#manages to heal both of them just a tiny bit before being thrown back into chaos | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years ago

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Hey! I just read the last part of the BTHB and I can't get enough of it!! So, if you'd like, for BTHB, is it okay that after supervillain gets all healed up, he leaves. Then when the hero agency gets to know that hero saved him, they want to punish her/execute her by death? And supervillain saves her? But she's still too injured to do just anything

And, if you're not comfortable with this, feel free to ignore!

Thank you for the ask! I changed it up a bit, just a smidge, like a little bit because I think it would make it more dramatic, but not too much. Hope you enjoy!

And this got long... so I apologize. I still don't have the ability to put a readmore.

Muddy Rain Part 4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 ... if you guys like this series, I will have to make a masterlist for it soon!

@shydragonrider

Warnings: (i made two lists, one for Hero and one for Supervillain for those who aren't comfortable with lady whumpees) alcohol mention, broken bones mention, attempted murder,

Supervillain: chloroformed, drugged state of mind, limping, not healing, past trauma, memories of torture, low self-esteem, shocked by stun gun, tranquilized

Hero: restrained, kidnapped, shocked by stun gun, bleeding, knife wounds, unconsciousness, manhandled

Hero awoke slowly, finding her arms wrapped protectively around her ward. She sighed, looking down at his slowly breathing figure in the darkness. She didn't know if he would ever get better.

Six months later...

"Hero?!" Supervillain called from the other room. "Breakfast is ready!"

Hero smiled, biting her lip as she set down her book, and walked into the horrible smelling kitchen. She wrinkled her noise, taking in the state of her kitchen. The windows were opened with tiny fans blowing the thick, smokey air out of the hot room. Egg yolks and melted butter practically painted the counters with their yellowness. Strawberry juice was splattered across the white sink with at least ten kitchen knives tossed carelessly into a pile, waiting to be washed.

The waffle iron, coated in batter, was steaming hot and did not look like it was properly doused in canola oil.

But, amongst the mess, Supervillain beamed over two plates of charcoal colored waffles and cut up strawberries.

"Why thank you," Hero said and tried to grab her own plate, but Supervillain ripped it out of her reach.

"I got it," he said, smiling a wavering smile. Almost instinctively, Hero looked away, but knowing curiosity got the better of her.

She glanced back at Supervillain, trying to avoid looking at his shaking arm- the bad one, the one with the broken clavicle- as he carried both plates to the coffee table in the livingroom. She tried not to take much note of his funny gait either- the way his knees seemed to buckle as he walked, completely devoid of strength.

She tried not to look because of how hard Supervillain tried. How he tried to cook meals for Hero and how he dealt with jobs that he didn't necessarily enjoy- all to support Hero for all she did. He worked as a graphic designer, playing around with computers, when he would've rather been a baseball coach or an engineer.

"Thank you for breakfast," Hero said, sticking her fork in the waffle and eating it like a popsicle, trying her hardest not to grimace as her tongue was temporarily numbed by a clump of baking powder.

Supervillain blushed, his still pale cheeks turning rosy in color, as he winced at the state of his own plate.

"I could be better," he whispered, more to himself than anyone, so Hero ignored his obvious show of self negativity.

They remained in silence until a loud knocking interrupted them. Hero looked up, heart pounding, as a foreboding feeling rose in her gut. Supervillain half stood up, using his hand to balance his shaking body, but Hero gently pushed him back down.

"I got it," she told him softly and walked over to the door. Her hand hovered over the knob for a moment before she turned it and-

She was thrown backwards onto the ground and before she knew it, she was pressed against someone's stomach, arms pinned.

"Let me go!" She growled, kicking and stepping at her attacker's feet, but someone else came and quickly zipped her ankles up with cable ties.

"Hey!" She cried, using momentum to thrust herself forward. Only, she had no balance with her newly tied ankles and fell to the ground.

Her wrists were tied next and she was lifted to her feet, but suddenly, her attacker froze, giving her time to assess the situation.

There were five of them, masked. One held a bag a cable ties, the others were completely empty-handed, and one was manhandling Hero.

"Let her go, now!" Came Supervillain's familiar voice, though this time taut with rage and fury, but also a hint of fear.

She didn't see it, but felt it. The one holding her nodded and the other four rushed towards Supervillain. One grabbed a bottle of something most likely nasty and dumped it over a rag. Hero's heart jumped. No, no, no, no, no...

Her attacker spun her around, kicking in her knees to make her sit on the floor. She looked up and saw Supervillain with a gun in his hand.

"Knock him out," her attacker ordered. His voice, frighteningly familiar.

"No!" Hero screeched. "Stop! I will do what you want, just don't touch him, please."

Her hair was grabbed, head yanked back.

"I know you will, because if you don't, he will die and you know it," the man snarled. "But he will still fight for you, no matter our terms of agreement."

The four masked strangers attacked Supervillain, pushing him to a sitting position on the floor. He struggled, but only for a moment before a drenched rag was stuffed into his face.

"No," Hero whimpered, hardly able to watch, but her attacker held her head up to watch the whole event.

After a few minutes, Supervillain's frantic struggles turned into sporadic twitches as his body screamed for air.

"Stop," Hero said, voice thick with tears and face wet with them. "You'll kill him." She said the last bit in a whimpering tone.

"Who cares, he'll be out of the way."

Supervillain sunk into the stranger's arm, not yet unconscious. For a moment he hung there, head lolling in the rag and the hand holding it. Then, he looked up at Hero, his gaze faraway and glassy, before his eyes rolled into his head and he collapsed to the ground.

"Please," Hero begged. "At least bring him to the couch, please. He-" She stopped, not wanting to spill Supervillain's weaknesses, but it already seemed that all was lost. "He has a hard time standing up when he wakes and the drugs won't make it easy. Just, please." She melted into her attacker's arms, crying.

"Bring him to the couch," her attacker conceded after a moment’s hesitation. Two men each grabbed an arm. Hero stiffened when one cruelly pulled on his bad one. They dragged him to the couch, his head rolling uselessly on his chest.

"As for you," her attacker spoke. He stood up, walked in front of Hero, and ripped off his mask. Hero's body gave a nervous twitch when she recognized her colleague, Superhero.

"You are going to come with us," he finished, grabbed Hero and dragged her out of the house.

《~~》

Supervillain came to rather slowly, whimpering and crying out in pain as his head banged ruthlessly around. A dense feeling of nausea rose in his throat as the room, when he managed to open his eyes, spun.

For a moment of incoherence, he believed that he was hurt again, laying half-consious on Hero's bed as she gingerly cared for him.

But, as his senses returned, he realized that her touches were vacant and his legs weren't wrapped in the immobilizing padding.

Only then did he muster the willpower to completely open his eyes and draw his memories towards any prior events. Though, he found that if there were any, they were distant and vague- much like his memories of the month in which he hardly woke up, unless for necessities like medicine or food.

He became aware of his breathing, and then the placement of his body. Arms were strewn all over the place as if he had no control where they ended up. He flinched as a few moments of recollection came over him. Panic, rush, and the feeling of many hands on him.

His nose and mouth stung painfully, though he knew he didn't have a cold or a sniffle or anything. Not even allergies.

Then it hit him. His memories. Hero being restrained with cable ties, grabbing the gun, the rag over his mouth, lungs burning, Hero's screams, then nothing. Nothing at all.

He was drugged.

He suddenly pushed himself to his hands, only for them to crumble under his weight as an intense feeling of lightheadedness overwhelmed him. He groaned, hands flailing as they tried to clutch at his rollercoaster for a head.

He had to get up. Hero was in danger.

He swung his legs over the side of the choice, only for them to go extremely weak and splay out from underneath him. He let out a sob, head pounding painfully.

Get up.

He used his arms as leverage to shove himself up, then stumbled towards the wall, leaning against it heavily. He took in a shuddering, deep breath, lips pressed into the cold material.

He didn't know how long it took, or exactly remembered it either, but eventually he found himself slumped over Hero's motorcycle. He felt like he was going to throw up and then collapse.

But he couldn't, had to save Hero.

He swung his leg over the seat, ignoring the agonizing grinding of his still-healing bones, and sat there, waiting for the dizziness to fade.

His vision cleared and he turned the vehicle on. Revving it up, he drove sloppily out of the driveway.

He recognized the voices of the men who came. Heroes, particularly the gang that tortured him all those months ago. Supervillain's thoughts drifted for a moment, but then he found himself veering off the road.

"Snap back into it," he whispered to himself, voice hoarse. He concentrated on the road the best he could, but the way the yellow lines melted into each other was very confusing.

Okay, think, think, think, he willed himself, gripping the handles until his knuckles went white. The garage, a mechanic's garage, where he was kept at was on the far side of town. He knew it because that was where Villain worked, and Villain...

No, stop. He couldn't go that route, but his drugged mind was still traveling down that path. The sledgehammer, food just inches from his reach, the utter helplessness...

A car honked, loud and earsplitting. Supervillain sighed, he had to keep his thoughts under control. So he blocked all thinking and paid attention to the way the road melted under the motorcycle's tires.

Before he knew it, he was pulling up to the familiar building. Old, broken cars guarded the entrance to where his torture took place and with that knowledge, he went there, knowing that was where Hero was.

He crept through the cars, legs throbbing and moving stiffly. Every so often he would stop, grab at a car, and catch his breath. He was so useless, so, so useless.

Don't think that way, you have a job, you make money, you support Hero...

He stood up straighter and walked into the garage, fear clutching his chest. In there was a world of pain- something Supervillain wanted to forget.

For Hero, he would do anything. She saved his life.

Supervillain slid his hand over the doorknob, freezing as he heard the ringing of the bells- a sound that used to bring him such hope. A hope that someone would see him, or care enough about him to save him.

"Be there in a minute!" Came a familiar yowl. Supervillain started backwards, panic rising in his throat as anticipation clawed at his chest. The woman that spoke was not one of the people who broke in. No, she was more sophisticated than that. She was...

Villain.

Supervillain looked at the tall lady in front of him, trying not to glance at her heels- oh the memories of those steel prods digging into his already gnarled flesh.

"Hey honey," Villain spoke sauntering over. Supervillain slid down onto the floor, overwhelmed with anxiety and fear, just as Villain's cold hand ran through his hair. He stiffened, muscles tensing.

"It has been a while. Want some tea to drink as we catch up?" Her petting increased, her fingers pulling at the strands.

Supervillain risked it and shook his head. "I-uh," he stammered. Gosh, he was scared. So scared. Him, the greatest supervillain in the city, was scared to the point of trembling. Maybe he would blame it on the chloroform, but deep down he knew that was a lie.

Oh how he wished he was home, trying and failing to make a batch of muffins.

"What was that, dear?" Villain murmured.

"Where's Hero?" He rasped, instantly cowering in fear.

"Oh Hero? That little bastard? Oh yeah, she's currently bleeding out at an alarming rate," Villain purred and stopped rubbing Supervillain's head- much to his relief.

Supervillain whimpered, his body screaming at him to find her, but primitive instinct kept him rooted to the ground.

But, after a few moments of fighting himself, Supervillain stood up. Villain backed away, face taut with amusement.

"What are you going to do?" Villain taunted. "Hmm? You couldn't even save Hero from five men and now there are ten out there, armed with deadlier things than chloroform."

Supervillain squeezed his eyes shut. Don't listen to her, don't listen to her...

"Her life is worth more than mine," Supervillain growled, as he pushed past his former captor. He could see a smirk rise on Villain's lips.

"Yeah... it really is, isn't it," Villain chuckled. "You worthless scum." She spun around and kicked Supervillain's knees. He tripped, blood rushing through his ears, but stayed upright as he gallantly walked into his old home.

The smell of countless oils and grease hit his nose, and following that, the familiar scent of exhaust. He grimaced, remembering his utter inability to breathe on busy days.

But even those memories washed away at the sight of Hero, bloodied and unmoving, with people shocking her endlessly with stun guns.

"Hey!" Supervillain yelled, grabbing a pipe wrench in one hand. The people torturing Hero, stopped and turned around to face Supervillain who was swaying on his feet- from the lingering fatigue and fear.

"Leave her be," he growled and stalked up to them. One shrugged and zapped Supervillain in the side. His body seized as white flashes illuminated his vision. Gasping, he fell to the ground, right next to Hero's body.

"Well now we have two to have fun with boys! But, let's head in and grab us some whiskey first!" A chorus of cheers followed that.

Supervillain was still out of breath by the time the men left to go get their alcoholic beverages.

"H-hey," he rasped, slowly bringing his hand to caress Hero's face. She was unconscious, but at his touch, her eyes blinked open.

"Hero?" Supervillain croaked, relief flooding his veins. He slowly sat up and dragged her limp body onto his lap. She groaned, and that was when he realized that he jostled a whole array of injuries.

They were tiny, nothing that a strong and healthy person like Hero wouldn't be able to recover from, but they were aimed to kill.

Unlike Supervillain's torture that aimed to cripple and harm him mentally and physically.

Those lethal injuries were knife wounds, some small, others large. They spanned from her chest, all the way through her torso and down her arms and legs. It was to be a slow, and painful death, Supervillain noted. None of the wounds touched a major artery.

"I'm gonna help you," Supervillain whispered, tucking a long, wavy piece of her hair behind her ear. "Like you did for me." When did he get so cheesy? Hero did this so much better.

"Y-you don't need to pay me for what I did," Hero murmured in reply, unfocused eyes focusing for just a moment. "I-i," she winced, groaning loudly, as her bloodstained hands gently brushed a particularly nasty gash.

Supervillain shushed her, putting a finger to her bruised lips. "Quiet," he said, and brought an arm under her knees and another supporting her upper body.

He gasped for breath as he lifted her limp and heavy body. His limbs shook with exertion, but he forced himself to walk... one step at a time.

He was nearly at the door, ready to press the botton to open the large, garage door, when something shot into his neck.

He gasped. Aching pain sprouted from the spot. Glancing down, he saw blue and white feathers.

A dart.

"No," he gasped, using his elbow to press the botton. He knew the tranquilizer. He had maybe ten minutes before the sedative would kick in.

He had to move.

Slipping under the door, he ran. Moving his stiff legs faster than they had in a while. He didn't look back- that would just slow him down.

He sat Hero on the seat, slid in behind her and drove away.

After about ten minutes, like Supervillain predicted, he started getting horribly tired. He glanced behind him to see an SUV slowly following him.

"Think," he whispered to himself, pressing his face into Hero's back. Around him was a dense forest. If he just turned...

His body acted without thinking it through. He turned sharply, only for the motorcycle to crash into the guardrail. Him and Hero went flying, crashing into trees.

Just before their bodies connected with the river below, Supervillain flipped Hero's body over so he would take the full shock of the fall.

His body hit the rushing water. Pain shot through his ribs. But before the tranquilizer fully hit, Supervillain was able to grab onto a tree trunk and throw Hero over it.

Then he blacked out as a wave of water crashed over his face.

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xxdragonwriterxx · 4 years ago

Text

🔥I’m Sorry, Um..., Congratulations? 🔥

~~~

Levi had to admit, even with anger clouding his system, he was impressed by the determined look on the small doctor’s face as she stared him down, one hand on his chest as she held him back from the infirmary room where his lover had been taken after returning from an expedition. He could feel her trembling against him, her body betraying her nerves at the murderous look on his face, but her eyes were hard and unyielding as she stared right at him.

“She is fine Captain, she has just been pumped with a lot of sedatives and needs her rest. If you go in there, she won’t be able to talk to you.”

“I don’t care, I need to see her,” Levi growled, pushing harder against the hand that blocked him.

The doctor sighed when she saw the fiery look in his eyes. She was determined but she wasn’t heartless. She knew she would be able to work better on the young woman under her care if Humanity’s Strongest Soldier wasn’t watching her every move like a hawk, but she also knew that he was just scared for the person he loves the most. She could see it in his eyes, the desperation that was buried beneath the anger. He just needed to see that his wife was okay.

The doctor hesitated for one more moment before closing her eyes and nodding once, standing aside for him to pass. Levi wasted no time, quickly pushing into the room behind the doctor, only relaxing when he saw (Y/N) in the bed in front of him. He moved over to her bedside and slid down into the available chair, ignoring the doctor as she came in, grabbing a hold of (Y/N)’s hand and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. She was alive, he could see the rise and fall of her chest under the sheets, but he still felt nervous. The sight of her paler than normal skin and the bandages wrapped around her arm and chest was making him feel light headed.

He hadn’t been there when she got hurt. He hated it, but as Squad Leaders, the two of them usually had to separate during missions, (Y/N) leading her squad while Levi ran his, working to save as many people as possible whenever the missions went awry. He knew she was very capable, knew that if he ever suggested she back down as a Squad Leader to be in his own squad or stay home while he went off to fight that he would probably lose a limb. He couldn’t stop her from saving people and fighting for a better world, but he hated that he couldn’t always be there to save her.

Her squad had told him what happened when he found her in the medical cart on the way back to the walls. Apparently, an abnormal had lunged for one of her squad members when they had been busy slicing the nape of another titan. She had propelled herself into the titan’s hand, which had knocked it away from the soldier, allowing him time to escape, but had crushed her own gear to her side in the process, breaking her ribs and spraining one of her arms. The injuries had been further bolstered by her being thrown into a tree, knocking her unconscious on impact.

Levi sighed and squeezed her hand. She could occasionally be so reckless that sometimes he wanted to thump her over the head. Maybe even tie her to a chair if it kept her out of trouble. Levi chuckled quietly to himself as he pictured the fury she would bestow upon him if he ever told her to stay home like a good housewife. He figured he’d be safer in a horde of abnormals. She was such a little spitfire, but she was his spitfire, and as he looked at her prone form lying motionless in the bed, he knew he wouldn’t have her any other way. He was just grateful that she was still here with him after pulling that stunt.

The doctor took a few notes as she lifted the sheets, checking (Y/N)’s injuries before clicking her tongue and leaving the room, probably to get more supplies. This gave Levi the chance to place a soft kiss on (Y/N)’s hand, running his lips softly along her palm as he savored the warmth that met his lips. No matter how long they had been together, Levi still felt embarrassed about showing her a lot of affection in front of others, usually only going so far as holding her hand. With the doctor gone, he gave himself the luxury of showering her with small butterfly kisses, revealing how much he loved her and how worried he was for her. Finally leaning back in his chair, Levi brought (Y/N)’s hand away from his mouth and settled back with a sigh, content to wait for her to wake up, giving her hand another comforting squeeze.

Levi had just been about to close his eyes when he was surprised by the feeling of his hand being squeezed back. Levi immediately jolted in his seat and glanced over to his wife’s face to see her features scrunched up as she fought her way back into consciousness. Levi leaned over her, his other hand joining the first to hold her hand to his chest as he watched her eyelids flutter.

“Come on, (Y/N), open your eyes, baby,” Levi murmured.

The doctor came back in as (Y/N) let out a groan, the petite woman brightening at the sight of her patient waking back up. Moving to her other side, the doctor began to check her vitals as (Y/N)’s eyes blinked open, her (e/c) hues roving around the room in an attempt to focus on something.

Levi watched her eyes clear as she woke up completely, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth at the sight of the recognition in her eyes when she saw him.

“Levi…,” (Y/N) sighed.

“Hey, baby,” Levi murmured, using one hand to brush the hair out of her eyes. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” (Y/N) said with another soft groan.

The doctor chuckled at (Y/N)’s response as she looked her patient over, carefully running her hands over her chest and sides. “You should, you took quite the hit,” she said.

“Really? What happened?” (Y/N) asked, leaning on Levi as he helped her sit up.

“You saved one of your squad members by taking a hit from a titan yourself,” Levi answered, his gruff tone making (Y/N) wince. She knew that tone, it was the tone he used whenever she managed to get injured on an expedition. It was a tone that both warmed her heart and sent a chill down her spine. She knew it just meant that he was worried about her, which was what made her heart warm, but she also knew it was a warning.

“Oh yeah…,” (Y/N) said, gently rubbing the ribs along her right side. “Are my ribs broken?”

“Yes, three of them, but your arm is only sprained. I’ve set your ribs and wrapped them so you should be fine aside from some soreness. You can’t do too much though, or you’ll risk fracturing them. You will need to take a break for awhile if you want to heal as fast as possible, so don’t even think about training, even with a lessened training regiment,” her doctor ordered.

(Y/N) hung her head in disappointment but nodded, her hair curtaining her expression.

“I’ll have your arm in this sling for a little bit, but after a few days you should be fine to take it off, alright? Just don’t do too much physical activity or you’ll make your entire body worse, alright?”

(Y/N) nodded again but lifted her head. “Thank you, Doctor…?”

“Santiago. Doctor Santiago, but you can call me Rosita.”

“Thank you, Rosita,” (Y/N) finished. “I appreciate all of the stuff you’ve done to help me.”

“Oh it’s nothing,” Rosita said with a wave. “It is my job, but you do so much for the good of humanity, the least I can do is patch you up after the fight.”

“Well thank you. I appreciate your consideration for my desire to get back in the field as quickly as possible.”

Levi grumbled something (Y/N) chose not to hear and flashed a warm smile at the suddenly bashful doctor, the small young woman wringing her hands in front of her while a pretty blush stole across her cheeks.

“Well actually, I meant to thank you,” Rosita said, still not looking at (Y/N). “The man you saved today, the one on your squad, is actually my older brother, Nico. When I heard what you did and how you got hurt, I knew I had to treat you and do it in the best way possible, in return for saving him. He’s all I have left, we lost the rest of our family when the titans broke through the wall, so I can’t thank you enough for keeping him safe for me.”

(Y/N) and Levi both exchanged looks of shock, but quickly shook it off. (Y/N) smiled even more at the doctor and quickly gave her a hug, ignoring her squeak of surprise when she brought her into her arms.

“I’m glad I could save him too. That’s why I do this job, to bring people back home to their friends and family,” (Y/N) said before releasing Rosita, smirking when the girl still looked dumbfounded at the idea of one of the most powerful Squad Leaders in the Survey Corps giving her a hug. She finally collected herself and busied herself with analyzing the data on her clipboard, turning her back to them.

“I’m glad he’s okay too but you need to stop getting yourself hurt,” Levi scolded, frowning at the smile his wife threw at him.

“Well what’s the fun in that?”

“(Y/N)...,” Levi said in warning.

(Y/N) giggled at the dark tone in his voice and leaned up to kiss him, fighting the urge to wince as she strained the muscles along her sides. Levi kissed her back with a roll of his eyes and gently stroked her uninjured arm, his fingers causing sparks to flicker along her skin. When they parted, Levi’s eyes were molten, the hot steel in them making her shudder.

“Just be more careful, brat. I can’t lose you.”

(Y/N) softened at his words and gave him another soft peck before Rosita turned back around to face them, Levi quickly moving back into his chair as if he hadn’t just been snuggling up to his wife. Rosita eyed them with a tiny smile on her lips but didn’t comment.

“Well, I’ve got the results for your tests and I’ve checked you over a few times and it seems like you will be able to be discharged later tonight. You were lucky, you broke a few bones, but you didn’t have any signs of internal bleeding and you’re both still relatively healthy with limited long term effects. I’m actually surprised that you were even out on that expedition considering your condition, things could’ve been significantly worse, and if you weren’t careful, you could’ve killed either yourself or the baby. If I were you, I’d start thinking about laying off the expeditions and focus on working from home until it’s safe for you to go back out on the field.”

Rosita looked up from where she had been reading off of her clipboard when she was met with silence, her eyes widening at the shocked expressions on both of their faces. (Y/N)’s jaw had dropped, her eyes wide and her chest heaving as she placed a hand over her stomach in surprise. Levi had gotten significantly paler, the color draining from his face to where he looked as white as a sheet, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull as he stared at the ground, his lips slightly parted. It took Rosita a moment, but suddenly it hit her.

Rosita brought her hands up to her face, covering her mouth with her overlapping palms as guilt and shock flowed through her system like an electric current.

“Oh my gods, did.., did you not know?”

(Y/N) shook her head woodenly and Rosita paled, rivalling Levi’s lack of color as dread flooded her.

“I am so sorry! I thought you knew! I- oh gods…,” Rosita stumbled over her words, her eyes wide as she paced the room, trying to escape the situation by doing something, anything. Unfortunately, her frazzled brain didn’t give her time to think and she quickly took her leave with a mumbled excuse, slamming the door shut behind her in her haste to leave. Silence filled the room, the young couple frozen in shock as the doctor’s words replayed in their minds like a broken record.

(Y/N) glanced down at her stomach, running her palm over the still flat surface. She had noticed the signs, the slight increase in her weight, the fact that she vomited her guts up every morning, the dizzy feeling she would get when she worked her normally easy exercise routine. But all of these things she had dismissed as being overworked. She knew she was prone to working herself to the bone, often getting chastised by her amazing husband for forcing herself to do too much. The vomiting, the nausea, the weight change, those were all things she had experienced already whenever she worked too hard, the lack of sleep causing the dizziness, the inconsistent diet causing the weight change, and the migraines causing the vomiting. She had never even thought about the possibility of being pregnant, even though it made sense. She realized she had missed her last period, but she had been so busy she had failed to notice it, only focused on the upcoming expedition and preparing herself for the danger that would come with it.

Fear struck her heart then. The expedition. She had gone on the expedition with a baby in her belly, and had gotten hurt, would’ve died if it weren’t for her last minute efforts to make the fall less painful as she slammed into the tree, or the wonderful doctor that had healed her. She knew she had just been told the baby was alive and healthy, but what would she have done if it wasn’t? What would Levi have done? The thought made her close her eyes.

Levi was right beside her and still hadn’t said a word. What was she going to say to him? Would he believe her if she told him she hadn’t known when going out to fight? She was almost too afraid to look at his face, to see the fury and condemnation in his eyes. They had never talked about children, the two of them too worried about wiping out the titans and saving humanity to worry about a family. (Y/N) knew she wanted this, had always wanted kids especially when she got together with Levi, but the titans were still roaming the world. How would he react to having a baby thrown into the mix of chaos that already weighed heavily on both of their shoulders?

(Y/N) knew she had to face this. This was the man she loved more than anything. They had been together for years, even before they were dating, their friendship lasting strong since the day they met when Levi was forced to the surface with Isabel and Farlan. They could figure this out, would figure this out, together.

Opening her eyes, (Y/N) gathered what little courage she had left and turned to Levi, her mouth open to speak when she froze. Levi was crying. The tiny teardrops sparkled in the light of the hospital room as they slid down his cheeks, cutting trails down his perfect skin. He had regained some of his color and his eyes had narrowed back to their normal size, but the hues themselves were shining with emotion.

The sight was overwhelming. Levi had never shown this much emotion, even with her. The only other time she had ever seen him like this had been the night of their wedding when they were back in their room alone, a similar expression on his face as he made love to her for the first time as husband and wife, his eyes shining with emotion in a way that made her heart stop.

He turned to look at her and she felt herself break, tears welling in her own eyes to stream down her face. Her heart was pounding, threatening to burst from her chest as she met his intense stare.

“Levi- mppffhh!”

(Y/N) was cut off by Levi’s lips on hers, the passion and love that was being conveyed through the kiss making her feel light headed as her breath was stolen away. Levi was kissing her like the world was about to end, his tongue insistent as it mapped her mouth, his teeth biting and pulling at her lips almost feverishly. (Y/N) could do nothing more than whimper and moan into his mouth, her hands flying to grip his biceps and hold on for dear life.

They were both huffing and panting when they broke apart, (Y/N)’s whole world spinning in the aftermath of his soul searing kiss. Her eyes searched his, trying desperately to see what she hoped to see in his gaze. She thought his kiss was clear enough on how he felt, but she needed to see it. She needed to know that what he was telling her was true, needed to read it directly from his gunmetal eyes like she did every time she needed to know the truth from him. Years together had taught her how to read Levi like a book, her favorite book, so she would know his true feelings if she just met his gaze.

Levi didn’t shy away from her when she leaned closer to peer into his eyes, her hues flickering back and forth across his face desperately. Levi smiled and kissed her again, less aggressively this time, but no less passionate. (Y/N) slumped against him, her eyes fluttering closed until he broke away again. Leaning their foreheads against one another, Levi held her close, his hand tangling in her soft (h/c) locks.

“(Y/N), thank you,” Levi murmured. “I never thought I’d ever get this. Thank you so much.”

(Y/N) beamed at his sentiment, initiating her own quick kiss with him, relieved he wasn’t rejecting her or the new little life they had created together. “I love you, Levi.”

“I love you so much, (Y/N)” Levi whispered, pecking her lips again before leaning back, his eyes shining with the love he usually kept shuttered away. The sight made (Y/N)’s heart melt, her own eyes reflecting the love right back at him.

“I am so sorry, I really wasn’t aware you didn’t know,” Rosita said, the couple jumping away from each other in surprise, the pair having been so absorbed in each other they hadn’t noticed the bashful young woman come back in.

“Oh it’s okay!” (Y/N) said brightly. “You didn’t know, and we would’ve found out eventually, right? We just found out a little sooner, that’s all!”

Rosita was still mortified, but she seemed to relax a little at (Y/N)’s words, her hands wringing in front of her again as she faced the two captains.

“Well, I ran the results by one of my colleagues to be sure, but it looks like both you and your little one are just fine. You will be discharged tonight with an updated training schedule so you can remain active without putting yourself and your baby in danger. I’m sorry again, and um…., congratulations?”

(Y/N) chuckled and smiled at the doctor. “Thank you so much, Rosita. For everything.”

Rosita nodded and quickly took her leave again after grabbing a few things from the room, heading off to file the proper paperwork and bury herself in her embarrassment.

Levi smirked at the door Rosita had just scrambled through. He would have to find some way to thank her and let her know everything was fine, but for now, he had other things to worry about. Looking down at his wife, Levi couldn’t help the smile that crept along his features. They were going to have a baby. They were going to be a family. He had never in his life expected to have one of those. In the beginning, he had always assumed he was destined to be alone, the world always taking away the ones he loved most. But then (Y/N) had burst into his life like a firecracker, throwing his carefully structured world out of whack and destroying the walls around his heart in the same (Y/N) style fashion, never shying from his cold personality and laughing at his sarcastic shit jokes.

After they were married, he always expected to wake up and have it all be a dream. Everything had felt so surreal and yet he had never been so happy. This gave him the same feeling. He felt like he was floating, like he was going to wake up any minute now to find (Y/N) curled up against him in bed. But he knew he wouldn’t. This was reality, his reality. He was going to have a family and he had the stunning woman in front of him to thank for it.

His eyes hardened when he looked at the bandages wrapped around her body. He knew (Y/N) had had no idea she was pregnant when she rode out on the charge earlier that day, but Rosita was right. Something could’ve gone worse, and he could’ve lost one or both of the lights in his life. He knew (Y/N) was not going to be happy about being left behind, but he needed now more than ever to protect her. She was the diamond in a cave of stones, and he wasn’t going to give her up for anything.

He needed to kill all of the titans so his family could live and grow up in a world without the fear of being eaten. He wanted his child to be able to laugh and smile and enjoy life without the constant threat of death, without the fear that one or both of their parents might not come back for them. He grit his teeth and clenched his fist subconsciously as he dared anyone to even try to take his family from him, or him from his family. He was determined to give them the best life he could possibly give them, no matter what, and even though he would die for them if necessary, he wanted to be a part of it. Even if he was afraid of his possible lack of skills as a father, never really having had a proper role model to show him how it was done, he would try everyday to be his best for them.

A warm hand on his cheek snapped him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see (Y/N) watching him, a concerned look on her face. His own hand came up to rest over hers, his eyes closing while he nuzzled into her palm.

“You’re overthinking this. I can see it in your face,” (Y/N) said, snickering at the half-hearted glare he threw her. “We are having a baby, Levi, and I am here with you. You will not have to do this alone.”

“I’m here too, (Y/N). I promise I will be here every step of the way, and I will protect you with my life. So please, promise me you won’t do anything stupid during this pregnancy?”

(Y/N) smiled and leaned up to peck his lips lovingly.

“I promise, I won’t. I love you, Levi.”

“I love you too, (Y/N),” Levi said as he gently moved her to the side and slid into the bed with her, curling his body around her protectively. (Y/N) sighed and pushed herself against him, feeling her eyes droop as his warm presence lulled her to sleep, her hands laying lovingly over the child that rested in her belly as the soon to be new parents basked in the glow of their newest surprise.

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impalas-r-important · 4 years ago

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Branch Out - Chapter 2

Summary: Y/N left everything she's ever known, and Dean just wants to be left alone. With both of them trying to heal from heartache, they might just end up finding what they need in the last place they'd ever look.

Word Count: 6550

Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually, maybe?)

Warnings: I don't think there are any for this chapter, but if you think i should add one, feel free to let me know!

Read Chapter 1

Branch Out Masterlist

My Masterlist

Saturday was a welcome break from work, but there was no sleeping in. A delivery truck brought your bed frame, a small kitchen table, and a coffee table early in the morning and you were over the moon about not having to sleep on the cold floor anymore. You figured the tables would be fairly easy to put together, so you left those for last. You emptied the box with the bedframe and did your best to carefully lay out all the pieces so they would be easy to find as you went along. Before you started, you grabbed your radio and shuffled through your CDs, deciding on The Eagles to be today’s soundtrack.

You threw half of your hair up in a bun to pull the small pieces from your face, rolled up your sleeves, and looked around for the instructions. You couldn’t actually remember seeing any kind of paper as you unpacked the pieces, so you dumped out the box. Nothing. You looked under every piece of wood, and in every corner of your tiny house, but came up empty handed.

“Fan-friggin-tastic…” You grumbled and stared down the lumber and hardware, trying to make sense of this now seemingly impossible puzzle.

Hours had passed, and you had only managed to put together a pathetic amount of the bedframe. The stupid bits and pieces that were strewn across the floor taunted you with every wrong part you picked up. Before any vital pieces ended up getting thrown into the fireplace out of frustration, you decided it would be best to take a break and make some lunch. You needed to make a run to the grocery store and stock your fridge and shelves, but you’d need to wait until you got your truck back, so you kept your fingers were crossed that Bobby would be able to get to it today.

You settled on a protein shake and a banana for your meal and were sitting on the kitchen counter when two quick knocks at the door interrupted your thoughts. You turned the music down a notch and wove your way through the maze of wood that had taken over your living room. You were expecting to see Sarah standing on the other side of your front door but were surprised to find Dean. One hand was slipped into his coat pocket and his shoulders were slightly rounded, showing that he didn’t really want to be here right now.

“Oh,” you did your best to not sound massively surprised but did a bang-up job, “hi.”

“Hey,” he cleared his throat, and a tuft of breath flew from his mouth in the cold air, “I just wanted to say sorry for being kind of a dick last night. I’m not really a people person and I’m definitely not used to having neighbors.” His eyes, which were glued to the ground made their way up to meet yours. “The bars were good though. I ate them all last night. I figured you’d want this back.” He extended his arm holding the plate you had placed the treats on to take over to him.

You tried your hardest to stop the smug smirk that was pulling at the corners of your mouth. “That’s actually a disposable plate.”

“Oh,” he looked down at it, “it’s one of the fancy plastic ones though, so I wasn’t sure if you wanted it back or not…” It was definitely not fancy, but the thought of him scrubbing the sticky blueberry mess off of a cheap plate was completely endearing.

“Well, good as new then.” You smiled and took the plate back from him, making a mental note to only give him paper plates from here on out if the situation arose. You stepped just inside the door and tossed the plastic onto the kitchen counter.

Dean raised an eyebrow as he snuck a peek at the mess that was you house at the moment. “Whoa, did a bomb go off in here?”

You looked around with a sigh. “No, but I’m about ready to blow the whole place up and just start over.” Stepping out of the way, you signaled for Dean to come in out of the freezing cold. He stomped his boots off on the front porch and stepped inside. “I didn’t bring any furniture with me when I moved, so I ordered some online. This mess,” you motioned vaguely around the room, “is supposed to be a bedframe but some genius forgot to put the instructions in the box.”

“How long have you been at it?” Dean stepped closer to the junk yard that had become your living room.

You really didn’t want to answer that question because you figured he’d just tell you what you were doing wrong. “Not that long.” Lying had never been something you were good at. Dean took one look at the guilty look on your face and saw right through it.

“So, all morning?”

“All morning.” You admitted and crossed your arms in shame. For a short second, you could have sworn that you saw a hint of a smile on Dean’s face. He was probably laughing at your miserable handy work.

“Well, for starters, you should put the bedframe together in the bedroom. Not the living room.” He walked around the wood pieces and began organizing them into piles.

“The bedroom is really small, so I figured it would be easier to put the big pieces together out here and then put the whole thing together in the bedroom.” You watched with some distain as he easily began to piece together the headboard. “You don’t have to do that, you know…”

“Do what?” He asked but didn’t look up from his crouched position on the floor.

“Help.” You shrugged. “I heard you loud and clear last night that you aren’t looking for friends.”

Dean paused for a moment. “Maybe I’m just staying for the good music.”

“You like The Eagles?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“One of my dad’s rules to live by is that you should never trust people who wear socks to bed or people who hate The Eagles.”

“Your dad sounds like a smart man.” There it was again, an elusive smile from the self-proclaimed loner. You were sure you saw it this time. “But I do have to say that no one beats the mighty Zep.”

You could respect a guy who loved the classics. “Wow, the good taste in music almost makes up for the crabby attitude.”

Dean knew you were teasing and gave you a fed-up look. “Do you have a drill?” He asked.

You picked up a screwdriver from the counter and held it up. Dean shook his head. “No, an actual drill.”

“I have a hammer…”

A chuckle escaped from Dean’s chest. “You were planning on hammering these screws into your new furniture?”

“I was working with what I had. Don’t judge me.”

Dean stood and amusedly shook his head as he made his way to the door, leaving it open while he walked to his truck and pulled a drill from the toolbox that was in the bed. As you watched, you noticed that your driveway had been cleared of the snow from last night’s flurry and couldn’t help but find that odd. You didn’t hear a truck outside your house this morning.

Dean skipped a few steps up the stairs and hurried inside, taking off his coat once he had shut the door after him. “Can I put this here?” He laid his it over the back of a chair that had been here when you moved in.

“Yeah.” You took one more peek out the window at the plowed path to your house from the road. “Hey, weird question, but you wouldn’t happen to know how my driveway got cleared, would you?”

“You ever heard of a snowplow?” His words dripped with sarcasm, but you were well versed in the language as well.

“A snowplow? Hmm, doesn’t ring a bell. What’s that?” You exaggerated every word, but Dean still looked up at you with furrowed brows before realizing that you were joking.

“I just didn’t realize the plows would come this far up the mountain. I promise I’m not as dumb as I look.” Kneeling a few feet away from him on the floor, you held the piece of wood his was trying to secure in place steady.

“The driver is a buddy of mine, He’s a good guy so he probably just wanted to help out the new girl.” Dean explained. You couldn’t help but feel lucky that you had found a place that was full of kind folks. The headboard was put together in a matter of minutes and Dean carried it into your bedroom with ease before picking out the pieces for the footboard.

“Thank you, Dean. I know this is probably not how you wanted to spend your Saturday afternoon.”

“I like to build things. I built my cabin, so a bedframe is a piece of cake.”

“I guess that’s pretty impressive.” Casually playing that off made Dean slightly smile again. You could tell he was feeling a little more comfortable.

“What are you doing up here all by yourself anyway?” He quickly wiped any traces of emotion from his face.

You shrugged. “I just needed a new start and this place fell in my lap, so I jumped. I might be a little in over my head, but I have to start somewhere, right?”

“Why’d you move?” You thought it bold of him to ask the hard-hitting questions but admired his straightforwardness.

You took a moment to carefully word your response. “Sometimes you just need to take yourself out of an unhealthy situation even if it’s the only thing you’ve ever known.”

Dean was surely picking up on your lack of details. “I can respect that.” His eyes fell to the bruise on your arm that he had first noticed a few days before. You self-consciously rubbed the sore spot and felt grateful for the phone ringing that stopped the conversation from progressing any further.

You looked to see that Bobby’s shop was calling and brought the phone to your ear. “Hey, Bobby.”

Dean watched as you slowly paced back and forth by the window. He had felt ridiculous this morning for washing a stupid plastic plate just so he could have an excuse to come over and apologize, but he was glad that risk paid off, even if you did think he was clueless.

As he put the last few screws in the footboard, Dean couldn’t help but overhear the conversation you were having on the phone. You sounded a little disappointed and Dean assumed that Bobby had called with bad news.

“How’s the truck?” Dean asked once you had joined him on the floor and began picking up the spare screws.

“Apparently my truck is an ‘old piece of crap’, and the only battery Bobby had that would fit ended up being a dud. He ordered a new one, but it won’t be in until Monday.”

While Dean agreed that your truck should probably be retired, he felt empathetic that you’d had so many problems with it since moving in. “I’ll give you a ride to work.” The words flew from his mouth before he really thought about what he was saying. That wasn’t normally something he’d offer to do. “If you want, that is.”

“Dean, I can’t ask you to do that…” You were sure at this point that he thought you were just some helpless stupid girl that didn’t know how to do anything for yourself.

“Well, you didn’t ask. I volunteered.”

“Still, you’ve done so much for me in the short time that I’ve been here, I feel like I’m just mooching off of you at this point.”

“I’ve barely done anything.” Dean brushed your statement off, but you knew you were right.

“You gave me a ride on my first day, fixed my battery, you’re here wasting your Saturday helping me put together furniture, and now you’re going to give me another ride to work on Monday. That sounds like mooching to me.”

“Your house and City Hall are both on my way to work. I haven’t been the most welcoming person in the world, so let’s just call it even.”

You could tell that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so you got up and went into the kitchen. You opened the cabinet and pulled out another plate of blueberry pie bars and took them to Dean. He gladly accepted.

After pulling back the plastic wrap and shoving a whole bar in his mouth, he mumbled, “Now we’re definitely even.” He rubbed his hands together to brush the crumbs off and finished his bite. “You had these the whole time and you weren’t going to share?”

“That recipe makes a lot. I figured I’d take half to you last night and the other half to work on Monday, but my co-workers aren’t here helping me put together furniture, so bon appetite.”

He put another in his mouth and nodded in approval. “You can keep the plate this time.” You couldn’t help but tease Dean. He stopped midchew and gave you a jaded glare which you did your best to ignore and instead focused on suppressing your laughter. Dean was still trying to hide his smiles, but you caught a glance anyway.

“It’s not a waste, by the way.”

You tilted your head in confusion.

“You said I was wasting my Saturday by helping you out. But I don’t mind.” He briefly looked up at you but continued before could say anything else. “Help me move these.”

After carrying all the pieces into the bedroom and putting them together, Dean helped you lift your mattress onto the frame, and you threw yourself onto the bed.

“So. Much. Better.” You closed your eyes and inhaled through your nose before giving a comfortable sigh. You knew your back would appreciate the little bit of give that the frame allowed. Dean was leaning against the door and you caught his eyes as you sat up. He quickly looked away when you noticed him staring.

“I saw two other boxes out there. Do they need to be put together too?” Dean almost seemed excited to dig into the next project.

“Yes, but if you have somewhere you need to be, I think I can handle it.”

Dean checked his watch. “It’d give me a good excuse to not go to Jo’s party tonight.”

“Jo, that’s Bobby and Ellen’s daughter, right?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, parties aren’t really my scene.”

“I’m with you on that one.” You were quite the introvert yourself and could relate to the feeling of social dread. “Well, if you’re sure, then be my guest.”

You followed Dean into the living room, and he dragged the bigger of the two boxes over and began to pull out the contents. A growl from your stomach and a glance at the clock told you that it was dinner time.

“Are you hungry?”

Dean shrugged. “A little.”

You opened your cabinets and fridge as if there would be more food than there was earlier. “I’m low on supplies, but I’ve got stuff for turkey sandwiches. Is that okay?”

“Sounds great.”

You threw together two sandwiches and Dean already had half the table put together by the time you were done. You handed his plate to him and sat down on the floor against the wall next to the fireplace. Dean shook the wood dust from his pants and joined you.

“So, accounting, huh? Was that always the dream job?” All of Dean’s questions were posed as if he was only making nonchalant small talk, but the way he intently listened told you that he actually cared about your answers.

“No, but it pays the bills, and I don’t mind numbers. I don’t always love it, but I really like the people I work with here.” Dean was still working on a mouthful of food and you figured it was your turn to ask the questions. “Did you always want to be a lumberjack?”

Dean scoffed. “I’m not a lumberjack!”

“That’s debatable. Sarah said you work at the sawmill, I’ve only ever seen you wear plaid, and apparently you’re the wood whisperer.” You motioned to the almost completed table.

“Well, yeah, but I don’t go prancing around the woods with an axe on my shoulder.”

“Whatever you say.” You figured if he wanted to share more details with you, he would.

“I don’t just work at the sawmill, I run it.”

“How is it being the head-honcho?” Although you did a lot of paperwork for you job, you didn’t envy the workload of a CEO.

“Awful.” His answer was blunt and straightforward. “My dad pulled me into the family business a few years ago and I took over when he got sick.”

“I heard about that. How is he doing now?”

“He’s good. I think he and my mom are hoping to move back soon.”

“What would you be doing if you weren’t working at the sawmill?”

Dean was a little caught off guard by your question. “Why does it matter?”

“Because you can’t go through life hating most of it. That’s just going to make you miserable.” You were speaking from experience.

Dean’s eyes examined yours as if he was trying to find an ulterior motive behind your questions. “I worked as a mechanic for a long time and loved it. I always thought I’d take over for Bobby when he retired down at the shop.”

“Maybe when your dad gets back you can switch over?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Dean’s hesitancy to open up when his dad was brought up told you to drop the subject.

After you both were finished eating, he stood and offered a hand to help you up. “Let’s get this thing finished so you don’t have to keep eating on the floor.”

You spent the rest of the evening handing Dean the hardware he asked for and listening to oldies. Maybe he wasn’t the most talkative guy in the world, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence that fell between you two. It was actually nice to be in the company of someone who wasn’t going to push for every detail of your life story.

After breaking down the empty carboard boxes that were the remnants of a long afternoon’s work, Dean pulled on his coat.

“Thank you for all your help today. The place is finally starting to come together.” Although you were still without a couch, your home started to look more livable.

“Don’t mention it. So, I’ll see you Monday morning then?” He asked before he reached for the door handle.

You nodded with a smile and handed him the plate of blueberry bars. He excitedly took it from you and gave a soft smile.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Dean.”

Monday morning slowly crept up after a Sunday spent mostly in bed. It had snowed most of the day and night so you bundled up as much as you could. A peek out the window showed that your small driveway had been plowed again. You put a reminder in your phone to get a thank you gift for the plow driver who was a guardian angel in disguise. Dean pulled up just a few seconds later and you hurried out to his truck.

“Mornin’.” He greeted.

“Hey yourself.” You buckled your seatbelt and extended your hands towards the vent like you had done the last time Dean gave you a ride. His truck was much newer than yours and the heater worked like a charm.

“What’s on your agenda for today?” He asked as he backed out onto the road.

“Expense reports. They’re as thrilling as they sound. And also, I’m covering the front desk solo. Sarah texted and said she woke up with a fever, so she’s taking a sick day.”

“I’ll have to ask Sam how she’s doing.” A few minutes passed as you slowly made your way down the slick road. “So, listen, it’s supposed to snow all day. I’ll come and grab you after work and take you down to Bobby’s place.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that. It’s like a ten-minute walk.”

“It’s a good excuse to make sure I don’t get pulled into some long boring meeting at the end of the day.”

“Well then in that case you’re welcome.” You gave a cheeky grin which was returned.

Thankfully, the ride to work was short. Driving in the snow gave you serious anxiety so the sight of City Hall was a welcomed one.

“What time should I come pick you up?”

“I’m off at four, but I can stay later if you can’t get out that early.”

“Four is great. One of the perks of being the boss is that I can make my own hours.”

Ellen waved to you as she walked in, so you quickly said goodbye to Dean and joined her. Dean waited to make sure you got inside okay before taking off.

“Did Dean give you a ride today?” Ellen looked at you skeptically.

“Yeah, my truck is still in the shop, so he volunteered to drop me off on his way to work.”

“Hmm. That’s weird.” She took her hat off and shook the snow from it. “It’s been years since I’ve seen Dean socializing with anyone that’s not in his little circle.”

“Honestly, I think he just pities me because I’m new and clueless when it comes to snow.” Shrugging your coat off, you set it on the back of your chair and placed your bag underneath your desk.

“I never thought I’d see him speak to another girl after what Cassie did to him.” Ellen shook her head and raised her eyebrows.

“Cassie?” This was the first you’d heard of her.

“Yeah, she broke his heart pretty bad a few years back.”

Garth appeared from around the corner and called Ellen back to his office. You knew that Dean had a rough few years but hadn’t heard many details aside from his dad getting cancer, which was a hard enough situation on its own. While you wanted to know more, you didn’t want to dig for info where it was none of your business. If Dean wanted to tell you about Cassie, he would do it on his own time and you would just have to respect that.

Dean arrived at the sawmill and made his way to his office on the upper level of the plant. Not ten minutes after he began his day’s work, Sam entered and sat down in one of the chairs across from Dean’s desk.

“Where were you Saturday night? I thought you said you were going to Jo’s party.”

Dean shrugged. “I got busy and didn’t realize what time it was.”

“Busy with what? I’m sure there’s not that much to do up that mountain of yours.”

“Just busy.”

Sam was used to his brother’s antics at this point and knew it was futile to push for details.

“How’s Sarah doing?” Dean asked, hoping to delay the morning managers meeting as long as possible.

“She’s alright. Woke up with a fever, so she’s just going to sleep it off.” A lightbulb went off for Sam and he frowned. “Wait, how did you know that Sarah’s sick?”

“Crap…” Dean thought to himself. He knew he was busted. “I don’t know. I just heard it through the grapevine.”

“I didn’t tell anyone about her and I’m pretty sure the only people she told were the people at work…” Sam thought long and hard for a few seconds until he realized what must have happened. “Y/N?”

Sam had always been too smart for his own good and Dean had always hated it. “I gave her a ride to work while Bobby has her truck. That’s all.”

“Is that what you were busy with on Saturday too?”

Dean sent messages to Benny and Cas, instructing them to quickly come up to his office to start the morning meeting and hopefully get Sam off his back.

Sam took Dean’s silence as a yes. “What did you guys do all night then?”

“We had a pillow fight and painted each other’s nails.”

Sam had a special bitch-face reserved for Dean and was throwing it his way now.

“We put together furniture and ate sandwiches on the floor. There, now you know. Happy?”

Cas and Benny walked in together.

“Hey fellas, what’s the news?” Benny greeted.

Dean knew from Sam’s devious grin that the end of this conversation was nowhere in sight. “Dean wasn’t at Jo’s party because he was with the new girl in town.”

Cas quickly turned his head and looked at Dean as if he had lobsters crawling out his ears. “This Dean? Our Dean?”

Sam nodded and Benny laughed as he took a seat. “I heard she’s real pretty! It’s about time you find a good one. Nice job, brother.”

Dean groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. “Listen, I helped her out with one thing. I barely know her, so cut the crap or I will fire all of you asses.”

Cas, Benny and Sam all exchanged mischievous looks but dropped the subject to avoid Dean’s angry side coming out for the rest of the day.

The day was slow for you, but it gave you plenty of time to finish verifying payroll hours for everyone. Sarah’s energetic personality was definitely being missed as you began to feel drowsy around two thirty. The bell to the front door dinged so you stood to find Sheriff Mills and her son.

“Mom, you promised that you wouldn’t have to work today.” The little boy moaned.

“I’m sorry, honey. The Mayor just has to meet with me for a few minutes and then I promise I’m all yours, okay?”

“Hey guys! Can I help with anything?” You greeted.

“Y/N, hey. How are you settling in?” Jody gave a warm smile and did her best to ignore her son who was tugging at her sleeve.

“I’m finally getting everything set up, so I’d say pretty well. Who’s this handsome fella with you?”

The little boy blushed a little as you leaned on the counter and smiled down at him.

“This is my son, Owen. It’s technically my day off, but do I ever really get a day off as a Sheriff?”

Owen continued to pull at Jody’s sleeve and beg to leave.

“Hey Owen, do you happen to like hot chocolate?” You had always been good with kids and figured you try to help Jody out while she met with Garth. You were pretty much done with your work for the day anyway.

Owen nodded shyly. “Well, I don’t want to brag, but I make a mean breakroom hot chocolate. You want to help me make some while your mom meets with the Mayor? If that’s okay with her, that is.”

Owen looked to his mom for approval and she nodded. He ran behind the front desk and Jody mouthed a silent, “Thank you,” to which you smiled and led Owen back to the breakroom.

After making two steaming cups of hot chocolate, you took pushed together two empty desks and taught Owen how to play paper football. After showing him how to fold the paper and a few practice rounds, you began to keep track of points. The winner would take home a medal that you made from paperclips and an eraser.

Time flew by and before you knew it, over an hour had passed. You heard someone come in the door and looked over to see Dean. He had arrived a few minutes early and decided to wait for you inside rather than in the cold car.

“Am I crashing the party?” Dean leaned on the front desk.

“Dean!” Owen side-stepped the desk and ran to wrap his arms around Dean’s waist.

“You’re just in time for the final round of paper football. You in?” You held up the small piece of folded paper with a playful grin.

“Step aside, let the master show you how it’s done.” Dean ripped off his coat and set it on your desk. “What do I get when I win?”

You held up the eraser necklace and Owen excitedly added that he helped make it.

You and Owen were neck in neck in the first round, but you scuffed your last shot on purpose and made a big stink about it. Dean ruffled Owen’s hair as he knelt down at the end of the desk and lined up his shot perfectly. Owen held his own but missed his last shot and Dean knew that he could win if he made the next one. He set his paper up perfectly and you couldn’t help but giggle at the exaggerated sigh of concentration that he let out. Dean’s eyeline moved from the game quickly up to you as he gave a quick wink and under-shot his chance on purpose, giving the win to Owen if he made his next shot, which he did.

Jody paused before entering the room and watched from just out of sight as Owen jumped up and down in triumph. Ellen joined and leaned on the wall, watching as you helped Owen up onto the desk and presented him with the make-shift medal that you had thrown together. Dean put Owen on his shoulders and did a victory lap around the desks while squeals of delight filled the air.

“Are my eyes deceiving me, or is Dean Winchester acting like he’s been properly socialized?” Jody tilted her head to look at Ellen who was smiling knowingly.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him like this. Ever since a little bird flew into town, he’s seems to be a little less crotchety.”

Jody and Ellen watched the smile that you and Dean shared once he put Owen down.

“Mom!” Owen ran over and proudly showed off his medal.

“That’s great, hon!” Jody looked up as you and Dean approached. “You guys are lifesavers; I really owe you one.”

“We had fun, huh?” You nudged Owen with your arm causing him to blush and avert his eyes. You smirked and turned to Dean. “I’ll go grab my stuff and then we can head out.”

Dean knelt down and held his hand out for a high-five. “Good game, kid. That’s well-deserved.” He pointed at the eraser hanging around Owen’s neck.

“I like Y/N. She’s fun… and pretty.” Owen whispered to Dean. Jody instructed her son to grab his coat and said goodbye to everyone.

Dean was leaning against your desk when you came out from the back.

“Ready?” He asked.

“Ready.” You smiled in response.

Once you were in Dean’s truck, you asked, “how do you know Owen so well?”

“When my parents moved away, Jody kind of took me and Sam under her wing and made sure we were taken care of. We were over at her house for dinner a fair amount, so Owen and I are pretty good buddies.”

“Jody seems sweet. I like her.”

“She’s one of the good ones. A lot of people here are. Ellen has always been a surrogate mom to me as well. My dad and I don’t always get along, so Bobby and Ellen kind of adopted me when I was pretty young.”

“I’m sorry about your dad.”

“Don’t be. We all have our issues.”

Dean pulled up outside Bobby’s shop just a few short minutes later. “I’ll come in with you and make sure everything’s working okay. I gotta talk to Bobby anyway.”

You and Dean rushed inside out of the cold and Jo looked up from the front desk. “Hey Dean!”

“Hey, Jo. Your dad around?”

“He’s on the phone but should be done soon.” She turned her gaze to you. “You must be the new girl.”

“Yeah, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you.” You offered a smile to Jo, which was not returned.

“We’re just here for her truck. You got the keys?” Dean picked up on Jo’s attitude and tried to hurry the conversation along.

She shuffled through the box of keys that was on the desk and pulled one out, reading the tag to make sure it was the right one before tossing it to you. You caught it easily and thanked her.

“What do I owe you?”

“We’ll send you the bill.”

“Oh, okay. I guess I’ll just head out then.” You turned to Dean. “See you around. Thanks again for the ride.”

Dean nodded with a shy smile and watched as you got in your truck and left. He wasn’t sure why, but part of him was hoping that the truck wouldn’t start up, so you’d have to ride back with him, but he knew Bobby was too good of a mechanic for that. The rumble of your engine starting up signaled your official exit and Dean hastily made his way back to Bobby’s office to avoid Jo’s impending interrogation on why he had ditched out on her party.

You had gotten to work a little early the next day and were at your desk when Sarah came in.

“Hey, how you feeling?” You had texted her the night before to see if she needed anything, but she said Sam was doing a great job at playing nurse.

“Much better. I think it was just one of those twenty-four-hour bugs. How was yesterday?”

“Slow and quiet. It was weird without you here. Jody brought Owen in and we had a paper football tournament, which was pretty fun though.”

“I’m sorry I missed out!”

Ellen walked out from her office and sat at an empty desk next to you and Sarah. “Are you still good for Thursday, Y/N?”

“You bet!”

“What’s Thursday?” Sarah wondered.

“Ellen, Garth and I are heading to Baker for a convention on the new tax regulations for this year. We’ll head down Thursday morning and come back up on Saturday night.”

Sarah’s face dropped. “No, not this weekend! Saturday is Dean’s birthday and we’re throwing him a surprise party down at The Salty Hunter. I was going to invite you both today!”

“Oh, shoot…” You felt bad that you’d miss Dean’s birthday when he’d been so helpful to you lately.

“Well, maybe we can try to be back for the party?” Ellen suggested. “We’ll head out as soon as we can.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.” Sarah pointed a finger at you both.

“What’s The Salty Hunter?” You wondered.

“That’s the bar on main street. Rufus, who owns it, used to be a hunter so he named it after himself. He’s a character but a good guy.” Ellen explained.

That night after work you went grocery shopping and then headed home to make some dinner and watch something stupid to unwind before bed. You changed into pajamas and a t-shirt and settled down at your new table. Before you could take a bite of your pasta, someone knocked on your door. You peeked through the curtains to see who it was and saw Dean standing outside, shaking his leg to try and stay warm.

You unlocked the door and the wind helped it open. “Get in here, it’s freezing!” You ordered and Dean gladly complied.

“How’s the truck working?” He rubbed his hands together to thaw his fingers.

“Like a charm. Bobby really knows his stuff.” You grabbed the blanket that was slung over the back of a chair and wrapped it around yourself as you sat and offered Dean the other chair at the table.

“So, uh,” he traced the woodgrain pattern on the floor with his eyes as if he was afraid to look at you, “I don’t know if you have any plans on Saturday, but some friends and I are getting together down at the bar if you want to get to know a few more people. It’s nothing big.”

“This little gathering wouldn’t happen to be for your birthday, would it?” You raised a knowing eyebrow. “Sarah told me about it today.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, but it’s not really a party or anything. I just thought it would be good for you to get out of this tiny cabin. I’m not even supposed to know about it, but Sam told me.”

You were surprised that Dean went out of his way to invite you, and the gesture made you feel even worse that you might not be there.

“I’m going to try my absolute hardest to be there. Ellen, Garth and I are actually going to be at a tax thing from Thursday until Saturday but we’re making it our goal to be back in time.”

“Like I said, it’s not a big deal, so don’t stress about it.”

“Birthdays are a big deal, so don’t play it off all casual. Plus, I already have the perfect present picked out for you, so it would be a shame if you didn’t get it.”

An inquisitive look lit up Dean’s emerald eyes. “The perfect present, huh? You sure you know me that well?”

“I am one hundred percent sure it will be the best present you’ve ever gotten from me.” Considering that you’d never given him a present before, you weren’t wrong.

Dean pushed his jaw slightly to one side and pressed his tongue to his canine while fighting a grin. “You’re funny, you know that?”

You scrunched you nose and stood from your chair. “Have you eaten? I’ve got extra.” Before he answered, you were already dishing him up a plate of spaghetti.

“No, I just got off work. Late day at the office.” He dug right into his food when you set it down on the table. “Are you planning on getting a couch or something?” He looked out into the barren room.

“No, I think I like empty, minimalistic look. It’s very modern.”

At this point, Dean had a pretty firm grasp on your dry sense of humor and just shook his head. He scarfed down his food and went back for a second plate while you cleaned up the kitchen a bit. He washed his own plate when he was done and placed it in the drying rack.

“Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt your night. I would have just texted you to invite you, but I don’t have your number.”

You held out your hand and Dean reached into his pocket and gave you his phone. It was an old, sturdy Nokia flip phone and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Look at this dinosaur. I haven’t seen one of these since… I don’t know, middle school?”

“It’s not that old.” Dean tried to defend himself. “I tried the fancy smart phones, but I hated them. Who needs a phone for more than just calling and texting?”

You flipped it open dramatically and saved your number before handing it back to him right as it began to ring. “It’s Sam, I should probably get this. Thanks again for dinner. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You didn’t. I always make way too much pasta anyway.”

Dean gave a grateful smile and a small wave as he answered the phone and left.

Chapter 3

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic series #dean winchester x reader

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satoruvt · 4 years ago

Text

for now; forever

pairing → kwon soonyoung x reader

word count → 9015

genre → mostly fluff, angst ↳ tags: ooh boy. firewatch au, banter, like a little bit (a lot) of pining, strangers to friends to… something, FLIRTING, reader’s kinda fucked up but its ok, hoshi’s weird and endearing (as always), a tiny bit of hurt/comfort, minghao best boy, soonyoung is very sweet it makes me want to cry

synopsis → after an unfortunate burnout that lands you in every critic’s negative and all-seeing eye, you decide to take a break from the one thing you know. you’re not sure if you’ll find what you’re looking for out in the middle of the woods - if you’re looking for anything at all - but at the very least, soonyoung will make the hunt a little less lonely.

warnings → there’s eventually a forest fire (starts on day 64 and is mentioned throughout the rest of the fic) that leads to an evacuation but it’s not super detailed, mentions and descriptions of creative burnout/breakdown

a/n → IT’S FINALLY HERE!!! i made a fancy banner nd everything <3 i know 9k isn’t a lot to some people but this is probably the longest one shot i’ve ever written LMAOO so i hope it’s paced ok and everything <33 PLEASE let me know what yall thought about this i am insanely proud of it. ok thats it hehe. hope you enjoy!!! see u on the other side!!!!

btw here’s a fun playlist of songs i listened to while writing mixed with some songs i think reflect the fic super well <33

DAY ONE.

So. You’re… out here, now.

Save for the bugs you have to swat at every fifteen seconds, the outdoors doesn’t seem that bad. The weather isn’t too hot (yet, your mind reminds you) and there’s something about the color of the sky that makes your heart constrict in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s good or bad, but given your luck recently, you’re hoping it’s not a warning for the coming months - God knows you need a break. The weight of the journal in your bag feels heavier than any of the camping gear you brought with you.

You debate texting Minghao that you’ve made it to the park safely, but when you check your phone after deciding yes, you see the words no service instead of the familiar lines of a signal. It’s not that big of a deal - you’d told him when you left that you probably wouldn’t have service at all - but a little part of you feels the tender shake of anxiety at the thought of not being able to contact your best friend.

He was the most worried out of everyone when you told him you were leaving for the summer. You can’t really blame him - it was abrupt, you saw the flyer at the grocery store and took it - but after what happened… doing something felt, feels, better than sitting around and waiting for nothing to happen. Waiting for a healing you aren’t sure will ever come, at least not completely.

“Is this really…” Minghao had started upon first entering your apartment after getting your text. Clothes were thrown all over your bedroom floor in an attempt to pack. “Do you need to do this?”

The tone of his voice told you he wasn’t going to try to stop you, that he just wanted to make sure this was what you needed. You had only nodded, sitting down on the edge of your bed to fold clothes and pack them into your suitcase.

“I just don’t want you to run away from it all,” Minghao said softly, sitting next to you. “You’ll need to face it eventually.”

“Is escaping really such a bad thing?” You asked, looking at Minghao. He gave you the look he did when you said something stupid, and if you weren’t still so wired from everything, you might have laughed. Instead, you sighed, placing a pair of pants into your suitcase. “I just need some time.”

Before you can face it, before you can come back, before you can write again… you still don’t know. Minghao had placed a kind hand on your shoulder to tell you there was no rush.

It’d taken no more than two days for you to get everything ready - including buying some apparently necessary survival equipment from Target. In a matter of a few hours you had gathered everything up, texted some other friends and your family that you might not be available the next few months and then… you left.

(Your manager was pretty pissed off that you left so suddenly, but she was also pissed off at you when you told her you needed a break for at least a few weeks, so you’re not really offended.)

You take one last longing look at your car before locking it, pocketing the keys, and starting on your hike.

The hike takes almost the whole day.

You think you almost cry when you finally see the watch tower you’re supposed to be staying in, your legs barely able to hold the rest of your body up. The hike wasn’t hard, really - long, though, and for someone who usually spends a work day sitting at a desk, you’re surprised you’re still alive. You find the little lock that holds the keys to the tower at the bottom of the stairs, fastened onto the railing. It takes a few seconds for you to enter the code you’d been given earlier, relishing in the soft breeze the cools the sweat on your face and neck. The sun is just barely starting to set beyond the mountains, a beautiful sight that you can’t properly focus on because all you want to do is pass out. You’re pretty sure you almost do on your way up the stairs.

The cabin at the top of the tower is pretty scarcely furnished, save for a few basic necessities (a gas stove rests on one wall, a small desk opposite to it by the door, a mini-fridge, and a bed in the corner plus what looks like a map table in the center of the room). It’s a little weird, a feeling caught between the nostalgia of moving into a new place and something you can’t quite name, but you figure you have a few months to make it all a little more comfortable.

For now, though, you feel like you’re on the last leg of your energy. Your mind is saying eat, sleep, eat, sleep on repeat and you have to agree with it, so you change the sheets on the bed, take down the boards over the windows while you wait for the macaroni from the Kraft box to cook. You end up eating a few forkfuls of poorly-made mac and cheese before crashing.

When you wake up, it’s to gentle static and a semi-clear, unfamiliar voice. It takes you a minute to remember where you are and what you’re doing, too disoriented to even think about the voice, but then - oh. Forest. Watch tower. Escape. Okay.

“Yo, Cottonwood! Am I coming through okay? Pick up your radio!”

Right. The voice. Radio?

“Come on, I saw you get in yesterday, I know you’re there. Unless,” a gasp, “you died! Oh my God, this is like a horror movie… and I’m next!”

You manage to wake up enough to locate your radio (a walkie-talkie resting on a charger on the desk) and, after a few seconds of gentle struggle, work it. “Not dead,” you say, then clear your throat because your voice does not sound good right after waking up. “I mean… almost. But not dead.”

There’s barely a moment of hesitation before the person on the other end hoots, apparently excited. “Arisen from the dead! Brought back to life by none other than the legendary Hoshi!”

A brief thought crosses your mind about having to listen to this guy all summer, but you quickly shoo it away. You won’t have to deal with it for the whole three months, right? “Who… who is Hoshi?”

“Me!” The voice answers, sounding a little too smug. “But it’s really just an alias. You can call me Soonyoung. I’m at Twin Peaks tower, west of yours!”

You spin around your cabin, looking through the windows cluelessly - how long have you been asleep, it’s practically afternoon - until you see a very small silhouette of another tower in the distance. You nod, then realize Soonyoung can’t see you. “Oh. Cool.”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?” Soonyoung asks, but his tone is light, breezy. You blink, reciting your name to him in a daze. “Pretty! So, what brings you out here?”

You weren’t expecting that question. “What?”

Soonyoung giggles into the radio. “Everyone comes out here for some reason. Like… Jihoon says it’s ‘cause it helps him write music. And Joshua loves the outdoors, so… what’s your reason?”

“You…” you start, not exactly wanting to tell a stranger the reason you ran away from everything you know. “Do you normally ask this many questions?”

“Yeah!”

You feel yourself sigh, already tired again.

“I… just wanted to get away for a while,” you end up saying. A half-truth. “I live in the city.”

“No way,” Soonyoung gasps excitedly. “Me too! I wonder if both of us have ever been walking and, like, passed each other without knowing…”

This isn’t exactly what you had in mind when you thought of escaping.

DAY TWO.

The next morning, you dedicate time to getting a little more settled into your home for the next few months. You didn’t bring a lot of decor - you didn’t think you needed any - but even seeing your blanket on the bed and a few books you need to catch up on reading stacked on the desk makes the place feel a little bit more like you. You eventually reach the journal you packed (that Minghao made you pack) and stare at it like it might do something. Like it might tell you to write again, or like it might tell you to leave everything behind. You don’t really know what you want from it.

A sing-songed version of your name comes from your radio and you blink away from the journal, set it down on the desk. “Good morning!” Soonyoung says from the other end, and you feel yourself take a deep breath as you pick up your radio and press down the button so he can hear you.

“Morning, Soonyoung,” you respond, calm compared to his excitement.

“So… what are your plans for today?”

“Um,” you pause, brows furrowed, looking towards the direction of his tower even though you know he can’t see you. “Looking out for fires?”

“That’s boring,” is Soonyoung’s immediate response, and you laugh a little.

“Kinda my job for a while.”

And listen, you’ve known Soonyoung for less than a full 24 hours, but even before your brain really comprehends what he’s saying you know you’re not going to like it. “Wait, that reminds me,” he says, tone of his voice a little less overexcited puppy. “What did you do before this? Or, like, what’s your career? I mean, you don’t have to answer, I just thought it could be a way for us to get to know each other…”

His voice fades away for the split second you remember a little too much all at once, but somehow your voice still sounds put together when you speak. “Nothing special,” you say. There’s a pause when you don’t elaborate any further, but instead of asking about it, Soonyoung changes the subject.

“Okay!” he says, back to a more playful tone. “Anyways, I asked about your plans ‘cause I kind of need you to do something for me.”

“Already asking favors?” you tease. “We just met, Soonyoung.”

You hear him laugh, loud and hearty, and it’s contagious even through a radio line so you feel your own smile pull at your lips. “One of the other lookouts found some teenagers with fireworks,” he informs you. “I need you to meet him and get the fireworks from him.”

Your feet are already in your shoes, one halfway tied. “You can’t do this?”

Soonyoung’s voice is strangely thoughtful, but you catch a hint of mischief at the end of his sentence. “I would, but Jihoonie said he’d eat me if I tried to see him again and I think he’s serious this time.”

He tells you where the other lookout - Jihoon - should be and gives you a quick lesson on how to properly use your map to get there. You’re not really excited for another hike this early on (you’re still sore from even getting up here) but by the time you meet the halfway mark you’re convinced it’s not that bad. It’s neither long nor challenging, and… well, Soonyoung’s insistent on keeping you company the whole time.

When you see what looks like a guy at the edge of a now-abandoned camp, you tell Soonyoung you’ll radio him when you’re on your way back to your tower. “Hey,” you call out as you get closer. The man looks up at you, his eyes sharp but not unkind. “Jihoon?”

“Yeah,” he replies. Under his cap you notice that his hair is a gentle silver, almost purple. He’s dressed casually, like you, and you suppose it’s a given since there’s no exact dress code for this job. “You’re the newbie?”

You didn’t know people knew about you. “I.. I guess,” you say, then tell him your name.

“Cool,” Jihoon says, voice flat like he’s distracted. He picks up the bag next to his feet and hands it to you. “Take these. Thanks.”

He starts to walk away, down a trail opposite the direction you came, but you think of earlier, when Soonyoung asked about your job (or when he didn’t). You call after Jihoon, hesitate, but then opt to make this quick since he looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Have you and Soonyoung… known each other for long?”

Jihoon turns around. He shrugs, then nods. “We met in college, a few years ago.”

“What kind of person is he?”

You watch in vague amusement as Jihoon’s nose scrunches up, but the small smile on his face refuses to hide and it makes you giggle. “Really annyoing,” he tells you, then pauses for a second like he’s looking for the right words, “kind of overwhelming sometimes. But he’s good. He’s someone you want around.”

Someone you want around, your brain repeats to you. You nod with a friendly smile as you haphazardly stuff the fireworks in your hiking bag. “Okay. Thank you.”

Jihoon offers an acknowledging nod of his own before continuing on his way back to his tower. You’re about five minutes into your hike back to yours when your radio sounds from your pocket with a now-familiar voice.

“Are you on your way back?” Soonyoung asks. “You forgot to tell me!”

“Sorry, yeah, I am now. I was talkin’ to Jihoon for a second.”

“Really? That’s weird. He rarely talks to anyone, especially strangers. What’d you talk about?”

You can’t help the small smile that lands on your face as you speak. “Stuff to blackmail you with.”

You think you hear Soonyoung’s groan all the way from his tower, and your smile only grows when it turns into a laugh.

DAY FIVE.

The clouds look dark today.

They haven’t covered the sun completely yet, but they’re closing in fast. You hope that it rains, already sick and tired of the disgusting heat, but also. Something else.

Rainy days always used to be the best to write, your brain supplies to you. You brave a glance at the still-unopened journal on the desk, thinking that maybe…

Your radio turning on drags you away from the crack in metaphorical door, coming at the perfect time as if to tell you that you’re not ready yet. You listen to it, grab the radio, murmur a greeting to Soonyoung.

“It’s getting pretty dark out, huh?” He says. He must be looking at the sky, too.

“Yeah,” you hum. “Hopefully the storm isn’t too bad.”

The line goes quiet, but you know that Soonyoung’s still there even if he isn’t saying anything. The knowledge comforts you, just a little.

“Well... got any rainy day stories?”

DAY SEVENTEEN.

“So, Soonyoung,” you call into your radio as you step outside. You’ve taken advantage of the small balcony around the entire cabin, setting up a few chairs you found in the storage unit at the bottom of the tower (just in case someone stops by, you tell yourself) and a small table you weren’t using inside. The nights are hot but still relaxing, and you find yourself sitting outside often, catching up on reading or taking in the stars.

“I can’t believe you radioed me first,” Soonyoung responds, and you hear the smugness in his voice. “I’m so happy!”

Soonyoung somehow almost always manages to be with you in the nights, too, even if not physically. Being away from the urban civilization you’re used to has been a little difficult to adjust to, but you feel significantly less alone whenever you hear him calling you. You tell him to be quiet even though both of you are laughing. The distant crickets make your chest warm.

“What do you do? You didn’t tell me before,” You ask him after a second. There’s a small wave of anxiety that rushes over you at the idea that he might call you out about when he asked you the same thing. That was two weeks ago, though, you think, and Soonyoung wouldn’t. You’re sure he’s been able to tell that it’s a touchy subject. You’re not as discreet as you think you are, even if (and you’ve learned this the past few weeks) Soonyoung’s a bit more on the oblivious side sometimes.

“I dance!”

Somehow, despite having not even seen what he looks like, it’s fitting. “Like… teach, or choreograph, or…”

“A little of everything,” Soonyoung tells you, and then starts elaborating. His voice echoes through your radio and you look up at the stars as you listen to him, trying to map out constellations from memory. He sounds so excited to simply talk about it, you can’t imagine what he must look like when he’s actually on stage. You hope you get to see it one day.

“You’ll have to teach me something sometime,” you say once he’s finished, voicing your thoughts. With a giggle that sounds like the stars above you, he tells you he’d love to.

A moment of quiet passes, spent focusing on the tiny specks of fireflies you see in the field around your tower and feeling the summer breeze as it passes. The words slip out of your mouth with much less resistance than you thought they would.

“I used to write,” you murmur into your radio. It takes you a moment to register the heavy beat of your heart, like you just got back from a run.

“Used to?” Soonyoung asks, curious but soft.

“For now,” you answer. The ache you’ve become familiar with throbs in your chest. “Hopefully not forever.”

It’s not the whole story - not even close - but you figure you might be able to tell him with time. The thought stresses you out even when you have nothing to stress about, and you think Soonyoung is psychic because he says, next, “the stars are really pretty tonight.”

You’re not looking at the sky when you answer. Your head is tilted in the direction of his tower.

“They really are,” you say.

DAY THIRTY-THREE.

You’ve fallen into a bit of a routine with Soonyoung.

Not a day goes by where you don’t talk to him - the one day you radioed and he didn’t pick up you genuinely thought something happened to him, seconds away from calling a park ranger. Right before you actually did it, though, he picked up his radio and said he had been taking a nap.

(His voice was a little groggy from sleep, sounded like he was pouting whether he meant to or not and you’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t make your heart skip a few beats - but if anyone asked, you’d definitely lie about it.)

One of you calls the other around the same time every morning and you don’t put down your radio until the sun is well behind the mountains. You’ve grown used to his presence, in a way, even if you can’t really feel him with you (though sometimes you swear you can). It’s comforting to have him out there with you, and it’s been so long since you’ve talked to someone the way you do with Soonyoung… you find yourself looking forward to every morning, waiting for when you hear him over your radio.

Today is no different.

Well, in an unrelated way, it is - you have to hike to a supply box to get your surplus of food for the next month and a half you have left. But even as you’re doing inventory of what you have left in your cabin on a piece of paper, you’re waiting for Soonyoung’s usual good morning. It comes as always, makes you smile when you hear it.

“Good morning!”

You leave your scratch paper on your desk and reach for your radio. “Morning,” you say after you’ve pressed the button down.

“So…” Soonyoung trails off. “Supply drop day.”

“Yeah,” you reply, sitting on your bed.

“Both of us are getting crates of food today…”

What is he getting at? “Uh-huh…?”

“Both of us… getting supplies… from the same place.”

A confused laugh leaves your lips. “Soonyoung, what is your point?”

Even for as often as you talk to him, you’re still always surprised when he starts yelling. “Let’s meet up!” he exclaims, obviously excited, and it clicks in your head.

“Oh my God, can we do that?”

“Yeah!” Soonyoung sounds like he’s grinning, smile palpable in his voice. “If we pull some strings with the other lookouts and get hiking at the right time, it’s totally possible.”

Holy shit. Your heart is beating wildly, butterflies swarming around it at the thought of meeting Soonyoung in person. “Okay,” you tell him, noting that you sound a little breathless. “Okay, yeah, let’s do it.”

It takes a few minutes to work everything out - the supply boxes should be dropped off by midday, so you can leave your tower around then and get to the drop location in a little over an hour. Soonyoung has to leave earlier than you since he’s farther away, but if everything goes well the two of you should get to the drop location close to the same time, margin of error small. You radio Jihoon to cover for you while you’re out, and he agrees, although he sounds a bit miffed.

When you finally leave for your hike, you’re not expecting how quiet it is. Soonyoung’s usually there to cover it up with his voice - you don’t hike often (you’ve not had to, given your job for the summer is to watch for fires) but whenever you have he’s been there to keep you company. You plug in your earphones about halfway through your trip just to drown out the quiet, something more to listen to than just trees and the sound of your own footsteps.

Eventually you make it to the supply box, and, well. There’s a guy. Standing in front of a long, green box - you think you see lookout tower names engraved ever few inches: Thorofare, Cottonwood, Twin Peaks. Packing some ready-to-eat meals into his backpack.

Holy shit, Soonyoung? your brain automatically asks, and it sends your heart spiraling up and down. You’re not sure what you thought he looked like, but it wasn’t this. Tall, lean - wait, you don’t even know if this is actually him yet.

Before you can think too much about it, you call out, voice tentative. “Are you… Soonyoung?”

The man turns around, shakes his head with a kind smile. “No,” he says. “I’m Joshua.”

You think about throwing yourself into the river by your tower when you get back for absolutely no reason. Somehow you manage a polite smile and a gentle sorry.

“No, don’t apologize, you’re fine!” Joshua chirps, adjusting the cap on his head. “You’re looking for him?”

You pause. Those aren’t the exact words you would use, but they’re not technically wrong, so you nod. After all, you don’t know what he looks like (you probably should have asked him before both of you left, but you weren’t expecting another person to be here).

“Please don’t tell me he got lost again,” Joshua says, suddenly looking tired, and you look back at him wide-eyed because... again? Has this happened before?

“No,” you tell him. “No, I mean, I don’t think so. I don’t know. Since we both have to pick up supplies he thought it’d be cool if we met up in person.”

Joshua sighs, seemingly relieved, then continues packing what’s left of his supplies into his backpack as he hums. “That’s weird.”

“What is?”

He shrugs. “Soonyoung likes the outdoors, yeah, but the supply box is a pretty far hike from his tower. I think the last few summers he’s had them delivered.”

Oh, you think, and maybe say out loud, because then Joshua’s looking back at you, a mischievous smile on his face.

“He must really like you to come all the way out here,” he tells you, and you laugh like it might get rid of all the thoughts popping up in your mind that you keep telling yourself to stop thinking about.

“And yet,” you say wistfully, looking towards the horizon. “I still come second to Jihoon.”

This time Joshua laughs, a friendly sound, and the two of you fall into a playful conversation. He’s somewhat a superior of yours, though not by a far gap - as the lookout who’s been on the job the longest, he oversees the rest of you (which is you, Soonyoung, Jihoon, and a few others you have yet to come across). You get along with him easily and it’s weird to think that if you hadn’t gone through what you did a few months ago you wouldn’t be here talking to him, establishing what could be a new friendship. You wonder if that’s a new step towards healing, finding a way to be grateful even if it was horrible.

You talk to Joshua for a while until he says he should get back to his tower. You nod, tell him goodbye (and thanks for his company) and he starts to walk away -

“Shua!”

A burst of platinum blonde hair rushes past you from the opposite direction you came from, heading for Joshua. The new guy drops a bag at his feet and almost softly crashes into Joshua, who has this look on his face you can’t really decipher.

“Hey, Soonyoung,” he says, and you blink.

Soonyoung, like… your Soonyoung? The Soonyoung you’ve been talking to for weeks?

You watch as the two hug, Soonyoung excited to see Joshua and completely ignoring you (though you’re not sure he’s doing it intentionally). All you can do is stand there. This is him, your brain keeps telling you. This is the guy.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” Soonyoung exclaims, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. “How are you? How have things been?”

Joshua shrugs, a small smile on his face as he puts a gentle hand on Soonyoung’s head and starts… petting. “I’ve been good, same old deal. I know that you’ve been doing good too, though, as far as I’ve seen from your reports.”

Soonyoung beams at the praise and you take note of it in the back of your mind (you also note the way Joshua’s treating him like a toddler and how it’s working). He opens his mouth to say something else but looks around and meets your eyes - for a second there’s nothing at all, but then you think you see an exclamation mark actually pop above his head.

The yell of your name is so loud it makes you jump. “Oh my God,” Soonyoung whines, falling to his knees dramatically. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you!”

“This is the first time you’ve seen me,” you say. You can’t seem to hold back your smile.

Joshua excuses himself (again) and finally moves on his way, says he’s in Thorofare lookout if anything happens. The sun is mellow on your skin as you look at Soonyoung, take him in - light hair, warm eyes, tan skin. His smile matches your own. A breeze shifts by, slow and sweet.

“Hi,” you say.

Soonyoung grins.

“Hey.”

So the bag you saw Soonyoung drop on the ground before was, in fact, for a picnic.

He didn’t bring a lot of food (the whole point of the hike was to get supply boxes anyways) aside from a few candy bars he’d saved for today. He did bring a blanket, however, and the two of you set everything up on the edge of a rock not too far away from the drop location, under some trees. It looks over a small ravine, a stream cutting through at the bottom.

The time goes by like it was never there in the first place, spent talking and laughing. Soonyoung is just as animated in person as you thought he’d be, telling stories wildly as the two of you snack away a portion of your supplies. You know the two of you don’t have much time together, given how late it already was when Soonyoung arrived and both of your hikes back to your respective towers, but it’s still… refreshing, almost, to be with him like this, to finally get a piece of him you didn’t before. To hear him without the crackle of the radio and to see him.

To see him.

Something stirs in your chest when you look at him lying back on the blanket, arms supporting his head with his eyes closed. The sun lights up his skin in a golden glow, like honey, and the dark roots growing into his blonde hair are somehow endearing. The breath leaves your lungs when you finally label him as pretty. You hope you can blame the heat in your cheeks on the sun.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Soonyoung sighs, still not opening his eyes. You almost reach out to brush the hair away from his face, but a breeze comes by and does it for you. You hope it’s not a sign.

“It would be nice, huh,” you murmur in response. You finally break your gaze from Soonyoung and lean back on your hands, soaking up the feeling of the blue sky.

It’s now that you remember what Joshua had said earlier about Soonyoung usually getting his supplies delivered, and you turn back to him. “Hey, before you got to the supply box, Joshua and I were talking.” Soonyoung hums in acknowledgement. “Is the hike from your tower to here really that bad?”

His voice strains as he stretches, opening his eyes to look at you. “I mean, yeah, it’s a bitch of a hike to take sometimes. But it’s not really hard except for a few spots, just long.”

You furrow your brows. When you agreed to meet him, you didn’t think it’d be this much trouble for him. “And you came all this way so we could… what, sit here and eat? Like we do most of the time anyways? Just separately?”

Soonyoung pouts at you and you feel personally attacked. “Food tastes good when you’re with other people.”

You give him a soft, semi-playful glare, and Soonyoung offers a small giggle. You turn back towards the view in front of you.

“Did you not want me to come down?” He asks, and he doesn’t sound… sad, really, more observant. Like he wants to know where you’re at.

“No,” you answer almost immediately (Jesus, your brain says). “I just… it’s a long trip. It doesn’t really seem like it’s worth the effort.”

Like I’m worth the effort, you think to yourself.

You hear Soonyoung shuffle behind you and turn around to look at him again, finding him sitting up straight. “It is to me,” he tells you, and there’s something in his eyes that holds you in your spot. The tips of his fingers brush against yours on the blanket. You’d look down if you didn’t think you’d miss something. “I wanted to.”

In a second, it clicks.

It’s not much longer until Soonyoung needs to start heading back. The two of you get your things together, and you help him pack up the picnic supplies he brought. When everything’s said and done and the two of you are back by the supply box, there’s a second of uncharacteristic quiet that falls over you.

“Let me know when you get back,” you say after a moment. Soonyoung grins.

“You’re worried about me!” he swoons, and you hit him on the shoulder playfully, but don’t deny it. It can be dangerous out there, and even if Soonyoung has been out here longer than you, anything can happen.

“Just radio me, okay?”

Soonyoung smiles, something a little softer from before. He nods. “I will. You be safe too.”

You nod in return, taking a few steps back towards the trail that leads back to your tower. “Talk to you later, Hoshi.”

The last you see of him before you turn around is the grin on his face.

DAY THIRTY-FOUR.

It feels like forever since you’ve been here.

A window is open and welcomes a distant ambiance of the forest around you, trees and birds and animals. The journal you brought with you is open to the first page, but remains untouched - nothing on the pages. At least, not yet.

(The not yet you always tell yourself seems closer, this time, not so far away. Within reach, or at least within reason.)

Soonyoung had called in that the hike from yesterday had worn him out and he needed a nap. You had laughed fondly at how tired he sounded, told him to sleep well and that you’d be waiting for him. And you feel the words, right at your fingertips, the way the rest and wait to be written. Their presence is both terrifying and reassuring.

You don’t think they’ll be able to bleed out correctly, not the way they used to since it’s been so long. But they’re there, in your mind, in your heart.

You pick up the pen you got out, feel the weight of it as you click it a few times. You tap it on the desk once, twice, and then.

You take a deep breath and start to write.

DAY SIXTY-FOUR.

“Are you lookin’ at the fire?”

Your eyes leave the page of your book at Soonyoung’s voice crackling from the radio, looking around your cabin windows to see that, oh, there is a fire. You’d kind of forgotten that it’s… literally your job. At least there are multiple lookouts.

You fold the corner of the page you’re on as a makeshift bookmark before closing the book and setting it down on your bed as you stand to get your radio. You grab a can of soda from the mini-fridge you’ve started to utilize (as best you can, given it does a mediocre job at keeping things cool) before walking out onto the deck, sitting in one of the chairs you set up. “Now I am,” you tell Soonyoung as you adjust the chair so it faces the direction of the fire. You think you’re the closest lookout to it - which makes the fact that you didn’t notice it even worse - but not in any danger. The smoke paints the evening sky red-orange, washing over the purples and blues the sun used earlier as it set. “You’ve called it in?”

“Yeah, told Josh, who told the higher-ups,” Soonyoung responds, voice strangely… solemn? He sighs his next words. “They’ll probably send a crew in for suppression by morning.”

“Is there a reason you sound sad about putting a potentially dangerous forest fire out?” You tease, cracking open your soda and taking a sip. The carbonation feels good in your mouth, pops on your tongue.

“I’m not!” Soonyoung denies after some sputtering, and you laugh. “Just… ugh, looking at it - I’ve worked here every summer for the past, like, five years, and I’ve only ever seen two fires. Three, counting this one.” His voice gains a certain softness, like he’s lost in thought. “I don’t want the place to burn down or anything, but… don’t you think it’s kind of beautiful?”

It’s a little morally ambiguous, but as you look at the distant, licking flames you have to agree. In the dark, it’s vibrant, more than just ashy smoke and the smell of burning - it glows red, flushes out silhouettes of the trees in between it and you.

“I guess it is,” you hum into your radio as you stare at it.

“So. What should we name it?”

“The fire?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says, dramatic as always. “She needs a name! I’ve always given them names, but I’ll let you do the honor this time.”

There’s something sweet in the way he offers you the chance to name it, and you try not to dwell on it too much. “Ah,” you start, thinking for a moment. “Barbara. The Barbara Fire.”

Soonyoung howls out a laugh and it’s infectious; you feel the tugging of your lips into a grin. “That is the worst thing that has ever come out of your mouth,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “We are not naming it the Barbara Fire.”

You huff out a fake whine. “Come on, it’s just Barb! She’s beautiful.”

“But deadly,” Soonyoung adds in a voice that sounds like it came straight out of a crime documentary. It makes you giggle, the two of you throwing around silly, stupid names.

“Okay, okay,” you say after a few minutes. “Then… hmm, the Hoshi Fire.”

There’s a long, long pause, and you hold down the button to your radio again. “Uh oh, is he broken?”

Soonyoung’s voice comes through, joking, but you sense a pinch of sincerity. “You want to name a raging forest fire after me… I feel like I shouldn’t be happy but I kind of am.”

You remember to push the button as you laugh, looking directly at the fire and shouting, “I hereby dub thee… the Hoshi Fire!” as loud as you can.

After the laughter dies down, for a second, there’s quiet - not awkward or for the sake of a bit, just quiet. Soonyoung’s not telling a story, you’re not giving witty comebacks. It’s just the two of you and the fire, alone in the forest.

It breaks eventually. Soft, gentle. “I’m glad you’re out here, you know,” Soonyoung says.

His words make you stiffen and relax all at once, and almost on instinct you look in the direction of his tower. You can’t really see the silhouette - the sun too far gone, taking the last of its light with it - but you know it’s there, can pinpoint exactly where it should be. You hope Soonyoung’s looking over at you, too.

And even if the reason you’re here in the first place is still a tender bruise to be pressed, you find yourself recovering a little more every day. “I am, too,” you respond. “I… I wish you were over here.”

It’s a roundabout way to say I miss you, but a part of you thinks neither of you are ready for something that explicit. You reach a hand out in the direction of Soonyoung’s tower, grasping at it like it might bring him to you. It’s not as if you can’t meet up with him again, but… between the distance and the fact that there’s an actual fire to keep your eye on, it certainly wouldn’t be easy. This is the closest you can get for now.

“I wish I was too,” Soonyoung says. You close your eyes to picture him, pretty smile and fond eyes. “We could hang out, like last time.”

“Without the radios,” you add.

“We could, um… you know.”

His words make you giggle, and you feel a little lucky that you’re not holding down the button. Your heart is pounding in your chest, nervous but stable, secure, as you reply. A welcomed beat, even if startling.

“No, I don’t,” you tell him. Your soda sits forgotten, half-empty, on the floor of the deck by your feet. You don’t bother paying attention to the fire. “What could we do?”

Soonyoung groans and this time you laugh pushing the button so he can hear you, warm and affectionate. “Don’t tease me! You know what I’m talking about.”

You do. “What could we do, Soonyoung?”

There’s a pause, but you know he’s still there.

“Well,” he says eventually. “Let me tell you.”

DAY SEVENTY-SIX.

The fire’s gotten big.

You feel like you shouldn’t be surprised by it - it’s a wildfire, they’re not exactly easy to contain, but seeing it up close like this is vastly different from being in a city and barely even noticing the smoke. It is larger than life out here, consuming more and more of the forest each day. The last few days you’ve spent inside due to the low visibility (though it’s not as if you take a hike every day anyways). It makes you wonder if it’s safe to stay out here.

“...Hey,” Soonyoung radios in. “I have a question for you.”

Rationally, you know whatever it is, it can’t be that serious. But your heart picks up pace anyways, beats a little harder as you pick up your radio to respond. “Look, it was Jihoon’s idea to use the fireworks, I promise neither of us knew it would start the fire.”

Soonyoung sputters out a laugh and you match him, feeling yourself calm down. “I’ll… I’ll ask Jihoon about that later, but - I really do have something to ask you.”

You lay down in your bed, unmade and messy. “Is it… bad?”

“I don’t think so,” Soonyoung responds. “Maybe?”

“Okay…” you say, timid. “Shoot.”

“When you first got here, I asked why you took the job,” he says, and you nod to yourself, remembering the first call you got from him. “You just… never really responded. I get it if it’s, like, a touchy subject, I don’t want to pressure you at all…”

“No,” you interrupt before you realize what you’re saying. You take a deep breath, Soonyoung waits. “No, it’s probably… it might be good to talk about it. I’ll tell you.”

He murmurs an okay, tells you to take your time and you do. It’s not like you’re scared to tell him - you’ve come to trust him, you know he won’t judge you for anything that happened or think any differently of you. You’re not even sure that’s why it’s hard for you to talk about - rather than any sort of outside force that might affect you, it’s more… more of a part of you that you felt you lost. It’s more coming to terms - even after these months - and going through the motions. It’s scary to talk about disconnection, especially from the one thing you loved (love?) more than anything.

“I… write,” is how you start, looking at the ceiling of your cabin as you speak. “Or wrote, maybe? I’m an author. I have a few books published. Writing is something I’ve loved since I was so young, it’s… a part of me, really. It’s special to me.

“When I finally got a manager and a publishing company and all that official stuff, I was so excited. It was like I was finally living my dream. I wrote my first book and got it published and it did really well, so my management asked me to do another, and I did. Then they asked for one after that, and I didn’t… it felt too soon, in a way. Rushed. But I guess I did it because I had to, because I figured this just came with being a writer and not everything is what you want it to be - and I didn’t want to risk losing what I had wanted almost my entire life.”

You take a moment to steady yourself, note the tremble of your fingers and take a few deep breaths. Soonyoung waits for you, patient and kind. “It went like that for a while, and I lost touch with writing. I stopped loving the only thing I knew how to love. I was so detached from it. A few months before I took this job my manager set up a press conference for me, and I… kind of… had a breakdown. At the conference. So I’m out here to run away for a second. Be away from it all.”

The quiet that follows doesn’t make you nervous, really, but you’re still waiting for a reply of any sort. Even if it’s the common oh or it’ll be okay that you got from distant friends and relatives who didn’t know what was really going on. But Soonyoung was patient with you, so you can be patient with him.

“Have you written since?” He asks after a minute, and your eyes flash over to the journal on your desk. One page has the familiar strokes and loops of your handwriting, written after you met Soonyoung in person.

“Only once,” you respond, truthful.

“When you start to write again… will you show me?”

And for some reason the question is so tender, filled to the brim with something you want to name. It makes tears spring to your eyes as you look out over the rising fire, trying not to let your voice shake too much as you reply.

(Maybe it’s because he said when and not if, maybe it’s because he didn’t tell you it’ll be okay, maybe it’s because it’s him and not someone else telling you the same thing.)

“Yeah,” you say, letting go of the button to sniff. “Yeah, I will. If you let me see one of your dances.”

You hear Soonyoung’s smile through the radio as he tells you it’s a deal.

DAY SEVENTY-EIGHT.

For the first time since you started working, someone who isn’t Soonyoung calls you through the radio (not counting the time you radioed Jihoon to make sure he was still alive, because you only saw him once and hadn’t heard from him since then). You hear the familiar click that tells you someone’s on the station, and you’re fully expecting Soonyoung’s voice to light up your cabin the way it always does. Instead, Joshua’s voice rings through.

“You there?” He asks after a comfortable call of your name, and you pick up your radio.

“Yeah, I’m here. It’s been a while,” you respond, and Joshua hums. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve… been,” he tells you, which earns a small laugh. “Anyways, I called in to let you know that they’re having trouble controlling the fire -”

You take a look at the giant flume of smoke north of your tower, nodding to yourself. “I can see that.”

Joshua tells you to be quiet. You hear the friendly smile in his voice.

“There’ll be an evacuation team here within the next two days,” he says. “Maybe less, shouldn’t be more. They’re gonna get all the lookouts evacuated.”

Oh. Evacuation? That means… the city. Your apartment, back to your family and friends. You’d forgotten an entire world exists outside of the bubble you created for yourself.

“Okay,” you say slowly, still looking at the fire. “I assume you’ve told the other lookouts?”

“I’ve got a few more to call, but other than that, yeah, everyone’s covered. I told Soonyoung and Jihoon first,” Joshua tells you, and you blink at the fact that you didn’t even have to ask. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

“Yeah. Stay safe, Josh.”

You sit for a while after that, trying to cope with the feeling in your chest. You… you feel better about everything, about writing, for sure, but. But. It’s cut short, even if only by a little over a week. You haven’t even started packing anything up - so much of you is strewn around the cabin, in the field around your tower, in the trees of the forest you hiked through. You don’t think you’re ready to say goodbye to the place you’ve made your home and the people (person, your heart whispers) with it.

The sun starts to set and the fire grows. You sit on your bed and look at the things you’ve made your own, a sunken, unfinished emotion spreading through you. Eventually it is Soonyoung’s voice that comes from your radio, low and humorous.

“The Hoshi Fire can’t be stopped…” he murmurs, and you laugh despite the loss you feel.

“Please,” you groan into your radio after you’ve grabbed it. “We’re getting evacuated!”

Soonyoung giggles, something mischievous that makes your heart warm with slow appreciation. “I can’t believe it’s ending so soon,” you say, standing up to walk around aimlessly.

“Yeah, the summer went by super fast, huh?” Soonyoung replies. “I’m kind of excited, though. I’ve missed a proper dance studio.”

That’s… oh.

A current of mild surprise rolls through you and you think you physically feel your jaw drop, just a little. That - that hurt. More than you want it to, more than you think it should - but it’s... fine. You’ve only known Soonyoung for a few months, it’s not like…

You realize you haven’t responded and open your mouth on purpose this time. “I wish we could share the sentiment, Hoshi,” you joke, hoping it doesn’t sound too stiff.

If Soonyoung notices anything, he doesn’t say it. Only laughs, sweet and genuine. “I’m sure you’ll find something to yearn for just as I yearn for dance,” he says dramatically. You laugh, forced, because yeah, you will. Maybe you already have.

DAY EIGHTY.

Evacuation day.

Last day in your tower. Last day in the forest. Last day of the job you took to escape, to heal. It’s spent packing up the things you brought with you, throwing away everything else. Joshua said helicopters would be touching down at two points - Twin Peaks lookout and Mule Point lookout. Twin Peaks is Soonyoung’s tower, and if you planned it out right, you could probably get there and leave with him.

You tell yourself that the reason you can’t is because Mule Point is closer. Safer. They’re evacuating you for a reason.

“Hey.”

Speak of the devil, you think, grabbing your radio from its charging port. “Hi.”

“So,” Soonyoung says. For the first time since you’ve known him, he seems awkward. “Evacuation day.”

“Yessir…”

“What evacuation point are you hiking to?”

You pause, hesitate like you’re about to say something you shouldn’t. “Mule Point,” you manage to get out. “It’s closer,” you say after, your brain telling you to justify it, explain.

“What did the Hoshi Fire ever do to you?” Soonyoung huffs out through a laugh, and it sounds so unaffected that you feel that ache from before again. After a second, he adds, “so… this’ll be the last we talk. At least for a while.”

That realization hits you like a brick and the sting behind your eyes seems normal - regardless of whatever was built between you and Soonyoung or what lead you out here in the first place, it’s so sad that it’s ending. “Yeah,” you say quietly. Everything is packed, you just need to get hiking. “I, um. Is it cheesy to say thank you?”

“Maybe,” Soonyoung chuckles. “But it’ll also make me feel really good, so…”

You feel yourself calm down and let out your own small giggle. Maybe it was always meant to end this way, a little too soon, a little too sad. “Really… thanks, Soonyoung. I think it would’ve been worse for me if I got the silence I came out here for. I’m glad I had you to talk to.”

“Thank you, too,” Soonyoung says back. “I hope… you write again. I’ll talk to you later.”

The mention of it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, and you feel the smallest of smiles on your lips. “Yeah. Later.”

The radio clicks off and that’s the last you hear from Soonyoung.

EPILOGUE.

It’s hard to come back.

From nature, from Soonyoung - everything, really. To go from trees and fires and talking every night back to car horns, busy sidewalks and your own apartment. It’s weird to wake up and not see the immediate shine of the sun through your windows. But you come back, slowly get used to the life you had before.

And you start writing.

Given - you get back in August only start writing again in October, but you write. Little by little, page after page. Maybe not every day, like you used to, but the words are back and they are eager to get out, leave their mark as your work. You stand up to your management (with Minghao’s support) and take control of your own writing schedule. The pressure from before leaves. Writing becomes special more than ever, returns as the one thing you never get truly tired of.

Minghao asks about the job, your summer. You tell him it was easy and peaceful, and that you’re thankful for the time. You mention the other lookouts. You mention Soonyoung. Only in passing, though.

(Minghao definitely suspects something, but even if he asked, you wouldn’t tell him much.)

Sometimes you allow yourself to think of him - when you got back, you looked for a Soonyoung in the multiple dance studios in the city, but since you didn’t have a last name or any proper title, nothing came up. After that, you gave up, but he still shows up in your thoughts from time to time, bright blonde hair (the roots growing in) and glowing smile. It’s cold out, now, so you hope he isn’t getting sick and that he’s staying warm.

You’re reminded of just how cold it is when you have to brace the outside world to get your mail. There’s not even any wind, just an undeniable cold, and it makes your nose burn and eyes water as you walk the short trek to your mailbox. You find your slot and push your key in, unlocking it and gathering your mail. Most of it is junk, but you could have sworn something you ordered was supposed to come today -

“Excuse me?”

You turn your head to the voice and find a man walking towards you, his head turned down towards a small piece of paper. His voice sounds familiar, but you figure it must just be a neighbor you haven’t spoken to in a while. You turn your body to him, waiting for him to look up from the note so you can place a name on him. “Do you know where I can find an author…”

He looks up.

It’s Soonyoung.

He looks a little different - his hair is shorter, dyed black instead of the platinum you remember from last July. But it’s definitely him. The longer you stare at each other the wider his smile gets, and you stand, speechless. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world. Your heart starts to race, warms you up beneath your jacket.

“Found you,” Soonyoung grins. You can’t take your eyes off of him.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “You did.”

#caratwritersclub #kdiner #CRIES I'M SO EXCITED #THIS FIC IS MY BABY I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY IT!!!!#seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #svt x reader #svt imagine #kwon soonyoung x reader #kwon soonyoung imagine #svt hoshi x reader #svt hoshi imagine #seventeen hoshi x reader #seventeen hoshi imagine #hoshi x reader #hoshi imagine

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ushiwhore · 4 years ago

Text

Contentment pt.2

Tendou x Reader , Ushijima x Reader

Warnings: Curse Words. Angst -> Fluff.

Word Count: 6,828

Tendou isn’t an idiot, he can tell something has changed between you two. He can't pinpoint exactly what it is, but what he does know is that not having you around sucks. It also sucks to see you with someone else.

Read the first part: click me!

Getting over Tendou Satori was a tedious process. You couldn't hate him for not returning your feelings - that he was painfully unaware of - but you had to avoid him in order to allow yourself to focus on other things.

The first few weeks, it wasn't too hard to slip out of his sights and sneak off to your classroom or the library in order to avoid sitting with him, his girlfriend, and Wakatoshi.

You'd give some lame excuse as to why you couldn't stay long, and he'd nod, too focused on some story his girlfriend was telling them about the time she stole Y/N's crush and best friend away, something like that. Or well, that's all you heard whenever she opened her mouth.

It hurt seeing him disregard his bestest friend’s absences, preferring to give some girl who hesitated to enter a relationship with him more attention and care.

You wouldn't have hesitated, you dully noted as you walked off to your classroom, as had become routine.

It was today in particular that there was a change to said routine.

You sat at your desk, slowly eating your food due to lack of appetite. You were usually lost in thought, arguing with yourself on whether or not you should be avoiding Tendou like this. He was still your best friend after all, but you also needed time and space to heal. Heal from wounds he'd made unknowingly.

Your train of thought was interrupted when a tall figure took a seat at the desk beside yours. You looked up, a small smile melting onto your confused expression when you saw it was Wakatoshi.

"Toshi- Hi."

"Hi. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all- Did something happen?"

"I was getting kind of tired of listening to her talk about her personal problems."

You let out a small laugh at how blunt he was being. It was true. The girl tended to overshare. If you ever stayed for lunch, it sounded like she was reading out her autobiography.

"She just.. likes sharing stuff since she trusts us." You said softly, looking down at your food and picking at it. Your path to contentment meant supporting their relationship, and both of them individually.

"She can share it with Tendou then. Is it okay if we have lunch together from now on?"

You smiled at that, pleasantly surprised. "Of course, Toshi." As you watched him take out his own lunch, you let out a small sigh. "Sorry for making you pick."

His confused expression told you to continue, so you did. "Making you pick which friend you want to hang out with. Y'know, me or Satori. I just.. I want to support him, but I need to heal first. I promise you things will go back to normal once I know I've gotten over him for sure."

"It's fine. Plus, it's better to hang out with you. Satori's too focused on his girlfriend to pay me any attention."

As he should, you thought. He seemed to be a great boyfriend. Even if he wasn't your boyfriend.. he was still great. But then again - he should still pay attention to Toshi (and you). He shouldn’t have to pick between his lover and his friends. It was probably weird for Ushijima as well, not having Tendou around all the time. You understood how he felt, but decided not to voice any of this.

You both began to eat your food, enjoying the comfortable silence. The kind that eased your thoughts and allowed you to just breathe.

The silence would be broken here and there when you two would talk about your days or a particularly hard assignment a teacher had left. Or perhaps practice and the newest episode of the show you were watching. It all felt easier whenever Wakatoshi was around.

°•°•°•°•°

No matter how long it had been since the bathroom incident where you swear you had your awakening, it’s still so so so so difficult and exhausting.

Seeing him in the hallways or on your way to class was tough. It was tough cutting the conversation short. It was tough not talking to him about what happened on the latest episode of the show you two loved to watch on his couch/bed as you cuddled and ate snacks. Friendly cuddles, of course.

Sometimes, you'd find yourself thinking about how it felt whenever he'd have his arms wrapped around you, giving you the warmest cuddles. Whenever he let you borrow his sweaters because it was cold and he couldn't let his little Y/N get sick! Or whenever he would walk you to your dorm, hands intertwined and gently swinging back and forth. Study dates sessions where your eyelids would get too heavy and you’d rest your head on your textbook. Just for a few minutes, you’d say. And then you’d feel his fingers gently playing with your hair, massaging lightly and making you almost purr at the contact.

These thoughts were invasive, and they’d squeeze into your brain at the worst moments. Whether it was cold outside, you saw a couple walking down the street, or you saw him.

It all hurt so much. Your brain wouldn’t stop hurting you, no matter how hard you tried to forget. Sometimes, you’d be sitting at your desk, giving your phone the deadliest glare, waiting for the screen to light up with a message notification from him. But for a whole month, that message you yearned so badly never came.

Tendou’s absence in your day to day life was bittersweet. It was sweet since it meant that you didn’t have to see him or his girlfriend together, it meant allowing yourself to heal and get over him. However, it was also bitter since that man was your BEST FRIEND. He was such a huge part of your days. It felt weird not hanging out even for a few minutes.

He was happy though, if his social medias were anything to go by. She made him happy, and that’s all that mattered. A small sigh escaped past your lips as you scrolled past yet another post of them on their 5th date of the week. You scrolled back up after a few moments. Zooming in, you could see how genuinely happy he looked.

That’s the smile I love so much. She's putting that smile on his face. They are happy. Although it takes a few more moments to process, it still has a wonderful feeling settling on your chest. Contentment.

Seeing them together makes those thoughts go away. Makes you stop missing his embrace because.. it just feels wrong. To crave a man’s touch, especially one who does not belong to you. Seeing Tendou with someone else feels like a cold bucket of water thrown at you. It’s sobering. Makes moving on just a tiny little bit easier.

°•°•°•°•°

If you want to heal, don’t just stay cooped up in your room. Go out and get some fresh air, have fun.

That’s what Wakatoshi told you during one of your many shared lunches.

Ushijima was trying his best to squeeze you into his schedule, even if you were both often busy. He had practices, and you had work.

But whenever you two had a day off, you’d meet up and go see a movie, or go eat at this new restaurant you both wanted to try. Or just meet up to talk.

Not only did it help get your mind off Tendou Satori, but it was also quite fun to be around Wakatoshi.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked absentmindedly, and quite bluntly, as you watched him buy some snacks for you two.

“Why am I doing what?”

“Hanging out with me so much. Is it.. are you trying to help me get my mind off of him?”

He turned around, handing you a few snacks before shrugging. “I like hanging out with you. Thought we were having fun. But well, yeah, I am.”

A small blush creeped onto your cheeks as you took the snacks. “I like hanging out with you too.. but thank you Toshi. It really is working, and I’m.. I’m really thankful for your help.”

He smiled a bit at that, reaching over and softly patting your head. The simplest touch, yet it still had shivers running down your spine.

“I’m glad I could be of help. I just want to see you back to your cheerful self.”

“Thanks again, Toshi.” You didn’t hesitate to pull him in for a hug. He was so warm, and he made you feel so safe.

A small ‘oof’ escaped his lips from the sudden pull, pleasantly surprised by this. Though it took a few seconds, he still managed to hug back.

It’s a shame though. A real shame. Maybe if your face hadn’t been buried in his chest, you would’ve seen the prettiest blush take over his features.

°•°•°•°•°

“How are you feeling?”

His deep voice brought you back into reality. You two had been studying together in the library after classes since you both had the day off.

“Really good, actually. I’m finally understanding these problems. This much knowledge is making my head hurt though.”

“We should stop here for today then, since we’ve basically caught up on all assignments.” He paused after closing his textbook, “I wasn’t talking about the homework though.”

You tilted your head a bit, giving him a confused look as you put your books away as well before realizing what he meant. He was asking how you were feeling in regards to Tendou and the whole moving on thing. It made you feel warm inside, that he cared enough to check in and make sure you were okay.

It made you all mushy inside because you knew he wasn’t the best at talking about feelings/emotional things. He was getting out of his comfort zone for you.

“Oh - Well.. I’m feeling really good about that too, actually. All thanks to you, Toshi.” You gently nudged him with your arm as you stood up and put your backpack on.

“I’m glad you’re doing well, Y/N. You deserve happiness.”

His kind words always managed to make you get all emotional, because well - it was coming from the one and only Wakatoshi.

“You deserve happiness too, Toshi.” You said as you waited for him to stand as well. “How are you feeling?”

He stood, putting his backpack on before walking over to where you were. His lips curved into a tiny smile.

“I’m feeling really good too.”

It wasn’t hard, at all, to return the smile. You stood smiling at each other for a few more seconds before he finally lead the way over to your dorms.

It wasn’t unusual for him to walk you back to your dorm whenever he could. Those walks would usually include a lot of small talk or comforting silence.

This walk wasn't any different. When you two finally made it to your door, you turned to look at him. “Thanks again, Toshi. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smiled before waving and unlocking your door.

“Ah, Y/N.” He called out, making you turn to look at him. “I was actually wondering.. or well. We have a game coming up. Would you perhaps want to come?”

Funny story, actually. Throughout your friendship with Tendou, you surprisingly hadn't gone to that many volleyball games. It was inconvenient, but your boss seemed to always have you scheduled whenever he had a game. Of course, you’d been to a few, but usually could never make it. You’d cheer for him all the way from work.

“When is it?”

“In two days.”

You simply nodded, “I’ll have to check my schedule.. but I’ll let you know, Toshi. Thank you for inviting me.”

After you closed the door, you immediately grabbed your phone and texted your manager. They were always giving you weird, rarely consistent schedules, so you never knew what to expect. However, you’d try your best to attend. Your screen lit up with the notification that told you you’d be busy in two days.

You frowned, but quickly replaced it with a witty smile. You’d try to convince them to give you the day off once you got to work tomorrow. After all, they weren’t irrational or assholes. They would be understanding, or so you hoped.

°•°•°•°•°

You never told Wakatoshi whether or not you’d be able to come to his game, mainly because you weren’t really sure.

However, it had taken just a tiny little bit of begging for them to give you the day off. You were a hard worker and they really did appreciate you, so giving you that day off didn't hurt them or their business nearly as much as you’d thought.

Now, you were walking into the gym where they’d be playing their match today. You felt quite excited, to be honest, since this was the first game of theirs you’d seen in a while. To no surprise, the crowd was huge, ranging from Shiratorizawa’s cheerleaders to the school’s band as well, along with a lot of students who were beaming with pride.

It was an atmosphere that hyped almost everyone up, except the team they were playing, of course. You imagined it would be quite intimidating to hear hundreds of people cheering for Shiratorizawa while trying to serve, or doing warmups.

Both teams were already doing their warm ups, so you focused on finding yourself a seat. It wasn’t long before your eyes landed on Tendou’s personal cheerleader. You flinched a bit as you heard her call out your name. You had secretly been hoping that you’d slip out of her sight and just get to sit elsewhere. That clearly wasn’t an option anymore.

A small sigh escaped your lips as you walked over to where she was sitting. You watched as she scoot over, patting the now empty space. You took a seat and gave her a small smile. “Hi.”

“Hi! I didn't know you were coming.” Your eyes immediately fell to the sweater she had on. Tendou’s.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t sure if I’d make it.” You said, unable to take your eyes off the sweater. She must’ve noticed because she gently pat the spot you were glaring staring at.

“Ah, Tendou gave it to me since I was cold. He's such a sweetheart. But well, it’s nice to have someone else to watch the game with.” She said with a small smile. You let out a small laugh and nodded in agreement. She was about to start talking when you heard a familiar voice approaching.

“Y/N????”

You couldn’t help but freeze. Of course he’d be here, he was in the team as well. You slowly turned to look at Tendou. His eyes were wide and he had the biggest smile on his face. It must be surprising to see your best friend at one of your games, you thought, especially after not talking to them for over a month.

“You actually came to one of my games? Awesome! You came to cheer me on, didn't you? How lucky am I?!” He let out a happy laugh, as he finally stood in front of the two of you. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

How does one explain that you were here because Ushijima had invited you, and not because you wanted to see Tendou. Without being rude, of course.

Before you had the chance to respond, Ushijima appeared behind him with a small smile.

“Y/N. You made it after all.”

You smiled back, “I did. Sorry for not telling you sooner. Thought it’d be nice to surprise you.”

A confused look took over Tendou’s face, but it didn’t take long for him to understand what was going on. You weren't there to see him. You’d come to see Wakatoshi.

As you smiled at Toshi, you could feel Tendou’s gaze burning a hole into you, and tried your best to ignore it, turning to him and giving him a small smile instead.

His gaze didn’t falter, but he did smile back. Ushijima gently pat his back, “Let’s get back to warm ups.”

He nodded, “It’s nice seeing you again, Y/N.” He said before giving his girlfriend’s hand a small squeeze and jogging after Ushijima. You bit at your lower lip, unable to stop thinking of the deadly gaze Tendou had been staring at you with. Was he upset? I mean - that would make sense. He probably felt like a clown since he had assumed you were there to see him. That made you let out a small laugh, basking in the fact that Tendou might feel the way you’ve felt for months! A clown, a whole circus.

Of course, it hurt seeing his confused expression replace his usually happy expressions, but it also made you feel better. It was bittersweet. It was a taste of his own medicine. It was--

“So.. you and Ushijima, eh?”

You blinked, staring at the girl that sat beside you. “What?”

“Oh, y’know. Are you guys a thing?”

Before you could even comment on that absurd thought - it was absurd because you hadn’t even thought of Toshi in that way - she was already speaking, basically thinking out loud.

“I mean, that would make a lot of sense.. you stop hanging out with us, and suddenly so does Ushijima? Aww, you two must be spending lunches together~ How cute.”

Your mouth kept opening and closing, unable to form a single word. She took your silence as a sign to keep talking.

“Also, you came to the game to watch and support him, eh? It’s like.. I’m Satori’s personal cheerleader and you’re Ushijima’s cheerleader!” She said with a huge smile on her face.

You.. dating Toshi? The thought had never crossed your mind. But now that the possibility had been presented to you, you knew you’d be thinking about it tonight as you lay in bed.

“I-I’m not..” you still couldn’t form a proper sentence. “We’re not..”

“It’s okay! I won’t tell Tendou.. I’m guessing that’s why you also stopped spending lunches with us? A secret relationship.. don’t want to hurt your best friend by dating one of your mutual friends. Your secret is safe with me. I get it!”

No you fucking don’t, you wish you could say that, but you were still too stunned to even speak. You cleared your throat, attempting to explain but she was already looking over at the court, cheering for Tendou Satori as the teams walked out and lined up.

He deserved that type of support, he deserved someone who could actually be out here for all his games. Not someone who would send little encouraging messages before their shift. Messages that probably did nothing to hype him up. No, he needed someone to be out here, screaming his name and cheering as loud as they could.

You closed your eyes for a few seconds, trying your best to stop these negative thoughts from affecting the rest of your night. Once you had opened your eyes, you looked for Toshi, wanting to shout out your own words of encouragements.

°•°•°•°•°

The match had been a rollercoaster of emotions. It hadn’t been the typical Shiratorizawa match, where they had crushed their opponent. They had actually put up a fight up until the very end. But their effort hadn’t paid off since Shiratorizawa took the win in the end anyway.

It had also been quite stressful since you could feel two different pair of eyes on you, and they both made you feel different emotions.

Whenever Wakatoshi’s eyes were on you, you’d smile and wave, trying your best to cheer him on. Your thoughts would always go back to the conversation with Tendou’s girlfriend. Whenever Tendou’s eyes were on you, you felt guilt and goosebumps, but also really giddy. It was all so confusing, and you felt so much happiness once the match finally ended.

��When the crowds began to exit the building and it was okay for you to approach the team, you walked over to Ushijima and Tendou with his girlfriend.

“Congrats Satori!! You did amazing, baby!!” She happily wrapped her arms around him as she jumped up and down. You stared for a few seconds before his eyes met yours, making you look away.

“Congratulations, Toshi. It was so entertaining seeing you out there in your element, you did really good!” You smiled, before looking over at Tendou again, who still had his eyes on you, no longer hugging his girlfriend.

“..and Congrats to you too, Tendou. It was nice to finally see you out there again.”

He smiled softly at your words, opening his arms and pulling you into a quick hug.

There it was. The touch you had craved so much. You hugged back for a bit but pulled away soon after, smiling back at him before turning to Wakatoshi.

"Shall we head back to the dorms now?"

He gave you a small smile, nodding. The exhaustion was clear now that he was up close, but he still managed to look so pretty.

You broke away your gaze and walked outside with Wakatoshi, Tendou and his girlfriend following. As soon as you stepped outside, you couldn't help but shiver at the strong wind that hit all of you, welcoming you back to reality.

It was quite clear that you were cold, and Wakatoshi didn't hesitate to take off his sweater and drape it around you. The heat that rushed to your cheeks, along with his sweater, seemed to warm you up instantly.

Your eyes met Tendou's girlfriend's gaze, and she simply smiled, her eyes screaming I TOLD YOU SO, YOUR SECRET IS SAFE WITH ME.

That conversation had honestly messed you up. You were now hyper aware of everything Toshi did whenever he was around you. Any kind acts he did, such as this one, had you burning up at a concerning speed.

"Thank you, Toshi.." you said, looking down and gladly wrapping his sweater around you to take in all the warmth. It smelled like him too, and that oddly helped you calm down even more.

Throughout all of this, Tendou simply stood and stared, so confused as to when exactly you and Ushijima had gotten this close. Since when did you wear his sweaters? Since when did you ever go to volleyball games instead of going to work? Since when did Y/N and Ushijima ever talk like this? It was all too much to take in. Especially when you two excused yourself, and Ushijima was walking you to your dorm.

"Aren't they cute?" His girlfriend said with a soft hum as they both watched you walk away.

"Huh? Who?"

"Y/N and Ushijima, silly. Who else?"

"Oh."

"Ah. Walk me home, silly boy! It's getting cold."

It indeed was getting cold. He blamed the cold weather on the fact that his joints felt stiff, and he felt this random pain in his chest at the sight. He'd felt that pain earlier when he found out you weren't there to see him.

Had it really been that long since you two had talked? Had it been long enough for you to find a replacement for him? Ushijima, of all people?

You two were doing the things Tendou used to do with you. You would wear his sweater, you would make an effort to come to his games. That was something you two did. That was-

He felt a small hand intertwine with his and lead him away from the gym, and towards the girl dorms. Much to think about. He knew he had new material to overthink about tonight.

°•°•°•°•°

You were laying down on your bed with Wakatoshi's sweater wrapped around you, eyes closed as you thought about everything that had happened over the past month. Conversations you'd had with certain people.

Ushijima Wakatoshi. A sweetheart who had been there for you to comfort you and cheer you up while you cried over Tendou Satori. Your best friend who had a girlfriend and clearly did not return your feelings.

Ushijima Wakatoshi. A friend, that you were perhaps starting to see as more than just a friend. Screw Tendou's girlfriend for getting the stupid idea into your head in the first place. It had been a week since that conversation, yet you couldn't stop thinking about the What Ifs.

No matter how much you thought of Wakatoshi, you couldn't help but worry that this was a distraction in order to pretend you didn't have feelings for Tendou anymore. You were sure you did. A crush on Tendou Satori isn't something you get over so fast. But you perhaps also had feelings for Ushijima.

The thought alone made you blush and bury your face into his sweater, taking in the wonderful scent that was Ushijima Wakatoshi.

It took a few more outings for you to confirm your feelings for Wakatoshi. Ranging from having lunch or dinner with him, to spending time at each other's dorms and just doing domestic things together. It all reassured you that he wasn't a rebound and that you weren't using him to get over Tendou.

There was one last step to contentment. Not feeling bitterness, but rather happiness when seeing Tendou, with or without his girlfriend.

One day in particular, you watched as he walked her to her dorm, hand in hand, smiling happily with each other. There was a small smile on your lips at the sight. And the only emotion other than happiness was sadness. You missed Tendou. As your best friend. Not as a love interest. You missed your best friend.

You figured you'd get him back soon, since you had finally gotten over him, and now had your eyes set on someone else, Toshi.

Your heart began to beat just a little faster at the thought alone. But it began to beat faster at the thought of having Tendou back in your life as well. Everything is going to fall back into place. Soon.

°•°•°•°•°

Although you had been hit with yet another awakening moment, you still hadn't reached out to Tendou. And much to your dismay, neither had he. Which made it just a little bit easier to not feel guilty.

In regards to your newfound feelings towards Ushijima, you hadn't done anything about it, yet. You had been waiting for the right moment.

You were currently at his dorm, sat on his bed listening to him rant about how Goshiki had taken his desire to be like him a little too far. Apparently the first year had been trying to beat out Toshi's spikes, and ended up hurting himself in the process. You let out a small laugh as Toshi playfully rolled his eyes at the memory.

"The kid thinks you're perfect. Isn't it kind of flattering that he wants to be like you so much? You're his role model, Toshi." You hummed, quietly admiring as he seemed to be deep in thought.

"Well, it is flattering, but I don't want him to get hurt in the process. He can't be an ace if his wrist is sprained."

"You make a valid point, Toshi." You continued to quietly stare, and it didn't take long before his eyes were on you as well. He raised an eyebrow when you didn't look away, and you simply chuckled.

"What-? Do I have something on my face or..?"

He was gently patting around his mouth and cheeks, trying to feel around for anything.

The action made your lower your gaze to look at his lips. This didn't slip past him, but now he was painfully aware that the atmosphere was.. different.

It had been this way for a week or so, and it always sent shivers down his spine whenever things got too tense, unable to really do anything about it in fear of scaring you away.

You quietly stared at his lips, naturally a cute shade of pink. Once you tore your gaze away, you found him staring at you, gaze just as intense as your own. You gulped, suddenly starting to feel rather shy.

You sat up properly, now sitting directly in front of him. He didn't move away or anything, that was a good sign. You gently cupped his cheek, caressing it gently, another quick check for consent. It was now that you finally noticed the pretty blush that covered his cheeks. It was a sight you wished you got to see more often.

Maybe now you would.

With a bit of hesitation, you leaned in. It didn't take long for him to meet you halfway. Once you were actually kissing, it felt like a huge weight had been taken off your shoulders. It felt like finally letting out a breath you had been holding. His lips were soft, just slightly chapped, and the kiss was nice and slow. You were both trying to figure out what the other liked.

It wasn't long until you felt his hand on your waist, asking if he could bring you closer, which you gladly obliged with. The kiss slowly became more and more intense. You could feel the longing as he pressed against your lips with his own, maybe he did feel the same after all. No shit.

Kisses with Ushijima were soft, slow, yet passionate. They could also be intense, messy, and could cause a pool to form down there. They could also be interrupted by a tall redhead that wanted to ask his dormmate for some help with a certain friend. Wait what-?

You pulled away as soon as you heard the familiar voice, quietly trying to catch your breath, and trying not to freak the fuck out.

"Ushi I need- what the fuck?? Y/N???"

Toshi wiped at his lips and chin to seem more presentable, also looking over at you to make sure you were okay. You couldn't meet his gaze, extremely embarrassed and you couldn't help but feel guilty.

"I'm sorry, Satori. I should've locked the door." Toshi said, as if walking in on your friends making out was something that was completely normal and happened at least twice a week.

"I'm- since when the fuck were you guys a thing? Y/N what the fuck? Seriously? I-" he couldn't even form a proper sentence, too stunned by what he'd just seen. But most importantly, it hurt. It hurt so much and he didn't even know why. Though he might have an idea.. but it wasn't exactly pleasant.

".. I'll let you two talk?" Wakatoshi said as he stood, you hesitantly reached for his hand, not sure if you could face him yet, but his eyes gave you all the reassurance you needed, so you let go of his hand, watching as he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him and leaving you alone with Tendou.

Neither of you spoke at first, but it didn't take long for Tendou's curiosity to force him to speak. "Since when?"

"Since when what?"

"Since.. since when were you guys a thing?"

You didn't know. Since a few minutes ago, you supposed. "This is the first time I kiss him. I'm not sure.."

"Why have you been avoiding me?" His tone sounded so hurt, but you didn't dare to look up at him. You were hurting too. He hadn't reached out to you either.

"It's not like you tried to reach out to me either. I figured you were too busy with your girlfriend to want to interact with me."

"I could say the same thing about you. You're too busy kissing Toshi's ass to even talk to me. You think I don't see you avoid me in the hallways? Don't think I see you slipping away from my grasp, sneaking off to classrooms so you don't have to hang out with me?"

"Then if you saw it all happen, why the fuck didn't you do anything about it?"

You finally looked up, anger in your tone, but tears were threatening to spill and leaving a stinging sensation in your eyes. He seemed at a loss for words, and he hesitated before responding.

"I.. I don't know." He admitted, feeling his own eyes welling up with tears. "Fuck. I don't know, Y/N." His fists were clenched out of frustration. He didn't know why he was so angry, he knew he was at fault too. It wasn't just you.

"Me neither, Tendou." Your plain response made him fume even more.

"Why didn't you tell me you were into Ushijima? Why'd you have to distance yourself? I wouldn't have hated you for it. Why did you have to put our friendship at stake, Y/N? Do you know how long its been since I've had a proper fucking conversation with you?"

He was ranting at this point, breathless as he made accusation after accusation.

"I didn't like him before. This is all new to me, Tendou. I didn't mean to put our friendship at stake. I just couldn't fucking stand hanging out with you when.. when she was around."

Your response caught him off guard. He stared at you incredulously. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

It was embarrassing, having to admit your feelings, but you had already let it slip out.

"Y/N? What the hell?"

"I liked you, Tendou. When you asked me to help you get with her, I liked you. And it hurt so much, but it didn't matter that I was hurting because I knew if you got the girl, you'd be happy. That's all I wanted. But once you actually got the girl, it hurt too much. Watching you do with her what you did with me. Watching you kiss her and hold her hand. I couldn't stick around to watch it without slowly falling apart myself."

Letting it all out had you feeling like another weight was slowly being taken off you shoulders. He looked so confused, taken aback by the new revelation of your feelings, something that had been unknown to him for multiple months now.

Knowing you felt that way towards him made his chest hurt. It made him feel extreme guilt for making you play along. But it also made him love you even more, because you'd done all that just because you knew he'd be happy in the end.

He resonated heavily with how you felt, watching him do what you two used to do, but now with his girlfriend. He had felt that when he watched you and Ushijima slowly getting closer, and now actually sharing a kiss.

"That's why I distanced myself. Because if I didn't, I'd break, Tendou. It hurt so much. But.. I finally got better. I'm finally getting better. Wakatoshi was there for me, he taught me how to get over you and heal from my unrequited feelings."

"Y/N I'm so sorry."

"Let me finish Tendou.. please." He simply nodded, no longer able to hold back any of his tears as he listened to you talk. You weren't able to hold them back either.

"I used to find it difficult to see you with her, but now I feel genuine happiness. It makes me happy that you're happy with her. And.. I miss you, Tendou. Not as a love interest, but as my best friend. I miss you so fucking much."

A sob escaped your lips at the confession, you tried to stop but you couldn't. You had finally let it all out. You felt a strong pair of arms wrap around you, and you recognized that embrace to belong to your best friend.

You were both sobbing now as you held each other tightly. Both for different reasons. You were afraid of losing him because of everything you'd just confessed, which explained the tight grip you had on him. The tight grip he had on you could be explained as a fear of losing you too, or more like the realization that he'd lost you before he even had you.

His feelings for you, that he was painfully unaware of prior to a few weeks ago, had grown only to be crushed by the realization that he was too late. You had actually moved on now. He'd lost his chance with you, but it didn't have to all end. He missed you too. So much. And though he was sure he had romantic feelings towards you, he knew it also was heavily driven by jealousy and fear of losing you to Wakatoshi.

But a new revelation, the revelation that you didn't have to pick and neither did he, gave him hope for your friendship.

"I missed you too.. so much, Y/N. I'm so sorry for being such a shitty friend. Please forgive me. I love you so so so much. Please.." he sobbed quietly as he held you. You simply nodded, unable to speak without your voice shaking and being interrupted by sobs.

"I.. I forgive you, Satori. Please forgive me too? I could've definitely handled things better.."

He shook his head, hating the fact that you still felt guilty. "You did nothing wrong, Y/N. But I forgive you. As long as you forgive me, and you tell me that we'll be okay. That I won't lose you because of this."

"You won't ever lose me, Satori. You're stuck with me forever, remember?"

He smiled at that, eyes welling with tears all over again. "You're stuck with me forever too. You're not getting rid of me so easily."

That made you laugh as you hugged him even tighter. "I wasn't planning on it."

Your shoulders had been freed of any excess weight that had been putting you down over the past few months. You had finally reached Contentment. For real this time.

You were able to stare at Tendou and feel only platonic love for him. You were happy for him and his girlfriend, who clearly made him happy. You were happy with someone else now. Someone who had been there for you for the longest without you even realizing it. Someone who deserved the world and the stars, and you'd be willing to provide it for him.

You had your best friend back, you had told him the truth. There was no secrets or any grudges held towards each other. And you had a lover now.

Contentment. This is what it really felt like.

°•°•°•°•°

You were sat back at the lunch tables where this had all started. Ushijima at your side, and your best friend across from you with his girlfriend.

Happiness, is the only thing you felt as you leaned your head against Toshi's shoulder and laughed at a story Tendou was telling, his girlfriend adding in commentary here and there that only added to the humor of the whole story.

She was lovely, and so pleasant to be around. You figured it was your jealousy that had made her seem so unpleasant back then. But now all you felt was euphoria. You had everything you could've ever wanted.

You had Tendou back, you had a new friend that you could talk about almost anything with, and you had Toshi.

Your life was filled with the same jokes, the same hugs and nights where you'd binge watch multiple seasons at once, accompanied by your best friend and multiple snacks. Full of a happy Tendou that you got to support more often now.

Your life was filled with a familiar face in different classes, someone you could talk with about anything. Full of a supportive girlfriend, perfect for your best friend. It sucked that it had taken you so long to realize that.

Your life was filled with a loving companion. Soft kisses, the warmest cuddles, the most attentive and caring boyfriend. Full of hand holding, sweaters, hugs, and support. You couldn't have asked for a better boyfriend. Wakatoshi was literally perfect.

Life was bliss.

It was obvious for Tendou that you were happy now. He watched as you laughed at his jokes, an overwhelming feeling of pride flowing through his chest. He watched with a small smile as Toshi gently cupped your cheeks and pressed the softest kiss onto your lips. Watched as your eyes fluttered shut and the blush invaded your cheeks. Watched as the electricity flowed through you, the attraction between you two quite obvious for anyone nearby.

He might have been late to realize his own feelings for you, but the only thing that mattered now was that you were happy with how everything had ended. And he was happy too. He had an amazing girlfriend, and two amazing best friends that were happy together.

Maybe in the next life, if there was any, he'd meet you again and he'd realize his feelings sooner. Maybe in the next life, he'd have an actual chance with you. But for now, in this life, he'd be happy just being your friend.

Contentment.

A state of contentment has finally been reached by both parties. This is what contentment really feels like.

A/N: Hello!! Okay first of all.. this is really long, I’m so sorry- I got carried away. Second of all, THANK YOU SO MUCH for all the support I received in the first part. I didn't expect all that support (if any, really) SO thank you again <3 Third of all, it took me so long to put this out because I read this Tendou x reader fic and I felt so guilty because poor baby Tendou deserves love and I’m going out of my way to write angst?? It didn’t sit right with me. But here you go! I really hope everyone (especially those who asked for a part 2, I hope I didn’t disappoint) liked this! Thanks again for all the support.

Taglist: @missalienqueen (I’m SO sorry lmao I LIED about Tendou fluffy ending kinda </3 forgive me. @nim-rose !! These are the people who asked me personally to tag them, so if you’d like to be tagged next time, just let me know!

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cal-kestis · 4 years ago

Text

You’ve Been Lonely Too Long | Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

(Part I of The Aftermath of Losing Everything)

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

Summary: After parting with Grogu, losing his ship, and battling with the tenets of his Creed — Din is plagued by memories he fears will only ever exist in his past. But when he meets you, he’s surprised to see a bit of himself reflected in your eyes... and the family he still longs for. (Set after S2) Rating: M (for reasons that will happen eventually) Word Count: 6572 Warnings/Tags: Soft!Din, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut (non graphic), Action/Violence, Mentions of Blood, Hurt Comfort, Slow Burn, no use of ‘Y/N’, Din is wistful while talking about Grogu :’), he misses him A/N: Here it is! I've done a lot of research when it comes to lore, planets, etc. But I've taken a few creative liberties. Replies/comments are very welcome!

[Read on AO3] // [Series Masterlist]

Memories keep him awake more than he cares to admit.

They conjure themselves unbidden, slithering through the iron bars of his mind. And just before they burrow, just before they brand his brain, just before they emerge from the shadows and he can recognize them — images of bright eyes and petal ears, sound bites of gentle coos, memories he wants to keep locked like a treasure — they vanish like vapor.

Sometimes he tries to chase them, like a valuable quarry. But even illustrious bounty hunters like Din Djarin know what it’s like to lose. Especially at night, when memories morph into vicious nightmares... and he becomes the prey.

If he ever does sleep, he sure as hell never rests.

And no one would catch wise. That’s the beauty of beskar. Because — despite the deep purple rings circling his wrinkled eyes, the constant dry and chapped state of his lips, and the uncharacteristically unkempt stubble on his jaw — when he walks into a room, everyone only sees the harsh glint of metal armor, the precise swagger in his gait, the loaded blaster at his belt. A Mandalorian: legend coming to life. And everyone quakes in their boots.

Everyone except you.

After he had left Gideon’s light cruiser, helmet replaced on his head — an imposter’s crown — he’d expected to say his goodbyes and carry on the way he always did before everything changed, before the kid. Alone.

He hadn’t known his next move. But picking up another stray? Not part of the non-existent plan.

Yet here he is, coasting in hyperspace aboard his cold, newly bargained light freighter, watching his crewmate modify the jammers.

“Hand me that driver, will you?” You huff, wiping sweat off your brow.

He had found you on Tatooine almost three months ago, fighting off some spice-high lowlife in a dark adobe alley. He remembers seeing you throw a heavy punch to the man’s jaw, extending your other trembling hand toward his throat before softly shutting your eyes, brows pinched in gentle focus.

Something about you had felt familiar, something he couldn’t shake. Your outstretched arm had sparked a memory of tiny green claws. And it had all happened so quickly. You had your eyes closed, the man had reached for his blaster, but Din had always been the faster shot.

Smoke had wafted from the man’s chest, your eyes had opened in shock, and Din had disappeared before you could thank him.

Instead, you had managed to stow away on his ship that same night and hire yourself as his new crewmate.

“I have nowhere to go. No home, no family,” you had explained, eyes glistening. When he’d scrutinized you, he only found a small bag slung over your shoulder and a short, chewed-on pencil tucked behind your ear. “I’m a good worker. I can cook and I’m a decent pilot, a better mechanic. And I’m… crafty?”

“I work alone.” He’d said it so surely, but a cloud of sadness had hovered over the words as he’d forced saliva down his dry throat.

“You don’t have to. I can be a valuable asset to you. Take some weight off your shoulders. Be someone to talk to.”

You had glanced at his stoic frame, his silence filling the room like a smoke grenade.

“Well, you don’t have to talk. But I can be helpful.”

There had been something in your eyes, or maybe even beyond them… something in you, something so achingly familiar. He’d felt it floating around the ship, radiating off your skin, seeping through his beskar armor. And he’d sighed because he couldn’t have stopped his next words from tumbling off his tongue if he wanted to.

“Just don’t touch anything.”

He remembers how you’d gasped, your arms wrapping tightly around his torso without a second thought. And he’d just stiffened like solid carbonite, not allowing himself to dwell on how warm and soft you felt, and he’d gently pushed you off, disappearing into the cockpit.

You’re still chatting away as you continue tinkering with the jammers. You’re definitely a talker. But to him, everyone seems that way when silence is his chosen weapon of survival.

Below that primary qualification of ‘someone to talk to,’ he’d realized almost right after you joined his crew of two that your resume checked out. You’d been invaluable on this new, unfamiliar ship — helping him modify it until it had some of the Razor Crest’s best qualities. Some.

When small memories like that start flooding in and try to take him under headfirst, he thinks it’s better to be alone. At least then, he can decide whether to sink or swim. So, he excuses himself to the cockpit and you hum in acknowledgment, continuing your chatter despite being your own audience.

He spends a lot of time here in solitary silence, staring at the stars as they reflect off the tiny metal ball that hangs from a string on an unused lever. It’s the only token he has from that life — the days of flying the Crest system to system with a giggling child in the backseat.

More often than not, you find him here exactly like this: helmet hung low, a silver sphere pinched between two gloved fingers, millions of confined thoughts racing through his mind faster than hyperspace and clawing at his skull.

When you find him like this, you try not to speak. Just sit in the co-pilot’s seat and watch the stars with him.

And as he studies the little gear knob from his past life, the one question that passes through his mind the most is:

What can you do when the reason you’re hurting is likely the only thing that can heal you?

—

ii.

After many months on the freighter, you’re sure of two things when it comes to your new crewmate:

First, the Mandalorian doesn’t talk much. Or ever, really.

But you quickly get used to your questions — and there are many — being answered with a curt “yes” or “no,” sometimes a grunt or sigh thrown in when the question is just right. You don’t mind too much, it’s enough to get you familiar with the way the ship works and you always know what to expect from him.

When he’s not outside hunting a quarry on some Maker-forsaken outer rim dustball, leaving you inside to tamper with the ship’s outdated systems, he’s usually on one side of the freighter and you’re on the other. If he seems busy, you leave his food outside his quarters, and later, you find his dish empty and washed in the storage cupboard. And when you’re fighting for sleep in your bed, you hear his footsteps echoing all night long. But there are times when you both find yourselves in the small, shared space of the cockpit, when your desire to see the corners of space beyond Tatooine becomes too great to stay away. In those moments under the domed viewport — faced with a myriad of vibrant hues and tremendous textures and infinite stars — he doesn’t speak and you can’t find the words, giving way to a tranquil, transfixing silence neither of you wants to escape.

The second thing you’re sure of is: the Mandalorian gets hurt, a lot.

You can’t count the number of times you’ve watched him drag himself and an unconscious body onto his ship or holed himself up in the fresher, hissing in pain as he tended to his own wounds.

But this time, he comes back and collapses outside of the ship, unable to even pull himself up the ramp, much less the dead weight of the quarry. There’s hardly a thought in your mind as your feet scurry to his side, sprawled across the ground beside his target. You don’t wait for permission before you’re reaching for the gloved hand pressed firmly to the side of his stomach.

“No,” he grits out between his teeth, groaning when the tiny word seems to tear him apart where he’s already been gashed. “The quarry.”

You frown, almost rolling your eyes at his stubbornness. Always the job first.

Still, no arguments pass your lips when you turn to pull the heavy, unconscious Trandoshan by his bound wrists. It takes all of your strength to drag him up the steep incline of the freighter’s ramp, through the main corridor, and into the supply closet, Mando’s makeshift prison. You’d asked him about it before, one of your many questions, wondering if he should consider more secure holding quarters. And he’d responded with a surprisingly long (for him) statement, “Not as good as a mobile carbonite freezing system, but it does the job.”

After chaining up the quarry’s hands and ankles and locking the closet, you nearly trip over yourself while sprinting back to the groaning Mandalorian. You kneel beside him, pulling the hand pressed against his stomach over your shoulder to lift him on his feet. A harsh, metallic scent suddenly fills your lungs, drawing your gaze to the blood-stained palm of his glove dangling over your shoulder. You do your best to ignore it, refocusing your energy on lugging him into the ship. As soon as you reach the top of the ramp, your strength gives out, sending both your bodies collapsing to the floor with a dull thud. It’s a challenge disentangling yourself from his heavy limbs but once you manage, you quickly turn to examine him before his hand stops you again.

“Gang on our tail,” he rasps, coughing then groaning in pain. “Get us out of here.”

Your lips press into a straight line, a war waging behind your furrowed brow as you decide whether or not it’s smart to leave him alone, bleeding on the floor of the main hold. But his hand shakes as he squeezes your wrist in what you think is meant to feel comforting. You release a deep sigh before getting up to close the ramp and set coordinates in the cockpit.

When you return minutes later with a medpac, you find him stretched out on his back, his neck arching with a groan, and his glove clutching his stomach once more. You kneel beside him to assess the damage, reaching your hand to his waist before he grabs you again.

“You don’t have to,” he grunts. “I can do it.”

“I know you can,” you say, gently removing the glove trapping your wrist. “But so can I. And I can actually move my limbs at a normal, painless speed, get the job done quicker. So, please, let me.”

He sighs, giving a quick nod of his helmet before allowing you to partially remove his armor.

You start with the breastplate, remove the thick padding over his stomach, then grab the ever-present pencil behind your ear and use the dull end to lift the edge of his brown undershirt, just enough to reveal the knife wound in his side.

“What happened?” You gasp, quickly gathering antiseptic, a laser cauterizer, and bacta patches from the medpac.

“Ambushed,” he grunts, wincing as you clean the cut, your breath sliding across his skin as you lean in close.

“I’ve sustained some pretty bad knicks myself. Nothing as bad as this,” you joke lightly, switching the antiseptic for the cauterizer. When the laser touches his skin, he gasps and curls in on himself as you burn the wound closed. Instinctively, you grab his hand, the one not stained with blood, and interlace your fingers with his on the ship’s floor, letting him squeeze your palm as a distraction. “Nothing I couldn’t fix up. When you’re surviving on your own, you have to learn how to take care of yourself.”

“I know,” he says quietly. I work alone, he’d said when you met.

Even through the shadowy visor of his helmet, you feel his eyes on yours and stare back openly. But as always, you only see your own warped reflection in the silver gleam of his beskar.

“It helps to have the proper supplies,” you chuckle, tearing your eyes away from his helmet to finish closing up his wound. “This bacta patch should fix you up real good.”

After smoothing the gel bandage against his skin, your fingertips linger only a second too long on the exposed warmth of his tanned stomach. You pull down the hem of his shirt, starting to reach for the pieces of iron covering his arm but feel him stop you by squeezing your joined hands.

“They only got one jab in,” he says, his voice sounding more relaxed, almost cocky. But when he sees the worry on your face, his thumb sweeps lightly across your hand and he squeezes once more. “I promise. I’m fine.”

“You’d better be,” you warn, shaking your joined hands in front of your face like a cranky geezer. “Because I’m not carrying two unconscious bodies off this ship when we land.”

He huffs out a short breath, only wincing slightly at the movement. Without another word, you pull his arm around your shoulder once more, limping him toward his sleeping quarters to rest. But you stop just outside the door, not wanting to encroach on his privacy.

“Thank you,” he whispers, leaning his hand against the doorway.

“Your gloves,” you say, his helmet tilting in confusion when you stare at his hand pointedly. “Let me clean them for you.”

He tries to argue but you won’t have any of it, simply extending your palm out toward him until he reluctantly pulls at the yellow leather tips on his fingers and hands them over.

“You can leave your shirt outside your quarters, too. I don’t want you stinking up the ship with your bloody clothes. Wash up. Get some rest. And be more careful next time,” you say, smiling and walking backward as you talk.

“I’ll do my best,” he says, and you swear you hear a ghost of a smile in his voice.

Before you can question him on it, he presses the button to his quarters and slips inside.

—

iii.

Time seems to pass quicker on the Mandalorian’s ship since the Trandoshan incident. And this man of few words quickly becomes a man of… just slightly more than a few words. Nevertheless, as his crewmate, you’ve learned quite a lot more about him.

One, he never stays in one place for long. He’s a bounty hunter, of course, and he takes multiple jobs at once. That means, together, you visit at least four different planets in the span of a few weeks, expertly flying around New Republic and Imperial scanners without a hitch. Two, he likes your cooking, a lot. You can tell because, by the end of the night, after a soft “thank you” buzzed from his helmet, his dish would always be licked clean — two dishes when you’d made his favorite. Sometimes, he’d even surprise you and try to recreate your recipes, generously leaving bowls of delicious food at your door. But he never eats where you can watch, enjoying the meals in secret and quietly washing up for you when you’re on the other side of the ship and can’t argue with him about it. Three, he doesn’t remove his helmet when you’re around, maybe even when he’s alone. “This is the way,” he’d mumble on occasion, a Creed that sounds like a foreign language even falling from his lips. Four, although he says he works alone, you see the way his helmet leans toward you when you speak and notice how his knees point in your direction when you sit side by side in the cockpit, gravitating toward you yet deeply cautious of drawing too close. And five, he’s lonely. You know because you’ve carried the same sadness in your chest almost all your life.

Several months on his ship have opened him up to giving more detailed answers to your numerous questions, and you take each opportunity where you can, desperate to unveil new pieces of his mind.

Tonight, Mando is particularly relaxed after capturing the last of four bounties, coordinates already set to turn them in. An empty bowl of bone broth sits beside his first helping. He leans back comfortably in his pilot seat as the stars shine off his chest plate and you ask about his past adventures.

“Has it always been just you?” Your voice comes out as a whisper, not wanting to disturb this content stillness, but thinking of all the times you’ve found him sitting alone in the cockpit clutching onto a silver ball.

He’s silent for a moment, thinking over his words. He doesn’t turn to face you when he answers, “No. There was... a child. Not long ago.”

You think back to when you had first met him, how he’d said, “I work alone,” how those words had seemed devastatingly true — in the way only a person who’s lost everything could say them so honestly.

“Yours?”

A beat. “Yeah,” he answers, a small crackling sound coming from his helmet. “Yes, a foundling. But he was as my own.”

“What happened?”

The cockpit stays silent save for the dull tones of the control board’s beeps and ticks. Mando reaches for that silver sphere, leans forward in his seat, and he holds it to the crown of his helmet.

“I... had to let him go.”

His voice breaks over the vowels, just slightly but you hear it: the familiar shattered sound of loss. It radiates off of him in waves, penetrating your skin and crawling through your bloodstream until your own heart aches for the ghost this child left behind.

“What was he like?”

He’s quiet again and you wonder if you’ve crossed a line. But suddenly, Mando swivels his chair to face you, the silver ball clutched tight against his chest, and he chuckles. It’s fleeting but it’s a sound you’ve never heard in all your months aboard his ship. A lovely sound you’ll never forget.

“This was his favorite toy,” the Mandalorian says, lifting the ball in the air for you to see. “He was a stubborn kid. Always getting into trouble.”

You smile, begging him to continue.

“He could do things I couldn’t even imagine. He saved me, in more ways than one. We were a clan of two.”

“A family,” you agree.

He stills for a moment, ponders your words, and hangs his head. “Yeah, a family.”

“What’s his name?”

“Grogu.” You can almost hear the smile in his voice. “His name is Grogu.”

“Grogu,” you whisper, testing the name on your tongue. “Can you describe him for me?”

You pull out a small, worn booklet of parchment from your pouch and the short pencil from behind your ear. His helmet tilts toward you curiously and you can almost imagine his eyes squinting behind the visor.

“Remember when I said I was crafty? Not a load of bantha crap,” you chuckle, waving the pencil at him. “I made a trade with some stingy Jawas to get these relics.”

He nods, quietly examining the antiquated drawing pad.

“Tell me,” you plead.

His helmet’s gaze drops back to the silver ball and he sighs a wistful sound.

“Grogu was — is special. A green, wrinkly, big-eared... very special little kid.”

“A green, wrinkly child?” You ask, looking up from the paper.

Mando laughs again and you can’t help but smile too. He describes Grogu like he’s a father mooning over his son’s first steps. You’ve never heard him talk so much, so joyfully yet sorrowfully all at once. There’s a wistfulness in his voice, a rasp that tells you he’s not used to putting it into words, at least not out loud, but he still wants to honor Grogu with every word he has. As he speaks, you can feel — almost see the image of Grogu in your mind. It’s crystal clear like your brain is reaching out and can somehow access every archive in Mando’s memories. It’s like a trance and you have to physically shake your head to release yourself.

“He means a lot to you,” you say, a matter of fact, tearing off the weathered page and giving him your quick sketch, your hand resting on one of his pauldrons. “I’m sure you mean a lot to him.”

Mando silently turns back to the controls, his fingers still clutching the little ball as he grips the page in the other hand.

He’s especially glad to have his helmet at this moment because he feels water pooling behind his eyelids as he stares at the uncanny drawing.

“That’s him,” he whispers, looking upon his boy. It’s almost an exact likeness, although in grayscale (he’ll have to find you other colors somehow). But it means everything to see Grogu again, even on a page, after months of only seeing him in fleeting dreams and distorted nightmares.

“Thank you,” he says, his hand with the drawing joining your hand on his pauldron.

You smile as he neatly, delicately folds the paper and tucks it into the small pouch on his shoulder harness, keeping the drawing close to his heart. You sit together in comfortable silence as the ship drops out of hyperspace.

“I guess you weren’t lying when we met,” he finally says.

“What do you mean?”

“You are… crafty,” he chuckles, his fingers tenderly stroking the leather pouch on his shoulder. “And you’re a good person to talk to.”

—

iv.

The Mandalorian doesn’t ask you to stay on the freighter while he works anymore.

He doesn’t want you with him while he hunts, can’t afford the distraction. But he doesn’t want you to feel trapped either. So, he tells you to explore villages and draw landscapes of forested planets with the set of pigmented chalks he’d sweetly gifted you after finishing a job one day. (“I saw them at some backwater trading post. Thought you might like them,” he’d shrugged.)

He doesn’t say it out loud but you know he trusts you even more now, trusts you won’t get into trouble, trusts you can take care of yourself if it finds you anyway. And he knows you appreciate it after being stranded on Tatooine your entire life. Each time he lands on a new planet, he sees entire galaxies reflected in your awestruck eyes and he gains a new page of artwork to add to his growing collection.

His latest quarry leads the pair of you to Felucia, on the hunt for some scum who — according to the Mandalorian — is probably hoping to harvest the planet’s Nysillin, a valuable healing herb, to trade for hefty credits.

Felucia is a beautiful world you could never have even conjured in your dreams. A dense jungle of flora extends toward the upper atmosphere, kissing the yellow-tinted clouds and glowing orange and teal when night falls. Vibrant purple fungi tower high above the ferns, providing shade that did little to combat the damp heat.

You felt a strange energy running through your veins the moment you stepped off the ship, blaming it on the humidity instantly sticking to your skin like honey, a welcome discomfort compared to the sands of Tatooine.

On Tat, the sand made a habit of blowing and whipping around your ankles, scraping slashes and slivers into your skin. You’d hardly ever felt it, soft skin having evolved into a numb armor over many years on the desolate planet. Even as crystal particles would fly into your eyes, fill your lungs, nestle into your hair — you’d hardly felt it.

Sand is nothing compared to the sinister shudder that would run down your spine as you’d make haste through dark alleyways. The hairs on the back of your neck would rise and stiffen. You’d feel it more than you’d see it: the mass of darkness constantly looming over your shoulder, disfigured shadows merging with yours on the sand. And a voice would ask you each time: are you willing to do what you must to survive?

You almost had that night you met the Mandalorian. You remember your attacker’s voice like you just woke up from a nightmare, coarse and rough, burying itself under your skin like the Tatooine sands. His hands had felt slimy and sticky like the Felucian air as he’d gripped your waist. That same question of will had rung in your ears and your soul had urged you with a whisper: “Survive.” Your hand had quaked as you’d lifted it and focused your thoughts on your attacker’s throat.

Then, before you could save yourself, you’d heard blaster fire and exhaled a staggered breath, gazing upon the Mandalorian as your hand had dropped limp at your side. You never turned back.

Now, you explore more systems than you knew existed, a Mandalorian warrior at your side, filling your weathered drawing pad with sketches of worlds beyond imagination.

Felucia would be a quick job, he’d assured you when he’d left. Easy and clean. Besides, no matter how beautiful the planet seemed — you couldn’t afford to stay longer than one rotation.

The Mandalorian had warned you of carnivorous plants and mysterious beasts. He hadn’t asked you to stay on the ship, but you knew he’d feel better if you kept close by. In the low shrubs and behind sky-scraping stalks, a deep grumble echoed through the jungle — something hungry and menacing. You stayed far from the sounds, choosing to explore the other colorful flowers that lived nearer to the ruddy soil, not straying too far into the mystifying wilds. You scribble away in your booklet, airways filled with a fresh petrichor that reminds you of a watery star system the Mandalorian brought you to a couple of months back. Your chalks fly across the tiny page as you capture this planet’s inimitable beauty as best you can.

Hardly four hours pass before you hear the Mandalorian’s heavy footsteps returning. Behind him trudges a stout man, wrists in binders behind him as he follows the bounty hunter in defeat.

“You’re getting slow, Mando,” you say, grinning when he comes to a stop in front of you, hands on his hips, a slight tilt to his helmet.

“What are you drawing?” He asks, ignoring your previous comment. He kneels beside you, silently studying the chalk-smudged red flower on the page as you stroke the final flourishes of your sketch. You hand him your booklet, noticing how the quarry leans over Mando’s shoulder to sneak a peek as well.

“Beautiful,” Mando says, tone even, as if speaking a fact instead of opinion.

“Well, it’s easy to see beauty when it’s all around,” you answer, cheeks heated as you gesture to the plant life surrounding you.

“It is,” he agrees, tenderness seeping into his modulated voice. When you look up at him, his visor is already trained on your face, unwavering as you crouch eye to eye with each other.

“Hate to break it to ya,” the quarry says, coughing dramatically behind you. “But all this ‘beauty’ wants to eat us alive, so I suggest we get off this hellhole before we all become dinner.”

The Mandalorian sighs, tearing his gaze to probably glare daggers at the quarry.

“Makes you wonder what you were doing on this ‘hellhole’ in the first place,” he says, sarcastic to a fault.

“It wasn’t my choice,” the quarry argues, lifting his hands in defense. “I’m here to do a job, just like y—”

A shrill, deafening screech cuts through the jungle like a blade and the group of you shrink at the violent sound.

“Let’s go,” Mando says immediately, helping you on your feet and pushing the quarry into the freighter.

You watch from the ground behind him as Mando runs in to lock the quarry inside the storage closet, turning only when the screeching sound suddenly stops. Your eyes squint as you try to find a sign of movement in the dense jungle.

“Watch out!”

Before you can register the anxiety in the Mandalorian’s voice, you’re knocked on your back into the red soil by a hulking creature.

It towers over you, casting you completely in its shadow as it slowly stalks forward. Your vision blurs as the horrifying monster draws closer — wrinkled white skin stretching the expanse of its belly and blue spine-covered leather painting its face and shell-armored back.

“I’m guessing this is the rancor you were telling me about?” You grit through your teeth, inching away like a pathetic crab along the shoreline. Drool leaks from the rancor’s jagged teeth in dangling strands as it reaches long, webbed claws toward you.

Before they can reach your body, you see the Mandalorian’s whipcord wrap around its arm. On the other end of the cord, Mando yanks the rancor away from you, rapid blaster fire whizzing through the air, hitting the beast with deadly precision. But the blasts bounce off its thick, impenetrable skin as it continues prowling toward you with renewed anger.

“Good guess,” Mando grunts, flying above the rancor with his jetpack, shooting at it in quick succession.

The rancor turns its attention away from you to the shiny flying pest blasting at its leathery skin. It’s at least six times the Mandalorian’s height but seems worlds larger from your view on the ground.

“Stars, I thought you said these things were peaceful!” You shout.

“The Felucians don’t mind them. You must have scared it with your aggressive craftiness,” he quips, and you imagine what his smirk might look like under his helmet, even as the rancor approaches closer.

Mando launches miniature whistling explosives at the beast, but they do little to deter it. He throws grenades but the rancor swats them away like insects. It stomps toward the Mandalorian, its maw gaping wide as it releases a petrifying roar.

“Mando!” You scream when the rancor’s claws grab him by his jetpack, plowing his body into the ground with brute force.

The Mandalorian groans as he tries to stand back up, falling on his back when his bones prove too weary to support his weight.

“Get to the ship,” he rasps, voice crackling through the helmet with static. He raises his arm, flamethrower igniting at the rancor’s face, making it fumble backward with another roar. Only seconds later, the fire sputters and dies out. “Dank farrik!” He curses, reaching for his hopeless blaster once more before the monster’s claws slap it from his hand. “Get to the ship!” He yells.

Rooted to the ground like the surrounding plants, you’re helpless bantha fodder as you watch the rancor slowly creep forward, stretching to its full height above the Mandalorian. It feels like you’re sinking in quicksand — your feet and your mind hopelessly going under.

Then, you hear a soft voice ask a familiar yet distorted question:

Are you willing to do what you must so he survives?

You don’t hesitate. Anything, your soul resolves.

Steadily braced on two feet, you throw out your hand like a whip, focusing all your energy and emotions toward the blue beast. It sends the rancor flying backward like a ragdoll, wailing as it crashes through the thick jungle, loud cracks echoing from the mist as its body breaks every plant in its path. It lands far away with a heavy thud, but you feel it in your veins when it immediately gets on its feet, vengefully sprinting back toward you.

“Can’t say it isn’t persistent,” you mutter.

“How? You—” Mando grunts, a thousand questions on his tongue that will have to wait.

“I’ll explain later,” you huff, yanking his arm over your shoulder and pulling him to the ship. “We need to get out of here.”

“What’s happening?” The quarry yells from inside the locked compartment when he hears footsteps boarding the ship. You drop the Mandalorian onto the floor of the main hold rather unceremoniously, a metallic clanging sound ringing through the freighter. You punch in his code to retract the ship’s ramp before running to the cockpit. Outside the freighter, the rancor’s screeching grows louder and your fingers flit across the control panel to get the ship in the air. The engines whir to life and you swear it’s the second most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

With one final glance at the glowing jungle outside the viewport, thunderous roars softening into a low rumble, the ship finally launches out of Felucia’s atmosphere. Sinking back in the pilot’s seat, you let out a breath you’ve been holding for what feels like years. A labored dragging sound echoes behind you and you snap your head back, instinctively on defense.

But your shoulders relax when you see the Mandalorian gripping the walls of the ship as he attempts to limp closer. You run to his side, carrying his weight as you lead him to sit in the co-pilot’s chair.

“You need to rest,” you whisper, standing in front of him to quickly scan his body for signs of a major injury. “Looks like you got away with just a few shallow cuts and bruises. Nothing a bit of bacta can’t soothe.”

Your words come out like the rapid firing of his blaster before a gloved hand on your wrist stops you from speeding off.

“What happened back there? How did you...” He asks, his visor lifted at an uncomfortable angle to meet your eyes.

Your lips press into a straight line, brows pinched in worry as you turn away from him to rummage through the medpac.

“I don’t...” you start, letting out a long exhale as you gather your words. “I don’t know. Since I was a kid, I’ve been able to do things I can’t explain — move things without touching them.”

You turn back to him, bacta in hand as you study expressionless beskar.

“Sometimes, it frightens me. I have no idea where it comes from or why it happens or how to control it. I never do it around other people. I didn’t want them to know,” you admit quietly, dropping your gaze to his vambrace, wordlessly asking if he still trusts you to remove it. He nods, visor watching you with masked curiosity as you roll back his sleeves and expose bruised, tan skin. “I’m afraid of what could happen if people knew.”

You don’t tell him how you don’t sleep well most nights, your thoughts eating away at your mind as you wonder if your abilities are the reason why you’ve always been alone… if they drove your family away before you could understand and just explain.

It stays silent while you tend to his wounds, applying bacta wherever your hands coax sharp hissing sounds from his helmet. His armor lies on the floor of the cockpit, sleeves pulled up to his elbows and the hem of his shirt lifted just enough to reveal a shallow cut and smattering of bruises on his abdomen. It’s not the worst you’ve seen and the bacta seems to already be easing most of the discomfort, allowing him to sit up straighter.

You leave him for a moment to allow him to tend to the bruises on his legs himself, walking to the supply closet to make sure the quarry is secure in his makeshift prison. When you return, you sit in the pilot’s seat, facing the zooming stars as if they hold the answers to every terrifying question you’ve held inside for so long.

You almost don’t hear the soft way the Mandalorian calls your name. It takes all your strength to pivot your seat in his direction.

“Do you remember when I told you about the mudhorn?” He asks.

You nod. The story of the mudhorn, of course you remember. After he’d first told you about his child, he seemed eager to tell you even more tales of their adventures across the galaxy. The mudhorn felt like their origin story, the birthplace of his connection to Grogu.

“I didn’t tell you the whole story,” he says quietly, piquing your attention. “Grogu saved me. Not the other way around.”

You stare at him dumbfounded. “But how? He’s just a baby.”

Mando stands from the co-pilot’s seat, testing his leg’s stability before walking to the control board, leaning back on it, his knees brushing against yours.

“Grogu had powers too. He could heal people. And he could move things without touching them,” he mirrors your words, making your jaw drop as you take them in. “Just like you. I was quested to bring him to others of his kind.”

“You mean?” you ask, and he doesn’t miss the flash of hope in your eyes.

“Yes. There are others like him — like you.”

You listen with rapt attention as he unravels the legend of the Jedi — a fierce warrior he’d met named Ahsoka Tano and the hooded figure who had single-handedly defeated a platoon of Dark Troopers and became Grogu’s new mentor. He tells you the few fragments of what he knows about laser swords — lightsabers — the bright colors he’s seen them radiate. But he leaves out the heavy weight of the darksaber locked away in his weapons cabinet. Besides that, he tells you everything he knows, which he regrets isn’t much.

“The Force?” You ask in confusion.

“The Force is what gives you your powers,” he says, reciting the words like folklore passed down through generations. “It is an energy field created by all living things. To wield it takes a great deal of training and discipline.”

Ahsoka’s words have been imprinted on his brain since she first spoke them.

“I can take you to a place where you can communicate with them,” he whispers. Truly, he doesn’t want to do as he says, doesn’t want to repeat the heartache he’s still not fully recovered from. He wishes he could snatch the righteous words out of the air before you hear them. But he knows what it would mean to you to find others, a family when you’ve had none your whole life. “The… Jedi, I mean. On a planet called Tython. If you want to be trained.”

He imagines a familiar hooded figure leading you by your hand, leaving him behind.

“I… I’d like to hear what they have to say. Get some answers,” you say. “If you’ll take me.”

“Of course.”

You stand up, allowing him to take his place in the pilot’s chair.

“After we drop off the quarry, I’ll bring you to Tython.”

His breath stops when he sees your hand reach out to cradle the side of his helmet. His eyes screw shut, imagining the plush warmth of your palm caressing the skin on his cheek instead.

“Thank you, Mando,” you say, a gentle smile on your lips.

“Din,” he offers, grinning beneath his helmet when your chin tilts in silent questioning. “My name is Din Djarin,” he clarifies. “But you can still call me Mando if you want.”

You smile, so wide and so bright it could blind him.

“Thank you, Din,” you say, unexplored galaxies sparkling in your irises. For the first time, he lets himself daydream what it’d be like to discover each one of them with you, for as many years as you’ll give him. Even as he fears his time with you is ending. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

As you walk to your sleeping quarters, the soft sound of controls beeping and ticking in the ship, you don’t hear when he whispers:

“Anything.” [READ PART II HERE]

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #reader insert #taole #mine*

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aotxfan · 4 years ago

Text

Lily of the Valley (Reiner)

Due to an unnamed female character being used, this can be read as a reader insert.

Summary: Having lost her previous love, Bertholdt, female unnamed character marries Reiner for protection and slowly finds herself falling for him.

Reiner loved her, of that she was sure.

Despite the sadness that lingered in his eyes when he gazed at her, despite the guilt that tormented him daily as his thumb twirled the gold band around his ring finger, and despite the nightmares that would wake him up at night, she was sure he loved her.

Even before they had left Paradis, before they had lost the person so important to both of them, and before they had decided to start a new life in Marley, she had always sensed something between them. For as long as she had known him, she had sensed some sort of connection. Back when they were in boot camp, she would often feel his stare on her. When they were in training, he would always make sure to select her as his partner and keep a watchful eye over her. As Scouts, he was always asking the others for information on her safety and would be the first to rush to her when he spotted her to asses her for injuries.

She had always sensed his affection for her, and that affection had only grown as the years in Paradis ticked on by.

Even after she had entered into a relationship with Bertholdt, she knew he still harbored feelings for her. He would keep them hidden, bury them somewhere unknown even from himself, but they would still burn in his gaze from time to time. An unspoken secret lingering under the skin just past what the eye could see.

As his best friend’s lover, he had never made a move. Reiner could never bring himself to get in the way of her relationship with Bertholdt, despite the art of betrayal that was second nature to all the Warriors, that was the one line he was never willing to cross. No, all those years in Paradis, they had remained strictly friends and he had never entertained the notion that he felt for her as something deeper than platonic.

They were both content with life as it was then. She had loved Bertholdt, fallen in love with him as naturally as day turned to night, and had become her lover. Reiner had remained her friend and her lover’s best friend. Nothing more had transpired between the two, and they had been more than happy with that.

However, the world they lived in was terribly cruel. It hadn’t played out the way they had imagined. Life had changed drastically in such a short time.

Back in Paradis, she had left the Scouts in favor of the man she loved. Betraying her friends and the portion of humanity within the walls, she had agreed to leave with the two to Marley. In love with Bertholdt, she had accepted his invitation to join him in his home and become his wife.

The idea was to return to Marley. Bertholdt and Reiner would be honored as heroes for their return even if their mission hadn’t been a success, and their new honorable status would protect her. Bertholdt would marry her, show Marley that she was one of the good Eldians and not an island devil like the others, and they would live happily inside their new home-

However, that hadn’t happened.

Instead, Bertholdt had died in battle and been swallowed by Armin. She had waited for him back in Liberio only for Reiner, Zeke, and Pieck to return without him.

After that, the plan had fallen through. Without his protection, Marley was intent to kill her. She had already given him all the secrets she knew about Paradis, and her usefulness had run short. Now, Marley had no other reason to keep her. Her death was coming quickly, and she hadn’t minded dying if it meant reuniting with her lover in the afterlife.

But Reiner didn’t allow it. With his new status as a Vice Commander, he had rushed to protect her as he had promised Bertholdt back in the island. Pleading before Marley, he had proposed that he marry her instead. He had pleaded and groveled, and somehow Marley had given in.

She had been made Mrs. Braun when she should have been Mrs. Hoover and had been given a new chance at life.

For three years, they were wed.

In the first year, she hated Reiner. She was angry at him for saving her and failing to save Bertholdt. She hated living without him and refused to let Reiner anywhere near her. Reiner, in turn, would acquiesce to her demands for him to sleep in a separate room and would offer apologies in a hushed whisper when he heard her crying in private.

She had a feeling he hated himself even more than she hated him. After all, he had failed to save his best friend and had taken his happy ending to boot. They both knew she should have married Bertholdt and not him.

Reiner felt guilty and the remorse would tear him apart. He would apologize constantly, wouldn’t complain when she refused to wear the wedding ring, and wouldn’t touch her in fear of further hurting her.

For a year, their marriage had been strained. Obligation and the fear of her death kept them together even as guilt and agony tore them apart.

But then the Mid-East War had started. Suddenly, Reiner had been torn away from her side, and she had been left all alone.

As she anxiously waited for the end of the war, she had slowly begun to regret her coldness. Every letter he sent was full of pain and regret, and she had no one but herself to blame for the heavy burden on his shoulders. She was the world’s worst wife and feared she might not have a chance to mend things between them before he passed.

Every day that he was gone, she would pace their home anxiously awaiting his return. Every letter he sent was carefully folded and unfolded again and again in anticipation of the next. Every newspaper that bore a list of casualties from the warfront was read with baited breath.

By the third year of their marriage, her hatred and anger had cooled. Left behind was only a softness that she hadn’t felt in a long time. As she waited anxiously for his return, she began to realize that she had fallen in love with him.

By the time Marley had won at Fort Slava and Liberio waited for the return of the Marley soldiers, she had been utterly in love. Standing at the station waiting for him and Gabi, she had gripped the wedding ring she had only recently begun wearing tight for strength. Even as her mother-in-law viewed her with disgust, having never forgiven her son for marrying an island devil, and the line of soldiers reuniting with their families had begun to thin, she hadn’t lost hope of seeing him again.

When he had finally emerged from the train trailing after an excited Gabi, she had rushed to him. His expression had been utterly surprised when she had thrown her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. Startled, he had just barely managed not to fall over as he saw the tears of relief that ran down her face.

After their reunion, a new chapter had opened between them. They shared a bed once he returned, and she grew comfortable with letting him near. The house wasn’t so quiet, and she stopped crying. The wedding ring she wore no longer burned her skin, and he seemed to ease just slightly on his self-hatred.

They began to grow more comfortable with each other. She would greet him with a kiss in the morning and he would wrap an arm around her waist at night as they drifted off.

Slowly, a sense of serenity had drifted over them. Gone was the shouting and anger. In its wake, a marriage began to bloom. It was a fragile thing, a tiny bud of a flower emerging from a crack in the pavement, but it blossomed all the same.

She knew there was still pain between them. There were still times she would have nightmares of Bertholdt, and a sense of remorse would fill her as she realized she was slowly moving on. There were still times when Reiner would leave her after they had finished making love and would lock himself in the bathroom filled with a sense of self-hatred as he lamented the fact that he had stolen his best friend’s happy ending when he did not deserve it.

Still, she never doubted he loved her back. All those years, his heart had been hers even as hers had belonged to another. There had always been something between them both even if it had gone unnoticed and ignored for years.

Even when he was torn apart by the agony rooted deep within his heart, his gaze would still betray his affections. He would reach for her hand and grip it tightly, accept the affection she offered, and bury his pain as he buried himself in her. He would grip her tight and hold her as he slept allowing her touch to chase away his nightmares. He would wake up before her and whisper his proclamations of love into her hair when he thought she was in the land of dreams and could not hear.

Despite everything life had thrown at them both and the agony that gripped their hearts, she never doubted the love between them was true.

Although blossomed in a cruel world and watered on shared tears, the connection between them was sincere and ever growing. Love had bloomed from agony like a Lily of the Valley rising in the darkness, and she knew their hearts would heal together. Although he didn’t have much left, the curse growing ever closer with every passing day, she was certain that the love between them would be eternal even if they were ephemeral.

Despite the sadness that lingered and the shared guilt that refused to fade, she was certain of two things and never wavered on her belief.

The first was that Reiner loved her every bit as much as she loved him.

And, the second was that their love would endure even after death, in its cruelty, had torn them apart like it had her previous love.

#reiner x reader #bertolt x reader #attack on titan #aot x reader

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bookersebastien · 4 years ago

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since I love your headcanons/meta (if you're up to it) can I have your thoughts on the guard + fashion

andy

Andy probably has a pretty complicated relationship with fashion, like i think she does with most things in the modern world given the fact that it’s only a tiny spec of her lifetime

She’s spent her life watching thousands upon thousands of fashion trends come and go and was alive during the creation of many fabrics themselves

She’s been a warrior her entire life, we may not know the manner of her first death (or at least not from the movies) but we know she’s spent most of her life as an immortal fighting, both before and after she met quynh

Fashion for her was always at the very least comfortable and flexible, something she could travel and fight in without a moment’s notice

But to some extent how she looks, her image is a very important aspect of her, especially in the earlier part of her life

She was a famed fighter for so long, earning her name “fighter of man”, there were probably stories told of her and quynh, warrior women who no one can defeat, her clothing at that time at least semi reflected that, she wanted to be seen as “unbreakable” as she says in the movie

She had probably minimal armor, after all she doesn’t need it technically and would only prefer it to have less healing time if she took on less damage, but her clothing showed exactly who she was, every bit the warrior

As practical as she is, who she appears to be is still probably very much still tied to her identity, she may not be known anymore and doesn’t even want to be for the sake of their safety but her clothes are not just strictly practical, rather than be the warrior of myth she has now become a warrior of the modern age, a warrior of the shadows

Her clothes still reflect her younger self, the famed warrior, just scaled back and modernized. She wears calf-high boots, arm braces and fitted clothing in all black she cuts quite and imposing figure and that’s what i think she wants. She doesn’t necessarily use it to intimidate others, as her younger self may have done, this time her clothing is now to make her still feel powerful, a reflection of who she is now: skilled and deadly, ready at a moments notice to protect those she loves

While jeans and a tank top is a perfectly normal outfit, with the boots and braces you’d do a double take, wondering who she was, but it’s meant to blend in just enough but if you look closely enough at how tight the boots are laced and her posture, tank top carefully tucked in you’d start to wonder

I think she does actually like fashion, she’s seen so much of it and she probably sees things that remind her of something she saw hundreds of years ago, like seeing trends pop up again and it fills her with nostalgia. It reminds her of when she was in love with humanity, loved seeing what people created and invented and when she truly believed in their cause

But things definitely changed after quynh was thrown in the ocean, just had a less of desire and the clothes probably reminded her of quynh, what’d she’d wear and what she’d get for andy to wear and as modern times came around she stuck to stuff that was more practical, still a little fashionable, but stuff that could be worn doing anything from sleeping to fighting

I think her clothing in the movie, mostly black, reflects who she is as this time: a powerful and strong warrior who’s also afraid, she’s afraid that she spent her life fighting for something that doesn’t matter but also (pre-nile) afraid of what she’s going to do now that she said the world could burn - what does a 6,000+ immortal warrior do then?

booker

Booker is not unfashionable, and while his relatively apathetic and cynical nature might make you think fashion isn’t something he would care about, i think he does

He isn’t like joe who would go the extra step to make an outfit more aesthetically pleasing, but also he isn’t as super practical as nicky (he keeps his gun in his pants for fuck’s sake)

Booker is tired and wants to feel normal, to feel his humanity that he feels is slipping away from him even though it’s already been 200 years - he’s still adjusting and that’s because he never wanted this and still doesn’t completely accept this is his life now (hence at least a partial reason for his betrayal)

But i don’t booker is one to make too much of a fuss about what he’s wearing, he wants simple clothing that won’t make him look out of place, especially since he was the one who met with copley for that previous mission maybe he is the one who scouts missions as their seemingly resident computer person

So he goes for what a lot of people do: classic pieces of clothing in selection of relatively neutral colors that all work together. In their life it’s important to have clothes at the ready, both in their bags and at their safehouses and i’d bet at least most of his stuff would work together with no issues

Aside from the tac outfit of course, he mainly wears an assortment of jeans, boots, button downs and leather jackets in mostly blacks and grays with a couple faded blues and greens - any of these can be thrown on without an issue, it looks like a complete outfit and nothing about how he’s dressed is any way going to attrract attention

Plus this man doesn’t care enough about himself to make him look good rather than just being fine with what he has, he wants to die and doesn’t allow himself to feel the love he has from his family, dressing up to him isn’t going to add anything or make anything better

So in the sequel i’d love to see him deal with his pain and his betrayal head on and who knows maybe joe will buy him some zipper pants too and maybe booker will actually like them

nicky

Nicky is the other more practical one other than andy, but he lacks her attempt at keeping at appearances/empowerment

The majority of movies he’s wearing plain t-shirts and regular jeans with dad jackets, the only slightly impractical fashion choice being his hoodie from the tac outfit, which it does cover him up completely and allows him to cover his face more if needed but also it’s hot (i also like that post comparing the hoodie to the crusader’s chainmail helmet)

But nicky in essence is practical, he’s the protector of the group, always watching and always on the edges, he doesn’t care much i think for what he wears as long as it allows him to do his job

Yes of course he participated in fashions over the years, and will wear things joe picks out for him and occasionally what he picks out for himself, but that stuff is not for when there is a mission, not when people need help

But i think he usually gravitates towards simple like andy, something to run and fight in but he lacks andy’s past of fame, reverence, and notoriety (at least in the way she had it - he did fight in the crusades after all) so his clothing isn’t to do anything for him but to act as clothing, it holds no mental power over him, he has no image to project - he’s done so much that he wants to help people and protect his family and that’s it

I don’t think growing up in genoa before the crusades lent itself to that many fashion opportunities and while we aren’t sure of his exact status, i don’t think any of the guard were particularly wealthy (except possibly yusuf as the son of merchants) and being a priest at the time i’m sure didn’t make him wealthy in his adulthood either

And while he’s lived 900+ years, the way you grew up doesn’t just leave you, he was at least catholic, and i still think he holds his faith close, just in a different way now

Plus look at his tac outfit, the most comfortable looking (it is a hoodie after all) and he has half a dozen guns strapped to himself along with sword, he wants the ability to carry his things comfortably without impeding him in any way, he wants to be totally and completely prepared and is very much the typical dad in this sense, everything must be on hand so he can protect those he loves

Also you know this man owns cargo pants much to joe’s dismay

joe

we all know joe is the fashionable male among the guard, i mean the backwards baseball cap and the zipper pants? yeah

in his tac outfit, the hat really adds nothing to it besides aesthetic, it’s not shielding his eyes from the sun because he’s wearing sunglasses and it doesn’t aid him in any way during a fight unless he had decided to pull a booker and do “whatever works” and just like hit someone with it - it’s a purely aesthetic choice

but joe was the child of merchants and lived in an area with a rich history of colorful and beautiful fashion, the region was known for the lightweight fabrics and light silks that during the crusades, many were brought back to europe and astounded the europeans

i think that has stayed with joe, that complete appreciation and awe at the craft of making clothing and using clothing to show yourself and personality

joe is also a man of the arts, there was so much poetry and arts in the maghreb region, and while that existed in italy as well, nicky was a priest and probably wasn’t exposed to it much outside a religious context

joe is also an artist himself, he has such a grand appreciation for aesthetics and while clothing purely for aesthetics isn’t practical for the life they live unless they are on a break, he manages to infuse his clothing with his personality nonetheless

the backwards hat was fun, unnecessary but it also didn’t get in the way of his fighting. he probably just enjoyed the look (and i know we all did too) and the leather jacket with the hoodie and zippered pants at the end scene was just such an effortless cool look that was still practical but had a lot more personality and an attempted look™ than say nicky and his dad jacket

nile

most of what nile is wearing in the movie isn’t her choice of clothing, not that i don’t think she’d absolutely pick out that green bomber jacket but in the movie she wasn’t the one who picked it, it was packed for her

but the outfit she wears in the end is just like her, trendy and young and refreshing given that the rest of the guard sticks to their own styles they’ve been in the whole movie

but nile is the one who is most likely to branch out, she’s only in her late 20s and by her last scene in the movie it’s only been maybe a week or so since she became immortal, she hasn’t evolved a ‘be ready to fight’ kind of fashion and doesn’t have the hundreds of years of experience telling her to buy things that she can fight in as well as sleep in - now she was in the marines so to some extent but not with her own personal clothing choices

despite her chaotic introduction to being immortal, it won’t set in for a while that their lives are running from one danger to the next, taking breaks when they can, especially with andy’s renewed commitment to the job she and the others set out to accomplish, her clothing style will probably change as she settles into this new life

but we can see in her last scene, she is wearing comfortable clothing, a fitted shirt with a stylish yet somewhat more loose fitting jacket and looser pants (they look like joggers and i can’t completely remember if they are or not)

so while her clothes are comfortable, they are more fashionable than any of the others, and while this probably has lots to do with her age i think it’s very important to her current state of mind

she’s had the most insane weeks of her life, found out she’s not going to die for a very long time, found out there are others like her, and had to say goodbye to her family without seeing them again because she’s decided to stick with her new life

and this is a massive change for her, after being in the military for quite a few years, assuming she joined when she around 18-20 which i think she did enlist then especially given the fact that her dad passed when she was younger

life in the military is very controlled, so her having this sudden new gift but also this vast wide open future is probably terrifying to her, so much has changed so quickly, she hasn’t had the time to properly sort through how she’s feeling and truly realizing what this life means

her clothes are a reflection of one thing in her life she can currently control because she can’t control what’s going to happen in the world and where copley will find them a job or where they will be at any one time but she has control over herself so she dresses herself how she wants, how she’d dress if she was home

it’s some semblance of normality, some piece of herself that hasn’t changed and that she wants to express

quynh

while we don’t see quynh much besides in flashbacks and then in the final scene i think fashion is going to be something important to her

she spent 500 years drowning, unable to do anything, unable to save herself

nile said she was feeling insane and angry, quynh spent 500 years without an ounce of control over what was happening to her and regaining her life is something she is not going to take for granted

she’s going to live her life to the fullest, which includes wearing whatever she likes and wearing the colors she loves and the clothing that makes her feel beautiful and badass and powerful - a little like andy and a little like nile

it’s a huge part of her life she’s regained, clothing is something the whole world sees and part of how we perceive people and in a world that she doesn’t know at all she’ll want to craft herself an image because clothing is still one thing she can understand - the styles are all different but i have no doubts it’s something she took to quite quickly, having something she can control completely

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ichorizaki · 4 years ago

Text

monsters — i.h.

꒰ ❛ genre ❜ ꒱ — fluff ; college!au

꒰ ❛ pairing ❜ ꒱ — senior!iwaizumi hajime x senior!gn!reader

꒰ ❛ warnings ❜ ꒱ — teeth-rotting fluff, curse words

꒰ ❛ word count ❜ ꒱ — 2.6k

˚ ༘ˀˀ ꒰‧⁺ a text from sol — ✎ˀ i got inspired upon reading a text post reposted onto pinterest, so enjoy some domestic iwa-chan! i’m considering opening up a taglist too but i’m not too confident.... huhu

-`,✎ synopsis! ; ♡ throughout his entire life, iwaizumi hajime has been fighting all sorts of monsters. he’s just thankful that you were there by his side the whole time with your unwavering support and uplifting words of kindness. this time however, you defeated the biggest monster that he’s faced yet with just one word.

Iwaizumi Hajime could remember one of the first few times he felt fear. It was one of the hottest days of summer with the sun high and mighty in the sky, sometime about two decades ago when he was still young and the world seemed so huge compared to him. He and Oikawa were playing in his yard, a volleyball that fit snugly into a child’s hands being thrown back and forth. He remembered Oikawa being terrible enough to serve the ball too far and it went into the small nest of trees just beyond the brick fence barricading his house.

It was stark as day—the heavy, accelerated thump, thump, thumping of his unsteady heart, the tremor of his tiny hands, the quiver of his bottom lip, and the clear tears turning his vision into a terrifying blend of summer colours. He remembered how the fear slithered from his feet to his shoulders, taunting and whispering untrue threats and poisonous anxieties into his ears as he tried to help an equally distressed Oikawa stand. The first fear; the first monster that took form in his small body.

He had abrasions on his knees and elbows, dirt and emerald leaves stuck in his messy brown locks as tears streamed down his face. Oikawa had fallen down from the tree he climbed to inspect a long forgotten kite while trying to get the volleyball that he served into a tree.

“You’re lucky that you didn’t suffer too badly, Toorū,” his mother chided gently. She had always been patient and gentle with them, fixing any wounds be it physical or emotional. “Now, now, Hajime, Toorū will be okay.” The smile that blossomed on her face was like a healing flower, spreading warmth through his body like sunshine as she kissed them both on their temples slick with summer sweat.

For a while, it was just him and Oikawa, fighting their onslaught of tiny gremlins of fears as they grew. The gremlins grew with every fear they overcame, and eventually developed into a monster that lurked in the background wherever they went. Creeping, waiting, watching in the shadows. Iwaizumi remembered his first monster like it was just yesterday: the dark.

It was his first sleepover that wasn’t just him and Oikawa. The new person was you, L/N Y/N, their shy second grade classmate. Oikawa was eager to have you join them, wanting you to be comfortable and never left out. That was your first mini monster—the shyness of a lurking child who was too afraid to show the world who they were—and thanks to Oikawa’s lovely hospitality and friendliness, you managed to defeat it without lifting a finger.

Iwaizumi never forgot the monster he faced that night, because you were there with your stunning smile.

Everything in the Oikawa household was still, tendrils darkness slithering their way from the deepest, darkest corners and trapping the house under its nighttime curse. Iwaizumi didn’t know what time it was, but everyone was asleep. He wanted to go to the toilet, but his childhood was peacefully sleeping as he held on to his bunny plushie.

That was when you had stirred awake. You were bleary-eyed, half-awoken from his broken whimpers of frustration. You rose from the futon you were given, curious as to why your new friend was awake in the middle of the night.

“Iwaizumi-kun?” Your voice was soft and gentle; a blanket of comfort wrapping around his shoulders as he looked over at you. “What’s wrong? You can tell me.” Maybe it was the way you phrased your words, how they eloquently became mini candlelights in his heart, or maybe it was the way you had immediately gotten up from your futon and waddled over to sit in front of him, clutching onto your comfort teddy bear, because he found himself spilling his concerns to you.

“I . . . I want to go to the toilet but it’s dark and scary outside.”

Oh, but the smile that you gave him was blinding.

“My grandma taught me this trick: if you’re scared of monsters in the dark, make louder, weirder noises to scare them off!” His mossy eyes glimmered in the pale moonlight with excitement of this newfound knowledge. “I can hold your hand and follow you. I need to go to the toilet, too.” The sheepish grin on your face was one he would always keep close to his heart, and he was glad that it never changed even when you grew.

As you held onto his hand, you held onto the vow that you made. You could tell how scared he was with the heavy, hesitant steps that he took and how sweaty his palms had grown. You were also scared, but you couldn’t show that to your new friend! You had to be brave, and brave you were as you took the lead in screaming high-pitched, garbled nonsense into the dark corridors. Eventually, he joined in as you both raced down the stairs, giggles bubbling from your lips as you made your way to the toilet near the kitchen.

You heard footsteps when you were finishing up in the toilet. You didn’t want Iwaizumi to be scared so you quickly washed your hands and threw open the door to find Oikawa’s parents looking incredibly concerned. With a proud grin, you told them what you did and they looked at each other with a smile you could never quite describe before bending down to your heights.

“Well, that’s brave of you, L/N-chan,” his mother praised. You sported a grin that boasted pride. “C’mon, let’s get you two back to bed, shall we?” Iwaizumi took your hand in his as he held Oikawa’s dad’s in the other.

“You don’t have to be scared anymore, Iwaizumi-kun,” you promised. “I’m here and I’ll always be here for you.”

Not once had you let go of that promise. Not even when the both of you got into fights that threatened the life of your friendship, or when someone’s heart broke little by little as the other held hands with someone else with a smile that they wished they could be the cause of. You were stubborn and so was he, and sometimes it felt like both of your obstinacy was the saving line. Rain or shine, come hell or high water, you were there for him and he was there for you.

The fears—these monsters that came in all forms and sizes—kept coming at him. Not only did they hurt him, but they had also hurt you and Oikawa, and he had always placed the blame on himself even when the both of you told him not to.

University life is hard. He had to juggle part time work and studies, and he barely had time to himself, let alone with you. The rare days that he gets to press pause on everything and lay in bed with you, his significant other of two years, he cherishes them.

“Y/N,” his gruff voice called out for you. You turned around and his bulking tanned arms trapped your figure in his warm embrace. His face was inches away from your as you lay there chest-to-chest. He could never get tired of staring at your face. From the dips and curves of your facial structure to the way your stunning eyes glow no matter what, he could never get enough.

The pillows of your soft lips pressed against his and he found himself chasing your lips for a longer kiss as you pulled away with a gentle chuckle. It pulled him out of his reverie, a small smile playing on his lips as his fingers reached up to push your hair away from your face. The late afternoon sun was warm against his skin and yours but the air conditioning soothed the warmth like a gulp of freshly iced water.

“Remember when I asked you to be my significant other?”

“How could I ever forget, Hajime?” Your laugh—god, your laugh was so divine—filled his ears and made the purple lilacs in his heart bloom. “It was our final year in Seijōh and you were so nervous that you practically bawled your eyes out after you confessed.” Your beautiful eyes creased into lovely half-crescents, your cheeks so soft as he pinched them gently for teasing him. He, too, eventually found himself laughing along.

It was one hell of a big monster that he fought. It grew and grew until it ate him up alive—he absolutely had to tell you how he felt or he would probably feel himself die a little bit inside if he didn’t tell you.

The both of you remembered the spring when you received your high school graduation certificates. The breeze was cool and sweet against your skin where it was exposed. It was the final day that you would be wearing the Seijōh uniform, and never had you thought that you would be so attached to it. You stared at the school as the bell tolls, signalling that another hour had gone by.

You could hear the chirping of birds in the distance, overlapping laughter and chatter as the graduating cohort loiters in the school yard that you were all gathered at. Everyone was taking pictures with their friends and family with tearful goodbyes and promises floating into the air like helium balloons. Your final year was over.

“Y/N-chan!” Toorū’s voice managed to reach you from among the crowd. You were surprised to find Iwaizumi by his side instead of the same flock of female admirers. You walked towards them, butterflies getting restless in your stomach from the way Iwaizumi was looking at you as the three of you met halfway. “So this is it, huh?”

“Stop being so negative, Idiotkawa!” Iwaizumi smacked the back of his head.

“You’re not some shōjō manga hero,” you grumbled at the same time.

“You’re both so mean! Mean!” Toorū whined as he rubbed the sore spot, his shoulders drooping ever so slightly as his lower lip jutted out into a pout. You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics.

“Let’s go back to my place. My parents decided to cook up a whole feast for the three of us with,” Iwaizumi offered. You parents weren’t necessarily the celebratory type, so you were just glad that you had your best friends to celebrate the end of your secondary education. You eagerly accepted the invitation with a bright smile, ready to walk with them when he blocked your path. “But before that . . .” He looked over at his childhood friend expectantly. A knowing smile broke upon his face.

“I’ll wait for you two at the entrance, then.” Oikawa didn’t say another word and left the both of you alone. Part of you kind of knew what he wanted to say, but there was this small twisted voice that told you no, that it wasn’t possible for someone as perfect as Iwaizumi would ever reciprocate your feelings for him.

“L/N Y/N.”

“Y-Yes?” Your eyes snapped back to meet his alluring moss green eyes, speckled with the golden rays of sunlight as he looked straight at you. His gaze was unwavering until his eyes left your face, betraying his confident front. You could tell that he was nervous. He was wiping the sweat from the palms of his hands on the sides of his uniform pants. His eyes kept darting between you and the floor, and his lips were parted, trying their best to form words but nothing seemed to come out. “Iwa-chan?” You softly prompted.

“I like you.” That was more than enough to knock the air out of your lungs. Your heart was soaring higher than it had ever gone, wings fluttering in absolute ecstasy as the butterflies in your stomach wreaked havoc out of pure joy. “Fuck, that probably didn’t cut it. Um– shit. I, uh. L/N Y/N, I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you, okay? Ever since we were kids, you’ve been there for me. You helped me and that dumbass whenever we were in need. Even when we fought, we made up, and not once had you held a grudge against me even when I’ve hurt you. You’re the best person that I have in my life ten years ago, today, and ten years from today, and probably forever. If you’d let me, I want to hold your hand and kiss your tears away and be your boyfriend.”

You were left speechless. You stared back at him, jaw slacked and eyes wide in shock. At your lack of response, he began to panic. He began to ramble at how you didn’t need to give him an answer that instant or how he needed to get his feelings known and acknowledged by you. It was so silly of him.

“Iwaizumi Hajime, stop that,” you laughed, tears threatening to spill from the corners of your eyes. He fell silent as he watched you take both of his large, calloused hands in your much smaller ones. “I thought I was the only one who felt that way. I’m in love with you too, Iwa-chan.”

Just like that, the biggest grin that you had ever seen on him broke out. You found yourself in tears, and he, too, was so overwhelmed with feelings that he was physically fighting to keep the tears at bay. This euphoric feeling was one that the both of you kept close to your hearts, even when you felt it almost every day.

“Y’know,” his voice was gentle against your bare skin, nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck as the both of you reminisced the good times. You hummed in response to prompt him forward. “I’ve been thinking . . .”

“What is it, baby?” The palm of your hands were two soft cushions cupping his jawline as you made him look into your eyes. He had always had a problem with eye contact when it came to speaking from his heart. You found it deeply endearing.

“I know we’re still young and all that, but I’m so fucking sure that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you so fucking much, Y/N. You mean the universe to me and I want to grow old with you.” You could feel the unsteady thump, thump, thumping of his unsteady heart as he slowly poured his heart out to you; the slightest tremble in his calloused, volleyball-worn hands as they nervously held on to your frame, the pads of his thumbs rubbing gentle circles as if to calm himself down for what he’s about to say. You weren’t dumb—you kind of knew what he was getting at. He wasn’t exactly subtle when he pointed out rings at the jewelry store downtown when the both of you went out on a date last week. “L/N Y/N, I love you with every single fibre of my being. Will you marry me?”

You knew he was scared. You knew he was nervous. You knew he was trying his hardest to keep his cool. He knew that you knew all these; why wouldn’t you? You knew him just like the back of your hand, as he did you. This monster was one hell of a headache. He had practiced the speech over and over again, even going so far as to ask Hanamaki or Matsukawa to roleplay, albeit terribly, as you. But you—oh, you—managed to slay this monster with just a single word.

The corners of your lips curled into a delectable smile. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his in a kiss that was way too quick for his liking, but it was full of love and adoration nonetheless. His stunning eyes were still fixed on your face as his unsteady heart waited for your answer. The pink of your lips parted, saying the one word that doubled the euphoria that he had felt the day that they had graduated: “Yes!”

.°🍓! | tags; ❞

@samuthots

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shyrose57 · 3 years ago

Note

So what exactly happened to Ranbob after Ran left Mizu? Warning for brief mentions of graphic material, though its kept undescriptive.

About a day after Ran left, Ranbob woke up. He woke up on the floor, confused to all hell. Because last he checked he fell asleep in his bed. He doesnt know the fact that Dream took over his body and mind for the last month. He doesnt know what he's done. So he looks around, confused as to why there's no one around. He looks in the school, no one, he looks in the training grounds, no one, He continues to look until he decides to head home, hoping his brother or sister will be there to explain what happened and where everyone is. He's expecting to see his family in the living room, maybe playing a game or just talking. Instead he walks in to see no one there and the house is dead quiet. The quiet unnerves Ranbob, he almost considers turning around. But he pushes on and visits Lias and Memi's room, his heart stops upon seeing their bodies both in different positions. He almost throws up before running out of the room. He checks his parents room to see the same scene, then he just books it out of the house. Running aimlessly. As he runs he finds more bodies, either in the cafeteria where they died from poison or outside homes and stores where they were clearly attacked. He continues to run, trying to get away from everything and the sudden weight on his shoulders. He fails.

He eventually finds himself in the room Dreams mask is kept in, he suddenly feels a sense of dread and finds himself flung back into the recesses of his mind, coming face to face with Dream. Dream doesnt say anything and just stares at Ranbob. The two just stare at each other for a bit with complete silence, with the exception of a dripping noise. Ranbob looks around aiming to find the source of the noise, he doesnt find it until he looks towards Dream again and spots what looks to be blood dripping from a dagger at his belt. Ranbob freaks out then and starts to rip into him, demanding to know whats happened, that Dream promised to help him. As Ranbob questions him Dream starts to smile. He then simply responds with "I did help you. I got rid of all sources of your stress. Or, should I say, you got rid of them." That makes Ranbob freeze, and as he slowly processes that Dream killed everyone wearing his skin, he gets thrown back into the real world. He eventually registers whats happened as he killed everyone. So he screams. He keeps screaming until he can't and is choking on air as he trys to keep screaming. Then he cries, the tears burning a line through his skin until he has no tears left, them he's left grasping at his unkempt hair trying to ground himself and stop his panic. He fails and eventually collapses from emotional exhaustion.

As time passes the pain from what he did doesnt fade, and Dream taunting him about it doesnt help. Dream takes control of Ranbobs body daily, he's actually in control more often than Ranbob himself. Because Dream isn't used to being in a actual body, he doesn't eat or drink when he should. Which causes Ranbob to gradually get thinner and thinner. He's actually still supposed to be growing during this time, since enderman hybrids typically stop growing in their 20s (give or take a few years). But due to malnourishment and dehydration he just stops growing, which is why, when compared to his brother, he's so short (Ran is 6'8 currently, Ranbob is 6'2 currently. Before they met up again Ran was 6'7 and Ranbob 6'0).

When the Fishermen arrived to Mizu, Benjamin and Isaac felt that something was off, but continued on. When they met Ranbob, Dream was still in control. During the tour the odd feeling Benjamin and Isaac have just grow more and more. When Ranbob attacks them, they manage to knock him down and pin him down. When he's knocked down the sudden impact seems to knock something lose, in both his mind and a item. A part of the Dream mask gets free of its place in Ranbobs pocket and skits across the ground. While the sudden impact knocks Dream from his pedestal in Ranbobs mind and gives Ranbob himself a opening to take control. And he takes it. He takes control but isn't able to say anything before the Fishermen haul him up and locking him in a room. Because the Dream shard is away from Ranbob, he's finally able to breath and think for himself. Benjamin, Isaac, and Charles typically vist him and give him food and water. But Benjamin often stays longer and takes time to talk to him. Over the span of a week the two get closer and Ranbob is able to tell his story, Benjamin believes him, due to the evidence he's seen. It takes time but Benjamin manages to convince the rest (mostly) to let Ranbob out and to listen to him. Cletus though refuses to listen to him and demands more proof. So Ranbob, very hesitantly, takes the group to Dreams Idol Statue deep in Mizu. When they get there Ranbob almost immediately becomes distressed, as in his head he's attempting to maintain his own mind and body as Dream attempts to take his puppet back. He grabs at his head, repeatedly saying no and stop it. The group doesn't notice this at first because their busy looking around. But when a sudden scream grabs their attention Benjamin jumps into action, grabbing Ranbob, and attempting to drag him out of the room. As Ranbob gets dragged out he screams for Dream to stop. The fishermen plus Ranbob later meet and Ranbob shares (almost) his life story. Cletus still believes this is just a act, but is out numbered by the others wanting to take Ranbob back to their home to help him heal.

Stuff I couldn't fit in:

-Ranbob has nightmares constantly about what he's done.

-Ranbob sees Dreams smile in random objects (like water, food, trees) that don't even slightly resemble it.

-Ranbob gained 2 inches in height only after the Fishermen rescued him and gave him regular and healthy meals.

-Ranbob thinks Ran is dead. Although deep down he wants to believe his brother is alive.

--------------Questions---------------

When Ran figured out who was doing the killings, he immediately headed out to find the last Counsel member and find Ranbob. But on his way out something screamed at him to grab the book and items that where either given to him as part of his Technoblade Idol training, or given as a gift. He decided to listen to this feeling and grabbed the items before he headed out.

He is good with enderman as enderman tend to leave him alone so he leaves them alone. He despises spiders because they tend to get into his sleeping/safe spots and are quiet as hell so they tend to sneak up on him. Skeletons and Zombies are just a annoyance and he's typically able to easily deal with them. Stays are a pain because of the slowness arrows they have and whenever they hit him he gets slow as well as groggy. He avoids creepers cause he doesnt see the worth in killing them.

They are aware! Grievous made a potion mix of slowness, weakness, and a tiny pinch of regeneration (to contradict the biggest negative effects of weakness) to try to help Ran sleep. When Ran first opened up to the group about his paranoia Jackie offered to sleep with him if his paranoia stops him from relaxing enough to sleep. And Watson made a gesture and keyword that Ran just has to either speak or do for Watson to follow him and stay close to him when his paranoia gets to much to handle on his own. But even though Ran told them about his paranoia, he's reluctant to accept help from the others, funnily enough, due to his paranoia.

He does eventual, him staying there actually took him by surprise cause he thought he was only going to be there for like a week, next thing he knows 4 weeks have passed and no ones found him. So he fixes up his shelter and makes it more of a actual shelter against the snow and cold. Nothing really happens, which is a welcome change to Ran because he's so used to so much going on. He does end up having to fight a polar bear because it tried stealing his recent hunt. But other than that and a tree falling down in the middle of the night and barely missing his shelter, nothing really happens.

It was actually a main playing factor in his paranoia and trust issues.

A chapter in his book is dedicated to the Nether, and Ran, looking to escape his pursuers in a pinch, decides on a whim to try out this "Nether" thing. When he first arrives, the heat and sudden surrounding change shocks him, cause he didnt actually read that chapter of the book. He builds into the side of a hill to avoid hoglins, he doesnt have much in there except for chests with a bunch of different stuff, brewing stands, maps, and weapons. The piglins originally think of him as just a regular traveler from the other world, but slowly start to think of him in a more positive way. As Ran often stops by to give them left over gold and other trinkets he no longer needs for nothing in return. Plus he accidentally saves a baby piglin after he heard hoglins throwing a fit and decided to take the chance to hunt, he only saw the piglin after he killed the hoglins and brought it back to the nearby Bastion. Which immediately boosted the piglins option of Ran. Ran himself was cautious of the piglins, even after Ran saved the baby piglin, he knows better than to completely relax around them. Nether life leads to him relaxing a bit more than he normally would (which he'd later regret after he leaves because the hunters get a jump on him because he was too relaxed) and learning to watch where he steps, cause more than twice Ran tripped in the Nether and got to close to lava or magma blocks for his comfort.

They where found by the group that dared to travel into the snow and chase him. They took almost every item there before burning down his house, giving Ran nowhere to return too. And they don't visit any of his homes purposely, they did run across his burned snow home, but they didn't stay long because Ran knew/thought there was nothing left.

The Gladiator group is understanding, as they know this is probably how he was when he was living out in the wild. And its understandable for him to regress back into this protective personality when faced with the same location he developed it in. The fishermen are put off by this sudden attitude change. But with possible explanations from the Gladiators and encouragement they eventually get used to it.

The fishermen are mad and relieved. Their relieved it didn't actually hurt Ranbob. But are mad that it happened. Cletus was very close to vaulting over the edge of the arena and knocking Ran into the water surrounding the arena. Something I wanna add even though you didn't ask, when Ranbob was pinned down he didn't feel angry, he felt broken because he just found his brother! His brother who he thought died! And now said brother is trying to kill him. His brother hated him so much, but Ranbob thought he deserved this and resigned himself to die (though Ran never made direct moves to attack him and instead used the time to yell at him). The weapon gets properly disposed of, like it was supposed to be at the start.

----------TotI----------

I don't remember if I mentioned it before either tbh but yes its his watch that caused the Travelers to arrive.

Its suspected either the Egg or Dream XD wrote the book. Some say its the Egg because its talking about its plans in the book. Others say its Dream XD and this may be a research type book the God was writing when it first encountered the Egg. The egg only has connection to the Travelers from The Masquerade and even then its either faint or non-existent due to the Travelers extended distance from the Egg (after the murders Billiam and Butler decided to move to a new mansion as suspension was starting to catch up to them. The Egg didn't come so its hold on them faded until it disappeared.)

Not particularly well. They go through multiple plans all with some success but ultimately failing. Eventually they narrow it down to the Eggpire repeatedly getting in the way and sabotaging their things during battle and the Egg being unable to be damaged forever. So they decide to get a piece of the Egg's shell that got broken off and experiment on it. The members of the Eggpire don't really care (or, Bad does. But he act like he doesnt) that the Egg uses their lives as nothing but entertainment and continue to fight to defend the Egg.

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

Yes! When he was first rescued and was hell bent on somehow paying them back he always farmed for them. And even before he'd have to farm in Mizu to survive.

Ran no like socializing. Especially when its with royals or rich people.

MORE FLUFF, IMA TRY TO MAKE THIS A DAILY THING BUT NO PROMISES:

-Cletus started a game of tag and eventually it grew to involve everyone, and it increased to 2 taggers. One time Ran and Jackie where it, Ran was banned from teleporting cause its cheating, so instead he threw Jackie the entire time.

-Ran has his first celebrated birthday in years! (He didn't tell The Pit group about his birthday cause he didn't want too, but Ranbob eventually spilled its date to them.)

-Ran loves to have people guess the brothers age and seeing the surprise on their face when he tell them their actual age.

-Benjamin is very much Ranbobs father figure.

-Sleepovers happen often :)

Brothers AU:

Oh, poor Ranbob. So he and Dream are able to kind of 'see' each other? How does that work? Might've asked this before, but what's Ranbob up to, when Dream's in control?

He'd be short for an Endermen then? Did it permanently stunt his growth? How does Ran feel about that, and does anyone else notice this, considering the rarity of hybrids?

Did Ranbob have a piece of the mask with him when Dream originally took control? How did he acquire it? I can't imagine a historian-to-be would be to eager to break something considered an artifact, after all? What did he and Benjamin talk about when he was with him?

Are there any differences to the Dream Room? Seeing as this Ranbob isn't fond enough of him to maintain it, and Dream might not consider it important enough-or does he?

Actually, what did they even do down there, with everyone dead? What purpose did Dream even have for having control of Ranbob's body so often?

Cletus thought it to be an act? Similar to what Ran thought originally, huh? Anything come from that?

--------

Poor Ranbob, for the majority of these things.

Good for him on the inches though.

-------

Again, can't remember if this was asked before, but Ran figured out who did the killings? Was he going to confront his brother-or did he just think he figured it out, and had it wrong? What was the origin of the feeling? Just a gut-feeling?

Spiders are the worst, so that's understandable. Why are creepers in particular such a hassle for him?

Are potion mixtures common? What mixtures/potions do the groups use most often? And seems Grievous is the main potion-handler, why's that?

Ah, irony.

Ran really walked into a freezing cold biome and went 'where are all the people?', huh? Also, who even fights a polar bear, the mad man.

Okay, so from what I remember, not too many people traversed the Nether nowadays(or didn't know about it?? I have no idea, there's so many posts, I can't the answer), so why was it in a not-so-helpful survival guide? Where'd he even get the book? It also makes me want to ask world-buildings questions about Mizu, but we're here to traumatize the people, so I'll hold off.

Ran is now a piglin favorite, good for him, he needs some allies. Where'd he get the gold, considering his life on the run? Did he make any specific piglin friends/allies? How'd the hunters find him there? How did they access the Nether?

The gang's thoughts on his little snow home remainders?

Cletus goes from Number One Ranbob hater to president of the Ranbob protection club, we have it here, folks. Also, poor Ranbob. Poor everyone, really, they're just going through it.

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

Tip Of The Iceberg AU:

Oh, XD's getting involved? That's interesting. Does he have any of his own connections with the travelers? How do the Egg-effected feel, having been broken free of it for awhile, only to find themselves toyed with by it again? Who says XD wrote the book, and who says the Egg, and why?

So they're fighting the Eggpire? Who's on the frontlines? What're the others doing? How strong is the Egg at this point? Is it a genuine threat, and do they have to keep away from it, or is it only an issue because it has the Eggpire to defend it? Bad cares? Is he not as under it's influence as the others, or something else?

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

Brothers AU(?)

That must've been an interesting experience. How did they react to that, considering Ranbob's not-so-healthy state? Or did he only start doing it once he was more stable on his feet?

....Doesn't...doesn't he work for an Emperor tho? But yeah, understandable.

I'll take what I can get!!

That tag sounds both hilarious and terrifying. Imagine being the fishermen and having one of the gladiators picked up and launched at you like a football-and then possibly the other one charging toward you. Like, if that's not motivation to run, what is?

Aww, good for him.

Okay, yeah, that'd definitely be funny. Ran forgave Ranbob and immediately chose mischief, huh?

Fishermen Benjamin pulls a Philza Minecraft, more at eight.

Very good!

-------

Have a good week!

#dream smp #dream smp au #tales from the smp #Brothers AU #Tip Of The Iceberg AU

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Satisfied, Part 33

First

Updating today instead of tomorrow so I can spend the whole day on the work I procrastinated :/

~~~

How did she end up staying at Wayne Manor for a week and a half? Deception. She’d never felt more betrayed than she did in that moment. And to think, she and Tim had been friends.

She’d rolled her eyes when Wayne Manor came into view.

“I can go home, you know.”

“Says the person who got kidnapped on her way there,” responded Tim with a sigh. He paused at the gate as they waited for it to open. “Besides, your ankle’s messed up. You shouldn’t be walking.”

She groaned and tipped her head back against his arm so she could glare at him. “I’m fine.”

He had looked away for a moment, using the gate opening as an excuse, then he started walking. After a while, he hesitantly looked at her. “But I’m not! You got hurt because of me. Please, just... let me take care of you for a little bit.”

Her face burned. “Fine. I’ll stay until Halloween. Happy?”

He seemed to consider this, then shook his head. “But, bean, that’s tomorrow! At least stay here for proper treatment, then you can go.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I could get proper treatment without you.”

He had only sighed in response.

She bit the inside of her cheek. “Fine. Fine. I’ll stay until I’m healed.”

“Really?” He asked, his face full of hope.

She nodded.

And then, much to her horror, a smug smile stretched across his face. “No take backs! Sucker!”

Truly horrible. She’d never trust again.

Still, she'd be lying if she said she didn’t have a good time.

After ‘convincing’ (begging) them to go to her apartment and get her supplies she’d started working on the outfits for the steadily approaching Gala. She’d intended to do most of her embroidery while she was there, because it was calming and repetitive and she’d be able to relax with Tim... but then Dick had seen what she was doing and had nerded out with her about outfits and design. It turned out one person in their family did have a little bit of style, and she was ecstatic. Now she lazed on his way-too-comfortable bed and worked while babbling on about her designs. And he actually understood what she was saying. It was great.

And, when she wasn’t designing, she’d often be found drinking coffee with Tim (the Waynes had bought another machine for her after the first day’s... ‘incident’). They would lean against each other and drink in comfortable silence, which is exactly what everyone wants in the early morning. Who cares if it was three in the afternoon? With their sleep schedules it was practically like being awake at five in the morning anyways.

At other times she and Jason could be found together. This was less fun, because he was the one most pressed about her ankle. While everyone knew that her foot would probably be fine in a week’s time, he was the one to practically carry her everywhere like a damsel in distress. He’d learned to stop when she kicked him in the shin (with her bad leg, it was not a good time for either of them), but he was still extremely worried for her and not at all concerned with hiding it. Still, he made it up to her by sneaking her extra coffees (Dick had set a limit when he’d seen the way Tim and her binge-drank when with each other).

The only bad part was...

Her and Damian locked eyes across the table and they sent each other a glare. She didn’t even know why his presence irritated her to no end, didn’t know why her veins buzzed whenever he got too close; she only knew that she didn’t like it.

She didn’t act on it that much, surprisingly. She had no real reason to be angry with him, the slight rudeness he’d presented the day they’d met was perfectly justified. Marinette settled for the occasional snide comment at the table.

This only seemed to upset him more and more as time went on.

Finally, when her leg was healed (Jason had managed to convince her to stay an extra day to be sure), he’d grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her away from Tim before either of them could really react.

“What’s your problem?” She hissed as he pulled her along, struggling to not spill her coffee due to their brisk pace.

He dragged her into the dojo and crossed his arms over his chest. “Me? You’re the one who’s been rude the whole time you’ve been staying here!”

She couldn’t respond. He had a bit of a point. She settled for sending him a glare over the rim of her cup.

“What do you have against me?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Does it matter?”

“Yes! Obviously!”

“Maybe I just don’t like people.”

“You made friends with the Rogues!”

Oh. So that’s what this was about. She lowered her drink slightly. “Maybe I just don’t like you,” she corrected herself.

Damian scoffed and shook his head. “Whatever. You don’t want to answer? Fine. Fight me.”

Marinette felt like she had whiplash. He’d gone from being annoyed that she wasn’t being nice to him to wanting to fight in approximately half a second. Still, she had to admit, fighting him would probably be nice. Not only did she miss the adrenaline of a fight, but a tiny part of her hoped that her anger would dissipate if she gave him a punch or two.

She set down her drink. “Sure. Whatever.”

He looked a bit smug. They walked along the walls and pulled off equipment that they deemed necessary. Basically they both pulled on some grappling gloves and she added an ankle brace to make sure she didn’t instantly mess up her leg again.

After a few minutes of stretching they squared up to each other on the mat.

She grinned and raised her hands to her face. She didn’t actually know how good he was, but she wasn’t all that intent on going easy on him. They had a dojo, he had to have some kind of fighting expertise, that only made --.

Marinette was pulled from her thoughts as a punch came at her face. She dodged with ease and backed up a few steps, raising her guard properly. All she needed was to take her time to learn his fighting style.

She smiled as she dodged his attacks. He was getting angrier, sloppier, with every miss. His style was getting more and more obvious. Just a few more attacks and she would be completely sure --.

His fist came for her throat.

She had to do a backflip to avoid the blow.

His eyes widened.

She cursed mentally. She’d given up her one possible advantage: the high chances of him underestimating her.

Her element of surprise gone, she forced herself to go on the offense. She threw a short jab at him and raised her eyebrows at the almost practiced nature of his block, like he’d done this exact motion a million times.

Her lips twitched. Amateurs are usually the ones who choreograph their moves like that --.

Realization struck her just as his fist did, sending her back a few steps.

Her body moved on autopilot, sending a kick at his chest to get him away so she could recover. His hand locked on her foot and one of his legs swept hers out from under her. A curse slipped from between her lips as her back hit the mat, but it was nothing compared to her reaction when he dropped a bit of weight on the leg he held. Pain pulled a strangled sob from her throat and she thought her leg would shatter.

Her hand slammed the ground twice.

Damian stopped instantly at the motion a worried expression flickering across his features. Red Hood wasn’t lying, the reaction had been instantaneous in both of them. They’d both been drilled, both had the same cues. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

And, unfortunately, Damian wasn’t completely stupid. She saw confusion find its way across his face. And then shock. Denial. Understanding. Anger. And then acceptance.

He dropped onto the mat beside her and covered his face with his hands. “You’re Ladybug.”

“And you’re Robin,” she agreed, pulling her still throbbing leg to her chest. “You suck with and without the outfit. It makes sense,” she muttered.

And, sadly, it really did make sense. The buzzing under her skin she’d interpreted as anger was just the cat miraculous calling out to her, to its guardian, waving its arms and screaming at her to just let him use it. And, now that she thought about it, it could only have been him. She’d probably recognized the feeling she had around Damian as the one she had around Robin subconsciously and transferred that anger onto him.

“You can’t tell anyone,” she warned.

He scoffed. “Why would I hide it? They already suspect you. Besides, it’s not like the rest of my family would care, they love you with and without the costume.”

She sat up and sent him a glare. “It’s not about that. I keep my identity secret because I want to. It’s my privacy, my secret, and you don’t get to a choice in this.”

Damian -- no, Robin -- no -- He opened his fingers to peek at her serious face and she caught an eye roll.

“And, if you don’t...” She added, her voice sickly sweet. “I’m sure your family would love to know exactly how I found out who you all were.”

It was a guess, really. She assumed that, because they were pretty open about being family as vigilantes, they all had to be in on it when they told someone about their identities. But it was still a guess. She gave him her most confident look so he wouldn’t think she was bluffing.

His eyes narrowed and he sat up as well. She scrutinized his face; she looked for fear or annoyance or something, but he’d managed to put together a perfect mask.

And then...

He sighed and stuck his hand out. “Fine. I don’t tell them anything, you don’t tell them anything. Deal?”

They shook on it.

“Deal.”

She spent the next three days (because Jason had thrown a fit when he’d realized she had messed up her ankle more) observing the family. It would be beneficial to learn which bat corresponded to which Wayne, it made it easier to keep her lies consistent.

She could go off of ages, of course. It was the easy way to guess, but she’d never been one to take the easy way.

Besides, the ‘hard way’ wasn’t actually all that hard.

Bruce Wayne was a reclusive billionaire known to adopt kids faster than they could say ‘hi’. Batman was a reclusive billionaire known to take vigilantes under his wing just as quickly.

Dick Grayson-Wayne was an ex-acrobat who was determined to figure out if Marinette and Ladybug were the same person. Nightwing incorporated acrobat-like flexibility and technique in fighting and was determined to figure out if Marinette and Ladybug were the same person.

Jason Todd-Wayne was a sarcastic guy with gray morals and a tendency to joke about committing murder. Red Hood was a sarcastic guy with gray morals and a tendency to actually commit murder.

Timothy Drake-Wayne was a coffee-addicted workaholic that was smart enough to become CEO of a company at a young age. Red Robin was a coffee-addicted workaholic that was smart enough to figure out Batman and Robin’s identities at a young age.

Honestly, she felt like banging her head on a wall for not realizing it sooner. Sure, she’d suspected it, but she’d been so determined for ‘proper’ proof that she didn’t realize that there was some pretty good proof right in front of her.

Well, at least she’d figured it out at some point, she supposed.

She sent Jason a glare as she scooped some coffee pods into her bag. “I am fine.”

“But --.”

“I am fine.”

He huffed. “You’re still limping.”

“I. Am. Fine.”

He opened his mouth one last time, but was cut off by Tim pushing past him to wrap her in a hug. “Beeeeaaaaan, please let me --.”

She rolled her eyes and didn’t bother to push him off, only detaching an arm so she could drink from her mug. “Not working a second time.”

He groaned and buried his face in her hair. She sighed and glanced at Jason. “Help.”

“Only if you promise to stay a bit longer,” he said without missing a beat, his lips curved into a Cheshire grin.

Marinette sent him a look before leaning into Tim. “You’re all allowed to come to my house at any point.”

“Yeah, but your house is boring,” complained Dick.

She threw a cup of coffee creamer at him and he dodged it without even sparing it a glance.

“It’s true, bean, it’s pretty empty in there.”

Marinette laughed quietly. “Fine. If you guys don’t like it then you’re not allowed back.”

Jason gasped and joined the hug. “How dare you?”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to trap me here?”

“Whaaaaat? Us? No,” said Dick as he, too, walked over and wrapped his arms around her.

Marinette decided she’d give them a few minutes. She could still reach her coffee, and that’s all that really mattered.

At least, until she saw Damian in the hallway. Her shoulders tensed slightly at the sight of him. Ever since their agreement they’d come to a kind of truce. After all, if they really wanted they could spill the secret. Sure, there was incentive to keep quiet, but if one of their tempers got the better of them...

“Help?” She tried.

He looked away and continued walking, leaving her to suffer.

She sighed and went to work prying arms off of her. There was a lot of whining, but none of them resisted.

Outside of Tim.

Dick broke into a grin and pulled Jason out, yelling that they were going to help pack her stuff over his shoulder. She didn’t believe that was quite it. For some reason.

“Tim,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Come back for Thanksgiving?” He asked.

She blinked. A little over a month beforehand he’d been desperate to keep her away from this place. She couldn’t help but smile a little. “Fine. I’ll stay for Thanksgiving. But only if you let go.”

“Fine.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows when he didn’t let go immediately.

“Um...?”

He smirked. “I said I’d let go, I never said when.”

She groaned and pushed him off. This time he let her. “You’re so annoying.”

“You love me.”

“Mmm,” she said, determined to not say yes or no.

He didn’t seem to notice, giving her a wide grin. “Right, ready to go?”

She smiled. “Yep!”

~~~

Taglist

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth @spyofthenightcourt @rowanrouge @nik-nak-3 @momothefemur @aestheticnpoetic @labschaos @our-preciousss @mochinek0 @eliza-bich @mythogaychic @severelyenchantedwonderland @sashakoi @smolplantmum @bluesimani @tropestropestropes @kitsunebell @keepingupwiththemalfoys @sassakitty @2confused-2doanything @too0bsessedformyowngood @all-mights-asscheeks @demonicbusiness @meg-an-ace @fantasiame @qualitypeacepainter

#timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin #satisfied #maribat

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miss-dr-reid · 4 years ago

Text

This is calm, and it's, Doctor #9

TW, there is some DV in here and a hospital visit.

As we pulled into the street where the icecream shop is, I saw someone I recognised and my stomach churned. It was my ex. I hadn't told anyone at work about him, yet.

"What's up?" Derek asked. I didn't even realise I had gone stuff until I breathed, glancing at Derek quickly.

"My ex.. he's over there with a mate..." I said quietly, looking in the direction of the one person I hoped to never see again.

"We don't have to get icecream of you don't want." He reassured, placing his hand on my upper arm, rubbing lightly with his thumb.

"No- um- actually... I have a plan. I'll need you guys to help though, if that's okay?" I devised a plan with the boys after finding a park. They both willingly agreed, eager to help out a friend with some pretty revenge.

I got out of the cat and headed to the icecream shop, where my ex was, sitting at a table outside of it. As I got closer, he made a comment, just as I expected.

"Damn, Y/N, you want me back that bad you followed me all the way out here?" Cain retorted, tapping his mate on the arm.

"Well no, actually. Last I heard of you was from the girl you cheated on me with. She told me you kept yelling my name while you guys did the dirty in OUR bed." I clapped back. I whipped my hair behind my shoulders, signalling the boys, I knew what I said would run Cain the wrong way.

He pushed himself up, to get out of his chair when Derek's hand pressed him back down by his shoulder, Spencer's arm draping over one of my shoulders.

"Is there a problem here?" Derek said, staring straight in to Cain's eyes, his mate shifting uncomfortable in his seat.

Cain was not a big guy by any means, bigger than me, but tiny next to Derek.

"Who are you, her boyfriend?" Cain demanded, basically a spitting in Derek's face.

"I'm more to her then you'll ever be. If you cause her any more trouble, I'll make you regret everything you've ever done to her. I can promise you that." Derek's voice stern and low, his grip tightening slightly on Cain's shoulder.

Seeing Cain so uncomfortable was quite pleasing. He didn't say anything, Derek squeezed his shoulder one last time before nodding, releasing him and walking over to us, linking elbows with me. We walked inside the shop and everyone let go. I thanked both of the guys and insisted on paying for icecream, as a thanks for helping me out.

They insisted it was no big deal, defending their family is what they do. I loved hearing that o was becoming part of the B.A.U family.

I ordered the icecream, paid and we each connected our own and headed back toward the car. We sat on the curb, eating our delicious desserts. We didn't say much, just sat and ate. I felt so small sitting between these two guys. I was so happy to just be there with them.

Suddenly, I was going face first into my icecream, which was splattered all over the side of my car as a sudden jolt came through my back. I didn't realise what had happened. I could hear Derek yelling as hands supported my head while I laid back. Spencer's voice filled my ears as everything went dark.

I woke up, rocking slightly. I monitor beeping and people talking. I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids were so heavy, they felt glued. My hand felt funny, I tried moving it and discovered that it was encased by another hand. I squeezed as hard as I could.

"Y/N!" Spencer's voice filled my ears once again. I managed to half open my eyes, softly smiling up at him. "We're on the way to the hospital. Your ex kicked you while we were eating icecream and Derek chased after him." His voice soft and full of concern.

'Now I owe them double, of not triple for the shit they've dealt with today' I thought to myself, forever grateful that these two are in my life.

We arrived at the hospital not long later. Spencer wasn't allowed in for the x-ray, so he was left in the waiting room. After the x-ray was done, I was moved to a room. After a few minutes, a doctor came in, Spencer in toe, who stood next to the doctor, listening to his every word.

"You'll need to be careful with your nose over the next week, it's broken. Otherwise, your head and spine are fine and you'll be able to go after you've been patched up and kept for observation." He removed the c-collar from my neck and sat the bed up, "A nurse will be in soon to fix your nose." And with that, he left.

Spencer sat in the chair next to the bed and handed me his phone with the camera open.

I took it and looked at myself. I was a mess. There was crusted blood staining under my nose, around my nostrils and mouth.

"This is going to look so bad tomorrow." I said quietly to myself. Even though there wasn't much of a bruise right now, the second day is always worse. Spencer sighed at my comment as I say there still checking myself out. The phone started vibrating, Derek's name popping up on the screen.

"You're on speaker, Mr. Hero." I said to the phone.

"Hey buddy, it's good to hear your voice," he started, "I'll be there in a minute. Just finished giving my statement to the police. I'm see you soon. Also, I told the rest of the team and they're also coming. See you soon, kiddo." He hung up.

The doctor came back with a nurse. Spencer was allowed to stay for the packing and fixing of my nose. The laid the bed back, Spencer on one side of me, the doctor in front of him and the nurse on the other side. Being laid out in front of people touching me made me feel so uneasy, I didn't realise I was tense until Spencer placed his hand on my shoulder.

"Stay as still as you can, this will be quite uncomfortable." The doctor mentioned, and the nurse picked up some gauze off the tray they'd brought in. I grabbed Spencer's hand off my shoulder and held it in mine. I closed my eyes and breathed out through my nose as one set of fingers pressed on the bridge of my nose while gauze was being stuffed up my nostrils. The nurse finished up and I breathed out deeply, I had become so tense while being under her hands that my whole body had basically seized. They sat up the bed and left, going to organise my discharge papers.

Almost as soon as they had left, the whole teamed walked in. Everyone had looks of concern on their faces, giving my sympathetic smiles. Spencer stood up and moved away as Garcia was making her way over to me.

"You gave us a scare, chook." She said, pulling me into a hug. JJ came down the other side of the bed and pulled me into a hug once Garcia had let go. She offered me a wet wipe, which I graciously accepted. I carefully wiped the bottom of my nose and around my lips, trying to remember where the blood had crusted on my face.

"As much good as they do, it wouldn't hurt to clean up a little bit..." She commented, seeing the stained blood on various parts of my face.

"Glad to see you're alright." Emily called from her spot between Hotch and Derek.

I thanked everyone and tried out my most convincing smile, which only got sympathy smiles in return.

"You wouldn't be okay if Pretty Boy was there. He caught your head before you fell back onto the concrete." Derek commended, gesturing at Spence, who's face started glowing red. I mustered up the best thanks I could for him, I was genuinely grateful. "Although, someone had to chase the bad guy...." Derek continued, detailing about what happened.

He told us that I was kicked in the back of the head, my icecream being thrown onto the side of my car, with my face following - thinking back, I remember the crunch my nose made when my face slammed into the side of my car.

HE told us that he immediately dropped his own icecream to jump up and start chasing the guy who had decided to leg it (not surprised). He chased the guy into an alley, yelling at him to stop.

'Stop! FBI!' he had shouted. The guy had managed to get himself cornered and stupidly turned to Derek and tried to fight him. Derek recognised the guy as Cain. As a punch was thrown, Derek dodged, grabbed Cain and pushed him to the ground, holding him there until police arrived.

Hearing the story, I was surprised to hear Cain didn't pull a knife out, it was his go-to weapon of choice. I was happy to hear he was finally arrested. After some more questions, Hotch went home to be with Jack.

The doctor came back with the papers and I was allowed to go. Even though I insisted that I was fine to drive, no one was letting that happen. I also had to have someone stay with me for the night, to make sure everything was alright, apparently. JJ couldn't, she had her family. Derek insisted he was busy with 'things'. Garcia had to get back to Kevin, Emily to Sergio, which left Spencer. It was agreed that he would drive me home in my car, and we had to take Derek back to his car on our way.

I felt weird climbing into the passenger seat of my own car. It was nighttime and it made me wonder,

"How long was I out for?" I quizzed, really wanting to know.

"If I had to guess, I'd say like ten minutes." Derek guessed.

"More like twelve minutes and thirty-seven seconds. I was timing to the paramedics." Spencer's voice matter-of-fact. I thanked him for being there for and with me the whole time, and both of them for dealing with everything today.

"I just don't understand how you could let anyone treat you that way, let alone date it." Spencer scoffed, "I've seen the scars you've got, I'm guessing aren't from 'accidents', they show when you're vulnerable, which isn't your fault at all, it actually shows just how trusting you are, which is great, but obviously can get you into trouble if you're not careful. What I'm trying to say is, vulnerabilities need to be taken care of, trust needs to be earned and time heals all wounds." he finished.

"Love also heals" Derek added.

I had tears stinging the corners of my eyes, Trying to escape.

Spencer pulled in to the car park of the Cafe we had been at earlier that day and pulled up in the spot next to Derek's car.

Derek got out and stood next to my door, I rolled my window down. He caressed the back of my head and guided it towards him, leaning over to kiss the top of my head.

"Take care of yourself." His head lifted to look at Spence, "And each other." he finished before turning to get into his own car, leaving to go home.

Spencer didn't move, he just sat in silence.

"What's wrong?" I asked, tilting my head to the side.

"I don't know where you live." He said, giving me puppy dog eyes.

With a giggle, I directed him towards my place. He stopped in front of his place on the way so he could grab a few things, ready to spend the night at mine. He insisted that I go in with him, because he's 'not allowed' to leave me alone.

"Doctors orders. That's me, I'm the doctor." He laughed at me, finding himself amusing.

"Well, I'm also a doctor, doctor, and I said no such thing. But if you insist, I'll come in with you." I said climbing out of the car, he followed and we went inside up to his place.

We walked in to his apartment and I sat on a stool at the bench, so I didn't get comfy.

Spencer wandered off to his room to pack. I pulled out my phone to see some missed calls and a few messages from a number I didn't recognise. I unlocked my phone and opened the messages from the unknown number.

'ur gonna pay 4 wot u did to Cain' Read the first one.

'u dum bitch' read another, the next few that followed were along the same lines.

When Spencer came out, I showed him the messages, not because I was scared, but because I didn't want to keep secrets. It's also probably a good idea to have as many people as possible know, in case anything were to happen. He sighed, reading the messages. He cupped my face with both hands and looked my in the eyes.

"Y/N, nothing is going to happen to you. Even if we have to have someone with you all day and all night. We, the team, will keep you safe - I'll do it by myself if I have to." he pulled my head against his chest and cuddled me, seeing the tears which had started pooling in my eyes. I let the tears come out, my body was gently shaking as I quietly sobbed into Spencer's chest, "You're okay. You're safe with us."

I cried, thanking him, wrapping my arms around his waste. He rubbed my back for a bit before placing his hands on my shoulder, pulling back a bit. His hands were firm, but gentle, he came down to my eye level. His eyes were so warm and welcoming, I admired all of his face while he was there.

He suggested leaving, and his hands trailed down my arms, to my hands. He took my hand in his and I hopped off the stool, following his footsteps to the door.

Not much was said on the car ride to my place. I didn't bother with the radio, only looking out the window, watching everything pass by, giving directions when necessary.

We finally arrived. I have a stand-alone house, on the outskirts of town. Spencer pulled into the driveway and got out. He rushed around to my door and opened it, just as I had started to. He helped me out and draped his arm around my shoulder as we headed inside.

OMG guys, I am so bad at keeping updated

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff

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wannajointhecrabcult · 5 years ago

Text

Reckless Rescuer

I literally just came up with this idea at midnight last night when I was just starting to go into fever dream mode so... This will be interesting. You asked to be tagged so here you go @justconfusedperiod!

Imagine that Marinette never became Ladybug.

Master Fu chose actual adults to go save Paris while Sabine and Tom gave Marinette combat training.

Despite not being a hero Marinette was still caught up in a lot of akuma attacks (Because Hawkmoth is a bitter ass) so she learned how to use everything and anything to her advantage.

Even though she's crafty Marinette still dies in akuma attacks and gets revived by the Miraculous Cure at the end of the day.

As sad as it is, she becomes used to dying.

That doesn't mean that she TRIES to get hurt during attacks, it just means that she expects her life to end one day because of an akuma or something and for her to not come back, so dying isn't a fear for her anymore.

She also builds a tolerance for pain during attacks where she doesn't die, but still gets very injured.

It's amazing how trauma can practically destroy someone's life while others are just so desensitized that it doesn't affect them anymore.

One day the Dupain-Chengs move to Gotham to both expand their business, and to get away from a certain magic fueled fashion disaster.

I mean, seriously.

You're supposed to be a designer but here you are walking around looking like a cardboard candy cane beige toothpick of a man.

Don't get me started on what the heck happened with Hawkmoth's costume.

What is that?

Are you wearing a silver condom on your head or what??

Anyways, Marinette attends Damian's school and they bond over being the only one's not overly worried about danger in certain situations.

At one point Damian thought that she might have been a hero or something but threw that thought away when he witnessed her somehow fall UP a staircase. (I've actually done this before. Surprisingly it's pretty fun.)

All was fine and dandy until one afternoon when they were walking to Neti's place after school to work on a project.

They were walking through a less populated part of the city and were passing a shoe store when two thugs held them at a gunpoint demanding for their cash.

The youngest Wayne was fully prepared to attack the men when Marinette started scolding them for being rude?

Marinette: Hey! You can't just do that! Do you know how rude it is to interrupt someone's conversation?! Apologize right and leave us alone right now OR ELSE.

The two men just looked at her for a moment before doubling over and bursting out in laughter.

After all, what can this tiny school girl do to hurt them?

The first guy calmed down and was about to threaten them again when all of a sudden a pink flat was thrown at his face.

Because of he was unprepared and because of the force behind the flying shoe, he was knocked over and fell to the floor with a thud.

The second guys turned to look at the girl who just threw her shoe at his partner when he was suddenly wacked in the face as well.

So there they were.

Two teenagers, one with no shoes on, in front of a show store with two thugs at their feet.

Truly a sight to behold.

Marinette turns to Damian and asks him for his shoes.

When he doesn't respond (he's in shock) Marinette just shrugs, turns around, and SMASHES HER ARM THROUGH THE GLASS WINDOW OF THE SHOE STORE TO GRAB A CROC AND CHUCK IT AT THE FIRST GUY AGAIN BECAUSE HE WAS GETTING UP.

She then turns to the second dude who was on his knees and says in a dark tone, "You better go and leave us alone before I get my hands on a pair of iceskates. Got it?"

He nods his head and scrambles to run away from the short girl with pigtails that just single handedly smashed her arm through glass and was somehow not wincing in pain from her many bleeding cuts and she threw shoes at them.

His partner frantically got to his feet and followed him.

After making sure that the two would-be-muggers are far away Mari turns to Damian and waves her still bleeding hand in front of his face.

"Heelllooooo? Anybody home?"

She then shakes his shoulders a bit.

Damian, now no longer in shock, starts freaking out about her injuries.

"oh...my...gosh....oh my gosh... oH MY GOSH YOU'RE BLEEDING EVERYWHERE!! OHMYGOSH THAT WAS SO RECKLESS OF YOU, YOU COULD HAVE DIED AND OH NO YOU JUST STRAIGHT UP BROKE A GLASS WINDOW WITH YOUR BARE HANDS!! YOU FUCKING IDIOT YOU'RE HURT! WE NEED TO GETYOUFIRSTAIDOHMYGOSH!!!"

She tries to get him to calm down but that honestly makes him freak out even more.

"HOW ARE YOU NOT REACTING TO THE PAIN OF CUTTING YOUR ARM WITH MULTIPLE PIECES OF GLASS?!? YOU FREAKING THREW SHOES AT THEM! SHOES! WHAT IF YOU FREAKING DIED FROM THAT?!?"

"Well that would make it the 2615th time."

"...."

"....."

"Excuse me but wHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT WOULD'VE BEEN THE 2615TH TIME YOU DIED?!??!??"

Marinette was trying to get him to breathe since he was almost on the verge of a panic attack when the owner of the shoe store came out with a first aid kit.

The elderly woman proceeded to patch up Marinette's arm while thanking her for scaring away the muggers.

"Those two just keep scaring the customers away so I cannot thank you dearie enough!"

"Oh, it was no problem ma'am. They really needed to learn some manners anyways!"

"They really are so rude aren't they. And there we go! Your arm is all bandaged up. I would be careful with it if I were you."

She old lady then turns to Damian who has calmed down a bit now that Marinette's arm is bandaged.

"You've got quite a wild girlfriend here. Be sure to watch out for her safety or else you're gonna lose her."

That causes the two teens faces to burn red.

"Oh no you've got it wrong. She's not my girlfriend although I do agree that I should start looking out far her health more." He turns to Marinette as he says the last bit.

She just replies with a sheepish smile and a shrug.

"She's definitely going to give me gray hairs early."

The store owner gave Marinette and Damian a knowing look before sending the two on their way.

On the walk to Marinette's house Damian kept scolding her for her brash decisions and worrying over her arm at the same time.

At one point Damian asked her if she could actually feel the pain from her cuts or not and she just replied with "I got injured a lot when I lived in Paris so I have a high pain tolerance. This isn't even the worst wound I've ever gotten."

Needless to say, that did not reassure Damian at all.

When they did reach their destination they ended up deciding to finish the project on another day to let Marinette's arm heal a bit.

He calls Alfred to pick him up and when faced with the butler's questioning stare he just replies with "Too much excitement for today."

Before the limo drove off Marinette ran outside to the car and handed Damian a bag full of pastries.

"Consider this an apology for making you freak out so much."

He nodded and took the bag but still told her "You're an idiot you know right?"

"Haha. Or so I've been told." She shrugs. "See you tomorrow in class if you're not too traumatized!"

"Tt. We live in Gotham. It's gonna take more than that to truly scar me. Although I have to say, that's the closest someone's gotten in a long time. Don't do it again."

"No promises!" Marinette yells as the limo drives off.

That night Damian got a nightmare filled with shoes.

Marinette is now known and feared throughout the more amateur criminal community.

True to her word, Marinette tried to reduce the amount of risky choices that she took.

I mean, there was that incident with the llamas, trumpets, and skateboards but we don't talk about that.

Her safety streak ended when Damian was kidnapped.

And by the Joker no less.

Ya, no.

She's not just gonna stand by while her friend litteraly gets kidnapped by a clown man thing when she could do something about it.

The Joker called the Waynes through a video chat and threatens the dump Damian into a pool filled with unidentified and possibly contaminated water until they give him half a million dollars.

And because it's a two way video chat and all of the Waynes (except Damian) are there they can't 'call the batfam' to save him.

Because they were all so busy panicking and Joker was busy laughing, no one but Damian noticed a dark silhouette sneaking around in the shadows.

The moment he saw them he immediately knew who it was.

'Oh no. ThaT'S MY IDIOT!!'

Marinette noticed Damian's panicked stare on her and just, gave him a thumbs up? Before going back into the darkness.

'Oh no oh no ohnoohnononono what's she doing?!' He thought to himself as he heard quiet shuffling in the shadows.

Going back to the screen, Bruce was about to send the money when all of a sudden a bright light was turned on from behind the Joker to the left.

And they weren't expecting what they saw.

There under the light was someone in a Barney the Dinosaur costume sitting in a rainbow bumper car with a radio and a bag filled with something strapped in the passenger side.

TrULy RaDiAnT.

The purple dino turned on the radio, (which was playing the Barney theme song) made eye contact with the clown, and promptly said "Beep beep bitch." in a robotic voice (there was a voice changer in the costume) before driving full speed at him.

At first the Joker tried to run away from the vehicle but for some reason the bumper car was extremely fast and RAN HIM OVER before turning around,

AND FUCKING DOING IT AGAIN!!

Double oof.

They did this around 12 times before the Joker managed to push up from under the bumper car at the perfect time.

Marinette did a backflip (dramatics are guaranteed) as she jumped out of the rainbow ride while simultaneously throwing the radio at the Joker at full force.

The Joker, not expecting that, was thrown against the base of a wall.

He got up just in time to see his attacker pull out a shoe from the bag and chuck it at his nuts.

*cue everyone either laughing at his pain or wincing in sympathy*

The Barney pulls out a sandal from the bag and throws it at his face and uses a black stiletto to pin the clown's arm tO THE FRIGGING WALL when he reaches to touch where the flip flop hit him.

(Is there a difference between sandals and flip flops?)

She then uses another stiletto (a red one this time) to pin his other arm and pulls out YET ANOTHER SHOE (a rainboot) to hit his face.

...again....

This time he gets knocked out though so there's that.

...

....

.....

The power of FOOTWEAR!!

The purple and green dinosaur goes to untie Damian while his family just watch through the screen with their jaws on the floor, still processing what the actual heck just happened.

They get snapped out of their shock when the youngest Wayne launches himself into the Barney's arms and starts rambling about how worried he was and did the store owner give you all those shoes and why the heck did you follow me here.

They don't know what they were expecting the person under the Barney costume to look like but they definitely weren't expecting a young girl with pigtails wearing stilts to come out.

Apparently she needed them to fit into the suit.

Damian: How did you even know I was in trouble?

Marinette: I sorta have a six sense for this kind of stuff. It's disappointing that I didn't get to use all of my amo though :(

Damian: Wait. You brought MORE shoes?

Marinette: Yep! And a couple other things as well. Like this trumpet case, and this bowling ball, and this duck themed alarm clock (I have one lol), and oh! Wait a moment would ya?

*walks over to the pool and dumps around 30 bath bombs in*

Marinette: There! Now this place will smell super nice!

Damian: Did you just dump a ton of bath bombs into a pool of unidentified liquid?

Marinette: Yep!

Damian: Let me rephrase that. Did you just dump a ton of bath bombs into a pool of possibly chemically contaminated water which could possibly have a bad reaction to the bath bombs which could possibly explode or just generally be the death of us?

Marinette: ........

Damian: ........

Marinette: ......

Damian: ........

Marinette: ....well it wouldn't be the FIRST time I-

Damian close to tears: yEs I KnOw PLeaSe StOp ReMinDiNg mE.

Ya so this was just a random idea I had and that I will probably not be adding to but y'all reading this are more than welcome to! If you do continue or make your own little spins on this please tag me! I would love to read them :D

#this is what happens when i think of shoes at like 2am #Barney is a boss bitch #maribat #maridami #damimari #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #daminette #miraculous crossover #mlb x dc #miraculous x dc #chaotic marinette

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inthelonelycoolbeforedawn · 4 years ago

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Harringrove April Days 3, 7, & 22: Spring Break, Daisychain, & Yellow

Spring break was Billy's favorite school holiday.

He didn't like winter vacation because that meant Christmas, and Christmas meant mean Grandma Hargrove, and pretending not to be bored listening to all the old people talk, and lots of yelling and his mom crying afterwards.

Summer was okay, because as long as his chores were done he got to play with his friends and spend more time at the beach.

But spring break was the best, because he got to spend time alone with his mom while his dad was at work.

Sometimes they'd stay home. They'd go to the park a few blocks away, then she'd read him his favorite stories and play toy cars and teach him how to make cookies.

Sometimes they'd go to the beach to swim and walk along the sand, looking for shells or rocks or sea creatures. When he started learning to surf, she'd watch, cheering him on. They'd usually stop for ice cream on the way home.

Sometimes they'd go for walks. She would point out the plants and flowers they passed in neighbors' gardens or along the hiking trails. Once they found a meadow full of wildflowers and she taught Billy how to make daisy chains. She smiled when he proudly set the lopsided daisy crown he'd made all by himself on her head, and she wore it the whole time they sat there watching clouds drift lazily across the sky.

No matter what they did it was nice, and every year Billy looked forward to spring break.

Until the day Neil came home early and found them in the yard, laughing as they blew on dandelion puffballs and making wishes on the tiny, feathery seeds.

"Scattering goddamn weeds everywhere," he shouted. "Do you know how hard I work to keep this lawn looking nice?"

Billy snuck off to his room but he could still hear his dad yelling about goddamn weeds and turning the boy into a pussy with that goddamn hippie shit.

His mom stopped wishing on dandelions after that.

And Billy stopped looking forward to spring break.

They moved when Neil married Susan. This house was bigger but had no yard, just a cracked concrete driveway with an old basketball hoop at the end.

Billy spent hours out there, practicing. Neil didn't mind, because real men were supposed to be interested in sports and cars and girls. And he was good at basketball. Liked it even. It was better than baseball at least.

He hated the dandelions that sprang up in the cracks though.

Max ran over them with her skateboard, not even noticing. But Billy noticed every time another little yellow flower popped up, and made sure to stomp on them when he ran and jumped for the net.

Part of him ached every time he squished one. He wondered if they felt pain, if they knew what it was like to be crushed and smothered, yanked up and thrown away.

But a bigger, louder part of his brain sneered that those kinds of thoughts were for faggots and pussies, and he wasn't a faggot or a pussy.

So he smothered those thoughts, crushing them down like his feet crushed the dandelions.

They had a bigger yard in Hawkins, and Neil made it clear that Billy was old enough now to take responsibility for keeping the yard maintained. He discovered he hated shovelling snow, longing for sunny skies and ocean waves as he cleared the walkways and the driveway. But slowly the snow melted, and his next task was raking up all the dead grass and leaves, tidying up last fall's debris to make sure the lawn looked good for summer.

When the first dandelions poked up through the grass, little bits of sunshine dotting the lawn to announce the coming of spring, Billy went out with the weedkiller.

He sprayed the poison over the plants, soaking them in it, making sure not a single one survived.

At the dinner table that night, he blamed his red-rimmed eyes and hoarse voice on the chemical fumes. Luckily Neil believed him.

Spring turned to summer, and suddenly everything he ever knew was uprooted.

It was October when they finally released him from the hospital. By then the world was gray again, the plants and trees and flowers dying off for the long Indiana winter.

There were a few bright spots though.

He was staying at Joyce Byers' house. It was crowded, since Hopper and El had moved in too. But he shared a room with Jonathan, who was a surprisingly understanding roommate and didn't even expect him to talk if he didn't want to.

He passed the days doing his exercises and whatever household chores he could manage. He spent time with El and Will, and with Max, who visited as often as she could.

And sometimes Steve came over.

The entire group had formed deep, lasting friendships as they all healed together, and Billy still couldn't quite believe he was part of that group now. But he'd apologized, and meant it, and they were willing to give him a chance.

At first he'd just join in when Steve and Robin brought the rest of the kids for movie nights. Then they'd started hanging out without the kids, occasionally going to Steve's house, or to a movie, or the diner. Jonathan and Nancy had even come along a few times.

But, as winter turned to spring, there'd been a few times when it ended up being just Steve and Billy. And the more time Billy spent with Steve, the more he realized he couldn't deny his feelings anymore.

He was in love with Steve. And he had to tell him. It might cost him everything - Steve himself, all the people who'd taken him in and given him a home, who he'd begun to trust and care about - but he couldn't keep lying to himself or anyone else.

He got his chance when Steve came over on an unseasonably warm April day. Hopper and Joyce were at work and the kids were at school, so they had the house to themselves.

"Hi," Steve said when Billy answered the door. "I'm off today so I thought we could, um. Hang out. If you want. It's such a nice day, it'd be a shame to waste it, right?"

"Yeah," Billy said. "You want to sit outside for a bit?"

"Yeah, okay," Steve said.

With his sunny smile and a yellow T-shirt Billy had never seen him in, he looked like a personification of spring. He was beautiful.

Billy pulled the door closed and they settled onto the old porch swing that creaked when it rocked. Steve's arm bumped Billy's, and their thighs were almost touching.

They rocked on the swing slowly, not talking.

And then Steve spoke.

"They're kind of pretty," he said.

Startled, Billy turned to him. "What?"

"The dandelions." Steve gestured towards the Byers' front lawn, dotted with the little yellow flowers, some already gone to seed. He chuckled. "I know most people think they're weeds - my parents hate them - but I don't know. I kind of like them."

"Me too," Billy blurted, before he could stop himself. He looked down. "My mom - she always said if you blew on the seeds and made a wish it would come true."

"Yeah?"

Steve's voice was soft. Billy was too scared to look at him.

"Yeah."

"Well, my grandma said if you blow on a dandelion and all the seeds come off, the person you love loves you back."

Billy tried to laugh. It came out as more of a wheeze.

"Maybe they're both right," Steve said. "Your mom and my grandma."

"Maybe," Billy said quietly.

"Do you want to, uh - ?" Steve took a deep breath, lacing his fingers together, then untwining them and laying his hands flat on his thighs. "Find out?"

"Okay," Billy whispered.

They stood up in unison and walked down to the grass. They both plucked a dandelion and faced the road.

Billy closed his eyes and blew as hard as he could. He hesitated before opening his eyes, almost afraid of what he'd see.

He was holding an empty dandelion stalk that matched Steve's, the little white seeds mingling, dancing away on the breeze.

"Did your wish come true?" Steve asked softly.

Billy kissed him in response, just a brief, tentative touch of his lips to Steve's. He drew back immediately, expecting Steve to scrunch his face up in disgust, shove him away, and run.

Instead Steve took his hand and drew him in for another, longer kiss.

Billy didn't even realize he was crying until they parted and Steve's thumb was on his cheek, gently wiping away his tears.

He put his arms around Steve, hesitantly at first, tightening his hold when Steve hugged him back.

"I guess your mom was right," Steve said.

"I think your grandma was right too," Billy said, when he could speak again.

"Yeah," Steve said, eyes soft and smile warmer than the sun. "Totally."

#harringrove #ficlet #my writing #harringroveapril #just me smashing a bunch of prompts together #into this big pile of garbage

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concussed-to-pieces · 5 years ago

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Stay Safe Part Ten: Shereshoy

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: The Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome, welcome! Rejoice my step-children, for today is prime indulgence hours. You've waited long enough. Enjoy!

Tag List: @wrestlingfae @huliabitch @toxiicpop @renegademustelid @helplessly-nonstop @culturalrebel @sinnamon-bunn @literal-fand0m-trash @hoodedbirdie @fioccodineveautunnale @thyestean-feast @kateb013 @hxldmxdxwn @lizajane3 @thewaythisis @nellyneko @oh-no-who-am-i @crownofmanga @talesfromtheguild @robbinholland @kylolover96 @lukesrighthand @lackofhonor @lightan117 @misssilencewritewell @theorderoffallenstars @iwantsethrollinstohitmeintheface @fan-g0rl

Part One: Should Have Known Better

Part Two: Tranquil Turmoil

Part Three: Vibroblade Mettle

Part Four: Reaching Out

Part Five: Dark Past

Part Six: Go Alone

Part Seven: Like A Ghost

Part Eight: Savior At High Noon

Part Nine: Swan Song

Interlude: How He Sees The World

Shereshoy [pronounced sheh-REYSH-oy]:

"Lust for life and much more." "Hanging onto life and relishing it." A uniquely Mandalorian word meaning the whole-hearted enjoyment of each day and the determination to seek and grab every possible experience, as well as living to see the next day. Unrestrained, unrestricted, wild and eager.

...x...

Waking up with the clammy chill of bacta all over your body was not an experience that bore repeating. Somewhat like being Shanghaied. You weren't sure how you could feel both sticky and slimy, but the sensation was managed with flying colors.

You had only been in the Nevarro med-center once before, when you had accidentally degloved your fingertip in a rivet hole. As you were an independent contractor (who normally prioritized trades of goods or food over credits in exchange for your labor) the best you could get at the time with your limited funding was a bacta patch. Your left index finger still bore a faded ring of scar tissue around the first knuckle.

So when the droid nurse in the medbay informed you of the fact that you had been healing in an actual bacta tank for a little over half a cycle, the blood loss and internal damage having nearly done you in, you were thrown for a loop.

"You organic lifeforms are so foolhardy, always pushing your bodies too far." It scolded after removing the basin of lukewarm water that you had scrubbed your face and hands with. The artificially warm tone of its vocoder took some of the bite out of its words. "You have been cleared for removal from the tank, but I would advise against strenuous activities for several days."

You nodded from the cot, still staring down at your legs. You were a bit dazed, a bit fuzzy on the details of how you had gotten here in the first place. Your last intact memory was of tilting your head back to watch Moff Gideon's ship soar through the sky with the Mandalorian attached. After that, there was nothing but vague flashes, more sensation than visual. "How...how much is this going to cost me?" You asked, trying to remember the conversion rates for liquids and solids and whether bacta counted as a liquid or a solid. Was it sold by the pound or by the liter? Maker, this would be a hell of a debt to work off.

The droid tittered strangely, patting your arm. "Oh, I suppose you would not recall being delivered to us. The man who brought you in paid the deposit for the tank, and then returned three days later with the rest of the credits. You are very fortunate to have such a good friend!"

The man who brought you in. "Was...w-were they a Mandalorian?" You knew you sounded a little too desperate, but you couldn't bring yourself to care at the moment.

"You do remember! Yes, that is correct." The droid affirmed cheerily.

"Do you have any way to get in touch with a man named Greef Karga?" You rushed to inquire as the bot turned to roll back out the door. You had been about to ask for Cara, but decided against it at the last second. You were uncertain if she was still...at odds with the law.

"The leader of the Nevarro Bounty Hunters Guild? Of course, everyone knows how to contact him! But you rest, rest rest. If I can get ahold of him and if he's not busy, I'm sure he'll be along shortly." The droid assured you.

You flexed your hands with a soft yawn after it left, and then you settled back against the pillow. Every muscle in your body felt a bit stiff, likely from lack of use. Half a cycle. Two weeks. Maker, you had nearly died. What a horrible scenario.

He had nearly died. Your throat ached with an unnameable emotion, you hand sliding down to graze over the new scar on your side. It was larger than you expected, and you flinched when you actually looked at it. Better scarred than dead, you thought pragmatically, even while tears welled up in your eyes. You blinked them away, biting your lip.

You only meant to close your eyes for a moment, but when you opened them again, it appeared to be much later in the day. Afternoon sunlight was pouring in via the small window over your bed, the tiny fan doing little to combat the heat seeping through the sheet that covered you.

You heard someone clearing their throat beside you and you turned your head, eyes landing upon the visage of one Greef Karga. Posted up beside him was Cara, her arms crossed over her chest. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to doze off." You apologized, floundering to sit up.

Greef waved off your words. "Relax, we've only been here for a few minutes. You looked so peaceful, we didn't want to interrupt." The older man jibed.

"You gave us a hell of a scare, rookie." Dune scolded, sharply contrasting with Karga's lackadaisical opening statement.

"How did...what happened?" You asked nervously.

"Well, it was all very dramatic. Mando blew Gideon's ship clean out of the sky with one of those fancy gadgets he's got, then he gave you a quick burner patch on the spot." Karga mused, "Your Mandalorian caused quite the stir when he came back here with you. Damn near kicked the doors down."

"Not mine." You corrected him automatically.

Cara scoffed and Karga raised an eyebrow. "Are you entirely certain about that, my wayward little friend?" You gave him a confused look and he shrugged, adjusting his body in the obviously-uncomfortable folding chair beside your cot. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. Really, I ought to thank you. If you hadn't dragged that metal-plated moron off the battlefield, I'm certain we would still be under ex-Imperial control. I got my best hunter back, and a new enforcer to boot." Greef said with a smirk, gesturing up and down at the sturdy dropship trooper alongside him.

"Glad to be of assistance." You informed him dryly.

Karga chuckled at your wry tone, and then folded his hands in his lap. "All joking aside though, it's good to see you out of that tank. I think...I think it'll do him some good as well." The older man sighed, "For lack of a better word, he's been inconsolable since the big brouhaha. Gonna' run the Guild out of bounties if he keeps it up."

You cocked your head, asking, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Mando has an interesting way of coping with his emotions." He elaborated dryly. "I get the feeling he's one of those people that, if he wasn't a Mandalorian, he'd probably resort to panic baking."

The idea of the armored man in a bakery somewhere (probably using his flamethrower to carmelize the top of a crème brûlée or to dispense justice to unruly customers) sprang into your mind unbidden and you burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just--that's such an image, I-" you wheezed helplessly.

Greef chuckled again, taking your hand. "Do me a favor, alright? I promise it won't be difficult."

"Absolutely." You agreed quickly. After all, Greef was probably the one responsible for feeding the Mandalorian the bounties that had funded your healing time. Stars, the debt you owed the armored man seemed to be climbing higher by the second!

"He's due back in two...maybe three days, if his hunting track record is anything to go by." Karga squeezed your hand gently. "Go to see him." The serious tone of his voice caught you a little off-guard and you shook your head at him after a moment of silence.

"I doubt he'll want to see me." You mumbled. "I mean, I left the ship because he told me he didn't want me involved. He said...he said it was Guild business. Then, I ended up getting involved anyway and...well, almost killed in the bargain. I guess he was right to try and keep me out of it." You rubbed at the scar on your side nervously. It sat just above where you had landed on Calican's buckle, puckering the skin slightly where it had once been smooth. You weren't certain you would get used to the odd sensation.

"That's why you left?" Cara sputtered. "He said he hurt you. I gave him an earful and everything!" She grimaced. "Now I feel like an asshole."

"He...what?"

"Yeah, he said that he 'lost control' and hurt you, and that it was better that you stay as far away from him as possible. He sounded all kinds of fucked-up over it." Dune pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. "If he didn't believe that he deserved it, I doubt he would have just sat there and taken the tirade I unleashed. I uh...I lit him up pretty good." She finished with a wince.

You stared up at her, somewhat dumbfounded. "O…Oh." You replied weakly.

"I think...well, it's not my place to say, but I think he'll be happy to see you. As happy as a Mando can be, anyway." Karga said quietly.

You thought back on every instance you had heard the smile in his voice, the precious times that you had made him laugh--

And you nodded firmly. "You'd have to knock me out with beskar to keep me away."

Cara grinned and thumped her forehead against yours. "That's the spirit!"

Greef's laughter was raucous (and a little sheepish) and you couldn't help joining in.

...

Getting back into the Crest was the easy part. The worst issue you encountered was that it was raining softly, making a humid haze rise from every surface and ensuring that you would leave footprints.

After two members of the Guild offloaded the carbonite plaques and trotted away with their hoverskiffs, you slunk out from behind the crates and bolted forward.

It only took one try to get the combination this time. He hadn't changed it. He usually changed it once every three days, so that was strange.

You entered the cool, dark hold with a small amount of trepidation, tiptoeing towards the ladder as the hatch slid shut behind you. Soft sniffling from behind the bunk shutter met your ears faintly and your heart broke. Almost before you could think about it, you hammered your fist down on the controls to raise the barrier.

The kid was sitting in the bunk, little hands pressed to their eyes while they snuffled and whimpered. They looked up at you in panic and it was so strange to see the second that they recognized you. They stumbled forward into your arms, those tiny claws scrabbling at your damp tunic as they sobbed.

"Oh sweetheart, sweetheart…" you whispered, cradling them close to your chest. "I'm right here with you, it's alright now. Everything will be fine." You stroked the back of their head, blinking away your own tears.

They started hiccupping, their little body jolting with the force of it, and you toted them into the refresher. With a bit of cajoling, you got them to hold still while you swabbed over their face with a warm cloth, cleaning off the grime of the day and those tear tracks.

They were still sniffling slightly when you pressed a cup of water into their little hands. "You're probably thirsty after all that hard work, huh?" You asked softly, sitting down cross-legged on the floor in front of the bunk. "I wonder how long he's been gone for." You continued, thinking aloud. The child hurriedly gulped down the water, holding the empty cup back out with a little whine. "Ha! Of course, as soon as I sit down." You teased, hauling yourself back up to refill the paper cup. "Alright, slower this time. Don't want you getting a tummy ache." You instructed, holding the cup for them so you could moderate their sips.

You watched as their huge ears began to perk back up. They looked for all the world like a freshly-watered plant, and the mental comparison made you snicker.

"My favorite little mudjumper." You sighed, straightening out their teeny robes. At least they were clean and dry, not that you had anticipated the Mandalorian letting the kid's health or hygiene fall by the wayside. Knowing him, he was probably more likely to forget to wear his helmet than cause the kid to suffer.

You sat there peacefully for a while as the sky outside darkened, just listening to the rain beating on the hull and stroking your fingers over the kid's head. The child sprawled out on your chest, their eyes slowly sliding shut as you continued to console them.

You were eventually roused from your staring contest with the floor by the sound of the ramp extending and then heavy footsteps. The cargo bay was almost pitch-black now, the only light coming in from the now-closing boarding ramp. The rain was still beating down, though. It had picked up while you sat, drumming a tattoo on the roof high overhead.

There was a faint click and machinery hummed to life, the hold becoming softly illuminated by the orange running lights beneath the floor grates. Your heart lurched in your chest when you spotted the Mandalorian fiddling with his gauntlet by the loading ramp, obviously focused on it. Your heart now felt like it was about to beat out of your chest. It was a miracle you didn't wake the child with the frantic motion alone!

You couldn't move. You could barely breathe, your nerves threatening to strangle you. All you could manage to do was sit there in silence and just...wait.

How would he react? Would he be angry that you were here? He had paid for the bacta tank, would he require you to pay him back? The thoughts bounced around in your head frantically, making your stomach drop out with apprehension.

He grunted something, sounding upset as he dragged a hand down over the front of his helmet and sagged against the wall. Maybe you shouldn't have done this, maybe...maybe you should have waited to see whether he sought you out first.

Your brow furrowed. No. You had done enough of that. It was your turn now.

You heard his breath hitch and you realized belatedly that you had stopped paying attention to what he was doing. Clearly he had noticed you, if the tilt of his head was any indication. His hands fell slack at his sides, like he had forgotten about his gauntlet entirely.

"Didn't mean to startle you." You said quietly, not wanting to rouse the child that was still slumped over on your chest.

He didn't move. Didn't respond. Hell, you weren't even certain if he was breathing anymore. He just stood there, his cape dripping a small puddle onto the grating beneath his feet.

The kid yawned, smacking their lips and snuggling back down against your collarbone.

"Put the...put the kid in his crib. Please." The Mandalorian requested. His tone was even, giving you absolutely nothing to go on as far as gauging his thoughts.

Stars, you had missed the sound of his voice. You almost didn't want to admit it, but it was the truth.

You carefully got to your feet and turned, laying the child down in their bassinet. Your hand hovered over the controls to close the protective shielding, silently waiting for confirmation.

"Yeah. I...yeah. Please." He muttered.

Once you had done so, you shifted back to face him. You kept your eyes on your boots though, unable to look at him just yet. Anxious nerves wrung the life right out of your voice, making it crack when you finally began to speak. "I-I'm sorry. I know you didn't...I know that I went against what you told me to do, b-but--" You heard him swear and then a sharp clatter met your ears. He must have lunged across the hold because abruptly, a set of gloved hands were cupping your face and dragging it upwards.

You had shut your eyes and tensed up on instinct when you saw the hands coming, so the mouth that pressed to your own was a bit of a shock. You froze, then sighed with relief and leaned hard into the kiss. Your hands rested on his chest, greedily pawing the familiar beskar (and the not-as-familiar way that it pitched under your touch). He groaned against your lips and pressed your back to the wall, his own hands grasping for purchase on your shoulders.

He had missed you. Or at least, it certainly seemed that way! Any other thoughts you had at the moment fled under the assault of his desperate mouth.

He exhaled raggedly and then buried his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder. He didn't say anything for the longest time, one hand falling to clutch at the fabric of your tunic over your side. His shoulders heaved and you realized he was crying, breath wheezing through his teeth from where he had bitten down on his glove to stifle the sound.

You kept your eyes closed and cautiously, carefully, you slid your hand up into the hair at the nape of his neck. "I'm here." You whispered. You felt his knees buckle and he swayed, forcing you to grab a handful of his soaked flight suit to steady him.

"M' sorry, I-" he rasped. "I'm getting you all wet. The rain, I..."

"Yeah...I don't know what they call it on Mandalore, but here, we call it crying." You teased him softly.

He actually laughed at that, pulling back a little. "Guess now I know why Karga and Dune told me to take the day off. I went to the medbay and you weren't there, I-I figured you'd left Nevarro for good. Why…" he swallowed hard, then continued, "why are your eyes shut?"

"I uh, it was mostly a reflex." You admitted. "Should I…" Your throat had gone bone dry. "Sh-Should I open them?"

"I…" He hesitated. "You already know my name."

Din Djarin, the words tripping over one another as he struggled to get them out through a mouth that barely worked--

"Well yeah, but that doesn't give me viewing privileges." You retorted. "Hell, that doesn't even give me permission to use your name. Knowing it is only a part of the equation."

"Do you...want to use my name?" He sounded breathless.

"I mean, I wouldn't--I wouldn't mind it." You admitted weakly after a few seconds of hemming and hawing. "Only if you're okay with it though!" You rushed to add, feeling as if you needed to make sure he knew he could retract the offer. "I know that it's got a lot of weight to it." He wasn't angry at you. He wanted you to say his name and see his face.

"I'm terrified." He replied bluntly. "I haven't shown anyone...well, ever. You're the only one that's--I-I mean, you're the...you're it." How could someone make you weak in the knees while also simultaneously being absolutely, entirely, outrageously awkward?

"I can start with your name, and if you still want to...I mean, you make that choice, okay?"

"I want you to see. I just don't know if I…I mean, the idea of you...I thought you were going to die, all because I screwed up, pushed you away. I want--I need to make sure you don't...that you don't…" He struggled with his words, gloved hands wrinkling your tunic beyond hope when he tightened his grip. "I can't, not again. I'm so sorry." He finally muttered. His mouth pressed to your neck, kisses trailing wet and hungry over your skin. "Please, please say my name."

"Din." You whispered, again struck with the sensation that you were breaking a multitude of rules as you felt him shudder bodily. "Din...Djarin."

"Shit." He groaned, tilting his head back. "That's...that's nice." He sounded a bit faint.

"Please don't pass out." You murmured. "All the beskar would absolutely crush me and I don't think you want to try and scrape me up out of the floor grates."

He choked out another laugh, wet gloves smoothing over your hair. "Sorry. M' just tired. This feels like a dream." He sighed heavily. "I have to wash up. Get out of this suit so it'll dry."

"I'm all for getting you out of the suit."

He smiled against your neck, "yeah?"

"Mmhm." You nodded, blindly reaching for the clasps on his gription harness.

Between your sightless fumbling and his hungry kisses, it took much longer than normal for him to get out of his armor. He couldn't seem to stop kissing you, seeking your mouth again and again.

"Making up for lost time." Din grunted, finally managing to divest himself of his flight suit altogether and then jerking the liner shirt off over his head. He pressed his body to your own and you flushed wildly. Last time he hadn't even fully removed his flight suit, and he had kept the liner shirt on. It was surreal to be able to touch him like this.

He seemed to agree, if the helpless noises in his throat were any indicator. You trailed your fingers along his chest, sliding boldly down to stroke through the thick curls that started right above the waist of his compression leggings. "Pare, wait, I need…t-to shower." He pleaded, his hands fumbling on your shoulders. "H-Have to do this right." His forehead bumped against yours. "Have to do this right." He repeated, now grinding himself down into your palm instinctively. You easily found the thick arch of his cock through the leggings and you couldn't resist giving him a gentle caress before you pulled away.

His breathing sounded distinctly shaky. "Okay. Go ahead." You urged him, making a shooing gesture in what you hoped was the direction of the refresher.

"Hang on," he protested. "Wait, ch-changed my mind, come here."

"Mm, nope! Go shower." You cupped his jaw, feeling him swallow hard. "Get cleaned up. I'll be here when you get out."

"Stay...stay at the sink?" He bargained. You could hear him fumbling with something, probably his leggings.

"Absolutely." You kissed his nose. "Now go shower, you smell like wet Wookie."

He embraced you without warning, wrapping his arms around you tightly and pressing his cock against your stomach. "Wait for me." He requested, the kiss that followed absolutely voracious. You clung to his shoulders, rendered helpless under the attack of his mouth.

"Y-Yeah, 'course." You stammered when you could think again.

He took your wrist and led you forward until you could touch the sink, and then he got into the shower. "When did you wake up?" He asked after he had keyed the shutter closed.

You opened your eyes and leaned back on the sink, tapping your chin. "It's been about...three days?"

He swore under his breath and you heard a metallic rattle. "Shit, c'mon, stupid-" The water abruptly burst on and he yelped. You couldn't stifle your laughter, though you did try. "So glad my pain amuses you." He groused through the divider. "Here I was, coming back to my ship all torn up, thinking that you were gone forever and that I'd never see you again."

His words were annoyed but you could hear the soft sadness in his tone. "I think I've made it abundantly clear that I don't know how to leave you behind." You replied gently. "Plus, bacta tank time isn't exactly cheap."

He scoffed, "Yeah, we need to talk about that. Later. Once we're in a proper headspace for it." He was silent for several minutes, the only noise the running water of the shower and the thunder of the rain overhead. "I don't...look, the bacta doesn't fucking matter. I'm just...I'm glad you came back," he muttered finally. "Glad I didn't ruin everything like I thought I did."

"You've got an uphill battle ahead of you, Din." You luxuriated in saying his name, though your words were ultimately serious. "Why didn't you tell Cara the truth? She said she yelled at you pretty bad."

"I did tell her the truth." Din sighed. "Look, I hurt you. You can't say that I didn't. Physically, emotionally...wounding happened. You didn't feel welcome to stay anymore and I sure as hell didn't give you a reason to." There was a quiet thud. "I knew she would rip me apart and honestly, I think I needed that to parse everything. But stars, that woman took the paint off."

You grimaced. You could only imagine the awful things she had (probably) shouted at him. You heard the shower turn off and you shut your eyes again, tilting your head at the sound of the shutter sliding.

"Mm, I could get used to this." He murmured. All you got for a warning was the rustle of a towel and then, he was on you. His mouth claimed your own and he chuckled when your hands immediately found his damp hair. "You really like that, huh?" He commented, sounding amused.

"Listen, I've been through enough. Let me have this." You complained, yanking playfully at his shaggy locks and laughing when he grunted.

"You keep it up and I'll let you have a lot more than just that." He threatened, peppering your cheeks with kisses. He then grabbed the hem of your tunic, stripping it up off your body to leave you there in your breast wrap. The breathy noise he made was enough to have you flushing hot; you could almost feel him looking at you. "Maker, I don't deserve this." He whispered as he pressed his palm to the faint scar on your side. "Any of this. Over this...half a fucking cycle, I kept thinking that I must have made you up. That there's no way someone like you could even be real."

He sounded reverent again and it made your head spin, it had you gripping his shoulders while he slid down your body to peel your pants off. The mental image of him naked on his knees in front of you--

Stars, you wished you were brave enough to open your eyes.

One large hand slipped between your thighs, urging you open with the gentle press of his other hand hooked right above your knee. "Let me see you, let me see." He breathed, his fingers groping forward until they encountered your slick. You squirmed a little, hoping that he wasn't put off by how wet you already were. You couldn't really help it, of course. "Oh, fuck, you're s-so--you're dripping for me, fuck."

"D-Din…" Your fingers were in his curls again, and you gave a gentle tug.

His tongue-

You felt the inquisitive, flat press of it against your cunt and you gasped out, quickly tilting your face up so that you wouldn't see him if you accidentally opened your eyes. Wait, if he's not supposed to take off his helmet--

Your thoughts ground to a halt when he moaned from between your thighs, wedging his shoulder in to keep your legs apart. "Taste--t-taste so-" he mumbled, laving sloppily over your clit. "Good, fuck. Good." His fingers spread you wide, allowing him unrestricted access to your most intimate parts. You knew you ought to be embarrassed about being splayed open like this, but you couldn't seem to muster up the feeling over the sensations you were being gifted.

Din was clearly spurred on by your enthusiasm if his sounds were any indication, his already limited words dissolving into soft growls and rumbles as he ate you out.

That wasn't exactly the correct term for what he was doing, really. He was devouring you, his nose clumsily bumping into your clit with every other motion, his hands trembling as he tried to keep you still under his ministrations. You thought it couldn't get any better, but then his tongue licked inside of you and you couldn't help the way your voice broke when you cried his name, one hand flying up to cover your mouth. Having your eyes closed did nothing but intensify the feeling of surrender, you were his prey and he was hungry.

The snarl that he let out in reply had you quivering, his tongue fucking your cunt almost lazily. He was teasing now, drawing it out. "Beg me." He slurred, smiling against you. "Beg."

"Please--oh f-fuck, please, please-" you whimpered, almost in tears when he backed away.

"Please…?" He trailed off and you abruptly understood what he was waiting for.

"Please, Din, p-please make me come." You begged pitifully, your hips twitching as they sought out his mouth.

"One more time?" He implored, groaning after you fisted your hands in his shaggy curls again.

"Please, Din, please let me come, p-please, please--" Your voice cracked when he hitched your leg up over his shoulder and buried his face in your cunt. He locked his hot, wet mouth around your clit, rubbing his tongue down on it in a focused attack that had your knees buckling, chest heaving, nails digging into his scalp and-

Your Mandalorian, Din Djarin, was not a man who did anything by halves.

You fell apart, soaking his tongue with your orgasm as you sobbed out his name again and again. He moaned hungrily, the noise sending vibrations through your sensitive sex and making you shudder while he continued to move his mouth, continued to gently lick at your cunt and lap up your come.

"Are you alright?" He asked cautiously once he finally took pity on you and let you catch your breath.

"'Am I alright', like you didn't just take my soul out of my body with your tongue." You panted.

"Yeah?" There was a smile in his voice. "Alright." With a quiet grunt, he got to his feet. "Wasn't sure if I'd be any good at it, but-" You cupped his jaw, delving your tongue into his mouth to catch a taste of yourself. He choked a little, obviously startled when you bit down on his lower lip and tugged it gently. "You...more?" He queried, sounding hopeful.

"Yes, absolutely yes." You answered breathlessly. He hesitated for a second, his arm brushing your shoulder on its way by.

"There. Turn around and open your eyes."

You did so, stumbling a little on your still-unsteady legs. When you blinked your eyes open you realized that he had opened the tiny mirrored cabinet over the sink, effectively rendering the reflective surface harmless. You wanted to feel disappointed, but you knew that he would do it in his own time, on his own terms.

His hands roamed up your body, unraveling the binding that you had to support your breasts. They fell into his palms and he exhaled harshly in your ear, the heated air making you shiver all over as he pressed himself to your back. He toyed with your breasts inquisitively, squeezing them and teasing your nipples with his calloused fingers until you were writhing back against him, wordless pleas making their way out of your throat. "What? I didn't catch that." He murmured in your ear, roughly sinking his teeth into the shell of it and making you keen loudly. "Something you want?"

"Din-" you protested, leaning a little further forward in obvious invitation. He fell silent and the head of his cock rubbed against your pussy, coating the shaft with your slick. Agonizingly slow, he pressed in until his tip was inside you.

"Hah, f-uck, you're…" His forehead hit the space between your shoulder blades and stayed there as you squirmed, trying to push back onto him. "Mmfuck, I have t-to be...y' tight, cyar'ika, breathe-"

"Sorry--" you whimpered, startled when he nipped at your shoulder.

"Don't f-fucking apologize, don't y' dare--" Din stammered indignantly, "gripping me like a f-f-ucking vice, don't want to hurt you." His hands smoothed down over your hips and he clumsily repositioned you, arching your back a bit more to open you up.

You exhaled and you heard him grunt in what sounded like relief. He then penetrated you fully in one long, smooth thrust, the mass of him punching the rest of the breath out of your lungs and leaving you grasping blindly at the sink for something to anchor yourself. His cock was so thick, you felt like it was searing your insides and branding you as his forever.

Your Mandalorian.

You shakily pushed yourself up and wrapped your arm around his neck to support your body as he began to stroke into you against the sink, your eyes sliding closed before you could glimpse him in your periphery.

His lips pressed to your cheek and one hand groped over your stomach until his palm ground down on your pubic mound, sending stars across your vision and making you whine out his name. You tilted your head back down to stare dazedly at his arms around you, watching the way his musculature coiled and bunched with every thrust. Maker, he was strong.

Din kept your back pinned tightly to his chest, giving you his cock without mercy as he rambled disjointedly in your ear about how much he had missed you, about how much he craved you, how much he needed you-

"I-I love--" His voice faltered, then he gritted his teeth. "I l-love you, y--you know that, r-right?" Din blurted out desperately.

"I--" the breath caught in your throat, due in no small part to the man currently fucking you into sweet oblivion. "-love you." You managed to say, closing your eyes and knocking the side of your head into his.

He made a pained noise, one hand reaching forward. "Open--open your eyes. P-Please, please open 'em." He begged.

"Are you-"

"Fuck, fuck fuc-k-k I need it pl-ease," Din cried, his voice rasping and then cracking. "Need you to see, need you to see, need it need it need it--"

The sound of his breathless, sobbing entreaty was more than enough to convince you to oblige him, and so (eventually) your eyes fluttered open.

It took a minute, but you managed to focus on the now-closed cabinet in front of you. The mirrored surface revealed the man that you had saved, the man who had, in turn, saved you.

He had his eyes downcast, no doubt transfixed by the sight of his cock splitting you open again and again. His hair was shaggy; brown, a few grays peppered in here and there. Heavy, furrowed brow, square jawline, full lips currently pressed together in a concentrated grimace. Several fresh-looking scrapes and bruises littered his face. His nose was a little crooked, like it had been broken several times, but that wasn't surprising. Mandalorian helmets, for all their protection, did sport incredibly flat fronts.

Your Mandalorian, Din Djarin, was devastatingly attractive even beneath the armor.

"Hey," You breathed and he jerked his head up, dark, dark brown eyes meeting your own for the first time. You were abruptly breathless, and not simply because his cock felt like it was making itself at home in your chest cavity. You curled your fingers weakly on the nape of his neck, the motion almost a wave. "You could have w-warned me that the helmet was for my protection, not yours."

He tilted his head to the side, illustrating his confusion even without the helmet to mask his expression. His hips pressed to your rear almost idly, rutting his cock as deeply in you as it could possibly reach.

"Didn't expect you to be so h-andsome." You gasped, a guttural cry leaving your lips when he shifted his weight to drag his cock back out of you.

His smile was incredibly shy, an awkward little tilt of his lips before he buried his face against your shoulder blade again. Maker, was he...was he blushing?

You had made a Mandalorian blush. While he was pounding you into the next cycle, no less. You could feel the temperature difference of his face and you giggled, your breath hitching.

"Don't--don't laugh at m-me, dammit." He grunted. "Not while...I'm f-fucking you like this--"

"Not--at you," you panted. "I j-just love you, that's all."

He choked on his next breath and his tempo stuttered, that thick cock throbbing inside you. "Who do y-you love?" He whispered, his hands fondling your breasts.

"Din Djarin." You replied quickly, arching your back a little more.

"Ah--a-and I love--I love you." He groaned. "So...so much." He slid his hand down again, spreading your cunt open so he could play with your clit. You could hear how wet you were, and it filled you with a delight that was borderline shameful. "Come on me. Want you t-to...f-ucking soak me, soak my cock, c'mon." He demanded hotly in your ear, making brief eye contact with you in the mirror. His look was smoldering, burying itself in the hungry tension that teemed in your groin. "I can feel you, fucking squeezing me every t-time I talk, so come, come on me--"

Your clit was unbearably sensitive from your earlier orgasm, every motion of his body sending shockwaves through you. You squirmed and writhed but he had you trapped, safe and secure and begging you to submit to the pleasure he wanted to give you. It was almost too much to bear; you felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes when you finally succumbed with a primal growl.

Din didn't stop, though. He fucked you through your orgasm, fucked you into the blinding delight of overstimulation and pressed the heel of his palm down onto your pubic mound once more. You could feel his cock twitching, could feel how tense his thighs had gotten, Maker you could feel everything and it was a blissful torture. Thoroughly strung out, all senses ablaze, you begged him to come.

"I want to, I want to, gedet'ye I w-want to so fucking badly, I want--" Din chanted. Without any ceremony, he thrust his fingers into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue, urging you to extend it and lick his fingers. You obliged almost automatically and he dragged his now wet fingertips down your chest to roll and tweak your nipples hard.

You clenched down on him without conscious input, your pussy in spasm around his cock as the cool air combined with his rough little tugs to rouse and torment your breasts. You sobbed out his name again and again, pleading for relief and praying it never came all at once.

He met your eyes in the mirror, pupils blown wide and his mouth just barely open, and-- "Oh, fuck." He choked. "I love you." And then he came, wrapping an arm around your midsection to keep you firmly planted in the shuddering cradle of his thighs. He bucked into you over and over and you knew you were dead weight but you couldn't bring yourself to move, moaning helplessly in his trembling grip. "Ner, mine." He grunted.

"Mmhm." You breathed, too beyond words to function at this point in time.

He let out a breathless chuckle, threading his fingers through your hair. "You're mesh'la, beautiful. My beautiful little mudhorn." He sighed.

"Again...with that name." You replied haltingly, the air slowly returning to your lungs. He slung both of his arms around your waist, holding you tight to his chest once more. You were bewildered by your body's reaction, aftershocks hitting hard enough to make your legs shake. "Couple of things that come to mind when I think of a mudhorn." You continued after a few deep, deep breaths. "Beautiful and little are definitely not among them. I tend to think big, and dangerous. So you know. You."

"I remember the first time I thought of you like that." He murmured in your ear. "You had just killed seven raiders. I came into the hut and you were ready to kill me too."

"Oh...oh." You trailed off, flushing slightly. "I-I wouldn't have, you know I wouldn't."

"Mm, I'm not so sure." He exhaled into your ear, making you squeak. "It was intense. I...I'm pretty sure that was it for me. Fought for so long, y'know, but it was useless. You took my heart with that look, cyar'ika."

"You really...I mean, you thought about me like that?" You asked shyly. And it was an insane thing to be shy about, considering the fact that his cock was still inside you. "You mentioned some things the last time we...uh, got involved, but I assumed you were just saying stuff to get me excited."

"I don't know how to talk like that." He answered you bluntly.

"That's a lie." You retorted. "You told me you fucked your hand thinking about me!"

"Mmmultiple times." He drawled the 'm' out in a self-satisfied manner, kissing down the side of your neck.

"That's not you just trying to say something...y'know, to get me worked up?"

"I said it because it's true." He muttered, "should I...should I not say things like that?"

"No, no, you definitely should!" You backtracked quickly. "It's just...it's nice to know that you were thinking about me even before I was...well, masturbation material. It's nice that you saw me, I guess I should say."

"I always saw you." He breathed, his fingers sliding up the side of your neck to tilt your head so he could kiss your cheek. "Saw you play with the younglings. Saw how you took care of the kid. Saw how you protected him. Saw how you took care of me."

Your flush was a raging inferno at this point.

"I don't remember a lot about the...whole situation with Ran's group. Xi'an's poison threw me off my track pretty good. But I remember…" Those brown eyes half-lidded as he collected his thoughts. "Remember you singing to me."

"You asked me to." You whispered.

"I don't mind that memory. Out of all the ones that I have, it's one of the few that isn't shit." Din mused, adding, "today's nice too, don't get me wrong. No deadly neuro-toxins to take the edge off either." He wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder and swaying you gently back and forth as you watched him in the mirror. Stars, you were still a little tongue-tied at how handsome he was. "I need you to promise me something, stowaway."

"What is it?"

"Don't you e-ever try to fucking die on me again." His voice cracked, "okay?" He dropped his forehead against your shoulder. "Please."

"Din…" You said softly, stroking your fingers through his hair.

"Just...just promise me that." He choked out. "If you get hurt, fucking tell me. If something happens, if…shit, if something goes wrong, please--please, don't hide from me. I'm sorry f-for...I'm sorry that I...I fucked everything up. I'm so sorry. All I've been able to think about is how much you m-must hate me. You were almost killed because you were pulling my stupid, stupid ass out of the fire."

"Hey, hey. You literally told me to stay out of Guild business. You can't blame yourself for my inability to follow your instructions." You protested, nudging your head against his. "I'm an adult and I take full responsibility for my own stupidity when it comes to you, okay?"

One large hand trailed down to skim the scar from the blaster wound and he huffed, sniffling quietly. He pulled your hips back more firmly into the seat of his pelvis, shifting his weight a little. "All heart and no fucking armor to defend it." He managed to say.

"You've got more than enough for the both of us." You replied gently. Then, you whimpered as he palmed over your breasts again, his fingers tugging your nipples mercilessly. "How are you still-"

"Missed you." He rasped, his words husky with longing and unshed tears. "You're so warm. Sensitive. I love...I love you. Don't want to stop touching you."

"Din--" Your voice broke as he rolled his hips, his cock hilted in you deliciously.

"Mm, one more? Maybe?" He begged.

"I don't know if my legs are going to last that long." You confessed. "Or the rest of me, to be honest."

"If it's too much for you, I'll stop." He breathed in your ear. "Can tell me to stop and I'll stop."

"I don't want you to stop, but I'm just-"

"'But' means you need me to stop." Din interjected softly. "I'll stop."

"Wait, wait, it's just that--I'm-!" Your orgasm struck without warning as he attempted to withdraw, the drag of his cock over your spot making your vision briefly white out from the overload. You shuddered and writhed, the pleasure nearly to the point of pain as your inner walls clutched at his cock. You couldn't help the way your nails raked into his arm, clawing for purchase.

You vaguely heard him moan, "oh, f-fuck--" the words nothing but a gravelly rumble. He struggled to keep pulling out, rambling about how tight you were like he couldn't even help it. "Easy, easy cyar'ika--relax, relax relax. You grip me so--f-ucking-"

"Sorry, sorry-" you sobbed, your words catching in your throat as you felt the head of his cock finally leave your cunt with a lewd, wet sound. It was like a breath of relief and anguish all at once; you were too sensitive to handle more but you had missed him so much-

He tipped your chin back with one hand, kissing your forehead clumsily as he dragged his other hand over the inside of your thighs. "Mm, shh, no apologies. Gonna' come." He slurred through gritted teeth. "Right here, just l-like this, using your come to fuck my hand. You ready? Ready for my come?"

Your words failed you at his declaration and all you could do was nod, drowsily meeting his gaze in the mirror. His breath hitched again, like he was startled. It was wildly endearing to know you had that sort of effect on him. "Love you." You whispered, propping yourself up with your elbows on the sink to enjoy the show.

"Hnn, f-fuck, fuck-" he panted, "that's not fair. With the eyes too? N-Not--not fair, you can't do that."

You just smiled sweetly, arched your back and he lost it. His release hit the small of your back and you listened to him gasp and grunt his way through his orgasm with an exhausted tremor of delight. He came for what seemed like an eternity to you (and him as well, if his voice dissolving into a broken, raspy growl had anything to say about it).

"You make the nicest sounds." You complimented him once he seemed to be able to breathe again.

"Wh...What?" Din croaked after clearing his throat several times.

"Your voice. It's nice. I like it."

"Um…huh." His fingers absently smeared the come on the small of your back. He appeared to be at a loss for words. "I should...uh. Get a...something. Gotta' clean. Don't move. I...yeah, don't move." He said finally, awkwardly clearing his throat again and avoiding your eyes in the mirror.

"Helmet back on?" You suggested. He froze, looking a little guilty. "Hey, no. It's part of your life. It's who you are. Don't ever worry about putting it back on, okay?"

"I'm sorry." He mumbled.

You swatted his leg. "What did I just say? Listen to me when I talk!" You chided.

"I know, I just-"

"Nope! Nope. You're more comfortable with it on, right? You're used to it. That's how your world is and that's fine." You assured him. "I'm a new addition. That's only if you want to keep me around, of course."

"Don't you dare say something like that." He grumbled, obviously bashful. "'Course I want you around. I'm not letting you out of my fucking sight for at least a week."

"Is that...possessiveness I detect in your tone, Djarin?" You asked in mock surprise. "I didn't think you had it in you!"

He scoffed, shaking his head and then walking through the bay to pick his helmet up from its forlorn place next to the loading ramp. "More like soul-crushing anxiety over your wellbeing, but that too I guess." He grunted after donning his familiar headgear. He padded back over to the fresher, reaching into the shower and scooping up a washcloth.

The water was cold and you yelped, making him flinch. "Fuck, what, a-are you alright?" Din stammered, palms cupping your hips gingerly.

"Could have used warm water." You squeaked, wriggling a little in an effort to shake off the chill.

He breathed a sigh. "Maker, don't...don't fucking scare me like that." He muttered, obligingly running the cloth under the hot water tap. "I thought I hurt you."

"No no, it was just cold. Sorry." You apologized, feeling a little sheepish. The cloth was barely lukewarm when he laid it back on your skin, but it was absolutely better than it had been the first time.

His motions were clumsily tender, like he wasn't used to being careful. When he moved lower to run the cloth over the inside of your thighs, he slowed to rub circles on your still-trembling muscles. "Maker, I...you're shaking."

"Yeah, you kind of gave me a workout." You teased, turning your head to smile at him over your shoulder. "Also, I think I'm still supposed to be taking it easy. According to that nurse, anyway."

"You're what."

"Supposed to...uh, you know what? Never mind." You tried to brush it off, but he rose to his full height and wrapped his arms back around you.

"If you're supposed to be taking it easy," he growled in your ear, modulated voice sending that familiar tremor through your body, "I shouldn't have just railed you against the fucking sink."

"Hey, I needed that. You did too. Don't act like you didn't, Djarin." You stuck out your tongue, blowing a raspberry at him.

Din shook his head, tapping the helmet against your temple. "I wouldn't have made you stand. Would have...would have laid you down or something." He eased your full weight against his chest. "Are you sore?"

"Not really. A little achy and stiff, but that's okay." He hummed disapprovingly in his throat, tugging you back a step from the sink. You flung your arm around his neck, clinging to him as your legs tried to dump you on the ground. "Not hurt!" You insisted when you heard his breath hitch. "I promise. Just well-fucked."

"Still. You can barely stand. We need to lay you down." He murmured, smoothing his palm over the top of your head. "You want the bunk?"

"No, we can't both fit in there." You tightened your hold on him without meaning to. Don't go.

"I don't want you to be on the floor if you're hurt." He protested.

"I don't want to be alone." You hated how your voice cracked. "Please, Din. Not right now."

"Oh. Oh. Alright, I...alright. I didn't mean...I just didn't want you to--the floor isn't comfortable." Din fumbled to say, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles.

"I lived with it before, I can definitely manage it now."

The jaw contour of his helmet gently pressed to your cheek like a kiss. "Okay. Give me...I'll get some more blankets together or something. You stay still." He ordered sternly, patting your hip. "Stay."

Your laugh was a little shaky. "I'm not the kid, y'know."

Din grumbled something under his breath, sounding exasperated.

…

You had no idea that he even possessed this many blankets. You blinked down at the pile, certain you recognized a few blue ones from your stay on Sorgan.

"Something most people don't know about Mandalorians is that we build nests." Din informed you, his voice utterly deadpan.

"You are...a liar." You sputtered, giggling when he nuzzled his helmet into the crook of your neck. You had taken a quick shower while he was distracted by his nest building, so your skin was still warm and a little damp. His beskar squeaked slightly at the moisture.

"I could be lying, yes. But I might also be telling the truth." He reasoned, tugging you down to settle on the floor.

"This is the Way, right?" You teased, cupping the sides of his helmet. He stilled and your smile slipped a notch as you remembered the way you had thrown the phrase in his face, how heartbroken he had sounded when he begged you to wait.

Hesitantly, his hands raised to cover your own. "This is the Way." He intoned quietly, pressing his forehead against yours before continuing, "With you. I'm never leaving you behind. Ever again."

"My Mandalorian." You whispered, relief making your eyes slide closed. "Thank you, Din."

He breathed, "Thank you for loving me," his tone unbearably soft even through the modulator. "Thank...thank you for saving me, my little mudhorn."

Your chuckle was a bit more watery than you would have liked. "That pet name is going to take some getting used to." You stroked the sides of his helmet. "Luckily, I'll have plenty of time to do so." You proceeded to press your thumb to his sternum, drawing it downwards. He did the same to you and you could feel the affection he had for you radiating through the delicacy of his touch when he softly tapped his fingers to your lips. "I promise." You whispered, your own fingers making a dull ringing sound on his beskar helmet.

He just...stared down at you for several long moments. Long enough for you to half-lid your eyes again, lashes sweeping down as you focused your gaze self-consciously on his knees.

Slowly, slowly, his hand extended, and you could see it shaking ever so slightly in your peripheral for a second. "I share my name with you." Din slid his index finger down your jaw. "I share my face with you." He trailed his hand across your visage from temple to chin, his fingertips barely grazing your skin. "I share my body with you." He cupped his palm tenderly over the top of your left breast (no doubt feeling the way that your chest heaved excitedly under his touch). "I share...I share my heart with you." He murmured, threading his fingers through your own and raising them to his chin. "This is a riduurok bond. An oath that I swear to you. It's...it's very important." His sentence dissolved into a bit of a mumble, but you still heard him when he stammered, "s'a marital...l-love bond."

"Oh." You replied dumbly, before erupting with, "oh! Oh, you're--oh wow, stars, okay. What...uh, what do I have to say in return? To say yes?!" You rushed to ask, certain your eyes had gone glassy with tears.

"If...um, if you accept, y-you just...repeat what I said, and the gestures." Din seemed flustered by your enthusiastic reply, his hand trembling in your grip. "You...you really-?"

You tapped your index finger to the apex of his jaw contour and he fell silent. There was no possible way he could feel your touch through the armor, and yet you were still incredibly careful. "I share my name with you, Din." You breathed, your finger gliding over the beskar without so much as a sound. You then gently, so gently, rested your palm on the flat front of his visor. "I share my face with you, Din."

"Maker, yes." He sighed, knocking his forehead roughly into your palm before you swept it down over his face like he had done for you.

Your fingers splayed above his left pectoral, digging in a bit more than you needed to. "I share my body with you, Din." He shifted restlessly under your touch and you could feel your cheeks ache with how hard you were smiling as you took his hand in your own. Turning it over, you scrutinized his bruised knuckles with a soft noise of distress. Then, you raised his fingers to your lips and kissed every bruise, every battered knuckle, every scar that crisscrossed his olive skin.

"Please," Din begged brokenly, his voice nothing but a breathy groan. "P-Please."

You obliged him without hesitation, tapping your joined fingers against your chin with an air of solemn finality as you stated, "I share my heart with you, Din."

From his spot on his knees facing you, Din all but fell forward, cradling the back of your head with one hand as he pressed you down into the soft cocoon of blankets with his weight. "You precious...mesh'la...stars, you mean so fucking much to me." He gritted out, his voice almost pained while he framed your hips with his thighs. "So much, so much I don't know enough Basic for it. You are fucking healing, mirjahaal, you are rain, pitat, you are soft, pel, you are fucking stunning, kandosii'la, you a-are--you are dral, ner cabur, ner haal, you are...haar'chak, osi'kyr, I always lose my words." He growled in frustration, resting his forehead against your own. "My mouth can't even try to whisper what my heart screams. M'not used to talking so much." He admitted, sounding defeated.

"I hear you anyway." You assured him softly. Din raised his head, leveling that visor with your eyes.

"How?" He asked desperately.

"I hear you when you speak with your hands. I hear you when you speak with your concern. I hear you...I h-hear you when you speak with your body." Your breath hitched and your eyes closed as he rolled that body against your own in one long, sensual grind. "I don't need you to talk if you can't. I hear you just fine, I promise." You managed to finish, even with his deliciously-distracting form stretched languidly over you.

"Then," Din hesitated. His hand sought out the scar on your side yet again, fingers caressing the marked skin. "I…I love you." He mumbled.

"I know, Din." You smiled warmly up at him. "I love you too." He ducked his head against your shoulder, like he was trying to hide his face despite already wearing a helmet. "Don't be shy!"

"I'm not shy, I-I'm…"

"You're not used to this. It's new. That's okay." You cupped the back of his helmet. "I'll be here to help you figure it out. The kid and I."

"You are my aliit, my clan. I'll...I'll keep you two safe, I promise. K'oyacyi." He choked out, his hand trembling when he drew the circle on your chest and rubbed his knuckles gently in the center. "My armor for you and the kid. My whole body. Anything you need."

You slipped your legs out from beneath his thighs and opened them a little wider, letting him relax down into the sheltered harbor of your embrace. "Shh," you soothed, running your palms up and down his tense back. "Everything is fine. All we need is you. We're safe. You're safe with me. You can rest, sweetheart."

Din sighed, digging his hands into the blankets beneath your back. "Safe." He slurred. "Can't lay on y' though. Too heavy...lemme'..." He clumsily grappled with your body, somehow managing to roll the two of you over without accidentally braining you with his helmet. "Better." He grunted, threading his fingers through your hair and resting your head on his chest. "Should...put my suit back on."

"Five minutes." You bargained, stroking down the line of his visor. "Would you like me to sing for you?"

"...mmhm." He agreed through a yawn, his head drooping when he nodded. "Five...f-ive…"

You smiled as you listened to him struggle against sleep to try and talk to you, his breathing finally evening out after a few more minutes of incoherent mumbling. You pressed a careful kiss to his forehead and then snuggled down against his chest. "Stars fading, but I linger on dear...still craving your kiss. I'm longing to linger 'til dawn dear, just saying this…" You half-whispered, your words petering out as you too succumbed to the allure of slumber.

The future was uncertain but, if only for this brief moment in time, the two of you found solace in the other's presence.

Stay safe, sweetheart. K'oyacyi, cyar'ika.

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