#i know I KNOW that its kind of part of shipping to use the tiniest hint to be like omgggg they're in love | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

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TO LOVE AND BELOVED - Part Five (Harry Styles)

a/n: ahh idk why but writing this part took me forever! but its finally here and i can’t wait to see your thoughts on it! i was debating for a long time if part 5 should be the last one, but then i decided to add another part, bc there are two more things i want to include in the story and i couldn’t squeeze them into this part, it’s already the longest so far, so we have one more part left of the story! also, a little warning that part 6 might take a little longer than the prev parts bc im a little behind with my schedule but it’ll try my best!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce, sexual content

word count: 12k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

You’ve been feeling like a teenager sneaking around her parents these past weeks. Only that you’re an adult and the parent you are trying to keep your secret romance hidden from is a four year old little girl.

Your birthday was a turning point in your evolving relationship with Harry. Like a wall has been brought down and he finally started reaching out to you. It feels like with every passing day you’re getting closer to him and you can see the progress he’s been making thanks to his therapy sessions and how much he is trying to make a change himself as well.

Stolen kisses and tiny touches have been a usual in your every days whenever Izzy was out of sight for the shortest second. You’ve realized that Harry is an affectionate person, he likes to keep you close and he never fails to bring passion into the tiniest kisses.

With Izzy around 24/7 it’s been hard to find time when it’s just the two of you, but you’ve been waking up early in the morning just to spend that twenty minutes alone with Harry while he drinks his coffee. Sometimes you just sit in silence, trying to wake up for the day ahead of you but sometimes he talks your ears off about anything and everything. In the evening, when Izzy is already sleeping the two of you usually wind off together in the living room or watch a movie in the entertainment room, just enjoying some alone time. It’s not much, but more than nothing and you’ve grown very fond of these little moments with him.

Nothing more has happened than just kissing. Despite the progress Harry has made so far you can tell he still has quite a few conflicts buried deep inside him and you definitely don’t want to rush him into anything he is not ready for. Some cuddling on the couch or short but passionate make out sessions in a corner while Izzy is not paying attention, you haven’t gone further than this.

Now it’s the last day before Izzy leaves to Harry’s mum for the week. He is dropping her off Sunday afternoon and it will leave the two of you alone for seven full days. Well, Harry still has to work during the day, but from the moment he’ll get home, it’s just gonna be you and him.

You had to make a few phone calls so you’ve been locked in your room for a while now. When you come down you find your favorite father-daughter duo on the couch, some kind of Barbie movie playing on the TV, but Izzy is busy with something else. She’s got her water based flooring pens scattered around her, Harry’s tattooed arm laying across her lap as she is coloring the patterns as if it was her favorite coloring book. Before they could notice you, you run back to your room and grab your polaroid camera and returning you snap a picture of the adorable scene. The shutter of the camera makes Harry’s head snap in your way, a smile tugging on his lips.

“Hey,” he softly greets you. You put the camera and the photo aside to the cupboard near you before joining them on the couch.

“Hi Y/N! Look!” Izzy beams happily, pointing at Harry’s ship tattoo that is now fully colored with yellows, pinks and blues.

“It looks better this way,” you smirk down at her before your eyes meet with Harry’s over her head, smiling at you softly.

Making yourself comfortable next to them, you watch Izzy work on more of his tattoos and you find it such a heartwarming scene, you want to remember it forever. Harry Styles, such an influential, successful and serious businessman, sitting on the couch in his loungewear while his daughter is using his tattooed skin as her personal coloring book. He really is a wonderful human being and the best dad to his daughter.

“Y/N, do you have any tattoos?” Izzy asks, turning to you with curious eyes.

“I actually do,” you answer and you see Harry’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“You really do?” he asks, his head resting on the back of the couch, turned to face you.

“Yeah,” you nod with a soft chuckle.

“Where?” Izzy asks perking up at the new information.

“Um, it’s right here,” you tell her pointing at the side of your hips, covered with your sweatpants.

“Can I color them?” she asks innocently, but Harry is quick to react.

“Izzy, you’re being a little too nosy,” he warns her as always, and she looks at you with a pouty look.

“It’s fine. Um, yeah, you can color it,” you nod.

Sliding lower on the couch you roll down the waistband of your pants until the tattoo is revealed on the side. You catch Harry’s eyes wander over the skin you are now showing and you can see a slight blush tinting his cheeks. He hasn’t seen this part of your body uncovered yet, he hasn’t even seen you in a bathing suit so far so it’s quite the new thing.

(reference for the tattoo)

The tattoo on your side is a simple yet meaningful one, dedicated to the special bond you and Trevor share. It’s a minimalistic yet beautiful piece of two koi fishes swimming in a circle, one is left blank as while the other one is black so their formation resembles the yin-yang symbol. You got it when you turned twenty, when Trevor was just in middle school, but he promised you he would get the same design when he turns eighteen that will happen in the fall.

“That looks beautiful,” Harry breathes out with a shy smile and you notice how he doesn’t ask about the meaning behind it. Not because he is not curious but because he is insanely respectful and he doesn’t want to ask something that’s too personal.

“Thanks,” you smile at him as Izzy grabs her pens and starts coloring the blank fish.

The rest of the day goes by uneventfully, Harry is clearly trying to spend as much time with Izzy as possible before her week with his mother, but you also notice that he seems to be keeping something away from you, like he is trying to bring up something but he is not entirely sure how to start the conversation.

It’s not until Izzy is put to bed that he joins you on the couch, turning to you with a serious expression on his handsome face.

“What’s up?” you ask with a soft chuckle.

“I was thinking…”

“I could see that,” you tease him, giving his knee a playful squeeze. “I’m listening.”

“Actually there are two things I wanted to talk to you about. I’m not sure which one to ask first.” He purses his lips before sighing and moving his eyes to meet your curious gaze. “So we’re gonna be alone for the next week.”

“Mhm.”

“And I thought that… if you want to, but we don’t have to, it was just an idea—so feel free to—“

“Harry,” you cut his stuttering off, moving closer with a reassuring smile. You caress the side of his face and you notice how you lean into your touch, breathing out through his nose. “Don’t be nervous, alright? Just tell me what’s been on your mind.”

“Would you go out on a date with me?” he then asks and it’s the purest thing you’ve ever seen and heard from him. The hopeful but still nervous look in his eyes makes him appear like a little boy who is asking out his first crush in middle school, afraid of rejection, when that’s the last thing he has to think about when it comes to you, but it’s still cute.

“I would love to,” you smile at him and leaning closer you peck his lips softly. “And what’s the other thing you wanted to ask?”

“Well, I’m driving Izzy over to my mum’s early in the morning and I’m staying for lunch and… if you don’t feel like it’s too much, you could… maybe come with us.”

“You want me to meet your mum?” you ask surprised.

“Well, she wants to meet you as well, but I want you to meet her, yes,” he admits with a nervous chuckle. “Gemma has told her about you and my sister likes to be nosy so she might have added a little spice into the story about us when nothing was really going on.”

“Oh my, what does she think?” you ask with wide eyes.

“Nothing bad, don’t worry,” he assures you quickly. “She just made it seem like we are… dating and all,” he adds with a nervous smile. “But I told her that it’s… I mean that we are not there… yet.”

“Oh, okay. Well, if you really want me there, I would love to go with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Would love to meet your mum.”

“I was afraid you’d find it a little early for this,” he admits truthfully and you can see that rationality in his thought. “We haven’t really… discussed what we are and I didn’t want to put the pressure on you.”

“Well, do you want to talk about us?” you ask softly, giving him the chance to decline if he feels like the conversation might be a little too much for him.

“I do, but I’m not sure… what to say,” he hums, knitting his eyebrows together. Last time I had this talk I was in my early twenties and I don’t even know how to start,” he chuckles shaking his head.

“Okay, then let’s just agree on some things,” you suggest and he eyes you curiously. “Neither of us is seeing anyone else, right?”

“Is that even a question in my situation?” he snorts, making a joke out of his issues clearly and you’re happy he is able to take it so lighthearted.

“Just clearing the air,” you chuckle. “So we are…exclusive.”

“Seems like it,” he nods.

“And you just asked me out on a date,” you point another detail out.

“I did. And you said yes,” he smiles, an excited shine in his eyes glimmering through his green irises.

“Yeah. So we can say we are dating? Seeing each other?” Harry chews on the terms you offered, tastes them before nodding slowly.

“I guess we could say that.”

“Okay. So… that’s what we are,” you smile at him, giving his knee another squeeze. This time, his hand finds yours and he runs his thumb across your knuckles.

“I think… I’m okay with that,” he breathes out and though it’s seemingly such an insignificant thing, you know how huge steps he has just taken forward.

“I liked the blue one better. With the white sweater,” Heather hums, watching you through the video call. You have your phone propped up on your dresser as you’re trying to figure out what to wear today.

Though you seemed completely unbothered last night when Harry invited you along with them, but now you can feel the slight panic. It’s not even because you and Harry are a thing now, you’d feel this way if you met his mother just as Izzy’s nanny. Grandmothers can be so protective over their grandchildren, you’ve met with quite a few problematic ones while you were working at the daycare and you just want Anne to like you, to trust you with Izzy as much as Harry does.

“Okay, blue it is then,” you sigh, pulling the yellow sundress off of yourself before putting the blue one back with a white sweater.

“So you guys are now official?” Heather grins at you through the screen. “Meeting his mother and all that?”

“Define being official,” you chuckle softly.

“Like, boyfriend-girlfriend?”

“Not yet. But we agreed to be exclusively dating.”

“I still can’t fucking believe that you’re scoring the hottest dad I’ve ever seen. You lucky bitch,” she sighs, sipping on her morning coffee.

“Me neither,” you scoff.

“I’m pretty sure if the mothers who got you fired knew, they would explode. Basically every woman was in love with the man and now you are the lucky woman actually getting him.”

“I guess this is karma for what they did,” you chuckle shrugging. “Alright, I gotta go, because we are leaving soon, but I’ll talk to you soon.”

“You better be! I want a detailed essay about how it went!” she grins, kissing the camera.

“Alright, bye!” you smile before ending the call.

When you get downstairs, Harry and Izzy are already down there, Harry is zipping up her bag while she is dancing around humming to herself.

“Baby, your backpack is still in your room. Can you please get it?” Harry asks her, Izzy nods and runs towards you, stopping in front of you.

“Hi Y/N! I like your dress!” she beams at you.

“Hi! Well thank you!” you smile at her before she runs past you up the stairs. “Hey,” you greet Harry and his eyes snap up to you, his pink lips stretching into a warm smile as he leans closer and kisses your cheek sweetly.

“Hi. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. So, any tips for meeting your mum for the first time?” you ask, fidgeting with your fingers nervously. Harry reaches out and takes your hands between his so he stops the motion.

“You don’t need tips. I know my mum will like you, she is already so excited to meet you, so don’t worry.”

“If you say so,” you breathe out.

Harry puts Izzy’s stuff in the Rover and soon buckles her into her seat before the three of you hit the road. Harry has a whole playlist for Izzy’s favorite songs so you obviously listen to that along with Izzy’s performance of all the songs, filled with misheard lyrics, but that’s what makes it even better. The car ride is about three hours, which is not that horrible. You need just one bathroom break sometime in the middle and Izzy sleeps through the last hour in the car, allowing the two of you to finally listen to music that’s not from a kids’ show.

“Do you have a song request?” you smile over at him, scrolling through his phone since it’s the one connected to the car, but he has given you permission to play whatever you like.

“Not really.”

“You don’t have songs you like to listen to in the car?”

“Not specifically. Do you?”

“Oh, I have a whole playlist for songs to blast in the car,” you chuckle.

“Really? And what songs are on it?”

“Well, I can just show you.”

You search up your user on Spotify and find the playlist in talk before putting it on shuffle. As the first song starts to play, you peek over at him to see his reaction and you spot the smirk on his lips.

“Black Eyed Peas?” he asks glancing at you shortly.

“Yeah, you don’t like them?” you smirk at him.

“I do, I just didn’t think you listen to them,” he admits with a soft chuckle.

“Are you kidding me? They give me the biggest nostalgia! I listened to them so much as a teenager.”

“So teenage Y/N gave a concert in her bedroom, singing I Gotta Feeling?” he teases you grinning.

“Not just a concert, a whole world tour.”

There’s a short silence, just the two of you listening to the song, you watch the trees and fields rush by you as you drive down the country road. The song changes to another one and you’ve already forgotten about what you talked about, but apparently not Harry.

“What were you like as a teenager?” he asks. You turn to face him and your eyes meet for a second.

“Um, like a normal teenager,” you shrug, not sure what to say.

“There’s no such thing as a normal teenager,” Harry smiles. “What did you do, what were your favorite things?”

“I was… pretty plain, if I might say. I wasn’t a rebel or too much of a geek either. I had like three good friends, we used to hang out a lot by the little lake near our neighborhood, that was like our spot. I liked going on hikes and I watched a lot of documentaries,” you admit with a small smile.

“What kind?”

“I don’t know, anything that was on,” you shrug. “My mom had this phase where she was trying to act like she was just like all the other mom’s from my school, but they were all at least a decade older than her. She was trying to prove that she was this mature, very serious woman who had her shit together and all that.”

“And she didn’t?” Harry asks peeking at you shortly.

“I mean, she did. She turned thirty when I was twelve. Most women barely just got married and started their family at that age but she had been married for eight years and had a middle schooler and a baby already. She really was mature but I could tell that she felt like she lost her twenties because of… me.”

Sighing you think back to the years when you often felt like a burden to your mom. She gave up a lot of things just to give you the life she imagined for you. She worked her ass off to raise you and later Trevor as well, have a career and do all the works around the house. Your dad was working a lot of night shifts, there were entire weeks when you barely even saw him. You don’t blame him, he was trying to provide for his family, but it’s pretty clear he and your mother grew cold over the years and it had a huge part in it.

“Do you… blame yourself for it?” Harry asks softly.

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not like I had anything to do with being born,” you chuckle. “I just didn’t like seeing my mom struggle so much. So when Trevor was born I was trying to take over a lot of tasks around the house and with him as well. I babysat him a lot, took care of him in the mornings, I picked him up from daycare and later from school… I tried to make it easier for my parents.”

“So this is why you grew so close with him?”

“I guess so,” you nod. “I mean, I surely spent the most time with him,” you add with a short chuckle.

“And do you think this is why you’re so good with kids?”

“What is this, a therapy session?” you ask arching an eyebrow at him, but he just rolls his eyes.

“Just… trying to get to know you. Is that a problem?”

“No, I just… I’m not used to talking about myself so much. It’s been quite a few years since I’ve been in this… talking stage,” you admit with a sigh. “But to answer your question, it might have had some impact on me. I mean, I loved taking care of Trevor. It’s like I had my own baby doll, only that it wasn’t just a toy, it was a real baby I could play with.”

“Did you play dress up with him?” Harry smirks at you.

“I did,” you admit laughing. “I used to dress him as a princess a lot and he seemed to like it! My dad wasn’t really a fan of it.”

For the rest of the ride you listen to your playlist and talk about not just your but Harry’s past too. He tells you about his friends, what he was like in school and the mischiefs he did growing up, that drove his mum crazy sometimes. As you get to his hometown and he points out different places he used to go to when he was younger, you feel so much closer to him, like you’ve just gotten to see another piece of him that was hidden before.

He pulls up to the driveway of a simple townhouse and as you get out of the car you see the front door open and a woman rushes out, squealing in excitement as she runs up to Harry and hugs him tightly.

“Finally! I was starting to get worried!” she breathes out, rocking the two of them to left and right.

“Mum, don’t be dramatic. I texted you when we left and we got here perfectly in time,” Harry chuckles, holding his mum tight.

“You barely just arrived and you’re already picking on me? Typical,” Anne rolls her eyes, letting go of him. You round the car, feeling nervous to meet her. When her eyes finally fall on you, her smile grows even wider as she takes a step closer to you. “And you must be Y/N! It’s so nice to meet you!” she beams, pulling you into a warm hug as well.

“Nice to meet you too,” you chuckle, hugging her back.

“I’m Anne, but I listen to all versions of mum and grandma,” she tells you chuckling.

“Alright, noted,” you nod smiling.

Harry opens the car door of the backseat and unbuckles Izzy who has already woken up from her little nap and the moment her feet are on the ground she runs up to Anne.

“Grams!” She giggles before throwing herself into Anne’s arms who picks her up happily.

“Hi baby, you grew so much! I missed you!” she sighs as the little girl cuddles into her neck.

“Missed you too, Grams. I brought my new toys, do you want to play with them?”

“Of course! We’ll have all the time to play this week,” Anne smiles down at her. “Alright, come on in. Lunch is almost ready.”

Harry grabs Izzy’s things from the car and you all head inside. The house smells good from the cooking food in the kitchen and it’s such a cozy home, you can definitely see Harry growing up here. Above the fireplace in the living room there are a bunch of photos framed on the wall, most of them are from Harry and Gemma, but there are some more of other relatives as well, cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents. It seems like Harry has a big family.

Harry unpacks Izzy’s stuff in her room that used to be Gemma’s apparently, he is telling Anne all about everything she needs to know about Izzy’s routines and she is listening patiently, though you’re sure she is more than capable of taking care of her. After all, she raised two amazing children already.

While Izzy shows Anne all her toys she’s brought with herself, Harry takes your hand and pulls you out of the room just to go into another one. Walking in you immediately realize that it must have been his once upon a time.

“You know, I can see your younger version in here, the one I saw in the photos downstairs,” you smirk at him, looking around. There are some old posters and pictures still littering the walls, stickers are covering the side of his wardrobe and dresser, some of them are partially ripped off already, he probably tried to get rid of them once he got older, but miserably failed.

“Yeah? I was pretty cute, right?” he smirks, so full of himself.

“I liked the curly Justin Bieber hairstyle,” you tease him and he gives you an “are you for real?!” look to which you just start laughing.

“Justin Bieber had nothing on me.”

“Yeah, sure,” you laugh before he grabs your hand and pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you. “Your mum is in the next room,” you whisper against his lips as he leans down, teasing you with them just lingering on yours.

“So what? You never sneaked around your parents before?” he smirks down at you.

“I did,” you admit.

“Oh, nasty,” he comments before finally kissing you. However it doesn’t last long, because you hear footsteps coming from outside so you’re quick to move away from each other, just in time when Anne walks in.

“Lunch will be ready in a few, would you two mind setting the table?” she smiles, oblivious what was happening just a moment ago.

“Sure,” Harry nods, rubbing his nose as his other hand finds your waist and he ushers you out of the room.

Izzy helps Anne in the kitchen while you and Harry take care of the table. When everything is done you all sit down and start the feast Anne was so kind to make for you. It doesn’t take long to see the snickering but loving dynamic between Harry and his mother. Anne likes to pick on her son, call him out for basically anything and though Harry talks back, he mostly just lets her tear him to pieces. With love, of course.

“Izzy, please don’t get whipped cream all over the place!” Harry sighs when it’s time for dessert. Anne has made apple pie, one of Izzy’s favorites and she is going generous with the cream on top of her slice.

“You didn’t have problem getting cream all over you when we were making cupcakes, daddy!” Izzy sasses back, making both you and Harry drop your jaws while Anne starts laughing at her boldness.

“That was an entirely different situation, Izzy,” Harry shakes his head as he helps her with the scream before passing it over to you.

“Grams, you should have been there! Daddy, Y/N and I made a mess in the kitchen, but daddy started it!” Izzy giggles, digging into the pie.

“Is that so?” Anne smirks.

“We were just… playing,” Harry explains.

“Oh, I know how you can get when you’re just playing,” Anne chuckles. “Y/N, how do you put up with two kids in the house?”

“I used to deal with fifteen at the same time, so two is not a trouble,” you smirk at Harry who just rolls his eyes, but you see the hiding little smile on his lips.

After lunch Izzy insists on showing you the dollhouse Anne has set up for her in the backyard while Harry helps his mum with the cleaning up.

“We both know your sister likes to exaggerate stories, so I didn’t believe everything she said about you and Y/N,” Anne speaks up as she is washing the dishes and Harry is on drying duty.

“I’m glad you don’t fall for Gemma’s vivid imagination.”

“But there’s one thing she got right.”

“And what would that be?” Anne turns the tap off as she faces Harry, sighing in relief as she smiles at him.

“That you look happy.”

Harry opens his mouth to say something, but then just closes it. He does feel happy, even if he is still struggling to accept it. Anne dries her hands and reaching up she cups Harry’s face in her palms.

“Baby, I haven’t seen you like this for a long time. And I know you think you don’t deserve to feel this way, but you do. And Y/N makes you happy, clearly.”

“Mum…”

“No, honey, just… listen to me, okay?” she asks and he nods, giving all his attention to his mother. “It broke my heart to see you so… lost after what happened to Maggie. And I know that it was the hardest thing you ever had to go through, but you need to move on. She would want you to do the same thing.”

“How do you know, mum? You didn’t even like Maggie when I first brought her home,” Harry points out mumbling under his breath.

“That doesn’t change the way you felt about her. I know you loved her and I would have never wanted anything to happen to her. She made you happy and that’s all that mattered to me,” she smiles with a tired sigh. “And I just want you to be happy again. Whatever you two have going on… don’t let go of it, alright? She is making you happy and you deserve that.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say so he just nods before Anne pulls him into a tight, motherly hug that he returns gladly.

“I’m trying, mum. I’m trying,” he whispers into her hair, giving her a squeeze before letting go of her.

You stay a little longer, Anne makes you tea and Harry soaks in the last minutes with Izzy before he is forced to be away from her. You know he is looking forward to spending some time away from his daddy duties, but it’s clear that he’ll miss her terribly too.

“Alright, baby. Be good and I’ll call Grams to talk to you every day, okay?” Harry tells her, giving her one last hug. Izzy wraps her arms around his neck tightly, her face squished into his neck.

“Okay, daddy. I love you,” she mumbles with a pouty look.

“I love you too. Have a good time with Grams.”

“Thank you for everything, Anne,” you tell her, giving her a quick hug.

“Oh, you’re welcome. It was so nice to meet you,” she smiles, feeling a little touched by the goodbye. “Come back soon!”

“I will, thank you.” “Bye mum, call me if anything comes up,” Harry tells her, hugging her as well.

“We’ll be alright, don’t worry. Tell Mitch and Sarah that I wish them the best!” Anne smiles as you and Harry head out the door.

“I will! Bye!”

Izzy stands at the front door with Anne, waving after you as Harry backs out of the driveway and eventually, they are out of your sight.

Harry falls silent and you don’t have to be a genius to know that he is already missing Izzy. You can imagine what it feels like to not see her every day like he always does, when he is so used to having her around all the time.

“You alright?” you softly ask, giving his arm a short squeeze.

“Yeah, it’s just… It’s the third time I’m doing this, but it never gets easier. The first year we did it I ended up driving up here four times that week,” he admits with a chuckle.

“Nothing to be ashamed of. It’s normal to miss her.”

“I know, it just makes me emotional,” he admits, flashing you a short smile before he turns his gaze back at the road ahead of him.

The drive back home is a lot quieter than the way to Anne’s. You play some music again and Harry hums to it sometimes, but he is mostly just deep in his thoughts and you don’t want to bother him, knowing well he probably needs some time to settle with the thought of an entire week without Izzy.

You get some takeout for dinner before arriving home and eat together before putting on a movie to watch in the entertainment room. One movie turns into another and before you could realize it, you’re dosed off on the comfy couch, cuddled to Harry’s side near midnight.

When you wake up something entirely different is playing on the screen since the original movie has ended long ago. Harry is passed out, his head resting against the back of the couch, one arm curled around your shoulders while the other is resting on his stomach. Rubbing your eyes you check the time and decide it’s better if you both just go to bed before you end up spending the night on the couch.

“Hey… H,” you softly caress his cheek before you brush his unruly curls back from his forehead. He scrunches his nose adorably before his eyes flutter open, taking in his surroundings. “We fell asleep. Why don’t we call it a night?” you ask in a soft whisper. Harry sighs, nodding his head, squeezing you to his side before his arm falls from around your shoulders. You peck his cheek before pushing yourself up from the couch. He shuts the TV off and the two of you head upstairs. For your surprise, his hand finds yours on the way up the stairs, lacing his fingers together with yours.

You pad your way up to the second floor and walking past Izzy’s room Harry stops for just a heartbeat before he follows you down the hallway. When you’re about to let go of his hand to head into your own bedroom, Harry pulls you back gently, making you look at him with slight confusion.

“Do you… Maybe you could… sleep at mine, if you want to? Just a thought…” he breathes out, clearly nervous to speak what’s been on his mind.

“I would love to, but only if you’re sure about it.”

“I’m sure. It would be nice to… wake up next to you,” he adds with a shy smile and you notice how he didn’t say waking up next to anyone, he wants you to be there.

“Alright. Why don’t we both just go and shower separately and then I’ll come back to yours?” you offer, giving his hand a squeeze. Harry nods and leaning down he places a chaste kiss to your lips before letting go of your hand, going your separate ways.

After doing your usual nighttime routine you put on a pair of soft pajama pants and a simple shirt before heading back to Harry’s bedroom. The door is slightly open, the lights are still on. You knock on the door before pushing it open carefully. You’ve only been in here a handful of times and it’s strange to come here with the intention of staying.

Harry is standing by his dresser in a pair of sweatpants and a white shirt, his hair is slightly damp from his shower. As his eyes fall on your figure a small smile tugs on his lips before he glances towards the bed.

“Which… which side do you like sleeping on?” he asks and you can’t hold back a chuckle as you walk to the side that’s clearly not used by him usually.

Harry huffs with a smile before going to his side. You put your phone to the nightstand before getting under the covers, making yourself comfortable in Harry’s silky sheets. He sits to the edge of the bed, checks something on his phone before dropping it to his nightstand and he then joins you under the covers.

It’s a tiny bit awkward at first, neither of you really finding your place in such a new situation, so at first you just lie on your sides facing each other. Harry is clearly about to say something, he is just looking for the right words, so you give him all the time he needs.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he softly speaks up. “Not just because… I would be awfully lonely now without Izzy,” he adds with a cheeky chuckle. “I meant it generally. I’m really happy that you’re here.”

“I’m happy to be here too. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” you smile at him. Breathing out through his nose he closes his eyes for a few seconds before his green irises meet yours again. Leaning closer he kisses you softly, just another way to tell you the same thing he just said with his words a moment ago. Pulling back he settles his head on the pillow and he pulls you into his arms, making you cuddle to his side similar to the way you fell asleep on the couch earlier.

“Good night, Y/N,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Good night, Harry,” you hum back, nuzzling your face into his shoulder, making yourself comfortable in his strong arms.

Harry grumbles lowly when his phone’s alarm goes off in the morning. He might be off from his daddy duties this week, but he is still the CEO of his company and work is calling his name. Sometime during the night the two of you got tangled up in each other. Unlike last night, now Harry is the one snuggled up to you, his heavy arm lying across your stomach, his legs mingled with yours under the sheets as you gently scratch his scalp with one hand, running the other up and down his arm across your stomach. You’re not gonna lie, waking up in a bed with Harry is far more blissful and satisfying than you imagined. Even early in the morning he has such an aura that sweeps you off your feet, the man was surely crafted by the gods.

“You’re gonna be late,” you hum, eyes still closed when he hits the snooze button and snuggles back to you.

“It’s set to when I have to get Izzy ready. We still have some time,” he mumbles against the fabric of your shirt.

You stay in bed a little longer until it really is time to get up. Harry’s morning form is so soft yet still breathtaking, even with his hair tousled and his puffy eyes, he still looks gorgeous and you find it slightly unfair how little effort the man needs to be this perfect.

Harry heads to take a shower and in the meantime you decide to start making breakfast while the coffee is brewing.

“Oh you shouldn’t have,” Harry breathes out with a thankful smile when he arrives downstairs and sees the almost ready breakfast and the smell of coffee hits his nose.

“I have all the time in the world this week,” you chuckle as you fill a plate with eggs and veggies before you slide it over to him on the kitchen island. You fix a plate for yourself as well and join him on the stool beside him.

“So… are you still up for the date?” Harry asks shyly, glancing over at you.

“Didn’t really change my mind since yesterday,” you chuckle.

“Would you be up to do it today?”

“So, eager, huh?” you tease him, nudging him with your shoulder and he just shyly shrugs, trying to push down his smile. “Today works fine for me. What do you have in mind?”

“I’m not ruining the surprise,” he smirks at you, sipping on his coffee.

“Alright, then just tell me the dress code.”

“Wear that lilac dress you wore to that birthday party the other week.”

You know exactly what dress he is talking about, but it stuns you that he actually remembers what you wore two weeks ago. He only saw you for a few minutes before you left, yet he still remembered the dress.

“Alright,” you smile to yourself before turning back to your breakfast.

Though you have a few extra sessions booked for the week, your Monday stayed empty and without Izzy roaming around the house you have to realize that you can easily get bored without her. You got so used to being with her all day long that now being home on your own is so weird.

You spend the first half of the day lounging at the pool, something you’ve been dying to do, but you were too busy with a certain little girl. Then you have a nice lunch and after reading the book you’ve been putting away for weeks, you realize that you’ve run out of things to do. So you text Trevor if he wants a ride home after school and of course he does, so after fixing yourself up you drive down to his school.

“Hi there, how was your day?” you ask when he sits into the car, throwing his backpack to the backseat before he buckles himself up as you back out of the parking spot.

“Fantastic, as always!” he fake cheers, making you laugh.

“Want to get ice-cream?”

“You know I always want ice-cream,” he snorts smirking at you.

You haven’t met Trevor ever since things become kind of… romantic between you and Harry, and you didn’t want to tell him over the phone, so now is the perfect time to break him the news. When the two of you are sitting on the terrace of your favorite ice-cream place, your paper cup filled with chocolate and strawberry ice-cream while he chose mango and cookie dough, you finally start the conversation.

“So, I have news for you.”

“Oh my God,” he breathes out, closing his eyes for a second. “Are you leaving the country?”

“What? No! Why do you think that?”

“I don’t know, but last time you said you had news for me you moved out from home. Figured it might be something similar,” he shrugs, returning to his ice-cream.

“Well, no, I’m not leaving the country.”

“Okay, then what is it?”

“I’m kind of… dating Harry. You know, my boss.” You have no idea why you felt the need to add the last part when he has already met him, but you feel a bit nervous. Trevor is like your best friend and he had a bad feeling about Keith when you started dating him, but you ignored it. If he has a similar feeling about Harry now, you are definitely considering them this time.

“Oh!” his eyebrows shoot up. “What do you mean kind of?”

“Well, we haven’t had our first date yet, it’s happening tonight, but things have… changed.”

“So you slept with him?”

“No, I haven’t,” you chuckle nervously. “We kissed. A few times and… we talked about where it’s heading and we both think it’s going to turn into something… more serious.”

“That’s great!” he smiles at you and it seems completely genuine. “See, I told you it’s gonna happen sooner or later,” he smirks coyly, before he licks his spoon off.

“You were just drawing random assumptions because of his looks and wealth, Trevor. But it’s not about that.”

“Oh, I know you’re not a gold digger,” he teases you, making you roll your eyes at him. “So your first date is tonight? What are you guys doing?”

“I don’t know, he didn’t tell me,” you shrug with a small smile.

“Mysterious,” Trevor wiggles his eyebrows at you. “So he is finally ready to get back on the dating scene, huh?”

“Um, he is working on it. It’s a little hard for him, but he’s been changing for the better.” “That’s great. I’m happy for you,” he smiles at you. “Really, you deserve it after that asshole.”

“Yeah, I hope it’ll go well,” you smile back at him with a sigh before you return to your ice-cream.

After dropping Trevor off at one of his friends you head back home. For your surprise, Harry’s car is already parked on the driveway with another one that doesn’t belong to him when you pull up and walking in you find him with Niall in the kitchen.

“Oh, hi boys!” you greet them.

“Y/N! You are stunning as always!” Niall beams, pulling you into a tight hug right away.

“Thanks,” you chuckle patting his back. “What are you guys up to?”

They share a look and it tells you right away you are not supposed to know whatever they were talking about so you just nod smiling.

“Alright, got it,” you chuckle.

“How was your day?” Harry asks, hoping to change the subject smoothly.

“Great! Met with Trevor, just dropped him off.”

“Oh, how is he doing?”

“He is fine, struggling a little with math lately, but he is doing great,” you chuckle.

“So you have a brother. Do you happen to have a sister, maybe?” Niall asks with a coy smile and while Harry just rolls his eyes at his friend, you can’t help but laugh.

“Sorry, no,” you tell him the bad news. “But… I have a good friend and I think you’d like her.”

“A friend? Do you have a picture of her?” Niall beams, already excited about it. Pulling your phone out you show him a picture of you and Heather so he can have a good look at her. You actually think that Heather and Niall would be a good match, she might even be the girl Niall would give up his bachelor life finally.

“When are we having a double date?” he simply asks, making you and Harry laugh at the same time.

“I’ll see what I can do for you.” You let the boys finish whatever they were doing before you arrived so you go to your room, unwinding a little before you have to start getting ready for the date. Around five there’s a soft knock on your door and as you call out, Harry pops his head inside.

“Hi,” he smiles nervously as the rest of his body walks into your sight.

“Hi!” you smile back, putting your book to the side.

“I just realized I never told you the time when you should be ready tonight,” he chuckles nervously. “Is six good for you?”

“Yeah, that’s great.”

“Alright. Then… see you soon, I guess,” he smiles nodding before he walks out of your room. You can’t help a small chuckle at how nervous he seems about tonight, as if he wasn’t still sure about your feelings for him, when you’ve made it clearer than daylight.

You get the best kind of jitters while getting ready for the date. It’s like you’re in high school again and your crush has finally asked you out so you want to look your best. Since Harry already suggested you what to wear, you don’t have to spend an hour standing in your closet, trying to find the right choice. For the makeup you go for a little smokey look and you do a loose bun styles for your hair, remembering the words your mother always told you when you were a teenager.

“A woman’s greatest and most secret weapon is her neck. Men go crazy if you show them your neck and they don’t even realize it!”

You spray some perfume on yourself and put on a pair of nude heels before packing your necessities into a purse that matches your outfit. You finish with everything just in time, a soft knock signaling that Harry has returned. Checking yourself one last time in the mirror you open the door and reveal him standing at the door, wearing a pair of fitted purple dress pants with a crispy shirt on, matching your dress perfectly. And the cherry on top is the bouquet of red roses in his hands.

“Hi,” he breathes out with a nervous smile and his gaze travels down your figure, a blush tinting his cheeks.

“Hi!”

“You look… beautiful,” he smiles shyly and your heart is fluttering in your chest. It’s really happening, you are going on a date with Harry!

“Thank you,” you chuckle softly.

“These are for you. I know it’s weird that I’m picking you up from your bedroom and I’m not giving you this at the front door, but…” he chuckles as he hands you the flowers.

“It’s really nice, thank you,” you smile, taking the flowers before moving into the bedroom to put them in a vase quickly. Harry takes just about two steps into the room and stops with his hands hidden in his pockets as he eyes every movement of yours before you finish with the flowers and let him know that you’re ready to do. He holds out his hand and you take it gladly as you head out of the house.

He doesn’t tell you where you’re going, not even when you try to annoy him and bully him into finally hinting something, but you should have known that he wouldn’t break. He has a four year old daughter who is constantly bugging him, he has endless patience.

When he parks down in front of a modern apartment complex you kind of get really confused, because nothing around seems like the location you’d choose for a date.

“Are you gonna kidnap me and keep me hostage in one of the apartments here?” you ask him with narrowed eyes as the two of you head inside, taking the elevator up.

“It’s not kidnapping, you came willingly,” he smirks down at you.

“That I did.”

When you’re at one of the apartments you are really lost about what he had planned and he finally breaks your suffering and tells you what’s gonna happen as he keys the two of you into the apartment.

“This is Niall’s place, he let us use it tonight. My mum always says that cooking together is a good first date, because food brings people together and you can easily get to know each other,” he explains as you walk into the modern, but definitely very manly home. “I didn’t want to do it at home, because we are always there, so… Niall was nice enough to lend us his place for our date.”

You see that there are two full grocery bags on the kitchen counter and the table is already set for two, you wonder if Harry was here earlier, or Niall did the work for him. Either way, it’s such a thoughtful gesture and a perfect first date.

“Where is he tonight?” you ask with a small smile.

“He is visiting his mother, for a change,” Harry chuckles, knowing well you thought he would be out with a woman probably. “He said he won’t be back until later tomorrow so we can even sleep here, but I thought it would be better if we went home.”

“So what are we making?” you ask curiously as you peek into one of the grocery bags.

“We are going to attempt to make gnocchi with some killer tomato sauce. And brownies for dessert,” he adds with a small smile.

“That sounds great, what can I help with?”

“Let me just quickly pack everything out and then we have to peel the potatoes, yeah?”

“Alright,” you nod, your gaze wandering over to the spacious living room. “Can I look around?”

“Sure,” he nods while he is already elbows deep in one of the bags.

Niall’s place looks like it came right off the pages of an interior design magazine, the furnishing is modern and more on the dark color range, but not too much to make it appear depressing. Right next to his huge TV there’s a floor to ceiling bookcase filled with books mostly about music and art and you realize you don’t even know what Niall does for a living. It just never came up between his heavy flirting sessions.

“I never asked, but what does Niall do?” you ask calling out to Harry.

“Oh, he is a freelancer music producer. Tried to offer him a permanent spot at my company, but he prefers his freedom, like with everything else in his life,” he chuckles. “But he is a good one, we used to make music together when we were younger.”

Just as he says that, you spot a picture of the two of them on the shelves and your lips part in a bit of a shock when you realize that Harry used to have long hair. Leaning closer you inspect the photo better and you feel like you’re looking at two entirely different people. Niall’s hair was bleached blonde which is already enough to make him like another version of himself, but Harry is definitely the biggest shocker. He was rocking some loose shirt with the top buttons left undone, his necklace with the cross pendant peeking out and though the photo ends somewhere above his knees, you can tell that he is wearing skinny jeans, something you never thought you would ever see him in.

“You had long hair?” you ask joining him in the kitchen. Harry’s eyes shoot up to him, then he looks in the direction of the living room, a smile tugging on his lips as he probably remembers what photo you must have just seen.

“Uh, yeah. Yes I did, when I was about 21 or 22.”

“I could hardly believe that was you in the picture, with the long locks and the skinny jeans,” you tease him.

“Yeah, I was a lot different then, but after all, it’s been an entire decade since then,” he sniggles.

“Why did you cut it?”

“Um, I was pretty new in the business back then and had a few assholes telling me that it’s not too masculine and all that. It was a time when I cared more about others’ opinion than I should have so I kind of gave in and cut it.”

“I’m sorry they ruined it for you. But I’m glad you don’t care about others that much now,” you smile at him softly. Harry’s eyes flicker down to his painted nails and ring-clad fingers and you just know what he is about to ask before he even speaks up.

“Does it… bother you? That I paint my nails and stuff?”

“No,” you shake your head confidently. “Not at all. I mean, I never saw you without them, but at this point I think it wouldn’t even feel right,” you add with a small laugh that brings Harry’s smile back as well. Stepping closer you kiss his shoulder softly before turning your focus on the food in front of you. “So, let’s peel these bad boys!”

It’s the first time you and Harry actually work together in the kitchen for more than just five minutes. He is always in control at home, taking over everything with Izzy and you know it’s a good bonding time for them, so you never even tried to push your way into it without their invitation. But now the bonding is all about you and him and so far you’ve been a great team. The cutest thing is that he brought you matching aprons to protect your clothes and you look like you are in some cooking show for sure.

You keep asking questions from each other while working on the food, Harry asks you some more about your childhood and teenage years and he shares stories from college where he had this friend group of five. Niall was part of the group as well and he said he is still in touch with the other boys, but they all do very different things now, the other three are already fathers themselves and live far away, so they don’t get to see each other that much.

You are making the little dumplings while Harry is on duty for cooking them, relentlessly fishing them out of the boiling water once they swim up to the top. When that’s done, Harry starts making the sauce while you take care of the brownies. It all works out well, everything gets done easily and while the dessert is in the oven you start eating what you just created.

“Mm, this sauce is really good!” you hum when you take the first bite.

“It’s my mum’s recipe,” he smiles proudly.

At the beginning of the evening you could tell that he felt nervous, not essentially about being with you, but probably because of the thought of going on a date in general. But as time passed by and he got more and more comfortable in the situation, you could see him loosen up and calm his nerves, so now that you are eating the dinner you made together and drinking a glass of fine wine, talking about anything and everything, you feel like he is actually enjoying something he was probably terrified from before.

When the brownies are done the two of you take advantage of the nice evening weather and Niall’s amazing balcony, moving out to the lounge chairs, munching on the dessert with the skyline of the city in front of you. At one point you start playing a game of would you rather, and after a while you ask each other the most random things, cracking each other up continuously. You don’t even realize and it’s already past ten, you completely talked the evening away, but you don’t regret any of it.

You clean up Niall’s place, leaving it just the way you got it, putting some leftovers into his fridge for him as a thank you for lending you his place before you head out.

Harry keeps a hand on you at all times on the way home, he is either holding your hand over the console, or rests his palm on your thigh above your knee, but either way, he just keeps the physical touch up always. Not that you mind, you are doing kind of the same, enjoying his closeness.

Arriving home you can feel a kind of tension growing, but not a bad kind. You want him. Your desire to go further than just kissing has grown immensely tonight, but you have no idea how he feels about taking it further and you don’t want to push him past his boundaries.

“Want to… sleep with me again?” he shyly asks when you’re going up the stairs.

“Yeah, I would love that,” you smile at him, giving him a quick peck on his cheek.

When you part ways in the hallway he probably expects you to do your night time routine, but you have other plans. Grabbing your polaroid camera you pad your way over to his room, knocking on the door, hoping he is not in the shower yet. When he calls out for you, he is standing at his dresser, the first few buttons of his shirt are already undone, but he is still dressed.

“I just thought that… we could snap a picture as a nice memento of our first date,” you shyly explain to him, holding the camera up.

“Oh, yeah! Okay, how do you... how should we…?” he looks around the room and you step to his dresser, placing the camera to the top of it.

“It’s got a timer,” you explain as you set it up and tell him where to stand so you can check if he is in the frame. When it’s all set, you glance back at him. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” he nods shyly. You push the button and step back to him. “What should we…” he starts, but you already know what you want the picture to be like.

Cupping his face in your hands you pull him down and kiss him sweetly, for the first time tonight. You’ve noticed he hasn’t tried to kiss you all night, being a gentleman, but you’ve been craving it since he showed up at your door with the roses.

He hesitates for a moment, but eventually curls his arms around you, kissing you back softly. The timer goes off and the flash indicates that the photo has been taken. Pulling back you smile at him before taking the photo from the camera, setting it to the side to develop. Harry steps behind you, his arms coming to curl around your waist and you turn in his hold to face him.

“Hi,” you smile at him giddily. “Thanks for today.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he answers softly, making your heart flutter. You press your lips at his, kissing him hard and passionate, like you wanted all evening. He is quick to return the kiss with just as much passion as you put into it, his hands finding your waist as he slowly pulls you with him until the back of his legs hit the bed. He sits down and pulls you with him so you sit on his lap straddling him, never breaking the kiss as you settle in his arms, his hands roaming up and down your back.

Your kisses move from his delicious lips to his chiseled jawline and down his neck, your fingers working on the buttons of his dress shirt. You want him, you need him, he is all you can think about and the taste of his skin on your tongue is making you lose your mind.

His hands move up your thighs right to your bum, giving it a good squeeze, making you moan against the crook of his neck.

“Fuck,” he growls, throwing the two of you to the bed, getting on top of you before his lips attack yours, kissing you with a demand heatedly. His lips move smoothly against yours, devouring you with every suck and lick, making you dizzy in the head with such little effort.

He starts kissing down your neck, through your collarbone and whatever is showing in your dress on your chest. Your fingers lace through his messy curls, keeping him close to you as you try to control your moans and gasps. His fingers hook under the thin straps of your dress and he is about to pull them down when he stops, breathing heavily against your skin.

Harry lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours as he is panting through his parted lips and you cup his cheeks in your hands.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me,” you tell him softly, knowing well his mind is probably racing right now.

“I just…” he starts quietly. “I haven’t been with anyone since… Maggie,” he admits in a whisper and your gaze softens on him.

“And I haven’t been with anyone since Keith,” you admit truthfully. “We don’t have to do anything tonight. I’m fine with just sleeping if that’s all you want to do.”

“No, I want to… I want to do things, I just… I’m not used to it, I guess,” he breathes out as you run your fingers through his hair.

“It’s okay. We can take it slow. Whatever you feel comfortable with,” you assure him pecking his lips softly.

“Is it… Is it okay if we just… touch?” He is clearly feeling a bit embarrassed to ask, but you will not make him feel bad for asking for whatever he wants. Pulling him down for another kiss you smile up at him.

“Touching is perfect. It’s all up to you,” you tell him and see the gratitude in his eyes right away.

Removing yourself off of his lap you climb back on the bed, pulling him with you until he is holding himself up above you. Your eyes meet for a second again before leaning down he kisses you slowly, taking his time with you. He is holding himself up on one arm while his other hand finds your hip, gently squeezing it when his tongue slides into your mouth through the kiss. Your hands move down his chest and you start unbuttoning his shirt until it falls open and he shimmies it off with a soft chuckle.

“Let’s get rid of the dress too,” you breathe out, reaching down for the hem of your dress, pulling it up until it’s off, leaving you in only your underwear. You’re wearing a matching set with a strapless bra and as you lie back on the bed Harry’s eyes basically devour you, his gaze running up and down your body several times.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he breathes out before leaning down and kissing you again, his hand cupping your side before wandering over to your stomach and up to your chest. He runs his hand over your chest, gently squeezing it, making you moan into the kiss.

“And you’re wearing too much clothes,” you grin as you reach down and start undoing his purple pants you ogled him quite often tonight. Harry chuckles as he holds himself up for you to work the button and the zipper on his pants before he takes over the task and gets rid of them himself, leaving him in only his boxer briefs and you have to hold yourself back from gasping when you see the growing bulge between his legs.

You don’t get to eye him for too long, because he is back to kissing you, his body pressing up against yours as you let your hands roam his strong back, his skin burning under your touch. His lips travel down the line of your neck to your chest and his hand snakes behind your back, but he stops before he could do anything with the clasp of your bra. Glancing up at you he gives you a questioning glare, asking for your permission.

“You can take it off,” you softly tell him nodding. His fingers are quick to undo it and a moment later you’re lying with a bare chest underneath him. His hand moves to your chest again and he kneads your breast again, this time with nothing between your skin and his palm. You whimper under his touch, you’ve been so starved to be touched this way and now that it’s happening, it’s hard to control yourself, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind seeing you react to what he is doing.

His lips return to your mouth and while he kisses you with so much passion, he slowly lays himself down next to you, so you’re facing each other sideways on the bed. He pulls you closer to him until you’re flushed against his hard chest and while your hand roams around his shoulders and back, his palm slides down your spine, over your waist until he calms bum, pushing you even closer to him. His clothed erection presses against your thigh and you can’t help but whimper his name at the feeling.

His kisses slow down and his touch loosens on you until he pulls back, seemingly just for air, but you can tell his head is starting to race again, spiraling thoughts taking over his mind.

“Do you want me to take over control?” you softly ask him, pushing his unruly curls out of his forehead. His gaze softens and he nods shortly with gratefulness lacing through his look.

He watches you intently as you push yourself up into a sitting position, he rolls to his back and keeps his gaze on you as you hook your fingers into your panties, getting rid of them before doing the same for him with his boxers. He lifts his hips up as you pull down the elastic material, revealing his hard cock to your greedy eyes. You want nothing more than to taste him, but he said he just wants to touch so you don’t try to overstep his limits, leaving this desire of yours to another time. Instead, you lean down, capturing his lips in a sweet, reassuring kiss that everything is going fine to calm his nerves as much as you can, while you place your palm to his lower stomach, moving down slowly until you find his hard cock, wrapping your hand around his length and giving it a few gentle stroke.

“Fuck,” he breathes out against your parted lips and you can’t push a smile down.

You kiss his lips, his cheeks, his jawline, everywhere around his face while you keep pumping him, spreading some of his precum down his length to help your hand move smoother. Your actions awaken something in him, he grabs your face in both his hands, kissing you hard before he pushes you to your back, becoming the one on top. He parts your legs with pushing a knee between your thighs and while you keep up with your motions, he gets down to action as well. One of his large palms runs down your abdomen, stroking your lower belly gently before it moves to your inner thigh, spreading you even more for him before you feel his touch on your heated and dripping wet core. First, he just teasingly runs two fingers through your folds, testing how wet you are and when he realizes that you are more than ready to whatever he has planned, he moves his thumb to your sensitive clit, drawing circles with the pad of his finger, sending a wave of pleasure up your spine immediately.

“Harry!” you moan his name, running your thumb over the head of his cock that makes him gasp and stop his motions for a moment before he returns to pleasuring you.

He buckles his hips into your touch while his fingers move down from your clit until he is teasing your entrance, just circling around it but not pushing into you. Rolling your hips you signal him that you want the teasing to end and he luckily gets the hint, slowly sliding two fingers inside you, curling them gently and it makes your eyes roll back immediately. He rests his forehead on your shoulder as he starts moving his fingers in and out of you while you try your best to keep up your pumping motion as well, moving your other hand to his balls to give him some of that extra pleasure and he seems to be liking what you’re doing, because your name keeps falling from his lips as keeps fingering you, curling his digits just the right way inside you from time to time.

“Fuck, Y/N, I won’t last long,” he pants, his lips brushing against your neck before he kisses the soft skin above your collarbone.

“It’s alright. Just want you to feel good, H,” you assure him, though you’re getting closer to your release as well.

“Are you close?” he asks out of breath, still holding himself up above you, leaning onto his other arm next to your head.

“Yeah, don’t stop,” you nod, turning your head so your lips could meet for a kiss again.

You can tell he is trying hard to hold himself back, to stretch it out as long as he can. A torturous look tugs on his face and you kiss his temple, wanting nothing more than to see him finally reach the peak.

“Let go, H. It’s alright,” you whisper against his skin and he whines at your words before you feel his cock jerk in your hand and he cums under your touch.

You keep stroking him as he rides his high, gasping and panting your name while he spills his semen onto your naked stomach. His fingers stopped moving inside you as he found his relief, but as soon as you feel him recovering from his orgasm, he goes right back to where he left it, desperately wanting to pleasure you as well.

“Harry!” you moan when he hits a specific spot inside you, tingling your nerves just right, your hands come to clasp onto his broad shoulders.

“Cum for me, babe. Let me see you feel good,” he whispers before his lips occupy your mouth again, kissing you with so much passion and vigor, your senses are starting to overload.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” you gasp feeling your toes curl and Harry picks his pace up, his thumb coming in contact with your clit as he tries to make you reach your high.

And then it finally happens. You stop breathing for a moment, the intensity of it washing over your whole body. It’s been so long since you felt this good with anyone, and just the thought of doing this with Harry probably adds a lot to the equation.

He slows his fingers down, but makes sure to curl them inside you every time he pumps them in, and you repeat his name over and over again until you finally catch your breath. Your gaze meets his, and you see a happy and satisfied shine in his green irises as he leans down and kisses you sweetly, pulling his fingers out of you gently.

“M’gonna get a towel,” he murmurs, pecking your lips one last time before he gets up from the bed and walks into the bathroom while you lie on his bed, totally gone and worn out from your orgasm. Harry comes back with a damp washcloth and cleans up the mess he made on you before gently moving to between your legs, taking such good care of you. He drops the cloth to the floor, not wanting to leave the bed again as he pulls the covers over your bodies, pulling you into his arms.

“How are you feeling?” you softly ask, pecking his toned chest.

“I’m good.”

Lifting your head you search for his eyes, wanting to make sure he didn’t regret any of it, but he seems calm and rested for a change. Smiling up at him you push yourself up a little so you can connect your lips before you snuggle back to his side and let yourself slowly drift off to sleep, listening to his steady heartbeat under your face.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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@mariamuses @pastequeharry @f-vasquezp @jgtfvhsg @trulymadlykiki @bookwormandtea @sltwins @kakaym @cherryruins @fairysums @styles217 @reidsgubbler @meredithhuntt @hereforreid @kinda-ravenclaw-kinda-slytherin @harrystyle-ish @whitetigerlover17 @popluckbih @mellamolayla @shamelessfangirl-3 @runway-to-my-aid @battlegground @harrystylescherrie @sunsetcurve-h @wellfuckmylifethen @mroy-l0l @percysaidnever @sweeetcreatvre @shawnsblue @jackiehollanderr @lo-harry-ve @harrystylesisbaeee @goldenngracee @sunflowerryvol6 @harryscherrysugar @niallbestie3 @youngpastafanmug @dolcecheerie @dontworrysunflower @alwaysclassyeagle

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #to love and be loved series #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff

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seaweed-brain2-0 · 3 years ago

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Not only is it Percy Jackson's birthday today, it is also Percabeth's (12th??) Anniversary, so here are some of the best Percabeth moments in PJO and PJO alone. [The light blue is just me being me]

“You drool when you sleep.” (obviously)

“Me, go with you on the… the ‘Thrill Ride of Love’? How embarrassing is that? What if someone saw me?” (It was at this scene when I knew, these two would be my comfort couple in the future)

“I don’t know what my mom will do, I just know I’ll fight next to you.” “Why?” “Because you’re my friend, Seaweed Brain. Any more stupid questions?”

Annabeth’s shroud was so beautiful—gray silk with embroidered owls—I told her it seemed a shame not to bury her in it. She punched me and told me to shut up. (ah, young love)

PERCY CARRYING AROUND ANNABETHS PICTURE IN HIS NOTEBOOK TO REMIND HIMSELF THAT SHE WAS REAL no i’m not taking this one straight from the book, the paragraph is too long.

But whenever Annabeth talked about the time she spent with them, I kind of felt . . . I don’t know. Uncomfortable? No. That’s not the word. The word was jealous. (and it still took him four years to realize he was in love with her??)

She looked good. Really good. I probably would’ve been tongue-tied if I could’ve said anything except ‘reet, reet, reet’.

She tackled me with a hug, then pulled away just as quickly. “I’m glad you’re not a guinea pig.” “Me, too.” I hoped my face wasn’t as red as it felt. (nine year old me is SCREAMING)

“I’ll get us back to the ship,” I told her. “It’s okay. Just hang on.” Annabeth nodded to let me know she was better now, and then she murmured something I couldn’t hear because of the plugs in my ears. (THE INTIMACY)

The crowd cheered. Annabeth planted a kiss on my cheek. The roaring got a lot louder after that. (THEIR FIRST KISS DFGHJNBGVFDFGH why am I still fangirling over this, I've seen them kiss a billion times-)

“Um, who should I ask?” She punched me in the gut. “Me, Seaweed Brain.” “Oh. Oh, right.” (✨slow dance✨)

[Aphrodite] When she smiled at me, just for a moment she looked a little like Annabeth. (I repeat: AND IT STILL TOOK HIM FOUR YEARS TO REALIZE HE WAS IN LOVE WITH HER????)

“You didn’t believe I was dead?” “Never.” (I believe I was dead at this point)

“I, uh, was thinking we got interrupted at Westover Hall. And . . . I think I owe you a dance.” She smiled slowly. “All right, Seaweed Brain.” (✨slow dance✨ part two *more screaming*)

“Think positive. Tomorrow you’re off to camp! After orientation you’ve got your date—”

“It’s not a date!” I protested.”It’s just Annabeth, Mom. Jeez!”

“She’s coming all the way from camp to meet you.”

“Well, yeah.”

“You’re going to the movies.”

“Yeah."

“Just the two of you.”

“Mom!”

She held up her hands in surrender, but I could tell she was trying hard not to smile. (this whole scene deserved to be in here and you know it)

“Hey, it’s . . . it’s okay.” I patted her on the back. I was aware of everything in the room . I felt like I could read the tiniest print on any book on the shelves. Annabeth’s hair smelled like lemon soap. Behind me, somebody cleared his throat. It was one of Annabeth’s half-brothers, Malcolm. His face was bright red. I stepped away from Annabeth “We were just looking at maps,” I said stupidly. (imagine falling madly in love with Annabeth Chase and not knowing it until she kisses you, couldn't be me 😐)

Annabeth glared at me like she was going to punch me. And then she did something that surprised me even more. She kissed me. (*screaming intensifies*)

Annabeth and I pretty much skirted around each other. I was glad to be with her, but it also kind of hurt, and it hurt when I wasn’t with her, too. (I've just given up on screaming at Percy for not realizing his feelings sooner 😐🔫)

Annabeth wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m glad you’re not dead, Seaweed Brain.” “Thanks,” I said. “Me too.” (you know what I'm not glad about? Beckendorf's death 😃👍🏽)

We locked eyes. I thought of a different time last summer, under Mount St. Helen's, when Annabeth thought I was going to die and she kissed me. She cleared her throat and looked away. “Prophecy.” “Right. Prophecy.” (ahaha pain)

Malcolm grinned at me. “We’ll wait outside while you finish inspection.” The Athena campers filed out the door while Annabeth cleaned up her bunk. I shuffled uneasily and pretended to go through some more reports. Technically, even on inspection, it was against camp rules for two campers to be . . . like, alone in a cabin. That rule had come up a lot when Silena and Beckendorf started dating. Anyway, for some strange reason I was thinking about this as I watched Annabeth straighten up. (fOr sOmE rEaSoN)

“Hold on, Seaweed Brain.” It was Annabeth’s voice, much clearer now. “You’re not getting away from me that easily.” (*sobs*)

“I’ll go with Percy,” Annabeth said. “Then we’ll join you, or we’ll go wherever we’re needed.” Somebody in the back of the group said, “No detours you two.” (stop saving the world and go make out 🙄)

Before I could lose my courage, I said, “Don’t I get a kiss for luck? It’s kind of a tradition, right?” I figured she would punch me. Instead, she drew her knife and stared at the army marching toward us. “Come back alive, Seaweed Brain. Then we’ll see.” (AND COME BACK ALIVE, HE DID)

“You’re cute when you’re worried,” she muttered. “Your eyebrows get all scrunched together.”

“You are not going to die while I owe you a favor,” I said. “Why did you take that knife?”

“You would’ve done the same for me.” (HOLY F U C K)

I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. But this was Annabeth. If I couldn’t trust her, I couldn’t trust anyone. (goodnight.)

I glanced back. Annabeth was trying not to meet my eyes. Her face was pale. I flashed back to two years ago, when I’d thought she was going to take the pledge to Artemis and become a Hunter. I’d been on the edge of a panic attack, thinking that I’d lose her. Now, she looked pretty much the same way. I thought about the Three Fates, and the way I’d seen my life flash by. I could avoid all that. No aging, no death, no body in the grave. I could be a teenager forever, in top condition, powerful, and immortal, serving my father. I could have power and eternal life. Who could refuse that? Then I looked at Annabeth again. I thought about my friends from camp: Charles Beckendorf, Michael Yew, Silena Beauregard, so many other who were now dead. I thought about Ethan Nakamura and Luke. And I knew what I had to do. “No,” I said. “I’m honored and everything. Don’t get me wrong. It’s just . . . I’ve got a lot of life left to live. I’d hate to peak in my sophomore year.” The gods were glaring at me, but Annabeth had her hands over her mouth. Her eyes were shining. And that kind of made up for it. (THIS WHOLE SCENE RUINED MY PERCEPTION OF MEN. THEY ARE, IN FACT, NOT AS PERFECT AS PERCY)

“I am never, ever going to make things easy for you, Seaweed Brain. Get used to it.” When she kissed me, I had the feeling my brain was melting right through my body. (I'M MELTING)

We held hands right up to the moment they dumped us in the water. Afterward, I had the last laugh. I made an air bubble at the bottom of the lake. Our friends kept waiting for us to come up, but hey—when you’re the son of Poseidon, you don’t have to hurry. And it was pretty much the best underwater kiss of all time. (DFGHJHGFDFGHJNHGFDFGHJNBVCFGHJMNBVCFKIJUHYGT I DON'T THINK I WILL EVER RECOVER FROM THIS ITS TOO PERFECT GOODBYE FOREVER)

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #happy birthday percy #pjo #hoo #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #rick riordan #riordanverse

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ashortdropandasuddenstop · 2 years ago

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“How should I announce my arrival then? I'm open to suggestions.” a loose shrug, more akin to a testing roll of her shoulders as she was granted entry at last

The first instinct was to carefully look around, searching for a glint of a thin dagger in the shadows; a smirk eventually finding its way to her lips. Appropriate setting for business, in his private quarters during this time of the day and with a pirate.

“I know that you personally don't and won't request an assassin's help.”

“There was no possible way for you to predict my appearance, especially not here. Besides, you're too proud to let someone else take care of me, not to mention, they would fail.” an another example of she was just as much of an expert brandishing words as her swords

“As for you having no reason to believe that, that's where you are wrong. And no, I'm not referring to myself nor my crew.” a heavy sigh, always the righteous ones. They give, give until there's nothing left and they are gone like a dried up well.

“That Lord ” title spat with such venom and disdain “might be inbred, but unfortunately he's clever. A bit too much for my liking. He's the type to see, treat everyone as pawns in his game and no matter what you achieve, you will always be replaceable for those kind of people. Hate to be the one telling you, but as long as he's alive you are. The sweetest of it, that you wouldn't even expect as you're so focused on the enemy ahead and fail to see the one looming behind your back. I've told you; a duel invitation from me won't come from the darkness.” her steps light on the floor, slow, steady.

The worst was that he probably didn't believe a word while she was still hellbent on saving his life for some reason, despite she has done much more than simple courtesy. Bright eyes briefly shut at her request swatted off, who said she needed it for business? It wasn't defeat, wasn't annoyance of not getting what she wanted, more akin to something...hollow.

Tiniest surprise when it was given, a small, gentle smile upon hearing. Alright, to the business part then. A low laugh slipping from her lips at the outrageous suggestion.

“Oh James, I don't think that would be satisfying for either of us.” his name a playful hiss on her tongue, the mere possibility was too ridiculous to even consider taking it seriously

Nimble fingers pulled the folded paper from her coat; a piece of a map she copied, showing the route of a ship.

“This is an estimated course of a pirate ship, once belonged to a small fleet under the command of Kaptan Özgür.” she placed the piece on top of his desk, Turkish language fluid on her tongue

“He's already dead; I killed him when I wrecked his fleet a year ago. Two ships escaped, I've been chasing them ever since.”

“I want my prey. Not because they are full of riches, far from it. They are specialized in slave trade and by now the ship is on its way back for more. I will follow them and I ask you to not interfere.” it was certainly a bold request and Rozália didn't have high hopes of reaching an agreement

“But if you happen to catch up first; as I was always a looming danger they had little to no time for ship maintenance or proper restock. The ship itself is quite small, don't let that fool you, they usually carry more than a hundred killers. Keep distance at all cost and utilize canons instead of manpower. There will be a bloodbath if they get close.” she was well aware that her own style of dealing with those scum was vastly different than the strategy advised, but that was due to the Vihar's endless surprises

A heavy sigh, the business part was done. Of course she wanted to be the one to hunt every single one of them down, but Ottoman piracy was rare in the Caribbean region, the encounter would catch them unprepared. Who would expect a small army swarming out from a barely floating vessel unless they were aware of the usual tactics?

“With that done, can I still interest you with the other surprise I've bought? Or after all this, will you showcase such ungentlemanly behavior to chase me out of the window?”

Norrington raised an eyebrow at her playful hiss of his name, the corners of his lips twitching with amusement. He knew Rozália well enough to know that her outrageous suggestion was just that - a playful jab. He leaned back in his chair, listening as she laid out her request.

"Well, I suppose you could announce your arrival with a trumpet fanfare, but I doubt that would go over well with the neighbors."

He watched as she looked around his quarters, noting her sharp eyes and the quick, precise movements of her body. Despite her unorthodox ways, he couldn't deny that she was a skilled fighter and a valuable ally. "You're right, I wouldn't ask for an assassin's help," he admitted, "but I don't need one. I can take care of myself."

As she spoke about the Lord and his manipulative ways, Norrington couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Deep down knew that she was right, but he didn't want to believe that he was so easily manipulated. "Thank you for the warning," he said gruffly, " but I do owe Lord Beckett a great deal of gratitude for my .. redem- ah promotion. "

He leaned forward, steepling his fingers together quiet for a moment. "You ask for a lot, you know," he said, his tone measured. "But I can appreciate the urgency of your cause. The Slave trade is a despicable business, and I have no qualms about putting an end to it. I will not interfere with your pursuit, but I also cannot condone unnecessary bloodshed. We will take precautions to ensure that our approach is calculated and strategic."

At her mention of a surprise, Norrington couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity. "I'm not usually one for ungentlemanly behavior, no." he said with a smile, "but I am curious, and you have come this far. What is this surprise of yours?"

@ashortdropandasuddenstop

James Norrington cannot have enough heart attacks

Rozália slipped away while her crew was busy angrily assessing the level of her insanity. To their credit...they were absolutely right and even she had to agree that her planned surprise visit was a suicide mission at best. As this time she had no flashy cover, excuses for her presence or members of her family ready to aid if needed. But! She was armed. And that in itself was something formidable.

She simply couldn't resist, not after jokingly bringing up this type of visit and witnessing the color the Admiral's face had become. The other reason being, she really didn't like- absolutely loathed sailing during storms. Thick black clouds already formed by afternoon, the Vihar was safe in the small bay they had been using as hideout in the last two weeks since this plan had started.

Rozália had to correct an enormous stain on her honor, she successfully managed to mend the Admiral's bones thanks to Pest and a little pálinka (two tiny bottles hidden in her coat for this night). He was healing just like she predicted and according to her plan, she would take her leave today after the walk in the town. But the approaching storm -yes, only the storm, so she tried to tell herself- delayed her voyage.

Without any dress, tactical or not restricting her, the climb to the Admiral's presumed bedroom? study? was easy after she figured out the patterns of the patrolling guards. So the Devil took a quiet comfortable seat on the windowsill, heavy droplets already falling in quick rhythm.

Well, she should definitely say something, preferably not the satanic cackle that threatened to burst through her lips at the situation; climbing into an officer's home like a true pirate from the tales.

Candlelights extinguished one by one with meticulous precision, a slight, silent shift into a more comfortable position. As the Admiral reached the last source of light was when she spoke at last, only hoping he wasn't carrying a gun on himself this time of the day.

“I don't like sailing in storms.”

And as fate have it, right after her rough accented alto rang out, the first conveniently enormous bolt of lighting illuminated her silhouette, the bright flash of silver stark contrast against the darkness.

#v: admiral #stormy night #phoenixduelist #NorriRose

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fanfic-cave · 4 years ago

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The Reveal Pt. 2

Rating: SFW/PG-13

Word Count: 1.6k (nearly 1.7k)

Pairing: Hunter x Fem Jedi!OC

Warnings: Swearing (im too lazy to write the star wars swear words so its our kind of swears), trauma/fear situation, lightsaber/jedi things, mushy hug/romance, its supposed to be kinda intense and dramatic

Summary: You’ve exposed yourself as a Jedi to the Bad Batch, and not intentionally. Now its out in the open, and this ex-jedi needs to escape before things get messy. Will these rogue clones attack? Will you have to defend yourself? How will this end without someones blood getting spilled?

Authors note: Check out part 1 linked below, theres links to a few other fics i'd reccomend reading as well along this these! Theres like a tiniest bit of fluff here. I have a few other fluff/short things I want to post soon, and I have some ideas for giving the other TBB memebers some love since all I've been posting is Hunter stuff lately

Please enjoy!

Part 1 here

“Isn’t it obvious? Sera is a Jedi.”

RIP

Tech's words flipped the switch and you took action. You used the force and ripped your lightsaber out of your bag, ignited it, and took a defensive stance.

“Stay back boys” You wish your voice wasn’t shaking. The green glow of your lightsaber reflected on their surprised faces.

“Omega, stay inside.” You heard Hunter's voice, and saw him push her in, her eyes wide when seeing your weapon ignited. Wrecker took a step back, a look of shock on his face. Tech raised his hands. Crosshair eyed you suspiciously, he stood just behind Tech. You couldn’t see Echo.

“Hmm. Looks like I was right.” Tech said nonchalantly, like he had just proved a scientific theory. Well, I guess he did, in a manner of speaking.

You held your lightsaber with two hands, squeezing tight and ready to use it at a moment's notice. You started taking a step back. “Nobody moves. I walk away, and nobody gets hurt-” you sensed something in the force, and heard a minuscule movement, a blaster. You pointed your saber to Echo, who had just appeared at the top exit ramp “Drop it!”

“Easy Sera,” Echo spoke. “We’re all removing our weapons.” He looked at the rest of the boys and nodded. “See?” You watched Echo lift his blaster pistol, careful not to touch the trigger, and throw it. Crosshair dropped his rifle. Wrecker raised his hands up. “You’re a Jedi?” Wreckers face looked shocked and confused.

You tried to ignore the emotions you were feeling. You didn’t want to leave, you had happy times with them. But you were too afraid to take the risk of staying and finding out if you would survive. “I don’t want to hurt any of you” You took another step back. “Just let me go and I won’t…”

“We won’t hurt you Sera.” It was Hunter's voice this time. He stepped forward out of the Havoc, and walked past the boys. His knife and blaster were gone, left on the ship maybe. He held his hands out in front of him, slightly raised. He had a slight crouch as he came towards you, like he was approaching a wounded animal. His expression was hard to read still, but he had a slight frown on his face. You looked into his eyes and couldn’t look away. He held your gaze intensely, like he was trying to send a message to you through his eyes.

“Please,” you said, desperation in your voice. You tried to move your feet. You couldn’t, you were frozen by his look, held by him. You felt the same electric current drawing you to him, keeping you from leaving.

“We don’t have inhibitor chips, not that they worked too well anyways.” He lifted his headband and shifted his hair, pointing to a small scar. The rest of the boys did so similarly, showing they all had an identical scar on the right side of their skull.

You looked at them confused. Inhibitor chips? All you knew was that the clones executed the Jedi. Every Jedi. You didn’t know how, or even why, other than the Empire saying the Jedi committed treason.

Hunter had been taking small steps forward the whole time. Your eyes stayed locked onto his. Then, you felt something you hadn't in a long time, something you shut out.

You recognized the feeling of the force, it moved through you, awakening your force sensitivity. Maybe you reignited a severed connection by touching your saber again, maybe the strong emotions in you and everyone else caused the resurgence. Whatever the reason, you felt it move through you, connecting you to your surroundings.

After the battles on Umbara, with a lot of effort, you closed yourself off from the force. You realized now that it was never truly gone, and you had still been seeing your surroundings with your instinctual force sensitivity.

You hesitated and broke eye contact from Hunter, shocked at what was happening. You took a breath, and closed your eyes. You concentrated on the force, focusing on the feelings you felt now. Fear, love, sadness, anxiety, all of it. You quieted them, and then reached out. You felt a surge of more emotions. Worry. Fear again. But not a selfish fear. They were scared you would leave. You could sense the intentions of each of them, seeing a bit into their mind. You sensed no malice, no intention to take life.

You sensed Hunter step closer. He was maybe a foot away now. He reached out and touched your forearm. You took another deep breath, then opened your eyes, watching him. He reached his hand up to your face slowly, reaching for your mask. You made no movement to stop him, and he slipped it off of you, tossing it aside. Beneath it revealed your face, and he calmly looked into your eyes.

You realized he was trying to reassure you, comfort you. He wasn’t scared of you, despite the legendary weapon you held. You felt more hopeful, now that you saw nobody had tried to attack you. You turned off your lightsaber, never breaking away from his gaze, and dropped the saber to the ground. Everyone relaxed.

“What are inhibitor chips?” You asked. Tech launched into an explanation. The Kaminoans created the clones with chips in their brain, to inhibit the clones' cognitive functions and allow them to follow any order. Theirs were not functioning, save for Crosshair. Crosshairs face darkened as he mentioned this, he looked like he would rather avoid the memories all together. They retrieved him from the empire and removed all their chips.

The clones were forced to kill the Jedi. Thinking about it left a bitter taste in your mouth. The clones would’ve stood by the Jedi, their commanders, generals, and friends. The Jedi only wanted to protect the Republic. They were forced to murder them. They were all tricked.

But, the bad batch… your friends. You sighed. You’re safe. You don’t have to leave. “So none of you feel an overwhelming urge to execute me for holding a lightsaber? Or making a 40ft jump?”

“More like 45 feet, and no. We never were known for being rule followers.” Hunter said. He smiled a bit when he said it, and watched you process his words. You blinked back tears, and a smile spread on your face. You couldn’t believe that you were all going to be okay. A horror you felt sure of was now averted.

You felt the electrical current run through your body again as Hunters hand retreated from your arm. You looked up at him, tears threatening to roll out of your eyes. The current dragged you in. You walked towards Hunter, the heat of the moment sweeping you up. You slammed into him and wrapped your arms around his torso. You squeezed tight, and shut your eyes, tears rolling down. “You’re not going to kill me.” You spoke half laughing, half crying.

You felt his arms wrap around your shoulders, and return the hug, squeezing you back. He was warm. Compared to moments ago feeling terrified of death, the feeling of being hugged and cared for was euphoric.

Hunter pressed his face into your hair, and you felt lips press to top of your head for a brief moment. He bent down a bit and whispered in your ear “Never. You’ve protected us, and we are going to protect you.” A few more tears rolled down as he spoke, and you pressed your face against his chest. He made circles with his thumb on your back, seemingly to comfort you. The world around you just disappeared. It was just you and him. You could feel him take deep breaths, while yours were a bit more shallow and sporadic.

A minute or two passed, and suddenly you heard awkward coughing. You withdrew from the hug, looking to the rest of the boys. Hunters left hand remained on your right shoulder.

You normally might’ve felt embarrassed, but right now you were still just happy to be alive. You faced the rest of the group, feeling a little guilty. “I’m sorry everyone. I really thought you were going to kill me. I didn’t mean to frighten any of you.”

Wrecker laughed. “Don’t worry about it General, we don’t scare easy!” Your eyebrows knit together when he called you General.

“If we really wanted to kill you, it would’ve happened already.” Crosshair said. Hunter looked at him disapprovingly. You just laughed. “Thanks Cross.” He made a short nod, and walked off the ramp.

“To be honest, I’ve suspected it for quite some time. Your reflexes, agility, weapon skill with a blade, and extensive experience with alien culture and language all pointed to you being a Jedi.” You raised an eyebrow at Tech after he spoke.

“How long have you known?” You inquired. “Several months.” He replied. You sighed. “You didn’t tell anyone?” You asked. “No. I thought it was obvious.” He stated simply. He walked past you and typed into his data pad. “See you Sera.” He waved without looking up.

“Echo-“ You called up to him. “Don’t worry about it.” He waved off your apology quickly. You just nodded at him. He walked back into the ship.

You turned to Hunter. “Please don’t start calling me General…” He patted your back. “I’ll talk to them, don’t worry about it.” You breathed out a sigh in relief. You relaxed more and looked at your surroundings for a minute. Your eyes found the horizon and you saw a beautiful sunset beginning. “Thank you, Hunter.” The words escaped your mouth as you watched the sunset.

He squeezed your shoulder, which brought your attention to him. “You can breathe easy now.” The corner of his lips turned up a little. You returned the smile and nodded. He patted your shoulder, and it seemed like he didn’t want to let go. He eventually released your shoulder and walked back to the ship, you assumed it was to go to Omega.

You smiled to yourself as you stood alone. This changes everything. You felt more hopeful than you had in years.

#star wars #tbb #tcw #the bad batch #hunter #echo #crosshair #wrecker #tech #omega #hunter x jedi #hunter x reader #the bad batch x reader #jedi

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cal-kestis · 4 years ago

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You Will Never Be Alone Again | Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

(Epilogue of The Aftermath of Losing Everything)

moodboard/sketch/gifs made by me, please don’t repost :)

Summary: Each morning, he’s there, holding you with his smiling lips pressed against your neck and his heart beating against your chest. (Set after S2) Rating: M Word Count: 3018 Warnings/Tags: Soft!Din, FLUFF, no use of ‘Y/N’, suggestive content

[PART I] // [PART II] // [PART III] // [Read on AO3] // [Series Masterlist]

xi.

It’s strange not waking up by yourself, strange to feel blanketed in a kind of warmth and comfort, not even the early morning suns could radiate.

Sometimes, you think this must be some wild fantasy, a sweet sublime dream that could evaporate into smoke if you dare open your eyes.

But each morning, he’s there, holding you with his smiling lips pressed against your neck and his heart beating against your chest. It’s no secret you love him, it’s written all across your face even with a peripheral glance. Falling for him happened fast and a long, long time ago. Yet in these quiet moments when you’re in the place between wakefulness and sleep, you think you’re still cascading over the crest — falling for the tiniest pieces of him that others would need a magnifying glass to see.

Like those delicate wrinkles that frame the corners of his brown eyes when he looks at you, the way they deepen as he smiles. It’s hard to describe how beautiful those lines are… what they mean. Wrinkles don’t develop overnight. No, he’s smiled enough times for those creases to permanently etch themselves into his skin. It makes your heart soar knowing that, despite all he’s been through, he’d allowed himself those sparse moments of happiness. You’ve hopelessly fallen in love with the lines beside his eyes, evidence that a bright side can exist even in the darkest of hours.

And still, perhaps something you love even more is the way he kisses you until you forget every night you’d ever lay awake feeling alone in the universe.

It’s all so strange in the best, most beautiful way.

Din has given you so much and you only hope he can see your heart, the words carved on it — poems about him, his eyes, the charming lines that tug at the corners. You hope he can see how you’ve kept every word he’s every whispered against your skin, how you’ve inscribed them onto your beating soul: secrets and promises only the two of you will ever get to know, your own name scribbled by his lips a thousand times. You’ll treasure the invisible markings forever. Your heart’s covered in him and you just hope he can see.

With Din, life seems more meaningful, peaceful, beautiful… full. And though frightening shadows still lurk, you know you don’t have to face them alone.

Of course, there are times you worry, moments when he still seems trapped in his head, sinking into deep waters with that silver ball clutched in his hand. But he has you now, his liferaft, one with patched up holes and dents that will always come to pull him back up to the surface.

On those nights when he gets lost in the treacherous tsunami of his mind, you try to give back to him everything he’s so generously offered you. And even as you draw rasped sighs and choked cries and broken moans from his lips, your fingers painting patterns across his body… you know what heals him most are the moments after: the way your breath slows down to match his, how your lips press so gently over his eyelids until they close and project dreams of you as he sleeps.

Meant for me, he’d once said. Or maybe, meant for you.

—

xii.

In the sacred moments you and Din have to yourselves — no quarry to chase, no demons to face — you find yourselves on beautiful secluded planets like this one, surrounded by towering trees and lush rolling hills and long blades of grass and calm creek cadences. Somehow, each new system is more stunning than the last, and every time he opens the ramp to his ship, he intently watches your wonderstruck reaction as your eyes take in a fantastical new planet and gorgeous environment.

Visiting new planets off-duty comes with its own routine. He walks with you as you explore with wide eyes, sits beside you when you find a colorful plant to draw, lifts his helmet ever so slightly when the desire to kiss you — your cheek, your temple, your shoulder — becomes too overwhelming. And when night falls, you both retire to his ship, where he can freely remove every piece of armor and kiss every inch of your skin until it’s all you can dream of.

Since the confrontation at the Imperial base, Din’s also taken it upon himself to train you. Not in the ways of the Jedi, of course. That, you’re learning to study on your own. Din trains you like a Mandalorian — a zealous approach to weapons and warriorship. He’s a patient and compassionate teacher, and it only ties your heart to his in a tighter knot. With his gentle guidance, handling a blaster is hardly an obstacle and it only takes a month or two before you become well-acquainted with the darksaber he’d hidden in his storage cabinet for so long.

When he’d finally told you the story of the ancient weapon of legend, gravity had seemed to press harder against his back, making his shoulders slope and his head hang even lower. Because, on the day he’d parted with his son, he’d not only removed the mask of his Creed, he’d also acquired the crown of a cursed planet. And he still doesn’t know which one weighs heavier atop his head.

After that, you’d dedicated yourself to training with renewed vigor — wanting to be prepared if ever the target on his back brought upon old Imperial enemies or new ones who sought to usurp him from the throne he never wanted.

Today, much like the other times you’d trained with him, it’s mostly just chopping at trees and bushes. You can’t deny how much stronger you feel just holding the Mandalorian weapon and knowing you can defend yourself even without the Force.

There’s a part of you, however, that feels like Din’s holding back. Whenever you’d asked when you’d be ready to spar with him, eager to test your newfound skills against something that can actually fight back, he’d simply readjusted your stance with gentle hands and asked you to show him the different sword strokes he’d taught you.

“Very good,” Din praises as you step forward and swing the darksaber through the air, slicing clean through a thin branch.

“Well, that tree had it coming,” you scoff, crossing your arms with over-exaggerated toughness. “I’ve had enough of your bark, tree. It’s about time you leaf.”

“Puns. You’re upset,” he says, not a question.

“I’m not upset,” you lie, trying to put on your best sabacc face. But his helmet tilts in a way that’s far too knowing for a darkened, T-shaped visor, and you sigh in defeat under his scrutinizing stare. “Fine. I just… I just think I’m ready to up the ante here. And I feel like you’re holding back.”

He stares at you for a moment, studiously looking you up and down.

“Your posture is too slouched,” he explains, changing the subject again. “Go back to ready position.”

“Don’t do that,” you heave out another exasperated sigh.

“Ner kar’ta...”

“No, don’t ‘ner kar’ta’ me. Just because you’ve got this shiny sword,” you argue, the glowing saber humming in your hand as you brandish it back and forth, “and you’re technically a king or whatever—”

“Mand’alor,” he interrupts. “And I’m not.”

“—doesn’t mean everything you say is law. I want you to fight me. I’m ready,” your voice softens, stepping closer to him as your pleading hands wrap around the back of his neck. “I want to really learn from you.”

“We’re not doing this,” he answers, despite willingly staying trapped in the cage of your arms.

But you don’t back down. Instead, you lean forward, lips barely a hair's breadth from his helmet before you boldly kiss the spot where his mouth would be, lingering and watching how the tinted panel fogs up. The print of your mouth marks the dark visor and it makes you grin.

“Fight me, Mando,” you whisper, all sultry bravado laced with a tease that prickles the skin beneath Din’s armor.

“Ready position,” he rasps like he’s annoyed at himself.

A metallic, musical sound rings in the empty forest as he unsheathes the beskar spear behind his back. And like a giddy child, you bounce on your feet and step backward, swinging the darksaber in your hands before taking your stance.

Din stands sturdy just a few feet away, spear gripped tightly in his gloves. He slowly lowers himself, knees bent just slightly, an air of strength and confidence surrounding him. Then, hardly perceptible, he nods.

You dig your heels into the soil, your boots squashing the grass below your feet. With your legs spread wide, you draw the darksaber up to the side of your head, the blinding glow casting a white halo on your cheek. Narrowing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you charge forward at lightning speed, zeroing in on the shiny armor in front of you.

At the last second, Din dodges your attack, stepping to the side and watching as you rush past him. You somehow manage not to trip over your own feet and hastily twirl around to face him again. But Din’s already got the point of his spear aimed at the side of your throat.

“You’re relying too much on your speed,” he explains, spear hovering just below your ear. “Size up your opponent first. Figuring out their weakness is more valuable than using up all your strength. Go again.”

You huff at him but get back into ready position, breathing deep in through your nose and out through your mouth. This time, you take a moment to assess him for weak spots. There aren’t many of course, not visible at least. But you decide the side of his stomach is your best bet.

The moment he nods his head, you take a leap forward and twist your wrist, swinging the blade toward his waist. His spear spins swiftly to block the strike, your weapons meeting in a clash of sparks and high-pitched whistles. You summon all your strength to push the saber against his spear, watching as the silver metal turns orange under the intense laser’s heat. And just when you feel like you’re gaining the high ground as Din’s body bends under your advance, he sweeps his boot beneath you and you fall backward, losing grip of the darksaber.

“That was better,” he says with approval, scanning your body as you lay on the ground and groan loudly. “You okay?” He gently wonders, coming closer and extending a gloved hand toward you.

With shaking fingers, you reach for him. And the moment you feel his grip tighten around your hand, an idea sparks. Without another thought, you yank him forward onto the ground beside you. He lets out a surprised grunt when he hits the dirt and you take full advantage of his shock, straddling his hips and trapping his arms beneath your legs. You extend your hand out to the side and, within seconds, the darksaber comes flying back into your fist. With a bright flash, you ignite the laser blade near his throat.

“That’s cheating,” he says, but you can hear the proud smile in his voice.

“I simply assessed my opponent’s weakness,” you grin, retracting the saber into its hilt and leaning down until you’re nose-to-nose with his helmet. “Just so happens, his weakness is me.”

“Good girl,” he says, and you can’t fight the way his praise sends a fluttering warmth to your belly.

You kiss his helmet again with an exaggerated smacking sound before getting off of him and saying, “Let’s go again.”

Din spars with you for nearly two hours, offering gentle advice each time he bests you (which is most of the time) and showering you with praises whenever you find a way to get the upper hand. It fills you with unmatchable strength and confidence.

“That’s enough for today, verd’ika,” he says, slightly breathless as he brushes dirt off your clothes. “It’s getting dark. Let’s head inside.”

You smile at him, filled with an intense urge to kiss him. So, you reach for his helmet, slowly, just in case. His head turns left and right, checking if the coast is clear, before nodding. You lift the beskar slightly, just enough to reveal his mouth and his neatly-trimmed mustache, and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Thank you, Din,” you whisper as you set his helmet back in its place. You can almost see the bemused look on his face as he stares at you.

And as you walk back to the ship, a re-energized bounce in your step, you decide to tease him one last time, turn around, and smirk. “Meet you in the fresher.”

—

xiii.

Din’s hair hangs in waves over his forehead as he gazes down at you, leaning on his left forearm to stay suspended over your body.

He smells delicious, like his herb-scented soap and the delicious meal he’d cooked for you tonight. His skin is glazed in a radiant sheen and his eyes somehow glow in the dim lighting of your shared quarters.

You’ve learned to appreciate rare nights like this, when there are no jobs to keep him away from you for days at a time. When your eyes get to unabashedly roam over the golden expanse of his skin, without heavy armor or layers of cloth in your way. When you get to listen to his voice for hours on end as his hand traces lines and circles into your skin.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask him, noticing how his entranced stare focuses on your lips when you speak.

He strokes a calloused finger over your cheekbone, then under the curve of your lips, until his thumb finds a resting place over your chin and gently swipes back and forth.

“You,” he answers honestly, leaning down to kiss you, tasting your smile on his tongue. He lingers there for a long moment, hanging from your lips like a man on the edge of falling though he’s already fallen countless times before.

“That’s all?” You whisper, feeling his hot breath brush against your mouth.

He rests his forehead against yours, his nose rubbing along the side of your own.

“And how much the kid would have loved this planet,” he continues wistfully. “Running through the grass and catching frogs or whatever he could eat.”

Your soft laugh is bittersweet as he reminisces over his son, the corners of his eyes wrinkling mere centimeters from your face.

“Thinking about how he would have liked watching us train together. He’d probably cheer for you to win,” Din chuckles when you scrunch your nose and shake your head doubtfully. Then, his face softens and his eyes glisten. “Grogu would have loved you.”

An errant tear falls from Din’s lashes and drops onto your cheek, and there's little you can do to keep your own from getting mixed in — a tiny melancholy river forming atop your skin. Your hands cup either side of his face, and you lean forward to kiss the spot where the tear had left a small trail right below his eye.

“In some ways, it’s like I know him now,” you murmur against Din’s cheekbone. “Because I know you. I can feel it — the pieces of you that will be part of him forever. I would love him too. I already do.”

He whispers your name again and again, and each time, it’s like he’s making a wish on a star.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” you whisper, kissing his lips sweetly.

When you draw backward against your pillow, he latches onto your mouth once more and kisses you until you’re breathless.

“There aren’t words, ner kar’ta, ” he says quietly, fingers brushing gently over your hair. “Nothing can explain what you mean to me.”

When Din makes love, you can feel nothing else but him — his body, his soul, his heart. Every touch and movement is energized by a deep intention to let you know what he sometimes struggles expressing in words. But you’ve become fluent in him, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt how each kiss translates to: I love you.

Each thrust of his hips means: I want you.

Each ragged moan reveals: I need you.

Each soft caress says: I’d do anything for you.

And each time his forehead meets yours, he declares: I have found my family.

As you both try to catch your breath, he flops back down onto the bed beside you. He hums happily when he feels you hold tight to him, squeezing his middle with your arms and placing a kiss over his heart.

“Good night, Din,” you mumble, yawning as you nuzzle your face against his chest and bury yourself deep beneath the covers.

“Sweet dreams,” he says, pressing his lips into your hair.

You tilt your chin up just slightly, wanting the last image you see before you drift off to be his beautiful face. But his stare is far away, lost in thought once again. You follow his line of sight, beginning at his shining eyes and landing on the collection of drawings hung beside his door. And the pictures that reflect in his glossy irises are the finished portrait of him beside the sketch of you and Grogu displayed proudly in the center.

Someday, you swear to yourself, those images will be more than just pencil scratches on parchment. Someday, your small chosen family will be whole.

When you close your eyes — your head resting over the warm skin of his chest, his heart marching steadily under your cheek — you dream of the day Din and his son finally reunite, with you standing by his side. And even if that’s still a far-off fantasy, you can rest easily knowing two things for sure:

Tomorrow, you’ll wake up wrapped in Din’s arms. And, for as long as you live, neither of you will ever be alone again.

End Note: Thank you to anyone who's read this story. It's been a labor of love for me and I'm especially grateful to readers who left encouraging feedback. As for me, I'll be around. I'm working on another Javi x Reader story (inspired by yet another TS song — off evermore this time). If you haven't read my other one, please check it out! It's called "If I Could Never Give You Peace." Talk soon! Mando’a Glossary: Ner kar’ta = My heart (kar’ta = heart [kah-ROH-ta]; ner = my [nair]) Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum. = I know you forever [nee kar-TILE garh dah-RAH-soom] ⎿ “It's the same word as 'to know,' 'to hold in the heart,' kar'taylir. But you add darasuum, ‘forever,’ and it becomes something rather different.” — Republic Commando: Triple Zero Verd' ika = Little Warrior (affectionately) [vair-DEE-kah]

Please reblog & comment to show your support! I’d love to hear your thoughts!!

Taglist: @sarahjkl82-blog @pedro-pastel @mavendeb @tailormotelkamzoil @unexistant @karkii @hwjdykqueillmjwkqu @httpwale @chiara-cannot-sleep @niiight-dreamerrrr

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nhlandotherimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Family isn’t Always Blood-Part 2

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

Summary: Kinsey and Elias’ relationship gets put to the test. Will Elias’ family accept Kinsey? Guess you’ll have to read and find out :)

Author’s Notes: Part 2 let’s go!!!

Word Count: approx. 5.1 k

Warnings: all the same as part 1, also this part likely won’t make much sense unless you read the first part, there is also a a gender reveal in this part so if you really don’t want to read it for that reason I understand and I will add that I do know they are problematic however it was just part of the plot and I felt the need to write it

———

“Can we get an apartment together?”

My question catches Elias by surprise. “Are you seriously suggesting we move in together right now?” He asks laughing in disbelief, but his face softens.

“Well I mean yeah! But, mine is definitely too small, and yours is a bachelor pad. We are probably going to want something a bit bigger.” An unsure smile spreads slowly across my face, as I watch Elias attempting to wrap his head around what I’m saying.

“My apartment would be fine for us, but if you’d rather something different we can look into it.” He presses a gentle kiss to my forehead, and I can tell he’s even more confused about my sudden desire to live with him.

“I mean it’s great and I wouldn’t mind living there with you, but we will need more room for the baby don’t you think?”

Elias slowly pulls away from me, staring down at me, his mouth slightly agape. My eyes begin to water and the smile returns to my face. “Y-you wait? You’re really?” Elias is a sputtering mess, trying to wrap his head around what I’m saying, trying to keep his own emotions in check as he likely waits for me to break down.

I nod, tears falling down my face now. “I’m pregnant Elias.”

“Oh. Okay um, wow.” He pauses, eyes falling briefly to my stomach, but they quickly snap up to meet mine again. “How do you feel about that?”

I grab his wrists that are gently resting on my hips, and guide them to sit gently on my stomach. I then reach up and hold his face in my hands and take a deep breath. “I’m terrified. I don’t know how to be a mom, but I guess no one really does know how until they are one. All I know is this baby, it’s-“ I let out a small chuckling trying to hold in the sob trying to escape my throat. “This baby is ours Elias. We made them, and I wouldn’t want to learn how to be a parent with anyone else.”

I can feel Elias’ hands trembling against my stomach, his touch is feather light as if he’s scared to hurt me. I wait patiently for him to respond, but suddenly he just falls down to his knees and rests his forehead against my stomach. He’s muttering to himself in Swedish, and I’m unable to make out any of it. “Elias?”

As he lifts his head to look up at me, his eyes are bloodshot and tears are streaming down his face. If it weren’t for the show stopping smile on his face, I would think he was upset. “We are having a baby!” He chokes out, tears still steadily flowing across his now reddened cheeks. He places a soft kiss on my stomach, and in that moment I know that everything will be okay. I can do this. We can do this. Together. Our little family.

———

“How are you feeling?” My obstetrician, Dr. McLean, asks as she enters the room.

“Nervous.” Elias answers, his leg continuing to bounce like it has been since he sat down.

“I’m pretty sure that question was meant for me Pettersson.” I giggle, placing my hand on his knee. “I’m feeling better than him apparently.” I joke as I turn back towards Dr. McLean.

She laughs along with me, before explaining how the ultrasound will work.

Elias watches closely as the doctor puts the gel on my stomach. As she presses the wand to my stomach Elias’ eyes snap to the monitor. As curious as I am, I can’t take my eyes off of my boyfriend. He looks like a child on Christmas morning, not knowing yet what the gifts will be, but excited nonetheless. His baby blues swirl with emotion, and his blonde hair falls perfectly over his forehead.

“There they are! That’s your baby!” Dr. McLean announces, and my eyes quickly find the screen. I follow the doctors finger as she points out the different body parts, a whole new wave of emotions washing over me. Excitement courses through me, and when my eyes find Elias again, he’s staring down at me, tears falling silently down his face.

Dr. McLean excuses herself to print off the sonogram photos we asked for, but I can’t focus on her. All I can focus on is the beautiful man in front of me. The man I love. The father of my child.

“You’re incredible.” He breathes out, running the back of his hand across his face to get her the tears that had fallen. “That’s our baby.”

It’s my turn to cry now as Elias places a soft kiss to my forehead. “It really is. Thank you Elias for giving me a family.”

“No, thank you.” He smiles brushing away my tears.

——-

“Do not even think about lifting that box!” I groan rolling my eyes.

“Pettersson! This box weighs 15 pounds at most and I’m hardly even pregnant!” I yell back, not even really sure how he could see me anyway as he just steps through the apartment door. There is a long pause followed by a muttered profanity.

“Pregnant? You’re pregnant!?” Brock. Fuck, this is not how we intended on telling anyone. Of course I forgot Brock was coming over. When I turn around, Brock’s chin is on the floor and Elias’ hands cover his face as he grumbles inaudibly to himself.

“No?” The uncertainty in my voice a dead give away he didn’t need. Brock’s smile grows and he’s clapping Elias’ shoulder. “Brock we just found out, you can’t say anything!”

“My lips are sealed. On one condition!” The smirk on his face causes Elias and I both to roll our eyes. “I get to be Uncle Brock!”

I can’t help the laughing tumbling past my lips, or the soaring feeling in my heart. I’ve always loved having Brock around, and the thought of having another great man around for this baby to look up to makes me so happy. “I wouldn’t have it any other way Uncle Brock.” I add a little wink at the nickname as he gathers me into a hug. He whispers congratulations into my ear, and places a kiss to the top of my head.

When he pulls away, Elias is smiling at us, a look of happiness similar to the one I’m wearing, on his face. I walk over to him and pull him in for a quick kiss. His hands instinctively find my stomach, like they have many times since last week at the hospital. Sure I was only 2 months pregnant, and not even showing, but Elias doesn’t care.

“Is that why this move is happening so quickly?” Brock asks, and my smile falters a bit. It certainly would seem that way to most, and I guess it kind of is that way. I feel a little guilty about it, like I’m using the baby to tie Elias down, but that had never been my intention.

Elias must sense my mood shifting, because he speaks up. “It certainly helped it along, but Kinsey’s lease was almost up and I wanted her to move in before we found out anyway.”

Reaching up, I place a small kiss on his cheek. The questions that will come along with this pregnancy are inevitable, and they scare me, but somehow Elias makes everything seem easier. With him I feel like I can do anything.

“Have you told anyone else?” I shake my head, cheeks tinting a light shade of pink. We were planning on waiting another couple weeks to tell anyone, but now Brock was the first to know. “I’m honoured!” He chuckles, smiling at us as Elias throws one arm over my shoulder. “I’m so happy for you both.”

So am I Brock. So am I.

———

Today was the day we are telling Elias’ family about the baby, and to put it nicely, I’m shitting bricks.

“Just breathe.” I shoot Elias a glare that is mostly uncalled for, but my anxiety is through the roof right now. This could change everything. Sure, Irene liked me before, and wants grandbabies, but like this? “Kins. You’re going to stress out the baby. I promise you it’s going to be okay.”

I send him a forced smile, and nod pressing a kiss to his cheek. Elias opens his laptop and places it gently on the coffee table in front of us. I had wanted to make the surprise memorable for the Pettersson family, and knowing they couldn’t be in Vancouver when we were going to tell them, made it slightly more difficult. I spent weeks planning the surprise before we shipped the box to the family home in Sweden.

In the box was an individual package for each family member who would be present during the FaceTime call. In Elias’ father Törbjörn’s package was the tiniest pair of skates we could purchase. Elias’ older brother Emil’s package held a Vancouver Canucks jersey. The number 1 on the back, and a name plate above it that reads ‘Uncle’. Irene’s package, by far my favourite one, is a gold necklace with a small locket. Inside the locket is a tiny sonogram of the baby.

“Can we open it now?” Irene asks excitedly, foregoing a regular greeting. I giggle, and Elias smiles brightly beside me.

“There is an individual package for each of you. Make sure you open them at the same time!” Irene’s eyes light up in excitement as she hands Emil and Törbjörn their packages.

“Go ahead.” Elias instructs, and my heart beat picks up slightly. The nerves coursing through me, causing my hands to shake and knee to bounce. Elias’ hand comes to rest gently on my knee, and he rubs his thumb in soothing circles across my bare knee.

I watch closely as Elias’ family open their gifts. Emil is the first to open his eyes widening as he reads the nameplate on his jersey. His smile grows as he stares through the screen in disbelief. Elias squeezes my knee in response, and I look over at him briefly, his eyes watering as he watches his family.

Törbjörn inspects the tiny skates, seemingly oblivious to the significance of their size. I giggle as he thanks us both, and comments on how cute they are.

My gaze settles on Irene as she pulls the locket from its box. Her smile grows as she looks at the small gold heart shaped locket. “It’s beautiful!” She gushes, and I can’t help the tears forming in my eyes.

“Open it up Mom!” Elias practically yells at her, his patience growing thin.

Irene slowly opens the locket taking in the small photo inside. I watch her closely, waiting for any indication that she has caught on. After a few moments the smile on her face falls, and so does my heart. I knew this was going to be too soon for her. Elias and I are still so young, and we haven’t even been together that long. Hell, I’ve only met the woman once in person.

“Mom?” Elias’ voice cracks, and I can now see the nerves he’s been hiding, as the tears in his eyes threaten to spill down his cheeks.

“Is-is this a baby?” She asks pointing to the locket. Elias and I both nod in response. “Your baby?” Her voice shakes, as she asks the question. Her face is devoid of any emotion. No sadness, happiness, confusion or anger, and I honestly would prefer her screaming at me than this awkward back and forth.

“Yes. We are having a baby.” A single year falls down Elias’ cheek as he forces a brave smile. I hate seeing him like this. I know he’s excited about this baby, but if his family isn’t he will be crushed.

When I finally peel my eyes away from Elias and back to the laptop screen, Irene is crying. Not just a few tears, this woman is in full on hysterics.Törbjörn holds her to his chest, and Emil rubs her back gently. I feel sick. Scratch that, I’m going to be sick.

Immediately springing to my feet, I run as fast as I can to the bathroom. Elias calls after me, but I can’t stop. I quickly part ways with the nice breakfast Elias made me this morning, as I sit on the bathroom floor. “I’m sorry.” I cry, rubbing small circles over my stomach. “I’m so sorry.”

———

After probably 20 minutes of sitting on the bathroom floor, I pull myself up. I brush my teeth and fix my hair in the mirror. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I make my way back toward the living room. I stop at the end of the hall, watching Elias speak with his family. The conversation is now completely in Swedish, and they’re speaking so fast there is no way I can keep up.

Elias’ eyes meet mine across the room, and he smiles brightly. “There she is!” He muses in a much more cheerful tone than that I’d left him with. “Feeling alright beautiful?”

All I can do is nod in response, and walk towards him. Instead of taking my seat next to him, I position myself behind the couch running my hands over his shoulders and down his chest lightly. I press a kiss to his lips when he turns to smile up at me.

“Kinsey?” Irene’s voice sounds a little hesitant when she speaks, but when I turn my attention back to the screen she’s smiling. “Thank you.”

My brows furrow slightly, and I’m about to tell her she has no reason to thank me, but she speaks first. “Thank you for giving me a grand baby. We are all so excited and so happy for you! But mostly, thank you for loving my Elias. Welcome to the family dear.”

She is smiling brightly back at me, her necklace now displayed proudly on her chest. Emil is now sporting his jersey, and I’m almost positive Törbjörn placed the tiny skates above the fireplace in the background. Tears are flowing down my face now, and Irene’s face fills with worry. “Oh dear! I didn’t mean to make you cry!”

A watery laugh escapes my throat, and I shake my head as I swipe at the tears on my face. “Just hormones. Thank you Mrs. Pettersson, that means a lot to me.”

“You can call me Mom dear, if you want that is. Irene or Grammy works now too.” A few tears slip down her face as well, but the smile she is sporting lets me know she is happy.

“Thank you,” I pause briefly, taking a deep breath. This is the moment I always dreamed of, having that mother daughter moment, and revealing I was going to be a mom too. The issue was I’ve never had a Mother I felt close to like that. My mother doesn’t care about me, or my baby, unless there is something in it for her. Watching how wonderful Elias’ family is, and how welcoming his Mom has been to me and now this baby has me crying even harder. “Mom.”

My voice is weak when I choke out the last part, and immediately Elias is on his feet gathering me in his arms. “It’s okay Kins, it’s okay sweetie.” He rubs my back, and I cry into his chest. I hear him speaking softly to his mother before he ends the call. “Kinsey? Talk to me.”

“Y-your mom. She’s so wonderful, I love your family Elias.” I manage to get the words out without lifting my face from where it’s pressed against his chest.

“And they love you, so why are you upset?” He chuckles a little bit, and a small smile cracks on my face momentarily at the sound.

“I’ve never had a Mom Elias.” I breathe out, and Elias places a hand under my chin tilting it up so I’m looking at him. His brows knit together in confusion. “Well I do I guess. I have a woman who gave birth to me and kind of looked after me while I was growing up, but she has never been a mother. I’ve always craved that mother daughter relationship. I used to dream about telling my Mom I was having a baby, until I realized we didn’t have that kind of relationship. It made me think I could never do this, that I’d never be a Mom. So having your mom be so happy to have me be the mother of her grandchild, to call me family, and ask me to call her mom. It’s just so much, and I don’t know that I really deserve it, but it feels so nice! I’m just- I’m so happy right now.”

With that Elias kissed me. It was a rushed kiss, fast and passionate, but not heated, nor was it intended to go farther. The kiss was more like his attempt to communicate how loved I was, and how happy he was too. I smile against his lips, our teeth clashing a few times, but I don’t care. My hands thread through his beautiful hair and tug gently as his cold hands sneak up under my shirt to rest on my stomach.

“You are family y’know?” Elias speaks as he pulls back so we can both catch our breath. My hands scratch lightly through his hair as I smile at him. “You’re my family now. Me, you, and our beautiful baby.”

“I hope they have your hair, and your eyes.” I giggle. I’ve never known happiness like this. This is my family.

———

“Shit!” I groan flopping back on the bed in defeat. I’ve always been a girl who loves skinny jeans, and now here I am unable to fit in almost every pair of pants I own. Minus my sweats and a singular pair of yoga pants that have holes in them.

“Everything okay out there?” Elias asks poking his head out of the ensuite bathroom. He’s seriously been the best, but his constant worrying tends to be a bit suffocating at times. It is very sweet though, seeing him care so much for me, and this baby.

“I have nothing to wear! None of my pants fit!” I whine out, sounding like a child myself. This wasn’t the time though. Today is the day we tell all of our friends, and I have nothing nice to wear.

“Baby blue sundress in the back of the closet, wear that.” Elias’ head pops back in the bathroom to finish getting ready, and I lay on my back in complete bewilderment. How does he even remember that dress, let alone where I keep it? He’s right though, it is the perfect outfit.

Slipping it over my head is easy, and it flows around my body perfectly. The bump is completely undetectable, and I’m comfortable. It’s perfect.

“You look beautiful.” Elias smiles, placing a gentle kiss to my cheek.

“You don’t look too bad yourself Pettersson.” I smirk, my hands finding the back of his neck as his find my waist. He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans, a pale blue shirt, and a black ball cap sits backwards on his head.

“Ready for this momma?” He asks with a smirk. The nickname isn’t one he’s used before, and the effect it has on me is embarrassing. My face heats up, heart rate increases, and my smile grows.

“Momma huh?” I giggle, and Elias’ hands once again find my stomach.

“It suits you.” He winks, and kisses my forehead. His hands drop from my stomach as he steps away grabbing his wallet and keys from the top of the dresser. His hand finds mine as he leads me out of the apartment and to the car. Today should be interesting.

——-

Nerves course through me the entire drive. Elias’ right hand never leaves me, as it moves from my hand to my thigh and then finally settles on my stomach. A smile settles on his face when it does, and I find myself fighting back tears.

“Your stomach is growing a lot!” He gushes, and I can’t stop the laugh that tumbles past my lips. The nerves forgotten momentarily.

“Jeez thanks babe!” I joke back, placing a hand over the one he has on my stomach. The way his arm is stretched out across the center console can’t be comfortable, but Elias seems completely content.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” He chuckles, as he pulls into the Horvat’s driveway. “Ready for this?”

I nod, not trusting my voice.

Before I know it, Elias is guiding me into the Horvat’s living room, his hand low on my back. Bo and Holly are quick to greet us, Bo pulling Elias off to talk hockey, and Holly drags me to the kitchen. “Red or white?” She asks, holding two bottles of wine in front of me. Shit.

“Oh no thanks, I’m good. I told Elias I’d drive.” I stutter out. The heat rising in my cheeks sure to give away that I’m lying, as Holly cocks her brow at me.

“One glass won’t hurt right? You’re staying awhile aren’t you?” She’s watching me closely as I try and find Elias in the crowd. My hands shake lightly, and I absentmindedly press them on my stomach to settle them. “Oh. My. God.” Holly’s hand immediately wraps around one of my wrists as she pulls me down the hall and into Ava’s bedroom. “Spill!” Her demanding tone cracking slightly as a smile forms on her face.

“Damn, okay we were going to make an announcement later, so you’re going to have to act surprised.” I pause, and she quickly nods, her smile growing. “I’m pregnant.”

The words leave my mouth barely above a whisper and are quickly cut off by the squeal that leaves Holly. “I knew it!” She bounces on the balls of her feet excitedly like a child. “How far along are you?”

“13 weeks.” The smile on Holly’s face, mirrors the one on my own. She pulls me into a hug whispering more congratulations in my ear, before pulling me back out to the party.

———

The party goes on without incident, not that I would ever expect any less from the Horvat’s. The food is wonderful, and of course the people surrounding me makes the night that much better. The house around me is littered with hockey players and their families, children all huddled into the backyard climbing on the playground, as the adults laugh amongst each other about everything and nothing.

“What’s wrong babe?” Elias asks as he snakes an arm around my waist.

“Wha- nothing! Why?” I ask, looking up at him as he smiles softly down at me. His blonde head towering over me.

“You’re crying.” He chuckles, sweeping the pad of his thumb across my cheek bone. “Again.”

“Stupid horomones.” I grumble wiping at my face aggressively. Crying has become a frequent occurrence in the first trimester of this pregnancy, and Elias seems to find it quite entertaining most of the time. As long as I’m not actually sad of course.

“Can we tell them now?” I can practically feel the impatience radiating from him, as his eyes search mine for any hesitation.

“Of course we can babe! Honestly I’m surprised you and Brock have managed to keep it to yourselves this long.” The groan that leaves my boyfriend has me laughing as he rolls his eyes. Despite the attitude, a smile grows on his face as his hand finds mine before he drags me into the backyard where everyone has congregated around the small fire pit.

“Nice of the lovebirds to join us finally.” Bo chirps as we take two free seats just next to him.

“Be nice Bo, or we won’t tell you.” Elias shrugs nonchalantly.

“Tell me what?” He asks, looking between the two of us. I glance at Elias and giggle, causing Bo’s eyes to grow wider. “Tell me what!?” His voice slightly louder and more frantic as he repeats the question.

Elias’ eyes find mine silently asking me if he should. “Go ahead.” I smile at him, and he squeezes my hand lightly.

“Yeah Petey! Go ahead!” Bo, leans forward in his chair excitedly.

“Okay! Okay!” He chuckles, shaking his head at his teammates. The crowd that has gathered around also listening intently, all eyes on Elias. “Wow. This is awkward isn’t it? Well I guess it’s about time we told you all that Kinsey and I are having a baby.”

His hand tightens even more around mine as the words leave his lips. He’s nervous, I can tell. The moment of silence that follows seems to last forever, even though I’m sure in reality it’s only seconds before someone reacts.

“You’re pregnant!?” I’m not sure who breaks the silence, but I’m immediately bombarded by congratulations, cheers and hugs. All of the WAGs gather around me and I giddily share all of the information they’re dying to know, as Elias gets pulled aside by his teammates.

It’s in this moment that I realize this is family. Listening to, supporting, and just genuinely being excited for the people you care about. Maybe the people who raised me couldn’t wrap their heads around what family is meant to be, but I can. It’s this, it’s a feeling of belonging that I will try my hardest to ensure this baby feels every day of their life.

———

“Kins, sit down. Everything is perfect, and has been since 5 am. Can we just relax for a while before people get here?” Elias whines, as he flops onto the couch.

“Fine!” I huff, adjusting the two stacks of napkins sitting on the table for what must be the twelfth time this morning. Elias is right, I’ve been wide awake since 3:30 and have been obsessively setting up for the gender reveal party ever since.

“You have to stop stressing babe. It's not good for you or the baby.” Elias lightly scolds me, as he shuffles over to give me room to lay down with him. As I settle in next to him, his hand finds my stomach and he rubs it lightly.

“I can’t help it! I’m nervous, I just want everything to be perfect.” I roll onto my side as best as I can to face him, my hand running through his hair.

“It already is babe. We are having a baby remember?” The goofy smile on his face, has me relaxing into him. My eyes flutter shut as he places a light kiss to my forehead, and I can feel my exhaustion slowly creeping up on me. “Have a nap babe I’ll wake you up in a little while.” The words are hardly out of his mouth before I’m drifting off to sleep.

———

“Look at you two!” Holly gushes, pulling me into a hug, continuing to mutter about our outfits. Elias and I decided to wear Canucks jerseys. His, a regular Canucks jersey with the number 1 and ‘Daddy’ printed across the back, and mine, a pink Canucks jersey with the number 1 and ‘Mommy’ printed across the back. I’m quite proud of them if I’m honest.

As the rest of the guests arrive, I greet them and make sure they all sign the guest book. Elias has set up shop in the kitchen offering everyone a drink, and pointing them towards the large array of snacks. I certainly never thought I’d end up here. Surrounded by so many amazing people, who all showed up to celebrate a baby. My baby. It’s surreal.

Once everyone has arrived, I take a moment to admire the space around me. Blue and pink streamers hang from the ceiling thanks to Elias, who refused to let me climb the ladder. Balloons litter the apartment, many of them now being thrown around by Elias and his friends. The laughter and chaos bring a smile to my face as my gaze settles on my favourite decoration of all.

In the far corner of the room was a tiny replica of a players stall, very similar to that in which you’d find in the Canucks locker room. Hanging in the stall is a small jersey inside of the tiniest little black garment bag you’ve ever seen, and the nameplate at the top of the stall reads ‘Welcome to the Team! Who Could You Be?’. I was quite proud of the idea really, and Elias was quick to volunteer to make my vision a reality.

“This may just be the cutest gender reveal party I’ve ever been to!” Holly gushes as she gently bumps my hip. The smile on her face screams excitement, and it makes me feel warm inside. “So what’s the deal with that?” I giggle when she gestures towards the stall across the room.

“Well,” I take a breath, placing a hand on my stomach. “Inside that little bag is a tiny Pettersson jersey. Could be pink like mine, or blue like Petey’s. We are going to open it together.”

“So do you already know what it is?” She asks, eyes never leaving the stall as she examines it a little more closely.

“No idea. We had it sent to us just like that.” The fact I’m minutes away from knowing even the smallest, and probably most insignificant about this baby, is making me nervous. Sure, its just the sex of the baby, it means very little about who they will be in the future, and it won’t affect how I care for them. However, it is making it feel that much more real, as the insecurities i’ve managed to keep at bay seem to resurface all at once. This is terrifying.

------

“Alright and action!” Brock yells from behind the camera, and everyone erupts into laughter. The smile on my face hopefully hiding the fear in my heart.

“Ready Momma?” Elias asks, kissing my cheek. All I can do is nod, and the countdown starts. The energy in the room is so intense, but in the best way possible, as our friends yell loud enough to warrant a noise complaint.

3…

2…

Elias’ fingers find the zipper on the garment bag, and I place mine gently over his. His hand shakes under mine, and although I know it’s mostly excitement, I can tell he's nervous as we slowly pull down the zipper together.

As the garment bag falls away, my heart stops. There is no way this is happening, not right now! Elias’ hand drops from mine as he steps back slightly, as the people around me seem to let out a collective gasp. Tears burn my eyes, and before I can stop them, they’re falling down my face. This is NOT what I expected.

Tagging: @anastasiyaigorevnadobrodevskaya @heatherawoowoo

I hope y’all liked it! Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the next parts!

#FiAB #Elias pettersson #elias pettersson fanfiction #Elias pettersson fanfic #Elias pettersson fan fiction #nhl fan fiction #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #hockey fanfic #hockey fan fiction #hockey fanfiction #vancouver canucks #hockey writing #nhl writing

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my-writings-and-musings · 4 years ago

Text

I have another lovely commission to share! This one is a sequel to the last, with the Brave Police spending more time on the Lost Light to answer questions, and it's just as precious in my opinion!

"Now, now, there's room for everyone. Single file please!"

Ultra Magnus thankfully had ample experience and skill getting his voice to fill the entire classroom, and so the crowd was able to take their seats in a mostly organized fashion at last, filling up the entire room from back to front in short order. Scarcely a single bot on the ship wasn't present for the day's presentation, and one glance at the tightly packed rows of tables made that obvious. No one wanted to miss the long awaited event.

At the head of the classroom, Ultra Magnus murmured about the ill manners being displayed to their guests before nodding at the bots in question. Sitting in their own row at the raised stage, the Brave Police looked like a full representation of all the reactions possible for the center of attention. Some were happy, others flustered, and a few quite casual about all the fuss. Deckerd, ever the responsible leader, held his small collection of notes tightly as he nodded in return to the much bigger bot. Rodimus took that as his cue to hop on stage.

With a single whistle, the captain reduced the fog of chatter to absolute silence, something he took with a proud smile before speaking.

"Alright, everybot, you know the drill! The Brave Police have been kind enough to agree to this little Q and A panel, so let's show them the proper courtesy while they're up here." he announced happily, looking about the crowd and lingering his optics on a few potentially troublesome bots in particular. Making sure to use his Captain voice, he leveled a serious look at each as he issued his warning. "That means no talking unless you get called, and no hogging the mic when it's your turn."

"Discipline will be administered if anyone breaks these rules." Ultra Magnus said, finalizing the warning with an undeniably serious threat. Beyond a few nervous glances, the room remained frozen in total silence after the big bot went back to his dutiful watch. No one present would dare risk incurring the wrath of Ultra Magnus, not even for the questions that they wanted answered more than anything.

"Sooo…" Rodimus interjected, taking back the stage briefly to try and bring some life back into the event. Gesturing to the main guests, he gave the best parting warm up he could before stepping off the stage. "Without further ado, I'm going to give the show over to them. All yours, Deckerd!"

Clearing his throat politely, the police cruiser stood up on his spot, briefly taking hold of the rim on his hat-like helm accent as he often did when nervous. Taking hold of his notes, he spoke up with the somewhat ineffectual tone of a practiced but uncom public speaker.

"To start, we would all like to offer our thanks! For everything you've done, and for allowing us this opportunity, you have our deepest gratitude." the well mannered bot said humbly, briefly glancing at Rodimus for a flash of pointed thanks before returning to his notes. The captain couldn't help but puff up a little, quite proud of his suggestion all over again, but he was otherwise still and silent as he watched.

"Now, I understand you have many questions, and we are happy to answer them as a group or individuals." he explained, looking to his teammates for group confirmation. Each gave some form of assent, ranging from Duke's proper and stiff nod to Gunmax putting his pedes on the table with a vague gesture of agreement. Deckerd merely narrowed his optics for an instant before returning his smile to the crowd. "Through the system, I will begin the process of selection!"

A button on the desk, intended as a method of selecting students to answer questions, was activated. Every bot froze in anticipation that they might be selected first, with each hoping they might be the lucky winner. Magnus had mandated the algorithm select at random to prevent any cries of unfair choice for good reason…

So of course it was quite fitting that Whirl of all bots get the first question.

A group groan was cut off by another Magnus stare, yet the orderly mech was clearly beyond apprehensive at the possible chaos about to unfold. Uncaring of the tension his selection created for the crew, Whirl merely cleared his vents and stood up with obvious purpose, having planned his potential query well in advance of the moment. Looking to the bots on stage, his optic betrayed little emotion as he spoke. "So uh, were you guys actually built by humans? From scratch? Processor and all?"

There was an immediate cringe amongst the entire crew, as the question was immeasurably rude by Cybertronian standards, but the Brave Police didn't flinch.

"Yes!" Deckerd replied happily, completely unaffected by the cultural faux pas he'd just had directed his way. "Each of us was constructed by the Japanese police force, starting with myself."

"Except for Duke, he was made by the Scotland Yard." McCrane specified, drawing attention to the brightly colored and reserved mech at the end. The attention actually seemed to fluster Duke, who flashed an expression of surprise to be singled out before dropping his gaze and quietly confirming the fact.

"That is correct."

There was a moment of mixed murmuring amongst the crowd, with Whirl looking satisfied to have gotten his answer along with getting the ball rolling, and he sat down to allow the next bot a turn. It took just as little time for the next selection to occur as the first.

"How recently was that, exactly?" Swerve said, looking confused but happy to be the central figure of the moment. It was a much less disrespectful question by Cybertronian standards than the first, and the bots on stage appeared equally content to answer it.

"As of this date, it has been four years and five months since my activation." Deckerd replied casually, unintentionally sending a wave of disbelief through the entire room. This mature, well rounded bot was barely more than a protoform?!

"We were constructed seven months later." McCrane said, speaking for the Build Team with a gesture that only deepened the shock in the room. Deckerd was young even by human standards, yet he was still the oldest one on the team? How young was the newest among them?

"Shadow Maru was next, by about a year, then six months later I joined up!" Drill Boy declared loudly, loving the surprise each answer drew from the crowd. Gunmax, equally a fan of stirring things up, smirked confidently as he leaned back in his chair.

"I haven't even been kicking around for a year." he declared smugly, adding to the shock of the bots several times over. Sure, Cybertronians were ready to go in mere hours, but no one had been born in so long… to be confronted by a mechanical being so young was nearly unfathomable. Not to mention that the oldest among them was still so inexperienced! A fresh wave of hushed gossip washed over those assembled, only to fade out into silent anticipation as the next opportunity for a question presented itself.

"What kind of criminals are you fighting? Most of the time, anyway." a bot in back asked, making the Brave Police perk up as a group. Like anyone, the opportunity to retell their adventures was hardly one they'd ever pass up, and even the humble Deckerd was a little boastful as he set up their panel to reply.

"Our division is uniquely suited to handle threats too powerful for humans to safely combat. The criminals we face have a multitude of motives, and it is not uncommon for us to face creatures designed to cause maximum destruction. I will allow my team to recount some of these events in greater detail." he said, opening up the discussion with a smile and a nod. There was a shift in the classroom as if every being leaned forward at once in anticipation.

"The underground bug people were my first mission!" Drill Boy announced proudly, unintentionally creating far more questions than he could have ever hoped to answer in a single sentence. Gobsmacked expressions were shared all through the crew, even by Ultra Magnus and Rodimus at the front. While they'd figured their new friends got into some wild adventures, like themselves, there was clearly so much more to the group than they'd let on…

"There was a giant moth one time." Dumpson recalled thoughtfully, only adding fuel to the fire with his calm expression of thoughtful recollection.

"Don't forget the giant panda." McCrane said helpfully, the tiniest hint of a smile hinting that he was perfectly well aware of the reactions they were getting. Rodimus had to admire the skillful stirring of the pot. Some bots were taking notes now, especially as the list continued to grow and the Brave Police grew no less unpredictable in their retellings. Brief tidbits about mind control, ghosts, aliens and cults were undoubtedly going to spawn some incredible conversations at Swerve's later on.

Drill Boy finished the segment with a beaming smile. "Without the Boss, I don't think we'd have been able to catch that brainwashing nun!"

While every single adventure would have probably called for a panel of questions in its own right, that statement alone made for an excellent segway into something every single Lost Light bot had been curious about, and the moment the next bot was selected they said what everyone was thinking. "Who's this "Boss" we keep hearing about? Are they a bot like you?"

"Our Boss Yuuta Tomonaga is a human boy, and the first being I ever met. He became my first and most trusted companion." Deckerd replied, smiling affectionately at the description. It had been clear from the onset he cared deeply for his mysterious "Boss", yet most had assumed them to be something like an Amica, or perhaps an older mentor bot. To hear they were a human, and one that sounded exceptionally young at that…? Deckerd recognized the confusion, and while obviously a little bashful to be so open, he was more than happy to talk about the achievements of his dearest friend. "I owe him my life, several times over."

"Many of us have gained human friendships." Power Joe said helpfully, taking some of the pressure off their leader and bringing the attention to himself. Not missing the opportunity to brag, he gestured proudly to himself. "I've befriended many of Yuuta's classmates, they see me as a superhero!"

"Yuuta's sisters are compatriots of mine." Shadow Maru said in a polite and subtle one up, setting the stage for the others to continue naming their friends.

"Hmph, I'm the only one besides Deckerd to have called Yuuta by his first name." Drill Boy bragged.

"Colonel Seia has taught me much through our professional relationship." McCrane said calmly, returning the focus to one of individual bonds over boasting. Unfortunately, Dumpson chuckled and quickly took aim at the comment.

"Are you sure it's entirely professional?"

McCrane froze for a second, optics widening and face flushing, before he calmly folded his hands on the table and replied. "I could say the same of you and Ayako."

"I suppose Shunsuke and I get along okay." Gunmax said somewhat dismissively, cutting off Dumpson before he could stammer out something he'd regret. The fact that every bot seemed to have a complex and long standing relationship with humans was quite the surprise to many crewmembers, especially those who only knew the species from second hand accounts. The Brave Police weren't too different from Cybertronians, so if they could find friends amongst Earth's inhabitants, maybe it was possible for everyone? More than a few of those in the audience were considering visiting to see for themselves when the attention turned to the only member who hadn't given an answer.

Lowering his helm to hide his optics from view, Duke appeared to be blushing as he spoke into his microphone, his volume barely more than a murmur as he did so.

"My Lady, Regina, is very important to me…"

While the statement undoubtedly had plenty to unpack, Deckerd mercifully chose to move on, selecting the next lucky audience member. Tailgate stood up in a flash, getting up on his chair and raising his arm so everyone could see him. Smiling with excitement, he was nevertheless quite polite in his tone when he asked his question. "You can transform, right? What are your altmodes?"

"I transform into a police cruiser." Deckerd said simply, earning some nods of approval from the audience. That was a fairly solid alternate mode, from their perspective, and fit quite well with his appearance and abilities. As the team each volunteered their own altmode, there was little fanfare.

"I'm a dump truck."

"My alternate mode is called a power shovel."

McCrane was the first to smile, though his good humor was shared when he gave his answer. "A crane, fittingly enough."

"I have two; a drill and a jet!" Drill Boy declared with a puffed out chest, and the mood went from calm to shocked all over again. Though he had no concept of a triple changer, the young bot knew that having a plurality of modes was special, and the audible gasps confirmed his guess. Rodimus cast Drift a look of surprise from the stage, speaking without words as they so often did. Not only did this guy have two altmodes, but a drill and a jet? Could you get any more wild? Drift replied with an equally stunned but good natured shrug.

"Like Deckerd, I transform into a police cruiser." Shadow Maru said simply, giving his younger friend a look that drew out a very unhappy pout. Sitting up with a smile, he continued and made very clear why his companion was so upset, and in doing so only made the room erupt once more. "I can also take the form of a tank, a jet, and a canine."

Gasps filled the classroom, and even Ultra Magnus was too shocked to silence them, his jaw dropping in total disbelief at what he'd just heard. Five modes?! Not only that, he was a beastformer to boot?! The ninjabot smiled somewhat smugly at the reactions, getting a few looks from his friends that ranged from jealous to bemused as whispered conversations rushed through the bots. Most had never even heard of such an ability, and yet here he was, a bot from earth with so much talent! Several made a note to ask him for tips as Duke took advantage of the chaos to get his simple reply out of the way.

"I am an ambulance."

The medics of the ship all shared a look at what only they seemed to hear, wondering if perhaps the shy bot knew a few things about human medicine he might share with them later. In the murmurs that followed, however, there came a considerable silence as everyone realized the most anticipated answer had not yet been given.

Gunmax leaned back further in his seat, making a face few could decipher when all the attention zeroed in on him. Pretending to cough, he spoke just loudly enough for his mic to pick up his answer. "Don't have one."

Somebot made a comment about "Monoformers'' before Deckerd stepped in, reading the emotions of his friend as well as the room to skillfully redirect them. It saved Rodimus the trouble of jumping in to make an example of the bot who'd made the comment.

"Gunmax typically has a motorbike, one that he can merge with to form a very powerful weapon." he explained, looking at the visor that allowed the mech in question to hide so many of his emotions. A flash of gratitude behind the veneer of apathy allowed him to continue with a smile. "When I combine with J-Decker, I can utilize that weapon for defeating extremely powerful foes."

"We can also combine!" Drill Boy added enthusiastically, pointing to the Build Team and perking up the entire crowd with references to "combining" of all things. Combiners were a precious rarity amongst their own kind, could the humans have truly mastered such technology in addition to multiforming?

"Yes, Dumpson, Power Joe and myself form the Build Tiger." McCrane replied helpfully, gesturing to the group of them and further compounding the confusion. How could they all transform into a single entity, their colors didn't even match! Not only that, but the name absolutely baffled those who had been to earth and those who hadn't. The crane bot only continued his talk and further confounded his audience. "With Drill Boy, our abilities are increased, and we form the Super Build Tiger."

Deckerd, wanting to discuss other things, was granted mercy when he selected Brainstorm via the system.

"What kind of energy do your weapons fire?" he asked, having observed the holsters and folded rifles some of them carried. Being intensely curious as to whether earth had progressed beyond the initial steps of plasma based projectiles, he waited eagerly for a reply.

"Most are based on shells, similar to what humans utilize but on a larger scale." Deckerd said, helpfully taking out his pistol to show what he meant. Metallic bullets fell from the chamber and into his cupped palm, unintentionally shocking the scientist and the more ballistic trained crewmembers. Primitive lead based projectiles, fired by simple chemical reactions?! How were these bots just as intelligent as themselves but defending their lives with the Cybertronian equivalent of stone age technology?!

"Yes, that's what my shotgun fires." McCrane added, patting the sizable weapon on his back as Brainstorm noted a million potential improvements he might offer before they left.

Shadow Maru, somewhat for the sake of dry comedic effect, unsheathed a blade from his back and shrugged as he held it up. "Personally, I prefer swords."

Laughter rippled through the audience, though Rodimus caught the clear sight of Drift looking far more like he wanted to applaud the other bot who seemed to gel so well with him. Unable to keep a grin off his face at the friendship forming before his optics, the captain considered setting up a communication line on earth so they could all stay in touch going forward.

"Where do you all live?" a shy bot said when selected next, bringing to mind how their home planet didn't seem to be built for beings as large as themselves.

"I stay with Yuuta each night, in the garage. His family has made it my personal home, and I keep them safe." Deckerd replied, describing the situation quite wistfully despite the uncertain expressions that flashed before him. The idea of staying within a single room, like a machine for storage… even bots who didn't mind resting in their altmode couldn't wrap their heads around the idea.

"The rest of us stay at the base, but we're free to go where we please when not on duty." McCrane added, wanting to dispel any ideas that they were at all confined. His words did indeed provide some reassurance, especially considering that a few had been considering "liberating" their new friends if necessary.

"When we travel for work, we live wherever we can." Dumpson said, recalling the many times they'd each had to go across the planet undercover. That notion was quite relatable to the group of travelers, especially those who had gone long periods of time without any home to speak of. Needing to find somewhere suitable while moving undercover had been their existence for years.

Gunmax perked up a little at the topic sitting forward a bit so he could be heard as he extolled the wonders of driving around on his bike. "The roads go on for miles, and some have pretty nice views."

When the next question was called, the Brave Police as a group found it was their turn to be surprised.

"Do you like earth?"

In another turn of events that no one could have predicted, it was Duke who spoke up first, saying his piece simply but confidently before returning to his usual silence.

"It is the only planet we've ever known, and I would have it no other way."

"Earth has everything dear to us." Deckerd confirmed, a barely contained gleam of pride shining from his optics, both for their home and his friend. Everything about the planet was dear to him, from the life that flourished there to the people who had made him, and he wasn't at all ashamed to say as much. That was something each and every member of the Brave Police could agree on, and in order, they all expressed the same sentiment.

"Earth has everything we could ever want." McCrane added plainly, looking like he wanted to say more but was held back by his own reservations. The simple smile on his face spoke volumes for him, thankfully. His past mentions of friendship and more with humans resonated deeply with certain bots in the audience.

"We fight lots of bad guys, but that's to keep all the good humans safe, and they're more than worth it." Dumpson said, sharing a glance with Power Joe, who immediately agreed. The big bots many small friends made his answer and confirmation quite easy.

"Most of the people that live there like us, and we like them too. They have a lot to teach us." he said, recalling his love for martial arts as well as everything else he'd ever been passionate about. The need for patience, the importance of seeing the bright side of life, mentoring the younger beings around oneself… Speaking of the younger, Drill Boy jumped in to reply with his own experiences.

"They've invented all kinds of cool games and sports for us to play!" he said happily, tapping the soccer ball in his chest to emphasize his point. The sport was a genuine passion for him, and without humans he wouldn't have it to enjoy. Slightly more bittersweet thoughts of the many adventures he'd had, and the beings he'd met and lost, but wouldn't trade for anything made him smile far more softly. Tapping his digits together, he added a soft addendum to make his point. "Plus they make lots of other cool things."

"There's not much better than going for a drive on earth, or watching the sunset." Gunmax said in agreement, nodding and closing his optics as he played the memories in his mind. The crew talked plenty about their home of Cybertron, and while it sounded wonderful, he doubted anything could ever surpass his home. One of his first memories was going for a drive on a beautiful day, and he didn't believe any planet could ever offer anything more. Not that he'd be opposed to visiting somewhere else...

"It's our home, and it always will be." Deckerd concluded, unintentionally making the crowd a little emotional with his dedication. A far quieter whisper of conversations briefly passed through them all, this time centered almost entirely on the planet in question. Sure, these bots hadn't ever known another world, but they made their own sound quite wonderful. The many who'd never had a chance to see earth were suddenly feeling quite a bit of longing and curiosity of their own. When the quiet descended once again and Deckerd selected the next bot, the query was hardly a surprise.

"Can we come visit you all sometime?"

The entire team exchanged a look, and Deckerd glanced at Rodimus with the kind of knowing smiles leaders could share when they knew what was happening. While the logistics of such a thing would be a nightmare, there could be no denying the eager faces all around, and any potential benefits were far too great to ignore. Though it would be an impossible amount of work, they both nodded to one another in agreement.

"We would be honored to have you as guests, just as you have taken us into your home."

#transformers #maccadam #mtmte #more than meets the eye #lost light #lostlight #idw #tf #ll #brave police j decker #brave series #deckerd #rodimus #my writing #my commissions

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thebigqueer · 4 years ago

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"Fellas, Is It Gay to Perform Necromancy on Your Ex-Crush?" - Valgrace (1/2)

Summary: Nico decides to help Leo reach out to Jason.

Notes: This is a 2-part story because I made it too long lol. Also it's technically valgrace but it features nico & leo more (for this first chapter).

Read on AO3

The firelight flickers over Leo’s features as he sticks his marshmallow stick into it. Despite the warm company of flames, goosebumps still rise against his bare arms as a gust of wind pushes through the evening air.

He sighs. Piper’s been gone for too long, and he’s getting lonely on his own. He could easily move across to the other side of the amphitheater and sit with his siblings, but right now, Leo really just wants to be with his best friend. He hasn’t seen her in a long while and it’s been nice catching up with her.

The marshmallow’s lightness gives way to darkness as it chars in the fire. Leo considers bringing it closer again, but he figures it might be better to let it continue roasting. He likes the taste of burnt marshmallows.

So did Jason, Leo thinks wistfully. Then he scolds himself for even thinking about the late demigod.

It’s been months since he’s has died. Leo should be over it by now; he should have moved past it. But he hasn’t.

It’s hard to forget when every time he thinks about Jason, he can only remember the secrets he kept from him.

Leo scrubs a tired hand across his face. He needs to stop thinking about him. Jason’s in the past, and in front of Leo is only the future. He can’t keep himself tied to what could have been, but instead focus his attention on what can be.

Besides, Nico’s already sent in those holograms that Leo made Jason while he was trying to find his way back to the real world. That alone has released the demigod of some of his guilt; at least Jason’s going to finally know how he feels.

But it’s not enough. Leo needs to talk to Jason. He needs to let go of him for once and for all.

The marshmallow in the fire blazes. Its whiteness bubbles and boils in the flames, then hardens into black crust. Leo almost laughs. How metaphorical.

The crunch of footsteps snaps the demigod’s attention, and he turns to the sound of it. Expecting it to be Piper, Leo offers a false grin to the approacher and gears up a joke to exclaim. Upon closer inspection, however, his eyebrows jump in surprise and anxiety - as well as a little bewilderment - hum in his blood.

A teenage demigod stalks towards him, his dark, feathery hair fluttering in the cool air. Silver tips gleam in the firelight at the ends of it. Abysmal obsidian eyes bear into Leo’s own, and a knowing, embarrassed smile cracks against the hero’s face.

“Nico,” Leo murmurs into the quiet. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he responds. His deep, glass-like voice resonates in the air and pierces into Leo’s ears. “Mind if I sit?”

Leo scoots over to make room for him, offering a confused but nonetheless welcoming look. “Sure. Cool hair, by the way.”

Nico smiles. “Thanks. I did it after a mental breakdown.”

“Sounds ideal.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Oh.”

After an uncomfortable pause, in which Leo turns back to his marshmallow in embarrassment and Nico picks on his jeans, the son of Hephaestus asks, “What brings you here?”

“I live at camp,” the demigod says blandly.

Leo rolls his eyes. “Not what I meant.”

Nico’s dark eyes glimmer with amusement. Despite Leo’s melancholic state just seconds before, a flutter of relief overcomes his heart. He and Nico haven’t talked much since he’s gotten back, but he’s glad to see that the demigod looks a lot more… comfortable here, for lack of a better word. He looks like he’s found his place.

“I know,” Nico says. “I’m actually here to talk to you.”

Leo nods. He’s been expecting this. “About the holograms I asked you to send Jason?”

The other demigod shrugs. “I’m a curious person. I’m just wondering what’s up with that. Totally fine if you don’t want to talk about it, though. But, you know, seeing how you asked me to travel to the Underworld specifically just to do that… Can’t help but be a little anxious about whatever it is that I gave him.”

Leo nods again, but this time a trickle of anxiety runs down his back. His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug.

“I don’t mind talking about it,” he says. Leo turns his gaze to Nico and offers him a pointed stare. “Besides, I think more than anyone, you might know what I’m talking about.”

If Nico understands what he means, he doesn’t show it. He remains still and patient, unsurprised, as if he’s expecting whatever Leo’s about to say before he even says it.

The son of Hephaestus sighs. He pulls his marshmallow stick back from the fire, but he doesn’t make a move to take the sweet substance off. His mind wanders back to so many nights ago, when he, Jason, and Piper had been sitting in this exact place, telling each other scary campfire stories and laughing when any of them cracked a joke.

It’s amazing how much has changed within a year.

“Listen, Nico,” Leo begins, his voice strangling itself, “I just want to start by saying that… I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you on the ship. I wish I could have been a better person to you then. But I guess I was dealing with my own stuff, and I was kinda blinded by my own issues to see that others around me were having troubles too. So I’m sorry about being inconsiderate to you.”

Nico waves his hand by way of dismissing the apology. “It’s fine. I understand that. My problems didn’t need to be of your concern, and I’m sure there were things that I could have helped you with that I hadn’t. Don’t feel sorry, Leo. You were dealing with your own issues.”

Leo shakes his head. “But it’s… I…” He groans and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s more than just me being sorry. I just wish I’d let you know you weren’t entirely alone. In terms of being, like, confused about your… identity, I mean.” His heart flutters in his chest as he turns again to Nico, anticipating the demigod’s reaction to his admittance. He’s not sure if he’s come off as direct as he needs to be.

Nico frowns. “You mean, like, me being gay? What does that have to do with this?” he asks defensively.

Leo notes the way his voice hitches at the word “gay,” like he’s still trying to taste the way it feels around his mouth. Nico shifts the tiniest bit away from him, as if he’s fleeing from judgment. The sight of it creates a crack against Leo’s heart; he doesn’t want Nico to feel like he’s being criticized.

“What I’m trying to say,” Leo says in what he hopes is a calming voice, “is that… I know what it was like. I mean, I don’t know what it was like to be you specifically, but I get that anxiety over your sexuality. I… I went through something similar.”

For a moment, it seems as though Nico doesn’t fully understand. His eyebrows curve into the center as he absorbs Leo’s words. Confusion sparks against his eyes. But after a moment - a moment in which Leo’s eyes bear deeper into Nico’s, begging him to comprehend - understanding flashes against the son of Hades’ features. “Oh,” he murmurs. “So… Are you saying…”

Leo nods. “I’m… queer. I know you and I haven’t had the same experiences with our sexualities, or even in general, but just know that… I wish I could have done more to reach out to you.” He shrugs. “Maybe we could have helped each other out.”

Nico offers a hesitant smile. “Yeah. I guess so. Wish I’d known, too. But… I’m honored you told me. Admitting this kind of stuff can take a lot of courage, as I’m sure you know. I’m glad you’ve come to some kind of conclusion about yourself.”

“You too, man,” Leo says. “I’m glad that you’ve found a way to move on from your fears of yourself. I’m not sure where you stand in terms of your confidence, but just know that we’re all proud of you. We all support you.”

Nico’s smile widens, just a bit, and that’s enough to make Leo’s heart skip a beat. He’s never seen Nico look so sure of himself, but the sight of it makes Leo excited, too. It gives him hope that maybe someday, he’ll be able to reach that level of assurance.

Not today. But someday.

Nico rolls his eyes. “Enough of this cheesy stuff. What does this have to do with those holograms?”

Leo shifts in his seat, contemplating what to say and how to say it. His chest thrums with a sudden burst of anxiety at the very prospect of admitting to Nico something that took him so long to do to himself. How will Nico even take the news? Would he make fun of Leo? Would he tell him Leo’s feelings are a mere joke?

Will he understand?

Leo’s chest expands as he takes a deep breath. He knows he’ll feel better when he tells someone about why he’s done what he’s done. He’s kept this in for too long.

The son of Hephaestus plays with his fingers in his lap, if only to get a distraction from the world around him. “I… I really… I liked Jason,” he murmurs. “I spent a lot of time pining for him. But I also spent a lot of time hating myself for liking him.”

Nico’s eyebrows lower and he offers a considerate, empathetic nod. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Leo turns his gaze to the son of Hades. Sincerity sparkles in Nico’s eyes, and an urging look covers his features. Leo’s anxiety lulls itself as he sees the understanding; at least the son of Hades isn’t judging him.

“Yeah,” Leo murmurs, “so that happened. It’s kind of why I decided to date Calypso. I just wanted to… forget about my feelings for him, you know? But that wasn’t fair to her or me, because in a way I kind of used her. We’re broken up now, though, which I think is better for both of us. Still good friends.”

Nico offers a polite nod.

“Anyway,” continues Leo, “I was getting tired of keeping that secret in. So you know how I sent that hologram to you?” When Nico nods again, Leo takes that as a sign to go on. “Yeah, so I tried doing something similar to Jason. Except for him, I kind of just kept all those holograms for myself. They were mostly used for therapeutic purposes, just so I could get a better understanding of myself.” Leo sighs and runs a shaky hand through his hair. His hollow chest thrums with guilt at the thought of the holograms; they contained so many secrets that he couldn’t give up, not even to the person they were intended to be given to. “I meant to give it to Jason,” he promises, “but he…”

In a quick second, memories of Jason sear Leo’s mind. His gleaming hair, his awkward smile. The way his laugh would echo around Leo and envelop him in happiness.

He was perfect. He was everything Leo wished he could be.

He was everything Leo wished he could have.

Leo bites his bottom lip. A surge of hot tears crash against his eyes, and it takes all his strength to prevent them from pouring out.

Nico shifts his body so that he’s closer to Leo. Not close enough to make either of them uncomfortable, but enough so that Leo knows he’s not alone. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “I get it now.”

Leo nods. Despite his efforts to keep his emotions in check, a tear still manages to slip out. It flashes in the orange firelight and drips from his face, bursting onto the green grass below.

Through a choked voice, he whispers, “I just… needed him to have those holograms. I needed him to know the truth. I didn’t want him to leave this world without… without knowing that there was someone who loved him in that way.”

“You needed to let go of your ghost,” Nico murmurs in understanding. “You needed to move on.”

Leo nods.

“Did it work, at least?” asks Nico. “Do you feel better now that you’ve given it to him?”

The son of Hephaestus opens his mouth to speak, but silence strangles his voice. Taking a deep breath, he whispers, “It’s not enough. I need… I need more. I need to actually confront him.”

Leo turns his head to Nico, a pleading look in his eyes. He hopes Nico understands what he’s asking.

The child of Hades’ eyes widen in surprise. “Are you asking me to take you to the Underworld?” he asks. “Look, Leo, I’m not sure-”

Leo shakes his head and waves his hands dismissively. “No, no, I’m too exhausted for adventures. I just want some time without all that excitement. But I just… I’m wondering if maybe there’s a way that I can contact him. And knowing that you’re a ghost whisperer…”

Nico’s eyes darken in the firelight. A cold, icy film covers them, and he fixes Leo with a stern look. “I can’t bring him back, Leo,” he says. “That’s not fair.”

Leo raises his palms defensively. “Hey, no, that’s not-”

“I’m not finished, though,” says Nico. An air of hesitance lingers in his words, and when he turns his dark eyes away from Leo, the latter’s heart skips a beat in anticipation. Excitement and anxiety roar in Leo’s ears. Will he agree to help?

Nico turns his face into the firelight, but he looks right through it. His mind wanders to some other place, some other world where Leo can’t reach him. The son of Hades’ olive fingers twitch in the glow of the flames.

Nico looks around, and as he does so, the silver tips of his hair flash in the firelight. A stern, anxious look pulls on his features.

“What is it?” Leo asks. “What were you going to say?”

Nico turns back to him. His dark eyes burn brightly in the firelight, flaming with excitement. In a hushed, hurried voice, he whispers, “Meet me in the woods tonight, right after the sing-along. Don’t worry about curfew, because I can shadow travel the two of us out. Don’t tell anyone you’re going there. I have a plan to help you.”

At Nico’s words, a gust of wind brushes between the two and chills Leo down to his core. His skin prickles with goosebumps once more, but he’s not sure if that’s because of the chilly air or because of Nico.

With one final skeptical look, the son of Hades stands to leave. But before he can, Leo asks, “Wait, what are you doing? What am I going to walk into?”

Nico pauses in his steps. His body freezes and he goes rigid, almost as if Leo’s question has shocked him.

Then he turns and, in the flicker of the firelight, a ghost of a smile haunts his lips. “You deserve to see him one last time, Leo. And you need to learn to let him go, because the more you keep holding onto his memory… the more you become a ghost of yourself. I can’t bear to see another friend go. Consider this a gift from me to you.” His hand lingers at his side, almost as if reaching for a sword that isn’t there. “Consider this a gift from one friend to another. That is, if you consider us friends.”

A ripple of surprise thrums in Leo’s blood. If there’s anything he didn’t expect tonight, it was to hear that Nico di Angelo considered him a friend.

But nonetheless, a relieved, grateful smile gleams against Leo’s mouth.

“Friends,” he promises. “I owe you one.”

Nico laughs. “Yeah, you do. I’ll see you in a bit.”

And with that, the demigod rushes off into the darkness, leaving Leo alone with only the flames for company.

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missroserose · 3 years ago

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Fic Writer Question Meme!

Thanks for the tag, @venhedish—I love stuff like this! I'd apologize in advance for how long this is likely to be, but I suspect we share that tendency, haha.

How many works do you have on AO3?

20 total. I've been publishing there since late 2018, so about three years now. That sounds right for me—I'm way too perfectionist to ever be prolific.

What's your total AO3 word count?

125,744! Apparently it takes me three years to write a novel's worth of words I feel are worth publishing...which also sounds right.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Three, primarily: The Lost Boys, Stranger Things, and Supernatural. Mostly Stranger Things, since I was pretty enmeshed in the Harringrove community for about a year and a half, though these days I'm hanging out more with the SPN crowd. We'll see if that translates to more fics.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1.) Sunflower (524) 2.) Quickly, look away (506) 3.) We'll Become Who We Meant To Be (383) 4.) Too Young To Fall In Love (333) 5.) When the Waters Start to Cross (283)

First, what's not surprising: all are Stranger Things/Harringrove works. I'm a little surprised to see that "Sunflower" had edged out "Quickly" as my most-kudosed story, for years it was the other way around—but maybe that's actually not that surprising—part of the reason I haven't been as active in the fandom is that I really love the darker and more complex renditions of Billy Hargrove's character (a la "Quickly") and since S3 aired it seems like the fashion has moved more towards more lighthearted fluff (a la "Sunflower"). Still, both are pretty undemanding smut, so it makes sense that they're on top; similarly, I'm not surprised to see "Too Young To Fall In Love" in the top five either.

I am a little surprised that "We'll Become Who We Meant To Be" is #3—it's honestly close to genfic, there's only the tiniest moment of hinted-at attraction in there. I'm not mad about it, I honestly feel like it's one of my better efforts; on the other hand, "Wake Me Up" was in a similar vein and it's close to the bottom. I guess there's just no telling what's going to catch on...in fairness, a 25K outsider POV novella is a much bigger ask than a 3K short story.

Honestly, I'm probably most surprised at "When the Waters Start to Cross" cracking the top five—it's a 52K+ WIP and a profoundly complex atmospheric existential horror/romance, which is, like, five strikes against it. I'm not mad about it, though—I love that fic, even if it is a huge time and energy suck, and it definitely contains some of my best writing.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do! Sometimes it takes me a while, but I genuinely appreciate people taking the time to leave feedback (even if it's just a string of emoji!). And every once in a while I'll get really thoughtful or incisive comments that spark whole conversations—that's one of the best reasons to write fic!

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Hmm...to be honest, nothing immediately comes to mind; I love angst but tend to want it to serve a purpose, i.e. it gets a character closer to who they want to be. So most of my endings are at least hopeful. *checks list* It looks like probably my angstiest ending is also my first fic posted, "Blue Masquerade". Poor Michael.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you've written?

I don't currently write crossovers; I wouldn't rule it out, but frankly I haven't come across an idea that appeals to me. Waaaaaay back in the mists of time I had a Daria/Harry Potter crossover that I was actually pretty proud of, but I got about as far as getting them to Hogwarts and then kinda ran out of ideas, so I never posted it.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not that I can think of? I'm not big-time enough to get hate, haha. Worst I ever got was some rando asking for top or bottom tags, which I just ignored, and one person on "We'll Become" who was like "I don't like this pairing but you did a good job", which kinda had me like ??? thanks, I guess? I did get one comment on "Quickly, look away" from someone who felt like it was in a different headspace from the fic I wrote it as a sequel to, but that didn't strike me as hate, it's a perfectly fair observation.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

So first off, yes, and second...I recently came across this great Garth Greenwell quote that really gets at what I'm trying to do when I write smut:

In America in 2019 we are inundated with images of bodies to an absolutely unprecedented degree—images of eroticized bodies, images of sexual bodies; the Internet makes all our fantasies visible, and it trains us in new fantasies. And yet it also seems to me that our culture suffers from a dearth of representations of embodiedness, by which I mean of bodies imbued with consciousness. I’m not at all antiporn, but sometimes pornography (maybe especially Internet pornography, with its arms race of extremity) seems to want to evacuate bodies of personhood, to present them as objects. I think literature is the best technology we have for representing consciousness, and so I think there’s a kind of intervention that literature can perform in representing sex explicitly: it can reclaim the sexual body as a site of consciousness.

"Embodied porn" is probably the best description I can come up with—I love writing sex precisely because it's such a charged form of communication (Greenwell's words again), because there are things a character can do and say in that context that they never would normally. Like, sex acts are great and all, but what really does it for me is what's going on in their head, what's the history that brought the character to this point, how're they handling the inherent vulnerability and intimacy of this incredibly risky but potentially rewarding moment. Kink (whether through roleplaying, props, costumes, or whatever) is really just another way of adding to that personal meaning, since without the characters' reactions any trappings are meaningless.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, although I'd love to work with a translator someday (whether with fic or another context)—I'm fascinated by the inherent puzzles in translating between languages, especially with informal speech and its many idioms and cultural references.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet! I'd be open to the idea, but it definitely has to be with the right person...

What's your all time favorite ship?

Isn't that basically like asking a mom to choose her favorite kid? Seriously, I like different things about all of them...which one's getting the most attention depends entirely on mood and headspace and other effectively random variables.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I don't have any I've given up on entirely, yet. Even Waters, as beastly complicated as it is, I've been ruminating on and adding to and arranging in my head lately...

What are your writing strengths?

Atmosphere, character, dialogue. I've said it before, I'm a capital-R Romantic at heart: I love writing settings that reflect and reinforce a character's headspace—while also implying what said character might be missing in their viewpoint.

Something I've noticed—my husband worked for years as a penetration tester, which meant he would regularly have to talk his way past people on a moment's notice. So, unsurprisingly, we both notice people, but he tends to observe their presentation (clothing, accessories, especially ones that're markers of social class and group belonging that allow him to tailor his approach), whereas I notice what they say and how they say it—and, often, what they don't say.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I suddenly feel like I'm in a job interview, haha. Perfectionism is a big one—I have a tendency to feel hopeless and quit if something's taking too long, rather than persisting until I get it sorted, even though some of my best work is stuff where I persisted. Also, I'm big on emotional intensity—which isn't a bad thing, necessarily, but I sometimes read back over my stuff and I'm like "geez, Ambrosia, ease up a bit"...I could definitely use some comic relief in my writing sometimes, but I think I'm often too insecure to try it.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don't have any in particular—I rarely do it myself, because I don't trust myself to do it properly. (Perfectionism again!)

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Daria, way back in the day. My work is still up on FF.net...sometimes I wonder if anyone's ever going to dig it up and confront me with it, haha. (I doubt anyone will ever care that much...I guess I'm more just curious if my style from twenty years ago is recognizably me.)

What's your favorite fic you've written?

If we're talking about finished fics, probably either "Wake Me Up" or "Young At Heart"—they're both pretty oddball, but both required a fuckton of work and both came out pretty close to what I wanted. But "Waters" is my biggest baby...maybe I'll open up Act III to work on today...

Thanks again for the tag, Ven! I'm going to tag @ihni, @redmyeyes, @twobrokenwyngs, @skybound2, @sambrosia, @shewritesdirty, @introvertia, @coffeeandchemicals, and @anarchist-billy—if you're up for some rumination, I'd love to hear your thoughts on your writing!

#author stuff #my writing #fanfic culture #about me #tag games

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lover-of-trash-and-people · 4 years ago

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shadow and bone rewatch s1e6 while drinking mid-range scotch

I wish I have a face that is as unlined and pretty as Ben Barnes' when I'm 39

Arken you dirty dirty liar

the face Alek is making at his lies that he knows are lies firstly because he knows the art of lying so well and also because he can read people very well

okay Ivan is kind of a bad bitch with his smirk at Arken's lies

alek's eyes narrowing and his little smile when Arken says 'im an entertainer' bitch I love this show

*grabs hand, pulls up sleeve, and discovers Arken's hand is full of marks indicating successful passages through the fold* 'well, that is certainly entertaining' I love this man with all my heart

him screaming is so fucking hot, is that weird for me to say

Nina being the Darkling's spy is quite interesting

Ben giving the Darkling crazy eyes when Arken owns up to his guilt is so cool

also wtf is Arken a fool trying to negotiate with possibly the strongest man in the world

kind of loved the darkness literally eating him

also love Alina learning to use her powers better when she is alone than when she is with anyone else, wish we got to see the cut in this season as per the books, ah can't have everything I guess

the camera pan to Jesper's gun at his side, amazing

god Jessie is literally so beautiful I need to see her bring Alina to the peak of her power so bad

netflix you better renew this series to let the plot run to its completion

HOW THE FUCK DID THEY CAST THE CROWS SO PERFECTLY

INEJ FUCKING TREMBLING JUST THE TINIEST BIT AS SHE BOWS SLIGHTLY TO ALINA SGSHSBSJJSJSSJ MY TWO QUEENS

'And where is my Summoner?' my little Darklina heart ouchie I really wish you hadn't used and manipulated her like this Alek it was incredibly fucked up especially considering you actually caught feelings

'Ivan and I won't fail you' oh Fedyor my baby, my angel, you don't deserve what is coming

Helnik literally recreating Titanic lmao stop this is a joke

I too would jump off the raft if I came to consciousness to see a gorgeous woman with magical powers with her hand on my back

omg but why is ryevost so pretty though

'I know exactly how she felt. The King's soldiers treated me the same way... I'm not myself today.' why must you do this to me, why must you fuel my darklina soulmates agenda idiocy

I don't quite think I have a problem with the Zoya Darkling relationship as much as I have a problem with the line they chose to reveal it to use with.

my drink's over and I don't know if I should have another, considering that it's 7 am

the tenderness with which he looks at Zoya and takes her hand and then when he says 'I shall relax when I have Alina' makes me believe more that the man that is reduced to tears time and again in front of Alina could in fact be the master manipulator I know him to be

god I can't wait for Zoya's character arc

'I speak six languages, it's part of my job' why is Nina literally the fucking coolest

Alina blinding the oprichniki was so hot, I can't wait to see more of her power and her ruthlessness

I know I've said it before but good god is Jessie Mei Li gorgeous

HER LITTLE SMILE AMONGST ALL THE PANIC AS SOON AS SHE SEES MAL, THE AUDACITY OF THIS SHOW TO MAKE ME FEEL THIS WAY

THE SCORE COMING IN AT THE RIGHT MOMENT, THEIR HANDS MEETING, HER SMILE AGAIN DHDHSBSNSNSNSNAN IM IN PAIN

REALLY?! YOU'RE GONNA GO DIRECTLY FROM MALINA TO HELNIK WITH NO CONCERN FOR MY HEART?

I simply cannot get over Calahan's accent lmao it's really funny

'im not afraid of you' he says to the insanely gorgeous girl with magic

HIM HANGING HIS HEAD IN DEFEAT TO INDICATE NINA HAS MADE VALID POINTS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND I CAN'T BREATHE

'You're just a man. Like all the others.' she says and then forgets her train of thought looking at him as he strips. god I love this

not sleeping all night and then scotch is not a good idea, I think

'I promise not to ravish you' 'I hate the way you talk' her hand on his chest, his hand gripping hers, my fucking heart feels like it's about to explode

good god these shooting locations and sets are so beautiful

Alina throwing the flask at Mal and Mal going 'OI!' I fucking can't, I guess I am a

simp for childhood friends to lovers, give me more of that banter and childhood friend energy, I am thriving

wow it literally seems like they took book! Mal sl*tshaming book! Alina and made show! Alina sl*tshame show! Mal, hmm, interesting

'They would have split us up!' MAL'S LITTLE SMILE AT THIS, and the 'You wrote me letters?' Mal's nod, the Malina yearning stare, the Malina hug, 'thank you for finding me' 'always. I'll always find you.' NO MALINA YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND YOU HAVE MADE ME ABSOLUTELY FUCKING FERAL

I understand they had to split time between my ravkan babies and the crows and that is why there were several aspects that were sort of not reflected on enough but Alina's training at the Little Palace, Alina's cut, Mal's personality, a teensy bit of backstory for the crows, maybe one lockpicking scene from my boy Kaz

random note: we have far too many idols and paintings and pictures and whatnot of Hindu deities in our house apart from the specially designed temple (we are Hindus, so maybe it's not that weird but it's a little weird)

Kaz's cane is a literal star, it's so beautiful my heart wants to explode

'Why would Heleen get the Crow Club?' *literally fucking gets up and walks aways instead of answering the fucking question* I LITERALLY CAN'T BREATHE I'M LOSING MY MIND

'I know that voice' WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO MAKE ME FIGHT FOR PLATONIC SHIPS IN FANDOMS

'We won't starve' omg get you someone who packs food for you when you go on the run together hiding from your ex who wants to capture you and use your powers as a weapon against your consent

Mal looking surprised at her summoning sunlight, Alina looking cautiously at him waiting for him to disapprove or run for the hills in fear or smth like that, 'I'm sorry it took me this long to see you... But I see you now' my dumb little shipper trash heart ouch

they really said we're gonna feed you this part asian couple as the protagonists in this show in 2021 and guess what I'm eating it's really tasty I'm very satisfied as a south asian

NINA'S LITTLE SMILE WHEN MATTHIAS WAKES UP WITH HIS ARM AROUND HER

'I can feel how much you hate sleeping next to me' 👀👀👀 BITCH SAID IMMA SPILL THE TEA AND THEN SHE DID

it's 8 am and guess what I'm getting another drink my parents have c*vid and are in govt qu*r*ntine centres there is nobody to supervise or stop me

I too say 'Why do you have to say things like that?' to my pretty crush when she flirts with me

Nina smiling at Matthias bragging about his conservative ways is my aesthetic

'No, it's not natural for someone to be as stupid as he is tall and yet, oh, there you stand.' MY FUCKING QUEEN

Matthias laughing uncontrollably at Nina saying something which isn't even that funny is a whole ass vibe

Kaz Brekker saying 'The Black General' ooh fuck yeah

YESSSS STEP OUT OF THAT CARRIAGE ALL SEXY BLACK GENERAL

isn't alcohol supposed to like kill germs? well, the amount in my system definitely will

I love my crows so much (always but this time particularly for setting that alarm in the stolen carriage)

ooh Polina recognising Inej by the knife yesss let's go writers

this Ivan Jesper showdown is all I needed from life and yet did not know about

Ivan taking off his cloak was, um, sexier than I wanted it to be

I just realised how thirsty I am going to sound in this post

'Has no one told you that keftas are Fabrikator-made and resistant to bullets, hmm?' 'Oh, I do love a challenge' LITERALLY EVERYTHING

im sorry to be pointing out flaws in a perfect show and adaptation but the line delivery on 'You robbed me of my brother, now I'll rob you of your life' from Polina was kind of weak

'You're a-' *gets knocked out with the back of a gun* LMAO we love the hints

got excited at the prospect of kaz v. zoya until I realised they will not be letting the opportunity of kaz v. darkling pass up

my goodness is Amita Suman a splendid actress

I AM NOT KIDDING WHEN I TELL YOU I SQUEALED WHEN I SAW DARKLES EMERGE OUT OF THE SHADOWS IN FRONT OF MY BABY BOY KAZ

THERE BEING ACTUAL FEAR OR ATLEAST DOUBT ON KAZ'S FACE, THE LITTLE BACK STEPS AS

THE DARKLING WALKS TOWARDS HIM, AAAAH I CAN'T

THE DARKLING STOPPING AT KAZ SAYING 'SHE FLED ON HER OWN' AND THE HINT OF TEARS THAT WE SEE IN HIS EYES

'IT WAS PRETTY CLEAR SHE WASN'T INTERESTED IN BEING A CAPTIVE ANYMORE' YOU TELL HIM, KING

*ACTUAL FUCKING TEARS IN THE DARKLING'S EYES AS THE SHADOWS APPROACH*

NOT ME YOWLING LIKE A HYENA THAT THIS CHILD OUTSMARTED THE MOST POWERFUL MAN IN EXISTENCE WITH A FAKE MAGIC TRICK

'Are you sure you added enough cloves?' literally warranting a wide ass smile from my queen Alina making my entire fucking day

for some reason, no matter how much I push it from my mind, Ben Barnes dressed up as the Darkling, dancing to 'push it' keeps coming to mind, it's absolutely ridiculous

I got somehow distracted with interviews but good things came out of that as it gave my body the time for the booze to kick in

and I would just like to say that I love Leigh for all she has given me

Alina is so fucking compassionate, I have no much love for her. I can feel her guilt and her sorrow as Mal talks of Mikhail and Dubrov

don't particularly like how the stag plotline is woven in, could have been executed better

'You're afraid you might start to like me?' *flaps furs like a bird's wings in frustration*

'I DO like you' my fucking heart you idiots

the sexual tension is so palpable and the moment is so intimate I simply cannot

OMG SHE FUCKING FELL

that moment where you think he might let her fall despite having read the books and he doesn't and he tells her his name I- <3

YOU DARE TRANSITION FROM A HELNIK SCENE TO A KANEJ SCENE YOU REALLY HAVE NO MERCY FOR MY HEART HUH

people have talked about this endlessly but Freddie's little jaw tic after he says Inej because Inej is wounded and he can't physically bring himself to help her I fucking cannot

THE MUSIC PICKING UP AS KAZ LOOKS TO THE DARKLING'S CARRIAGE I CAN'T WITH THIS SHOW ANYMORE

and now for one of my favorite scenes in television and cinematic history, David Kostyk throwing a book at Jesper Fahey without even knowing who he is merely because he opens the door of his carriage and says hello to him before getting knocked out by Kaz Brekker while trying to run away

Immediately followed by another, the scene with David Kostyk raising his finger to put forward his point in front of the Darkling and the Darkling trying to let him know he doesn't have to before obliging is one of my favourite scenes in the world

also sir please stop being devastatingly attractive in your glorious appearance with your face and your black kefta and cloak because all that comes to mind is Ayesha Erotica's Emo Boy and I'm afraid that is terribly inappropriate.

'No, you look great.' *literally looks down from embarrassment or blushing* MALINA RIGHTS?

THE LOOK ON THE DARKLING'S FACE BEFORE HE SAYS 'NO ORDINARY TRACKER, NO ORDINARY GIRL' BITCH IM OUT OF BREATH

'ORPHANS OF KERAMZIN, REUNITED.' 'ADORABLE.' HE FUCKING SNEERED IRL I FUCKING CANNOT

GOD IT'S SO GOOD

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gusu-emilu · 4 years ago

Text

seven nights to turn (3/4)

chapter three: turn

Ship: Jiang Cheng / Wen Ning

Summary: Jiang Cheng counts the passage of time by nights, not days. He’s spending the next seven in a cabin on the fringe of the Cloud Recesses. On the first night, he hears humming.

Rated E, Post-Canon, Mentioned Canonical Violence & Character Deaths, Grief/Trauma, Panic Attacks, but finally some bonding time

<< Ch. 1 | < Ch. 2

read on AO3 or on Tumblr below

“Wen Qionglin!”

Wen Ning almost looks at him, but then his eyes roll back, and he convulses even harder.

Jiang Cheng holds him firm. “Listen to me! Wen Ning!”

He whimpers. The resentful energy surrounding him thickens, reaches toward Jiang Cheng.

“Say something!”

Wen Ning’s eyes are still fixed on the spot on the floor where the brush had landed. “That’s a—that’s what the Lan use to clean their guqins,” he says.

“I know what it is.” Jiang Cheng staggers to his feet, his back aching from being shoved to the floor.

“Why do you have it?”

Jiang Cheng considers storming out the door and not looking back, but he can’t bring himself to move.

“For…” Wen Ning furrows his brow, like this is the most perplexing situation he’s ever encountered. “For Hanguang-Jun?”

If only Wen Ning had assumed the brush was for someone else, some random Lan disciple, or one of the juniors—hell, even Lan Qiren would do—because letting Wen Ning think that he bought a guqin brush for that stuck-up asshole Lan Wangji is not allowable.

“It’s for Lan Sizhui.” Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. “Wei Wuxian asked me to buy it.”

Wen Ning shakes his head. “No, A-Yuan just got a new brush recently. All Wei-gongzi needs to buy for him is cleaning oil.”

Jiang Cheng is beginning to feel like a caged animal.

Wen Ning takes an awkward step toward him. “Did you leave that bottle of oil outside A-Yuan’s door?”

“How do you know about that?”

He shrugs. “I saw it there.”

It’s a good thing that Wen Ning didn’t light a lamp in the room, because Jiang Cheng’s cheeks are starting to burn. Hopefully the blue moonlight doesn’t reveal any color in his face.

“Why didn’t you leave the brush there, too?”

Before Jiang Cheng knows what he’s doing, as if something outside himself is puppeteering his limbs and forcing him to speak, he walks up to Wen Ning and holds out the brush. “You give it to him.”

Wen Ning stares at it, his lips parted.

“Take it.”

He carefully lifts the brush from Jiang Cheng’s hand, making sure not to touch his skin, and continues to stare at it, studying its red handle. “These colors…A-Yuan can’t use this when other people are around.”

Jiang Cheng wants to bite his own lip open. He’s humiliated himself with yet another useless gift.

“Fine, then. It’s not like you appreciated the other things I gave you,” he says before he can stop himself.

Startled, Wen Ning tightens his grip around the brush. Then he murmurs, “Gave me?” His eyes widen. “The tea…talismans…”

Jiang Cheng’s gut plummets with panic.

“I’ve—I’ve—” Wen Ning stammers. “I’m sorry.”

“The hell are you apologizing for now?”

“You really were just trying to be kind, and in return I’ve…harmed you.”

“You didn’t harm me!” More heat rises in him at the suggestion that Wen Ning somehow hurt him—especially because in a way, it’s true. “And I wasn’t—I wasn’t ‘trying’ to be anything! It’s just, if you were going to hum outside my door every night, you should’ve at least done something to make it sound good!”

Wen Ning gives a sad, thoughtful look. The face of a corpse shouldn’t be this expressive. “I’ve disturbed your sleep.”

“I don’t sleep anyway!” He immediately clamps his mouth shut. He didn’t mean to say that.

Wen Ning seems to contemplate this for a moment. “I don’t either.” He walks away to find a place to set down the brush, his back turned to Jiang Cheng.

An excellent opportunity for Jiang Cheng to slip away.

He doesn’t.

He can’t push it down anymore. He can’t not admit it to himself.

There is something about Wen Ning that keeps Jiang Cheng rooted in place, waiting. A sense of Wen Ning’s potential to both heal and destroy him. A feeling that they share some of the same miseries. A hope to set one thing right out of the mistakes he made in the past.

The moment that Wen Ning protected Jin Ling from Baxia—his body bent over and strained, his teeth bared in a grimace, the skin of his palm slicing open under the blade as he held it back—Jiang Cheng’s entire perception of him flipped.

He can’t hate someone who is the reason Jin Ling is still alive.

Could Lan Sizhui be the key to changing how Wen Ning sees him?

A brush and a bottle of oil are nothing, pitiful gifts if they count as gifts at all, but Wen Ning seems like the type of person who would gaze in wonder if you gave him a pinecone and said it was because it looked pretty.

Could this sudden softening of Wen Ning’s demeanor be from Jiang Cheng’s show of care, however small, for Lan Sizhui?

How much more could he change how Wen Ning saw him if he actually did something worthwhile?

Dread rises in him at the thought. Somehow the idea of undeserved forgiveness from Wen Ning is more frightening than his wrath.

His thoughts break when Wen Ning returns to stand in front of him, his expression much softer than before. “Thank you. A-Yuan will like the brush.” He tugs at his sleeves. “I didn’t mean to be ungrateful. I just—I thought you would have understood.”

“The brush was just a random color.”

“No, not that—I mean, that too—but I…I mean, the other things.”

“I don’t have time to listen to you speak in riddles,” Jiang Cheng says despite the fact that it’s the middle of the night and he has nowhere to be. “Say it clearly.”

“Well, first—"

“It doesn’t need a preamble.”

Wen Ning’s expression darkens. “First, I don’t like to be called a Wen-dog.”

Jiang Cheng feels a pang in his chest. “I…I didn’t mean that anyway.”

Wen Ning nods, but he doesn’t seem exactly happy. Perhaps Jiang Cheng had snapped at him too much.

“Your humming…” Jiang Cheng looks away. “I didn’t mean that either. It’s fine. It could be better. But it’s fine.”

“Really?” Wen Ning sounds genuinely surprised. Then, more quietly: “I really had thought you would’ve understood.”

“Understood what?”

“Now that you know.”

“You—" He stops himself, takes a moment to sap some of the impatience from his voice. “Just get to the point.”

Wen Ning frowns. His voice is a low murmur, rough with the same imperfections as his humming. “I’ve always wondered what it might be like to be more human again. When Wei-gongzi returned from his travels, I asked him to help fix a few things about me. The first thing he worked on was my voice, so I could hum and sing.”

Jiang Cheng shifts his feet, waiting for him to continue.

Wen Ning looks out the window. “I’m very grateful for it. Wei-gongzi was happy too. After that he came up with more plans, more ways to help me. I thought that it would make me feel better.” He shakes his head. “It didn’t. Already the next day, I didn’t want it anymore. It just made me think of...” He trails off, then collects himself. “I’ve been experimented on enough already.”

Jinlintai.

What had it been like, those sixteen years Wen Ning was locked in Jinlintai?

Something claws up inside Jiang Cheng, and he realizes that it’s…protectiveness. “What did they do to you?”

“I don’t really remember.”

“That’s…good.”

Jiang Cheng had been tortured at the hands of the Wen, and that had only been for a night. He still dreams about it sometimes, the sting of the discipline whip on his back, the horror of his parents’ bodies bloody and lifeless on the ground, the iron grip that seemed to rip his core right out of him. He can’t imagine remembering years of agony like that. To have that pain forever weighing on his mind.

“I didn’t want Wei-gongzi’s help anymore,” Wen Ning says. “But I didn’t know how to tell him.” Apparently that’s the end of the story, because he meets Jiang Cheng’s eyes expectantly, as if waiting for something.

Jiang Cheng can’t help but be reminded of the golden core transfer.

He has been changed. Been experimented on.

The realization hits him, and his heart sinks. Wen Ning had expected him to know how it feels to be broken and fixed. To know the conflicting feelings of gratitude and inadequacy and guilt that resulted from it. This was why Jiang Cheng’s attempt to improve his humming offended him so much—because all his “help” did was tell Wen Ning that he was incomplete.

Of all people, Jiang Cheng should have known.

“I…” He swallows. “I understand.”

Relief appears on Wen Ning’s face. He looks down at his hands. Then, like he doesn’t want Jiang Cheng to hear it, he mumbles, “I’ve been avoiding him.”

That’s a shock.

To his surprise, Jiang Cheng finds himself getting angry on his brother’s behalf. “You shouldn’t do that,” he says. When Wen Ning glances up, confused, he clarifies, “Shouldn’t avoid him.”

“Neither should you.”

Jiang Cheng freezes.

He knows he can’t argue with that, but he tries anyway. “It would be easier for you,” he says, sharper than he means to.

Wen Ning looks him dead in the eyes. “Would it?”

That catches him off guard.

“One thing I do remember from Jinlintai is…” Wen Ning seems to wince as if old wounds are torn open again. “I remember M-Mo Xuanyu.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes widen.

“He would talk to me. Sometimes he was even nice to me. But he also had to…had to…”

Now he fully understands.

What must it be like for Wen Ning to see his closest friend return in the body of someone who tortured him? How could he explain this to Wei Wuxian without making him feel guilty about something he couldn’t control?

Wen Ning looks lost in memory. Miserable.

Uncertain of what to say, Jiang Cheng rests his hand on Wen Ning’s shoulder.

Wen Ning makes the tiniest gasp and glances down at Jiang Cheng’s hand. Something shifts in his expression—Jiang Cheng can’t tell what—but it’s like a single knot of a giant tangle has come untied.

Jiang Cheng slowly removes his hand. “You shouldn’t have been there in Jinlintai.”

“But I killed so many of their clansmen.” His voice drops to a whisper. “I killed Jin Zixuan.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“It was by my hand. The resentful energy was mine.”

“You were being controlled!”

Wen Ning draws his lower lip between his teeth. His voice is thick with emotion, like he is afraid of his own words. “I have so much resentment in me.” He looks away suddenly, wrings his hands. “I never wanted to kill Jin Zixuan. I never wanted to kill anybody. But…I…” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I didn’t like him that much.”

Of course Wen Ning wouldn’t like Jin Zixuan. He was in a position of power, the best candidate to protect the Dafan Wen. He was the favored son of that gilded swine of a man who led the cruelty against them, and he did not prevent it.

“You can’t control whether or not you like someone,” Jiang Cheng says. “I didn’t like him all that much either!”

“But I couldn’t stop myself,” Wen Ning says. “All it took was Wei-gongzi losing control, and I lost control too. And because the resentment was already in me…I killed him. It was me.” He shakes his head. “This is why we can never be even, Jiang Wanyin. You stepped aside when you could have helped, and I—I can’t forgive you for that. But my people were already doomed to die from the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. You didn’t even do anything to directly harm us.

“But I killed with my own hands. Jin Zixuan was never meant to die, and I had the chance to stop it. I didn’t.” He looks at the floor, his lip quivering. “If I hadn’t killed him…Wei-gongzi and Jiejie could’ve lived.”

Jiang Cheng grabs him by the shoulders. “Listen to me. I don’t blame you for what happened.”

“But—”

“I hate you for it. But I don’t blame you.”

“Then we truly can’t be even, because I still blame you.”

The words are like a punch in the stomach. But what else could he expect?

“Then blame me! Blame me all you want!”

“I don’t want to blame you.”

“Just…” Jiang Cheng lets go of him. “Make up your mind.”

Wen Ning is silent for a few moments. “I’m still worried about something like Qiongqi Path happening again. It almost did, when I was possessed by Baxia.”

“No. You saved Jin Ling.”

Wen Ning doesn’t reply.

Now would be the time for Jiang Cheng to leave, to finally let Wen Ning remain undisturbed. But he stands in place, suddenly calm.

“You said you don’t sleep.” Jiang Cheng tries to make it sound like a question.

“You don’t either?”

“…Not really.”

“I don’t need to sleep, though.”

“Can you?”

Wen Ning’s jaw tightens. “I don’t like to.”

Jiang Cheng rubs his thumb back and forth over the metal coils of Zidian. There are only a few things that could make someone choose not to sleep. “…Dreams?”

The only answer is a telling silence.

Nodding, Jiang Cheng turns toward the door and slides it open. Pauses.

He shuts the door. “If you…if you’re going to be up all night—”

“You can stay.” Wen Ning gestures toward the tea table. “If you want.”

Jiang Cheng chews his lip. He was going to ask Wen Ning to come to his cabin, but…that might be too much to ask for.

They sit.

The air feels slightly warmer, but dense and heavy. Wen Ning rocks back and forth in his seat, staring down at the table, until eventually he stops and there is no movement left in the room.

Anxious to break the stillness, Jiang Cheng pours a cup of tea, but he can’t bring himself to drink it. His eyes wander around the dim room, hunting for a distraction from the heaviness in the air. He nods toward the assortment of plants and cultivation objects on the windowsill. “What’s all that?”

Wen Ning turns toward the window. “Medicinal herbs.”

“Are you the doctor around here or something?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m…I’m trying to recreate some medicines that my sister used to make. A lot of the recipes are missing from her writings.” He looks down at his hands. “A lot of her work has been lost.”

A strange silence settles over them. Jiang Cheng feels a warm pulse from his golden core.

He clears his throat. “It’s uh…it’s a shame.”

Wen Ning thins his lips. Slouches forward.

“Have you made any of the medicines?” Jiang Cheng asks.

“Not quite.”

Jiang Cheng nods. “My…my sister used to write songs. She’d sing them.” He adds, more quietly, “Or hum them.”

Wen Ning’s gaze intensifies.

“She had pages and pages of music in Lotus Pier.” He turns the tea cup back and forth, wearing its bottom into the table. “All burned. She never rewrote them.”

“Do you remember them?”

He shrugs. “Sometimes.” Suddenly uncomfortable, he props his elbows on the table and folds his hands in front of his face, studying Wen Ning and wondering how to continue talking. If he should continue talking. He isn’t good at…whatever this is.

But questions are easy enough. Questions are working.

He points toward the window. “What’s the rest of the stuff there? All the spiritual items between the plants.”

Wen Ning hesitates for a moment, then walks over to the windowsill. “They’re mostly things the juniors found on night hunts.” He picks up a dark red gemstone. “This is a garnet stone that helps dissipate negative energies. A-Yuan found it near Qinghe.” He exchanges the stone for a necklace of carved wooden beads. “A-Yuan bought this in a town we visited.” Next he picks up a thin bundle of talismans, and his face lights up. “Wei-gongzi has been teaching A-Yuan how to invent his own talismans, and he wrote these himself. If you light one, it makes sparks that take the shape of an animal and fly through the air.”

He explains more items on the shelf, and although there are one or two “Lan Jingyi”s or “Ouyang Zizhen”s or some name Jiang Cheng doesn’t recognize in the mix, the same refrain comes up over and over: A-Yuan gave me this, A-Yuan bought that, A-Yuan made this, A-Yuan found that.

Apparently once Wen Ning gets on the topic of “A-Yuan,” he doesn’t shut up. Jiang Cheng finds himself reminded of how proud he felt each time A-Ling won a sword fight, or passed an exam, or defeated a beast on a night hunt. The corners of his mouth creep upward.

“And this one—" Wen Ning cuts off and stares at Jiang Cheng like something is wrong with him.

Embarrassed, Jiang Cheng clears the smile from his face. “What?”

Wen Ning stares for a little longer, then glances away. “Um, nothing.”

He doesn’t discuss the few remaining items, instead wordlessly examining the plants. Jiang Cheng finds himself relieved by this choice, as his thoughts of A-Ling disappear, replaced by the memory of a toddler hugging his leg in the Burial Mounds, and suddenly he doesn’t want to hear more about Lan Sizhui.

Although some of A-Ling’s milestones happened out of Jiang Cheng’s sight, he learned of them no less than a day later. Even so, Jiang Cheng still has keepsakes from A-Ling in his bedroom.

But Wen Ning missed everything in Lan Sizhui’s life. Of course he would clutch onto these small trinkets and display them like decorations.

Jiang Cheng rubs his thumbs together. “He’s…he’s a good kid.”

Wen Ning fiddles with the leaves of a plant. “He is.”

For the sake of something to do, Jiang Cheng finishes the tea in his cup. Pours another.

Wen Ning rests his hand on one of the pots on the windowsill. “I just remembered that I need to prune this plant. Is it alright if I—”

“I don’t care.”

Wen Ning carries over the large potted plant, some kind of small bush, and sets it down on the floor next to the table. He brings over shears that are bit too small for his hands and starts cutting away tiny sections of the bush. Jiang Cheng sips tea and listens to the gentle snipping sounds, sometimes watching Wen Ning tend to the plant, sometimes watching the liquid swirl in his cup, sometimes staring at nothing at all. Exhaustion begins to seep into him.

After a while, a faint sound of music reaches Jiang Cheng’s ears.

Humming.

Tension releases from his muscles. The cup feels heavy in his hand.

He must nearly close his eyes, because the humming stops, and Wen Ning murmurs, “I thought you don’t sleep.”

“Mn.” Jiang Cheng blinks a few times and straightens himself up.

He expects Wen Ning to suggest he go back to his own cabin, but instead Wen Ning asks, “Does this…does this help you sleep?”

“No.” He sounds drowsier than he wants to.

Wen Ning resumes his trimming of the plant.

The last thing Jiang Cheng remembers after that is half-walking, half-staggering back to his cabin, a phantomlike pressure steadying him—or perhaps nothing was touching him at all—and then soft blankets surround him as he drifts asleep to the faint melody of humming in the distance.

* * *

He wakes with a jolt.

Groaning. Someone is in pain—

It’s still nighttime. He must not have slept for long. He shoves off the covers and hastens outside, following the gut-wrenching groans until he arrives at the creek where Wen Ning and Lan Sizhui had played music four nights ago.

Wen Ning is on the ground, hunched over at the bank of the creek with his hands in the water. His body is convulsing. Dark, cloudy tendrils snake upward from him.

Resentful energy.

Jiang Cheng runs forward and drops to the ground beside Wen Ning. He grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him away from the water.

“Wen Qionglin!”

Wen Ning almost looks at him, but then his eyes roll back, and he convulses even harder.

Jiang Cheng holds him firm. “Listen to me! Wen Ning!”

He whimpers. The resentful energy surrounding him thickens, reaches toward Jiang Cheng.

“Say something!”

Wen Ning opens and closes his mouth, but no sound comes out.

Jiang Cheng is not the man to help in this situation. When has he ever been able to calm someone down? Wei Wuxian would know what to do—

Should he get Wei Wuxian?

But what could happen if he leaves Wen Ning alone?

He uses strength from his spiritual energy to steady Wen Ning’s convulsions. “I need you to come back! Tell me—”

“Don’t do it…” Wen Ning moans toward some unseen figure, as if trapped in a nightmare.

What could shake Wen Ning back to consciousness? Force him into the present?

The one thing that has grounded Jiang Cheng through the darkest times has been work—the tedium of life, of running his sect, the constant chores and movement. Something to latch onto and distract himself.

The idea doesn’t seem promising, but it’s worth a try.

“Tell me everything you do during a day,” Jiang Cheng says.

“A…a day?” Wen Ning croaks out.

“Just list it for me. List everything you do in the Cloud Recesses.”

Wen Ning doesn’t respond, but the smoke of resentful energy begins to wither, folding in on itself as it floats downward.

“What did you do today?” Jiang Cheng squeezes his shoulders tighter. “What do you need to do tomorrow?”

Wen Ning rocks back and forth. “I—I usually…b-buy things…”

“Good…good...”

“Go on night hunts.” The resentful energy begins to thin.

It’s working. He can’t believe it’s actually working.

“Keep going,” Jiang Cheng searches his face for signs of his awareness returning. “You’re—you’re doing well. Keep listing.”

“I take inventory of m-medical supplies.” Wen Ning’s voice is hoarse, but it’s beginning to sound less pained. “Sometimes I clean them.”

Jiang Cheng loosens his hold on Wen Ning, who has stopped rocking back and forth. “Good…tell me more.”

“Read music books that Hanguang-Jun gave me. Take care of the rabbits on the back hill.” He smiles a bit. “Get chased out of the Main Hall by Lan Qiren.”

He meets Jiang Cheng’s eyes, and the last wisps of resentful energy dissipate.

They stare at each other until Jiang Cheng realizes his hands are still on Wen Ning’s shoulders. He pulls away and stands up. Takes a few steps back and clears his throat.

Wen Ning hangs his head. “Th-Thank you.”

Jiang Cheng nods. Swallows. “You…weren’t kidding when you said you can’t control yourself.”

“I’m not usually like this.” He turns to watch the flow of the creek like he wants to dissolve into it and drift away. “This hasn’t happened to me in a long time.”

“…Why’d it happen now?”

Wen Ning gives a small, rueful smile. “I fell asleep.”

“Your dreams are that bad?”

“I don’t exactly get dreams anymore.” He fiddles with the sleeve of his robe. “They’re more like recurring memories.”

Memories. Those can be much worse than nightmares.

Jiang Cheng feels a sudden urge to lift this burden from Wen Ning. To be a well for Wen Ning to fill with his pain until everything from the past hangs on Jiang Cheng’s heart, not his.

His attempts to give Wen Ning something have been useless.

If Jiang Cheng is stuck forever taking from Wen Ning, he can at least try to take away something that weighs him down.

“Memories of what?”

Wen Ning silently trails his fingers through the creek. There is no sound in the forest except the water’s gentle murmuring as it flows around Wen Ning’s hand.

Just before Jiang Cheng is about to ask again, Wen Ning mumbles, “They made me watch.”

He doesn’t say anything else. Jiang Cheng slowly lowers to sit on the ground a few feet away and waits for him to continue speaking.

Wen Ning starts pulling out blades of grass from the ground, his fingers still wet from the creek and dripping beads of water onto the cold grass like dew. “I had to w-watch when she…when she was...” He trails off.

Jiang Cheng’s chest constricts.

He can’t be talking about what Jiang Cheng thinks he is.

But what else could it be?

By the way Wen Ning’s eyes are filled with pain, Jiang Cheng’s guess cannot be wrong.

Wen Ning was forced to watch Wen Qing be burned at the stake.

The image scorches his mind. Rips at his throat and leaves his voice useless.

He had never been able to bring himself to think about what might have happened to her in Jinlintai. He had seen the Dafan Wen hanging by nooses in a row along the wall of Nightless City, seen Wen Qing’s ashes scattered in the wind, and but to have seen her agony before she fell lifeless—the claws of flames, white skin seared red, spine-chilling screams—

Jiang Cheng had held A-Jie in his arms as she died, but at least she hadn’t screamed. At least she hadn’t writhed in pain. She had just quietly turned cold and motionless…

A soft whimper in front of him, and Jiang Cheng realizes that Wen Ning has started speaking again. He makes noises that don’t sound much like words until finally he whispers, “She never looked at me.”

Jiang Cheng suddenly finds it hard to breathe.

“I…I g-guess she thought that if she didn’t look at me, it wouldn’t hurt me as much. But—” He grips his sleeves tight, stretching the fabric as his hands begin to shake. “But I wanted her to look at me. And now when I sleep, I keep—I keep dreaming about it, but even in the dreams she never…n-never…”

The forest fades away.

A-Jie is limp in Jiang Cheng’s arms.

Bloody. Trembling.

Pulling her hand out of Jiang Cheng’s grasp, reaching one last time for Wei Wuxian.

She never looked at Jiang Cheng while she died.

The nightmare of A-Jie’s death has returned to him over and over, lurking in the depths of his grief and slithering into his dreams on nights he was already close to breaking.

But no matter how many times the nightmare repeats, A-Jie still never looks at him.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes feel like they might be wet, but his body seems separate from himself, distant. He sits closer to Wen Ning without being sure of how he gets there, without fully feeling the sensations of shifting his weight or pressing his hands into the grass or letting his breath become unsteady.

He wonders how Wen Ning was able to fall asleep here. If he does not need to sleep, why would he try, knowing what he would dream about?

But Jiang Cheng does not ask.

As they sit there at the bank of the creek, watching the water trickle along and catch the moonlight, the memories fade as if washed away by the stream. Wen Ning’s presence beside him, steady and motionless and slumped over slightly, is almost…comforting. It’s nice to have someone to sit next to.

His mind wanders to the list of Wen Ning’s daily activities in the Cloud Recesses. Despite all the chores and organizing, his life here sounds peaceful. Relaxed.

But why does Wen Ning only perform the jobs of an errand boy?

Jiang Cheng has seen him on night hunts, seen him step forward from the shadows and instantly eliminate danger with his strength and cleverness. And now Jiang Cheng has also seen the small collection of herbs Wen Ning grows in his cabin and uses to recreate lost medicines.

Yet to the Cloud Recesses, he is just an errand boy.

Doesn’t he have...more to offer than that?

The conversation Jiang Cheng overheard between Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi makes more sense now. Wen Ning acts differently while on night hunts than while in the Cloud Recesses because on night hunts, he is useful. In the Cloud Recesses, what difference is there between him and any ordinary servant?

Especially if Lan Sizhui is always busy training, and Wei Wuxian…he has his own issues to work through with Wei Wuxian.

“Do you want to be here?” Jiang Cheng finds himself asking.

Wen Ning must have been lost in thoughts of his own, because he tenses, startled. “What do you mean?”

“The Cloud Recesses.” He gestures around vaguely. “Where else?”

Wen Ning is slow to answer. “Yes. A-Yuan is here.”

A small bit of jealousy nips at Jiang Cheng, knowing that Wen Ning can live in the same place as the last member of his family. Jiang Cheng does not think he would answer differently himself.

“If you could go somewhere else, where would you go?”

“Tanzhou,” Wen Ning says without hesitation.

Tanzhou. The city south of Yunmeng with all the gardens. A quick glance at the array of herbs on the windowsill is enough to make it obvious that Wen Ning likes plants, but that doesn’t seem like a reason compelling enough for him to be so sure of his destination, as if he has thought about this question daily.

“Why there?”

“I heard that Song-daozhang is staying there for a while. I…I’d like to talk to him.” To talk to someone like me, is what goes unsaid.

A sinking feeling grips Jiang Cheng.

Song Lan would understand Wen Ning much better than Jiang Cheng ever could.

There are probably many others who could understand Wen Ning better. Who could help him heal. Who could give him something.

As soon as Jiang Cheng recognizes the thought in himself, he tries to stamp it away, but it persists. He shoves it down enough to continue speaking. “You should go to Tanzhou before Song Lan leaves.”

“But—"

“Why wouldn’t you?” Jiang Cheng scowls at him. “Don’t tell me you like this white-robed hellhole.”

“But A-Yuan…”

Jiang Cheng sighs. “He’ll be fine without you. He has Wei Wuxian and the entire Lan Clan to look after him.”

His own words nearly make him laugh with spite at himself. Who is he to speak like this? He still stalks A-Ling on night hunts, still worries about him every day, still feels like every moment with A-Ling is not enough, because one day he could be gone.

But a trip away from the Cloud Recesses would be good for Wen Ning. If he has thought so much about meeting Song Lan…he should go.

“It isn’t that far of a journey,” Jiang Cheng says. “You could come back to the Cloud Recesses whenever you’re finished.

Wen Ning tilts his head and stares into the water. “Maybe…maybe I’ll go, then.”

“Stop in Lotus Pier on your way there.”

Wen Ning looks up in shock.

It takes a moment for Jiang Cheng to realize what he said.

Fuck, fuck, fuck—

Heat rises to his face. He stands up, tries to put distance between himself and Wen Ning. He needs to cover for himself—needs an excuse—“Well, look at yourself! You can barely control your resentful energy! You think I’m going to let you pass through Yunmeng unsupervised?”

“I can—I can just travel south of Yunmeng—”

“I’m not letting you pass through the neighboring territories unsupervised either!”

“O-Okay.”

They freeze like that, Jiang Cheng blushing and clenching his fists like an idiot, and Wen Ning sitting on the ground and staring up at him with round eyes.

When Jiang Cheng finally gets his voice to work, it sounds unsure and creaky, like a rusted metal hinge. “Then you’ll come to Lotus Pier with me when I leave tomorrow morning.”

Wen Ning blinks. “Okay.”

“Alright.” Jiang Cheng takes a step back. “I’m—I’m going to my cabin now.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight.”

“…Y-Yes.”

Jiang Cheng turns and walks up the path until he is out of Wen Ning’s sight, then races to his cabin. He doesn’t slow down until the door is shut behind him, and even then his heart is still pounding.

He mindlessly follows his nighttime routine in an attempt to calm his nerves. His muscles ache when he climbs into bed for another futile attempt at sleep. He has no idea what time it is. Sunrise could be in as soon as an hour, and then he will already be taking Wen Ning with him to Lotus Pier.

He is taking Wen Ning with him to Lotus Pier.

He flips onto his stomach and tries to sink into the mattress, hoping the pressure will stifle the bizarre tingling in his chest. Flips onto his back and rubs between his eyes.

What the hell did I just do?

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by visiting me on AO3!

Ch. 4 >

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flightrules · 4 years ago

Text

Which Kind Do You Want to Be?

Summary: You’re from a deeply sex-positive culture. He hasn’t gone unarmored in front of another human in... It’s been a very long time.

Three days on board the Razor Crest featuring moments of angst, domesticity, kindness, explicit consent, and Din doing his best to be a conscientious parent in the midst of everything. Heads up for descriptions of canon-typical violence, mention of past dubious consent, and a moment of (unintentional) violence between our protagonists. Din/cis female OC, on the hetero end of the scale. Ending is bittersweet.

Rating: Mature? Explicit? Anyhow, grown-up sexy stuff in later chapters. Please be old enough to be reading this kind of thing.

Watch for upcoming chapters here, or read the complete story on AO3.

Chapter 1

He's sitting there looking at you, head tilted, and it's like somebody needed an illustration of curiosity for a children's book so they drew this Mandalorian and stuck that on the page.

"Isn't 'stop' good enough?" he says.

"Sometimes people like to say that and not mean it. Having a different word lets you both know you don't want what's happening anymore."

"If I say stop, I'll mean it."

There's something about that voice modulator that makes everything he says sound final.

The two of you are sitting across from each other on the floor, in the cramped hold of the Razor Crest. You're dressed in your usual practical trousers and shirt, but you've kicked your boots into a corner and your rifle's propped against a nearby wall.

He's still wearing the beskar.

The child is spending the night with Peli, who took him delightedly, crooning about getting him some decent food and a nice soft place to sleep.

She also spared a moment for you, looking you up and down before shooting a pointed look at the armored man beside you. "It's about time."

"Can you trust her?" you asked on the way up the ramp, as Peli and the child disappeared into her shop.

He shrugged. "With my life? No. With his? Yes."

How exactly does this man decide whom to trust with his life?

You've known each other, what, a few days? The acid burn on your right shoulder is still raw, the skin still peeling away in shreds. Interesting lesson, that. Gark-vipers don't bite, they spit.

The scar will be your souvenir from a three-day trek through the jungles of Silicaria. One day in to snatch the little green rug-rat back from the bounty hunters who took him, two days back on tired legs, without food and no idea if the water in the streams you passed was safe.

You were hired help at the beginning.

By the end, between fighting off hungry jungle creatures, sharing watches through pitch-black nights, and taking turns carrying the kid, you and this man were something like friends.

Not that you didn't still collect your credits. A girl's gotta eat.

But you also didn't turn down the chance to get cleaned up in his ship's refresher, or to bunk down in a corner of the hold for a decent night's sleep.

He got the baby to bed first, briskly bathing the yawning little creature in the galley sink, then wrapping him up in a clean blanket and tucking him into a hammock in what looked like the man's own sleeping quarters.

Then he indicated the refresher and sonic shower for you to use. "I'll wait upstairs."

It was nice of him to give you privacy to get cleaned up and changed, even if it seemed a bit odd to you. Where you come from the human body's nothing to be ashamed of. But not all cultures see things that way.

Clearly his did not. You'd think after what you'd both been through, he'd want to get into some comfy clothes and leave the armor in storage for a while. But no, he switched places with you in the cockpit, disappeared down into the hold, and came back up a little later smelling a heck of a lot better but fully decked out again.

"I promise I'm not dangerous," you said, teasing.

It was a little insulting how easily he said, "I know." But he added, "I have food. If you're still hungry," and that felt like something a friend would say. So you bit back the temptation to remind him that if you wanted to, you could be dangerous, indeed.

The Razor Crest's food stores were nothing to write home about. Your body was going to make good use of the calories though, whether they tasted good or not. You leaned against the galley cabinet and gnawed on a protein bar. He started working on cleaning weapons and putting them away in what looked like a small but impressive armory.

"So what's the deal with the outfit?" Curiosity wasn't a sin where you came from, either.

"What do you mean?"

"You're home, right? We've agreed I'm not dangerous. Who are you planning to fight?"

"I'm not," he said, settling a blaster in its place next to an array of grenades.

"So?"

"Mandalorians don't go unarmored around anyone but family."

You were struck by a sudden image of him with the kid, the two of them playing tag or something down here among the crates and stowed weapons. The kid in his little brown robes and the Mandalorian in, what? A pair of soft trousers, maybe a shirt that showed his arms. Barefoot, maybe. Probably hair all a mess. If he had hair. Or would he shave his head?

You had to shake your own head to get the image to clear.

"Huh," you said in reply. "Really? I crossed paths with some guys like you, a couple years back. They didn't seem to have any issue."

You were surprised to hear a sigh. "There are different kinds of Mandalorians."

"Do you get to choose?"

He didn't answer.

You finished up the protein bar and looked around for somewhere to toss the wrapper. There wasn't an obvious wastebin, so when he looked back your way again you held it up, inquiring.

"Behind the door, lower left," he said. And then, "You don't get to choose."

"Who chooses for you, then?"

He turned back to the armory. It looked to you like everything was in its place now, but he lifted out the grenades, turned them over in his hands, put them back. "I was a foundling," he said. "They raised me in the Way."

How he said "the Way," you could hear the emphasis, like it was a sacred word. "A foundling? Like your kid?"

"Yes."

"So, you're going to teach him to live like this, too?"

The answer came quickly: "No." He closed the armory doors. They latched with a clicking sound. "We should go."

"We?"

"The child and I need to get off-world. Someone knew we were here. Where do you want to go?"

What made him think you didn't already belong in the village where he met you?

"You're not from here."

No, you weren't. The place you're from isn't there anymore, though, thanks to the Empire.

It wasn't a story you cared to tell right then.

"Sure, yeah, wherever you're headed next." Anywhere you could find work would do. "I'll jump off at the next port." You indicated your shoulder, where the acid burn still stung. "As long as they don't have gark-vipers."

You slept cozily enough that night, wrapped in a blanket he gave you and using the bivy bag from your own pack as padding beneath. At one point you woke to the sound of the child fussing, followed by the man's voice softly singing. The child quieted down and you found yourself lulled back to sleep, too.

“Are you sure the kid’s safe down there?”

“He’s safe.”

You’re picturing the dusty repair yard, the bare-bones shop behind it, the handful of repair droids who were probably great with wrenches but not so much with guns. Peli looked like she had some wiry strength to her, but she was on her own. “She a former soldier or something?”

“She has a safe-room behind a hidden panel with a ten-centimeter durasteel door. They’ll be fine.”

Your eyebrows go up. Mos Eisley looks like a shambling backwater town.

“Tatooine has wildlife. Some of it has guns.”

You glance at your own rifle, leaning against the wall nearby. You’ve fought off some of that kind of wildlife before.

What a strange family you’ve fallen in with.

“All right,” you say. “Good. I guess you know what you’re doing.”

You expect him to nod, confirm, like he did when you said you weren’t dangerous. Instead, you see pauldrons and breastplate shift as his shoulders sag a bit. “Sometimes.”

This thing you’re doing now, or about to do. It started with a joke. Well, mostly a joke. A victorious mission, the child safe, the two of you safe now too, and alone behind closed doors. The sweat of the mission washed away, guns laid down, a chance to rest. Back home, you said, as you took the blanket he’d found for you, a man and a woman would celebrate.

You hadn’t expected him to take you up on it, but you also hadn’t expected him to freeze like that, one hand still holding the blanket. Until this moment, he’d looked like that armor was part of him. Suddenly, somehow, the way he reached out to you looked awkward, pauldron and vambrace no longer in line, and that helmet turned the tiniest angle, like he didn’t know where to direct his eyes.

“Never mind,” you said, smiling to let him know it really was ok. “We’re not where I come from, are we.”

Something shifted back now, and the shapes of his armor made sense again. He let go his grip on the blanket as you took it. “No.”

As you went to shake the blanket out and make up your bedroll, you noticed that your shirt was sticking a bit to the burn on your shoulder. “One thing, though, I could use from you. Do you have a medkit?”

“Sure.” He turned in the small space, graceful now, broad shoulders under the beskar pauldrons shifting as he reached up to open a high cupboard. You couldn’t help noticing how trim his waist looked, even under all that steel and fabric. Oh well, some things were not for you.

The medkit had burn ointment and bandages, but no bacta. You’d have been hesitant to use any, anyhow. It would heal that wound in a day, but you knew what it cost. You’d never had the credits to buy it yourself.

He started to turn his back, to let you undo your shirt in private and get a bandage over the oozing burn. But the acid had dripped far enough down your shoulder blade that you couldn’t quite be sure you’d covered it. “If I promise to stay decent, can you help here?”

He made quick work of anchoring the gauze to your skin with strips of steritape, while never putting pressure on the places that still ached and stung. Those were hands that had bandaged up wounds before. You’d wondered already what was underneath the armor, but suddenly you found yourself wondering what pattern of scars you might find. On a man who clearly fought as easily as he breathed, maybe almost as often--and apparently didn’t have the credits for bacta, either. Unless he went through it so fast, he couldn’t keep it stocked.

He flipped the medkit closed. He stowed it back on its high shelf, then crossed to the little room where the baby was still sound asleep, curled in that tiny hammock. “Sleep well,” he told you, before lowering the room’s metal door.

When you woke in the morning that metal door was up and you were alone in the dimly lit hold. You took advantage of the refresher and used your fingers to comb down your hair, where you could feel it was standing on end. No mirrors in here. You’d been too tired last night to notice.

Well, if you really wanted to know what you looked like you could check your reflection in that armor.

You made yourself at home in the galley, poking around until you found some caff powder and another of those protein bars. Then, mug in one hand and bar in your pocket, you climbed the ladder to the cockpit.

The Mandalorian was in the pilot’s chair, helmeted head framed by the lights of hyperspace beyond the windows. The little green child was nowhere to be seen. You made your way forward to settle into the passenger seat, meaning to ask if one of you should check on the baby. But there he was, after all, perched on one armored thigh, staring wide-eyed at the lights while his tiny hand held fast to the man’s gloved index finger.

Neither of them looked over at you, but neither one seemed startled when you spoke. You addressed the child, because why not. You’d been through a lot together, the past couple days. You figured you’d reached an understanding. “Does he sleep in that armor, too?”

The baby looked your way for a second, cooed cheerfully, and returned his gaze to the sky.

You took a sip of caff, appreciating the spark it sent straight to your brain. Caff was a rare treat for you at the best of times, and on that jungle planet, where every bean had to be imported, it had usually been out of your reach. “Well? Do you?”

“Sometimes.”

“Last night?”

“Last night you might have needed something.”

“But most of the time, you don’t have to. You said, family.” You gnawed off a corner of the protein bar and washed it down with another sip of caff. “So where are the rest of them?”

He reached forward to adjust something on the console, a smooth movement of arm, shoulder, and back that left the baby peacefully balanced in his lap. “This is my clan,” he said. “Until I find the child’s people and return him to them.”

“He’s your whole family?” You needed another gulp of caff to process this. “And when you’ve dropped him off you’re just going to--” That couldn’t be right. People couldn’t go their whole lives walled off like that, beskar steel and cloth padding between them and the whole entire world. “Are you sure you don’t get a choice, here?”

He was silent for a long time. During the quiet, the baby looked up at him, then looked your way. The man disentangled his hand from the baby’s grip and rested it on the tiller. “This is the Way,” he said. It was hard to hear emotion through that helmet and whatever the electronics were doing to his voice, but--he sounded quieter than usual. A little slower. He sounded sad.

“Well,” you said. “There’s got to be other Ways. Those other Mandalorians I met, they sure had a different way. Pretty sure they weren’t flirting with the barmaids because they wanted to keep their armor on.”

“There are different kinds of Mandalorians,” he repeated, same thing he said the first time you asked.

You wrapped both hands around the mug you were holding, enjoying the warmth against fingers that still ached a bit from the punches you’d had to throw. “Which kind do you want to be?”

For some reason, you couldn’t let it go. You didn’t push, exactly. That wouldn’t have been right. But there wasn’t much else to do as the ship sailed through hyperspace. He was making a couple jumps, he told you, right-angle turns at out-of-the way nodes, to make it harder for anyone to guess the ship’s trajectory and follow.

In between setting the next course, there wasn’t much to do besides watch the sky, play with the baby, and talk. After a while, he started asking you questions, too.

“What’s it like?” was one of them. What’s it like to walk around exposed all the time, nothing between your fragile skin and the world but a thin cotton shirt and trousers. You’d never thought about it all that much, but he had a point. The knife scar just below your ribs was a testament to that.

“What’s it like,” you asked him back. He told you about the electronics in the helmet that make it hard for anyone to sneak up on him. He showed you a few of the hidden weapons, although you’re certain there are many more you haven't gotten to see. He explained the history of some of them, how he’s wearing not just the latest technology but a thousand years of Mandalorian history. He said, in a way, it’s like always having your own backup. Like never being completely alone.

It wasn't until much, much later, when the ship was on its last trajectory, the baby was in bed, and the two of you were sitting side by side on the floor down there in the hold, a jar of bitter ale in your hand and him still stone-cold sober, that he admitted it was lonely.

And that’s how, after a couple more hours of talking and a night of much more restless sleep, the child’s ended up with Peli as a babysitter and the two of you are alone up here in the Razor Crest, sitting cross-legged across from each other, knees almost touching but with space and several kilos of beskar definitely still between you.

“All right,” you say. “The word for stop is, stop. You sure you still want to do this?”

“No.”

You’re disappointed, but it’s got to be up to him. You start to scoot back, ready to stand up, to give him some actual room.

A gloved hand closes around your calf. “Yes.”

You cover that hand with your own. When he doesn’t pull away, you lift his fingers gently from your leg, find the cuff of that glove, and slide it from his hand.

His hand is trembling.

“You’ll remember? The word for stop?”

He laughs, short and sharp. It makes a faint sound of static through the helmet’s modulator.

Carefully, slowly, you use your own hand to guide his fingers to the bottom edge of that helmet. “How do I…?” He lifts his other hand to help you. There’s a soft, electronic sigh as whatever holds it in place loosens. And then, all on his own, he lifts the thing from his head.

He’s got curly hair. It’s the first thing you notice, as you run your fingers along his scalp and those curls, flattened by the shape of the beskar, spring back into ringlets. You’ve no idea what color his eyes are because they’re closed, and his head is bowed down as, fascinated, you wind one of those curls around a finger. You slide the other hand down to his neck and lean in to plant a single, gentle kiss against his temple.

It takes him two tries to gasp out the word. “Stop.”

You drop your hands and rock back from kneeling to sitting, putting space back between you.

He huffs out a short laugh again, catches his breath, then raises his head to look at you.

His eyes are dark brown, almost black. Tiny lines at the outer corners hint at how old he might be. The paleness of his skin reminds you, it probably hasn't seen much sun. You might look the same age, but you bet he's got a few years on you.

"Was that a stop for now, or a stop altogether?"

"I don't know," he says. "No one's done that since…" His voice trails off.

"Do you want to get put back together? We can try again later. Or not."

He's so solemn when he says, "There's no going back." He adds softly, as if to himself: This is the Way. And then, looking at you again, "Do you mind if I…?" He indicates the vambraces covering his forearms, moves as if to take one off.

You can't resist. "Can I help?"

The whole thing is more complicated than you might have thought. It's not just the individual steel plates. Each piece connects into an underlying electrical array, woven into the fabric of his clothing. He shows you first, on one side, then lets you follow his hands with yours to do the other.

It's probably good you're helping, actually, because his hands are shaking again. By the time you get to the shin guards above his boots, he needs you to undo the catches.

"No wonder you never take this stuff off." You're kneeling at his feet now, and you reach over to set the second boot next to the pile of beskar that has now joined your rifle against the wall. You worried briefly about just stacking it up like that, but he shrugged. The stuff was made to take blaster bolts. You weren't going to hurt it.

"How long does it take to put it all on again?"

He's watching the tremor in his hands. "It's faster when I'm alone."

"I can go," you offer. "Climb up to the cockpit for a bit and let you…" Let him what? This whole thing got started because he was tired of being alone.

"No," he says. "Stay."

All right. "You've still got a lot of… machine going on there. Am I going to break something if I touch you?"

He looks down at his own body, as if surprised to realize he's still wearing anything.

"Where do we start?"

The bodysuit array turns out to be a single piece with a diagonal seam across the chest and down to his waist. You work together to undo the line of hook and loop tape that holds it shut. His hands, so capable with fists and weapons, have gone clumsy, and as you help slide the array from his shoulders you can feel the shaking has spread. The man's whole body is trembling.

Underneath, he's wearing a simple, soft shirt with sleeves down to his wrists and black leggings that you can't help but notice cling to slim hips and defined quads.

You knew he was fit. You spent three days fighting beside him. It's still fun to get to see, even if he also looks like he's not going to last much longer on his feet.

You step closer and reach a hand out, and although you can't see his face well now--he's still almost a head taller than you, even with you both now standing in stocking feet--you can hear his breathing quicken as you lay your palm against his chest. His heart is pounding like you've been in battle.

He's proven he knows how to say stop when he wants to. You move closer again, thighs up against his, belly to belly, your chin against his collarbone, and wrap your arms around him. You're not sure if the sound he makes is a grunt, a laugh, or a sob.

Before long you've sunk to the floor and you end up half in his lap, tangled together, and usually by this point with a new partner you'd be laughing and reaching for bare skin beneath each other's clothes. Here, he's now holding you so tight you couldn't get free if you tried. His face is buried in your neck and there's no mistaking it now. He's absolutely sobbing.

Where you're from, the human body was nothing to be ashamed of. And that includes all the awkward things that bodies do. You slide one hand from his back, up his neck, to rest your fingers in those lovely curls again, and you let him cry.

When he finally winds down, the shaking has stopped too. Gradually his hold on you loosens, and you find yourself shifting against him so you can see his face. His hair's plastered against his forehead now and those warm brown eyes are lined with red. He looks awful, and the thing you want most in the world right now is to kiss him.

He doesn't smile, but he gives another of those short laughs.

You bring a hand to his face, curving your palm against his cheekbone, using your thumb to wipe away some of the wetness below his eye. You lean in slowly to try a kiss against his temple again, and then his cheek, and then, gentle as you can manage, against his mouth.

He's already warned you this would be new for him so you're careful, slow, pressure first and then tracing his lips with your tongue. One hand still caressing his face, the other against the back of his head, and you can't resist a gentle tug on those curls.

But when you do, suddenly he's not responding, until he chokes out your safeword. Stop.

You do, of course, disappointed until you see he's gasping to catch his breath. "That good, huh?"

"It is." And then, he shakes his head. "I don't think I can. I don't know what to do with it all."

You've never been shy around men. Where you're from, a tumble is so normal you don't even count partners. This is new for you. Usually, they keep asking for more.

All you can think to do is say, "You got any more of that bitter ale?" It's not for him exactly, you wouldn't want him making decisions he'd regret.

It's for you.

He does, indeed, have a whole stash of the stuff, although the dust on the lids suggests he doesn't get into it all that often. You end up sitting side by side on the floor again, backs against a row of cupboard doors.

When you get up to get you both a second round, your own judgement's fuzzy enough that you plunk back down right next to him, hip to hip, and rest your head a moment on his shoulder.

A little later his hand finds yours.

You sit there, side by side, fingers twined together, until both your ale jars are empty. By now you're tired, you're a little bit drunk, and you're still turned on. And you can't do a damn thing about it because the last thing he said was, stop, and now he's probably a little drunk, too.

"I should get some sleep," he says beside you. "You should, too."

You end up back in your makeshift bedroll, while he's a whole two meters away in his sleeping quarters. You lie awake for a while, wondering if he's lying awake too, until the combination of ebbing hormones and the effects of good ale finally lead you to sleep.

It's easy to lose track of time on the Razor Crest, where sunlight doesn't make it down into the hold. But the ship's chrono wakes you with its loud, annoying buzz.

He's already up. He hits a control panel to silence the noise, then takes the few steps from the galley to bring you a cup of caff. He crouches beside your bedroll to hand it to you.

He stays there a moment while you sit up, drag your fingers through your hair, then take the mug from his hand.

He's dressed now in a pair of black trousers and a black shirt that shows off chiseled arms. The color makes his brown eyes look even darker. Overall, the effect is making it hard for you to think.

"I need to pick up the child," he says. "You'll be all right here?"

You rub your eyes, trying to clear your head. "Give me a minute, I'll come with you. I need to figure out where to stay tonight. Look for some work. Maybe your friend can point me in the right direction."

You've gotten so used to having to read him through the armor, it's startling to see the expression of surprise on his face. Like he'd forgotten he only offered you a ride this far. I'll get off at the next port, you'd told him. Tatooine is it.

He settles down beside you, now, watching you sip at the caff. You're halfway through the mug and thinking you'd better get up and get ready, when he reaches out to rest his hand against the side of your head, then draw his fingers through your hair.

"We didn't get to finish, did we," he says. "Will you stay?"

Tatooine's twin suns are making complicated shadows on the ground of the repair bay. You have to squint against the bright light as you and he make your way down the ramp.

You're wearing the same clothes as yesterday--it's all you've got that's anywhere close to clean--but you've made yourself presentable, checking your hair in the shiny surface of the beskar breastplate that's still propped against a wall.

You made sure he looks presentable too, finger-combing tangled curls into submission before you let him out the door.

Peli emerges from the shop with the child perched on her hip. As soon as he catches sight of the man beside you, the little arms reach out and he's bouncing to be let down.

Peli looks up and lets out a whoop of surprise. "Well how about that! I always wondered what was under there." She finally notices the child's struggles and sets him gently down. "You go ahead to your papa."

The little creature toddles across the yard to be scooped up and examined. "Did you have fun?" He tucks the child in the crook of his arm and crosses the rest of the way to Peli. "What do I owe you?"

She's staring at him unabashedly. You can appreciate her appreciation for how that shirt fits.

"I don't know how you did it," she says to you, "but I'd say this is an improvement. Although," she confides, as if he's not standing right there, "there was something appealing about all that--" she gestures to her own shoulders, hinting at the shape of pauldrons-- "all that shiny.

"Now go on." She's waving the three of you back toward the ship. "I've got a freighter coming in here any minute, and he's actually going to pay me. If you can get that thing off the ground," she adds as if to herself, and then to you, "You tell him if breaks that thing again he better bring it here to be fixed. No more of that Mon Calamari nonsense."

You've got no idea what she's talking about, but it's nice to know that somebody else cares about this man and his odd little child.

You'll go along with them for a while, you think, see where things lead. Offer to do what you can around the ship, help out wherever they're headed next.

Mostly though, you're looking forward to seeing what happens tonight, once the baby's tucked in and you're alone together again.

#the mandalorian #fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin needs a hug

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