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misspearly1 · 3 years ago

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Gacey’s Shopping Center - Part 2

Pairing: Joel Miller x Y/N

Summary: Should I ask them how they know Joel, or just keep my mouth shut? - Quick recap from the last chapter to this story.

WC: 7k

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending. Mature themes, 18+. Heavy Conversations, (The tensions between Ellie and Joel about the fireflies.) Violence (neither Joel or Reader is hurt). Hypothermia (Suspected to be between Moderate & Severe stages).

Very mild smut in this fic - Kissing, Mentions of nudity & Light Groping between Reader and Joel.

AN: I’d like to mention that this is not how I think TLOU2 should have gone down, it’s merely a follow up to my first fic Gacey’s Shopping Centre. Also, credit to my lovely friend @joelmillersgirlfriend for helping me find a way to end this fic, thank you my darling! I love you 💜

Sunday - 2am

“Gaghh!” Joel grumbled, frustratingly. Taking a deep inward breath to calm himself, he exhales slowly and gets back to the task at hand. The task at hand being a big square block of wood clamped onto the edge of the table with a mallet held in one hand and a chisel in the other.

Working on another wood carving project in his workshop, he is chipping large portions away before he whittles away the finer details of the shape that he wants. Although, this is the third time in the last fifteen minutes that he has accidentally hit his gloved thumb with the mallet and he is beginning to lose patience - with himself.

An arctic fox is what he is going for this time and this cold winter season is what inspired him to create this piece. Having never seen an arctic fox up close, only on the discovery channel many years ago, he is optimistic of how it will turn out. How hard can it be? It’s just a regular fox but it’s fur is white. Whiter than the snow laying on the ground outside right now.

Joel can’t say for sure which season he prefers. Each is beautiful in their own unique way, however he can’t lie about it being extra tiring to get himself out of bed in the morning to do his daily patrols in the winter months. His days would certainly start off better with a cup of Joe to get him going, but of course, that is a rare luxury to come by these days.

As well as the season being the source for his inspiration for this project, Y/N plays a part too. It’s a distraction. It was nearing the end of November when he last saw her and this week will be the start of January. Exactly six weeks ago tomorrow is when he last saw her face, felt her touch and heard her voice.

The notion of it shouldn’t add weight to that pit that already sits heavy in his stomach. He doesn’t know the woman. She doesn’t know him. But why does he feel this way regardless? That is a question that he has asked himself many times but still struggles to find an answer for.

So, he will take each day as it comes, like he has been doing, and that pit in his stomach gets a little lighter with each rise and fall of the sun. Wishing more times than he can count that he could have forgotten about her the moment he left Gacey’s shopping center, Joel instead hurts himself more by thinking about Y/N each night when he is alone in bed.

This is one of those nights where he can’t shake off the image of her pretty face, therefore he peeled himself out of the warm, thick duvet covers and started on another project at 2 am in the morning. This week alone has been especially hard for him.

Every second of the day, Y/N has been stuck in his mind. More so than usual and if he is being rather honest with himself, it has been gnawing at him. He’d like to imagine that, in some weird way, she is thinking about him too and that would be the reason for his lack of ability to stop thinking about her.

Everywhere he looks, she is there. Everything he hears, he swears he hears her voice. He catches whiffs of her and he looks for the source but it is gone within a second. It’s driving him crazy and he cannot, for the life of him, cannot understand why she is persistently on his mind.

It angers him that he isn’t strong enough to battle against his own brain and he also thinks that is why he can’t focus on his woodworking either. Which would be the reason why he has just hit himself in the thumb again. This time hard enough to surely leave a bruise under the nail.

Tossing his tools and gloves onto the bench, he leans back into his chair with his two hands perched behind his neck. Shaking his head while looking out the window of his house, Joel looks down the main street of Jackson and to the main gates.

I can handle knowing that you didn’t want me, girl, It’s not knowing why you didn’t show up at Gacey’s that’s botherin’ me.

Thinking back on his last conversation with her on the rooftop of that shopping centre where his so-called friends had left him for dead, she said to him, ‘If it’s all the same to you Joel, I’m interested in where this might go.’

He can’t help feeling like something bad has happened. Not wanting to accept that she has potentially - probably - rejected him, Joel believes that something terrible has occurred, thus preventing them from seeing each other. Especially with these strong feelings and emotions that he has suffered with in the last week.

Where are you, girl? Are you out there, thinking about me? Or am I just some love sick fool?

Asking himself these questions as he looks out at the night sky above Jackson, he once again shakes his head at his own actions for pining over a woman that doesn’t want him. Standing up from his chair with a mentally exhausted groan, he walks out of the workshop and into his bedroom to see if he can manage to sleep.

If he had waited just a few seconds more, he would have caught the flare that was blasted up into that night sky that he was just looking at.

A flaring red signal from Y/N.

Saturday - 11pm

“Hola, Y/N. Just relax, ok?” Manny spoke to Y/N in a soothing manner. Holding his arms out and inching his way closer to her, he reached for the tape around her mouth and slowly pulled it off.

She didn’t say anything, didn’t confirm his question of ‘relaxing’, how could she relax? These people have barged into her home, stopped her from leaving and tied her up. However, if her eyes could talk, they would be saying a whole lot right now and Manny is picking up on that.

“Don’t try anything. We’re not here for you and you haven’t eaten all day,” grabbing the plate of food that he had brought with him, he began to feed her. Like she was a toddler, he was feeding her and It angered Y/N.

More than that, it infuriated her of the position she was put in, especially for a man that she barely knows. She has spent weeks worrying about Joel, about what these people intend to do to him, but this week alone has been amped up by tenfold.

After discovering the real reason for their venture to Wyoming, she had asked herself endlessly if she should reveal that she knows Joel. Catching on quickly that they intend to hurt him, she thanked heavens for her gut instinct to keep this information to herself but, she fucked up, massively.

Y/N began packing a bag. Just a small bag with necessary and vital items for her short travel to the walls of Jackson to find Joel. She planned to go there and warn him of these people, warn him of their intentions. Although she is pissed off that she has been dragged into this mess. She can’t turn away and ignore what they plan to do to him, not after the intimate moments they shared.

She can’t deny that she likes Joel. Albeit, that attraction might be wearing thin right now but still, the man has been on her mind for the last six weeks. However, her fuck up is damn near costing her life. During her escape, Manny had caught her.

Tossing her bag over the wood panelling beside her house, she began climbing but he had captured her and hauled her back inside. Y/N’s been locked up in the basement all day today while Abby and Manny have been trying to question her on why she was leaving.

She now fears that they suspect she knows Joel.

So the only thing left for her to do was act innocent and pretend that these people have simply scared her so much that she just wanted to leave. It's partly true, they do scare her. For a WLF group to travel all the way from Seattle to Wyoming to find one man, in these harsh conditions, they do indeed scare her.

Joel should be scared too, she thinks.

Changing her attitude towards Manny, she has to play an act to make him vulnerable. Just a second of vulnerability where his guard is down and that is when she will make her move, so she can try to make her escape again and tell Joel exactly why he should be scared of these people.

And of her when this is all over with.

Turning her head to the side when he tried to feed her another spoonful of this shit that he calls food, she mumbled softly, “I need a drink..please.” Manny was apprehensive but he complied and placed the food on the floor. He’s more compassionate compared to Abby, and Y/N knows that he will be easier to fool.

Grabbing a bottle of water, he unscrewed the cap and paused before bringing it closer to her lips. Using his eyes, he warned her again not to try anything and she nodded in return. Placing the bottle to her mouth, she craned her neck back slightly and closed her eyes while gulping back the water.

“Hey, hey, take it easy. We aren’t going to dehydrate you, there’s plenty more where that came from,” he reassured when he saw how thirsty she was, drinking the water like it would be her last. Opening her teary eyes to look at him, he took the bottle away and tried to express a warm smile, “would you like some more water?”

“N-no, M-Manny, thank y-you” stuttering fearfully, he picked up on her faux emotions just like she hoped he would. Placing a hand to her knee, he furrowed his brows and repeated his earlier statement, “We aren’t here for you, Y/N. You don’t have to be scared of us.”

Looking down to the hand that was placed on her knee, he retracted it and apologized but she used that, “It’s ok, thank you for b-being so nice t-to me. C-can.. Can I have s-some more food, please Manny?”

Another fake tear rolled down her cheek and he wiped it away. Nodding to her and turning to grab the food, she had just managed to work one of her hands out of the rope from behind her back. When he looked back, she darted her hand out, grabbing his hair from the root and slammed his face down to the arm of the chair.

Manny fell back. Thankfully a silent cry slipped past his lips while cradling his broken nose and Y/N yanked her other arm out to work on the rope tied around her ankles. Her heart pounded heavily with every second she took. Training her eyes on him, waiting for him to recover and come at her while she worked the ropes off.

“You fucking bitch,” he grumbled and pulled himself up onto his knees. With one leg free, she extended it out as hard as she could and as fast as she could, kicking him to the chest back to the ground. Sweat gathered around her fingers while she anxiously worked on the rope around the other ankle.

Manny was getting back up and she stood quickly, rope now broken free, she towered over him and brought her knee to her chest, kicking him harshly with all her might to his face. He fell. Falling backwards again and staying down this time, she had knocked him out with that last kick.

This was her moment to leave before the others came to investigate all of this scuffling, they must’ve heard it.

Running to the rolling shutters in the next room, she lifted them up quietly. Just enough for her body to slip under but she chanced one more look behind her. No one was there, only Manny on the floor. The door didn’t open, no one came to investigate.

This was good but the notion of it being ‘too good to be true’ was sickening her stomach with worry. Dipping under the shutter and standing up on the other side, white fluffy snow stared back at her. With only a hoodie and a pair of jeans, she knows this escape is going to be dangerous in these conditions but it's the only chance she has got.

This is the last chance she’s got. There’s no going back after this, they would surely kill her.

Y/N sprinted. Running as quickly as her legs could carry her, she darted for the side of her house where the shorter wood panels were. They would be easier to climb as opposed to the large metal gate at the front of the house and that is where her bag is.

Just as she climbed the other side and grabbed her belongings, she could hear the group inside the house shouting and yelling for Manny. Not wasting a second longer to see what happens, she disappeared into the treeline and headed straight for Jackson.

Over the last few weeks she had heard Abby talking about scouting Jackson’s lookout checkpoints. Y/N knows one of them is nearby and she heads for that first, just to get her on the right path. She didn’t anticipate however, that there would be infected around, especially in these climates.

Only having one handgun in her bag, she is left with the bare minimum to defend herself and she seriously underestimated the number of infected that were roaming in these snowy hills around her home and she ponders whether Joel was worth the effort.

Telling herself, for her own sanity, that he is worth it, that he would do the same for her. Surely he would, Joel wanted to see more of her, just like she wanted to see more of him and after saving his life in Gracey's, and possibly saving his life again now, Joel Miller owes Y/N big time.

At the moment, the infected are all surrounding that checkpoint that she was headed for and since that is out of the question, she has to go a different direction. Having never travelled this way before, Y/N is at a loss for where she is.

Walking along a highway, surrounded by nothing but snow and overturned cars, and hopefully with no infected hiding behind any of them, that thought of Joel being worth it is hanging on by a very thin thread.

Coming up on a small housing area, she carefully wades her way through after what seems like hours of walking and mental battles in her mind. The cold was starting to pinch now that she had slowed down but after seeing the tips of a large power tower, she knew that the Community was near.

Joel is near.

She could taste his lips on hers, feel his touch on her body and as Y/N walked further, she was finally starting to realize that Joel is worth it. The moment she departed from him, her life was hell. All she needed to do was find the right path to get there and tell him how much it has sucked since they last saw each other.

Walking around this abandoned town endlessly to find the right direction, Y/N found an opening in the trees and started walking through there. When she saw a line up of those power towers, she knew that this was the right path.

Finally.

The wind started to pick up, lifting some of the snow off the ground with it and it whipped past her face. With her hood pulled up and the strings tied into a knot to keep it in place, she had her hands buried deep into her pockets to try and stay warm, but it was no use.

Y/N is freezing.

Shivering excessively with each step, Y/N knows that she probably should have stepped into one of those houses back in that little town and warmed up, but it's too risky. Abby and her group could be right behind her. So she pushes on.

No matter how tight her muscles are cramping, she pushes through and continues walking because If she stops now, she may never reach Joel. Walking along another highway that had split off in the middle by a stream of water, she turned and walked down that river instead.

Her knees buckled a couple times and she nearly fell to the ground, body and mind aching with exhaustion. Passing a gas station and stopping at a blocked off tunnel along the way, she followed her instincts and preyed that her intuition was right on walking down the embankment to the side of the road.

Y/N kept praying that she was on the right path and not wandering further away. The cold was cripping her body by now and she walked a couple more feet before dropping to her knees. Muscles finally giving up on her and locking in place, she was unable to go on any further.

This was her last resort. It’s risky but someone will be watching, someone in Jackson will see and she hopes that Joel will see. Pulling out a flare gun from her bag, she aims in towards the sky and pulls the trigger. A clear, red flaring signal up into the night sky.

It was a signal for help.

Joel tossed and turned in his bed. He tried countless times to fall asleep but failed in doing so.

It was bad enough that the images of Y/N weren’t allowing him to sleep, let alone his neighbours standing outside on their porch chatting away to each other. It's nearing 3 am in the morning and he’s had enough of their chatter.

Climbing out of bed to get dressed and to kindly ask them what was wrong, something must be wrong, it’s unlike them to be doing this, and starts heading down stairs. Opening his front door, he saw the dying embers of red smoke in the sky and there was a commotion at the gate.

Looking over to his neighbours, Betty and her husband John, he cocked his head in question and Betty came over the lawn, “We’ve heard that there was someone outside, calling for help in the snow.”

Joel looked back to the gate, narrowing his eyes to see if he could get a better picture while Betty continued talking, “Poor thing used a flare, she must have been freezing to death,” snapping his head back to her, Joel instantly thought about Y/N and he asked, “she? It’s a woman?”

“That’s what we’ve heard,” the old lady replied softly at seeing the worry splashed across Joel’s face. Without even thinking, he moved off his front porch, “s’cuse me Betty, sorry,” muttering to his neighbour while he darts down his steps, Joel breaks out into a light jog down the street.

The closer he gets the more he can see what’s actually happening. There’s a group of people at the gates, some townsfolk, some of them wall duty personnel and Ellie too. She is there with her friends and he instantly worries about why she is there.

Things haven’t been too good between him and his daughter lately, but when she sees him jogging along, she puts aside those differences for a second to assure him, holding her hand outwards and nodding, as if to say ‘I’m ok’. it's a small gesture but it means the world to Joel, even though it still hurts that she won’t talk to him.

Nodding back to her in return, eyes laced with sorrow, he tries to go to her but she turns away and talks to Dina instead. A clear indication that she still doesn’t want to talk. Not wanting to push it more than he already has with her, he calls Jessie over.

“What on earth is going on? I’ve heard it’s a woman out there,” he asks, to which the young man replies, “yeah, Tommy is out there now, she’s hypothermic.”

Pointing to Jessie’s walkie, Joel asks him for it so he can contact his brother and get an answer to that burning question in his mind. Is it Y/N? However, just as he is bringing the radio to his mouth, Tommy comes barrelling through the gates on his horse, yelling “Move! Outta the way folks.”

Joel didn’t need to ask the question, he already had his answer.

There she was. Wearing Tommy’s big puffy winter jacket, head nestled into his chest with his arms wrapped around her back. He clung to her and swung a leg over the horse before carefully slipping down. She was unconscious.

Hooking his arms under her leg and calling for Joel - who stood on the spot, shocked with fear - Tommy called for his big brother's help, “Joel, it’s Y/N, get over here.”

Handing the walkie back to Jessie, he moved through the crowd and stood before Tommy. Taking Y/N from his arms, he asked, “How bad is she,” while walking towards the infirmary, carrying her lifeless body in his arms. Joel worried how badly she was hypothermic and if she would even recover from it.

Tommy replied remorsefully, “it’s not looking good, Joel.”

Ignoring his brother's tone of voice, Joel remained hopeful that Y/N would be ok. Taking her into the infirmary and being greeted by one of the old doctors there, he laid her down onto one of the stretchers then followed as the doctor wheeled her into one of the side rooms.

Joel stood by and watched the old man open her eyes, shining a flashlight at her pupils and calling for her to respond. He watched him open up his brother's jacket, lift up her hoodie and shirt to place a stethoscope to her chest, to listen for her heartbeat.

Joel had to look away.

Turning away and facing his brother, Joel couldn’t look as the doctor delivered the news that he is deeply dreading. It was a long minute before the doc removed the medical tool and turned to look at Tommy.

“She’s there. We may need to hook her up to a dialysis but these clothes need to be off, so I need you both to step out,” looking between the two men, Tommy looked to Joel and nodded before turning to leave.

“I know her doc, I’d like to stay,” Joel turns to the doctor then looks down at Y/N.

“How well do you know her, son?” the man asks, a hidden meaning behind his words and when Joel darts his eyes to him, quizzically, he explains, “I could use your help, but only if you know she would be comfortable with it.”

Understanding what the old man was implying, Joel relaxed and nodded in confirmation before he began removing his clothes. Y/N saved his life all those weeks ago in the shopping center and it is his duty now to do the same.

It's been hours in this medical room.

Many, long depressing hours while Joel held onto Y/N. He stripped down to his underwear after the doctor stepped out and did the same with Y/N. Pulling off her clothing carefully but hastily, he climbed into the bed and pressed her naked body firmly against his own.

Wrapping the insulation blanket around them both, and then a thick duvet on top of that, he could feel the cold vibrating off of her at first but now he is sweating profusely in his sleep. The proximity of her was overwhelming. He’s missed her so much and he fell asleep while running his fingers through her hair.

Then, Joel dreamt about her.

Like he has done many nights before but this time his dream was vivid. It felt so real and he thinks that’s probably because she is right here with him. Feeling her hands on his body, whispering that she is ok and kissing him fervently, like she missed him just as much as he did, this is what Joel dreamt about.

Not wanting to end these hopes, he didn’t open his eyes to face the disappointment when he did eventually awake with the heat and the sweat. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her and see that she is still unconscious, so he kept his eyes closed to live in his fantasies.

“Joel..” her whispering voice echoes again and his lip quivers. Begging for it to be real, he opens his eyes and looks at her but she still wasn’t awake. Running his fingers through her hair again, her mouth opens with a shallow gasp, “Joel?”

Her eyes finally open, looking extremely worn out, the pupils begin to expand when she focuses on the man she has been waiting to see laying in front of her. “Why didn’t you answer me?” She murmured, blinking back the dryness and leaning into him more, “I’ve been saying your name and talking to you for the last five minutes.”

For the second time this night, Joel moved before his brain even thought about it. He moved in and planted his lips on hers, whimpering her name into the kiss, the hand he had placed on her hair dropped down to her neck and he held her tightly.

Like he would never let her go again, Joel held her tightly and pulled her into him. She ran her tongue across his lip before slipping it inside his mouth, swirling it around while he groaned.

The passion was deep. Desperate hands clawed at each other, searching for more while each of them were on the brink of tears.

Eyes widening and yanking herself back, Y/N panicked, “Joel, I have to tell yo-”

“Shh, baby,” placing his lips back onto hers, he shushed her and dropped his hand down to her hip, “It can wait, I ain’t going anywhere darlin’.”

Y/N wanted to spit it out but his kiss was everything she needed, yet she pulled away from him again and held her hands to his cheeks, “It can’t wait. I came here because there’s a group looking for you.” Joel leaned his weight onto his elbow, furrowing his brows and gesturing for her to elaborate.

“They invaded my home, Joel. For weeks I have been stuck with them and when I tried to leave, they stopped me.”

He was confused, shaking his head at her before his eyes turned dark, “did they hurt you?” Joel pulled her in close, gripping her a little too tightly as he asked again, “Y/N, did they hurt you? Is this why your wrists are red?”

“No well, I mean yes. They tied me up but they didn’t hurt me. I hurt one of them though and Joel…” her eyes glossed over as she stuttered worryingly, “Joel they were planning on killing you and they know that you’re here.”

Darting his eyes all over her face, he wondered who - out of the many people in the world that he has wronged - would be looking for him. The one group that would care enough to track him down is the one he dreads the most.

“Did they say who they were?” unnerved, his voice spoke deeply and Y/N picked up on his change of tone. Still cradling his cheek, she rubbed small reassuring circles with her thumb, “They’re WLF from Seattle but.. It has something to do with the Fireflies.”

Closing his eyes, Joel’s stomach sank.

Later that day…

“What are we sitting around here for? We should get after them while we know where they are!” One man, unknown to Y/N, spoke out. Voicing his opinion on the situation with Joel and the fireflies.

After Y/N had been checked over by the doctor earlier and he was satisfied that she was ok, he discharged her. Exhaustion was the cause for her body to be rendered unconscious, not a severe state of hypothermia. Although he did mention that it was cutting it close.

Joel took Y/N straight to his home and called Ellie over to join. There, they had a very long excruciating conversation about why Abby and her friends were looking for Joel. Using everything that Y/N had overheard and learned during the last six weeks with them, they pieced together that Joel had killed Abby’s father.

It’s where Y/N also learned a lot of new things about Joel too.

Like the fact that he has a daughter. A daughter that is immune to the Cordyceps virus, and who he withheld a lot of truth about the Fireflies from. That man that he killed, Abby’s father, was the surgeon who was to perform the surgery on Ellie’s brain. The tensions were high, that Y/N could tell and it ended with his daughter walking out.

Understandably, Ellie was still very upset with him.

However, the problem of Abby still remained at present and after filling Tommy in with the situation too, he called a little meeting in his home with only a few people. Ellie, Tommy, his wife Maria, who is also the leader of Jackson, and a few other people were present.

A lot of people that Y/N didn’t know and she felt very uncomfortable in the middle of it all.

Before she entered Tommy’s home though, Joel shared with Y/N that no one other than herself and his brother knows about his daughters immunity, or of what truly happened that day in the hospital where he took her out of there, so he asked that she keep it to herself.

It was a lot of information in such a short period of time and she was feeling the pressure in an already high pressure situation.

Sitting around a large dining table, they each shot their suggestions back and forth on what they should do. On how they will handle it. Someone said to shut down Jackson until the snow lets up and let the weather draw them out. Another suggested doing nothing, that they would head back home knowing they’ve been caught, implying that their element of surprise is gone.

All of these ideas seemed viable, until one man had barked out his suggestion of going after them and Joel agreed. Both Y/N and Ellie snapped their necks to look at Joel and she spoke first, “really? After all of what has happened, you think that is what’s best?”

“I agree. I don’t think it’s ideal that you go anywhere near them, Joel,” Y/N added to that, nodding curtly to Ellie and she mirrored her actions.

Joel didn’t look at either Ellie or Y/N, he looked at the leaders of Jackson instead, “Give me some guns, some men and I’ll take care of this. It’s my mess anyways, you all shouldn’t have to pay for that.”

Looking at Ellie when he said that statement at the end there, Y/N could still feel that tension between them both. It was saddening to see a father and daughter at war. There was a short silence around them all and Y/N broke it by placing her hand onto Joel’s under the table.

“I think you should listen to what Ellie is saying,” he turned to face her while she disclosed some more details, “Joel, I spent six weeks with these people and trust me when I say this, they will kill you on sight. They won’t hesitate.”

The face Joel wore was one that Y/N hasn’t seen since his friends left him for dead at Gracey's. He was furious. “Good,” pulling his hand away and pushing himself up to stand. Joel walked off, muttering, “Cause’ I won’t hesitate either.”

Tommy stood also and walked off to catch up with Joel, no doubt to talk some sense into him. Which was somewhat funny considering he was the younger brother. When Ellie stood, she cocked her head at Y/N to follow.

Walking outside to the back porch, Ellie leaned against the railings and Y/N stood beside her, doing the same. “Tell me more about this Abby girl,” she requested, which took Y/N by surprise but she answered nonetheless. More like she stammered.

“Um, she’s t-tall, blonde and really strong in the arms actu-”

Ellie cut her off to clarify, “No, sorry I mean… Tell me about her personality. Do you really think if she saw Joel, she would kill him?”

Turning to face her, Ellie was looking ahead, across the backyard at Joel and Tommy arguing. Her eyes were silky and Y/N could see nothing but pain behind them. She was hesitant to answer her honestly. How could she tell her without it being so painful?

“Yes,” Y/N looked ahead as well. Watching Joel flail his arms around at his brother wasn’t better to look at as opposed to his daughter crying. But still, Ellie wanted to know more, “Do you think she could live on and forget about the man that killed her dad?”

Maybe Ellie was trying to understand Abby’s thinking, Y/N doesn’t know for sure but she answers honestly again as softly as she could be, “No. I don’t think she’ll let it rest, even if she has lost the element of surprise, Abby will still come for him.”

“So you think we should go after her?” she looked over to Y/N, tears staining her cheeks and Y/N replied with a reassuring smile, “I didn’t say that. We need to find a solution, but violence begets violence, so that’s not an ideal path to take.”

Ellie hummed in agreement, wiping her face with the back of her hands, she took a deep inhale of air and relaxed her shoulders with the exhale. Joel had calmed down now too as it seems. Shaking his head while he looked down to the ground, he looked up at Y/N and Ellie after Tommy had said something to him.

Flashing him a reassuring smile too, this can’t be easy on him or his daughter. On anyone for that matter. This is a tricky situation. Putting herself in his shoes, Y/N would have done things similar to what he has done. But on the other hand, she also emphasizes how hurt Ellie feels. How betrayed she feels.

“He likes you, y’know.” Ellie chirped with a smile, pulling Y/N out of her momentary inward thinking. She smiled too and quips back in response, “He loves you, Ellie.”

There was a brief silence before her voice croaked, brokenly “I know.” Simply hearing her tremble was enough to make a tear fall from Y/N’s eyes too. It was soul piercing. When Joel saw them crying, he left Tommy and headed for them both.

Taking up the spot between them both, he too leaned against the railings and muttered an apology. Y/N squeezed his shoulder and made an excuse to leave. Joel needed this moment with his daughter, not with her.

Heading over to Tommy, she used this opportunity to officially thank him for saving her ass. “Hey,” greeting him nervously, she still felt so out of place here in Jackson and he greeted her warmly, “howdy stranger. You about ready to run away and hide under a rock yet?”

“Getting there,” she laughed then shrugged, “it’s not so bad, just something new from me that’s all.”

“What? Joel being an ass or joining a community?” Tommy joked some more, easing Y/N’s worries of feeling out of place.

Wondering how he knows that she worries about joining a community - she only shared these details with Joel - Y/N reciprocates his comedic mood and teases, “What else has Joel told you, huh?”

The man panicked. Eyes widening and stuttering while he shook his head, “Uh, n-nothing. Just that you preferred to be on your own, that’s all.”

She laughed, showing him that she was joking and then spoke again, genuinely this time “Thank you, by the way, for pulling me out of the snow.”

“No problem, it’s a good thing you had that flare Y/N, otherwise… Well, you know,” trailing off with his words, neither Tommy or Y/N wanted to entertain the idea of what might have happened differently. She only hummed in response to that.

They stood there silently for a few moments, it wasn’t awkward, just peaceful but during these moments, something came to Y/N. “The checkpoint,” she gasped, grabbing Tommy’s attention, she turned to him and repeated her words. “The goddamn checkpoint.”

“You got a checkpoint near my home, which is overrun with infected if I might add, but my point is, if Abby wants to come, she will go there first,” during her explanation of this, Tommy perked up and saw what she was suggesting.

Telling her, “c’mon” as he walks towards his house, he tells Joel and Ellie as he passes them that there might be a solid plan. Once inside, everyone huddled around the dining room table again after Tommy had laid out a map. Joel took a spot beside Y/N, placing his hand to her lower back as if to apologize to her for his actions earlier.

“This one here?” Tommy asked, pointing to a location on a map and Y/N nodded, “Yeah that’s the one. Listen, the number of infected there is..dangerously high. Too fucking high for that group to handle if they wanted to continue looking for Joel.”

“And do you think they will go the same way you did?” Ellie asked, optimistically. Y/N pondered for a second before she spoke, “yeah, I really think they will. They were talking about scouting your checkpoints and It’s likely that they’ll go there first.”

Maria spoke now, authority in her tone, “Ok, no one goes outside, not until the snow clears. I want extra people on the walls until then, and after enough time has passed, we will gather a large group and head up there. We aren’t killing anyone but if this group wants to come looking for Joel and they run into this horde along the way, then that is their problem. All agreed?”

Everyone unanimously agreed as one. This was the plan that they were going for and it was the best option to go with too. This way, none of the residents in Jackson will get hurt.

Joel won’t get hurt.

Y/N stirred in her sleep. It had to have been the most peaceful sleep she’s ever had and she smiled.

Smiling against her pillow at the touch of his wiry beard prickling against her neck, Joel chuckled, “morning, darlin’.”

She keened at his touch. Turning her head to face him and looking into those beautiful hazel eyes while she held a hand across his cheek, “G’morning, handsome.”

Leaning in to kiss her lips, he mumbled into her mouth, “I ever tell you that…” he pulled back, “I love you?” Y/N giggled to him, nodding with a smirking smile, “every day, Miller.”

Pulling him in to kiss her again, she chided him playfully, “Don’t you ever stop either.”

Chuckling some more as their bodies press together in a passionate, loving embrace, this has become the regular morning routine for both YN and Joel now for the last eight month. That day of settling on the plan to shut Jackson down, Y/N had no choice but to stay in this community.

But that was the best choice she ever made.

Maria moved Y/N into her own home. Wanting to take things slow between her and Joel at first, she needed to work herself into the new life of Jackson but two months after that, she ended up moving in with the man. Everything had fallen into where it should be after that.

A large group did get sent up to that checkpoint after the snow had settled and no trace of Abby or her friends were found. Only a broken down fence with a huge stain of dried up blood. There’s a couple speculations from people on what they think had gone down, but Joel, Ellie or Y/N didn’t necessarily care.

So long as Joel was at home, safe and sound.

Ellie and Joel’s relationship has improved since then. It’s not there fully, they’re not back to that strong loving father and daughter bond just yet, but it’s most definitely progress compared to last year. She comes around for dinner twice a week, along with fishing with Joel on Tuesdays.

Although, this winter has put a stop to that outdoor activity for now, he makes up for that with movie nights. That was the biggest step in their relationship mending back together, something that Joel and Ellie used to do regularly when they first moved into Jackson was have movie nights.

So, things were slowly falling back into place. Where they should be and Y/N finds herself thinking daily on how delighted she feels to be a part of that. She thanks whoever it is that she needs to thank for meeting Joel that fateful day at Gracey's shopping centre.

Otherwise… No, Y/N wouldn’t entertain the ideas on what might have happened differently, instead, she simply lived in the blessed moments she had with Joel Miller.

——————————————————————————

More Author Notes: Okayyyyy!

What’cha think? I didn’t want to go into great detail of what happened with Abby and her friends. Thought I’d leave that open for ya’lls minds to think about. This fic was hard to write, the subject around what actually happened to Joel in TLOU2 is still very raw and emotional.

I’d like to leave this note for you my lovelies, that so long as I wrote for Joel, he will remain alive in my fictional stories. I can’t kill him off, it’s too painful - I’m just too emotionally attached to this man 🤣...

Tagging:

Permanent Taglist (All story Updates): @marydjarin @kirsteng42 @supernaturalgirl @supernaturalgirl20

All Joel Content: @extraneous-trip @luvmeijii @readsalot73 @pale-gingerale @joelsflannel @something-tofightfor @readsalot73 @dinsangelx @ponyosmilfmom @hb8301 @squidwell @spideysimpossiblegirl @mooraakath

#Joel Miller #joel miller fic #Joel Miller fanfiction #Joel Miller imagine #joel miller angst #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #Joel Miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller x y/n #pearlyfics #follow 👑 share ❤️ enjoy 🍑#enjoyreaders

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i-am-a-scholar-of-magic · 2 years ago

Text

Hunter’s Heart Is His Power: A Galdorstone! - My Thoughts

A popular theory during the second mid-season hiatus of “The Owl House” was that Hunter was not a powerless witch, but something called a “grimwalker,” a theory evidenced by an open book detailing diagrams of magenta eyes and hooked noses and a list of ingredients for the apparently artificial lifeform that included palistrom wood for keratin (a protein composing hair and skin), selkiedomus scales, stonesleeper lungs, the bone of an ortet (the original lifeform that a clone is derived from) … and a galdorstone for the heart and power.

With the confirmation in “Hollow Mind” that Hunter is indeed a grimwalker, it has led to several ideas of possible benefits Hunter may derive from his non-witch and non-human state of being that may compensate for his lack of innate magic. My theory is that the galdorstone that is his heart will do just that.

As covered in a previous post, galdorstones are gem-like artifacts that greatly amplify any given spell. While Hunter has no innate magic, neither do galdorstones. Rather, the relics amplify outside magical forces.

How does this affect Hunter? Through his little rascal of a palisman, Flapjack.

Should Hunter make this connection - as several books on grimwalkers were seen in his living space at Hexside in “Labyrinth Runners” that indicates he’s been researching what he is - it could drastically impact his style of magic for the better.

One of a palisman’s most common uses to their owner/partner is to supplement the witch’s magic with their own to ease spellcasting. While the limits of a palisman’s innate magic are left vague, it is logical to assume they are roughly the same as the average witch. Given Hunter has no innate magic to supplement, this puts the full strain of magic on Flapjack unless Hunter uses glyphs.

But should Hunter be able to use the galdorstone resting in his chest, he could amplify any spells he uses through Flapjack to incredible levels, negating this deficit. But it doesn’t have to go that far. Perhaps an even more elegant technique would be for Hunter and Flapjack to use smaller spells than average and then amplify them to normal - or a little greater than normal - potency. This could not only fully counter Hunter’s lack of magic, but also greatly extend Flapjack’s magical reserves to the point that their combined skill could outlast even the most powerful of witches!

And yet, they could even take it a step further! Perhaps it is not only Flapjack’s magic that Hunter could amplify, but that of his friends!

Let’s use Willow as an example, as she is the closest biological witch to Hunter and Gus’s illusions cannot be affected by a galdorstone. In a hypothetical battle, if Hunter and Willow could sync her magic with his “heart” it would provide a boost to her already incredibly powerful plant magic. Just try to imagine Willow’s huge wave of vines from “Clouds on the Horizon” when powered up by a galdorstone!

For the record, I am very much aware of the potential ship tease of Hunter offering the power of his “heart” to Willow. And yes, I am an avid Hunter/Willow shipper and have been almost since the premiere of “Hunting Palismen.” I may even write an essay or two on the topic in the future …

Thanks for reading! More to come …!

#the owl house #theorizing #worldbuilding #analysis #urban fantasy

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javier-pena · 4 years ago

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alone

Chapter 1 of The Hunt

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Rating: Mature (for now but that will - spoilers! - change eventually)

Summary: When your best friend and companion is abducted by a group of outlaws, you hire a Mandalorian to help track down the men and get your revenge. What seems like a simple enough task stretches into a month-long trek through inhospitable terrain while both you and the Mandalorian are trying to come to terms with events in your past you cannot change. Set after Season 2.

Warnings: mentions (and short descriptions) of death, murder, and torture | a lot of hurt and no comfort | mentions of loss | mild to moderate language | a lot - and I mean A LOT - of talk about Din’s hands lmao

Notes: This is my first attempt at a Mandalorian fic and the first time in months I’ve written anything. It’s vaguely inspired by my favorite western movies, True Grit (1969/2010), The Quick and the Dead (1995), and The World to Come (2020). So yes, this is going to be very much like a western. I also want to - again - thank Dani @javierpcna who was like “are you writing Mandalorian stuff?” about a month ago and has, since then, read through this chapter more often than me and encouraged me to continue to write it and offered so much valuable insight whenever I came to her with an idea ... seriously, Dani, this fic wouldn’t exist without you and I hope I can find a way to repay you! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this first chapter (I’m already working on the second one) ...

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The day the Mandalorian arrives on Alvorine is the day you lose your best friend. You’re still busy putting out the fire, running your soot-blackened hand across your face, where the dirt mingles with the tears you’re too tired to stop from streaming down your face, when you hear the thrusters of a spacecraft roaring above you. You barely glance up; you can’t be bothered to. It could be the remnants of the Empire looking for recruits, it could be the New Republic looking for the remnants of the Empire, or it could be the bandits coming back for more. But what do you care? They already took away the one person you care most about in the galaxy. You just grip the shovel tighter and drive it into the soil so you can choke the fire underneath moist stones and dirt.

While you exhaust your body with physical labor, you occupy your mind with thoughts of revenge. Revenge as dark and quenching as the soil beneath you. With every load of dirt you heave onto the searing flames, your plan gains another sharp edge until all you can think of is driving the cutting edge down onto the throat of the man who gripped Brea’s arm and pulled her onto the speeder bike. Maybe his head would come off right away, maybe your tool would just obstruct his windpipe as you watch the life drain slowly out of his eyes. And even that would be too good an end for that monster.

It’s not just in your mind – those thoughts aren’t simply there to ground you while you continue your work in the ruins of what was once your home. It’s not pure fantasy, something to give you back a feeling of control. You are determined to follow through on it; you are going to hunt down these men who burned down your farm and stole Brea from you. You will not rest until they are all dead by your hand. And if you should die in the process … then you won’t go out without a fight, without taking as many of those bastards with you as you can. They have sealed their own fate by coming here today.

You know Brea isn’t dead; they won’t kill her unless she tries to kill one of them first. And she wouldn’t do that, she is too gentle for that, too docile. She would rather turn the other cheek. They should have taken you instead; she doesn’t deserve the fate that awaits her. You would’ve at least put up a fight, make them pay for what they did. And Brea? She would just die.

For now, she’s alive. But whatever you set out to do once you’re done here won’t be a rescue mission. You aren’t under the illusion you can save her. You know that even if you were to leave right now, even if you had your own speeder bike, you would never find her in time. No, this possibility hasn’t even crossed your mind. All you want to do is cause these men more pain than they caused you. You know it is impossible because you cannot imagine anything worse, but you sure as hell will do your best.

You straighten your back, drive the shovel into the ground, and use it as support while you try to catch your breath. The air burns in your lungs, and not just from the cold. There is also the steadily rising black smoke that makes breathing hard; your throat stings, so do your sides, and there is a bitter taste in your mouth. But you’re almost finished here, you’re almost done putting out the fire, so it won’t endanger the surrounding forest. And with every flame you bury, you also bury a piece of your soul until you feel like there is nothing left that makes you human, until all the pain and despair you’re feeling since listening to Brea’s screams grow quieter and quieter until they were swallowed up by silence has turned into a cold, brazen cry for revenge. But you’re glad this has made you less forgiving, less kind, less … human. Those things would only get in the way of the task ahead of you.

As the last flames go out with a wet hiss, one of Alvorine’s three blue white suns vanishes behind the treetops. You know the other two will be quick to follow. And you don’t have anywhere to spend the night. You wouldn’t mind sleeping with your back propped against a tree. You’ve done it often enough. But it’s winter, and the air is already cold and will be even colder once the other two suns set too. And you just lost every blanket, every single piece of fabric that could keep you warm in a small inferno. You know this is just an excuse, a comforting lie you tell yourself. The truth is you cannot spend a minute longer on this clearing, even if that means you have to walk the four miles to the next settlement. You’re so exhausted you cannot feel your legs, but you don’t care. Anything is better than spending the night here, even collapsing in the middle of the dark forest.

You leave the shovel where you stand and walk to the edge of the clearing, swallowing around the lump in your throat, trying to hold down more tears that are threatening to spill over and down your cheeks. Once you reach the edge of the forest, where the air is a bit clearer, you take a deep breath and turn around to look at the ruins of your home, now nothing more than a black pile of rubble. You have nothing, nothing but the clothes you’re wearing, not even a small trinket to remind you of Brea and the many happy hours you spent here tending to your fields, sweeping the front porch or sitting around the fireplace sharing supper. Even remembering how you worked on menial chores now feels like the most precious memory, one you will hold onto until your last breath. Because even though they have taken everything from you, they can’t take away the memory of Brea’s laugh.

***

They stare at you as you enter the inn. They stare and then look away. They can’t bear your presence because it reminds them of their own guilt. Not one of them came to your aid this morning, not one of them came afterwards to offer help. And you ignore them too because there is nothing left to say. All you want is some food and a dry place to sleep before you turn your back on them forever.

You sit down at a small table in a dark corner. The patrons around you either turn their backs to you or stand up to move their meals and conversations someplace else. It’s as if you’ve been marked. If you had any strength left in you, you would call them out on their behavior. Shit, you would wreak havoc, and only stop when the last one of them is on their knees begging for forgiveness. But you’re glad you’re too exhausted because your sudden hatred for everyone and everything scares you. The villagers don’t deserve to fall victim to your rage. There is nothing they could’ve done. They are just as defenseless and helpless as you. Would you have come to their aid if your positions were reversed? You would like to think so, but just because it gives you a false sense of moral superiority. Deep down you know the truth. Deep down you know you would hide too, praying that you would be spared.

As you dig into your bowl of soup, you realize how hungry you are. Even though everything tastes like ash in your mouth, your stomach is glad to have something to clench around when your thoughts stray to this morning’s events again. And you know there’s no need to punish yourself by refusing your body the nourishment it needs. The opposite, in fact – you know you’ll need all the strength you can get if you’re really going after them.

As you swallow one ashy bite after the other, you let your eyes wander around the room, looking for something that will distract you from your thoughts and your feelings of guilt. Everyone avoids your gaze; everyone acts as if your corner is empty. Everyone … except one stranger.

He sits in a booth close to the bar, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze on you. Or at least you think he’s looking at you – he’s wearing a helmet that covers his entire head, the kind you’ve seen twice before in this corner of the galaxy. He’s a Mandalorian, a bounty hunter, and his presence here doesn’t really surprise you. Even though actually seeing one is a rare occurrence, stories about them are countless.

Alvorine is a planet without laws, a planet that lives by its own rules, so many criminals decide to hide out here while they wait for their crimes to be forgotten. There is no military presence on the planet, no judicial system, no one to catch and punish the wrongdoers. The planet follows the rules of whoever is in charge, which changes frequently, but none of the powerful people have enough resources to enforce those rules anyway. Disputes are often just settled by the parties involved in whatever way they see fit. Only the Mandalorians, who are hired by people on other worlds, by people who have never experienced what it is like to live on Alovrine, are brave enough to get involved in those disputes. You have to admit you do feel a tiny bit curious as to why that particular Mandalorian is here ... who hired him? And who is he hunting?

You tentatively let your gaze wander over his stoic body, over the beskar covering his arms and chest, over the bandolier wrapped around his upper body, over the visor hiding his eyes. If you had one like him on your side, you wouldn’t need to worry about getting your revenge. He would catch those men in the blink of an eye. And if you paid him enough, he would do to them whatever you wanted.

He would cut off their limbs but keep them alive long enough to feel it.

He would make them run for it, give them the illusion of hope, only to crush it like their bones.

He would let you watch, let you choose whatever punishment you saw fit.

You shift in your seat because you can almost smell the blood, you can hear a faint echo of their screams, and it makes you feel light-headed and nauseous, but also elevates you, lifts a weight off your shoulders, even if just for a brief moment.

But he’s not here to do your bidding. And when you lift your head again, he’s gone.

You finish your bowl of soup and then decide to rent a room upstairs for the night. You don’t have a place to stay anymore and it’s too dangerous to start your pursuit while it’s dark. The forest belongs to dangerous creatures during the night, more dangerous than any man out there. And you’re planning on staying alive for just a little while longer.

You stretch and yawn and move to get up when your path is suddenly blocked. It happens so fast you don’t register anything at first apart from the cold, hard beskar chest plate that is level with your face. Its unexpected appearance makes you lose your balance and you fall back down onto the bench you’ve been sitting on. The Mandalorian extends his hand, his fingers closing around thin air. It’s a half-hearted attempt to stop your fall, and it comes too late – your backside has already painfully collided with the hard wood.

“May I join you?” His voice sounds distorted through the modulator in his helmet. He sounds like a machine, not like a being with a heartbeat.

You want to tell him no, want to tell him to fuck off, but for tonight you have no fight left in you. So you nod.

He sits down and you expect to hear the clink of his armor, expect to feel a tremor when his heavy body comes to rest on a stool opposite you. But there is no sound, no movement, and the lack makes you sit up straighter. This isn’t just another cowardly villager you can get rid of by glaring at him … this is an apex predator.

You swallow with some difficulty. “Can I help you?” you ask, your voice level, your eyes resting on his glove-clad hands lying on the table. You figure you’re safe as long as you can see them.

At first, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you. Or at least you think he’s looking at you. You cannot see his eyes behind the tinted visor. No matter how uncomfortable the situation makes you feel, you try not to move … you try not to show any sign of weakness, to give him any excuse to lunge across the table and strangle you.

Finally, he answers. “I’m looking for work.”

Now you cannot help but move. You exhale sharply, and with that release of breath comes a release of tension as you slump backwards, your back hitting the wall behind you. You cross your arms over your chest. “I can’t help you,” you say. You don’t have any work to offer him, no work worthy of the skills of a Mandalorian who usually hunts down important people, kings, merchants, people who influence the course of the galaxy’s history. Following a few lowly bandits is not the work he’s used to. You don’t even want to tell him about it because you know he’d take it as an insult. And even if - by some miracle - your quest for revenge would be deemed a worthy cause in the eyes of the Mandalorian, you couldn’t afford his services.

The slightest movement of his helmet is the only reaction your answer gets out of him. Whether he shifts because he’s surprised or because he’s angry, or whether his scalp itches under the metal you cannot tell.

Still, you feel the need to explain yourself. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any money.”

Shit, that’s the wrong thing to say. It implies you have work for him, but that you’re too poor to pay him. For all you know, this could be a grave insult in Mandalorian society.

His fingers on the table clench around thin air again. “What can you offer?” he asks.

He doesn’t want to know about the job, the quarry as you know they call it. No, he just wants to know how much he can earn.

“240 credits,” you answer. It’s all you have. You won’t need it anymore.

He tilts his head and you expect him to refuse, but then he says, “That’s enough.”

You’re taken aback, surprised. He’s caught you off-guard. You were fully prepared to see him walk away at hearing the ridiculously low amount of money you just offered. “You don’t even know what the job is,” you protest. The last thing you need is a Mandalorian hunting you down because you’re not paying him enough.

“They told me,” he says with a nod behind him.

You follow the movement with your eyes and see heads whip to the side, gazes wandering downwards, you notice conversations being picked up again. White hot fury fills you, more powerful than the flames that destroyed your house.

“They had no right,” you press out through clenched teeth.

The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything. He sits still like a statue, unwavering, as you fight a small battle with yourself. You should leave without looking back. Messing with a Mandalorian is even more dangerous than the task ahead of you. But he’s offering you something invaluable, something no amount of credits can get you: a chance. If you go alone, you’ll be dead in about a week. There’s no use pretending you’ll get out of it alive. But if you accept the Mandalorian’s help – his services, you have to remind yourself – you might make it through two. You might get to see your dreams of revenge become reality.

You sigh deeply as a heavy weariness settles over you. You’re exhausted, and now that all the adrenaline has left your body, you can feel all the small cuts and bruises today’s labors have left behind. And you feel empty … cold and empty, and utterly alone.

The Mandalorian still doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t defend the villagers, he doesn’t tell you what he knows about you or the job, he doesn’t try to persuade you to take him up on his offer, nor does he walk away from it. He just sits there and waits for you to make up your mind, as if it’s all the same to him. And it probably is. Either he goes with you and earns some money, or he doesn’t and looks for work elsewhere. He is completely detached from the whole affair. There is no emotional investment, just a job that needs to be done.

He doesn’t care if you live or die, he just cares if you pay him or not.

This realization is what finally helps you make up your mind. “I want to hire you,” you say, your tongue heavy in your mouth. All you really want is to sleep.

There is no reaction for the longest time but then the Mandalorian nods. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something, give him details or explain the specifics of the job to him. But before you can decide what to say next, he stands abruptly.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” he says before turning around.

Your brain needs a moment to catch up but when it does, you’re already on your feet. “Wait,” you say, and to your surprise the broad, steel-clad man listens to you.

He doesn’t face you, but he stops.

You briefly consider asking him if you can accompany him, but you don’t. You don’t have to ask, you get to decide.

“I’m coming with you,” you tell him.

You tell a stranger, a dangerous one at that, one who makes his money by making other people’s lives a living hell, that you will travel with him through dark, deserted forests where no one will stop him from taking what he wants from you instead of earning it, where no one will come to your aid should he not honor the deal you apparently just made with him. And you don’t care. Because no matter what he will do to you, it can’t be worse than what has already been done.

But all your worries and fears focus in on just one tiny aspect of this whole, fucked-up situation when he says, “I work alone.”

You don’t want to negotiate. This shouldn’t even be up for debate. You’re his employer now, you get to decide how things are done. But if you insist on this, he could just walk away from you. And you cannot let that happen now that you’ve had an idea of what it would be like to have a Mandalorian on your side.

“We’re not a team,” you say. “Think of me as an interested party. As someone who is fascinated by your work.”

You’re not sure if that is the right thing to say. His shoulders move, but he still doesn’t turn around. When he speaks again, you know it was the wrong thing to say.

“I work alone or not at all.”

You don’t want to accept that. You want to be there when those men are punished for what they did. You don’t want to wait around for the Mandalorian to come back, not when you don’t have anywhere to wait around in. You’ve lost everything. Had he talked to the villagers as he claims, he would know this. Or maybe he does. Maybe he knows you lost your home today but doesn’t care. He doesn’t even know the definition of the word home. It means nothing to him.

You take a deep breath. “Then I won’t be needing your services.”

This finally makes him turn around. Everything in you screams for you to take a few steps back, to put yourself out of his reach. You can feel the atmosphere between you shift – he draws back his shoulders, makes himself even taller than he already is. And you know, you just know, that refusing his offer, that backtracking on your agreement is the worst mistake you made tonight.

You’re pretty sure that not honoring a deal is the worst insult to a Mandalorian.

“Going alone will be your death,” he says when you cannot bear the tension a second longer.

“What’s it to you?”

The words are out. They are a challenge, one you didn’t mean to make, one you shouldn’t have made, but it’s done now. Your hand begins to tremble, and your feet grow cold with fear as you prepare yourself for his reaction. You don’t know if he will hit you, tie you up, torture you, or just kill you on the spot. He could do all of these things without having to fear any repercussions. You curse yourself for not having been more careful, for making this fatal mistake, because now Brea will go unavenged. Just because you couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut, just because you’re stubborn and hot-headed and oh so stupid.

But to your surprise, the Mandalorian shrugs. He lifts his broad shoulders, then lowers them again as your eyes follow the movement. But he’s not giving you anything more: He doesn’t insist on going alone, he doesn’t turn around and leave, he just keeps standing opposite you, motionless, emotionless, until you’re convinced you imagined the shrug.

So you decide to make the next move by removing yourself from this situation before he changes his mind and drags you back to his ship to do whatever he wants to you. You take a deep breath and start to step around him, a movement that is almost impossible to complete in this small space you’re both in. But you attempt it, nevertheless. When you’re level with him, doing your best not to brush up against him so you won’t enrage him, you hear his voice. It’s just one sentence, four words, but for some reason it sounds so much more human than it did when he was opposite you. Maybe it has something to do with the distance between his helmet and your ear, maybe it’s the angle from which the sounds hit your eardrums or maybe it’s because you feel light-headed, dizzy with the realization he hasn’t killed you yet and probably won’t.

He says, “Have it your way.”

You stop right next to him, staring ahead at a group of three men who do their best not to look at you. But you don’t see them anyway. In fact, you don’t see anything at all because the rushing sound in your ears drowns out everything else, even other senses.

“You can come with me,” he says, and it’s the first time he has spoken two sentences in a row. “But you do as I say.” Three. “If I tell you to run, you run.” Four. “If I tell you to get out of the way, you do so.” Five. “And if I tell you to kill, you kill.” Six.

Then nothing, just the faint sound of his deep breaths through the modulator.

Your thoughts are racing, tripping over their own feet like children running down a hill, and they’re unbearably loud. Everything is loud suddenly, from the sound of the barkeep filling a glass to the way that woman over there is chewing her food. The only thing that’s quiet is the last one you would have suspected to be so: the Mandalorian. Now he is waiting for you to say something and as he does, he balls his hand into a fist and then releases the tension again, over and over like a nervous tic, like he needs an outlet for the tension in his body, the tension you have no idea he is feeling until you see his arm flex beneath the fabric covering it.

But, once more, you’re at war with yourself. You don’t know what to tell him. There is still that shimmer of hope on the horizon, the light that makes you believe you stand a chance if you bring him along. But his terms … you’re not sure if you can accept them. He doesn’t know Alvorine or the men you would be hunting half as well as you do. And you’ve never been one for following orders. So if you feel that his assessment of a situation is wrong, you’re not sure you’ll be able to run just because he tells you to.

You have a feeling that defying his orders would be the most dangerous thing you could ever do, even more dangerous than hunting down a group of ruthless bandits who like to torture and kill for fun.

“All right,” you say finally.

His fist unclenches one last time and he exhales slowly.

“But when we find them,” you swallow hard, once, but your mouth is completely dry, “I get to decide what happens to them.”

The Mandalorian turns toward you so abruptly that you almost lose your balance. You lean back and hit your elbow on the wall behind you. The pain makes you curse under your breath.

“Agreed,” he whispers. He sounds like a machine again, as if everything that makes him human is shut away beneath that cold, hard, invaluable beskar steel. You too feel cold suddenly, cold and afraid. “But until then you do as I say. Understood?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. He is too close to you, and drowns out everything else, even the sounds that you considered to be too loud mere seconds ago. If he wouldn’t be wearing a helmet, you would be able to feel his breath on your cheek. He takes up your field of vision almost entirely. You’ve never felt more on display, and yet more hidden. And you know that if you say the wrong thing now, it will have terrible consequences.

So you just nod again.

“We leave in the morning,” he tells you, then turns around suddenly and leaves, his cape trailing behind him.

All sounds come rushing back at once, as if you’ve just emerged out of a pool of water. You release your breath quickly, only now realizing you’ve been holding it. Then you slump back against the wall, a shaking, quivering mess.

***

tag list: @bella-ciao, @filthybookworm, @frannyzooey, @khalysa, @leannawithacapitala, @mothandpidgeon, @mrsparknuts, @mxsamwilson, @piscespussybabe, @something-tofightfor

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mando x reader #star wars #din djarin #pedro pascal #fanfic #the hunt fic #yes i've queued this #yes i'm asleep right now #and yes i'm too much of a coward

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ellitx · 4 years ago

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Chapter 13: Fidelity

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

previous || next

art belongs to _suucrose

word count: 2.9k

In sun and clouds, the church spire reached into that every stretching blue. It was as if it spoke of the love of the community towards their god, that it too lasted in any weather and called on them to join and put their faith in him.

When Aether and Paimon walked along the nave, the church choir was different compared to the other choirs that didn’t sing hymns. Their voice was almost like angels, high notes soaring over the clouds, graceful notes dancing on the staves, and they sang for the Anemo Archon only.

The two waited to finish their practice before looking for a certain deaconess that might help them gather more information they needed. It wasn’t long before Barbara noticed them and approached the two with a welcoming smile.

“Hello, Honorary Knight. What brings you here today?”

Paimon flew over her and leaned closer for a much better closeness to ask.

“We would like to ask you something about Barbatos!” She exclaimed fervently whilst she placed her small arms in front of her chest. A bright smile was then donned on the deaconess’s face, her blue eyes sparkling in delight at her words.

“Oh! Are you two perhaps interested in serving Mondstadt’s very own Anemo archon as well?” Her tone had an obvious enthusiasm in it. Aether already felt bad that’s not what they were here for, and be that as it may, he still has to prioritize in searching for his lost sibling.

“That’s not the case. We wanted to ask if by any chance the Anemo archon has a lover.”

Barbara’s small pink lips parted trying to utter a single word however a short chuckle was what came from her mouth. It surprised them and was confused if they said something odd. Her delicate hands were now placed on her mouth to stifle her laughs, apologizing in between them, as small tears form from the corner of her eyes.

“Sorry for suddenly laughing. I wasn’t expecting that’ll be your question. But to answer that, there are no stories or mentions if Barbatos had a lover or not in the past. If he did, it would’ve already been written in the books and be sung by the bards everywhere. You celebrated the Windblume Festival, right?"

The two gestured their heads as a yes. "Since you already know it's a festival about love and freedom, wouldn't the Windblume Festival be celebrated for both of them instead of Barbatos only? But just as I have said before, there were no tales about the God of Freedom having a lover.”

Something clicked inside his head though it didn’t last for long as it suddenly fades away like a speckle of dust.

“That’s true…” He turned to look at Paimon who was all troubled and disturbed.

He continued to listen further if there’ll be more clues but it seems like that’s the only information he’ll get for now. His companion looked at him then held her aching head to alleviate the small ringing echoing in her ears.

“Paimon’s running out of brain juice and my head is hurting the more Paimon thinks about this…” The throbbing in her head told her it was time to rest someplace quiet, to ride out the pile of confusion within her brain.

Aether nodded and massaged his forehead in hopes to ease the pain. Why does he suddenly feel so lightheaded? He shook his head and pushed himself forward to carry out his plan on giving the pendant back to you. Words of gratitude were what Barbara received from the blonde and she waved them a goodbye to continue her choir practice with the other members of the Favonius Church.

“Are we going back to the lair?” Paimon asked. Aether hummed in affirmation as they stepped outside of the parish. The harsh sunlight caused him to squint his eyes and cover his face with his arm. Was it always this hot for this season? The sudden change of the climate made him so lightheaded than ever.

Paimon detected how pale he looks as if he’d been painted with white-wash— even his lips were barely there. It was as if his heart had suddenly stopped beating and all the blood had run down into his boots. He swayed just for a moment, then with one step backward, he crumpled like a puppet suddenly released of their strings.

—

Birds trill, sweetly high, the chorus as playful as the birds themselves. With closed eyes, Venti imagined their music to color, painting stairs in the same way grapevines grow - this way and that, in a beautiful harmony that isn't quite random.

Along with your soft humming, it made the ambiance much more relaxing and calm for him. In the calm of the day, his heartbeat is the steady drum to your melody and he seeps into the moment, allowing himself to drown in your beautiful voice.

You rubbed the petals of the red flower between your fingers, watching your skin take on the sunny hue. Venti had spent the entire afternoon lying down on your lap and listening to your canorous tunes that made him forget about everything— as if you two were the only ones in this world with no one to intervene in such a peaceful moment he has with you.

You watched the petal rotate and awed in admiration as a flower’s petal is able to spin like wind wheels.

“Hey, Venti,” You called out to him and peered down to peek at his sleeping face. Your lover hummed in drowsiness before opening one of his eyes to look at you. Dragging the flower close to him, he shifted to get a proper look at what you’re holding.

“What flower is this?”

You’ve always been a curious one. Even before you were in a coma. It’s like you have a passion in you to know every single thing about this world. From small creatures to rare species of beings in the wildlife, anything that catches your interest and you're eager to know more about it.

Your drive to find answers is one of your unique traits he’s grown to love the more he’s with you. You create yourself in that fire of ongoing need that focuses everything that you are. And you do it because it feels as if the finding of the answer is your personal mission, your reason for being, your way of belonging and giving.

It came to him if your curiosity will cross the line. Will it come to you that he’s been hiding his identity from you? Or will you still continue to live life with him in pure denseness? Either way, if you managed to find out he’ll find a way to have you forget what you witness.

For now, he has to be cautious and prevent you from exploring the outside world. Especially if that traveler is around in his land. It’s no good if you meet him. With the help of the humming winds to let him know what’s happening, it occurred to him that he has to just patiently wait and prevent you and Aether from crossing paths.

Venti held your soft hands in his palms and took the flower from you. A small and gentle smile appeared on his face as he leaned forward and pressed his temple against yours, placing the plant close to your chest.

“It’s Windwheel Asters.” He answered and observed how your eyes sparkled in joy when you watched the petals continue to spin.

“I haven’t seen these before.”

Venti lightly chuckled and placed the flower between your hands as he returned to resting himself against you, but this time his head was now on your shoulder. “Windwheel Asters cannot grow in places with no wind nor plagued by strong storms, only where the wind is gentle and nourishing.”

“Really?” You laid your head against his and fiddled with the stem. If these floras are really unable to grow in harsh winds, then it means Old Mondstadt’s storms have truly vanished without any traces left.

Peace and harmony at last.

Freedom is finally with you.

You lifted your hand up against the sunlight and marvel at how simple it is. It may not look as fancy as the cecilias nor does it resemble feathered wings of a dandelion when blown away, but you found yourself liking this more than what Venti had given you.

It’s not like you don’t appreciate his efforts for collecting every cecilias and dandelions in this region to create a wonderful garden for your eyes to fancy with, you still are grateful for it though you do wonder why did he not include these asters in the collection?

“I kind of like this. It reminds me of you.”

Now that made him fully awake.

“Me?”

The color-infused cheeks dimpled with the blossoming smile, your eyes shone in a way that only deep happiness can bring. It was the blush of roses, that peek of champagne pink. Nodding your head to him, you brought the flower close to your face to cover your flushing features.

“You were always fighting for freedom. If it weren’t for you, we won’t be able to see the skies and birds you’ve always wished for. I really admire your perseverance and passion to fight against my father to have the city liberated from his hands. Thank you. Thank you for revolting against him. Thank you for giving everyone freedom they’ve longed for.”

You suddenly felt your throat tightened and your breath hitching every now and then. With your shoulders shaking and chin trembling, you fear he might see you in such a vulnerable state. You lowered your head even more and let your hair cover your face. Even if you hide it from him, Venti can still see small drops of liquid falling from you until it turns into a small puddle on the back of your hand.

“[Name]…?”

“Even though I’m Decarabian’s daughter, you never looked or treated me differently. Even after the war has ended, you never leave me. And now father, mother, and the knight… they’re all gone and y-you survived. You still stayed with me until I woke up… I… I was so scared that once I awoke, I won’t be able to see you.”

You were wiping your cheeks every few seconds and gulping down the lump sitting on your throat. Sniffling quietly, the tears still threatened to spill from your eyes. Your lover gently clutched your hand and used his other hand to lift your chin up to look at him.

Your eyes were red and swollen. It shatters his heart seeing you like this as your tears split over and flowed down your face like a river escaping a dam. Using his finger to dry your damp face, he brushed his lips on your temple and laced your fingers together.

“I should be the one thanking you.” He muttered and brought your intertwined fingers up to his lips to kiss the back of your hand. “Without your support, I don’t know how things would end up. If he— if I hadn’t saved you back then, you’d be locked up in that tower. Things would go differently, wouldn’t they? I can’t bring myself the idea of leaving you there when they were chasing after you.”

He pushed you until your back was leaning against the rough trunk of the tree. His other arm was propped beside your face before he rested his head on your shoulder and nuzzled closely.

“Thank you. Thank you for always being here with me.” Even though his voice was muffled, you can hear him loud and clear through your teary state. A shaky smile came from you as you caressed his hair lovingly before leaning forward and wrapping your arms around him.

“I love you. I love you so much, Venti.”

He has lived long enough to know that what you share he can’t replicate it with another. This love, this feeling, is just you and him. He could travel the world and the seven regions to create new ballads; he’d still come right back at you if he wanted true love.

He has protected you for years, he’s your confidant, a true friend, and even a lover. The trust he gave you, you gave him, is what keeps both of you safe in this world, in this life. So whether his heart beats another day or another hundred years— it’s always yours.

Meeting Venti was more of a coincidence than a fate. Yet it was the first time in your life you felt like you could be yourself around him. Memories of meeting him have become the same as the dream you play time and time again. You felt good with him in a way you haven’t been before or since.

Hearing those three eternal words from you is surreal for him. His heart would beat madly and his stomach churn in such a way excitement and happiness is filling his entire system. He wants to hear from you again.

Just once more so he can finally have you all to himself.

His chest was burning hot and so was his heart that rapidly beats in great euphoria. He can sense your emotions when you cry but this feeling… it’s much more different than he had felt before. A burning desire. He’s so smitten of your entire existence. All words coming from you were all his, he grasps each phrase and corresponds with his own loving and affectionate words.

He was brought out from his trance when he felt how warm his palm is, and it’s when he became aware his hand was now placed on your cheek just like how he brings your hand to cup his face.

Venti felt his face heat up at such a simple gesture and when you give a short and quick chaste kiss on his lips, he recognized the first brightest and sweet smile for this day was painted on your graceful visage.

“I love you.”

His wish was heard when you repeated your confession at him. Is it finally working? Were his efforts finally paid off? Before Ludi Harpastum was the Windblume, a festival where they offer windblumes to their loved ones and to the Anemo Archon. Every year, every time Mondstadt celebrates Windblume, his first priority is to give you cecilias.

He collected them for you every year. He tends them very well until they bloom— until your eyes opened. For him, windblumes are the cecilias. A symbol of elegance, purity, and just as ethereal as your gentle heart. It may be different from what that really means as interpreted by the people of Mond, but for Venti, he feels freedom when he’s with you, he feels loved when he’s with you and it’s the reason why he gathered so many flowers for you while you were asleep.

The arrangement given to him by the former Dendro Archon— she proposed the idea to him to gather flowers for you every time they feast Windblume. He can still clearly remember her words, her voice echoing in his head saying that even she may part from this world.

Her predictions for her own life were accurate. As if she already expected this to happen to her and that’s why she’s planning ahead to list all the preconditions to him to keep you safe and harmless. Barbatos can’t keep relying on her on everything and that is why he put a lot of effort into maintaining the garden.

Yesterday night was the time of the ceremony. Venti prepped everything to make it perfect, he wanted it to be successful. A mimic of a dance he once saw when he and you were together ages ago, it was a secret you both hid but he knows this. Barbatos knows what happened during that time and pretended as if he weren't there.

But now that he was able to dance it with you, one would call him shameless for stealing you from him. The heavy weight on his shoulder was now lifted away, finally free from the guilt he’s been feeling for centuries. His inner battle with himself is fully resolved, inner conflicts vanished, a conflict between his love and longing for you.

Your words eased Venti and made him assured you love him back as well. If you haven’t said a single word about your own feelings, he’d be living in an illusory fantasy that you were only shy to tell him you love him very much. But ever since the bond has been created, all he hears is I love you’s from you for his ears to delight in.

“I love you,”

You repeated once, a faint brush of your lips against his made him shudder. Soft, gentle, and shy just like your personality. Twice when you parted away, grasping how he tastes like apples before meekly leaning on him once more for a kiss but with more vigor. Your hand clutched the front of his shirt when you felt him hold you the small of your waist to pull you against him.

“I love you.”

Thrice was words of tenderness and desire from you to him. At that moment, you felt your body flushed warm. This was a person you wanted to be with than you’d ever felt before.

Venti has always been the one you could love forever.

@trust-the-oxygen

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact venti x reader #venti x reader #genshin impact venti #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere venti x reader #yandere venti #yandere #Illusory Sense #elliwrites

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chilly-me-softly · 3 years ago

Note

Can you write something angsty with Chilly and reader? Like you are really close friends with Mason and Reader and Chilly butt heads a lot but he ultimately ends up finding himself in love with her. As long as you want! Thank you <3

Not so angst but hope you like it anyway x

Your families have been neighbours for years, your friendship began practically even before you were born, and now you simply cannot imagine your life without each other in it. No matter your different life choices, you know that one will always be there for the other.

Mason often invites you to go out with him and his teammates, and many times you have joined the group, having a great time and especially enjoying the company of your best friend.

But there's one person in particular that makes you doubt Mason every time, a million times you've wondered how the guy can be friends with someone like Ben. Man he's just insufferable, everything you say he has to step in and have his say because heaven forbid the world should be deprived of Ben Chilwell's opinions. Plus the lad has moved to Chelsea so he's been everywhere for a whole season now and really how does Mason put up with him all day every day?

You're in Mason's company that night too, in two days you're going to have to go back to work and the season's about to start anyway so your friend has suggested one last night to have a proper good time before you limit yourselves due to commitments. And of course Ben is there. You've done everything you can to avoid him but if you want to be with Mason he's apparently included in the package so just pretend he's not there and that's it.

Mason is with Declan and some of his other mates and you take the opportunity to get away from the noise, thinking a bit of fresh air would do you good. You make your way through the crowd, bumping into two or three people, but you walk on your way wanting to get to the exit as quickly as possible.

There are stairs you have to go down to reach the car park and seriously who would trust drunk people and stairs, who came up with that idea? But now is not the time to think about it because as soon as you lower your head to look at the first step, it spins dangerously causing you to lean to the side for a moment.

"Oi" some arms immediately settle around your waist to steady you while one of your hands goes to grip the railing almost helplessly. "Are you okay?"

You try to see out of the corner of your eye if you know the person who ran to your aid but your head keeps spinning so you slowly turn your whole head finding yourself face to face with Ben.

"Yes, you can leave me now"

"Where were you going?" he ignores what you've told him trying to get you to take a step back away from the stairs.

"Car, I...I need to sit down for a second" you close your eyes for a moment but the fainting sensation you feel is worse.

"Woah woah (Y/N), what did you drink?" he asks worriedly, I mean he's had to rescue a few drunk friends over the years but no one was ever this bad.

"Nothing, but my head is killing me" you struggle to say, the headache seeming to intensify minute by minute now.

"You shouldn't have come here on your own, you could have warned Mason"

"Not now Ben" and he sighs.

"Come on let's get you away from here, I'll take you. Can you do it?" you start down the stairs slowly, him not letting go of you for a second and you trying your hardest not to quit.

"Come on one last step" he lets you know as you groan from a sharp pain stronger than the others and then you let him take your car keys to open it and see where it is. Luckily it's not that far away and in no time he can get you into the seat.

"You should lie down" he looks at you worriedly as you reach out to turn off the light that has come on, too bright to bother.

"I think I'm going to throw up"

"Okay" he shifts slightly to allow you room to bend over though hoping you don't, seeing the others throw up makes him cringe.

A few minutes pass but nothing changes and Ben starts to think about whether he should get you out of there and put you in a bed or something, somewhere more comfortable than the car anyway. So after making sure you're okay, he climbs into the driver's seat and starts the car.

"What are you doing?" you ask with your eyes closed, trying to stay as still as possible so you don't trigger any reaction in your body.

"I'm taking you home, there's no point in leaving you in the car park. It's obvious that your night is over here" a small sigh escapes your lips and he drives off. The hard part isn't getting to your house, he's driven Mason to your place a few times and he remembers where you live; the problem is getting you inside, you don't want to admit it but you're scared. Part of you wants to run to bed and be able to rest so you can put that feeling behind you, but there's another part of you that's frozen there on the spot and afraid to move because it could fall off at any moment.

"Listen, I'm here"

"Great" you murmur and in another situation he would have laughed, but even he is becoming more and more worried seeing even a few tears roll down your cheeks.

"Let's take off our shoes and go, one step at a time" he tells you actually taking off your shoes and starting to move your legs out of the car.

He doesn't know how but eventually he manages to get you inside, you point out where your room is and right in front of the door you are forced to change direction to rush to the bathroom. You only make it to the toilet in time before you start to vomit, Ben working up the courage and trying not to look comes to help you out as much as he can at that moment.

"Where do you keep your meds?" he asks you once you get into bed, a sigh has left your lips as you rest your head on the mattress covering only your forehead with a pillow.

"(Y/N)? You need to get something" he keeps insisting when he doesn't get an answer trying to lift the pillow slightly but decides to go find something himself in the bathroom hoping you won't hold it against him.

He brings the box of pills, placing it on the bedside table next to a bottle of water and gently sits down next to you, with that pillow on your face he can't see if you've fallen asleep or not and he doesn't want to disturb you sincerely if that's the case.

He sighs as he looks at you, a slight gasp lets him know you're still far from falling asleep and he tries to get you to take those pills. Ten minutes later you're slightly sitting up with his help as you swallow those pills down with some water and before you settle back down you try to smile at him.

"Thanks for being nice to me tonight Ben. Maybe call Mason before you go okay?" Ben nods helping you settle in and making sure the movement hasn't caused you any more discomfort, before turning off the light and walking out of the room to let you rest in silence.

A strange annoyance grows inside him, he helped you and at the first opportunity he gets the sack. He finds himself hoping that you had asked him to stay so as not to be alone, not to call someone else. He allows himself to think that maybe all the times he poked you had a reason, as if to get your attention. And he comes to check on you a few more times before deciding to do as you told him, you're finally resting quietly and his work there is done.

Part 2

#thank you anon #ben chilwell #ben chilwell blurb

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years ago

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It’s The Avengers (03x16)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 16: You Picked the Wrong Weakness

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: did someone just go and tell the otp about the otp?

Word Count: you know that feeling when you have had a bad experience on some project or assignment or homework before. And you know that thing is going to come around again next month or something like that. And you just age yourself by giving yourself anxiety by thinking everything that could go worse in that area. Yeah. So, I kinda shut that off for a few hours and wrote this.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The Interview Room The camera is recording empty seats as a pair of voices grow louder with every second. "...it's like they don't even care about what the other person wants!" "...no, why would they. These rich daddies and their rich egos think they are the only ones thinking about the world." The camera swivels a bit to watch Peter and Scott enter with a new guest following them with a Caprisun in their hand. Peter: And why did you have to go ahead and help them? Shuri: *sits between Scott and Peter* *takes a long sip of her 'sun* What. I'm not going to give up any opportunity that involves space and weird energy boxes. Peter: Why did your brother even agree to it?? Shuri: *shrugs* all your sugar daddy had to say was 'what if it was Shuri'. And my thicc-head of a brother lost it like a rhino in a mating challenge. Peter: *scrunches his nose at the example* Scott: Great *sigh* now we'll never get to see them together. With your brains, those dads are probably already in space now. Shuri: Not so fast! They don't have the codes to neutralise the pandora's box yet. Peter and Scott: *look at each other* Shuri: So teleportation might be delayed as long as I am kept happy? Peter: *takes out a notebook* Scott: *takes out his phone and a card labelled Avengers Black Card* The camera pans in on a smirking Shuri sipping on her Capri sun.

Inside a Spaceship: Destination Unknown You and Loki were captured by the little drone flying at the same speed as the spaceship (which clearly had seen some remodelling, thanks to your rainbow buddies). Both of you were staring at something in front of you that lids by your waist level- something the outside drone was not able to capture because of the limited view in the spaceship window. The expressions on your face were serious. So was the arms-crossed stance. "Are you sure it wasn't just a noise?" Loki now had a finger on his lips in deep thought as he heard your words. "I am pretty sure of what I heard," he acknowledged without missing a beat. "So-" your voice faded as your fingers twirled in the air with a mind of their own- "that means he has...another..." "You really can't say it?" Loki looked at you with a questioning brow going up quite smoothly. You tsked. "It's my baby," you mentioned while Javier's camera watched you point down at slumbering Lulu. "I cannot just casually say he might have another hole and I think he farted through it. I cannot hurt my baby's feelings!" Loki scoffed. "Your baby's sleeping." "He still has ears." "You think he understands what a fart means?" "What do you think I've been teaching him when you, me or Javi pass the gas?" Loki's casual demeanour suddenly changed to an offended one. "I beg your pardon?" You were quick on your feet, already walking towards the front of the ship. "So, where exactly are we heading now? Aellae's next of kin? Though I find it hard to imagine she would have left your essence with anyone other than herself." Loki came and sat next to you, still pissed at that comment in those narrowed eyes. "I am going to circle back to your words-" he inhaled while you acted all innocent- "and no. We are not looking for anyone related to that witch." "Then are we looking for another one of your exes?" "No, we are n-" Loki stopped short, his lips right in a thin line as he stared at you. "Why are you so interested my exes?" You simply shrugged and raised your brows. "On the contrary, it seems your exes are still pretty interested in you." That casual expression turned into a familiar judgment as your head turned to look at him. "Though I wonder what did they find so-" you hands moved haphazardly- "interesting about you." Loki swivelled his captain seat towards you, locking your legs between his while grounding your armrests with his hands. Clicking the control button on your armrest, he moved your chair a bit closer to him, his face in close proximity to yours. Javier's camera panned in on the gulp moving down your throat while your eyelids did a flutter at this uncalled movement. The 4K caught those goosebumps rising right where his arm barely grazed yours and in the background, Lulu played an arousing violin piece. "Something you can only dream about, darling," he whispered. The violin picked up the charge in the air within its quick clean high notes. The only noise leaving you was the escape of the air stuck in your throat, shivering on its way out. "Of c-" you cleared your throat. trying to sit back up in your seat- "of course I can only fantasize. The reality makes me want to puck. Ugh!"

Loki: Y/N thinks space is all fun and games. What she does not realise is that just like earth, this universe too has an underworld. Ten times in size and twenty times as brutal. And Aellae was just the tip of the filthy iceberg. *camera zooms in on his tensed features* looks into the distance* Wonder who else she told about her. *looks back* *blinks* I'm taking her somewhere we can lie low for now. *rolls eyes* that is if she understands what lying low means. *sighs*

You: *eating bread like a peasant famished for days* Hm? What? No *shakes head* 'm nod nerbous. *takes another bite* debinidly nod becoz o doki. He wash jus playing wee me. *viciously bites into the bread* *growls and buries head in your lap*

"I am still telling you to ask for their help. It's not too late," you suggested in a composed manner, sitting in the co-pilot seat. "I am not calling seven alien boys just because you have a fetish for Korean pop bands." You thwacked his leg with yours. "I do not! And don't you dare talk shit about k-pop." Loki chuckled. "Why? What are going to do?" "I won't. But you know what k-pop fans are like, don't you?" The smile on Loki's face suddenly started to flicker away as he looked at the camera. "Remember that Vegas trip?" Clearing his throat, he adjusted himself on his seat, while you shared a devilish smirk with the camera. "We're going somewhere safe. Where I have a chance of getting my powers back and hopefully a gateway back to earth." You sat up. "Why didn't we go there in the first place?" Loki blinked, not really answering. You and the camera noticed the tension in his jaw. "It's not a place I like to talk about." The asteroid belt cleared in front of the spaceship to show the part of a planet covered in grey clouds shadowing frozen blue mountains and dark valleys. "Jotunheim," you whispered to yourself, letting the gloomy yet majestic scenery of the place reflect in your eyes. “Loki,” all humour in your voice seemed to dilute as you looked back at home, “we don’t have to go there. We-uh...we could go to one of Peter’s hideouts? Or maybe we could call the Boys and ask them to direct us to one of their safe places? You know, till we find a lead on your essence.” A smirk built upon the God's lips. "Is that concern I hear in your voice?" Those worry-laden brows suddenly dispersed all emotion to make way for anger. A slap made way from your hand to his right side of the back. The thwack was loud enough to wake Lulu and force a sincere 'ow' from the God's throat. "This concern is for me and my babies you awful animal," you growled, your voice considerably higher, "you think they'll survive there?"

Jotunheim If the mountains seemed to carry an eerie aura about them, the valleys were a straight suggestion of being pits straight to hell. To add to the effects of arriving at the gates of hell, the snow falling was harsh, to say the least. As soon as the door to the ship opened to let all the passengers feel the heat, the drone travelling outside took in travellers covered in thick fur. Javier carried Lulu on his front, both of them visible just with their faces- not to mention the former's blue eyes standing out over everything else in his surroundings. Loki too embraced the thick skin, looking quite the part of a Jotun till he picked up the hood of your coat to put it over your head without saying much; only smiling when you looked like a fluffed up birb in that Viking overcoat.

Loki: *smiling sheepishly**looks at you standing next to him* Angry birb *looks back at Javier's camera* Sam taught me that one. *camera pans at you simmering under that fur*

Lulu had already picked the background music for his pack's entrance. The Viking beat had just the right amount of weight and horror of the unknown in it as this place did. Just ahead of the pass lay the structure carved in the mountain itself. It could be called a palace or a temple. But that was not what sought your attention. Eyes. The camera caught eyes in the dark staring at the unwanted guests. Blue. Piercing. Murderous. And more than one pair. The drone panned in on that one subconscious movement of your fingers gripping the fur of the coat on Loki's back as the God walked gallantly- as if he owned the planet. But your eyes did not stop to observe the alien movement around you. "Remember-" Loki's whisper brought you out of the daze your own thumping heart was creating for you- "do not show them your fear. Show them that you are to be feared." It may have been his words or just his voice that started to melt the fear visible on your features, lasting for five seconds before a loud thump vibrated the land beneath your feet, making you all come to a stop. And when that was not enough, the audience saw the feet first, then the legs and then the whole length of a Jotun appearing before them. Some necks were really going to feel it tonight.

"Who dares enter the land of Jotunheim?" came the thundering and low growl from the Jotun that stood towering over you all. "The one who is alive and stands on this land," Loki announced, "with the blood of Laufey in my veins, I have come to claim what is mine." There was nothing but an uninviting smirk on the Jotun's face. "I am Loki, son of Laufey, son of Odin, ruler of Asgard and your King," he commanded with ice in his voice, "and you...need to bow...before your King." The dead silence proceeding his threat of a speech was enough for you nearly bury you inside your own overcoat. And when that did not seem enough, your body- on its own- moved a step closer to Loki's side. "Oooooh Gooood," you whispered with quite the shudder while your face was plastered with a no-fucks-given wave, "we're gonna die." On the contrary, the silence was followed by many Jotuns coming out of the shadows to surround your group one by one before bowing down. Even the ones who looked quite young did the same. All of them except for the one Jotun who had greeted you first. "Allir fagna konungi!" they chanted in unison. "All hail the king," Javier translated it for you. "Didn't know you were into Nords," you quipped, "the language, I mean." "Honey, I am all into Nords," he signed before looking around with a smile, finding a buff Jotun that caught his eye. He did not take another second to blink at him and leave that giant a bit confused and flustered at the same time.

Inside the Palace The throne was sculpted out of ice that seemed as old as the mountain. Alongside it had been made seating arrangements for the family, running parallel till the doors of the throne room, all greyish blue stones marked with Jotun carvings. You and Javier believed they might be names of dignitaries. Lulu thought they are just doodles by other babies and proceeded to contribute to the stone they were standing next to. A little female giant sat down and looked at Lulu's doodles with curious wide eyes. Loki stood rightfully in front of his throne, admiring it before turning to his subjects, most of them adults who were exceptionally taller and blue-er than him. The drone captured the magnificence of the throne room that had fire pits next to the seats at intervals right alongside the stone pillars and right in the middle, a few feet in front of the king. But none of them were lit. And the giants were visibly annoyed by the drone while the kids wanted to catch it and play with it. "An Asgardian announces himself as our King," the one giant growled as he stood at the steps of the throne, "why would we believe you to be our King, son of Odin." He nearly spat the last part. The drone captured that bit of concern breaking out on your composed features but Loki just smirked. Pulling his overcoat to the side- as magnificently as he believed himself to be- he sat down as if he has done it ever since he was born. The authority exuding from his presence certainly put the murmurs going around the hall to a standstill. "At ease, Helblindi," he stressed to the giant with a purr and directed the rest of the audience to take their place. "Not you." Everyone stopped short to looked at their king. And he was clearly looking at you. You pointed a finger at yourself in question. "Don't you know your place....pet?" he commanded ever so slyly, discreetly pointing his finger at the stone next to his throne.

You: *look around to make sure no one's looking at you* *anger about to explode through your eyes* *whispering* Pet?? PET?? I swear gonna just *gestures to grab the air* grab his throat and *punches the said air repeatedly in her palm* *camera pans out to focus on three baby giants looking at you in pure horror before their mother carries them away murmuring something* *camera swivels to show Javier looking disappointed* Javier: *signs* she said 'stay away from the crazy human'. *sighs* *shakes his head*

“Come-“ Loki’s fingers gestured at you to come over to that stone couch of a thing next to him- “sit.” Taking a breath to compose your usual embers of rage at that comment, you smiled and walked up the stairs to stand next to him. The camera recorded the little gracious bow you gave the God but not before your back was to the spectators and you signalled an insult with your middle towards him, nearly making him chuckle. And with one heavy inhale, you sat down next to him, clearly not at the same level as him. “Is this what Lulu feels like?” “I would’ve made Lulu sit in my lap,” Loki acknowledged with a smirk. “You’re welcome to join me anytime but for now-“ he adjusted himself on his seat and raised his voice to address the court- “let us have a feast tonight and raise our mugs in union of the Jotun king and his subjects.” Helblindi scoffed and spat on the floor. Loki did not look but he was surely observing his every move. “In union of an excuse of a giant who does not even resemble-“ “I would like you to stop there my brother-“ Loki announced as he got up, letting the whole room take one united gasp at the scene- “before you start regretting your own words.” You blinked at the reactions to turn and look at Loki. Now the lights from the ceiling did a stupendous job of catching the widening of your eyes while your pupils were dilated in an emotion only known to you when you witnessed- for the first time in your life- Loki's skin change its shade and features. The flawless paleness gave way to a blue so deep over those arms he rarely displayed in public. The colour ran up his neck as well, covering him all the way. And along with this shade came ridges on his skin which apparently every Jotun had; running up his face and down his limbs. Those smaragdines and whites around them were now replaced with red. “This Jotun-“ his voice was low, but with enough weight that it echoed to the last corner of the room- “has seen enough lives to know what is hatred and what is fear. So next time you try to question my right, Helblindi, know that I have no qualms in exploiting them in a way which seems necessary for me.” Helbindi did not seem to stand his ground much now. Not after a few Jotuns who stood up to speak against the giant who had been torturing them for a while with his reckless and greed-ridden laws. Javier's camera was stuck on your reaction in the middle of this mild chaos. Your parted lips, wide eyes, stare lingering all over the God's body, your throat feeling the urge to swallow the dryness; it really was a sight, an emotion that many fanfiction artists would want to take inspiration from. Loki- who was smirking at the warm welcome he was receiving through the roar against his brother- turned around to look at you. His smirk disappeared and his usually focused gaze was interrupted with those unsure blinks at your features. Before he could explain himself, one giantess blocked his way to you with a bow. "We have prepared the Bath for you and your companions, your grace," she announced, still with her head held low. His gaze was running between you and her. To make it easier for him, you got up from your seat and walked down to the giantess who wanted to show you, Javier and Lulu to the Bath. "Nandi," Loki finally looked at the giantess. "Yes, your grace." "I need you to choose four of your most loyal companions to guard them." "They are all ready to escort your companions where you please." Loki smiled at Nandi. "I owe it to your mother to protect you, your Grace, like she protected me and my children." "My mother had a loyal friend in you," the God appreciated before walking down the throne and away from the crowd. The drone followed him. The graceful composure of the God crumbled like a dry sand castle as soon as the doors closed behind him and he was alone in the icy corridors. His pace got faster by the second, his eyes searching everywhere. "This isn't fair, you know." Loki stopped at the echo of your voice. The pause of one breath, and he knew where to turn to find you standing in the shadows. Javier stood by the pillar next to you two with his camera, capturing this strange tick on Loki's features. You stepped out of the shadows, your gaze uninterrupted, looking right at those red eyes. "Do you know the amount of chaos it would create on earth if people knew that you look like..." "Like what? A monster?" Loki's voice was heavy. "Nah don't say i-dammit! Now I cannot stop imagining the term monsterfuckers." Loki blinked. His brows furrowed at you ever so slightly. "I mean-" you sighed with frustration- "was it not enough that you looked like a literal God in a human form that you had to now go and reveal that you are one buffed up alien? Look at you? You are one breath away from starting a cult of monsterfuckers! Do you realise that? Look at-" you grabbed that one barely naked blue arm and tried to squeeze it- "this firm, cold, arm that is people are going think about in-" you tried to breathe, your gaze still stuck on his shoulder- "their bed at night. God, why do have to be so-" you pointed at all of him with a frustration-filled, longing look of...disgust- "you." By now Loki was raising his brows in question and shifting his gaze between himself and you, clearly confused by your reaction. It even seemed he was a bit flustered at one point. You winced, looking at his body again. Your eyes followed the ridges on his face to his neck, plunging down his v neck t-shirt. With a frown you turned hastily, flinging your body involuntarily in the direction of the bath. "I bet they go all the way down," you whispered to yourself in between your sobs and walked away.

Loki: *still stands there* *blinks* *looks at the camera* what...*looks in her direction* *looks back* *does this two more times* what just happened?

The Resting Chambers: Next Day One of Javier's drones followed you from the balcony you were standing in to witness the first light of the nearest star in this frozen land. The snow-clad mountains were a majestic sight in their own stature. Even the smile emanating under the warmth of the star could not deny that. The giggles coming from inside the room broke the sweet hum of sync you were having with the weather, walking back in to find Skandi and Kolga, Nandi's daughters setting up the table with Jotunheim's specialities- snowberries, Kruweed- fresh seaweed from the frozen lake- and Lulu's favourite, spiked abalones. "What are you girls snickering about?" Lulu was already jumping on the table to sniff everything placed for his liking. Once he had inspected every single item, he went over to his bowl of abalones.

"Nothing," Skandi cooed, "just discussing how Loki-" Kolga elbowed her sister to correct herself- "how his Grace, keeps looking at you." Your hands paused for a fraction of a second near your mouth before the snowberry found its way in your mouth. "Look at me how?" "He looks at you as if you might vanish any second if he does not keep his eye on you," Kolga added, sitting down next to you. Her face had gentle tones all over it. Her eyes seemed to sparkle whenever she talked to you. "Are you being punished for something?" It took you some time to realise she was genuinely curious. "What. No. Why would you think that?" "Because his grace keeps you under guard. I thought pets were kept in cages in Midgard." Skandi turned to Kolga with a gasp. "He caged her last night then?!" The camera captured your furrowed brows sitting there confused in between the sisters. You opened your mouth to speak but lost to Kolga. "You mean when he told off Helbindi that she will be sleeping in his quarters." Skandi nodded vigorously. "He could not have kept her in a real cage." "Maybe he chained her to the bed." "Ah. So he could keep an eye on her at night." "Is that what happened, y/n?" You hid your face behind the mug of tea that did not seem to leave your lips while your free hand seemed to check your cheeks for their temperature. "This tea is good," your burned throat appreciated the drink. "He seems quite...what is the word... possessive of her," Skandi commented. You shared a look with the drone- your face devoid of any emotions. Kolga hummed in agreement, popping a snowberry in her mouth. "I thought Kruge would die last night by his hands." Now that seemed to catch your attention. "Kruge who?" "Helbindi's guard. The one who nearly pushed you into the wall last night." "When you went inside," Kolga continued, "his Grace took Kruge's staff and struck him in his limbs and threatened him to never touch you again if he wanted to stay alive." "Kruge should be glad he did not use his powers on him lest he would be a part of the dark pit's icicles by now." Kolga and Skandi stopped talked to watch you lost in deep thought while your hands scratched Lulu's back on their own, making the floof purr quite loud. "Is she making this little creature vibrate?" Skandi asked her sister in a whisper. "It looks like it," her sister whispered back in awe.

You: *whispering at Javier* What? No, it's okay. We can record here. No one can say anything. *sits on the stone seat in the gallery that seems empty to the camera* *adjusts hair* is it recording? Of course. It's always recording. *clears throat* *at normal tone* So, clearly...*inhales* *raises brows* things are barely standing still right now. And it is clearly not helping that Loki is having sudden urges to pick a fight with whoever bullies me. *Javier's drone catches him discreetly signing at you to lower your voice a bit* You: *irritated* I mean does he want me to get bullied more? Bullies are always going to pick on the weak one in the group for fuck's sake! And evidently, I am the weaker sex. *the camera catches a movement behind you, turning to focus on the source* You: and his highness does not seem to realise that it will be too easy for these giants to torture his weaknesses out of me. Does he not see that? *squints at Javier* what? The drone is recording Javier aggressively telling you to cut it out while looking pale as his gaze goes far behind you. You turn to look where his gaze is going. Javier's camera automatically focuses on Kruge standing next to the last pillar, throwing daggers in your direction through his bloody eyes for a moment before disappearing somewhere. You: *turn around with a shade lighter yourself* *the camera is panning over your face now as you look at it* *whispers* Fuck!

Five Minutes Later One of the drones buzzed against the ice that separated the balcony and the bedroom, tapping itself repeatedly on the transparent frost till the door to the room opened. It turned around to record you and Javier rush inside- the latter placing his camera in his bag and packing his stuff. "Okay, relax, relax!" you stressed to the hyperventilating boy. "We need to get out of here," he signed. "Javi, take three deep breaths? Yes? One? Two? Good. Three. Now think about it. As long as we are with Loki, no one will dare harm us. Okay? Not to mention he has allotted us our personal security team." Javier was on the verge of sobbing. "What about when Loki is not around. What will we do then?" "Javi, don't think like that," you nearly fumed at him. "Loki is in the throne room right now. You take the guards with you and go to him and when you find a window let him know what happened, okay?" Javier was still taking deep breaths while sweating through his fur coat. He nodded. "What about you?" "I...have Lulu." You pointed at the floof sleeping with his belly bared and his paws out. "I won't leave the room, don't worry." Once convinced you'll be fine, Javier hurried outside, leaving you in a silence only filled by light snores of your baby. The drone recorded you biting your lip and tying your hair up in a bun. "Okay," you whispered to yourself, "now we wait." It also recorded the sudden change in the shade of one section of the wall opposite to your back. With the focus still on you, the section of the wall appeared to open out, revealing the pitch blackness lit by a pair of red eyes. The next thing you knew, the drone was lying on the floor, its barely working lens recording your muffled screams and boots struggling to find the ground as a pair of blue feet walked past the lens before it went black.

One Hour Later The camera sat on the stone seat, recording the periodic tapping of Javier's foot from outside the frame. Loki still had audience. The Jotuns discussed every aspect of Jotunheim with the king. Loki sat patiently, listening to every word before advising them necessary steps. The majority was satisfied with the King's suggestions. Many were even in awe. There were a few who were dissatisfied no matter what the God mentioned. "Well-" Loki sat straight, addressing the whole court- "this concludes our day then." "Your grace," one giant bowed at the steps, "there are a few more issues that need your kind attention." Loki sighed, his hand resting on the armrest, his fingers running over his lips in thought. Not sure about Loki, but the camera recorded the patient that ran out of Javier. He got up from his seat, immediately catching the God's eye, who was quick to raise his fingers just for the boy to stop taking any further steps towards him. "You have stalled me enough," the God acknowledged, catching the giant off guard. "Helbindi should know it better than anyone that a coup against me would be a futile attempt." Loki did not budge where he sat, just his finger drumming on the arm rest. "And I am in no mood for a mutiny."

The one drone who had been playing with the Jotun kids picked up the damage to a drone in the resting chambers. It buzzed through the halls, trying to pick up your trail, finding corridors and corners to fly through, walking down dark pathways with no windows and steep stairs spiraling deep into the mountains. On its way it found Lulu howling and meowing in a frantic daze, walking down the same path where he found your scent. And it seemed like he found you through the same dark pathway that ultimately reached an opening. There was nothing but ice all around and in every form. A section of the mountain that opened to the outside with a catch. There were cells cut into this ice for prisoners. Shackles of cold metal rested in every cell. Each of them had metals bars to keep the captives in and an opening in the ice to keep any grain of warmth out. And to add to it all, this entire prison cell rested on a frost chunk hanging at the edge of the mountain. "Stop, please, you cannot do this!" Your voice and footsteps could be heard echoing through this section. The drone buzzed and landed on the wall to record the Kruge stripping you of your fur coat with a maniacal grin on his face. "Hey! HEY!! Give me back my coat!" Kruge stopped you from going for your coat by his hand coming for your throat. His grip made it hard for you to breathe as you struggled to get out of the hold, your nails trying their best to dig into that stubborn cold skin of his. Lulu ran and growled at the giant, scratching at his ankles till the latter kicked him away. "What do you want?" you barely managed to get out of your mouth. "We want Loki out of Jotunheim," he growled in your face, smacking your back in the ice wall behind you before letting go of your throat. You fell down with a thud and a groan, taking in as much air as your windpipe allowed. "Okay," you wheezed, "okay. You let me talk to Loki and I will convince him to leave Jotunheim. I promise. I pinky promise." You even raised your pinky. But Kruge was already closing the bars on you. Lulu ran and jumped through the bars to stop by your side, sniffing and crying, wanting to make sure you were okay. "No no no no," you crawled to the bars, trying to wrap your fingers around them but failing once your skin felt the vicious cold personally, "please don't do this. You have to stop. Now." "You said you know Loki's weakness," a voice boomed from the shadows where you had been dragged from. A very familiar and ominous voice. The drone turned to capture Helbindi stepping into the ice prison with a stature fit for kings. "His essence is lost. It is a secret no more, you quim." You looked at Lulu in confused defeat. "Why does it feel like he called me a whore?" you whispered. Lulu threw his own curses at the giant. "Listen, sir, Mr Helbindi," you began, "you want the throne, right? And I want to get out of here alive. How about I take Loki with me? You get back your kingly rights, I get my friends back and we go our separate ways. Everybody wins!" Helbindi came down on his knees in front of you. A smile rested on those cracked lips of his. His hand went past the bars- to your surprise- and landed on your cheeks. Your gaze kept shifting between his eyes and his hand while your body tried to move away from his hold. But he was one stubborn bastard. "He must have kept you alive for a reason." Helbindi was talking to himself now. His thumb rubbed against your skin, something that was visibly making you uncomfortable. "Ah...he keeps you to satisfy his nightly needs." You pushed yourself away from Helbindi, only to be forced into the bars by his hold around your skull; his chuckle resonating through the prison. "Do not worry my little whore," he whispered right in your ear while his icy breath ran over your skin, "you will be my pet soon. And unlike Loki-" he licked your cheek with his tongue, driving you mad with disgust- "I prefer violence even in my chambers." Your breaths were shallow. A single tear falling from your eyes as you did you best to maintain your features. "You are making a grave mistake," you whispered through your teeth. Lulu tried to claw at Helbindi too but Kruge was already kicking him away, earning a death stare from you. The giant struck his nail in your throat, driving it deep till there was blood. "The only mistake that was made was by you coming into my land. And you all will pay for it." Dropping you back into the snow, Helbindi got up and walked back into the darkness.

Loki watched the doors open to let Helbindi in, his gait ever so dominating as he walked past the judgmental eyes of every other giant in the court with his own little battalion following him, carrying weapons of all sorts. "A king with no powers has no right to sit on the throne, Laufeyson," Helbindi roared, ground his staff a few feet away from the stairs to the throne, creating a crack in the ground. "And a Jotun with Asgard in his blood has no right to stay alive in Jotunheim." Weapons were drawn at anyone who was not on Helbindi's side. Javier was already on his feet, running by Loki's side with his camera. Loki still had his mouth covered with his hand, as if in a tired trance. "Everybody out," he commanded ever so smoothly to his audience- who was hesitant at first, but left as soon as the God's eyes pierced through every last one of them. Left alone with his brother's radical followers, he sighed out loud, his fingers still drumming. Javier felt a buzz in his pocket, making him take out the little tablet he used to control his cameras. "Your actions with every passing moment make me more sure of your inability to rule over the subjects, brother mine," the God simply commented. The seriousness on Javier's face was turning into a field of fear. "Oh, I am not asking, brother mine," Helbindi snared at Loki, "I am taking what is mine." "And why would I give you anything you want." "Ask your little plaything," Helbindi smirked. The drumming of those pale fingers stopped. Silence eroded in the throne room. And slowly a shallow panting was audible from the God's side. The camera suddenly lost its balance and fell down on the armrest before toppling on the throne behind Loki, his back still in the frame. Light reflected through Javier's eyes, more precisely through his tears, as he moved the tablet towards Loki. "Stop, please, you cannot do this!" your voice echoed through the tablet, and all the lines on Loki's face disappeared. His body got up from the throne, his eyes still stuck on the device, looking at the aftermath of Helbindi's actions. There was no emotion on the God's face while he witnessed everything recorded on the drone. He did not even budge till the recording finished. Once the screen blacked out, he swerved the tablet for Javier to take back. His gaze was apparently still stuck on the black stones on the floor, his jaw threateningly sharp in whatever light coming from the nearest star. "If you want to see her alive again, go back to your ship before the star drops fro-," "You touched her." His voice was just a decibel higher than a whisper; his shoulders stiff. The silver bracelets were visible on his wrists, more so with the light reflecting from them. His pale fingers now turned into fists. "You hurt her." Nothing but the resonating crack of a metal reverberated through the hall and everything went black.

The drone sat over the bars, recording the visible shivering breaths coming out of you while your skin turned pale, your fingers blue and your hairs were already collecting frost over them, despite moving your legs as close as you possibly could to your body. "P-plea-hease," your voice shuddered, "s-s-stop hi-im. T-there is-s-s st-i-ill time." "Your master is quite possibly begging on his knees by now," Kruge cackled, gulping down the mead and pouring more from the barrel next to him. Lulu was trying his best to keep your warm with his little body, wrapping himself around your neck while whimpering for you. Kruge was about to finish another mug when his ears caught a snicker that slowly turned into a weak laughter. The drone recorded you chuckling through the pain of the blight. "What is so comedic," Kruge snarled at you. "You thought I was telling you to stop for Loki's sake?" you laughed a little more, making the Jotun simmer with building rage. "I was telling you to stop your master before it's too late, you sewage rat's tick." The lens panned in on your features, all those helpless tears replaced by a smirk that could put the devil to shame. "You master thinks I am Loki's weakness." Your eyes glistened with a tint of some hidden darkness inside them in contrast to all the white around you. "Because I made him think that, you buffoon." "He is nothing without his essen-" "Count your peaceful breaths, you son of a bitch," you stressed, never batting your eyelids, "because you are not going to die an easy death today." You smiled turned into a chuckle before your eyes turned heavy and you fell down. The drone- in its last few minutes- went dark, but not before recording Lulu's cried, mewls, howls that slowly turned into a blood curdling roar echoing till the end.

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shirophantomvox · 3 years ago

Text

Hold My Hand- Illumi x Reader

OMG thank you! My first international fan! Thank you for this wonderful prompt! This was requested by @illucilfer .

Summary: Today’s story takes place in a 1950s diner by a frequently used Interstate; Interstate 95. We know this dinner for its delicious hamburgers, hot dogs, milkshakes, and jukebox records, but every night one Patreon never returns home. A few men who were angry about your recent arrest have shot you both. As you both stare at each other exchanging mental signals, everyone around you tries to help you to the hospital. Y/N is narrating the story. I seem to have fewer grammar errors that way. FYI, Bold and italicized font will reference a thought or flashback.

Story Navigation

Let’s get started!

The leaves have turned bright yellow and orange, fluttering every second to the ground. I could hear little children a while away laughing and playing in the community park; throwing up the leaves, jumping into piles, and throwing them at each other. The smell of freshly baked donuts brightened everyone’s mood. All you had to do was take one bite and your face would brighten and crack a smile. Dining at Cupid’s Kitchen will always have your heart and interest.

Interstate 95 was always heavy with traffic during this time of year. The folks of Dallas celebrated mulch annually. The “Mulch Fest” was a street fair that stretched 1.5 miles to the east that contained music, drinks, farmer panels, homemaker Q&A, and other activities that southerners enjoy. Illumi and I are only here because of an unfinished assignment. We have worked night and day for countless days trying to catch Jack “Da Hamor” Gilberton, but he was nowhere to be found. Eventually, I allowed my anger to get the best of me and made the executive decision to take a day off. I barred Illumi from searching, tracking, or any form of hunting for our target. The life of a bounty hunter and an assassin can thrill, but it can drive you insane if you allow it.

Ironically, Illumi and I both enjoy fall. It is perfect for cuddling (although he acts as if he’s too good to cuddle), wearing creative hoodies, going to pumpkin patches, and attending apple orchids. I tend to “lose my cool” when we have dates there. When I was a child, my family did not go on trips like these because they were over an hour away from our home and I had 5 siblings. But once I made money for myself, I made it my mission to go to one at least 5 times out of the year. Illumi enjoys the different fudge, hot cider, and candy apples. He almost broke a tooth on one!

“Say cheese snag-a’-tooth!”

“Stop it. It’s not funny!”

“It is! Could you imagine if you lost your two front teeth? You’d look almost adorable as you did in the 1st grade!”

“How did you know about that?”

“Duh! It happens to everyone, but your mother showed me the pictures, of course.”

“Curses!”

Illumi’s sweet tooth is just like Killua’s; both have a weakness for chocolate. Except, Killua will admit defeat while his older brother keeps denying it.

Cupid’s Dinner has been in Dallas for over 55 years. A black woman established it in 1945 by the name of Mary-Lou Benson. Since then, Mary’s family has been running the shop, making sure all of her customers are happy with the service. During the turn of each season, Cupid’s Dinner gives its customer's food options based on the season. The fall options include donuts, candy apples, different flavored cider, fudge, and hot coffee specials. As much as everything looked appetizing, I could not order it all. Our server, Little Ben, placed our drinks in front of us and handed us the menu. I could tell he was happy with his line of work, just as I was to be with Illumi.

“You all take your time. I’ll be back in five.”

Ilumi glanced on both sides of the room, scanning for Jack Gilberton, already forgetting the agreement we established.

“Illumi, what are you doing?”

“Huh?”

“You keep looking around like you’ve seen Da Hamor. Eat your donut and relax, sweetheart.”

“I cannot relax. I must stay on alert.”

“If I can relax, so can you. It’s not that hard.”

“Fine. If I die, it’s on your head… literally.”

The jingling bell rang almost every second when a customer walked in. It was a joy to everyone's ears; the spirit of Mary Lou-Benson was alive and well. An overwhelming feeling of love seemed to have overtaken the diner. After examining the bistro for quite some time now, each customer had been using their cellphones at the table instead of chatting with their families. Many traditional families hated that about this generation but they should be open to new traditions forming. Illumi dislikes using cell phones or tablets at the table unless we use them for missions. He has emphasized how rude it is to be surfing the web about utter nonsense while someone is speaking. This is a pet peeve of his, something I’ll never step on his toe about. Although I think that is overdoing it, I respect it.

Little Ben served our table quickly, leaving us with two dishes of a classic chicken sandwich, kettle chips, one chocolate, and vanilla milkshake. Milkshakes were my weakness; I nearly foam at the mouth when I see one. When I found out that Illumi had NEVER had a milkshake, I almost fainted.

“No. I’ve never had a milkshake.”

“Huh? You’re missing out, pal.”

“What’s the big deal? Isn’t it frozen milk?”

“Not just frozen milk. You can add many flavors, toppings, and whip cream!”

“Well, then. You’ll have to show me sometime.”

We thanked Little Ben for his service as he clocked out for the day.

“I have to admit these sandwiches look very appetizing.”

“You can say that again!”

Before I nibbled on my sandwich, I wanted to take a moment and adore the man before me; Illumi Zoldyck. A man full of mysteries, professionalism, skill, and talent. His enormous eyes were immersed in the large pieces of chicken in between the sourdough bread. He licked his index finger vigorously; allowing the homemade honey mustard to drip enough from the bread to the plate in between licks. Just the sight of him actually relaxing for once has blown me away. For once, Illumi Zoldyck could be himself and I had the privilege to witness it.

“Um… why are you staring at me? Do I have food on my face,” he asked; violently wiping his mouth off with a provided cloth napkin.

“Oh! Ha, ha; no reason. I wanted to see your reaction after drinking your milkshake. That’s all.”

“Why? It’s just a drink.”

“Whatever you say, babe.”

“Babe? What happened to LuLu or Illumi-Lu?”

I gasped and pretended to be surprised… although I was a little.

“I did not know that you liked those pet names. I assumed it mortified you.”

“Who told you that? That never rolled off my tongue. “What I said was” — He bent closer to the table and to me; glancing both to the right and left to ensure no wandering ears were around — “I prefer Illumi-Lu to be said in the bedroom and LuLu when we’re alone, like how we are right now.”

“Aww…. ok,” I yelled in excitement.

“Don’t blow it out of proportion, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

As we ate, Illumi hummed along to the tune that played a few times on the restaurant's jukebox. Illumi and I were born in the mid-90s, but listening to 50s music was a part of his aesthetic. I was told that he had an “old soul” which sounds romantic at first until you realize how men were during that era. His raging temper was a noticeable toxic trait, but it has drastically improved. Nonchalantly sipping on his milkshake and then eating more of his chips, he grazed the soft part of his left hand over mine as he continued to hum.

“What’s the name of this song? You seem to know it rather well.”

“Put your head on my shoulder, a famous song from the 60s. I heard my parents sing it once and since then, they have addicted me to it. Do you like it?”

“Yes, in fact, I love it. All of this is—”

“A surprise to you? Well, enjoy it while it lasts because once I find Jack Gilberton, this side of me will hide for a while.”

“Understood.”

Damn! I was just feeling connected to him again!

The music swelled; everyone seemed to be happy. Not an evil spirit insight to disrupt this beautiful moment. For once in my life, my raven-haired beauty actually held my hand tight, stole a few of my barbecue kettle chips, and gazed into my eyes harmlessly. His lips brushed against both of my hands, ever so lightly placing kisses on both sides of them. Illumi’s gentle smile warmed my heart as my lingering thoughts of hope stayed intact.

The welcoming bell jingled again. Two men in black leather jackets, stone-washed blue jeans, and tattooed all over their arms came into the diner. The men seemed to be bikers who had just left their own “spot” but one thing struck me as they continued to walk towards the staff. They both wore sunglasses when the sunset for the day. Not to mention that the lights were not dim in the diner and the moon was as bright as ever. The second man had his eyes glued in my direction. My heart beat faster as I wondered if Jack Gilberton had found us. Could you imagine?

Put your head on my shoulder

Hold me in your arms, baby

Squeeze me oh-so-tight

Show me you love me too

I am used to coming in contact with enemies on my hit list, but given Jack’s criminal history; I felt like I may not survive his attacks. Illumi will survive, but just barely. Both men approached the checkout, crowing over Little Ben’s sister. She was a short woman but full of might, and I could tell by the shakiness in her voice she was frightened. I wanted to step in so badly, but I didn't want to blow my cover just in case it was, in fact, Jack Gilberton. After I assume, ordering food, both men stood by the entrance, blocking it from others from entering and leaving. The sound of their old, beat up-lighters crackled as one lit a joint and the other lit a cigarette. This horrid smell ruined the atmosphere because they were not in a designated area and it drowned out the lovely aroma of the food being served.

“If you gentlemen would like to smoke, you need to go outside. There is no smoking in here.”

“What? You think you’re better than me because you don’t smoke?”

“Huh? I never said that, sir. I asked for you to go outside. Not all of our customers can deal with it.”

They did not move a muscle. The sound of their mucous laughter made everyone’s stomach turn. They laughed at the young girl and called her many slurs. Little Ben’s sister didn’t flinch, nor did she cry; she remained still, staring at the men. I had just enough of their obnoxious behavior.

“If you do not leave, I will call the police.”

“The hell you won’t.”

Put your lips next to mine, dear

Won't you kiss me once, baby?

He drew a gun from his left side. He aimed it at Little Ben’s sister and demanded that she emptied the drawer. She refused. Her stone, iron will reminded me of Illumi; no matter the circumstance, they remained intact, determined to fight until the end. Bravery is always encouraged, but too much will cause your life to be taken away. Little Ben’s sister grabbed a fake till that they kept under the real one and threw it at both men. Fake money fluttered everywhere in the small diner, mimicking confetti. Gunshots rang in all directions as the imbeciles recklessly shot, aiming for Little Ben’s sister. Everyone threw themselves on the ground to avoid being shot, but luck cannot spread itself throughout an entire room of people. A young child, an older man, and another worker were shot in their lower leg. Blood reflected from the ground as it continued to seep. Ignoring injured civilians is a jackass move and continuing to deny the fact would prove that the oath I pledge to meant nothing. Sure, bounty hunters must remain hidden, but if someone is injured, I must help them.

The child was lying lifeless on the polished marble floor. He would not respond to my shaking or my silent whispers. When I rolled him over, my heart broke into a million pieces. This child had no chance of survival; a few bullets struck his chest, one just inches away from his heart. A tear rolled down my cheek.

“Why must the good die young,” I whispered to myself.

“... Because snitches get stitches.”

Before I could gain sight of who stated this utterly corny response, I felt an overwhelming amount of pain in my lower back. It felt like a million tiny needles were jabbed so far through my skin that they entered my intestine. I could still hear, but my body would not move. I tried and tried, but my brain would not signal my legs.

Move! Move, damn it!

It’s odd; I could hear myself talk, but my body would not move at all. The sound of another thudding body made my mind jump. My heart had already been pounding enough to try to resuscitate my organs to move, but a familiar semi-blurring sight of none other than Mr. Illumi Zoldyck cleared my sight. My brain went wild. I didn’t know if Illumi died or if he became paralyzed, but one thing is for sure. We finally made eye contact that felt special; something I hadn’t felt since the day I met him. Our contact felt like magnets; an unbreakable bond. Suddenly, my icy hand felt warmth around my palm and fingers. Illumi simultaneously fell in a way that connected our hands. Our unbreakable bond, the warmth of his fingers laying on top of mine, and the gaze we shared somehow made me feel like it was just the two of us alone. I could hear his thoughts loud and clear; thoughts that came from the heart.

“Please help me. Before it’s too late, LuLu,” I cried, thinking I was going insane. “I don’t want to leave if it means leaving you behind.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

“Please! I want to live a life. Life as a bounty hunter, build a support system to our children, and a good lover is all I want to be.”

“You are a warrior and so am I. We have been through worse. This is nothing.”

Mere eye contact is all we need to exchange wandering conversations. The bond that we’ve created is something so strong that I haven’t realized it until now. The warmth emitted from his loose grasp seems to lose its effectiveness. It blurred my vision beyond recognition, leaving Illumi as a near figment of my imagination.

“Oh no. I guess this is it.”

My vision darkened. Illumi was slipping away as my lingering thoughts almost made my heart give out from exhaustion. I was ready to accept my fate, but it seemed like fate had other plans. My vision was still darkening by the second, but my sense of touch remained there. Smooth fingers outline my arms, torso, and chest. I heard muffled voices yelling and screaming about calling for assistance, but I didn’t care if they came or not. I made peace with my life’s end. Bit by bit, my breathing slowed down, but my sense of touch remained heightened. I felt a rubber glove touch my face and neck, examining it for any damage.

The jukebox continued to play Illumi’s favorite song, Put Your Head on my Shoulder. I remembered the day I laid my head on his shoulder; boy, what an endearing moment that was. It was something I took for granted, something I should have savored, for I never knew that this moment would have happened. The song grew muffled by the second verse. That verse repeated every time I tried to force myself to take what felt like my last gaze at my raven-haired beauty.

Just a kiss goodnight, maybe

You and I will fall in love (you and I will fall in love)

-FIN.

A/N: Since you’ve made it to the end, I’ll say something. The reader did not die in the end. They were later revived at the hospital.

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dracowars · 4 years ago

Text

next door | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x reader

word count: 1,5k

summary: where y/n gets locked out of her apartment while her baked cookies are about to burn

a/n: just a little something i wrote since i got no christmassy requests yet <3 found this idea on a prompt list by @verobird

warnings: none

universe: harry potter

Happily dancing through your apartment and humming to yourself, you slide the next batch of cookies into the warm oven while the world outside is slowly getting covered in a thick layer of beautiful white snow.

There are only a few days left until Christmas and only today you finally got around to baking cookies for the first time in this year's cold and snowy winter. Of course you used the beloved recipe from your mother for your cookies, which you also always used to bake the most delicious cookies with her on Christmas when you still lived with your family.

It has been two years since you graduated from Hogwarts and then moved out of your parents' home to move to London where you work as a journalist for the Daily Prophet. You live in a small but cozy apartment on a small street where you can always hear the children play outside in the snow in the winter months.

The apartment complex is not very big and there are only four apartments in total. An elderly muggle couple lives in one of the two lower apartments and next to them a small wizarding family.

In the apartment next to your own flat there lives none other than Draco Malfoy himself.

In the beginning it bothered you that he is the one living next to you, but you have never actually run into each other very often and you came to the point where you accepted it. You have nothing against him personally, you never had to do much with him in Hogwarts anyway, you just know that he now works as a healer from early in the morning until late at night.

The delicious scent of the cookies gives your apartment a nostalgia that makes you incredibly happy as you keep dancing around the kitchen, cutting new shapes into the remaining dough. There is nothing better in this cold season than to be inside in the warm, to sing all the muggle Christmas carols that you know and to bake.

After you have complerely used all of the dough and the remaining cookies have disappeared in the oven, you go to the window and look down to the street with a smile, noticing that some of the neigbours' children are already busy building up a snowman while throwing snow at each other here and there. You can't help but watch them for several minutes.

Eventually, you spot a yellow taxi driving down the street, parking right in front of your building. Draco gets out of it, greets the children with a smile and then walks inside quickly.

You look at the clock in confusion. He never comes back as early as today, usually he is not back before the late evening.

You are about to move away from the window pane when you suddenly notice that there are trash cans everywhere on the roadside. With the palm of your hand you hit your forehead in frustration. Quickly, you run to your trash can, take out the garbage bag and storm out of your apartment, but not before you have thrown on your thick coat, in whose pocket you always keep the key to your apartment.

You almost stumble down the stairs in your unwariness and greet Draco on the way down, who is watching you a little aghast. When you arrive outside, you quickly throw away the rubbish while the children also look at you as if you are crazy.

You will probably never understand these muggle rules with the trash.

Because you quickly get cold with your loosely thrown on coat and slippers, you immediately head back inside. You close the front door behind you, locking away the coldness, and go up the stairs. Only now you notice that the scent of freshly baked cookies is spread throughout the whole stairwell.

Absently smiling to yourself, you arrive at your door and rummage around in the pockets of your jacket, looking for your keys. It hits you hard when you realize that it is nowhere to be found.

But what is even worse than to locked out is that you still have cookies in the oven that will burn if you do not come back into your flat quickly. You swear under your breath and imagine to already smell them burn as you realize that you also left your wand in there.

Nervously, you run back and forth in front of your closed door and wonder what to do now. You do not want to bother the old couple downstairs at this time of day, how should they be able to help you anyway, and the family has left for the holidays. That means only Draco is available, but you also do not want to annoy him. He probably had an exhausting day at work and now wants to rest.

On the other hand is he the only one who can help you right now, because he has a wand with which he could easily open your apartment door. He does not have to do much anyway, just come out for a moment and cast a spell, nothing more. And if in the end the whole house burns down because of your stupidity, it is kind of his problem, too.

Right?

In the middle of your deep thought whether to bother him or not, you notice that in the meantime you have already walked to his door, in front of which you are now standing. However, you just do not give it a second thought, take a deep breath and knock gently.

Nothing.

You knock again, this time a little bit louder and you hear noises behind the door. The door finally opens and reveals Draco who looks at you with a puzzled expression, obviously not expecting you to be standing in front of him right now.

"Y/N? Can I help you with anything?", he asks, still looking at you confused.

"Actually, yes, you can. I really do not want to bother you for long, it's just that.. I was baking cookies and then I remembered that the garbage will be picked up tomorrow morning and then I just ran out without thinking and now I have locked myself out and.. My cookies will be on fire if I do not get back in there as fast as possible!", you explain your situation in a flash and have to take a deep breath after finishing.

Draco's gaze wanders from you to your door on the opposite side. And then he suddenly starts laughing.

Unsure whether he is laughing at you, you continue to stare at him expectanly until he has slowed down his laughter.

"You do not annoy me, Y/N. Of course I will help you", he chuckles and briefly disappears into his apartment, coming back to you with his wand in his hand.

"Thank you so so so much, Draco. This is really nice of you. You are my savior", you politely thank him and walk him to your door.

"I could already smell that you were baking when I came home. Smells really good. If the cookies taste only half as good as they smell, then you have done a great job", he softly giggles, pointing his wand to your door. "Alohomora."

Your door clicks and then opens by itself.

"There you go", Draco smiles at you, putting away his wand and quickly catches a glimpse of your apartment with curiosity.

"Do you want some?", you ask all of a sudden, not sure where these words came from. You cannot hold his gaze and shyly look away.

"No, no. It is okay. You take care of your cookies", he laughs and your eyes widen. In an instant you rush into your apartment, leaving the door open behind you, and get the remaining cookies out of the oven, which only got a little bit too dark.

"Could just about save them!", you joyfully call out to Draco, who is still awkwardly standing in front of your door.

"Rescue in need, always at your service", he says with a small smile as you walk to him, a few cookies on a plate in your hand that have already cooled down before.

"Here, take these with you. As a thank you. And because I thought you are so rarely at home, you probably do not have time to bake yourself. So here you have some", you smile, handing him the plate. "I have not tried them myself yet, so if they are not as good as they smell then-"

"Thank you, Y/N. That is really kind and attentive of you", he utters, a smile equally as bright as yours on his lips.

"I-I really do not want to bother you any longer", you clear your throat when you catch yourself staring at him for a couple of seconds completely speechless. Draco slowly nods and turns to leave.

"Oh and.. Merry Christmas, Draco."

"Merry Christmas, Y/N."

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wroteasongabouther · 4 years ago

Text

can’t stand to see you lonely: part 4

a/n: i seriously cannot thank you guys enough, and i apologies for taking a lot longer to post. but the love and kind words and support that you’ve given me has been just incredible and i could cry happy tears honestly. now, i hope u enjoy part 4 and all that it includes and pls remember to reblog and leave feedback if u did like it and share it with ur followers/friends ❤️ love u all!

and of course, as always, thank you to @arrogantstyles for beta reading 😘

word count: 16k

warnings: mentions of masturbation (right off the bat too ur welcome lol), cursing, consumption of alcohol (i swear they’re not drunks, just ‘tis the season ya know), and minor sexual content (!!!!!!finally!!!!!)

fic page // let’s chat // cstsyl playlist

Harry’s breathing is loud, echoing off the walls of his shower as he struggles to inhale and exhale slowly once more. He inhales deeply and lets his hand that was resting upon the wall in front of him drop back to his side. He huffs through his mouth, blowing away some drops of water that were dripping down his face, while the other hand releases the grasp he had on his cock. Harry didn’t intend to masturbate in the shower like some hormonal teenager; he didn’t plan to masturbate last night before he got under the covers, either. It’s all Y/N’s doing, he thinks, she was clouding his head more than usual. Harry couldn’t stop thinking about last night, the lingering stares, her small delicate hands lingering on his thigh or dancing over his rings.

“Jesus,” Harry’s voice is hoarse as he curses himself. He was this close to falling back into yet another spiral down the rabbit hole that was Y/N. Which would more than likely result in him playing with himself, again.

Bringing both his hands under the water, he gives them a quick rinse before turning to his shelf where his body wash is. He pumps a bit of the goat's milk and lavender infused soap into his hand and brings it to his chest, rubbing in circles till it begins to bubble on his skin. He works his way down to the mess between his thighs, gently cleaning himself up before rinsing off. Harry turns to face the wall again.Sighing, he cups his hands under the stream of warm water and splashes it onto the wall before he just brings his hand up to wipe away the remains of his little private solo session.

Once he’s all squeaky clean, Harry turns off the water and shakes his hair out a little before he’s opening the glass shower door and stepping out. He grabs his towel, drying himself off before wrapping it around his waist. A part of him will always want to grab a second towel to wrap up his hair, but it’s no longer the length that it’s needed. Sometimes he misses his long hair. Harry makes sure the fan is on before he leaves the bathroom and walks into his bedroom.

I wonder what Y/N is doing? He thinks as he reaches into his drawers for a pair of pants, some grey sweatpants, and then walks over to his closet to grab a dark blue crew neck jumper and a plain white shirt to wear underneath. Wonder what Y/N is wearing today, Harry daydreams as he lets his towel drop and steps into his pants, then into the sweatpants next. Suddenly Harry comes to realize what he’s doing, how utterly annoying he is by thinking about what Y/N is doing at any given moment. It’s something he’s caught himself doing before, actually. He inhales through his nose and shakes his head. Just relax, he thinks and then finishes getting dressed and pockets his cell phone that was sitting on his charger before he’s walking out to his living room.

As Harry’s preparing his coffee machine for his first cup of the day, his phone begins to vibrate. Fishing it out of his front pocket, he looks at the screen to see Mitch’s contact photo. Harry sets the baby blue mug he had grabbed into place for his coffee to brew and then swipes his finger across the screen to answer Mitch’s call.

“Hey,” Harry says, holding his phone between his ear and shoulder as he opens his bread box and grabs a loaf of twelve grain.

“Is she still in bed?” Mitch asks. Harry’s eyebrows crease at his friend's absurd question.

“What?” Harry questions. His focus is on unraveling the bag his bread was in, grabbing two slices, before twisting it back up and sticking it into the bread box. He shuts the bread box and walks the few steps to his left to his toaster, plopping the bread slices into it and pushing down the buttons to get his breakfast toasting.

“Is she still in bed?” Mitch repeats himself, this time taking a brief pause after each word to really get his words across. Harry just rolls his eyes at Mitch and takes his phone back into his hand. He catches sight of the digital clock on his oven and his face twists up in confusion suddenly.

“Have you gone to sleep yet?” Harry asks, puzzled by how it’s just past nine in the morning and Mitch is somehow awake enough to call him.

“No, but that’s besides the point here, H,” Mitch says, breezes over the fact he’s an absolute lunatic for not going to sleep yet. “You’re dodging my question, so therefore I’m going to assume she’s still in bed,” he resorts. Harry can tell by the sass in his voice that he’s still buzzing from whatever amount of alcohol he had after him and Y/N left the bar last night. Harry watches his coffee drip into the mug slowly and furrows his brows once again at his friends words.

“Who’s still in bed?” Harry asks. Mitch lets out a deep breath and Harry just knows he’s rolling his eyes too.

“Who do you think I mean, Harry? The queen of England? No, I mean Y/N. Obviously,” he grumbles into the phone. Harry grabs the handle of his mug now full of coffee and rolls his eyes again.

“Y/N and I didn’t sleep together last night, sorry to disappoint,” he chirps back at Mitch.

“Bullshit, you two were basically eye fucking last night, the sexual tension was insane,” Mitch states. While Mitch is talking, Harry blows on his coffee before taking a small sip. The black coffee is still hot on his tongue, but doesn’t burn it thankfully. Suddenly his two slices of toast pop up, he sets down his mug and opens his fridge to find his small container of margarine. As he’s opening a drawer to find a butter knife, he lets out a tiny sigh.

“Like I said last night,” Harry pauses to make sure Mitch is listening, “I’m letting things settle down for her and see how it plays out,” Harry explains, resting his phone between his ear and shoulder again in order to take out the toast and spread butter on both slices.

“And what you’re saying is it didn’t play out with her ending up in your bed last night? I’m shocked, really,” Mitch says, his voice sounding genuinely surprised to hear that Harry’s night didn’t end how he imagined it would.

Honestly, Harry imagined it the same way at some points last night too. Thinking about how Y/N was a bit of a touchy drunk, therefore did that mean that she would be looking for her rebound hookup? Harry didn’t want to be that though. There was too much potential between them and this connection they’ve made so quickly, that he didn’t want to ruin it with some drunk hookup. But, yes, he imagined it, cause he’d be an idiot not to - a hot girl smiling all night at him, how she would jut out her chest just slightly cause he figured she loved how his eyes wandered over her body at times; so of course he thought of how their night could have ended differently together. Hell, he masturbated while thinking about it, twice within the past twelve hours to be exact.

Plus, their time last night was more than the sexual tension that may or may not have happened. Harry’s stomach is fluttering around just thinking about the gitty smiles and sweet words from Y/N, and how well she clicked with his best mates too. And truthfully, he was happy with how the night ended - with them in their own beds. Because their time would come eventually, Harry would let things play out however Y/N needed it to and he would wait for the right moment to swoop in and give her what he hoped was the best kiss of her life. Big dreams, Styles, he thinks to himself.

“She didn’t even think you liked her,” Harry tells Mitch, causing him to let out a snort.

“You know how I am,” he dismisses Harry's comment, “but I don’t know man, she’s good for you,” Mitch adds in a soft voice. His words make another storm of butterflies to erupt in Harry’s stomach as he smiles. “I didn’t not like her, I just sat back and let the two of you laugh all night and eye fuck each other on occasion too,” Mitch explains a little too casually. Harry shakes his head and takes a bit of his toast.

“Go to sleep, Mitch,” Harry says after he chews some of his toast.

“Good idea,” he yawns. “Talk soon,” he says.

“Bye,” Harry responds, taking his phone away from his ear and hanging up the call.

Harry grabs his plate with his half eaten toast in one hand and his coffee in the other, bringing it to his small dining table that sat against the far wall of his kitchen. Sipping his coffee now, it’s not too hot and he can actually enjoy it between bites of his toast. During him eating he finds his thoughts drifting to their typical place these days - Y/N.

Long story short, he found himself only liking her more than before after how things were between them last night. He can’t even imagine how far gone he’ll be for her if things actually went further than this blossoming friendship - with a dash of sexual tension - that they’ve established.

“This hangover is truly going to kill me,” Y/N groans out.

She’s finally standing on her two feet in the bathroom after having been sitting by the toilet for the past twenty minutes. Both her palms are face down on the counter, her arms straight as she leans forward slightly and lets her head hang heavy between her shoulders. Looking up at her reflection she sees just how dirty the tequila has done her by the bags under her eyes and the queasy feeling in her stomach as she just thinks about how much tequila she had last night.

“It’s karma for not sleeping with Harry,” Sammy taunts her, his voice coming through the speaker of her cell phone that rests on the counter beside her.

He called earlier while Y/N was still asleep, the first time in forever that she slept past ten in the morning. She had seen the call, but was too busy rushing to the bathroom to empty her stomach to return it. Then she showered away the gross hungover feeling, it only helped a little, before she got dressed into a pair of leggings and an old college hoodie and ended up in front of the toilet again as the tequila teased her making her think she was going to throw up but she didn’t - thankfully.

“I thought about it, Sammy, I swear,” she shares, letting out a sigh as she looks up at the ceiling and relaxes her body again - the threat of vomiting again seeming to fade away.

“So why didn’t you?” Sammy asks.

“Cause I just didn’t want it to be like some pointless quick fuck with him,” Y/N tells him truthfully. “Sure, I loved how as we both got buzzed things got a little more careless and touchy and flirty. But it was just fun and it made my head spin and my heart pretty much leaped out of my chest. It wasn’t just stupid pointless flirting to get laid, it was deeper than that,” she explains to her best friend. As her words spill out she realizes she doesn’t quite make sense, and yet it made perfect sense in her head how she felt about Harry.

“And you feel this way and managed to somehow not tackle this man down and fuck his brains?” Sammy questions, his voice in a joking tone but Y/N knows he’s genuinely confused.

“Obviously I imagined it,” she admits, “I fucking brought out my vibrator last night, Sammy, I was that turned on by the damn guy. But I really don’t want to mess this up with Harry. I don’t want to jump right into it after the break up with Mark, and then ruin what is hands down the best connection I’ve ever felt with someone before. I just want to see how things play out, don’t force anything, you know?” she spills out, letting out a deep breath afterwards.

Those words have been heavy on her chest since she woke up this morning and replayed everything that happened between her and Harry. The smiles, the longing looks, the drinks, the touching, the smirking, and the goddamn sexual tension. Yes, she wanted to kiss him, many, many, times; all over his body, anywhere that she could. She imagined how their night could’ve ended if she wanted just a simply messy hot drunk hookup. But she wanted more than that with Harry - so much more. It was the honest truth, regardless of how soon she’s broken up with Mark, she can’t ignore how her feelings have grown towards Harry. So, she was just going to let it go on and whatever happens, happens.

“So, what are you doing tonight?” Sammy asks, bringing the topic away from Harry - only for Y/N to bring it right back. Which was exactly how her thoughts have been doing lately too; drifting away from Harry for only a moment before flying right back to him.

“Um, I sort of drunkenly made plans to watch a movie with Harry tonight,” she says, “I don’t even know if he remembers, I’m just going to wing it and knock on his door later.”

“You know what you should do? You should invite him to the work holiday party,” Sammy suggests, “I’m getting tired of talking about him so much and yet I don’t even know what he really looks like cause you suck at taking discreet sneaky pictures,” he explains with a dramatic sigh. Y/N rolls her eyes and finally decides now is a good time to leave the bathroom, no longer feeling too sick from her hangover. But she still heads back to her bedroom, flopping down onto her bed.

“I don’t know, I don’t want to make it weird and invite him to something less casual,” Y/N says.

“Well, see how things play out these next few days and if it’s good then invite him, seriously I’m dying to see some eye candy, Y/N,” Sammy groans.

“Okay, Sammy, we’ll see,” Y/N says, matching his melodramatic tone. She lets out another sigh, which is then taken over by a yawn. “I’m going to go, my head is pounding and I think I should try and nap before dealing with some work emails and then going to Harry’s,” Y/N explains.

“Fine,” Sammy sighs, “it’s weird that you’re the hungover one and I’m not,” he mentions. Y/N lets out a laugh through her nose and shuts her eyes.

“Honestly, it is,” she agrees, “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Ok, bye, feel better,” Sammy says, Y/N hears the smile in his voice.

“Thanks, bye,” she says and then hangs up the phone. She puts it down beside her and keeps her eyes shut. Taking a few deep breaths, Y/N tries to fall back asleep again. And she’s just about to when she hears that familiar heart warming guitar from Harry’s apartment. She wonders how long he’s been up? If he’s hungover at all too? She could text him and ask, but instead she just lays there and smiles as she listens to the muffled sweet melody he’s playing - then falls back into a deep slumber that her hungover body so desperately needed.

Y/N had texted Harry earlier, after he had written an entire song, surprisingly not about her this time. Well there was one line he wrote down that had to do with Y/N - played with myself where were you. It was cheeky, and didn’t really go with anything else he had so he just flipped through his journal and let himself get immersed into his songwriting during the hours of the day. Only ever stopping to make himself food or to use the washroom - otherwise, he was working hard without even meaning to.

Her first text read, So what time should I come over to watch the Polar Express? And then her second one made Harry chuckle, Also that guitar playing sounds pretty heavenly today, can’t wait to hear it in person later. With a winking face emoji at the end and everything. Cheeky girl, and anytime after seven should be fine to come over. Harry texted her back, also adding a winking emoji and then he went back into his work, ordered dinner, and now here they were.

There’s a rather soft knock on Harry’s door, causing him to stop writing in his journal and gets up to answer it. After unlocking the door, he swings it open and is surprised to see Y/N’s arms full, nearly dropping a can of whipped cream as she smiles at him.

“I brought everything for hot chocolate,” she states, beaming up at Harry over the container that holds her hot chocolate mix.

“I can see that,” Harry chuckles and reaches out to take everything from her. “You know I could’ve helped you carry a few things over, and I also have plenty of mugs here,” he says, lifting a finger that held the Grinch mug he had used at her apartment about a week ago now.

“I know, but mine are Christmas themed and it’s literally twelve days till Christmas and I need to use them as much as possible,” Y/N explains as she steps into Harry’s home and closes the door behind them. Harry takes in her appearance. Black leggings and a FIT jumper, and a pair of pink fuzzy socks on her feet. Harry’s brows pinch together as he holds back a laugh. “It’s only a few feet between our apartments, as you know, shoes are kind of pointless going back and forth,” she states with a nod.

Harry chuckles, lifting a brow and turning the corners of his lips up into a smile before saying, “yes, been there,” he says recalling the last time they had a movie night.

And just like that time, they moved together to the kitchen - after Harry locks the door behind Y/N - and they begin to make their hot chocolate in the two Christmas mugs Y/N brought along with her. Harry finds it endearing that she felt she needed to not only bring the supplies for hot chocolate, but also brought along her Christmas themed mugs. She truly does love the holidays, Harry thinks as he pours the boiling water into the mugs that Y/N had put the mix into. As they’re in the kitchen they’re talking about how their days were.

“So hungover,” Y/N groans, confirming how she had felt today after Harry had asked.

“You did drink that tequila like it was water though,” Harry states, chuckling as he watches Y/N stir the spoon in the mugs to mix up the hot chocolate. Y/N lets out a playful hiss as if the thought of all that tequila hurt her to think about now.

“I probably looked like a drunk in front of all your friends,” she thinks aloud. She frowns as she wraps her hand around the can of whipped cream, shaking it a few times before tipping it upside down and pushing the tip of it to fill up the top of the mug. She grabs the Grinch mug with one hand and holds it to Harry, making it smile as he realizes she remembered how he used that mug last time.

“They were just as drunk, maybe even more,” Harry tells her, “in fact, Mitch pulled an all nighter.”

“Well, good,” Y/N sighs, following him into the living room with both her hands wrapped around the Santa mug. “I really did have fun though,” she adds as they take a seat on the couch.

Harry meets her gaze after she takes a sip of her hot chocolate. A bit of whipped cream gets on her upper lip as she pulls the mug away. Y/N realizes and sticks her tongue out to swipe it over her lip, licking it away. Harry’s gaze is glued to her movements, his mouth suddenly feeling dry as he inhales slowly through his nose. And those certain thoughts of Y/N didn’t hide away for very long, Harry thinks before he clears his throat quietly and lifts his mug to his lips.

“I did too,” he says, “all of us did, they said you were cool like five times in our groupchat,” he adds before taking a sip of his warm drink. Y/N stomach lunges knowing that him and his friends talked about her in their groupchat. Has she been a topic of discussion before?

“Me? Cool?” Y/N questions, confusion thick in her voice. “No way, they’re the cool ones, not me. I mean you are all clearly very musically gifted and get to just hangout and make music and I find it all just very… Cool,” Y/N explains as she ends with a small sigh and smiles at Harry.

“It can be pretty cool, yeah,” Harry nods, mirroring her smile.

“Speaking of being musically gifted,” Y/N hums, smirking over her mug before taking another sip.

Harry knows where she’s going with this already. He gets that familiar nervous feeling in his stomach, nothing like the butterflies he was feeling just before knowing that she finds his line or work ‘cool’ - in fact he feels his smile slip immediately but tries to cover it with a cough. He sets down his mug and brings his hands to his lap, leaning back into the couch while he looks at the blank TV screen on the wall.

“Will you play something for me?” Y/N asks in that intoxicating softly spoken voice of hers.

“I want to play for you, I do,” Harry assures her after a few beats of silence, as he tried to figure out how to get her to drop this idea of him playing for her.

“But?” Y/N inquiries, tilting her head slightly to try and look at his face better. He looks uncomfortable, Y/N thinks and tries her hardest to not frown. She guesses that he’s just got a bit of stage fright of some sorts. But he plays for a living, there must be a few people he plays in front of at the studio.

“But, I want to have the perfect song to show you,” Harry tells her as he turns to meet her eyes. It’s not a lie, he truly does want to play the most perfect song for her. But that nervous feeling in his stomach doesn’t go away.

“I’m sure all your songs are perfect,” Y/N assures him. Her voice is still as gentle as before.

“And also it’s my wrist,” Harry says suddenly, lifting his right wrist up, “I got surgery on it earlier this year, it’s just been acting up.” Quick thinking, Styles, he thinks and gives her a smile.

Y/N remembers how she had heard him playing earlier today. But by the way that Harry’s avoiding Y/N’s eyes again while this stretch of silence falls between them, and the fact he’s rubbing at his wrist for good measure too, Y/N knows that he’s not ready yet to play in front of her. So, she gives him a sweet smile and stands up from the couch suddenly.

“I have this heating pad, I use it on my ankle that I broke a few years back, it helps sometimes,” Y/N explains, “I’ll go get it,” she says.

Truthfully she just needed a moment to not have to hide how it hurt her feelings just a tad that Harry didn’t feel comfortable enough around her to play. It wasn’t the biggest deal ever, because she sure that one day he will. But it still makes her a bit sad that today’s not that day.

“Y/N, it’s fine, really,” Harry brushes off her suggestion.

“H, I live next door, I’ll be back in two seconds,” she insists, giving him a smile and walking from her seat on the couch, setting down her mug on the coffee table before she’s making her way around Harry as he sits there watching her.

“Okay,” Harry says softly and nods before Y/N is walking out of his apartment. The second the door closes behind her Harry’s deep in his thoughts.

Harry has a pretty high case of stage fright, the feeling of nerves bundling up inside of him at the thought of performing in front of people even made him feel a bit sick sometimes. It was something he’s been working on for years now, through schooling and with his career as a songwriter starting up afterwards too. He would eventually talk himself out of the fear of failing during any uni exams he had, and would ace it naturally, but that ball of nerves sat heavy in his stomach the entire time. When it came to his job, he simply warmed up to his colleagues. At first he didn’t speak up much, would stumble on some notes, but things worked out in the end. It helped a lot after he found his current group as they became his closest mates too, so he became much more comfortable with playing for them over some time.

He realizes that he considers Y/N a close friend now too, and that should mean that he would feel more than confident walking over to the acoustic guitar sitting at it’s stand in the corner by the chair in the living room - but he didn’t quite yet. And one of the main reasons was because he felt something much deeper than friendship. He really freaking liked her. And if he played something, mucking it up like an idiot because of his nerves, he would beat himself up over it for days if not weeks.

Harry imagines the first time he plays a song for her that will be perfect. The song would be about her, he’s got a few of those now, and as he plucked along slowly he’d peer up at her to find her smiling back at him. Then he would really surprise her and sing. Harry knows he can sing well, but again his stage fright that relates to a fear of failing causes him to not sing all that often. He’ll sing for demos for work, or when he’s by himself, but that’s about it. Mitch actually had asked Harry if he wanted to be a part of the band before he found their lead singer, but Harry politely declined and has more than enjoyed just sitting back and watching his friends play instead. Although there’s a small pit of jealousy and envy that’s been growing in size every time he watches them.

Suddenly the door opens back up and Harry’s snapping out of his thoughts to look over his shoulder at Y/N walking in with some brown fabric in her hands. She turns to lock Harry’s door, then turns around and holds up the heating pad in her hands with a smile. It’s a sloth, a simple stitching on it to show it’s hugging wherever it’s placed on someone’s body and a smile on its face.

“I got it not too long ago, while shopping for other people's gifts, actually,” Y/N admits and starts making her way into the kitchen. “Do you do that thing where you are supposed to just be buying presents for other people but you end up buying yourself something too?” She asks Harry, raising her voice slightly as she’s put some distance between them.

“Yes, it’s hard not to,” Harry says as watches her open his microwave and place the sloth inside. She pushes some buttons and it starts up. As the sloth spins inside, Y/N turns around and leans her back against the counter and looks through the open concept space at where Harry sat on the couch.

“Have you bought any presents this year?” She asks, knowing that he’s not going home for Christmas so therefore he wouldn’t have to buy much.

“Just some for Mitch, Adam and his wife and then Tom and Jenny,” Harry states, “what about you? Do you have lots of family to buy gifts for?”

“Not really,” Y/N lifts one shoulder in a shrug, “I’m an only child, but my aunt has a couple kids so I kind of go crazy for them,” she explains with a smile. The microwave beeps, signalling that the heating pad was all warmed up, and Y/N turns back around to open the door and grabs it. It’s not too warm, so she closes the microwave door and makes her way back over to Harry.

She hands the heating pad to Harry and he gives her a smile. He says a quiet ‘thank you’ and places it over his wrist that’s resting on his thigh. It does feel rather nice, actually, he thinks as he adjusts his hand under the warm sloth. He feels a bit bad for making up the little white lie, although his wrist does ache from time to time, it wasn’t in any sort of pain right now. But he’s just being a stupid little coward and deflecting her attention on him playing her something on his guitar. Harry does notice how Y/N’s eyes linger on the acoustic guitar across the room as she leans over to grab her hot chocolate again and takes her seat on the couch once more. You’re such an ass, Styles, Harry thinks to himself but clears his throat and looks at Y/N.

“Did you enjoy growing up as an only child?” He asks. Harry personally couldn’t imagine growing up on his own. His sister, Gemma, was one of his best friends and he was also rather close with cousins while growing up too so they felt a bit like siblings too.

“Not really, no,” Y/N answers truthfully. She clears her throat and looks down at the Santa mug in her hands. “My parents were always busy with working or socializing, sometimes I was invited to come along, other times I was kept away with a nanny or my Aunt would visit sometimes and keep me company.” She tells Harry, feeling herself slowly open up to the idea of sharing everything with him. She hardly told Mark a thing about her childhood or her parents - mostly because he already knew, since he grew up in the same sort of crowd.

“Are you close with your Aunt then?” Harry asks, keeping his voice in that low tone that still brought goosebumps to Y/N’s skin from time to time.

Y/N’s lips tug slightly up into a smile, looking up from her mug and meeting Harry’s gaze. “Yes, she’s probably the one family member that I am close with. I love my parents, don’t get me wrong,” she pauses and ponders how to explain it to him, looking up at the ceiling for only a moment before looking back at Harry. “They just value life a bit differently than me. My Aunt, Vivian, she’s just the most chill and most like me I guess,” Y/N settles with keeping it easy, not digging too deep into her family drama.

Her Aunt Viv, who was her mothers younger sister, was truly the only person in her family that she felt she connected with. Y/N did love her mom and dad, they gave her a life better than she could ever ask for, but they were much more into the lifestyle and gaining wealth and social status over being a true loving family. Hence the many after school programs they stuck her in, and also having a live-in nanny till she was fourteen. But when Viv was around things felt a bit normal in her ridiculously abnormal life.

Viv didn’t have the same big dreams of being a gold digger like Y/N’s mom did, so she went to university, fell in love with a nice young man who worked a normal blue collar type of job and they bought a house just outside of New Jersey. They never ask for any help from Y/N’s parents, and they worked very hard for the life they’re provided for their two young kids. She just found Viv to be much more inspiring than her own mother who’s days included online shopping and luncheons with fellow wives who lived off their wealthy husbands' money. As Y/N grew up, Viv would take her away from her nanny some nights and would just bring her to her home and watch movies, have painting nights, and would even sit down with Y/N for hours watching red carpet events too - knowing her love for fashion even at a young age. She became Y/N’s friend more than another snobby family member.

Harry had respectfully stayed quiet as he saw Y/N fall into deep thought. He didn’t want to ask anymore questions that would cross any lines because from what little he has heard, Y/N’s family life is a bit more complicated than he could imagine. Y/N smiles suddenly, as she’s thinking of a memory.

“Viv was actually the one who really got me into the love for the holidays,” she states, “like, yeah, my parents would go all out with the decorations and the gifts and the parties. But Viv introduced me to the better part of the holidays in my opinion, like she’d take me to the rinks around the city to skate, and she’d show me the city’s festive sights. We’d even have days dedicated to going to the Christmas market. And during all that she’d always have a Starbucks holiday drink in her hand. I guess you could say I sort of modelled my young adult self to be like her during the holidays,” Y/N explains with a smile on her lips.

Those times slowly sadly faded out after Y/N got into high school, and Viv finished uni and met her husband. They wouldn’t go to the rink as much, or go for pointless walks to see the city’s many lights and Christmas Trees. Before Y/N knew it, all those childhood memories that she cherished just slid away, but she understood - they both grew up and she would hold onto those memories that her Aunt Vivian gave her to her heart closely forever.

“But as we both got older, life got busy and now she gets to do all those things over again with her own kids and not her sisters neglected one,” Y/N tries to make it sound like a joke, but it wasn’t.

She hides her frown behind her Santa mug and takes a generous sip, the drink having grown colder as time has passed. Harry’s about to make a comment, about how he’s grateful that Y/N did at least have her Aunt, but Y/N speaks up before he can.

“What about you? What were the holidays like growing up?” She asks, a smile returning to her lips.

“Great, honestly,” Harry nods, letting a short chuckle pass his lips, “my family can be a bit nuts, they love family time and being overbearing with playing silly games or family photos. But, I love it,” Harry explains, smiling.

He thinks about last year, how competitive him and his family got during a game they had played, or how big his mum and gran smiled as they popped Christmas crackers and everyone wore those paper crowns for one of the many photos his mum insisted on taking.

Y/N is mirroring his smile, tucking her mug to her chest as she listens to him. Sounds like a much better time than the memories she has with her parents around the holidays, Y/N thinks feeling a bit jealous - as she did whenever anyone told her of their holiday traditions and such. She can’t help but notice the distant look in his eyes as he grabs his mug.

“It’s actually the first Christmas I won’t be spending with my family, as I mentioned before,” he states, clearing his throat afterward as the emotions threaten to come in quick. He takes a sip of his hot chocolate and points to the TV then. “Should I pull up the movie before we’re sitting here drinking cold chocolate?” Harry asks. Because, truthfully, he could sit here all night and talk about life with Y/N but they had planned to watch a movie.

“Sure,” Y/N smiles, although feeling a bit sad being reminded that Harry wasn’t going home for the holidays. She takes another sip of her drink again, before she’s turning her body to watch the TV screen on the wall as Harry grabs for the remote and finds the Polar Express on demand.

As the movie begins to play, they both get comfortable and sip their hot chocolates till their Christmas mugs are empty. Harry offers to take Y/N’s mug, so she doesn’t have to sit up from the slouched position she’s slipped into in her corner of the couch, placing it beside his on the coffee table before he relaxes back into his spot. It’s about half way through the movie, after they had jokingly sung along with the hot chocolate song of course, when Y/N is nearly laying out on her end of the couch. Harry feels selfish for not offering the side he’s on, as he has his legs stretched out on the chaise of the couch. Y/N slowly lets her legs slip out across the cushion between them till they’re just slightly bent and the fuzzy pink socks on her feet just barely brush Harry’s thigh.

Her toes wiggle a little, tapping against the side of Harry’s thigh ever so gently, but it causes a much less gentle reaction in his body. His stomach fluttering and his heart pounding as he glances at Y/N in the corner of his eye. A feeling of undesirable desire filters through him as she wiggles her toes again before settling her feet hardly even touching him. But it’s more the act of being comfortable around Harry that has him feeling like his heart might explode.

He’s tempted to grab onto her ankles and stretch out her legs completely so her feet would rest in his lap. Maybe he’d rub her calves, hoping the feeling made her stomach flutter as much as his. But he didn’t want to cross any sort of line. So he was content with the tiny bit of contact between them from her feet resting on the side of his thigh as the movie kept playing.

It wasn’t till near the very end that Harry heard a soft snore come from Y/N. He turns his head completely and looks over at her. Her eyes shut, her lips parted slightly, as she laid on her arms folded under her head. Harry isn’t sure how to react here, should he wake her? Or let her slumber because it’s obvious she needs it since she fell asleep during what she claims to be her favourite holiday movie. Harry ponders for a moment before he decides to finish watching the movie. Once it’s finished is when he’d make his decision.

“Y/N,” Harry says as the credits are rolling. She doesn’t move a muscle. “Y/N, darling,” Harry tries again in a gentle voice, placing a hand on her leg and giving her one good nudge. To which Y/N doesn’t respond at all.

That hangover must be hitting her body hard, begging for the sleep she needed to fully recover. So, Harry reaches for the knitted blanket that’s resting over the back of his couch and paces it over Y/N’s body. As he gets up from the couch, he turns back around and looks at Y/N for a moment - taking in her effortless beauty even while she’s sleeping.

With a nearly inaudible sigh, Harry gathers up their mugs, bringing them to his kitchen and quietly rinsing them out before he double checks that the heat is at a reasonable temperature. It was supposed to get rather cold tonight and he didn’t want Y/N to wake up freezing in his home. Once he’s turned off the TV and the only lights left on are from his tree, he turns back to Y/N. The soft glow from the Christmas lights casting over her breathtaking features causes yet another stir of feelings inside his stomach.

He wishes he could bend down, place a soft kiss to her forehead - maybe one day soon he could. Maybe even get to fall asleep next to her, staring at her beauty till he drifted into a slumber as well. But for now, he just quietly walks down the hall to his bedroom and leaves his door open a few inches just in case Y/N woke up in a panic or anything. He’d be a lighter sleeper than usual tonight, thinking about how close Y/N was.

At one point in the middle of the night Y/N woke up. Her eyelids were still heavy as she tried to focus on the space around her. She had fallen asleep during the movie, in Harry’s apartment, on his couch - oh god. A wave of embarrassment washed over her as her eyes flicker from the blank TV screen, to the now empty other side of the couch, before settling on the warm lights of the Christmas tree.

She should get up and head home to her own apartment and not be an idiot who falls asleep on her friend's couch uninvited. Y/N’s fingers curl around the top of the warm blanket that Harry must’ve draped over her before heading to bed himself. The pads of her fingers brush over the soft fabric while her heart beats like crazy in her chest. Harry’s sweetness and well mannered actions shouldn’t surprise Y/N anymore - but they do. She smiles and brings the blanket to her chin, snuggling into the couch once more and tries to not think about how sore her neck and back will be in the morning from sleeping on the couch. Instead she looks at the Christmas tree as her eyelids grow heavy again and she slips back into her dreamstate once more.

The next time she wakes it’s due to the sun peering through the curtains in Harry’s living room. She blinks a few times and brings a hand up to rub the sleep from her eyes. Suddenly she hears a noise coming from a few feet away from her. Y/N’s heart all but leaps out of her chest as she sits up on the couch and looks to where the noise came from. Her wide eyes meet Harry’s equally widened eyes, him pausing mid-movement as he must’ve been grabbing a mug from the cabinet.

“Sorry,” he says quietly, bearing his clenched teeth to her in a joking but nervous way. His dimple deepens at the facial expression, Y/N notices it right away even from a room away from him.

“It’s okay,” she replies. Her voice sounds a little scratchy as it’s the first time using it since waking. How utterly adorable, Harry thinks as he smiles at her and sets his mug down at his coffee maker before hitting start. “And I should be the one apologizing, I kinda ended up crashing on your couch uninvited,” Y/N says, running a hand through her hair to try and tame it.

“It wasn’t a problem, Y/N, nothing to be sorry about,” Harry tells her, walking towards her till he got to the large threshold between his open concept kitchen and living room. He crosses his arms at his chest and Y/N notices how the muscles in his arms flex immediately. “Must have been a hangover side effect, hm?” Harry questions.

Y/N clears her throat as she tries to not take in Harry’s appearance in the morning but she can’t help herself. He’s wearing a pair of black sweatpants with a simple grey t-shirt, white socks covering his feet, and while him dressed down did look hot - it was how his hair looked that really took her breath away. The way it looks much more fluffy than usual, most likely from rolling around in his bed, made her stomach flutter and she ended up biting her bottom lip as he brought a hand up to push back the bit of hair that had fallen over his forehead. Y/N blinks a few times before meeting his gaze again.

“You’d think the nap I took before coming over would help with my hangover but I guess not,” Y/N states, she exhales through her nose and shakes her head before folding her arms over the back of the couch and rests her chin on them. “But again, I’m sorry,” she adds.

“And again, it’s okay,” Harry ensures her, dropping his arms to his sides as he smiles. “Now, would you like a cup of hot chocolate or coffee?” He asks.

“Coffee,” Y/N answers, her voice back to that soft and gentle tone that made Harry’s head spin. He recalls when they first met, and how he wished he could hear her voice each night and morning. His wish is slowly coming true, although he imagines it involving her in bed more often than not. But for now, he’ll take her waking up on his couch any day if it means he gets to hear her voice.

Harry nods and walks back over to where the mug filled of freshly brewed coffee now sat. Y/N tilts her head to the left, still resting her chin on her arms, as she watches Harry move around his kitchen. He calls over his shoulder to ask what she’d like in her coffee, with which she replies ‘two teaspoons of sugar please’ - that earns her a half smile as he glances her way again and mutters ‘why am i not surprised’, causing Y/N to mock a hurt look on her face and gasps.

“What is that supposed to mean?” She questions, watching him stir up the sugar in her coffee. Harry turns and brings the mug over to her, causing her to sit up straight again and grab it from him with both hands.

“It means you love sugar as much as any toddler would, I swear,” Harry teases.

“Something wrong with liking the taste of something sweet?” She questions, raising a brow as she looks up at him from where he stood on the other side of the back of the couch.

Harry’s breath hitches in his throat at her choice of words. He immediately wants to answer back with ‘well I want to taste you, all of you, so no’ but instead he holds back his filthy thoughts and gulps. Y/N notices Harry’s Adam's apple bob up and down as she stares up at him through her lashes, slowly bringing the mug he had just given her to her lips to give it a taste. Harry watches her the entire time as she sips the coffee and licks it off her lips. Everything inside of him is begging to touch her. To bring the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, catching the last few drops of her drink off her lip, and bringing it to his mouth to get a taste. Or to just take the mug right back, place it on the closest surface and take her face into his hands to kiss her fiercely.

Harry struggles but pushes away his thoughts once again, for what felt like the millionth time this morning, and raises an eyebrow, “sweet enough for you?” He asks, his voice teasing.

Y/N smiles sweetly and nods once, “it’s perfect, thank you,” she replies.

Harry mirrors her smile before he walks back to his kitchen, only then looking down at his sweatpants to ensure there wasn’t any noticeable bulge. It had taken a few disturbing images in his head to calm himself down and not be sporting a hard on in front of Y/N. But he manages, grabs his own mug - since Y/N now held his typical mug he uses for his morning coffee - and sets it into place.

“Any plans today?” Y/N asks, taking another sip of her coffee and feeling the warmth flood inside of her body. Or maybe that feeling was from how Harry had looked at her just now, she thinks.

“Nope,” Harry shakes his head and grabs for his own mug of black coffee. “What about you? No work today?” He asks, bringing the mug to his lips and blowing to cool it down before taking a sip.

Y/N shakes her head and leans back into the side of the couch, “my boss was nice enough to let us have today off, then back in for a few days but Friday, the eighteenth, isn’t really a big work day. We’re having our annual holiday party that night, so we mostly spend the day finalizing any party planning,” she explains to Harry as he leans back against the counter and sips his coffee again.

“Well that’s nice of her to give you the day off, then after the eighteenth are you off work for holidays?” Harry asks.

“Yup,” she nods, “I get two weeks off, back into the swing of things on the fourth of January,” she states.

“Sounds nice,” Harry says with a smile. “I’m jealous you guys have an office Christmas party, my label only really does something for a select group of people. Whoever made them the most money, honestly,” Harry exclaims. What he doesn’t mention is that he had been invited, and has been for the past three years due to his songs hitting it big on radio or on the charts and causing some big ripples for the artists career that had bought them.

“Sounds like the party wouldn’t be all that fun then,” Y/N notes, tilting her head to the side as she watches Harry make his way into the living room and takes a seat on the couch. She tucks her feet up just under her bottom, resting her mug on her knees but still keeping both hands on it of course.

“I’m sure yours is a lot more fun,” Harry nods in agreement.

She should ask him to be her plus one then. But she hesitates, unsure of how he would see her invite. Would he think she’s trying to make it a date? So soon after her break up? Would he think he was being played as her rebound? She would then have to try and cover up that it wasn’t a date, that they could just go as friends, but then she’d sound like she was friend-zoning him and she really didn’t want that. So, while she’s all in her head about what to do, Harry decides to take a chance.

“Did you want to go for a walk around Central Park?” He asks, looking hopefully into Y/N’s eyes. “We can skate there, I’m sure you’ve been but their rink looks like it would be nice too,” Harry suggests.

Her lips tug up into a smile, “yeah, I would love that,” she pauses as her heart pitter patters in her chest at the sight of Harry smiling back at her. “After breakfast though, I’m starving,” she says, being a bit dramatic. But it makes Harry chuckle, which is exactly what she hoped for.

“How do you feel about some chocolate chip pancakes then?” Harry asks, raising a brow as he sits up straight again and mentally goes through the recipe in his head. It typically doesn’t have pancakes, let alone chocolate chip pancakes, but he has a feeling Y/N would like them. Her love for sugar being obvious by now.

“Love them,” Y/N says with a smile still on her lips.

Where did this perfect man come from? Y/N finds herself thinking as she watches Harry get up from the couch and walk back into the kitchen. He sips his coffee as he walks before setting it on the counter.

“I can help if you’d like,” she offers, raising her voice slightly so she knew Harry could hear her.

But Harry dismisses the idea quickly and tells her to just sit back and relax. Any bets on how much longer it took for her to fall for Harry? Y/N thinks, biting her bottom lip as she watches him bend over, peering deep into his fridge as he moves things out of the way in search for whatever he needs. His bum looks rather nice from this angle, she finds herself shamelessly checking him out. Her guess was that it wouldn’t be much longer at all till she fell for him.

“Did you invite him yet?” Sammy asks, biting on his pen as he leans back in his chair. They were waiting in the conference room, along with everyone else that held a higher position at her work, for Amanda to join them and start their final meeting of the year.

“No,” Y/N replies. She shrugs her shoulders and picks at the corner of her notebook.

“And why the hell not?”

“I don’t want to make it weird, bringing him to a work thing and have to explain to everyone how he’s just a friend even though I wish he was more,” she tells Sammy, eyes still on the torn up paper on the table in front of her.

“Well if you don’t invite him then you’re missing the perfect opportunity to make it more than a friendship,” Sammy states, giving her a side eye before he just rolls them and leans forward in his seat again. He leans towards Y/N and looks into her eyes, letting her know he means business. “Talk to him tonight, invite the poor man, and get out of your own head. You don’t have to keep yourself waiting because of what Mark did when you have what you truly deserve right in front of you. Harry makes you happy, I can just tell by the way you smile at your phone or when I see you ditched hanging with me to hang with him and his friends instead,” he says the last bit with sarcastic bitterness.

Y/N lets out a deep breath through her nose and licks her lips. Her brain is running a million miles an hour. As it has been for weeks now, since she met Harry honestly - she just likes him that much. At first she tried to deny it, and last weekend after her sudden break up with Mark she tried to convince herself again that she needed to keep Harry as a friend. But now, now she just wanted him - all of him, all of the time.

“Okay,” Y/N nods.

Sammy’s lips spread up into a wide smile, the look of excitement clear on his face, but to add to it he pumps a fist into the air. Y/N just rolls her eyes and laughs at him. Amanda enters the room soon after, starting up their final meeting of the year. She goes over numbers, stats, comparing last year to this year, and even promotes a few people. Thankfully, Y/N and Sammy are in their ideal positions now, so they never have that nervous feeling of going into a year-end meeting praying for a promotion. But Y/N still grins and claps for her colleagues who are working their way up in the company. After going through some minor details for their annual holiday party tomorrow, Amanda dismisses the team and Y/N is soon after heading home for the day.

Don’t be a pussy. Ask Harry to come to the holiday party or else. Sammy had texted her after they parted ways at the subway. Y/N bit down on her bottom lip, reading over the texts again as the elevator sounds a soft ding! and she walks out onto the sixth floor. Y/N confidently walks on her platform Doc Martin boots passed her own apartment door and right to Harry’s. Lifting her free hand, the other holding her Starbucks holiday drink, she knocks four times on the door before patiently waiting for him to answer. Her heart is beating so loud she can practically hear it ringing in her ears.

Harry answers the door after a few moments, his eyebrows pulling together at the sight of Y/N on the other side. While it’s a delight to see her, they hadn’t planned to hangout at all - so he’s rather surprised to see her standing before him. Y/N smiles and Harry’s quick to mirror it.

“Hey,” she breathes out, the same bundle of nerves that have been with her all day seeming to not relax in the slightest.

“Hey,” Harry smiles, “what’s up?” He asks, leaning against his door.

“Um,” Y/N pauses and closes her eyes, opening them to look at the floor before she takes a deep breath to meet his gaze again. Oh no, Harry thinks, feeling nervous since answering the door as he’s unsure how to take in her nonverbal cues right now. “So, you know that holiday party my work’s having that I mentioned?” Y/N questions, when Harry nods she doesn’t leave another second of hesitation slide by her before continuing. “I was wondering if, maybe, you’re not busy, if you wanted to come with me,” she stumbles out her invitation.

Harry’s truthfully a little surprised by her inviting him. His eyebrows now raised up his forehead as he processes her words. He immediately wants to say yes, obviously. Besides his clear as day feelings for Y/N, he also saw her as a friend too and he would love to accompany her for anything she asked him to.

“Everyone gets a plus one, and I can’t imagine bringing anyone else but you with me. Also, Sammy is practically begging me to introduce you two already,” Y/N exclaims as it seems Harry was in his head for too long. He smiles at her statements. First, blushing slightly at her comment about how she couldn’t imagine inviting anyone but him, and then holding back a chuckle at her mentioning her friend Sammy.

“It’s tomorrow, right?” Harry asks, half to just be sure and half to delay his answer to jokingly stress her out a little maybe.

“Yes,” Y/N nods, biting on her bottom lip for a moment. When Harry’s eyes fall to her teeth nibbling on her pink lips she notices and stops, butterflies present in her stomach at the thought of Harry thinking about her lips.

“I think I’m free,” Harry teases. He brings a hand to his chin, looking up at the ceiling in a joking manner as if he’s pondering what else could be on his schedule for the day. Y/N knows that he’s not doing a whole lot these days, but for all she knows he could have already had things planned with his friends. But Y/N can’t lie - she’s happy to hear he hasn’t.

Y/N chuckles and reaches forward, smacking his arm that’s resting on his chin with a gentle force. Harry chuckles along with her and stops his act as if he’s really thinking about if he can accept her invitation or not. Y/N lets her arms fall back to her side again and smiles, looking into Harry’s dazzling eyes as he smiles back at her. They stand there in his doorway, smiling, for a few beats of silence before Harry tells her.

“You’re going to have to help me with an outfit though,” he says, “there is no way I’m going to a party in New York City that a ton of fashion obsessed people will be at, without your help,” he states. Y/N chuckles again and nods, bringing her Starbucks cup to her mouth slowly.

“I can do that,” she says, tilting her cup to have a sip of the warm liquid.

“Okay,” Harry nods, “and what time will you be picking me up for this date?” He asks jokingly, although a big piece of him is hoping she won’t deny that it’s a date.

Y/N smiles, feeling a blush creeping onto her cheeks, “like, six-ish,” she tells him.

“Sounds good,” Harry says.

“Good,” Y/N nods, a smile still on her lips, “I have to go now though, I have a few presents for my coworkers I need to wrap and some last minute phone calls to make to get things all set for tomorrow,” Y/N explains, taking a few slow steps backwards while her eyes are still glued to Harry’s.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Harry says, his smile never flattening either.

“Yes,” Y/N nods, her stomach in a fit of butterflies as she realizes that she really just invited him to her work party.

Turning on her heels, she hears Harry close his door, and walks to her own apartment to unlock the door. She did it, she’s going to be bringing Harry to a work function - this was kinda big, she realizes, but she’s too excited to worry right now. So, instead she turns on her Christmas playlist on her TV, after she steps out of her shoes and hangs up her coat, and sings along as she sets up her little workstation to wrap a few presents.

Y/N has been running around like a chicken with their head chopped off all day. She was determined to have this holiday party be perfect. Harry was her plus one, she imagined things going so well between the two of them tonight. But then things started to go south the moment she walked into the office this morning and Amanda bombarded her at the front doors, “we were double booked” she had told Y/N. Turns out their location for their party tonight was double booked and the other function had already paid off the business to let them have the space. Therefore having Y/N scrabbling for a place to have this party.

“We should just have it here,” Sammy suggested.

It was a last resort suggestion, but in reality it could work. The building their office was in had a decent sized room that was used for conferences and such. And after calling the building staff they learnt it wasn’t being used, so they started working on getting that set up.

Y/N was on the phone for hours, making sure the catering and bar services company they hired knew the relocation, and having them show up on time to get the set up going too. Then she was downstairs to help the decorations team replan their set up before she was literally running down the streets to the Target in order to buy new table clothes that would fit the tables the building provided. And somehow, with a little blood and sweat and a few tears shed too, Y/N made it happen.

She lets out a loud deep breath and looks at the room around her. The shimmering lights hanging down from the ceiling, perfectly placed so they wouldn’t hit anyone in the head but still looking very dreamy. There’s one wall full of fresh wreaths, some huge and some small, with matching red ribbons and ornaments on them. It’s picture perfect and Y/N already had taken a short video of them as they were setting it up to post on her Instagram. The way the plain white tablecloths she had bought earlier were now styled with more fresh pine that was used for the wreaths, with a few candles on each table and more red Christmas ornaments too, it all just looked so good. She especially loved the large real Christmas tree that she and Sammy took the time to decorate that sat in the far corner of the room by the gorgeously decorated bar that stretches along the back wall. Overall, it’s fashionable, Instagram worthy, and perfect.

Y/N is about to tell someone hired for the event to add a few more beaded garlands around the entryway when her phone rings. She gives the young woman a smile and holds up a finger while producing her phone that’s in her jean pocket. Looking at the screen she sees Harry’s name at the top, which causes a flutter of butterflies in her stomach. She smiles and swipes a finger across the screen to answer his call.

“Hey,” she says, walking away from the people that are rushing around her to finalize the party.

“Hey,” Harry breathes out. Y/N can hear the nerves in the one word. She furrows her brows and begins to worry that maybe he can’t make it anymore, suddenly feeling very upset at the thought. “You’re late,” he states. Y/N’s brows pinch together further and her eyes narrow.

“What?” She questions.

“Well, it’s almost six, and you’re supposed to help me pick something to wear, but I understand if you can’t or don’t want to. I’m sure I can figure something out, but don’t want to make you look bad by bringing a badly dressed bloke to your party,” Harry explains, catching himself sounding a bit needy. He didn’t need her to help style him for the holiday party, but he wanted her opinion of course.

“Oh my god what time is it?” Y/N gasps, asking Harry the question but really more asking herself as she realizes time has slipped by her in the whirlwind that was relocating this party.

“Um, quarter to six,” Harry tells her.

“Shit, H, I’m sorry, I haven’t looked at a clock in hours, I’m still at my office. We had to work fast and relocate the party for tonight, I’ve been so busy I didn’t even realize,” Y/N explains, her eyes searching around the room for either Amanda or Sammy or really anyone that could take over for her to hurriedly get ready.

“Oh, it’s okay, not a problem really,” Harry says, tapping a pen on the notebook that’s in front of him. He had been caught up a bit with his own work too, writing a song.

“Okay,” Y/N sighs, “game plan, you can send me pictures of some things you can wear tonight, I’ll give you my opinion, and then I’ll get ready here and are you okay to meet me in the lobby at seven-thirty?” Y/N asks, finally locking eyes with Amanda across the room.

Amanda’s eyes are wide at the sight of her, arms thrown up into the air as she’s confused as to why Y/N is still here - Y/N may have told her she had to meet up with her new plus one. Amanda was just as excited to meet Harry as Sammy was, damn gossiper had gone and told Amanda all about Y/N and Mark’s breakup and about Harry now too. Y/N had glared at Sammy as Amanda asked a million questions about Harry earlier.

“Okay,” Harry nods, “I can do that, did you need me to bring you anything or are you all set at your office?”

Y/N smiles at Harry naturally asking her if she needed anything from him. “I’m good, I’ll just text you the address and let me know when you’re on the way, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry echoes.

“Okay, I have to go, I’ll see you soon,” she says. Harry says a goodbye before she hangs up the phone just as Amanda is walking up to her.

“What in the world are you still doing here? I thought you were supposed to leave like an hour ago to go get ready and meet up with your new man?” Amanda questions. She is dressed for tonight's festivities, wearing a sparkling silver gown that fit her like a glove. Her hair is out of it’s usual low ponytail and is pin straight. She looks amazing, of course.

“First,” Y/N points a finger, “not my new man, by any means. And second, I got caught up helping with some issues with catering and then I was fixing some lighting issues. I’m going upstairs to get ready, and Harry is meeting me here,” she tells Amanda.

“Go, go,” she shoos her off, “steal a good dress from that room of broken dreams.”

Amanda is referring to the small room upstairs in their office that holds many pieces from over the year that clients didn’t fit, didn’t like, or just simply didn’t get to see. Y/N nods, having already planned to go there, and rushes away to get upstairs and get ready. As she opens the door to the room full of clothing Harry texts her a few pictures of items in his closet he has for tonight.

Her eyes are glued on her screen, attention taken away from her finding something the moment she sees Harry’s name. There’s a black suit laid on his bed in the first picture, the idea of seeing him in a classic black suit and tie has her feeling some type of way, but it’s not the look for tonight. She swipes to the next photo and likes the cream and light blue vertical stripe button up shirt but not the deep purple trousers he paired with them. But in the next picture she really likes the fun look to the trousers, like a sort of grandpa’s sweater vibe with browns and whites in an interesting square pattern. Completely ignoring the black shirt he had paired with it, she texts him back.

Shirt from the second pic and pants from the third one! Trust me! Lol. And here’s the address, she types quickly, sending him her location, before pocketing her phone and turning to the first rack of clothing. Immediately she grabs for a light blue Gucci suit jacket. It would go with Harry’s outfit perfectly, she thinks with a smile, putting it to the side for him. She remembers the suit was too big for a certain younger actor who was hosting SNL last week, Timothee something or another, if she’s remembering correctly.

Y/N goes through what feels like is a hundred dresses, pantsuits, and everything in between before she finds the one she likes. It’s her size, thank god, and isn’t too shimmery and crazy like she feels everyone else will be dressed like. It’s a bit of a darker blue that the colour of the suit jacket she had pulled aside for Harry, with thin straps and a tight torso that had wires for under his boobs for a built in bra type of look. It ends just above her ankles and is embroidered with beautiful beads and stunning flowers and leaf designs. But with a bit of a scandalous look as the embroidery isn’t as crowded near the bottom of the dress and leaves her in a sheer fabric. Overall, she just really enjoys how it looks and feels - and truthfully, she can’t be too picky with such little time to finish getting ready now.

It works out perfectly as she looks over herself in the washroom on the main level, fluffing her hair that she had curled and touching up her makeup, Harry texts that he’s just about to walk inside. Hurrying through out of the washroom, she walks out into the lobby, the black heels she had taken from the heap of shoes upstairs click along the floor as she waves hello and smiles at the people around that she knows. There would be just over a hundred people in attendance for their party tonight, not too big but not too small either, and she was happy to see all the familiar faces she’s gotten to work with over the year. But, there is one face in particular she’s most happy to see.

Only Harry’s not alone. In fact, she shouldn’t be all that surprised to see her best friend had managed to single him out in the small crowd that was waiting to get into the conference room she’s spent all day setting up. She sighs and makes her way towards them, smiling at another colleague that gave her a quick compliment as she passed by. Sammy caught her eye first, noticing how she’s glaring at him but he only smirks back at her.

Then Harry shifts, looking over his shoulder at whatever Sammy is looking at, and he pauses at the sight of Y/N only a few feet away. Holy shit, Harry thinks to himself as he takes in how she looks. The dress fits her flawlessly, accentuating her curves and causing Harry to shamelessly check her out. She’s always beautiful, stunning really, but tonight she looks like she should be a runway model. He feels a bit underdressed beside her, even though she picked out his outfit, even just a jacket would make him feel a little less casual at this event.

“You look,” Harry pauses as he struggles to find the right word. Y/N has stopped now in front of him, hands fiddling with her small clutch resting in front of her. “Just, unbelievable, wow,” Harry finally breathes out. His words cause a warm blush to creep over his face, her eyes falling to the floor to catch his black boots on his feet, as she hides away her grin.

“You look really good, too,” she tells him, although her words are far less swoon worthy than his words. It still causes Harry to smile too, his stomach doing a few flips.

“And how do I look?” Sammy asks jokingly, breaking their moment as they both turn to look at him. He’s smirking and holding out both arms, showing off his sparkling gold suit jacket that he’s worn with some black tight suit pants and a black button up shirt. He looks good, obviously, but Y/N shoulders shake as she chuckles at her friends behaviour.

“You look marvellous,” Harry compliments him with a smile, Y/N looks at Harry and shakes her head.

“Oh, he’s good,” Sammy notes, pointing a finger at Harry but is looking at Y/N. “If you don’t keep him I’ll take him, like that little feeling I get in my stomach when he speaks, hm,” he hums, winking at Harry for good measure too. Both Harry and Y/N chuckle at her friend. Suddenly someone is calling for Sammy’s attention, and of course, he answers to it right away and leaves Y/N and Harry to themselves.

“I’m sorry about him,” Y/N says as they face each other once more, “Sammy can be a lot to handle,” she adds.

“He wasn’t that bad,” Harry assures her.

She hums and smiles, narrowing her eyes at him playfully. “I find that hard to believe, but alright,” she says, “oh! I have something for your outfit,” she mentions, grabbing his arm gently to guide the way to the building's front desk where they had set up a coat check.

Harry’s in his own head about how she so naturally grabbed onto him, her delicate hand wrapped around his arm before dropping down to her side again as she approached the line that was for coat check. He furrows his brows, confused if she was going to ask for the jacket he had brought with him, but instead he watches as she walks around the tables and helps herself to the rack of jackets. She pulls out a light blue suit jacket and smiles over it at him, watching as his eyes widen. He knows the jacket, it was a part of Gucci’s line last season. He had browsed through some Vogue article and loved the colour immediately, how did she know?

“It’s just sitting upstairs, unworn, and it deserves some attention,” Y/N explains, holding it out for him.

“I can just wear this, tonight? No fee?” Harry asks, finding this situation a little unreal honestly.

“Well,” Y/N gives him a smug smile, “how about your fee is a dance with me, later,” she bargains.

“Oh, there will be plenty of dancing, of course,” Harry says. He takes the suit jacket off the hanger, passing the empty hanger back to Y/N and then puts on the jacket. Shrugging his shoulders a few times to get it to sit right on his body, but boy does it ever fit him well. Like it was made for him, honestly. Cause my god does it ever look good on him, Y/N thinks as she watches him straighten out the jacket till it feels comfortable. Harry looks up to see Y/N staring at him, her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. He smirks, dimples popping up for show, and it causes Y/N to snap out of it and turn to put the hanger away. She then takes the few steps forward to Harry and smiles while looking up at him.

“You look phenomenal,” Y/N tells him, upping her previous compliment from before. Harry’s heart swells at her words and he extends his bent arm, for her to hold onto his forearm.

“Shall we?” Harry asks, motioning for her to grab onto his arm and walk into the now open doors to her party.

“We shall,” she smiles and puts her hand on his arm to let him guide them into the party she spent all day preparing. Y/N can’t help but notice the looks the people around them are giving her, a few smirks from other girls - with obvious jealousy on their faces. It makes her head spin, realizing that she’s about to be the talk of the office all because of the hot guy on her arm. Little do they know, he’s a lot more than how good he looks in this light blue suit jacket.

It only takes an hour before the rest of the people at the party realize that Harry is more than that pretty face of his.

He charms the socks off of every single person she introduces him to. Not to mention that Sammy is basically attached to his hip, begging for the attention, and Amanda has given Y/N a thumbs up every chance she’s gotten. Which she’s currently doing from the sidelines of the dance floor as Y/N is dancing around with Sammy, Harry and a few others now a few hours into the party. Y/N chuckles, the few tequila drinks making her feel a bit giggly, as she throws her head back and sways to the music. Harry’s watching her, admiring how carefree she looks as she dances to the music. Not an ounce of worry of any judgement from her coworkers around her.

“Y/N,” a colleague of hers comes up, putting a hand on her arm to get her full attention. She smiles as she meets her eyes. “Merry Christmas love, I’m going to head out with my husband, who very much loves your new boyfriend by the way,” she explains, mirroring Y/N’s smile. Harry is distracted, dancing with Sammy, and thankfully doesn’t hear her comment.

“Oh! He’s not my boyfriend,” she informs her, for probably the third time tonight. But her older colleague, Heidi, is rather forgetful when she has a few glasses on wine - something she’d learnt over the few years of working together. “Also, I have a present for you, just wait here and I’ll go get it and be right back I promise,” Y/N assures her, giving her a pout for good measure.

Heidi sighs but is still smiling, “fine, I’ll wait,” she nods.

Y/N is walking passed Harry, causing him to pinch his brows together and reach out for her. Through the night they didn’t leave each other's side, even when one of them had to use the washroom they let each other know. His hand is gentle, grasping onto her arm as she’s about to walk away, and pulling her to look his way. Y/N matches his look of confusion but smiles at the little pout on Harry’s lips at the sight of her leaving the dance floor without him.

“Where are you going?” He asks, bending his head down closer to her. His breath is warm against the skin, his lips mere inches from her ear. A chill falls over her as she looks back into his enchanting eyes.

“Upstairs, I need to grab something,” she states.

“Oh,” Harry pauses, “okay,” he says, still looking into her eyes. They were so beautiful, she’s so beautiful.

“Did you want to come with me?” Y/N asks. She doesn’t know why she does, maybe because she doesn’t want to leave Harry’s side for a single second or maybe her buzz from the tequila is making her brave. She imagines some alone time with Harry for the first time tonight would be nice.

Harry nods and slowly lets his hand drop from her arm to her hand. Their fingers intertwining like it's natural, ignoring the wide eyed look from Sammy, and Y/N leads the way out of the room and into the lobby. Harry thinks she’ll drop his hand once they reach the elevator but she doesn’t. It’s like a volcano of butterflies has erupted in his stomach. Feeling bold, he brushes the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand a few times as he inhales her sweet smelling perfume as she stands so close to him while waiting for the elevator doors to open.

Every moment they’ve had together tonight has been amazing, the same longing looks and full smiles between them but were always surrounded by others. Seems Y/N is rather popular at her place of work, everyone wants to hang around her and he’s been introduced to more people than he can count. Although Y/N did whisper in his ear “Sammy and Amanda are the only ones you really need to remember”, thankfully. But he really is having a good time as they enjoyed a quick meal at the beginning of the night, talking amongst the people at their table, then when that was finished up the wine was replaced with harder alcohol and things got pretty wild. Turns out these New Year City fashion obsessed people knew how to party and it wasn’t all gossip and trends with them. Harry was finding himself laughing, dancing and feeling more free than he had in quite a while. And maybe the tequila drinks he’s been sipping was helping, as he actually ended up liking Y/N’s drink of choice.

“Everyone loves you,” Y/N states, breaking the silence just as the elevator opens and they step inside. Harry smirks and lets her step up to hit the button inside, using her free hand as they still are holding each other. Their hands hang in the air as she steps forward, hitting the button, and then steps back to be right beside him.

“Glad my charm could be of use to impress your coworkers,” Harry says, making Y/N smile but rolls her eyes as she squeezes his hand that still holds her. They’re holding hands! Don’t freak out! Y/N is internally screaming at herself.

“Cheeky,” Y/N teases, using his word back at him finally. Although all those times he’s texted her ‘cheeky’ or ‘cheeky girl’ she does get butterflies in her stomach.

“Oh really?” Harry questions, huffing out a chuckle while raising his eyebrows.

Y/N laughs and Harry pulls on her hand that he’s holding to bring her even closer to him. Their sides touch, her bare arm brushing against the suit jacket, and she swore a spark of electricity shot through them as they were now leaning against one another. She looks from their feet, toe to toe, to how her bent knee just barely strokes against his pants, then looking at their conjoint hands - Harry still rubbing his thumb against her warm skin every once in a while - all the way up to meet Harry’s eyes. His face is so close, only a few inches away from hers. Y/N’s breath gets caught in her throat, her lips parting as she inhales slowly while looking into Harry’s eyes. Are they about to kiss? Both Harry and Y/N’s thoughts are swarming with the idea of their lips pressing together and sharing their first kiss right here, right now in this elevator-

A sudden ding! causes them to blink out of whatever trance they were in. Y/N turns her head to watch the doors open onto her office floor, only a few dim lights are kept on during the night hours so it looks a bit different than during the day. Harry’s only watching her though. Taking in every inch of her lips. The curve of her cupids bow, the pout of her bottom lip. How good the red lipstick still looks even hours later since their night has gone on. Oh how he wants to mess up that red colour, smearing it with his own lips, he’s in his head with many thoughts as Y/N tugs on his hand to bring them out of the elevator and into the main area of the office.

She has to let go of Harry’s hand to enter in the code to the main doors for their office that are frosted glass, beside the large desk that their secretary answers calls and logs in clients entering for any appointments. The sleek look from the large frosted glass doors and all white marble flooring and white desk compliments the big block letters of their company name that have neon lights behind it. Currently the colours were red and green, glowing with full holiday cheer as Y/N loved so much.

Harry’s watching Y/N, her slight sway to her body as she pushes open the door and holds it open for Harry to walk through. He nods and smiles, then let's Y/N lead the way. While her office floor is all very exciting and professional, he’s more focused on Y/N. She’s talking about how she had bought some gifts for her coworkers and got so busy today she forgot a few. Harry was in awe of her and how she managed to pull off the relocation of this party so quickly. Amanda and many others were praising her all night, which Y/N would only respond by shaking her head and brushing off their kind words. He admires that about her a lot, how she is confident but doesn’t let people’s praises go to her head by any means.

As Y/N is walking across the room to her desk, something catches Harry’s eye. He pauses, double checks that Y/N isn’t watching him, and then leans over to the bulletin board at some random desk. With one swift movement he rips it off and then quickly stuffs it into the pocket of his jacket before he turns around to find Y/N at what he assumes is her desk. It’s a large white desk, up against the floor to ceiling windows, it’s quite the view - but, again, his eyes are only on her.

“Okay, so this one’s for Heidi, and then this one is for her and her husband,” Y/N is rambling aloud as she reaches under her desk for the few last presents she had. The only other one was for Sammy, so she should bring it down with her too to catch him before either of them leaves.

She stands up straight again, putting the presents on the desk when she looks over her shoulder at Harry. He’s staring, which isn’t new, but it still makes her smile and her head to spin knowing that his eyes always seem to be on her. But it’s the mischievous smile across his lips that brings Y/N to a stop, pinching her eyebrows together as she tilts her head to the side.

“What’s with the look?” Y/N asks, getting right to the point.

Harry raises a brow and jokingly says, “what look?”

Y/N just rolls her eyes and hums, pushing her hair over one shoulder as she turns her body towards Harry. She crosses her arms over her chest and Y/N doesn’t miss how his eyes drop to her movements for a split second before meeting her eyes again. She feels like she’s on fire under his stare, the burn so deep within her only blazing when he licks his lips. This is it, this is the moment, Harry thinks before he can second guess himself. He takes a step forward, standing so close to Y/N that the toes of their shoes touch and she has to look up into his piercing stare now.

Y/N notices him reach into his pocket, and then just as quickly, he takes his hand out and holds it above them. She furrows her brows, looking up to see something green between his fingers. Her heart stops, her breath getting caught in her throat as she inspects the item more. But when Harry clears his throat, her attention falls back into him. His beautiful green eyes look a bit nervous, it’s adorable, Y/N thinks.

“Can I kiss you underneath the mistletoe, Y/N?” Harry asks, his voice in that now familiar and warm low tone.

Y/N is pretty sure Harry can hear her heart beating out of her chest right now. She stares back into his eyes, feelings for this man hitting her like a wrecking ball. Y/N has never felt something so strong for someone before. And Harry standing here, holding mistletoe, asking to kiss her, it by far one of the most romantic things ever. Unsure she can find her voice, Y/N settles with nodding her head twice and never letting her eyes fall off Harry’s. His lips turn ever so slightly upwards, smiling, before he takes a deep breath and leans forward and both their eyes flutter shut as the moment they both have dreamt of is becoming a reality.

When their lips finally touch it feels like time itself stops around them. Like no one else or nothing else matters in the world but them in this moment right here. Y/N’s heart hasn’t settled one bit, and her knees feel weak as Harry’s free hand gently touches her hip to steady them both. She tries to ignore the touch and instead focus on how soft his lips feel against hers. The feeling flares the burn she feels around him and only amplifies at how addicting his kiss is.

But it was clear, Y/N and Harry both could never dream up a kiss was perfect as this one. Harry’s pure raw emotion that he feels as he decides to pull back from the kiss, to look at Y/N with his eyes only half open, he just had to make sure he wasn’t imagining any of this. But she’s just as beautiful with her swollen lips and half open dreamy eyes as he had thought.

This time Y/N pulls Harry down by wrapping both arms around his shoulders, nudging his head down to meet her halfway and get lost in their kissing again. Harry now is clenching the plastic mistletoe in one hand while both his hands curl up at her hips. With every second, every smell of her rose perfume filling his nose, he’s sure he’ll wake from this dream at any time. The twisting in both their stomachs don’t settle as the kiss continues, Y/N’s lips parting slightly as she breathes out a small gasp when they both pull each other even closer.

Their bodies are basically molding into one, Y/N’s hair falling into their face as she tugs him even closer if it’s possible. But Harry quickly reacts and brings the hand without the mistletoe up, carding his fingers through her locks and bringing the hair away from their moving lips before he rests his hand on her cheek. The only reason that they both pull apart the second time is because they need air - both their chests are heaving against one another as they struggle to catch their breath.

Y/N could never describe the sensations she was feeling in the fleeting second after their kiss. She opens her eyes, looking at Harry’s chest as it rises and falls in quick motions, before she slowly raises her gaze. There’s a pit in her stomach, feeling a bit nervous to meet his eyes after such a passionate kiss. So she takes her time, her eyes scanning over Harry’s face. His sharp jaw, clenching as he watches her. She smiles at the sight of her red lipstick just faintly smudging against his own lips. Finally, she lifts her eyes and meets his stare.

“Amazing,” Harry breathes out, his breath fanning over her lips.

“Breathtaking, actually,” Y/N corrects him, lifting her lips into a bit of a cheeky smile. Harry huffs out a chuckle and smiles, squeezing her side as he lets his hand drop from her face. He seems like he might step away, but Y/N doesn’t want their little bubble to burst quite yet. So she pouts and rubs her thumb over the side of his neck slowly. “Kiss me again, please,” she says in a soft voice.

“Always, darling,” Harry tells her and brings both his hands up to cup her face, tilting her head back just slightly in order to place his lips over hers again. Their kiss only last for another moment before Y/N gets a sudden prick to her cheek, causing her to break away and furrow her brows.

“What the-?” Y/N pauses as she takes Harry's hand and uses her fingers to pry back his own. A giggle passes her lips as the sight inside his hand. She takes the plastic green leaves and red berries. Rolling her lips into her mouth, she tries to hold back the laughter bubbling inside of her.

“What?” Harry questions, letting Y/N take the mistletoe out of his hand.

“Harry,” she sighs and looks up at him, “this is holly, not mistletoe,” she explains. It’s a common misconception, truly, but it only makes the moment they just had all that more special.

Harry’s cheeks heat up instantly at her words. Pure embarrassment washing over him as he didn’t even realize his mistake. His whole big romantic gesture now in the ruins because they kissed underneath holly not mistletoe. Harry shakes his head and reaches for the holly in Y/N’s hand, but she moves faster and closes her hand around it - not caring that it pokes her palm. He is the one to pull together his eyebrows now, meeting her eyes.

“No, it’s okay,” she admits to him, placing the holly carefully on her desk without looking away from Harry’s eyes. “I don’t care that you made a common mistake, don’t beat yourself up about it,” she says, bringing her free hand to brush against his warm red cheeks. “It was-” she pauses and lets out a deep breath, “you’re perfect, H,” she says.

“No, you are,” he declares, meeting her halfway again to crash their lips together once more.

thanks for reading, please reblog/leave some feedback if you enjoyed it! until part 5 😘

*like this post if you’d like to be added to the cstsyl taglist!*

#harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles series #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #1dff #cstsyl #OK AT FIRST I HATED HOW THIS PART WAS TURNING OUT BUT I ENDED UP SAVING IT??? I THINK?#pls feel free to talk to me about it!! and remember to like and reblog :)

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firstofficerwiggles · 4 years ago

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Chapter 5: How the Paintball Battle Was Won

Links to Chpt. 4 , Chpt. 6

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: T

Warnings: Canonical violence, PTSD for the reader, angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: ~6400

Author’s note: So this chapter gets more angsty, but I promise it is sandwiched in there between some humor and some serious fluff along with some Domestic!Din thrown in there for good measure. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter! (Also, smut is coming in the next chapter for those of you who are thirsty for it.)

“Paintball?” You look up at Mando in surprise, “Isn’t this a game for teenagers?” He’s brought you to a dusty town on Baros with a few hole-in-the-wall cantinas and a sleepy looking marketplace in the middle of nowhere to play paintball?

“I wasn’t sure if it would still be here, but they’re open,” Mando sounds chipper. “I haven’t been here in years.”

“You used to come here and play paintball?” The idea seems ludicrous, that Mando, a seasoned warrior and top bounty hunter, would be playing a game that requires shooting brightly colored balls of paint at your opponents.

“When I was younger and first in the Fighting Corps, we trained here on Baros for a time. We used to sneak out when we had breaks between training sessions to come and play with the local kids.” Mando’s voice sounds nostalgic and happy as he remembers his youth. “I’m sure now that our commanders knew what we were up to, but it gave us additional fighting practice, so I don’t think they minded.”

You try to imagine Mando as a teen boy stealing away with his friends from a probably rigid training schedule to play fake war games with other kids. It’s a charming thought, but it’s hard to picture when you look at the man now. But he’s right, it would have been decent training too… oh, now you understand.

“This is so I can practice shooting live, moving targets.” You’re on to his plan.

“What?” Mando is all innocence, “I just thought since we’re here, we ought to have some fun.”

“I know you think I can’t tell, but I feel you smirking at me under there.” You tell him pointing towards the helmet.

Mando simply chuckles at you and gives your hand a tug towards the entrance.

“What about the baby?” You ask, hoping to stall a little, “He can’t play paintball.”

“He’ll be safe in his pram, and you’ll have a chance to practice protecting him too.” Mando replies. He’s clearly thought this out.

“That might be too advanced for me to focus on shooting targets and guarding the child,” you tell him.

“Yes, but I’ll be here to help you.” His voice sounds warm as he tells you, “You’re going to be great, c’mon.”

The owner of the paintball place seems delighted to see Mando and tells the rest of the patrons in the prep area that they are in for a real treat today. Most of the other people here are teenaged boys, but you’re surprised to see a couple of adults here too including a few other women. Perhaps you were too quick to judge. The teen boys are in sheer awe of Mando and after they openly gawk at him for a few minutes, they’re pestering the owner to find out if they can request that Mando be on their team.

“Teams will be by random draw as always, although people paying together will automatically be put on the same team unless they request otherwise.” The owner tells everyone waiting. “Now, please enter the locker area to suit up and stow away personal belongings.”

You’ve been given protective gear and a helmet to wear to ensure your safety during the game. While the paintballs aren’t lethal, they can still hurt quite a lot without protection. Mando watches as you gear up, and when you’re done you can’t help but goof around and strike a model pose.

“How do I look?” You can still manage to make flirty eyes at him, as although your helmet covers most of your face, the visor only has light tinting so your eyes are still quite visible.

“You’re adorable,” he tells you. It’s been a little over a week since your trip to Canto Bight and your first Keldabe kiss with Mando, and he’s been growing more affectionate with you, particularly with compliments. He’s still rather shy about physical affection though, almost as if he thinks he’s limited to only a certain number of touches a day.

“Ok, everyone, let’s go over the rules.” The owner calls everyone to his attention and reviews the rules of the game, which are basically, if you get shot three times in a ‘critical target area’ as indicated on your protective gear, you are out of the game.

“Today’s game is your basic brawl. The last team with the most players remaining when the buzzer sounds will be the winners. However, we have a special guest and special rules that will add to the challenge!” The man gestures towards Mando, “If you want to take out the Mandalorian, you need three hits somewhere not on the armor, and good luck with that!” The man says it in such a way that he’s confident no one will be able to get Mando out of the game.

Before the game begins, you check on the child to make sure he’ll be ok. He has his favorite silver ball and a couple other toys with him in his pram, and you’ve tucked in few snacks that he likes in case he gets hungry.

“Ok, sweetie, you’re going to play with your toys and keep the pram closed until Mando or I open it,” you tell him. He coos at you in response and you give his nose a little boop before securing the pram.

“Here, put this on,” Mando hands you a metal wrist cuff with various buttons, “It’s linked to the pram like my vambraces, so that way the child will follow you wherever you go.” He quickly shows you how the buttons operate.

You and Mando get assigned to the red team and are issued paintball guns filled with the appropriate colored balls. There are three teen boys, a man, and another woman on your team. The teen boys are vibrating with excitement at being on Mando’s team; they keep calling him ‘sir’ and asking for ‘battle advice’. Mando is very kind to them, and answers all of their questions in a serious manner. It’s quite sweet really, how nice he is to them, but you’ve noticed that’s generally who he is, so long as that person cannot be perceived as a threat. With your team agreeing on Mando’s plans for the battle, followed by a loud war cry whoop from the boys, you head out to your designated starting positions.

Your adrenaline is pumping and when a loud bell rings out to indicate the start of the game, you’re almost as keyed up as the teenagers around you. Mando’s plan calls for your team to be on the defensive and wait for the other teams to come to you, allowing you all to maintain better positions and hold on to better cover for as long as possible. It’s a good plan and fairly soon, some of the teen boys from the green team have charged over to your area recklessly, making them easier targets. You get off a couple shots, but your nerves get the best of you and you miss wildly. Fortunately, only Mando seems to notice as your other teammates are on target and dispatch the boys without anyone on your team getting hit.

“It’s alright, just breathe,” he tells you, “Remember you’re a good shot, I know you are.” He places a hand between your shoulders and rubs lightly to help calm you down. He points towards something moving in the bushes to your right and taps your shoulder. You can see another player advancing towards your position.

“Aim your weapon, take a deep breath,” Mando instructs you, “and shoot.” You pull the trigger and watch as your paintball splatters bright red on the other player’s chest plate. You remember quickly that you need two more shots to eliminate your target and so you shoot again. It ends up taking you five more shots but in the end, you’re victorious.

“I actually did it!” you squeal a little in delight and Mando gives your waist a small squeeze.

“Great job, cyar’ika!”

Hmm, there’s that foreign word again. It’s the second time he’s said it to you, and you think it must be Mando’a but you haven’t thought to ask him about it yet. You’re about to say something when a yellow paintball suddenly bursts on Mando’s left pauldron. You instantly whip your head around and fire off shots in the direction of the shooter. A sudden fierceness overtakes you in your determination to take out the player. You channel all your focus into your aim and once again, you are successful, only faster this time.

“That was even better,” Mando tells you, and your heart soars at his praise. He hasn’t even bothered to take a shot yet, he just seems content to watch you.

The game continues and it seems that the other players have caught on to your team’s plan, which leads to a break in the action. Everyone huddles together for a moment, and you realize the rest of your team are waiting for Mando’s instructions.

“So, Mando, what do we do next?” you ask him.

“What do you think our strategy should be?” he counters.

“Well, it seems like we’ve taken out quite a lot of the green team, so I say we head towards the yellow team’s area and try to lower their numbers more.” You figure this is the best way to ensure that your team will have the most active players in the end.

“Why don’t we finish off the green team first? You know, get them while they’re weak,” one of the other players suggests.

“No, her plan makes the best sense,” Mando says in support of your idea, “If we want to be the winners, we have to make sure the yellow team has more casualties.” There’s something about the way he says this that gives you a sense of pride. He’s not just going along with your suggestion because he likes you, it’s because he trusts your judgement and he agrees with it.

You set out in an attack formation as directed by Mando in search of the yellow team. He’s stationed you towards the rear of the group allowing the child’s floating pram to stay behind you, meanwhile he’s positioned himself at the front as an attractive target. You don’t love the idea of Mando making himself the bait, but you recognize that his strategy is logical as the challenge of taking out the Mandalorian will be too tempting for the others to pass up on and thus it should be easier for the rest of you to hit them.

The plan works perfectly and as a barrage of paintballs are launched in Mando’s direction, your team begins methodically targeting the yellow team. You try not to watch as more yellow paint splashes onto Mando’s beskar, because each time it does you feel a spike of irrational anger, how dare they shoot at your Mando. As for himself, Mando is finally shooting off paintballs of his own, but you get the impression that he’s doing so rather leisurely, like he’s not really putting in too much effort. Must be taking it easy on everyone.

Things seems quiet for a moment and you turn to check on the little guy’s pram. It’s still closed up and he’s safe and sound. You’re just turning back to look over your shoulder when a green paintball hits you in the side, right where there’s no padding. It’s surprisingly painful and you double-over, grasping at your side. Mando’s reaction is swift. He quickly dispatches the green shooter and then rushes over to you.

“Are you hurt? Do you need help?” His voice is full of concern.

“I’m fine,” you wheeze out, “just stings.”

“Take a moment and breathe,” he says as he tucks his left arm around you to hold you close to him while he proceeds to keep shooting with his right. It suddenly strikes you as incredibly attractive how he’s managing to comfort you and still fight at the same time.

You can’t keep yourself from telling him, “Maker, you’re hot.”

“What?” He looks down at you for a second, a little surprised.

“Nothing, I’m just impressed by you.” You laugh a little and pull away so you can go back to the game.

The game continues for a while longer and you’re astounded by how much you’ve gotten into it. You no longer feel nervous about shooting at other people and you’re caught up in wanting to help your team win. You get hit a couple more times, but luckily they manage to miss the critical targets so when the buzzer sounds, you’ve managed to be one of the ‘survivors’. You run over to Mando to assess his ‘damage’ and while he has yellow and green paint splotches all over his beskar, he has only one green spot on his arm in the unarmored section near his elbow, which means that no one managed to successfully remove him from the game either. After a brief count, your team is announced as the victors by just one player. Your whole team cheers and exchanges high fives as you congratulate each other.

“See, I told you it would be fun,” Mando leans down close to you, “You were great, I was impressed too.” He brings his helmet down to touch the crown of yours.

You don’t have a chance to say anything back as the teen boys are at Mando’s side begging him to take a holophoto with them. Mando dutifully poses with the boys as you help out by acting as the photographer. You pull out your own holopad and snap a few holos too for your own enjoyment later.

You return to the locker room to get cleaned up and back into your regular clothes. You’re securing your holster belt with its real blaster when you realize again how thankful you are that Mando’s gone out of his way to help you learn so much about fighting, even to the point where he found a way to make sure it would be enjoyable.

You head over to where he’s cleaning the paint off his armor with a bucket of water and some rags. It must be a bit hard to do though because there’s no mirror to help him see all the areas that need to be cleaned. You pick up one of the rags.

“Have a seat and I’ll help you get cleaned up,” you say as you motion to a bench.

“Thanks, it’s hard to do without being able to take it off,” he tells you.

He sits with his legs akimbo and you step between them to get better access to the beskar. Fortunately, the paint washes off without much effort, but there’s so much of it and you want to be sure to get it out of the small ridges and furrows of the armor.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you tell him as you clean, “It really was fun and I think you’re right, it was good training.”

“You’re welcome,” Mando says warmly, and he brings his hands up to your hips to pull you in a little closer. He leaves his hands there as you move to clean his helmet and begins tracing little patterns with his thumbs. His touch is simple, but it makes you feel so fluttery inside. You look down at his visor and give him a little smile as you wipe a streak of gloopy green paint from the crown of his helmet.

“It drives me crazy when you look at me like that,” he tells you with his hands tightening on your hips.

“How am I looking at you?” Your smile widens.

“Like you have a secret and you’re daring me to find out what it is,” he says, his voice sounding deeper.

You chuckle, and as you finish cleaning his helmet you drop your lips down and give it a kiss, “Is that so?” you ask in a coquettish tone and you give him a wink.

Mando groans at you and pulls you in closer, “I’ve had enough being in public, let’s get back to the Crest,” he says. His words and the timbre of his voice fill you with dark excitement, and you nod your head in response.

You bid goodbye to your teammates and hurry out into the street, heading in the direction of the ship. You’re only a short distance from the Razor Crest when you hear a laser bolt whiz past you. You draw your blaster and turn towards the source of the bolt where you see five armed men bearing down on you, Mando, and the child. “Hunters!” Mando shouts to you as he returns fire.

Another blast comes from behind you and you whip around to see three more shooters trying to box you in. Like Mando, you shoot back, your fight mode coming out in full force. You manage to shoot one of the hunters in the chest and you see him fall. You don’t dwell on it though as you scan the area for a possible escape route. You feel Mando tug on your sleeve as he gestures to the left where you can see a small side street. You rush towards the street as fast as you can while Mando provides cover. You’re still wearing the wrist cuff from before so the baby’s pram is following after you. You feel a sharp burning sensation in your side and it almost knocks you to the ground, but your determination to get away is stronger and you push your legs to keep you running.

The narrow street spills out into a broader avenue that is now bustling with activity. You bump into people as you try to get away and it makes you stumble. You look around wildly for help but everyone seems oblivious to your distress. The baby’s pram is still right with you and you’re relieved to see it’s still closed up tightly. But where is Mando? You thought he was right behind you but now you don’t see him anywhere. You turn back to the narrow side street when you see one of the hunters come barreling out of it. He fires several bolts in your direction, one of which ricochets off the pram. People scream and scatter. A primal protectiveness surges within you as all you can think about is how you won’t let this man hurt your child and so you raise your blaster and shoot him twice in the chest. He falls to the ground, but something in you won’t let you stop. You keep moving toward him until you’re standing over him and then you shoot him in the head to make sure he can’t hurt either of you. You should probably feel guilty about killing him, but you don’t. You look down the street, worried that you’ll see another hunter heading your direction, but it seems quiet. You pant as you try to catch your breath and now you realize just how badly your side is hurting, you think it must be from before where the paintball hit you but when you look down you see your shirt is soaked with blood. You sag against a building as you realize you’ve been shot. A woman sees you and hurries over to help,

“We have to get you to a doctor right away,” she’s saying.

“Wait, I need Man-, I need to find Man- Mando.” The pain is making it hard to speak.

“It’s alright, your child’s pram is right here.” She doesn’t understand.

You sway on your feet and she quickly places an arm around you to help you walk. “Don’t try to talk, dear,” she’s telling you as she drags you towards a medical clinic. Everything is getting blurry and you fight to stay upright. When you make it inside the clinic, someone immediately pushes you towards a gurney and you collapse on it just before you black out.

Din is desperate to find you and the child. When he sent you down that side street, he succeeded in taking down most of the hunters. But one particularly large man, a Clawdite, had managed to tackle Din. That allowed another hunter to slip by and head down the street in pursuit of you. After stabbing the Clawdite, Din quickly trails the other man. His head is filled with worse case scenarios but when he finds the body at the end of the street, a sense of relief comes over him. It’s short-lived, however, when he realizes neither you nor the child are anywhere to be seen. Din can feel true fear rising in him that perhaps there were others and maybe you were both captured, when he remembers the wrist cuff he gave you and the tracking device he installed within it. He breathes a sigh of relief again when he pings your signal and realizes you’re nearby.

Din tracks your signal to the medical center, the sight of which makes his blood run cold because if you’re here that means that one of you must be hurt. He rushes inside but before he can ask anyone about you or the baby, he hears a frightened scream and then your voice shouting,

“NO! NO! Get away from me! NO!”

Din is back in full combat mode as he hurries towards the sound of your terrified voice. He finds you in a room with a round floating medical droid trying to administer an injection. You are curled up on the floor in a corner of the room with your hands over your face as you cry out in fear. Din shoves the droid out of the room forcefully before carefully approaching your huddled form.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright, it’s me, it’s Mando,” he says as he tentatively reaches out to you. “The droid is gone, and I’m here.”

You sob something that sounds like ‘Mando’ and launch yourself into his arms. You’re still crying hard when you get out the word, ‘baby’. Din looks around the room and thankfully he sees the child’s pram. He manages to reach the open button on his vambrace and the pram’s dome opens up to reveal the little one safe inside. The baby looks concerned at your distress and he lets out a sad-sounding coo.

“He’s alright, cyar’ika, the baby is safe, you did so wonderful protecting him.” Din holds you and runs a hand over your back, and he continues to whisper soothing words trying to calm you. A noise at the door causes him to look up and see two nurses there who are trying to figure out what all the commotion is.

“Sir, who are you and why is this patient out of her bed?” one of the nurses asks indigently.

“She’s terrified of that droid, you can’t let it near her again,” Din says, scooping you up in his arms and helping you back to the bed.

“Alright,” the other nurse says in a kinder tone, “but you can’t be back here unless you’re family.”

“I’m her husband,” Din snaps, knowing they won’t argue with that, “Now can someone tell me what happened?” His voice is demanding and rough.

“I’m sorry, sir, your wife was shot in the side,” the kinder nurse explains, “She’s lucky because the bolt missed her vital organs but she will need some time to heal. The droid was only going to give her a bacta shot.”

“She’s scared of that droid,” Din repeats, “Can’t one of you give it to her?” His tone of voice makes it clear that it’s a demand not a request.

“Maybe she’s just scared of the shot,” the indigent nurse says, a slight scoff to her tone.

“The shot is fine, just please not the droid,” you manage to say in a weak voice. You look at Din as you explain, “The Empire used medical droids for torture.”

Din remembers how you told him you were punished by the Imps when they discovered your sabotage, but you’ve never gone into details about that punishment. He has some idea now what they must have done to you, and why seeing another droid like that would cause such a negative response.

“No more droids are to come into this room,” Din instructs the nurses.

“Of course, sir, I’ll give her the shot myself,” the kinder nurse tells him, “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Din turns back to you and reaches up to smooth the tears from your cheeks. “It’s going to be okay, I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you.”

“Will you please stay with me?” you ask and you grip his hand tightly as if he might disappear.

“Nothing could make me leave you,” he says as he caresses your face.

A soft whine floats over to Din and you from the pram as the little one wants to know what’s happening. Din steps away from your side to quickly pick him up and bring him over to the bed with you. At first Din tries to just hold him close to you, but the child isn’t satisfied with that. Instead, he quickly climbs out of Din’s arms and onto the bed to nestle up against your chest, he then reaches up to touch your face with his little hand.

“Hi, buddy,” you say softly, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Din watches the two of you as a vast sense of gratitude washes over him; he’s so very thankful that you both are safe now and no lasting damage has been done. He holds your hand again and brings his helmet down to your head allowing him to watch over you and the child as close as possible.

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

Several hours later, you are doing much better after the bacta shot has done its work and the medical center releases you to go home. Din swipes a hoverchair and quickly steers you back to the Razor Crest; he insisted that you shouldn’t walk all the way back to the ship. Once on board again, he gets you safely tucked into your bed still with the child cuddled up against your side. The little guy refuses to leave you alone and even demanded to ride in your lap on the way back to the ship instead of returning to his pram.

With the three of you safely in space, Din returns to the hull. He’s pleased to see you’re resting comfortably as you talk softly to the child and he sets about to prepare some dinner for the three of you. It’s been hours since any of you have eaten and he’s sure you must be hungry. Din’s not as good a cook as you are, but he tries to add the little touches that you do for him like cutting up the fruit and arranging it on a plate, and adding honey to your tea the way that you like. When he brings your dinner over to you, he notices that the child has managed to use his powers to bring several of his stuffed toys over to your bed and he seems to be arranging them around you for additional snuggling.

“You’re doing a great job as a caregiver, buddy,” Din tells him chuckling.

“I keep telling him he’s being so sweet sharing his plushies with me,” you respond with a soft chuckle of your own.

Din helps you sit up, before handing you the dinner tray.

“Do you need help eating?” He asks concerned.

“Nah, I’m fine, Mando,” you tell him, “Really I feel much better; I don’t think I need to be in bed anymore.”

“You’re staying in bed for the rest of the day, and probably tomorrow too,” Din replies pointing his finger at you the way he does when he disciplines the child sometimes.

“Yes, Nurse Mando,” you reply cheekily.

“That’s right. Now eat your dinner before I feed you myself,” he says with a nod of his head.

After you’ve eaten, you’re still sitting up in bed and now you’re playing a little with the child and his plush toys as you tell him a story. Din can hear in your voice though that you’re tired and even though he knows you are doing better, you need your rest.

“Ok, kiddo, I think that’s the end of story time.” He comes over and picks up the child despite his little whines of protest.

“It’s alright,” you say softly.

“No, you need to get more rest,” Din tells you, “Besides, it’s time to get this guy cleaned up before he goes to bed.”

You can hear the sounds of water running in the fresher and Mando saying “Don’t look at me like that, she needs to rest so she can get better,” and it makes you smile. Both of your guys are being so sweet as they take care of you. You stretch back out against your pillows and close your eyes, and before you know it, you’ve drifted off to sleep.

When you awaken a while later, you see Mando sitting on a crate near your bed reading something on his holopad. He’s taken off his armor and is now more relaxed in his undershirt, trousers, and helmet only.

“Mando, is everything alright, what are you doing?” You’re surprised he’s not in bed himself or up in the cockpit where he’d be more comfortable.

“I didn’t want to leave you alone in case you needed something,” he tells you.

“That’s very sweet, Mando, but you must be getting tired,” you say.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he replies. You know he can go for long stretches without sleeping, but it’s really not necessary now. Maybe there is a way you can get him to rest at least.

“You could come lie down with me,” you suggest and give him a small smile.

“There’s nothing I’d like better, but you’re hurt and you need to rest,” he says, but it’s clear from his tone that he’s tempted by your offer.

“I won’t do anything more than just cuddle with you, I promise,” you counter, and you give him the flirtatious look that you know he likes. It works like a charm and although he lets out one of his long-suffering sighs, he’s standing up and moving towards the bed.

“Alright, we’re just going to cuddle and you are going to rest and try not to move too much.” Mando may be trying to sound stern, but there’s an eagerness to his movements that gives away how much he wants to join you in the bed.

He lies down next to you on his back and puts his arm around you pulling you close to his side. You shift your position so that you can place your head on his chest and rest your hand on his stomach lightly. This way you can lie on your good side and take any pressure off the side that needs to heal. As you settle into him, Mando lets out a sound of contentment making his chest vibrate beneath you.

“Thank you, this is nice,” you tell him, “Plus, you’re so warm and cozy.”

He chuckles at that and rubs his large palm across your back, “It’s getting to where I can’t say no to you.”

“I see no problem with that,” you reply and you give his chest a kiss through his shirt.

“Mmm, I bet you don’t.” His chest rumbles again pleasantly against your cheek.

“Mando, I didn’t get a chance to really thank you earlier, but I want you to know you really helped me back at the med center.” You hope he understands how important he was for you in that moment.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, I could see how terrified you were and I knew you needed me.” Mando says softly and pulls you tighter to him. He pauses and then asks you, “When you said you were punished by the Imperials, did they… torture you with the droid?”

“Yes,” you tell him in a flat voice, “It would give various shots to induce different types of pain. It was horrible. Seeing that droid today felt like being back there, back in that terrible place. I- I don’t want to talk about it too much.”

“I understand,” Mando tells you, “I hate droids… well, there was one once who wasn’t so bad, but mostly I hate them.” His voice is gruff as he tells you this.

“Why do you hate them?” you ask.

“My home was destroyed by droids,” he says, “Everything was gone, my town, my friends, my parents, all killed.”

“Oh, Mando, how awful,” Your heart breaks for him, “That’s devastating. I’m so sorry for you.”

“I was only a child, and I would have been killed too if not for the Mandalorians who rescued me,” he explains.

“You were a foundling too,” you say softly.

“Yes,” he replies.

You’re quiet for a bit as you stroke his chest in a soothing manner. You know he’s supposed to be comforting you, but you want Mando to know that you’re here for him too. He brings his other hand up to cover yours. You realize that his glove is off and for the first time you are touching his bare skin. Your breath catches in your throat at the sensation and you revel in each tiny movement that he makes as he slowly explores your fingers with his. His hand is large and warm, and you marvel at how delicate and gentle he is as he touches you.

“You skin is so soft, cyar’ika,” he murmurs to you.

“Thank you,” you say softly, but then you can’t help but ask, “What does that word mean, cyar’ika?” He’s called you that a few times now and your burning curiosity can’t wait any longer.

Mando chuckles lightly, “Aren’t you the code-breaker? What do you think it means?”

“Oh, I see, a linguistic challenge, hmm?” You’re willing to play along and you take a moment to think.

“Well, you’ve used it in place of my name, so it could be a nickname, but based on context, I’d say it’s a term of endearment.” You lift your head up to look at him as you propose your theory.

“What do you mean?” He questions, intrigued.

“Well, if it were a nickname, I think you’d use it more frequently, and by my count you’ve only said it four times, which makes me think it must be more special than just a nickname. Plus I know you’ve said my name more often than that.”

“Oh?” He sounds amused.

“Yes, and when you said it was important too,” you explain, “Twice you said it when I was very distressed and you were sure to use a calming tone, but then, the other two times were when you gave me a compliment, and those times, you had a more romantic tone.”

He’s laughing openly now and shaking the whole bed as he does. Oh no, you’ve nerded him into hysterics, “Sorry, am I being too analytical?” you ask him sheepishly.

“No, no, I love how logical you’re being, cyar’ika,” he emphasizes the word again and his voice is caring as he tells you, “I’m impressed and entertained by how you think. I had no idea how much thought you’d put into it.”

“Well, am I correct though?” You’re still dying to know.

“Yes, you are,” he says between chuckles, and you smile up at him in response. He calms down a bit and then tells you, “It means sweetheart.” His voice is deeper as he says the word in Basic and you feel your stomach flutter in delight.

“I like that, Mando, I like it a lot; it’s such a beautiful word,” You wish you had a term of endearment for him that would sound even half as beautiful.

“Din,” he says to you.

“What?” you reply confused.

“My name is Din, Din Djarin,” he introduces himself to you, “I’d really like for you to call me by my real name.”

“It’s an honor to know you, Din Djarin,” you reply in as warm and loving a tone as you can, trying to show him how much it means to you that he’s sharing something so personal.

“The honor is all mine, cyar’ika,” he tells you and he squeezes your hand to punctuate his words, “You mean so much to me, I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

“I feel the same about you, Din.” Lying in his arms, it’s easy to tell him how you feel, and you realize how much you want him to hear it. “I was so worried when we were separated today, but when you found me, and I knew you were there, it just felt right, like I knew everything would be all right.”

Din pulls you in closer, hugging you as tight as he can without hurting you. He feels your arm snake around his waist to hold him tighter too and he feels a sense of true serenity. It’s a new emotion for him or at least one he hasn��t felt since he was very young. The two of you stay like that for a long time and as he listens to your breathing, he thinks perhaps you’ve fallen asleep. He relaxes his hold on you and thinks that maybe he should try to slip out of the bed so that you’ll rest properly, when he feels you stir.

“Din, will you teach me more Mando’a?” you ask, your voice sounding dreamy.

“Yes, but not tonight, you need to sleep,” he says softly but firmly.

“Ok, good,” you reply with a small yawn.

You settle back in to the bed a little and pull up the blankets around you more. Din starts to pull away from you little by little, but you’re having none of it and you grip him tighter.

“Are you trying to leave?” you ask, sounding only a little pouty, “Don’t you want to stay and cuddle?”

He sighs, “You need your rest, and I’m distracting you from that.”

“I’ll rest better with you here,” you insist.

“I’ll stay if you promise to go to sleep now,” he replies.

“Ok, I’ll go to sleep.” You’re quiet for a few seconds, but then you whisper to him, “Din?”

“Yes?”

“Goodnight,” you whisper, “I hope you sleep well.”

“Cyar’ika?”

“Yes?”

“Stop talking.”

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

Thank you so much for reading! Continue to Chpt. 6 Where no Mando Has Gone Before. If you’d like to be added to the tag list, just let me know!

By the way, do you all remember that droid from a New Hope that gave Leia the shot? That’s the one I was thinking of when I came up with how the reader was punished by the Empire. That thing gave me nightmares for weeks when I was a child.

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