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dongofthewolf · 4 years ago

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Slowly Learning That Life Is Okay

Abby Anderson x Fem!Blind!Reader

Sweet sweet fluff about fear of intimacy where Abby rescues the reader and they unexpectedly become closer.

Requested by @rianncreates

Warnings: swearing, fluff, minor violence(?), cute gay shit :)

A/N: I am not visually impaired but I really tried my best to write a character whose lack of sight doesn't define them. I wanted to portray how our differences don't define us; we're all connected in a way (as cheesy as it may sound), and it makes me sad to see small things like not being able to hear/see divide us.

Ever since you were a kid, people have always had a hard time looking you in the eyes. Due to your condition, they appeared hazy and almost grey; something that made a lot of people uncomfortable. In fact, most people don’t even know it, but you can actually tell when someone is turning away so they don’t have to face you. There’s a certain recognizable sound when someone purposely looks away to avoid affording you the basic decency of eye contact, and it’s dehumanizing as fuck. It didn’t matter that you weren’t completely blind, it was enough that you were still alienated from the rest of the world. They didn’t see you as a person, to them you were your blindness–it defined you. It’s the reason people were afraid to interact with you, why kids were always so cruel to you, and why you always kept people at an arm's-length. That is, until you met Abby.

Abby was unlike anyone you had ever met; she was the first person who saw you—truly saw you. While most people knew her to be Isaac’s top scar killer, you knew her as the girl who tended to your wounds after she found you patrolling the city. She was the smell of pine and fresh rain that filled your senses, and her voice was like a soothing ailment when she calmly reassured you that everything would be fine.

In the WLF infirmary, Abby never left your side. It’s not like your injuries were super severe or anything, but she stayed with you regardless. She wrapped your arms with fresh bandages when they needed changing, and got you desserts from the cafeteria using her connections to Isaac. After a few days, you quickly learned that the two of you had a lot in common and soon she was visiting you almost every day.

It’d been a month now and you’ve officially made the WLF stadium your new home. You and Abby were sitting in your room while she read to you with that same lovely voice. It had become a habit now; Abby had read to you in the infirmary, and ever since then she's been coming over so she can share all her favourite books with you. She was just starting a new chapter when you interrupted her. “Abby?”

Abby instantly stopped reading, and you could feel the bed shift as she sat up to face you. “What’s up?”

“Can I ask you something?” You were nervous. Although she had been nothing but kind to you, you didn’t want to ruin what happened to be the closest friendship you’ve had in a really long time.

You could hear her smiling as she answered. “Anything.”

You hesitated; you’d never normally do this with anyone else, but you trusted Abby. As you sat there contemplating your next words, Abby gently took your hand before continuing with that same reassuring tone she had used when you guys first met. “Hey, you know you can always talk to me right?”

Her hands were so warm. It was such a small detail that most people probably wouldn’t notice, but for some reason it was all you could think about in that moment. They were rough and calloused from years of combat but whenever she touched you, it was delicate and light. It was as if she was afraid that she would hurt you, even though you knew she never would. God, why can’t you think straight while she’s holding your hand like that? Fuck, it shouldn’t be that hard.

You struggled to get the words out, like something in your chest was weighing you down. “I just… I don't want things to change.”

“Hey, nothing you say could ever push me away. Okay?” Abby was softly caressing the top of your hand with hers as she set the book aside.

“I was wondering if I could…” Fuck, how were you supposed to say this? You paused trying to decide how to word it, but it still came out wrong. “feel your face?”

Abby didn’t respond, and if she hadn’t been holding your hand then, you would’ve thought she had left. After waiting for what felt like a whole five minutes (but was probably closer to thirty seconds) you were starting to get nervous. “Abby? You still there?”

Your voice must have snapped her out of it because she responded immediately. “Yeah, sorry I just… I was expecting something a lot worse. Like you murdered some kittens or something.”

You giggled at the sincerity in her voice, relief flooding through you. “Kittens? God Abby who the fuck do you think I am?”

“I don’t know! I thought you were admitting some deep dark secret.” Abby nervously laughed along with you, her hand never leaving yours.

As you both settled down, Abby shakily brought your hand to her cheek, silently signalling to you that it was okay. You hesitantly caressed it, softly stroking the lines of her cheekbones with a smile on your face. Your hand then slowly moved up towards her forehead, your fingers tracing the scar above her eyebrow. The scar was thin like from a blade or a scrap piece of metal, and you couldn’t help but wonder how she had gotten the scar–wondered how many scars she had gotten after years of fighting in that senseless war.

You’d never say it out loud because the WLF had saved your life, but the war with the Seraphites was unnecessary and quite frankly, useless. All of the so-called “sacrifices” being made for the sake of some fucking land was just stupid and greedy.

You weren’t really a religious person–especially considering the whirlwind of shit you’ve been through–but if this whole virus was a result of some higher being thrusting humans into extinction? You couldn’t blame them. All these survivors were granted a second chance to better themselves, thousands of people by some miracle had survived the outbreak, only for them to revert back to the same tired, old ideology of war and power. You supposed that even after all these years, humans never really change.

Your fingers moved slowly back down, passing the bridge of her nose and her Cupid’s bow before reaching her lips. They were soft and parted slightly when you reached for them, but she still didn’t move.

Abby stayed incredibly still as you took your time feeling her face, exploring every crevice—every detail of her subtle features. You could feel a stray strand of hair hanging next to her face, so you lightly brushed it behind her ear before bringing your hands back down to rest on your lap. But before you could fully pull away, your hand brushed up against something rigid and stiff. It took you a moment before you realized that you were touching her huge bicep, and you were astonished at her strength. It also took you a minute before you realized that you were literally feeling up her muscles, causing a sudden heat to rush towards your cheeks as you quickly retrieved your hands.

“Oh um… sorry I didn’t mean to- I mean I didn’t realize-” You tried to get the words out but you couldn’t. “Fuck this is awkward.”

Abby chuckled watching you get all flustered from touching her arms, and then out of nowhere it slipped out. “God you’re adorable.”

Then there was a pause, you weren’t sure you had heard her correctly but from the way her laughing suddenly came to a halt, you were sure she had just said what you thought she did.

“Uh, shit. I should… I should go.” Abby began standing up but before she could, you reached out and grabbed her arm. You pulled her towards you again, tracing your hand back towards her cheek as you gently cupped the side of her face with your palm.

“Don’t go.” Abby’s cheeks grew warm under your touch. You wanted more than anything to tell her how you feel–how you’ve felt for her since the moment you two had first met.

After spending so much of your life consumed by this irrational fear of abandonment and intimacy, you had let someone in. You lowered the barrier that you had spent so long building because of her. And of course it was easy to assume that you liked Abby just because she was one of the only people you hung out with, but it wasn’t like that. Abby wasn’t like the rest of your friends or family because she was never overbearing; most people were quick to treat you like a child or some helpless creature, but she never did. She gave you space when you needed it, but she also never made you feel lonely. Her presence was calming and comforting. Abby gave so much and expected nothing in return.

The possibility that your feelings for her were reciprocated made your heart flutter, but it was also really scary. This was entirely new territory; relationships were never a priority for you by any means, especially since survival has always been your prime concern. But now that you’ve found asylum here with the WLF—with Abby, you were safe. You were free to live, free to enjoy the prospect of a somewhat normal life, and you better believe you were going to take full advantage of this newfound normalcy.

You leaned in towards Abby, your foreheads touching and your lips just millimeters apart. As you placed both of your hands on her cheeks, Abby stayed impossibly still as her nose softly grazed yours. Abby’s hands landed on top of yours as she held them against her face, securing them there like she was afraid you would leave.

Then–as if it wasn’t the most terrifying thing ever–you kissed her. It was delicate and gentle, and you nearly cried because of how perfect it was. And although you had just felt her lips with your fingers, nothing compared to how they felt against yours. They were so soft you wanted to melt into them, and in that moment you nearly did. Your body involuntarily leaned into her, your arms falling against her broad shoulders in an effort to support yourself, before slowly moving to wrap around the back of her neck, pulling her even closer. All that built up tension from weeks of spending nearly every day together suddenly dissipated the moment you closed that gap, and those tears that had previously threatened to fall suddenly did. Small teardrops fell from both your eyes and wet your cheeks, causing Abby to pull back slightly as she wiped them with the pads of her thumbs. “What’s wrong?”

You gave her a small smile as you chuckled slightly. “Nothing, I just… I really like you Abby.”

As soon as the words fell out, Abby laughed softly before embracing you for a kiss once again. When the two of you finally pulled apart Abby spoke again with that same heavenly voice of hers. “I really like you too Y/N”

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson imagine #the last of us imagine #request #abby anderson #abby tlou #fluff #fxf #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #me simping for abby's arms #yes i quoted take on me #and what about it

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boogiewrites · 4 years ago

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Burning Star

Chapter 1

Characters: Din Djarin/The Mandalorian / Reader / You

Summary: Din Djarin is a long-time associate and friend. When faced with the truth about the creed he's taken, doubts begin to grow in his mind about his choices. He comes to you, looking for a confidant and he finds more than he bargained for. Begins latter part of S2, porn with plot. A growing romance between two characters that thought of themselves as solitary creatures now wanting to no longer be alone. But with The Mandalorian being who he is, things can never be so simple.

Warnings/Tags: Sexual Content. Dry humping. Confessions of feelings. Hurt/Comfort. Touch Starved.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

You couldn’t recall the exact BBY you’d met The Mandalorian. But then again, you weren’t even sure of your birth year, so dates tended to blend into one another in your memory. You recalled every encounter though, every mission he’d asked you to assist him on, the times you’d healed him and his ship, and especially the time he’d come to your planet for refuge with a strange but endearing little green creature. Your small, backwater planet didn’t have much. But that was one of the main things that had drawn you to it. Your parents were nomads, and you’d adopted the same after their death. So you made yourself a home on a green little planet after years of travel. It homed tiny hubs for weary travelers dotted along with the mountainous surface. But the one they called Mando always came to yours.

You had entertained the idea of becoming a Mandalorian after your parent’s death. They were prospectors, planet-hopping and hoping to make a fortune. On one expedition the Imperials decided the planet you and hundreds of others were on was now theirs for the resources. If you want to call it luck, you did live. You were taken in by an orphanage, one of many overrun with children just like you. You were full of anger and hurt and wanted revenge.

You were caught one night, trying to leave, and a woman fatefully saw you and brought you back in, having the first real heart to heart you’d had in your life. With tears in your eyes, you said you wanted the people who killed your parents, dead. You didn’t see this as unreasonable and you still didn't truthfully. You had read about The Mandalorians and were going to join them you’d told her. You were going to learn to fight and be a warrior and take your revenge. Young and full of rage, this was the only thing that made sense. But this woman, who had been watching you knew better than you did. She saw your softness, that capacity for love and sensitivity, and stopped you.

“Do not let their hate make you hard. It’s what they want. You will act recklessly and in their interests with hate in your heart. The only way to defeat evil is with kindness and love.”

It didn’t make sense at the time and when you were in a heated mood you liked to act like it still didn’t. But she was right.

You had previously spent your days reading and learning, drawing the various landscapes your parents took you too and trying to befriend the local fauna. You were a curious child that grew into a curious adult and you had fought hard to keep that sensitivity the woman told you of. So far, it had served you well.

This didn’t mean you didn’t fight. You had to to survive, but when the opportunity for kindness arose you always gave the other being a chance. But if they betrayed that trust you killed them. It seemed fair when it all came down to it. Philosophically speaking, anyway.

You had settled a store for supplies on a long-abandoned mining planet where a nearly extinct mutated species of Nexu lived in the caves under the planet’s surface. You’d protected them for generations now and they trusted you. But they were deadly to anyone else. There were rumors of the mines not being empty, of treasures left behind because they were too tricky to extract. You knew this wasn’t true. You and your toothy, furry associates had explored every bit of the caves that you could find. But that didn’t stop the desperate from trying. This was unfortunately the root of most of the violence in your life. At least you were protecting others in the meantime.

Maybe that’s what drew your Mandalorian to you. He had taken one way, The Way, and you had taken another. You saw in each other what you could have been. He’d given in to his anger and rage when he was young, and you had learned to see past yours. You had the empathy that came from years of self-reflection and control. You had taken different paths, and you both found what was missing in each other. You had the excitement of helping him on quarry hunts on a handful of occasions and he could hide and mend when needed. It was a balance, much like the force you’d read about, and it fell into place without much effort.

Wasn’t it the way that days that began like any other would lead to things you’d never expected? This day was no different. You had previously been most excited about the stew you’d been brewing for the second day, taking your sweet time with an old recipe you’d found in one of the books one of your neighbors had given you. The term neighbor is used loosely as it would be a day's walk, at the least, to the closest person.

The excitement sparked inside your chest as you went out to greet whoever happened to be landing in the field by your settlement. Then you saw the relic hovering above the broken blades of grass. You hadn’t seen a Razor Crest since his and it was easy to know who was going to come off the ramp when it happened upon your humble patch of the planet. You shield your eyes from the burning sun, close this time of the year as the glint off his Beskar armor sends a shock to your eyes.

It was a relief to see you, he thought. Something familiar, consistent, and warm to come back to after the turbulent journey he’d found himself on with the child.

“Hey, stranger!”You call out loudly, waiting for him to be closer so you didn’t have to shout and scare the foul in the surrounding trees. “I know it’s not repairs bringing you in. Your ship is shining like the Bright Star it’s in such good condition. You been on a vacation or something?”

He knew you were joking, his eyes relaxing under his helmet even though you couldn’t see. “Just got back.” his voice hits your ears, the gritty muffle of mechanical filter making it feel remote. You let him approach you, before reaching to hug him. It was something he’d had to get used to, and something you insisted on. After growing close during your time spent on his ship, the trauma bonding of violence and high stakes forced intimacy between two otherwise solitary creatures. For as long as you spent apart, the time picked up where it started when you came back together. Almost dying is hard work, and saving another from it tends to fasten the bond between people with surprising speed.

You had never shied away from him, he’d never given you a reason to. You approached life with an open heart and only shut it to protect yourself when needed. The contact felt soothing despite his hard outer layers. Both physical and figurative. A wrap of strong arms around his helmet, the weight of someone against him, a slight tug down from the height difference. It all felt very sincere, very human to him. At the moment that’s all he was certain about. The helmet hid the troubled eyes that would’ve given him away, and he found himself thankful for it.

“Always good to see you, Manny.” you give him a good squeeze, a kiss to the helmet that you polish out, cooing up at him with attentiveness. You’d refused to call him Mando any longer after one particularly heinous mission. Calling him something everyone else did, something so generic, didn’t fit. So a pet name it was. He’d never had one before. He secretly preferred it. “This Beskar keeping you safe?” you ask, buffing the spot with your sleeve and then patting his chest plate.

“Yes.” he nods. “Except for all the people trying to kill me for it.” You laugh and pat his hard head.

“Can’t blame them. Stylish... strong... beautiful. Just like you, huh?” you give him a wrinkled nose snort and you hear the grunt of amusement and note the subtle nod.

“What I’m best known for. My looks.”

He spoke with such a monotone delivery that his jokes might’ve not landed to someone more fearful and not as knowledgeable of the Mandalorian's personality under all that flash. “Where’s your little guy?”

No sooner than the words were out of your mouth than a gurgle and chirp from a perfectly him sized sack hanging off his shoulders appeared the little green wrinkly friend. “Always close by. Except when I tell him to be. Then he prefers to wander.”

“This goo ball wouldn’t be bad would you?” he tilts his oversized ears and blinks at his father figure as if he’d brutally insulted him. “Never.” you coo and give him little rubs under his jowls. His eyes shut and he happily soaks up the affection. “C’mon. Let's get inside. I bet you’re hungry.”

“He’s always hungry.” a slightly disgruntled Mando grumbles behind you.

“Sounds like you need to eat too.” you retort, hears his heavy footsteps behind you as you enter the humble building you’d built. It was made from the trees that used to fill the little clearing where the landing pad and accommodations were now. They grew fat and had many low, heavy limbs, perfect for construction. The floor was wooden, the walls a mixture of found metal, clay, and beams, same as the roof which made a lovely sound when it rained and kept the harsh seasons out. Dried flowers and herbs hung from low rafters, all part of the long list of things you did to keep yourself busy. You loved making, and your space reflected that. Despite it not being used by anyone but yourself that often, you kept it clean. Shelves and bins as you entered, a small counter for business off the side, a few small tables and chairs on the other side of the large square space with a small kitchen and refresher through doors on the far wall. It wasn’t much, but you’d made it all and it’d served its purpose thus far.

You sit the child down on a table with a cushion in it, letting his round head reach just over the tabletop. He reaches for the flowers in a bottle while you speak and Mando keeps the child's hand from breaking anything.

“Here you go. Been simmering for two days. Broth, meat, and some herbs and veg from the garden. Doesn’t get better than that little one.” You hand him a tiny spoon you’d carved for his equally tiny hands and he makes a confused sound.

“She made that for you, remember? Be nice, use your manners.” he motions towards it with a nod. You watch the child struggle for a moment before giving up and raise the small bowl.

“That works too.” you grin. “You want some? You could get the broth through that absorption accessory I made you.”

“It was destroyed during a mission recently.”

“Ah.” you nod and purse your lips. “I think I have parts to make another.”

He was used to paying for things being made for him. But you and your hobby of tinkering in a little bit of everything had led to a few things that were one of a kind. You’d made a long device that could fit under his helmet to allow liquids to be consumed without removing his helmet. He thought it was thoughtful but it was purely selfish as you were tired of him not eating your food. Before, you had bartered to eat together in separate rooms so you could get feedback. He wasn’t very good at it. Eating to live was his main purpose of doing it at all, not like you that lived to eat.

“Thank you.” is his quiet reply. There’s an easy silence watching the child burp and gulp and making a mess of himself in the process.

“What brings you in this time? You need me to open up the hut? I’ve still got fuel.”

“I’ll refuel before I leave.” You were used to his pauses, but something felt different, you could feel the consideration for his words churning in the silence. “I came to speak to you about something.”

“I can’t tell if this is good or bad.”

“I’m not sure myself.”

Your brow furrows and you lean across the table to engage him. “In trouble again?”

He is still and quiet for another beat. “I found other Mandalorians.”

Your eyes grow wide, “Oh.” you process the information, your surprise clear on your face, you had never been good at keeping control of your expressions. “Is that... not good?”

“We found a common ground and helped each other. But I feel as if I have more questions than I did before. I was so certain before of my standing within the Mandalore creed. I was raised by it, swore to it. And now...”

“What happened Manny?” you reach across and put your hand over his, the child coos at the action. The child could feel emotions, pick up on non-verbal things others couldn’t, and he knew when you were around, his protector was much happier.

“I come from a segment of Mandalorians that broke away from society. They have very different views of The Way. They told me I belonged to a cult of religious zealots.”

“Wow. They didn’t sugar coat that at all did they?” you pat his hand and try to not come off as condescending about it.

“I was not aware of this. This… difference.” you give him a sympathetic smile even though you aren’t sure if he’s looking at your face.

“What do you mean differences?”

“As soon as I met them they removed their helmets.”

“Oh well, yeah that would…” you nod, “That’s a big difference.”

“Have you read about the Children of the Watch? I know you were fond of reading of Mandalore as a child.” he asks with a touch of warmth to his words, as if it made him proud to say it about you.

‘A bit yes. There’s not much about them out there. They’re very strict and secretive. They didn’t want the progressive Mandalorians corrupting what they saw as the true Way. You all believe in being warriors and protecting what’s yours. The helmet thing seems to be the biggest deal.”

“It’s given me… concerning thoughts.”

“Do you mind if I give my opinion on it?”

“That’s what I came for.” his words made you feel special, like you mattered. They didn’t have the tainted burn of someone that wanted to use you or what you for their gain. He came to you to talk. You were flattered.

You turn your body to face his direction, both hands on top of his large, still armored one that he stared at for a moment while you spoke. Watching your hand's flowery movements to accompany your points broke his concentration on them. “I believe this equates to my discovery that I’m not human.”

His attention is grabbed, head swinging up and the child taking notice.

“I am mostly, but I have Cathar in my bloodline....”

It made sense, he thought, he pieced things together, your angled golden eyes, the large swell of hair you styled in various ways, sometimes wild and free and sometimes braided for more function when fighting. Your nails were long and sharp, your teeth a bit pointed as well, he’d never noticed if you could retract them, he thought you’d styled them in that way. Most importantly he could see the strength your ancestors had instilled in you. Even now. You were fierce, proud, loyal, and passionate. It explained your quick temper for those who harmed others for their selfish benefit. If someone had only glanced at you, human would be the general assumption. But if someone took the time to know you as he had, it was easy to believe there was something else in your blood.

“I grew up with what I assumed were humans, but I’ll never know that now. I could’ve been a foundling for all I know. So I had this loyalty to them, what I thought was a bond, a call to be a part of that. But once I came of age and... things started to appear a bit more complicated I went to someone to see what was wrong with me. Turns out nothing, I’m just not human.” you chuckle and shrug, recalling your awkward memories. “I was then left with the questioning of where my loyalty lies. Who was I? Was I Cathar enough to call myself that? Was I human enough to remain within that species, to live and love and fight with them? I was missing such a large portion of who I was, in my blood, I was someone I’d never known. I had so many things I might’ve missed out on you know? Hunting, hierarchies, mating, having family, a pride. We were known for litters, did I have siblings?” you sigh and you feel the sadness well up as it always did when you ponder the unknowns of your existence. “I digress… what I have concluded, and you may take into consideration is that you are in fact, both. Neither is more or less important. They are born of the same thing, they were once one single unit and all future and past components of Manda. You have your war gods, so do they. You have your morals, your duties, your... Way. Even if you were not a Child of the Watch, if you broke those creeds they specified, you are still a Mandalorian. You are not what you speak after all, you are your actions. Both sects believe neither to be a part of the other, but yet they helped you? You help your fellow Mandalorian. It is only a title, The Way is beyond titles, Manny, you know this.”

“I did not know that about you.” was his response.

“There’s far more we don’t know about our fellow man than we do know.” you smile at him and pat his hand. “You are usually quiet and prefer not to discuss frivolous matters. So I don’t bother you with trivia about myself.”

“I don’t believe that you or your beliefs are frivolous.” He pauses a moment, looking at your hand before placing his on top of yours. Both of his now tentatively trying to comfort yours. He didn’t show physical affection, it wasn’t natural to him. You took notice but kept your eyes on the way his hand gently stroked your own as he tried to elaborate the best he could. “You are... very well-read. An… admirable warrior of high morals. Your ideas have helped me with this. I still have concerns...questions. But for the first time since I learned this I feel… better understood.” You could almost feel the pain of him pulling those words out himself to give to another. This wasn’t his strong suit and you knew it. Was it some of the most endearing conversation you’d ever shared? Yes. Did it make your chest ache just slightly with the sweetness he was presenting even though his eyes were hidden? Also yes. He must be hurting, truly upset, and overwhelmed to try to share the burden of it with someone else.

You look back up to him and hold his hands tightly. “You’re very welcome.” you share a connected moment, eyes to the dark void of his visor as your hands move softly and slowly within the others’. “Would you prefer to continue talking about it? Or would you rather us take one of our walks? I think a break might help clear your head.”

“I think you're right .”

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You took the opportunity to carry about the child, stopping to let him feel leaves and touch branches, pinching tiny bites of native fruit for him to experience. It was lovely, the scenery and the company. You kept the conversation light, talking about the books you'd read, the things you’d made, how the local Nexu’s were doing, and what the former guests had been up to. He’d met many of the foundlings that had eventually found their way to you. They had been in the same orphanage as you had. He’d scared most of them, and you couldn’t blame them, but he had always asked how they were when you spoke regardless. The child to him was the first foundling he’d taken in, lived with, cared for, and protected. You had helped with the younger children at the orphanage as you grew up and had taken in a handful over the years. And as children did, they would leave once they felt they were ready or the itch to be free came. You were concerned about how your Mando would take losing his little guy. You could tell they had a strong connection. You walked back both holding one of the outstretched arms of the very slow child, you could see how it was easy to be swept up by the little creature.

You had him care for the child, readying him for bed and getting what was needed out of his ship before locking it down and coming into the small clay and brick temporary home next to yours. It was modest, like yours, built from the clay in the hills you’d gathered yourself and decorated with various stones and tile. It was more than enough compared to what he was used to. A small room for the child to sleep, tucked away safe and cozy and you once again held the father figure and wished him a goodnight up against the cool metal of his helmet. He thanks you for your help, as he always does.

You tell him not to mention it, he’d do the same for you, as you always did. The parting goodbyes were always rather special and tender to you. He would tell you he hoped you found yourself in the favor of the maker, to be safe, vigilant, and that he would see you again. He’d always kept his promise.

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Going without sleep wasn’t something new for him. So sitting in the light of one of the four moons in the sky wasn’t exactly unexpected when you saw it from the dark interior of your home. He knew you were there. He had detected the movement in the building with his helmet without even looking in your direction. He sat on the stone stoop outside, helmet slowly shifting between looking down to the dirt path in front of him and up into the bright sky. It was the only glint off him from the moonlight, he was without his usual covering of Beskar armor on the rest of his body. He was in his black fabric shirt and pants, odd to see him without the visual breaks the shapes of his armor made. He still had his boots and his helmet on. You had yet to see him without them. You put on a robe to cover yourself in your summer-light sleeping shift and decided to see if you can be of any help.

He couldn’t decide if he was relieved or more anxious at the sight of you. He felt naked suddenly, despite all of his body being covered except his hands. He became hyper-aware of the small patch of skin around his neck that was uncovered, the wind tickling and reminding him he was in his most exposed state around someone in decades. You looked soft as you take slow steps towards him across the grassy garden between the buildings. It wasn’t just your loose hair, the free, flowing fabric showing skin he didn’t recall seeing before. The glow of the moon lent him to think he could see the energy around you as you approached and it bounced off your skin. But unlike The Way he was taught, he didn’t think less of you for appearing delicate. He knew better, but it seemed to help make him feel more at ease in his state of what he would call undress.

“Hey Manny.” your voice was considerate like a mother's and full of affection he didn’t feel he deserved. “Would you like some company?” you ask, tilting your head and holding out a small cup of cold liquid down to him. “Brought tea.” you mumble before moving to stand near him, the edges of your robes reaching out to caress the shaft of his boot on occasion.

With his head low, shielding his chin from your view he takes a sip. At this point in his inner monologue, he didn’t have it in him to ask you to turn away while he drank, hiding in the shadows was good enough.

“Put the kid to bed but you forgot to put yourself down too?” you give him a sleepy smile. You hear a long exhale from the filter in his helmet. “Still too much going on in your head to sleep, huh?” you say with a nod, already knowing. You sit your cup on the corner of the small stone landing in front of the door. You kneel before him, settling in and studying him dutifully. You’d never seen him look so vulnerable before, and you were mixed on your decision about how to approach him.

“Yeah. Still too much.”

“I’m all ears if you want to spill.” you offer with upward palms.

“I don’t want to keep you up. You should go back to bed. You were resting before you saw me.”

“And now I won’t be able to go back to sleep until I know you’re okay.”

A small grunt of acceptance comes from the helmet. “I feel angry and it confuses me. I shouldn’t be angry. I’ve made my decisions. Most a long time ago. But I am. I’m trying to practice humility, acceptance. But there’s only anger and this feeling of being betrayed.”

“That sounds normal to me.” you nod in support, thankful he was finally sharing with you what was going on in his mind. You’d had glances inside before, stories he’d told, where his morals lie, but this felt different. “They did help you. Maybe it’s good to focus on that?”

“I’m not angry at them.”

Your brow shows your confusion.

“I’m angry at the Children of the Watch.”

That was different. You understood him being angry at those that called him a zealot and dismissed his beliefs. Despite them being so similar.

“No matter how small of a part of my creed may have been a lie. It was still a lie. Now I wonder what else was a lie. None of it? All of it? I’ve given my life to this.”

“It’s not... simple.” you offer gently, eyes to the ground, not wanting to antagonize him.

“No. It’s not.” you let him think, studying his bare hands. It gave you plenty to do in the downtime. You’d seen bits of him before when healing him, but you couldn’t recall if you’d seen his hands. The warm brown skin was marked with light and dark scars alike from the years of abuse his body had taken. They were bigger than yours, more square and sturdy in comparison. “The things I’ve sacrificed for a lie.” it was almost a hiss, and you feel the burn of it in your chest for him.

“I know it’s not my apology to give,” you say quietly, rising on your knees to touch his forearms, suddenly aware of the softness and warmth underneath your hands as you touched him. There were no bracers to block you or worry about activating, there was just a man under there after all. “But I am sorry about how much this is upsetting you.”

“You are never a source of upset, Jaira.” Your name came off his lips like a whisper. He had so seldom used it. He wanted to reach out and touch your hands, but the thought of skin against his made him more agitated in multiple ways, both good and bad. Your expressive face told him you had known this but thanked him for the kind words all the same.

“Nor you to me, Manny.” you said his name in the same tender way, making it feel almost vulgar as you rest so close together.

He looks away, you can see the gears shifting from his subtle body language. “I believe it’s long overdue… in the interest of exploring the things I’ve sacrificed... you’ve earned my real name.” Your eyes go large, a quick jerk upward as he moves, bravely so, to place his hand over yours. His skin felt as hot as the sun. “My name is Din. Din Djarin.”

“Din.” you say with an unintentionally sickeningly sweet sigh of revelation. You give a smile that grows larger slowly, feeling it reach up into your eyes. “Din. That’s such a… gentle name. I like it.” you insist with a nudge forward of your chin.

“Yours reminds me of a phrase we have in Mandoa.” he looks down, now preoccupied with his decision to touch your hand. It was so giving, warm, and feeling distinctly feminine when paired with his.

“What’s that?”

“I think it would translate best to luck… destiny. Bright stars that light the good course to take.”

Your eyes went wide like a forest animal. You couldn’t help it, it was one of the sweetest sentiments anyone had ever given you. “Say it for me, Din.”

He felt his chest jerk at the word. He wasn’t used to being affected by them. Certainly not his name. “Jate’kara.”

“I’ve not been able to find much about your language. Would you be willing to teach me someday?”

“Of course.” he sounded borderline offended at your statement.

“Did I say something wrong?” you ask with a tilt of your head.

“No, no.” he shakes his head. “You don’t have to ask things of me like they’re favors.” he clarifies. “Whatever you need of me...I’ll do it.”

It sent a flip to your insides. This felt like a lot of responsibility. You could just... request things from this myth-worthy Mandalorian? It was an odd power rush you weren’t truly capable of dealing with in this rather intimate setting. You were close, almost between his knees, hands clasped together and speaking quietly into the warm night air. The condensation ran cool on your skin, the wind leaving bumps over your skin in its wake. The buzz of animals and insects was loud but faded when you were so close and so deep in conversation. If he said you could ask anything of him. Then perhaps you would. Why sit on the intensity of the moment? Strike.

“What is it that is bothering you? You feel... different. Not angry. I’ve seen you angry this is more subtle more...deep. I feel like you’re holding back. What is it that's making you so angry? You are so logical and reasonable in your approach to things. What is it that's so distressing you can't sleep?”

He takes a deep breath. He hasn’t wanted to say and be thought of as simple or even crude. But you'd asked and he was left with no excuse. “There are things that men want...even need that arent considered with The Way. I am a Mandalorian. But I am also a man. I've given so much of myself to being Mandalorian that I've had to deny myself things that are a part of that human side of me.”

“And with learning of the lies, you’re angry because you feel like you've been suffering for no reason.”

“Yes.” a stern answer and a strong nod to accompany it.

You almost lost your nerve, but with the way his thumb kept sweeping across your skin and the voltage it felt like it created with every touch you would’ve cursed yourself if you didn’t ask. “What have you sacrificed unwillingly, Din?”

Your eyes gave you away if your tone hadn’t. His helmet doesn’t move, he is as still as stone, gray, and shining like a polished river rock as he bores into you. “That is a bold question.”

“You have given me bold answers. I return the earnestness with the things I want to know.”

“You want to know these things?”

“I want to know you.” a direct answer and a slight leaning forward to keep him close as if he might run away in fear. Which was the most ridiculous imagery you could imagine. “I always have. I’ve been witness to your good and the bad actions. I’d like to be a bearer of your thoughts tool. I can’t help but want to understand what makes you, you. Of all the creatures and people I’ve met, you are the only one to hold my attention so completely both with and without his presence.”

Your words made for the most interesting combination of occurrences in his chest and stomach. It was fire and ice, a pull to the man in him, and a calling of praise for the life he led. His cheeks burned, a rare occurrence. It had all been a fantasy before now. But you with your fond words and their heated meanings were making them feel more real by the second.

“You do know how to appeal to both sides of me that I’m talking about.” he pauses and observes your face a moment, and no sign of retreat is within your eyes. “There's been no place for the… physical intimacy that men can crave. I am not one to pay, and I don't have the time to put into such efforts that I believe are needed for such… intimate things. They’re as sacred as an oath. I might've not acted that way when I was young. But clarity is gained with experience.”

“I share the sentiment.” a touch of sadness he understood well was in your eyes and it made his chest ache. A being like you shouldn’t know these feelings. A flash of anger lit within him for the injustice in a universe where a woman like you would ever feel lonely in such a way.

“You’ve taken no oath to hold you back from such things.”

“But I have not had the time, place, or person to swear such sacred oaths.” you give a subdued laugh, throwing his words back at him. “Or… at least I didn’t think I did… because I wasn’t sure if they could.” you look away and he sees it. You meant him.

“They can,” he answers, a deep fearless voice emanates from the helmet that holds your entire body at attention. “There are… obstacles to overcome. But they can.”

With a rush of confidence, you move closer, your chest against his legs and your hands on his knees. “Do you know of any obstacle I have yet to overcome?” a smirk that catches him off guard appears, a playfulness to your eyes bright and doting on him makes him catch the fever you were trying to spread.

“No.” a breathy answer through Beskar.

“Then let me help.” you offer. “I have grown so fond of you over these years. I wasn’t convinced you felt the same.”

“I do.”

“We can approach this issue together and… overcome it the same. As we have before.”

“As we will again.” He recites part of the toast you liked to give before leaving on missions. He remembered it. He did care.

“What obstacles are there? You know you have my silence with such things.”

Where did he even begin? He didn’t feel prepared and ironically he was unprepared for such actions to take place and feelings to be felt. “I know. I trust you.” There was nothing but the truth in his words and you reach to put your hand to the side of his helmet as if it were his cheek. You had always accepted this part of him, treating the helmet as if it WAS him and not an external thing. Which is how he thought of it most of the time. There was never a wish for him to remove it or invasive questions. You were knowledgeable about the Mandalorians and knew their armor was sacred to them, and you assumed as such about this man and his helmet. He places his hand over yours, the warmth between them registering on his helmet display and building condensation on its surface. “Let’s go inside.” he instructs, taking your hands, a flush of warmth through his bones at the touch of another.

“Is the child-?”

“Fast asleep.” he quickly answers, leading you to the small bedroom in the earthen home.

He stands at the long side of the bed for a moment, hand in yours and trying to get his bearings, it had been so long since he’d done anything like this. You saw his head moving and taking in the room and then you and back again, you could sense the uncertainty. “Din, relax.” a warm smile comes across your face, taking the lead, and that was fine with you. You almost coo his name, your hands moving to his upper arms to rub them reassuringly.

“Hard when it’s been so long.” he regrets it as he says it, thinking it might sound a bit pathetic.

“Believe me it’s been a very long time for me too.” you console him, standing chest to chest to start. You follow the hills and valleys of his arms, strong and lean under the pliant fabric to his bare hands, lacing your fingers together, feeling him hide the twitches and jerks from the sensation of touch. “Sit down on the bed. Let me get close to you.” he sits down, sat up far too straight. “Put the bend of your knees against the bed... there we go.” he feels your hands on his thighs and an audible gulp hits your ears that you ignore. “You know I’m not going to judge you. I want this… I want you too.” He feels you close the space between you, your legs sliding between his naturally wide splayed ones. “Now tell me what obstacles did you mean before? Talk to me and let me know what you need.” your hands trace the dark lines on his helmet and a shiver runs down his back.

You were being far better about this than he warranted. It made him want you more, a hunger in his lower stomach slowly growing past his anxiety. “Helmet stays on.” was his first thought, spoken almost too quickly.

“Of course.” you keep your voice quiet and soothing, hands making their trek up and down his arms, waiting to feel them lose their tension. “Do you have to leave everything else on?” you coax him with a squeeze to his biceps, putting one leg up, now visible from beneath your robe over his.

You can’t see it but you get an actual grin out of him. “No.” a more confident response, feeling more relaxed with your unintentional playful humor. You see him look down to see the bare skin, the touchless friction between your bodies growing hotter by the second.“But let’s not get carried away.”

You hear the laugh this time, he sees your expression shift, a triumphant smile for getting him out of his own head. “I know I can be sensitive when I’ve not... been touched in a long time.”

“Yeah?” he liked the sounds of you talking about it a little too much. He wanted to hear anything you’d tell him about your body.

“Yeah.” your breath catches, “Are you?”

He nods, he didn’t have the confidence in this area yet to own what he saw as shortcomings.

“I want to sit in your lap. Can I?” You wanted to take it slow. The last thing you wanted was to scare him off. There is a fine line between indulgence and going too far when it came to dealing with a man like him.

“Yes.” another quick nod, and you are happy to give in, your hips settle well on his strong thighs, feeling secure. To him, it felt it took forever and didn’t last long enough. The drag of your bare skin against his thin clothes was a lot. The weight of what felt like a lifetime of neglect to himself and his needs weighs as heavy on him as you do. He had known touch only through violence for decades now, the tenderness you were offering him willingly was almost overwhelming. He was taught the ways of war and violence since he was young. The ways of more fragile things; of love and intimacy he’d had to learn on his own.

“I’ll go slow.” Slow was the opposite of how your hearts were beating. Your fingers wanted to touch that strip of skin unveiled around his shirt collar, but you only stared at it for the moment. His head pauses just above your chest, your arms resting on his shoulders, fingers light on the edge of his helmet and hungry to move farther down.

“Thank you.” a simple but honest answer.

You’d been close before, seen large spaces of bare skin and carried one another, slept shoved into a single space too small for you both but it had never felt like this. Everywhere your bodies met was warm and giving, both now very aware of the gap between both your hips in this position. You took the time to study him up close, the metal of his helmet was unbelievably smooth as your fingers traced invisible lines and doted on the hard surface separating you from him. Did you want his helmet off? Yes. You wanted to know, to be the only one to know, to touch and feel and savor every inch of him. The more you thought about it, the closer you got to him, the harder it was to recall a time you didn’t think of him this way. Repressing your wants and needs was something you were both personally familiar with.

“It doesn’t bother you when I touch your helmet like this does it?”

“N-no. I like it.” his face a melted mess under the guard. He watched you so close, your bright eyes glowing with the light the moon beaming down. He couldn’t feel it, but he knew everywhere you touched, spots lighting up red with heat, pulsing where more pressure was applied. It was a good introduction to being touched again. You push forward, a single kiss to where you believed his cheek to be. When you pulled away, he answered before you could ask. “Go on.” a heated hiss through the filter deep and dark and heavy as it hit your ears. You place another to the other side, tilting his head you give him another to his forehead. His eyes would close when you were near, a happy sigh, a weighted exhale is let out, feeling his shoulders slumping with each dot of affection. You hold his metal cheeks, a faint kiss to the tinted part of his visor. You press your forehead against his, barely a measurement worth noting separating you as he gives in to your touch, wanting to fall into you, to give you back what you were giving him.

You move your hands slowly, giving him time to register and adapt before moving on, your arms wrap around his helmet, holding him close before leaving a trail of smaller kisses behind, bringing his head only slightly down into your chest. Underneath he was a slack-jawed puddle. Your arms made their way down his shoulders to his back, you could even feel the raised skin of scars you’d helped suture, fingertips light along them, exploring new ones. After your flat palms explored his back, finding his breathing steady and deep you tried something new. A drag of your nails against the fabric drew a deep groan from him. “Good?”

“Ung-” a deep enthusiastic grunt escapes the helmet pushed to your collarbone. “Yes.” You continue, you scratch his back and he swears he could cry at the sensation. You didn’t move away or avoid his scars, the patchwork he felt his body looked like. You embraced it, all of him, and it was hitting him harder than he expected it to.

You take a deep breath, another kiss to soothe to the cold metal. “Do you want to...see me? Or- touch me back?”

He hadn’t even thought about it, his brain hadn’t moved past the feel-good moments you were covering him in.

“Yes.” a simple but hungry answer. As you see his helmet tilt downward towards your chest.

“I want you to too.” Your sincere tone struck him, he watched your agile fingers reach for the belt that held your robe in place. It fell silent, blood in your ears as it was your turn to feel the taste of nervousness on your tongue. Your body was something that did things for you, it wasn’t something you often stopped to consider the aesthetic of. The quiet noises that he let escape as you took off the robe left any hesitation behind with it as it laid on the floor abandoned. His hands didn’t move, his chest did noticeably, as yours mirrored, picking up speed as you moved forward. You take one of his hands, thumbs rubbing circles, leaving small kisses on his fingertips as the sounds beneath the Beskar grew louder. The rhythm of his breathing was now audible, helpless sounds you never expected to hear from anything but pain brushed against your ears and touched you in places no one had in ages. You kiss him palm, nose nuzzled into the only slightly trembling fingers. After you felt the skin-to-skin contact was enough to calibrate him, you meet what you felt to be his eyes, taking his hand and placing it over your breast. You were still covered with the thin sleep shift but it was made for breathability in the heat of summer and didn’t leave much to the imagination. You take him by the wrist of the awkwardly avoidant hand and put it on the curve of your hip. “Is this-?”

“Yes.” he rushes out and sees you smile, causing another kiss to be given to his helmet where you were aiming for what would be his mouth. He groaned, feeling your nipple harden against his palm, the other feeling the silky slip of fabric as he let himself give a firm grip to your fleshiest parts.

“Go on, Din,” you whisper into his visor. “Touch me,” you ask of him. A strangled noise breaking through bitten lips is your answer. You place your hand gently on top of his, showing him it was okay, reminding him how to, helping him give in. Your hand forces his to cup the weight of your chest, the exhale of pleasure fogged up his visor as you had your head rested against his. “Like that, yeah.” you wet your lips and his hand begins to move on its own. Soon his hands are kneading at you, a simple brush of thumb over your nipple forces an inhale he drinks up the sound of.

He fondly recalled this now, that static in the air, the shared breaths and the power he felt with a woman in his grip. He relaxes his head against the bend of your neck, mouth open and watering, hidden from view but the sound of his breathing was enough to tell you he was giving over to it now. The tentativeness leaves, his hand pulls your hips closer to him, both inhaling at the feeling of touch against the places your arousal was spreading from. You let out a small whine at the feeling of the seam of his pants, pressed against by his growing erection.

“Fuck.” you hear exhaled into your shoulder and you shudder. “You feel...so good.” his hand grips you firmly, “Like velvet in my hands…” his lips brush against his helmet and he wishes it was your skin. He was famished for touch, for this connection and lust he’d repressed for so long. But here it was, in his hands, in his lap asking him for more. His hands ran up your bare chest, feeling the pulse under your skin and the slick your sweat had created. “You’re as hot as a star under my hands.” he groans.

You audibly swoon at the comment, feeling that distinct masculine roughness of well-worked hands as his palms moved into your hairline. “And you’re as hard as Beskar under me.” You move your hips, a grind against his, and a fully formed moan escapes, neck going limp and the heaviness of the helmet resting on your shoulder now. You whine, the friction feeling even more delicious against your glossy wet center. He encourages you wordlessly, a hand on your ass to keep a slow rhythm, a painful drag of your engorged clit against the perfectly fit shaft of his cock. Such a thin piece of material between you, you thought. You reach between your legs, a wet mess on both of you and it’s no surprise. “I’m as wet as Kamino, Din.” you hum and smile, the front of his helmet against your neck again. You feel the vibration of his groan against your skin. “Look what you’re doing to me,” you whisper, mouth pressed against his helmet where his ear would be. He sees the light hit your fingers as you raise them. “See that?”

“Fuck...yes little star I do.” he groaned heavily, his chest heaving a bit. You get bolder, your hand moving from your lips to the painfully hard throb in his pants. Another long groan, a jerk of his hips as you palm him, a back and forth against the pressure, feeling him jump against the confines. “Unf - I - I won’t- “ his hips jerk and his hand moved faster than you can register to your wrist. A firm hold that makes you moan and stop. There was that strength you had wanted to be obedient to. “That might be a bit… much for me.” He stopped you out of fear of not being able to stop. He didn’t want to scare you, unleash something he wasn’t ready for or couldn’t control. It was a concern he’d cum too soon and embarrass himself, this wasn’t something he could just jump back into and impress anyone.

He was thankful you weren’t disappointed, “Do you want me to make you cum, Din?” Every time you said his name with such lust in your voice it made him moan. But he didn’t feel the least bit weak for it.

“I wanted us both to...enjoy this.”

“If you think I’m not enjoying myself you’re welcome to put that hand between my legs and find the contrary.” Another moan that makes him slump comes heavily from him. “If you do want to...enjoy this…” you let out a small breathy laugh he raises his head to. “I can arrange that.” you offer, your nose gliding affectionately against the center indent of his helmet. “Relax and enjoy this with me, Din.” you give him a reassuring smile, lining your hips up again. You grind back and forth, his hands finding their place on your body quickly. You straighten your back to give him a view of you, and you finally let your fingers dive under the neck of his shirt, feeling the slightest glimpse of hair at the base of his neck, your fingers go as far into his helmet as they can. You start that back and forth against him, over and over, lazy growing more urgent as each time he gives a harsh drag across your clit, the stimulation you needed. “I’ve thought about you like this, you know.”

A small “Ungff.” was the only response he could manage.

“Wanted my hands to feel your skin, just for pleasure. Wanted to know how you’d feel... thick and throbbing beneath me like this.”

With a deep grunt, his hand holds your hip sternly, the other moving to the back of your head, pressing your forehead to his. “Yes-keep talking like that, fuck.” The demand was thick in his voice, his hands no longer gentle, giving away the need they were trying to find an outlet for.

“You’ve turned me into something I’m not for anyone else. Some needy young girl, hungry for a taste of flash and flesh with a man.”

“You’re so, fuck you’re so soft.” he moans, helmet pushing back against you like a bull, and you were happy to ride. "Your so good at that."

You let it build, focusing on the feeling between your legs, you let your breathing take over, every grind a release of sound, and a step climbed together towards your peak. “I knew you would be impressive. You had to be. Look at you.” You pant and you feel his fingers sink into your hair, a fistful slowly tightening as you held onto his back and head, leveraging and letting your hips do all the work. “No man’s ever made me such a greedy woman with only his hands before Din. No one. Only you.” The filter slips and your mouth falls open, breath fast from exertion, both sets of hands now with a white-knuckled grip against each other's bodies.

It was hot and fast and what you needed to satiate your needs. His hands and sounds told you everything you need to know for now. He wanted you, needed you, craved you. He was giving you the power to make him weak, a rush to your head that wasn’t just your impending orgasm.

“Fuck Din I’m close.” you admit, your mouth open and panting, tongue shamelessly lapping at his helmet, your lips kissing him as if he could kiss back. Once again, he returned the kisses with his hands, switching grip one went to your back, the other back to your breasts bouncing out of their thin confines.

“Fucking do it.” he bites out through gritted teeth, fingers tugging your top down to expose you and give your nipple a pinch.

“Mmmph!” a slight whine but a plea for more. “Yes fuck I love that Din, harder.” your words rush out and he eagerly follows.

“Cum for me. Cum on me. Please.” he growls, and it ignites something in you. Something primal. “C’mon little star, fuckin burn for me.” he commands, a barked order, caught up in it all, the heat, the friction, and the haze of lust around you both he cums. Unexpectedly but it didn’t matter at this point. With that solid thrust against you, a hand gripped into the flesh between your shoulder blades, the masculine energy you’d craved washes over you in the grunts and expletives that leak from the helmet.

“Yes, fucking cum Din. Give it to me.” you moan shamelessly, head falling back. A yip of “Yes.” building from whines to full roars overcomes you as you do as he asks and explode into a white bright hot light that consumes you. You try to keep the pace, the contact but your body stutters and begins to shake. The now warm metal of his helmet presses between your bouncing tits as your head tilts back and he holds you up with both hands, you never felt fear of falling when his hands were on you. At least not falling into the floor.

It was as if his mind cleared, and he was left soaking in this gleaming woman cumming hard in his arms. He held you up, seeing your chest heave, the pink flushing your skin, how much desire he felt in his growled name as you gnashed your teeth and came on him.

Fuck he felt good.

He got to scoop you up, a trembling and panting shadow of the primal goddess you’d just been, arms wrapping around your waist, one hand moving to see your face as it fought to regain its bearings.

"You glow like a star when you're like this." He isn't sure if he's overstepped, he doesn't know if the shine in your eyes is from the recent orgasm or his words. “Fuck you are… beautiful. You know that?” your mass of hair falls forward as you look down at him, chest still finding its normal pace.

Your eyes blink, a flutter of disbelief and, if he read you correctly, a slice of fear for only a second. “Beautiful?” you ask, feeling a bit bewildered.

His hand stops its gentle stroking against your hair and face. “You act like you’ve never been called that before.” You can feel the subtle laugh in his chest when he says it.

When your face remains still for a moment, eyes bright and full of memories he wishes he could access you reply almost sheepishly, “I've not.”

With the simple, quiet answer he was given more information about you than you knew you'd given up. You'd never let anyone in like this before. No one had ever held you and told you the things you longed to hear from another you cared for. You were like him after all.

With a light hand, you rest against his helmet again, stroking it as if it were his hair. "It means more coming from you than it would anyone else."

Now you've taken his words from him. You managed to make him feel special. Something he had denied his entire life. Something he wasn't sure he even believed anyone could be. In the same sentiment as your confession, he was glad it was you that was changing his changing his mind about such things. Learning the truth about the Children of the Watch, and the questions it brought up about his life was the first in a wave of realizations he'd face. Perhaps it was time to reevaluate how he lived his life if it meant missing out on things like you.

I tagged those who wanted in my Javi fic and interacted with my posts about making this fic. If you want to be added or removed just let me know.

@jaegeeeeer @likedovesinthewnd @inkededucatednnerdy @biharryjames @ladamari68 @past-romantic @weliketomoveit @shikin83 @ookamikuro @anglovesthis @swol-bear @louist91syndrome @guiltylitpleasures @nfnoofiii @hellothefriend @beatha-dubhach @l-e-i-n-t-h @firehart9

#the mandalorian reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin reader #din djarin fic #the mandalorian fic

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silma-words · 4 years ago

Text

Giving in

Choices: Bloodbound

Pairing: Adrian Raines x MC (Ellie)

Genre/topic: Romance/Intimacy

Summary: This short piece takes place between Book 1 and 2, in an alternate version of the story where the MC (Ellie) had never offered Adrian (or anyone else) to drink her blood before they actually started to be a thing. I always felt that things happened too quickly in the book, and out of order, so here is my take on it!

Rating: Mature

Warning: Blood

Word count: 2230

Authors Note: It has been a few years since I have written fanfictions, and this is my first time ever writing about Bloodbound, so apologies if my writing is not so good! I am also very new to Tumblr so sorry if I messed up the tags!

Disclaimer: Characters and background plot are the property of Pixelberry.

~~~~~~~~~~

Giving in

As dawn was setting, Adrian couldn’t ignore the hunger anymore, the thirst in his stomach, as his eyes kept darting between the window and her sleeping form beside him, peaceful, her limbs tangled in the bed sheets with his. After staring one too many times as the veins in her neck, exposed carelessly to the potential predator that he was, Adrian started to shift slowly away from her to make a move out of the bed. He sat on the edge and was about to silently stand up, but was stopped by her hand gently grabbing his wrist, half asleep.

“Is it night already? Do you have to go?”, she mumbled, half asleep, struggling to open her eyelids.

“I…. there are things I need to sort out… in the office”, he simply whispered, placing a gentle hand on her cheek in an attempt to sooth her back to sleep.

Her eyes still closed, Ellie pouted, obviously disappointed to see him go. After a few seconds, she finally opened her eyes, her brow frowning in concern. “Nothing bad happened, I hope?”

He couldn’t help but smile at her concern, rubbing his thumb against her cheek. “No, nothing to be worried about. It’s only… routine stuff that I need to do”.

Her brow relaxed and she slowly raised her chest to rest on her elbows, with a cheeky smirk forming at the corner of her lips. She paused for a moment, and then hauled herself up a little more by grabbing his arm.

“If it’s routine stuff…” she started softly, resting her chin on his arm and looking up to him innocently, “could anyone handle it for once?”.

He couldn’t help but smile at her eagerness to keep him by her side overnight, but quickly looked away as a whiff of her smell made his stomach clutch once more with hunger.

“I’m afraid it’s not the type of business anyone could do for me”, he simply replied, standing up and walking away from her to start dressing up.

Definitely intrigued and clueless about his internal struggle, Ellie sat on the edge of the bed to follow his movements around the room, clutching the bedsheets around her and trying to make eye contact with him.

“Hum… mysterious business… you got me intrigued there” she teased with a cheeky smile.

But when he finally turned back towards her as he was putting his shirt on and her eyes met his, Ellie’s smile fell slightly, the understanding hitting her at the sight of his redden eyes, betraying his thirst.

“Oh…”, she said softly, averting her gaze and blushing a little, as she could now feel the tension in the room.

His feeding habits had not been something they had discussed much, apart from a few inquisitive questions when they had first met, after she had walked in on him and Nicole on her first day as his assistant. While they had now known each other for a few weeks and had spent several nights together, sharing many conversations about their past, Adrian had remained pretty private about his need for blood. All she knew what that he only fed of the willing, or on blood bank supplies if needed. She had never asked much about the logistics, or whether he had fed before they spent time together outside the office. If she had to be honest, she had been avoiding thinking about it most of the time, more particularly because he did not seem to be keen to disclose much about this part of him.

Adrian simply remained quiet, his fingers fumbling to button up his shirt, hid mind torn between his hunger, her smell, and an awkward of mixture of apprehension and embarrassment, knowing this was something they would have had to discuss openly at some point, but unsure how she would feel when facing his true nature up-close. Focused as he was on avoiding her gaze and getting ready to leave, he didn’t realise that she had gotten up until she laid her hand softly on his arm, clutching the bed sheets around her with the other, her eyes locked on his face until he dared looking back at her. Her gaze was hard to decipher, although he could feel from her heartbeat, as intoxicating as it was, that she was a bit afraid. But there was no fear in her eyes. He stared back at her, waiting to hear what she had to say. But she didn’t say anything. She simply slowly pulled him by his arm to lead him towards the window sill, forcing him to sit. But that thirst was getting worse, especially with her being so close.

“I… I really need to go now… I’ll be back quick” he started, making a move to get up, but was stopped immediately by her hand pushing him back against the cushions that were set against the wall, forcing him to sit awkwardly alongside the window, in the spot where she usually sipped quietly her coffee in the morning, staring at whatever was happening outside.

She didn’t say a word, her eyes still locked in his with determination, until she turned around to sit in front of him in the space between his legs, her back to him. She let go of the bed sheets that she had been holding onto all this time, exposing her back, before moving her hair aside to expose her neck. He gulped at the sight of her arteries exposed in the moonlight but made no move towards her, fighting the urge to accept her silent invitation.

“Ellie… you don’t have to… you don’t know what you’re asking…” he started, trying once more to make a run for it and stand up before losing any bit of the self-control he had left. But she wouldn’t let him, pushing her back against his chest until her neck was just right under his nose.

“I trust you”, she simply said, reaching blindly for his arm and wrapping it around her waist.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, drawing a long breath in to attempt clearing his mind to decide what to do, but only making it worse by breathing in more of her scent. When he opened his eyes, they were the bright red eyes of a predator ready to strike, his fangs extended. Moving his left hand to steady her arm, he slowly brough the other one to her face to expose her neck further and prevent her from moving. He could feel her heart race against him and could hear her breath quicken, her smell betraying a mixture of fear and excitement. Unable to hold himself any longer he gently pressed his fangs against the curve of her neck, breaking the skin and sinking into her flesh. He felt her jump slightly, startled by the pain, as he only pulled her closer against him to steady her. When he pulled out she gasped, her heart skipping a beat as he placed his mouth over the wound and started to feed.

Her senses were completely confused, her brain struggling to process the odd mixture of pain, pleasure, fear, trust, apprehension, and excitement. In a weird way, she felt like she had never been so close to him than before this moment, despite all the days and nights they had shared before. She felt that she had never been so close to anyone, at all, before this moment. This feeling of being entirely at his mercy, of completely abandoning herself to a man she trusted so much, was intoxicating. She relaxed her back onto his chest, resigned to let him have anything he wanted from her. As much as he wanted. But after only a few gulps, she felt him stop.

“Is that all? Did you get enough…?” she asked gently, twisting her neck to raise her head towards him. His eyes were still red, but had now turned to a less vibrant gold. He was panting slightly, clearing the edge of his mouth with his thumb to remove any trace of her blood on his lips.

“Yes… It will be enough….” He simply answered, drawing her to him to kiss her softly and hide the lie in his voice. It had taken so much restrain from him to pull away so quickly, but he didn’t want to take the risk to scare her off by losing control completely for the first time she ever volunteered her blood.

Pulling away from his kiss, she quietly stared into his eyes, her gaze inquisitive. She frowned, smirking slightly as she understood.

“No it wasn’t…” she simply said knowingly, kissing him gently before turning her back to him again, reiterating her initial invitation silently. As he was making no immediate move to oblige, she pressed her back harder against his chest, placing one of his hand back on her throat and twisting her neck back to him to taunt him with a searing kiss.

Intoxicated by the passion with which their tongue danced with each other and by the smell of her, he griped her neck a little harder, dragging his mouth from her lips to her chin, then grazing her neck slowly with his fangs. When he started feeding of her once more, he felt freer than he had for a long time, abandoning himself to his thirst and his desire, feeling her shiver in his arms as she gradually let go completely as well. He then felt her start to move ever so slightly against him, moaning lightly, as if melting from his bite in the same way she would usually melt to his touch.

With each swig he took, although he was taking only little at a time, she was losing herself a little deeper in this embrace, forgetting the world around them and whichever rules she had ever been told. Only their tangled bodies mattered. The stiffness of his torso against her back. The warmth of his mouth on her neck. The grip of his hand on her throat. She was completely at his mercy and yet, she wanted to give in even more. She could feel her skin covering in goosebump despite the heat between them, and her stomach clenching deep within, the blood throbbing between her thighs. Her mind fuzzy from all these conflicting sensations and aroused from hearing Adrian groan softly in her hear as he was indulging himself with the most intimate part of her, she blindly reached for his left hand, forcing him to let go of her arm to slowly drag it further down. Along her arm, her chest, until it reached her thighs.

A little startled, Adrian raised his face towards her, blood smearing his lips, his eyes red with lust and longing. When she turned her head back to him and met his gaze, all he could see what a glimpse of that same longing and yearning in her eyes before she reached for his neck with her hand to pull him in a passionate kiss, a silent plead to ask him to give her more. Guided by her hand on his neck and the other further down, he suddenly completely yielded to the palpable tension that had been building between them, crashing his lips onto her artery with less restrain that before, while pressing his other hand between her thighs, making her gasp and arch her back closer to him as he started to pleasure her the way he knew she liked.

Lost in each other’s touch and moans, everything had disappeared around them. The air was electric, hitching their throat every time their tried to catch a breath. He could feel the grip on her hand tighten in his hair as the pleasure was slowly building up inside her, her body trembling against his while his hold on her neck gradually loosened so that he could move his hand slowly back up to her chin, and then cupping the side of her cheek. Knowing she was close, he stopped feeding and slowly dragged his mouth up along her neck, finally bringing her face back to him to kiss her heatedly as her lips parted when she reached her peak.

Still trembling, she felt her body become completely limp as she rested her back against Adrian’s chest, drained both from pleasure and from the blood she had willingly offered to her lover. She barely even noticed when Adrian healed the wound in her neck after drawing blood from his own finger and pressing it gently to her skin. It was only when he covered the spot with light kisses that she drew away from her reverie, turning her head to meet his eyes and see in them the same content and peacefulness than she knew was in hers. The same adoration that made both of their hearts swell and thump faster in their chests.

Although Adrian had had his fair share of erotic feeding episodes in the past, never had it felt this good, this liberating. The way Ellie had offered herself despite her apprehension, to then surrender to him entirely with the most candid trust and abandon herself to his touch was unlike anything else he had experienced. For the first time in decades, he felt that he could share every single aspect of himself with someone, without the need to hold anything back or pretend. For the first time in decades, he felt completely free.

#bloodbound #bloodbound choices #adrian raines #adrian raines x mc #bloodbound fanfiction #choices fanfiction #play choices #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week

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danadeservesadrink · 4 years ago

Note

Hi, I saw a post about you wanting requests, not sure if they are still open or not. But if they are, I would love to see something with a fluff/angst spin, where Scully comforts Mulder after a tough case and it leads to feelings FINALLY being revealed. If not, sorry to bother you and hope your day is fantastic.

Hello! So sorry this took me so long to write, but prompts are always welcome even if I can’t get to them right away! But happy fictober, I hope you enjoy!

Collapse

Pusher missing scene, Rated T, 1.7k words, tagging @today-in-fic

She fought the collapse for as long as she could. She carries him out of the building, into the car, his weight leaning into her small shoulders. He whispered in her ear, questioning if she was ok for the fourth time since they got in the elevator and she offered him reassuring nods and a quirk of her lip, smoothing sweat-slicked hair off his brow as it furrowed, trying to get a read on her. He tried to walk on his own but the exhaustion of sharing your skull with another man overtook him, and he draped his body over her tiny frame, trusting only her to hold him. He crumbled down on top of her and she was forced to stand like Atlas and hold the weight of her world.

Sloughing him off into the passenger seat she drove them home in silence. His phone rang and he blindly reached to answer it, but she snatched it from the center console before he could, silencing it. He stared, dazed and confused, at her set jaw and white knuckles, before he let the silence take him and slumped into the cool window, letting the rumble of the interstate pull his thoughts away.

Her hand met his cheek in a gentle swipe to let him know they had arrived home.

“I can do it” he had insisted, but when he stumbled out of the car she was right at his side, placing a hand on his chest to steady him.

“I’ll walk you up” she replied, and let him try to convince himself he could have made it there without her. His fingers wound their way around her shoulder and she shivered as he gripped her there. But she did not waver. Someone slammed a car door and the sound rang like a gunshot off the cement walls and he was the one with white knuckles now, bruising fingers latched onto her after both of them jumped in fear. He released a breath when she met his eye cautiously, and the pair moved inside.

The elevator was filled to the brim with their silence, she doesn’t know how anyone else could have gotten on. The third floor dinged and doors opened to an empty hallway they were both grateful for. Explaining their fragile state to a neighbor would have been difficult. They walked joined at the hip to his door, and as his hands shook with his key she stole it from his fingers to press it into the lock herself.

He tumbled forward with the door, his final resting place in sight, abandoning her sturdy crutch to fall neatly onto the couch with a grunt. She followed him in, watching him close his eyes and settle into the leather. She stood over him a statue, stillness to conquer his shake, watching as he trembled with exhaustion. She wanted him to rest, she wanted the tension to release itself from his shoulders, she wanted the thoughts that were haunting his mind to leave and never return. She was frightened by how easily she would have killed for him. How thoughts of pure oxygen lept from her brain at the sight of him with that gun pressed to his temple. Her only thoughts were of how to get it, and how when she did she was going to pull the trigger as many times as it would take to get him out of their heads. She wasn’t thinking of all the lives this man had taken from the world, that he was a murderer, a sick bastard who deserved to be dead because of justice. She only cared that he might take away his life.

He went to sit up, but she practically saw the stars spinning behind his eyes. Carefully she pressed him back down onto the couch, his protesting weak.

“You need to rest”, she insisted. He nodded slowly, but wrapped his fingers around her wrist.

“Please don’t leave”, he whispered, and it was her turn to nod. She sank to her knees slowly, and he relaxed his grip on her so she could spin to sit with her back against the couch on the cold floor. Her hand reached up over her shoulder and their fingers twisted together. He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back, call and response.

“I was so sure” she heard him mumble. She didn’t know if it was for her to hear, but the silence had seeped so deeply into her ears that she felt like screaming, so she replied.

“Sure about what?”

“Sure that if he had me, I would be able to fight it”, he sighed, choking slightly on his words. She shook her head, amazed at his arrogance.

“Why, Mulder? He pushed people to kill themselves, light themselves on fire. He convinced a man’s heart to stop beating and you truly believed you could fight it?”

He laughed and she felt like shaking him.

“I don’t know. I was his worthy adversary. I knew him, I knew what he wanted, how he ticked. Something in me believed he wouldn’t be able to control me”

His voice grew stronger with every word, and she was inclined to believe him. She couldn’t deny that she’d been praying for the same thing. With all the demons that had haunted them over the years, when she watched him walk through the hospital doors she had wanted to believe that he was strong enough to fight it. He was brilliant, he knew the mind better than anyone she knew, but still it wasn’t enough. She had practically begged him at the table, begged him to be stronger than he was, begged him to do the impossible.

“But he did. And you almost shot yourself”

Her words were bitter and she tasted the bile in her throat at the image of Mulder’s brilliant brains bloody on her blouse, blown to pieces by his own hubris.

“I almost shot you,” he whispered harshly, “That's worse.”

“Mulder how can you say that?” she choked out.

“Because if I died of my own arrogance I would have paid the price for my mistake. If you died because of me I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself”. As he spoke he gripped her palm tighter, stroking his thumb over hers like a metronome for his confession.

“Mulder if you died…” she couldn’t finish the sentence. Her head dropped and her mind was invaded with the thought of him gone, wiped from the face of the earth for good, his wonderful confident mind splattered on pristine hospital tile.

She fought the collapse for as long as she could. But her pillar came crumbling to dust and a sob wracked her body. She was supposed to be his strength, she wasn’t the one who’s mind had been invaded, torn in half, pitted against itself. But he pulled on her hand and she twisted up into him, wrapping her arms around his middle. She held onto him for dear life and sobbed into his shirt. The hand she had been holding found a place on the back of her head, pressing her lightly to his stomach, and she felt him shake under her.

“I’m so sorry” he wept, arms wrapping around her and pulling her off her knees into him. She fit herself on top of him, her head tucked beneath his chin, his arms engulfing her as if he could pull her further into him. His apologies spilled out into her hair as he pressed his lips to her scalp and begged for forgiveness. Eventually the words fell away and only their sniffs and hiccups were left, their tears falling silently in tandem. When even those drifted away, she pulled herself up off of his chest and he followed her, refusing to let her be out of his grasp for even a second.

“Scully I need you to know.” His eyes were wet and pleading. He looked at her with such intensity she was frightened. “I need you to know how much you mean to me”

They were close. Too close. This kind of collapse only comes with closeness and until quite recently they had forbidden this level of intimacy for fear of this exact scenario. She was practically sitting in his lap and his arms were still around her somehow and there was a wet stain in the center of his chest and it was all far too much to deny.

But he needed her to know like she needed him to know, and there was no pretending any more.

“I know” she whispered, so quiet it was almost in her head. He nodded silently and pressed his forehead to hers, their eyes closing, hands falling intertwined again between them.

Slowly she inched her face forward, eyes still closed, exploring the contact between the two of them. Her nose brushed his cheek and she felt him still like a statue, awaiting what was to come. Her lips pressed to the corner of his mouth, quick and dangerous, and she pulled back almost instantly. Her tongue darted out and she tasted the salt of him on her lips. She squeezed his hands, and felt a flutter within her when he pulsed back quickly.

She was braver this time, finding his lips with hers, and he kissed her back instantly, desperate to convey his affection. Neither pushed deeper, allowing the soft contact of lips on lips to linger between them, a simple profession of the utmost devotion.

She pulled back eventually, wanting to look at him fully. She smiled a tentative smile when she saw the pain that had dwelled in his eyes replaced by the smallest glimmer of hope.

“Now there’s that smile I was looking for” he teased, which only resulted in her smile widening.

“You should get some rest Mulder”

“Only if you’ll rest with me”, and he pulled her back down until she lay slotted next to him, face pressed into the warmth of his chest. The silence of sleep taking them both, comforting confessions still hanging in the air surrounding them. They had time to sort through the rubble tomorrow. For now, their time belonged to them and them alone.

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late-to-the-party-81 · 3 years ago

Text

ANGELS LIKE YOU

Summary

A small look into the relationship between Natasha Romanov and Clint Barton, examining their relationship and feelings for each other.

Author Notes:

N.B. - I haven't seen the Black Widow film yet - hopefully this is (mostly) canon compliant.

Not beta'd, hopefully it flows okay and their aren't too many grammar errors

I’ve copied this over from my AO3 account as an experiment as I’m getting used to tumblr

Track - Angels Like You by Miley Cyrus

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Natasha couldn’t pinpoint when the feeling of ‘wrongness’ had started, but she knew the exact moment it crystallised and could no longer be ignored.

Nine months ago Clint Barton had made a decision which changed both of their lives forever; he didn’t kill her. Instead he had brought her in, managing to incapacitate and capture the famous Black Widow, seeing something redeemable in her that she didn’t see in herself.

For the first few weeks the only people she had contact with were Clint and Nick Fury. It was Clint who tended her wounds, talked to her and reluctantly injected her with sedatives when she tried to attack them and escape. She was kept in a room which contained the bare minimum; metal furniture securely bolted to the floor – nothing to make a weapon from. Barely more than a prison cell.

But as the weeks passed, her fear diminished. She had never been scared of them, but she had been scared by what those in charge at the Red Room would do if they thought she hadn’t tried to free herself and return to them. If they had wanted her back though, they would have been here by now, surely? Therefore, she was no longer of use to them. Maybe they thought she was dead? But either way, it seemed that now she was free of them. She didn’t know what to make of that. Her whole life, her whole self, had been dedicated to them.

It would be easy to think that she had imprinted on Clint, like an orphaned starling, but they both knew it was more than that, the pull between them, this feeling of completeness in the other’s company. She knew he felt it as much as she did. And then one day, whilst training, preparing her for her first mission with SHEILD, the first major step in her new life, they had crashed together.

Lips, tongues, teeth. Hands scrabbling at clothes, nails scratching and breathless gasps. An absolute feeling of ‘rightness’ until it was followed by just that niggle of ‘wrongness’. She knew she loved him and he her. Surely this was what was supposed to occur between them?

Everything was odd between them for a few days until she literally bumped into him. His hands coming up to grasp her upper arms in reflex to steady her, his smiling face looking down at her. She thought he looked like an angel, the angel that had saved her. She didn’t know which one of them moved first, but they were kissing again, the heat between them undiminished. They made it to one of their rooms, full of the need to be close, completely connected. She remembers she cried out, remembers the tears that fell from her eyes as she was overwhelmed with it all.

From then on they were inseparable. They worked missions together, their skills complementary, and a bond that bordered on telepathic. Something happened in Budapest, but they never discussed it with anyone else.

Outside of missions there was barely an inch between them if they could help it, but the feeling of wrongness teased at the edges of her mind. She saw how Clint smiled to himself when they were out, undercover, and they he spotted families together, the father swinging around a giggling child. They observed family cookouts, couples together in restaurants, their love and affection on display for the world to see, and no cares except each other. She could never give him that. Never be able to give him the children he so desperately craved, despite him never voicing it. She didn’t think she would ever be able to relax enough in this life to have any of the other things either.

Natasha knew he could tell she was withdrawing. Their intimacy was still passionate and hurried; rough and fulfilling. But Clint was no fool. She needed him, in ways she couldn’t describe, but as he tried different ways to reach her, she knew, that eventually, it would end. She would make him miserable and he would hate her.

That end, the clarity of wrongness, came when she found him waiting for her, a bunch of flowers in his hand. He looked at her, sadness in his eyes, and he called her ‘baby’. They both knew this was it. She took his face in her hands and kissed him, soft and tender, the first and last time. That night their loving was slow, the most bittersweet of goodbyes. They had no need for words.

She left before sunrise that morning. She went to Nick’s office, unsurprised he was there so early. Without a word he slid a folder across the desk for her. A new mission. A solo mission. One that would take her away for months. Was there nothing this perceptive man didn’t know? It didn’t take her long to grab her ‘go bag’ from her room and then she was off.

But Clint didn’t hate her. He messaged her later that day, telling her to stay safe, and asked her to keep in touch when she could. It was awkward at first, but as they texted, then called, each other, they fell back into their easy rapport. When she finally returned he wrapped her in the biggest hug and they stayed up all night, eating pizza, talking and watching zombie movies.

Clint fell in love. Laura could give him everything he wanted. Natasha couldn’t help but love her too. Laura opened her heart to the other half of Clint’s soul, never jealous, never insecure. Then came Cooper, and Lila, then Nathaniel, and Natasha knew joy and love like she’d never known before. Her family, she realised, as unconventional as it was.

But with a snap of a mad man’s fingers it was gone, blown to dust. Clint, so bent on vengeance, abandoned her. And she couldn’t help but blame herself. Her soul, covered in red and violence had tainted his. Then, five years later, a glimmer of hope….

“Damn you!” There is hurt in his eyes as he realises she’s secured him to the rock.

“Let me go,” she commands, softly.

“No, please don’t.” Tears roll down his face, and she can see his heart breaking.

“It’s okay.” And she knows what she has said is true. If this works (and god, it has to work), everyone that she loves, that Clint loves, will return. This is a journey she has to make alone, her angel can’t fly down with her. She kicks off from the cliff, breaking his grip on her wrist and she falls. She loves him so much.

Laura stands, watching her husband. She doesn’t know how to comfort him. He is crouched down at the side of a grave stone. It was a quiet, private ceremony, as per the wishes Nat had given, many years ago. Clint is trying to reconcile the fact that he had to give up one part of himself to get another part back. He is angry and grateful and elated and sad and fucking traumatised. If he thinks too hard his head might explode. He screams, fingers curling into the dirt by the headstone of the empty grave. He screams and screams until his throat can longer make any sound and he is lying on side, sobbing. He feels Laura holding him, rocking him and stroking his hair, until at last he is able to return to his feet and be led to the car. He doesn’t know how he will go on without his angel with the red hair.

Notes:

This story has lived rent free in my head from almost the first moment I heard this song. Think what you like about Miley, but the emotion in the lyrics and her voice as she sings this - shivers!!! And I cry nearly everytime I sing along.

The pain of knowing you have to leave a loved one behind for their own good, because otherwise you will ruin them.

Okay, I'm waxing lyrical here, but please, do listen to it to fully understand this work.

#archive of our own #fanfiction #clintasha #mcu fanfiction

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niall-the-churchboy · 4 years ago

Text

Our Baby ~ Liam Payne

In which she’s pregnant and he’s her best friend but he will never leave her side.

Word count: 5600

Warnings: Cursing and mentions of abandonment

A/n: This is the longest writing I’ve ever wrote, and I'm pretty happy with it. Hope you all enjoy it. In this one shot Liam has never been with Cheryl so he has never had tiny Bear.

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

Y/n and Liam are inseparable and the world is well aware of this. Anywhere you see Liam in public it’s almost impossible his best friend won’t be there too--walking behind him or running a little late-- and if she’s not then something is definitely wrong. Both Liam and Y/n being celebrities, Liam a singer and Y/n a well known blogger, they always go together as each other’s plus-ones.

They were friends long before the fame, both of them living in the same block and eating together every Sunday due that their mothers still are close friends. They grew up sharing full days of laughters and goofing around--happy that they were each other’s weirdos, as their classmates liked to call them--, and after Y/n’s father abandoned her forever never saying why, Liam’s and Y/n’s relationship grew even stronger.

When Liam succeeded in the ‘x factor’ Y/n was scared he would forget about her, leave her all alone against the bullies and without a friend. She was almost sure he would, her father did so, why wouldn’t Liam? Except he didn’t. He called her every night to narrate his busy day; let her know some new things he had discussed with the boys; all the fans that would scream their names; and tell her how Louis would bugged him non-stop. And she loved it. She knew then that Liam, unlike her father, would always be there for his best friend.

And people know this, Liam has always demonstrate himself very protective over Y/n, insulting anyone who messes with her over the media and standing up for her.

After she finished high school, she took a whole fallow year before studying at college--which she drop out soon after-- and enjoyed her young adult life traveling with her best friend and his bandmates. The boys loved her being on tour, mostly because she has always been carefree and sweet --and because she loves to bake and that is a must for Niall--.

It was after tour that Liam suggested she should move in with him given that the college Y/n was applying to was close to his flat and he had a lot of extra space. Sure, as explained before, she dropped out six months later to fulfil her dreams, but they have always been comfortable with each other’s companies so Y/n never moved out. And it's been like that ever since.

Now, as she unlocks their front door, knowing exactly that Liam is waiting for her because they always stream several shows of ‘h&h’ on Friday nights, she can barely breathe. Her heart hurts and she tries to clean her face from any tear stain. Liam can't know. She’s pretty sure he’ll lose his mind and go look for Darren. Darren as in Y/n’s boyfriend -- ex now.

“Hey, love!”, Liam calls from the couch, his head perking up to have a clearer view of Y/n, “come quick! ‘say yes to the dress’ is about to start!” She just nods, taking her time to hung her coat so she can control her emotions, however Liam noticies this --Y/n loves ‘Say yes to the dress’ and normally wouldn’t let herself miss a second of the episode.

“You okay?”, he asks hesitant as she sits next to him on the couch, her posture rigid and her moves almost robotic. “Yeah”, she says trying to give out a reassuring smile, unfortunately for her it comes out more as a grimace than anything else.

The only reason for why Y/n doesn’t want Liam to know is because she is certain he’ll go look for Darren and get into a huge drama. Liam hates him --he actually told her-- something that Y/n never really understood but decided to leave it behind because it really didn't bother her as much. I mean, Darren has always been some kind of distraction --she’s not proud of this-- but in a way she believes the lack of feelings was mutual. Not now though, now she’s pregnant and Darren wants nothing to do with it.

The thought of her baby growing without a father is enough to send her back in tears as a single whimper escapes her lips, how could she let this happen? Not having a father is by far one of the worst feelings, no matter how much you go to therapy you’ll always have abandonment issues. And she doesn't want that for her baby. She has always promised this to herself, and now... she failed.

“Y/n, oh my god”, Liam reacts almost instantly cupping both sides of her face as he tries for her to look at him, “What’s wrong?” His eyes are full of concern--of sadness and confusion--and that makes Y/n cry harder, burying her face on his chest. He wraps his arms around her small back, rubbing soft circles but not pushing her because he understands quickly. She just needs to cry, she’ll explain later.

This is probably one of the things Y/n loves most about Liam, they are so in sync with each other that they instantly know what the other needs, sometimes kind reassuring words; a joke of how miserable they look; tickles even; but now, now Y/n wants just to be hold without question.

They stay like that for some good ten minutes, the lights of London’s tall buildings shining against the moon of the night, its shimmer lightening the opened flat through its wide windows, a dim light coming from a lamp shadowing Y/n figure.

“Want to tell me what’s wrong?”, Liam asks softly, brushing her hair out of her face as she parts from his chest to look up at him, her breathing finally even.

“I’m pregnant”, she says once and for all, her voice nasally. Liam freezes. Y/n bites her lip.

“Does Darren know?”, is the first thing he asks, his eyes shifting from hers to her tummy gulping as he thinks of a baby growing inside her.

Y/n nods before explaining, “I told him less than an hour ago. He broke up with me. Said I probably cheated.” Liam’s jaw tenses and his nostrils flare, Y/n noticies this and is quick to grab his hand, intertwining their fingers to prevent him from running out.

“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch”, Liam mutters under his breath as he begins to stand up.

“Don’t. Just...--please. Please stay with me”, she says with a single tear rolling down her cheek as she pulls him down again. And as much as Liam wants to physically hurt Darren, to have him plead for mercy, Y/n has always been far more important--will always be more important-- and he can tell she's scared. Of course she’s scared!, how could he think otherwise? Isn’t this Y/n’s biggest fear?

So he nods, kisses her temple and assures her everything will be okay. He mentally promises himself that he will never ever leave her side or her baby’s.

---------

3 months

The first three months are as easy as they can be-- sure, apart from the morning sickness which starts to become a constant alarm for both Y/n and Liam, who wakes up at the sound of her from the other room to hold her hair and stroke her back--, Liam cooks new food each day at an attempt to figure out what the baby likes and what it makes Y/n puke out her whole breakfast back to the kitchen sink. Soon he has a long list of things that have stayed just fine.

Darren is nowhere to be seen, fans and press notice this quickly and assume they’ve broke up. Nobody knows why but Y/n expects that as soon as her bump starts to become more visible, everyone will add two and two together and figure it out.

Is when Liam wakes up at dawn to find a sleepy Y/n roaming in the kitchen that the idea of a baby nearing really hits him. An unexpected warmth rushes through him as he watches her; the shirt slightly caresses the small roundness of her lower stomach, her hair is messily brushed to the side and her thumb is pressed against her lips. He doesn't even realise he has wrapped his arms around her until she leans against his chest, and it’s performed with such casualty that none of them grow uncomfortable with this new proximity.

And it’s not until morning that Liam finds himself missing that type of intimacy between them, an intimacy that had never happened before. Liam is no stranger to the heart-swelling feeling Y/n always triggers in him, but he has always stayed quiet, he is sure the feeling is one-sided.

After all, why would friendly Y/n, who has better humour than Louis Tomlinson himself and is loved by almost everyone would even take a glance at him? He knows it’s a miracle itself that she even is his best friend, and he thanks whatever force above him decided to grow them so close.

“Good morning”, she says with a sleepy voice as she exits his room --after some cookies and a warm glass of milk Liam had pursue her to sleep again, however she claimed that she would only do so if he slept next to her--, she plops on the couch next to him and rests her head on Liam’s lap.

“Good morning”, he answers brushing her hair with his fingertips, she hums content at his warm touch, “slept okay?”

“Slept tight and cozy”, she wraps her arms around his waist and squishes her head closer to him, “I love you, Liam.” His heart begins to beat faster and he feels his hand begin to sweat but he orders himself to calm down and just before she can drift to sleep again, he answers, “I love you too.”

If she only knew to what extent he meant it.

-----------

5 months

After that night a new sort of routine was suddenly created. Weather Y/n goes to Liam’s room or viceversa, one of them always ends up curled in the other’s arms. Y/n finds it comforting, she always appreciates having Liam close to her, and now with the pregnancy hormones and all, she’s emotionally wrecked. And Liam..., well, Liam has to sing to himself the bible three times before eventually drifting to a soundless sleep.

“Liam!”, Y/n puts on one of the coats that hung in the wall next to the front door. December is slowly approaching and with it the steaming cups of hot chocolate and the fuzzy blankets. Y/n loves winter.

“What?! What is it?! Is everything o--”, Liam practically runs to her side from the other corner of the apartment, his eyes flushed with concern and fear. “What’s wrong.” He begins lifting her arms and touching her five month swollen belly, not waiting for Y/n to answer as he begins examining her to find where she’s hurt.

“Jeez, relax. I’m fine”, she looks at him with a funny smile on her face, “I need to go for the monthly check up, I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“What? No, no way you’re going alone”, even with the her coffee brown coat on, a sweater underneath and loose jeans tucked inside heel-boots, her belly is swollen enough that once she’s outside the word is gonna spread. And once the word spreads..., “Paparazzi are gonna follow you everywhere the second a picture is uploaded into the internet, it’s dangerous”, Liam tries to reason with her.

“But I’ll go in a car--.”

“So? They can still follow you! I’m going with you”, he decides putting his coat on and kicking in some shoes that were laying on the floor, he grabs a beanie by the counter next to Y/n and places it in her head, “There, now you’ll stay warm.”

Y/n is about to complain --she has coats of clothes on!-- but she knows arguing won’t be worth it and she’s already running late for the appointment. Deciding to let it be she grabs the keys and opens the door.

As soon as they reach the hospital a picture of both Y/n and Liam has been leaked. In the ten-minute drive towards the hospital Y/n barely had time to see all the twitter notifications she was tagged in.

‘Y/n L/n is pregnant?’

‘Woah, when did this happen?’

‘You guys, I think this is why @Y/T/N isn’t with Darren anymore...’

The picture was clear, taken from a sideways angle where both you and Liam got in his car. He was opening the door for you, as you slightly touched your belly.

‘If my guy best friend doesn’t do this for me then I don’t want him’ this particular comment made Y/n smile, intertwine her fingers with his giving them a gentle squeeze. She knows that even if Liam can be super annoying sometimes, he’s just trying to protect her.

They sit at the waiting room, Y/n’s legs shaking up and down as she bites her nails. Liam places a reassuring hand on her thigh and smiles sweetly at her even though he is nervous himself too. Y/n is jumpy, today her doctor is supposed to announce her the sex of her baby, --and sure, the paparazzi trying to push inside isn’t making things easier--. While Liam is a bit edgy, he’s not sure what he should do, Should he go inside the room with her? Wait outside? Flip-off the paparazzi?

The nerves tense his hand and he’s not aware of the light squeeze he’s giving Y/n’s thigh until she places her hand above his. He looks up to see her glossy eyes, she’s scared--he can tell--, so he leans his forehead to hers and brushes her hair with his fingertips. Her scent is almost blinding, perfect roses and lavender; her eyelashes that hung from her closed eyelids curled up in perfect synchrony; her cheeks suddenly rosier, a single tear falling down; the tips of their noses barely touching. Liam is sure that if he tilts his head a tiny bit he might me able to...

“Y/n L/n?”, their faces are pushed apart, the peace of the moment long gone as they watch the woman wearing a white coat take notes on her notepad. “There you are, come in!”, the doctor says cheerful.

Y/n stands up, her hand tugging Liam’s, urging him to go with her. Oh well, that was easy, Liam thinks, some of the tension suddenly gone.

The room is white and light blue, the floor tiles spotless and shiny; a blue stretcher pushed to the wall next to an ultrasound machine; a neat wooden desk and bird drawings hung on the wall. Liam realises the baby doesn’t have a nursery back at their apartment.

“Please, take a sit”, The doctor motions towards the two chair in front of her desk as she sits on her own comfortable-looking chair. “How are you Y/n? I’m assuming this is the soon-to-be father?”, Y/n’s cheeks grow incredibly hot at her doctor’s comment, unsure on how to hide the awkwardness she laughs.

“Heh, no. This is my best friend, Liam.”, he smiles at the doctor and sticks out his hand for her to shake. “And I'm fine, morning sickness ceased completely so that’s great.” The woman nods and starts typing swiftly on her computer, for a full minute and a half she stays there, eyes concentrated and a frown on her face, everything else blocked away.

“Okay, perfect. Let’s do our monthly check up, shall we?”, Y/n stands up and moves to the stretcher, lifting herself up and laying on it. She takes out her hand looking for Liam’s and in a matter of second their finger and intertwined and she sighs in relief. “Today we find the gender, are you excited?”, The doctor asks pulling a bit up Y/n’s sweater and shirt so she can apply the gel on her swollen belly.

A sudden urge to caress Y/n’s belly invades Liam but he fight is off, he’s not about to make a moron of himself in-front of a doctor! And then his eyes catch the blurry outline of the baby on the screen, followed by a ‘tum tum... tum’ sound. All he can think about is that the baby is real, he is there, right there, with legs and arms and tiny tiny finger, and a strong beating heart.

He doesn’t realise he’s crying until Y/n laughs wetly at him, tears on her eyes too as she brushes a tear off his cheek.

The doctor smiles sweetly at them before focusing the ultrasound, “are you ready to know the gender?” Y/n just nods vigorously. “She’s a girl.”

A girl. Y/n swears she has never listened such a beautiful word before, a tiny baby girl to love and protect forever. Suddenly she can't wait anymore, she want to have her baby in her arms right now, brush her hair, give her kisses and hugs, and never ever leave her all alone. She brings her hand to her stomach and caresses it, Liam finally placing a firm hand there too, because he’s filled with so much happiness right now and everything seems perfect. He kisses Y/n’s temple, catching a wink from the doctor as he inhales her sweet scent.

In that moment he swears he’ll protect his two girls until his last breath, because that’s what people should do towards the ones they love and he has never been so sure of something in his life. He loves them.

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

6 Months

Liam stirs in his bed, the dim light of dawn barely passing through the window’s curtains, his head widely awake remembering scene by scene of his nightmare.

The nightmare consisted on Y/n bleeding to death, locked in a bathroom as he’s unable to break in and save her, only after she died the door opened slowly to show a lifeless Y/n --her usually rosy cheeks bloodless, her eyes cold and lacking the glow she always has, her hands laying on the floor as if they still were trying to reach the door-- the image made Liam jolt awake.

And now he’s here, unable to check if she's okay given that she’s mad at him and has closed her door --sign that she doesn’t want him near--.

Liam knows he fucked up big time, but is it really his fault? You can’t blame him for defending Y/n against the biggest asshole the world has seen --aka: Darren. It all started as they were about to have dinner when suddenly both their twitters began blowing up, Darren had the audacity to have an interview and when he was approached with the question if the baby was in fact his, he completely denied it claiming Y/n was a hoe and had cheated on him, resulting her pregnancy.

Liam wasn't the only one who completely lashed out. How dare Darren call Y/n names and point accusing fingers at her? Fans were quick to defend Y/n, but the real mess began when Liam took matters into his own hands and tweeted a very clear explanation of what had happened.

@DarrenOfficial how dare you accuse Y/n of cheating? Don’t you remember who was the one that actually cheated or do I need to remind you? And call her a ho*?! Why don't you man up and start taking some responsibility, you know damn well that baby is yours!

The tweet was deleted minutes later when Y/n began shouting at him. He understands why Y/n would be uncomfortable with the tweet, she doesn’t want Darren near her baby girl, but he just wants her to understand that he’s only trying to protect her. It wasn't the right move, he’s well aware of that, but as soon as he read hoe he began seeing red.

Removing the sheets and standing up, he decides that he can’t take it any longer. The image of Y/n’s lifeless body completely covered in blood is haunting him until a point where he is not even sure if it was a dream, so with sweaty hands and awake eyes he makes his way to Y/n’s room, opening the door slowly.

The light from the corridor brighten Y/n’s otherwise dark room, Liam sighs when he sees her sleeping soundly, it almost calms completely down his hard-beating heart. Y/n’s figure on the bed, blankets pushed to the side due to the warm temperature in the room--he was sure to turn on the heater of the house as soon as winter started--, one of her arms cupping her swollen pregnant belly while the other is neatly packed below her cheek.

Liam decides this isn’t enough, he needs to be right next to her to reassure himself she’s alright and that her baby is healthy too. He climbs to the bed, making Y/n shift at the sudden movement, he slips his feet under the thick blankets and brings her closer to his chest.

“Li?”, Y/n asks with a sleepy voice turning to face him better, “what are you doing?” “Sorry, had a nightmare. Is it okay if I sleep here?”, he waits for her to nod before scooting closer to Y/n, eventually wrapping his arm around her belly and placing his hand right where he thinks the baby is. It takes a few minutes for Y/n to finally nuzzle against his neck--probably because she’s still a bit irritated--, and that is finally enough to calm him down.

Now he knows his nightmare was only just a nightmare, that Y/n will forgive him and most importantly, that she’s safe in his arms. Both of them are safe in his arms.

----------

7 months

The sun is beginning to set when Y/n wakes up from a long nap. After a long day of movie marathons and homemade cupcakes --Liam learned to bake them after Y/n woke him up several nights because she had sugar cravings-- she yanked the blanket on the sofa and drifted to sleep. Now, rough and loud sound came from down the hallway, the sound of metal; furniture being moved around; and hell, even hammers.

She sits up, trying to stretch my lifting her shoulders and tilting her head down, Liam’s t-shirt barely fitting anymore.

“Liam?”, she walks towards the sound, realising it comes from the spare room in the back, “Liam, what are you doin--?” Her words are stroked with amazement, what used to be an empty white room with one of Liam’s old pianos, is now covered in baby-pink walls, two white dressers pushed to one of the sides, a nice grey loveseat, and wooden sticks coated in white laying on the middle of the room.

Liam is so focused in assembling the crib that he’s completely oblivious to Y/n’s presence. His muscled tense every time he lifts a stick, his lips pressed tightly together when he nails the pieces together, and his eyes are concentrated and serious. As soon as they catch Y/n’s the change completely.

“Y/n!”, he looks to the sides, the hammer he had at hand falling to the floor, “no! You weren’t supposed to see! I thought you were sleeping!”

She laughs at him shaking her head, “well..., you weren't exactly the definition of quiet”, she starts to walk around the room, Liam’s eyes following her every move, “but I love it!”

At this a shy smile draws on his face, placing the wood on the floor he stands up and walks towards her, “I was hoping you would. I’m still far from finishing, though, I need to buy a changer; and a bookshelf; and many, many stuffed animals.”

“Liam...”, she looks at him disapprovingly, the one look that makes him know for sure she’s about to lecture him.

“What?” Better play innocent.

“You know how I feel about you buying all this things...”, she looks around bringing her hands to her face, “I need to repay you all this.”

He wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his chest, “Y/n, please stop worrying. Let me do this one thing that makes me happy”, she looks up at him, taking in his beautiful features lighted by the golden hour.

His soft lips curved into a shy smile; the prominent, clean cut of his jaw, slightly unshaven; his furry straight brows urging Y/n to brush a finger through them; the gleaming light against his rich brown eyes; and his hair brushed to the sides, short and thick.

“Okay”, she whispers, suddenly amazed by his stunning features.

“For your baby”, he kisses the top of her head, and Y/n can only wish he had said ‘our baby’.

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

8 months

Suddenly, everything is about Liam. Y/n tries to shake him off but it’s impossible, her mind always fixes on him and she can't seem to remember the days when he was just her best friend. Now, all she can think about is what if, she knows it’s not worth it--why the hell would Liam fucking Payne want to date Y/n? But every time he brushes her hair, massage her feet, she dares to think that maybe, just maybe, Liam likes her back.

A crush. Hell, Y/n doesn't remember the last time she had feelings for someone--if she ever had-- and the weird feeling that spreads from her stomach all to her heart seems to never stop. And her baby kicks, she kicks so hard every time Liam approaches or talks, almost as if she wanted to let Y/n know she likes Liam too. After all, who wouldn't like him?

“Hello, love”, he falls onto the couch next to her, Y/n’s feet resting on the coffee table in front, “how are you feeling?” He reaches a hand to her stomach, placing it where he knows the baby always kicks, and soon enough he’s rubbing it making Y/n heart clench and her cheeks flush.

“Fat. But overall, okay”, she brushes down his hair when he rest his head on her stomach, a smile drawing on his lips when the baby kicks, “I was thinking of baby names. I have a few in mind.”

When he hears this his eyes shine, sitting straight again and cupping her hands on his, “Can I help? I want to help! I believe I made a list a few years ago, it must be somewhere.”

Y/n laughs shaking her head, only Liam would make a list full of baby names prior to actually having a baby. “A list? I suppose it could come in handy.” That's enough to have him rushing to his bedroom, the sound of drawers being opened and close as he tosses thing on the floor.

“HERE!”, he chants running back, a proud look on his face.

“Mhm...”, she takes the list from his hand, a crumpled paper with messy handwriting on it, “let’s see.”

“Claire-- no; Bella--too generic; Ryley...-- Liam, where do you get this names from?”, Y/n stops reading, giving the list back to him.

“What? You don’t like them?��

“No... They are not bad, but they are too simple”, she rubs her forehead. Y/n always hated choosing names for things, from a good username, to naming a pet, and now choosing a special name for her baby.

“So what? You want to give your baby a strange, exotic name? She’s gonna be bullied!”, Liam is a bit offended, he personally thinks those names are perfect.

Y/n brings a hand to her belly, suddenly believing that randomising a name wouldn't be that bad, she might get a horrible one but it would get the job done. “It depends! It's not like I’m thinking on naming her ‘Bear’ or something.”

He rolls his eyes at her, “And what were you thinking?”

“Maybe Reagan, or Quinn...”

“Definitely not Reagan”, Liam objects, “If you choose Reagan she will a hundred percent turn into an antisocial person that dyes her hair burgundy and wear black.”

Y/n slaps playfully at Liam, “Names don't define personalities, and besides, I’m not sure.” She stands up and walks to the window, her eyes catching the tall buildings; rain pouring down on people; umbrellas of every colour; cars and vehicles moving down the long streets of London.

“London”, she says out loud.

“I’m sorry? Couldn't hear you?”, Liam walks towards her.

“London?”, she turns towards him, a look of realisation striking him as he thinks about it, “It’s not exotic neither too generic. Besides, I think it has a nice ring to it, London L/n.”

“London..., could call her Londy for short”, Liam nods, “I like it.”

“You are not calling my child Londy.”

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

Nine Months

Y/n eyes are fixed on the upcoming sunset that shines through the window, her head resting in Liam’s lap as she rubs her huge belly and tucks her swollen feet in the cushions of the sofa. There is faint music coming from the tiny speaker laying next to the television, but apart from that everything else is quiet. It has been the first hot day in a while, and the feeling of spring and runny noses can be seen everywhere, at least with Liam who can only rub his nose every minute or so.

“Do you believe in true love?”, Y/n’s question takes Liam by surprise.

“Wh-”, he clears his throat, “What do you mean?” Liam watches her sit straight, and turn to look at him, her eyes shining and her lips neatly packed in a thin line.

“If you believe in true love”, she says again, “like in actual love.”

Liam shifts uncomfortable, unsure on what he should say, “do you?”, he responds hesitant.

Y/n licks her lips, a frown forming on her face as she thinks, finally sighing before answering, “I don’t know... How do I know if I’m ever actually in love?”

Liam won't deny that Y/n’s question makes his heart clench, only wishing she loves him just like he’s in love with her. How does it feel to be in love? He only needs to look at Y/n once to know the answer. “Because when you are in love, all you can think about is that one person. You memorise everything about her, the way her eyes shine against the soft light of dawn while you talk about senseless things; or how her laugh sounds when you joke around; even how her soft skin feels against your hands. When you're in love, that person suddenly becomes your everything, you would do anything to make her feel happy and appreciated and most of all loved. Because when you look at her dead in the eye, she makes your heart skip a beat, and your stomach turn and this sudden feeling of giddiness run through your body while everything else simply disappears.”

Liam looks at Y/n and for the first time he can't seem to know what she's thinking, “that’s how you know you are in love.”

When a moment you have been waiting for a long time finally strikes, you have to make sure you are not dreaming. Liam isn’t sure he’s not dreaming, but decides to enjoy the moment when the prominent scent of Y/n reaches his nostrils, her lips soft against his, their cheeks hot. Y/n tangles her hands on Liam’s hair, and even though she has done this countless of times, right now it feels different. He feels different. A crazy feeling explodes in Y/n’s tummy, and she feels she might fly away, her legs feel wet and a sharp feeling in her back tenses her completely.

“Y/n?”, Liam parts his lips from hers, turning his head to the dark spot in the couch, “Y/n did you just-?” Y/n winces and that’s enough to confirm his question, her water just broke. Even though his head still spins from the recent kiss, he orders himself to keep calm, and run to Y/n’s room where the bag they prepared a few weeks ago is laying.

Y/n begins to pant, not because she’s in horrible pain, but because she’s completely nervous. What if something bad happens? She can’t help herself but think that she might not be strong enough. She finally lets herself calm down when she feels Liam’s lips against her forehead, a warm hand on her back as he guides her out the apartment.

The next few hours are a game where all you can do is wait, but not a second does Liam’s hand leave Y/n’s. Their grip tight, the feeling of sureness and the promise to never leave their side.

All her life Y/n has been scared of abandonment, but with Liam next to her, she knows that won't ever be possible for her. So when little baby London --wailing as she tightens her tiny fist--is pressed against Y/n’s chest, her eyes catching both Liam and Y/n who tilt their head as they smile at her, Y/n dares to say, “Look Liam. Look at our baby girl.” And all Liam can do is cry, happiness and joy erupting everywhere, because yes, its their baby girl.

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

I hope you enjoyed it! I’ve been working on this drafts for months and it finally feels complete.

Masterlist is here

#liam payne #Liam Payne one shot #liam payne fanfiction #one direction #one direction fanfiction #one direction fandom #one direction fanart #one direction 2020 #one direction reunion #1d #1d fan fiction #1dfamily #1d fandom #one direction preferneces #liam payne imagine

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solies-scripts · 4 years ago

Text

Toga Himiko SFW Alphabet

Here is my first piece for my 500 follower event! I hope you enjoy! 💕

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Toga is very affectionate in a clingy way. You can never really get away from her as she is either attached to you in a hug or she will literally hold onto your leg so she can stay with you

B = Beginning (How would the relationship start?)

The two of you wouldn’t start a relationship by one person asking the other out. Toga will just come up to you, state that she loves you and then expect you to be in a relationship with her.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

She loves to cuddle you, she will never let you go. She loves being cuddled into your chest or neck while she wraps her arms around your waist in a vice tight grip which you will not be able to get out of.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

She does have dreams of settling down in the traditional sense but she knows that it will never happen. However she does have dreams of a much more villainous future for the two of you where the both of you are the perfect villain duo

Also, she cannot cook. Please don’t let her cook. She can bake cookies pretty well though.

E = Effort (How much effort do they put into the relationship?)

So much effort is put into this relationship. Toga is a pretty face paced person so she puts her all into your relationship, sometimes unintentionally. She doesn’t want you to leave her so she will always try her best for you

F = Fear) (What do they do if you’re scared? How would they comfort you? How would they wanna be comforted if they were scared?)

Toga’s first instinct when you’re scared is to coo at you and talk about how cute you are but she still attempts to calm you down even though she does think you look cute all scared.

When she’s scared she just wants to latch onto like usual and have you play with her hair until she calms down. She won’t really talk much but she does enjoy if you talk about anything and everything just to get her mind off of what has scared her

G = Gifts (Do they like giving you gifts? Do they like receiving them?)

She loves giving you gifts! Sometimes you wish that she doesn’t give you gifts because she gets you some pretty strange stuff but she mostly gets you things that she thinks are pretty or reminded her of you.

If you get her gifts she will squeal and be so damn happy. If you want to make her really happy then get her hair accessories, she loves putting pretty things in her hair and making herself very colourful

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Toga’s hugs are strong and last forever. No matter how tall you are she will launch herself at you and just hang off of you.

I = Intimacy (Do they have any problems with intimacy? How romantic are they?)

She is romantic in her own twisted little way. Toga obviously isn’t fully there so she has issues with being traditionally romantic with you but she does try her hardest. She enjoys cliches from romance movies so she is always trying to pull those with you

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Toga doesn’t get jealous when you talk to other people, she gets jealous when other people touch you or try to take you somewhere without her. She is super paranoid about being abandoned so she will freak out a little and intervene or just follow you around until you get the hint

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

You will get so many cheek kisses it is unreal. While the two of you are snuggled up together, when you’re out with her or whenever she is running past you to go do whatever she needs/wants to do

Toga loves receiving forehead kisses. They make her feel loved and special which makes her flush a pretty pink colour every time. They also make her feel like she is in a ‘normal’ relationship like a normal teenage girl.

L = Love (Who says it first? How fast is it said?)

Toga says it first and she says it the first time she meets you. She falls for you the first time she lays her eyes on you so she tells you that

M = Marriage (Do they want to get married? If so, what kind of wedding would it be?)

She does want to get married because that means that you two will because be together forever and that's all she wants with you

N = Night Out (What’s a typical date night for them? How often do they go out?)

You two don’t really go out much as it’s pretty difficult to do but she does enjoy taking walks around parks late at night with you. She finds it calming and intimate which is something she craves

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It takes Toga a little while to be open about her past as she doesn’t want to scare you off, plus she doesn’t like reliving it. Once she feels like yu won’t leave then she will just start talking and won’t hide anything away anymore

P = Playful (How playful are they?)

Toga is a very giggly girl and that plays over to your relationship. She always wants to laughing and having fun with you because she never really had the chance to have friends when she was younger

Q = Questions (Do they ask for your opinion on things? Will they share theirs?)

She is always asking your opinion on things because she enjoys hearing what’s on your mind and what you think on things.

Toga isn’t afraid of giving her opinion on things and she wants you to need her opinion or thoughts like she needs yours

R = Random (How spontaneous are they? Do they do things on the spot or do they have to plan ahead?)

Her mind is always running a mile a minute so there are a lot of spontaneous moments throughout your relationship. She believes that the random moments are the best because it shows how perfect the both of you are for each other

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Toga is very protective because she doesn’t want to lose you. She won’t let anyone hurt you without taking care of them.

She doesn’t mind whether you’re protective or not because she knows she can take care of herself but if you to try and protect her then she will be happy because it shows that you care about her

T = Trust (How much do they trust you?)

She trusts you with everything. She isn’t used to people wanting to be around her and once you’re in a relationship then she will trust you with absolutely everything

U = Unique (What makes them unique as an s/o?)

Well it’s Toga. Toga is a ‘unique’ girl to begin with so she will be a very interesting s/o. There will never be a dull moment with her so you never have to worry about being bored when she is around

V = Vent (Do they let you vent to them after a hard day? Will they vent to you?)

She loves having gossip and vent nights with you! She knows it’s important to be able to talk to each other so she will always make you talk about whatever you need to get off your chest. Obviously she will want you to listen to her when she needs it like she does for you.

W = Wild Card (Random Headcanon)

Toga enjoys taking baths with you. Not for any dirty reason she just enjoys the intimacy of it, it makes her feel a little more normal for a little while, she will completely melt if you wash her hair for her as well.

X = X-ray (What would they do if you got injured?)

Well whatever hurt you will be taken care of straight away, she is just so terrified of you being taken away from her that she won’t take any risk. You won’t have to worry about someone hurting you because she will go crazy

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Toga won’t like anyone that makes fun of her in anyway, she was already bullied when she was younger and she doesn’t want to live through that again

Z = Zzz (What’re some sleeping habits of theirs?)

She cannot and will not sleep without you. She will curl up into your side and not let you move until she wakes up again. Toga is a pretty quiet and still sleeper so she is pretty easy to sleep with

#toga himiko #himiko toga #toga #toga x reader

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maybankiara · 4 years ago

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I DON’T WANT TO MISS A THING

pairing: JJ Maybank x Kiara Carrera

prompt: destination

summary: JJ drives Kiara off to college, and he’s not completely okay with that.

word count: 2.2k

a/n: a day late, but my third fic for jiara week is here. lil angst lil fluff of an established relationship and fear of abandonment makes for a good story, i reckon.

masterlist | tag list

read on archive of our own

For once in his life, JJ is quiet.

Kiara isn’t a big fan of that.

‘How do you feel about some music?’

She reaches into her backpack and takes out her phone. JJ watches her from the corner of his eye, attention fixed on the road ahead, and all he gives in response is a vague hand gesture that not even he is sure what it’s supposed to mean.

Long Train Runnin’ by the Doobie Brothers starts playing. Usually, Kiara is more into the likes of Bob Marley, Bob Dylan, and probably any other Bob there is. JJ is into rock, but something that borders on punk, or metal – this is something they both agree on, and he’s thankful for that.

This is good. This is familiar.

(JJ could use a good, healthy dose of familiar right now.)

‘Want me to take over?’ asks Kiara, nodding at the steering wheel.

He glances at her, shaking his head. ‘I’m good.’

John B’s car comes to a halt at a red light, and lets JJ take a breather. He rests his elbow on the side, hanging his hand out of the window. The breeze is there, with no salt to it, no freshness, and it only reminds him that they aren’t in Kildare anymore.

Kiara turns around in her seat and the Twinkie screeches. The red light is long enough for her to take sandwiches out of the back, give him one and take one for herself.

JJ’s touch is light when he pushes her hand away.

‘You haven’t eaten anything today.’

He starts the car, foot on the gas and hand in his hair, still leaning against the door. ‘It’s still early.’

‘Yeah,’ says Kiara, ‘except that we’ve already been up for six hours.’

She holds the sandwich in her hand again, somehow in a way that, to JJ, screams i am not backing down from this, so he sighs, and asks her if she can unwrap it for him. She’s delighted at this, bobbing her head to the beat of the song as she gives him the sandwich. JJ munches on it with one hand on the wheel, occasionally taking a sip from the hydroflask between them. Kiara entertains herself on her phone, typing away – probably updating Sarah and the pogues on how things are going.

With one hour left to Appalachian State University, Kiara puts her phone away. JJ doesn’t look at her, but he can tell even from the corner of his eyes that there’s some wheels turning in her head.

She nods to herself at some point, her posture going rigid. ‘Okay. We are going to talk about this.’

He should’ve known this was coming. ‘There’s nothing to talk about.’

‘So you’re perfectly fine with me being gone for almost three months?’ asks Kiara. ‘Not bothering you at all? Not the reason why you’ve been moody since you woke up?’

‘I’m moody ‘cause I couldn’t sleep well, ‘cause you kept stirring against me the whole night.’

‘Deflecting doesn’t help your case, JJ.’

In the rearview mirror, he checks for the traffic, then overpasses the car in front of him, hitting quite a bit over the speed limit. There’s a table overhead that he sees in a flash, saying they’ve got thirty miles until they reach the city. The hand on the wheel grows stiff.

They drive for a short bit with no words and no music. JJ’s face is sour which he knows Kiara is aware of, even if she decided that talking to him about the whole thing isn’t the way to go.

With fifteen miles left, JJ’s unease grows, and he can no longer sit still.

There’s a hand on his thigh, gripping it slightly. He glances at his girlfriend – Kiara is giving him the softest smile he’s ever seen, even if he can tell she still hasn’t let go of what happened earlier.

‘You don’t have to be worried about me, JJ,’ she tells him, voice gentle and earnest. ‘I’m a big girl. I’ll be okay on my own.’

Reluctantly, JJ takes one hand off the wheel and places it over Kiara’s smaller one. The touch is enough to send a sense of calm through him – what is he going to do without her?

So he sighs, gives her hand a squeeze. ‘I’m not worried about you, Kie. I don’t doubt for a second that you’re going to have anything but an amazing time.’

‘What is it, then?’

JJ feels her rest her head on his shoulders, smelling like fresh coconut from washing her hair before they left this morning. He presses his lips against the crown of her head, wishing the moment could last longer.

He wants her hand to remain in his for as long as they’re both alive – the sense of calm and security is what only she can give him, and he’s not ready—or willing—to give up on that just yet.

‘What if you have such an amazing time that you forget about me? About the pogues?’

The road is straight, and he’s staring down it as if his life depended on it.

‘JJ—’

‘You asked, Kie,’ he says, not looking at her. He feels his jaw tense and he relaxes it, forcefully. ‘I’m sorry you don’t like the answer.’

‘I don’t like it because it’s bullshit. I could never just forget you. Or the pogues.’

‘You say that now.’ JJ glances at her with a half smile with no cheerfulness in it, before darting his eyes back at the road. ‘Look, home isn’t great, we all know that. The constant shitty war between us and the kooks, it is what it is. Life on the Cut is a fuckin’ disaster, you and Pope both are leaving the island, and John B and I are stuck there, working our asses off with no end in sight. It’s not something you want for the rest of your life, and I know you’ll figure it out sooner or later.’

There a beat of dead silence, and then—

‘Stop the car.’

JJ stares at her. ‘Kiara, we’re on the highway—’

‘Get off. There’s an exit coming up.’

‘What are you—’

‘Now, JJ!’

He spins the wheel fast enough for the tires to squeal, and Kiara’s hands shoot up onto the handlebar above her head. The exit is in a sharp turn and someone honks at them and JJ mutters an apology as they take off the highway onto a smaller road. She’s still quiet as he pulls up at the small gas station at the very beginning of the road, parking behind it.

Then she turns around to him, and he can’t read her face.

‘I know you’re not an idiot so don’t act like one, JJ.’ Her voice is stern and powerful, enough to make JJ think she’s close to having an outburst. ‘You know how much you mean to me, right? You and Pope and John B and Sarah?’

JJ nods, but reluctantly, and only because it’s asked of him.

Kiara purses her lips, eyebrows furrowed. ‘I love the island. I love the Cut. I love the way I feel when I'm with you guys, and the fact that it’s bad sometimes, the fact that it has ups and downs, that’s why I love it. And I know—’ She cuts herself off, pulling her lips into her mouth. Her eyes soften and she lets out a shaky breath, regaining her composure. ‘I know your experience of the place is different, but the island is my home. You are my home. I’m not giving up on it.’

He wants to remark that she should stop being so emotional, or that home can change, but this is Kiara – Kiara Carrera, the girl who cares so much about the people she loves that kindness oozes out of her, and her biggest flaw is that she wants to help everybody even when they don’t really need it.

JJ’s back relaxes into the door and his head falls against the glass, letting out a small thud. He isn’t crying—he’s too exhausted for that—but he feels like it.

He’s never been anyone’s home. The idea of being Kiara’s is almost more than he can bear – except it isn’t.

He understands it.

When he opens his eyes and they meet hers, he’s surprised to find gentle and soft and worried, a stark contrast from the power in her words.

JJ reaches forward and plants a kiss on her lips; a brief touch of sincerest intimacy, and a promise to the both of them.

‘Okay,’ he whispers. ‘I trust you. If you say nothing will change, then I trust you, dammit.’

Her arms wrap themselves around him until they’re chest against chest, burying heads into each other’s shoulders. JJ holds her close and he holds her tight, eyes squeezed shut against her collarbone.

There’s a difference between saying i love you and you are my home, and JJ thinks that maybe they have been the latter for as long as they’ve been the former. When he thinks of home, there’s always Kiara, and that’s the way it’s been for years now.

He doesn’t say you're my home, too, because he’s JJ Maybank and he doesn’t do shit like that. Instead he just holds her a little longer, and rests his forehead against hers.

‘What am I going to do without you?’

Kiara chuckles, and it sounds a little wet, as if she’s laughing through tears. ‘As long as you’re still alive and mobile when I get back, I’m alright with anything.’

He smiles, for what feels like the first time today. ‘I wish I could come up.’

‘It’s too expensive, JJ. Takes too long. We talked about this.’

‘I know, it’s just…’ He sighs, looking into her eyes as he pulls back, his thumb brushing her cheek. ‘I’m going to miss you.’

‘Don’t get emotional on me, JJ,’ jokes Kiara, laughing at his eye roll. ‘We’ll be okay. It’s just a few months.’

‘Over and over again.’

Kiara pouts with a finger jabbed into his chest, shaking her head. ‘Nu-uh, buddy, we’re not getting pessimistic here. Who are you to think about things so far in the future, anyway?’ She slaps his face lightly with a smile in hers. Chin up, buttercup. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.’

JJ sighs. ‘Do I really have to meet your roommate?’

She quirks an eyebrow at him. ‘Do you want to stay with me tonight?’

‘Fair. Meeting roommate Miss Terry it is, then.’

JJ starts the car, turning around to get back on the highway, as Kiara pretends to scold him about making puns of her roommate’s name. Everything feels a little lighter from then on, with laughter filling out every inch of the beat-up van. They pull up in front of Kiara’s dorm about half an hour later and he helps her pack all her belongings. Terry turns out to be a lovely girl with a spunk that reminds him a lot of Kiara, and they seem to click the moment he leaves for a second to go to the bathroom.

Most of their day is taken by exploring Boone, and asking strangers to take photos of them (even if JJ tries to ruin every single one of them by goofing out). It’s a lovely town, and his heart sings every time he sees Kiara’s face light up at something they discover. It’s a hand-in-hand walk, and JJ realises how freezing it is to be in a sea of strangers with the girl he loves.

They end up spending the night together, as planned, and it’s all cuddles and silent promises over takeout from an independent restaurant. Terry is away at a party and doesn’t come back until noon, and by then, JJ is already on the road.

He kisses Kiara before he leaves, early in the morning. His hands play with the ends of her hair, twirling the curls around his fingers.

‘Once I’ve made enough money, I’ll be here at least once a month,’ he tells her.

Kiara smiles, covering his hand with hers. ‘Don’t be stupid, JJ. It’s too expensive and takes too much time.’

‘Kie,’ is all he says, and he can tell she understands this is indisputable.

‘Fine. But wait for me, will you? Don’t go being stupid because your self control is at university.’

‘Both self controls,’ JJ jokes. ‘Pope’s also going to be away.’

‘God, you and John B are going to annihilate the shit out of the island.’

‘They better watch out, then.’ JJ gives her the biggest grin his face allows, and kisses the tip of her nose. ‘I’ll see you on facetime when I get home.’

She nods and hugs him harder than he’d think it possible for a girl of her stature. ‘Drive safe.’

‘Never,’ he says, and pulls out of the hug.

The Twinkie awaits as it always does, smelling like a mixture of weed, alcohol, the chateau, and the beach. He can now smell coconut, too, as he waves at Kiara through the window, and she blows him a kiss.

three months isn’t a long time, he thinks as he loses her out of sight, when not even the rearview mirror is enough. we’ll be okay.

He gets onto the highway, and the Twinkie sets out for home.

★

tagging. @jjmaybanky @chasefreakinstokes @drewstarkey @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge @outrbank @juneyxx @drewstarkeyobx @ilovejjmaybank @teamnick @jjmaybanksbaby @mahleeyuh @nicolewithasoul @kiarawilliams127 @starlightstarkey @anonymous0writer @outerbongs @warnettc @jjandreidsgirl @jjmaybanqs @sofiesshitshow @kaitieskidmore1

#jiara #jiara july #jiara fanfiction #outer banks #obx #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jj maybank x kiara carrera #outer banks fanfiction #obx fic #my fic #f: obx #s: jiara

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priorireverte · 4 years ago

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Congratulations Ash!

Your application for Katie Bell has been accepted. Katie is a character I’ve rarely given much thought, frankly, but I’ve completely fallen in love with her already. You’ve given her so much depth and involved her so closely in everything that is happening. I can’t wait to see what she gets up to!

Please look to the checklist for the next steps and reach out if you have any questions!

OUT OF CHARACTER

NAME & PRONOUNS: Ash, she/her.

TIMEZONE: PST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I reckon I am about a six or seven out of ten. I am constantly on mobile and accessible for plotting, but prefer to do all of my replies once I am home from work and have access to a computer.

ANYTHING ELSE: I have ten plus years role-playing experience and I am looking forward to this amazing opportunity to potentially write Katie again for the first time in years. She was one of the first characters I ever wrote in the Harry Potter world and holds a very special place in my heart.

CHARACTER DETAILS

NAME: Katherine Emery Bell ( Katie Bell )

BIRTHDATE: 21 April, 1978.

DEATHDATE: 10 October, 1997 N/A, still alive and kicking.

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Katie is a cisfemale who uses she/her pronouns. She is bisexual, as she was taught to love and embrace everyone for who they were at a young age. It doesn’t matter what they are; she only weighs who they are inside.

BLOOD STATUS: Half-blood.

HOUSE ALUMNI: Gryffindor.

OCCUPTATION: Unspeakable, Death Chamber.

FACECLAIM: Poppy Drayton, though I might want to switch if accepted / after having some time to sleep on it.

CHARACTER BACKGROUND

POSTBELLUM

Like many, Katie too has scars from the war. They are weighted far heavier than she cares to admit and she carries them with her everywhere. In the pocket of her favorite cloak, tightly wrapped around her not just for warmth, but security too; on her broomstick whenever she needs to escape from the static background noise; or to one of her best mate’s houses where she is sure to find relief at the bottom of a shared bottle of fire-whiskey.

Katie shies away from intimacy’s pervasive touch. She does not give her trust away so freely like she once did as a carefree girl. Every instinct to share a piece of herself and love others is met with restraint. These are a few of the repercussions she faces because of the damage inflicted on her. She has been to a dark place; tethered between the realms of life and death while being neither here nor there. She clawed her way back to stable ground, though there are times she questions its permanence. In fact, if anything the war has taught her everything is fleeting. Now she leaves claw marks on everything, but can’t seem to hold onto any of it.

Practically everyone she knows has been touched in some way by the war; some of their scars running far deeper than her own. She lost friends and a part of herself, but many had it off far worse. Katie tries not to linger on her own pain and psychological trauma for that reason. At the end of the day, she survived; the heart beating in her chest confirms she is alive despite sometimes feeling anything but.

Since the war came to pass five years ago ( though at times it feels like a separate lifetime ago ), Katie has channeled her experiences and emotions into molding a successful career as an Unspeakable where she works in the Death Chamber. Since her brush with death at seventeen, Katie found herself unusually fascinated with the subject matter. She spent six months hospitalized in St. Mungo’s, a majority of which she was at what felt like death’s door. She swore she did die, but that was a difficult pill for her to swallow—let alone anyone else, so she kept that secret sealed tightly under lock and key. Katie figured that was the better alternative than being labeled crazy.

It took a long time for her to cope with what occurred, and even longer to bring up the occurrence with those closest to her. Being cursed certainly had its affects; it changed who she was and what made her tick. When she returned to Hogwarts and participated in the final quidditch match of her school-career against Ravenclaw, the game did not give her the same adrenaline filled rush it once had. She unknowingly battled depression and PTSD that year struggling to hold onto all the things she loved. They no longer provided her with sustenance, but she confused these arbitrary feelings with lackluster consequences from a progressive war with what felt like no end insight.

PERSONALITY

As a girl, Katie was known for being carefree and reckless. She was an untamed spirit who had not yet learned about the world’s cruelness. She had no reason then to be the emotionally guarded woman she would become. The final years of the war forced her to grow up much sooner than she ever planned for herself. Her overly-competitive demeanor was combated by a sudden instability. Trust no longer comes as easily for her as it once did. When she was imperiused during her last year of school and subsequently cursed by the Opal Necklace, she felt like she lost a part of herself. She no longer enjoyed many of the same hobbies she once did. She questioned everything, from the motives of her friends to the intricacies of life. She was no longer left in control, but instead reeling with trust issues in the present day—the most concerning being the lack of trust she feels in herself. It is an unspoken feeling, but it looms above her like a dark cloud.

Since being cursed, Katie has been keenly inept at desensitizing and disassociating from reality whenever it doesn’t fit perfectly in the box she has crafted for it. The war left her jaded and its scars provided an unwanted resilience she transformed into armor. She has survived many battles, but even the ones she lost were never for naught. They each made her stronger—just a mere fraction of the woman she will become, but still knowingly has many lessons to learn before fully evolving. However, Katie is plagued with self-doubt. Perhaps that is what holds her back from achieving her full potential.

Katie is now far more reserved than she once was. Her desire for love and ability to share it with others has diminished since she was a child, muted by a perverted sense of drive. She has a bad habit of shutting not only the world out, but those closest to her too. It can be a lonely road at times, so she throws herself into her work with hopeless abandon. She is driven and sees every project through to the very end. Ironically though, her never-ending need to answer life’s most challenging questions is exactly what holds her back from living life to the fullest. She has a one track mind and can become so preoccupied, or short-sighted, she forgets to hold onto what is really important.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY

Katie grew up in a happy family with very relaxed core values. Her parents always demonstrated love to her and her brother, Christian, even when they weren’t the most deserving or receptive. Olivia and Rhys Bell loved each other fiercely; that was one consistent factor in Katie’s life. As the youngest Bell in the family of four, she was spoiled and fussed over more than she cares too admit. She recalls all the arguments and tiffs her and Christian got into over the years—a trait that seemed to follow the pair into adulthood. Their parents on the other hand hardly ever fought. Katie believed there must be occasions they clashed with one another, but it was evident they were far more emotionally reserved than their children. They made a point not to fight in front of them, which always raised the question of where their children’s argumentative tendencies came from.

It was important for Olivia and Rhys to make their children feel empowered starting at a young age. They wanted to instill in them a strong sense of confidence that would allow them to break through any obstacles in their way or complete whatever task they set out on. As survivors of the first wizarding wixen war, and Olivia being a muggle-born, it was imperative to them their children didn’t embody the same fear or embrace any limitations as they once did. This nurturing mindset is exactly how Katie got into flying. Her father gifted a toy broomstick to her one Christmas when she was no more than six years old. She can recall the sheer horror on her mother’s face that morning; it was evident she was not in on the surprise, otherwise there probably would have been no broom at all that year. Christian had received one a few years prior and Olivia’s excitement over the matter quickly disintegrated when he lost control and spiraled into their garden trellis. Christian didn’t fly again until his first year lessons, however his sister’s abilities came far more natural than his own.

Once Olivia realized her daughter was more agile than her first born, she quickly warmed up to the idea. After she mastered and eventually outgrew the dainty toy broomstick, it was her mom who splurged for her first trainer’s broom. Katie excitedly whipped the new broom around their property, memorizing every trace of it from the new safe haven she had discovered. Flying became an escape for her. Quidditch always brought much excitement, but flying was what truly made her feel at peace with herself. Over the years she fully mastered the skill ( while running through her fair share of broomsticks ), and Katie knew she had her parents to thank for supporting her in spite of themselves and pushing her forward every time she wanted to quit. Though her quidditch career eventually faded away, her love for flying never wavered as her unconditional love for her parents and brother never has.

Present day, Katie and her family still share a special bond. Her parents continue to support all her endeavors even if they don’t necessarily agree or understand them. At times Katie is aware there is a disconnect between them, but it is something she can’t seem to avoid. Olivia and Rhys witnessed their daughter go from a bubbly and charismatic girl to someone almost unrecognizable at times, but since the war is still so fresh for everyone it has become easier to turn the other cheek.

HISTORY

Katie always considered her life very ordinary. Her parents worked hard to ensure her and her brother had a good life. They were a close-knit family and, though they got on her nerves on occasion, there was nothing she wouldn’t do for them. Katie recalls her childhood fondly. Olivia read books to both her children frequently, however Katie found herself to be easily distracted. Her head would wander to the sky where she would pluck shapes out of the clouds. Christian was the calm and retentive child—it was much easier for their parents to hold his attention. Katie on the other hand was a bumbling ball of energy since she was of crawling age. She would color the walls or demolish Christian’s toys if left unattended. It was much easier to hold her attention whenever baking was involved. Katie had a knack for sweets, though the thought of giving her more sugar didn’t always appeal. Still, she somehow persuaded her mum into baking cookies with her often. These were some of the best days of her childhood.

As soon as Katie was gifted her first toy broomstick, a spark ignited. Flying undoubtedly was her first love. Whenever her and Christian had a sibling squabble or he was getting on her nerves, she would run to her broomstick immediately and take flight; and when it was his time to leave for Hogwarts and she was left behind for three more years, flying became her therapy and release. It remedied the loneliness.

When it was finally time for Katie to head off to Hogwarts, her natural charisma and energetic personality really shined through in all she did. She made friends quickly and they became a forefront in her life. She fed off the energy of those around her and subsequently became a member of numerous school clubs. Joining the Gryffindor quidditch team her second year was the highlight of her entire school-career. She considered those initial years to be the best of all; her original teammates quickly became a second family to her. It was a feeling that still echoed long after their glory days on the quidditch pitch.

When Lord Voldemort returned, Katie found herself at a loss for words. She considered Harry Potter a friend and teammate. No one in her inner circle doubted him nor did she, however she did have a difficult time comprehending just what that meant. Cedric Diggory was also a friend; like many, seeing his body in the aftermath of the Tri-Wizard Tournament was Katie’s first brush with death. It was evident to the then fifteen year old that only something vile and cruel could take the life of someone like Cedric—someone with so much potential. She jumped at the opportunity to join Dumbledore’s Army for that reason. She believed in the cause and, reflecting on the pain the first war put her own parents through, Katie had to believe there was a reason she wound up here when she did.

Katie genuinely did not believe anything could be more difficult than that period of time, but her seventh year was one of the most challenging of all. Katie was not sure when the trip to Hogsmeade went awry on that beautiful fall day. There was excitement in the air despite the frigid temperature that brought the first snowfall of the season. That is one of the only memory’s Katie holds onto from that day. She later woke up in St. Mungo’s where she was told she had been for six months recovering from a fatal curse.

With a hoarse voice and fear filling her eyes, Katie asked the first healer she saw if she was dead.

The healer laughed as if she made some kind of joke. “ No honey, you’re lucky to be alive. ”

Lucky to be alive.

Except the problem was Katie didn’t feel anything, least of all alive. She spent the last six months in a foreign place, but didn’t feel nearly as lost or confused there as she did now that she was back in the earthly dimension.

The phrase continues to haunt her six years after her near-death experience. Maybe the Healer was right and she should feel lucky, but she doesn’t. Now that the war has come to pass, she is riddled with guilt. She cannot walk away from what happened to her six years ago despite making it out of the war alive. That alone should be enough reason to celebrate, but it is not. There are too many unanswered questions and Katie understands better than most who survived the war that everyone is borrowed time. She cannot unsee the place she spent six months of her life trapped in. She is desperate to understand it and even more desperate to know if the souls of her lost friends now inhabit the same space.

OOC EXPLORATION

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?

This group captivated my attention immediately upon discovery. The Trio Era is what originally got me into role-playing Harry Potter and the Marauders is what kept me, so this role-play truly is the perfection combination. I have been looking for a group to join for some time now and your group has one of the freshest and most unique concepts I’ve ever seen! Plus, it is obvious the passion and care that has gone into creating this group. I am excited to potentially be a part of the journey and see where the story takes us all together.

EXTRA FOR NON-BIO CHARACTERS

CHARACTER CONTRIBUTION

Katie possesses a lot of versatility with her character. She naturally has an outgoing and charismatic personality, and is quick at adapting to her surroundings. She has always been an integral part of whatever community she is a part of—ranging from her time at Hogwarts on the quidditch team, in the dueling club, or Dumbledore’s Army; to her career beyond the castle’s walls. She has proved herself a loyal friend to many. I think her experience being cursed by the Opal Necklace makes her an imperative character because she has knowledge from that ordeal others might not be equipped with, which she has channeled into a career within the Ministry of Magic as an Unspeakable.

I headcanon that when Katie was cursed by the necklace during her seventh year, she spent a large portion of her time in St. Mungo’s unconscious. During this period she had an out of body experience where she thought she was dead. She tightly holds onto the secret that she visited what may be known to some as limbo, purgatory, or the underworld out of fear of being labelled crazy. She doesn’t dismiss her experience though; she clings to it, and it to effects every aspect of her life.

Katie’s brush with death made her obsessed with the idea of it. Since the war’s conclusion she has tried to dissect the mechanics of life and death, but had no success. Everyday feels the exact same; she is capped out with little to show for her efforts. That is, until the first of the returned makes their appearance through the veil. This ignites a new obsession in Katie all over again.

PRESENT

“ Have you heard? ” A stocky Unspeakable buzzed with excitement as he pushed passed Katie and exited the elevator lift.

“ Heard what? ” The woman quipped in his direction as she rubbed her tired eyes, but by the time she gathered her senses he was already hurrying off down the corridor. Katie shrugged her shoulders back and dismissed the interaction before continuing along in the same direction. Unusual occurrences were the norm in this part of the Ministry so she didn’t think much of it. She was already getting a late start on her day anyway so she decided to quicken her pace as she rounded the corner leading to her dual office/laboratory, where she was forced to stop abruptly when she came across a throng of other Unspeakables littering the hallway. Katie quirked a brow upon the realization everyone was huddled near the Death Chamber.

“ What is going on? ” She asked the same Unspeakable who she spotted standing nearby.

“ You don’t know? ” Emerson gaped, which annoyed Katie slightly. “ They are saying someone has returned through the veil. ”

“ What do you mean ‘returned through the veil?’ I didn’t realize we were trying to send anyone to the other-side— ”

“ No, someone no longer living returned through the veil. They came back from the dead. ”

“ Impossible, ” Katie uttered in protest, but her own near-death experience quickly replayed in her head. She was only seventeen when she swore she too briefly died, so maybe it wasn’t impossible for the dead to return after all.

“ No really, a boy was found wandering the corridors naked this morning. Creevy is what they’re calling him. ”

Katie stood silent for a moment as she processed what she had just been informed. “ Someone came back to life? Through the veil? ” The witch repeated as her dark eyes swirled with sudden intensity. Emerson merely nodded. “ I sure picked a hell of a day to be late. ” She concluded completely gobsmacked.

“ You won’t make that mistake again, ” Emerson chuckled before disappearing off into the crowd to try and sneak a closer look.

And he was right. From that day forward, Katie was never late again. She always put her best foot forward when it came to her career, but the stakes suddenly felt like they had been raised even higher upon the departed’s return. The one thing she now knows for certain is that this might be the only opportunity she has to find answers to the questions that have been tormenting her for the last six years—and she doesn’t plan on letting this moment pass her by like she did unwittingly the last one.

#prioriacceptance #katie bell

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graveyard-in-the-void · 4 years ago

Text

---- Pumpkin Pain ---- (Me? Trying to write whump? With Pumpkin Scissors, it’s more likely than you think!

Now, after reading the manga as far as is translated- I can say that I somewhat abandoned the canon. It’s still an incredible Manga/Anime that I recommend to anyone (especially the anime, the manga gets pretty serious, I would go for both, but if you’d have to pick...)- but there are a lot of major tweaks I did on the atmopshere and themes present in the original work. I feel bad, it were deep themes, but dear god, I just can’t help but rip anything I love into unrecognizable pieces and make it way too light-hearted. Oh well, enjoy if you can!) ------

It hadn’t been easy this time around. Despite no tanks. Only bandits. Maybe that’s why Henry acted the way he did. Lowlife bandits. He had no respect for them. Challenging them to battle, while he told his group to continue setting the car up- They were on dangerous territory, the river nearby had the habit to flood over during the early morning hours… they were on a timer, undoubtedly. And that was why the rest of the platoon acted the way they did. Turning their back, trusting their leader. Because it was Henry Miller. He was incredible. As the last bandit fell, the car roared to live again and all of them gathered again, Henry confidently jumping beside Malcolm into the back of the car- exhausted, but smiling. “There we go. I thought I would have to fix the car by myself too!” Funtime Foxy rolled his eyes at that. “Listen, Lieutenant, while you were in your element, we had to figure out an entire car mechanism. You had fun, we had work.” Henry just laughed. But there was something about that laugh that kind of tipped Malcolm off. Unsure he looked at the small figure next to him. “Lieutenant?” The breaths he let out were absolutely irregular, his whole body seemed to still shake- and it didn’t seem to be only from exhaustion. It seemed- Henry looked at him, his eyes wild, a little bit glassy. “What is it, Corporal?” “Ah, well-“ The Phone Guy had adjusted the mirror, frowning a little as he inspected the scene behind him- he saw it too. Malcolm glanced away again, reaching for Henry’s shoulder. “Lieutenant, are you hurt-“ “NO. No, I am-“ Taking a sharp breath, Henry adjusted in the backseat, shortly his face turning into a grimace. “I am fine.” “Stop the car-“ Malcolm ordered, before his superior instantly fell into his word. “Under NO circumstances stop the car! We need to get this intel to the station! We can’t AFFORD any further delays!” His breath was getting more and more into disarray. “But Lieutenant-“ “INNOCENT PEOPLE, Malcolm! They’ll be SHOT AT. The building is full of civilians and they don’t KNOW that and if we don’t-“ Breaking off, Henry started coughing, and that was when Mal made his decision. “There’s an abandoned hut down the road, sometimes used by the military.” He started slow, his voice deeper and more determined than before. “You and me will get off the car there. Foxy and Simon will go on and deliver the information.” “But-“ Gently Malcolm put his big hand on Henry’s shoulder, causing him to wince a little. “You’re in NO state to make decisions anymore.” “I-“ All the big man needed to do was to carefully squeeze his shoulders, causing him to quiet down. As the road went on, he felt Henry growing more and more limp under his grasp, and the fear started crawling into Malcolm’s very core- The other two were deathly silent too, driving as fast as they could. It seemed like hours, but it were barely a few minutes that they drove, before the Phone Guy brought the car to a halt. Without waiting another second, Malcolm stood up- And Henry tried to follow suit, just to completely fold in on himself. Everyone tried to get to him, but due to position, Malcolm was first, abruptly catching him and raising him up in his arms, feeling the sticky heat of slowly dripping blood creeping over and covering his arms, his heart stopping for a second. Jumping out of the car, while keeping Henry steady, Malcolm looked back only once. “Bring the information to the stationed members of section one. Hurry. I’ll take care of him.” There was another second of hesitation from the other two, however, they knew they had no choice here- not if this mission was supposed to be a success. And if they had any more doubt, Henry’s weak voice remained oddly authoritative. “… go already y-you idiots, what are y-you WAITING for…?” “Yes, sir!” The car drove off, as Malcolm carried Henry off into the hut. It felt terrifying to see Henry in this state. A nauseating mixture of intimacy and terror filled the atmosphere. Terrible, it was terrible, but Malcolm had no choice but to unbuckle his lieutenant’s belt and opening his coat- Just to see that his entire right side was covered in blood. Even more- There were metal- things- sticking out of his side too. Hooks? “What- what were you up against, Lieutenant…?” “… bandits.” He muttered, his eyes staring at the ceiling, clearly unable to focus. “No, these weapons- those- I haven’t see those before.” “… c-creative bandits. They- use… hooks. Does damage- taking them out.” Slowly he breathed in and out, trying to steady himself. “… they will- have to… I think- we should… I-“ “Shhhh, Lieutenant. You- have to save your breath.” “… I am… not dying…” Half-hearted Malcolm smiled, desperately trying to keep himself calm, knowing that now it all depended on him. “Of course you aren’t, Lieutenant.” Slowly he closed his eyes, gathering himself as well, reigniting his determination. “… I wouldn’t let you.” A quiet laugh escaped Henry, before he stopped as Malcolm grabbed his shoulder, pressing him down. “Wh-“ “Lieutenant, I will have to remove the hooks. This will hurt… I apologize. Please- try to hold still.” Instantly Henry weak grip on his arm grew tighter, it was clear he knew what was coming. But he remained quiet. The fear was visible in only his fingers, and his eyes. Malcolm already knew this would hurt him too- so he paused one more second. “… it’s okay to scream.” With that he removed the first hook. The fingers on his arm turned into claws, as he felt Henry desperately trying to sit up, his feet kicking impossibly HARD for someone so hurt- Malcolm wouldn’t back down though. Kicks and scratches and he was sure if he would have managed to sit up, he would have tried to bite him, there was no tactic and elegance left inside of his superior. Only the instinct of an animal trying to escape the pain. However, he refused to scream, the howl kept inside of his throat and closed mouth. “I’m sorry Lieutenant- I’m sorry Henry. It’s going to be over soon.” With that he grabbed the second hook, swiftly getting it out, adjusting the angle- Another breathless and tired noise of pain, Henry trying to throw himself around, twitching- but Malcolm’s grip had no mercy. He was holding him tight, too tight to get himself hurt even more on accident- “Last one. It’s okay. It’s okay Henry.” The body below him was shuddering, lying in his own blood- And Malcolm moved quick, taking it out, getting it done. There was a scream. An actual, loud scream that send a chill down Malcolm’s spine. He was so sure he never heard him scream like that. At all. It sounded to unlike his lieutenant- The only silver lining- and it was none at all- was that he had stopped kicking him so hard. Probably his strength leaving his body, but Malcolm desperately tried to not think about it. When it was all said and done, he had the bandages ready, a needle and yarn too. God, god, he wasn’t- he wasn’t at all prepared to do this. He never did this before- But if he wanted him to live- At least there was hardly any reaction from Henry anymore, he seemed to almost completely lost conscious, only his fingers sometimes twitched, as a little sound escaped his throat. “It will be fine.” Malcolm whispered, unsure if to himself or to Henry. “You will do just fine. You will be fine. We’ll get out of this.” Eventually it went fully quiet, maybe because Malcolm was focusing so much, maybe because Henry finally slipped away. And without thinking any further, he finished off patching up the cleaned and stitched wounds, wrapping them into bandages as well. God, the whole side was ripped open, a fleshy mess- And now, as he looked down at his sleeping, pale, wrapped up Lieutenant, he almost looked- Mummified. It made him feel sick. Sitting down by his side, Malcolm stared at him. Dirty, worn down, sweaty and in pain. That was the last thing he wanted to see him like. He should have STAYED by his side. He should have fought with him. Reaching out, he grabbed Henry’s hand, closing his eyes. When he focused, he could feel Henry’s heartbeat in his palm, and it- it helped a little bit. Right now, Henry was still here, still with him, and had a chance to get better- everything would get better. Tonight he would sleep a second. Not until he knew Henry was alright. Not until Henry’s eyes opened again. When consciousness came back to Henry, he at first almost wished it didn’t. His entire body was in utter agony. He wanted to move, but couldn’t. His head was hammering. Slowly he glanced up at the ceiling, until he had saved enough strength to look to the side- “Henry! Henry, oh god. You’re okay. I knew it. I knew you’d be okay.” It was funny. Funny to see this big man shake. Especially since- it was so rare to see him express such intensity in general. He opened his mouth to say something, but it was hardly a croak. Malcolm stood up. “I’ll get you some water, Lieutenant.” Rushing away, he disappeared from Henry’s field of few, leaving him to ponder what had looked off about Malcolm beside his emotionality right now- Wait- Right. He wasn’t wearing his… jacket. Slowly he shifted the tiniest bit, avoiding the utter agony flaming up inside of him, to glance- That was one way to explain why he was feeling so warm and cozy. The jacket almost covered him completely, it was that big. Falling back, he slowly breathed out, trying not to go mad with pain, trying not to want to scream and trash about, as that would just open up his wounds again… Malcolm reappeared, holding the glass of water, looking distraught. “Uhm- Lieutenant, I- will have to help you drink. You can’t move yet.” “… you think…?” Finally his voice had returned to him, just in time to be sarcastic. However, Malcolm’s face lit up- and for a moment Henry felt better. Kneeling down beside him, he carefully put his hand under Henry’s head, helping to raise it a little, allowing to ensure the least possible amount of pain. Afterwards, he sat down with him again, leaning against the wall. For a while, Henry drifted, unsure if minutes or hours passed… … then finally another thought made it through the haze of pain. “… are you not… cold?” “Huh? Lieutenant?” Surprised Mal looked at him, before shaking his head. “No, I’m fine. Think about yourself first. Please.” “Malcolm. I-“ He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. Something about the winter cabin… “… body heat…” It seemed like his subordinate understood instantly, his face changing to shock. … was what he asked that outrageous? He wasn’t SURE and it made him feel so- upset. All these rules, all these regulations. Growing up with them, internalizing them. The high society. The military. The structures that had defined him. All of it, a distant dream now. Now, all that existed was this cabin, Malcolm, and his body that was ripping apart at the seams- quite literally. And all he knew was that he wanted to feel someone else besides him. No- not someone. Malcolm. “A-are you sure about this, Lieutenant?” “… urgh, stop- calling me that… I am… h-hardly a lieutenant right now.” “Henry…” “Please just- do it for me.” There was nothing for a whole minute or two- Then he felt Malcolm slip under the covers and coat besides him, feeling a weird sense of instant relief as his smell and radiating warmth was there. Closing his eyes, he fell asleep almost instantly. There was nothing Henry wanted to do more than move again, properly. He could sit up, but it was impossible to at all shift to the injured side- And he hated lying like this. Malcolm had been cooking, cleaning him and his bandages and generally been trying to dote over his every need. It felt a little bit humiliating. However, every time he tried to see if he could finally stand up- “GOD FUCK-“ “Henry!” … and back down onto the bed he went. Frustrating. He was growing so anxious. “Malcolm. I cannot stand this. I cannot lie around here anymore!” For a moment Malcolm looked at him, trying to come up with some solution for this. “I… could pick you up, Henry?” “Goddammit, Malcolm.” “Wh-what?” “… nothing.” Henry shook his head. “… I would quite like to be picked up. Just so I can at least see the outside for a little before I go stir-crazy.” No more hesitation needed, Malcolm gently picked him up. Warm and save, his arms felt- reassuring. And as he carried him outside, he took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air on his face, the sound of birds and the wind brushing through the trees and grass. He leaned his head a little bit against Malcolm’s chest. And… he felt like smiling. “… we really did it, huh…? I survived and the other two are doing their parts. And the bandits- they are gone. It could not have gone any better.” “I have to say that- I would rather not have seen you hurt, Henry.” “Well, that is your opinion. I would do it all again.” Softly Malcolm smiled too, looking at Henry’s face, his watchful eyes wandering over the scenery. “… yeah, I fear so too.” It was their last night in the cabin. Message had reached them that their two soldiers would be coming back in the morning, with a transporter for Henry. For now though, they would sleep in here one last time. Malcolm looked at his Lieutenant, watching him sleep, sometimes still wincing during it, as his body had to prevent itself from trying to roll over. At least the taller guy could keep him steady, preventing him from as much damage as possible. He was looking so much better than just a few nights ago. His cheeks had color again. His breathing was strong. He was going to get up again. Softly he chuckled, gently wrapping a strain of his pink hair around his finger. Weird- Henry always called HIM the indestructible one. Yet here he was. Recovering. Growing strong again. He’d get out of this without anything permanent. Maybe even without any ill memory. Because that was just how Henry was. Brushing through his hair, Malcolm felt his heart sinking ever so slightly. This was how Henry was and he should have been more careful with him. All of this damage, it still felt like his fault. Never again. A short thought made it into his mind, as he watched Henry lying there, resting so peacefully. Somewhat he felt bad for it. Maybe even terrible. But frankly, he only knew one good luck charm that had ever worked on him… … slowly he leaned down, close enough that their breath mixed- His heart hammered in his chest, he was fully red in the face. Oh lord. Could he really do this? Really? But- if he wanted to apologize- if he wanted to promise to do better- if he wanted to give him good luck- Softly he leaned and did it. A gentle kiss on the forehead. Then he slipped in next to Henry for one last time, before this man would turn into his Lieutenant once more, requiring a professional distance most of the time. The memory of this kiss though- It would stay with Malcolm. And forever remind him to do better.

#mod toast #Malcolm #Henry #shippy stuff #one day I'll probably organize all the AUs? I think? Perhaps?#also if you put anything in the inbox about canon pumpkin scissors I might end up rambling my head off #it's better for your sanity if you don't #love it but also am so frustrated by it

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yarti · 5 years ago

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[ Fanar ] - [The Carriage of Life ]

Click anywhere for Imgur link with full set and captions.

Story Below:

"Three days yet by foot. We probably should have taken a carriage. This road is a fair bit less scenic than most we've put behind us."

I took a puff from my pipe, eyes set far out into the fields for even in that vastness, I knew precisely where to look.

"Unless horse and carriage were to leap out from behind a boulder, we'd best grow accustomed to walking."

Gili strode ahead of me, darting behind a roadside stone. "It could happen. A carriage, that is. It could? Could it not? More perplexing things have happened." She yelled, skipping to the next largest rock and peering behind it. "No horse here!"

It had became something of a game. A way to pass the time on such a walk. We had long-since exhausted the easy conversations. "Things that were and those yet to be." We had discussed those at-length. We neared Blackmore, but would not stray that far south just yet. Our path was to be a more direct one. The lights of Whiterun could be seen on the horizon on those darker nights. As fireflies over distant fields, signs above, ever honest, or the freckles on her then wind-whipped cheeks. It was just a matter of closing the distance.

The day we left town, Gili took it upon herself to part with some of her hair. I offered to trim it for her, but she is as thickheaded as ever. With one wrong snip of her scissors, half of her hair was gone in an instant. What remained hung off to one side, nearly covering an eye. Distracting at times, I'm certain, but it fit her. This style was something of a rebellious look. Not quite the image she had wished to project. She often worried that Mother and Father would disapprove of her in one way or another, her new hairstyle being another worry to add to the list. Each day brought about another worry. At times I wondered if I should have kept our destination a secret. We had discussed it earlier that morning in fact. "They are good folk, as good as they come. Once they see that you are likewise good company, they will welcome you with open arms. Father will be easy to win over, just be yourself. He is a man of Mara, a family man despite his work. You will see a great deal of me in him. Mother will be difficult. We can only hope that she will be too busy with Fiolette to give you much ire. Though, if she were to turn her wrath on you, I could do little to help. Especially if Fannah has visited or been in touch lately. Fannah thinks you to be a witch. That you've bewitched me and that this journey is some complex nefarious plot." I let out a hearty chuckle then shut my eyes as warm memories flowed over me. "They certainly have a..." I stopped myself to have another draw of the elves ears. "Most peculiar view of women." I burst out, half between a cough and a laugh. Far from a new topic, this. She knew to expect interrogation, harsh words, perhaps harsher looks. But I assured her, she would warm up to her. She had my word on that.

Boredom begat boredom, the long road tiring and draining. Sore soles and pained souls, with every step, I felt my tone grew more annoyed and hers more desperate for stimulation. She never stops talking. At times, quiet can do a man good. I can see why Father would set aside time for mead or the lake. Idle-chatter and stress do not play well with budding relationships. Rather than have one of us eventually lose our temper, I elected that we surrender to the road. A serious campsite would be fine medicine. We set up camp at the nearest opportunity, a Nordic ruin, or what was left of one. No interior to speak of but flat stone floors would do plenty. The following two days were spent in camp. We found much time to mend body and soul, and time aside to write. It was good to put quill to paper and get some of this off of my chest. The result became a letter to Fannah. As much distaste as I may seem to have for Gili on paper, in truth, I do love her. Most dearly. I would have her no other way.

The next night, we were beset upon by the most terrible of storms. The heavens would glow like the broad of day for but a moment, then crash into blackest night. I feared the wind might carry Gili away if not for the urgency with which her fingers dug into my cloak and about my arm. She looked to my grimacing face as the sharp beads pelted my jaw and brow, hair drenched and dripping beneath a hood long darkened by the downpour. She would find no solace there, so my cloak and embrace would have to suffice. My hood did little more than dull the wet arrows as they came swift and many from all directions. The road was likened to a warzone with us in the crossfire.

The flashes of lightning silhouetted a high house, a manor just off the road. These were empty lands, naught more than fields barren and unkempt road. A house was a welcome sight, be it owned or abandoned. I envisioned a porch or awning above the doorway, the mere thought of it made me smile. If it were abandoned, we would make it our own until the storm passed. Lay out a bedroll and enjoy our time while the world above poured itself dry. If it were owned by unsavory folk, even the briefest respite under an awning would have done well to soothe our troubles. Best yet, I envisioned us met with the open arms of some kind strangers, an elderly couple. An old Nord lady, clutching at her shawl, lurching around the barely-opened door, extending a rusted lantern to illuminate our downtrodden faces. The relief on those faces as she welcomed us inside to warm ourselves by the fire and partake of a meal far past dinner-time. At the dinner table we would meet her husband, a Dunmer noble, a face untouched by his years but obviously of similar age to his mate. The table was long with many chairs. They would regale us of their sire, little ones come and gone and of their adventures in places and ages long since passed. Gili and I would sit together, my arm across her shoulder, listening to their tales until the coming morn. I shook myself from my thoughts, only to find Gili peaking at me from beneath her hood. She nodded, acknowledging my daydreaming or nightdreaming as it were and nestled against my chest. Knowing her as I do, we likely shared that dream. The amulet of Mara around her neck jingled loudly as we quickened our pace.

In an hour's time, we came upon the once-majestic outline of our shelter to-be. Rotted and disheveled, a shade of what it may once have been. I cleared my throat and stepped up to the door, a hand curling into a loose fist. It rose then fell upon the door softly as Gili brought about some light. Far too soft, given the intensity of the storm. "Louder." She urged with her palm on my back. My fist rose again, this time coming down much harder. The door boomed and splintered, echoing through what lay beyond it.

"Hello?" I called out. "I know it is dreadfully late, but this storm. It came out of nowhere and nearly blew us away." Gili added, with hardened voice.

Aside from the storm and our sighs, we were met with silence. Again, harder still, a fist met the door. With that, the bolt gave way, allowing the door to roll open. It squealed on hinges long since oiled as a cloud of dust struck our faces. Inside, a long dark abyss.

"Is there anyone inside?"

No reply. Wind howled through the doorway, slicing at our exposed faces and hands. The house snored like a long-slumbered beast. "We're coming inside." Once inside, we tried to fasten the door behind us but the lock had crumbled from the impact. Gili held it shut by light of palm then inched a small table in front of it to keep the storm out.

"Well, either our hosts are sound sleepers, or the house is to be ours." she mumbled, following me into the unknown.

Hastily, we cleared each room, settling into a comfortable bedroom once all was deemed safe. A fireplace, some wine. There will of course be no written record of our private time, it was intended to be ours and ours alone but someone felt otherwise. In the midst of it all, a peculiar sound caught my long ears. I grew still, listening. Eyes scouting the room between hush breaths. On the other side of the door, boards bowed under the strain of someone or something. I rose and eased my way over, wrapping a sheet around my bareness. Taking sword, my crimson eyes seared through the slit of the door, scanning low to high. Without moment's notice, I drove the sword through the door to it's hilt. A curdled cry, like that of a dying animal, it shrieked then bolted down the hall. The sword groaned sickly as I pulled it from it's splintered sheathe, blackened blood clinging to the edge. "Vampire", I whispered, taking Gili by the hand. We burst through the door, sliding to a stop in the slickness behind it.

The path of upturned tables and clutter lead through halls we had already cleared, with a blood trail ending at the opening to a once-lit room. The monster had snuffed out the candles. I pointed to a candle, my voice but a notion in the air. "Berne." In the mists and moonlight beaming through those stained glass windows, we could make out a figure just head and above and to our right, a shuffling high along the cathedral wall. The hiss of a beast on the attack. Before Gili could turn toward the sound, I had already smote it with fire. A cloaked figure howled and fell to the floor, writhing as another stirred at our backs. I spun, giving it unto the flames likewise. As they passed, the hall fell silent but for the pains of the now lone figure.

"I apologize for your comrades, but I know what you are. Berne. By holding to the shadows, they left me no choice. I could not risk it. But you. You may have intruded on our intimacies, but you have yet made no move. Am I assume that you are to be civil? " I lowered my sword and quelled the warmth in my palm.

The monster fidgeted just out of the light but said naught. It turned to face us slowly. A flowing dark robe, a thin and tall man. Beneath his hood, two hot coals surrounded by pitch black paint. Paint flowed like waterfalls from his eye sockets, down his cheeks and out from his mouth like bile. Where paint lied not, his skin was as old milk, leaning toward the green hue of decay, he clutched at his wound and stared on. Black lips firmly shut.

Gili brushed past me. "Is this your home? You have surely heard this storm and I pray that you had not the misfortune of being caught out in it. We came inside to take shelter from it, not to disturb you and your ilk."

Putting myself between her and the Berne, I began again.

"Regardless, I am in no mood to fight further." I sighed, leaning against a nearby pew.

"Must you feed or perish tonight? Look to your clan." I gestured toward those that still sizzled in the dark.

"Can there be no third option? What if we come to an agreement. You let us be, we let you be. Tend to your wound, perhaps speak with us, if you are capable. I have need of information and perhaps you have what I seek. Come morn, we part ways. I ask only that you remember the mercy we would give you, and to give it in return in the future. Seek cure for that which ails you. It is an offer few would extend." In the soft moonglow, a smile raced across my cheeks, eyes shut to envision the words.

"I see a future in which we may again cross paths. A bright summer day. I with my wife, children in tow. I introduce you to little ones as an acquaintance from some near-forgotten night. Friends. Living Man and living Mer sharing a handshake, with warm palms under warm skies. This life will be but a nightmare eagerly forgotten. This could very-well be. Can you see it so clearly as I?"

"Thank you", the cloaked figure groaned.

"Ah, I feared you too far gone for speech. Honor my words, friend. Tell me, what brings three Berne to Skyrim?"

The monster trudged over to one of his fallen companions, kneeling before it as he spoke. His voice was deep, Cyrodyllic, with the accent of native Dunmer. It was obvious that he had not spoken in common tongue for quite some time. Centuries perhaps.

"There is no place for ours in Morrowind. Others make public their takings and if they find one of us, we are taken as well. Blame falls on ours. Every street, every home, every eye seeks ours. Suspicious," he hissed the word. "Suspicious glances and suspicious thoughts. We were chased from our homes and now we go hungry." The word "hungry" trailed off, the depths from which he pulled the word gave truth to it.

"And why so far west, if I may?"

"They are here too. It is hard to seek prey as prey."

"Yours have been growing in number as of late. I came across a band of Aundae some weeks ago. In Solitude itself no less. A regrettable meeting. A couple, I assumed. I slew them, then laid them together under Mara. I thought it the right thing to do." Pausing, I peered down to my feet in condolence.

"Regrettable" the Berne whispered, turning his attention to the other comrade.

"Who are these others?" I chimed in.

"They are as us, but not of us. They are like..." He paused, seemingly searching for the proper term. "Dwemeri, but in our skin. Brass bones."

"We came across one of those. You speak true, friend." I hesitated, unsure how much I should share with a stranger. Grandfather was always careful to speak of him, as though mere mention could bring him back.

"I thought them to be of Assut, or rather, leftovers of his plights. Perhaps imitations of it? Mingling Dwemeri machinations with illusion was his craft. Though that all ended some time ago as far as I know. My grandfather had many a dealing with him. Do you know the name?"

The thing fell hush, pondering deeply.

"No."

Not of Assut. An imitator then. Certainly Grandfather will know more. Knowing him, I doubt he has sat idle these long years. If Assut still lives, I can be certain that he knows his whereabouts by now. My thoughts turned to the owners of this manor.

"Did you kill the owners of this fine house or were you likewise uninvited guests?"

"I do not kill. I feed on cattle, not kill. I have not killed since before. Before this life." He gestured to his still-bleeding chest as he spoke. "My brothers, they found this place and sent for the rest. We were to stay here. They may have killed the owners. I do not know. They cannot speak as I."

"Could not, speak as I." The Berne corrected himself.

The conversation slowed to a crawl. The three of us sat in near-silence, Gili traced her fingers through my hair as she often does, coming to rest upon my chiseled brow. At once her fingers stopped, suspicious. "Is something the matter?"

She fired off with one of her spur of the moment questions. "Do Dunmer men always have such a brow? Or is it because of your father? Not the ridge, yours is not too noticeable. But the sheer size of it. You have a massive forehead. Muscular, bulbous even. I have not had many dealing with your kind, much less had them at my fingertips. So I am genuinely curious." As the words left her mouth, she recoiled. I suppose she thought I would be offended by her choice of words, though no harm was done. I was well accustomed and enamored by to her to-the-point word choice.

"Hmm."

I drew long of mind, eyes shut, lost to all but myself. The good, the bad. I swam through the waters of my life in search of a related story. Finding the words, I spoke loudly enough that our guest could hear.

"In days long past, as golden days lay at my back heel and new horizons at my toes. As twins grew into their own. Near-mirrored forms twisted by the peculiarities of this world The fairer side of the coin, my sister, she grew into her beauties, elegant and graceful as the night. But I? I tumbled awkwardly into lanky ruggedness. Adulthood is rough on Dunmer men. As children, we are much alike in face and form. Our brows are light, though heavier than you would see on a Nord child, certainly. But as boys become men, our features diverge so heavily. The blood of my Father and Grandfather made my awkward years a bit more awkward in comparison, I am sure, as I so swiftly grew muscular and bold featured. Forested, top to bottom. The body of a true Nord. I shed my childhood like a cocoon. Sparring had left me lean but toned. My face long, chin and brow more prominent. The jaws and nose of my Father, as though you had molded the likeness by hand."

Her question answered, I saw fit to stop there, but my thoughts would not yield.

"We had lived a sheltered life, Fannah and I. Though we had traveled with our parents on many occasions and received an education fit for kings or queens, we were kept well out of danger. Blind to the more interesting parts of the world. Now for an ordinary Dunmer, he might be content to stay at home, enjoy childhood until it's true end, until work, love, or power finds him and whisks him away. But a Dunmer with Nord blood burning strong in his veins, it was not for me. I left home at twelve or perhaps thirteen. At first, visits were quite common. I would spend more time at home than on the road, but over time, I came to crave that road. Every second spent idle felt as though I was wasting away. In those days the bulk of my journeys lead to simple odd jobs, being of use in whatever way that I could. Be that farm work, errands, courier work, or things even more mundane. Then, as now, I rarely take pay unless forced upon me. A warm meal and place to sleep for the night, those are just rewards. A man's coin is his own, I will not deprive him of it. One thing lead to another and I became something of a local monster hunter. Not a full fledged mercenary or bountyman by any means, but I felled many a troll or intruding sabrecat. I knew of my fathers trade and saw that as my likely conclusion, my path was his. This was in the budding days of Fannah's devotion of Mara. She would often accompany me and could more than hold her own as well. The benefits of being a Snakestone did not fall to me alone. She is every bit as capable as I, just in a smaller, feistier package."

My grin slowly crumbled away, leaving a solemn frown.

"By sixteen, I had killed my first man. A Bosmer bandit. I did not take it well. At times I wake to the sounds of the battle, some seven or eight years later. For a time, I carried his hammer with me. It felt right. When my sword heft him nearly in twain, there was no thought of justice, no thought of success. I felt as though I had failed him. There should always be another option. I grieved for him. For a family he could have had or left behind, for a life he could have had if he had been on a different path. I should not have been the one to give finality to his situation. I found tht in all aspects of life, there is a lesson to be learned. If I need kill, I had best take something from it. Let that life not go in waste. If I was more persuasive, perhaps I could have talked him down. Made him atone for his ill deeds, face prison and come out a better man. I am no perfect man, nor would I ever claim to be, but I am aware of my deeds and their consequences. The what-ifs. He was the first, but he was not the last. I have tried to do things the right way but still, there is a line of ghosts at my back. Two more added this very night. They are with me. But this is not the story for today."

With the final word, I settled back against Gili's bosom and began the actual tale.

"I see myself in Dawnstar, as a painting behind my eyes. Fall of the same year I believe. Near sunset, I sought refuge from a dreadful storm. With the passing of this great storm, a beast rose from the northern waters and slowly crept upshore. A Grahl. Washed up from the northern lands I presumed. Be in in search of food or new territory, it had chosen a poor path. Cries from the shore had shaken me from a daydream. I stepped outside just in time to see the haggard form pierce the waves. It stood five men tall with tusks like spears, no, like masts. From matted white hair dripped ocean brine and foam, and from his three-clawed hands came death for any that may cross him. The fishermen fled and lawmen shuffled about in fear. With little hesitation, I darted up the hill and stared down at it. Palms aglow, I loosed a single fireball. The impact knocked him clear off of his feet and with a mighty splash he fell back-first into the tide. As he rose, angered but unharmed, his claws gave chase. Slicing the sand as my sword so did to his flesh. At the end of my lunge, the blade carved out a chunk of his thumb. It cut true and he bled into the foam. On scurrying feet I rounded his back, leaping as I lobbed another fireball at his feet. He roared and looked down at me as though I were an ant to be crushed. A bellowing cry shook the shoreline but I had no fear. He moved clumsily through the soft clay just off shore, his weight was too much for it I imagined. Seeing this, I fled into the waves myself, with a steady stream of flames ensuring that he would give chase. And so he did, and in doing so, lodged himself in the soft clay. Dodging a blow, I took hold of his gnarled fingers and hoisted myself atop them. Darting from muscle to muscle, gripping his white fur to steady myself, I moved ever higher. Until I could see a many-veined neck beneath that dripping beard. With each beat of his gargantuan heart, his neck pulsated. I had found my target. I drove the sword into the hump of his back, sending him reeling. His hulking mass fell back, exposing his engorged neck. At once I leapt from atop his back, mind racing, my perception of time came to a halt. I recall my breath, the beat of my heart dwarfed by the beat of his. The crash of waves. I found footing atop his breast and with precision, made my cut. With a torrent of blue blood, he tumbled into the mud, throwing me clear onto the shoreline. There was no cheering crowd, no boons, no feeling of greatness. I stood just off to the side, warming my hands by magick as blue blood trickled down my brow and fell from my hair. Wiping it away, I think this was the first time that I took notice of how my face had changed. This is the moment that had wormed it's way into my mind. I looked into that pearly water. Peering deep and long into my reflection, taking note of my features. As my face had grown long, forehead bulbous, the eyes were the same. In my eyes, I was the same boy that once cowered from levitating rats or mudcrabs. Now a man, felling mountains in the name of greater good. I again felt great regret in what I had done. The world is without one Grahl, and in it's place, perhaps tens of people are yet still living. Most would consider that a worthwhile trade. But the world is still without that Grahl. It continues on giving it not a thought. As it is to continue on without these two." I gestured to the fallen Berne. "As it would continue on without you." An ashen finger darted toward our guest. "As it would continue on without I, or mine. Not every life lost is taken, but in situations like these, it falls upon each of us to decide who stays on this carriage and who shall disembark early.

"If I had been more knowledgeable of Grahl back then, perhaps I could have lead it away. They have their likes or dislikes as do we all. For every beast there is a working lure. And by all of the gods above, he is a heavy beast. Now that you've been introduced to him, perhaps the both of you could help me carry him?

My tale finished, I searched his hooded face for a sign that I had struck a cord, though found none. We spent the better part of the next hour diving from one subject to another. It was pleasant conversation, considering the guest. Shortly before morning, we retreated to our room to reconvene and find some rest before the long road. With sunrise, we found the house empty. Our acquaintance had fled, taken his fallen with him, and held true to his word.

"May he find his way."

I was quiet the next few days. Lost in thought as is to be expected of me. Gili probed for answers and feelings but received little reply. I felt sorry for her, to see her try so hard, only to be met by this wall. I found peace in my pipe, mind and in our closeness, as one-sided as it were. Quiet days make for boring days and no amount of endless chatter on her part could sway the mood. Before long, roadside rocks again became the center of attention.

To our left, she spotted a large boulder. "The game continues", she mouthed the words. With amber eye glued to the far edge of it as we made our way past, the sudden neigh of the horse startled her. Behind the stone sat a horse and carriage, as though she had willed them into existence. "Oh ello there." A voice beckoned from its backside. A little man stepped into view and tossed an overflowing sack of mushrooms into the back. "I never thought to bump into anybody else out here. Where ya heading?"

With rested feet, the following day passed quickly and as I put this quill to paper, the family homestead has came into view. As majestic a sight as ever. We near the end of this ride, with another to soon begin. My thoughts collected, I opened up. With but minutes left on the road, I gave Gili a brief lesson on the varieties of vampire and how best to deal with each. How one could likely discern the clan within seconds as they all behave differently. I spoke more of my Grandfather and of Assut. Of stories that Grandfather had told Fannah and I, and of where and how we met him. How as a boy, my extended family was scattered across Skryim and Morrowind. How under the grace of Mara, acquaintances from long forgotten days were rejoined in the end. Of the paths that brought us together, and of our long journey home.

#elder scrolls #skyrim #fanar #gili #snakestone_family #dunmer #nord #waifu #husbando #otp #couple #love #romance #story #writing #adventure #vampire #combat #storytime #modding

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404gendernotfound · 5 years ago

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Living with a Hybrid Part 6 (Hybrid!Taeyong x Reader)

Summary: After the hard and emotional day you end up spending your evening together with your two hybrids, Mark and Johnny. The boys instantly like Haechan and they get along really well. 2 weeks later a decision hits you that you already knew would come soon.

Contains: pure fluff

Warnings: none

Wordcount: 4,0 K

A/N: I’m very happy about every comment I get from you guys. I never thought so many people would like my story since I’m not a native English speaker and I’m still not that good at writing in English as I want to be. I’m sorry for leaving you with this cliff-hanger, but since I don’t want to hit you guys with an 8 or 9 K words chapter, I’d rather split it again and upload it in a few days. I’m quite in a writing flow right now so I’ll finish chapter 7 as soon as I can.

Enjoy!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

________________________________________________________________

The lunch both had prepared was delicious. I didn’t know they could cook so well. It was really nice seeing them happy again. I was afraid that they might fall into a deep hole of depression after having to talk about the terrible things that happened to them, but thankfully nothing like this happened. It was now evening and we’ve spent the last few hours watching movies and chilling on the couch cuddled together. It was awesome having two clingy hybrids by my side instantly cuddling back whenever I came back from getting snacks from the kitchen. Haechan was getting more confident around me and didn’t ask for permission anymore when he wanted to do something. Taeyong on the other hand seemed to be kind of jealous since he would tighten his hold on me whenever I praised Haechan for something or just smiled at the younger boy. It somehow made me want to tease him even more with paying more attention to Haechan than him. It was about 9 pm when the doorbell rang. I wasn’t expecting anyone so I stood up confused about who would ring at this time. I looked through the peephole to see Mark and Johnny standing in front of the door. I opened it and leaned against the door frame.

“Hey boys.”, I greeted them, smiling at how Johnny had his arm wrapped around Marks waist.

“Hi. Sorry for coming over this late but Johnny here was worried and kept talking my ear off about coming over to see if you were ok”, Mark said laughing and peeked into the apartment.

“Awww Johnny. Thanks for worrying but everything’s ok now. They both calmed down and they seem to be pretty ok. Do you guys wanna come in?”, I asked and stepped to the side to let them in.

“Sure. I wanna get to know that new hybrid of yours”, Johnny answered and already stepped in.

“Who is it?”, I heard Taeyong shout from the living room.

“Just the boys”, I shouted back.

After they had taken off their shoes we walked into the living room together. Taeyong had already abandoned his position on the couch and instantly went for a hug when he saw the boys. After working together at the shop they had become really close friends and I was happy to see Taeyong bloom whenever he was working hard for his customers. Haechan still sat on the couch, a slight bit of fear in his eyes. He already had seen Johnny since he had driven us home today but he didn’t really get to know him and Mark was a completely new face for him but he somehow seemed to be focused on the smaller boy. I walked over to him and took his hand signaling him that it was ok and walked over to the boys.

“This is Haechan. Haechanie, this is Mark and you already know Johnny from today”, I introduced them.

“H-Hi”, Haechan stuttered and lifted his hand to wave shyly at them.

Mark giggled at the cute gesture and stepped closer to the boy. They were both the same height and Mark was just a year older than Haechan.

“We’re sorry for what happened to you. You are very lucky to have been rescued from Y/N here. You’re a dog hybrid, right?”, Mark said and Haechan nodded.

He was still holding onto my hand which made Johnny giggle who was standing a bit off with Taeyong. The silence that was forming now was getting quite awkward and I had an idea.

“How about we sit back down on the couch and watch something together? That’s less awkward than just standing here”, I laughed and they all agreed.

We all took our places on the couch. I decided to sit between Taeyong and Haechan and place Johnny and Mark directly next to Haechan. I somehow felt that I might have found the perfect home for Haechan but I still needed to confirm something. This would be the perfect opportunity to test it out. We scrolled a bit through Netflix until we found a movie that none of us had already seen and started it. I hadn’t realized that it was a horror movie until I noticed Taeyong clinging to me whenever something scary happened on the screen. Haechan on the other hand sat there not knowing what to do. It seemed like he somehow didn’t want to disturb the intimacy between me and Taeyong that he might have sawn and he was too scared to approach the boys next to him since he didn’t really know them. As a terrible jump scare appeared on the TV Haechanie screamed and instantly clinged to Mark next to him. As he realized what he was doing he retrieved his arms from around the older boys arm.

“I-I’m s-sorry. I d-didn’t mean to”, he stuttered and was about to scoot closer to me when Mark grabbed his arm.

“No it’s ok. You can cling to me when it gets too scary. I don’t mind”, he said assuring and smiled at him.

Haechan hesitated for a moment and looked at me as if he was silently asking if he would be ok. I nodded and he scooted over to Mark and Johnny. Taeyong next to me smiled and scooted closer to me.

“Now I have you for myself”, he whispered in my ear and nuzzled his nose against my neck.

I giggled silently and turned to face him.

“Silly boy”, I quietly said and kissed his head.

His face instantly flushed and he moved so that his head was resting on my stomach. I still wasn’t sure if Taeyong wasn’t used to this much affection and that’s why he reacted like that or if he was acting like this because of a different reason. Suddenly his words from the second night sleeping here popped back into my mind.

“I’m glad you don’t have someone by your side. I wanted to fill that space. I hope you’ll let me one day”

I wasn’t sure how to interpret that sentence. It could be meant just platonically saying that he wants to stay by my side like a close friend or like a roommate. Or it could be meant romantically like he wants to be the one to make me whole. The more I thought about what had happened during the time he lived here and how he was constantly getting jealous at Haechan I was thinking that possibility two was probably the reason. My heartbeat sped up and I couldn’t help but smile. Was he really into me or was he just living out his hybrid instincts? I really needed to catch up with some reading about the nature of hybrids. I was so focused on my thoughts that I didn’t even notice that the movie was over. I looked down at Taeyong to see that he fell asleep on my stomach. Haechan on the other hand was still awake and had started a conversation with Mark and Johnny. I noticed that he was really confident right now and that he didn’t seem to tremble or something like that. Maybe my impression from earlier wasn’t that wrong and I might really have found the perfect home for Haechan. I watched them talk about random stuff and noticed that Haechan was slowly starting to bloom just like Taeyong. I joined their conversation when they started to talk about the pancake shop.

“Do you maybe wanna join Taeyong, Mark and I at the shop and work there a bit?”, Johnny asked and Haechan looked at me.

“What did I tell you?”, I said towards him, trying to remind him that he didn’t have to ask me for permission.

“I’d like to. If I-I don’t cause more trouble f-for you”, he answered and Mark shook his head.

“We would be happy to call you a part of the team. Since Y/N needs to work during the week it would be good to not be alone the whole time”, Mark said and Johnny stood up from his seat.

He walked over to me and gave me a sign. I instantly understood and carefully removed Taeyongs head from my stomach and stood up. I turned towards Mark and Haechan.

“We’ll be right back”

I walked into the kitchen with Johnny since that was the only place that was far enough from the living room so that no one could listen.

“Are you thinking the same thing as I?”, Johnny asked and smiled at me.

“I think so. Haechan seems to really like you two.”, I answered.

“He is really sweet and precious. Do you think he would like to stay with us?”

“I don’t know. But I see that he somehow seems to form a special bond with Mark. I can see that by how he looks at him. It’s too early to ask him about this but you could try to get to know each other over the next few weeks and maybe he decides to stay with you two.”

“That would be really nice. You know how much I like hybrids and how precious they are to me. Haechan deserves a nice home and we might be the ones that could give him that. I’ll talk with Mark about this. I’m pretty sure he feels exactly the same.”

Johnny looked at the clock on the kitchen wall seeing that it was already late.

“We should head home and let you get a good night of sleep. You deserve it after todays drama”, he said and we walked back to the living room.

Taeyong was still sleeping on the couch while Haechan and Mark were absorbed in their conversation. Johnny just stood in the doorframe and looked at “his boys”. As Mark noticed his glance he smiled at him. They understood each other without words.

“We should head home. It was nice to talk to you Haechan. We’ll see you on Monday.”, Mark said and stood up walking towards Johnny.

“I’ll see you out”, Haechan then said and walked with them to the door.

I watched them from the living room and smiled as Haechan let Mark ruffle his hair as he made a silly joke. Maybe after all this drama in Haechans life he would finally get a happy end. Johnny and Mark waved goodbye and then left. Haechan closed the door and came walking back to me. He instantly pulled me into a hug.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”, I asked looking at him.

“Nothing. I’m just happy”, he smiled at me which made my heart warm up.

“You really like them, don’t you?”, I asked and he nodded slightly blushing.

“They are really friendly. I can understand why you are friends with them. Johnny seems like a big guy who could protect anyone from the bad things in the world and Mark is really funny. I like them”, he explained and I almost felt the happiness radiating from his body.

“I’m glad you like them. I was afraid you might feel uncomfortable around them since you don’t know them”

“I was at first but I noticed that they are just as kind as you are. I felt safe with them”

He smiled at me and hugged me tight before we separated. He then walked into the living room and kneeled before the couch in front of Taeyong. He was still sleeping peaceful. Haechan softly shook his shoulder and Taeyong slowly rose from the sofa. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and looked around.

“Are they gone already?”, he asked sleepy and stood up.

“Yeah, they just left. We didn’t want to wake you just because of that”, I answered.

“We should all head to bed. It’s late already.”, I added and then walked towards the bedroom.

Haechan and Taeyong followed me. We changed and then laid down. Haechan was laying on the right side of the bed while Taeyong and I laid on the left side. Taeyong snuggled against me just like yesterday and we soon all fell asleep.

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

It’s been some time since that evening when Haechan got to know Johnny and Mark. Since that following week he had been working at the pancake shop just like Taeyong. Whenever I came home from work both of them would be extremely happy and tell me about their day and how nice some of the customers were. I was happy to see Haechan bloom like this again. It’s been about 2 weeks now since that day. Officer Lukas called from time to time to tell me what was going on with the case. The trial was scheduled for next month and some other hybrids had joined and told their story about Louis Green.

Haechan had opened up even more especially towards Mark and Johnny. I noticed how much he liked them and how he always shined when he talked about them. It was only a matter of time until the boys would ask him to move in with them and I was a hundred percent sure that he would say yes. I was on my way back from work when I received a call from Haechan.

“Hey, what’s up Haechanie?”, I asked and heard him giggle on the other end of the line.

“Nothing. I just wanted to ask you something.”, he said and I already heard in his voice that it was something important to him.

“Then ask. What is it?”

“Uhm…I don’t know how to say this. Johnny and Mark asked me…uhm… if I”, he stuttered and couldn’t get another word out.

I didn’t even have to listen anymore since I already knew was coming. The day where he would move to the boys had come.

“They asked you if you want to stay with them and now you want to know if that’s ok with me?”, I asked and giggled.

“Yeah. How do you know that?”, he asked, confusion in his voice.

“It was only a matter of time. I’ll be there in ten minutes. We’ll talk then”

“OK. I’ll see you”

The call ended and I smiled at my phone. A new text from Mark just arrived.

Mark: Get here fast. I feel like Haechan radiates too much happiness. It feels like a happiness bomb is going to explode any moment. Taeyong is already rolling his eyes at this bundle of joy.

You: I’ll be there in about 10. Make sure this “bundle of joy” doesn’t overwork himself. And go back to work

I smiled and put away my phone. Today was a great day. The bus stopped and I got off at my stop. As I walked to the apartment complex I thought about what would happen now. If Haechan really moved to Johnny and Mark he would be just 2 floors under us so we would be able to see him anytime we wanted. He would still work with Taeyong so he would still get to spend enough time with his friend and I’d be able to spend more time with Taeyong alone. I got so used to having those two around me that it will be weird the first few days. I walked into the building and directly to the pancake shop. The “closed” sign was already hanging on the door but it was still opened. I entered and as the bell above the door rang all their eyes focused on me. Taeyong smiled and Haechan waved at me. I walked over to them and Haechan directly approached me.

“You’re back”, he said and hugged me.

“And you are really happy”, I laughed and ruffled his hair.

“He has been like this since Johnny asked him to move to their apartment. I don’t understand how he can have this much energy”, Taeyong said looking exhausted.

“Well, I’m not a grandpa like you”, Haechan teased Taeyong and instantly hid behind me laughing as Taeyong stepped closer to him.

“Hey, you! Just because you will move doesn’t mean you can be cheeky and just run your mouth freely. Respect your elders a bit”, Taeyong said annoyed which made Haechan and me just laugh more.

“So you are laughing at me too?”

Taeyong was pouting now and crossed his arms in front of his chest. I had to smile as I saw his cute face. Johnny and Mark started laughing too and Taeyong glanced at them angry. Johnny then began to talk again.

“You’re really ok with Haechan moving in with us? I mean you’ve probably got really attached to him and he’s like part of your family”, Johnny said and I noticed how much he hoped that I wouldn’t say no.

“I’m totally ok with it. He won’t be far and we can visit each other when we want so it’s not like we will never see each other again. And you guys are part of my family, too. So nothing would really change that much. As long as my Haechanie is happy I’m happy, too”, I said smiling and hugged Haechan again who was standing next to me now.

“Thank you. For everything”, Haechan said and I already heard that he was about to cry.

“Don’t cry or I’ll cry too”, I warned and already saw a tear run down his face.

“I can’t help it. I’m just so happy. I love you guys so much”, he cried smiling and looked around.

He walked towards Taeyong and hugged him. He was still pouting but still hugged Haechan tight. He then moved on to Johnny and Mark. They group hugged and Haechan looked really happy.

“Thank you guys for taking me in and giving me a home. I love you”, Haechan whispered and hugged them tighter.

“We love you too”

I walked over to Taeyong to give them some time for their moment right now. He was still pouting when I stood next to him.

“Oh, come on. No need to pout that long”, I said and nudged his shoulder.

“You’re mean.”, he said in a quiet voice.

“Oh am I? How about I’ll make it up to you later?”, I asked and saw his brows raise in curiosity.

“Really?”

“Yes. I’ll do whatever you like”

“Whatever I like?”

“Yes. And now stop pouting even though it looks really cute on you.”

He blushed a bit which made me giggle. God I really loved this boy. Haechan, Mark and Johnny had separated from their hug in the meantime and Haechan wasn’t crying anymore. Mark and Johnny closed up the shop and we all walked towards the elevator.

“We should get your stuff and bring it to the apartment”, Johnny said and Haechan nodded happy.

He pressed the button to the 5th floor and waited until we arrived. We stepped out of the elevator and walked towards the apartment. I unlocked the door and held the door open for everyone to step in. We then all walked into the bedroom to grab Haechans stuff from the wardrobe. Haechan and the boys had been shopping a few times together to get him everything he needs including a phone to contact us. Haechan started to pack everything in a small suitcase while we helped him. After he had packed everything we left the apartment together and used the elevator to get to the third floor where the boys apartment was. It’s been some time since I’ve been at their apartment since they mostly came over to mine when we spend time together. It looked a bit different than I remembered it. The boys walked towards a room that had a single bed in it with a desk and a TV.

“This is your room. We hope you like it. It’s small but nice so I hope you can feel at home here”, Mark said and Haechan instantly hugged him after he had finished speaking.

“Thank you. I love it”

He walked in and placed the suitcase on his bed ready to put his stuff in his own wardrobe. We left him alone for some time so he could make himself at home and walked into the living room.

“I’ve never seen him this happy since I met him. I’m really glad you’re taking him in. He probably never thought that he would get a happy end for himself.”, I said towards the boys and they both smiled.

“And we are happy that he wants to stay with us. We will take good care of him. So you don’t have to worry about him.”, Johnny said and placed a hand on my shoulder.

We talked a bit more until Haechan joined us again. The happiness he radiated was unbelievable. I said goodbye to the boys and Haechan accompanied us to the door. As we arrived there, he pulled Taeyong and me into a tight hug.

“Don’t forget me, ok? I will always be your family and you will always be mine”, he said and almost began to cry again.

“We will never forget you, Haechanie. You can come over or call whenever you want. You’re always welcome.”

I almost began to cry even though I tried so hard not to. We hugged each other for some time before we separated again. Haechan smiled at us and waved.

“Bye, See you tomorrow”, he said with the brightest smile.

“Bye, Haechanie.”, Taeyong and I said in unison.

He closed the door as we walked towards the elevator. It felt a bit weird to leave him with the boys but I just had to get used to the new situation just as much as Haechanie had to get used to his new home. Taeyong hugged me as we stood in the elevator.

“He’s in good hands. Don’t worry too much”, he said and stroked my cheek as I turned towards him.

“You’re right. There’s no better place for him”

I smiled at Taeyong and grabbed his hand as the elevator stopped on our floor. As we arrived at the apartment, I took off my shoes and walked into the kitchen. The fridge was pretty empty and I was quite glad since I didn’t want to cook anything. I knew that we still had some frozen pizza in the freezer.

“Taeyong!”, I shouted not knowing where he was right now.

“Bathroom!”, he shouted back and I laughed at his exclamation.

I waited a bit until he came into the kitchen.

“Do you need something?”, he asked looking at me.

“I wanted to know if you’re ok with pizza for dinner”, I said and saw a smile on his face.

“I would never say no to pizza”

I put two pizzas in the oven and then walked towards Taeyong. He was standing there as if he was waiting for me to finish what I was doing. As I stood in front of him he smirked and began to speak.

“I can still wish something, right?”, he asked.

“Of course. I promised to make it up to you”, I answered.

He looked like he was thinking hard about what he should wish for. It took him some time to come up with something.

“I want you to…uhm…ki…I mean I want you to give me a massage”, he stuttered suddenly turning red like a tomato.

Wait. Did he just want to say ‘I want you to kiss me’? I imagined I heard him start saying it but then decide for something else. I decided not to ask him since I didn’t want to turn this awkward.

“I can do that. But let’s eat first.”

We sat on the couch and watched some TV until the oven beeped and I got the pizzas from the kitchen. We ate while watching some comedy show on TV until it ended. I brought our plates into the kitchen and washed the dished before I walked back to the living room to join Taeyong on the couch again.

“Where should I start massaging you?”, I asked as I sat down next to him.

“Wherever you like”

Next Part

And since I’m leaving you on a cliff-hanger, I’d like you guys to comment what you like about this story, what you’d like to see in the future and what you think will happen next. I’d appreciate every comment I get and will reply.

#nct #nct taeyong #nct 127 #nct 127 taeyong #nct johnny #nct mark #nct haechan #nct fluff #fluff #angst #kpop #hybrid taeyong #hybrid haechan #living with a hybrid #hybrid au #nct taeyong x reader #taeyong x reader #nct hybrid au

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