#take what’s broken and make it whole ( concerning; will solace ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

skzsauce01 · 4 years ago

Text

Bird Is the Word

Synopsis: A series of drunk texts leads to one of the best and worst things that has ever happened to you. Or, Han Jisung is never going to let you forget the time you forgot the word ‘bird.’ College AU. Not a text fic but does include some texts.

Warning: alcohol, a lot of bird puns

Word Count: 8.1k

Pairing: fem!reader x Han Jisung

2:23 AM [Me]: sOS SOS SOS SOSOSOS 2:23 AM [Me]: I NEED HELPPPP 2:23 AM [Jisung Bio]: You okay?? 2:23 AM [Me]: YOU SMART HELPPPPP

2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Do you want me to call the police?? 2:24 AM [Me]: WHAT ARE THE FLUFFY ANIMALS THAT GO FLAP CALLED 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Is this a code word? 2:24 AM [Me]: THEY GO FLAP AND EAT SEEDS 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Do you mean birds? 2:24 AM [Jisung Bio]: Are you drunk?

2:25 AM [Me]: [blurry_photo_of_your_window.jpg] 2:25 AM [Me]: HERE LOOK 2:25 AM [Me]: YES BIRDS 2:25 AM [Me]: THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH 2:25 AM [Me]: LOVE YOUUUUU

In your defense, you were drunk. And when you are drunk, your critical thinking skills disappear and are replaced by pure, uninhibited stupidity. It’s like some twisted Jekyll and Hyde situation, but only when you drink, you transform into this other version of yourself instead of suppressing it.

You mostly remember the things you have done and said while under the influence. The most embarrassing ones tend to be fuzzy. If it weren’t for the grainy phone video taken by Seungmin and your own voice cheerfully declaring that you had an idea, you wouldn’t have realized that you were the idiot who tried to make a chalk mural at the four-way intersection in the middle of the night. You didn’t even have chalk, but that didn’t stop you from drawing on the asphalt with a broken pen you found on the sidewalk.

Good thing Seungmin had the foresight to drag you back to the crosswalk before a car could come speeding by.

However, that legendary act of idiocy doesn’t even compare to this new one. Forget the fact that you could have died.

Your biology class just went over survival of the fittest using Darwin’s finches as an example. How in the world did you forget about the word ‘bird?’ Why did you think it was a good idea to ask the cute guy in your bio study group about “THE FLUFFY ANIMALS THAT GO FLAP?” And why, why, why did you insist on telling him that you loved him? The ‘THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH’ was already enough.

Jisung is never going to let you live this down.

It’s fine. You’re fine. It’s not like you spent the entire Sunday morning knocking back glasses of water and wishing it was vodka instead. It’s not like you drafted about five different apology messages and deleted them all. It’s not like you have to see him in class tomorrow.

Really, you’re fine.

You go out of your way to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible, which probably means you are very conspicuous. Do normal people not wear hoodies and sweatpants to class now, or are you just overthinking everything? The two people in the row in front of you are wearing jeans, and the girl heading down your row has a polka-dotted dress on. A secondary glance at the girl tells you that it’s another member of your study group. Speaking of the study group, maybe you should find another one. Preferably one without Jisung in it.

“Morning,” Lia says as she takes the seat beside you. She sets down her purple water bottle on the floor with a light clink. “How was your weekend?”

Terrible, but you say, “It was fine. I finished up the readings and did some notes. How about you?”

“Those readings took me forever!” she groans. “I was trying to finish everything on Saturday, so I could go out on Sunday. Which I did manage to do, so it all worked out. I got a new dress!” She plucks at the bodice of her dress, and you finally take a closer look at the pattern.

They’re not polka dots. They’re freaking birds — swoopy doves with outstretched wings. Or at least you think they’re doves. Your lack of bird knowledge speaks for itself.

“It’s pretty,” you hollowly say. The universe seems determined to remind you of your texts. Lia’s face falters, and you realize your disdain came across as you lying. “No, it’s not like that! Just… bad experiences with birds. You look really nice in this.”

She brightens up. “Oh, thanks! What do you mean by ‘bad experiences?’ What happened?”

“Good morning, birdbrain!”

“That happened.”

Looking far too happy for a Monday morning, Jisung takes the other seat beside you. He has a cup of coffee stacked high with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle, and you wonder if his extreme cheerfulness is from the caffeine or from your impending public humiliation. Why did you have to pick this guy to have a crush on? Sure, he’s cute and smart and sometimes nice, but there are plenty of people who have those traits without his witticism.

Lia looks at you with more amusement than concern. “So what happened?”

You tell her about what really happened during the weekend, and Jisung laughs all the while, reenacting his facial expression when he received your first frantic SOS message. Meanwhile, you sink lower and lower into your chair, ignoring your tailbone’s cries of pain as you slide further down the thin cushion.

“You can’t hide forever,” Jisung remarks as he looks at your slumping form. “C’mon, it wasn’t that bad. And you were drunk anyway.”

Yeah, you were, but the whole thing is doubly embarrassing because of how much you want him to like you. The overenthusiastic, all-caps messages are normal whenever you text while drunk, but ‘I love yous’ and the even rarer ‘I LOVE YOUUUU’ are few and far between. Only six people excluding Jisung have received them: your parents, your best friend, and your statistics group project members because you accidentally sent the message to the wrong chat.

On the bright side, seven is a lucky number. It means absolutely nothing in this case, and it’s hardly relevant to how you’re feeling, but everyone copes differently. Yours just happens to be clinging onto any silver lining available for solace.

“Anyway,” Lia cuts in, saving you from replying, “you’re here early, Jisung.”

He shrugs and flashes her a playful smile. However, his eyes are focused on you when he says, “You know what they say: early bird gets the worm.”

You give him a pitiful attempt of a withering glare. “I hate you.”

“Okay, fine.” He tugs at the shoulder of your hoodie to motion for you to stop trying to melt into the ground and to help you up. “It’s ‘cause I knew you would be here early.”

You are calm, you are fine, you will not be flustered. He just teased you five seconds ago; you should not be this willing to forgive him under these circumstances. Nonetheless, you slide back up to a more normal sitting position and try to pretend that you are still mildly upset. His next sentences make that impossible.

“You guys want brownies? Felix was stress-baking again.”

One may call you easily swayed by food, and they would be right. Jisung lets you have a coveted corner piece, and you decide that he’s alright again. He stretches an arm in front of you to get to Lia, and you lean back to avoid bumping into him. It also gives you a clear view of his profile. Wow, is he pretty. Look at that jawline. Suddenly his eyes go wide, and his mouth splits into a familiar excited grin.

“Are those birds?”

“Yep,” Lia answers, looking over at you to check your reaction. She tries to hide her smile, but it’s clear as day. You’re not entirely sure what she’s going to say next, but you already know it’s going to involve your current least favorite animal species. “Pretty… dove-ly, don’t you think?”

At least you were right about them being doves. “I hate you both.”

Jisung laughs at her pun and holds out his palm for a high-five. “You know what they say: birds of a feather flock together.”

“I really hate you both.”

Your initial prediction that Jisung is never going to let you live this down is correct. When you meet your bio group again Thursday night to study for the upcoming quiz, Jisung brings lemon poppy seed muffins for seemingly no other reason than to tease you. His housemate is still stress-baking, and judging by the bird silhouette made of glaze, Felix is very stressed and very eager to indulge in Jisung’s ideas.

“They’re finches!” Jisung proudly announces as he sets one right in front of you. The stupid decoration on top mocks you, but the muffin looks and smells delicious.

Hyunjin, who does not know about your current plight but does know about Darwin’s finches, appreciatively coos at them. “They’ve even got different beak shapes! These are so cool. Man, Felix must hate econ right now.”

“No kidding,” you mutter as you begin peeling off the wrapper. Felix must hate you as well because one bite of this is almost enough for you to forgive Jisung again. It’s that good. How are you supposed to stay mad at Jisung when he gives you free delicious food? “Forget college, he needs to be in culinary school.”

He smirks from across the table, and it takes a lot of willpower for you to pretend you’re unphased. “What if I told you that I made these?”

“Then I would call you a liar.” He better be lying. You do not need another reason to justify your crush on him.

“And you would be right.” He slides his plastic container down to Lia, who has just arrived and is eyeballing the muffins like a predator. “But I did help him.”

“It’s really good,” you admit. You continue nibbling on it, determined to make the muffin last as long as you can. “What part did you help him out with?”

“The birds on top. Turns out drawing them with runny glaze is hard. I gave you the prettiest one, so don’t get mad about the whole bird thing. It goes with what we’re studying too.”

“Fine,” you sigh as you fold the wrapper into halves over and over again. “But only because these are amazing.”

Hyunjin leans in closer, effectively popping the intimate bubble you and Jisung were in. “What’s ‘the bird thing?’”

Fortunately, Yeji has finally arrived, which gives you the perfect excuse to stop Jisung from letting another person know of your drunk texts. You make a big production of pulling out your notebook from your backpack and rifling through your pencil bag for a pen.

“Should we get started?” you ask. Lia nods and uncaps one of her many highlighters.

“I’ll tell you later,” Jisung whispers to Hyunjin, winking at you. You could cry, melt, die. You could do a lot of things, but you opt to stick your tongue out at him. So what if you’re being childish? You can barely concentrate on the real world after that wink. To Yeji, he says, “There’s snacks, if Lia hasn’t eaten them all yet.”

“Hey!”

Hyunjin laughs at her notorious sweet tooth before turning to Yeji. “He gave Y/N the prettiest one, so there’s probably only his fails left.”

“They’re not bad!”

Lia has only had two, so there are more than enough to choose from. Yeji peers inside the container before selecting the one closest to her.

“Is this a plague doctor?” she asks as she suppresses a laugh. “It’s got a top hat.”

Jisung shakes his head and groans. “You chose the worst one on purpose. It’s one of Darwin’s finches. You would have known if you studied.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t draw.” Taking no notice of Jisung’s affronted expression, she takes out the textbook the five of you split the cost to buy. “Okay, plague doctor cupcakes out of the way, what are the four main theories of evolution?”

“They’re lemon poppy seed finch muffins,” he clarifies.

“That’s not an evolution theory,” Hyunjin cheekily replies, earning him an elbow nudge from Jisung and a laugh from everyone else.

You end up answering Yeji’s question and reward your correct answer with another muffin. Besides them being addictive, you’ll need some energy for the rest of the study session if all this talk about birds persists. You select the most plague doctor-ish one out of the box, and Jisung notices.

“Seriously?” he pouts. “I give you the best one, and this is how you repay me? I thought you said you weren’t mad about the bird thing.”

You ignore the last sentence. “What? You’re not proud of these?” you say, mock astonished as you give him a good view of the glaze on top. “They look exactly like plague doctors.”

“I hate you.”

You smile and shrug before returning back into the discussion about Lamarckism. Let him get a taste of his own medicine.

Unfortunately, as promised and as possible revenge, Jisung tells Hyunjin about ‘the bird thing,’ and Yeji overhears since she is only two chairs away. You try melting into the ground instead, but Lia holds you in place as the story continues, so you are stuck reliving the memory. You knew Jisung wouldn’t let you forget, but you didn’t account for everyone else in the group finding out and joining in on the torture.

But thanks to Jisung’s brilliant idea to bring those spectacularly decorated muffins, he doesn’t go unscathed either. It’s a mediocre consolation prize, but you’ll take it.

All around, it’s a productive study session, if a bit long, courtesy of everyone’s unrelenting shots at you and Jisung.

Your study group splits off in three separate directions once you’re all at the library entrance: Yeji back to the on-campus dorms where she’s an RA, Hyunjin and Lia to the off-campus apartments a few streets down, you and Jisung to the bus stop to your apartments on the other of campus. There’s a few people already sitting at the bench, so you and Jisung stand under the streetlight nearby. A moth intent on reaching the light source rams itself repeatedly against the glass covering, and you tiredly watch it. You yawn.

“Not much of a night owl?” he asks. With no clever reply ready, you gently shove him towards the bushes, but he only sways at your push. He throws his hands up in surrender. “Alright, I’ll stop for today.”

“I’m really sorry for sending you that,” you say. You haven’t touched the chat between you and him since the incident. “And for not apologizing earlier.”

“It’s alright. Although I almost had a heart attack when you sent me ‘SOS’ like five times.”

You grimace as you remember your frantic texts. If you think back hard enough, you remember furiously tapping at your screen, trying to get his attention as quick as possible because you really, really, really needed to know what the animal that landed on your windowsill was called. Your housemate was in the next room over. You could have asked her instead, but no, you decided that Jisung from bio was the best option. Not even the group chat, just Jisung himself.

“Sorry again,” you weakly reply.

“It really is alright. Finding bird puns is my new favorite hobby now.” He wryly smiles. “I have so many more to try on you. You’re gonna love it.”

Is that endearing or annoying? Living rent-free inside his head isn’t terrible, especially since he seems to do the same in yours. You’ll probably have to endure lots more puns from him in the future, but for now, you’ll decide that it’s endearing.

The bus arrives, and you sit in the back with him. The ride to the apartment complex is quiet; only a group of people near the front are speaking to one another in low voices. Jisung makes no attempt at continuing the conversation, and you are content to stare out into the neon lights outside the window. You can see him in the reflection on the glass. The empty container devoid of muffins sits on Jisung’s lap, his phone placed face down on the lid. If it weren’t for all the other passengers on the bus, you would be convinced that it was just you and him, enjoying each other’s company.

You’re almost sad when you reach your stop.

“Do you want me to walk you to your apartment?” he asks as you step down to the pavement. “Yours is farther down, right?”

“Isn’t your place right here?” you say. You’ve seen him walk out from this particular complex several times while waiting for the bus. That’s not stalking. “You don’t have to go out of your way. It’s just a block away.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely walking you home.”

You hesitate a bit, but Jisung is already taking small steps in the direction of your apartment. A little more time with him doesn’t sound too horrendous right now. “Okay.”

Just like the bus ride, no conversation, which suits you fine. Jisung seems more enthralled by looking into the windows of apartment residents anyway. You can’t blame him, especially when it appears that someone is having their own mini rave in their living room. Once at the doors to your building, you thank him and tell him good night.

“No problem and good luck tomorrow.” His voice is softer at night, or maybe it’s because he’s tired as well.

Your tone matches his as well. “You too. See you in class then.”

“Good night.”

A few minutes after midnight, just as you’re about to get into bed, a message from Jisung pops up. Not Jisung in the study group, just Jisung.

12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: Hey, I know you’re not much of a night owl, so would you call yourself a morning lark? 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: You’re always an early bird to class 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: Are you emu-sed? 12:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: :D

Well, he did say he would stop for the day. It’s technically the next day. You reply with an annoyed face before burrowing yourself under your blankets. There are other things to worry about, such as your quiz in nine hours.

You dream of birds, namely finches, that night. Thanks, Jisung.

“This is why I tell you to never drink alone,” Seungmin laughs. He picks up the last slice of pizza from the pan and folds it in half like the heathen he is before taking the first bite. “Bad things always happen.”

“To be fair, Ryujin was home.”

“In a completely different room from you.”

You groan and supplement your exasperation with an extra aggressive tear on your crust. “Okay, fine. I’ve learned my lesson. The point is, he won’t stop with the bird jokes, and I’m going insane.”

Seungmin, having been collateral damage from your drunken mishaps before, is unsympathetic. He still hasn’t quite forgiven you for the time you tried to make a Molotov cocktail in his kitchen. Look, the clickbait video you watched online promised that it would be a fun and easy science experiment, and your other self decided that it was a fantastic idea. Nothing bad happened in the end though since you couldn’t find a lighter. So, Seungmin, it really wasn’t that big of a deal.

“You have a crush on this guy. Why are you upset that he’s flirting with you?”

“He’s cute until he opens his mouth and starts giving me grief about birds.” You sigh as you remember the last text he sent: a photo of the sunset from his apartment window with the caption, A bird’s eye view of the neighborhood. On one hand, you were thrilled to have received a non-homework related picture. On the other hand, bird joke.

“You would do the same.”

“I know, but it still sucks.” You wipe your fingers with a napkin and amuse yourself with spinning the empty pan as Seungmin (slowly) finishes eating. “No more Jisung talk. How was your date?”

Seungmin turns flustered, just like you knew he would. “It wasn’t a date! I’m just her photographer. This is a business arrangement, nothing else.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”

“Hey, is that Jisung over there?” he asks, nodding over your shoulder.

“I’m not that gullible,” you sigh, though you can’t say you aren’t tempted. Seungmin loves to make fun of you, and he probably wants to get back at you for teasing him about the girl he’s been spending a suspicious amount of time with.

“Gull-ible?”

“Not you too," you plead. It's already awful with one person. To deter him any further, you continue, "Anyway, back to your definitely-not-a-date date—”

“Hey, Y/N, is that you?”

Seungmin has his “I told you so” face on. After sending him a glare, which he promptly pretends not to see, you turn around, resting your forearm on the back of your chair. Jisung, holding a pan of oven-fresh pizza, smiles back at you.

“Hey,” you greet. He's wearing the same black and red sweatshirt he usually has on, but why does he look so much better in it when he's in a pizza place than in class or in the library? “How are you doing? How’s your Saturday so far?”

“I just woke up like an hour ago, so it’s been pretty good, I guess.” His eyes go to Seungmin, who is now sipping on his soda, pretending to not eavesdrop. “Is this your…”

“This is my friend, Seungmin,” you quickly answer. Other than the fact that you need to make it abundantly clear that you are available, there is no way you’re ever going to date Seungmin. Apart from the girl he claims to not be dating, he’s even more merciless when it comes to reminding you about your drunken ideas. You can’t pass the intersection without him nudging your arm. “Seungmin, this is Jisung. We have bio together.”

Seungmin nods like he hasn’t heard of Jisung before. “Hey, nice to meet you. So, do you guys learn about birds in bio?”

Jisung lights up like a Christmas tree, and you want to cover yourself with the pizza pan. Praying for the ground to swallow you up also sounds like a decent option. In the midst of debating whether hiding under the table would be too odd, you notice that Seungmin has finally finished his slice.

“We should get going,” you interrupt. You do not need Seungmin to start sharing other stupid things you’ve done. He’s about five seconds away from telling Jisung about the intersection chalk mural. “And you probably want to eat dinner.”

Jisung sees right through your act, but he lets it go. “Yeah, Felix is probably starving. See you on Monday?”

“Yeah, see you.”

You expect him to go to wherever Felix is, but he still remains behind you. With a lopsided grin, he asks, “Should I expect any quail-ity texts at 2 AM tonight?”

Seungmin laughs, Jisung laughs, and you stare at the ceiling, wondering what you did to deserve this. Surely there were other people you could have in your life besides these two jerks.

“Winner, winner, chicken dinner!” Jisung sings as you correctly answer his question. This week’s study session consists of a game show Jisung has created, and you almost want to believe that he put in all this effort just to say that phrase. “Another point for you.”

You sigh as Yeji slides a wrapped piece of candy towards you. It’s her turn to bring snacks, and though milk chocolate the size of golf balls are great, you’re still dreaming of those wickedly delicious cake slices Jisung shared with you yesterday. Hummingbird cake, he claimed, it was called. Bananas, pineapples, and pecans, all combined together to make a sweet treat. When you cheekily asked why his housemate was so stressed all the time — you really don’t mind. Sorry, Felix — Jisung cheerfully informed you that he made the entire thing himself. After you picked up your jaw from the floor, you stammered something about it being passable. Not nearly as good as Felix’s stuff, you said, lying through your teeth. Jisung, again, saw right through it but let it slide. See? Sometimes he’s nice. However, you did not need another reason to be attracted to Han Jisung, but here you are.

“Seriously, Yeji?” you mumble as you pull apart the blue foil. “You just had to pick the brand named after a bird?” It doesn’t stop you from popping the chocolate into your mouth though.

“They were on sale!”

While you and Yeji bicker about Dove chocolate and how the universe is conspiring against you, Hyunjin answers the next question correctly. Yeji absentmindedly pushes his reward towards him.

“No chicken dinner for me?” he asks.

Jisung shakes his head. “Your question was easy. You get a pheasant instead. Or a quail. Any bird smaller than a chicken works.”

“A hummingbird then?” you suggest. You really need to stop thinking about that cake. “But I hear those aren’t that great.”

“You already ate every single crumb of that cake I gave you!” Jisung says, but there’s not a drop of displeasure in his tone. In fact, he seems rather happy that you liked it so much that you remembered about it. “All my hard work gone in five seconds.”

“You made her a cake?” Lia gasps in disbelief, secretive note checking forgotten. She’s in last place with only six points, so no one cares too much about her cheating. “What about us? We’re your study buddies too!”

Hyunjin and Yeji chorus their agreements, and you realize that he only shared his cake with you. He followed you out of the lecture hall and gave it to you in a plastic container, so you assumed that he also hand delivered a few slices to everyone else. Never mind that he oh-so-conveniently had a fork with him. Never mind that he sat with you at a bench and watched you try a few bites before devouring it all. Never mind all that.

Wait. Does this mean he likes you too?

You fold and unfold your discarded foil wrappers as you contemplate over this revelation, sneaking glances at Jisung all the while. He looks… normal. Infuriatingly so. Same carefree smile, same arguments with Hyunjin, same lackadaisical chair leaning even though he fell backwards that one time. How is one supposed to tell if someone actually likes you when said someone is the same all the time?

Jisung promises to bring something for the next study session to make up for not sharing his cake and continues on with the review game like nothing has happened. However, those thoughts are still in the back of your mind when the session ends. You have gained five more pieces of chocolate and no further information as to whether Jisung is actually into you or not. As per usual, you and he head to the bus stop together. It’s more crowded than last week since it’s only eight.

“Did you have a pheasant time today?” he asks, pausing next to a hedge.

You keep your eyes on the asphalt instead of looking at him. It’s much easier to pretend you’re calm when you don’t have vision of his face. “I see you discovered pheasants recently. And yes, it was fun. Thanks for making it.”

“You don’t want to crow about winning the game?” When you grimace — you did kind of want to point out how amazing your score was but now you don’t — he quickly adds, “Okay, okay. But you’re going to ace that quiz tomorrow.”

And you simply say, “I know,” because you are and because you have nothing else prepared to say.

It goes quiet, and with only the sounds of cars racing by, Jisung abruptly says, “This is a little awkward now. Or should I say… hawk-ward?”

You groan and break your staring contest with the road to give him an exasperated look. A mistake because he’s smiling so wide, squirrels would be jealous of his cheeks. He has no right to be so cute after those jokes. “Why do I feel like you searched up ‘bird puns’ online and are trying to insert them in every possible scenario?”

“Because I did and because I am.” He sighs in contentment. “Those were the best texts I’ve ever received. I’m never letting you forget it.”

You were right about that, and now you have verbal confirmation from the man himself. Another mediocre consolation prize you will gladly accept. But for now, you say, “Well, toucan play at that game, plague doctor Han Jisung.” The only perk of hearing all these wretched jokes is that you are now rather knowledgeable about them. Thank you, Seungmin, for making that one a few days ago.

“They looked just like finches!” he protests, but he’s laughing along, head tilted back. He sighs again. When he turns to face you again, his eyes are soft. “That was a pretty good one.”

“Seungmin came up with it.” There’s a warm feeling spreading across your chest, constricting your air flow and making all your blood rush to your cheeks. It was one compliment; why are you like this? What are you going to do if he keeps looking at you like that? You swiftly go back to the road, counting the number of cars that pass by. One, two, three, four…

And a gray bus pulling up to the curb.

“Bus is here,” you uselessly announce. Jisung follows you into the growing crowd surrounding the entrance. He hovers behind you as the two of you wait for the people in front to board, and his presence is more palpable than usual. “There’s a lot of people today,” you remark in a vain attempt to distract yourself.

“Yeah, everyone’s heading home for the day.” He pauses dramatically before adding, “The birds are all going back to their nest.”

The joke successfully snaps you out of your haze. “That’s not a real saying.”

“I think it should be. It makes perfect sense!”

“You’re—” As the line shuffles forward, you try to think of something bird related, but he beats to the punch.

“Cuckoo?”

It’s almost impressive how much time he has invested in annoying you. Does it make you fall for him more? No, not really, or so you try to convince yourself. It’s strangely endearing, just like everything about him. You merely answer, “Yes.”

He chuckles and nudges you forward up the steps of the bus.

Even though there’s a little bit of daylight left, Jisung walks you back to your apartment building. You’re not upset by this, but where was this chivalry two weeks ago after the first study session? You teasingly ask him about it, and he turns bashful. How unlike him.

“I thought you lived in my complex, for some reason. You were always at the bus stop before me, so I assumed you lived nearby. I didn’t know until I overheard you and Yeji talking about it,” he says, hiding himself with his collar.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” you say, stopping in front of the walkway to your building, “see you tomorrow then. Thanks for walking me back. Good night.”

The Jisung you’re used to seeing, is back with a mischievous smile and yet another joke. “Good night-ingale.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and try not to seem too amused by it. He’s not charming, not even a little bit. “That was awful.” It’s the smile, you tell yourself. No one should have one like that. It has too much power.

“Yet I can see you smiling at it.”

Remain calm. You can do that. You’ve faked this before, so why is your head not cooperating right now? Jisung really needs to stop looking at you with anything more than a neutral face. It’s bad for you, like really, really bad. No witty remarks at the ready is typical, but you can’t even think of anything to say.

After an excruciating five seconds, you manage to stammer out, “Good night.” Cheeks aflame and your heart threatening to pop out of you like a cuckoo clock, you roughly yank open the door and bolt up the stairs. You have too much adrenaline in you right now. Waiting for the elevator knowing that he could be observing your twitchy movements, would be too nerve wracking.

Ryujin asks if you’re alright when she sees you hunched against the kitchen counter, out of breath and muttering to yourself.

“I decided to take the stairs,” you say, which only partially explains your dishevelled state. “I’ll be alright. I think.”

“I’ll get you some water. You look like you're about to collapse.”

Then your phone chimes with a new message, and you decidedly won’t be alright.

8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: Did my nightingale pun quack you up that badly? 8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: Was it that ducking good? 8:22 PM [Jisung Bio]: :D

8:23 PM [Jisung Bio]: Anyway, good luck tomorrow. Sleep well and sweet dreams, morning lark

There is no food in the fridge. Well, no proper food. A bag of spinach that expired three days ago but still seems okay, does not count. The same goes for the half empty jar of peanut butter, but Ryujin would likely disagree with that. There’s a reason why the jar is half empty. However, if you actually want to eat something for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow, you need to go shopping.

For some strange reason, it does not occur to you that you can run into Jisung at the grocery store. Jisung belongs in four locations: the bus stop, the lecture hall, the library, and the pizza place you saw him at last week. Not the dairy aisle on a Wednesday night.

“Hey.” You stop in front of him, basket at your feet and hands folded in front of you like the world’s worst defense. Heart, stop beating so fast.

Jisung looks up from his phone to search for the owner of the voice and brightens when he sees that it’s you. “Hey, morning lark.” He has taken to calling you that ever since he sent that particular message. You wish it produced another reaction from you besides pure bliss, but that is the price you pay for pretending to be still annoyed by his jokes. That’s how bad your crush on him now is; you are increasingly beguiled by the puns. “Oh, did you need milk?”

“Yeah.” You grab a blue carton with a picture of a smiling cow from the shelf and place it in your basket. In the meantime, you can’t help but peer into Jisung’s. There is a bag of chocolate chips and a packet of gelatin. “Is this stuff for tomorrow’s study session?”

He nods and grabs the same brand of milk as you did. You get a rush of excitement, much to your chagrin. It’s just milk, and this is the most popular brand too. “Yeah. Felix is trying a new recipe, so you guys get to have some of the failed ones too.”

“What is it? Cheesecake?”

“You’ll see,” he mysteriously says. Then he adds, “You’re gonna love it,” which immediately gives away the theme.

“It’s something to do with birds, isn’t it?”

“You’ll see.”

And when you do see, you’re wrong. Library food rules ignored, at each seat, Jisung has set a slice of layer cake topped with chocolate ganache, no bird motifs of any sort. You take your usual spot at the end of the table and find that yours is slightly larger than the others. Well, except for maybe Lia’s. He has to placate her sweet tooth and her disappointment of not being able to have hummingbird cake.

“Did I not get a message or something?” Hyunjin asks when he takes in the over-the-top display. “Is this a dinner party?”

“Isn’t this against the library’s rules?” Yeji asks as she surreptitiously looks around for any librarians. The surrounding tables of fellow students won’t care.

Jisung elects to not answer Yeji’s concerns. “This is tonight’s snack,” he proudly replies. “Also, Felix wants feedback on it.”

You cut a section off with the plastic fork and marvel at the airiness of the cake. It’s unlike anything you have ever had. The frosting in between the sponge layers is so light, and the ganache is so dark and rich. “This is really amazing. It’s so fluffy. Wow. Tell Felix that he really needs to consider culinary school.”

“Wanna guess what it’s called?”

“Isn’t this just an extra fancy vanilla cake?” you ask. You take another bite, but other than the chocolate ganache on top, you can only taste vanilla. “I don’t know. The… vanilla fluff cake?”

“Nope.” He leans forward, face inches away from yours, lips curled into a smirk, and slowly says, “Bird’s milk cake.”

This can’t be real. Birds don’t even produce milk. “No way. You’re lying.” Even as you say the words, they sound false to your ears. Jisung has made it his mission to find anything and everything bird-related for you, so you doubt he’s lying.

“It’s called this” — he holds up his phone screen — “in Russian. It translates to ‘bird’s milk.’”

Ptichye moloko.

“You convinced Felix to make this, didn’t you?” you say. What are the chances that Felix conveniently wanted to make bird’s milk cake without any nudging from Jisung? Absolutely none. You have never even heard of this dessert before, let alone by it’s Russian name, and you’re willing to bet that Jisung searched up ‘bird cake’ or something of that nature just for this. Maybe that’s how he found out about hummingbird cake too.

“It’s all for you, morning lark,” he cheerfully replies, winking at you. He leans back in his chair again, precariously balancing on the two back legs. “I knew you’d like it.”

Jisung is really not making this easy for you. Forget subtleties, he’s just shamelessly flirting with you now. And in the sanctity of the library of all places! In a poor attempt to save yourself from this mess, you unconsciously begin to slide down the chair, trying to shield your hot face with your raised shoulders. Lia notices this — one of the perks having sat next to you for nearly four weeks during lectures — and grabs your forearm.

“No melting,” she reminds you, “or else you’re going to hit your head on the seat again.”

“I wasn’t melting,” you protest as you wriggle back up. Slowly dying might have been a better descriptor. That wink shot arrows into your already fragile heart. “We’re gonna get in trouble if one of the librarians sees this.”

“Guess we should get started then,” Hyunjin says. Yeji, the only responsible one in the group, begins pulling out the textbook, and everyone laughs at her eagerness. “Not what I meant, but that too.”

After you’re done with the cake and while the others are preoccupied about the timeline of human evolution, Jisung whispers across the table, “Did you still like it?”

“Yeah. No hard feelings about the name because it was good,” you whisper back.

“I thought it would turn out like this, morning lark. I know you love free food too much to be mad.”

The nickname again. You rest your cheek against your palm in a vain attempt to tamp down the growing heat. “Can I get a different name, plague doctor?”

He’s not at all phased by his own nickname, which doesn’t bode well for any future snarky remarks from you. “What, you don’t like birds or something?” He blinks so innocently back at you that you have to stifle a giggle.

“Yeah, well, that’s the—”

“Hey, lovebirds,” Hyunjin interrupts, making you profusely blush and Yeji lightly laugh at the expression, “we’re gonna move on to the next section now. Is that okay?”

“It’s okay,” you reply even though you are most definitely not okay. Jisung, who you notice is uncharacteristically sheepish, echoes your sentiment.

It’s difficult not to stare at Jisung during the remainder of the study session. It seems to be true the other way around as well.

You’re sober when you read the messages, but you don’t think Jisung was when he sent them. Oh, how the tables have turned.

3:02 AM [Jisung Bio]: Good morning morning lark!! 3:02 AM [Jisung Bio]: Winner winner chicken dinner remember? So yes or no?

3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: Or maybe yes or yes? 3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: I really want to go on a date with you 3:03 AM [Jisung Bio]: Not lying I swear

3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re always on my mind and every time I see a bird, I think about you 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I bought grey goose because of you 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: [jisung’s_hand_holding_grey_goose_vodka.jpg] 3:04 AM [Jisung Bio]: I don’t even like it that much

3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: You make me dizzy sometimes and I don’t know what to do 3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: You’re probably sleeping so good night larky 3:05 AM [Jisung Bio]: Or morning

3:06 AM [Jisung Bio]: Fly high in your dreams!!!

He must have been wasted and under no responsible supervision because this is what you would have done if you were in his place. Does he not have a Seungmin in his life? Or a Ryujin? There’s a Felix, so where was he when all of this happened?

But forget about Jisung’s own problems.

He wants to go on a date with you. A real date, not a study date with three other people and fake quiz questions. If his words are to be taken literally, then one involving a chicken dinner. Possibly a rotisserie chicken from the grocery store, but a chicken dinner nonetheless.

He can’t stop thinking about you. All those bird jokes had you charmed, and all those cakes were baked with you in mind. They weren’t just for show. They were all about you.

You make him dizzy, which is hilarious because he does the same to you. He smiles at you so brightly, laughs so easily, and flirts so shamelessly that you never realized that you could ever make him feel that way.

And “fly high in your dreams?” You’re practically soaring in real life. Han Jisung, cute bio boy, plague doctor, pun enthusiast, surprisingly decent baker, wants to go on a date with you.

You, you, you!

While you alternate between hyperventilating and forgetting how to breathe as you process all this, three gray dots appear at the bottom of the chat. You clutch your phone as you wait. Apparently, your body is on the ‘forgetting how to breathe’ cycle.

11:14 AM [Jisung Bio]: I am so sorry about that. I was very drunk when I sent that

11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: You can just ignore them or delete them 11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: Highly recommend deleting 11:15 AM [Jisung Bio]: Also sorry if I woke you up

Your fingers hover over the keyboard. Should you answer him over text, call, or in-person? Is in-person too dramatic though? You feel like something like this is supposed to be done face-to-face, but he’s probably hungover beyond belief.

11:16 AM [Me]: It’s okay. A morning lark is always up early anyway :) 11:16 AM [Me]: Were you serious though?

11:17 AM [Jisung Bio]: Can we meet up in an hour? At the bus stop? I want to talk to you 11:17 AM [Me]: Yeah. Me too

The bus stop is neutral territory or maybe just the closest meeting spot you and Jisung have. If it’s supposed to be neutral territory, it most definitely is not since his apartment complex is right behind it. Despite his close proximity to the spot, you arrive first, so you make yourself as comfortable as possible underneath the sign, standing in its shadow. It’s silly when you think about it, but you wish you dressed in something nicer than a hoodie. In your rush to leave the apartment, you threw on whatever, but maybe you should have worn something prettier for this confrontation. Make Jisung go dizzy and gain a little bit of power from that.

This is even worse than when you had to face him after you sent your drunk texts. At least then it was just a middling attraction and not a full-on crush.

“Hey, morning lark. You’re early. As expected.”

“Hey. You’re… alive.”

Jisung is strangely fresh-faced, not a hint of hungover clouding around him. Why can’t you look like him after a night of seemingly heavy drinking? Where are the pinched eyebrows from the blinding lights? The ghostly gray face? The haunted eyes as one remembers all the incredibly stupid things they did the night before? Unfair. Completely unfair.

“Yeah.” He’s wearing his usual sweatshirt, but his hands are stuffed into its pockets instead of being out and about. He rocks back and forth on his heels. “Well, uh, I meant everything I sent. And I’m serious about taking you to dinner, so do you want to go on a date with me?”

You anticipated this. Why does it feel like you have just finished running a marathon? “Yeah, I do. I really want to.”

He smiles so brightly, the sun would be jealous. Correction, should be jealous. You don’t think you’ve seen a prettier sight than this since he sat down next to you on the first day of class and asked if you wanted to start a study group. He pumps his fist in the air like he’s a movie character, and you hide your laugh behind your hoodie sleeve. You’ve never seen him so happy before.

“How are you not hungover?” you ask as he raises his face to the sky, taking in the afternoon light, basking in the moment. He’s really living his movie character dreams. “You said you were really drunk.”

“I kind of lied?” he says, sounding more wistful than you would expect. When he looks back at you, you finally see dark circles underneath his eyes, but he is still as jubilant as before. “I was more tipsy than drunk. So, when do you wanna get that chicken dinner, winner, winner?”

It’s amazing how shy, excited Jisung disappears and how the usual casual, teasing Jisung reappears. That’s his Jekyll and Hyde moment, you suppose. And the switch is all activated by his one-track mind of bird jokes. How wonderful.

“Next week, after midterms? I’ve got two this week to study for. I should be free on Friday night.”

He enthusiastically nods. “Sounds good to me.”

2:57 PM [Me]: I’m done with all my midterms! Are you free tonight?

2:59 PM [Jisung Bio]: Free as a bird :D 2:59 PM [Jisung Bio]: Also congrats on being done 2:59 PM [Me]: I hate you

3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: So chicken dinner? The restaurant next to the pizza place just opened 3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: I heard it’s really clucking good 3:00 PM [Jisung Bio]: A hen out of hen

3:01 PM [Me]: I might actually kill you during our date

3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: Don’t you mean 3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: [flock_of_crows.jpg] 3:02 PM [Jisung Bio]: Murder :D

3:05 PM [Jisung Bio]: I’ll see you at 6? 3:05 PM [Me]: See you then

You do not end up murdering Jisung on your date, though you do come pretty close after you audibly ask the ground to swallow you up when he compliments your egg-cellent outfit.

“Swallow?” he slyly says. “Like the bird?”

Instead of committing a crime, you kiss him on the cheek, effectively silencing him. You’ve been waiting to do both those things for some time now, and look at you now, killing two birds with one stone.

Jisung turns a delightful shade of pink and mutters something about needing to get to the restaurant before it gets too crowded. All of his bluster from just five seconds ago is gone. You merrily follow him down the pavement, feeling a little bit like the cat who swallowed the canary.

Yes, you did search up bird expressions beforehand. Jisung will be Jisung, and like you told him before, toucan play at this game. You will not spend your first date with him being humiliated by his large repertoire of puns. Besides, if he retaliates like you expect him to, you will have the perfect excuse to kiss him again.

See? No fowl play at all.

Then he takes your hand into his, his warmth enveloping yours, and everything suddenly isn’t fair again.

And based on his all-too-pleased grin, Jisung knows this as well.

~ ad.gray

419 notes · View notes

darthkruge · 4 years ago

Text

Anakin Skywalker x Reader ~ Help

Summary: The five times the Senator!Reader needs Anakin’s help but refuses to ask for it and the one time they do

Warnings: Language, reader is afraid of vulnerability, reader is going through it, angst, violence, fluff (it ends on a positive note, I promise)

Words: 4k

A/N: This idea has kinda been bouncing around my head for a hot minute and I finally decided to just go ahead and write it. And somehow it became the longest fic I’ve ever written! Is this self-indulgent? Who’s to say?!

(not my gif)

Okay, so a right, then a left, then another left, then-

You groaned. You’d been going over the cryptic instructions Padme gave you back at the temple but they were, unfortunately, not helping. It was your first time alone in Coruscant and you were completely lost in the painfully literal sense. You had just been given your first actual mission with the Council as a senator, something you’d worked your entire career for. As an added bonus, you were on the same planet as your boyfriend, Anakin Skywalker.

You’d gotten close over the last year and were elated when he asked you on a date the last time you were in the same place. This was the first time you were together in the two weeks it had been since then.

Anyway, you were currently wandering around the bustling Coruscant streets, looking for the market. Well, you were looking for the market. Now, you realized you would probably never find it and were just trying to make your way back.

You debated calling Anakin. You could. He would be able to guide you home easily, you rationalized. But it’s Coruscant! How difficult could it be? If people came here for missions all the time and didn’t get hopelessly lost, so could you! And Anakin was probably busy anyway, you didn’t want to disturb him. Besides, the relationship was so new! You didn’t want to annoy him. After weighing the odds, you pushed down the urge to reach out and decided to just find your own way.

This logic was ridiculous, you realized far too late. Fuck. There was no way around it, you were going to be late. Or at the very least, cut it exceptionally close. You started running, heart racing. It would be so stupid to be late to your first actual Council meeting because you got lost. You wanted them to take you seriously and think of you as a professional. Tardiness as a first impression went against all of that!

After sprinting and taking several aimless turns, by some stroke of magic you found your way to the Temple. You checked the time and realized you had two minutes to make it to up several flights of stairs.

Fuck it. You decided, taking off in a run. You took the stairs two at a time, stumbling occasionally before unceremoniously bursting through the doors to the meeting.

You gulped in air quickly, chest heaving while you desperately tried to calm your heart. You inelegantly brushed a hand through your hair and gave an awkward smile.

“Hi, uh, everyone! Hi! I’m,” You took a quick break to breathe in some more oxygen as your gaze shifted to Anakin. He looked amused and concerned as he took you in. He gave you a discreet and supportive smile and head nod. You gave your own in return. He believes in me. “I’m Senator Y/N L/N”

II.

Honestly, you didn’t know how your speeder had broken. You’d been flying them for years and, despite being a senator, you were pretty damn good at it. It was something that gave you solace as a kid, those little moments of freedom. Even then, though, you were a decently cautious person and didn’t break many of them.

Thus, you ended up in your current predicament. Staring at the fried wires under the hood of your speeder, trying to figure out what the fuck went wrong. You knew Anakin was freakishly talented at fixing basically everything. He could probably look at the speeder for 10 minutes, know what’s wrong with it, and get it back to you in perfect shape.

You think this is why you don’t want to tell him. What if he thought you were stupid? Shouldn’t you be able to figure this out yourself? You fought with your instincts, feeling the conflict build inside you.

You knew he wouldn’t judge you. You knew he’d be glad you came to him for help. Even so, you felt physically incapable of moving to call or find him.

Frustrated, you turned back to your work. You decided to pull this one gear, thinking it might do something. Well, you were right about that. A stream of oil sprayed out of the speeder, coating you in its thick, black paint. You stood there frozen for a second, trying to mentally comprehend that you had just been sprayed with oil because you were too afraid to talk to the man you were in a literal relationship with!!

You groaned, wiping your hands on your pants before grabbing a towel to wipe some of the grease off your face. You walked back into your apartment quickly, praying to the Maker that no one would see you like this. Honestly, they’d probably smell you first and run the other way.

You finally got back without problems and made a bee-line straight to the bathroom. Pulling off your clothes and turning on the hot shower, you sighed as you finally felt the oil washed off your skin. You spent about twenty minutes in there, scrubbing furiously to ensure you didn’t smell like a fucking garage.

Finally, you went out and saw Anakin sitting on your bed, messing with a piece of wiring.

“Hey, Y/N! Did you know your speeder was broken? It looks like you blew a cable, easy fix, don’t worry. I’ll have it ready for you by tonight.”

He looked up and saw your exhausted state and the clump of dirty, grease ridden clothes you were holding.

His brow furrowed, trying to piece it together. “Maker, what happened to you?”

“I had a fight with the speeder. And lost”

Anakin bit back a laugh before his confusion compounded. “Wait, you know I can fix this, right? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was an idiot. I mean, I did something and broke an entire speeder and somehow didn’t even know what I broke! It’s humiliating!”

“Cables are hard, it’s not your fault you didn’t know what to do, love.”

“Really?” You asked, unconvinced.

“Really. Come on, let’s go throw those clothes in the wash and I’ll get back to fixing this.”

“Oh, no, Ani you don’t have to-”

Anakin cut you off with a kiss, distracting you enough to quickly take the clothes from your hands.

“I’ll have it ready within the hour, my love.”

III.

Who the fuck decided to put the plates that high up?!

You jumped again and again, arm outstretched as far as possible. Once again, you didn’t even get close. Sighing, you looked around the apartment and noticed a ladder. It looked a bit unsteady but you would be fine, right? You were a whole ass senator, you were sure you could handle an old ladder.

Pulling it over to you, you climbed up and reached out. Much closer this time, but you still couldn’t reach them. You went on your tiptoes, eyebrows furrowed and lip bit in concentration. You angled your body just a little further, a little further-

The ladder was suddenly ripped out from under you and you desperately shot your arms out, hands clawing to try and stop your imminent fall onto the hard kitchen tiles. Bracing yourself for the inevitable pain, you squeezed your eyes closed.

“Y/N!!” You heard as your fall suddenly stopped. You opened your eyes and noticed you were barely floating above the floor. Anakin ran toward you and noticed the ladder strewn on the floor beside you.

“What the hell were you doing?” He said, offering you his hand and pulling you up.

“I was just-” You gesture lamely to the plates, realizing how ridiculous you must look.

“Y/N, no one can reach those! Next time, just call me, I’ll get them for you!”

“But-” You sigh, hating this. “I wanted to be able to do this, I don’t want to rely on you and your Jedi powers all the time”

Anakin’s gaze softened. He knew you had trouble relying on others. Even so, he couldn’t even start to think of what would have happened if he’d arrived home even 10 seconds later.

“I know, baby, I know. But, please, try. You’d have to rely on me a lot more if you break your legs falling off a ladder.”

“I know” You reply softly, giving him a shy smile. “I’m working on it, I promise”

IV.

You’d been up all night working on a new presentation for the Council. You’d spent hours going over it, the facts, the plans, the details. Everything was set. Well, everything except one little piece. To make your point stronger, you needed the statistics from the latest Jedi missions.

The only people with access to those were Anakin and Obi-Wan. You knew, logically, that if you asked Anakin he’d give them to you without hesitation. He supported you always and knew that you only used your power as a senator to improve lives.

Even so, there was that part of your brain that told you he wouldn’t give them to you. He would think you’re just trying to use him for his connections as a Jedi. Or perhaps he simply wouldn’t care enough to search through the reports to find the information.

All of this was, of course, completely inaccurate. But you’d never had someone who actually wanted to help you. It's always been “okay I’ll do this for you but only if you do this for me, too.” No one ever looked out for you and you’d grown accustomed to it. It’d become almost comforting, in a way. At least you knew what to expect.

This was how you ended up seeing your beautiful boyfriend across the halls of the Jedi temple and walking another way. Your heart tugged painfully and your brain screamed at you. Why don’t you allow yourself to trust him? Why would you assume the worst? Why can’t you fight these thoughts?

You took one more look back at him. You didn’t want to be closed off by any stretch of the imagination. You wished you could turn off the thoughts and the doubt. You knew Ani didn’t deserve it. You sighed. There he was, training by himself in the courtyard. You looked away and took a moment to compose yourself before your legs carried you away and toward your good friend.

“Hey, Obi-Wan, could you help me with something for the next Council meeting?”

You were running. You were running and as fast as you moved, you never got closer to him. You were never safe. A masked figure was chasing you and you just couldn’t get away. Your legs burned with the effort, your lungs straining to grasp oxygen. You were exhausted to your core, your sheer panic the only thing keeping you awake.

You looked back and saw the man gaining on you. Tears started streaming down your cheeks. You knew what he was capable of and had no doubt he would kill you if he caught you. You didn’t want to die, not like this. You didn’t want him to beat you. You were so, so scared. You screamed as he caught up to you, your body no longer moving. You pleaded with your legs to work, reasoned with the heavens, did anything you could, and yet you wouldn’t budge.

The stranger’s claw of a hand twisted around your neck, squeezing. You fought. It was pointless. You began to black out, feeling the life slip out of your body. Dark spots appeared in the corners of your vision and you tried once again to kick your way out of his grasp-

You bolted awake, eyes shooting open. Your chest was heaving and tear stains marked your cheeks. You placed your hands on the bed sheets, bunching them up and trying to feel the texture to remind yourself that you were safe. You tried to breathe, tried to calm yourself but nothing was working.

You got up, pacing quietly. Out of all the nights to have a nightmare, it had to be today. The one night you and Anakin weren’t together. Since you had to hide the relationship, you couldn’t technically share an apartment. This didn’t stop you from spending basically every night together, though. His chambers became yours after the first month or so of dating, neither of you wanting to spend time apart.

But, unfortunately, the Council seemed more cautious as of late and you didn’t want to risk it. Thus, you decided to spend tonight apart. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to care right now. You grabbed one of his Jedi robes, pulling the black fabric around your body. You were immediately calmed by his scent and wrapped it closer around you. You started to make your way down the hall. You knew it was risky but after that nightmare, you just needed him.

You made it to his apartment, went to knock on the door, and abruptly stopped. What are you doing? You can’t just go to him! He’s exhausted, he’s been working all week! He finally got home from a mission and you want to wake him up in the middle of the night because you had a nightmare? It wasn’t even real! Maker, get a hold of yourself, Y/N!

Your hand hovered over the door. You wanted him, you did. But those lingering thoughts, those lingering emotions remained. A childhood of neglect, of constant feelings of unimportance left scars you couldn’t avoid. You hated that your parent’s inability to show you affection or care manifested in your inability to be vulnerable. Despite this, you somehow understood. You’d spent years letting them in and only getting invalidated in return. Like all patterns, this one wouldn’t go away just because you wanted it to.

Now, every time you tried to let Anakin in, it’s like an alarm was tripped in your brain. Every part of you that wanted to allow him to know you was combated with the overwhelming fear that, if you did, if you went to him for comfort or help, he would think of you as a burden. He’d leave, just like the rest of them did. So you pushed the urge for comfort aside, dropped your hand, and made the lonely walk back to your room.

You got back to your room, mentally beating yourself up. You wished your brain worked differently. You wished you would allow yourself to be loved. You wished you could trust, fully and completely. You sighed. Knowing you wouldn’t be getting any sleep, you made yourself a cup of tea and sat on your cough, the room solely illuminated by the moonlight. You kept Anakin’s robes around you, wishing it was his arms. You sat like that until morning, sipping the drink on and off until it grew cold. You were zoned out, staring out the window at the Coruscant traffic. Your thoughts either drifted to him or your past trauma. Maker, you wished you could change it.

Fuck. You’d been driving around on your speeder, zipping in and out of alleys, for the last twenty minutes. There was a bounty hunter after you. A damn good bounty hunter, at that. Being a high profile senator, it made sense you’d run into the occasional person trying to kidnap you. Or kill you.

Damn, this bitch is good. You kept trying to lose them but you couldn’t shake them. You didn’t even know who they were but it didn’t matter, you supposed. At the end of the day, regardless of who was in that speeder, they wanted you dead. And if you didn’t figure out how to get out of this mess, you would be.

They’d been shooting at you for a while now but you’d been able to avoid the blasts. Whether it was skill, luck, or a combination of both, you weren’t sure. Even so, you didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t shoot back at them, as you stupidly forgot your blaster. Who could blame you, though? All you wanted to do was go for a ride to clear your head, you didn’t expect to be fucking shot at!

You continued like this for a while. All you had to do was get back to the Temple. You were probably about 10 minutes away if you continued at this pace, 7 if you really pushed it. You looked ahead and saw the walls of it come into view and suddenly safety didn’t feel so far away. Despite the circumstances, a smile graced your face. You could do this.

Or maybe not. As you tried to swerve between more buildings, they hit you. You felt your speeder plummet 10 feet instantly and screamed. Your engine sputtered and your heart dropped. Mind racing, you tried to drive but came to the chilling realization that there was no way you’d make it back. Your engine was done for, it wouldn’t make it 3 minutes, yet alone all the way back.

Your mind went to him. Anakin. Fuck, you loved him. You let out a humorless laugh. Since you started dating, you almost never asked him for help. You couldn’t let him in. Something in your brain stopped you every single time. And yet, now, all of that felt stupid. It felt juvenile. When you looked at your speeder, slowly but surely stalling and the bounty hunter approaching, you felt this overwhelming sense of clarity.

You were going to die. This person, they would get to your speeder and shoot you. You didn’t have a single weapon. It was inevitable. Your mind, however, wouldn’t relent. It was stuck on him. In this moment, you pressed the comm button in your speeder, hoping beyond hope that it would still work.

“Y/N?” Anakin’s staticky voice cut through the speeder and went straight to your heart.

“Hey, Ani” You said, your voice broken up with unshed tears.

“Y/N? Where are you? What’s happening?”

“I’m- Anakin, I’m in trouble. A bounty hunter is after me, my speeder is hit and going to stop working probably within the next 20 seconds. I don’t have any weapons to defend myself. I, I, uh, I need your help”

“I’m coming to get you, stay where you are.” His voice was firm, his need to protect you overruling everything else in his body.

“I’m just a few-”

“I’ve got you, love. I can sense you in the Force. I know where you are”

Of course he could. You took a few deep breaths and you speeder sputtered out, stopping in a deserted alleyway. You looked around and saw the bounty hunter, now obviously male, stepping out and making his way towards you.

“He’s here, Anakin” Your voice was tight, anxious. You were quiet, paralyzed by fear.

“Please, Y/N, fuck! Hold on, I’m almost there”

“Ani, Anakin I’m scared! Ani! Ani!” You were hysterical now, screaming and sobbing his name as the man punched the top of your speeder, fracturing the glass. He pulled you out of it by the hair and threw you harshly onto the concrete.

You yelped in pain as he kicked you directly in the ribs. He backhanded you across the face, the power from his hit making blood pool in your mouth. Harshly you spit it onto the ground, looking up at him with pure hate.

He placed the blaster to your head, right on your forehead. You let your eyes flutter closed. Your knees were scraped, legs bruised. You were sure at least one of your ribs was broken. You could feel blood running from your temple. Your arm was radiating pain from landing on it. Despite all this, the only thing you thought of was Anakin. Funny, you thought, how the brain chooses what to focus on in its last moments. All you hoped was that he didn’t feel responsible for your death. All you hoped was that he knew you loved him.

“You’re finished, Senator”

“I don’t think so” Anakin’s smooth voice, tight with anger, cut through the air. His lightsaber unsheathed, he swung it directly into the man. You gasped, everything happening so quickly. As soon as the blaster was gone from your forehead, you scrambled back.

Anakin walked up to you but, from the shock, you pulled back even further.

“Hey, hey, it’s me, it’s Anakin, okay? I’m not gonna hurt you”

You whimpered, looking at him and placing a hand on his jacket before harshly jumping into his arms. He gripped you to him, both of you sighing in relief.

“You came for me”

He looked at you like you were insane. “Of course I did! You needed me, you called! I’m always going to be there for you, Y/N. I am always going to show up”

“Thank you” You said, voice muffled against his chest. His hands raked through your hair while you just breathed him in. His scent comforted you, his strong chest and large arms grounding you after a day so intense and horrifying that nothing felt real.

You were still trembling, the aftershocks quite apparent.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you. You’re safe, he’s dead, he’s gone. No one’s ever gonna hurt you again, I promise.” Anakin whispered these affirmations into your hair, holding you until the shaking ceased.

“Thank you for calling me, Y/N. I know that couldn’t have been easy for you.”

“It wasn’t that hard, to be honest, I- wait? What do you mean, you know it couldn’t have been easy for me?!”

Anakin looked at your sheepishly. “You honestly think I haven’t noticed your problems with asking for help? We’ve been together for almost a year and, contrary to popular belief, I can be quite perceptive. I didn’t want to call you out on it, I assumed you’d be embarrassed. But I’m glad that when it actually came down to life or death, you called me.”

“I’ve always known I could call you, Anakin. Please, I don’t want you to ever think my inability to be vulnerable is rooted to anything you do. You’re, fuck, you’re perfect. You’re kind and compassionate and caring and you’re always looking out for me. Look, I know I haven’t been too open about my past and I still struggle with that. I guess what I’m trying to say is I’ve never had someone who actually wanted to be there for me. This thing where you care and want me to come to you when I’m hurting or simply just want affection or company or help with the little things, it’s foreign to me.”

Ani’s heart broke at your words. “I’m sorry I didn’t know you back then, Y/N. I hate that this” He said, gesturing between you both “is unique to you. But, seriously, anytime you need anything I’m someone you can come to. I honestly want you to come to me. Regardless of if you think it’s something small or this life-altering favor, ask me. I doubt I’d turn you away and, on the off chance I do, I’m not gonna hold that against you.”

“You won’t leave? Even if I show you all of me? Even if I rely on you?”

“I won’t leave you, beautiful. So long as you allow me to show you all of me, too. And you let me rely on you, too.”

Your eyes widened at his words. “Of course! Of course, Ani! I’m here for you, I got you, too, always.”

“I know you do” His flesh hand went up, cupping your cheek.

“I know you do, too.” You sighed into his touch. You were exhausted beyond belief, your body and mind pretty much shutting down from the stress of it all. Even so, you relaxed further into his body. Yeah, this was new. Yes, it was scary. But you were going to try. Even though it terrified you, you wanted to be loved. You wanted to be loved by him.

tagging julia bc she asked when i was textpost-complaining about having to edit this <3

@anakinswhore

#megan writes #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x gn!reader #anakin skywalker x gender neutral reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin skywalker angst #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker

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dameronology · 4 years ago

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everything i need {mando x reader}

summary: din has to rethink his life plans how that you’re by side - not that he’s complaining {i do have a taglist but it’s 1am and i simply cannot be arsed to find it, please accept my not very sincere and very tired apologies}

warnings: much language

enjoy!! sorry for the lack of imagines lately, i’m back at work and working as a director on two of my group projects so i am neck deep in covid-related paperwork.

- jazz

p.s this has not been proofread, because i am just that shit

Din Djarin had never needed a reason to find a home. Settling down permanently wasn’t an option in his line of work. Permanence had never been part of his plan.

Then again, a lot of things hadn’t been part of his plan. The Child certainly hadn’t; if you’d told him five years ago that his firstborn son was going to look like...well, like that, he probably would have drop kicked you into the next rim. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t imagine his life without the kid now, or that he would rain hell on anyone who would dare lay a finger on the toad-like toddler. His life had gone in a direction he never could have anticipated and his son wasn’t even the biggest detour. That was you. Din wasn’t even entirely sure where you’d come from or when you’d come into his life, but he would have first surrendered his ship and everything on it before even considering the notion of living without you. Whether it was simply luck, or whether there was some higher power who finally decided to give him a fucking break, The Mandalorian had a family. He was no longer a lone gunslinger with nothing to lose; now, he had everything to lose.

The fear that came with his newfound vulnerability was a small price to pay, however. In the quieter moments - when it was just you and him and the kid - he had no question in his mind that everything was worth it. Every fright, every concern, every agonising moment that Din spent overthinking and calculating a million and one ways to keep you both safe was completely and irretrievably worthwhile. It was a little unconventional but a family was a family. A clan of three.

You didn’t often get to take breaks. They came every few months, usually whenever Din needed had had a particularly had job. You’d found your place halfway between helping him kick-ass and babysitting the Child (who at this point, was essentially your son too). It meant that days you were running across rooftops in Nevarro with a blaster in hand, and others you were running around after your kid, holding a diaper rather than a gun. The duality was astounding.

The last few weeks had been a little hard. There had been one bounty who had been relentless, and another who had tried to take a hit at you. It hadn’t taken long for you to put the bastard in his place but the Mandalorian had taken it a little more personally than you. Before throwing him into the carbonite, Din had broken a little more than six of the target’s ribs and given him a nice shiner on his left eye. He never minded when he was the one who had a punch or two thrown at him but when it was you? Din never took to it lightly.

Once both bounties had been sent to their respective clients and you’d collected your rewards, Din had set the Crest’s path towards a jungle planet. It was one he had frequented a few years ago - before you, before the kid - and whilst it was a little desolate, it was safe. It was away from any Imps, any potential danger. It meant that you could both let your guards down for a bit and put your feet up. Plus, the Child had been dealing with cabin fever for the better part of two weeks and you were convinced you were going to lose it if you didn’t get the little fucker to some open space soon. Preferably one with lots of frogs, because he was not taking well to the freeze-dried food that you’d been fobbing him with him for the last few months.

You were laying in an open field, weight propped up on your elbows as you glanced out into the grass over your sunglasses. Din was making his way back towards you, trudging through the long blades; the low evening sun was bouncing off the beskar of his helmet, causing you to scrunch your face up. You could tell from the way he was talking that he was exhausted. He’d been on kid duty all day (it was your turn tomorrow) and somehow, that was more tiring that any bounty.

‘Where is he-’

Your question was answered before you could even finish it; the little creature suddenly appeared through the grass, hitting your shin with a thump. Digging his claws into your jeans, he scrambled up onto your legs, plopping into your lap and leaning against your stomach. He peered up at you with big brown eyes for a second, before twisting back around to rest his head against your chest for a nap. There went your evening plans.

‘Did he eat anything?’ You raised your arm out to Din, signalling for him to sit next to you.

Aside from his helmet, he had shed the rest of his armour. The material of the undershirt he was wearing was soft against your skin as you leant into his side, letting it a small hmph as you did. He instinctively wrapped his arm your waist - because even on a safe planet, Din was naturally protective - and pulled you closer, using his free hand to run a finger over the kid’s wrinkly head.

‘I saw him swallow a frog whole.’ His modulated voice replied. ‘It’s still disturbing.’

‘Not as disturbing as when he ate the fish whole.’ You grimaced, glancing up at him. ‘The thing was bigger than him and he gulped it down. Biologically, it doesn’t work.’

‘Nothing about him makes sense.’ He said.

‘The only thing that makes sense is that nothing makes sense.’ You joked. ‘But I guess we’ll find out a little bit more when we work out where the hell he actually came from.’

It was a subject you didn’t approach too much. You knew that one day, you’d have to hand him back over to his own species; it was all well and good to look after him when he was still small, but you had no idea what he was going to grow to be. Finding his home planet had sort of been a secondary quest for you and Din, between bounties. Given how slow the little bastard aged, time wasn’t too much of a concern. Knowing where to start was the problem.

‘I wish we could keep him forever.’ You quietly murmured.

‘Me too, cya’rika.’ Din gave your shoulders a light squeeze. ‘But we have to do what’s right for him.’

‘I know.’ You nodded. ‘What do you think we’ll do after we’ve found his home? His species?’

It wasn’t something that Din had given much thought. He was so used to planning everything in the moment - hours ahead, at most. He hadn’t thought in terms of days, let alone weeks or years. It made sense to, because you weren’t going anywhere. He had an opportunity to have a life outside of being a bounty hunter; you’d shown him that much. He’d found a home with you - a sense of contentment and belonging - but in a physical sense, he’d never thought about settling on a planet. When he was younger, the idea of having his own children and his own clan had played on his mind, but it had faded as the years went by. Maybe it was time to revisit the idea.

‘We could get married.’ Din quietly suggested. ‘Start a clan of our own. Something permanent.’

‘I didn’t realise that the word permanent was in your vocabulary.’ You replied.

‘It wasn’t. Not before you.’ He said. ‘There was a lot of things I never thought about before you.’

‘A clan?’ You intertwined your fingers with his, giving his hand a light squeeze. ‘In a few years, absolutely - but I am not doing it on that pile of junk.’

‘That pile of junk got us here.’

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head - but there was a smile on your face. ‘We don’t have to think about it now. One step at a time.’

There was silence for a minute, as you both pondered to yourselves. In the same way you hadn’t been part of Din’s plan, he hadn’t really been part of yours. When you’d met him, you’d never expected to fall in love with him. You couldn’t see his face, or his emotions or his feelings - but after a while, you saw him. It was though you had seen straight through the armour and right into his very soul without either of you trying. You were first person to see him as Din, and not as the Mandalorian. You understood his humanity, and the fact he wasn’t always a warrior; it meant he could let his walls down around you, and seek support and solace in a way he’d always thought to be terrifying. And it was, at first, but now it felt natural and healthy. He had you and you had him. Nothing else mattered.

‘I’ll go wherever you go.’ Din broke the quiet, eyes falling down to where the child lay in your lap.

‘You’d do that for me?’ You rested a hand on the side of his helmet; it was cold against your skin, but the gesture was there. ‘You’d give us all this up for me?’

‘I’m not giving anything up.’ He replied. ‘When I have you, I have everything I need.’

Din had always been blunt and straight to the point: sometimes it was a blessing, sometimes it was a curse. Right now, it was completely and entirely a virtue. It meant that you didn’t have to second guess his feelings for you, or worry about him leaving you. Everything he said to you was a promise. Talks of your future were mutuals goals, things to look forward to together.

‘I love you.’ You pressed a kiss to the edge of his helmet.

‘I love you too.’ Din replied.

‘So let’s retire right now and get a moisture farm on Tatooine-’

‘- don’t push it.’

#this is a certified pile of crap #i do apologise #it sounded better in my head and reading it back im just #no #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian imagine #mando x reader #mando imagine #din djarin fluff #mandalorian fluff #mando fluff #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars fluff

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all-things-fic · 4 years ago

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Country Lane | Divorce Harry III

Thank you all for waiting for this one. Massive middle finger to tumblr for screwing the post up! Divorce Harry III is finally here!

Shoutout to my lovely ladies who taking time to read this for me @harrytheehottie, @harryfeatgaga, @haute-romance-quotidienne and of course @waitingfortwilight. Also, thank you to all my lovely anons and those of you who come off anon to talk about this, I’ve really loved the general chit chat about the series <3

Without further ado, enjoy! Lots of love and happy Saturday! x

*~*

You had no idea where you were.

Surrounded by nothing but overgrown grass and the odd wooden fence. If you listened carefully in the distance you could hear the traffic of what you thought could be the A34 road and you were pretty sure that the last sign you had seen before your car cut out had been for Congleton.

Rubbing your hands down your fresh face, your spa retreat to Mottram Hall for the hen-do of one of the school Mum’s entering her second marriage, was nothing more than a distant memory. As you sat freezing, in your car, looking out onto the harsh autumn weather of October, you were far from relaxed and rejuvenated.

Worrying your bottom lip with your top teeth, you juggled your phone from palm to palm. You knew you had to call him, you effectively didn’t have any choice. Especially after you’d pulled your way through your glove compartment and you hadn’t come up trumps with your breakdown cover documentation.

Part of you was cursing in that moment at how you’d handed the piece of paper which held all telephone numbers and car insurance policy account numbers over to your son to scribble upon during one particularly long car session, just to keep him quiet. You were actually sure it was now stuck on your fridge with a lovely drawing of what you presumed to be Marvel characters all over it.

The worst of it all was that you knew whatever had happened to your car was bad. You knew simply from the way the car had spluttered and started to grind before almost seizing up and stalling to a halt.

Unlocking your phone, you scrolled through your contacts and landed on his contact card. Clicking on it you saw when the last time you had called him was and recalled the soft FaceTime he’d had with your eldest son, who wanted to tell his Daddy about how he’d been picked for the schools first rugby team, taking him out of reserves and off the bench.

Breathing deeply, you ignored the ache the fond memory began to cause and tapped Harry’s name. The dialling tone that greeted you filled the pit of your stomach with knots as you tried to relax in the leather seat of your Range Rover.

Again, you started to worry your lips at the fifth ring, before the line clicked and you heard his warm voice. You froze at how friendly he sounded, his voice held an edge of laughter to it and you heard shuffling faintly in the background, followed by chatter, before it was shut out.

On the other end of the line, Harry had found himself dodging his way around people in his Mother’s kitchen in Cheshire, before leaving the room and catching your call before it cut off.

“Sorry ‘bout tha’,” he spoke an unnecessary apology, probably because of how long it had taken him to answer, as you remained quiet on the other line.

You blinked harshly at the sound of your name being spoken. “Are you still there?” Harry asked, pulling the phone away from his ear to see that the call was indeed still running.

“Ye- yeah,” you stuttered, partly due to a soft tremble to your lips from being cold.

“Everythin’ alrigh’?” He asked, a concerned edge to his question, as you dropped deeper into your car seat.

Another small amount of silence.

“Not really,” you responded, honestly. “Where are you?”

With a small frown, he answered, “‘M at Mums. ‘S her birthday this weekend, remember?”

Shit. You’d forgotten.

Heavily breathing in response, you said, “It slipped my mind. Sorry.”

There was a chuckle at the end of the line.

“Not like you tha’,” he playfully jostled, causing the pit of your stomach to fall through again. You hated how he always managed to make any conversation between the two of you not seem as if you were in the middle of a prolonged divorce. “Usually got everything colour coordinated on our kitchen calendar.”

And he still did that so smoothly too, spoke about things as if you still did them together. The use of ‘our’ and ‘we’ was second nature and so naturally fell off his tongue in a velvety way that was soothing but left you shivering if caught by your touch in a different way.

As if he could read your mind, before you’d thought it, he said, “Don’t worry. I added everyone’s names to the presents so she thinks they’re from all o’ us.”

“I shouldn’t have called, you’re busy,” you responded without feeling, starting to pull the phone away from your ear and back to thinking about how you could get in touch with your breakdown cover. There had to be a way, surely.

“Hey, no,” he was urgent. “Don’t hang up, ‘s fine. I’ve pulled myself away. ‘S okay- please. Don’t hang up on me, something’s not right ‘ere. ‘S okay to still need me sometimes, y’ know?”

“It’s okay, I can sort it myself-“ you flung your car door open. “Can you just tell me know how to pop the bonnet up on this car, cause it’s been so bloody long since I last had to do it-“

“Pop the bonnet? Why’d you need to do that? Have you broken down somewhere?” His questions were clipped as he asked.

“Don’t get arsey with me-“

“‘M not,” he replied, quickly cutting. He really was. “Are the kids wi’you?”

“‘S alright for me be stranded on the side of the road on my own when it’s about to get dark-“

“Did I say that?” Again, he words were clipped. “Are you trying to wind me up?”

“Why have you not told me how to raise the bonnet?”

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before walking the short distance in his Mother's hallway to lower himself, slowly, down to sit on the stairs.

“Underneath the passenger side there’s a lever,” he paused his softer tone, giving you time to find it. As he spoke you trampled against the grass closest to the passenger side and opened the door. Looking down at a red lever, which had clearly made itself known to you now that it had been brought to your attention.

“Found it?” he asked, hearing you hum.

You shut the passenger door of your car and stared at the slightly popped up bonnet, Harry’s voice filling your ears again. “If you feel underneath the bonnet, between the E and the R there is another little lever. Squeeze that and it’ll release the bonnet-“

“Where’s the little thing to keep it up?”

He breathily chuckled, “‘s on hydraulics so keeps itself up.”

Again, you didn’t respond and he was met with silence. Harry rested his chin against his palm waiting for you to speak, eyes looking towards the dimming light as night began to approach.

“Wha’ can you see?”

“Not a whole lot, it looks fine to me.“

“Darling, just let me come to you.”

“But this is why I pay for breakdown cover,” you snapped.

“Where are you?” He asked, voice deep and to your annoyance laced with concern that he should no longer hold.

You stammered trying to figure out some sort of excuse to bullshit him with, eyes taking in the country lane and the vast greeness around you.

“Last time ‘m askin’,” he harshly cut in. “‘S gonna get dark soon, so jus’ tell me where y’are.”

“Somewhere near Congleton.”

“And wha’s the matter wi’the car?”

You noted his voice on his last question was a bit pinched, probably from focusing on another task like pulling on a pair of trainers to bring him to you. He clearly wasn’t playing along anymore.

“Well, I think I’ve had an oil leak but none of the lights have come on to officially let me know whether I have or haven’t. The only thing is the nasty black marks that are on the driveway at home, but ‘s nothing that couldn't probably be jet washed off-“

As you rambled about cleaning the oil from the drive of the Hampstead home, Harry zoned out beginning to list the things he would probably require to bring with him. He was sure some of it could be found in Robin’s old garage, knowing that boxes of tools were still piled in the far corner.

“Send me your exact location via text.”

“Harry-“ you sighed.

“‘M not askin’, ‘m telling,” he abruptly responded.

***

People say that Googling symptoms is never a good thing, you suppose the same could be said for a car.

Were they symptoms though? You couldn’t quite coherently think of another descriptor for them as they brought up search after search at how you quite possibly could have ruined your car.

You tried not to dwell as the sky around you began to get darker while you sat in the safe passing place on the country lane. It wasn’t like you had much choice but to stick around.

Cold, and dithering slightly, you had taken to throwing your coat over your body like a blanket as simply wearing it wasn’t keeping your entire body warm enough.

Car doors locked and eyes closed, you tried to find some solace in your waiting. You didn’t have much avail, as you were interrupted by the harsh white lighting of LED headlights breaking through the dimming dusk sky.

You frowned, eyes squinting as the light got closer and pulled in behind you. A sense of uncertainty filled your body at the new arrival, along the otherwise desolate road.

A figure of a male jumped out of the car behind you, causing you to still all of your movement in your car seat as you tried to make out any features to you that would make you comfortable in knowing it was Harry.

The blinding lights made it far too difficult to see anything and you were beginning to think that the person behind you had left them on, on purpose. Unless they were those annoying ones that slowly turned themselves off.

Staring out you vaguely were able to make out the figure approaching you and as he got halfway you relaxed.

It was Harry.

He rapped his knuckles gently at your driver's side window and then smiled to himself as he realised how you wouldn’t be able to open it due to your inactive engine.

“Open the door for me,” he spoke, his voice slightly muffled as it came through your car window. He watched as you reached for the door handle inside and pushed the door ajar ever so slightly. “Could you have picked anywhere more hidden away?”

You didn’t respond straight-away, deciding instead to take him in as he stood with his left arm leaning up against the doorframe of your car. His right arm taut as he held the car door open and away from you both, not wanting it to cause any obstruction.

Underneath his khaki parka you could faintly make out a worn Versace tee as it hung open, unzipped. You internally rolled your eyes. What kind of person wore Versace to fix a car and possibly get covered in oil in the process?

As you rested your head back against the seat behind you, you silently enjoyed the way he looked down at you. It was always quite frustrating, even more so now you weren’t together, how magnetising he was.

“Do me a favour?” He broke the silent stare, “Lean over and pull the lever for me? Don’t quite fancy walking around the car and possibly going down a ditch.”

“My parking isn’t that bad!” You chastised, watching the way his lips twitched. “I’m being courteous of other cars on this tiny lane, given them extra room near the passing place-“

“You got miles of space this side of the dotted line,” he spoke cutting in, eyes wide and filled with humour. “Surprised you didn’t drive down the hill bank the other side to be extra courteous.”

“Can pull the lever yourself now, hope you break your ankle-“

“No you don’t-“

“I’d just leave you here, you know? Take the keys out of your pocket and go.“

“Don’t need to resort to petty crime,” his voice was a bit weaker now but still just as cheeky. “Could’ve just asked for ‘em.”

Your eyes moved towards the glinting keys that he held loosely by the key ring after quickly retrieving them from his pocket. Tauntingly wanting you to reach out from them.

“You’re just going to pull them away, if I grab for ‘em.”

“‘M not,” he stressed with a slight laughter. “You’re always so cynical and defensive. Not even thanked me for driving out to come and get you.”

You didn’t respond, instead you gently reached for the keys, feeling him slightly shift them from your grip as he enjoyed the determination on your face.

Fingers filled with want, you still grabbed for them, successfully but having to be halfway out of the seat and door of your car in order to fulfill your achievement.

When your feet met the ground beneath you, you quickly shifted around to pull your coat on properly. As you moved from the doorway, you watched as Harry dropped his chest onto the driver's seat and reached across the width of the car to pull the lever without needing to walk around the car to do so.

Putting a bit of distance between you, so you didn’t fall foul of staring too long at his bum in his blue jeans, you stalled yourself as he pushed his body up to standing and flipped through a book in his hands.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He said, flicking through what you now knew to be the car’s manual that he must’ve also grabbed from the glove box while inside the car. When you didn’t reply he tore his eyes away from the pages and over to you.

“You’re a good man.”

The honesty in your voice, knocked him. “‘M not, but ‘m trying t’be.”

The two of you stared at each other in the dimming darkness and you knew your gaze matched his sad one.

Clearing his throat, he threw the manual against the driver’s seat. “Anyway out m’ sight, leave the men to the work an’ all tha’. ‘S got heated seats an’ all, if you’re into tha’ sorta thing.”

***

You felt bad watching him out in the cold and dark, a light hanging from the bonnet the only source around him that you imagined was keeping him going.

Sitting in the passenger seat, you let your eyes roam around the black interior of his car that was incredibly spacious and so suitable for your barrage of children.

Your attention turned to outside again as you saw Harry move around from your car and walk up towards his own. His forearm came up to wipe across his mouth, bringing your attention to his facial hair that seemed to be getting thicker and thicker.

Without needing to be prompted, you pressed the button to lower the driver's side window and watched as he pressed his forearms into the resting place you had created for him now there was no window blocking his way.

“Can you get me one of them shammy cloths from out o’the boot please? Jus’ need to double check the dipstick.”

You nodded as he continued, “Would do it m’self but-“ he paused, opening out his hands and showing how dirty his fingers were to you.

“It’s fine,” you said, leaving the car and joining him. “I feel a bit useless anyway,” you admitted.

Both of you remained silent when he joined you at the back of his car, two sets of eyes easily spotting what you were looking for. You opened the packet of two cloths, a horrible peach colour, and passed him one before swapping places with him.

You moved to stand at the side of the car, watching him drop his head inside the boot to see if there was anything else he needed while he was at the other car.

“Since when did you become one of them?”

“One of who?” He asked, his head popping around the side of his car and out of the boot to look at you.

“Your lights on this car are far too bright.”

He rolled his eyes, remaining quiet as he turned back to the contents of his boot. He wasn’t going to respond to your unnecessary nitpicking.

“It’s really nice inside though. Single about me did well then,” you found yourself saying the comment in a biting fashion, unable to hold your tongue.

“Which one?” He bit right back, a clanging heard from the boot, “I asked you if you wanted a credit, you said no.”

You clammed up. He hadn’t taken what you said as a joke. A bit of light humour, you thought, for the road. It was your own fault. You’d become that sort of annoying person you often could get when you found yourself awkwardly doing nothing with yourself. Your delivery of your joke didn’t help either.

“Think I preferred you when you stayed sat, quiet, in the car,” Harry said, head moving out from the boot again so you could read his expressions. Raised eyebrows and twitching lips.

“Piss off,” you glared at him, slowly turning to walk away.

Now it was Harry’s turn to think you were joking, as he shouted after you. “Really gonna be like that after I turned up to save you. That’s twice now I’ve had t’remind yer.”

“You insisted-“

“I know I did,” he spoke around a chuckle. “Now where’re you off to?”

“‘M walking home-“

“Don’t be so fucking ridiculous,” he shouted after you, a frown jarring through his light features when he moved from the open boot to walk closer to you as you turned back around to face him.

***

He managed to coax you to sit back in the car not much longer after you’d stormed off in a huff. Not without a fight, but this was one he was willing to back down on just to get you to stop storming off.

Looking back on it now, the scene was probably quite funny to some passerby or outsider, or it would’ve been if you weren’t so secluded. A female dressed in the most fetching of clothes - sarcasm noted - arguing in the middle of a street. Like some five year old in need of a nap.

Speaking of naps, your eyes shot open wide at the loud bang of your car bonnet being shut. You hadn’t realised that you’d begun to doze until you were abruptly woken.

Bleary vision was quickly erased with a rub of your eyes, as you moved to face the front and pushed your hair from your face.

You were met with Harry busy fiddling with the wires of his lamp. His face dropped down and hair falling so easily into his eyes. He kept walking rather than look into the car to see if you were still with him. Instead, he dropped everything that was in his hands into the boot and proceeded to annoyingly continue to subconsciously show off by pressing a button to close his boot automatically.

Staying wrapped up in one of your kids car blankets, you curled your legs underneath your body and rested your right cheek against the headrest. You continued to be silent as you started to wake up, eyes blinking slowly as you watched Harry in the dark pull open his car door.

He swung his body into the car with an almighty groan, one that caused you in your sleepy haze to softly smile. He looked shattered as he relaxed in his seat and rested his head backwards.

With eyes closed he sighed heavily, letting you take him in without a care. You’d noticed that at some point since your nap he’d removed his coat and now he sat in just his t-shirt and jeans. Both, of which, now looked like they had seen better days.

His brow had begun to perspire as he entered the warmth of his car, the quick switch from the Baltic (slight over exaggeration) temperatures outside to those more welcoming inside the G-Wagon could do that to you.

“Don’t think it’s fucked completely,” he said to break the silence, wiping his face and sweat with the back of his hand and wrist, to try and ensure his oil covered fingers didn’t leave any other stains on his skin.

You enjoyed the way he used the back of his hand, wrist and forearm to wipe at his now slightly clammy skin. Stupidly it emphasised how defined his upper body had become. “Dipstick wasn’t as dry as I was expecting,” he continued, “Just topped her up and ‘m ‘oping she turns over and sounds as good as new.”

Again, silence. His eyes staring straight ahead of him, yours enjoying his profile. God, he had a fantastic nose. It was definitely something that your daughter had inherited and you wondered if it would be a feature that a loved one in her life would sometimes admire in the next generation.

“Got any baby wipes wi’ you?” He cut his eyes to yours from the corner of his vision, taking in the way you were curled up in the passenger seat wearing the car blanket of your eldest son.

His eyes lingered on your shape for a while, dropping down and enjoying the way you had curled yourself up and presented to him in such a cosy vision. It meant you felt relaxed around him and that was all he ever wanted.

It was a nice contrast to the emotive happenings between the two of you that had almost become commonplace of late. A foreign feeling that was so simple, but so exciting.

Without verbal response you reached from your handbag that was in the footwell to have a look inside at the contents.

“Don’t wanna leave this car, been a bit spoiled over the last hour or so. Could do with an upgrade myself as they’re all getting older and need a bit more room,” you spoke as you rummaged around, movements still slightly sluggish.

You were successful in finding what you needed, the rustling of the plastic packaging jarring to your ears. Quickly pulling at the cover overlay, you swiftly pulled out a couple of wipes with such a mom-like finesse that had you balancing them on top of the now closed packet as you turned to face Harry.

“Don’t even think about making it a clause in the divorce,” he joked, eyes looking up at you from underneath his brow. His eyebrows snapped up in shock as you snatched at his hand and abruptly pulled at the baby wipes you’d retrieved from inside your handbag.

The two of you fell silent as you wiped at his left hand first, watching the black of the oil slowly leave his fingers. Breathing was heavy in the empty space as you didn’t dare raise your gaze higher to look into his eyes, that you knew were watching you.

“It’s so attractive, how much of a Mum you are,” he dared to say what he really thought as his humoured expression fell away. “Cleaning my hands up nicely, like ‘m your child that’s made a mess of m’dinner.”

“Harry,” you sighed his name, fidgeting softly in your seat. He chuckled in such a husky way that you found yourself softening regardless of the way it riled you.

Releasing his left hand, you reached straight for his right. Seeing the way he caught himself and stopped it before it fell against his lap. He smoothly reached for you, brushing your hair behind your shoulders as it began to curtain across the right side of your face.

“Last time m’hands were this dirty, you were licking and sucking ‘em clean.”

You felt your face begin to heat up from his brazenness.

“Are you blushing for me?” He whispered, his left hand moving along your jaw, to tilt your head upwards. He had a hold of your jaw, slightly rougher than before and while your face played ball, your eyes did not. “‘S been ages since you blushed fo’me.”

Again the sound of breathing filled the car, Harry’s gaze all over your features before his other words punctuated the air, “Look a’me.”

As your eyes moved sharply to the right, you looked at the way he’d lolled his head back. His thumb slowly pulled at your bottom lip, watching the way it softly bounced from his touch, before he lifted it to trace faintly over your Cupid’s bow.

“Missed your lips,” he admitted, enjoying the light puffs of breath that bounced against the pad of his thumb. Before you could think, you’d taken his thumb inside your mouth, an appreciative groan leaving his lips.

You felt the way his fingers cupped under your chin, gently stroking at your skin, silently caressing. Teeth nipping playfully against the skin of his thumb as you pulled away.

“How much?” You asked, lips turning to ghost against the inside of his hand.

His eyes lingered as you watched him nudge his chin up slightly, silently asking for you to come to him.

You sucked in a heavy breath as you leaned into him, the dimming ceiling light of the car slowly allowing darkness to swallow you both. A faint smile nudged your lips as your nose fell against his top lip.

He scooped you under his arm - lining you up better - hands trying to hold you as near to him as he could as you leaned over the centre console of the car to be closer to him.

“Enough,” he husked, before adding, “Your nose is cold,” in a passing tone, lips against your temple now. Breathing deeply through your nose you let him pull you even closer, unable to believe that you weren’t close enough. Muffled apologies left your lips, about how your nose was cold.

The soft drag of his lips to yours pulled you under a haze that swept away your apologies and into a tender reacquaintance. His lips were slightly shaking against yours and you weren’t sure if it was to do with the cold that he had found himself in or if it were due to his nervousness.

Regardless he was steady. Knew exactly what he was doing and what he wanted. Pulling kiss after kiss from you in the slowest fashion that you felt yourself beginning to warm up.

“‘S nice to have a little kiss,” he gently spoke against the corner of your mouth. “Missed you treating me to ‘em.”

“I think you just know exactly what to say,” you murmured as you allowed him to continue ghosting his lips over yours. “Know exactly what you're doing.”

“‘F you’re suggesting that I’m trying it on,” he murmured against your lips, “I absolutely fucking am.”

“Would never have guessed,” you looked at him with heavy eyelids, head now nudged back slightly to enable you to see his entire face. He smirked at you, eyes blinking slowly as he willed you to him once more.

His hand was secure around the back of your neck, fingers messily woven through your hair. His other hand gently massaged at the top of your back, over your fetching loungewear that you had chosen to drive home in.

“‘S it working?”

“What do you think?”

Harry’s eyes dropped in a slow blink as he felt the way your hand lowered down his chest and abdomen, which was wavering slightly from his nervous anticipation.

Dropping your head down to his chest, you left a kiss to his pec as you mumbled and felt the button of his jeans giveway to your fingers and thumb. “I am grateful, you know?”

“Yeah?”

The ruffle of your hair against the cotton of his tee filled the car, him recognising it as you nodding.

“Me too,” he assured.

And he was. Grateful.

For the life he’d had with you up until this point.

The family the two of you had created. The one you were so fiercely fighting for. Messily and viciously, all from a good place. The best place.

He licked at his dry lips, leaving his mouth to hang open slightly as he watched you descend down to his semi that was hidden in the confines of his jeans.

“Both of us need warming up,” he mused, his hands sliding from your hair and down your back, slowly and gently to your slightly raised bum from how you had placed yourself over the center console. “In’t that right?”

A dull slap of his hand against your leggings-clad bum had you rocking back as you felt his hands slide under the waistband to massage at your cheek.

Swallowing heavy, Harry tilted back his head and even through his hooded eyes he caught his blissed expression in the rear view mirror, as he felt you take his balls into your mouth and gently suckle.

He rasped your name as he basked in the dirty licks, heavily laden with saliva from your watering mouth before you took him into your throat. Obscene sounds from your actions wove between his heavy breathing and quick pants.

“Fuck me, darling.”

With his hand that was still against your bum, he pulled you closer. Hands desperate to have purchase of something as you gently but messily sucked and licked, desperate to feel the tickle of his pubic hair against the tip of your nose to know you’d successfully taken him all the way down.

His breathing was shaky, a quick hiss leaving his lips as he felt the way your nails dug into his denim clad thighs from his previous movements to try and hold steady. The position wasn’t ideal, but the feeling of your shaking breath against his wet cock as you nosed against his jeans had him smiling.

As you turned your head slightly to look at him from the corner of your vision, you noticed the way he was looking down at you. How powerful he seemed in that moment as you were slightly beneath him.

The thought changed though with the way his hand came up to your face, his thumb against your wet lips for the shortest time before he cradled the back of your head to help pull you back up and avoid any mishaps.

He tugged you forward to crush his mouth to yours with pleased hums as he tasted himself on you. Lips smacking as he pulled kiss after kiss from your mouth, smiling at the eagerness of you both.

His hands joined yours as they pulled at his jeans, his hips lifting in the seat and his arms strong as he pushed the denim and underwear down to sit closer to his knees.

“Mm,” he hummed, as his bare bum cheeks met the heated seat beneath them. “Put the seats on fo’me.”

“Don’t say I don’t ever treat you nicely.”

He huskily chuckled as he brought your lips back to him again. “Nice an’ warm,” he lazily spoke, acknowledging the heated seats. “Jus’ for me.”

And he knew every bit of his words meant the double entendre that you had caught,looking on as you pulled away to sink back into your own seat

Looking over at him, you noticed the lust behind his eyes as he slowly pumped his hand up and down his wet and aching cock when you sunk back into your own seat and watched his head loll against the headrest once more. His nostrils flared as he bit down on his bottom lip and nudged his chin up, getting you silently to come to him once more when he’d seen your movements in removing your own bottoms had ended.

“Wouldn’t do this for anyone else, y’know that?” You said around your messy kiss as you raised your legs and felt his hands guide you to straddle him. Hands splayed across your lower back and the top half of your bum as he secured you to him.

“Should bloody ‘ope not.”

As you sat above him, you could feel him there. Sprung back and wet. Your mouths rested against each other, heavy and open. Eyes moving to and fro over each other’s.

“Been at this too long to start sharing now.”

Your hips moved forward at his words, with the smallest of motions but it was enough to make his cock glide between your lips. His expression was one of immeasurable pleasure regardless of how little the touch.

Deep down you knew you didn’t have time for this sort of behaviour. The kind where you revelled in the nudge of him against your clit, and the way it caused you to gasp lightly while your brow creased and forehead fell against his.

“Take it,” he encouraged as you rolled your hips on him. “Let me in.”

Heavy breathing and shaking hands, you held Harry’s eyes as you reached behind you to take him in your hand.

Wrapping your fingers around his length, you raised yourself, feeling him shuffle down slightly in his seat to help ensure you didn’t bump your head as you lifted. Fingers gave way when he lined up nicely, slipping only his tip inside of you.

This stretch was one like no other. A burn that you savoured as much as the expression that welcomed you from the desire felt by the only man who had ever made you feel this way. His one hand crawled up your back, to cup around your neck, anchoring you to him.

When you were fully seated shaky exhales bounced against each other’s lips. Every tremble of you above him felt so vividly by Harry. The way your thighs shook from the small confines you found yourself in, to the quiver of your fingers against his neck and jaw.

“You’re so big,” your moan was feeble. Embarrassing in many ways. Especially given the amount of times you’d done this with him.

“Mm,” he agreed. “‘S cause ‘m so hot for you. Got me so hard. Always have.”

“Always will-“

“Always will,” he confirmed.

Your moan was thick as it left your throat, his words enough to get you to roll against him and have you clit drag pleasing against his pelvis.

He groaned, knowing that’s what you were doing too. Having been in this position so many times before. No one had ever had you this way, and you knew no one ever would either. A pleasure this giving was one of familiarity. Aided so deeply by feeling.

When your mouth met his again the only word to describe your kiss was sinful. His tongue waiting to meet yours, flicking so easily and far too filthily for those on the cusp of middle age.

But he still had it.

The gleaming boyish gaze and curling smile. Could charm his way into any heart and into any pair of knickers. But the ones he had chosen time and time again were yours. Regardless of their sexiness at times.

“Yes,” you gasped, pulling away from his mouth and feeling his hands encourage the knocking of your hips against his.

You were close, nowhere to go and not wanting to go anywhere. How you had made it here so quickly, you weren’t sure. Maybe it was the surroundings, how you potentially could get caught. Maybe it was because your partner - husband - just knew you so well.

His eyes didn’t want to leave you as they admired the flushed skin you were beginning to show and the gleaming, plush lips that you were rolling into your mouth to hide your pleasure.

“That’s it, fuck me,” his voice was hushed, quick in its delivery. “‘S wha’ it’s all about,” he hummed, as you rocked your hips over his. Knocking his head back against the headrest once more.

As he looked down his nose at you, he watched as your eyes fell to your navel, taking in each roll of your hips. Your expression dropped with realisation, slightly pained. “What’s wrong?”

Looking up at him, you wish you hadn’t. You wished you’d kept your eyes down to see the ripple of his abdomen each time your body flexed around him. That way it wasn’t doused in emotion, it was just raw pleasure that lived in your mind.

“We shouldn’t be doing this anymore. Needs to be the last time.”

A mix of a breathy laugh and scoff left his lips as he urged you to restart your hips that were starting to stall above him, “Bit late for tha’ now, don’t yer think?”

Falling against him, you hid your face feeling his lips over the shell of your ear and against your hair. His hand gently stroked at your hair, lips moving to your temple and pressing affection kisses that did nothing but make you feel worse.

“Do you want t’stop? Mm?” He asked, feeling your hips so tight against his, but your core so open that he hoped you would say no. Widening his thighs he pressed his feet into the footwell, seeking momentum to meet your hips with his own.

“‘S okay to love me still,” he groused, feeling your chin tremble from his words. “‘S okay to let me love you still. This is okay, us just doing this is okay.”

It wasn’t okay and he knew. He also knew everything he was saying - every single word - was just a way to satiate you.

So, you let them. Swallowed the lump in your throat and inhaled deeply.

His words were cut short as he groaned, “Sit up for me, fuck me properly.”

Sitting yourself up, you felt the way Harry’s hands moved so that the backs of his fingers were smoothing against your lower stomach. Sweaty palm turned, he pressed it gently down your stomach and let his thumb finger your clit.

The softest frown hit your brow, as his thumb slowly rubbed in a downwards motion at your sensitivity. From his actions you felt a warmth pool around both him and you, Harry groaning appreciatively as he felt it too.

“Yeah,” he stressed the word as you gripped at his t-shirt which sat against his stomach. Cotton in handfuls as you scrunched the fabric. “‘S tha’ nice- good?”

You nodded.

“‘S it enough?”

You nodded with more fervour. Eyes holding his as you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth and scratched along his right forearm as he continued to gently swipe at your wet clit.

The abruptness of the rock to your hips showed itself as the warmth within your belly grew. Eyes now hooded, you were unable to stop them from closing as your mouth parted to desperately say, “Don’t stop.”

And you didn’t know who you were talking to; yourself or Harry.

Harry responded with a moan so deep that you clenched down around him, causing his free hand to reach up and squeeze harshly against your hips.

“‘M going to come so hard for you ‘f you keep doing that,” he gritted, breathing shallow as he felt his chest constrict. “Like tha’, just like that.”

His words were low, and like just moments before you weren’t sure if they were for him or you, but they had you moaning his name. Head dropping against his, his hand gripping at the back of your neck.

With one hard roll of your hips, you cried out, forehead against his chin and mouth fallen. His hand squashed between your bodies as you shook and convulsed.

Pliant for him, you were too dazed to move as you felt his arm wrap securely around your back and hold you to him, tight.

A merciless and repeated smack of his hips upwards, which you were sure would have the car rocking, made you aware of him seeking his release. He moaned your name, as he pulled you down to him, his orgasm shooting into you.

His heavy breathing was hot against your sweltering skin when you finally came to, his grunts melding into your neck as your core continued to flutter in the aftermath of your own release.

His hands somewhat selfishly and most definitely greedily moved you against him, both crooning at the sensitive rush that met you before he lifted you to aid himself with slipping out.

Cold air met his sensitivity, as he nuzzled against you. Hand crawling up your back, under your shirt and feeling your damp skin peel away from his own as he moved his hand up and down.

“Want to try out the back wi’me after this,” he hummed, brushing your hair off your face with his other hand. His words were heavy as they pressed into the skin of your cheek while he still tried to catch his breath.

As much as you knew you should, you didn’t even try to stop yourself from nodding.

***

Looking forward to hearing all of your thoughts! x

#Harry Styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x y/n #my writing #divorce!harry

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wasted-headspace-98 · 4 years ago

Text

Starved: Part 1

This was requested by @rogueheretic555! Thank you so much for the idea! “Can you write about a reader who doesn't like being touched? Like they dont like being touched by anyone but slowly become more comfortable around din and allow it?” I got a bit carried away, and instead of a simple oneshot, we got a whole new series out of it Mando x Reader Rating: T+ Warnings: Mentions of abuse, non con elements, panic attacks, ptsd Masterlist

Metal clinked together as the chains shifted around the room. You barely registered what was happening as your arms were raised above your head, the shackles on your wrist digging into your flesh and hoisting your arms up. Your body was lifted from its slumped position, making you arch your back and raise your head slightly. Your hair fell in your face as you tried to make out the blurry figure of the man approaching you.

You felt your skin crawl as he traced a hand across your rib cage, disgust settling over you.

“You’re getting too thin, pet. Have you not been eating?”

His voice held a tone of disapproval and a surge of fear leapt into your throat. If he got angry with you, there was no telling what the consequences would be.

“No, master,” you said meekly, hanging your head once again. “I can’t keep anything down.” You figured honesty would cause you the least amount of pain. At least, that’s the way it had been in the past.

He hummed and shook his head at you before letting out a sigh. “What am I going to do with you, pet?” He pursed his lips as he thought, his eyes raking over your naked form. You shivered under his scrutinizing gaze. How long had you been here? Days? Weeks? Years?

Time blurred together for you. But, you weren’t alone. For you, that was both a blessing and a curse. You weren’t suffering by yourself, so you had some company. But, the man that had taken you, Kelos, had taken countless other women as well. You wouldn’t wish that torture on anyone, and you felt nothing but shame when you found yourself enjoying the solace brought by the company of the others.

You were thankful, however, that you were his favorite. It meant endless hours of pain, embarrassment, and torture. But at least it meant that none of the other girls were suffering. You had a feeling that you were also the oldest. His attentions never strayed from you for too long, and you were glad that the younger girls were spared from his horrific deeds.

You felt his hand under your chin, lifting your head. You kept your eyes downcast until he told you otherwise, not wanting to anger him further. “Look at me, pet.”

Your eyes slowly swiveled up to face him. You were surprised to find a level of concern in his normally dark features.

“I don’t want you getting sick. You’ll rest for now. I’ve got a tonic I think will help you.”

Your head bobbed up and down slowly, wondering what had gotten into him. You’d been sick before. But he forced you through it, never once stopping to consider what he was doing. It made you wonder what he had up his sleeve. Was he finally going to kill you?

Death was something you would have welcomed a long time ago, something you even prayed for. You began to look forward to the day when he would decide he’d have enough of you and finally slit your throat with the blade he was so fond of using on you.

But now?

There were others that you had to consider. There were other women, children, that were in this hell of a prison. If Kelos decided to kill you, then that would mean his attention would turn to them.

The thought turned your stomach.

“Thank you, Master,” you began, daring to look up at him. “I’ll take the tonic…but I don’t need more rest, if it’s all the same to you.”

Kelos raised an eyebrow as he examined you. His hand came up to rest on your cheek, his eyes softening ever so slightly. That was the first time you had ever openly contradicted him since that first week. You learned early on that his version of a consequence was so much worse than you could have ever imagined. It was easier on you if you went along with what he asked of you. “Very well, pet.”

~*~*~*~

Things continued like that for a while. Kelos was taking the extra time to make sure you were drinking the tonic and eating what you could. He was even allowing you showers more often. He was always present, of course, but you were grateful for that one small change. He’d also been ignoring the other girls for the most part. He would taunt them every so often, tease them as usual, but he was taking better care of them. They had blankets, thin gowns they would wear, and a steady supply of food.

The whole thing made you uneasy. You knew he was a slaver and a trafficker. There were other things he was involved in that were less tasteful, and you shuddered thinking about the times your presence was required during those endeavors.

If you were being honest with yourself, it gave you a small amount of hope.

You were still disgusted with yourself and the life you led. You shook your head thinking about it, realizing that you weren’t even living. You were simply existing. You were watching through a stranger’s eyes as they monotonously went about their tasks. The small amount of comfort you had was in knowing that you were making the other girls’ lives less miserable than they had been. As long as you cooperated with Kelos, things were fine.

But then, things changed.

Kelos was on edge, which meant he was angry. And when he was angry, things were never good. He began neglecting you and the other women. Normally, that would have been a good thing. But he took his aggression out on you. He would leave you sobbing, in pain, and silently begging for death once again. At some point, the other girls began disappearing. You weren’t sure if he had killed them or if he was letting them go.

Either way, you were relieved for them.

No one deserved to live in this hellish nightmare.

You didn’t eat as often as you used to, either. He would go days without remembering to give you food. He viewed you as nothing more than a tool for his pleasure. It left you more and more broken every time. You weren’t sure how much more you could take.

~*~*~*~

It had been several days since you last saw Kelos. You were glad for the reprieve. The last time he had visited you, he left more damage than usual. Your voice was still raspy and your windpipe was still bruised. The cuts on your stomach were beginning to get an infection, and you knew they would only get worse if you couldn’t take care of them.

You were attempting to pull yourself up, leaning against the wall beside the bed to inspect your legs. They’d taken the worst amount of damage. The shackles he used were getting more painful. The last set he had used set several pins into your legs, the metal digging into your flesh to make sure you’d stay in place. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice anyway. You sighed at the sight, quietly shaking your head. You were fairly sure he had fractured your ankle as well, judging by the bruising and swelling.

The door hissed open and you fell back to the floor with a gasp, the sudden motion sending you into a panic. You slipped back to the floor, wincing in pain as you did. Kelos burst into the room, completely ignoring you as he made his way to the back. He was in a hurry about something, and you watched with wide eyes as he started shoving things into a backpack.

He was muttering to himself, but what he was saying, you couldn’t make out. But he was scared. And that scared you.

“Kelos-“ you attempted, your voice weak and scratchy.

“Quiet!” he snarled, whirling around to face you. You promptly scrambled backwards, away from him. “You’re the reason I’m in this mess to start with!”

Your eyes widened as you tried to make yourself as small as possible. What was he talking about? What mess?

“I treated you well!” he snapped, grabbing you and hoisting you up. You tried to wriggle free, but it was no use. He was twice your size and you were completely malnourished. Even if you were at your best, you didn’t think you could have fought him off. “I kept you alive! I kept you from the Reavers! And this is how you repay me?!”

Your mouth opened to let out a scream as he wrapped his hands around your throat. His eyes held murder as he threw you towards the bed. You grunted at the impact and tried to push yourself away from him. He was faster than you and grabbed your injured ankle, making you cry out as he dragged you back towards him. He continued screaming at you as he pinned you to the mattress, his hands once again wrapping around your neck.

As he straddled your hips, pressing you into the mattress, you came to a startling realization. He was going to kill you.

Something stirred within you, something instinctual and primal. You didn’t want to die. You felt a sudden rush of determination flood your system. You knew you were going to fight tooth and nail. After everything your been through, you’d be damned to just give up now.

You gathered what strength you had left and grabbed at his wrists, digging your nails as deep into his skin as you could you had a vice like grip on him, and you could tell that he was surprised at the effort you were using. Ignoring the searing pain in your leg, you managed to struggle to bring your legs around and locked his into place before thrusting your hips upward and throwing your body to the side. He grunted in surprise at the force you used, not thinking you were going to put up much of a fight.

As he rolled off of you, he lost his grip on your throat as he struggled to right himself. You scrambled off the bed and towards the door before realizing your fatal mistake. You screamed in pain as the chain suddenly went taut, digging into and snapping around your already injured ankle. You dropped to the floor and Kelos lunged toward you with a growl.

You cursed yourself for not having picked the lock on the shackle while he was gone. Another scream fell from your lips when Kelos yanked on the chain, dragging you backwards. Your body was already damaged enough, and the sudden burst of adrenaline was quickly fading away. You dug your fingers into anything you could get ahold on, but it wasn’t any use.

“This is it, pet.” Kelos said, pulling a knife and pressing it to your throat once he had pulled you back to him. Feeling the cold metal against your skin made you stop in your tracks. He’d cut you before, so the threat wasn’t anything new. But feeling the blade dig into your throat had you fighting the urge to swallow. “It was fun while it lasted.”

You glared up at him. “Burn on Mustafar, Kelos!” you spat, quite literally, in his face.

He glared down at you, a growl coming from the back of his throat as he dragged the knife slowly across your throat. You winced, but you knew it wasn’t deep enough to cause too much damage. What really scared you was when he sunk the tip into your chest. You let out a howl of pain as he slowly pressed the blade in deeper, bit by bit. You tried to writhe out of his grip, but it was no use. There was a twisted look of pleasure in his face and he continued to drive the knife into you.

He was going to make this take as long as possible. You knew he was one who enjoyed watching the pain of others, and this was no different. It disgusted you the way he pressed his hips down on you, making you painfully aware how much he was enjoying it.

You tried to ignore the sounds he was making, clenching your eyes shut and turning your head to the side. Your mouth opened in a silent scream as tears slid down your face. You just prayed that it would be over soon.

Before you could succumb to the darkness that called your name, your prayer was answered.

The door was flung off its hinges with an explosion, throwing Kelos off of you and making you scream in pain as a piece of burning metal embedded itself in your side. You tried to move out of the way, but it wasn’t any use. All you succeeded in doing was rolling onto your stomach.

“Kelos Jutar-“

You didn’t know whether to be grateful or more terrified. You groggily raised your head, trying to see what was happening. A woman with a gun stalked into the room, her blaster pointed directly at your tormentor. Her companion appeared to be a man dressed in armor with a helmet covering his face. She made a move towards Kelos and the man turned his attention to you, making you flinch.

You curled in on yourself, both in pain and out of instinct. The woman glanced at you, her eyes widening for a moment before she managed to get Kelos on his knees with his hands in cuffs.

“Are you all right?”

Your vision was starting to get blurry. You weren’t sure if you were delirious because of the pain or if you were actually hearing the mans voice. It was soft beneath the harsh tone of the modulator, and that sent a pang of fear through you.

You could tell, even beneath the blank visor he had, that he was looking at you, taking in the injuries and examining your naked form. He said something that sounded like a curse before you dropped your head back to the ground, unable to keep it up any longer.

“Help me...”

You prayed to the Maker that he would answer your plea.

“Cara!” He turned to the woman in question, who was still talking to a hologram. She glanced at him, her eyes widening when they settled on your now unconscious form. “She’s hurt pretty bad. We need to get her out of here.”

~*~*~*~

Swaying. Was that…warmth? You managed to crack your eyes open just slightly, fighting against the pull of the darkness that was ebbing into your head again. Your blurry vision focused long enough to settle on the helmet of the man that had interrupted Kelos. You tried to open your mouth, but you couldn’t get the muscles to work. Was this what death felt like?

Your shifting caused him to look down. “Easy,” he said quietly. “We’ll take care of you. You’re safe now.”

With that quiet affirmation, you drifted back into the realm of unconsciousness.

~*~*~*~

“What happened to her?”

Cara shook her head as she looked over the scans before turning back to the Mandalorian. “There’s too much damage to tell what’s new and what’s old,” she said quietly. She glanced at your limp body that was now covered in light sheets. Your skin was sickly pale and coated in a layer of sweat. “Maker only knows how long he kept her locked up like that.”

Mando growled, the sound primal behind the mask of the modulator. “Chained like an animal, you mean.”

Cara gave him a look, but bit her tongue. Instead, she sighed. “Yes. We’re lucky we found Kelos when we did. There were several bodies found as well. But it looks like she was kept alive the longest.” She nodded to you, her face betraying the emotions she felt. She’d been after the smuggler for several months after she’d gotten a tip that he was trafficking slaves. He operated one of the largest slaver rings in the quadrant, and she was more than happy to get him out of the system. But she cursed herself for taking so long to plan the assault.

The Mandalorian turned back to you, his expression hidden beneath the helmet. He wondered what horrors you had gone through, what had made you survive as long as you did. But now wasn’t the time. He’d agreed to help Cara with a job, and it wasn’t finished. He turned on his heel without a word, the leather covering his hands squeaking quietly as he clenched his fists.

“Where are you going?”

He grunted in response, barely glancing over his shoulder. “To interrogate the prisoner.”

Cara made a move to stop him but thought better of it. She knew first hand that Mando had plenty of different ways to get someone to talk. And if she was being honest, she didn’t trust herself to be in the same room as the smuggler. She would probably kill him on sight. At least Mando would have a little bit of restraint.

~*~*~*~

You bolted upright with a scream, wildly looking around for your tormentor. Your eyes were wide as you scanned the room, looking for the unknown assailant. You knew you weren’t alone. It was never that easy. He was always there, always lurking in the shadows.

“Hey, hey, easy!”

Your head whipped around to the sound of the voice and you scrambled away from it, howling when you fell off of whatever it was you were laying on.

“Calm down, you’re okay.”

He reached out to you and you immediately screaming again, throwing an arm up to protect your face as you cowered against the wall. His dark eyes were wide with an emotion that you couldn’t place as he reached toward you. “Don’t hurt me!” you begged. “Please!” You heard the door open and you looked over towards it with panic on your face and managed to scramble to your feet. “Help!”

“Hey, what’s going on?!”

You knew that voice. You hadn’t known it for long, but you knew that voice meant safety. You let out a strangled sob as you lunged towards the man in the helmet, reaching for him as the other man tried to catch you. Pain shot through your side and your leg as you stumbled towards him. Acting immediately, he grabbed your arms and helped you stand as you anchored yourself to him, your arms wrapping around him as you sobbed against his chest.

“What did you do to her?” he snapped at the other man, holding you against him. Your legs gave out beneath you and he quietly and gently lowered you to the ground, rubbing his gloved hand over your back as you started to hyperventilate.

“I don’t know!” the other man exclaimed. “She just woke up and started going crazy!”

A quiet growl sounded from the man that was supporting you and that sent another wave of terror crashing over you. “Get out.” Your arms left him and you tried to scramble away, looking at him in panic and terror at hearing the command in his voice. The other man got the hint, quickly skittering out of the room.

“It’s alright,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Your eyes were wide as you tried to process what he was saying. Your mind was in full panic mode and you couldn’t make yourself focus.

“Hey, look at me,” he said softly, gently reaching for you again. You flinched at the movement and he stopped, just holding his hands about a foot away from you. Seeing that you calmed slightly, he started speaking again. “I’m not going to hurt you, Cyar'ika.” Hearing his gentle voice made you stare at the visor with wide eyes. “But I need you to do something for me,”

Your shoulder shook slightly as you took a dee breath in and nodded quickly.

“Good. Just keep breathing like that. In and out.” He took a deep breath, gesturing slowly for you to do the same. You slowly followed suit, eventually reaching out and wrapping your hand around the gauntlet on his wrist.

“There ya go,” he said, smiling under the helmet at you. “Good job, Cyar’ika.”

You listened to his voice giving you assurances and you gradually calmed. You were still ready to flee at a moments notice, but the man in front of you posed you no immediate danger.

“Can you tell me your name?”

You took a deep breath again and nodded slowly. “Y/N.”

He tilted his head at you. “That’s a beautiful name,” he said. “I’m Din.”

Coming back to reality, you realized what was happening. “Where’s Kelos?” you whispered, eyes pleading with the man in front of you.

“You don’t have to worry about him anymore, Cyar’ika. He’s not going to be able to hurt you.”

You nodded slowly, digesting this new information. “Thank you,” you said quietly. Din inclined his head once again. You could tell that he was burning with questions, and you were thankful that he didn’t throw them at you in a barrage. “I don’t know how long he kept me…”

He shook his head. “Don’t think about that right now.” A breath of relief escaped you. You’d dreamt of freedom for what was probably years. And now that you had it, you didn’t ever want to think about Kelos or what he had done to you ever again. But you knew you were going to have to if they were going to get him the justice he deserved. You almost scoffed at yourself. If you were being honest, the only justice that man deserved was death. Slow and painful at the hands of his prisoners.

Before you could answer him the door opened again, sending your already frazzled nerves over the edge once again. You shrank into Din, pressing yourself against his chest and whimpering quietly.

“It’s alright,” he said gently. “It’s just Cara.”

You looked up at him again and heard footfalls approaching the two of you. Fear gripped your throat so tight you could hardly breathe as you waited for the inevitable attack. But you were surprised to find another woman crouch down beside you and Din.

“Hey,” she said softly.

Relief flooded you as you realized she was the one that had put Kelos in cuffs. Her dark hair fell in waves over one of her shoulders and her eyes were keen as she appraised you. You didn’t know how to answer her, just staring dumbly back.

“When was the last time you ate?” she asked.

You shrugged. It could have been days, it could have been hours. Time blurred together for you, and you honestly didn’t know which way was which.

“Let’s get you up,” Din said, moving his hands to your arms. You turned your attention to him, allowing him to help you to your feet. Once you were firmly on the ground, you quickly detached yourself from him, hugging your arms around your middle. You were happy to find that they had given you some clothes. They felt almost foreign against your skin, but you were glad for the warmth they provided. “I’ll get you some food.”

Panic gripped you again and your eyes went wide. “No,” you gasped, almost reaching for him. “Please don’t leave me.”

You weren’t sure what it was about that man that made you feel safe around him. Maybe it was the fact that the had rescued you. Maybe it was his calm demeanor. Whatever it was, you knew you didn’t want him to leave.

“Okay,” he said, nodding and staying rooted to the spot.

Cara pursed her lips. “I’ll get you something. And a drink too. You’re probably dehydrated.”

“Thank you,” you said softy, casting your eyes down to the floor.

Taglist: @lordofthenerds97 @rogueheretic555 If anyone wants to be added, just let me know!

#mandalorian #din djarin #mando x reader #din x reader #the mandalorian #baby yoda #star wars #reader insert #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #requests #multichapter fic

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pro-fangirls-unsocial-life · 4 years ago

Text

Overload

A/N: Hello everyone! Look at me! Being productive! So this a fic inspired by THIS amazing art by @sorry-but-no-sorry of Hunter. I hope you guys enjoy! This one was a bit personal to write, cause I pulled some of the feeling described from my own experiences with panic attacks and sensory overload but I hope its still good all the same! And a big thanks to @captainrexisboo, my sword wife, for helping me out with one of the scenes!

Length: ~2200 words

Warnings: descriptions of panic attacks and sensory overload. Angst. Hurt/comfort.

“Hunter!”

Though each and every clone valued their name more than life itself, Hunter wanted nothing more than to be nameless in this moment. Every time the syllables came tumbling from his brothers mouths and crashing into his ears, it was like thousands of shrieking whistles all began their assault on his senses at once.

They all still smelled from their most recent mission. Hunter could make out every scent that they had brought back with them as they all mixed together and bombarded his nose. He could feel every single spec of grime that was caked onto his body. The way that it cracked as he moved felt like a million tiny blades all piercing his skin at once.

He was too hot and too cold all at once. The sweat slowly making its way down his forehead left a searing imprint on his mind as he tried to force himself to ignore it. He needed to keep being strong, to be the image of composure that his brothers needed him to be.

He still had to deliver his report to Admiral Tarkin, a feat that was never easy. The admiral's cold gaze would always burn right through him and would send waves of pure panic coursing through his veins. Like a predator stalking its prey.

Tarkin knew he had this effect on the Sergeant regardless of his desperate attempt to hide it, and he used it to his full advantage. The moment Hunter's image appeared in front of him, he would begin doing everything that he could to send him spiraling. This new clone force was far too successful, and he needed something to try and prove their inadequacy.

Hunter knew what Tarkin was doing. He knew that if he let his panic slip through the cracks in his mask, things would only get worse for him and his brothers. So, he would not let himself break. He would not give Tarkin the satisfaction of seeing him fall apart. He became the perfect soldier, shoving everything down until he could be alone, pleading with his mind to show him even the slightest bit of mercy.

The meetings would always be a blur in the moment but as they carried on, they would be forcefully engraving themselves into his mind, not granting him the small bit of solace he craved once they were finally over.

He would always send the others to go relax while he finished the briefing, always thanking every God he could think of when they chose to go outside.

He almost didn’t hear the sneering “very good Sergeant” that was spit out at him before the screen flashed to black over the panic that had broken through his defenses and had begun making its way back into the forefront of his mind.

But the second the image of the admiral was no longer plastered across the screen and the hurricane of sounds and frequencies had finally stopped coming through the speakers, Hunter forced out the breath he had been holding, now gasping for air inside the empty ship as everything came rushing through his now broken barrier.

He tore off his armor, letting each piece tumble to the metal floor with a loud clang. He rolls the sleeves of his blacks up to his elbows, not knowing if he feels comforted or completely overwhelmed by the feeling of the fabric on his skin.

The light was blinding, shining brightly into his eyes like a star gone supernova.

Everything is too much. Even though the ship is almost completely silent of everything but his shuddering breaths, every sound thunders against his eardrums, echoing throughout his mind and making him feel as if he is being hit upside the head with a brick with every new vibration.

The steady hum of the ship’s machinery, a sound that is soothing to others, now roars in his mind with no end in sight. The rhythmic drip of a leak that they have been meaning to fix, once a welcomed background noise, now a piercing spear through his head. His own heartbeat, the only real thing he has to himself, the sound he finds solace in while he tries to will himself to sleep and while blocking out the darkness that threatens to consume him, now an endless assault that has risen in his ears, trying to drag him toward a never-ending expanse of torture.

His hands didn’t feel like his own. They were heavy, weighted bags that dragged his spirit down. He felt his soul trying to leave through his throat.

Shaking. Everything was shaking. His teeth, his fingers, his shoulders. As if he could reset, he tried to focus the energy; recalibrate his hands by flinging out his wrists.

In that single movement, everything came crashing down, and a wave of emotion he’d been keeping at bay tore through him in a ripping shout. A shout that reverberated off the walls of the small space, coming back toward him to assault his ears once again.

His ears were ringing. Every ripple of sound, every nauseating smell in the air, every feeling of every substance that was plastered to his skin was attacking him from every direction.

He heard his name called from outside accompanied by far off footsteps and his hands flew up to his ears while his eyes screwed shut. He began pressing his palms up against the sides of his head so forcefully, that his whole body began to shake.

He fell to his knees, each muffled call of his name rapping against his head, causing him to curl in on himself and making his forehead come to rest against the cold, grimy floor.

He felt like he was drowning. With each gasping breath he took, it felt as though more and more weight was being cruelly added to the suffocating press on his chest. The feeling of tears beginning to roll down his face registered in his mind, adding to the uncontrollable spiral that he was being dragged down without mercy.

More voices. More footsteps. More unbearable, ear-piercing noise.

“Hunter? You ok?” Echo carefully walked up the steps of the ship, scanning the area just inside, looking for the origin of the shout he had heard. “Hunter? I, oof—”

He toppled to the ground, turning to look at what had tripped him and finding Hunter's helmet at his feet. It was then he heard a tiny whimper come from across the ship. A whimper so soft that he almost didn’t hear it over the ships steady hum.

He looked up, finding Hunter's trembling form curled up on the floor, his hands pressed to his ears and a sheen of sweat covering his body.

“Hunter,” he asks, concern creeping its way into his voice. “Hunter?”

Another small whimper falls from Hunter's lips, his body flinching each time Echo says his name.

Echo scrambles over to Hunter, his hands hovering over Hunters back, not touching him. He stops, thinking back to when he would walk in on Hardcase in this same position, before lowering himself down so that he is lying on his stomach on the floor.

“Hunter?”

Hunter flinches again, his muscles straining as he presses his hands impossibly harder up against his head.

“Hunter,” he whispers again, trying to get a look at his brother's face.

“I-Its s-so loud,” Hunter chokes out. He gasps for breath, more tears falling from his face onto the floor. “I-I want it to s-stop. M-make it s-stop.”

“I know. I know,” Echo softly says. “Let’s get you to your room. You’ve sound proofed it yeah?”

Hunter takes a few heaving breaths before nodding his head.

“Ok,” Echo says. “Now, I’m gonna have to touch you to help you get there. Is that alright?”

Two more rasping breaths before another nod.

“Ok. I’m going to get up and go turn off the lights before I come back and help you to your room. Ok?”

Another nod.

Echo quickly pushes himself up as quietly as he can before making his way over to the light panel. He flips a switch, turning off the main lights and leaving only that night cycle floor lights glowing. He gives his eyes a moment to adjust before making his way back over to Hunter.

He crouches down, pressing himself to the floor again. “I’m going to touch you now so I can get you to your room. Ok?”

Hunter nods, flinching slightly when he feels Echo’s hands gently touching his body.

Echo slowly pulls him up off of the floor, not wanting to overwhelm Hunter more than he already is, before carefully guiding him down the hall toward his room.

When they finally make it to the end of the hall, Echo presses the panel for Hunter's door and it whishes open, causing Hunter to flinch in pain at the sound. They make their way over to the bed and Echo sits him down on the edge, crouching down so that he is looking up at Hunter.

“Do you want the boots off?”

Hunter nods, cringing as he feels the movement against his skin and the sound of his boots and socks being set at the end of his bed.

“The bandana?”

Another nod.

Echo reaches up and carefully pulls the fabric, now soaked in sweat, off of Hunter's head and places it on the shelf next to the bed.

“Alright,” Echo whispers. “I need you to stay sitting up for just one second while I go get something to help you. Do you think you can do that for me?”

Hunter gives a small nod, and Echo quickly exits the room.

He hears water running and the sound of something being rung out. It is far away, but still rippling loudly in his mind. He reaches his hands back up to cover his ears and once again, screws his eyes shut. He hears Echo making his way back, being careful not to make any noise.

Opening his eyes once he hears Echo step into the room, he sees him holding a washcloth and a glass of water.

Echo comes back down to kneel in front of Hunter, offering him the glass. “Do you think you can drink some of this for me?”

Hunter reaches out, grasping tightly at the glass being lightly pushed into his hand. “I’ll try,” he says, his voice soft and breaking.

He shakily brings the water up to his mouth and presses the cold hard glass against his lips, taking a small sip.

“Good,” Echo says with a small smile. “Very good.”

Hunter hands the glass back to Echo, his hands still shaking. Echo takes it, and lightly sets it on the shelf next to Hunter's bandana.

“I think you should lie down and try to get some rest now.”

Hunter weakly nods, swinging his legs onto the bed and placing his head on the pillow.

“Do you want the blanket?”

Hunter shakes his head no.

“Alright,” Echo says softly. “I have a wet washcloth here. Do you want it for your head?”

He nods and closes his eyes, sighing as Echo gently moves his hair out of the way and places the cool washcloth on his forehead.

“Alright. I’m going to go send the guys into town so that you’ll have some quiet. I’ll stay here and be just down the hall if you need me, ok?”

Hunter nods, his breathing beginning to even out. He hears Echo take a breath before standing and quietly tiptoeing out of the room.

“Echo,” Hunter gently says, opening his eyes slightly.

Echo stops in the doorway, turning questioningly to Hunter.

“Thank you.”

Echo gives him a small, warm smile. “Get some rest vod’ika.”

Hunter smiles and closes his eyes, laying his head back on the pillow.

With that, Echo walks back out to the main area of the ship, leaving Hunter's door open so it won’t make any more noise as it closes. He goes outside and gives his three brothers some credits and tells them to spend the day in town.

“Make sure you stay out of trouble,” he calls after them.

Wrecker looks back over his shoulder and laughs. “When have we ever?”

Echo shakes his head and chuckles, climbing back up into the ship, careful to avoid Hunter's armor on the floor. He could take care of it later when it wouldn’t make so much noise for Hunter.

He walks down the hall quietly, peaking in to check on Hunter. His chest steadily rises and falls as he breathes in and out. His head is angled slightly toward the door and his mouth is hanging slightly open.

Echo smiles and goes back out to the main area, sitting down in a chair. He picks up his data pad and opens up his copy of his favorite book.

It was one that Fives had picked out when they were on leave after their first mission as ARC troopers. Nothing special. Just a typical hero’s journey fantasy adventure. But to Echo, it was the best book in the entire universe.

He opens it up to the page he left off on and takes a deep breath, angling his head toward the ceiling. He smiles. “Just like old times, aye Fives?”

He looks back down, taking another deep breath before diving back into the fantastic adventure that he and Fives always happily shared together, feeling his brother in every word as he peacefully read in silence.

#sergeant hunter #the bad batch #arc trooper echo #echo #hunter #panic attack tw #sensory overload tw #overload #my writing

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hb-writes · 4 years ago

Text

A Little Reflection

1923

Clara was seething as she looked down at her company diary. She groaned aloud at the appointment scratched down there under today’s date. Polly’s tight script wrote out two simple directives: Church - 4 o ‘clock

She glanced at the clock. It was already quarter ‘til and it was a twenty-minute walk, but Clara still hadn’t decided whether she was going to pull herself from the solace of the office to sit through what was sure to be a lecture. She had already sat through a full day of school so she wasn’t keen to receive any further lengthy speeches.

In the end, it was Michael who got Clara up and out, offering to walk her as far as the edge of Digbeth since he also had a meeting that way, but she wasn’t eager for his company. Clara thought it might be her cousin’s fault that she was being summoned to the church, but she didn’t want to risk two lectures in the span of one afternoon, and potentially another from Tommy when he and Grace made it home from New York, so it was without much of a fight that Clara shrugged into her coat and marched alongside her cousin in something close to silence.

The heels of Clara’s boots announced her arrival in the church, bringing a bit of unwanted attention to her lateness as she strolled down the center aisle. Polly was already settled in a pew, her eyes drawn closed, her mind seemingly lost in some silent vigil.

“I saved you a seat,” Polly said, her words quiet but clear. The woman’s eyes remained closed as Clara glanced around the empty church, snorting a bit at her aunt’s dry wit.

Clara slipped in beside her aunt and Polly opened her eyes, quiet as she waited for the girl to settle.

“Has your cousin spoken with you?”

“Well, just like the rest of them, your son speaks at me all the while, so I’m afraid you’ll have to be a little more specific."

Since they'd had some friends to Polly's Sutton Coldfield house over the weekend while she was visiting Ada, Clara guessed it had to do with that. She couldn't imagine anything else would require her being hauled down to the church on a Tuesday afternoon, but Clara had no plans to offer up that information.

"Have you forgotten you're speaking to Aunt Polly and not your brother?"

Clara glanced at her aunt. "So, we’re here for a lecture, then?”

“We’re here for a little reflection,” Polly answered. “Seems you need it.”

Clara didn’t understand her aunt’s insistence on reflecting from the pew of a church. Clara did plenty of reflection on her own, twisting and turning over every little thought until she’d assessed just about every realistic possibility, and a few unrealistic ones as well. She certainly didn’t need a church to do it. Clara had no trouble getting lost in reflection—not at school or in bed late at night or while out for a little walk.

And if the draw of reflection at church was presence of God, Clara didn’t agree with that either. If there was a God, and Clara thought that might be quite a significant if, she couldn’t imagine they only existed within the four walls of a church.

"So, a confession, you mean?" Clara said. She knew that's what her aunt was truly after. Polly wanted Clara to tell her a bit of truth about something. The reflection would come later, like when she wasn’t allowed any fun for the rest of the week. "Why aren't you dragging the boys in for confession as well?"

Polly nodded towards the door. "Your brother just left."

Of course, she would start with Finn. He had the loosest lips of the three of them and was by far the easiest to pull a confession from.

"That little—" Clara started.

"Don't go bad-mouthing your brother. He tried to tell me you weren't even there,” Polly said. “He’s loyal to you to a fault, that boy.”

Polly’s words forced a brief smile from Clara. She and Finn had their fighting moments, but he was exactly what Polly had said, loyal to his twin sister to a fault.

"So, it was Michael, then, I suppose?" Clara said, straightening the already straightened gloves that sat in her lap. "Well, whatever he's told you, I can assure you he's lying."

"About what?" Polly said, her sharp words quickly following Clara’s.

Clara hummed, the sound she made acting as a question.

“What is it Michael’s lied to me about?”

"Oh, um, about…" Clara cleared her throat. "Well, about whatever it is he's told you."

Polly stared at her niece with an eyebrow raised, a nearly amused smile on her face.

"About…about the whiskey?" Clara offered into the quiet between them.

"And what might Michael have told me about the whiskey?"

"That I had a very small amount of your whiskey?" Clara held up two fingers to demonstrate the amount.

"Well, your cousin didn't mention any whiskey," Polly said, "but he did mention a get together and a broken—"

Clara’s reaction took over her whole body, a bit of poorly-veiled shock coming to her face as she slid her now rigid body down the pew to put a measure of distance between herself and her aunt. "I didn't—"

Polly cleared her throat. "A broken vase," she said, her voice a bit raised, "which Michael has taken full responsibility for. Already purchased a replacement from his wages and insisted it was an accident. Now I suppose that's what Michael must be lying about?"

Clara sucked in her bottom lip and began idly chewing as she contemplated her response. Michael was lying about that. It was Clara and Finn who broke the vase, or Clara supposed it was technically Finn’s arm which hit the vase and sent it crashing to the floor, but Clara had shoved him just before.

Polly never should have known any of that though. They’d cleaned it up and agreed not to speak of it again. Polly didn’t care about all the little trinkets. They’d rearranged the shelf and assumed it wouldn’t come up, and if it did, it would be so far in the future they’d all be safe enough from any true retribution.

"Well, um, actually—"

"He said to me, 'Mum, don't be cross with Finn and Clara. It was my fault. They had nothing to do with it’."

Clara nodded her head a few times. "Well, good. It’s good Michael decided to come clean. Sounds like we're all squared up, then, eh?" Clara made to stand up but Polly caught her arm, the gentle application of Polly's fingers enough to stop Clara. Without a word, she lowered and once again settled back against the pew.

"So, you think he's told me the truth then?" Polly asked, her tone a bit softer than it had been up until now.

Polly knew Michael had lied to her about the vase. It wasn’t the first thing Clara and Finn had their hands in breaking. And the twins always tried to hide their mishaps rather than just coming clean. And despite knowing better, they always assumed they could simply clean up and rearrange some things without Polly noticing.

Clara nodded. "Well, I believe so. If Michael says he's done it and he's paid for a new one, then—"

"Well, he also said that you let someone out of your room at four in the morning, so what was that one truth as well? Or a lie, do you think?"

Clara gulped, her throat and mouth suddenly going scratchy and dry. She thought about calling her cousin’s words a lie, not bothering to elaborate on the fact that the only part of it that was untrue was the time. She'd let someone out of her room at half-past three in the morning, not at four.

"And before you answer, remember who it is you're speaking to."

"Aunt Polly, it's really not what it sounds like."

"Well, I certainly hope not because it sounds like you were drunk on whiskey with a boy in your room."

Clara didn't answer and Polly turned towards her. "Am I meant to take that silence as confirmation that this was exactly what it sounds like?"

"No, not exactly," Clara answered. "There was a boy," Clara shifted in her seat. "And there was a very insignificantly small amount of whiskey. And they were both in my room, but it wasn't like that."

"Who?" Polly asked.

"What?"

"Tell me the boy's name."

"No."

"No?"

"Why would I? So you can tell my brothers and they can threaten to cut whoever it is. And anyway, I'm sure Michael's already—"

"Michael didn't see who it was, only heard the click of the door and you whispering out in the hall."

Clara was regretting her claim of the bedroom beside her cousin's. It had a nice view of the garden and she had fallen in love with it before Michael rejoined the family, but it was becoming more trouble than it was worth.

"Well, good," Clara said. "It's not particularly important who it was. All that's important is that nothing's happened, nothing like you're thinking anyway. It's not like that."

Polly gave Clara a long look as she determined whether or not the girl was telling the truth.

"You’re lucky it was your cousin who heard you and not one of your brothers, lucky he came to me instead of them with this nonsense."

"If I was lucky, he would have just kept his fu—" Polly shot her a look and Clara shut her mouth. "And it's not nonsense. It's—"

"Love?" Polly said, cutting Clara off before she could even begin. "We all think it’s love at your age, sweetheart. The feeling will pass and you’ll be grateful you didn’t waste your time.”

"I never said anything about lo—"

"There will be plenty of time for boys," Polly said, "when you're a little older. You’ll settle down with a nice—"

"A nice boy my brothers choose for me?” Clara laughed. “I think I'll take my chances and just do as I please instead."

“You will not,” Polly answered, the sharpness of her tone startling Clara a bit. “You’ll listen to your brothers and your cousin and to me because it’s not only your safety we’re concerned about here, now is it?”

“My safety’s not even—”

“It is a concern. There’s things... business you don’t know about and your safety is always a concern. And when those boys are concerned about your safety, they're not thinking of their own. When they’re thinking about whether you’re off somewhere you’re not meant to be or making friends with someone you’re not meant to be making friends with, their heads are with you. So, you tell me who you were with and let me decide whether or not it’s a concern."

Clara considered her aunt’s words and knew they were at least a bit true. It was why they all liked her to be tucked away safe when Blinder business was afoot. Knowing she wasn’t at risk freed up a bit of space in their heads and allowed them to focus. Clara took a deep breath. "It was just Isiah."

"Just Isiah?"

"Just Isiah," Clara repeated. "We were just talking and we fell asleep. I swear."

Polly barely took a second to study her niece and determine the authenticity of the statement. It was the plain truth and Polly knew it. “I thought you and Isiah weren’t on speaking terms?”

Clara shrugged. “We are now.”

Polly nodded. "Well, I believe you were both told several years ago that you’re much too old for sleepovers, even if he is just Isiah." Polly stood up, pulling on her gloves as she stepped past Clara. “And this best be the last I hear you’ve been in the whiskey, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Clara muttered.

“And Clara?”

Clara glanced up at her aunt who was now standing a few pews away.

“Don’t think I don’t know it was you and Finn who broke the vase.”

Clara bit her lip. “But Michael—”

“Is another boy in this family who’s loyal to you to a fault,” Polly answered. “He only came to me because he was concerned about you.” Polly watched Clara working through her words. “More concerned about his cousin than what his mum would do to him over a party and a broken vase.”

Polly waited for Clara’s acknowledgment and then turned and walked away, her heels clicking as she made her way down the center aisle.

Clara stayed in the empty church, settling in for a bit of reflection.

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