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dameronology · 4 years ago

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figure it out {din djarin x reader}

summary: din djarin doesn’t usually get jealous. not until he met you, at least {for the lovely and wonderful @stargazingcarol��} - 2.5k words

warnings: swearing

this is completely spoiler free!! just some good old jealousy and some antics with the kid. enjoy.

- jamie

You had a complicated relationship with the Mandalorian.

On one hand, you were colleagues…of sorts. He’d spent two years coming to your outpost on Corellia when he needed his ship fixing – and after becoming fed up of traipsing back and forth, he offered you the job full time. It was a mutually beneficial situation. You’d been desperate to get out the city for years, and you were also the only mechanic he trusted. The prospect of a job that would take you all over the galaxy was exciting, even if it meant tiptoeing around one another in the cramped hull of the Razor Crest (and that was before the addition of the Child). But, when you spent days and days in hyperspace with nobody else to talk to, it was only natural that you became friends. It had felt a little awkward at first, as though you were trying to force conversation with a man who just didn’t want to talk -- but then the Mandalorian’s barriers broke down, and things began to change.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint when. It had probably been a few months in, not long after he’d saved your ass from a bounty who had thrown a punch in your direction. You hadn’t expected the Mandalorian to be so protective - and frankly, neither had he. It was after that he found himself doing things without realising; lingering touches on your back when he passed, his hands brushing your thigh whenever you were sat in the cockpit next to him. Then, you became unintentional adoptive parents to a weird, green creature - a bond between you that only seemed progressed naturally, as though you had no control over it.

One night, not long after you took the Child in, you’d both collapsed beside one another on the tiny bed in hull of the Crest. Usually, you would argue for a while about who got to take it, but on that night, neither of you’d had the energy. Under the covers of the dark and with the baby finally asleep, you were muttering amongst yourself - you couldn’t remember the conversation entirely, but it was sleepy, tired gibberish. Din found himself reaching to take the helmet off; he could hear you easier that way, and your voice was comforting enough to lull him off to sleep. In the quiet of the moment, and with the conversation between you reaching a natural stopping point, he’d gently closed the gap between you. It was simple; his lips on yours, only for a brief moment. Then, as though the Child had sensed that everything was no longer about him, he’d opened his mouth and let out a cry for attention.

You began to kiss more often after that; every night before bed, actually. As soon as the lights were off, Din would take the helmet off, give you a gentle kiss and then he’d drift off, holding you tightly to his chest. It was always that, followed by a good night, cyar'ika. Then the morning would come, and it would be good morning, cyar'ika followed by another soft kiss, before the helmet went back on and you both went about your days.

After a few months of that, you’d fallen into an easy routine. Neither of you had quite established what your relationship was, but it didn’t feel like you needed to. It’s not like there was anyone else around for you to have to worry about, or anyone else who would force you to define it. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t frustrating; Din Djarin had never been the type of person to plan ahead, and you knew that more than anyone. The idea of becoming attached to him, only to lose him or get hurt was enough for you to at least want to try and work it out. You weren’t expecting a deep conversation, or even one that you could walk away from knowing whatever the hell was going on between you two.

It was just that with the addition of the Child, and the two of you growing closer each day, you wanted an answer. You wanted to know if you were wasting your time; if this was simply a pit-stop on your way to finding a more permanent settlement, or if this was it. Though you’d never admit it, you wanted it to be the latter. Din was reliable, and he cared about you. He was sweet in his own way and he’d have gone to the ends of the galaxy to look after you. He was protective in a way that let you fight your own battles, but not in a way you’d ever have to do it alone. You felt safe with him - as though you’d found everything you were looking for, except neither of you had been looking at all.

You brought the question up on a slow morning. The Mandalorian was between bounties, and you’d briefly landed in a dusty outpost on a thick jungle planet to refuel and find some food. The kid was snoring away in his pod a few feet away, clearly feeding off of the relaxed atmosphere that you’d managed to create. You were laying beside him, the lights still off and your head buried in his neck. Both of Din’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, gripping onto you as though you might slip away into the darkness of the vast galaxy.

‘What are we?’ You asked quietly.

‘Humans.’ Right, there was the dry sense of humour.

‘Din.’ You grumbled. ‘I’m serious.’

‘What’s making you bring it up now, cyar'ika?’ He asked. ‘It’s early.’

‘I was just thinking.’ You sat up, pulling the covers with you. ‘We’ve been doing this thing for months but neither of us have actually worked out what the hell is it is.’

‘We don’t have to.’ He replied.

‘Right.’ You murmured.

‘It’s just-’

As though the little bugger had sensed a sudden onset of tenseness in the room, the Child let out a loud cry. You immediately recognised it: he was hungry. Even if you were ready to throttle anyone who dared come near him, you didn’t have a hard time admitting that he had a penchant for the worst timing. With that said, the fact he’d slept through the whole night without waking once certainly helped the fact.

‘Hey, buddy! It’s okay!’ You heard the mechanical click of Din’s helmet as he turned on the lights, allowing you to leap out of bed and stumble to the baby. ‘We’ll get you some food.’

That wasn’t the first time that something had magically changed the subject whenever you tried to bring up the status of your relationship with Din. If the kid didn’t decide to pull your attention away, it was the Mandalorian himself who veered away from the conversation. He always had to check on a bounty, or rush off to see if the ship was on the right route. It didn’t take a genius to work out that he was avoiding the subject entirely and you were starting to become frustrated.

After almost three weeks of trying to challenge him about it, you were close to giving in entirely. What if you were wasting your time? What if you were going to let yourself fall in love with him, only to find out you weren’t a permanent part of his plan? Fuck, did he even have a plan? Was that the life you wanted -

- it was at that point that your train of thought had stopped, because the Child sensed you were upset, and started bawling. Again.

A few hours after your fourth or fifth try at the conversation - once again to have it ended by the kid tossing a frog at you in an attempt to steal the attention back - the three of you ended up in a bar. It was a little cantina a few hours outside of Mos Eisley; it was much cleaner than the other bars you’d seen, and if it weren’t for your foul mood, you might have even enjoyed it.

‘What’s up with you?’ Din asked quietly.

‘Nothing.’ You murmured. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Your tone is off, cyar'ika.’

‘Leave it.’ You snapped. ‘I’m getting another drink.’

You moved the baby off your lap, placing him on Din’s instead. After digging around in your pocket for some credits, you quickly stood up and sauntered over to the other side of the bar, leaning against the wooden counter as you waited for your turn to be served. It wasn’t too busy - there were a few people floating about. Locals, you figured. It was a slightly fancier part of Tatooine, and you could see the difference in the people who were frequenting the establishment.

You were trying not to think about Din, or the fact he still refused to talk about what was going on between the two of you. You’d long surpassed the point of no return for your friendship - no, you were too invested now. Either he had to prove he was in it for the long run, or you had to walk away. Was that an unfair ultimatum? Not really. He’d started it, after all.

‘What’s a pretty thing like you doing waiting for a drink?’

You glanced up to see a man beside you, a half-empty flagon of beer in his hand. He was tall, dark and handsome; the type you used to briefly date back on Corellia. He smelt of expensive aftershave, and his clothes gave the impression he was quite well-off.

‘I could ask you the same.’ You replied.

‘So you think I’m pretty?’ The man quirked an eyebrow at you.

‘No, I...I mean, yeahhhh.’ You turned to face him, offering him a smile.

‘You’re here with that Mandalorian.’ He glanced over his shoulder, before leaning a little closer towards you. ‘What’s his deal?’

‘Honestly, I couldn’t tell you.’ You snorted. ‘I don’t think he knows what his deal is.’

The conversation was completely innocent - after all, you had no intention of anything happening with whoever this guy was. And even if you did, weren’t you technically single? You certainly weren’t in a relationship, at least not according to Din Djarin. He had no standing ground, nor any right to be jealous.

Still, that didn’t stop his entire body filling with rage the minute the man put his hand on your arm, and it certainly didn’t stop him immediately packing up all your stuff to leave the bar. Even the notion of another man touching you made him want to scream - let alone the actual sight of it. It was the way your new friend leant in a little too close, and laughed a little too hard at your jokes. You were funny, but you weren’t that funny.

‘We’re leaving.’ Din declared, suddenly appearing beside you.

‘Okay.’ You shrugged, glancing up at him. ‘I’ll meet you back on the ship later.’

‘No, I mean we’re leaving.’

You snorted. ‘I think you’ll find that I’m staying right here- oof!’

You let out a small squeak as the Mandalorian grabbed you with his free arm, tossing you over his shoulder. Before you could protest, or even apologise to the man beside you, he was marching you out of the bar and into the cool evening air of Tatooine. All meanwhile, the baby was giggling at the site of you with your legs in the air and your face planted against Din’s back.

The ship wasn’t far - probably not more than a two minute walk. Din had been conscious of the Child’s little legs when he’d parked at the outpost; he was becoming more independent now and insisted on walking places himself. It was just that he could only walk for five minutes before getting tired, but the little sod would cry if you tried to carry him. He was lucky he was cute.

‘What the hell was that?’ You snapped, barely catching your balance as Din planed you on the floor of the ship.

‘That man was flirting with you.’ Din simply stated. ‘I didn’t like it.’

‘You...’ you trailed off. ‘You didn’t like it?’

‘He was overstepping his boundaries.’

‘You were jealous, weren’t you?’ You let out a derivative snort, folding your arms across your chest.

‘You knew I could see you.’ Din was still calm.

‘And? It’s not like we’re in a relationship, is it?’ You murmured.

‘That’s not-’

‘ - let me finish!’ You cut him off. ‘I have been trying for weeks to talk to you about it, to see where I stand with you, and you always change the subject or try to run away from it! You have no right to be jealous, or to act like I’m with you because you have made it abundantly clear that I am not. Your high horse is basically a shetland fucking pony, Din Djarin!’

There was a silence between you for a moment. It felt good to have finally said it - you just wished you’d been a bit more gentle. Din had never seen you shout before, or even come close to losing your temper. He knew it was bound to happen but he had never imagined it being at him. Then again, if you’d tried to pick him up and force him out the bar against his will, he would have been angry too. (The thought of you even trying it was rather comical).

‘I was scared.’

That hadn’t been the response you were expecting.

‘Of me?’ Your voice was quiet.

‘I’m in love with you.’ He said bluntly. ‘That terrifies me.’

‘I...fuck.’ You felt as though the wind had been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with whatever grey smoke the Crest spat out when the engines were broken. ‘I love you too - but why does it scare you?’

‘Because it means I can’t ever leave you.’ Din continued. ‘And I want to give you the life you deserve but I don’t know if I can. Not with my job, not with the things I’ve done.’

‘Din.’ You took a step forward, his large hands enveloping yours as you did. ‘D’you think I care about any of that?’

‘I was afraid to ask.’

‘No offence, but you can be a bit thick sometimes.’ A small chuckle escaped your lips, even if tears were forming in your eyes. ‘I don’t care where we are or where we go, as long as I’m with you, then I have the life I want. That’s why I’ve been so off these last few weeks, because I was so scared you were going to turn around and push me away.’

‘That’s not going to happen.’ He said. ‘I’m not going to leave you - you have my word. I promise.’

‘So why don’t we just stop being scared and start just...being together?’

He briefly stepped away, hitting the control panel to turn off the lights in the ship. His helmet hit the ground with a thud, and a moment later, his hands were on your hips as he pulled you towards him. Din crashed his lips onto yours, closing the gap between you with a desperate kiss. You’d kissed before - more times than you could even begin to count - but this one felt different. It had meaning; purpose, in fact. It was as though the last few months’ worth of feelings that the Mandalorian had been pushing aside had finally broken.

‘I love you, cyar'ika.’ He quietly murmured again. ‘And I’m sorry.’

‘Stop saying sorry.’ You tearfully smiled, forehead still pressed against his. ‘And I love you too, even if you’re a bit of a dumbass sometimes.’

‘Say it again.’

‘I love you, dumbass.’ You quietly said.

‘Is that now your equivalent to cyar'ika?’

#mandalorian x reader #mandalorian imagine #mando x reader #mando imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #mandalorian x you #mando x you #din djarin x you #mandalorian fluff #mandalorian angst #star wars imagines #star wars x you #star wars fanfic #star wars x reader

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squishneedsahero · 3 years ago

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Maybe It Isn’t all Bad

Awesomest of Them All 2.0

Part 2 of 13

Word Count: 1714

Batman x Batmom!Reader

You know what the bat family needs? Someone to pull them together and give them all the love they deserve. Who better to do that than you? An author rising to stardom in Gotham who catches the eye of a billionaire with your standoffish attitude at a huge social gathering. You are yourself and never pretend to be more or less than that. Plus you're the most stubborn person in the world, refusing to let good things go without reason.

This is a rewrite of my story Awesomest of Them All, I wanted to see how much I've improved over 3 years.

It had been two months since you published your book, and it had taken off. Tons of people loved it and even more had read it. Because of this you were suddenly a popular public figure of Gotham, and of course like all other public figures you were invited to one of the many galas that happen in this city. You hated it. You, y/n l/n the nobody who lived in a shabby apartment and just happened to get lucky with your book. What you wouldn't give to go back to being a nobody so you could spend your Friday night watching Netflix alone on your couch.

Unfortunately you weren't sure how the snobby rich people,who thought they were better than everyone else, would take you rejecting their invitation the first of probably many. But this was a charity gala hosted by Bruce Wayne: play boy, billionaire, and one of the few people present that seems somewhat genuine even if you didn't think he had a single thought behind his eyes. So maybe it wasn't all bad cause all the rich people were donating to charity and Bruce usually made sure the money went somewhere good.

You had worn an elegant gown, preferring it to the ones that let your ass hang out the bottom. The dress was fabulously elegant and made you feel like a queen. You had paired it with your your highest high heels, stilettos that you could stab someone with if it came down to it. So far the night had been filled with pointless conversations and lots and lots of introductions, all while dancing a waltz.

Lets be honest you won't remember most of the new people you had met, you could've met the Queen of England and not have known it. You didn't remember not because you had been drinking, even if you had thought about it many times, but because there were so many people that wanted to get you and your new found popularity under their thumb and gain through you.

You had finally gotten a break by standing by the buffet table and eating the food they seemed to be letting go to waste. If nothing else you would singlehandedly make sure the food didn't get wasted. You kept trying to think of an excuse to go home, but so far couldn't think of anything. Your planning was interrupted when yet another person came up to you, except his face is somewhat familiar. "Hi," you say after you hurriedly swallow a bite of food.

"Hello, Miss (y/n) (l/n)," he begins, knowing your name but you not knowing his, "may I have this dance?" He asks, great another dance luckily you were used to being on your feet thanks to waitressing otherwise you'd be worried about them falling off with all this meaningless dancing. Why couldn't rich people be more fun with their dancing, most of them were white, playing some pop songs, and the Cupid Shuffle could only make things better.

"Yes, Mister..." you pause as you try to place him, you know you know him but you'd seen so many faces like that tonight that it was a blur.

"Wayne," He finishes for you.

"I'd love to dance with you Mr.Wayne," you lie through that smile that was plastered to your face. You offer your hand and wish desperately you had taken your chance to escape when you'd had it only moments before.

He takes the hand you offer to him and leads you out to the dance floor, waltzing yet again, at least you didn't have to lead cause you had no idea what you were doing. "My son read your book," he begins, trying to start up a friendly conversation, "he's keeps trying to convince me to read it."

"That's nice," you respond awkwardly, what were you supposed to do? Try to convince him to read it too? Hell no, you are not going to act like an airhead and promote yourself.

"He doesn't know that I've already read it," Bruce says. You laugh before you can stop yourself, you almost apologize but he laughs as well. "I enjoyed reading it, it was very well written." Maybe he did actually have real thoughts in his head unlike how the media portrayed him.

"Thank you," you say a slight blush making is way onto your cheeks. He was quite attractive after all and here he was complimenting you. The smile on your lips becomes more genuine as the two of you continue dancing, making light conversation, and surprisingly it was quite enjoyable.

Before you know it the party is over. And you'd spent almost half of it dancing with one man. "Thank you for the dance."

"It was my pleasure," he says, and you find yourself blushing for the millionth time that night. Maybe these parties weren't all bad, you'd found a friend you could have intelligent conversations with after all.

You find yourself invited to almost every gala that happens in the city over the next few months and every time Bruce is there the two of you spend most of the time dancing and talking with each other. The conversations between the two of you are pleasant, covering many topics, and most importantly they aren't meaningless like all the other conversations you were forced into at galas.

Bruce would get your opinion on things such as how the money he got for charity should be spent since you had been more recently living among the people he was trying to help. Like you weren't bad off by any means but you hadn't owned a car, relying on bus routes to get around the city and working 40+ hours a week to keep your head above water. You had been better off than many in Gotham but you had been closer to the poverty than Bruce had, even considering his night job. The fact that he genuinely cared and wanted your opinion amazed you. He was the first and probably only friend you made among the one percent at those parties.

Of course the two of you didn't only talk business, other more casual subjects came up. The two of you bonding over having dead parents, even if he was more traumatized and your wounds more recent. Then talking about school and how you had decided to skip college in order to pursue writing while he had been homeschooled then traveled the world instead of college, not that either of you were too old for college though. He was was 23-24, still young despite having adopted an 8 almost 9 year old and you were close to the same age as him.

The both of you being young, and single, did lead the two of you to have more than a friendship but that was after nearly a year of just talking at galas. Okay a year of just talking was a lie. It was probably only six months before the two of you found yourselves out in a garden and shared your first kiss. But it was an entire year before he finally asked you out, claiming it was a dare from Dick and to ease the pressure of the press.

You of course called him on those lies and pointed out the fact that there had not been a single other woman in his life since the two of you met. And said the only way you'd go out with him was if he'd, "just admit you like me." Needless to say he did.

That was part of the reason that he was so attracted to you. Despite what he knew about you from the one day he saved you from Joker, you were just unafraid to be yourself. You had never pretended or tried to pretend to fit in at the galas. You'd never been afraid to call him on his shit, even if it had risked your one friendship that made those galas bearable.

To your surprise when you had called him a dumbass for thinking it was acceptable to give a 9 year old unlimited access to the internet he laughed and said you were probably right. Then for some reason he thought it was a good idea to ask you for parenting advice and you told him that was a worse idea. You had less of an idea how to be a parent than he did, the only reason a 9 year old shouldn't have unlimited internet access was because he was a bit young to already get unrealistic expectations from porn. Mainly you had no idea, it just felt weird to turn a kid loose on the internet but then again you'd been a kid who ate mud and called it fun.

So, all the talking and asking opinions and just spending a ton of time together leads to Bruce asking you out. The press saw this coming from miles away and caught you both on your date, not that they didn't have pictures of the two of you hiding from people on a balcony. But an actual date?!? Amazing! All the internet fans were happy for you, the paparazzi loved you and would do anything to get pictures of the two of you.

The two of you became Gotham's it couple overnight but the best thing about it was that it was real. Both of you were blatantly honest, calling each other out when needed and defending each other at other moments. There were no secrets between the both of you and you wouldn't trade that for anything. It was amazing to you that you had finally found a man who saw you as his equal and if anything he was a man known for being a womanizer.

So that's how it all started, in the space of a year the two of you fell in love and were head over heels for each other. Dick played match maker every chance he got, since he adored you for some odd reason. And of course, when you finally met him Alfred approved of you and Bruce being together, the one person able to call him on his shit and have him listen. It was a miracle that Alfred had thought he'd never love to see.

#Batman #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #batman x you #batmom #batmom reader #batfam x batmom #dick grayson #damian wayne

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sidespart · 4 years ago

Text

The Fall of King Romulus

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

This was originally a fake fic but I decided to turn it into a real fic because it looked like fun, The fake fic can be read as a prologue.

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Chapter 1

Previous (prologue) Next Chapter 2

When Roman had first left home, he had no intention of making friends.

Romulus had never had them, unless you counted Remus in their younger days. Royal life was often one of seclusion and once his… particular problem… had come to light, his parents took the necessary steps to ensure he was as isolated from others as possible.

This was for his own good. Romulus could not protect himself. Romulus was a liability to the himself and the Kingdom. One slip before a supposed playmate could lead to discovery and disaster. His father explained this to him when Romulus was eleven, and had taken to following the young Marquis de Orenlla around like a love sick puppy when the family visited the palace.

“Suppose that boy notices,” his fathers voice was a hiss, his hand gripping Romulus small shoulder hard enough to bruise “suppose he realises you will do anything he asks, and he asks you for family secrets? Suppose he waits until your are older and orders you to favour his family, to give them position in court, to promote them above their deserved station- or to harm their enemies. Do you understand the risk you’re taking Romulus? Swear to me you will keep to yourself. Please.”

Phrasing, Romulus had come to learn, was extraordinarily important when dealing with his curse. The final ‘please’ from his father had turned the order into a request – something Romulus could technically choose to ignore. But the grip on his shoulder suggested it would not remain his choice for long. So he nodded at his father and swore to keep away and was rewarded with a smile and a hand stroking gently though his hair, before he was dismissed to go and study before his afternoon lessons.

He should have been lonely. But he had his parents and his instructors and his servants. And the occasional, highly orchestrated, public appearance wherein he would adopt a practiced air of aloof politeness, wave and make measured conversation with those who would never dare to give him an order. It could have been worse.

Still, he understood that once he left it would be necessary to speak to many more people then he had up to now. He would need food and shelter and work and direction, none of which he had had to procure for himself before.

So he prepared himself to make conversation with strangers, perhaps acquire acquaintances. He expected to find admirers once he was far South enough that he could perform with his lute without fear of recognition from the crowd. He hoped, perhaps, for some romances, some temporary but dashing companions to join him on adventures. He had read about such things during hours spent locked up in the palace library and told to entertain himself.

He had not planned on making friends. Traveling with anyone for too long, getting to know them and allowing them to learn about him – it inevitably increased the chance of them discovering his secret. Of exploiting him as his parents had warned against. It was not worth the risk.

And yet.

And yet somehow, he had acquired three.

Virgil and Patton and Logan.

Brave and kind and wise.

Not a drop of aristocratic blood between them but without doubt the most noble companions a man could wish for. When he thought of them, of how they had accepted him into their little band of misfit adventurers, his heart felt more full, his mind more alive and sharp than it had been in years. His blood buzzed with creativity and songs of friendship, love and loyalty sprang from his lips almost unbidden.

Not right now however.

Right now sort of wanted to kill them. Specifically Virgil.

Roman scowled at the surrounding trees “If there are any depressingly dressed half elves out there who want to APPOLOGISE for being JERKS the floor is open!” he called.

The trees remained silent. They had done that the last three times he tried.

Roman left out a dramatic exhale and flopped back on the ground.

The thing was. He knew, intellectually, that this wasn’t Virgil’s fault. Not Intentionally.

Virgil was prickly. And unpredictable. Last night, Roman had wailed in dismay at the sorry state for a fire the young man was building. Virgil had responded that they would be lucky if there was no fire at all, since that would mean no one would have to be subjected to Romans cooking. Roman had insulted Virgil’s hair. Virgil had made a creative suggestion for where Roman could stick the firewood he was holding. And back and forth the insults went until between them they had built up the fire and set the stew boiling upon it.

It was banter. Virgil had been giggling the whole time, Patton hadn’t interjected once to tell them to be nicer.

And then this evening they’d gone hunting for firewood together. And Roman had made some sly remark, hoping that Virgil’s fire building skills had improved somewhat overnight.

And Virgil had turned round and snarled at him to “shut UP Princy. I don’t need you to help me – just, just get lost.”

Virgil didn’t know about the curse.

Romans mouth had dropped open in surprise. And before he’s had time to close it, his feet had spun round one hundred and eighty degrees and marched him away from his friend, away from the path, deeper into the heart of the forest.

His feat had carried him on a winding route, over one shallow stream and through an extremely dense thicket of brambles that left Roman desperately hacking away at the thorns in front of him before they could shred him to ribbons. He had eventually stopped after an hour of relentless marching and sprawled at the foot of an impressively knotted oak tree.

Unsurprisingly, his surroundings were totally unfamiliar. The trees grew so thick here it was impossible to see more than twelve feet in any direction. He was well and truly lost.

Roman had spent an unsatisfying few minutes ranting to the trees about elves and their unpredictable mood swings and marching and blisters and curses and Virgil’s still subpar fire lighting skills until eventually he had run out of steam and settled himself down for a good sulk.

Phrasing was important. Virgil had told him to get lost but he hadn’t said to stay lost. And now that he was lost, there was nothing to prevent him being found again.

Patton was an excellent tracker. The idea of sitting around waiting to be rescued stung Roman’s pride, but his feat had already been aching from the days travel before his unintended march. His stomach growled, the smattering of cuts from the brambles burned, and evening was already turning to night. The most sensible thing to do was for Roman to stay where he was and wait to be found.

Assuming they wanted to find him.

Roman bit his lip sharply to try and banish that line of thought. They wouldn’t leave him.

Although, he drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees to fend off the evening chill, There was a strong chance they wouldn’t find him tonight. Patton had looked exhausted when Virgil and Roman and left on their hunt for firewood, in fact he’d been falling behind all day and –

Oh.

Patton and Virgil were born in Krutova and Finaley’ed respectively. Two small neighbouring kingdoms, politically insignificant and famous only for their densely forested landscapes and their intense dedication to wiping each other off the face of the Earth. For the past eighteen years bloody war had raged between the two. Roman had never asked directly, but he was fairly certain that this conflict was where Patton had acquired his enormous broadsword, his limp and, quite possibly, Virgil.

Neither of them liked forests. They carried extra tension as soon as they stood under the shadows of the trees. In addition to that, the uneven terrain aggravated Patton’s hip, sometimes leaving him hissing between his teeth with every step.

Roman had been walking up front with Logan all day, arguing the merits of modern Raspanzean poetry compared with the old masters. He had thought they had called a halt to the day a little early, but was tired enough himself not to question it. And really, since he and Virgil had been on fire and cooking duty last night it should have fallen to the others today…but Virgil had scampered into the woods as soon as Patton was settled on his bed roll, and Roman had gone chasing after.

Virgil fretted. He fretted after all of them, but Patton most of all. And Roman had chased after him when he was already stressed about his best friend and then started needling him about his fire making skills.

Roman groaned and pressed his face into his knees.

Maybe he was the jerk.

“It sounds like it.”

Roman sighed, hating the whine in his voice as he replied “but he still shouldn’t have taken it out on –“

Romans head snapped up so fast he hit his skull hard against the oak tree behind him. Wincing he twisted his head left and right, but the area remained deserted.

He frowned. Perhaps he was more exhausted than he thought –

“You certainly are over tired little Prince,” Roman made a sound which he refused to think of as a shriek and scrambled to his feet.

Standing not three feet- two feet – five feet- three feet from him, stood – hovered - sat – stood a figure in – black – yellow- black – shadow – gold - black. He- she – it – he? Laughed sweetly and stepped – slunk – prowled – flew – stepped closer

And drew back abruptly as Roman held up his dagger between them.

Roman’s sword was the best he could buy, made of blended steel with a bronze handle. He cleaned and sharpened it religiously and practiced often. It was beautifully made and perfectly balanced, suitable for a solider but ideal for a traveller in who knew how to use it.

Romans dagger was old and brittle. And more than once Logan had tried to surreptitiously throw it out and convince him to replace it with something usable.

But it was made of pure iron and it kept the scowling fae at bay.

Looking directly at the fae made something in Romans stomach twist. But he kept his eyes at a squint and held the dagger firm between them, even as his arms shook from the effort.

“What do you want from me?” he gritted out

“What do I want?” The fae’s face would not quite settle, the edges shifting and billowing, but when he smiled Roman was certain he saw fangs “You’re the one trespassing in my home, little Prince, I should be asking you”

Suddenly the fae was as close as he could come, his face less than an inch from the daggers edge. Up close, Roman could see two eyes clearly, one black and one pulsating with a sickly yellow light. “Come to make a deal with the devil, Princey?”

Roman squeezed his eyes shut and held himself firm, even as the shaking began to spread over his entire body.

“I am. A. Lost. Traveller.” He gasped out “I. mean. No. disrespect. To you. Or. Your court” for what felt like an eternity the shaking continued, rattling his brain and sending one knee crashing to the floor. And then it stopped.

Hesitantly, Roman cracked one eye open and looked up. The fae had, mercifully, settled its form. It had picked a face identical to Romans own, save for the yellow eye and scales that spread over its left side. A cloak of shadows hid most of its body from view, but when it moved towards Roman now it seemed to slither rather than step.

“You mean no disrespect” it nodded towards the dagger still clutched in Roman’s sweaty hands “but your bring a weapon to my home?”

“it is a shield, my lord, not a sword, despite it’s shape”

The fae harrumphed, a disconcertingly human noise, and circled Roman once. “You’re not from around here.”

“I’m lost, my lord.”

“I know that” The fae stopped in front of Roman again and rolled it’s eyes. “I meant you are not one of the town folk who trespass in my wood so regularly. You know how to speak to me.”

Roman opened his mouth to say ‘in my fathers Kingdom the Fae are welcomed, and representatives of the Saelie court attend each ball and function’ but managed to snap it closed before he made a sound. Rule one for dealing with the Fae, even those considered allies, was not to give them any information that they didn’t already know. “You flatter me my lord” he said instead.

Roman still hadn’t moved from his half kneeling pose and now the fae coiled down so that they were once again face to face. “Most humans in your position” he said, “would have already started begging for a deal to relive them of their…little problems. What’s the matter Princey, curse got your tongue?”

Roman couldn’t help the way his heart rate sped up at the faes words. But he did his best to keep his outward face calm. It was true, the first deliberate order he had received when his curse was discovered was to never talk about it, he couldn’t have brought it up to this fae if he wanted to.

But more than that – the fae who allied themselves with his father’s court had done everything in their power to remove the curses from him and his brother. Nothing had worked. “A gift once given can only be taken back by the gifter” an elder sprite in the guise of a kindly woman had told his mother. “And their gifter is unlikely to return here.”

The gifter was also unlikely to be a snake shaped creature tied to a southern forest. “I want nothing from you my lord, except to be allowed to leave your home” Roman intoned honestly. He had wondered, for a moment, when the creature had called him Princey – but Virgil and the others often called him by that nickname. If this was a lord of the forest he could have heard them when they passed by.

The fae stared at him for a long moment. And smiled. “Liar.”

Roman frowned – “what-“

“Roman!”

Roman jerked his head to the side, the shout had come from close by, he was sure. “Pa-Padre?”

A whisper in his ear: “time to go home Roman.” Roman quickly looked back to the fae, but it was gone. On the ground where it had been, lay a single oak leaf dyed a brilliant, autumnal, yellow.

He didn’t need to look up at the oak trees leaves to know they, like every other tree in the forest, were still a vibrant green.

“Roman! Roman are you here?”

Without much conscious thought, he reached forward and snatched up the yellow leaf, burying it deep in his pocket.

“I’M HERE. Patton? Virgil? I’M OVER HERE”

Within minuets all seven foot of Patton was crashing through the tree line and baring down on him, Virgil not far behind.

“Roman, oh my goodness we were so worried! Are you hurt? Can you stand? Why do you have your dagger – did something happen?”

“Princy! Shit are you – are you okay? I am so, - I’m really- We looked EVERYWHERE“

“I’m fine.” Roman promised ‘Its fine’ he added to Virgil, “I just – I figured you needed some space so I tried looking for wood on the other side of camp. Guess I got a little turned around” He allowed Patton to pull him to his feet, giving them both his best sheepish grin. Embarrassed but ready to laugh at himself. He really had got lost. Silly Roman.

It’s not like he could tell them about the curse.

“We’re not the far from camp” Patton told him, he glanced around frowning slightly “I’m sure we searched through here before.”

“I was trying to make my own way back,” Roman lied easily “I probably ended up walking in a circle and missed you.”

It’s not like there was any point telling them about the fae.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine Pat, what about you? How’s your leg?”

“Oh this old thing?” Patton gave them a wide smile “it’s just fine, Ro, don’t you worry. Now I think I know a short cut back, you two follow close to me alright?” and with that the large man spun round and headed into the trees.

Virgil and Roman shared an exasperated glance. The man was clearly in agony.

“Listen, Princy I-“

“I’m sorry too.” Roman cut him off. Bumped his shoulder against Virgil’s and winked. “Now lets get back to camp before Logan paces a trench in to the ground hm?”

Slowly Virgil nodded, although he was still staring at Roman guiltily. The two of them headed into the trees together, collected Patton from where he was half collapsed against an elm, and the three slowly made their way back to camp.

By the time they were explaining what had happened to Logan, the memory of the fae had faded like mist.

With a days more travel they would be out of the forest and on a path to Steveange. The largest and greatest city of the Central Kingdoms. From there they would have to chose whether to head east, towards the coast line, west to catch the merchant festivals or north, where Roman had always refused to travel.

Stuck between two pages of Romans notebook, a unseasonably yellowed oak leaf shivered.

Time to go home.

#sanders sides fic #roman sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #but not in this chapter #creativitwins #sidespart writes #TS: Fall of Romulus

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anabsolutetrainwreck · 4 years ago

Text

got my devotion || h. styles

sequel to ‘i can hate you sometimes’

warnings: mentions of sex & alcohol

word count: 2k

summary: you and harry work through your first argument as a couple...

part one.

“So, are we meant to believe that all of a sudden you don’t despise each other?” Sarah asked, her eyes flicking between Harry and yourself.

Harry shrugged, “Despise is a strong word.”

Sarah sent him a bored look, “Don’t act like you haven’t moaned about Y/N before.”

Suddenly, Mitch said, “Maybe it was more of a ‘I like you so I’ll pretend I hate you’?”

You looked between the three of them, shifting uncomfortably. Harry’s hand was resting on your lower back as the two of you sat opposite Sarah and Mitch. The night Harry and yourself had shared a few weeks ago was nothing but beautiful. And, for the most part, all of your friends had been supportive at the news of you and Harry’s sudden shift in relationship. Most people felt the same way about the pair of you: they secretly like each other. It had been somewhat of a running joke within the group that you and Harry were secretly in love. But it’s not like anybody ever expected to end up here: being presented with the news that you and Harry were somewhat of a ‘thing’. “Exactly,” Harry nodded, pointing at Mitch in agreement.

Sarah sent a cautious look towards the two of you. She sighed, as if giving in, “I mean, I am happy for the two of you. I just don’t understand how it all seemed to switch so suddenly? Like, why now? After so long you finally decide to act on however you felt before.”

The four of you were sitting at a restaurant in central London. It was fancy, fancier than anything you’d known growing up. But as soon as you’d become involved with Harry’s circle of friends (having met Sarah on a night out) it became somewhat of the norm for you. You’d worked hard not to let it get to your head, still enjoying the simplicities life had to offer. One of which, which you were sure you were truly witnessing for the first time, was love. Sure, you’d been in love before. There was the ‘first love’ with a boy named Ben, who you were sure you were in love with. It had lasted half a year maybe, but you were sure you’d felt heartbreak when it had ended. Then there was Ethan, which had been enjoyable while it lasted, but you both knew it was never anything long term. But that had been love, a love that wasn’t too hard to get over, but love nonetheless. You even still spoke to Ethan occasionally. Then, of course, there was all the minor ones in between, which hadn’t developed into anything more than dinner and sex. But this - what you had with Harry - you were sure was on the route to something wonderful. Some, perfect blossoming love. That, if it wasn't meant to last a lifetime, would certainly break, not just your heart, but you as a whole in the process. “I don’t know,” Harry shrugged. “But it just felt right the other night.”

Sarah looked to you. You had been terribly quiet during dinner. It was unusual, Sarah thought, you were often bubbly and eager to bounce off everyone during most conversations. In fact, she was sure Mitch had said more than you had. She was waiting for you to say something, but she was only met with: “What do you want me to say?” you sighed.

“Just explain it to me, Y/N,” replied Sarah. “I’ve been subjected to four years of your rants about how much he irritates you. And now you’re acting as if none of it’s ever happened.”

“Look, I don’t know, okay? It just happened, and in the moment it felt right.”

“But it doesn’t now?” she said quickly. And it was then you realised she was just worried about you. Both of you. Your face softened and Harry’s tight grip on your thigh loosened. It was clear you were both just scared she wouldn’t accept whatever was going on between the two of you. But no, she just wanted the best for the both of you. You shook your head, “No, Sarah, it feels great.”

“Okay...” she trailed off; she was accepting that maybe, just maybe, you were both happy with each other. “Then I’m happy for you.”

Her frown moulded into her wonderful smile as she took a sip of her drink. And then the food arrived and all of the uneasy tension slipped into cheery chit chat.

Gradually, the more nights out you and Harry spent together as a couple amongst your friends, the more natural it began to feel. The very first one left you feeling terribly out of place. Sitting beside Harry, his arm hung over the back of your chair, the tips of his fingers lightly tracing little patterns on your arm, was a foreign feeling to you. But it was one you treasured. You got to laugh at his jokes openly now and send adoring looks his way.

For a moment, it felt like you were flying so high there was no way you could come back down.

But then the first argument came. It came two months into the little ideal world you and Harry had built for yourselves. It had spiralled from something completely harmless. Something that shouldn’t have sparked an argument in the first place. And all of a sudden, you felt as if everything the pair of you had built up came crashing down around you. And, being frank, it was terrifying. You’d been nothing but happy for two months with Harry by your side. You feared that he’d relapse and put up his cold front with you again. What if, after all that had happened, you fell back into despising one another?

He’d been round at your house, the two of you spending the evening cuddled up together. Benny had been asleep in front of the fire, twitching occasionally. Usually, cooking together (a glass of wine or two in your system) was the highlight of your week, but neither of you felt like it that particular evening. A pizza between the two of you. That was all it was meant to be, and yet it evolved into something so much more. You told him you’d pay for it - it was only a little less than £20 anyway. He told you’d he do it. But as you explained that he always paid for meals, he interjected saying something about him being the one that ‘makes the money anyway’. You scoffed, that had pissed you off. And in hindsight, you knew he didn’t mean that in a malicious way. Yes, he definitely made more money than you, but that didn’t mean you didn’t make any. You could most certainly pay £20 for a pizza.

From there, it had spiralled into a full-blown argument. You told him exactly so: that you made enough to support yourself and he should just let you buy the pizza. Looking back, you felt rather foolish for getting so worked up over a takeaway. But it was more the things Harry said; you could see the egotistical boy seeping through his tone. To cut the gruesome details, it resulted in Harry storming out of your house. He slammed the door shut behind him, waking Benny up with a harsh jolt.

You felt worse after this argument than any of the ones you’d had with Ben or Ethan. But then you’d never felt this strongly for someone before. A bigger argument with any of the others couldn’t have hurt you more than a minor one with Harry did. You were hopelessly devout to him.

For the next few days, he didn’t say a thing, nor did you. Not to each other at least. You went out for drinks with Sarah, Charlotte and Ny. It beat drinking alone in your home with Benny, who, at the end of the day, wasn’t a great conversationalist. The three women sent apologetic smiles to you as you ranted about how much he frustrated you. And, as you were groaning about him, you began to realise that none of what you were saying was true. He didn’t frustrate you to no end, not even close. Every couple went through their rough patches - their ‘stormy days’ as Charlotte liked to put it. “Couples all have their stormy days, but remember Y/N, the sun is always going to come back out again,” she’d said.

The four of you had burst into a fit of stifled giggles, realising you’d all had one too many gin and tonics. But Charlotte’s little metaphor was actually quite useful, and in your tipsy state you had the sudden urge to apologise to Harry. He was ready to apologise too, but you were both perhaps the most stubborn out of your friendship circle. So it was a case of who was going to give in first. But, surprisingly, it was Harry.

You were lying in bed, nursing the ghost of a hangover that was pounding at your forehead from the night prior with the girls. Cuddled into your crisp sheets, you desperately needed some sort of medication, whatever you could find in your bathroom, and a glass of cold water. The sound of a knock at the door was enough of an excuse enough for you to drag your stiff body from bed. Benny followed you as you trudged downstairs. You swung open the door and Harry was stood there sheepishly. Sighing, you opened the door further to allow the man into your home.

You didn’t say a word; you didn’t want to let on how relieved you were to see him. He followed you through to the kitchen as you poured yourself a glass of water. Taking a sip of the cooling liquid, you turned to look at him. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

It felt so nice to hear his voice in such a gentle way after the last time you’d heard it. Because he was a generally quiet and calm man, it was such a shock to your system to hear him shouting at you. “It’s okay,” you grumbled.

“It doesn’t sound like it is,” he sighed.

“No, Harry, seriously I’m not angry at you anymore. I’m just a bit hungover, is all,” you informed him, trying to sound as polite as possible.

“Did you go out last night?” he asked, his face softening

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Just with Charlotte, Ny and Sarah.”

“Do you want me to go get you some aspirin or something? I can just run down to the shop, if you want. I’ll be like five minutes,” he said, getting ready to leave before he’d even given you the chance to say anything.

“It’s okay. There’s some in the bathroom.”

And before you knew it, he was back with the half-empty box of aspirin. After taking a couple, Harry began talking again, “I really am sorry about the other night. It’s just… I’m so desperate to spoil you. Paying whenever we buy food feels like the least I can do.”

“Honestly, it’s okay,” you smiled. “I was just worried you hated me again.”

He placed his hand on your cheek and you couldn’t help but laugh, “What’s funny?”

“I’m having a moment of deja vu,” you chuckled.

He smiled cheekily, “Yeah? Well, there’s a couple of other things we could do that might give you deja vu.”

You snorted, “That’s the least enticing line I’ve ever heard.”

“Oh, give me a break, I’m trying. Did you seriously think I hated you?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I was just paranoid. I really enjoyed what was happening between us and I was just afraid it was ending.”

“I wouldn’t want it to end, love. I’m completely devoted to you.”

#harry fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry imagine #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry x y/n #harry x you #harry x reader #harry imagines #harry styles imagines

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bookishofalder · 4 years ago

Text

Night Changes [Five]

Series Masterlist

Summary: Poe and the reader eagerly focus on their friendship. Unfortunately for them, life isn’t that easy.

Warnings: Language, mentions of smut, violence, injuries. WC: 11.1K

A/N: Please enjoy this failed attempt at fluff. Also, thank you to @hoeforthefictional for inspiring a scene in this chapter (see: Charlie’s shirts)

Your hand smacked against the cool steel of the dining table as you snorted, “That is not true!” You exclaimed, watching Poe run his hand over his mouth to try and hide his smile, though you could still see him shaking with laughter. “Poe that was Charlie, it was NOT me!”

“Sure Sweetheart,” He drawled through his chuckles, quirking a brow at you, “Charlie convinced your dad that we could all be trusted on our own for the weekend. ‘Cause, he was the one with the big sad eyes your dad fell for every time.”

You groaned, knowing Poe was right, your giggles confirming it to him even though you didn’t outright admit it. “Well you were the one who suggested we try to nab some booze at Eddard’s,” You pointed at him accusingly as memories of you, Charlie and Poe as preteens trying to break into a closed cantina to steal spotchka replayed in your mind. “I was the only one the old man didn’t hit.”

“My ass smarted for a week after that,” Poe frowned at the memory and you giggled again. He grinned over at you, and you felt a flush of delight at the early morning banter, each of you sipping your caf as the golden sun streamed in through the high windows and the room steadily grew busier around you.

It had been a few weeks since your return from the classified mission, the data collected on the outpost proving to be immeasurably useful, earning you both a very pleased smile from the General. A larger secondary team was already there; though they were outfitted with greater protective equipment and a lot more manpower to clear back some of the overgrown jungle from the base and work to bring it back up and running.

While it was a severe break in protocol, neither you nor Poe included the exposure to the red flower pollen in your mission reports. You described the sighting of the plant, cautioned approached and advised the settlement team to wear protective gear, but that was all. Though a mild amount of guilt settled in your stomach for the breach, the idea of writing down what had happened, of being hauled for questioning and medically assessed, was more than enough to make you feel it was the right decision.

It had taken three days to return to base from the mission. Even after your long conversation with Poe assuring him you were alright and that you didn’t blame him for what happened, he still walked around you like he was afraid any moment you would crack and reveal your anger or mistrust. He’d pointedly refused to touch you or come too close after the initial embrace you shared, and although you disagreed with his reasoning, you couldn’t help the relief that you felt because something about being close to him, touching him, stirred feelings inside you that you didn’t want to address.

It made it easier to focus on repairing your friendship if you maintained a slight distance from the man you’d known your entire life. Better to set aside any feelings or thoughts and work to find your way back to the version of yourself you missed. The one who had been happy. You wanted to be her again because the lonely woman you’d become was less than ideal. And you had missed Poe more than you’d admit.

You just wished you could stop the dreams.

“You know,” You spoke slowly, your eyes losing focus as you thought back to those younger years, “I’m pretty sure that was the weekend I became obsessed with learning about Mandalore. I saw that picture of the really famous one up in the cantina and wanted to know everything about it all.” You shook your head at your youthful silliness, the crush you’d developed for the faceless bounty hunter simply from hearing the tales of his heroics. You’d even had a-

“Remember the picture you had?” Poe cut into your thoughts and you refocused on him, “You had that up for years, on the back of your door, a street artist's painting of the rogue Mandolorian, Charlie teased you all the time for having it.” He was smiling at the memory, his eyes crinkling slightly.

You stared at Poe in surprise as warmth swept through you. “You remember that?” He shrugged, his eyes flicking away to glance at the table as if he was suddenly self-conscious, surprised at himself.

“Yeah, I...” You watched as he appeared to steal himself, his cheeks dusted with colour. “I remember everything. It was always us three, wasn’t it? I’d never forget Charlie or y-you.”

When he looked up again his eyes were burning with bright intensity. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away, even as your heartbeat tripled and emotion swelled inside you. Everything else-the noise of the caf, the sounds of others laughter and conversations-it all faded into the background as Poe and you regarded one another across the table.

A hand coming down onto your shoulder jolted you from your thoughts. You glanced up to find Temmin grinning at you both as he moved to take a seat next to you. “Morning, morning,” He glanced over mischievously at Poe, then back to you, “Sorry to interrupt your eye-fuck session, just wondering if you saw our surveillance got moved up?”

Poe was quicker to recover, pulling Temmin’s attention from you as heat flooded your face and you gaped wordlessly. “Uh, to now, I’m assuming?” Poe spared you a glance, his eyes unreadable as you swallowed, embarrassed at your reaction.

You’d anticipated those close to you or Poe to tease you both about the renewed friendship, entirely unsurprised that Temmin was the leading comedian about the entire thing. He’d happily jumped on any excuse to tease, but even though you were never one to flinch away from adult banter, the occasional sexually suggestive comments brought you straight back to the memories from your mission and rendered you speechless each time.

Pursing your lips, you took the last sip of your caf and stood up, your hands automatically sweeping down the front of your flight suit to straighten any wrinkles. You tried to give a half-hearted smile, hoping Temmin didn’t start to think you had a shitty sense of humour.

“I’m going to get started on pre-flight, in that case.”

You glanced at Poe and found he was already watching you, his lips quirking up in a way that made your insides bubble confusingly. Before you could turn away, however, Temmin was gently grabbing your forearm.

“Don’t uh, go that way, use the longer route. For your sanity.” He suggested, grimacing as you groaned in frustration.

“Kriff. Thanks, Snap.” You spun and stalked in the opposite direction, your eyes still scanning to ensure that you didn’t accidentally run into Rush despite Temmin’s warning.

The Healer had not taken kindly to your outright disinterest, apparently taking Poe’s interference at the cantina before your mission as a challenge. You felt you had enough on your plate now to justify not telling him point-blank to fuck off. You’d instead found yourself actively avoiding him, going so far as to duck into storage closets to hide, or in the case of two days ago, hide behind the broader frame of your Captain when you’d spotted the Rush walk into the hangar and look around for you.

Temmin had started to goad you after Rush had departed, stopping when he saw the look on your face and you’d resigned yourself to explain the situation. When you’d finished, he’d offered to talk to the Healer for you, suggested the Poe could and would step in as well, but you had been very clear that you didn’t want either of them to deal with your issues and told Temmin in no uncertain terms to keep the situation from Poe. He had been going out of his way in previous weeks to be kind to you. His continued (and entirely unnecessary) attempts to make up for everything that had happened, both on the mission and before. Having him do another favour for you when you had yet to figure out how to give back to Poe, didn’t sit right with you.

So you snuck out of the back of the dining hall and hoped you’d bought yourself more time to figure your shit out.

Earlier that morning

His curls were softer than you’d remembered, you loved sinking your hands into them and gripping. Your head felt so heavy that you felt yourself drop it into his neck, your heart swelling at how right it felt to nuzzle into Poe as he held you.

Fuck, it felt so good to straddle him this way, not just for how close your bodies were, how easily you could kiss him, but because his thick, long cock hit the best spots inside you at this angle. It was bliss, delicious, something you should have been doing for years. You rolled your hips as you came, crying out when he slammed you onto him and held you there as he came undone as well, feeling close to passing out when he cried out for you.

“Sweetheart, oh fuck, (y/n)!”

“FUCK!”

You gasped as you woke from your dream, trying to sit up even as your body continued to convulse from your orgasm and small moans tore from you. You gripped the sheets, panting as you floated down from your high, again. Another dream, the same memory replayed over and over every night until you eventually woke up like this, shaking and sweating and cumming.

You sobbed, sitting forward and drawing your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself as you dropped your head. This needed to stop and you didn’t understand why it wouldn’t. It had started up the first night you were back on D’Qar, always the same; the memory of those finals moments wrapped around Poe, the last orgasms you each had as the pollen had worn off, and then you’d wake up as you came. You’d tried masturbating before bed just to try and curb the need, but that hadn’t helped in the least. You were desperate now, confused and exhausted from waking up day after day filled with an intense need for something you shouldn’t want.

A good part of you thought your sleeping brain was just cruel, taunting you for what had occurred. But the logical side of your brain noted that it could very well be an aftereffect of the exposure to the pollen, perhaps the last dregs of it working its way from your system when you were most vulnerable. But since you hadn’t reported the exposure, there was no way to find out. It wasn’t like you were going to ask Poe if he was experiencing anything similar-either response he could give was equally as mortifying just to imagine.

Kicking your sheets away, you glanced at your clock and noted the early hour before stalking angrily into your fresher to take a shower. A cold one, because despite the daily orgasms you were waking up from, you were constantly on edge, hornier than you’d been in a long time.

It didn’t help that you were a touch-starved, lonely and unattached woman. Aside from what had happened with Poe on the mission, you hadn’t had sex in a long time and even the last few times you did, it wasn’t anything spectacular. Which was why you’d been almost ready to let Rush take you to bed before, just to feel something pleasurable.

And now...now you wanted to run away from all pleasure.

Poe watched as you hurried out of the room, your shoulders stiff and he frowned when you glanced hastily toward the other doorway before slipping out of view. He looked at Temmin, who was giving him a knowing, guilty kind of smile from across the table. “What the hell was that about?”

Temmin considered his words for a long moment, rapping his knuckles on the table. Finally, he said, “Major hasn’t told you?” As if hoping Poe might suddenly realize what was going on with you and let him off the hook. At the same time, his friend appeared unsurprised of the direction the conversation had gone since your odd departure.

Raising a brow at his friend, Poe leaned forward. “No,” He replied slowly, shaking his head, “Told me what?”

“Let me preface this by telling you she asked me not to make you aware of the situation. Healer Derrin has been cornering her around base every day since you’ve been back, trying to convince her to give him another chance,” Temmin paused as Poe shifted from curious to downright outraged, “Don’t look at me like that, I just found out myself like two days ago.”

“But-I-” Poe stammered, half rising from his seat, “What the fuck has he been doing?”

Temmin waved a hand in a calming manner, “Popping up all over, trying to catch her for a conversation. Only reason I found out was that he came into the hangar the other day and she practically climbed on my back hiding behind me from him.”

Beside himself with fury, Poe took several deep breaths to relax. “Fuck,” He growled, running his hands over his face.

A distant part of his mind wondered why he was so physically worked up, ready to seek out the Healer and lay into him. When he glanced up, Temmin was casting an obvious glance to the time and Poe relented, releasing his anger to focus on the task at hand. “Sorry, thank you for telling me. Let’s go.”

With a curt nod, Temmin jumped to his feet and fell into step with Poe as they made their way to the hangar. It didn’t go unnoticed by Poe that his friend cast a wary eye around, no doubt concerned they would run into Rush and he would be required to break up a fight.

Quietly sighing to himself, Poe rationalized that he could focus on patrol, then return to base and seek out Rush for a civil conversation, nothing more. Flying would calm him, help him to clear his head, and despite your request to keep Poe out of it, he wasn’t about to let you down by allowing some dick head to harass you.

Patrolling the Resistance base was a duty that fell upon every squadron, regardless of status. Poe knew he could probably convince Leia to let Black team off the hook, considering the number of high-status, incredibly dangerous missions she entrusted them with, however he felt it was good for his team to pull their weight when it came to the less exciting tasks.

It was also a good opportunity for some team building, as you all kept your comms open to have idle chit-chat throughout the shift. “Listen, Poe, Tommy was a lot taller than you. You know it, I know it, hell Temmin knows it! He knew Tommy!” You were giggling now, which was the only reason why Poe had continued to argue that Tommy wasn’t all that much taller than him.

“She’s right, Commander.” Temmin supplied with a chuckle.

Kare’s voice joined in, “I’ve never met this Tommy but he sure sounds a lot taller. Did you date him, Major?”

At the question, Poe felt himself stiffen slightly, suddenly extremely curious to hear your response. You didn’t hesitate, “Oh, maker, no. Never.”

“Wow,” Poe chirped with a laugh, “I’m kind offended for Tommy with how passionately you just said that!”

You laughed, “Tommy wasn’t my type, Kare. We were just friends.”

“But he did ask you out,” Temmin suddenly supplied, unknowingly causing Poe to frown. Tommy had asked you out...when? It can’t have been during Gold team days, because then he’d know about it, if not from you then certainly from Charlie, who was close with Tommy. Which meant that you had seen Tommy at some point after you left and spent enough time with him for the handsome pilot to ask you out. Jealously silenced Poe and he opted to listen only.

“Oh,” You sounded surprised that Temmin knew about it, “Yes, well we were stationed together for a while at an outpost a few years ago.” Though your voice had tightened somewhat, Temmin had apparently not picked up on it and continued speaking, teasing you.

“Huh well, Major, from what I heard via our mutual friend Rico, you two had a 'friends with benefits' thing going on during that assignment.”

You laughed in embarrassment, “Fuck off, Temmin.”

Realizing that his silence was both telling and uncalled for, Poe decided to join back in. “What, sweetheart, embarrassed to admit you liked his man-bun?” He joked, happily drawing further laughs from you and the rest of Black team. Inwardly, however, Poe was spinning and he tuned out of the remainder of the conversation as he fell into deep thought.

It was incredibly wonderful having you back. Despite everything that happened during the mission, the resulting change between Poe and you had exponentially increased his overall happiness. It felt, in some ways, like old times. The void that was Charlie was there, ever-present but not always overwhelming, sometimes it was just a hum of grief in the background as you walked next to Poe, your shoulder occasionally brushing his arm, or when you laughed fully and your eyes crinkled the same way Charlie’s had.

And stars, you were funny-Poe had always thought you had a great sense of humour, but the past few years had given you a slightly harsher perspective, something that most Resistance fighters developed in time. It meant your wit was a little drier, your sarcasm in great abundance. He’d laughed more these past few weeks than he had in years, something that didn’t escape Temmin’s notice, his friend often shooting him a knowing wink when you weren’t looking.

Professionally, not a whole lot had changed, though conversation and directives were less chopped, he was proud to know that despite the tension and anger that had been between you before the mission, you had both worked immensely well together.

He had been terrified that you would leave again, despite your assurances on the contrary. He wouldn’t even have blamed you if you had; he remembered everything that happened, the way he’d touched you, the dark bruises and marks he’d littered across your soft skin, and the things he said. The harsh, cruel words still twisted in the back of his mind, surging to the forefront at random to taunt him, force him to relive the way he’d demeaned you. But you hadn’t left, in fact, Poe was pretty certain that the first few days back you had barely left his side just to prove to him that you wouldn’t, and he was grateful for that more than he could tell you.

He was grateful to have you back, to banter and tease, to see your smile brighten the room every day, usually because of something he had said. His old feelings were stirring, never really having faded altogether, but he was eager to push them down again and focus on the friendship. He needed to reign in his jealousy over something that had happened years ago between you and Tommy.

There was no reason good enough to admit how he had felt before Charlie died, and certainly, nothing in the galaxy could convince him to confess to you how he was starting to feel now.

It was better, he thought, to just be friends. Safer.

Earlier that morning

Your skin was soft, delightfully silky and smooth under his rough fingers, and he enjoyed gripping you harder, pulling your hips to his as he filled you, over and over. Your warm body pressed against his as you straddled his lap, your moans weak and head lolling from the pleasure.

The feel of your head falling to his neck, your body curling into him as your orgasm hit.

“Oh Poe, don’t stop!” The way you said his name. How you clenched around him, pulling him to his own peak. The feeling that was coming inside of you, bliss and rightness of the action intensely overwhelming as you shivered in his arms.

With a start, Poe woke up, his dream-induced orgasm ripping from him. He was unable to do more than groan in pleasure, his hips rutting against the mattress as his cum spurted, hands gripping his pillow. Biting his lip, the shame washed over him before he’d fully finished cumming, his groan morphing into a pitiful sound of desperation.

Every fucking day he woke up much the same, his dream-memories of those final moments under the grip of the pollen replaying over and over until he woke up mid-orgasm. He hadn’t had wet dreams since he hit puberty, for Maker’s sake. He thought it must be an aftereffect of the pollen, further proof the intensity and potency of the red flower was beyond anything he’d ever heard of.

Grunting in frustration, Poe climbed out of bed and retrieved a towel to clean up his mess. Turning on the shower, he glanced at the time, happy that he had enough time to rinse off before meeting you for what was becoming a routine morning caf.

He kept the water cold, punishing himself for his dreams and wishing like hell he could erase the images of you, so beautiful and soft around him, from his mind.

It was ideal that the man essentially stalking you was a Healer because it meant that he was relatively easy to track down on base. Healers had long shifts in the med-bay and usually didn’t stray far from base in case something major happened that required additional medical support. Poe was walking to the med bay now, leaving you with Temmin and your funny friend Ana back in the dining hall, to confront Rush.

He’d come up with a simple excuse to step away, stating he required a few essentials from the commissary and wanting to get there before they closed. You were eating slowly tonight and he had taken advantage of that and Ana’s rare presence-something that would keep you in the dining hall much longer, conversation flowing, so that he could slip off to the med-bay.

He’d felt your eyes watching him as he excused himself, burning into the back of his neck as he tried to walk as casually as possible out of the room. As soon as he was clear, he sped up in case you decided to follow him, but a glance over his shoulder before he turned the corner a few minutes later proved he was right that you would linger with Ana instead.

As he walked along the halls, nodding and smiling at anyone he passed, Poe attempted to steady and control his emotions. He would ask Rush to leave you be; be nice but incredibly firm. Advise the healer that it was in his own best interest to keep things professional unless you did indicate you were interested. As he argued with himself on the best way to word the request, Charlie’s image floated around in his head, reminding him that if he was still alive and some dick head was bothering you, he would be the one to calmly protect you. Poe was the less than calm protector, but he needed to channel your brother here because he hoped to prevent you from finding out he’d cornered Rush.

As he approached the final stretch of the hallway that led into the med-bay, a nurse just coming off duty came walking along in the opposite direction. Poe recognized the older woman, brightening when she glanced up and saw him. “Evening, Rosie, how are you?” He flashed her his best grin.

With an affectionate roll of her eyes, Rosie calm to a halt in front of Poe, “Good evening Commander, what brings you to our neck of the woods? You don’t look injured unless your big head is giving you a headache.”

This was why Poe liked her, she was the type to catch on to bullshit and funny as hell. He couldn’t help his bark of a laugh, “No, I’ve gotten pretty good at lugging it around,” He replied, “Listen, can I ask you a quick question before you head off for a night of dancing with a lucky guy?”

“Lucky lady,” She corrected with a wink, and Poe smiled apologetically with a nod, “And go ahead, what’s up?”

“Right, my mistake, although now that I think of it I don’t think any of us men could survive your charms,” He joked, pulling a laugh from the deadpan nurse, “I’m looking for Healer Derrin, do you happen to know where I could find him?”

Something close to a knowing look flashed in her eyes then, but Rosie didn’t comment. “His shift just ended, actually. He left for the hangar roughly, oh, ten minutes ago.” She glanced at her wrist comm for the time, nodding to herself at her estimation.

Poe frowned, realizing that it was routine for you to have left dinner already to go to the hangar to input your mission report for the day and perform your check of his and your own ships. Because you were dining with Ana, however, you hadn’t left yet. “Thank you, Rosie.” He gently clasped her shoulder as she smiled at him with that look still in her eyes, but she merely bid him farewell before he spun around a hurried away, taking the quickest route to the hangar.

When he arrived, the hangar was fairly quiet, only a few lingering mechanics wandering about, several service droids cleaning the large space and performing nighttime checks. Still wearing his medical clothing, Rush was easy to spot as he stood near your ship across the room, eyes staring off at nothing as he waited to see if you’d turn up.

When he heard Poe’s footsteps approaching, he turned with a hopeful look before spotting him and shifting to a placating smile. “Evening, Commander!”

Poe stopped a few feet short Rush and tried his best to return the smile, “Healer,” His voice was clipped, and he took a careful breath in an attempt to keep calm and channel Charlie. Friendly, to the point, no need to get worked up. “What brings you here so late?”

Rush shrugged, “Hoping to catch the little bird that keeps flying off,” He admitted, gesturing at your ship, “Can’t seem to get any face-to-face time with her, but I’m hoping to clear things up and start fresh. Think I moved too quickly before.”

Poe plastered his face with a neutral expression as his insides burned upon hearing Rush refer to you as ‘little bird’. “Listen, man, I’ve known (y/n) my whole life and I don’t think she’s interested, I mean, it’s been weeks since your date and she’s been avoiding you since.” Poe kept his voice as steady as possible, not wanting his tone to convey anything other than mild interest.

Rush bristled immediately, however, “That your objective opinion, Dameron?”

His voice was pointedly not steady and his tone was anything but mild. Still, Poe held up his hands in a placating gesture, “It is, and it’s kind of...uh, obvious, I guess.”

Poe watched as Rush took a measured step closer to him, though this didn’t serve to intimidate as the Healer stood an easy couple of inches shorter than him. “You’re full of shit. You’re telling me this because you want to fuck her,” He glared up at Poe, who was frowning as he fought his internal battle to remain calm. “Actually, noticed you two are buddy-buddy all of a sudden; so that’s it, isn’t it? You went off together for nearly two weeks and she spread her pretty legs for you-“

Well, no one could say Poe didn’t try. His fist was connecting with Rush’s smug face before the Healer could continue his vulgar accusation, falling back a few steps before regaining his balance and shooting a glare that did nothing to intimidate Poe.

Forcing himself not to move in for another punch, Poe pointed his finger at Rush, “Shut the fuck up, asshole. I never want to hear you talk about her that way again, got it?”

Rush scoffed, his hand rubbing along his reddening jaw, “You’re only proving me right, reacting like that. Either you want her so you’re trying to prevent me from having a chance, or you already had her,” The Healer was seething mad, clearly not thinking straight. He didn’t seem to see the tension rolling over Poe’s body, anger coiling within and ready to burst forth in more than just a single punch. Or maybe a handsome guy like Rush Derrin couldn’t stand the idea of having a competitor, as he seemed to view Poe, and it clouded his usual ‘nice guy’ personality entirely, made him mean, made him say things that he really, really shouldn’t. “Tell me, what is she like when you’re balls deep-does she moan as loud as I-“

This time, Poe didn’t hold his anger back into a single punch, he opted instead to launch himself at Rush, whose eyes flashed in fear just before he was taken to the ground. Fistfights weren’t something that Poe usually got himself into anymore, though he’d had more than his share growing up. He held himself to higher standards now, especially considering his high rank within the Resistance, the respect he had from his fellow fighters.

All of that was out the window though as he wrestled on the hangar floor with Rush, who gave a yell of anger as he tried to out fist Poe. He was strong, a decent enough match physically despite being shorter than Poe, who twisted his hips to roll Rush in a flurry of movement, eager not to end up bested by being pinned under the man. He did feel the punches he gained in return, particularly a stinging blow to his cheek that seemed to hit directly on the apple, skin splitting on contact. Rush was wasting energy on cursing and yelling insults, most of which didn’t register with Poe as blood rushed loudly in his ears, rage only intensifying.

It was only a few moments of fighting at this point, not long enough for anyone who had been on the other side of the hangar to have made it over already to break them up. This was why Poe stiffened in complete surprise when he saw a figure approaching quickly in his peripheral vision, which distracted him just enough for Rush to take advantage and roll heavily, slamming Poe into the floor. He felt his head hit the concrete, though it wasn’t too hard of a blow it was disorienting. Before he could even begin to attempt to get Rush off of him, however, the figure that had first distracted him now came directly into view over Poe.

It was you.

But you weren’t yelling for them to stop like he would have imagined you would do. Instead, from his vantage on the ground, Poe witnessed your fury first hand, so much more intense than he’d seen in years. But the night of Charlie’s funeral that fury had been lined with grief and heartbreak. Now, you looked shockingly terrifying as you swiftly launched yourself at Rush, tackling him off of Poe in one motion before rolling with ease and jumping back to your feet.

When you pointed your blaster down at the Healer, who lay flat on his back in complete shock, even Poe flinched at the look on your face.

“Don’t you fucking touch him,” You hissed, your voice cold and low. There were a few people nearby, all who’d frozen upon seeing the Major asserting her authority over the lower level Healer. Though he partially flushed with pride and equal parts surprise, Poe was quick to scramble to his feet and hurry to your side. “I forbid you to enter this hangar again unless it’s for medical purposes, got it?”

Poe could see that your finger wasn’t on the trigger of your blaster, the safety clicked on still. All the same, your reaction was completely out of character and he wanted to stop that cold, harsh look on your face in its tracks, even if it wasn’t directed at him.

“Sweetheart,” He murmured, quiet enough that only Rush could discern his words, “Let’s take a walk, let Healer Derrin go and lick his wounds.”

The moment you dropped the blaster, Rush was on his feet and hurrying out of the hangar, blissfully silent, entirely amusing. Poe glanced around to the others nearby and gave a friendly nod of release, and they broke away to finish their work. Placing a hand carefully on your lower back, he put a slight pressure and started to walk, relieved when you complied and holstered your blaster.

Though he’d suggested the walk, you seemed to take control of the direction and somehow Poe found himself stepping through the door of your room minutes later. He barely had a moment to glance around at the minimally decorated space, his eyes again finding your pinned copy of his favourite photo on the corkboard, before you rounded on him.

You weren’t as furious as you had been before, but he still took a measured step away from under the heat of your gaze, flinching as he waited for you to begin yelling at him for interfering in your life, for embarrassing you, bracing himself for your wrath.

Instead, your angry gaze met his own and you faltered, your eyes flicking over his face and Poe watched the anger melt away, your expression softening into concern. “Oh, Poe,” You sighed, closing the distance between you both to reach up and carefully grab his jaw with one hand, turning his head to peer up at the cheek he’d taken the worst punch to, “Are you alright?”

You dropped your hand, not completely as he would have expected but to rest on his chest, just over his heart. Poe felt himself stiffen again, the casual way you touched him driving him almost into a frenzy of confusion and hope and fear.

“I’m fine, I can take a punch,” He grinned, cringing when his cheek stung from the movement. “Might need to pop a bacta-patch over this, though.” He reached up and carefully prodded the split skin, hissing at the pain.

You stepped away, tugging Poe by the arm, “Sit,” You ordered, pushing him toward your bed. He perched himself on the edge and watched as you went to the med-kit you kept in your fresher to pull out bacta-patches. “I knew you weren’t going to the commissary.” You added when you walked back toward Poe, grabbing your desk chair and setting it in front of him before taking a seat.

“In my defence, I was being nice at first,” Poe said as you wiped away the blood on his face before gently placing the patch, your eyes focused on your work. “He uh, turned out to be a bit more hot-headed than I’d have thought.”

You snorted, “I came in too late to know who hit who first, but you don’t need to defend yourself,” Picking up another wipe, you cleaned around the patch and some spots along the rest of his face that must have had blood splatter. “I made Temmin tell me if he told you about Rush. I know you were fighting with him because of me. And that’s...that’s why I hadn't mentioned it, actually.”

Poe stared at you for a beat, “What do you mean?”

“I just,” You sighed, your eyes searching his face before you tossed the wipe in the trash and you sat back in your seat. He already missed the feel of your hands on his skin. “I knew you would want to talk to him, and that could lead to a fistfight or whatever on my behalf, and I didn’t want you to put yourself in that position just for me.”

“Just for you?” Poe repeated in surprise, leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees, to look at you closely, “Sweetheart, come on, you know I’d do anything for you.”

You nodded, but Poe wondered if you understood how serious he was, how he wouldn’t hesitate, wouldn’t question. Or maybe you did understand and that was why you looked slightly afraid, your face flushed as Poe gazed at you intently.

“Poe, you’ve been going out of your way for me since we’ve been back. You know it’s all...we’re good, I trust you,” You leaned forward, your face mere inches from Poe’s, and took his hands into yours, “So you don’t need to keep proving yourself, I promise.”

Poe felt himself nodding as he looked at you, gazed into your bright eyes and saw the sincerity in them, the emotion. He was still, afraid to move now that there was nothing between either of you, fully aware that you were alone together in a locked room and nothing could interrupt you. He felt himself blush, heat crawling up his neck, and Poe wanted to lean away and clear his throat and push back everything he was feeling but you were making it too difficult, sitting there with wide eyes and plump lips and a look so earnest, so trusting that he was transported straight back to the first time he’d wanted to kiss you.

But the thing was, he was a skinny teenager back then, and it had been easy to talk himself back and resist the urge because of Charlie. Because he didn’t want to offend you. Because your mom was just down the hall and could walk in at any moment.

But here, Poe wasn’t a teenager anymore, and for that matter neither were you. No, you were both fully grown adults, a fact he was keenly aware of as his eyes moved from yours, slowly, and he saw the way your lips were parted, the flush up your neck, the way your chest was heaving slightly.

He’d never wanted to be braver in his entire life.

Just as he thought of closing the gap, though, an image surfaced. The memory of you, trembling on the table after the pollen had worn off, just before he could give you the bacta shot, your body littered with marks he’d put there, the marks that were in the nightmares he kept having. Bile rose in his throat and he was sure you sensed the shift then because you were pulling away even before Poe broke the connection of your gazes and eased his hands from your grasp.

It was quiet for a minute, each of you looking determinedly away from the other. You stood, and Poe glanced up, fearing you were going to ask him to leave. You had a thoughtful look on your face, however, and moved over to your dresser instead. He watched as you opened the lowest drawer, flipping through the contents.

“I realized the other day that you didn’t have any of Charlie’s clothing because of course, I’d taken it all,” You straightened, turning around with a small stack of shirts clutched in your hands, “But I shouldn’t have done that, so here, take these.” And you held the stack out to him, biting your lip as you did.

Poe’s heart stuttered in his chest and he had to blink a few times to clear the sting of tears threatening the corners of his eyes. “These were...Charlies’?” You nodded, your eyes swimming with similar emotion. He took them from you and looked down at the familiar, worn fabric in a variety of colours, each shirt soft and well cared for. “Sweetheart, I don’t know what to say.”

He stood up, gripping the clothes in one hand before carefully reaching out and wrapping his arm around your head, pulling you close and kissing your hair. You were stiff in his arms, but he felt you patting his mid-back. “You don’t have to say anything, flyboy.”

—

It was very rare that you found yourself in your current position, crouched outside of Poe Dameron’s window late at night, grateful that his father slept on the lower floor of their home because he found it cooler. And even though you knew Mr. Dameron wouldn’t be mad if he found you sneaking into his son’s room, because you and Poe were together most of the time anyway since forever, you didn’t want him to interrupt your attempt to apologize to your friend.

You carefully slid the window open, your eyes attempting to adjust to the darkened room within but there was no light this evening, even the stars were hidden by clouds that threatened rain you knew wouldn’t come for another day at least. You were gazing in the direction of where you knew his bed was, so when hands shot out to grab you from almost right in front of you, you couldn’t help the squeak you let out, still desperate to be quiet, before promptly falling backwards. You wondered if you were about to break your arm again, and it had only just healed the month before. Kriff.

Thankfully Poe had already grabbed your waist, his hands gripping tighter when you lost your balance before he pulled you through his window with a grunt, both of you tumbling down due to the force he’d used to ensure you didn’t fall. Landing clumsily on top of him with a thud, you both froze in the dark, listening for any sounds from downstairs.

You waited a few minutes, heart pounding in your ears, wishing you could at least see Poe’s face but it was too dark, you could only make out the faint outline of him. You could tell he was looking up at you, but that was about it. Feeling confident Mr. Dameron was still fast asleep, you shuffled off of Poe, only his hands were still gripping your waist, so you ended up kneeling right next to him.

“Poe?” You whispered, moving a hand down to pat the back of one of his, “I think we’re good-sorry, I wanted to-“

Poe’s angry sigh halted your words in their tracks, and you felt his fingers flex before he released you and moved away. After a pause, light from a small lamp bathed the room in a low, golden glow and your best friend came into view, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I heard your apology the first time, (y/n),” He hissed, and you hated the way he said your name, that he even said it at all when you were used to him only referring to you as ‘sweetheart’. “Breaking in to say it again doesn’t really-“

You had climbed to your feet, dusting off your knees before glaring up at Poe, “Fine, I won’t apologize again. But I’m not leaving until you talk to me, tell me how I can fix this.”

Poe ran a hand wearily over his face, not meeting your eyes. Guilt and shame and sadness were all that you felt these past several days as Poe actively avoided you, refused to even look at you, because of what you’d said. And you hadn’t meant it, you really didn’t, it just slipped out in a moment of heated disagreement and you wished you could eat the words back up before you’d fully finished speaking. The look he’d given you...

“I don’t know, I just need some time,” He grumbled, still not looking at you. You took a half step closer, hoping to draw his gaze. Disappointed when he only frowned harder and kept his eyes on the wall. “I know you’re sorry, but you still fucking said it.”

“And I have no excuse for it, Poe, I was out of line. I was angry and I wanted to just...”

“You wanted to hurt me.” He finished, and you were shaking your head violently because that wasn’t it, it really wasn’t.

“No, no that’s not why,” You breathed, tears threatening but you swallowed them back, blinking, “You’ve just been so weird lately, and you wouldn’t tell me why so I lost myself and wanted a...a reaction, something, from you.”

Poe’s eyes locked on yours then and you felt yourself shrink inward at the coldness within them, “You said my mother would be ashamed of me. Out loud, to my face. Because I wasn’t explaining why I’ve been moody-which by the way, if you thought about it you’d fucking realize why-so that was your solution?”

His voice had raised only a fraction, a whisper yell in the dim room, yet he might as well have been screaming at you. You deserved for him to rage and yell because you had said that. In a stupid, selfish moment, after weeks of odd behaviour from Poe and another fruitless attempt to ask him what was going on, you’d said his mother would be ashamed of him for shutting you out. You hated yourself for saying it.

You grappled with yourself, struggling to find words and Poe jumped on your silence to continue speaking. “I forget sometimes that you’re just a kid, a silly, spoiled little girl who gets her way all the time,” His words cut through the air like little knives, driving straight into your chest, “But in the real world, when you say mean shit like that you can’t always just bat your pretty lashes and say you’re sorry. Words have consequences, you fucking brat.”

You bristled, despite having known when you decided to come here tonight and beg for forgiveness that he might lash out, you weren’t prepared for Poe to talk down to you like this. Little girl. Spoiled. Brat. Was that really how he saw you?

Was he really going to leave to join the Resistance and you’d never see him again?

“Fuck you,” You gasped, pain lancing your heart as you glared up at your best friend, “You don’t talk to me like that, Poe Dameron. I said a shitty, horrible thing to you and I didn’t mean it and I’ve been trying to apologize, that doesn’t give you the right to speak to me like this. You’re calling me the kid when you-you’re acting like an angry little boy?”

Poe dropped his crossed arms, his mouth opening in fury as he stepped toward you, and you were ready for the fight, for the words to start flowing between you both as whatever the fuck was going on lately seemed to bubble up and over. But the dim lighting of the room left a lot of shadows and darkness, and his sudden movement toward you startled you. You couldn’t help it, you flinched, visibly and almost bone jarringly. You flinched away from Poe, one hand half raising in front of yourself defensively.

And the fight in Poe, that fire and passion, it was out in an instant. Like you had flipped a switch and all the power was sucked from the room. For a moment, he stood frozen in mid-motion, gaping at you as you straightened from your defensive stance, and you shook your head to organize your thoughts, wanting to just apologize again and leave. But he was looking at you so intensely now that you felt like you couldn’t move; like he’d pinned you with his horrified expression.

“Are you-?” His voice almost broke, and he didn’t try to clear it, merely lowered the pitch, “Are you scared of me?”

You wanted to shake your head, but your brain was still processing the shocked look he was giving you, the colour rising to his cheeks as emotion seemed to overwhelm him. Poe looked utterly wrecked at that moment, and even though you knew he needed to hear you speak, to assure him that of course, you weren’t scared of him, the sudden movement and looming shadow on the wall had simply caught you off guard, you couldn’t bring yourself to fucking speak.

“Sweetheart, fuck, I’m so sorry, please don’t be afraid,” He gasped out, holding up both hands slowly, palms facing you, “I would never-shit, sweet, beautiful girl, please don’t be afraid of me, please I’m sorry, I’m so so-“

You cut him off as he started to nearly sob, convinced you were scared of him, that you thought he might hurt you. “Poe, no, I’m not scared!” Regaining the use of your brain, you stumbled forward and threw yourself against Poe’s chest, gripping the soft tee he’d worn to bed, your face pressed over his heart. “I was just startled, I’m not scared of you, I could never be scared of you.”

You could hear his heart hammering away in his chest, feel how tense he was, his hands hovering in the air behind you. His voice was so quiet when he spoke that if you hadn’t had your head so close against him, you wouldn’t have heard.

“I would never hurt you, fuck, I wouldn’t try to intimidate you. I’m sorry I was going to stand closer so I-I could yell without waking dad up, so stupid...” The sob that had been threatening him tore out, crushing your heart a little.

He was ridiculous because you’d know him your whole life and you knew he wasn’t the type of man to physically harm or scare anyone. Sure, he’d been in his share of fistfights, but even you knew he was usually throwing a punch in response, and these last few months he’d been relatively cool-headed, a sign of his maturity.

You pressed your body closer to his before lifting your head to look up at him. Poe was still not touching you, and he was looking across the room unseeingly as he blinked back tears, his expression tense and upset. With slow movements, you reached up to stroke along his jaw, your hand pausing when you first touched him, your heart rate picking up a little when his eyes closed at your touch. You stroked more than the usual three times, repeating the action until his body relaxed against yours, continuing until his hands tentatively moved, one settling on your waist and the other raising to cup your face.

You stood like that for a long moment, your fingers still trailing the familiar path of his stubble, drinking in the way his expression, eyes still closed, softened for you.

“I know you wouldn’t ever hurt me, Poe,” You whispered, “That’s why I’m fucking wrecked that I hurt you. If you don’t want to see me anymore...I understand, I crossed the line like an idiot. Our friendship has always been the most important thing to me and I overstepped and I’m sorry, you’re right that I’m just a stupid little-“

“Stop,” Though it was low, whispered into the room, the command behind the word was enough to silence you and you gazed at Poe in surprise. He looked at you then, and you delighted at the expression he had, so filled with love and care. “I forgive you, I know you didn’t mean it. I saw your face right as you said it...we just, we both got too worked up. We keep doing that, I think because we know Charlie and I leave in less than a year.”

You nodded in agreement, the small movement making you suddenly very aware of how tightly pressed against Poe you were. He was still holding your face gently, but the hand on your waist was gripping you in a way the suggested he felt the proximity as well. You took a shuddering breath, “I love you, Poe. I’m sorry.”

He dropped his head to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering half shut, and the weirdest thought suddenly cropped up in your head. The most absurd notion that you could easily tilt your head and press your lips to his. You remained still, but couldn’t help but stare at his soft lips as he spoke.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” The hand on your waist clutched you closer, which you hadn't thought was possible, “And I promise I would never hurt you, never lay a finger on you or say something awful that I meant, never. Nothing could ever, ever make me hurt you, sweet, lovely girl.”

You closed your eyes, unable to trust yourself to resist kissing him when he spoke to you like that, his words coated in the deep, suddenly husky tone of voice. And you couldn’t rid those thoughts as he led you over to his bed and you cuddled against him, ready to sleep but your heart thrumming away as you imagined what it would be like to kiss him, your Poe.

What would it be like to be with him, to touch him, to-and you really blushed now, grateful he’d shut the light back off and his light snores were filling the room-feel him hard for you...you’d never been with a guy before, not like that. You’d had some steamy make-out sessions, groped and fondled with cute guys...but the idea of your Poe coming undone for you...

Well, that was suddenly an idea that you were completely unaware would have such an intense impact on you. You let the images play out in your mind for a moment before taking a deep breath and pushing them back and down, convincing yourself it was just a reaction to the adrenaline, the high emotions. Poe’s grip on you tightened in his sleep, and you snuggled closer to lay your head over his heart and listen to the steady beat.

—

Word travelled quickly around base that Rush Derrin had been beaten up by a pilot; the surprising thing was, at least to you, that the pilot in question was you and not Poe. Apparently, Poe scrapping on the floor with Rush wasn’t nearly as interesting or exciting as the story of how you’d tackled Rush, moved to your feet and drawn your blaster on him in one swift motion.

You had grown used to the quiet greetings over the months you’d been on D’Qar, and enjoyed the last few weeks of friendlier hello’s that cropped up in response to your rekindled friendship with Poe, but the tale of your no-nonsense, ego stripping attack on the rude Healer seemed to blast you into the same orbit Poe had been in as the ever-popular poster boy for the Resistance.

Everyone said hello, no matter where you went or the time of day. Ana sought you out the afternoon after to tell you that all the mechanics were raving about how they thought you were snobbish, and now realized you were, in fact, a silent badass. As embarrassing as it all was, it was nothing compared to Poe’s response to your new status.

He was insatiable, eagerly and proudly telling anyone who would listen-and it seemed everyone did want to listen-his first-hand account of watching you tackle Rush. Of how you’d coldly told him off as you followed your professional directive-protect your Commander, no matter the threat. Your shoulders were starting to ache from the number of times he’d clapped his hands over them, rooting you to the spot so that you couldn’t escape the latest admirers, gripping you because he really was proud, really meant everything he said.

“Okay, seriously,” You breathed when you finally broke free from a group of younger pilots, Poe laughing at your side in amusement at your reaction. “Commander, I may have protected you but I can just as easily go ahead and kick you in the-"

“Ah, come on now sweetheart, you wouldn’t do that,” He laughed, a playful arm dropping around your shoulder. Your insides had started reacting to every single touch, lingering or not, that Poe gave you. Which had been happening a lot lately. And it didn’t help matter that he’d look at you the night of his fight with Rush like you had told him you’d hung the moon just for him. You couldn’t shake the memory of the way he’d gazed at you as you sat frozen, inches away.

“Don’t be so sure,” You grumbled, allowing him to lead you to the hangar, “I now have to hope that if either of us gets seriously injured Rush isn’t the Healer on call, because I doubt he’d be much help now.” You noticed then that even though you were still passing people, and those people were smiling at you, no one had stopped you or spoken to either you or Poe.

Confused, you frowned up at Poe, intending to ask him, but the words died on your tongue.

No one was stopping you because they didn’t want to interrupt Commander Dameron and Major Horn, happily wrapped around each other, looking exactly like a love-struck couple. You were sure that a previous version of yourself, the one who existed years and years ago, would have quickly sprung out of Poe’s reach and laughed awkwardly, made an excuse to run to the fresher. Instead, a feeling grew inside of you that felt a lot like...

Possession. But that wasn’t right, was it?

Poe wasn’t yours, not like that. It was almost like there were two parts of you reacting to the increasing touches; the part that enjoyed the familiarity of his affection, and a part that starved for more and grew hungrier every time it was fed. It made it hard, impossible even, to sort through your real feelings for Poe. Because you did love him, you did feel yourself flush at the idea that others were viewing you as a couple, and yet...the path of your thoughts seemed to reroute itself constantly, focusing on the physical and craving more of it.

Maybe this was your problem before, you couldn’t admit to yourself how you felt toward Poe and it ended up being twisted up until Charlie died. You’d admitted to yourself that the biggest reason you’d fled was that you had realized, all those years ago, that you were in love with Poe. Was that what this was now? Old feelings slamming back home with startling intensity?

Then why could you only focus on his hands on you, if that was the case?

He’d noticed you’d gone quiet and came to a sudden halt in the empty hall, glancing down at you curiously, his eyes darker than normal. You felt his arm hold you a little tighter, the hand on your shoulder gripping almost too hard.

It felt really good.

Fuck, what the fuck.

“Sweetheart?” He searched your face, brows pinching in confusion.

Feeling a little dazed, you shook your head to clear your mind, keenly aware that there was no space between your bodies, that you could press up against him easily. And you were warm, actually. Really, really warm.

“Sorry,” You murmured, forcing yourself to give him a placating little grin, “Just...a little overwhelmed, I think.” You admitted, conceding a partial truth that you knew would suffice.

Instantly, his expression softened and he was backing up, pulling you with him until he was leaning against the wall. He spread his feet apart and pulled you to stand between them, his hands moving to cup your face gently as he looked down at you with kind eyes. You think you stopped breathing. You think he did too. He seemed surprised at his actions.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been teasing you for days,” He sighed after a pause, one thumb absentmindedly stroking your cheek. You were going to combust or pass out, or maybe just evaporate on the spot. “Good news is, I’m pretty sure the General has another mission that’ll take us out of this parsec for a day or two. Should give everyone enough time to move on.” His other hand moved from your face to brush back a few stray hairs, his eyes following the movement hungrily. They were darker still.

There was a familiarity in that darkness.

“That-that’s uh, good,” You stammered, your eyes moving everywhere except to meet his. You were afraid of what he’d see if he looked directly at you. Of what you’d see...but you didn’t understand why you were afraid.

You just got Poe back, you weren’t fucking this up. Get it together, get it together, breathe...

“I know I don’t need to ask,” His voice was low, the timbre shooting straight to your core, “But are you okay to fly, because you seem a little out of it.” His voice sounded wrecked, like it was painful to be speaking.

You nodded hastily, pressing your hands into his abdomen for some unknown reason. You could feel the muscle under his shirt, hell you could remember what it felt like to touch those muscles, to drag your tongue along the surprisingly soft skin, before...before...

Oh fuck.

You think you realized what was happening a moment before it was too late to react, your brain opting to shut down as pleasure ripped through your body with a ferocity that knocked you clean over. With a shuddering moan, you collapsed into Poe as your orgasm rocked through you, unable to speak now as wave after wave turned you into a whimpering mess. He caught you, his face confused even as he unknowingly rutted his hips against you and started trembling.

“What-?” He got a good look at your face then and realization dawned, his expression twisting in horror. “Oh shit, shit,” He groaned, clutching you harder against him and you heard him breathe out your name, equal parts fear and desire colouring his tone before he sunk to his knees, bringing you down with him, and his body stilled.

His orgasm tore through him just as violently, the only thing he could think to do was nuzzle his head into your neck and hide his face as he came. You were limp, your body jerking and convulsing as the high never ended, it seemed to hold at its peak and just drag you along for the ride, unwillingly. In the very back of your mind, you recognized that what was happening was, undoubtedly, an aftereffect to the pollen you’d been exposed to weeks prior. The nightly dreams, subsequent orgasms, the way fire licked up your spine at every touch from Poe...it made sense, and if you weren’t currently trying to keep yourself and Poe quiet as you each came, you’d probably be feeling like a first-class idiot for not reporting the exposure.

“Fuck,” You whimpered pitifully, clinging to Poe for life. You felt another hand on your shoulder suddenly and registered a voice saying your name. It took a few moments to find enough clarity to look up, blinking through the haze to find Temmin standing over you both, his expression frantic with concern.

“Major, (y/n), tell me what’s happening, talk to me here!”

“T-Temmin...we, we were exposed on our, shit,” You had to pause as your orgasm seemed to notch up another level, dropping your head to hide your face against Poe’s. “Mission. Red fertility plant, help, oh maker please help!” You cried out, the burning and heat threatening to undo you completely, no longer overwhelmed with lust but now a high that seemed too far for humans, your heart hammering in your chest like it wanted to break out, run away from you and abandon your trembling body as you burned.

You slumped over, distantly aware of Temmin roaring for medics, but determined to bring your focus to Poe, who was now holding you too tightly. You realized he was speaking into your neck, and you had to tilt your head awkwardly to hear. Your vision was narrowing now, but you could hear him perfectly.

“I can’t hurt you again, don’t let me hurt her, please make it stop.” He repeated this plea over and over, and it was the only thing you could hear as your eyes began to close, as other hands were on you, pulling him away and you fought to keep him close until the heat became too much and a sudden stinging cool hit your arm and you were falling, down and into an unknown abyss, your last thoughts swirling in your head louder than any voice around you.

‘Don’t let me hurt him again, please don’t let me hurt Poe again...’

—

Temmin paced the med-bay waiting area frantically, waiting for an update from the Healers on both the Commander and Major’s statuses. He’d been leaving the hangar when he found them in the hallway, clinging to one another as they seemed to convulse with pain, and it had fucking terrified him. It had made some sense when you’d be able to gasp out an explanation that you’d each been exposed to a fertility plant during your mission. But he didn’t have any room to be embarrassed that you were both essentially having orgasms in front of him because you looked so scared and confused and Poe’s words were stuck in his brain now.

“Please don’t let me hurt her again, make it stop, I can’t hurt her, she’s everything to me, please make it stop...”

While he knew he was a less emotional sort of man, Temmin wasn’t an idiot. He knew that Poe and you were soulmates who’d been through some seriously dark shit. That you just needed to work through it all to find your way back to one another. And apparently, you had started the process-finally-during your classified mission. He had been overjoyed at the change in your interactions with one another, that you seemed to be friends again, at least.

But he’d also noticed the weird reactions you both had to some of his more inappropriate teasing, seen how you would both flush and change the subject and he thought at first that maybe you had started dating again, only something seemed off. You had become increasingly more wound up over the weeks, and Poe had appeared to turn inward more and more, as though his thoughts were so intense he was trying to conceal them with every fibre of his being from everyone.

You had only mentioned a suspicious plant in your reports from your mission. It had been with dawning horror, as he screamed for Healers, that Temmin understood you’d mentioned the flowers because you’d been exposed. That whatever had happened upon exposure had been so bad that neither you nor Poe wanted to include it in your reports.

“Captain?” A Healer came out from the back, a soothing expression on her face that told him you at least weren’t dead.

He hurried forward nonetheless, “Maker, Healer Brooks, please tell me they’re going to be alright!”

Did you enjoy this chapter? Consider leaving a comment or reblogging to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Thank you 🤍

@mermaidxatxheart @foxilayde @eleinemk @paintballkid711 @mylifeisactuallyamess @20th-centu-fairy-girl @deitysnips @cannedsoupsucks @ubri812 @poedameronloverx @hoeforthefictional @astrological-bitch @itsnottilly @its-djarin @alex-sulli

#reader insert #poe dameron x reader #night changes series #fanfic #angst #fluff #poe dameron #multichapter #friends to lovers #star wars #poe x reader #oscar isaac #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron x female reader #poe smut

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disgruntledspacedad · 4 years ago

Text

The Rules of Engagement (3/5)

The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader/ofc (Ears)

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do.

words: 3.4k

warnings: 18+ for alcohol, language, smut, violence, body horror, general trauma. Please, please heed the warnings on this chapter, guys. It gets pretty intense.

a/n: Unbeta’d. I know I said this was going to be three chapters, but I lied. Sorry, my dudes - this one got away from me. Inspo credit goes to @tiffdawg, as always.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Well, fuck. You bite back a massive sigh.

You really, really don’t want to walk through that door.

It’s been a month, and you life has changed profoundly.

For one, you’re not at the office as much anymore - Stechner had made good on his promise to consider you for more flyovers, and boy, has Centra Spike been busy. Some new vigilante group is terrorizing Medellín, and while it’s not Search Bloc’s priority to go after them, they’ve undeniably kept Pablo and his sicarios busy. The radio frequencies are hot right now, and you’ve been doing eight, sometimes ten flights a week.

You absolutely love it. The hours are less predictable and definitely more shitty, but listening to a radio from the cockpit of a plane is much more fun that listening to a radio in a stuffy basement office, so you consider it a fair trade.

It keeps your brain busy, too.

Your social life has taken a massive kick to the nuts. Ana is back at university, and you miss her more than you thought you would. You’ve reverted to communicating with Emilio with gestures and smiles more than words. It’s nice because he’s nice, but you miss actual conversation, stilted as it was. Ana wasn’t all that bad, either.

And then there’s Javi.

You haven’t spoken to him since That Morning, not even a polite 'how are you?' in the hallway. Granted, you’re not seeing him as often anymore, given your new position and hours, but then again, you haven’t exactly sought him out, either.

The memory claws at you every time you relive it - and you relive it often. That anger, that wounded expression. The slammed door, his retreating footsteps. Each time you’re in that building, the walls seem to close in on you, and you have to stop yourself from looking for him, actively keep your gaze from roaming straight to his desk.

God, as if you could make it more awkward.

You’d had one nasty conversation with Murphy about a week after the incident - you’d told him in no uncertain terms that he could either mind his own business or fuck right off, you didn’t care which. He’d left you be, throwing his hands in the air and muttering something about how “you two deserve each other.”

Asshole.

Still, that aborted conversation haunts you - so many aborted conversations haunt you - and you wonder what would have happened if you’d just taken the bull by the horns and addressed the issue with Javi head on.

I’m sorry you caught me rubbing one off on the morning after you almost died, Peña. I can assure you, it won’t happen again. Your friendship means the world to me.

Yeah, right.

God, though, but you miss him.

You miss him so much it aches, a gaping hole that reaches right down to the core of you, but there’s nothing to be done about it. You’d fucked this one completely and thoroughly - any chance of restoring your friendship had drained away with the shower-water, and the more time you spend fretting over it, the more awkward - and pathetic - it would be to say anything.

So, you’d cut your losses, held your head high, and tried not to waste too much time wishing you’d have just kept your fucking fantasies to yourself.

Now, though, you’ve got no choice.

You’d been on Centra Spike’s early morning flight, just another routine scan over Medellín. The shift wasn’t intended to be more than a training run for you, but as luck would have it, the Medellín cartel’d had a busy night, and you’d been caught in the crossfire.

Your plane had just touched down half an hour ago, and now you’re standing on the front steps of the embassy building, fingering a shoebox cassette player loaded with a freshly taped recording full of juicy intel destined for the desk of DEA Agent Javier Peña - an entire, private conversation featuring none other than Verdugo himself.

You’d know that voice anywhere. You’ve studied it for hours, what few snatches you’d been able to glean from the embassy archives. It’s almost as if Verdugo is smart enough to steer clear of the city, or to just avoid phone conversations all together, the absolute fuckwad.

Until early this morning.

On the plane, you’d intercepted a new signal and tapped in on a whim, intending to practice your Spanish more than anything, but what you’d overheard was a fucking gold mine of information.

Verdugo is in Medellín. The sicarios are getting ready to move Escobar. He didn’t say where - fucking bastard knows not to spill all of the beans in one conversation - but apparently the plan requires a rendezvous in El Centro first. Verdugo is en route, and will be there until the next morning.

You’d worked frantically all night, tracing and retracing the signal, triangulating potential addresses, then back-tracking to account for environmental distortion. Each calculation had led you to the same place - an unassuming little house right smack in the middle of Medellín.

Bingo.

“You take it in, Aarons.” Torres had declined your offer to do the honors. “It’s your intel.”

So here you are, bleary-eyed and running on less than two hours of sleep, cassette player clenched tightly to your chest, summoning up all of your courage just to go speak with your ex... well, ex whatever-the-fuck Peña is.

‘This is your job,’ you remind yourself fiercely. ‘You can do this.’

As pep-talks go, it isn’t very effective.

Fuck it. You toss your head back, wishing you’d had time to at least grab a cup of coffee on the way in, and breeze around the corner.

“Agent Peña.”

He glances up lazily, thoroughly uninterested in whatever you have to say. When he realizes it’s you, he blinks once, dropping his cigarette in the ashtray and sitting up to eyeball you with a wary expression.

"What can I do for you?” he asks cooly.

You remember him saying that once before, but the context was totally different.

You shake it off. “Centra Spike has new intel that you’ll want to see right away.”

He purses his lips, tilting his head to indicate the growing pile of bullshit on his desk. “You can leave it here.”

Oh, so that’s how it is, then?

“I can’t.” You pin him with a stare, and he meets your gaze evenly, raising his eyebrows in silent challenge. You clear your throat and clarify. “I won’t.”

He scoffs as you carefully rest cassette tape on his desk, along with a map of El Centro. “We intercepted a four minute conversation with Verdugo this morning. He’s here.” You point to the safe house on the map, which you’ve already circled in red ink. “Feo and Limón are with him. They’re leaving early tomorrow.”

Peña frowns down at the spot where your finger rests. “And can you corroborate that information?”

Oh, the motherfucker. “I verified his voice personally, Peña,” you say carefully, doing your damndest to keep the annoyance from your tone. It’s well within his right to ask questions, after all. “It’s a direct match for the audio samples we have.” You tap the tape for emphasis. “You’re welcome to listen for yourself.”

He doesn’t make a move for a long time. Something hot and painful burns in your gut as you wait.

God, he knows you, knows you better than anybody else in on this goddamned continent. He knows that you know your shit, that you want to catch Escobar as desperately as he does. And this evidence that you have spread across his desk, recorded on tape and marked plainly in red ink, is irrefutable, undeniable - it’s a huge break. He knows that, too.

His apathy is palpable, and it’s driving you up the fucking wall.

When he finally glances up at you, it’s with a doubtful little smirk on his face. “Hmm.”

And oh, wow, you’re shocked by just how much that hurts.

All your life, from the moment you were born into a family of brothers, you’ve had to fight tooth and nail to be taken seriously. It was a fact of life as early as you can remember - ‘look after your sister,’ or, ’she’s just a girl,’ or ‘wow, you’re really great at math, for a woman!’ You’d settled on your career as an analyst because you’d wanted it, not because you’d had something to prove, but still, the military is a male-dominated field, and from the start, the odds had been stacked against you. Landing this CIA gig had been the achievement of a fucking lifetime. Still, the bar is set high in the Colombia, and it’s set that much higher for a woman. You’re well aware of this; you’re reminded every single day.

Point being, you’re used to defending yourself and your abilities; it comes as natural as breathing.

But until now, you’ve never had to fight this battle with Peña. He’d taken you at face value from the moment he'd laid eyes on you, treating you like just another operative. Sure, he might take a crack at you every now and again, but that's all in good fun, and you’ve never been one to shy away from a laugh.

Christ, you never realized just how much that respect meant to you until suddenly, it’s gone.

“If you have something to say about my skills and qualifications, Agent Peña, then I suggest you say it.” You lean over his desk, speaking quietly, enunciating each syllable with deadly precision. “Otherwise, I think we both know that it’s in the best interest of Search Bloc and the Colombian people that we collaborate quickly, so we can put boots on the ground and land this motherfucker behind bars where he belongs.”

Peña’s eyes narrow, and he cocks his head, studying you. You meet his gaze, biting back a snarl. You won’t back down. You won’t allow him to intimidate you.

When he nods sharply and reaches for his phone, you know you’ve won.

♠

Ten minutes later, you’re situated in a conference room with Peña, Steve Murphy, Martinez, and a couple of the other higher ups of Search Bloc whose names you haven’t memorized. Your maps are spread over the table, your tape displayed for all to see, and every eye is on you.

“Verdugo is here,” you say, leaning over the map to indicate the marked house. “He and his entourage arrived late last night, and they’re planning to leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Plenty of time to get a team together.” Murphy interjects, glancing between you and Peña with open curiosity.

You narrow your gaze at him. Drama-mongering bastard.

Peña’s not moving. He’s standing with his hip cocked toward the desk, frowning down at the map with his fingers curled to his chin like he’s totally oblivious to everything happening around him.

You know he’s not, though. That’s Javi’s thinking face, the one he makes when he wants people to shut the fuck up and forget about him until he can work something out. You’re pretty familiar with that one.

The others are babbling in Spanish, discussing logistics and the likelihood of this being another trap.

It’s not. You know this deep in your bones. You’d heard that conversation in real time, had translated, triangulated it.

This is legit.

You’ve just decided to leave them to it when Javi snaps his eyes open.

“I agree with Aarons,” he announces out of nowhere. You’re startled by the confidence in his tone. Curious, you glance up, but it’s difficult to get a read on him. He’s pinning every person in the room except you with a hard stare. “We need to move out now.”

Several of the others make noises of protest, but Peña shuts them all down, one by one. Finally, his eyes flicker up to meet yours, just for a brief second, but there’s something different in his gaze, something new and heavily guarded.

You think it might be an apology.

“Let’s end this.”

♠

He’s on a plane to Medellín within an hour, wearing that stupid bullet proof vest. For just a split second, you wish that you were going, too. You don’t have enough experience, though - you’re not an agent; you haven’t handled a gun since basic. You’d be useless in a real fight, a liability, even.

Still, you feel some ownership in this operation, today more than ever. You don’t even try to kid yourself about Javi anymore, either. Those fucking feelings haven’t faded in a month, not a bit, not even after the awkward conversation you’d had in his office.

‘But he stood up for you, too, afterward,’ something whispers in the back of your mind. You replay that little glance in the conference room over and over as you watch Search Bloc board the plane.

He’s looking for you this time, standing on the ramp with his eyes shaded like he knows you’ll be waiting. He doesn’t nod and you don’t wave, but you make eye contact for a lingering moment, and again, there’s something in his expression that you don’t recognize.

Then the plane takes off down the runway, and you feel as if your heart is swooping away with it.

♠

You volunteer for the late shift at work, monitoring the radio lines in case something comes up. It’s an unusually quiet night, as if all of Bogotá collectively holds its breath, and you mostly spend it watching the clock, calculating the hours in your head.

One to land in Medellín. Two more to mobilize the men. Another half to get in location.

From there, your speculation gets fuzzy. There’s no way to predict the outcome once Verdugo is engaged. Javi’s told you a million stories, each more unbelievable than the last - car chases and rooftop shootouts, standoffs in the street, a fistfight in a church sanctuary, bodies of children littering dark alleyways… you cut off the recollections. They aren’t doing you any favors.

Verdugo is a dangerous man. Anything could happen.

By seven am, your brain is mush and your eyes are hyper-focused in that bleary way that happens when you’ve gone too long without sleep. Your third cup of coffee has gone cold, and people are starting to trickle in. You wave half-heartedly to Torres as you slip out of your headset, rubbing your fingers over your scalp to ease the tension that comes from wearing heavy earphones all night. A shower sounds nice, you decide, and maybe a quick nap afterward.

Somebody will page you with news.

Getting out of the building does a lot to wake you up. There’s something oppressive about the CNP headquarters that seems to abate when you step into the streets of Bogotá. The city buzzes with life even in the early morning, and air is warm in a way that seems to energize rather than sedate. Optimism is easier to invoke as you walk down the street in broad daylight.

Javi had looked at you, at least. He’d listened. He’ll call in to the office as soon as he can. Your intel was good, and they’ve flushed out the rat, he’d promised you that.

Everything will be okay.

You round the corner of CRA 70 and Circular, waving to Emilio, who is working the register of the pharmacy today.

“Orejas!” He shouts, reaching below the counter to hold aloft another bottle of aguardiente. “¡Mira! Solo para ti!”

You grin back at him, raising your voice to shout a greeting, and then, with absolutely no warning, the store explodes.

A loud boom.

A whoosh of impossible heat.

A massive orange fireball billowing from the windows.

Your body flying, flying through the air.

Bright blue sky, and then darkness.

♠

You find yourself lying flat on your back in the middle of the street. Your ears are ringing. There’s a pat-pattering in the air, soft like falling rain.

You blink hard.

It’s not rain, you realize dizzily.

It’s fucking ash.

The air is dark with it, hot and heavy. It coats your tongue and stings your eyes. It’s hard to catch a breath. Your throat hurts, your chest aches. You cough weakly. The smell is terrible, acrid and bitter like burned metal. You can taste it on your tongue.

Slowly, you tense your muscles. Your chest is still burning, but there’s nothing sharp to suggest a serious injury. Your back is sore, your head fuzzy.

You sit up, wincing a little, relieved to realize that you’ve just had the wind knocked from you. You’ll have some bruises tomorrow, but that’s all.

Sound slowly filters in. The hiss and crackle of flame. A shout in the distance. Further away, a wailing siren.

Reality slams into you all at once.

Emilio!

You stand, wobbling more than you think you should, but you push past it. Reality seems to pitch and roil, as if the ground is hitching its breath beneath you. Rubble coats the street, dust clouds the air.

Oh god.

A gaping, smoking crater is all that’s left of Emilio’s pharmacy. The windows are blown out of the businesses on either side, their outer walls bowing under the pressure. Your apartment on the top floor is demolished, the roof caving in, flames licking at the the collapsed floors.

You gasp one long, shuddering breath, taking it all in, and then you’re running, sort of, picking your way through hunks of concrete and twisted metal.

“Emilio! Emilio!”

Your voice is hoarse, the world hushed. Nothing sounds quite right. Your legs are shaking and you can’t catch your breath. Some of the rubble is hot to the touch, and you feel like you’re moving underwater, slow and awkward and stupid.

You approach what’s left of the store, and the smell hits you first. Like cooked meat - charred, greasy, heavy.

You press your hand to your mouth to stifle a scream.

You found Emilio. He’s pinned beneath part of the collapsed roof. You look away quickly, but not before you catch a glimpse of blackened flesh, of bone, blood, and pink frothy tissue.

Acid rises in your throat, and you stumble to your knees, stomach clenching painfully into your ribs as you vomit onto the street. It goes on and on, over and over for an eternity, tears and snot and bile and ash leaking mingled down your face until there is nothing left in you to expel.

The encroaching wail of a siren draws you to your senses. You glance up, suddenly painfully aware of your situation. The ceiling is arching above you, just to your right, and it’s creaking ominously. The fires are still burning, and your shirt is clinging painfully hot against your back. You stagger to your feet once again, dizzy, almost drunkenly. A small crowd has gathered, pointing and gawking, calling out to you in Spanish that you are far, far too overwhelmed to translate.

Gasping, you raise your hands and side-step away, careful of the debris that litters the street around you.

A firetruck arrives on the scene, squalling to a stop between you and the onlookers, and you leap at the opportunity, ducking down the nearest alleyway before anybody can follow.

♠

You aren’t sure how much time you waste in the alleyways of Bogotá.

Seconds?

Minutes?

The time after the explosion is all a blur, and you run until you literally can’t anymore, until you’re doubled over and wheezing, coughing, hacking, panting.

Some primal survival instinct clicks in your brain then, and suddenly, your mind is clear. You glance around, swiping at your cheeks and brushing the ash from your shirt.

Now what?

You take a shaking breath and think.

Okay, first order of business, you’re absolutely disgusting. You need a shower before you can even think about doing anything productive.

Your bathroom just went up in flames, along with all of your clothes. Your heart clenches as you think of Ana - she’s at university, so that’s out. The embassy has a nice bathroom, but no showers that you’re aware of.

There’s only one place you know to go, and that’s Javi’s apartment.

You glance up at the sky. The sun is still pretty low - it can’t have been more than an hour since you’d left work, and that was around seven am. Javi obviously isn’t home, and you don’t have a key, but if you hurry, there’s still a chance that you could catch Murphy before he leaves his flat.

It’s a long shot, but you decide there’s nothing to lose for trying.

#Javier Peña x reader #javier peña #narcos #javi x you #javi x reader #javier pena x reader #narcos netflix #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #narcos fanfiction #Javier Peña imagine #pedro fandom #the rules of engagement #better love #angst #slow burn #friends to lovers #hurt/comfort #smut

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ravenadottir · 4 years ago

Note

What do you think Kassam’s route would have been like if he had been one of the og boys, and how would his character have developed

my guy, i think i had a braingasm the moment i saw this ask! this is such a cool galaxy brain question, i can’t even...

‘cause i think so much about the possibility of kassam as an og, it’s actually ridiculous!! but in order to put him on day 1, i would have to put one of the boys in casa amor, and i’m choosing gary. that’s because lottie is gonna take interest in kassam right away. let me organize these thoughts in order of happenings in the villa...

♪ when mc steps outside, he’s lowkey interested, but he keeps his hands behind his back, only giving her a nod, accompanied by a smirk, when she says hi.

♪ “if any of you fancy me, please step forward.” kassam would be discreetly stepping forward, shooting her a neutral look, since he doesn’t want to come across as desperate, but a wink is also happening.

♪ “why did you step forward, kassam?” “i think we’re gonna hit it off, and you seem like a real sound girl.” bobby would say something like “ha! get it, because he’s a dj!” and laugh, but the prickly boy wouldn’t even look at him, focusing on mc.

♪ if mc chose to couple up with him, he would stand by her side, whispering his conversation, slightly analyzing the other boys.

♪ when lottie struts out, not gonna lie, he’s gonna think she’s attractive, but maybe a little intimidating. i do believe if she stole him (which i very much want to do here, since it’s an o.g kassam route), he’ll be standing next to her, but glancing at mc’s direction.

♪ the truth or dare challenge would probably be the opportunity to send him the picture, but if mc decided to kiss her partner i think that would “scare” kassam a bit. just because i don’t think he’s into p.d.a.

♪ he would have a lot of trouble relating/talking to anyone, because he automatically hates rocco, and for sure has some issues with how much rocco and bobby talk. which leads me to believe he would be closer to noah and ibrahim. (IT’S SO FREAKY TO THINK ABOUT THAT!!).

♪ priya is still gonna steal mc’s partner, which is not a big deal because she’s more interested in kassam than anyone else.

♪ kassam having more time in the villa means he’s also gonna open up to mc, eventually, and i think that’s what i wanted the most in casa amor. something to make us understand why he’s been closed up and extremely on edge at all times, like having the ear tick, the nerves, the quietness, if there’s anything to be talked about, mc would be person he would go to.

♪ music is probably what helps him relax, and right now he’s deprived of that, in every instance, so if the game wanted me to pay gems to bang some pots and do the glasses’ rim trick with him, i would a hundred percent be paying for that!

♪ bobby being musical himself would definitely blossom a connection between them. something that would make him a little fonder of cake boy. “i was wrong to judge you so fast, i guess.” and this could’ve been the “rap gang” throwback to season 1, having kassam doing beats, bobby doing the harmony, probably ibrahim rapping nonsense along with mc, and getting weird lines out of it! i would pay gems every time, i don’t care how much that would cost!

♪ as the recoupling approaches, kassam says he wants to couple up with us, but because bobby and he weren’t so close, the pastry chef has no idea of the dj’s intentions, proceeding to pick us.

♪ bobby’s choice forces kassam to choose between marisol and hannah, and going for the law student would be the obvious pick. but so much more awkward than gary’s was, because kassam wouldn’t try to hide the fact that he’s into someone else.

♪ marisol and kassam would be a friendship couple from the get go, because they have nothing in common, and that would probably make marisol realize her attraction towards rocco earlier.

♪ i do believe kassam would’ve been a cheeky sort, not the type that gary is, but definitely sneaking around to steal a kiss or two. “i don’t know what’s happening to me. i wouldn’t usually do this...” he smiles, almost not noticing it. “... but i feel close to you... it’s weird...”

“wow, kassam, thanks...”

“no, no i don’t mean like that... i’m just not used to it. you’re not the weird part of all this.”

“and what is?”

“me...” he proceeds to laugh uncomfortably.

♪ twitter bingo would have a fact about him, possibly a secret kiss, but it’s not revealed who he had it with.

♪ mr. love island. his “swimsuit” portion would be similar to lucas’, flexing his arms once he gets out of the pool, direct advice from noah, rahim and bobby. his talent would definitely include music in, possibly doing those beatbox tricks with two or three layers of sound... maybe even the low bass voice, which it’s honestly... SO FUCKING HOT. it would be a tough competition. between ibrahim doing the rubik’s cube trick shirtless, and kassam doing this... i don’t think noah or bobby would stand a chance!

♪ roccosol is still happening, and kassam is baffled by how much lottie is lying through her teeth, and shouting about the matter, since she was already talking to him behind rocco’s back. remember the welcome party for lucas and henrik? which would also mean kassam doesn’t take much heat from food/drinks, and that’s funny to me, for some reason!

♪ i do think instead of rahim, kassam would’ve been voted as “least dateable/leaving the show with a girlfriend. not endangered like lucas/henrik/rocco, but definitely voted. mc having the opportunity of the firepit conversation would end up in a kiss, and the angst is just taken on a new level!

♪ the date with him, before the recoupling on day 9, would be the chance we have to get to know him better, maybe having him tell us an embarrassing story about a gig he had. and if it was an ex’s story, even better! we don’t have that from him.

♪ hideaway scene, after the girls’ choice, would have him slightly less confident than he usually is. “i’m really excited to be here with you, i just don’t know exactly what to do.”

“i mean, if you don’t know, i don’t think i can get a biology book here.”

he would probably chuck a pillow in your direction and laugh at your joke. “i’m just nervous, i guess... i’m not used to feeling nervous around girls.”

♪ now! here’s the tricky part of the whole villa plotline in his route. operation nope. if mc went with it, he would end things, loudly and clearly, because he cannot stand betrayal, much less coming from the girl he spent so many days chasing. and he would probably advise MC to tell hope about it before it happened. kassam should be the type that breaks up with you and don’t want you back, later. i would definitely program him to act like that!

♪ drama to him is pointless, especially if it involves other people. he doesn’t see why people are being so out there about things, and definitely doesn’t understand why his girl has to be the one to solve everything. “i understand they’re upset but it’s not your job to fix it.”

♪ chelsea coming in, along with jakub, would irritate him to the extreme. the bomb she drops about him and lottie would have everyone riled up. YES, I WANT KASSAM TO KISS LOTTIE. they were coupled up before and he thinks she’s hot, besides the fact he was insecure about mc being picked by bobby. similar plot line to gary’s, except he might say something like “i had to know if there was anything there.” i really want him to explain himself here, but with short words: “we were coupled up just an hour before the recoupling. i wanted to make sure there was nothing there.”

“and...?” mc asks, staring at him.

he glances at lottie, shrugging. “there isn’t.”

♪ as revenge, mc would go on the date with jakub, resulting in kassam being apprehensive when it comes to talk about his feelings to her. and very angry and jealous, because that’s just who he is!

♪ the news about the recoupling arrive the night priya and hope are having that big fight, and yes, the bathroom scene happens with kassam, but he’s one of the boys that say the line “i want this to mean something to you”.

♪ disaster recoupling gets you both angry, and kassam would, for the first time, raise his voice, questioning jakub and the boy who steals mc. no, he wouldn’t be like the others and only question jakub or no one. at that point, everything is working against him, and just two days after mc finds out about the secret kiss, this is throwing him into a spiral of stress.

♪ casa amor gets everyone pissed off, and everything stays the same, except you get gary instead of kassam, and he’s interested in lottie and mc. (maybe the unicorn route wouldn’t happen). but casa days would’ve been way more interesting because now marisol and lottie are interested in the same guy! and in some cases, mc as well lol NOW, THAT WOULD’VE MADE CASA INTERESTING!

♪ cheeky the way gary is, he’s probably trying to stick with one girl by suggesting a kiss, sharing the bed and etc, but if mc is not interested in him, lottie would probably be torn about bringing him back or not, and marisol would get confused between gary and graham, proceeding to focus on fish boy, later.

♪ coming back from casa amor, kassam is single, and you get bean bags conversation, only with him he says how anxious he was for mc to come back. “i’m just... really glad you’re here. i...” he stammers a bit. “i missed you.”

“did you miss lottie too?” mc would raise her brows, slightly irritated.

“no, of course not! i missed...” realizing she’s being prickly, just like him, he continues. “har, har... very funny.”

“i didn’t think it was funny finding out you kissed her.”

“i wouldn’t think that either... i’m sorry i didn’t tell you.”

♪ the route is pretty much the same from there, except for a couple of moments:

one: the conversation we have with gary, by the pool, is held by kassam, and he talks about anxiety, and how that affected his relationships in the past. he didn’t know how much he missed out because he was too afraid of taking the leap, and he’s glad he’s in a better place now. also, talking about therapy and mental illness in the same tone gary did, with body issues.

two: he would make a comment of how excited he is to write songs about mc, and how much he has been thinking of his journey and the album he’s gonna dedicate to his time there.

♪ asking mc to be his girlfriend would go a little differently, since he’s not the blob of characterization he normally becomes in the game.

♪ he would continue to be prickly, and sarcastic, but his journey would’ve taught him how to trust people more, and the improbable friendships he developed there would go to show just how much he’s opening up, and how it can only get better from there.

♪ his speech, at the prom, would include his friends, mentioning them as the support system he had in there, just like one of the girls do with mc. “my journey wouldn’t have been the same if it wasn’t for you lads. and despite the bad advice i got, i guess everything worked out in the end.”

i really think kassam deserved a spot in the og’s line up, mostly because of how different he is from the other boys. he would probably have a brief friendship with lucas if the physiotherapist stayed, too.

hope this is what you were looking for. thank you so much for this ask!

#litg kassam #litg #love island the game #love island the game season 2 #litg s2 #litg season 2 #fusebox #fusebox games #queue #alternative routes

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watevermelon · 4 years ago

Text

Cheater!Akaashi x Reader

✧ Summary: (Continuation) Akaashi apologizes to the reader, seeing her genuinely happy without him (MSBY Black Jackals Era) [forgiving/peaceful end]

A/N : Slight spoilers if you aren’t caught up to 392 ;) (reader ends up with our home-boy Konoha) ➳ Masterlist ➳ Part One

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Walking away from Akaashi was one of the hardest things you had ever done in your high school career. He was the picture perfect boyfriend, the one you even wanted to spend the rest of your life with. Everything about him, from his kindness to his charming good-looks, you wanted to wake-up to it every day for the rest of your life.

Until one day, you just didn’t.

And from then on, so much as a thought about Akaashi set your heart aflame, ready to fight the setter with your bare hands. You had your friends to guide you through it all, even Konoha had drawn closer to you in your circle. And with time, it was easier to breathe in the halls of Fukurodani. Some people had pushed for details regarding your separation, especially since Akaashi was suddenly romantically attached to a certain captain, but the setter had adamantly requested for the others to leave you alone.

He had pursued you three times since your break, basically pleading with you to listen from his perspective.

You always said no.

And life moved on. Akaashi became the captain of the Fukurodani Volleyball team, both Konoha and Bokuto graduating to attend college nearby. Yukie, Haruki - all the older faces that you had come to know had finally left the school for good. And while some members of your friend group also graduated, it was bittersweet goodbyes for your worst year of high school.

Time really does heal wounds and you found yourself often forgetting all about the setter that broke your heart.

In high school, everything can feel like the end of the world. Whether it be a low grade, drama within your friend group, or even breaking up with some stupid person you called a boyfriend - it incited that deep curling feeling that just felt like: that was it. The end of the world as you knew it.

And in some ways that was true, but that wasn’t always a bad thing.

Now as a graduate-school senior, you had long accepted that there were still plenty of moments that felt like that. There was always going to be drama somewhere and some absolute sadist of a professor who liked to hand you a new asshole.

And it was not like you were suddenly a pro at handling these feelings. You still had doubts, worries, but this was all pushed back with your own brand of confidence built on the foundation of your earlier teenage years. With your friends, both new and old, you were ready to take on the world.

But first, final exams.

You were basically shut out to your roommates, either sheltering yourself in your room or in the library to get some good studying in. One of them was trying to follow a similar route, but she often got distracted by social media or newly released video games. The other had accepted her faith long ago, joking that the most she studied was during the breaks of the test.

And after having shared a class with her last semester, you found out it was not a joke.

There was only one class that you were particularly worried about and the final was tomorrow night. There were minimal distractions throughout today, even your boyfriend of almost a year was busy with his own classes and so the both of you were cooped up, mutually suffering at different colleges.

It was only until this afternoon, did your focus break, nothing helping what you received today. On your coffee table was a simple letter, but you recognized the hand-writing even after all these years.

It was a personally written invitation to a professional volleyball game, home-court to the MSBY Black Jackals.

Bokuto and Akaashi had invited you.

The moment you received it, you called your boyfriend to see if he got one as well. Apparently, everyone from the old Fukurodani volleyball club got an invite. And, in addition to their crew, you had gotten one as well.

Your boyfriend assured you that if you were not comfortable with going, then that was it. Neither of you would attend. But you smiled at him surely, saying that anything regarding the two was long behind you. That was honestly the case, any memories of Akaashi brought forth a sad numbness, but nothing else. There was nothing you had to say to him, but you didn’t exactly want to hold back your boyfriend from being present at their reunion.

Slapping at your cheeks, you reminded yourself that you needed to focus on studying.

And so a week later, excelling with flying colors on that absolute bastard of a final, you mentally prepared yourself to see Akaashi and Bokuto for the first time in years. There would be no easy way to have that conversation, but with a group this large, you hoped that there would be no one-on-one time with either of them.

Sporting a loose denim jacket and leggings, you tried your best casual look for the night. Pulling it up into a high ponytail, you rushed over to the front of the dorm when the doorbell expectedly rang.

“Hey.” Konoha greeted you warmly, pulling you into a light peck in greeting. You murmured it back against his lips, happy to feel it curl into a smile against your own.

You hadn’t started dating until you were both in a few years into college, having kept in touch long after high school as you both attended schools in Tokyo. You went to the same college as Haruki and that was the silent lifeline between your relationship. From college parties to general hangouts, Haruki was a true bro and Konoha was relentless in his pursuit of your friendship.

It wasn’t like a sudden rush overnight or like the clouds had shifted to rain sunshine down on Konoha. It was simple, you liked Konoha and wanted to go out with him. He was more than just a friendly face or a wielder of cold humor. The previous volleyball player had a genuinely kind-soul that was more than just another person from Fukurodani.

You remembered how easy it was to be genuinely happy with Konoha. It made you want to do the same for him, to put a smile on his face and remind yourself what it was like to truly be needed.

The first time the two of you kissed, it was before you were even officially dating. You two had separated from the cluster of college teens, far away from the bustle of the house-party as you sat on the edge of the property. There was a pool a ways behind you, but you had sat together under a tree together and looked up at the night sky.

The stars weren’t visible from Tokyo, the lights of the city keeping them hidden from view. But that hadn’t stopped the two of you from thinking the sky was beautiful that night, laying back side-by-side as you talked to each other candidly.

“Professor Magnolia puts the mystery in chemistry.” You complained to Konoha.

He chuckled at your awful pun, probably more out of pity than actual amusement, you wondered. Replying back, “You still did pretty well in that class.”

“I don’t want to hear it from you, mister 4.0 GPA.” You quipped, a teasing smile on your face that he recognized.

“I could always give you some private lessons.” Konoha joked, but you both knew the suggestive line that was there. He seemed to recognize it and back off immediately, “Unless, of course -”

“I want you to.” You interrupted him.

Yes, you were the more aggressive party when it came to your relationship. At least, at the start. Konoha has been your friend forever. And there was no denying that the young man was plenty attractive and very handsome. But you tended to wonder if he was ever interested in bringing it to another step.

Whenever implications got too serious, or your mutual teasing had lingered a little too long, Konoha would make sure to put a wide berth of space between and the line. You honestly appreciated this very much, since Konoha was aware of your space and never encroached on your friendship. And it was not like he had put a complete damper on your relationship either, openly flirting back with you when you tried.

Instead, Konoha put the ball entirely in your court.

You wanted this? You had to come and get it.

“Are you being serious?” Konoha asked as he sat-up, face serious as he contemplated your last statement.

But you smiled at him as you leaned closer, “Yes.”

He reflected your expression back at you, the both of you rising to stand for whatever reason. Konoha always towered over you, but now you were more aware of that fact as you looped your arms around his neck. You gravitated toward one another, lips meeting in a chaste peck before you deepened the kiss.

But it was not like your relationship depended on you making the first move, no way. Konoha was very attentive to the communication within your relationship. Once you made it clear that you were comfortable, he would make the move you both wanted.

From your first kiss to the first night you shared together, you nearly whipped your bra at him the week before to make sure he got the message.

And he definitely got the message.

Konoha went from your sudden high-school protector to the one you desperately wanted to spend your life with. You would do anything to keep your relationship steady and would feel your heart surge when he would whisper back similar thoughts.

And now here your boyfriend was, picking you up at the dorms before the both of you attended a MSBY Black Jackals game. You honestly never thought that this would happen. Konoha had attended some in the past, along with Haruki and the rest. It was never something that bothered you either, they were his best friends and he hadn’t done anything wrong.

You just never thought you’d be attending one together, at the invitation of your ex-boyfriend no less.

But you continued on anyway, waving goodbye to your roommates and taking Konoha’s hand as he guided you through the bustle of Shibuya. He held your hand tightly and you would squeeze back when you got closer to the arena, the large poster of current volleyball pro’s coming into view.

You had seen lots of images of Bokuto in his professional career. He was basically a household name now, a reliable outside hitter to one of the best Division 1 teams in all of Japan. There were highlights of him on social media and he had even starred in multiple commercials by now.

But the image of Bokuto never really lingered in your mind. He was always a passing thought, like you knew that he existed, but never really registered it that it was true. Seeing a huge poster with many unknown faces except the owl-haired man really brought back this fact.

Scanning your tickets, you were surprised when you were guided to another area. You and Konoha were being guided to a club box, a reserved area for larger groups to mingle together during sports events.

Many of the others during that Fukurodani volleyball club golden age were already present. You had caught up with Yukie in the past year, the nutritionist still as insatiable with food as ever. Haruki was probably the one you were closest to, since the actor and you kept in touch after receiving your undergraduate degrees in college.

He had even called you a few days before, saying that he heard from Konoha that the Akaashi and Bokuto had invited you as well. Your well-intentioned friend suggested doing something to their kneecaps even now, after all these years, but you said it was not necessary.

You had a feeling of why they wanted you here.

It was written out plainly in Akaashi’s letter: to apologize.

That was when you realized that you had never actually received one before. Akaashi was quick with excuses and even more desperate to have you hear his side, but never had the setter actually said the words, ‘I’m sorry,’ over what he had done to you.

And it was not like you need to hear it after all these years. It was something you were long over at this point, not even an issue.

But it made you wonder why now of all times was Akaashi asking to do this.

It was more like, if he needed to say it, then you were patient enough to finally listen.

Konoha said that the moment you needed an out, he would give it. There was already a back-up plan that could be in motion the very second you think it would be necessary. The two boys had made it the night before - Konoha getting a bad call from his family (actually Haruki calling him) and, if need be, he could cry on cue to get you two out of there.

You laughed and called them idiots.

And to your ultimate surprise, neither Akaashi nor Bokuto made an appearance before the game. You were mingling with the group when the announcer started introducing the teams. Those around you were making comments, talking about the young Hinata Shoyou from Miyagi or how the absolute bane-of-their-high-school-existence Sakusa Kiyoomi was now ironically on the same team as Bokuto.

You watched a volleyball game for the first time in seven years. The last game ever being the one before you broke it off with Akaashi. This was different in every way possible - the quick calculate looks of the setter Atsumu Miya. It was nothing like how Akaashi used to look at Bokuto, not how you remembered at least.

And you were actually enraptured in the game, interested eyes watching as the ball launched at high-speeds to each side of the court. At some point, Konoha placed a casual hand across the back of your seat, joking with Haruki that nothing less than food would get your attention.

It was only seven minutes into the first-set that Akaashi made his appearance.

You heard him before you saw him, some of the others greeting him as he strolled in late. In his hands was a box covered by a large plastic bag, apparently an order from Onigiri Miya that ended up taking longer than expected. He greeted everyone individually in his cool, yet quiet voice.

Konoha and you stood together, walking over to greet him with your hands clasped together. Akaashi greeted the both of you warmly, a half-smile at you before his eyes dropped to your hands. There was no hiding the length of his gaze before he was called to the side by someone else, thanking him for the invitation.

It was strange and felt like anything but normal, but at least this wasn’t the catastrophe you were somewhat expecting.

Akaashi turned to the both of you once his attention was freed, “Thank you both for coming. Let’s continue this later after the game, once Kōtarō is free as well.”

You nodded, mustering the best neutral smile you could. Konoha did the same before you made your way back to the seats. Akaashi continued to mingle with the others from high school, never taking a seat and standing watch over the game. One thing that hadn’t changed since your teen days was how much Bokuto stood out, on the court and just simply in person.

While you would’ve liked to have shouted or yelled at either boy at the time, you did not hold any malicious intent after. Never had you thought of outing them to the school or ruining their reputations. Life was hard enough with high-school drama, this was not something you wanted to draw out.

Once it was all said and done, you just wanted to move on.

And seeing Bokuto did not bring back a sudden surge of unhappiness or fight in you. Rather, you felt a small drop of happiness that he was pursuing his dream. But that was quickly squashed down when you remembered the last time you saw him on a volleyball court.

Konoha held your hand the whole way through, you could feel his gaze in the corner of your peripheral. It was sweet, he was making sure that you were truly okay with this, not just saying that you were. Haruki teased that the two of you were too disgustingly cute, to which Konoha just lifted your joined hands and placed a light peck to the side of your head.

You felt Akaashi’s eyes on you then.

You begged yourself not to look, there was nothing in the world that could ever excuse what he did to you. You told yourself that you were over this, that this toxic feeling would not engulf you back then and certainly not now. There was nothing that would grant him mercy.

You looked anyway.

His bright blue eyes were looking right at you. There was no pretend smile this time, no mask he could put on in time to show that he was as neutral as he was before. Instead, you knew what was crawling at the edges of his expression - sadness, jealous, regret.

It was only when you shared eye-contact that it lit your nerves aflame. He was openly staring back, his eyes almost pleading with you to say something. The look made you tighten your hold in Konoha’s hand. You were filling with something from the pit of your stomach. Not with hurt, but more like worry. Why would Akaashi and Bokuto even invite you here if he was still lingering on those feelings?

You had to wrestle your gaze away, turning back to the gaze and leaning further into Konoha. He wrapped a lazy arm around your shoulder, pulling you and steadying you toward him. You were able to remind yourself that, this time, you were definitely not alone. Even though Akaashi was still looking at you, you refused to turn back and it was only when Konoha turned did you wonder what was going on.

You watched your boyfriend turn to Akaashi and wave, shooting a kind smile which served as a placating look of feigned obliviousness, before lightly kissing the side of your head.

Akaashi turned away then.

You smiled to yourself, thinking no one else had seen the interaction. But Konoha knew you well and even playfully called you out in a low voice, “Oh? You liked that?”

“What? I can’t appreciate my own knight in shining armor?” You teased back, earning you a teasing pinch to your side.

“We’re here for a couple more hours, try not to seduce me any further.”

“Wha!” You contested as he flicked your forehead, “I was not.”

But Konoha just smirked at you, a fond expression on his face before turning back to the game. “You’re cuter than you give yourself credit for.”

You felt your cheeks flush, this was hardly the first time that he had said something like this. But somehow it always lit your cheeks aflame anyway.

The rest of the game went by very quickly, with your attention distracted to your boyfriend on your right. It was the simple things that you found so attractive - even so much as the small veins protruding in his arms when he flexed.

It was hot, ngl.

When the game ended, you were bracing yourself for something. Bokuto made his way to the reserved box, his loud voice above the crowd as many moved forward to greet him. You waited to the side, only moving when there was space to actually get a word in.

“(L/N)-san.” Bokuto greeted back, “I’m glad you came.”

He gave Konoha a high-five that progressed into a side-hug, boys. Somehow they had this handshake that you had never really seen before between the two.

“We hope to move this reunion back to our apartment.” Akaashi announced, many of the group agreed since it was a night before the weekend and no work the next day. They filled out individually, the rambunctious group loud against the cold walls. Haruki and Yukie lingered, you were sure since it was because you were still there.

You looked toward Konoha, there was no doubt that he would want to join in with his old-friends. Not that you really minded, it was just that now it was going to be taking place in the shared home of the two people who cheated on you. Were you mentally prepared to sit in a place that showcased all of their memories?

With the box emptying out, Akaashi approached the two of you first, “This may be the only semblance of quiet we have for the night.”

“Yeah.” You replied dumbly, unsure what to say. Konoha did not let go of your hand.

Yukie edged out of the room, but held-up a cell-phone motion as if she would call you to give you an out if needed. Haruki followed, but their pace was slow and their footsteps halted outside the door. They were probably going to wait, but just gave you your privacy. Bokuto was leaning against the wall by the door, waiting for the three of you.

“This has been drawn out for too long.” Akaashi continued once the door closed behind them, “I wanted to apologize for everything I did to you.”

“Oh?”

“You didn’t deserve it.” He stated, his kind-eyes now reflecting determination toward you, “I’ve long realized how selfish I was, trying to have both of your feelings. And it made me ashamed to think that I had never even properly apologized to you. I was so eager to speak, but never the right thing back then.”

You smiled, but said nothing. Not that you were unhappy, just overwhelmed with how earnest his apology was. You hadn’t expected Akaashi to be so genuinely repentant.

“You deserve all the happiness I could never give you and more.” Akaashi continued, his eyes lifting toward Konoha before dropping back to you. “I am so, so sorry.”

“Accepted.” You replied with an uneven smile, out-stretching a hand for him to take. Akaashi jumped at the chance, eagerly shaking your hand before shooting a grin back at you.

“Hey! Hey!” Bokuto started as he clapped a hand on Akaashi’s back, “And I’m sorry for keeping it a secret also, but...”

“But you loved him.” You finished for him. There was a time you wanted to step on Bokuto’s neck, but now you just felt nothing but understanding.

“That was a pretty dick move of me.” Bokuto continued.

“No hard feelings.” You replied back, earning a playful slap on the back from the wing-spiker that definitely hurt more than it was meant to.

“You were always the nicest one, (L/N)!” He said with a smile before turning to Konoha, “You’ve got a real catch here.”

Konoha smiled as he moved his hand to your waist and squeezed, “And I’ll never let her go.”

You gave him a similar smile, looking up at your boyfriend at feeling a fondness settle in your stomach over his kind yet protective nature. He looked down at you and couldn’t stop himself from lightly pecking you on the lips at that moment.

Bokuto let out a playful bristle and Akaashi shot you another one of his wistful smiles, but that was the least of your worries.

It had been a long time since you put those high-school days behind you. But there was a certain happiness, a content feeling inside you that had suddenly fostered at hearing his apology. You were more than ready to move onto your future, this toxic memory nothing but a stepping stone from your past.

➳ Masterlist ➳ Part One

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aomineavenue · 4 years ago

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Homesick (Miya Atsumu x f!Reader) | 005. confessions

Summary: Six years ago, L/N Y/N wouldn’t exactly say that she loves her life. It had always been problematic but her best friend, Miya Atsumu, since she was eight when she moved to Hyōgo, has always been there for her, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. However, things would always fall apart for her ever since, so she should have expected of such. Running away from her problems seemed like the easiest route to take at the time, so what happens when the past comes barging back into her life demanding answers? Will she be able to confront her demons?

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x f!Reader

Updates: irregular.

Genre: Angst, ANGST I LOVE ANGST, a lil bit of fluff here and there.

Warnings: Language, etc. (Will be mentioned once posted because I don’t want spoilers huehue)

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except for the reader and my ideas. I do not claim any images used for content in this fic, everything goes out to their respective creators unless it is mentioned that it is mine.

Status: ongoing. | series masterlist

↩ confrontations | confessions | dinner disaster ↪

“Are you stupid?” Atsumu lets out a dry laugh, running his fingers through his hair in frustration, “I felt the same way, fuck. I think my feelings for her had always been there and–Fuck, I just didn’t know what to do after what we had.”

Being on the receiving end of Atsuhiko's displeasure was something you never wanted to experience again. However, despite being upset over recent events, you couldn't help but feel this was all your fault to begin with. Maybe, if you had just been honest to the twins from the very start when they had bombarded you with questions on the whereabouts of their missing father then maybe, you wouldn't be going through such an experience once again, this time though, no one could break through Atsuhiko's built up walls.

Ever since the bomb that Atsumu had dropped on Atsuhiko of you keeping them a secret from their own father, your little boy refused to talk to you. If it wasn't for his twin brother, he wouldn't have bothered to visit the hospital knowing that you would be present within the vicinity. Apparently, it took Reiji a while to persuade the little boy to agree to even visit his twin. Even so, your little boy avoided you and it broke your heart, the vision of his betrayed features that day at the Sports Complex, repeating in your mind like a broken record.

Atsuhiro, despite being upset by what his brother shared, thankfully, didn't give you the silent treatment like his brother had. Though he had voiced his displeasure of what had come to light, he only claimed that he didn't want to see you sad too.

You had asked everyone in attendance in the hospital room that morning, prior to Reiji arriving with Atsuhiko, that when they were to arrive, they were to leave you with the twins. Knowing that coming clean probably wouldn't change a thing to Atsuhiko's behavior towards you. It was better than nothing. You also knew that if Atsuhiko were to protest, you were positive that Atsuhiro could plead with his brother to stay.

Now there you were, seated next to Atsuhiro on the hospital bed with him huddled closer to your side, awaiting the other twin to arrive with Reiji.

You lowered your head, resting your chin atop of his head as the two of you watch his current favorite anime in Asuma's tablet that he lent to the little boy to keep him occupied during his stay in the hospital. Aside from the company of his uncles, he enjoys the amount of shows his Uncle Asuma had downloaded for him to watch when visiting hours are over or when Asuma was around to visit, the two of them sharing interests in various anime films.

The sound of the door sliding open interrupted your thoughts and brought your attention over to the little boy that had entered. The very sight was enough to clench your heart. As the hospital door slid shut, the little boy by the door let out a heartbreaking cry before rushing himself over to bed where you and his brother occupied, climbing himself onto the mattress and throwing his arms around you. It only took a few seconds to feel his tears dampening your t-shirt, and you let your own tears fall.

"Mommy, I—I'm sorry!" He cries out, his grip around your neck tightening as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, his voice becoming muffled from his actions, "I don't hate you, mommy! I don't! I don't! I'm sorry for being a bad boy!"

Your own arms find their way around his tiny body, pulling him closer to a much more comfortable position. "It's okay, baby."

“Please don't be angry with me, mommy.” He sobs against your neck and you try your best to soothe him by rubbing his back to calm him down. You press a kiss to the top of his head before pulling him away from your body which he protests at first by tightening his grip around your neck but when you had succeeded, you cupped his face in your hands and stroked his cheeks with the pads of your thumb. Your own gaze growing glossy from the tears that had formed from all the emotions you were feeling at that very moment. “Love me, mommy?”

You let out your own cry before nodding your head twice, wiping your little boy’s tears away with your thumbs before lowering your head to press your forehead against his own, “Mommy will always love you, baby. I’m not angry with you Hiko, I love you so much. Mommy’s the one who’s sorry.”

“Promise, mommy?” he questions for some reassurance, his lower lip almost quivering. “You’re not angry? I promise I didn’t mean it!”

A croaky laugh escapes your lips, nodding your head as you sat right back up, your back pressing against the headboard of the hospital bed, “Yes, Hiko. I’m not angry. But can you promise mommy one thing?”

He wipes his tears away with the back of his hands, which you put a stop to as soon as he began rubbing his eyes that could cause irritation. Settling his hands down, he looks up at you with his lower lip jutting out to a pout as he gives you a nod. “What, mommy?”

“Promise me,” you start, extending your arm out to tap the tip of his nose as your brows furrow, “that you’ll stop listening to adult conversations, it’s not nice Atsuhiko.”

His shoulders slump in defeat. He had probably realized you were going to lecture him on his behavior, and no amount of explanations would get him out of trouble. All he had left to do was to give you his best puppy dog eyes. At the sight of this, Atsuhiro who had been watching the whole interaction snorted. Upon hearing Hiro, his plan to win you over disappeared to send a glare towards his brother, which his twin responded by sticking his tongue out at him.

Before you could reprimand the two for their silly behavior, Atsuhiko returns to look at you with those pleading eyes. “What can I do for you, Hiko?”

His sudden confidence to question you falters and he tears his gaze away from yours, lowering them to look at his hands. He suddenly remembers the previous night where he had received an earful from his Uncle Reiji for his actions and he had cried to his uncle, asking questions that the man couldn’t answer himself. However, the night took a turn when his Uncle Reiji tried his best to explain your side without going into depth, knowing that it wasn’t his story to tell. His Uncle Reiji made him promise to apologize for his actions, claiming that you have been more than upset from hearing the words of hate that came out of his mouth and from giving you the cold shoulder. At the mere thought you being angry at him was enough for the boy to calm down, settling beside his Uncle Reiji as he cried himself to sleep, vowing to apologize to you the next day and asking you properly for the answers he had been yearning for himself.

“Hiko?” you call out, trying to gain his attention. Hiro, from beside you, pauses the show he had been watching and places the tablet down on his lap, looking at his brother in curiosity, probably realizing what his brother was about to do. Of course, he wouldn’t stop his brother as he, too, was curious himself.

“Can you…” he trails off in a mumble, curling his fingers into fists as his shoulders grow tense before tilting his head back to meet your gaze once more, his eyes full of desperation and determination, “please, tell us about our daddy.”

Despite knowing yourself that Atsuhiko was to question you, the very sight of your son’s pleading gaze was enough to catch you off guard. You turn your head to look over at Atsuhiro, who had shifted his gaze up to look at you. He was his usual calm self, but his eyes were enough to tell you he shared the same desire for answers as his brother. You let out a sigh of defeat and exhaustion, nodding your head slowly. It was time. It wasn’t as if you could avoid this forever.

“Do you two really want to know?” you ask despite knowing the answer to such a question, maybe, just maybe, a little part of you was hoping they would decide that it would be best not to know. However, seeing their eager nods, you knew there wasn’t any way that you could back out of such.

So you began your story, starting of how you met their father. How at the very beginning, there wasn’t much of a choice due to the fact that their father was extremely persistent, never leaving your side. It never really helped how you would always end up in the same class as he was. You told them that eventually; you considered their father as your best friend. Someone you could count on and always reach out to when you needed someone to talk to. And you told them, along the way of said friendship, you eventually fell in love.

“Did daddy not love you back? Is that why he didn’t want us?” Hiro whispers, sadness clear in his tone.

“Oh Hiro,” you let out a soft cry as you shake your head, wrapping an arm around him to pull him closer to your side, “I’m sorry Hiro,” you whisper before turning your attention over to Hiko, who was having difficulty in controlling his features, “I’m sorry, Hiko. But I never told your daddy about two of you.”

“Why?” Hiko cries out, somehow his anger returning. If it were not for Hiro who reached out for him, he would have probably reacted way worse, “I thought daddy hated us…”

You let out a shaky sigh, not knowing how to explain everything to the twins, something that they wouldn’t understand. They were too young. This was all your fault. “I’m sorry. Mommy was just afraid. I think mommy was afraid because she knew daddy didn’t love her the way she loved him.”

“So ‘Sumsum is our daddy?” Hiro questions, his brows furrowing as you nod.

“Do you still love daddy?”

You stare at Hiko across from you who had asked the question. And as you racked through your head for any form of answer, you couldn’t.

Did you still love Atsumu?

For the last couple of days, Atsumu had been a mess. Obviously, anyone who would have gotten their complete life turned upside down would be, wouldn’t they?

Ever since that day, from Atsuhiko’s cries and your appearance, he had refused to leave the apartment he was staying in with Bokuto and Hinata. He had refused to return to training, knowing he wouldn’t be able to focus anyway, nor would he interact with anyone else, ignoring his teammates and the people who had been reaching out to him through his phone. It was because he was occupied with his thoughts, the conversation with Atsuhiko and you especially, had been replaying in his head for the last couple of days and it was enough for anyone to go insane.

How could have this happened? He had kids? With you? What the actual fuck?

He didn’t know what to feel. Of course, the dominant emotion was anger, but he didn’t know what he was angry at more. Angry at you? Yes, obviously. You had kept such a big secret from him. What angered him the most was that you deprived him of raising his own two sons.

He didn’t know why; it wasn’t as if he wanted to be a father at such a young age, nor did he see himself as a father in his near future, but at the thought of his chances on witnessing Atsuhiko and Atsuhiro’s childhood being ripped out from his hands was enough to break his heart, enough for him to be angry at you for depriving him of the chance. Needless to say, the volleyball player was confused. He didn’t know why he was hurting from the fact that he wasn’t given the chance to raise them from the very start. A few times he had asked himself if a part of him wanted to be recognized as their father. What did he want?

He remembers the days he had spent with the twins, his sons. Sure, he admits, a part of him had found himself excited to see the twins now and then. He had grown fond of them ever since Bokuto had introduced those two to him, and the fact those two had been equally excited to learn volleyball made him look forward to seeing them at the sports complex. It was true; it took time for them to get used to his presence, but he remembers the days where Atsuhiro would look excited to see him and beg him to teach the killer serve he had demonstrated days prior.

He suddenly is reminded of the interaction between Atsuhiko and Bokuto, how the two were often like two peas in the pod or how Atsuhiko tries his best to mimic Bokuto’s actions, the little boy always excited to see his teammate. What was this feeling? Why is his anger suddenly shifting over to Bokuto? Jealousy? No, it couldn’t be.

Letting out a groan of frustration, he rolls himself onto his back on the bed and stares up at the ceiling. His frustration was growing due to the fact that he couldn’t seem to figure out his feelings and sort them out.

While we’re in the case of jealousy, his thoughts suddenly shift to the man who would often bring the twins over for training. The man he knew as Shizuma, another man the twins considered as their uncle. Who was he to you that you trusted him so much to take care of his sons for a long period of time? And who was that man that you brought along with that day? Who were they to you? Wait, his sons? He lets out another groan of frustration. Was he really admitting the fact that those twins were really his?

“You look like shit.”

He snaps his attention over to the intruder, his brows furrowing at the sight of his own twin. Another person he had been refusing to see. “What do you want?”

“You need to get your shit straight,” Osamu claims and he couldn’t help but scoff, rolling his eyes as he lays himself back down on the bed, “I’m serious. I understand your anger towards her, but what you said was out of line.”

Atsumu grumbles, fluttering his eyelids shut. “What do you know about understanding my feelings? You don’t. I don’t give a fuck about her right now, last I remember she ran away without a goodbye and now she comes back out of a blue? And her kid is spouting bullshit about me being the father? Don’t tell me you believe her, ‘Samu.” He pushes himself to sit as he flutters his eyelids back open to meet his brother’s gaze, “Which reminds me, why were you with her that day? Tell me, have the two of you been in contact ever since? Have you lied to me all this time about not knowing where she is? You two been fucking around behind my back? You’re probably the father, aren’t you? And you two just want to mess with my head?”

“Are you done?”

Atsumu scoffs, narrowing his gaze at his brother. “No! I’m not fucking done! I’m furious, Osamu. What the fuck is going on? Why is this happening?”

“If you would calm down for even just a second and not spout bullshit from that irritating mouth of yours every few seconds then maybe, just maybe, she would have let her walls down and explained. But no,” Osamu matches his brother’s glare with his own, “You accuse her of sleeping around when the only person she has ever been with back then was you. Don’t think the two of you were slick sneaking around with that ridiculous relationship back in high school. Have you ever stopped for a moment back then and realize that your own best friend was head over heels for you?”

“Of course I knew!” he confesses, the guilt feeling heavy on his shoulders. “I knew. Of course I fucking knew. I knew before anything even happened between us.”

Osamu shakes his head in disappointment, “You’re my brother and all, but you’re an asshole. And what? You continued with that ridiculous relationship with her, anyway? For what?”

Osamu lets out a sigh as he watches his brother crumble before him, the truth he’s known, finally escaping his brother’s lips, “I knew you were stupid, I just didn’t think you were this stupid. Well, you can’t blame her for running away.”

“Doesn’t mean I should be less angry.” he grumbles.

The other twin steps further into the room to give his brother a good smack on the head, Atsumu yelping out in pain before glaring up at his brother, “Sure, she kept this from you but she has the right to be just as angry with you for what you did. But screw that for now, get your ass up and do something about this. Get over it because Atsuhiro, your son, needs you more than you know.”

At the mention of Atsuhiro, his anger deflates upon remembering the last time he saw the other little twin, who had collapsed right before his eyes. “How is he? Is he okay? What happened?”

Osamu straightens himself as he watches his brother’s features shift to worry, slipping his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Are you satisfied with what came out of my idiotic brother’s mouth?”

Atsumu’s brows furrowed in confusion at his brother before flickering his attention over to the man that stepped inside, letting out a huff of irritation. “What are you doing here?”

“As much as I hate you,” he starts, sending his own glare towards the volleyball player seated on the bed, “I care about those kids and the two of you need to fix your shit.”

You let out your nth sigh of the hour in the backseat of Reiji’s car, looking uninterested at the buildings that passed by. You didn’t know why you agreed to be dragged by Asuma and Reiji in the first place; you didn’t want to leave Atsuhiro’s side as much as you could. “Where are we even going?”

Reiji meets your irritated gaze from the rear-view mirror, a chuckle leaving his lips as he shifts his attention back on the road, “Asuma and I just decided to take you for dinner tonight. Is that such a bad idea? You’re too stressed. Dinner at your favorite restaurant might just do the trick. Plus, I’m pretty sure you hate the hospital food.”

“Yeah,” Asuma adds with a grin as he turns slightly in his seat from the front, “We got to pamper our amazing and beautiful manager now and then.”

Another sigh escapes your lips, which causes Asuma to chuckle. You furrow your brows at him. “I get that, but I don’t really see why I should pamper myself if my kids aren’t having any fun themselves.”

“I get your worries, babe. I really do.” Asuma nods but tries to give you the best smile of assurance that he could muster, “but how will you be able to take care of the boys when you’re not taking care of yourself? Let us do this for you, okay?”

Well, it wasn’t as if you could protest anymore since they had successfully dragged you away. Eventually, you find yourself in front of the restaurant you’ve mentioned a couple of times to your friends, vowing to return as much as you could.

As you enter the welcoming restaurant, you couldn’t help but let a small smile form on your lips at the memories created with your friends and as the three of you are guided through the vast restaurant, the enticing aroma exciting your taste buds. And despite your reluctance, a sudden wave of happiness and relief washes over you. Maybe this was something that you actually needed, you’ll have to thank Asuma and Reiji afterwards.

Or maybe not.

Because as the restaurant host leads you to your table, your eyes fall upon the other party seated around the designated table. Bokuto loudly interacting with someone he was seated next to, someone unfamiliar to you with an unruly orange shade of hair while Osamu, next to him, looking at you apologetically. However, that wasn’t what caused the muscles in your shoulders to grow tense.

It was him.

And how he called out your name, looking at you with desperation in his eyes.

You were so giving Asuma and Reiji a piece of your mind.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #hq #hq x reader #hq imagine #hq imagines #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu imagine #atsumu imagines #haikyuu atsumu #homesick #miya x reader #miya imagine

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Eleven ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 4471

Warnings: None

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Hello hello, happy Easter! Tomorrow (Monday) is a little bit hectic for me so I’m getting this one out tonight (Sunday) instead. Thanks for reading :)

After a quick breakfast with Haldir and Glorfindel, they set off and I spend the day exploring Imladris. I do not stray far from the main household, yet all that I discover does not cease to amaze me. Elrond’s home is beautiful. If it weren’t for all the horrible, sudden drop-offs, I would consider it a perfectly wonderful place to live.

I spend the first part of my day in the garden. Behind the stone of the estate is a sprawling field filled with an impossibly wide variety of flora. I pass time exploring each bush, tree, and sprout, every one somehow more beautiful than the last. A few of the more sweet-smelling blossoms make me sneeze, so after a while, I head back inside to explore Elrond’s extensive library. But when the sun begins to sink below the horizon, I know I shouldn’t put it off any longer — I have ignored him since our arrival. I need to go see Alex. We haven’t talked in private ever, really, but I feel like we need to touch base. Though we may be slightly at odds, we owe it to each other to work through it.

I remember an attendant leading him down the hallway below mine as I ascended the stairs last night, and from there, it’s not hard for me to figure out which room is his. All the other doors are open, indicating that the inhabitants are out for the day. Already in my short stay here, I realize the elves are much more trusting than humans — while private, they must rely on each other to respect that privacy, because they don’t attempt to bar others from entering their spaces by closing their doors when they are not home. One door at the very end of the hall is closed shut. It is undoubtedly Alex’s.

I knock once.

He opens the door and I try to disguise my shock at the dark circles under his eyes and his disheveled hair. In all my memories of him, he is so put together, and this is completely at odds with the man I think I know. He ushers me in and shuts the door quickly behind me. The slam echoes through the stone room. He turns to me, wringing his hands together almost nervously. Unease grows in my stomach.

“Are you okay?”

He shakes his head violently and begins to pace the length of the small bedroom. “Of course I’m not okay. We’ve been wrenched from all that we know and dropped in this ridiculous place—” He cuts off his words and stares at the ground, shaking his head. “Look, I’ve decided that there’s no way around it. We are in some sort of other world — there’s no way this is some place back where we’re from. But if we did arrive here somehow, that means there has to be a way back. So we need to find it.”

I sit on the edge of his bed, watching him warily. I, too, have recently accepted the reality of this new world, but I hadn’t expected Alex to come around so easily — especially after our conversations on the way here. But getting home…if it’s a real possibility…”Do you think we could do that?”

His eyes snap to mine, desperation causing them to blow wide. “I think Elrond could. The people here hold him in such high esteem—I believe he’s very powerful. We need to talk to him, plead our case. If anyone could send us back, it’s probably him.” He notices my silence and turns on me with an accusatory stare. “You do want to go home, right?”

I swallow. “I…I think so. I mean, it is really dangerous here….But Elrond had a good point when I talked to him earlier. He said it’s probably just as dangerous in our homeworld.”

He groans almost animalistically. “I cannot keep having this fight with you! We don’t belong here. The dangers of our world are ours and the dangers of this world are theirs. And just because we agree that this is a different world doesn’t mean that anything’s changed. We still have people back home who miss us.”

But after my conversation with Haldir, I’m not so sure that’s the case. Yes, there are probably people who miss us in the usual sense, but the crushing grief that must come from being separated from someone you really, truly care for…I’m not sure I have that. I think I would know if I did.

I try to redirect the subject, not wanting to get into it with Alex. “How do you think it would work? Getting home. Do you think we would get our memories back?”

He stops pacing, excitement entering his eyes now that I’m seemingly more agreeable to his position. “Yeah, I think we would. Now, does that mean we would lose the memories we’ve made here? Maybe. Probably. Again, I think Elrond has the answers.”

I let my eyes fall to my fingers. The thought of forgetting…of basically erasing my time here, the friendships I’ve made…it makes me feel horribly sad. I drop my head into my hands. Oh, I just don’t know what to do!

“Let’s go talk to Elrond,” Alex urges. “See what he has to say.”

“Okay,” I agree, trudging to the door. At the very least, it will provide a distraction from the grief that has hit me so unexpectedly. “He’s probably in his study—follow me.”

I lead Alex along the same route I took this morning. Only, then, Haldir was at my side. I feel a pang of loneliness. Huh. After two weeks in constant company, I guess it is a little strange to be separated from him and the others.

As this morning, Elrond is in his study, surrounded by books and stacks of parchment. Stress tugs at the edges of his eyes but when he raises his head to greet us, it fades into a look of knowing. He was expecting us.

“Ah,” he stands, beckoning for us to enter. “I was wondering when I would be seeing you. Please, come in. I believe we have much to discuss.”

Alex strides forward, a stubborn set to his shoulders. He wastes no time. “How do we get back home?”

Elrond raises a thoughtful eyebrow, leading us to an auxiliary room with plushy chairs and couches. I sit on an unoccupied cushion. “What makes you so sure you can?”

Alex huffs. “If we got here, we can get back. Somehow, there’s a link between the worlds. We just need to find it and use it to get home.”

Elrond nods, appraising my friend. Unexpectedly, he turns his head to me. “And you, Cosima? Do you think there is a way home?”

I open my mouth, but no words come out. I close it, looking at the ground to buy myself some time. What are the possibilities? What are the chances? … And what am I hoping for? “I…I think Alex is probably right. Doors open both ways, right? If it opened to send us here, it can open to send us back. But we don’t know how easy it is to open that door.”

A sparkle enters Elrond’s eye. “Humans often do not get enough credit for their intelligence, nor their tenacity. Yes, I agree that there should be a way for the two of you to return to your homeworld. Power in Arda is changing. Forces of evil grow and the wisdom of the elves must adapt to overcome it. There is a finite amount of power in this world, and with it being pulled in so many different directions, it is possible it has grown thin in its blanket over our universe. The two of you could have fallen between the cracks.”

I look at the wall, not able to withstand Elrond’s piercing gaze or Alex’s frenzied one. If there is a real possibility of going home…isn’t it my duty to try?

Something in Elrond’s words catches my attention. “If the dispersion of that finite amount of power is constantly changing…is it possible that the ‘crack’ that let us in has already closed? Or moved somewhere else? If we tried to go back, isn’t there a chance we would end up in some other world?”

Elrond’s mouth sets into a grave line. “Precisely. There is a great deal of risk involved in your endeavor to return to your world.”

“But you can help us?” Alex speaks in a rough, desperate voice.

Elrond shakes his head, expression regretful. “I have power, yes, but not in the way you seek. If someone were able to help you—and bear in mind, it is a strong ‘if’—it would be Lady Galadriel. I believe you have heard of her through your companions?”

Alex grits his teeth, standing and beginning to pace a furious line. “Are you positive there is nothing you can do? It took two weeks to get here and that wasn’t even the whole journey. We do not have time to wait for them to decide to return to Lothlórien and then make the trip there. That could set us back months.”

“With regret, I am unable to help. My skill lies in healing and languages—academia, really. My power cannot compare to that of the Lady. I am sorry.”

I hate myself a little for it, but I feel relieved. The choice is taken from me. For the time being, all I can do is wait. Lady Galadriel might be able to help us, yes, but it will be at least two months before I have to make the choice to attempt to return home or not.

Alex evidently doesn’t feel the same way, and I don’t like the way he’s glaring at Elrond. I try to smooth things over. “Thank you for speaking with us and trying to help. We’ll let you get back to your work.” I stand, bowing my head in farewell as I’ve seen the elves here do. Alex makes no move to follow me. I prompt him with his name. He keeps his jaw tightly clenched but does incline his head towards Elrond before stalking from the room.

I have to jog to catch up. “Alex—“

“Entertain yourself, Cosima. I want to be alone.”

I take a step back. It’s not his words that stun me, it’s the grief in them. He sounds like he’s being torn apart.

Whereas I feel relief and, if I’m being honest with myself, no small amount of happiness.

I think I’m a bad person.

But I can do one good thing, and that’s grant Alex his wish to handle his feelings in private. I step forward, give him a quick, awkward hug, and let him walk away.

{***}

After lunchtime, there’s a knock on my door. I open it to the grinning faces of Rumil, Orophin, and Lavandil.

Laughing at their enthusiasm, I wave them in, grateful for the seating area in my bedroom — it makes hosting quite convenient.

Rumil whistles lowly, taking a look around. “Look at how they’ve set you up! I’ve got to share with Haldir which is just as terrible as it sounds. He says I snore! I do not snore.” He looks so offended, I don’t have the heart to tell him that he occasionally does.

Lavandil runs her hand over one of the gossamer curtains, eyeing the view. “I love these falls. You don’t seem them as well back where I grew up—that’s partly why I moved to the main city. They’re wonderful, no?”

Even though I’m not a fan of their height, I can definitely agree to their splendor. “Oh, absolutely. After days of the plains and rocks, it’s so nice to have a change of scenery.”

Rumil pours himself a glass of water and reclines on the chaise. “So, where have you been off to today? Baranor and I came looking for you this morning but you weren’t here.”

I blink. I figured Rumil would know, given he shares a room with the brother who collected me. “Haldir took me this morning to see Elrond about my arm. See?” I hold it up to present the thin, raised scar. “All healed. It’s miraculous, really, how it healed within minutes. And then Glorfindel, Haldir, and I had breakfast in the kitchens because I guess we missed the main meal, and then the two of them took off for the borders. I explored for a bit and then—” I falter. Should I tell them about my meeting with Alex and Elrond? Silly, I admonish myself. You didn’t do anything wrong. Still, it feels strange to admit to them that I had been seeking a way home—a way to leave them, essentially. But there’s no good reason to keep it hidden, so I brush aside my hesitation. “I talked to Alex, and then he and I went to visit Elrond.”

“About your home,” Orophin guesses, gravity in his voice.

“Yes,” I admit.

Rumil gapes, evidently caught off-guard, and I shoot him an apologetic look. Yeah, that hurts.

“We wanted to know if getting home is even a possibility. And, well, jury’s still out. But Elrond thinks if someone can help us, it will be Lady Galadriel. So…” I shrug.

A twinkle enters Rumil’s eye and he sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So you’re returning to Lothlórien with us?” All traces of hurt have disappeared from his features.

I can’t help but grin at his excitement. “Yes—if you’ll have us.”

“Of course we will!” He beams, sitting back into the chaise with a new air of relaxation. “I mean, Haldir has the final say of course, but he’ll say yes. He might not like Alex, but he has grown quite fond of you.”

Each ellyn suddenly seems very interested in scrutinizing my face. I feel my cheeks heat under the weight of their stares and try to disguise it by standing and filling a glass of water. “I’ve grown fond of all of you, too.”

Rumil presses further. “Yes, but if you had to pick one—someone you’re the most fond of—who would that be?”

Orophin chuckles and Lavandil bites her lower lip, looking up at me with interest. I take a sip of the water, trying to buy myself time. This feels like a trap. I get around it as best I can. “Roch, of course. I miss him already.”

This sends them into fits of laughter and evidently puts their curiosity to rest — for the time being. I return to my seat, lounging along with them. When the sky begins to darken, Orophin requests dinner to be brought to us and we talk into the late hours of the night enjoying good food and even better company. And, though I am sure to feel guilty about it later, I do not miss Alex or my home at all.

{***}

Despite my full belly and long day, sleep eludes me. Part of that is my fault—I hold myself back from drifting off, not wanting to have another nightmare. When it must be at least midnight, I give up tossing and turning and change back into my day clothes. I didn’t spend near enough time wandering the garden or the library — perhaps I can tire myself with some exploring. As silently as possible, I push open the creaking door and step into the hallway.

It’s surprisingly bright — I’ve caught the moon when it’s high in the sky, and tonight it is full and robust in its shine. Light dances atop the ever-flowing water, creating a sparkling effect that leaves me breathless. Once again, I find myself glad that I have more time here. Though part of me feels like I should want to return home, another part of me isn’t near ready to leave. There’s so much more to see and learn and…well, I’m not ready to give up my new friends.

I go slowly down the open-air corridor, trying to keep my noise to a minimum. The household is asleep, for the most part. I see the odd attendant bustling around finishing duties, but the night is quiet and peaceful. It’s too beautiful to pass time away inside, so I elect to go back to the gardens and just avoid the blossoms that sent me into a sneezing fit earlier today.

The gardens are at the back of the estate and I do my best to remember the path I took this morning. With so many pavilions and archways and hallways and staircases, it’s easy to get lost. But all hallways—sooner or later—lead outside. So, after minutes of unsuccessfully trying to retrace my path, I choose a hallway at random, deciding to follow it to its end.

Further down, warm light flickers and ebbs—candlelight. As I get closer, I catch a voice I know well. He speaks in hurried, hushed tones in the Elvish language—arguing, maybe? Or just having a rushed discussion? A vaguely familiar voice responds in the same manor. Abruptly, the sounds cut off.

I take a few steps forward, the two figures becoming visible in the limited light.

“Haldir?” Squinting, I realize why I sort-of recognized the other voice—it belongs to Glorfindel. The two turn to me, each dipping their head in welcome.

Glorfindel looks perplexed. “Hello, Cosima. Do humans not require much sleep?”

I laugh guiltily. “No, they do — probably more than elves if we’re basing it on my traveling companions. I just couldn’t sleep so I was trying to find the gardens.”

Haldir steps out of the doorway and turns to Glorfindel. “Ah, I should be letting you get to bed, mellon.” He gives a nod of farewell to his elven friend. “We will continue our discussion tomorrow?”

“Yes, yes.” Glorfindel waves off Haldir’s stern look and moves to shut his door. “Goodnight.”

Haldir and I are alone in the hallway.

He clears his throat. “Would you like company?”

I smile, gesturing in the direction of what I hope is the outdoors. “Sure. You’re not tired after being gone all day?”

He shrugs, clasping his hands behind his back as he walks. “Tired, yes. Though my mind is not yet ready for sleep.”

“Was it a long day, then?”

Haldir sighs, and the sound is so weighed down with exhaustion and sadness that I nearly stop and insist we both go to bed. Sleep might make him feel better. But he is an adult and so am I, and neither of us really wants to sleep. So I say nothing and wait for him to explain.

“Much of Elrond’s border patrol is young. I worry they are unprepared for the increase in attacks. The conversation you heard—Glorfindel and I were disagreeing. I think it is worth advising Elrond to send his more experienced fighters to the borders and allow the newer ones to use this time to train. Glorfindel thinks calling the entire army is an overreaction and that I am overstepping my bounds. And he is right. I am captain of the Lady’s guard, not Lord Elrond’s. Still, I cannot help but believe it is worth interfering in this way — I think it could save lives, help Imladris be more prepared.” He looks at the ground, shaking his head. “I am sorry. I don’t need to be bothering you with this.”

“No, it’s alright.” I chuckle ruefully. “You’ve seen me cry so many times, you’ve earned the right to talk about whatever you want.”

He smiles and gives me a side-eye. “I’ll admit, while your tears used to perplex me, I think I am more accustomed to them by now.”

I roll my eyes and make a conscious effort not to be offended. “Great.”

He gives me an apologetic look, but mirth dances in his eyes. I turn the conversation back on him. “So what are you going to do?”

He sighs slowly, turning the corner into an adjacent hallway. “I will continue discussing it with Glorfindel tomorrow — it would be ideal to have him on my side. But if not, I plan to go to Elrond. I’d rather cause offense than withhold strategies that could save lives.”

I nod, agreeing. “Hopefully Glorfindel will see your side, and if he doesn’t, at least Elrond. I can’t imagine he would disagree — Elrond doesn’t seem like the type of man to choose pride over lives.”

“Ellon,” Haldir corrects gently.

I turn over my shoulder so he can see the begrudging look I give him. “Ellon.”

Haldir smiles almost smugly and we step from stone to lush grass. We’ve come out on the side of the estate — the garden is in the back. Thankfully, Haldir seems to know where to go. We curve our path left.

It’s a bit humid and I can feel my hair already reacting. I bring a hand to the back of my head, attempting to smooth the frizz. “Speaking of Elrond, Alex and I went to see him today — Did Rumil tell you?”

Haldir shakes his head but gives me a look that shows he’s not surprised — he guessed Alex and I would ask Elrond about getting home.

I continue, feeling a tad nervous. Rumil said Haldir wouldn’t object to our returning with him, and I don’t think he would…but what if he does? I don’t think I’d be able to keep myself from taking it personally.

I twist the fingers of my right hand into the fabric of my dress. “Um, Elrond mentioned that if anyone can help us get home, it would be Lady Galadriel. So—if it’s alright with you, of course—I—we—would like to return home with you. To Lothlórien.” I add, perhaps unnecessarily.

Haldir stops walking and turns to me, blinking once. Dread seizes in my chest. Oh no.

But his lips twitch and I realize he’s fighting a smile. “Lothlórien would be happy to host you, and I would be honored to escort you back.”

I beam, feeling nearly giddy with relief. Haldir relaxes and a hesitant smile brightens his face. The movement causes moonlight to reflect in his eyes. It sets them alight. I can’t believe I used to think them cold towards me — they are anything but. Guarded and suspicious at times, yes, but never cold. Not now that he’s gotten to know me, anyway. Instead, they are soft, gentle. And, exactly as Rumil had said, fond.

“Thank you.”

He inclines his head in that formal way of his, and the softness never leaves his eyes. He resumes his steps, leading us around the corner and into the labyrinthine garden.

I sneeze.

And again.

Haldir sputters out a ridiculous laugh, the sound so carefree and wild that I almost don’t mind having to sneeze to hear it.

“You’re allergic,” he accuses, gesturing to the flowers to our right.

I shrug, trying to ignore the tickling in my nose. “Just to some of them. Come on, I found an area earlier that’s not so bad.”

Haldir chuckles and shakes his head but follows me through the gardens. “Why did you want to come here if it just makes you sneeze?”

“Because it’s beautiful,” I answer simply. Because sometimes, that’s enough.

I find the alcove I discovered this morning and sit on the stone bench there, scooting over to make room for Haldir. He sits next to me, stretching out his long legs. Looking up at the sky, I can see stars through the wooden, flower-filled lattice that hangs above us. I sigh, finding the sight of the sky sobering. “Do you know how I finally realized I was in another world?”

Haldir shakes his head, waiting for me to continue.

“The stars,” I murmur. “In almost every memory I have, I’m looking at the stars. I know their patterns, how they move with the seasons, the names of each constellation. I watched them my whole life. But that night in the plains—when you came looking for me by the river—I looked up and realized that I don’t know these stars. They’re not in the right order or in the proper places. And I knew, even if I wasn’t ready to accept it, that these aren’t the stars of my world.”

Haldir tilts his head to the side, watching me in silence. He twitches as if to move and then tenses, looking uncertain. But after a moment he sets his jaw and, in one fluid motion, stands and removes his cloak, laying it on the ground. He offers me a hesitant smile as he sits—the expression so at odds with his usual confidence that I half-gape at him in disbelief. He reclines slowly, leaving room for me to do the same.

I press my lips against a smile even though I can feel that I’m losing the battle. Okay. I rise from the bench and, taking great care not to step on Haldir’s fingers, lay down next to him.

The thick fabric of his cloak mitigates the coolness of the ground and I stretch out, feeling my back resting on the firm surface of the earth. Though we slept near each other outside every night for two weeks, there were more people, then. We were farther apart. Now, we are alone and, due to the width of the cloak, there is only a sliver of space between us. If I moved my arm even slightly to the right, it would touch his.

When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, gentle, and rumbles deep in his chest. “I have been watching these stars for centuries. They will become familiar to you, too. You only have to spend time with them.”

So I do.

Haldir and I lay on his cloak staring at the stars for hours. We don’t say much, only periodically mentioning something about our days or asking the other if they’re comfortable or cold. The newness of our proximity never fades, and I find myself hyper-aware of the warmth on the side of my body that nearly touches his. There’s a desire in me—something new and strange—to close that space between us, to rest my head on his chest and feel his arms hold me. I fight it, attempting to focus on what’s above me instead. He doesn’t seem to be struggling like I am.

At some point, I must slip into sleep. When Haldir gently nudges my shoulder, there’s a touch of early light in the sky. He smiles softly, offers me a hand up, and walks me to my room in silence. My efforts and sleep deprivation have left me exhausted. I barely remember climbing into bed and immediately fall back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs make me smile <3 Let me know if you’d like a tag!

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