body down and grunts directly into your ear as he thrusts even faster. The sound of his skin slamming into yours is so erotic, and you can feel how close you are.

“You wanna cum huh?” His words have you nodding frantically, babbling incoherent words. Yes Dabi—wanna cum so bad—wanna be yours—wanna be your good girl—please, dabi.

“Then do it. Make a mess on my cock.”

“Nngh, Dabi!” You scream out his name as euphoria washes down your body. His release follows you soon enough, painting your walls white. You feel warmth filling your belly while his groans echo in your ear. You’re still sobbing and panting after he pulls out, without any energy left to move. As your blurry vision starts getting clearer, you feel his warm skin and the sting of his cold staples against your back. His long arms wrap around your oversensitive body, pulling you closer to him.

“You’re messing with my head.” Dabi rests his forehead on the back of your shoulder.

“Huh?”

You’re confused, but Dabi doesn’t elaborate. His ego doesn’t let him do such thing.

“When you said you belonged to me, did you mean it?”

You bite your lower lip, not knowing how to respond to his sudden question. Millions of unspoken words and feelings are hanging in the back of your throat, creating a huge lump. You swallow them all and spit out a question instead. “Do you want me to belong to you?”

“Yeah.” Your eyes widen at his unexpected response, butterflies fluttering inside your chest. “Be mine.” His low voice vibrates against your soft skin. Your heart melts at his words, and you cannot stop your feelings from overspilling anymore. At that moment you both realize; you and Dabi were meant to crawl back to each other, no matter how hard you both try and struggle.

“I’m yours.” You smile, “I’m all yours.”

[triptuckers]

General - Poe Dameron

Request: nope Pairing: Poe Dameron x wife!reader Summary: a general arrives at the rebel base, along with new recruits. Finn is taking a liking to the general, until he finds out exactly who it is. Warnings: none Word count: 1.2K A/N: I’ve recently watched all of the star wars movies (finally) and I am totally in love with them. I’m also in love with poe, so here’s a little something! please keep in mind that I don’t have a lot of star wars knowledge, so I’m sorry if there are any (obvious) mistakes in it. enjoy reading! :)

Poe wipes his dirty hands on a towel and steps back to take a look at his work. His X-wing was in need of a wash, but now it’s back to the clean, shiny state it was in a couple of weeks ago. Ready for the next mission. He looks down at his little white and orange droid.

‘What do you think, buddy?’ he says and BB-8 beeps happily, earning a chuckle from Poe. ‘Yeah, it looks good.’ he says. ‘Should we go get Chewie, show him what a clean ship looks like? He might get some inspiration out of it for the Falcon.’ BB-8 beeps nervously and Poe chuckles again. ‘Yeah, maybe you’re right. I wouldn’t want to piss off a Wookiee.’ says Poe.

Just as he bends down to clean up the pile of materials he used to clean the X-wing, Poe hears footsteps come closer and looks up to see Finn walking toward him, a smile on his face.

‘Hey, what’s up?’ says Poe. ‘Came to see my shining, and very clean X-wing?’

‘The new recruits are here.’ says Finn, clearly not interested in the X-wing. Poe frowns as he looks at him. ‘Already? Thought they weren’t supposed to be here ‘til tomorrow?’ says Poe.

Finn shrugs. ‘Guess the general found a shortcut.’ he says. ‘Want to come and meet them?’ ‘Of course, and scare them a little of course.’ says Poe. Finn shoots him a “are you sure about that?” look and Poe raises his hands defensively. ‘Kidding. I know Leia doesn’t like it when I do that. I’m always just messing with her when I do that. And with the recruits, of course.’ says Poe. ‘Lead the way.’

As Finn takes Poe to the Medbay, where the new recruits are getting a standard check-up, he fills him in.

‘There’s so many more than we thought there would be. The ship landed and those doors opened and people started coming out of it and they’re fighters, Poe, really useful. We might actually win this war now.’

Finn is super excited and Poe just listens to him go on, also curious to see the new recruits, and if they really are as good as Finn says they are.

‘The one that recruited them all, the general, she’s really got a talent of picking the good ones. And her ship, oh, you have to see her ship. She’s nicknamed it the Destroyer because of how many tie fighters she’s taken out. How cool is that? Owning a ship that is literally called the Destroyer. And she’s-’ ‘did you say destroyer?’ says Poe, interrupting him. 

‘Yea, and it’s one hell of a ship.’ says Finn.  ‘Never mind the ship, who’s the one who recruited the new ones? The general, do you know her name?’ says Poe, as they turn a corner and enter the Medical wing.

‘Only a nickname, not her real name, she was in and out. Introducing herself quickly and then moving on to talk to Leia about the information and recruits she gathered. She introduced herself as Y/N/N, says her full name is-.’ ‘too formal.’ says poe, finishing his sentence for him. ‘How’d you know that?’ says Finn.  A smile breaks onto Poe’s face. ‘Where is she?’ he asks, ignoring Finn’s question.

‘Last I saw her she was talking to Leia in the corner of the Medbay.’ says Finn. Without another word, Poe takes off, running toward the Medbay, closely followed by Finn.

‘Hey!’ says Finn. ‘Slow down! What’s going on?’

Poe ignores him as he speeds through the doors of the Medbay. He quickly scans the room, his eyes going over the faces of everyone who’s there. His eyes land on Leia, but he’s more interested in the woman that’s standing in front of Leia, her back to him.

He starts walking up to the two women, shouting your name as soon as he’s within hearing range.

‘Y/N!’ he says, and upon hearing your name, your head shoots up, looking for the source of the voice. You see Poe and your face lights up. 

‘Go.’ says Leia softly and she gives you a little push. You smile and nod at her before turning around and making your way towards Poe. He’s running towards you and brace yourself just in time before he crashes into you, holding you tightly. 

While you stand there, holding him, giggling happily and pressing kiss after kiss to the top of his head, Finn has caught up and walked over to Leia. 

‘Who’s that?’ he asks. ‘That’s the general that got us all the new recruits right?’ ‘That’s her.’ says Leia as she looks at you and Poe. ‘I didn’t know they knew each other.’ says Finn, also looking at the two of you. ‘Of course they do!’ says Leia. ‘That’s general Y/N Dameron.’ 

Finn’s eyes widen and he looks at the two of you. ‘Dameron?’  ‘Surely Poe has told you all about his wife?’ says Leia, as she turns to face Finn. ‘He can barely shut up about her.’  ‘Well, yes, he told me about her.’ says Finn. ‘But I just thought he was messing with me. From the stories he told me, she sounds amazing. Didn’t think Poe could pull someone like that.’ 

Leia laughs and pats Finn’s shoulder. ‘Trust me, everything he’s told you about her is true. She’s a good fighter, smart, and a heart of gold.’ says Leia. 

Meanwhile you and Poe have finally let go of each other and he smiles at you. ‘I missed you so much, sweetheart.’ he says and you smile and lean in to kiss him.

‘Missed you too.’ you say. ‘But don’t worry, I don’t have to leave soon. I can stick around for a while. Spend some time with you.’

Poe’s smile widens at your words. ‘Finally.’ he says. ‘You’ve been away for way too long. Come on, let me introduce you to Finn.’

He takes your hand in his and walks over to Leia and Finn. He smiles at Leia and turns to Finn.

‘Finn.’ he says. ‘This is Y/N Dameron, my wife.’ You hold out your hand for Finn to shake. ‘I've heard so many good things about you.’ you say. ‘It’s so good to finally meet you.’ ‘It’s nice to meet you too.’ says Finn as he shakes your hand. ‘Poe’s told us a lot about you.’

You eye your husband, knowing the kinds of stories he can tell. ‘Only the good things, I hope.’ you say. ‘Too good, actually.’ says Leia. ‘Finn thought Poe was messing with him, and that you didn’t exist.’ 

‘Yea, but, I mean the stories he told are amazing.’ says Finn quickly, defending himself. ‘And he messes with all of us, I figured I’d play along in case he was messing with me again.’

You chuckle. ‘Well, I promise you I’m not half as amazing as all of the stories he tells. Most of the times he adds a lot of drama to them.’ you say. ‘Not to all of them.’ says Poe. ‘Want to grab a drink so you can tell us all about those new recruits?’ ‘Sure!’ you say. ‘Are you in?’ you say, turning to Finn. ‘I’d love to.’ says Finn.

You, Poe and Finn say your goodbyes to Leia and make your way to the dining hall. Finn is already asking you questions about the stories Poe had told him, but you don’t mind. Judging from the stories he told you about Finn, you were excited to meet him, and you look forward to getting to know him as much as he’s looking forward to get to know you.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Jo

[firstofficerwiggles]

Chapter 6: Where No Mando Has Gone Before

Link to Chpt. 5 -- For other chapters please visit my Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: M/E, 18+ only

Warnings: SMUT, Flirty!Din, Jealous!Reader, swearing, kissing, use of blindfold, groping (in public), oral sex (female receiving), explicit description of unprotected sex (be safe in the real world please), still pretty fluffy though

Word count: ~12.5K (I know, but it’s worth it I promise)

Author’s Note: This takes place on Angel One a matriarchal planet from Star Trek, the Next Generation. While that episode of TNG is honestly not good, I have been intrigued by the idea of that planet and always thought they could have done so much more with it. (Btw, I do suggest you look at the costumes from that episode because they are hilarious.) So anyway, I’m pretending that Angel One is in the Star Wars galaxy. Also, in this I describe the women of this planet as being taller, broader, and generally much larger than the reader. I always try to keep the reader as physically non-descript as possible, so just know that no matter how tall and broad you yourself may be, to these women, you are petite. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

For the third morning in a row, you awake to strong arms wrapped around you and the solid, warm body of Mando, or rather, Din, by your side. You’ve fully recovered from being shot, but Din has still been on high alert for any pain or discomfort that you could be feeling. He pretends to protest each evening that he should let you rest, before you easily convince him to climb into bed with you and cuddle all night long. Honestly, at first you thought he was just putting up with the cuddling to make you happy, but turns out, he seems to truly love it, as he is the one who continues to pull you closer any time you roll away in your sleep.

You’re lazily tracing circles with your fingers over his chest now as you think about him. He’s sleeping in a shirt and boxers, and even though you can’t touch the skin of his chest directly, you can feel his warmth easily through the thin fabric. He’s been so incredibly caring these past few days and he’s hardly let you lift a finger. Even when you’ve worried about him sleeping in his helmet and offered to sleep blindfolded so he could take it off, he’s dismissed the idea in favor of your comfort. Although part of you wonders if he’s still too nervous to consider taking off the helmet in front of you despite the presence of a blindfold or darkness.

You really are feeling so much better this morning, and you figure you’ll take over breakfast today. It would be nice to start getting back to your normal routine. You move to loosen yourself from Din’s hold and slide out of the bed, when you feel him stir and yank you back to his side.

“Where’re you goin’?” he asks you sleepily.

“I was going to make breakfast, and let you sleep a bit more,” you reply softly.

“Mmm, no, stay with me,” he says.

You shift a little so you can look at him more directly and tell him, “I’m so tempted, really, but you know someone else will be awake and hungry very soon.”

“Stay,” he repeats, “Wanna cuddle more.” You give in to him, and snuggle closer; it’s too hard when he’s insistent.

Din’s hands are starting to wander now, slipping just under the hem of your pajama top to caress your lower back. You let out a contented sigh at the feeling of his skin against yours.

“You must be feeling much better, if you want to make breakfast,” he says, sounding more awake, as he continues to trail his hands up your back under your top.

“I am, I feel completely better,” you reply confidently.

“Better enough to do other things?” Din asks with a husky tone to his voice as he brings one of his hands around to caress the upper part of your stomach, just below your breasts.

“I could do other things,” you say in a breathy voice; breakfast is now the last thing on your mind.

Din lets the hand on your stomach explore upward and over your breast, lightly palming you and teasing the sensitive tip. It’s been so long since a man touched you like this that it’s enough to make you moan softly. Din lets out a low rumbly sound in his chest and his hand becomes bolder, kneading you and rolling your hardening nipple between his fingertips. With his other hand, he pulls you in closer to him so that your hips brush up against his, letting you feel his arousal. Experimentally, you rock your hips against his, slightly grinding against him, drawing out another deep growling sound from Din’s throat.

“Been wanting to touch you like this ever since I got in bed with you,” he says.

“Me too,” you tell him as you let your own hands finally run up underneath his shirt and over the hard planes of his stomach and chest.

“You’re so soft- oof!” Din’s compliment is cut off by a sound of surprise and you realize why as soon as you see a little green head pop up over his shoulder. The sneaky kiddo has managed to climb up on the bed and his little claws must have grabbed Din’s arm to hoist himself up. Din immediately yanks his hand out of your top as the child meanwhile is crawling over Din’s chest to get to you. You scooch away from Din to make room for the little guy and also to discreetly put some distance between you two so that you can both calm down.

“Good morning, buddy!” You say a little overly cheerful, trying to come back to your senses. You look up at Din and mouth ‘sorry’. He just shakes his head lightly as he pats the child on the back.

“I think someone is a little jealous that I keep taking all the cuddles,” Din says with a chuckle, “Tell you what, I’ll make breakfast and you two have some snuggle time.”

“Aww, come here, buddy, and give me a hug,” you pull the child into your chest and kiss his wrinkled little brow. He lets out a series of happy coos making you laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After breakfast, you get dressed and join Din in the cockpit where he’s putting in coordinates to a new destination. The child is sitting in one of the passenger seats playing with his silver ball. You come over to stand next to Din and look at the star chart he’s using.

“I’ve got an idea for our next move,” Din tells you, “But it will require us to carry out some deception for it to work.”

“Deception, huh? Well, I’m intrigued already,” you reply with a smile.

“I’ve heard from several of my guild contacts that the bounty on the child has increased,” he says concerned, “There’s also a bounty out on me too.”

“Oh, that explains the hunters.” Your voice is more serious now.

“It’s fortunate that no one in the guild will support the job, but although it’s an off-the-books bounty, the price is high enough that there’ll still be hunters after us.” Din explains.

“So what’s your plan and how can I help?” you ask.

“You’re an integral part of it, particularly since no one knows you’re with me,” he tells you, “Have you ever heard of a planet called Angel One?”

“No, never.”

“It’s a place that few people have visited,” he explains, “They have a matriarchal society and you’re only allowed to visit the planet if you’re accompanied by a woman.”

“Ah, I see, so no one will expect you to be there.” It’s a good idea.

“Yes, but there’s more,” Din says, “They’re very particular about whom they let stay on the planet for a visit, and from what I’ve heard they usually only let powerful or influential women visit for more than a day. Any potential visitors need to be fully vetted by one of their Mistresses to be allowed to stay.”

“Hence the deception; I need to pretend to be someone powerful or influential,” you respond.

“Yes, I thought you could pretend to be a princess and I’ll be your bodyguard,” Din proposes.

“A princess?” You reply, a touch startled by the idea.

“You’re as beautiful as a princess,” Din says, his voice flirtatious, “I’d definitely believe it.”

“Stop,” you say, rolling your eyes a little at him, “But, seriously, do you think I can pull that off?”

“Why not? You’re intelligent, well educated, and you seem to have a knack for socializing with people, you put them at ease and get them to trust you right away, I’ve seen you do it a lot.” Din compliments you in such a matter-of-fact voice that you find yourself thinking that just maybe you could do it.

“Well, and in your beskar you definitely look like a royal bodyguard,” you say thoughtfully, and then flirt back with him, “My knight in shining armor.”

He chuckles at that, “See, you’re already in character.”

“What if they notice that we’re…” you trail off and just gesture between you two with your hands. You’re uncertain how to define what you are, together? involved? You haven’t really discussed it.

“A couple?” he asks. Ok, so he’s defined it.

“Yes.”

Din thinks for a moment and then chuckles again deeply, “You’ll say I’m your consort.”

“My consort?” You snicker at his choice of words.

“Yeah, your consort,” he repeats, and you can swear by the tone of his voice that he must have the biggest grin on under that helmet right now. “I kinda like the idea, my job being to protect you and service your every, ahem, need.”

“Din, the kiddo is right there,” you whisper a little flustered at his suggestiveness.

“Come here, my princess,” he says playfully as he pats his lap.

“You’re having too much fun with this,” you tell him, but you move towards him anyway because you can’t help yourself.

He tugs you down to sit in his lap, “Oh, we’ve only just started having fun.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The landing crew that meets you on Angel One is most decidedly not about fun. When you descend the Crest’s ramp, you are met with five of the largest warrior-like women you’ve ever seen in your entire life. They are all broad, muscular, and statuesque, decked out in black and gold armor on their arms, chests, and legs, and wearing capes decorated with animal fur. Their makeup is like war paint and they seem to share Din’s love of weapons. You can’t deny that they are all fiercely beautiful and you suddenly feel insecure. Geeze, no wonder Din wanted to come here, these women look like a Mandalorian’s wet dream. You take a deep breath and tell yourself that you are a beautiful and influential princess. You repeat this to yourself a few times and steady your shoulders as you do.

You hold your head up as high as you can and address the women, “Good morning and thank you for welcoming us to your home. We hope that your Mistress will find us worthy of a visit.”

One of the women nods to you as she says, “Right this way Your Highness, Mistress Lagertha is expecting you.”

You follow the woman as she leads you into a large governmental building. Both Din and the child follow behind you allowing you to be the more prominent figure in your little party. The building is a very grand stone structure with sweeping columns and polished stone floors. The furnishings are mostly dark, grey and black with a few metallic accents. You pass several people, all women, who stop to stare at you as you walk down the long corridor. When you reach the end of the passageway, you are ushered into a large office where you see a majestic blonde woman. While this woman is not wearing armor, she exudes power and once again, you are dwarfed by her size. She rises from her desk when you enter and offers you a small half bow.

“Welcome, Your Highness, please have a seat and we will begin the interview.” She pointedly addresses her welcome only to you as if Din isn’t even present. You approach her desk and the proffered chair, while he remains quietly by the door with the child’s pram.

“Thank you for being willing to speak with me, it’s an honor to meet you, Mistress Lagertha,” Now that you’re both seated you feel a little more confident as it’s easier to look her in the eye.

“It’s very interesting to meet you,” she says with a smile, “I’ve never seen an off-worlder before.” She looks over your appearance carefully. In helping to perpetrate your ruse, you’re wearing a summer dress in a pink floral fabric. The dress has a long swirly skirt and it seemed like the most princess-y thing you owned. You’ve also taken extra care to do your hair and make-up in a slightly fancier style. You even took the time to dress up the child as your little ward, wrapping a brightly colored scarf around his tunic like a sash and pinning a costume jewelry broach to it. He seemed to like it, once he stopped trying to bite it. Of course, Din is handsome as always in his well-polished armor and you think all together you should be able to fool these people who haven’t seen many real royals.

You’re surprised when she starts to laugh lightly after looking you over. “I’m sorry, it’s just, I wasn’t expecting you to look so manly.”

“Excuse me?” Your confusion could not be more evident as you look down at yourself. This is quite possibly the least manly you’ve ever looked.

“Well, I knew you would be small, those who’ve seen off-world women have always described them as small, but the pastels, the flowers, even your make-up, you look like one of our men.” She chuckles again lightly.

“Ah, I see,” you reply trying to keep your face neutral, “Where I come from, this would be considered very feminine.” She smiles widely at this and laughs again. Well, if anything you’ve certainly broken the ice.

“That’s hysterical!” She says, delighted, “Plus your man is wearing armor! I’ve never seen such a thing.”

Oh Maker! You really wish she wouldn’t laugh at Din. To his credit, Din makes no reaction whatsoever; he’s doing his silent suit of armor thing again.

She asks you a long series of biographical questions most of which are very easy to answer and require little to no lying at all. Thankfully, you and Din practiced speaking about your invented past and so when you do need to be untruthful it comes out naturally. The only time you feel you really slip up is when she asks you about your views on the New Republic.

“Well, clearly there is much we can learn about your culture and so much that we can share with you about ours,” you say diplomatically.

“I support the New Republic, but I wish they would be more persistent in going after former Imperials. There are still too many evil men out there wreaking havoc in the galaxy.” You can’t keep the bitterness out of your voice and you know you’ve dropped your polite expression in favor of a frown. Uh oh, probably should have given a more politically neutral answer.

Fortunately, Mistress Lagertha says, “A very good point. Men seems to be particularly bent towards doing evil.”

While you can’t agree with that blanket statement, it seems better to simply nod and continue with the interview. For the rest of the time, you try to be your most charming self and it seems to work, because you’re starting to feel like she’s almost a friend the more you converse. When she gets to the part about the reason for your visit, you have a more elaborate answer about cultural exchange prepared, but she says,

“Of course the reason for your visit must be the Jubilee of Astrid which begins this evening. It’s our most sacred and special time, and the most common time for off-worlders to request a visit.”

“Yes, I would be truly honored to be able to experience your sacred celebration,” you say in an awed tone. You have no idea what she is talking about, but this is clearly the answer she expects to hear.

“I understand as a princess there must be certain pressures on you, especially from familial demands,” Lagertha says.

“Yes, there are,” you agree with her demurely, but still clueless as to what she’s getting at.

“Well, you can be certain to have your prayers answered while you are here, and enjoy yourself immensely! May Astrid bless you!” She gives you a cheeky grin as she says this and her eyes flick back to Din for the first time in quite a while. “Incidentally, if your man isn’t up to the task, I’m sure we can find you a man who will find your uniqueness appealing.”

“I assure you that won’t be necessary, my guard is always prepared for any task,” you tell her. You’re still not sure of her meaning, but there’s something in the gleam in her eye that tells you that you only want to be with Din for whatever ‘tasks’ are involved in this holiday of theirs.

“Well, that’s good then.” She’s smiling at you again and then extends her hand, “Welcome to Angel One, we would be honored to grant you permission to stay on our planet for as long as you like.”

You grasp her large hand in your smaller one and give her a beaming (and relieved) smile as you thank her. You’ve successfully secured your visit.

A communication device on her desks beeps and she presses a small button, which allows a voice to state, “Mistress Sigrid wishes to meet the off-world princess.”

“Thank you, Brenna, please let her know that we’re ready for her at any time,” Lagertha replies. She then turns her attention back to you as she explains, “Mistress Sigrid is our leader, the Elected One, and I must confess she has been monitoring this meeting.” You nod and smile, it doesn’t surprise you really, considering how cautious they are about visitors.

“I am delighted to have the opportunity to meet her.” You hope this is a sign that you’ve made a good impression if their leader wants to say hello.

A door in a side wall opens and a stately woman enters. You rise to your feet out of respect as she approaches. She’s older than Lagertha but still moves with the athletic grace of a younger woman. Like the other women you’ve seen here, she is striking with shrewd eyes and a small scar on her cheek that adds to her mystique rather than marring her beauty.

“Your Highness, how lovely it is to meet you,” Mistress Sigrid greets you and reaches out to shake your hand.

“It is a pleasure, Elected One,” you reply, craning your neck to meet her gaze, as once again she is incredibly tall.

“I must say I have never seen or heard an off-world woman quite like you before,” she tells you with respect, “The others I’ve met have been rather anxious and shy, and so easily intimidated.” She dismisses them with a wave of her hand.

“It is a shame you haven’t met more off-world women then, many are quite strong and accomplished. Perhaps while I am here, I can demonstrate how capable we can be,” you reply. The way she says that irritates you immensely but you know you need to stay overly respectful towards her and so you swallow any other comments you’d like to make.

She laughs warmly at your response, “See, I knew I liked you already! You have a spark about you.”

“Thank you,” you say.

“And this is your little ward, hmm?” She walks over to the child who is starting at her with big eyes and a slightly wary expression.

“Yes, my guard rescued him and he is in my care.” You follow her over, reach down into his pram to pick him up, and hold him so she can see him better.

“Hello, tiny child,” she says to him, “Aren’t you a cute little thing?”

He looks mesmerized by her for a moment, and then is suddenly shy, turning his head into your chest. She merely chuckles and you gently place him back in his pram and hand him one of his stuffed toys to hold.

“Shame he’s a male though,” she comments. You don’t know how to respond to that terrible statement and so you elect to simply stay quiet.

“And this is your bodyguard, a Mandalorian.” Mistress Sigrid approaches Din now looking him up and down with curiosity. “I’ve never had the fortune to see a real Mandalorian, I’ve only heard stories,” she says with interest. It’s the most attention anyone has paid to Din this entire time.

“What do you call him?” Mistress Lagertha pipes up.

“Mando,” you tell her, knowing that you can’t share Din’s real name with anyone.

“Mando, will you turn around, I’d like to look at you,” Mistress Sigrid says, speaking to him directly. Something about her tone of voice rubs you the wrong way and you’re fortunate that she’s looking so intently at Din because you fail to hide your displeasure on your face.

Din complies with her request, rotating so she can look at him. He had heard that the women openly objectify the men on this planet and so he knows this is the type of treatment he can expect. It doesn’t really bother him too much as he’s used to people staring at him no matter where he is. He knows Mandalorians are unique and the beskar will always draw attention. He has to bite his lip though to keep from laughing at your expression as Mistress Sigrid ogles him. You look positively jealous.

“That is sufficient, Mando.” The Elected One seems to have gotten her fill.

“Mistress,” he replies softly.

“So unusual to see a man so large and wearing armor,” Mistress Sigrid is turning back towards you with a smile and a little shrug.

Din sees that you’ve managed to paste a bland smile back on your face as you tell her, “I’m so accustomed to it that it would be odd to see him in anything else.” He catches your eye and gives you a nod. It’s the only thing he can do to reassure you that everything is going well. Honestly, he’s so thankful that you were able to do all of the talking for this meeting. You handled all the questions so well and he knows you were able to be charismatic in a way he doesn’t think he ever could. It’s a real credit to your communication skills, especially as Mistress Sigrid is now inviting you to stay at the Elected One’s state residence.

“That is very kind of you, Mistress Sigrid,” you say, “But we wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble on our behalf.”

“Nonsense, it will be delightful to have you there,” she replies, “You will be my special guests for the Jubilee. I do hope you have something red to wear, it is the official color of the celebration.”

“As a matter of fact, I have just the dress,” you tell her.

Mistress Sigrid arranges for two of her staff to accompany you back to the Razor Crest so you can collect your things before they will take you to get settled at the state residence.

“I’ll see you tonight at the opening gala for the Jubilee, and may Astrid bless you!” Mistress Sigrid says before bidding you farewell for now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The state residence is an elegant mansion and you have to remind yourself that you’re supposed to be a princess and so you shouldn’t be overly impressed by any of this. Still you can’t help letting your eyes wander over the beautiful furnishings and art. The mansion reflects much of what seems to be the core beliefs for this society, that women are strong fighters who have accomplished great things, while men are beautiful decorations. You haven’t seen any men in person yet, but in the artwork, they are portrayed as soft and fragile looking creatures with dainty features dressed primarily in flowery pastels, just like you at the moment.

Every woman you pass still stops to openly gawk at you and now you are even hearing laughter accompanied by hushed voices no doubt discussing your odd appearance. You try to ignore it, but you’re not used to being assessed like this so much. You look over to Din and wonder if this is what it’s like for him on a daily basis, not that people laugh at him, of course.

When you reach your room at the residence, you are astonished by the grandeur of the accommodations you’ve been given. Your ‘room’ is actually a large suite with a sitting room, bedroom, and elegant bathroom. After briefly showing you around, Mistress Sigrid’s staff finally leave you alone to rest and relax before the grand gala tonight.

“Thank the Maker!” you say flopping onto the giant four-poster bed. “I feel like I’ve been under a microscope this whole day.”

“Yeah, they really seem quite fascinated by you,” Din says chuckling. He hands the child a piece of fruit from the generous buffet of treats the Mistress’ staff has provided for you. The little guy chomps down on it quickly and you smile at his cuteness.

“I’d say they’re fascinated by us, or at least Mistress Sigrid sure was,” you say still a little miffed at the way she practically undressed Din with her eyes.

Din laughs again, “Your face when she was making me turn for her nearly had me in stitches,” he says.

“What do you mean?” you ask sitting up to look at him better.

He walks over to you and cups your cheek in his hand gently, “You looked rather jealous.” His voice is still full of mirth as he says this and you get the impression that he liked it, at least a little.

“I didn’t like the way she was treating you like an object,” you say reproachfully, but then you look up more directly at him, “Ok, but fine, maybe I was jealous too,” you admit.

“Cyar’ika, you don’t have to be jealous,” he says, “But it is kinda cute.” He’s still chuckling as he steps in between your legs and his hands move to your shoulders, squeezing them lightly.

“It’s hard not be when they’re all insanely giant, stunning, war goddess women,” you reply. Looking up at him thoughtfully, you say, “Seems like that would be just the kind of woman a Mandalorian would find incredibly attractive.” You can’t help the note of insecurity in your voice as you say that.

He shrugs his shoulders, “Not this Mandalorian, besides, I’m already with the most beautiful woman in the galaxy.” He taps your nose playfully as he says this and you smile back at him.

“You really do say the sweetest things, Din.”

“Only to you, cyar’ika.” He replies and you can hear the smile in his voice.

The sound of inquisitive coos interrupts your conversation, and you look over to the child. “Maybe they’ll let us visit the gardens for a while. I think the kiddo could use some fresh air.”

“That’s a good idea, especially because it sounds like our entire evening is already planned with their gala.” Din nods his head as he says this.

“I’m just going to change first, maybe if I put on something black they won’t stare as much,” you tell him.

“Ok, the kid and I’ll wait in the other room.”

You take a moment to hang up your gown for tonight as well as your black dress that you thought to bring too. You put a few of your other things away in the dresser in the room to help keep them organized, when you find a few things that have been provided for your stay, some soft robes, slippers, and a couple black satin sleep masks. Your mind instantly goes to a naughty place as you feel the soft material between your fingers. You slip it on over your eyes, blindfolding yourself completely.

“Hey, Din, come here and look what I found,” you say playfully. You hear him come back into the room.

“What? Oh.” Din’s voice seems to drop several octaves with just that one small sound. “Can you see anything with that on?”

“Not a thing,” you reply.

“Stay there and keep it on,” he tells you and you hear his footsteps approaching you until you can feel that he’s right in front of you.

“You really can’t see anything?” Din asks again.

“No, I promise.”

You hear a soft hiss followed by a metallic thunk on the dresser behind you. Then you feel Din pull you in close to him and he lowers his face towards yours, letting his bare forehead touch yours for the first time. He nuzzles into you more, letting his nose caress yours and then you feel his warm breath against your lips.

“May I kiss you, really kiss you?” Din asks his lips practically brushing against your mouth with his question.

“Yes,” you breathe out.

His lips melt into yours in a sweet kiss as his hands come up to rest on either side of your neck. He seems just a little hesitant, so you slowly start to move beneath him, guiding. He follows your lead, letting his lips explore more. You part your lips slightly so you can tease his plump bottom lip in between yours. He parts his lips when you do this and daringly, you let your tongue lick into his mouth just slightly. His reaction is immediate, as he opens his mouth more to give you greater access. You deepen the kiss and brush your tongue against his. He groans deep in his chest when your tongues meet and he pulls you in tight to his body. You let your hands roam around the back of his neck and into his soft hair. You’re kissing him passionately now, showing him what you like. Din’s response is enthusiastic, as he chases your lips and tongue wherever they wish to lead him. Just before you pull away to catch your breath, you give his bottom lip a suck making him groan again.

“Is kissing always this great?” Din pants out.

“No,” you tell him honestly, “I think it must you.”

“It’s us,” he says before capturing your lips again. This time he teases you with his tongue and tries sucking your lip the way you did to his. It draws out a moan from you; he’s clearly a very quick learner.

A sudden crashing sound from the other room reminds you both that you’re not alone and that you promised the child some outdoor fun. Din groans softly before giving you one more quick kiss and then pulls away from you. You feel him reach for his helmet as you try to take a deep breath and collect yourself.

“Ok, you can take off the mask now,” he says, “But, put it somewhere safe for later.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a nice afternoon spent exploring the mansion’s lush gardens, followed by a hot cup of tea and several delicious snacks that were thoughtfully provided, it’s time to get ready for the gala. You already know you’ll wear your new red gown, but you decide to go more avant garde with your hair and make-up to hopefully create a better impression on the women tonight. It’s a good look, but something is missing that will give you a certain edge that you want to achieve. You look through your meager jewelry collection but nothing gives off the right vibe. You look over to where the child is playing with Din and you have an idea.

“Buddy, can I borrow your mythosaur for tonight?” You ask the little one. He smiles up at you and gives you his happy coo. You gently take the necklace off him and drape it over your head. The silver pendant comes to rest just above your cleavage, and it’s perfect, much better for the darker image you’re trying to achieve.

You turn with a flourish towards Din, “Well, what do you think? Still a princess but maybe more to the standards of this place?”

Din cannot respond to you because his mouth has gone completely dry. He thinks you look outstanding in that sexy dress that he bought you and then, it’s made even better because you’re wearing his mythosaur around your neck. Fuck! He looks at it sparkling against your bosom, it’s like you’ve put on a giant sign that says you belong to him. It creates a primal reaction in him and it’s taking all his self-control not to grab you and claim you as his right now.

“Din? Is it too much?”

“No, I like it,” Din practically growls at you, “I like it so much, I’m thinking I’d like to pull you back into that bedroom and show you how much I like it.”

“Di-in,” you stretch out his name as you can feel your cheeks blazing with his praise and it makes you giggle a little. He’s never been so outrageously direct like that before.

“I’m serious,” he says, “That’s how good you look. In fact you better pick up the baby to keep me in check.” He’s teasing you now, but his voice still sounds predatory. Your heart is racing and he’s making you feel lightheaded.

“Stop, you’re being naughty,” you flirt back at him, but you do pick up the child in any case. As much as you’d much rather stay in the bedroom with him, you know you have an obligation to go to this gala tonight. And as if on cue, there is a knock at your door.

Mistress Sigrid is there and for the first time, there are men with her. The men are much smaller in stature, dressed in soft pastel colors and wearing make-up that resembles what you had on earlier today. You notice that one of the men is more conservatively dressed, while the other is wearing a rather revealing outfit with a dramatic deep vee neckline that practically screams ‘boy toy’. You’ve never seen anything quite like it. Both men clock you with big eyes and smiles, like the women, they appear to be amused by you too, only at least they don’t laugh out loud. When they glance at Din, however, their smiles falter and they seem taken aback at his presence. You wonder if Din looks somehow feminine to them going by their standards. Your thoughts are interrupted by Sigrid before you have more time to consider the men.

“Good evening, Your Highness, you look festive,” she says, but from her tone it doesn’t exactly sound like a compliment. She is also wearing red, but instead of a gown, she has on a sharply tailored suit, almost like a red tuxedo.

“Thank you.” You just smile at her diplomatically.

“Gregor is here to collect your little ward for the evening to take him off to the nursery to play with the other children and provide him with a nice place to sleep for the night.” She motions to the more conservatively dressed man who is smiling and waving at the child.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting that, he usually just accompanies me everywhere,” you respond. Although Gregor seems nice enough, you feel reluctant at leaving the little guy with someone else.

“Nonsense, you don’t want to bring a child to the gala tonight. It isn’t done.” Sigrid declares.

“Well, I need to see the nursery first, before I decide if I’m going to let him stay there.” You want to be certain you and Din know exactly where the child will be and how to get to him quickly in case of an emergency.

“I suppose,” Sigrid sighs, but then she smiles at you again, “There’s that feisty spark I saw in you earlier.”

Gregor motions for you to follow him, “This way Your Highness,” he says in a shy voice.

“Gregor, do you take care of many children?” You would like to know more about his background.

“Oh, yes, I am the nanny for all of the mistresses on the High Council for any of their children under age 5.” He smiles warmly at you, “They will all be there tonight too, so your little one will have plenty of other children to play with; there’s about a dozen all together.”

“Is it just you taking care of all of the children?” That seems like too many for just one person.

“No, no, I have three assistants too,” Gregor says, “You’ll be able to meet them at the nursery.”

You continue to pepper Gregor with questions about childcare and the nursery and he seems positively delighted with all the attention you’re paying towards him. You sometimes hear Sigrid let out a sigh as if she finds the entire conversation boring, but you don’t care, after all the child is your primary priority. When you arrive at the nursery, you can see that everything is quite nice and it does seem like a safe place for the little guy to spend the evening. You kiss him goodbye and Din pats him on the head and gives him a soft reminder that he should be on his best behavior.

“Oh isn’t that cute!” The boy-toy guy coos as he watches you and Din say goodnight to the child. It’s the first you’ve heard him speak.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t ask you your name earlier,” you say to him as you’re leaving the nursery, “I didn’t mean to be rude, I was just very focused on the child, you understand.”

“Well aren’t you sweet, Your Highness,” he says beaming at you, “I’m Trent, I’m Mistress Sigrid’s lover.” He seems very proud of that fact.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Trent,” you reply with a nod. You slip your hand around Din’s elbow deciding that they already seem to know you two are a couple, so you might as well feel free to show a little affection. You tilt your head towards Din as you say, “This is Mando.”

“I know,” Trent says giggling a little, “The man in armor, it’s so shocking.” Trent sounds both amused and a little scandalized. “It’s super nice to meet you, Mando. I can’t wait to hear more about you and your princess at dinner. You’re all anyone is talking about.” He winks and flashes his dazzling white teeth.

“Nice to meet you,” Din says. His voice and body language don’t give anything away but you wonder if he’s a little taken aback by Trent’s enthusiasm.

“Yes, the men will have plenty of time to get to know one another during the feast since they’ll be sitting together at their table,” Sigrid explains, and then addresses you directly, “You’ll be with me at the head table with all the other mistresses of the High Council.”

“Oh, you don’t sit together as couples?” With the insinuations that Mistress Lagertha made earlier about the Jubilee, it seemed like this was going to be an event for couples or at least dates.

“Not during the dinner,” Sigrid tells you, “It gives us women time to have serious discussions while the men can chatter about lighter things. Trust me, your Mando will have a much better time conversing with the other men. He won’t miss you at all.” You doubt that, but say nothing and simply grip Din’s arm a bit tighter as a way of silently communicating with him.

“Besides,” she continues, “You’ll have plenty of time to sit together during the entertainment.”

“Ooh, it’s going to be so good this year too,” Trent says, “My best friend is one of the performers and he’s been filling me in on all the juicy details. I’ll tell you all about it, Mando.” Oh my, seems Din’s made a new friend already.

“Just be sure you don’t spoil it for him though, Trent,” Sigrid says patting his shoulder.

“Oh, I won’t,” Trent beams up at her. He reminds you a bit of an eager puppy just so happy to please her in any way.

At last, you come to a large room festooned with red, black, and gold decorations and several round dining tables. The table in the middle of the room is the biggest and it is raised up on a dais so that it is more visible across the entire room. There are several people milling about with glasses of wine and a few servers passing appetizers throughout the space. You’re thankful to see that several of the women are also wearing red gowns, so at least you’re not the only one in a dress. But once again, your attire is much more feminine by your standards. Where your gown is more revealing and designed to show off the curves of your figure, theirs have long sleeves and high necklines designed to showcase their muscular frames. The men are almost all dressed like Trent in soft pastels of varying colors with revealing tops that show off their chests and very tight pants that show off other assets. As you enter the room with Mistress Sigrid, a gong sounds to announce your arrival and every eye that wasn’t already staring at you is suddenly on you as a hush comes over the room.

“Good Evening, all!” Mistress Sigrid’s voice booms out, “I am pleased to welcome you to this year’s opening gala of the Jubilee of Astrid, may she bless you all!” Cheers and applause follow this statement. Sigrid holds up her hand and waits for everyone to quiet again.

“Tonight we welcome our special guests, a princess and her Mandalorian!” Polite applause follows this along with several whispers and small bouts of laughter. You smile placidly at the room and nod your head in greeting.

“Take your seats and let’s begin the feast!” Sigrid announces and the cheering and applause build back up.

“C’mon, Mando I’ll show you where our table is,” Trent motions.

“Just a moment,” Din replies, before turning to you and dropping his helmet to your forehead, his voice is low so that only you can hear it as he says, “Have a good dinner, cyar’ika.”

“I’ll see you later,” you whisper back to him and give his hands a squeeze before being led away by Sigrid.

“You two are very affectionate with one another, I think you’re going to enjoy tonight’s festivities quite a lot,” Sigrid says smirking at you.

At the table, she introduces you to all of the mistresses seated there, most of whom look you over with amusement and curiosity. There are a few though who seem displeased by your presence and they openly frown at you. You suppose it is due to your off-worlder status more than anything else, but you sincerely hope you haven’t made some type of social gaff that may have offended them. You look over to the men’s table and notice that Din has positioned himself so that he is seated in your direct line of sight. It puts you at ease knowing that you can look up at any time and see that familiar helmet and visor.

One of the younger mistresses, Eira, seems the most interested in you and she seems to be one of the friendliest so you strike up a conversation with her. She tells you about her background as a professional fighter, and how that fame brought her into the arena of politics. You’re telling her a little bit about your travels with Din, when one of the other mistresses, Runa, pipes up,

“Yes, tell us all about the Mandalorian.”

“Well, he’s an incredibly skilled fighter, very brave, and I trust him with my life,” you say, thinking that’s what will most likely impress them.

“No, no,” Runa says, “Tell us about your relationship with him. And not just the lovey-dovey stuff, the good stuff.”

“The good stuff?” you repeat, rather surprised.

“Yeah, like what’s it like sleeping with a man who’s so large?” Eira asks, apparently also curious to hear about Din.

“Well, it’s great,” you tell them, “He’s very big and strong and I like the way it makes me feel when I’m in his arms.” You know you’re being liberal with the definition of ‘sleeping with’ here but they don’t need to know that.

“Huh?” Eira responds, “It just seems so weird. I like my men the smaller the better, like I can just wrap myself around their whole body.” The other women nod along with her and several look at you like you must be crazy.

“I suppose that’s just one of the differences between our cultures, but I would say that where I come from, people are very accepting of all different types of bodies and partners. I’m sure there are women from my society who prefer smaller men like you do.” Eira smiles at you when you say this.

“Yes, but when you say big, is he big everywhere?” Runa asks you pointedly and motions with her hands holding them side by side and then expending them outward little by little.

You laugh at loud at that, especially because of the alarmed look on her face as her hands get wider apart. You notice too that now the entire table is waiting for your answer, so much for Sigrid’s ‘serious discussions’. You smile, amused by their interest, and you can’t help but glance over at Din for a moment before you tell them,

“He is very well endowed.” You might not have direct knowledge of that, but from the time you saw him after swimming and the times you’ve felt him against you lately, you know your answer is correct.

“But doesn’t that, you know, hurt you?” Runa wants to know. Her face is very concerned and you do all you can to keep from laughing again so that she won’t think you rude.

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” you tell her, “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Tell us more about him as a lover,” Lagertha says, her voice loud as it carries across the table. You cringe a bit internally at that because you know that the men’s table has to have heard her. You look right at Din and he tips his helmet in a way that you know means ‘really?’ and you give him a slight shrug in response.

Maker, what can you say to these horny women? Your experience with him is so limited as it is. You decide to just go off of what you do know and then let your imagination fill in the gaps. You figure as long as you keep them entertained with this, they’ll be less likely to ask you any other questions about your invented background that could potentially poke holes in your story. So you tell them all about how generous Din is as a lover, that he’s tender and caring, but then able to be harder and rough when you want him to be. You make him out to be a complete sex god for these women and they are entranced.

“Well, then, it seems like you have the perfect partner for the Jubilee,” Sigrid says chuckling, “I’m sure he’ll get you pregnant.”

You choke on your wine as she says this. What the hell?

“Of course he will, you don’t have to worry,” Eira says and she pats your arm supportively, “After all, that is the point of a fertility festival and Astrid is sure to bless you even if you’re an off-worlder.”

Sweet Maker above! You can only imagine what the rest of this Jubilee will entail.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Din are finally able to be back together after the dinner. It feels like a relief to have him place his hand on the small of your back as you both follow everyone to a large ballroom where the entertainment is scheduled to begin soon.

“So, what am I like as a lover?” Din leans down to ask you discreetly, his voice is teasing though.

“I knew you had to have heard that,” you say embarrassed, “But these crazy horny women just wouldn’t stop asking me about you.”

“It was the same for me,” he tells you, “All the men wanted to hear about how we fell in love.”

You laugh as you tell him, “Oh no, the women only wanted to hear about sex. But I am curious to know what you told the men.”

“And I’m curious to hear what you told the women,” Din replies.

“Well, obviously I had to do some speculating, but in essence I told them you were a very generous and highly-skilled lover, oh, and that you’re very large.” You wink at him as you say this and give him your most flirtatious smile.

Din pulls you in closer to him and tilts his head down to tell you, “I think that’s a fairly accurate description but I’d much rather you’d experience it first-hand instead of just taking my word for it.” You shiver in anticipation at that.

“Ok, now, what did you tell the men?” You’re very interested to hear this.

“I told them the truth, that you’re the most beautiful, kind, and caring woman I’ve ever known, that you make my life so much better, and that I couldn’t stop myself from falling for you, I also told them that you’re a wonderful kisser.” He says this so sincerely that your heart swells with happiness.

You drop your voice to a whisper so that there’s no way anyone will overhear you use his name, “Din, that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” you have to pause for a moment to collect yourself before you tell him, “I hope you know that you make my life so much better too.” You want to tell him more but it’s too public here.

“Thank you for telling me, cyar’ika,” he replies, his voice sounding warm even in a whisper.

Speaking of romantic, the ballroom is set up like a large cabaret with small tables for couples all around, only instead of chairs, each table has a rounded booth with a high back, positioned to face the large open area in the front of the room. As couples start to be seated, you can see that there’s quite a bit of privacy for each table despite the large number of attendees.

“Trent said we can sit wherever we like, but I get the impression we should pick something near the performance area so they’ll think we’re really interested in the show,” Din tells you. You find a table in the second row with a good view of the stage area. The booth is very comfortable and you lean into Din as he places his arm around your shoulders.

“Did Trent give you details about the show?”

He groans slightly, “Yes, probably too many, the best I can tell you is that we’re going to see an erotic celebration designed to honor their goddess, Astrid.”

“Ah yes, I found out something else about this celebration,” you tell him, “This whole Jubilee is a fertility festival; everyone thinks we’re here so that you’ll get me pregnant, that’s what they mean when they say ‘may Astrid bless you’.” Your face feels hot as you inform him of this.

“Well, I’ll certainly give it my all, cyar’ika,” Din tell you, his voice sounding deeper.

“Very funny,” you reply, “I have an implant in any case.”

“Still, practice does make perfect,” he says, laughing, “And the thought does intrigue me.” You giggle in response to that and then start to quiet down as the lights dim.

Truthfully, Din is more than intrigued by the idea. The men also filled him in on the purpose of this holiday during the dinner and he has been thinking about it ever since. Honestly, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking of taking you to bed all day, and his arousal has only been growing. While impractical, the idea of seeing you pregnant with his child is appealing to him in ways he never knew were possible. The reality of how much he wants that someday with you is so strong it’s almost overwhelming to him. In the past, the idea of becoming attached to someone never interested him; the women that he met were good for a sexual release but they were never anyone he wanted to spend time with outside of the bedroom. But with you, everything looks different, feels different, and he wants things he’s never wanted before.

Din’s thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of several dancers, male and female, who have started their performance. He watches a bit at first but then becomes bored and turns his attention back to you. He likes the way you’re cuddled up to him, he’s glad you’re not shy about showing him affection in public. Din is also enjoying watching your face and your reactions as you watch the performance unfold. You seem enthralled until you notice his visor is turned toward you instead of the dancers.

“Is everything alright?” you ask, blinking up at him. He simply gives your shoulder a squeeze and nods.

He keeps looking at you instead of the performance though until he sees your eyes widen and you gasp. Din turns his attention back to the dancers to see that they are removing most of their clothing to reveal their bodies. The dancers then start to pair off and dance together in what can only be described as the most sexual dancing Din has ever seen. There is grinding, thrusting, and a lot of groping. Turns out Trent was right about it being an erotic spectacle. He chuckles a bit to himself at the description and really, it’s nothing worse than some of the pornographic holovids he’s seen before. He looks down at you however and notices that you have become a little restless next to him. You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the dancers and he sees your tongue come out to wet your lips as you watch. This is turning you on, he realizes. As he glances around the room to see if anyone is paying attention to you, he notes that several of the couples in the booths have started to put on their own performances, so to speak, and no one is interested in the two of you anymore. Never a man to let an opportunity pass by, Din decides to take full advantage of the situation and he reaches over and pulls you into his lap.

“Din, what are you doing?” You gasp, surprised by his actions.

“Shh, cyar’ika, look around,” he tells you. You look over at the other booths to see that most everyone else is making out all around you.

“Oh”

“It’s ok, keep watching the dancers, I can tell you like it,” Din says as his arms wrap around you. He holds you like that for a moment as you continue to watch the performers simulate various sexual acts. But before long his hands begin to wander, starting by running his fingers lightly over your collarbone. He traces the line of your necklace down to the mythosaur and then brushes against the tops of your breasts just along the edge of your bodice. Din hears you let out a small whine as he touches you and it emboldens him to palm one of your breasts fully. Between the layers of fabric of your dress and his gloves, it’s only a tease, but as he continues to grope you, he can hear the pace of your breathing increase. Din wants more and his hand finds the long slit in your dress allowing him to run his fingers up your thigh. He can feel your warmth as he gently kneads your flesh. Each movement he makes seems to elicit a small sound from you and he’s eager to hear more. Din slowly makes his way higher up your skirt thinking he’ll just tease the edges of your panties or maybe touch you over them, when he realizes he’s not finding any.

“Oh, my naughty girl, are you not wearing anything under this dress?” Din asks.

“Didn’t seem necessary,” you whisper to him.

He lets his fingers lightly explore between your legs, and when he can feel how wet you are already he can’t keep himself from letting his hand become more bold. He runs two of his fingers through your damp folds and up to the small bundle of nerves that he knows will bring you the most pleasure. Din feels you shudder against him as he circles your clit before bringing his fingers back down. The movement makes you shift your hips over his making you grind against his cock and he lets out a deep groan. It’s more than he can take and he says,

“We’re going back to room, now.”

“But, the show is still going on,” you say a little worried about being rude to your hostess.

“No one will miss us,” Din insists, “Let’s go.”

You quickly slide out of the booth following Din and he grabs your hand to hustle you to the exit. He’s right that no one seems to notice you at all, except for one other couple that is also sneaking out early. Din and you practically run back to your room, but once you get inside all you can do is stand there for a moment looking at each other.

“I want to make love to you,” Din says, his voice deep, “Please tell me you want that too.”

“I do, so much,” you reply.

He sweeps you into his arms and brings his helmet down to your forehead, as he asks, “Can we use the sleep mask? I really want to kiss you again and be able to use my mouth on your body.”

“Yes, but can we get undressed first?” you ask, “Because I’d like to see your body for a bit before.”

“Absolutely,” Din replies and he starts to pull off his armor. You have a lot less to remove, so with a simple whoosh of fabric, you’re standing before him in only your bra and his mythosaur necklace. You unhook the bra and toss it aside.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Din says, as he yanks at his own clothing in an attempt to be faster. You reach to lift the necklace off, when Din stops you, “No, don’t, I’d like it if you’d leave that on.”

“Oh?”

“I like seeing it on you, especially when it’s the only thing you have on,” he rasps out.

He’s finally almost totally naked except for his boxers and his helmet. Din can see you are transfixed with the way you are practically hopping from foot to foot in anticipation. It makes him smile how enthusiastic you are to see him. He slows his movements to draw out the moment and watches your face intently as he leisurely lowers the boxers from his hips. He sees your eyes widen and he chuckles as your mouth makes the most adorable little ‘o’.

“Wow, Din, you are the gorgeous one,” you reply practically in awe, “And I was right, you are large.”

Din chuckles at that comment, “I’m glad you like the view.”

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of it,” you say as you walk closer to him and as soon as you are in arms reach, Din pulls you to him so he can finally feel you. The sensation overwhelms him and all he can do is hold you there reveling in the feeling of your naked body against his. He lets out a loud groan from deep in his chest.

“I never thought this could feel so good,” Din breathes out. You shift against him and he groans again, “Please can we get the blindfold now? I need to kiss you.”

You pull away from him to reach into the nightstand drawer where you stashed the sleep mask. You take one last long look at his nude form before giving him an appreciative smile and slipping the mask on over your eyes. Not a second later, you hear a clunk as the helmet hits the floor and then Din is on you. He kisses you like he’ll never get another chance again, so full of passion and desire that it makes your head spin. His kiss is so all consuming that you don’t even realize that he’s picked you up and carried you to the bed, until he’s lying you back onto the soft cover. Din breaks the kiss just for a moment so that he can climb on top of you and come to rest comfortably between your spread legs.

Din could kiss you forever if you would let him. He loves the way your lips mold to his and the feeling of your tongue tasting his. He only pulls away to let you both catch your breath slightly before he’s back, trying to kiss you with even more fervor each time. Finally, you break the kiss so that you can explore more and the soft feel of your lips on his neck is magical. You find a sensitive spot just under his ear that makes him moan with pleasure. That moan quickly turns into a growl though as you use your teeth to nip at the spot.

“Ah, cyar’ika, let me try that on you,” he says, moving so that he has better access to your neck. Like you, he starts with soft kisses before biting into your neck to mark you as his. You’re more vocal than he is, letting out little mewls and whines of pleasure the more he kisses and sucks on your skin. He works his way down your neck to your chest, kissing and nipping at you the entire way. Finally, he’s at your breasts and Din does something he’s been dreaming of forever. He takes your hardened nipple into his mouth, pleasuring the sensitive peak with his tongue.

“Din!” you cry out his name and arch your back beneath him from how wonderful it feels. You can’t keep still as he suckles you. You run your fingers through his thick, wavy hair and then down his strong shoulders. When he tries out his teeth on your breast, you scratch your fingernails down his back. You feel his responding groan vibrate against your chest before he lifts his head from you,

“Do that again, cyar’ika, I liked it,” he tells you before switching to your other nipple to lavish it with the same mind-blowing pleasure. You rake your fingernails down his back again and again, as you writhe beneath him. It feels so good but yet, it isn’t enough.

“Please, Din, please,” you beg him.

He pulls off your breast with a soft pop of his lips, “Please what?” he asks you, his voice sounding amused.

“Touch me,” you pant out, “Please.”

“I am touching you,” Din teases and he drops his head back down so he can lick in between your breasts and down your stomach. “Or do you want me touch you somewhere else? Maybe here?” He licks and nibbles just above your belly button.

“Yes, but lower,” you say.

“How about here?” Din kisses lower, near your hipbone.

“Din!” Your voice comes out as a whine and he chuckles, Maker, he’s such a tease.

You feel him shift his body down and even though you can’t see him, you know he’s looking right at your pussy. You wait in anticipation of his touch and then start to wonder, as he doesn’t move.

“Din?”

“Just enjoying the beautiful sight,” he says, his voice full of desire. He waits just a beat more and then you feel his tongue moving through your wet folds.

You shudder and let out a loud moan as he licks you. He’s moving so slow, like he’s trying to savor you, and it feels wonderful but it’s also so maddening.

“Please, please more,” you beg him, your voice shaky in your need.

Din is happy to oblige you and he lets his tongue begin to explore you in earnest. His hands are splayed on each of your thighs as his mouth moves over you. As he licks you higher, he holds your lips open with his thumbs so he can have better access to your clit. Each time he lets his tongue brush over the little pearl, you cry out. He keeps this up for a bit, tormenting you, until he finally latches his lips around it and sucks your clit into his mouth. You cry out his name so loudly when he does that and you thrust your hands into his hair gripping it tightly.

The sensation makes him groan and he’s pleased when you do it again. The more he suckles and tongues your clit, the harder you tremble against him and he has to push down on your hips to keep you still. He pulls away from you for just a moment and lets his thumb draw circles on your clit in place of his tongue.

“You’re the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted, cyar’ika,” he tells you, “Wanted to do this for so long, so much better than I could have imagined.”

All you can do is moan in response because the mounting pleasure has robbed you of all logical thought. Din dives back into you, licking his tongue around your entrance before he pushes the muscle inside you. You cry out again and you grip his hair even tighter as your orgasm begins to close in on you. You feel yourself surging higher and higher, your thighs pushing tight around his head, until suddenly you are at the peak, feeling the most sublime pleasure as you gush on his tongue.

Din slows his movements as he lets you come down from your high, but he wants more. He’s waited so long to be here, he’s going to take his time until you’re begging him to stop. He lifts his mouth from you so that he can suck two of his fingers into his mouth, wetting them thoroughly.

“Is that really the first time you’ve done that?” You’ve regained enough composure to ask him.

“Yes,” he says, chuckling.

“If you get any better, you might kill me,” you tell him still sounding rather breathless.

“Well my darling, I’m not stopping yet,” Din replies as he pushes one long finger into you and drops his head back down to tongue your clit again. The high-pitched cry you let out makes him smile against you and he sees what he can do to hear it a second time. He can feel you flutter around his finger and he can’t believe how tight you are. He knows it’ll be easier for you to take his cock if he can make you come a couple more times on his fingers first. He slowly adds his second finger to you before he starts pumping them into you at a steady pace while licking and sucking your clit the entire time. He just barely crooks his fingers upward to brush the top of your walls when you’re coming apart again, shuddering so hard you almost buck him off you.

“Ahhh! Din, how’re you doing th-at, fe-feels so go-od,” you try your best to praise him but you can barely get the words out.

“Does it, cyar’ika? Does it feel good what I’m doing to you?” Din asks as he keeps his fingers working within your body. You clench around him hard.

“Talk to me,” you pant out, “like it so much.”

“You want me to talk to you, tell you how wonderful you feel around my fingers, how hot and wet you are?” Din replies and all you can do is moan in response.

“Mmm, you came so nice and hard for me before, gripped me so well, I can’t wait to feel you around my cock, going to feel fucking amazing.” The more Din talks dirty to you the more you cry out and thrust your hips against him.

“You really like this, don’t you, my fingers stretching you out, getting you nice and ready for me,” Din’s voice is so deep that the tone is doing just as much to pleasure you as his words do. “Tell you what, I’m going to keep this up and I’m going to suck on that beautiful little clit of yours until you come again for me.” And with that, his mouth returns to his favorite spot.

All you can do is cry out his name as the pleasure burns through your body. It’s so strong that you feel tears welling up in your eyes and you’re shaking all over from the sheer delight of his actions. It feels as if you are being tossed on a sea of pleasure, rising and falling with each wave, until finally you reach the largest wave of them all and it crashes over you. You lay there boneless and panting until Din finally stops and kisses his way back up your body before finally lying down next to you.

When you finally feel your breathing calm, you reach for him and bring him into a passionate kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. He moans his approval and rolls over on top of you.

“Wait,” you say breaking the kiss, “Don’t you want me to touch you? I’d love to taste you too.”

“I’d like that, cyar’ika, but some other time,” Din says, “Right now, I need to be inside you.”

In response, you widen your legs for him and draw them up to frame his hips, “I want that too, Din.”

 “Tell me again, please,” he says as you feel his cock glide over your folds spreading your wetness all over him.

“I want you, Din, I need to feel you inside me, I need you to make love to me,” you tell him, your voice full of emotion.

“Oh, ner cyar’ika,” Din says before he kisses you and begins to push into your narrow passage. Even with as wet and ready as you are for him, he wants to go slowly both so he can be sure not to hurt you and so that he can enjoy every moment of this first time.

You gasp into his mouth as he gradually stretches you open; you saw how big he is, but feeling him now, he seems enormous, but the sensation is amazing. He’s unhurried as he lets your body adjust to him and you feel nothing but pleasure as he continues to push forward. You know he’s been delaying his own pleasure this entire time that he’s been devoted to you and you marvel at his control now. Finally, he is completely sheathed within you and he breaks the kiss so he can let out a moan. He drops his forehead to yours and just stays there without moving. You let your inner muscles flutter around him as you enjoy the feel of him deep within you. He moans again.

“You little minx, do it again,” he says before kissing you anew. So you do, you tighten and release him almost like you’re trying to pull him deeper inside of you. You do it again and again until finally he starts to withdraw from you to begin thrusting. Din continues to move at a languid pace, allowing you to feel every delicious inch of him as he brushes your walls. Every time he reaches the deepest point inside you, you clench around him as tight as you can, in a vain effort to keep him there.

“Din, you’re so good, I love the way you feel,” you tell him.

“You’re perfect, cyar’ika, you’re so tight and hot and perfect,” he says and he starts to roll his hips into yours so that he strokes firmly on the most pleasurable part inside you as he pulls out. It makes you cry out his name.

“I love the way you say my name, my wonderful girl,” Din praises you and you wish you could compliment him back but he’s making you forget how to speak it’s so good, and all you can do is repeat his name.

Din reaches down to shift your legs higher on his hips and it changes your position so that he can thrust even deeper into you. He feels you lock your legs around his narrow waist and he adores it. He feels so close to you; it’s the most intimate sex has ever been for him. He wants to tell you how great it is but all he can get out are a string of random words of praise. He knows he’s getting close, but he wants you to come one more time before he does. He slides his hand between the two of you so he can reach your clit and he circles it roughly as he begins to piston into you at a fast pace.

“Yes, Din, yes, right there, don’t stop!” you call out to him. His hips are rocketing against yours now and you know you’re almost to another climax. You feel your thighs start to quake with your release and you know it will be a strong one.

“Please, please cyar’ika, come for me,” Din begs you and his voice urging you on is what you needed. You feel yourself explode and everything feels white hot as you clench hard around him. Din thrusts twice more before his own orgasm overtakes him and he spills himself deep within you, his cock pulsing. He shudders above you and his arms give out, making him sink his full weight into you. It feels wonderful and you wrap your arms around him to hold him tight.

When you can breathe again, you tell him, “Din, that was so amazing, I don’t even have the words, just incredible.”

“For me too,” he pants out as he is still catching his breath. You let him relax as you run your hands over his back gently. Eventually though, he picks up his head and kisses you so sweetly.

“I had no idea that anything could ever feel this wonderful,” Din tells you, and he kisses you again before rolling to the side and snuggling next to you with his head nestled in the crook of your neck and his hand resting on your stomach.

“So did I live up to the reputation you gave me as a lover?” Din asks, his voice flirty and teasing.

“Oh, you surpassed it,” you reply, “You are even better than the sex god, I described.”

“Ah, sex god, I like it,” he laughs, “Feel free to call me that any time.”

“Should I tell, Sigrid, to announce you as such tomorrow?” you laugh with him.

“Absolutely, may I present to you her Royal Highness and her Sex God.” He’s still chuckling and shaking the bed with his laughter. He calms down for a moment and he lets his hand trace lazy circles on your stomach before it comes to rest just below your belly button.

“So?” Din drawls, “Do you think you were blessed by Astrid?”

“I think modern science may have thwarted her in that,” you respond with a giggle.

“Hmm, maybe I should try again?” Din replies as he turns you to face him and pulls your leg over his hip. You’re surprised to feel that he’s already hard again as he grinds himself against you.

“I suppose you should,” you tell him encouragingly and you find his lips again in an adoring kiss.

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

Thank you again so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. Go to Chapter 7: The Mando Games

Tag list: @grogusmum @wellofeternalthirst @idreamofboobear @theamuz @fangirlalexia @callmekane @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @theravenreads @nicotinebirds @boomtownboy @nova646 @wandering-storm-lost-shadow @becks-things @sleepwithacommunist @mackycat11 @som3thingcr3ative @punkdalek @pinkninja200 @s-unflowxr @ladyjenny19 @peppywitch @haley7242 @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @imthemandalornow​ @overtly-cuteashell 

[fruitcoops]

Have you ever seen where they get kids to ask the players tough questions and there all dress up and have fake beards and stuff. Maybe you could do that with Jules and Katie asking the team all these really hard questions?????

Thank you for giving me an excuse to spend an hour and a half watching adorable kids ask questions and melt the hearts of celebrities. You’re my hero. There are no fake beards here, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Sweater Weather characters belong to the incredible @lumosinlove!

“These chairs are so small,” James said as he scooted closer to the table. He nearly knocked Talker over with his elbow as the four of them squeezed in; the two kids on the other side shared a look.

“Ready, everyone?” Dorcas asked. When she received six thumbs up, she turned to the camera with a cheerful smile. “Hello, Lions fans, and welcome to Lion Pride! We have a couple of very special guests today to do the introductions.”

“Hello! I’m Katie and I’m six!” She held up six fingers and all four hockey players melted a little bit.

“I’m Julian, and I’m ten.” He waved, a little shy.

Dorcas smiled. “And how are you two related to our favorite Lions?”

Katie lit up and pointed behind the camera. “That’s my dad!”

There was a chuckle in the background. “Can you tell them my name, mon chou?”

“Pascal Dumais, but everyone calls you Dumo.” She swung her legs and her tulle skirt fluffed out.

“Remus Lupin is my older brother,” Jules said with a grin. “But Finn thought he was my dad.”

“It was an honest mistake!” Finn protested around a laugh. “Cut me some slack, Little Loops!”

“Do you want to do the intros for the guys, too?” Dorcas asked. Katie tugged on Jules’ sleeve.

“Can I go first?” she whispered. When he nodded, she hopped out of her chair and ran to the other side of the table, tapping each player on the shoulder. “This is Pots, Talker, Harzy, and Sirius.”

“Aw, man, I didn’t get to do any of them,” Jules pouted.

“You can ask the first question,” Dorcas said, hiding her smile behind her clipboard. “A quick reminder for our Lions: if you refuse to answer any of these, it means you hate children. Take it away, Jules!”

“Okay.” He cleared his throat and looked across the table with a solemn expression. “How many sticks have each of you broken?”

“Oh, that’s a tough one,” James mused. “A lot, but not always on purpose.”

“I haven’t broken that many,” Talker said. “I’ve forgotten to return quite a few to the rink after games, though. I think I have about five in my trunk that I keep meaning to put back.”

“Maybe…ten? Fifteen?” Finn rested his chin on his hand. “I should start a tally board.”

“Too many,” Sirius laughed. “I need to be more careful.”

Katie wiggled in her seat as she picked up the question card. “Why do you swear so much?”

Matching expressions of shock painted all four players’ faces. “Have we sworn in front of you?” Finn asked in a small voice.

“Yeah.”

“Mon dieu, I’m the worst person on earth,” Sirius murmured as Talker leaned his forehead on the table.

James opened and closed his mouth a couple times before answering. “Uh. Well. I don’t know, Katie. Instead of answering, I’m going to take this time to personally apologize to you and your dad, who is laughing his a—his rear end off in the back, as well as promising to form better habits.”

“If you could be any superhero, who would it be?” Jules asked, seemingly unfazed by the previous question. Wordlessly, Sirius gestured to his Captain America t-shirt.

“Spiderman,” Finn said without hesitation. “He’s the coolest.”

James unzipped his jacket to reveal a Superman shirt. “We didn’t coordinate this,” he said, tilting his head toward Sirius. “But yeah, Superman’s the best.”

Talker thought for a moment. “I really like Hawkeye. Are we talking Marvel or DC here?”

“Anything.”

“Anything? Hmm. I’m going to go with the Flash, then.”

“Nice.” Jules reached over to give him a high-five.

“I got Jules’ approval, everyone else can go home.”

“What’s your greatest fear?” Katie asked, still swinging her legs.

The table went silent. Sirius turned to Dorcas. “Is this the plan? Get us rolling with fun stuff and then give the hard ones to the five-year-old in a princess dress?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Cool. Well, munchkin, I don’t like bugs and I’m not a huge fan of the dark.”

“Vegetables,” Finn said sagely, which sent both kids into a fit of giggles and made all the adults break into sunny smiles. “God, you guys are cute.”

“Pomeranians freak me out,” Talker answered once they had calmed down a bit. “They have those tiny little eyes and sharp teeth.”

James shrugged. “I’m not a fan of heights.”

“I thought you wanted to be Superman?” Jules frowned. “He flies all the time.”

“I think I’d be less afraid of heights if I knew I could fly.”

“So you’re afraid of falling, not heights.”

James looked to the camera. “And now I’m getting psychoanalyzed by a ten-year-old. Uh, yeah buddy, I guess so.”

“Hmm.” Jules looked back to the question card. “Who would win in a fight, you or our moms?”

“Your moms,” Talker said immediately as the others nodded. “No contest.”

“How would we even get in that situation?” Sirius asked. “What the did we do to make the nicest women in the world that mad?”

“Stole brownies,” Katie said with great gravity for one so young. “Mom says you four are the worst about it.”

“Mom wouldn’t even have to fight you.” Jules cocked his head to the side. “I feel like she could just give you a disappointed look and that would be enough. Katie, your turn.”

“Yay!” She brightened again. “What is your favorite cereal?”

Sirius smiled. “Fruit Loops.”

“Cheerios,” Talker said. “They’re good for you physically and emotionally.”

“I’m with Talkie on this one,” James agreed.

Finn gave them all disappointed looks. “You’re so old. Mine’s Lucky Charms.”

“Okay, Leprechaun Boy,” James snorted. Finn reached over and smacked the back of his head. “Hey!”

“Do you ever play hockey at home?” Jules asked. “I feel like Sirius doesn’t have to answer this one since it’s so obvious.”

Finn laughed. “Does tapping a puck around on the carpet with brooms counts?”

“Yeah, that counts.”

“Then yeah, sometimes.”

“I have no space in my apartment to play hockey,” Talker said. “Though I plan on moving someday and then the answer will be yes.”

“I made a rink in my backyard.” James smiled slightly. “Lily likes to skate sometimes while I run drills.”

“My turn, my turn!” Katie scooted her chair closer. “Okay. Out of everyone on the team, what two people would you take with you on a dessert island?”

“Desert,” Jules corrected quietly.

“Desert island. Are there deserts on islands?”

“I think they mean like super sandy beaches with no people on them.”

“Oooooohhh.”

James mouthed a thank you to Dorcas, who gave him a thumbs-up in return. The other three looked at the kids with unbearable softness. “Well, I’d feel awful if I took your dad with me, so I think I’m going to go with Finn and maybe Kasey. We’d have a blast.”

“Nice, dude.” Finn fist-bumped him. “Unfortunately for you, my choices are going to be Leo and Logan, since I already know we could live together without starting a war on the third day.”

Sirius thought for a second. “I think Nado would actually be able to survive on a desert island, so I’ll bring him along, and for the second one…maybe Kasey? Yeah, Kasey’s cool.”

In the ensuing silence, Jules gave him a significant look. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?”

“You’re not on the t—” The realization hit him like a truck; his eyes went wide and he slumped in his seat as the others burst out laughing. “Oh no. Oh, no, no, no.”

“Your own fiancé.”

“Please don’t tell him.”

“He’s gonna laugh so hard,” Jules cackled, leaning back in his chair. Even the camera crew was losing it in the background. Dorcas had to step out of frame. “You’re never going to live it down.”

“Well, the first person I would bring with me is Remus Lupin, because he’s read a lot of books and definitely knows how to survive on a desert island,” Talker said around his snickering. “And then I’d bring Cap, because God knows that would get entertaining after Loops finds out about this. The sarcasm would be off the charts.”

“Okay, next question.” Dorcas came back into view, still grinning. “Jules, go for it.”

“Can I ask Katie’s question again so Sirius can give a better answer?” he asked gleefully. Dorcas hesitated, then shook her head. “Bummer. What was cool when you were young that isn’t cool now?”

“When?” Finn looked scandalized. “I’m 24!”

“Yeah, and?”

“Ugh. Um, maybe Furbies? People were really into Furbies when I was in high school, though I can’t say I’m sorry to see them go out of style.”

James bit his lip in thought. “Tamagotchis.”

“I loved those things!” Talker said excitedly. “My sisters and I used to go nuts with those things!”

Sirius smiled. “Lite Brites.”

Finn’s eyes went wide. “I forgot about those!”

“Regulus and I each had one and we loved them. That was the only thing we agreed on and we used to sit—” He paused for a second to laugh. “—we used to sit in the middle of the ice rink in the backyard, still in our skates and everything, and do Lite Brites for literal hours.”

“That’s so cute, oh my god.” Talker shook his head. “What a nostalgia trip.”

Katie knelt on her seat and rested her arms on the table. “Who skates faster, you or me?”

“You,” all four answered in unison.

Jules rolled his eyes, but he was clearly hiding a smile. “How many push ups can you do?”

“How many can you do?” James countered. A flash of competition lit on Jules’ face and all the guys grinned. “Uh-oh, there’s the Lupin glare.”

“How about we have a little competition?” Dorcas suggested. “See how many everyone can do in thirty seconds?”

“Absolutely,” Finn said. The four of them had a little bit of trouble getting their knees out from under the kid-sized table, but eventually they succeeded and gathered in the middle of the room. “Katie, are you joining us?”

She smiled innocently. “No, I know I’d win.”

“Get ready.” Dorcas pulled her phone out as they knelt. “On your marks, get set, go!”

The guys went easy on Jules from the outset, but they made it look like those pushups were the hardest exercise they had ever done in their lives. Talker took a second to dramatically wipe his forehead and James’ wheezing was almost comical; Jules, however, was giving it his best shot. When the timer finally went off, Finn collapsed with a groan. “I forfeit.”

“Did I win?” Jules panted, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“You did, congratulations!” Dorcas put her timer away and winked at the camera as they headed back to the table. “Great job, everyone. Katie, your turn.”

“Do you live in a mansion?”

“I live in an apartment,” Finn said.

“Same.”

Sirius shook his head. “My house might be big, but it’s not a mansion.”

“Does a two-story house count as a mansion?” James asked. “No? Then no, I don’t.”

“Who is your least favorite person on the team and why?” Jules turned to Sirius with raised eyebrows. “Are we going to have another desert island problem?”

Sirius threw his hands in the air, speechless, as the other three cracked up. “Jules, can I adopt you?” James begged around his laughter. “Please?”

“You’ll have to fight my mom for that, I think.”

“My least favorite person on the team is James Potter,” Sirius sighed. “Not the person I’m getting married to.”

“We could get married. Lily might mind, though.”

“Full offense, but I know way too much about you to ever consider that.”

James ruffled his hair and turned back to the kids. “My least favorite person on the team is Remus Lupin, because he ran me over in practice the other day.”

Finn side-eyed him. “Didn’t you trip him after he stole the puck from you?”

“He ran me over.”

“Sure, Pots. Um, my least favorite is Kasey Winter. He threw ice at me while we were in the ice baths.”

“Logan took my Gatorade last week and hid it all over the rink,” Talker said. “I’ll never forgive him for such a crime.”

“Oh, I like this one!” Katie exclaimed as she looked at her card. “What’s the best birthday party you’ve ever had?”

“My tenth birthday was at Red Robin and I got a Power Ranger outfit.” Talker grinned. “I was the coolest kid on the block.”

“My eighteenth birthday was pretty fun,” Finn said. “There was a bouncy house and Alex almost broke it because we were jumping too hard.”

“Does it have to be my birthday?” James asked. “Because my son’s first birthday party was awesome.”

“Why?”

“He threw cake in Sirius’ face and a food fight broke out in the backyard.”

“That was a pretty great day,” Sirius agreed. “My last birthday party was my favorite.”

“You spent the night with us!” Katie said happily.

“I did, yeah,” he laughed. “And I had a really good time.”

Jules perked up when he read the next question. “I love this one! Do you have a lucky pair of underwear?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, totally.”

“Of course I do.”

“Is there a superstition I don’t have?”

Jules looked especially pleased with those answers as Katie picked up her card. “This is the last one,” she warned. “And it’s super important and super hard. What kind of dog would you be and why? You can take your time, I don’t mind.”

“Thank you, Katie, we’ll need it,” Talker said as he desperately tried to contain his smile. “I’ll go first, if nobody minds. I would be a border collie because one, I love them; two, they have a lot of energy; and three, they love making friends.”

“That’s a good one,” she said seriously. “They’re also very soft.”

“Yes, they are.”

Once Finn managed to suppress his quiet laughter, he raised his hand. “Can I go next?” Katie nodded. “I’d be an Irish setter. They have red hair and they’re really affectionate. Plus, I met one the other day at the park and haven’t stopped thinking about him.”

“This was a tough question, Katie, but I think I’m going to go with a golden retriever,” James said after a moment. “They’re good family dogs and they like to be on the ice with those big ol’ paws.”

“That’s what I was going to say!” She beamed at him. “Sirius, you don’t have to go. I already know what you’d be.”

He raised his eyebrows, looking highly amused. “Do you now? Can everyone else know, too?”

“Well, it’s obvious,” she said. “You’d be Hattie. She looks just like you and she gives the best hugs.”

A small puff of air left Sirius’ lungs and he blinked as James reached over and patted his shoulder. “Oh. Okay.”

“That wraps us up,” Dorcas said, looking between them with a soft smile. “Any closing statements from our guest stars?”

“Ready?” Jules muttered to Katie, who nodded rapidly. “On three. One, two, three!”

“Go Lions!” they shouted in unison with matching grins. The camera crew cheered and the players applauded, all laughing.

“Thank you for tuning in, everyone! Remember to like and subscribe for more content.”

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | Chapter ten

chapter ten

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: immense amounts of fluff, discussion of bad dreams death and past trauma at the end all related to canon

word count: 5.3K

from the beginning <3

Dreaming wasn’t something that came easily to Spencer. When he did dream they never made any sense, dark and twisting basements, endless staircases, treading a deep dark sea for hours as the waves swallowed him whole. Wind chimes that he couldn’t find wouldn’t stop twinkling as he aimlessly ran around a trailer park. It was never peaceful.

Then his mind found the park and couldn’t stop re-creating it, over and over again in his mind every single night when he closed his eyes.

He was in the middle of the most perfect dreamscape, his girls reading under the sun as Y/N’s head rested on his shoulder…

Then his phone started to ring, opening his eyes to the sun barely waking up as well. He answered the phone before Y/N could wake up beside him, “hello?”

“Spence, I’m so sorry to wake you,” JJ’s voice slipped into his mind and woke up right up, she wouldn’t call unless she needed to. “We have a really bad case, we have to leave like right now and the babysitter can’t take the boys and Henry is still too little to make sure Michael eats during the day and he’s still so little—“

“Hey it’s fine,” he cut her off as he sat up, waking Y/N in the process. “I’m only 12 minutes from Quantico, leave them with Anderson and I’ll be right over.”

“Thank you so much, Spence, oh and they need breakfast, I’ll leave some money with Henry, can you make sure they eat?”

“Absolutely, don’t worry, good luck and be safe,” he reminded her, feeling weird that he didn’t have to go as well.

“Thanks again Spence,” he could hear her smile before hanging up, leaving him to stretch and finally get out of the bed.

“Was that JJ?” Y/N asks, getting out of bed and putting on her housecoat to follow him to the bathroom.

“Yeah, the boys need someone to watch them if you don’t mind?”

“They’re family,” she reminded him with a sleepy smile.

“They need lunches for today, I can drive Amoreena to school with them too?” He’s splashing water on his face so he can wake up enough to drive safely to Quantico, wiping the water from his eyes as he hears Y/N laughing softly.

“It’s Saturday silly, and Monday is their last day anyway if they need to stay that long,” Y/N reminds him, “I’ll try and have breakfast ready when you get back.”

“Tomorrows the 14th, shit,” he remembers his calendar. “I have to take my mom to get her yearly scan and cognitive test done tomorrow morning, I won't be able to send her off on her last day.”

“That’s okay, as long as you’re there for the little graduation and the all about me display ceremony it’ll be fine, it starts at 1:30,” she didn’t mind him missing it but everything in him felt like the worst person ever if he did.

He never wanted to miss anything ever again.

“You’re sure that’s fine?”

She nodded again, wrapping her arms around him and looking up into his beautiful, tired eyes. “Family comes first, that means Diana was in the calendar longer so you go with her. Amoreena just wants to come home with you from school, for the next 10 years of school she’ll be coming home to you.”

“Why don’t we wake Amoreena and go get breakfast with the boys? I’d like to get to know my god kids too…” her voice cooing as she soothed his morning anxiety, blessing him with more time with her, he nodded.

“You go get the boys and come back and pick us up, I’m sure she’ll take a few minutes to contemplate feeding chickens or breakfast,” Y/N smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek softly.

She pulled away but he pulled her right back in, pressing his lips right against hers again and again until they were both laughing, teeth bumping into each other in their early morning delirium. She finally pulled away from his grasp, rushing to the bedroom door so he couldn’t follow her.

“Go get the boys!”

He fake huffed, “fine!”

Slipping into his jeans and a sweater, placing her grandpa’s hat back on his head once more. He made sure he had his wallet and identification, the guards knew him it’s not like he wouldn’t be allowed into the building with a visitors pass.

And then he was out the door and driving down the road. Pulling into Quantico with a strange feeling in his gut, he didn’t realize how much he hated it here until he didn’t need to be there all the time. He was granted a visitors pass, parking in the garage and taking the elevator right up to the BAU.

He walked into the briefing room to find Henry on his phone and Michael sound asleep again on the couch.

“Hey, uncle Spencer!” Henry cheered, not waking Michael in the process somehow.

“Hey buddy,” he said, scooping the now 13-year-old Henry into his arms for a quick hug. He was still cuddly and sensitive and quiet, much like Spencer at that same age.

It was almost like JJ picked him as the godfather knowing he would need him. Choosing to text or call Spencer about cute girls and chess games and new star wars movies, instead of going to his dad for chats about football and beer… or whatever Will was into. Spencer really didn’t give him a chance to get to know him over the last 15 years, harbouring a hatred for him that he didn’t really understand until he met Y/N.

Now will was the jealous one in a sense, wondering what he could do to get his own son to come to him for advice and support. But he understood it, Henry was exactly like Spencer and he needed to see that being awkward and quiet doesn’t last forever.

“So, I’m not sure if your mom and dad told you, but I got married and my wife has a daughter and we’re going to take you boys out to breakfast, okay?”

“She said you’re Nini’s dad, like for real?” Once again someone from the LaMontagne called Amoreena Nini and he had no idea why.

“I donated sperm when your mom got pregnant with you, I didn’t think I’d get to have a family,” he was honest with him. He was old enough to know how it worked and mature enough to hear the word sperm without freaking out.

“Cool, Nini and Mike are normally friends.”

“Why do you guys call her Nini?”

“Michael couldn’t say Amoreena when he was 4 so he called her Nini, and then Dad would call her that when he teased Mike about his crush on her,” it made complete sense for a kid to not be able to pronounce it.

But his brain got stuck on the crush part, turning to Michael who was still sound asleep with his face pressed into his backpack, drooling slightly. JJ’s kid had a crush on his, a weird fantasy he had coming true where he and JJ can be friends forever as in-laws.

It was too bad Amoreena really didn’t like boys, not even in the 8-year-old ‘ew cooties’ way either. She was raised around women and she was comfortable with them, and she had no problem punching Michael in the face if he ever pissed her off. It was going to be interesting seeing them interact today.

“Okay, well let’s get your things and bring them back to our house and then we’ll go get breakfast with my girls,” Spencer smiled, seeing Henry’s face light up at the day he gets to spend with Spencer. “You’re going to love Y/N.”

And he did… walking into Spencer’s new house to drop off his backpack, dropping his jaw when he saw Y/N instead. He was so much like Spencer it made him laugh, patting Henry on the shoulder, “I know,” he teased him.

Henry turned to him with wide eyes, “I’ve never met Nini’s mom, that’s her mom?” He whispered that same anxious boy Spencer used to be staring right back at him.

He nodded with a smile, “yeah, she’s really nice don’t worry.”

“Henry! It’s so nice to meet you,” she says as she walks into the main room.

Henry turns around to see her when she’s pulling him into a big hug, Spencer can see his eyes are closed as he takes a moment to hug a pretty girl. Spencer couldn’t help but bite his tongue, not wanting to laugh and embarrass the poor boy now that he was noticing pretty girls. Even if that girl happened to be his wife, it was inevitable for Henry to crush on one of Spencer’s girlfriends with how much he copied him.

She pulled back softly, Henry’s arms still around her waist, she brushed his beautiful blond hair behind his ears. “You look so much like your mom, you’re so handsome!”

Henry forgot how to breathe, trying to stutter out a thank you as he backed up out of her space and turned to Spencer, “he’s always looked like JJ, you should have seen how tiny he was originally,” Spencer jumped in to save him. “Where is Amoreena?”

“She’s trying to pick between 2 different dresses, I’ll go make sure she’s in one by now,” she smiled at them before leaving the room, heading up the stairs to Amoreena’s room.

“You good?” Spencer nudged Henry, laughing lightly. “She’s your aunt now, she’s not going to think you’re a dork so you can calm down around her, I promise.”

Henry released a deep shaky breath, “you’re right, sorry.”

“It’s fine, I was like that around your mom before you were born, you should have seen me,” he tried to sympathize with the boy, only making a disgusted face arise on him.

“Ew, that’s completely different she’s my mom!”

Spencer wrapped his arm around him, “and Y/N is my wife!” He whispered as loud as he could so that it wouldn’t be heard by her.

Henry sighed, “and she’s like what 50?”

“35,” Spencer looked at him and laughed as he shook his head, “how old do you think I am?”

“Mentally? 6-years-old,” Henry bullied him right back for all the brotherly teasing, “but physically you look 79.”

“Thanks,” Spencer said, tucking the boy under his arm and messing up his hair, “now you look like a dork.”

He loved Henry more than he could express, unlike Amoreena he knew he wasn’t his kid, it wasn’t fatherly at all. Henry was his best friend's kid, his godson and his little brother, and as he got older he was becoming more of a best friend than he thought he would.

—

After breakfast when everyone was awake and happily full, Y/N took them all into town to visit the farmer’s market. Letting the kids look around and see if there was anything they wanted to all make for dinner, she was the best mom and aunt in the whole wide world and Spencer kept falling more and more in love every second he spent with her.

She was glowing in the sunlight, walking through the booths looking at all the fresh vegetables and fruit, Spencer followed her with Michael’s hand in his and Henry not far behind. Amoreena was off talking to her favourite vendor, an older woman who reminded her of her great-grandma, it was sweet.

Spencer thought about how their future would be much of the same, Y/N and him with a couple of kids while the rest of them did their own thing. He couldn’t wait to see all the little faces they’d create together, to get to know all the personalities and raise them into being just as wonderful as their sister and cousins.

“Ugh,” Y/N stopped dead in her tracks then, they were heading towards the butcher’s booth when she turned around, almost green as she reacted to the smell. “Nope, not going down there.”

Spencer couldn’t stop smiling at her as she tried to not throw up in the middle of the market, people watching her dry heave as she walked away. Spencer knew JJ was pregnant with Michael before she even told Will because she was the exact same way very early on. Living on ginger ale and baby cookies to stay sane, Y/N was going to need that hack.

He didn’t say anything, just profiling her in his mind as he followed her again.

Henry and Michael used the money JJ left them to buy some homemade candies from the market, Y/N picked up some donuts to bring home to her parents, and Amoreena only wanted fresh strawberries. Spencer however snuck away from the group really quickly to get something they passed earlier, something he wanted to get for Amoreena.

There was a vendor with homemade shirts and dresses, knitted hats and all sorts of collectables. If he was going to miss her last morning before kindergarten, he wanted to get her something to wear that morning so he’d be there in spirit.

There was a beautiful handmade purple dress hanging on the wall behind the vendor, the same kind old woman that reminded Amoreena of her GG. “Hello, how can I help you today?”

“We haven’t met, but I’m Amoreena’s father,” he introduced himself with a smile, and the old woman face beamed.

“Yes you are,” she smiled. “She has your nose, it’s lovely to finally meet you!”

“you too, um, I was interested in that purple dress,” he points behind her, “it looks like the one from tangled, I’m sure she’d love it.”

“that’s exactly how she described it when she saw it today,” the woman explains as she takes it down from the wall for him. “It’s $35, but I’ll do $20 for my favourite little friend.”

“That’s very kind, but I don’t mind,” he says, taking $35 dollars out of his wallet and laying it beside the cash box. “Thank you for always making my girl smile.”

“Thank you,” she smiled again, folding the dress nicely and placing it in a white bag, “would you like some tissue paper so she can’t see what it is?”

“That would be great, thank you,” Spencer smiled too, incredibly happy that this was his life now.

She handed him the bag then, stuffed to the brim with purple and pink paper, Amoreena was going to love it. He said his goodbyes and met the rest of his family at the car, hiding the present between his legs in the passenger seat as they drove home.

—

Henry and Michael did end up having to stay the night, switching into their PJs after dinner and joining them all in the living room for a movie night. They let the kids stay up later to watch the whole movie, watching Michael fall asleep once again on the carpet, he had been so well behaved all day it was like he was afraid of Amoreena now.

Michael was perfectly happy sleeping on the couch all night, Henry, on the other hand, slept in Y/N’s old room to have some privacy and so he could sleep in on Sunday.

By the time JJ and Will got home on Sunday night, Y/N and Spencer were just putting some burgers on the grill, they had enough for the whole team and so sure enough, the crew made a short trip from Quantico to Heaven.

Matt called his wife, she drove their handful of children over, Luke of course let Penelope know, the two of them still happily seeing each other now that she wasn’t on the team, it was cute to see them together. Then Penelope, of course, invited Derek and Hank. Emily, Rossi and Tara coming along just to witness Spencer being happy.

It was the best summer party they’ve ever had. Bob and Linda were beyond excited to have so many new faces in their yard, throwing on 2 more packages of burgers, feeding a whole army like normal.

The kids were all running around together in the field, playing with the cats and the goats, rolling down the big hill towards the cows, chasing fireflies as the sunset.

It was all of their last day of school on Monday, a weird day to end on but they were excited nonetheless. Y/N’s father lit up a bonfire in celebration, setting up every lawn chair and log they had to make sure everyone had a seat, they all gathered with marshmallows on sticks and drinks in their hands, smiles on their faces and love in their hearts.

Spencer made a happy life for himself that he was no sharing with them, and they call understood perfectly why he chose this one. It was peaceful, perfect and the most loving environment he’s ever been in. They were beyond proud of him.

“This place is amazing,” Tara leaned towards Spencer, “your family is wonderful.”

“Thank you,” Spencer smiled at her, raising his voice then as he looked at the rest of the team, “I just want to thank all of you actually, you’re all my family and it’s been so surreal introducing you all, I’ve never been happier.”

He was swarmed with hugs then, everyone also using it as their queue to gather their kids and hit the road. They watched everyone get in their cars one by one, Penelope did everything in her power not to leave with at least 3 cats, Matts's kids asked if they could come back, often, with Y/N reminding everyone that the gates are always open.

It was everything he ever wanted.

Amoreena jumped into his arms then, he held her against his side as they both waved at everyone, saying goodbye to all her new aunts and uncles and cousins. Her family kept getting bigger and bigger by the day and she was so incredibly happy about it. She’d take in a million more family members if they let her, her heart didn’t have a capacity level for love.

He carried her up the porch stairs then, bringing her into the kitchen where the white bag with purple tissue paper was waiting for her. Her eyes lit up as she saw it, “is that for me?”

“You bet it is,” he enthused, “I’m not going to be here in the morning, grandma Diana has a doctor's appointment, so I got you something for tomorrow morning.”

He set her down on the floor, handing her the bag and watching her carefully remove all the tissue paper. She laid it on the table softly to keep it for later, saying it was good to make barbie dresses with. When she finally saw the dress her jaw dropped.

Y/N was there too now, watching in awe as he surprised both of them.

“Did you buy this from Candace?” She asks softly as she takes it out of the bag. Holding it to her chest as she twirls around lightly.

“I did, I thought you’d like to have something to remind you of me there, I’m sorry I’m going to miss sending you to the bus on your last day,” he tried not to cry as he crouched down to her level, taking her into his arms and giving her a soft hug.

“That’s okay, you’re always in here,” she took his pointer finger in her hand and poked her own chest with it, “I love you, dad.”

“I love you more, Amoreena,” he smiled through the tears, scrunching his nose so they wouldn’t roll down his cheeks, giving her another hug before Y/N started her bedtime routine.

—

For the past two weeks, his dreams have been filled with lush fields of green draped in the most beautiful golden glow. Both his girls sitting beside him as they read, each of them has a book and it’s silent. It’s serene, the dictionary definition of peace.

However, it took him a while to fall asleep tonight, he was too anxious for Amoreena’s last day of kindergarten in the morning and the fact he wouldn’t be there for the drop-off.

Y/N was sound asleep on the pillow beside him as he stared at her, for what felt like hours, brushing her hair off her face lightly and making sure the blankets were still covering her. His eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room just enough that he could see her face twitch into a smile as she fell deeper into her slumber.

Seeing her happy relaxed him enough to follow her. Blinking into his dream realm and finding a few new faces waiting for him by the tree…

“Dad!” Another little girl he’s never seen before was running towards him, wrapping herself around him as he held her.

Suddenly, 7 other children he doesn’t know are surrounding him in hugs, tacking him to the ground in a fit of giggles and tickles, “we missed you! Why were you gone for so long?”

He’s so confused, he knows he’s dreaming but he chooses to stay, to wander the world and ask the questions his mind was so obviously trying to answer. “I’m sorry,” is all he can reply, taking Amoreena’s hand and following her towards Y/N as she sat on the picnic blanket.

She was older, which meant he should be too, looking in the pond quickly for his reflection to see’s his wrinkled face, the white in his hair and beard. Their kids had all grown up but where was he for it?

“Welcome home,” she smiled as he sat down. “it’s about time you met the girls.”

“Where was I?”

“You don’t remember?”

He shakes his head, “I was supposed to be here.”

“Amoreena got into Yale, did you hear that, cutie? Elly, Junie and Theo are in high school now, look how beautiful they are…”

He watched his children frolic in the field, running around without a care in the world that he missed everything. Why did he miss everything? How could he miss everything?

“It’s too bad you missed Cordelia and the other twins, can you believe we had 3 sets of twins, Spence?” She laughed like it was funny, “how could you leave me alone with 9 babies?” Still smiling, staring into his soul as he died a little inside.

He started to panic then, breathing heavily as he tried to remember where he was to miss everything, “I was supposed to be there for them!?”

Suddenly he’s ripped awake by Y/N shaking him and pulling him against her skin, “hey, shhh, it’s okay.”

He was crying and shaking in his sleep, sweating as he tried to fight off the dream, his anxiety in full swing for absolutely no reason, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for leaving you.”

“You didn’t go anywhere, Spencer, you’ve been there the whole time,” she reminded him, rubbing her hand over his back as he settled into her arms. “You were mumbling and then yelling.”

“I got to the park and you told me I missed all of them growing up,” he whispered the painful words into the open, freeing them from his mind and letting them exist somewhere else.

“Them?” She coo’s, holding his head against her chest as she rests her cheek against it, holding him as close as humanly possible.

“We had like 9 girls, they were all so beautiful as you and Amoreena, they all had my nose and your lips and the curliest blowing hair in the whole world, and I missed everything, again,”

“I won't let that happen, do you have any handcuffs leftover? Because I can keep you here for good?” She teased him in a hushed whisper, playful and happy to prove that he was fine, they were fine.

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” he whispered again shimmying down lower to lay his head on her lower stomach, kissing her stomach softly. “I’m not leaving you all, never.”

“I had a bad dream too, that’s what woke me up first,” she replies softly. “Yesterday was the 11th anniversary of Stephen’s death, and the first time I never visited him.”

Spencer felt the need to sit up then, making eye contact with her to see her true feelings. “I don’t want you to stop loving him because you also love me. He’s special to you, you should go see him soon.”

“Spencer,” she smiles at the concern in his voice, “I will, I only didn’t because I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant, I was bleeding a little yesterday and then it stopped, that probably means the implantation worked and I don’t want to tell him yet. And I tell him everything.”

“Everything?” He asks in a way that she hears; “even about me?” inside his thoughts.

She nods softly, “I went on that first Monday after I dropped you off at your apartment, I needed him to know I was finally ready and I thanked him for sending you to me.”

“What was he like?”

“He was from Boston, accent and everything,” she smiled with sad eyes as she recalled him to her mind. “He was in theatre school, I met him in the summer at a music festival in Chicago, he was playing guitar and we had too many beers and I lost my virginity to him in a tent in some field.”

She recalled it like it was a fond memory, missing him but not enough to be sad about it now. “I ran into him again when I went to college in Boston and we were talking outside before the rain hit, like one of those classic movie scenes, and my apartment was closer, the rest is history.”

“Hey Stephen is the one song you always skip, I never wanted to ask why but I don’t think you’ll mind telling me?” He wonders out loud, still a little delirious from the lack of sleep.

“He looked like an angel when I first saw him, he was standing under a street light reading his music sheets and the light was glowing perfectly, it was amazing I wish I had a picture of it. But then the Fearless album came out for the first time and it was my favourite song because it was like she wrote it for us. He was my perfect angel, my superstar, he was going to be on Broadway one day and we were going to move to a cottage in England, we had lots of plans and that song just makes me think of the life me and him must be living in the universe where it all worked out.”

It’s long-winded and she doesn’t seem to be over-emotional by the end, in a shocking turn of event’s it seems like she feels freer after getting it off her chest.

“I haven’t always been this happy and cheerful Spencer,” she adds, “I had a really dark spot after he died, it was horrible for me. I was so angry, I was reckless and mean and hurtful, and in that time I wasted precious moments I could have spent being happy with my grandma, and so my dream tonight was just the fight I had with Evan and my grandma dying and the cops saying Stephen was dead and placing that stupid fucking flower on his coffin thinking it made up for the fact I couldn’t even look at him in there.”

“How you respond to trauma isn’t really up to you, that’s why it’s trauma. Your brain can’t really cope and so it does typically the stuff you’ll regret the most in that time of grief, it’s not your fault and I’m sure everyone understood. You had every right to be mad, hell, I’m mad you lost him because I know how much you hurt in silence for so long,” Spencer can’t help but wish he could have been there for her.

“What happened to you after Maeve died?”

It was only fair that he shared too, “I locked myself in my apartment and didn’t take care of myself, I didn’t talk to anyone, I just sat in my living room and almost died reading every book I had because I didn’t feel like I was worthy of being taken care of so if I starved to death, so be it.”

“You still haven’t told me what happened with her and the kidnapping,” she reminds him of their little chat a few weeks ago at the school. “I get it if you’re not ready, I’m sure it’s a lot.”

“I was getting headaches, really bad ones, and so I reached out to a geneticist to see if she could help me. I sent her my brain scans and some blood tests and she helped me find supplements and natural ways to help my body rest from the stress of my work,” he explained it easily like the feelings didn’t hurt anymore.

“We talked on the phone a lot and I finally asked her why she was so afraid to meet me or have me know anything about her. She had me call her from a payphone, always a different one each time, I was to call and let it ring once, then hang up then she’d call me back. She thought she had a stalker, she was getting weird messages and threats and she felt genuinely unsafe, and she had every right to,”

“10 months went by and we thought she was safe, but her ex-fiancé got a private investigator to find her and in return found me instead. It turns out that Maeve had a student who felt wronged by her and wanted to outdo her, so she dated her fiancé and scared her underground but then she wanted me.”

Y/N’s face is full of concern like she’s listening to a true-crime thriller where she knows the ending won't be good.

“I tried to talk her stalker down, I almost had her and then she kissed me and I keep looking at Maeve, she saw right through me. She threatened to kill Maeve, she had a gun to her head but at the last minute she killed herself, but Maeve’s head was too close to hers,” the words hurt on the way out.

“And someone also had you sent to prison?” She asks, wanting all the trauma in one night to save him the trouble.

“Yeah, she was an assassin, I tricked her into thinking I found her dad and I was so smart she thought I was her soulmate, it was all an elaborate plan to bring me down to her level.”

“Did you kill someone?”

“I’ve killed too many people,” he answers with complete honesty once again. “I’ve killed mostly murderers and rapists, I typically don’t have to. I really try not to, but I’ve also killed people to keep myself safe. And I’d probably kill someone to keep you or Amoreena safe too.”

“Get in line,” she laughs, able to make every single conversation easy even when they shouldn’t be.

“I uh,” he wants to tell her more but he doesn’t know-how. “I was also sexually assaulted in prison, and I was kidnapped and drugged in 2007, I OD’d and died but then I was resuscitated, I wasn’t kidding when I said it was a lot.”

“I am so sorry Spencer,” she rests her hands on his cheeks, looking into his eyes as best as she could in the dark, still seeing the goodness in there. “You’re safe here with me, forever and always, I can promise you that.”

“Thank you,” he’s never going to stop thanking her.

Settling down on the bed once more, he cuddles back into her side. She brushes his hair behind his ear softly, humming a soft melody as she soothes him back to sleep. He snuggled right against her, holding her gently as he fell back to sleep on her, dreamless as she was everything he needed.

love you all for all the support thank you x100 <3

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

[honey-dewey]

Gold in the Summertime

Pairing:  Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Reader

Word Count: 2,545

Warnings: Panic attacks, mentions of injury, stitches, and needles, but it’s mostly just that sweet sweet hurt/comfort

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Very few good things ever happen at three AM in the Urgent Care. Let’s make a short list of things that will definitely not fall under the category of ‘good.’ 1) Having a patient who has apparently injured himself but refuses to tell you how. 2) Said patient hyperventilating and panicking until he actually breaks something because you tried to give him a tetanus shot. 3) The same patient’s three best friends yelling at you. 4) Singing to still the same patient to calm him down so you can stick him with a tiny needle so he won’t possibly die of tetanus.

A/N: The song that inspired this fic is actually a favorite of mine called ‘Gold in the Summertime’ by Matt Nathanson. Not required to read the fic, but it’s a cute song. 

“Hey.” 

“Oh hell no,” you said, turning to see your fellow night shift nurse, Tori, standing in the door of the break room. “No, I am not dealing with whatever drunken fool walked into that waiting room. It is three in the morning and I do not feel like screwing around right now.” 

Tori raised an eyebrow. “Done?” 

“Done,” you said, standing and preparing for the inevitable. “Who’s the patient?” 

Tori handed you a file. You opened it, quickly scanning the information. F. Morales, forty two years old, in decent health, up to date with all his immunizations, served in the military, and was currently in the Urgent Care for a laceration on his left shoulder. 

“How bad is it?” You asked, closing the file and following Tori to the waiting room. 

“Eh,” she said with a shrug. “He isn’t gushing blood, so it’s not ER worthy. Probably just needs some stitches and a tetanus shot, depending on what got him.” 

You blinked. “He didn’t say?” 

Tori grinned. “Nope. Have fun.” 

Groaning to yourself, you opened the waiting room door. “Morales?” 

A man stood up, clearly the injured one in his group of friends due to the wad of cloth he was pressing to his left shoulder. “Yes?” 

“Follow me,” you said, tucking the file beneath your arm. “So, what happened?” 

The man grimaced. “Uh, I busted my shoulder.” 

“How?” 

The man was silent as you pushed open an exam room door and gestured him inside. “Well?” 

“Well what?” 

You sighed. “How’d you cut yourself?” You asked again, watching the man hop up on the exam table. You walked around to his back and slowly cut away the patch of his shirt that covered his shoulder. “And while you’re at it, you got a first name I could use, Mr. Morales?” 

“Please just call me Frankie, most people do.” 

“Most people?” 

Frankie shifted as you examined the harsh tear in the skin. “My friends, those assholes outside, call me Catfish.” 

You chuckled. “Military nickname?” 

“Yeah.” Frankie winced as you pressed a finger against the wound. 

A beat of silence, and then you had another question. “Is Frankie your legal name?” 

“No, why?” 

You smiled. “We need a legal name for the records.” 

Frankie shrugged his uninjured right shoulder as you continued to evaluate the messy scrape on his left. “It’s Francisco. And that shit hurts.” 

“Sorry,” you said, stepping back. “It needs a few stitches,” you decided. “But it isn’t horribly urgent so I’m gonna go grill your buddies outside to see if they’ll give me more answers about what happened.” 

Frankie nodded, watching you leave. 

“Would the party that escorted one Francisco Morales please follow me?” You asked, pushing open the waiting room door. 

Three men stood up, and you led them down the hall a ways, so your conversation would be private. “Alright. Spill. He won’t tell me what happened.” 

The man on the left snorted. “Unsurprising,” he said. “Fish is like a damn lockbox.”

“Benny,” the man in the middle hissed, nudging the man on the left. “Santi, you wanna take this? You saw it best.” 

“Excuse you!” Benny objected. “I was there too!” 

“You’re drunk.” 

The man on the right, Santi, sighed. “Frankie got into a fight outside the bar we were at tonight. Some guy made a horrible comment about how women belong in the kitchen, I dunno, I didn’t hear that bit too well. But Frankie managed to win the fight with minimal injuries, right up until the guy’s equally shitty friend clipped his shoulder with a ripped in half beer can.” 

You nodded, jotting notes down on Frankie’s file. “So what I’m hearing is that he was cut with a piece of likely filthy metal?” 

“Yep.” 

“Perfect,” You grumbled sarcastically. “You boys can head back to the waiting room. I’ll send him out when I’m done.” 

The boys left, and you swung by the supply closet to grab a suture kit before heading back into Frankie’s exam room. “Still bleeding?” 

Frankie looked up. “Yeah.” He had taken his hat off, fidgeting with the worn out brim. “Hurts.” 

“I’ll bet,” you said, coming up behind him and gently taking his hand off the wound. “Gonna pop some stitches in, disinfect the hell out of this, then get your height, weight, the like, and send you off with a tetanus shot just for good measure. That old beer can probably doesn’t have any kind of illness, but we have to be sure.” 

Frankie was silent, which wasn’t a good thing. You disinfected the wound, which sent him into a tailspin of hissed curses in your general direction, and before he realized what was happening, you were halfway done with the stitches. 

“And that’s the last one,” you said, tying off the last stitch. “The stitches dissolve after a while, so you shouldn’t have to worry about coming back to get them removed. But do take care to change the bandages twice a day, and do not use this arm. I don’t care what you have to do, please do not rip these stitches.” 

Frankie chuckled. “Yes doctor.” 

Finishing up the bandage, you grinned at Frankie’s current shirt situation. “Do you want me to grab you a new shirt? I kinda ruined yours.” 

“You did your job,” Frankie pointed out. “But yes, that would be nice.” 

You ducked out of the room and grabbed a spare shirt from the nurse’s lost and found. “No one’s claimed this thing for almost eight months. I think the guy who owned it quit,” you said, handing Frankie the old Jack Daniels whiskey shirt. You watched him struggle to put it on, helping him a bit as the shirt got caught on his shoulder. 

“Okay, follow me,” you said once Frankie was wearing a shirt again. He followed, just as asked, and you took his height and weight, texting both figures to Tori so she could prep a tetanus shot for you. In the meantime, you kept Frankie occupied, asking him questions about military things in the exam room. 

“What’d you do in the military?” 

“I was a pilot.” 

“Planes?” 

“Helos.” 

“Fun. I’ve never been in a helicopter before. Those friends outside, are they?” 

“Military friends? Yeah, mostly. I knew Santiago before all that though.” 

A knock at the door interrupted your bonding session. Tori opened the door, holding a tray with the tetanus shot and a band-aid. “Sorry. Those shitty kids band-aids were all I could find.” 

You shrugged. “Nah, it’s fine. I’m sure Mr. Morales won’t object to a Paw Patrol band-aid.” 

However, as you turned back to Frankie, you realized he’d gone white as a sheet. “Frankie?” 

Frankie shied away from you, despite you not moving. “Don’t,” he said, voice choked. “Please.” 

Your heart squeezed at the desperation in his voice. He was very plainly terrified. “Frankie,” you repeated calmly, holding both hands up so he knew you were unarmed. “Hey, deep breaths.” 

Frankie took a stuttering breath, and you sent a silent prayer out that he wouldn’t have a panic attack here. You sat next to him, keeping a few feet of space between you and him. “Do you want me to go get the boys?” 

Frankie shook his head, eyes wide. You tried to think. Distracting him would do no good. You’d tried that before with other people, and with patients who were this panicky, a distraction made it worse. Trying to sneak up on him was somehow an even worse idea. With his background, he was likely to know when someone was trying to surprise him, and he could definitely defend himself. The only thing you could think of was calming him down and then sticking him as fast as you could. 

It took a few minutes, but Frankie’s breathing returned to normal, and his muscles relaxed somewhat. You didn’t move, simply sitting there beside him and establishing yourself as a calm figure despite your reeling mind. “Frankie?” 

He looked up at you, not saying a word. 

“Are you ready to try?” You asked. “I have to give you the shot. I don’t want you to get sick, okay? Tetanus is a killer, and I don’t wanna see you dying in a hospital bed until you’re at least eighty, okay?” 

A slow nod. You stood, making your movements obvious as you put on new gloves and opened an alcohol wipe. 

“C’mere,” you said, gesturing Frankie closer. He scooted towards you, and you met him halfway. “This is cold, just a warning.” 

You rolled up Frankie’s shirt sleeve, exposing his left shoulder. He shivered as you ran the alcohol wipe across his skin, and kept his eyes anywhere but on you as you uncapped the tiny syringe. “Frankie?” 

Frankie whined, his breathing picking up again as his body barreled towards full panic mode. 

“Frankie!” You recapped the syringe and set it aside, turning your full attention to Frankie. He jumped away from you, eyes wide once more. You stood back as he curled in on himself, breathing quickening too fast. He was hyperventilating. “Frankie! Listen to me! You’re not-“ 

You cut yourself off as the loud, ragged breaths began to turn into animalistic screams, Frankie losing his balance and falling off the exam table and crashing into the sink before hitting the floor. The thud his body made scared you, but not as much as his current panicked state. 

“Tori!” You yelled, opening the door and yelling for your coworker. “Tori!” 

Unfortunately, it was not Tori who came to your rescue. It was Frankie’s three friends, all of whom looked incredibly concerned. Tori was behind them, shouting that they couldn’t be back here. Santiago simply pushed past you and immediately rushed to Frankie’s side, the other two joining him as he attempted to console Frankie. 

You, knowing your help wouldn’t be needed, tried to step away, but Santiago turned to call you back. “Come here!” 

Sighing, you hesitantly entered the exam room. “What do you need from me?” 

“What did you do to him?” Benny asked, clearly the most worried. “He hasn’t had an attack this bad in years!” 

“I just tried to give him a tetanus shot!” You defended. 

Santiago and the other man had gotten Frankie situated back on the exam table, sitting on his sides and keeping him upright as Benny rushed in and took his hands. “Fish? You with us buddy?” 

Frankie, who had thankfully stopped screaming, whined. Benny smiled, squeezing his hands. “There’s our Fish. Hey, hey, no, look at me,” he directed as Frankie’s eyes drifted to you in the corner and his breath hitched. 

Frankie’s head slumped against Santiago’s shoulder. He hummed uncomfortably, face scrunching as he shifted, trying to get comfortable. 

“His shoulder,” you guessed softly. “Someone’s touching it.” 

The man on Frankie’s right looked at his back. “Shit. Sorry Fish.” 

Frankie sighed in relief and turned into pudding against Santiago’s shoulder. Benny still held his hands, humming softly. The other man, whose name you still didn’t know, stood and pulled you aside. “Hey. Did he tell you?” 

“That he was trypanophobic?” You said, sliding your hands in your pockets. “No. But I figured it out pretty quickly when he went white as hell as soon as he saw the syringe. No one has a reaction this severe unless they have a phobia.” 

The man nodded. “Yeah. Benny was right. Fish is kinda stubborn about these things. He hasn’t had an anxiety attack in years though. Sorry Benny gave you shit about triggering one. I know it wasn’t really your fault.” 

“It was,” you mumbled, eyeing Frankie over the man’s shoulder. “It just wasn’t my intention.” 

“Yeah.” The man looked back at Frankie. “Is the tetanus shot necessary?” 

You nodded. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Santiago looked at you. “How good are you at singing?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“It keeps him calm,” Santiago explained. “He used to sing to the helos whenever there was bad turbulence. Kept him level. We’d do it while you give him the shot, but none of us can sing.” 

Frankie made a small, strangled noise, and you almost freaked out until Benny smiled and you realized Frankie was trying to laugh. 

Smiling, you grabbed the syringe, a new alcohol wipe, and the band-aid. Santiago moved so he was sitting mostly behind Frankie, still supporting him. The other man, who you faintly heard Benny call Will, sat back on Frankie’s right. Benny took Frankie’s hands and stood to the side a bit so you would have room to work. 

“Oh, let’s keep this going, I wanna go all in,” you sang softly, repeating some cute and catchy song Tori insisted on playing whenever she could. “We’ll never be lonely in the dark.” As you sang, you opened the alcohol wipe and cleaned a patch of Frankie’s shoulder. 

“Rooftop in soho, Prince on the radio,” you kept going, uncapping the syringe and taking Frankie’s arm. “The city streets glow, gold in the summertime.” You quickly, between words, stuck Frankie and pressed down on the plunger. He whined, shying from the pain, but you just pressed the band-aid over the tiny puncture mark and kept singing. “Summertime, summertime, summertime, I gotta get that feeling.” 

Gently taking Benny’s place, you stripped your gloves off and put your hands overtop Frankie’s. “You did good, Frankie,” you said. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here so the boys can take you home.” 

Frankie wobbled to his feet, still nonverbal and a bit unsteady. You ended up needing a break in the waiting room, which was still empty. Giving Santiago a bottle of water for Frankie, you sat next to Frankie while the boys started the car. 

You absently hummed the song from earlier, mostly to fill the stifling silence. As you reached the part you’d sung for Frankie, you noticed, with a small jolt, that he was humming along with you. 

“You like the song?” You guessed, and Frankie nodded. 

“Here.” You pulled a pen from your coat pocket and took his hand. “Give the whole thing a listen,” you said, scrawling down the name and artist of the song on Frankie’s hand. “And then call me,” you finished, adding your phone number below the writing. 

Frankie smiled. “Meet cute,” he rasped, voice practically destroyed. 

You laughed. “This is more of a meet ugly, but sure.” 

Santiago came back, helping Frankie to his feet. 

“See you again?” Frankie asked, voice still pretty shot.

“Hopefully not,” you said, holding the door open for Santiago. “At least, not here.” 

Just like that, Frankie was gone. 

That sunrise, as you settled into bed, you got a text from an unknown number. 

Unknown Number: Song was super cute. Definitely adding it to my exercise playlist

You: Is this Mr. Morales?

Unknown Number: Just Frankie

Unknown Number was saved as Just Frankie

You: Okay Just Frankie. How’s your shoulder

Just Frankie: Hurts like a bitch, but I’ve had worse. 

You: I’ll bet. 

Just Frankie: Hey, wanted to ask you something 

You: shoot

Just Frankie: do you always work nights?

You: not always, but mostly. 

Just Frankie: cool. You free tomorrow at noon? I found this cool lunch place that has the best burgers ever

You: ever? I’ll have to see about that

Just Frankie: it’s a date then 

You: It’s a date

[foodieforthoughts]

Sand and Stars - Chapter Seven

Series Summary: After the water pump being blown up, the insurgents in Baqubah are taking a hold of the food supply to the village. Camp Warhorse is in dire need of reinforcements. It has been eight months of submitting countless requests when the High Command commissions Sergeant Olivia Ross to take her group of men and women and help Captain Syverson and his team to restore a semblance of normalcy. But with the war raging, does it get two hearts closer too?

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC x OMC

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: 18+, character death, angst, blood, gore, mentions of war, military technicalities (thread with caution)

A/N: This chapter was very difficult to write as I hadn’t written about losing a loved one before. But the entire experience of delving into the psyche of someone who is troubled by such loss was heart-breaking. I also took some inspiration from the song Hold On by Chord Overstreet. Also, I know I include army warfare a little bit, the references is only limited to what I know from media, I’m sorry for any inaccuracies. 

As always, @thelastsock​ was the helpful beta with her wonderful ideas. I love you for being with me while I write this series.

*gif credit to owner

<Chapter Six

Title: Chapter Seven

Darkness. Pain. Screaming. Olivia groaned as she tried to move. Her head throbbed along her temple, the helmet feeling like it weighed a hundred pounds. She opened her eyes, wincing at the light and heat that assaulted her. The shrill ringing in her ears making it difficult to concentrate on the next step. Wet sand and soil caking her skin as she tried to rub her face into some semblance of painless clarity. Her leg. The pain getting more intense as her leg swam into focus. No obvious injuries, maybe a fracture.

She blinked her eyes slowly, taking in her surroundings and finally registering what had happened. A straining wail sounded from the wreckage of their chopper. Gary. She pushed herself on her hands wincing as pain shot up her shoulder. She glanced at her arm; a piece of metal was sticking out from it. With a trembling hand, she took a deep breath and pulled the metal shard out, tears brimming in her eyes as blood oozed out from the gash running in rivulets and soaking her sleeve. She applied pressure on her wound, pressing her eyes shut as she tried to breathe through her pain.

Another painful wail sounded from the side of wreckage, making her grab onto the broken blades of the chopper sticking out from the sand to steady herself. She dragged her feet on the soil, stumbling to reach where her Sergeant was.

When she rounded the body of the Little Bird, she wasn't quite sure what she was seeing. Odd angles and red. So much red. Schmidt pinned under the tail. Blood spurting out his mouth with every breath. His leg was being crushed by the metal wreck and his arm was twisted in an inhuman angle with crimson liquid matting his entire body. Olivia fell to her knees next to her friend, sobs leaving her lips and tears streaming down her soiled cheeks. 

“Gary, hey, hold on.” She unclasped the belt of his helmet, pulling it off and throwing it away. 

Schmidt took a shuddering breath when Olivia took his hands in his. “I-I don’t…”

“You won’t,” She interjected, understanding exactly what he wanted to say. She lied. She knew he was going to bleed out and she wouldn’t be able to help. She blinked away the welling tears and looked around trying to spot anyone in their vicinity. The faint sound of gunshots came from a distance. “Someone will come looking for us.” She tried to speak with confidence, but her voice was faltering as Schmidt’s grip loosened in her hand.

“My wife…my kids…” He stuttered, blood beginning to flow out of his nostrils. “Tell them…I will always…love them.”

“You tell them that yourself, Gary. You hear me?” She grabbed at his fatigues, fisting them in her blood covered hand. “You are not dying.” She could hear his breath coming out short as he gasped for air. 

Gary elicited a mixture of laugh and a cry, tears streaming down the side of his face, making a trail on his dusty skin. “C’mon Red…we know…I’m short of time.”

Liv held onto his hand again desperately trying to will him away from the clutches of death. She watched with hazy eyes as her friend held onto the last thread of life, gasping in air and spitting out blood. Her mind pictured the time she had met his wife and his children; how his life partner had made Olivia promise she’d keep her husband safe. Her heart ached as she watched her best friend, her family, slipping from her hands.

The unmistakable rumble of a Humvee’s engine soared Olivia’s hope to save her friend. Over a rocky sand dune, the beige metal vehicle rode up and made its way towards them. She laughed at the realization that they were her men, coming to save them. 

“Gary…” She began, only to look down and be met with the vacant eyes of her Sergeant staring blankly up into the sky. There were no more shaky breaths leaving from his unmoving lips, his body laid limply, and his hand slipped from hers. “No, no, no.” She stuttered her words, trying to shake him awake.

“Sergeant!” Her men's voices mixed into one another as they called out. She offered no resistance as they hauled her up by her shoulders and hustled her into the back of the Humvee. 

Everything was a clouded haze after that. She had watched as Gary’s lifeless body was slid in the tight space between them. Sloan called out to her from beside her, but Liv’s voice seemed to have gotten trapped in her throat. Someone had closed Gary’s eyes for which Olivia was thankful. At least now she didn’t have to look into his eyes and be met with the disappointment in failing to save his life.

***

Sy paced in front of the gate, glancing at his watch and back to the road. He had been informed at the camp about the situation. His heart was racing, he hated not knowing. He expected the worst, always, but not knowing who was coming back in a body bag had him on edge.

As the whirring blades of the Medevac came into view, so did the vehicles making their way towards the gate. He stepped to the side as the metal barriers were opened, letting the cars enter the compound. Everyone rushed to the injured team; bruised and battered soldiers climbed out of the cars. Sy spotted Sierra who was clutching her bleeding shoulder, two other men drenched in blood being helped to the helicopter. When he saw Olivia stumble out of the back of the Humvee, his heart dropped.

Liv looked like she was walking in a daze. Her arm was covered in blood, soil and sand matted on her face and she limped when she walked. Sy gently placed a hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention to him.

“Liv,” He said cautiously. When her eyes met his they looked lost, distant and far away. 

“I’m okay.” Her brittle voice cut through Sy’s heart. She nudged his hand away from her shoulder and limped her way towards the building where the infirmary was housed, not even glancing behind as the Medevac team lifted off from the ground.

It took Sy hours before he could visit Liv alone. He couldn’t have abandoned his duties as a Captain while people under his wing had been injured and killed. But he kept a tab on her by asking Sloan about her whereabouts. Liv had gotten herself bandaged and had chosen to retire to their quarters. It was late in the evening when he was finally done with calls with his superiors and with briefing the team. 

Sy stood outside the door to the ladies quarter unsure of what lay ahead. He knocked sharply on the wooden door. When he got no response he pushed the door open, hinges protesting the movement as he peered inside the dark room. He glanced at the two empty beds on the opposite side which possibly belonged to Sloan and Sierra. BJ had asked permission to let Sloan stay with him tonight and Sierra was at the base in Baghdad which left Liv alone in the room. He stepped inside tentatively and spotted her on the bed shoved right at the corner of the room.

Liv was hunched over with her wet hair falling over her shoulder, shielding her face from Sy. The sleeve of her t-shirt was rolled up with a white bandage covering her arm, a crimson patch in the middle of it. He closed the door behind him and slowly walked towards her. Droplets of water fell from the ends of her red locks, pooling on the floor next to her feet. 

Sy debated whether he should sit next to her. He understood very well everything she was going through. He had lost buddies in combat; the first time was always the hardest. He wanted to comfort her and make her understand that this is the life they chose for themselves.

“It should have been me.” Her voice was barely audible, little over a whisper. Her hands covered her face with her elbows resting on her knees. “It should have been me, Sy.”

“Hey, don’t say that.” He brought his hand to place on her shoulder, but she flinched away. Sy felt dejected but he withdrew his hand away. “We all signed up for this. We know what there is to lose.”

“I should have been careful. I should have done something to save him.” Her voice trembled as she spoke. 

“Liv,” he started, braving to put his hand on her shoulder yet again only for Olivia to abruptly stand up. Her eyes blazed red, puffy with the tears. Her lips quivered as she stared at him, clutching her arm as the bandage was painted with more blood seeping from the wound.

“Just say it, Sy, say it was my fault.” 

Sy stood up as his hands balled into fists. He wanted to be Liv’s confidant, but she was pushing him away. “It wasn’t.” He replied sternly, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You stop berating yourself. You are a soldier, Liv.” He blamed it on tiredness for he did not mean to sound condescending. He quickly understood his mistake, his face softening as Olivia took a step away from him. “Liv,” he pleaded, extending his hand towards her.

“It should have been me! Gary’s death is on me!” She screamed with fresh tears running down her cheeks. “He has a family. He has…people waiting for him. And I…I-” her shoulder shook as ripples of sobs gripped her. She covered her face with her hands again, shielding herself away from Sy’s eyes.  

This time Sy pulled her against his chest without hesitation. Liv tried prying herself away from him, but he held her strongly against his body. She gave in soon, burying her face in his chest and soaking his shirt with her tears. He ran his hand through her hair soothing her and shushing her.

“There’s no one waiting for me back home. No one to cry if I die.” She mumbled between her sobs, sniffling and gasping with the onslaught of grief. “Gary had a family, Sy. What will… what will I tell his wife?” She grasped at his t-shirt, desperately trying to cling to the last hope of sanity. 

Sy held onto her like she was the most fragile being on this planet. He tightened his arms around her, wanting to shield her from the world and its sadness. He wanted to take away her pain. He would take it upon himself if he could. Sy rocked her lightly, whispering words of comfort as well as he could. He could not comprehend how bruised her soul was to think no one would cry for her if she died. A cold shiver ran down his spine even thinking about it.

After a long time Sy carefully turned her in his arms. She opened her puffy eyes, fluttering them slightly. “Let’s get you to bed, okay?” He ushered her towards the bed and gently sat her down.  She laid down on her side, curling up in a ball with her hands wound around her chest. He pulled the thin blanket over her, tucking the ends beneath the mattress. Sy caressed her cheeks with his hand, wiping away the tear stains on her cheek. 

He didn’t want to leave her alone. She was vulnerable and had dropped all her guards down. She was too stubborn to ask for comfort, but he could sense she hankered for his solace. Sy understood under the strong-willed demeanor, Liv wanted to be defenseless. She peered at him with half-lidded eyes without uttering a word. 

Kicking his boots off, Sy climbed on the bed to lie beside Liv. He gathered her in his arms, letting her shelter in the bend of his elbow. He pulled the blanket over their bodies, draping an arm over her torso. He entwined his fingers in Liv’s hair, running his fingers along her scalp. Liv dozed off not a moment later, holding him close to her like she was afraid to let him go. 

Sy kept drifting in and out of sleep with every stir of Liv’s body. She whimpered in her sleep in the middle of the night with the onslaught of nightmares entering her mind. Sy whispered words of comfort in her ears, running his hand soothingly over her back. Sloan had returned at the early hours of dawn looking like she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep either. But when she had spotted Sy cradling Liv against his body, she had excused herself and left them alone again. 

***

It hadn’t been easy for her to cope with the loss of her friend. Olivia had watched with tear filled eyes as they had loaded up Gary’s trunk to be sent to base. She had grazed her fingertips over his name tag sending a silent prayer to where he now rested. It was only when the Humvee had rolled out, Liv had caught sight of Sy watching her from his post.

That night she had felt like her entire being had shattered into a thousand pieces. She had lost loved ones before, but watching someone die in your arms, her best friend, had terrified her. She blamed herself for it. 

If only I could have been alert. If I hadn’t failed to save him. If… 

There were so many ‘ifs’ circling in her mind, she laid awake every night thinking what she could have done otherwise.

Sy had decided to give her some space. He had been quiet and allowed her to heal in her own time. She was grateful for that. She just wasn’t ready to break down in his arms again. She was afraid if she let him get too close to her and if she were to lose him too, she wouldn’t survive. 

It had been fifteen whole days since she had last stepped out into the field. Her leg had been healing, her stitches still fresh, for which Sy had ordered her to stay at camp. She had waddled around the compound, finished paperwork for the men and worked out to release the mixture of anger and sadness bunching up inside her. 

She had thought she would be able to handle it but glancing at the hilltop where she had held her dying friend, had brought everything back to her. Sy had looked at her, his eyes covered with his shades, with his mouth pressed into a thin line. He had accompanied them for their mission to receive the food truck, something he hadn’t done before. She had maintained her distance from him, choosing to stay with her own people. It had felt odd being on the ground when she was used to soaring high above everyone else in her chopper.

Back at the camp, her leg throbbed from walking on the uneven terrain. She winced as her hand grazed over the bandage on her sore calf, still hurting from the gash she had taken from the debris. Olivia took in a sharp breath as waves of nauseating pain crashed against her sleep deprived mind. She sat down on the steps of the building, gently massaging her throbbing muscle to ease the pain.

“You okay?” Sy sat beside her on the steps. Involuntarily she felt herself scooting away from him. She wasn’t sure what she was trying to gain from keeping him at arm’s length. He was being gentle, understanding, sympathetic, everything she needed right now. But something stopped her.

“Yeah. Just a little sore.” She refused to make eye-contact with him. 

Sy seemed to have gotten the message as he scooted a little to the side. From the corner of her eyes Liv noticed Sy let out a sigh, rubbing his beard with his hand. It was weeks ago when she had felt his arms around her, locking her in his embrace, making her feel safer than anyone ever could. 

“Are you sleeping alright?” He asked, adjusting his gun beside him.

“Yeah.”

“Are you telling the truth?” His voice was stern, and he turned slightly to look at her. She knew her words betrayed the reality, the bags under her eyes were evidence of her tired, sleepless nights. But even so, she nodded her head.

Another sigh left his lips. “Liv, I know you want to be strong, but you don’t have to go through it alone. I’m worried about you. I want to be there for you.” Sy reached his hand out and placed it over hers. Giving a gentle squeeze he pleaded, “Just let me in.”

Liv allowed herself to glance at him. His eyes were soft, worry marked with wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. He held sincerity in them, a hope that formed a crack in the wall Liv had built around her. 

“Sy,” They were interrupted by his Lieutenant. “We need you in the office.” 

Sy nodded at them, bringing his gaze back to Liv. He gently smiled at her, bringing his hand to her face. “I’m here for you.” He whispered before standing up and walking inside the building. She watched as he strutted towards his office, talking to his Lieutenant and discussing their matter at hand.

That night, Liv stayed awake in her bed. The chatter outside their room was dying out as midnight approached. Sloan was passed out on her bed; gently snoring while being wrapped in her blanket. Liv glanced at the empty bed that had belonged to Sierra. She had gotten severely injured in the attack. In the days Liv had stayed at the camp, she had a SAT call with her comrade about her corporal. Sierra had been sent home after the surgery she had to endure from the bullet wounds. Liv had been relieved to know she was at least alive.

When the lights cut out at midnight, shrouding the camp in darkness, Liv sat up in her bed. Sy’s words kept ringing in her ears. She didn’t want to push him away. She wanted a safe place. She wanted to feel something other than pain.

And so, she stood, outside his door in the dead of the night. She stared at his door, debating whether she should just return to her bed. She wasn’t even sure if Sy was in his room. With a timid knock, Liv stood with her arms hanging by her side. Her heart picked up a pace as she counted the seconds in her head until the door cracked open.

Sy had a scowl on his face when he opened the door, which eased as soon as he noted Liv standing outside his door. He watched her with a softened gaze as she took a step forward.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Her voice trembled as she spoke. She gulped, fearing he would drive her away.

But he did not push her away. He extended his arm open, tilting his head slightly and a gentle smile on his lips. “Of course.” 

Liv buried her face in his chest wounding her arms around his frame. Sy closed the door, holding her firmly against his body, circling her with his arms. He rested his cheek against her head, letting silence fill in the space that didn’t require words.

Liv could feel it then. Her walls being broken brick by brick by Sy. She felt safe, warmth seeping into her heart as he held her close to him. 

Chapter Eight>

🌟 Series Masterlist 🌟

[amillionsmiles]

in your bedroom after the war (Dick/Artemis)

Title: in your bedroom after the war Summary: As far as coping mechanisms go, Artemis could be doing worse. At least her method has a gymnast’s ass. / Post-Invasion, pre-Outsiders. Rated M.  A/N: I have one (1) agenda and that is messy grieving fuck buddies who are each other’s ride-or-dies. if you are not into fic that sits squarely in sad feral horny territory, then this is probably not your speed.

[Read and review here] or continue under the cut.  

| GOTHAM

| JANUARY 14, 2017; 12:05 AM EST

Artemis is a bit heavier than she was in her teenage years, but her feet land lightly on the fire escape by the window. An hour ago, she’d called her mom from Metropolis, promising she’d be home by midnight. Ever since her daughter faked her death a year ago, Paula Nguyen has become even more of a worrywart, and Artemis knows that the five minutes she’s running late are going to cause her to receive an earful.

“Didn’t think I’d see you back in this neck of the woods.” A familiar figure drops from the roof above onto the rung below her.

“Nightwing.”

She’s not surprised that he’s been keeping tabs. Officially, he’s been on a leave of absence for the past six months, but Dick, like her, is vigilant in his grief.

She’d come back to Gotham because it put her closer to Metropolis and Beta Squad’s continued investigation of LexCorp, but the truth is that she could have Zeta-tubed from Palo Alto easily. Their—her—apartment had been no good though, not without Wally. So she’d left most of her things in storage to figure out later and moved back in with her mom. On days when Artemis can’t muster the energy to get out of bed, Paula wheels determinedly around the kitchen, ready to whip up some mì xào  or a warm bowl of  mì gói.  They play card games and laugh about how bad Wally was at tiến lên the first time Paula tried to teach him. Your boy has no patience, he always wants to play his strongest cards right away, her mom had teased, and Wally had protested, I make it a rule to always put my best foot forward! and Artemis had loved him even more then.

Loved. Loves. She hates the past tense.

“I mean, were you ever going to ask me to grab coffee?”

She can see the bits of Wally in his cracks. In a room together, it was always easy to tell they were best friends from the way they riffed off each other. The acrobat and the speedster: all verbal gymnastics and fast-moving quips. But unlike Wally, who liked poking fun because he liked getting attention, Dick is at his wittiest when trying to avoid talking about himself.

Artemis reaches out and pulls him to sit down beside her. She makes a show of looking at her watch.

“How’s… 12:15 AM this Saturday?”

Dick pretends to check it against his mental schedule. If his is anything like hers, it probably goes: Wake up. Exercise (beating up bad guys counts). Mourn.

“Yeah, seems like I can swing it.”

“Perfect,” says Artemis, sliding up the glass panes to let them into her childhood bedroom. “I’ve got just the stuff.” 

*

In the kitchen, Brucely stirs briefly from his dog bed to sniff the air and  yip, then curls back asleep. Paula hands Dick a mug, waiting for him to take a sip before saying, “So you were the one who had the brilliant plan to have my daughter fake her death.” 

Dick splutters; from the table, Artemis rises to his defense. “Mom,” she says. “Leave him be.”

Setting his cup down, Dick leans against the cabinets, bending his head slightly and rubbing the back of his neck. He does a good job of appearing chastised, and Artemis wants to roll her eyes, if only because she’s heard from Bette and Raquel that this pose is far too effective at convincing women to want to forgive him or try again.

“I’m not leading much of anything these days, if that’s at all a comfort to you.”

“Hmph.” Paula sniffs. “You live alone?”

“Yeah.” Dick shoots Artemis a questioning look over her mom’s head. Artemis shrugs.

“What do you do to fill the time?”

“A lot of reading. Gotham’s library system actually has a pretty good selection, believe it or not. I’ve also gotten really into meditating.”

“And you don’t sleep.”

Dick stiffens. For the first time, he looks exposed, a boy with too much guilt and too much time on his hands.

“I do. Tonight I was just… restless.”

Paula nods and backs up her wheelchair so she can sit by Artemis, curling her fingers over Artemis’s hand and squeezing. She raises her drink, Artemis and Dick following suit, the three of them toasting to invisible losses.

“Aren’t we all.”

*

Later, back on the fire escape, Dick taps his fingers against the railing, jittery. “I feel like I need to start doing jumping jacks. What was in that stuff?”

Artemis bites back a smile. “Yeah, Vietnamese coffee packs a hit. That’s my bad. Probably should have given you something non-caffeinated at this hour.”

“It’s fine. I’ll jog it out, or something.” He turns to go, but Artemis stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, listen—it was good seeing you tonight. And if you need someone to talk to…” What she really means is: it’d be nice to be around someone who’s hurting as much as I am. Not to say that the rest of the team wasn’t as torn up over Wally’s death, but she and Dick had been ground zero. Closest to the blast.

After a pause, Dick nods. “Yeah… I could use a sparring partner, actually. I’ll send you an address.”

“Okay.” Satisfied, Artemis withdraws her hand, curling her fingers into her palm.

It feels like a start.

*

Dick’s directions lead Artemis to Wayne Manor; from there he takes her to the Bat Cave.

“I thought you were striking out on your own,” Artemis says, using her forearms to deflect a kick to her face. Dick grunts and recovers, throwing a punch to her stomach; she dances out of the way.

“I am. I just pop in here from time to time because Bruce has better equipment. Plus there’s less of a chance of me disturbing the neighbors.” He gestures to the eerily blue-lit stone walls around them.

Artemis feints and goes low, ducking under Dick’s guard. Two quick hits to Dick’s sternum pushes him back, before he gets a hand on her wrist and twists her around so that her back is pressed against his chest.

“Weren’t we supposed to be talking?”

Kicking his shin, Artemis breaks free. “All right, fine. I’ll start.”  Jab.  “I keep wanting a scapegoat.”  Kick.  “Like, one person to blame, instead of something as big as the Reach. But it’s not some giant revenge thing, and I know Wally wouldn’t want me to go down that sort of all-consuming rabbit hole even if it was, and that pisses. Me. Off.” On those last words, she manages to use Dick’s momentum against him and flips him over her shoulder.

For a minute, it’s so quiet between them she can hear the faint plip of water dripping from a stalactite into the water below the sparring dais. Still lying on the floor, Dick confesses, “I keep hearing him.”

“I make a joke to myself and he’s there, in my ear, with the punchline. And then…” He passes a hand over his face.  “And then I realize that the real punchline is him being gone.”

Slowly, Artemis approaches him. She feels like she did when they were undercover at Haly’s circus so many years ago, that brief moment of hangtime before their hands connected in the air. She means to sit down next to him, pat his shoulder, she doesn’t know what, but instead Dick sweeps her legs out from under her and she goes down hard, the air whooshing out of her chest as she falls flat on her back.

“Agh!” The release sets something loose inside her. Next thing she knows, she’s yelling again, louder, just because.

Dick catches on and then it’s just the two of them shouting, their voices echoing through the cavern, threading around and piling atop each other like a flock of birds. After they’re done, Dick rolls so that they’re lying side by side.

“You know, when we were starting out—when we first became friends—I used to make fun of Wally that if he kept talking so much while running he was bound to swallow more bugs, or something. And he’d just shoot back like, ‘Nah dude, you think I’m not fast enough to see them and dodge them in the air?’ But you know how he was always so hungry after missions? One time I was so mad at him I put a bug in his sandwich. I’ve never forgotten the look on his face after he bit into it and I said, dodge that.”

“You didn’t.” Artemis gasps and covers her mouth, horrified, but she can see it so vividly: the colors draining from Wally’s face, making his freckles pop even more against his skin, the same greenish tint his cheeks took the time they went to Vietnam and he got food poisoning. He’d spent two days feverishly glaring up at the mosquito netting, and Artemis had draped cold hand towels over his forehead and promised she wasn’t going to leave him for the very obliging boy who kept bringing them ice.

“I did.” Dick is gleeful. “Really put the ‘rank’ in prank.”  

Artemis snorts; the snort turns into a full-blown guffaw. Dick turns toward her, laughing too. His hair is matted with sweat but still soft; it brushes against her forehead.

It feels so good to be close to someone again, to be able to flip on a dime from sadness to frustration to anger to laughter and not have to explain herself. She can’t remember the last time she smiled and didn’t feel guilty about it, and she means it more affectionately than anything when she reaches over and brings Dick’s mouth to hers, like if she inhales whatever they’ve temporarily managed to create here between them, it’ll be enough to tide her over for the next few months. For a second, he’s warm and responsive, before his lips stiffen and he pulls back.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

Shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t.  Shouldn’t beat yourself up about it, shouldn’t blame yourself for getting back in the game.  Artemis is sick of people telling her how to deal, how it’s supposed to go.  It’ll get better and then it doesn’t. People talk like there are guidebooks for this kind of shit, like it’s a marathon she just needs to pace herself through. And it’s the stupidest thing, but she misses being held.

She sits up and crosses her arms, resisting the urge to curl in on herself. “You didn’t do anything. I’ll go.”

“No, Artemis, wait, I don’t think you should go, I just want to understand what’s going on—”

“I want you to touch me, okay?” she explodes. “I want you to touch me because he’s never going to again and I know you loved him too and—and maybe if it’s you, I won’t feel so desperately alone.”

Dick looks stricken, and then, hesitantly, he reaches for her. His eyes are so blue, the kind of crushed eggshell you’d use to make a paint. “You’re not alone.”

“Prove it,” she says, vision blurring with tears—wanting, needing him closer, and then his hairline is up against hers again and his nose is at her cheek, his mouth at her jaw, soft but with a willingness to bruise. Don’t ask me what we’re about to do, Artemis silently begs, and Dick doesn’t.

 *

 Wally had been a restless lover. Always turning them over, switching positions. Artemis had taken it as a challenge, part of the ongoing competition that defined their relationship. Deep down, she’d known that Wally would be just as content if the rest of their sex life consisted solely of spooning gently on Sundays, which, if anything, was why she’d been so eager to experiment—because it felt like an easy gift she could give, not something she had to master to “maintain excitement” or make him stay.

She’s not sure what she expected from Dick. Maybe that’s a comfort—that she wasn’t fantasizing before they happened, wondering about all the mechanics of how it would go. Dick lets her call the shots, lets her ride him into the ground, the grip of his fingers around her thighs the only reminder she isn’t just angling toward oblivion. When he presses his thumb between her legs, it’s a weird sort of anchor—like hearing a voice pick up on a line you thought was dead. She has a body, and here’s someone on the other end of it, caring about her release. As soon as that thought hits, the relief shudders through her; she keeps rocking long enough to feel Dick follow, a stutter and a grunt, before she collapses boneless over him, the sweat of his skin a comforting stickiness against her cheek.

Internally, she apologizes to Bruce for desecrating his training space. Then again, they’re hardly the first of the Justice League to get handsy in less than appropriate places. She’s seen how Black Canary and Green Arrow act around each other.

Below her, Dick catches his breath. The rush of blood—his or hers—is loud in her ears.

“I didn’t think you’d be so…”  Giving, she means to say, but it gets lost on her tongue. “I mean, Zatanna…” she trails off again.

If Dick’s embarrassed at the prospect of his ex-girlfriend having blabbed about the details of their sex life to Artemis, he doesn’t show it. His fingers find a snag in her hair; gently, he works it loose. The air smells hedonistic. He keeps combing. Nice is the only word she can think to describe it, and that makes her want to cry again, so she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his chest.

Dick pauses his ministrations. He flattens his palm against the base of her neck and just—holds her there.

“Don’t mention it.”  

When she goes home that afternoon to shower, she runs the water on full blast for a long time.

 *

 Armed with Chinese food, she visits Dick’s place the next day intent on making amends. Dick doesn’t even act surprised; he just points to the glass coffee table where she can set the bag of chopsticks, napkins, and takeout.

“I’m trying to decide what to watch.”

There’s really no need for him to stand in front of the TV the way he does, one hand propped on his hip as he clicks through options with the remote. Artemis lets herself ogle, a bit. The surest way to blow past what happened between them yesterday is to be honest with herself, right? And as far as coping mechanisms go, Artemis could have done worse. At least her method has a gymnast’s ass.

“Any preferences?”

“Between what?” asks Artemis, cracking open the carton of lo mein and settling back against the cushions. The Netflix suggestion algorithm onscreen paints a condemning picture of Dick’s tastes. “True crime or… true crime?”

Wally had been really into nature documentaries. One time during freshman year, when they were still living on Stanford’s campus, they’d gotten high in Wally’s dorm room and watched Blue Planet. Wally had cried when the seal got flung apart by killer whales.

“I’ll Be Gone in the Dark it is, then,” says Dick. He settles next to her on the couch, peeling back one of the orders and sniffing its contents. “What’s this one?”

“Salt and pepper ribs. They were today’s special.”

“Artemis.” Dick beams. “You really do care about me.”

 *

 Ten minutes into the episode begs a single question: “Isn’t it sort of depressing that you spend so much of your day fighting crime, and then you go home to unwind and just watch… more of it?”

Dick shrugs. “It keeps me sharp. And it’s nice seeing other people solve problems.”

“Well, if you ever feel like branching out, there’s a short film about Rubik’s cubes you might like.” Artemis nudges his side. “Remember when you were a scrawny math geek?”

Bringing both hands behind his head, Dick smirks. “Still a math geek. Just not scrawny.”

Artemis stares. That was just a bit of friendly showboating, right? Or was it a flirt? Not trusting herself, she whips her gaze back toward the TV. What feels like eons later, the credits roll.

“Artemis,” Dick says, too soft for having just finished a show about murder. He taps the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got some food stuck.”

She wipes with the back of her hand; a breaded piece of orange chicken emerges as the culprit. Without thinking, she flicks it off, sending it flying somewhere onto Dick’s carpet.

“Oops.”

Chuckling, Dick shakes his head. “I need to vacuum tomorrow, anyways.”

The mention of tomorrow stirs her. “Right. I should head out.”

“Yeah.” Dick rises to help her clean up their mess, holding open the plastic bag so she can toss in the soiled napkins and other bits of trash. “Or—”

He hesitates, but the hesitation’s enough. It might as well be a hand on her wrist, with how it stops her in her tracks. All night, despite what she told herself, she’s been looking for proof: proof that his aloneness fits the shape of hers, that he needs her, too. This time, Dick makes the first move—cups her face in both hands and kisses her, slow and deep and full of heat. Some pepper from the food they ate still lingers on his lips, making her mouth tingle, and Artemis is dizzy and flat on her back on the couch before she knows it, giving in.

Not scrawny at all, she thinks, admiring the solidness of Dick’s knees on either side of her, the weight of his frame as they grind together. The sheer mechanics of it feel very horny-teenager-after-prom, but the way Dick sucks her bottom lip and swallows her breath down with it is decidedly adult.  These days, Artemis practically lives in her sports bra, which doesn’t exactly grant easy access, but when Dick’s fingertips skim over the cotton covering her breasts the sensation zings all the way down her spine.

“Need… off…”

“Yeah,” Dick murmurs, humming as he moves down the column of her neck. “Gimme a sec, I’m working on it.”

She’d worn sweats because she figured their bagginess would keep her from sparring again and any potential… situations that could arise from that. Instead, all it means is Dick unties the drawstrings easily, sliding her pants down her legs. Cool air brushes across her as he shifts positions; she wants to sob in relief. His teeth graze her hip and then catch the edge of her panties and—oh. Fuck. The moan tears out of her and she scrabbles at the armrest, hips rising of their own accord. Next time, she is handcuffing Dick to a bed, because what he’s doing with his tongue and fingers should be illegal. She can feel him grinning, the bastard, and the only thing keeping her from crushing his head to a pulp between her thighs is the maneuver he pulls where he hooks her knees over his shoulders, so he can change the angle and plunge in deeper. Artemis shoves the edge of her T-shirt into her mouth at the last minute, only barely managing to muffle her cry.

Dick surfaces from his solo mission looking entirely too satisfied, mouth glistening. Trembling, still, from her orgasm, Artemis squints at him, possessed by some combination of unbridled lust and rage.

“Dick.”

“You calling, or asking?”

“Shut up,” she hisses. She feels like a newborn foal, after what he just did to her, but the urge to dismantle him just as thoroughly sends her surging upward and pushing him back. Dick welcomes their reversed positions by peeling off his shirt and tossing it over his shoulder, all while Artemis works furiously at his belt. It shouldn’t feel so good, to hear the metal clink against his button and watch the leather slide through the loops. To see the shadows the light of the TV casts on him—the lashes on his cheeks, the hollow of his throat. Artemis hadn’t paid much attention the first time, too desperate and caught up a bit in self-loathing, but now she’s actually enjoying this, savoring the flex of Dick’s abs as he pushes up to meet her, his skin pebbling at her touch.

“I’m going to take you apart,” she purrs.

Dick groans and bucks. The sensation sends a sharp spike of pleasure through her, and she clamps down on him tighter, refusing to yield.

“Try me, Tigress,” he rasps, pushing himself up on one arm so he can mouth at her collarbone. With his other hand, he pulls off her hairtie so her hair comes free of her ponytail, and this is going to be a thing with him, isn’t it, him wanting to fuck her while her hair swings loose around her face. She indulges him for a few minutes, claws his back and bites his shoulder for good measure, but then she’s pushing him back down and stretching out her body as languidly as possible to remind him who’s boss. Their pace slows. Dick keeps a hand fisted in her hair, so he can tug her head back in order to keep her neck exposed to his wanton mouth, but his grip gets less sure the closer she pushes him to the edge.

“Art—” says Dick, the single syllable like a painting pinned to the wall, fraught with desire, and then he just lets it drop, the tresses of her hair falling through his fingers. She wants to tell him that he’s beautiful, that he does look like a boy wonder, right then, in the midst of coming undone, chest flushed and hair mussed and pupils blown nearly wide enough to overtake the blue.

She doesn’t, but she stays the night, and that’s close enough.

 *

  High-functioning, Artemis’s therapist had called her, before Artemis moved back to Gotham. And it does feel like a high—the sneaking around, the after-hours meet-ups, the back-and-forth. There’s no one really keeping tabs on her, though Artemis has plenty of cover stories if anyone asks (new intel, side reconnaissance, etcetera, etcetera). Her mom eyes her and says, “As long as you’re not planning on staging your own death again, because I will find out and I will kill you this time,” and that’s that. Artemis nearly laughs. If anything, what she’s doing is the opposite, a small resurrection. An entire month and a half passes this way: day trips and dinners and movie nights and Dick and her in a bathtub, in the shower, against a wall. She even wears a gown and heels once, not because they have an actual event to attend, but because Dick has a fantasy that involves taking her from behind in the Wayne Manor library.

They’re in his apartment on a Sunday morning bathing in the afterglow, sheets tangled around their waists. Thank god Dick is one of those assholes that splurged on not only a nice mattress but also a solid bed frame. Artemis reaches over to push the hair out of his eyes. The black tuft on the back of his head that she likes grabbing is fluffed up like a duck's tail, and under the sunlight slanting through the windows, he looks angelic.

“Are you falling back asleep?”

Yawning, Dick snags her around the waist, dragging her to him. She should not delight this much in being manhandled.

“You wore me out,” he complains, tucking his chin over her shoulder.

“They just don’t make them like they used to,” Artemis sighs. Dick growls a little at the dig, fingers tightening against her hip.

Well. If he’s going to nap, she is, too. Comfortably spooned, she snuggles back against him, prepared to drift off.

“Do you think Wally would have wanted…” Dick doesn’t finish the thought.

Artemis turns in his arms. Dick has long eyelashes, and he’s looking at her through them almost bashfully. She places a hand on his chest. Feels his heartbeat thump once, twice.

“I think he would want us to be happy.”

“Are you?” Dick’s voice fades out and he has to swallow hard to clear his throat. “Happy?”

“I’m not… miserable.” 

Dick runs his hand up her bare arm, over her shoulder. “Me neither.”

“You know, Wally and I thought…” She bites her lip, remembering a whoosh of air, Wally speeding to her side to kiss her and interrupting her report on the disabled Paris MFD.  I know we promised each other we’d get out of this game, but maybe we can have our life together and play hero, too.  “We thought we’d have everything.”

Dick’s response isn’t mournful; it’s matter-of-fact. “After my parents died, I never really convinced myself that I could have it all.”

“That sounds like something Batman would say.”

“Does it?”

“A little.”

Once upon a time, Artemis had stood before the team ready to lay bare her darkest secret, waiting to be kicked out. And Dick had shown his hand: he’d known from the beginning and hadn’t cared.  You aren’t your family. You’re one of us. She knows he’s second-guessed himself over the years, wondering how fit he actually is to play leader. But for her, trust has always been the easiest thing about the two of them. It was why she’d said yes so easily to his deep cover mission—because she knew that he wouldn’t quit until he’d brought all of them home, that he would do whatever he could to keep them safe.

Taking his face in both her hands, she looks deep into his eyes. “You deserve good things, Dick Grayson.”

“Mm.” Dick smiles into her kiss, hooks his ankle over hers. “Keep telling me that. I’ll start to believe it.”

 *

 Jade abandons Will and Lian on a Tuesday, and Artemis’s carefully crafted equilibrium falls apart. At least this time she’s not the one directly being left, unlike when she was a teenager. Her expectations of her older sister had hardly been high, but if she’d plotted them on a graph they’d have trended upward. Now they’ve tanked.

“Did she leave any hint of where she was going?” Dick asks over the whir of his juicer. He’s gotten really into squeezing oranges lately; Artemis can’t complain because he always gives her the first glass.

“It’s Jade. She never wants to be found, and I hardly think she’s about to try an  Eat Pray Love type thing.”

“Eat Slash Steal, maybe?” Dick offers, dropping two ice cubes into a drink and setting it in front of her.

Artemis sips, balling up a napkin and throwing it at him at the same time. “Watch it, that’s still my family you’re talking about.”

“I’m sorry. How’s Will taking it?”

“As well as any dad trying to raise a two-year-old by himself would.”

“So, poorly.” Dick taps his finger against the table. “Are they coming here?”

Artemis looks at him blankly. “Why?”

“I figured they might want to be closer to you and your mom now that Jade’s gone. Gotham’s not so bad—you and I turned out fine. And Will probably needs to look into preschools and a babysitter for Lian soon. If you move in with me, you can bring her over whenever.”

The last piece of information slips in so casually she thinks she’s misheard. “What?”

“If you move in with me, you can bring Lian over whenever,” repeats Dick. “This place is as good as yours. You’re over here all the time anyway.”

Suddenly, she can’t breathe. “You’re serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She can’t meet his eyes. “W—Will’s home is in Star City. He’s not going to move.”

Slowly, Dick says, “Okay. But my offer doesn’t really depend on Will.”

Her stuff is still in boxes. She’s still paying for a storage unit almost 3,000 miles away. And Dick is waiting on her so intently it makes her chest hurt.

Artemis stands up. “We’re not doing this.”

Dick’s eyebrows rise. Annoyance, or maybe anger, flickers across his face. “You wanna fill me in on what exactly it is we’re doing, according to you?”

“We’re not going to fight about this like we’re…”  In a relationship. In love. In anything other than a messy configuration started by shared grief. She doesn’t say any of it out loud, but she doesn’t need to—Dick’s always been great at reading people, and he’s known all her tells from the start.

“Right.”  The single syllable comes out as cold and pointed as an icicle. He pushes his chair back from the table and stands up. The clouds are rolling in, throwing shadows across his features. Even now, Artemis wants to kiss him, wants to be the one to smooth the furrow between his eyebrows away.

“Dick…”

“Do me a favor, will you?” Dick grabs his jacket from the hook by his door, shrugging it on. He pauses, briefly, in the doorway. “Lock my door on the way out.”  

That night, she lies alone in her bedroom next to the picture of her, Wally, and Brucely. Brucely snuffles at the foot of her bed and then leaps onto the covers, and this time she doesn’t shoo him off. Neither does she fall asleep.

 *

 There was a song Jade had liked to sing, passed down from their mother: a Vietnamese lullaby about a yellow butterfly, to the tune of “Frère Jacques.” The butterfly flies all over the sky. Come and see. Come and see. When it became clear that Artemis’s hair would grow in blond, not black, Jade started pulling it, making her giggle. You’re the yellow butterfly, see?

The taxicab she calls for the airport is bright yellow in the morning light. Plain old civilian travel for plain old civilian business. You don’t need to be a superhero to fly across the country and move in with your brother-in-law and your niece. She’ll sing silly little songs and wash Lian’s hair, and they’ll be a family same as anyone else’s: clumsy, incomplete.

“Artemis.” Dick coalesces out of the fog. They haven’t seen or spoken to each other in a week, and she should be mad that he’s here because it probably means he’s been monitoring her web traffic and caught wind she’d bought plane tickets. Still, all she feels is relief.

Jade had laughed when Artemis had let slip what she was doing during one rare sisterly bonding moment. “Oh, darling sister, your thing with your little bird boy isn’t about moving on. You’re using him as a holding pattern. Try not to damage him too much, hm?” Rankled, Artemis had hung up the phone—what did Jade know about anything, besides shoving it under the rug and pretending it didn’t matter? Now, though, Artemis sees things more clearly. Jade did know something about bodies and what they could and couldn’t fix; after all, isn’t that why she ran?

She worries with the strap of her duffel bag, letting Dick approach.

“If this were a romcom, you would have waited until I got to the airport and then run through security.”

“If this were a romcom,” says Dick, stopping in front of her and shoving his hands in his pockets, “I’d be trying to make you stay.”

She thinks he might be the one person left on this planet who knows her best. She thinks they could save each other, if they’d let themselves try. But they each have work to do on their own, first.

Setting down her bag, she tucks her face into the crook of his neck and breathes him in. Wherever else she goes, this spot will always feel like forgiveness. Nose buried in her hair, Dick squeezes her back.

The taxi driver rolls down his window. “Is this guy coming with us or not?”

Artemis pulls back, and there’s so much sky in Dick’s eyes.

“You know where to find me,” she says.

 *

 | STAR CITY

| JULY 29, 2018; 7:30 AM PST

 “Who are you here to recruit this time?” Will asks, leaning against the doorframe, but Artemis doesn’t need an answer, doesn’t need any details but the black hair she can see just over Will’s shoulder, Dick’s voice at the end of a line.

He jumps, and she jumps with him. They’ll figure out everything else as they go.

Before Dick can respond, she says: “I’m in.”

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Manhattan Sunsets

Pairing: Arvin Russel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Arvin gets stationed in Brooklyn after a tour in Vietnam but had never really gone into the city before. When he does, he meets Y/N, who makes it a point to get this small town boy to see the city. (Requested by @euphoriaoxygen​)

Warnings: Brief mentions of PTSD from the war

Word Count: 3950

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out. I killed my computer, had to buy a new one, and then I had to catch up on school but I’m hoping to get more fics out. 

________________________________

When Arvin left Knockemstiff, he had no idea what he was planning to do with his life. What could he do? He murdered four people. The idea alone left him feeling sick to his stomach but he knew that at the end of the day, that was exactly what had happened. It wasn’t that he regretted any of it. Preston Teagarden had to pay for his role in Lenora’s suicide and the harm of who knows how many other girls. Carl, Sandy, and Sheriff Lee were all going to kill him first. He knew at least the last three were self-defense, but what did the police think? 

A few weeks had gone by since he left Knockemstiff, traveling to Cincinnati with that nice fella that had given him a ride. Those weeks had given him time to really sit and think about his future. That was when he realized that he didn’t really have plans. His entire life, he told himself he’d get out of Coal Creek eventually. The last thing he wanted to do was die in that little God forsaken town but, beyond that, he didn’t really know. He honestly figured that his life would begin whenever his grandmother and Uncle Earskell passed away so they didn’t need him to care for them anymore. That was all out of the cards now, though, knowing that he’d endanger them just by going back. 

On Tuesday of the third week, he found himself at a recruiter’s office in Fort Thomas, Kentucky, enlisting for the army. If he was being honest with himself, even as he signed the papers, he knew he didn’t want to go overseas. The Vietnam War was one that practically nobody supported, including Arvin. He never understood why the U.S. felt the need to be involved in a battle that had literally nothing to do with us but the army came with a bed to sleep in, food to eat, a paycheck, and some benefits after (if) you got out. All of those were things that Arvin desperately needed. 

Basic training was a breeze. He’d been hardened by years of manual labor, both around his grandmother’s farm and doing construction around town. The other men had initially poked fun at him for his accent and his seemingly smaller stature compared to some of the 6’0”+ giants. That all stopped though the first time they saw him shed his shirt, revealing a rippling six pack of abs beneath taught skin and arms that had definitely seen more work than half of these bigger men. 

After basic training, he found himself stationed at Fort Hamilton Army Base in Brooklyn, NY. The army life was pretty close to what he’d imagined: rigorous, demanding, exhausting. Shortly after “settling in” at Fort Hamilton (if you can call being there for two weeks “settling in”), he was deployed across seas to fight in the battle of Ia Drang Valley before returning shortly after. 

It was a Saturday morning and Arvin found himself picking through his food like he did every morning. With a heavy sigh, he set down his meal pack. 

“You alright?” Willard Kast, one of his friends that had survived Ia Drang with him, asked from across the table. 

Arvin began to nod but it turned more into a head shake, “Ya ever just feel like everythin’s the same?” 

Kast laughed, “Well, yeah,” He said as if it was obvious, “They don’t exactly have us here to have fun.” 

“Yeah, but I… I don’t know. Guess I just sorta feel like my life is going on around me but I’m not goin’ with it.” Arvin was never known to be the person who actually spoke about his feelings. For some reason though, this war had just brought out a sudden mortality crisis of sorts. Every time he thought back to those memories of everyone he’d lost, whether it be his mother, father, dog, sister, or war buddies, the dead, blank eyes that stared back at him only seemed to be ghosts of lives still unlived. He didn’t want to be haunted by those same spirits. 

Kast smacked Arvin’s arm and beckoned for him to stand up, “Alright, you, up. Now. You’re getting off base today.” 

“I don’t even know where I’d go if I left.” Arvin huffed, standing up. 

“That’s the fun of it. Just go! Get out of this God forsaken place. See what you find.” Kast had always been oddly upbeat, especially compared to all the people Arvin had ever known growing up. Maybe it was the fact that anything Arvin had ever done felt like an accumulation of negativity so that it felt like there was no “fun in it” as Kast would put it. His friend noticed his hesitation before adding, “You do know what fun is, right?” 

Arvin chuckled a little bit, “Honestly, I don’t know if I do.” 

Within the hour, Arvin found himself dressed in civilian clothes for the first time in a while, a plain white t-shirt with blue jeans and some old, beat-up, black converse with his denim jacket slung over his shoulders. It was getting into autumn now and, though the sun still shone, there was a chill in the breeze. 

Once he stepped off base, he started on his aimless wandering down the streets. Arvin looked up in awe at the tenements and office buildings, sometimes built over restaurants or drug stores. Even though he'd been stationed in Brooklyn for a little while now, he'd never actually taken the time to explore the city. This small town boy was almost overwhelmed. 

Horns of vehicles beeped occasionally and trains roared overhead on raised tracks. On many streets, kids played with balls or some version of baseball with a busted off plank of wood instead of a real bat. Some others were running around just playing tag. A small smile upturned the corner of his lips as he watched them laugh out of the corner of his eye. He wished he'd had something like this growing up. Friends.  

Off to his left, a drug store caught his eye and he dipped in to grab a pack of cigarettes. They didn’t have anything fancy, not that he needed anything that was. Just a pack of the most mediocre selection they had was what he’d left with, lighting one up as he continued his stroll down the street. 

He kept his baseball cap down low, trying to blend in with the rest of the passerby. Arvin had never been one for calling attention to himself. Even in a new place, like Brooklyn, he figured passing through unnoticed would be the best way to go. 

“Mother fu- Just work!” 

Arvin hadn’t had his curiosity piqued by much on this stroll through the city but the disgruntled groans of a girl definitely drew his attention. He slowed his walk just slightly and looked around for the root of the complaints. There was a group of kids playing jacks to his right on the steps leading into a tenement but it was clear that they weren’t the angry woman in question. 

Just ahead, to his left, a car was pulled off to the side of the street and you popped up from the front right side of your car, an annoyed look on your face. You pressed against the car and leaned back, stretching your back out for a moment, before kicking what he assumed to be the tire with a frustrated outcry. 

“Okay, okay…” You breathed, trying to calm down, an almost hysterically frustrated smile on your face, like when you’re so mad that you have no choice but to laugh because, if you don’t, you’re going to punch a wall. Again, you disappeared, crouching back down. Arvin couldn’t see what you were doing but judging by the dragging of metal, he assumed you were trying to fix a tire. 

Arvin approached the back of your car to see you knelt down, the knees of your flare jeans rubbed black from the pavement. You were leaning with all your might onto a bar that curved and hooked onto the bolts on your very flat tire. However, he was impressed to see the jack placed properly and already up in the right position- not that it was a woman thing…. He’d just seen plenty of idiots place the jack in the wrong place. 

“Sorry to bother but you look like you could use a hand.” Arvin offered politely, stepping closer. 

You turned to look at him with a start, not expecting anyone to speak. Arvin couldn’t help the small smile that crept on his face when he noticed the smear of grease across your cheek. Hair stuck up astray in a few places from you brushing it back and out of your face. 

It had always been a goal of yours to not need a man. You’d seen plenty of women in your life dependent on their husbands, daddies, and brothers to do everything for them and then seen them lose everything when they realized all they could do was cook and clean. Not to discredit cooking and cleaning as valuable life skills, because they absolutely were, but you were not going to be some damsel in distress whenever you needed an oil change or got a flat tire. 

But, as much as you hated to admit it, these bolts were giving you a run for your money. After having been at this for nearly twenty minutes to no avail, you sighed in defeat, “I mean, if you wouldn’t mind giving it a try, that would be real nice. I’ve been working at it for nearly twenty minutes and nothing.” 

“Here,” Arvin reached his hand out for the pull bar and you stepped aside to allow him room. He notched the socket over the bolt and pushed, trying to crack the bolt. You definitely weren’t exaggerating. Whoever put this on had done a number tightening it. Arvin tried again, leaning into the bar. The denim of his jacket tightened around his flexing muscles as he did so until, finally, it cracked loose and the bolt gave way, twisting. 

With a wipe of your hand across your face, you sighed. It took all your might to (unsuccessfully) not imagine the way this man’s muscles must have been bulging beneath his jacket as he cranked the bar. 

Once it cracked loose, it was easy work to get the bolt off. By the time Arvin had arrived, you’d already managed to get all but two bolts off so he continued to work on the last one without you asking. 

“Oh- I can get that!” You interjected, leaning down to go to grab the bar back. 

Arvin stood up and shook his head, “No, no, it’s no problem. I’m glad to help.” 

When he returned to turning the bolts, you took a step back, brow cocked and arms crossed, “You’re not from around here, are you?” 

The bolt clanged to the ground with a metal clink and Arvin knelt down to shimmy the tire off, “Is it that obvious?” He chuckled, looking up at you as he rolled it to the side. You’d already had the spare ready to go right beside the old one and he grabbed it, wiggling it into place. 

You chuckled, “People don’t really go out of their way to help strangers here. And I like the accent. It’s cute. You from Tennessee or something?” 

Arvin froze up. Should he tell you? What were the chances of you knowing anything relating to the issues of his past? “Ohio.” 

“I didn’t know you guys had accents back there.” You leaned against the side of the car, watching him work on the tire for you. 

He tightened up the bolts all within the tire, “Depends on where you live, I guess.” Arvin pressed himself up, wiping his hands on his jeans as he did, “There ya go. You should be all set.” 

You stood up straight and ran your hands on your striped brown, black, and white turtleneck, your face contorting in annoyance when you realized you smeared grease on your favorite sweater. Arvin smirked a little when he noticed the action. 

You were pretty cute. Arvin felt a little confused. Girls back in Coal Creek had never really caught his eye. They were all so similar, just slight variations of each other. There were the hyper-religious good girls but they all reminded him too much of his sister. Either that or they were the girls who hung out with boys like Gene Dinwoodie and that was just a whole crowd that Arvin had no intention of associated with. 

“You really didn’t have to do all that… but thank you for the help.” Your hands rubbed together, the faint black debris marking your fingers. “I have a few bucks. Let me buy you a coffee or something as a thank you?” 

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that.” Arvin readjusted his hat on his head. 

“Please, I insist. You just changed my tire.” You pressed, tucking your hand into your back pocket and crossing your ankles as you leaned against the car. Arvin stood a little closer to you, still a polite distance away, but there was a way he looked down at you that just made butterflies go through your stomach. 

Maybe this was what Kast meant. Maybe this was some of that life he should be living, that adventure he should be having. “Alright. But I don’t really know where anything is around here so….” 

“Don’t worry, I got you.” You smiled, “I know a place a few blocks away if you’re up for it? They have some pretty good pie too. Oh, and I’m Y/N by the way.” 

Nerves bubbled in Arvin’s stomach but something made him nod his head, almost against his will, “Arvin,” He nodded a small greeting, “And, yeah, that sounds nice.” 

With a smile, you tapped on the hood of your car and nodded your head over to the passenger side, “It’s not too far but it’s kind of cold. I’d rather drive personally but we can walk if you’re more comfortable with that.” 

The offer took Arvin back to his time hitchhiking his way out of Coal Creek and Knockemstiff. There had been a few bad experiences with handsy truckers and women who’d picked him up but they didn’t erase the memory of his first pick-up with Carl and Sandy. We all know how that ended… 

But he’d made it out of all of those situations, even if just barely, and he honestly didn’t feel uneasy around you. There was an endearing, hardworking, down-to-earth yet friendly energy you gave off that managed to put Arvin at ease. Before he knew it, he was sitting in the front seat of your car as you sped off down the road. 

The day had passed quickly with you and before Arvin knew it, it was already almost sunset. Coffee and pie had turned into a two hour long stay with the two of you talking about life which had in turn turned into a stroll through the city. 

He’d told you about how he had some family issues growing up and left his hometown to join the army. Your exact response was, “I’d say thank you for your service but I don’t exactly support the war if I’m being honest.” 

Arvin sipped his coffee and raised his eyebrows exasperatedly, “Neither do I.”

You told him about how you had been born and raised in Brooklyn, working at a local record shop to save up for a place of your own. You told him all about your career goals and how you wanted to find somewhere you felt like you really belonged. Brooklyn was your home, it always would be, but you felt like there was something else out there for you. 

Talking to you was easy- easier than anyone since Arvin’s mother. He couldn’t explain it but the quiet, secretive boy found himself at ease with you, not only willing to but wanting to open up to you. Maybe it was the adorable way you made it a point to smell your coffee before you drank it, taking in the comforting, rich scent, or maybe it was residue of grease still on your shirt. Arvin couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but he was attracted to you in a way he hadn’t been attracted to anyone in his entire life. 

“Hey,” You perked up, “You said you’ve never really left base, right?” 

Arvin nodded, self-conscious about his lack of adventurous spirit, as Kast would put it, “Unfortunately.” 

“You need to do all the stupid tourist things in New York.” You hit the countertop excitedly, as if the grandest idea anyone had ever had had occurred o you. 

Arvin’s face scrunched up and he shook his head, looking away, “Nah, that ain’t really my thing.” 

“C’mon,” You pressed, holding onto his forearm enthusiastically, “I’m not saying you gotta go stand around and get mugged in Time Square or anything but I think you should experience the city while you’re out here!” 

Sightseeing had never interested Arvin. Hell, he never really even thought he’d make it out of Coal Creek, if he was being honest with himself. Even if he did, he just expected to end up in some other shit hole town that was the same with different people. He never really put much thought into what he wanted to do. His mind had just been so consumed with what he needed to do. 

Arvin swivelled in his chair to face you, “Well what would you suggest that a newcomer go see here?” 

It didn’t take you long at all to think up an idea, “Can you stay out till sunset?” 

_____ 

Manhattan was definitely a different feel from Brooklyn. Arvin felt almost anxious here with all the cars and people and whatnot. He thought the army base was crowded but that was nothing compared to the bustle of the heart of New York City. Skyscrapers dwarfed neighboring buildings, casting shadows that somehow made Arvin feel miniscule in comparison. 

“Here we are!” You exclaimed excitedly, disappearing through the revolving door of a classy looking building. Arvin followed you inside, meeting with you in the large main room. There was a window with a man behind it that you approached, “Two tickets to the top please.” You dug into your small white purse and pulled out a few bills and handed them to the man in exchange for tickets. 

“Wait, what’re you buyin’?” Arvin stepped over to you, about to interject the transaction. The last thing he wanted was you spending more money on him.  

“Tickets.” You said as if it were obvious.

“To what?” He asked, confused. 

You turned around, two tickets in hand, with a smile, “Do you not know where we are yet?” Arvin slowly shook his head, wondering why he was supposed to. “We’re at the Empire State Building!” 

Arvin had heard of the building, even seen pictures of it in a history book one time, but he really didn’t know much about it. Big cities had never been his interest but seeing the way your eyes lit up with excitement to show him made all reservations melt. 

The elevator ride up was nerve wracking to say the least. It wasn’t severe but Arvin had developed minor PTSD from the war. He’d seen many men get killed or trapped, dragged away and unable to escape. This metal death box traveling up hundreds of stories made him feel trapped. He hadn’t noticed that he started rocking back and forth on his heels, gripping his own biceps, until you put a gentle hand on his arm, “You okay?” 

With a shaky breath, Arvin nodded and put on a smile, “Yeah. Elevators just make me kinda nervous.” 

The elevator stopped at one level but you dragged him up several flights of stairs to get to the very top where you could stand on the balcony. 

It was fairly busy but not unenjoyably so. “Okay, come over here!” Yet again, Arvin found himself being led by you to the very edge, leaning on the high railing. “What do you think?” 

It was breathtaking, beyond anything Arvin had ever seen. The sun was now setting, casting a warm orange-pink hugh on the city. The buildings and streets were illuminated with tiny lights, creating a sea of little flickering stars. In the far distance, the ocean stretched on for miles. Even the sky was beginning to try and match the city, though the few stars that were beginning to peek through the sunset were nearly drowned out by the light of the city. 

“It’s amazin’.” Arvin sighed out, almost overwhelmed. So this was the world outside of Coal Creek?

“Isn’t it something?” Arvin glanced down to see you looking down at the city with such adoration. A warm, orange glow cast across your face, accenting every beautiful feature. But then you turned to face him and he nearly stopped breathing. He knew from the first moment he met you that you were an attractive woman but you looked absolutely radiant now. 

Tension began to rise when you realized how close you were to the man. Your hips were almost touching as you stood side by side. Your hands were mere centimeters apart on the safety railing. 

Arvin could have gotten lost in your eyes but you tore your gaze away, returning it to the city. Instead, you slowly inched your hand towards his until your fingers touched his, testing the waters. He tensed up, looking down to see your fingers nudging his. He glanced back over at you to see your eyes flick questioningly to his. 

Arvin closed the gap between you, intertwining his fingers with yours. Your heart fluttered out of your chest when you felt him pull you ever so slightly closer to him. Your head rested on his shoulder and your free hand came up to grab his arm. 

“Y’know, if changing strangers’ tires is gonna turn out like this, I’m gonna have to start doin’ it more often.” He teased but his voice sounded sincere. Of all the possibilities that today had, this was not one that he had imagined when he left base this morning. Holding onto a beautiful girl at the top of the Empire State Building seemed like something out of a movie, not something that happened to real people. 

The sun fully set and the stars came out, rivaling the city lights in a display of firework-like sparkles. The full moon acted almost as a spot light in the dark sky, drawing your attention. Arvin had no idea how long the two of you had been standing there but he felt like he could stand there for forever. 

Eventually, you shifted against his side and your voice popped up, soft and quiet, “Hey, Arvin?” 

“Hm?” 

“Maybe we can see each other again?” You twisted in his grasp, which had now traveled to be around your shoulders. Now you looked straight up at him, faces only a small distance apart. 

The corners of Arvin’s lips turned up, “I’d like that.” 

Your arms were wrapped around his torso and his arms were encasing your body, resting on your upper back. Arvin’s eyes flicked from your lips to your eyes and back down again, as if asking for permission before going in. Both of you slowly inched towards each other before your lips touched in the middle. His lips were surprisingly soft and gentle against yours in the sweet, slow kiss. 

When you pulled away, neither of you opened your eyes for a few moments, just resting your foreheads against each other. “Call me a fool for falling for a girl I just met but I think I like you.” Arvin admitted with a satisfied smile, pulling you closer to him. 

[f0xfordcomma]

re:union (kataang week 2021) DAY SEVEN

prompt: the sea and the sky

re:union

chapter seven: reunions

rating: T

words: 2529

summary: "He had fought hard for this unity. Had spent countless hours in courtrooms and offices arguing with dignitaries and representatives about the benefits of a United Republic. He had spent long nights drafting up documents and looking over contracts. He had dreamed of finally seeing this day, finally seeing this unity. All he could see tonight though, was a yellow flower drifting around the crowded room on an intricately braided head of ochre hair."

read it on ao3

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chapter seven: reunions

By the time Aang had handled Councilman Zhu’s dumpling crisis, he had lost track of Katara.

“She went to get changed for the feast,” a familiar, though deeper than he remembered, voice sounded from behind him.

“Sokka!”

“Hey buddy! It’s good to see you.”

They squeezed each other in a bone-crushing hug. The first one, Aang realized, he had gotten since his return. Aang held on a little harder at the thought.

“Where’s Suki?”

“Getting ready with the rest of the warriors. They are playing a special part in the performance tonight.”

“Wow! I can’t wait to see that!”

“Heh��yeah, me too.” Sokka’s voice went somewhere dreamy. “But, uh, I think it’ll be hard to watch with your head buried in my shoulder like this…”

“Oh right! Sorry… just happy to see you.”

“I missed you too buddy.” Sokka squeezed Aang’s shoulder reassuringly. “Now, you should go get ready! Can’t have the guest of honor stinking up the place tonight.”

“Guest of honor…” Aang grumbled, rolling his eyes in exasperation at Zhu’s exuberance. Still, he broke away from Sokka, giving him a nod as he made his way towards the room’s egress.

“Oh, and Aang?” called Sokka from near the food tables where he was stealing an hor’s d'oeuvre from under a cloche. “She’s not seeing anybody, in case you were wondering.”

Aang stopped still, his ears burned, his head swam. He hadn’t realized how much the question was plaguing him until he had heard it vocalized. She’s still single. There’s still time. He had let her go once, had regretted it every day since. She’s still single. He had no idea if she still wanted him the way he wanted her. But she’s still single. He resolved to try and change that fact by the end of the night.

He opened his mouth to speak but only a low whine came out. He cleared his throat but ended up coughing around the words as he forced them out. “I—is that… is that so?”

“It is.” Sokka snorted.

“That’s uh… thanks Sokka!” Aang shouted in salutation as he rushed out the door, needing to hide his burning blush and, as everyone had insisted, finally get cleaned up.

⬭

He wore a new set of robes. The pants dyed a dark amber with northern saffron. The belt and sash a sunny terra-cotta color that complimented the blue of his tattoos.

He surveyed his face in the mirror, taking in the scruff along his jawline, the tan around his temples, the laugh lines near his lips. He hadn’t spent much time looking at himself over the past few years, hadn’t had a mirror at any of the temples. The only time he would look at his reflection was when shaving his head, and even then, the refraction of the water made it difficult to examine his countenance with any detail.

Aang had never much minded the way that he looked--hadn’t had much use for vanity when living with the monks, hadn’t had much time for insecurity when running from the fire nation, hadn’t had much need for self-consciousness when being loved by Katara--he’d always thought his face was friendly enough, his body was strong enough. Something about looking at himself now though, fully a man, strong and steady and serene in a way that he’d never seen himself before, made his chest swell with confidence.

“I look good, huh buddy?” He directed the question to Momo, who had joined him in his room after an afternoon spent swooping around Cranefish City in search, no doubt, of sweets from strangers.

In reply, the lemur flew over to perch on his shoulder, scratching through the stubble on Aang’s chin with a squawk.

“You really think she’ll like it?” He scratched Momo between the ears and produced a plum from the pocket of his pants.

Momo took the fruit eagerly between his paws and greedily gobbled it down.

“Aw buddy, you flatter me.”

“Well babe,” a feminine voice dripping with thinly veiled amusement sounded from behind him, “it looks like we’ve officially lost him.”

“You’d think so, but he’s been talking to the lemur like that for as long as I’ve known him.”

“So what you’re telling me is, he has always been insane?”

“Pretty much.”

Aang’s face was beet red (he had lost count, at this point, as to how many times this had happened today) as he spun on his heel to face the Firelord and Firelady, who were standing in his doorway in their formal robes and appraising him with mirth-filled expressions.

“Uh, hey guys… how, uh… how long have you been standing there?”

“Oh, long enough, hot stuff.” Mai shot him a wry smile with a raised eyebrow before turning and pecking her husband on the cheek quickly as she took her leave. “I’m going to go make sure the kids are ready. We leave in ten, boys.”

Once Mai was out of earshot, Zuko burst into laughter and walked over to throw an arm around Aang. “Anything you want to talk about there, Aang?”

“Yeah! Why is it that I don’t see any of you for three whole years, and the first thing anyone does is tease me.”

“That’s not true! The first thing I did was put you on babysitting duty.”

“You’re not funny, Zuko.”

“Hey! Now who’s teasing whom?”

Aang scowled. Zuko, trying to school his face into a slightly more serious expression, straightened up and stalked a few paces across the small room.

“I’m going to give you some unsolicited advice because Uncle isn’t here to do it for me.” Zuko pantomimed stroking his beard and affected a strong accent that, ultimately, sounded nothing like Iroh. “Follow your heart.”

“Follow my heart? That’s it? No tea metaphors? No floral imagery? You make a pretty rotten Iroh, Zuko.”

“Hey, I tried.” Zuko shrugged. “I don’t know, man. You’re still in love with Katara, right?”

Aang flushed but nodded his head, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Are you going to do something about it?”

Aang met Zuko’s eyes determinedly and nodded again.

“Good. You’d better.”

“Thanks Zuko.”

“Any time. By the way? I agree with Momo, the beard really suits you.” At that, Zuko strode out of the room, chuckling softly to himself.

⬭

“So, Sugar Queen,” Toph plopped herself on Katara’s bed with a huff, swinging her bare feet up to rest on the adjacent wall so she could still feel what was happening. “You seemed pretty cozy with our Prodigal Son back there. Locked that down yet?”

“Toph!” Katara spluttered, pulling her paintbrush away from her lips.

“That’s a no, then?”

“Wha--no, not a… he just got back! And I don’t even know if… it’s none of your business, anyway.”

“Right, right. So you guys haven’t talked about your feelings, like, at all, yet? What the heck was all that flirting on the beach then?”

“What flirting? We were just hanging out. As friends! Being friendly! We were friends before we were ever anything else, Toph. You know that!”

“Uh huh, uh huh. Good point, Katara. Your definition of ‘friendly’ has always been a little bit off when it comes to Aang…”

“Toph! I will kick you out.”

“No, you won’t. Want to know why?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”

“You know me so well, Sweetness. And you aren’t going to kick me out because I know you very well and if I’m not here in, oh, seven minutes when you inevitably start second guessing yourself, to give you one of my patented Toph Beifong pep talks, you are going to freak out.”

Katara grumbled something crass under her breath and scowled at Toph’s reflection in the mirror, but ultimately, she knew her friend was right, so she obliged the company while she finished putting on her makeup.

Katara rarely wore makeup. It hadn’t really been a custom among the women in the Southern Water Tribe growing up, and during the war there hadn’t been time to worry over such trivialities. Afterwards, though, she had been the victim of many a makeover by Ty Lee. Had been the guest at many formal galas that required a bit of dressing up. Had been gifted a set of Kyoshi warrior paints by Suki. Had spent an afternoon wandering around the market in Caldera hunting down the exact right shade of lipstick with Mai and learning everything that she could possibly hope to know about knife maintenance.

Aang had always gotten incredibly flustered around her when she wore makeup. That was, perhaps, her favorite part of the process.

It had been years since she had put any makeup on her face. Her face was different now. Her eyes crinkled a bit at the corners when she smiled, her cheeks were less plump, more defined, her lips were fuller—perhaps the lipstick made her lips look too full? Perhaps it wasn’t the same color that she had used that one night in Omashu when Aang had ended up wearing more of it than she had? Perhaps she should wear something pinker? Redder? What had Mai said about skin undertones?

“You look fine.”

“You really think so, Toph?”

“No idea.” Toph deadpanned. “But I’m sure that even if you look like an armadillo-hog, Aang will still forget his own name when he sees you. That is your goal with the facepaint, right?”

“Uh…”

“Of course it is, don’t try to lie to me, Sweetness. Listen, I know two things: that boy’s heartbeat has always only ever been impacted by you, and a lot of other men have also had hammering heartbeats when they talk to you. Wanna know what that tells me? You ain’t ugly. In fact, I assume you’re pretty hot. So, chin up, shoulders back, let’s go get you your man back.”

Katara spluttered and blushed. “Oh… uh, okay.”

“You don’t sound confident yet. You are still in love with him, right?”

“Yes.” She whispered.

“Obviously. Then get your pretty little butt out of here and go do something about it. Chop chop, girly!” Toph, still laying on Katara’s bed, started snapping at her while she squared her shoulders in the mirror and gave herself one more once over, nodding at her reflection and resolving to talk to Aang as soon as she had the chance.

“Right. Okay. I can do this. Thank you, Toph.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“Aren’t you coming?”

“Eh, yeah… I told Yugi to meet me here so we can head over together. Or wait… was it Satoru? Toklo? I don’t know, some guy is picking me up. Can’t show up to a stuffy formal function without someone to talk to all the boring people for me, now can I?”

“You do know all of your friends are going to be there tonight, right?”

“I said what I said.”

Katara rolled her eyes as she hurried past Toph and prepared to leave. “Whatever, just lock up when you leave, okay? Mrs. Shao is out tonight so I’m the last one in the house.”

⬭

The ballroom was lavishly decorated. The colors of all four nations draped around the room in every detail. Tapestries hung on the walls with the new seal of Republic City, flanked on either side by the insignias of the four nations. The tables were lined with dishes from across the world. The floral arrangements featured regional blooms from all over. In a ballroom in a government building in a sleepy corner of the Earth Kingdom continent, the entire world was united in one beautiful display.

He had fought hard for this unity. Had spent countless hours in courtrooms and offices arguing with dignitaries and representatives about the benefits of a United Republic. He had spent long nights drafting up documents and looking over contracts. He had dreamed of finally seeing this day, finally seeing this unity. All he could see tonight though, was a yellow flower drifting around the crowded room on an intricately braided head of ochre hair.

From his seat onstage next to Zuko, he watched her make her way around the room hugging and smiling and laughing and chatting. Her sleeveless blue dress was modern but carried traditional nods to her water tribe roots. Her lips were a dark cherry red. Her hair was braided. He had braided it. A yellow flower sat at her crown and winked sunshine at him whenever she turned her head. She was beautiful. Of course, he already knew that. But she was beautiful.

“Aang? Hello… Aang??”

“Huh, what?” Aang was drawn from his stupor when Zuko nudged him with his elbow.

“You’re up.”

“Oh.”

Zhu introduced him. He somehow made a speech. There was roaring applause.  Her eyes were blue, her lips were red, the flower was yellow. She was blushing.

He took his seat next to Zuko. Her eyes were blue . There were performances. Her lips were red . Suki shot finger guns at him in greeting as she and her warriors took the stage. The flower was yellow. Music started up and the gathered crowd dispersed to make way for dancing. She was blushing.

“Excuse me.” He rushed off-stage and into the crowd, chasing a glimpse of yellow in ochre, a swish of blue chiffon. She was pushing her way through the crowd, too. Her eyes were blue. “Katara, I--”

“Dance with me?”

She was offering him a hand. The tsungi horn rang out a familiar song. He took it. “Of course.”

They knew this dance by muscle memory. It was as familiar as their own names, as each other’s name. He flew around her in swirls. She swam around him on waves. They were the sea and the sky and there could not be one without the other. He lifted her, she spun around him. He dipped her, she glowed. She was the sun and he was the moon. She illuminated his sky. He compelled her tides.

The music ended. They were breathing heavy, faces inches apart, hearts still hammering the now silent drum beat.

“Can we go somewhere?”

⬭

The sound of the party flooded the streets of Republic City. Everyone seemed in good spirits, bustling about in a dance as they went about their evening errands. The cicada-crickets sang along to the Tsungi horn. The air was hot, heavy with humidity. They watched the waves from a rooftop. Their hands were intertwined.

Out across the bay, the sea and the sky collided in a canvas of colors. The green and yellow and red and orange of twilight reflected on the water’s dusky blue blue blue. The colors blurred together, obscuring the horizon line, obscuring the separation between their two elements. Out here, there was no sea, no sky. No air, no water. No Aang, no Katara. Just them. Just together. Just finally.

They made promises to each other. They held on. They did not let go.

“Sweetie?”

“Hmm?”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

He had to lean every so slightly down to kiss her.

Her hands in his hands.

Blue. Grey.

Sea. Sky.

Their city had a new name.

They were here.

They were home.

⬭

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It's done! It's done!

So sorry for the delay in posting this! I could've squeezed it out yesterday but didn't feel like doing so would wrap up all the things the way that I wanted to so I needed to take a bit more time on it and, obviously, this chapter grew to be quite a bit larger than the others.

I have had SO MUCH FUN participating in Kataang week this year and hope to do it again next year maybe? Also I /might/ have a little storm brewing for Maiko week so... be on the lookout for that at some point?

The love and support that I've gotten for this fic this week? OH MY GOD like wow it's been so lovely! Thank you all for reading.

And a million thanks to @foxy-knowledgeseeker for being an absolute angel and beta-ing this sucker for me. I'm gonna apologize for my choas just once more. (Sorry! Thank you!)

Bwah! Okay, time for a nap <3

@kataang-week

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

[fictionalabyss]

SinfullySlick

Pairing : Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Sam (unspecified)

Word count : 1,221

Written for : @spnabobingo​

Square : selling slick.

Warnings : A/B/O dynamics, buying/selling slick, slick as lube, masturbation, oncoming rut, sex toys mentioned.

Masterlist • Patreon • Ko-fi.

SPN A/B/O Bingo Round 5 Masterlist.

“Any packages?” Dean asked as Sam returned from a run into town.

“No. Why, you waiting for something again? What the hell do you keep ordering?”

“Nothing. Shut up. Mind your business.”

“Dean-”

“I’ll check tomorrow.” Dean left the war room and headed off down a hall.

Sam sighed. This has been happening for a few months now. Dean would get antsy about a package coming, and then when he finally got it, he’d disappear and Sam would never find out what it was. He was curious what his brother was getting, wondered if it was some kind of subscription box since it seemed to come pretty regularly. It was obviously something embarrassing that he didn’t want Sam knowing about. Henati? No, Dean didn’t pay for porn. Figures? Where would he even hide them? “Hmm.” he shook his head and headed towards the kitchen with the bags.

“What do you got for me today.” Dean mumbled as he pulled out the key for his PO box and placed it in the lock. “Please please please.. Yes!”  he pulled out the slip that let him know a delivery came. Locking the box, he headed for the counter with a grin.

He handed over the slip, his ID, and waited, fingers drumming on the counter top as the employee headed for the back.

“Here you go.” The small brown box was placed on the counter. “Anything else I do for you?”

“Sweet. No, man, thanks a million. Have a good one.”

“Yeah,  you too.”

Dean tucked his ID back into his wallet, popping it back into his back pocket before scooping up his prize and exiting with a grin. 30 minutes later, he was parked in some overgrown field outside of town. He couldn’t go back to the bunker, not yet.

Licking his lips, reached over and brought the package into his lap. Pulling the pocket knife out of his jacket pocket, he cut through the tape before tossing the knife into the seat beside him for now. Opening the box, he began to gingerly peel back all the protective wrapping that kept the item safe. When he felt the bottle under his fingertips, he held his breath as he pulled it free and held it up to the sun, eyeing it for a moment before he brought it back down and finally, carefully, opened it and took a deep breath.

“Jesus fuck.” he groaned as the scent hit him and had him salivating in seconds. “So fucking good. Always so fucking good.” He was rock hard in his jeans in moments. He wanted to coat himself in it, hell, he wanted to bathe in it. Whoever the hell this girl was, her username was dead fucking on. SinfullySlick, and fuck was her slick sinful.

Licking his lips, he decided to chance it. Maybe he’d be able to sneak past Sam and hit the showers before he could smell a strange Omega’s scent on him. He closed the bottle back up, putting it in the box and putting that aside for a moment so he could get his jeans undone and free himself. Then he opened the bottle, poured a bit of slick into his hand and began to stroke himself.

“Fuck, yes.” his head went back with a groan. Taking a deep breath, he let the scent overtake him and growled. “Omega.”

“Dean-”

“No, Sam. Let’s just get this over with and get back home.” Dean’s rut was coming and Sam had dragged him out on a hunt. He was miserable. He wanted to be back home with his bottle of slick and his toy. Yeah, he had both of them with him, but as always the brothers shared a motel room and he didn’t need Sam knowing he was paying for slick like some loser who can’t get a date.

Sighing, Sam continued down the street walking alongside his brother until a group of women coming their way cut between them. Sam flashed a dimpled smile at one of them, and he got a wink and a giggle in return, making his smile widen. When he came out the other side, it took a minute for him to realize Dean wasn’t at his side anymore. “Dean?” Turning, he saw Dean had stopped and he was staring after the girls. “Look, I know your ruts coming, but that doesn’t mean you can-”

“Hey!” Dean called out, and the group of girls stopped. He had his eyes on one in particular, however. “Do I know you?”

“I don’t think so..”

“You smell.. You smell familiar.” Dean stepped closer and sniffed at the air. “I know you, you’re-”

“Guys, go ahead, I’ll catch up in a sec.” You cut him off. They asked if you were sure and you nodded as you moved closer to Dean.

“You’re SinfullySlick. I’d know that fucking smell anywhere.”

“Sinfully who?” Sam moved closer to you and his brother with a confused look on his face.

“Look, buddy, I don’t know who you are, but-”

“Impala67.” he put his hand to his chest and he felt his heart swell as recognition lit your eyes.

“Oh shit.. You’re like... my best customer..” a soft chuckle escaped your lips on a breath. “I gotta say, with all the money you spend, I did not expect you to be so..” you looked him up and down. “Hot.”

Dean’s smile widened at that, his sour mood from earlier completely gone as he took in how beautiful your smile was, how sweet your voice sounded to his ears. “Yeah, well.. You’re just as beautiful as I imagined.” He almost melted as your smile turned shy. “Where you headed?”

“Uh, bar. Lucky’s. Happy hour starts in about 20 minutes.”

“Want company?”

“I had company.” you teased, motioning to your friends continuing down the street before they disappeared around a corner.

“Want more?”

“Dean, you shouldn’t. You're about to hit your rut, it’s not a good idea.” Sam cut in.

“That’s why you rushed the order? Ruts coming up?” Dean nodded. You gave a soft chuckle. “When?”

“Maybe tomorrow, maybe day after.”

“What a coincidence. Heats due to hit in about two or three days. Probably why you were able to recognize me by scent.”

“Jesus..fuck.” Dean groaned.

“How about we meet up tomorrow night and I give you a fresh batch of slick for your rut. On the house. Nice and warm.”

“I could kiss you.” he groaned.

“I wouldn’t say no to it. Also wouldn’t say no to you coaxing the slick outta me.” you bit your bottom lip and took a step back from him. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, Impala.”

“Dean.” he called out. “My name’s Dean.”

“See you tomorrow night, Dean.” Turning from him, you started towards the bar and your friends, but couldn’t help glancing back at him.

Dean watched you go until you were out of sight and then he let out a sigh. “Okay, maybe I don’t hate you for dragging me out on this one.”

“Wait..” Sam held out his hand. “You buy slick?”

“Mhmm.” Dean nodded.

“From her..”

“Yeah.”

“And now-”

“And now I’m in a good mood, Sammy. That’s all that matters.” He clapped Sam on the chest and started back the way they had been heading. “Let’s get to work. I’ve got a hot date tomorrow.”

*If you like this, please consider supporting my work*

Tagging :  Dean - @akshi8278  @adoptdontshoppets   @evyiione @karikatz12481 @idksupernatural​

SPN -  @sandlee44​  @just-another-busy-fangirl​  @mrswhozeewhatsis​   @deanandsamsbitch​  @deans-baby-momma​  @thebescht​ @67-chevy-baby​ @supraveng​   @musiclovinchic93​ @holyfuckloueh​  @ksgeekgirl​   @hobby27​ @maddiepants​  @roxyspearing​ @onethirstyunicorn​    @fandom-princess-forevermore​     @kalesrebellion​   @deanwanddamons​

All tags - @sorenmarie87​ @artemisthebadger​ @winchesterprincessbride​ @iflostreturntosteverogers​ @akfonkin​ @rebelminxy​ @foxyjwls007​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @shaelyn102​ @supernaturalenchanted​  @kazkingdom​   @babypink224221​  @emoryhemsworth​    @ilovefanfic86​  @pie-with-hunters​   @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @lazinessisalliknow​  @feelmyroarrrr​  @letsdisneythings​   @cdwmtjb8​   @notyourtypicalrose​  @xostephanie​  @marvelmenmusicandroses @ilovedeanspie​ @defenderrosetyler​ @amandamdiehl​

[shesclearlya3]

Class Fight (p.1)

pairing: teen!dandy mott x teen!reader

word count: 3,303

warnings: language, jealous dandy, slightly au!dandy, all characters are 18

part 2 part 3

1.

It was the first semester of your Senior year. The first month of school had flown by, and the Fall dance was just a few weeks away. Your small group of girlfriends was anxiously awaiting for their crushes to ask them.

You weren’t particularly concerned with this. The dance fell on the one Saturday of the month where you had to accompany your mother to some stupid Tupperware party. It was the newest trend in American dining, and your mother needed you as her plus one. It wouldn’t hurt to miss one dance… right?

Your best friends Winter and Zoe were excited, but they were devastated you couldn’t come. You always went with them as a trio.

“Are you sure you couldn’t cancel?” Winter asked while you washed your hands in the bathroom sink. The school day was over, and you planned on accompanying her to the diner for greasy food and to catch up on homework.

“I already promised her weeks ago,” you said, drying your hands. “There’s still prom?”

Winter nodded in understanding, and you both knew it was the end of that discussion. Zoe came out of the stall, her face flushed and hair tied back. She looked clammy.

“You alright in there?” Winter asked her as Zoe took a disposable cup and drank some water.

“Kyle asked me to the dance!” Zoe replied breathlessly. You and Winter both congratulated her, and Winter asked why she looked so sick.

“I just got overwhelmed, you know? He came up and asked me right as I put my books away. I didn’t think he was going too, he never brought it up before-.”

You followed them out as Zoe recanted the story of how Kyle asked her. The halls were mostly cleared now as kids scrambled to leave as soon as possible.

“You’re riding with us, right?” Zoe then asked you, raising a neat eyebrow at you.

“Yes, Dandy probably left already.”

The girls both smirked to themselves, but you ignored it. You were used to it by now.

The thing was, Dandy Mott was the best looking guy in school, in your opinion. You had never attended a public school in your life, but you knew those boys could never compare. Dandy was from the wealthiest family in your private district, and with his looks, girls were all over him.

However, he was quite the character. 

Dandy didn’t necessarily associate with a particular group of kids. He was reticent and didn’t bother with any clubs, but he was quite attuned to the drama program. He was also known for his temper if things didn’t go his way, but age matured him, mostly. You were one of the few people who he actually gave a damn about in life. You attributed that to knowing him before school. Your grandfather was a business partner with the Mott family, where your family name found their wealth, and how you two were friends.

You weren’t bothered by the unwanted attention you got from girls attempting to weasel their way into your circle for the chance to talk to Dandy. Most of them gave up quickly, and that was that. Plus, you had Winter and Zoe as your protectors. They weren’t afraid to kick a bitch in the vagina if they overstepped the clear boundaries you had set for yourself. Dandy trusted you, and you weren’t about to fuck that up.

Plus, his mother, Gloria, was continually trying to set him up with girls in other parts of town. 

You climbed into Zoe’s new car, buckling your seatbelt and glancing across the almost deserted parking lot. You spotted him instantly, sitting in his car and staring right back. You slowly raised your hand, giving him a wave. Dandy slowly reciprocated the action, and you swore you saw him smile.

You spent the evening with the girls, eating dinner and trying to explain the symbolism in the required reading in English. The football team had finished their practice and were crowding what few booths and tables were left. You tried to block out their raucous laughter, loudly asking Zoe to read your theory to see if it were plausible. 

Winter had noticed the Quarterback, Jason, occasionally staring at you as he chewed his burger. Your back was to him, so you had no idea. She didn’t say anything, instead watching him from the corner of her eye, figuring he wouldn’t approach your table. 

“I just think it only makes sense to me,” you told Zoe, scratching your head. “I can’t concentrate with the boys screaming for no reason.”

“I think it makes perfect sense. You did misspell authority, though…”

You laughed to yourself, glancing around the diner as Zoe fixed your spelling. You were so distracted, you misspelled simple words. 

“We should get ready and go, it’s getting stuffy in here…” Winter commented, closing her English book. 

“Just a moment!” Zoe said excitedly, scribbling down in her own notebook now.

You had started gathering your things when both Zoe and Madison looked behind you, looking a mix of concern and amusement. You glanced behind you to see Jason Dean, smiling down at you. His dark hair covered his eyes, and he pushed it back.

You had no idea what to say. The last conversation you had with Jason was probably in fifth grade when he commented that women were weak while helping you carry boxes of school supplies, and you accidentally dropped a massive box of markers on his foot. He cried for an hour. 

“y/n,” he addressed you. You glanced at your friends who were eagerly watching you with their faces hidden behind their textbooks. Winter’s was upside down.

“Hi, Jason,” you responded, hearing the confusion in your voice. You listened to his friends giggling behind you, and you wondered if this was a joke. 

“I haven’t seen you in a minute,” he said cheekily, and you nodded. “You look good.”

You quickly looked him up and down. Jason was muscular but not bulky, and he was definitely a whole foot taller than you. He grew into his facial features, and he was a handsome guy. You assumed he was just talking to you on a dare, so you finished putting your things in your bag. Zoe and Winter didn’t budge, still pretending to read their books.

Jason realized you were dumbfounded at his statement. He quickly backtracked, “I just wanted to say hi. I’ll see you around.”

You bid him farewell, turning to your friends who were having a hard time concealing their laughter. You heard Jason’s best friend, Matthew, call him an idiot and what sounded like a smack on the back.

“y/n, you have a boyfriend?” Zoe asked, smirking at you.

You glared, standing up as they shouldered their bags and grabbed their books. “You know perfectly well I don’t speak to him.”

“I bet he wants to ask you to the dance.” Winter grinned at Zoe, who nodded in agreement as you stepped into the cold autumn air. 

“I’m not going either way.” you mumbled, and the girls dropped it until the next morning. 

2.

You didn’t think it was that big of a deal that the Quarterback tried to talk to you at the diner a few nights before. All the students who were present spread gossip like wildfire. You ignored it. You knew they were just children speculating what it could mean when it probably meant nothing. 

Zoe and Winter never brought it up again, and you were relieved that your friends didn’t dwell on it for too long. You loved that about them. 

It was after lunchtime when you sat in your History course, going over the notes for the test. You heard Jason and a few of his friends pile in, laughing and making comments under their breath. They took their designated seats in the back, and you felt eyes on the back of your head. 

A group of popular girls across the room started to giggle, and you glanced up to see Dandy walk in, his nose up and sauntering to the seat directly behind you. You wondered why he didn’t acknowledge you, but you didn’t dwell on it long. Dandy was often absent from any social interaction. 

Your teacher began the class the moment the bell rang. She decided to go over the notes an extra day and postponed the test. You were mildly disappointed but knew the material well, so you decided to doodle in your journal. One of the girls in the front occasionally popped her gum. 

Ms. Strode was talking about World War II when you felt something hit your elbow. You glanced over and saw a balled-up piece of paper. You glanced around to see most people were either frantically jotting down notes or not paying any attention. You picked it up, assuming it just needed to be passed ahead.

However, you read your name in neat cursive and opened it under the table.

Would you go to the dance with me? - Jason

You read the short invitation a good ten or so times before you could comprehend what he was asking. While the teacher wasn’t looking, you peeked over your shoulder to see him staring at you. His buddies were hiding their own smiles, but you didn’t see any malice behind it. Was he serious?

Of course, you’d have to decline. You already have an engagement. You promised your mother. You already declined the evening with your two best friends.

You didn’t send a note back, knowing it would be too distracting trying to pass it. Dandy would never try to give a stupid message.

However, Dandy had been paying attention and had managed to read the note over your shoulder when you laid it on your pencil case. He became green with envy, closing the book he hadn’t been paying attention too in the first place.

You hardly spoke a word to him this year. He wondered why that was. Dandy was very particular who he said too, and gave any sliver of his precious time. You were a comfort to him and probably didn’t realize that. Dandy knew he couldn’t seem desperate for your affection, or at the very least, your attention. He had hoped you’d be waiting for him in his car after school like the previous years before. Did he do something to upset you? Were you too good for him?

Dandy spent the rest of the class staring at the back of your head. He knew that wasn’t the case. Perhaps it was his behavior that steered you away. Of course, he liked being friends with you, but maybe it wasn’t enough. He was a loner who enjoyed his alone time. Dandy heard what people said about him. The general consensus was that he was doing everything right. 

When the class was dismissed, he hung back, watching as you quickly gathered your things and paced out the door. 

“Tough blow, man!” he heard Matthew say.

“She’ll come around.” Jason replied, his tone snarky. Dandy watched as they walked out of the room, his brows furrowing as he debated on taking the high road and asking you to the stupid dance himself. He wouldn’t go willingly. His mother, Gloria, needed him to be involved as much as possible. To keep up appearances, of course. Not for Dandy’s own goodwill. 

Dandy trailed out of the class, seeing you across the hall at your locker. Winter was beside you, somehow talking and applying lipstick at the same time. He stood off to the side, not minding all the bodies bumping into him and temporarily panicking that he’d yell at them.

This is it, Dandy thought. It’s a war, whether Jason Dean knew that or not. 

3.

Jason approached you the following day and asked if you’d mind talking to him at lunch. You hesitantly agreed, catching Zoe’s eye as she hugged Kyle before going into her class. She smiled at you, and you gave her a hesitant one in return. 

He definitely matured through the years. Jason was interested in you, and you felt comfortable talking to him through the entire lunch period, even catching yourself laughing at his sense of humor. Dandy played with the apple in his hands, glaring daggers at the back of Jason’s messy head. Winter noticed from her spot at your usual table and nudged Zoe, gesturing for her to look. 

“He looks pissed.” Zoe giggled, and Winter nodded in agreement. 

“I think Mott is going to kill him!” Winter said, stabbing at her steamed broccoli.

“Shouldn’t we let y/n know?” Zoe asked.

“I think she’s about to figure it out.” Winter said as Dandy stood up, heading directly to the table where you were sitting with Jason. Zoe and Winter fell into a hush, shoving food into their mouth and intently watching what was about to unfold. 

Jason saw him approaching first and paused, sizing the other guy up and down. Jason was bigger than Dandy in height and muscle tone from being an athlete, but Dandy wasn’t lanky either. You turned around, shocked to find Dandy staring down at you. 

“y/n,” Dandy nodded at you, ignoring Jason.

“Dandy, hi!” you said, genuinely happy to see him. “How are you?”

“I’m decent.” he said, smiling a little. “Could I have a word?” 

You glanced at Jason, who seemed timid, but he nodded. You stood up, promising Jason you’d be back as you followed Dandy out to the hallway. Multiple eyes followed you, and you heard the whispers starting as the door swung shut. 

“How are you?” Dandy asked now, looking down at you. His dark hair was neatly gelled and had a slight curl. 

“I’ve been good. I haven’t heard from you in a while…” you said.

Dandy nodded, “I could say the same. I assumed you’d come back around soon enough.”

You felt he was hurt by your absence. Dandy looked bothered, and you felt terrible. However, he was capable of approaching you as well. Which is what he thought he had to do. 

“Is everything okay?” you questioned, hoping his mother was doing well. You hadn’t seen her all Summer. 

“y/n, you know you’re one of the only people I care about in this stupid town,” Dandy said, glancing towards a teacher walking to the lounge. He gave you guys a questioning look but didn’t comment, disappearing into the next room. 

You weren’t sure how to respond to that, so Dandy continued, “Which is why I think you shouldn’t go to the formal with Jason.”

You frowned, “How do you know he asked me?”

“The whole school knows!” Dandy retorted, and you remembered. “I think it’s a bad idea.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m not going either way.”

Dandy looked surprised, and you saw the relief in his eyes. He laughed a little, his fingers drumming against his leg. “Oh.”

“What, are you jealous?” you asked, laughing at him. Dandy tried to hide his laughter, but it didn’t work. The quiet hallway was filled with your giggles.

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.” Dandy said, and you were saddened to hear the bell ring. Dandy straightened up, the smile leaving his face as kids filed out of the cafeteria and the surrounding classrooms. Kids stared at you and whispered, many laughing and wondering if you were now a couple. 

Jason slowly walked in your direction, but you didn’t want to say goodbye to Dandy. You were ashamed that you had avoided him for so long. You missed him. Dandy glanced behind you, his eyes sharpening as your new suitor waited patiently, his hands in his beige jacket. 

“Be careful around him.” Dandy whispered to you before he disappeared down the hall.

You approached Jason, who gave you a soft smile, “Am I missing something? Are you two together?”

You shook your head, a light smile on your lips, “No. We’re just friends.”

“Oh…” Jason nodded, “Look, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry if I freaked you out the other day. We don’t have to go to the dance together, but-.”

“Oh!” you gasped. Jason frowned, giving you a quizzical look. “The dance… I forgot,” you lied. “Uhm, I’m actually not going. I have other plans…” you said.

Jason looked defeated but took the rejection gracefully. You promised you’d sit with him again tomorrow, and he visibly cheered up at that. You ended up having to sprint to your locker for your books after saying goodbye, but you couldn’t stop thinking about Dandy’s warning. 

“Be careful around him.”

The Friday before the dance went to complete shit.

That morning you ate your breakfast slowly, listening to your parents argue in the kitchen over a business deal your mother thought was a bad idea. Your father was greedy and looked towards the top dollar than what was best for the business and the family. 

If that wasn’t bad enough, Winter fell sick and couldn’t go to school. You had to wait for your father to finish getting ready before he could drive you. You were ten minutes late and got a verbal warning; you never got in trouble at school. You had three tests in a row, and by lunch, you were about to rip your hair out.

Jason was nowhere to be found, so you sat with Zoe. She was worried that Winter would miss the dance but was happy that she’d at least have Kyle if Winter canceled. Kyle came and sat with you guys, his shaggy blond hair wet from the downpour outside. 

You were anxiously looking around the cafeteria for any sign of Dandy. He had missed a few days of school, citing a fever when you called his house and spoke to his maid, Dora. You wished him well and knew he’d pull through fast. Plus, you saw his car this morning when you got dropped off. 

“They’re going to cancel the dance if more kids fall ill,” Kyle said as he ate a burger. Zoe glared at him, telling him to look on the bright side of things. 

“What? I am!” Kyle replied, smirking at his new girlfriend.

“I’m sure they won’t cancel.” you placated Zoe, who beamed at you. “All the parents who gave money will be pissed.”

You ate most of your lunch when the principal walked in. The room immediately quieted as he observed the tables before landing on you. He walked to you briskly, and you felt your heart racing as he approached. 

Am I getting detention? I’ve only been late once!

“Ms. y/l/n, could you come with me?” he asked politely, smiling at you, Zoe, and Kyle.

You nodded slowly, bunching up your trash and placing it on the tray. Zoe told you to leave it, and they’d take care of it. You quietly thanked her and followed Principal Harmon out, struggling to keep pace with his long, thin legs.

“Is everything alright, sir?” you asked. Now wondering if your parents died in some fiery crash or if you failed a class. 

“There’s been a disturbance outside this afternoon,” Harmon replied, his voice grim. “With Mr. Mott and Mr. Dean.”

You were shocked to hear this. You were silent during the rest of the trek to his office. When he opened the door, you saw both boys sitting in chairs. They both had packs of ice on their faces and sheepish expressions.

“What were you thinking?” you hissed to them as Mr. Harmon gestured for you to take the empty seat next to Dandy.

“Well, now that y/n is here, I think you both owe her an explanation and an apology.” 

Jason and Dandy shared a look. Dandy now looked pissed, and you could only imagine what lead to this. 

Oh, I have a pretty good fucking idea.