#there's always just that lingering little doubt of does anyone ACTUALLY care about me

[allisonreader]

I am in a constant state of self-doubt. I just don't let anyone see it.

[comfortless]

sylly (like silly yk yk) what are your könig hcs? 🌹

SYLLY?! i…. Ok…. fair warning this is a little long… all that i do is think about this guy someone get him out of my head.

tread carefully reading this! there is a lot of sensitive content here: mental health stuff, abuse, mentions of sex and pornographic material, suicidal ideation, etc etc.

Generic, silly headcanons:

He prefers coffee (black) over tea, but he does have a bit of a sweet tooth (will never resist caramel if it’s presented to him). Honestly, he’s pretty self-reliant when it comes to food, too. On lazy days, he makes enough to where a takeout bill is hardly a concern, but for the most part he cooks! Not a chef by any means, but nothing he ever makes is bad!

Definitely wants a big, loving family, the polar opposite of what he had growing up as an only child in a far less than perfect household. Not a dealbreaker, but he does yearn for all of the love that he’s missed out on and then some.

Not big on video games, but… I do think he is absolutely spending every lonely leave playing Elder Scrolls. Would be so easy to convince to go larping or to a renfaire. I see everyone’s car/bike guy headcanons and I raise you… obsessed with fantasy König. He loves history and myth!! Why not combine the two and see him in chainmail.

The scent & kink posts. But to add… he’s an affectionate biter. (,: Knows the correct places to do so that won’t cause damage or hurt too terribly much. Likes to sniff you just as well! The embodiment of the “merge souls with me” post; in love, he just wants to feel you any way that he can and have some part of you lingering on him, even if it’s just a stray hair or your scent clinging to his shirt or pillowcase.

Cheating is never on this guy’s mind when he’s in a relationship. If he’s found a lady not running for the hills the second she catches sight of him, that’s his one and only. Sure, he may find himself attracted to someone else at some point or other during the duration of a relationship, but he’s devoted and disciplined! There’s never the fear of anyone coming in between he and his lover. He’ll spoil you with gifts, clingy to a point it’s overbearing, always giving you the utmost care… but is not opposed to bullying you into being a submissive, trembling mess either. He’s balanced!

Adores animals. Like any of them. There’s a special place in his heart for cats, but having a constant companion that he can take on hikes like a large dog would be ideal. Would definitely consider owning a tarantula or a snake, too. ^^ He isn’t scared of anything, let alone a creature that most are misinformed about… (he projects a little..). He would treat them just as well as anyone would treat a more “normal” pet. Understanding if you wouldn’t want to hold a giant arachnid (they’re delicate and you squirming over it would make him a bit protective over the poor thing. ): ), but it would mean a lot to him if you were more accepting.

König would not be a pretty sight (to most people) the majority of the time… I doubt that he takes care of himself past training his body and his allotted one-two minute military showers. His character description describes what is rumored to be under his mask as scary. Let him have his buzzcut, and scars, and teeth or old wounds a little too fucked up to fix! Unconventionally attractive is still attractive! (i think his ‘face reveal’ is actually so cute…)

Lots of sporadic little thoughts, but… Ambidextrous, can not ride a bike, whistles/hums to fill lapses of silence, flexes his fingers/cracks his knuckles when he’s nervous, definitely snores (loudly), brushes his teeth like 3-4 times a day (when he can) because he eats so much, not a picky eater at all, thinks it’s cute if you’re affectionately a little grossed out by him from time to time, absolutely the kind of person that thinks fuel and fire smell good, fluent in English and German but certainly knows many words and phrases from other languages.

Kind of clumsy. Overthinks the way his body looks to the point where sometimes his movements are a little stiff. Overestimates how tall a door frame may be if he’s distracted in the presence of others, hits his head and plays it off like he didn’t even notice. He’s (obviously) highly confident on the field, but in regular circumstances it’s totally reversed.

Though. Yeah. Sometimes this does translate onto the field. Can’t stay in one place for too long, once knocked an enemy soldier out by barreling into him. He’s a quick shot, skillful with any weapon that falls into his hands, but his focus can get a little skewed.

He collects some things. Nothing exactly pricy, but antique knives, coins, and a pocket watch or two. And he isn’t the most apt at putting things together in an appealing way… The first time you’re allowed into his house it looks like he’s robbed some vintage hunting shop/is planning something nefarious with the way he’s just got a few daggers strewn about his kitchen table. Just push them to the side, it’s fine! (His favorite is certainly one with a handle carved from a stag’s antler.)

Definitely takes a physical approach to bad feelings. @melancholic-thing mentioned to me that he bites himself when he’s feeling dejected or frustrated and yeah. (All of Ghost’s hcs for him are factually correct.) Not going to punch a hole through the wall but may aggressively slam a door or raise his voice before he can catch himself.

I have many thoughts about König’s childhood/early adulthood. Like, too many. But to summarize…

I think that everyone experiences bullying to an extent but what would make it so bad that it managed to make its way into the scraps that we do have of him? What made him so fundamentally unlikable to his peers? /: With my König I’ve settled on it being a blend of neurodivergency and a nightmare home life and alienation from his peers.

Height is predominantly viewed as a good trait. I don’t think it was necessarily his appearance at all that got him picked on so heavily (albeit… I do think that he would have had some scars, crooked teeth, regular facial bruising or cuts from scraps with other children/his father). Perhaps not the most conventionally attractive guy around, but normally viewed as a solid 5/10, just average. The kind of person who you wouldn’t remember from just a face alone.

His personality was always memorable though.

Whilst the other children/teenagers were interested in the regular trends, sports, whatever was shown on the television or heard on the radio at the time, I think he probably would have had a great interest in escapism!!

Comics, books, researching history and geography, etc, anything that could keep him from thinking of where he was/what other people viewed him as. He had a lot of strange things to say: odd facts (like the kind of person to tell you the longest word in the dictionary because he thinks it’s cool, “um actually—“ to correct something, monologuing about some bug you’ve just squashed and how it was not just a pest but very useful in nature, borderline concerning reactions to being shunned (feigned threats of violence that he would laugh off, things he’s probably heard from media and his own parents), over explaining himself for the simplest of misunderstandings, and… quoting his Oma’s very old-fashioned turns of phrase (think of little Kö regularly saying “Du gehst mir tierisch auf den Keks.” when he’s annoyed whereas the others say things far less dated like “Du gehst mir auf den Sack.”)

With him being difficult to relate to and having the most uncanny things slip out of his mouth, others probably did view him as a bit of a freak. He didn’t particularly stand up for himself often either apart from a few fights (and would never hit a girl). He would stay quiet, pretend to focus on his studies or whatever else was before him while the other children jeered and taunted. Regularly a target for fake confessions and offers to hang out outside of school, too.

König did have crushes, did have people he thought were cool and wanted to befriend, but after the third time of showing up someplace that he had to walk to on his own to find that no one had actually wanted to spend their time with him, he gave up.

I don’t think he had a good relationship with his parents or much of anyone. Seriously, leaving for the military at seventeen sets off a ton of alarm bells! He left the week of his Oma’s passing, because what else was there for him — no girlfriend, no prospects, hardly a relationship with his mother or father.

His father was your standard shit parent— womanizing, loud, physically abusive towards König. “Bonding” activities with him always had a heavy lean towards violence: hunting and arguing that usually resulted in fist fighting his own son seemed to be his favorites. A small man with an equally small ego— he probably would have boasted about his affairs to König, exposed him to pornography as a way of making sure his son wasn’t anything other than straight (which: never stopped his curiosity). He would never hold back from telling König that he would never in a million years find a girl willing to put up with his supposed stupidity and shortcomings. Generally just viewed his own son as utterly worthless if not for use as a punching bag.

In turn, König always loathed him, would dread hearing the bastard just walking around the house because he knew he would always find something to bicker with his wife or son over. Nothing that they ever did would be deemed correct, and his social anxiety initially developed from his dealings with him.

His mother was withdrawn, emotionally neglectful. König was just… there to her; another mouth to feed, another person begging for the attention she would have rather spared on herself.

She wasn’t a bad mother and she did try, but the product of dealing with his father’s nonsense + letting her own mental illness go unchecked (as in, his father controlled the family financially and why would he let her blow through their funds to see a therapist and “lose her lucidity with pills and ridiculous talks”). There were some days when she would be feeling more like herself and take König along with her for walks through the park where she would try to ask him about his life, about school, and… he would end up spilling his guts to her only for her to return to silence. Still, those were his favorite days. His fondest memory was picking a flower for her on one of those walks, one that she kept pressed and later framed.

There were never family dinners, no movie nights, no day trips or vacations. The most blissful of days were spent in the comfort of his room where he could keep the door locked and muffle the sounds of his parents arguing with loud music.

So, König did not have much of a safe space within his own home, but he had his Oma and her cluttered little house. She had books and plenty of food, even a cat, too. Though she was like his mother, stern and withdrawn, she would at least sit with him and tell him stories of her own life. She would at least tell him “Ich lieb dich, Käferchen!” in her quiet voice, stroke his head where he would sit with his nose buried in a book beside her. She would show him her dusty antiques, her old photographs, and in turn taught him to be a proper man by making him tend to what needed to be done around her house. And the garden. He loved his Oma’s garden, full of orchids, petunias, and tomatoes she would mash up to make him goulash or tomatensalat!

With Austria’s leading religion being Catholicism, I do think his Oma would have dragged him with her to service plenty, too. Not that he ever particularly enjoyed it… just zoned out with a plastic soldier in his pocket to fidget with or some trading card he spent the money he earned doing chores for her on. He’s never considered himself religious, thought himself to be bound for Hell no matter what, even if most of the time he felt that he was already there.

You take a puppy that’s been beaten down his entire life, but still remains eager and throw him in a barrack with people more horrible than any bully he’s ever had, though…? He starts taking his father’s advice more and more then. He wouldn’t harm anyone that he didn’t view as deserving of it, but it didn’t need to go that far that often, anyway. König is aware of the space he takes up by then, aware that all of his training has made him more broad and sturdy, and those playground fights are nothing compared to what he’s capable of now.

He gets his callsign from a quip about him owning nothing. His barrack is empty, devoid of pictures or any sentimental belongings. He rarely checks his phone, there might be the occasional missed call from a spam number, what is there to even see? He has no social media presence, every leave is spent in a shitty apartment only a days travel from his hometown, and he is utterly silent when the other soldiers invite him out for drinks. So yes, he’s a king. The king of absolutely nothing.

One of these rowdy boys does eventually coax him into talking to a woman. He loses his virginity in a disgusting bar bathroom, where he asks her after the two minutes he’s spent inside of her if it means anything to her at all. She laughs, washes herself in the sink and calms him down, but doesn’t give him her number or anything more than her first name.

He’s starved for love, utterly miserable without it, but doesn’t have much of a desire to seek it out, either. He’s seen how people are, how they treat him. But time and time again he will grapple onto any thread that may lead him to a pinhole of hope when it’s offered to him. For the most part, he has his hand and a perpetually almost-empty bottle of lotion.

And it’s not much of a surprise that König has contemplated suicide more times than he can count. It has never culminated in any way, only fearing that he would disappoint his men, even further disappoint his parents, maybe even a small part of him still believes in a Hell; that maybe with enough vigilantism on his part he’ll earn his way to a pleasant afterlife, one he teeters on the separation of believing in and not.

He doesn’t think about his mental health, always haunted by his father’s words, thinking that assuredly it would make him weak if he were to seek help for something like his own thoughts. So he overexerts himself during workouts, bottles everything other than rage and love inside: no one is going to see him cry, not ever again after being laughed at for him hundreds of times during school where he sat being called an “ugly giant” a “daydreaming freak” and an “idiot” near daily where silent tears did escape, only spurring further laughter.

Though I do not write him with these things in mind for every au, there are always subtle hints scattered about. ^^ I could probably prattle on forever about him, but I will leave you with this for now…

[bahrtofane]

Dialogue 15 and trope 19 with Kylian 💞 Your writing is so good!

thank u sm !! enjoy lovely <333

- "Can we start over, just you and me?" -  Second Chance

word count - 600+

watch it - kinda toxic relationship but its okay kinda happy ending hehe

In some parallel universe there's a version of you and kylian that haven't broken up and you're still in his home cozy in his expensive comforters without a care in the world as he pressed kisses to your cheeks. 

This is not your universe and the reality that you live is instead that you haven seen him in weeks and the last you did you stormed off screaming at dinner. Hey can you really blame yourself? 

Kylian has dragged you on a wild ride filled with so much drama you could actually kneel over and die just from thinking about it. 

And if you ask him, he'd say you were never together. The nerve. 

You hope he breaks a knee or something. That would shut him up. You think hes single handedly the most egotistical person you have ever had the misery of meeting. 

To him, he was untouchable. On and off the pitch. He was-is- Kylian Mbappe, what does anyone have to say to his face but praise? Nothing. 

Funny thing is you never meant to get involved this much. At the wrong moment at the wrong time. And boom you collided. Literally. At a friend's birthday dinner you got up to fix your dress, and here comes Mr hot shot not looking where he was going and slammed right into you. Sending you right into the table ribs first. That bruise was sore for ages. 

And the rest is history. A very miserable depressing history that leaves you with a pile of keepsakes under your bed. You have yet to find the heart to throw them out. 

And through all this you still let him come obver after practice to ‘talk.’ what the hell is there to talk about? The rumors that made you leave? The amount of times he never outright said you were together? God. 

He shows up soon enough. In all black and with flowers and a bag. You toss them into your kitchen table and guide him to your couch. 

“What is this about Kylian?” you sigh. 

He wrings his hands together, unable to look you in the eye. 

"Can we start over, just you and me?" soft. Gentle. 

“Kylain.” you warn. 

“I'm serious. I let talk and rumors get the best of me. I failed you in the process.”

“We start over and we what, do the same thing over and watch how you embarrass me?” you lash out. 

He winces,”no. I want you back and I want to treat you properly. I'm sorry for all I put you through. That's on me and always will be. But I can't just let you leave. I need you.”

"Fine," you relent, your tone laced with reluctance. "Let's start over. But this time, Kylian, we do it on my terms. No more games, no more lies. Just honesty, trust, and a genuine effort to make things work."

Kylian's expression softens, he's relieved. "I promise, this time will be different. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust and make things right."

You nod, though the doubts still linger in the back of your mind. "We'll see," you murmur, unwilling to fully let your guard down just yet. You know him well enough to know not to jump for joy. He needs to prove all this talk to you first. 

As Kylian reaches out to take your hand, you can't help but wonder if you're making a mistake, if you're setting yourself up for heartbreak once again. But amidst the uncertainty, there's a glimmer of hope—a belief that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

Together, you take a tentative step forward, ready to give love another chance, praying that this time, it won't end in disappointment. Praying that you won't have to tear down every little thing that reminds you of him. That maybe Kylian has space for you in his life rather than just  haphazard room he's made on a whim from shoving things aside till they swallow you whole. 

Only time will tell. 

[daybreakrising]

BLADE HEADCANONS - Y.INGXING & THE HIGH CLOUD QUINTET

before i begin, just a reminder that this is my personal headcanon and i don't expect anyone else to agree with me. regardless, this is how i will approach blade's history with the high cloud quintet, so it needs to be its own meta.

and whilst i am firmly on the hill that the high cloud quintet were a nice little polycule, i won't force that on anyone. blade's feelings towards the other four will remain the same, but i leave it to the writers of those muses if they want to go down the polycule route or not. i'm good with either.

also if you want a beautiful animated short that revolves around their story, then i direct you to this video. i've watched it at least a dozen times since i found it and i am now drowning in hcq emotions ;_;

A HIGHLY PASSIONATE INDIVIDUAL

i've talked before in this meta about how for someone to hate as fiercely as blade does, one must also have the same capacity to love - and that this is the remnants of y.ingxing that linger within him. y.ingxing as a man was proud, confident to the point of arrogance, but also incredibly passionate about the things that mattered to him. and i mention all of these things specifically because it is at the root of why i see him having deep feelings for every member of the HCQ.

it's a cliché, of course, to say "there's enough of him to go around", but it's also true. y.ingxing has such capacity to love that it cannot be restricted only to one person. now, that's not to say he cannot do monogamy - he can, absolutely - but i do feel like he thrived most under the affections of (and in giving affection to) many.

but lauri, i hear you say, why can't it just be platonic affection? why does it have to be romantic? well, it doesn't have to be, and in fact, in every case regarding the HCQ, that's how it started for y.ingxing: these are people he admired, respected, cared for deeply. they were his friends. none of these dynamics started out with romantic intentions & whilst there would definitely be degrees of initial attraction involved with some of them, he certainly didn't seek their company for that reason.

for the majority of those connections, that deep platonic love for them didn't develop into something more until he was well into adulthood, having spent many years alongside them. and, of course, each relationship was different.

FORGING BONDS FOR LIFE

j.ing y.uan

there was also the boy who kept bickering with him.

it was j.ing y.uan who first sparked something beyond friendship in y.ingxing's heart, though it wasn't acknowledged until well after the fact. they had a good-natured rivalry right from the start, being similar in age (at least in emotional maturity if not actual age, given one is a long-life species and the other a short-life), and though they bickered constantly, it was always in good spirits. the banter, the sparring, the fond little jabs at each other - this kindled the first flames of an affection that went beyond platonic.

y.ingxing treasured that rivalry from its beginning to its end. he found in jy not only a true friend but someone he felt he could rely upon no matter what. for all their bickering, there was no one more loyal than jy. and that meant everything to him. it still does.

b.aiheng

what difference does it make to your achievements, whether you're a long-life or a short-life species? just focus on what you want to do, and let fate take its course.

things progressed somewhat differently with b.aiheng than with jy. she was the first of the hcq that y.ingxing truly trusted - she had known him when he was still that shy, insecure apprentice, and her words of encouragement had pushed him to find the confidence in himself that he would later become known for. she was the first person he opened up to, allowed himself to be vulnerable with, and he adored her. her endless optimism, her vibrant nature, was always enough to chase away any lingering doubts or worries he had about himself and his skill. he attributes a great part of his success as a craftsman to her for this reason. without her continued encouragement, he might never have had the confidence and inspiration to achieve great things.

that adoration didn't blossom into something more until he was invited into the hcq officially, and started spending even more time in their company. it was so easy to see why b.aiheng was the most loved amongst the five - what else could they do but love her? her spirit was something to be greatly admired, and admire it y.ingxing did with his entire soul. he would have done anything if it earned him one of her smiles.

dan f.eng

out of all of us, you were the closest to him. it was strange, really — to see someone so arrogant get along with someone so proud.

there is no denying that the bond between y.ingxing and dan f.eng ran deep - deeper than any other bond y.ingxing had within the hcq. but, as with the others, it was its own unique bond: y.ingxing loved j.ing y.uan for his loyalty and friendship, b.aiheng for her spirit and belief in him - and dan f.eng for the kinship he felt with him from the start. of all the hcq members, he felt instantly drawn to dan f.eng for no reason he could name. there was simply a natural comfort to be found in his presence, one he didn't question, and one he came to value highly.

of all the hcq members, the path from admiration to adoration was much shorter in the case of dan f.eng than the others. perhaps this is in part due to the timing of their meeting: as an adult already aware of his growing affections for his fellows, y.ingxing was more in tune with his emotions, more comfortable in following his heart's desires, less afraid to chase what he wanted and certainly not lacking in the confidence to approach it head on. whatever the reason, y.ingxing cherished the moments spent in dan f.eng's company, even those - especially those - spent in companionable silence.

j.ingliu

at first, i wasn't too fond of his defiant nature...

as with the others, his relationship with j.ingliu was very different - and remained the most complex of them all until the end (and has since become even more complicated-). initially, y.ingxing sought only to earn her respect and admiration, caring little for anything beyond her acknowledgement of him. that she had inspired his respect and admiration goes without saying - he was in awe of her skill and strength, though he may not have outwardly shown that for the longest time, choosing instead to relay a more subdued acknowledgement of her prowess, largely as a matter of pride.

the sword he crafted for her was the ultimate test, in his eyes: only the sword champion of the luofu cloud knights can tap into the full potential of this sword i have crafted. and seeing her wield it, this blade forged specifically for her hand - that was the moment y.ingxing knew there was more to this bond than simple respect or a desire for acknowledgement. and of course there was: what else was that blade forged with but love?

LITERALLY, FOR LIFE

y.ingxing held onto these bonds so tightly, treasured them so fiercely, that they linger still somewhere within blade, though often clouded by mara and painful memories. of those relationships, the one that brings him the least pain overall is that of j.ing y.uan - his friend, his rival, the first one to win his heart but certainly not the last.

but blade is not y.ingxing; and whilst he still carries these bonds in his heart, things will never be the same. such bonds may have to be forged anew from the ashes that remain.

REGARDING INTERACTIONS WITH HCQ MEMBERS

as said at the beginning, this is how i approach blade's history with the rest of the quintet. however, i am in no way suggesting that any of these feelings were reciprocated - or if they were, that they were acted upon. if i'm writing with any of these characters, i leave that decision up to them, and we can discuss how the dynamic would play out both in the past and in the present. regardless, y.ingxing loved them all and i will die on this hill.

tldr; y.ingxing was in love with every member of the high cloud quintet, each in their own unique way.

[arrieebooks]

Precious Weapon (7)

Pairing : Lloyd Hansen x F!OC (Elle) x Sierra Six (Court Gentry) x Glimpses of Denny Carmichael.

Summary : She gets into a life and death situation as the guys attempt to save her, whatever it takes. Six finally opens up to her. She makes a huge decision, affecting her mission. 

Warnings : Serious injuries. Bullet wounds. So much blood. Gore. Surgery. Stitches. Suffering. Pain. Hurt. More unrealistic healing. Coma. Tension. Death. Actual detailed murder. Detailed torture. Trauma. Ptsd. Fluff and comfort at the end. 

Word count : 19.6k words.

Author's note : Well, I think this is the best chapter I’ve ever written so far. It had angst, reunion, tension, fluff, a little violence, confessions, and comfort. This was perfect to me. Alsooo, the cover was really on point for this chapter. I scrolled for hours and hours just to find the perfect picture to portray this chapter. Lloyd's face in it looks like his gaze softened for her. Six is just quietly smiling at her and only for her.

***

She couldn't tell if she was already dead or not. 

Or if she was supposed to be in some kind of afterlife by now. 

It is a void of nothingness that she's in now. Pitch black. Dark. Blank. Dull. Absolutely nothing. 

She still feels some pain, though. It's just less than earlier. She's aware that she can't move an inch of her body. She's almost paralyzed. She can't wake up again even if she wanted to. She's…stuck.

In times like this, she can only think of somewhere she should be other than here.

She used to believe in an afterlife. In an eternity of paradise or an eternity of suffering. Heaven and hell. But it never came across her mind that she'd die one day. She thought she was completely invincible. 

Everything is muffled and suppressed to her. She could still hear Lloyd's and Six's voices but she has no idea what they're saying or doing to her.

She just wants this to end. To not feel. To not suffer anymore. To be somewhere else but here. 

She does not want to be stuck here forever, being in a dark and consuming void. 

She always wondered if she'll ever get to feel death like anyone else. Guess it's time for that now. 

***

It all happened way too fast. 

Six felt like he was having another nightmare. He never had a nightmare about her, though. 

Yet, this was real. Very real. He couldn't believe what he was seeing at first. 

She was dying on the floor, bleeding out of so many bullets. Her eyes were already closed, she passed out. It was impossible to save her. He knew it. He thought it was the end of her. 

But Lloyd didn't. He didn't want to give up. He remembered what he told her when she was shot last. She needed to get the bullets out of her first, then she could heal herself. 

So, he did everything he could within his unlimited resources and with the CIA. He had no doubt that Denny wanted his most valuable weapon and asset to not die either. 

He had flown in the best CIA surgeons from the closest country here, Singapore. They wouldn't ask questions about her condition and they'd get the job done. He requested for them to be all women. He didn't want some old man taking her shirt off and seeing her bare body. He knew she'd prefer it this way, too.

Six had carried her body all the way from the hospital to the car and back to the penthouse. Her blood was covered all over him but he was past caring. He really wanted this plan to work. He couldn't let her die. Not when they haven't even resolved their issues. Not when she hasn't even known his real name yet. She can't die hating him. 

When the surgeons and medical supplies arrived, he immediately placed her body on the surgery bed they had brought in. 

They're in one of the unused empty rooms in their penthouse and now it's used as a medical room. They never thought they needed one, for her or for them. 

The surgeons kept quiet and did their job right, despite lingering questions on how she could still be alive and breathing even after being shot so many times. Eight times. Eight bullets. 

She was shot eight times. By some miracle, it didn't hit any of her vital organs. She could still survive this. They had hope. 

*** 

The penthouse was finally quiet after the surgery was all done. 

Lloyd and Six went back to their rooms for a while to go clean up while the nurses watched over her. They were still full of blood. 

She was put in the hospital bed along with her own pillows and blanket. The nurses had cleaned her up after the surgery and changed her into her comfortable clothes. 

She's stable and calm, for now. Hasn't woken up yet, but they gave her some painkillers through her IV. Triple dosage, given her condition. 

Oddly enough, she hasn't healed yet. At all. They took all the bullet outs and gave her stitches. She's never had stitches before in her life. Never needed one.

But the doctor told them that she just needs more time to heal and rest. She won't be in a coma like this for long. 

Six stalks into the kitchen after he just freshly showered. He poured himself a coffee while Lloyd sat across from him in the kitchen island, browsing on his laptop.

The early morning sun glowed on both of them through the window. They've lost track of time. They didn't realize that the sun's already dawned. It's almost about eight am by now.

"It was a clusterfuck." he remarks dryly. He's so tired. They both are. They've only had a few hours of sleep last night and that was it. They don't even think that they'd be able to sleep tonight if she hasn't healed yet.

Six regarded him with a soft look. He knows he's stressed over this. "She'll be fine. She'll heal. As always." he says with an assuring tone. He needs this right now. Someone to tell him that everything's going to be okay. 

"She's not healing." Lloyd tells him, looking up from his laptop.

"She just needs more time. Trust her. She's the one who told us what her body's capable of." Six reassures him again. 

He looks down and eventually nods, leaning onto his chair. "Yeah, okay. Fine. So what are we going to do with the elephant in our basement?" Lloyd asks.

After the agents got the hostages out safely, they decided to keep the guy who was holding them there and brought him back here. He wasn't supposed to be here. It just happened. 

Six shrugs. "Why didn't you get rid of him back in the hospital?" he asks back.

He shakes his head. "I didn't have time to make that choice. I was trying to save her life first. She was my priority. Not that fucking dude who were hurting the innocent hostages there." he clarifies.

"One of your guys was supposed to kill him right there. We don't need him here right now." Six coldly said. He really doesn't have time to think about some stupid guy in their basement right now. 

"First, our guys only listen to our orders. They were the ones who brought him here because we didn't order them to kill him there. Besides, he's the brain of this shitshow. He's the reason Elle is in there right now." Lloyd points out. 

Six's facial expressions immediately changed. He's angry but he never shows it. He just keeps it to himself, especially when he's extremely angered. He prefers to contain himself so he won't make the situation even worse. 

"Did he know we were coming? Or that she was going to be there?" he asks more. He needs to make sure. 

Lloyd stares at him before contemplating. "Actually, probably not. But still. And maybe, by him, we could find out who his higher up is. The big boss. He must be hiding somewhere, puckering his asshole because of us." he answers.

He raises his brows. "You mean 'by him' means we're going to torture him?" Six asks. He knows what Lloyd is capable of and is good at.

Lloyd tips his head. "Well, I'll torture him. You just stay here. Check on her." he tells him.

Six frowns. "Are you sure? What if she wakes up?" he asks.

"Then you'll be there. That's what matters. For her." Lloyd says, getting up from his seat as he slowly walks away.

He still thinks that Six is the better man he deserves. Even after last night. 

Six simply nods. He doesn't exactly agree but he knows there's no point in arguing now. "Alright, fine. Don't fuck the guy up too much." He reminds him.

He stops walking before turning to him. His lips slowly tug into a smirk. "Six, I'm good at torturing. I know what I'm doing." Lloyd smugly says.

He knows. But right now, Lloyd's not exactly in a stable state. Not that he's ever been stable to begin with, yet this whole almost death situation with her has really fucked him up. He saw the panic and real horror in face when he was watching the surgeons operate on her. He was so scared that they'd screw up and she'd die instantly from it. Even before the surgery, he had made light threats to them to treat this as their most important surgery in their life. Technically, it was since she's the first patient to ever survive those many bullets and has healing abilities. 

Lloyd was terrified. For the very first time in his life. He almost lost her. He couldn't have that. He'd rather burn the entire human existence except for them, than not have her with him again.

"I'll call you when she wakes up." Six tells him and he nods approvingly before walking towards the elevator to go to the first floor.

They actually weren't even aware of a basement. The agents were. It's located somewhere below the hidden stairs inside the storage room. Pretty creepy for a basement in a penthouse. But it's doable for an urgent situation like this. They weren't expecting this. 

As soon as Lloyd stepped into the elevator, Six puts down his mug of coffee on the counter and sighs. He's not exactly sure he's the man she wants to see considering the little fight they had before all this but he still needs to see her. Awake or not. 

He wants to make it up to her. Fix all that. 

***

Six slowly and carefully enters her medical room with light footsteps. 

His eyes quickly study the room. She's still resting with two nurses on each side of her, sitting on a chair. The room is wide and spacious. Too many empty spaces. The morning sun shines way too bright on the room. It doesn't smell like blood anymore here. They've cleaned everything up and made it sterile for her. They got rid of the surgery bed too. 

One of the nurses noticed him and her face quickly turned tense. "Oh. Sorry. We didn't see you. Do you want us to leave?" she nervously asks. 

Lloyd gave them a bad impression when he was yelling at all of them to treat her quicker. So now they're intimidated. Six didn't say anything to them before this, he was really quiet earlier. He was just focusing on her and calming Lloyd. 

Six nods, going into the room even further. "Yeah, that'd be… great. You two can take a break. I made some coffee. Didn't really make breakfast but… we have some fruit, uh, up on the counter." he offers, not even knowing the words coming out of his mouth.

He has no idea why he just said that. He has never actually interacted decently with anyone other than Elle and Lloyd. He was a cold and plain person. Hated small talk and long conversations. She changed him. He's never realized just how much she has slowly molded him into a completely different person. A better one. 

The nurses both turned to him and rose from their seats. One of them smiled kindly at him and they both muttered ‘thank you’ before leaving the room. The door gently closed behind them.

Six stood beside her bed, his eyes observing her again. She looks peaceful like this. Her arms are resting against her stomach that's covered with her blanket. Her lips are so dry. Her whole face is pale. At least she looks comfortable and cozy in her own clothes and stuff. 

He takes a seat on the small chair next to her and places his hand on hers. He sighs softly, not exactly knowing what to say since she isn't awake to hear him. But if she's in a temporary coma somehow, then maybe she could still hear him. 

"You probably can't hear me. And I'm probably sounding crazy now talking to you like this but…I can't stop thinking about our last conversation. Our fight. It was so fucking stupid of me. I don't even normally curse a lot. You know that. You know me. But you don't know enough, I was wrong. You don't know a lot about me because I didn't let you. I was…afraid. If I eventually told you everything, you'd run away. There are some things that I don't want you to know. Some parts that would scare you away." Six bluntly confesses, flatly like usual. 

He's never said these many words to anyone before, especially expressing his actual feelings. He usually represses those feelings and eventually forgets about it. But she deserves this. Someone who's willing to get out of his own comfort zone and become a better man for her. 

She heard him. Every single word. She's in the bliss of a dream somewhere but…she could still discern what he's saying. She recognizes his voice despite not seeing him. She knows this isn't a dream. Six isn't in her dream right now. She's practically high off all the painkillers they gave her so she's having weird dreams. 

She still can't move though. She's trying to, yet nothing is working. She's paralyzed because her body isn't healing yet. She is aware of everything now, because of hearing his voice. Earlier she thought that she was only dreaming and nothing was happening around her. She knows she isn't dead now. She's alive. Because he's here. 

Six gulps, looking down at their hands as he slowly intertwined his fingers with hers. Her fingers are always softer compared to his. Smaller, too. His mind plays a quick flashback when she used to put their hands together to compare their hand sizes while they're in bed. She'd always giggle softly whenever she sees the huge comparison. Then her smile would linger as she continued to watch their hands. While he would always just look at her the whole time. Whenever she laughs, he does too. 

He's happy only when she is. He has a purpose now — keeping her safe and happy. His fucking life finally mattered. It wasn't just a mission anymore. She was his purpose. Still is. 

Suddenly, her soft fingers twitch against his. That took almost every muscle in her body to just move her fingers. She really tried to move and wake up. But she can't. Not now. It's not her time yet. She needs some time to heal first.

Six looks up at her, surprised and relieved.

"You can hear me." he breathes out, leaning forward onto her. "Elle, if you do hear me, my name's — Court. It's Court, baby." he whispers as softly as possible. He finally told her his real name. He thought he'd never do it. 

He knows she won't magically wake up. Or immediately answer him back. Though, he'd really love to hear his name coming out of her beautiful lips. His real name. This is the first time in decades that he's ever said his name out loud to anyone. 

Elle heard that too. She wants to smile right now if she can. Or wake up from this coma and jump into his arms. She just wants to wake up. 

"It's okay. I'm going to stay here until you wake up. I'm not leaving your side. So when you wake up, you won't be alone. You'll have me." Six murmurs gently, planting a soft kiss on her hand. 

His tone is not exactly sweet or soothing, it's just plain and flat. But he means it. He has never said anything like this before. He's never cared enough for someone to say and feel all these things. She's the only person that did this to him and he let her. She's his first, technically. 

She made him so different and he's grateful for that.

***

Lloyd stared and tilted his head to the side while contemplating on the man tortured in front of him. He's done a number on him. 

"Aw, you poor fuck. The pain will go away as long as you tell me who your boss is." Lloyd tells him again to his face, crouching down to be eye-level with him. 

Truth is, it will. Because he's going to kill him as soon as he talks. But he isn't. He hasn't talked at all. He has kept his worthless mouth shut this whole entire time Lloyd's been torturing him. Even though from the looks of it, he looks like he's already on the brink of death. 

All of his fingernails are already gone. He has six broken fingers. His face is all beaten up as a result of Lloyd's fist and it's all bruised up and bleeding to the point that his eyes are barely open. He could've done more, but he didn't have the time to buy some supplies for it. So he had to work with what he had. 

The basement is dark. Two agents are guarding the door. Lloyd has been spending a few hours down here and he hasn't even had the time to drink or eat anything. His face is full of sweat. His hands are all mixed with blood. He knows it's also been hours since she hasn't woken up either. So he prefers to be down here than wait for her miserably. 

Lloyd slaps his face again and he winces. "Hey, come on. Can you not speak English or something? Do I need to get google translate here? Just fucking talk. Anything. Are you actually deaf?" he tries again.

The man keeps looking down and finally, he shakes his head in denial. 

Lloyd's lips turn into a smirk. "Oh. So you can hear me. Then, talk." he urges again.

He glares up at him. "No." he mutters.

Lloyd scowls. "I—are you fucking kidding me? I have spent hours here. And that's all I get? A no? Not even a full answer. Jesus. I don't get paid enough for this shit." he rambles before turning away from the man. 

"You know what? Have it your way. I'm just going to keep you in here for days to fucking rot until you finally talk. If not, then I'll kill you. And it won't be an easy and painless death. Mark my fucking words." Lloyd threatens him, casually with a pissed off tone. 

He walks away from him and gestures to the agents to keep torturing until whenever they want to stop. He doesn't give a shit anymore. He shouldn't have spent all his time down here. He should've gone upstairs to check on her instead. 

Which he'll do. 

*** 

Blood from his knuckles keeps dripping on the floor of the elevator to their penthouse as Lloyd walks into the living room. 

Two of her nurses are sitting on his couch, chattering about something stupid while laughing together.  

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Lloyd asks them, frowning at them. 

They both immediately get up from the couch, looking down before one of them tries to open her mouth but he raises a hand at them.

He shakes his head. "No, no excuses. Just get the doctor to come in here. Now." he demands and they nod their heads, stepping away from him. 

Lloyd walks towards her medical room and still makes sure to open the door slowly while entering the room.

Six knows it’s him because of his footsteps so he doesn’t turn around. He remains in his current position. His hands and arms are still rested against the bed as he holds her hand tightly. His eyes are still glued to her face. He’s been observing her for the past few hours and she hasn’t moved a single muscle yet.

“Hey. Is she healing yet?” Lloyd asks him, going further into the room as he stands beside him.

Six looks up at him. “I haven’t checked.” He mutters before gently removing his hands from her and standing up from his chair. 

He takes a quick glance at Lloyd and stares down at his bloody knuckles. 

Lloyd nods. “Yeah. I’ve wasted my time and breath on torturing some stupid fuck that won’t even talk at all. They usually talk after I take off a few of their fingernails. But this, I fucked up his entire face and broke all of his fingernails. I only got a no. That’s it.” He grumbles casually, not even considering if she could hear him or not. 

Six frowns, looking back at her for a while just to make sure she hasn’t woken up yet. “I think she could hear you. She heard me talking earlier. Her fingers moved against mine.” he tells him. 

He raises his brows. “Oh. Well maybe she could hear you earlier, not now. She doesn’t need to know about our little problem. Not now or when she wakes up.” Lloyd makes it clear.

He nods, agreeing. “Yeah. Okay.” Six mutters before turning to her and lowering himself to her. His hands gently brush on her clothes as he carefully lifts her shirt up a little to check her wounds. 

Her entire torso is filled with the surgery scars everywhere. She was being shot like a fucking shooting range. She has never had a ton of scars like this before and not for a long period of time. She always heals almost immediately after every incident. Her body is changing. Not weaker, but stronger. It’s still getting used to all the pain she’s getting constantly. Almost after every mission she took, she’d always get hurt. It was never her fault, it was mostly part of the plan. They all knew she could take the pain no matter what. 

Lloyd leans forward while his eyes search her body and there’s only one scar that has healed, on her lower abdomen. “This is weird. She’s never taken this long to heal before. And it’s already been, like, five hours since the surgery?” 

Six pulls her shirt down to cover her again. “Is there some other medication that they could give her to make the process quicker?” he asks softly, turning to him. 

He thinks about it for a moment before shaking his head and crossing his arms against his chest. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Maybe once she wakes up, then she’ll heal quicker? Can they wake her up?” Six suggested. 

Lloyd shrugs, feeling helpless and hopeless for the very first time. “I don’t know. Maybe they could reduce some of the anesthesia they gave her but she was unconscious before the surgery. And it would take a little long for the drugs to wear off on her.” he explains.

Six nods, having a glint of hope. He steps forward to him. “But it’s worth a try. Right?”

Lloyd would never deny his request. He actually listens to the man. And he knows he’s right. It’s worth a shot and right now, it’s their only shot they got. 

“Yeah, okay. I'll tell the doctor when she gets here.” Lloyd says before pausing, “I just think… that she'd be a little different after she wakes up, no? I mean, she just survived a near death situation. She almost died.” he states.

Six looks at him with a tired look. He's exhausted and now he has to think about the possibility of her not being herself once she wakes up because of the trauma. He thought that she'd change after working for the CIA for too long just like he did and Lloyd did. This is too soon for her to change. He doesn't want her to change. Ever. 

He vaguely nods. “I know. But we'll be there for her. Always.” Six reminds him.

Lloyd simply nods his head. He says nothing. He'd do the same for her. He just doesn't know how to be there for her like Six. He's still not good with comfort or with feelings or with her. He has no idea how to give comfort when he has never received one in his life. Six has never received comfort either in his life until her, that is. He's just always there for her in a way that he'd do anything she asks of him. 

Lloyd is just scared, deep inside, that he'd fuck it up somehow. 

***

She's fragile as of now. Sensitive. Frail. 

She was in deep sleep dreaming of clouds and lakes. But then she woke up. To reality. To real life. To the miserable world.

Her whole body felt numb at first before all the pain came back to her. She needed to heal herself. Manually. With a single chant from her lips. 

Except, she can't even move and she's extremely weak. Her eyes are open, she's aware that she's already back at the penthouse but it's some kind of makeshift hospital room in here that they made for her. 

And there's no one here. Just her. 

She tries to move her head to the side and she sees the floor to ceiling window beside her. Her eyes examine the skies and the city underneath. From the looks of it, it's somewhere during the afternoon. Maybe about 3 or 4pm, she guesses. Her memories start to come back to her and she remembers everything. She also remembered when it all happened, it was 4am. She's already calculated twelve hours since she's been unconscious like this. 

Lloyd and Six aren't here because the doctor told them that it would probably take some time until the drugs finally wear off on her and until she'd finally wake up. They had no clue when exactly she would wake up because her condition was different from any other patients they've treated before. 

So the guys went out for late lunch downstairs in a restaurant they both barely like but they didn't want to risk going out too long or too far. She could wake up anytime. 

And, she did. Now she's confused. She can't do anything or move or get up or even talk.

Yet, she could still hear. She hears footsteps. Low chattering. More chattering. A few beating heartbeats. Some whispers. She can discern that they're quite a few people here. The agents, the nurses and the doctors are all here to safeguard her from any threats and keep her safe in case she wakes up. 

But, she can't hear Lloyd or Six. She memorized their footsteps and their heartbeats and their voices in all sorts of frequency. And there's nothing here. They're not here. 

She isn't aware of who the people are outside. She has no idea who it might be. She guesses they're the agents but then she also hears plenty of women's voices while all the agents are men. 

It's not supposed to be a threat but she doesn't know what has happened for the past twelve hours that she's been in a coma. This might be a hostage situation and the men she's hearing are not the agents. She needs to be careful about this. She needs to move first, though. 

Gathering all the strength she currently has now, she starts to move both of her hands slowly but sure. She groans softly after successfully lifting her hands. Her lips tugged into a faint smile at that. She could also feel how dry her lips are. 

It sort-of enrages her how long she's been out for. How weak she was. How she couldn't have just healed herself back there. She could've, potentially. But her body was just in shock of all the pain at once and it certainly wasn't used to it. 

She moves her legs and groans again before eventually shifting them to the side so she could get out of this depressing hospital bed. 

But, just as she was about to completely move her entire body to the side and attempt to sit up, she groaned loudly from the wrenching pain all over her torso. None of her wounds have healed yet and she could feel her skin slowly ripping off. It's one of her stitches and because she's forced herself to move so quickly, it's ripped off now. 

Even so, she still wants to try to fight the pain off and get the hell out of here.

Her palm presses onto the unhealed wound and she looks down at it, seeing blood already covering her favorite shirt. 

“Shit.” Elle mutters before forcing her entire body to slide out of the bed and ending up falling onto the cold floor, quietly.

She groans out of pain again as she tries to stifle her sounds by covering her mouth with her hand. She still doesn't know who's out there right now. She needs to be cautious, just like what she should've done back at the hospital. 

The floor is stained with her blood now as she braces her hands on the floor before trying to stand up. Even with all the pain she's feeling now, the worst pain she's ever felt in her life, she's still thinking about Six. She heard him. What he said to her when she was in her coma. He told her his real name. He confessed to her. Finally opened up to her.

Her mind snaps her back to reality. One of her hands comes up to the bed for support before she fully stands up with excruciating pain inside of her. She puts one foot in front of the other and starts walking towards the door, hobbling. 

She looks at the door and opens it with her mind. Hearing the approaching footsteps, she immediately chants a small spell and the two of the agents who were guarding her room collapses on the floor. 

Looking down, she finally recognizes them and quickly regrets it but they deserved a little nap anyway. She only knocked them down unconscious. 

She walks over their bodies and goes into their living room. The nurses look over to her and gasps in shock as they see the agents unconscious on the floor behind her. They all raised their hands in surrender. 

"We're just nurses. To help you. We didn't know you'd be awake so soon." One of them says to her. 

She frowns confusedly, trying to process the information. "Nurses? Why would I ever need—oh god. I was in a fucking surgery?" Elle snaps out loud. 

They all nod their heads, not daring to say anything else that might make her snap and blow their heads off all of a sudden.

"What—where's Lloyd and Six? Where are they?" She asks, raising her voice. 

"Downstairs. T–they went out for lunch." One of the nurses replies, stammering their words. 

She tilts her head to the side. "Are you sure you're not lying to me? I'll know if you lie." she calmly asks, stepping forward to them with blood actively dripping on the floor. 

They shake their heads in fear while looking down at the blood stained floor.

"We can help you. You're bleeding a lot." The nurse offered her.

"No. I'm good. I just need to see them." Elle breathes out, holding in the pain as her hand goes up to her wound to press on it harder.

"We have doctors for you here. They're on the first floor. We can get them for you." The nurse tries to offer again.

She shakes her head. "They won't be able to help me. I'm the only one that can heal myself." she grits out.

Suddenly, one of the agents comes out of the bathroom right beside the gym and everyone startles. He quickly rushes towards her after seeing the bodies of his teammates on the floor and is quick to grab a gun from his pocket. 

He points it to her from behind and pushes the gun onto the back of her head. She doesn't even flinch or raise her hands. 

"What the fuck did you do, you bitch?" he asks, shuddering of fear. She could just smell the fear on him and she smirks. 

She rolls her eyes. "Get me Lloyd and Six and I'll think of not turning the gun around to you." Elle threatens, calmly and casually. Almost what Lloyd does. He taught her right.

He scoffs, pressing the gun harder. "Fuck you. I ain't getting you shit. You're just a spoiled slut that gets away with anything. You can't kill me. I'm with the CIA." he confidently says. 

Her smirk widens before she slowly turns around and his shaky hands continue to point the gun at her head. 

She sighs. "You know, I don't really give a shit that you're with the CIA or whoever you work for. I can still kill you no matter what. I do get away with anything." she calmly tells him in a soft voice but it's still threatening because she'd actually do it. 

It's really out of place for her to say things like this. Especially, acknowledging her privilege of immunity from the agency just because she is their most valuable weapon and asset. She never wanted that. She still wanted to do the right thing no matter what. But as of now, she couldn't really give less of a fuck killing this lousy agent.

He scoffs again and shakes his head in disbelief. She took that as a challenge. 

Without any effort, she takes the gun out of his hands and bends it with only one hand. He widens his eyes before she throws the gun somewhere far. She harshly pushes him onto the floor as he collapses, hitting his head hard. He's not dead, but he might have a concussion or two. 

Before she could even turn back around, she hears the elevator ding and she raises her hand, in case she'd have to snap some necks. 

It eventually opens and reveals a worried Lloyd and Six, stepping out of the elevator. They barely even ate earlier. They kept thinking of her. They came back as quickly as they could. They certainly weren't expecting this fucking sight.

There are three bodies on the floor of the agents. All the nurses are raising their hands in surrender and fear. And on top of all that, she is here. Alive and breathing but bleeding out. She might've just killed half of their agents but they don't care. Nothing matters anymore. Except for her. 

Her eyes met both of them and she was so happy that she was speechless for a moment. But, they were too. Her eyelashes fluttered as her lips slowly curved into a relieved smile. She breathes out a relaxed breath, before looking down to the continuous bleeding on her wound.

Six is frozen in his tracks. Lloyd is too and he almost smiles at the sight of her finally awake and standing in front of him. But their nice little moment quickly diminishes as soon as they both look down at all the blood coming out of her. 

Their faces dropped into worry and Six immediately rushed to her first, carrying her into his arms like she weighed nothing. Her head rests against his chest to relax more. Her eyes stare up into his and he regards her with that knowing soft look only reserved for her. She had missed how he looked at her. He had just missed her. 

He knits his eyebrows together in concern. "Hey, you okay?" Six softly whispers with that tone he only uses for her. 

Her lips faintly form into a wider smile and she leans closer to his face. "I will be, Court." she barely says, only him being able to hear it. But he heard it. 

He wishes he could smile if his girl wasn't actively bleeding out and almost dying if she doesn't heal soon. He wished this was a different circumstance. He's always wanted that with her, always thought of it. A different reality, a different time, a perfect place. They deserve that. 

Lloyd frowns instead, glancing at the nurses just standing there. "What the fuck are waiting for? Call the doctors. Go!" He orders them and they do as they're told, running to the elevator. 

After the penthouse is almost empty — considering the three unconscious bodies on the floor but they're ignoring them. They're irrelevant to this moment now. Their moment. 

Lloyd calmly walks to her and she turns his head to him. His face is almost apologetic like he just did the most heinous crime to her. He just left her for a second. She's not blaming him. She doesn't expect them to stay with her for the whole day and not eat or even drink. 

He lets his hand brush her hair away from her face. "We didn't know that you'd be awake so soon. We shouldn't have left you to these idiots. I'm sorry." Lloyd actually genuinely apologizes to her. 

She nods, giving him a crooked, tired smile. "It's okay. I'm just glad that you're—" Her words slowly cut off as she faints in Six's arms. She's lost too much blood and used her energy while she was still weak. 

Six and Lloyd immediately looked up at each other in sync. Their slight happiness was fading quickly as their mind spirals into fear and doubt. She just woke up and she's back into a potential coma again. They shouldn't have left her for a damn second. If only they were here when she woke up, this would've never happened. She would've been able to heal properly. 

"Fuck, bring her back to the room." Lloyd softly demands him as Six simply nods, slowly turning around with her body in his arms. 

Six makes sure to be as gentle as possible while walking over the unconscious bodies on their floor. He's a little proud of her. 

***

It was all starting to get better after her body had finally fully healed itself and she woke up again. 

They had given her some meds through her new IV that might've boosted her body's immunity within the span of a few minutes. All her wounds are completely squeaky clean without a single scratch and the pain is gone for her.

Though, she does still have a lot of blood from earlier. It never cleans magically. 

There are a few doctors and nurses hovering over her at each side while she slowly regains consciousness. She felt cramped and suffocated with so many people staring at her, practically gawking curiously. 

But among all of the people in the room, she was only searching for Lloyd and Six. She wanted to see them right away. She needs them. 

Six was the first to appear as he walked past the crowd before Lloyd followed him. They stood together and took a quick glance at her. She was so glad and relieved. She could finally breathe at the sight of them.

Lloyd looked back at them. "Alright, now that she's all healed up, I think it's safe to say that you can all go back. I'll send the chopper here after this." he announced to everyone and they all agreed before leaving the room.

The door closed behind the last person from outside. Six looks down at her and his lips slowly turn into a small, relaxed smile. He's so glad to see her like this, alive and well. His hand comes up to rest on her cheek and she leans into his touch like always. She had missed his touch. She knows it's only been a few minutes after their little reunion, but they didn't exactly get a proper one earlier. They don't say anything to each other now, but their eyes are already communicating. They're both just as glad to see each other. 

"What time is it now?" Elle softly asks them. The only thing she manages to say. The fucking time. 

Lloyd frowns confusedly at her, tilting his head to the side. He blinks at her like he's offended and he scoffs gently. "Seriously? We just got you back, Elle. We've been through hell for the past twelve hours, racing to bring you back from the dead. You weren't healing after the surgery and we almost thought that you'd be in a long term coma or some shit. We were fucking scared. I was scared." he bluntly confesses to her, not caring about anything anymore. 

Even Six is surprised. He knew how much she meant to him, but he never took him as someone to confess his feelings out loud. He'd sometimes talk bullshit about it because he never actually admits his actual feelings. This was different. This was real. He could see it. 

She widens her eyes at him and her face drops into sympathy. "I didn't know you'd felt that way. About me. Guess it only takes an almost death situation for you to realize everything." she softly says, giving him a tired smile. 

He shakes his head. "Don't joke about that. I mean it." Lloyd warns. 

She continues to smile at him. "Okay, okay. I wasn't technically joking. But, thank you. For saving my life. I mean it." Elle thanks him, attempting to reach out to his hand. 

He hesitates first then looks down at her hand before delicately holding it. "I did in a fucking heartbeat. We weren't just going to let you die there." Lloyd tells her. 

She nods without hesitation. "I know." she quietly murmurs, glancing between both of them. "Okay, how soon can I get out of this miserable death bed?" 

Six quietly chuckles, his thumb caresses her cheek before planting a soft kiss on her forehead. She looks up at him with a smile. Lloyd scoffs gently, relieved that she's already back to herself. 

"Now. Do you need anything?" Lloyd immediately asks. 

She hums, meeting his eyes. "Yeah. A shower and a lot of food. Also, for the place to be just us. I could hear too many footsteps and whispers." she requests.

He nods right away, giving a quick kiss on her hand before releasing it. "I'll arrange all that. Six, help her walk to her room. I'll be back." Lloyd tells him while walking away from them and exiting the room.

Elle stares up at Six. "I’ve missed you." she finally admits.

Six chuckles quietly. "Me too. Wanna get out of here?" he asks her directly. 

She nods. "Carry me." she softly says.

"Always." Six instantly replies. 

He's already grabbing her arms gently to place them around his neck before slowly lifting her entire body from the bed like she weighs nothing. She looks into his eyes, resting her head onto his chest. 

"Thank you," she softly whispers as he brings her out of the room, carrying her as tenderly as possible. 

*** 

The sun was already setting when she got out of her bathroom after her long shower with clean clothes. 

She saw her body in the shower earlier with absolutely no scars left. Though, there was still pain when she pressed her fingers onto the previous wounds that were no longer there. 

Her body was still healing slowly. She needs more time to recover. Mentally and physically. 

Six had been waiting for her in her room, quietly sitting down at the couch in front of her bed. He had nothing to do, so he'd been watching the news on her TV about the incident last night. They were saying that it was just some thugs that wanted to rob the hospital for drugs. The media knows nothing. Either they don't know what actually happened or they're just trying to hide all of it. 

But he couldn't care less about all that and the politics of it. He only cared about one thing at this very moment. Her, alive and standing right in front of him. She's put on some shorts and her usual pink shirt that she always wears here. Her hair is still wet from her shower. Her face is moistened and glowing after her daily skincare.

Elle slowly walks to him with a smile on her lips as he quietly watches her every moment. "You know, we could always watch something more entertaining. Like, tv shows? Reality tv shows? Ooh or some comedy show?" she remarks.

Six lets out a soft chuckle. "I just wanted to see what they have to say." he says in a low voice. 

She scoffs. "Well, it's horseshit right? They know what actually happened but they're hiding it because it's bad press for the local police that they let some thugs escape from their prison. So they feed false information to everyone else in the city. Tell them what they want to hear instead." she easily and casually explains like it's an everyday thing for her. 

He's stunned by how detailed her explanation was and she said all that in a second. He's glad to see her back on her feet and back to being herself. 

Six simply nods, understanding every single word that she just said. He scoots over from the seat and pats the empty space next to him for her. She goes to sit beside him with a small smile still lingering on her lips. Leaning onto him, he puts his arm around her shoulder as she settled comfortably against him. 

"So, I heard Lloyd's cooking." Six informs her, trying to hide the smile off of his lips.

She immediately grimaces. "Uh-oh. I hope the kitchen will still be in good shape after this." she jokes but not really.

He snickers gently. "Yeah, he wanted to make a nice, romantic gesture for you." he seriously tells her. 

She snorts in disbelief. "What? Really? Lloyd, being romantic? That's impossible." she says, skeptically. 

He shrugs lightly. "Well, guess you changed him. You did the impossible." Six murmurs before slowly meeting her eyes.

Elle looks up at him with her innocent, curious eyes. "Did I change you?" she asks in a soft whisper.

He nods slowly. "You did." Six simply responds, without any hesitation.

Her smile widens, her eyes in awe at him. "Court," she whispers before lifting herself to press her lips against his and kisses him tenderly. He kisses her as slowly as ever, savoring the taste of her lips like he hasn't kissed her in ages. 

Court lets his free hand cup her jaw, his fingers stroking her skin. "I love that. When you say my real name." he mumbles against her lips. 

Her lips stretched into a smile against his mouth. "Yeah? I'll say it more often, then. I'll say it whenever you want." she murmurs.  

He shakes his head. "Don't tell Lloyd. Not yet. It'll be kind-of like… our thing." he mutters against her mouth. 

She pulls away from his lips, resting her hands on his chest as she smiles again. "Of course. It's precious, you know. Me being the only one who knows your actual name." she states. 

"You are precious, Elle." Six tells her in a serious tone. 

She giggles softly and he wishes he could bottle up all of her pretty sounds, or have it ingrained forever in his brain. He never wants to forget her. He always wants to remember her. Just like this. Full of life, bubbly and gracious. The only good thing in his life. The only one who takes care of him and knows him for who he really is. 

"Should we check on Lloyd if he's burned our kitchen yet?" Elle jokingly asks. 

He nods. "Absolutely. Wouldn't want that." Court agrees with her with a small smile on the corner of his lips. 

***

Lloyd ended up ordering a bunch of take outs from four different restaurants. 

He did cook, though. But he isn't confident enough that it'd be as good as he thought it would. He followed a recipe on the internet. But he doesn't trust that shit. 

He used to cook for himself back when he was living alone in one of his fancy flats in Monaco or France or Italy. It never was perfect but he didn't have anyone else to judge it. He only ate it for himself. 

That's part of the reason why he secretly enjoys living with Elle and Six. He doesn't have to be so alone anymore. It was pathetic. He got that huge place to stay and a lot of money to spend, but he had no one to share it with. Now, he has. 

"It smells amazing!" Elle compliments as she and Six carefully walk into the kitchen.

Lloyd's serious expression quickly turned into a softened gaze for her as he turns his head to her. "Yep. There's some take outs laid out on the table already. All of your favorites." he casually tells her. 

Her lips tug into a warm smile while she steps closer to him and wraps her arm around his shoulder, on her tiptoes. She looks up at him before planting a soft kiss on his cheek. 

"That's sweet of you. You've done a lot for me already." she remarks while Six stands behind them, watching them quietly. He enjoys this. Just observing their little happy moments. 

Lloyd looks down at her with a relaxed face. "There isn't a single fucking thing I won't do for you. I'd bring you back from the dead a billion times over. I'd dig you out from the grave myself. And if you're still dead, well then, I'll sacrifice myself for you." he swears with his life, even though he was joking in the end. He'd do everything in his power to keep her alive over and over again. Even if it would take his own life doing so. 

Elle laughs softly. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Hansen. Also, if I was really dead, don't try to do anything. I'll accept my fate anyhow." she lightly says.

He grimaces at the thought and frowns. "Fuck off, no. I'm not letting you fucking die. Ever. Not on some stupid CIA mission." Lloyd sternly states. 

She sighs, defeated. "Okay, fine. Well then I'm also doing the same for you. Whatever you say won't matter." she says stubbornly.

Six lets out a small laugh from behind before approaching them. "What about me?" he jokingly asks. 

She looks over to him. "You too. Both of you. I'd bring you back from the dead any day. I won't give up until I know you're alive." 

"Good. Being alive is good. I'd like to stay alive for now." Six murmurs softly, tucking a strand of hair under her ear.

Back then, almost two decades ago, he didn't. He knew taking the choice of killing for the CIA would have so many risks everyday. He was willing to take that risk because he was willing to die for it, he didn't care what happened to him. He had nothing to lose. Now, he has. 

Elle steps away from them. "Alright. I'm gonna go eat because I am starving like crazy." she admits as they both chuckle at her. 

*** 

She ate all the food like she hadn't eaten for decades. 

It took a lot of energy from her body earlier and she was extremely weak, too. She had no sort of fuel except for the IV. She had only relied on her body's immunity and strength.

It kind-of worries her how her outer wounds have healed but her inner ones haven't. She could still feel the slight pain and discomfort every time she moved the muscles in her stomach too much. It feels as if she had a normal body and just had surgery like a normal person and now is trying to recover from the scar. 

It's stupid, actually. She's always wanted to feel normal pain like a normal person would've and now here she is. Well, almost. This isn't exactly the real pain she's feeling. She's just feeling the reduced pain of it. Yet, it still feels as painful as ever. 

She just needs to be careful about this. She's sure she'll heal before she has to tell them. 

"Do you want more food? I could still order it in time before it closes." Lloyd genuinely asks her, seeing as she's just ate everything including his food that he made. 

She left some for them, of course. But they didn't eat much since they already had their late lunch a few hours ago. 

She glances at him before wiping food at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. "No, I'm good. I'm full. Actually, if you guys don't mind, I'd like to sleep early tonight." Elle announces with an unsure tone. 

Lloyd and Six exchange confused and hesitant looks. She's never slept early before because she hated that — claiming that sleeping early made her feel like a grandma. She's always liked to make use of her time at night. Either that was reading, watching movies, listening to music on her headphones or spending time with them. They had thought she was already herself earlier but they were clearly wrong. They knew something would change in her because of what happened, and they're seeing it now. 

Something is off with her and they've just noticed it now. They could just see it in her eyes and hear it in her tone. She's lying about wanting to sleep earlier. She's never lied before.

"Are you sure you're okay? That you're all healed up?" Lloyd asks her, his eyebrows knitting in concern. 

She frowns at him, leaning back onto her seat. "Of course I am. You saw it. All my wounds are healed." She lies to them, again.

Six turns his body to her and leans closer. "Elle, it's okay if you're not okay yet. You went through hell and back. You're not always required to be okay." he assures her.

Elle looks at him as her expression suddenly drops into a saddened look. "I know. But, I kinda am. I'm the weapon, right? I always heal and I'm invincible. Pain isn't supposed to happen to me. Not like this." she admits, her voice cracks at the end of her last sentence.

Lloyd frowns before realizing what's happening to her. "You're still feeling pain? Why didn't you tell us before?" he directly asks her, not wasting any time.

She turns to him with an exhausted look. Her face looks numb, like she's trying her best to numb all the pain she's feeling now. 

"I'm sure I'll be all healed up tomorrow. Don't worry about me." She tried to assure them, with a hesitant tone and a crooked smile. 

She was smarter than this. She could've lied better, to make it more believable. But she wasn't… isn't herself now. She went through hell and back and once she was all healed, everyone just expected her to be okay again like usual, like every other mission where she gets hurt. Because she's invincible and nothing can truly hurt her — not true. She knows she can't go back from this anymore. It's too late. 

Lloyd shakes his head in disbelief. "No. I'm not accepting that. Just let us help you—"

A sudden sound of loud gunshot rings through her ears painfully and she flinches from her seat, instinctively covering her ears with her hands. She widened her eyes in fear, not wanting to see what's happening. She's so scared that she'd thought it would all happen again. 

Six and Lloyd immediately snapped their heads because of the sound, rising from their seats. Though, for them, it sounds normal in their ears. They've heard it almost everyday. And their ears aren't as sensitive as hers. 

"What the fuck was that?" Lloyd asks him, walking towards Six as they stand between her. They guess it's their elephant in the basement and something happened with the agents. But they're not going to say that out loud. 

She's still on her seat, frozen. Not being able to move or even react or talk. Her lips shake in fear as her eyes slowly form into tears. Her hands are still covering her ears as hard as possible to muffle the sounds but it's no use. 

Six looks down at her instead. His face drops into concern and sympathy. For the first time in his life, he feels pity and fear at the same time and he can't do anything about it. He's helpless. 

"Elle," he tries but he knows he won't be able to help her. Nothing can make her feel better anymore. She can't come back from this life. Violence. Murder. It's inescapable. He would know. He went through it all at such a young age.

Removing her hands from her ears, she finally stares up at him with wet, glassy eyes through her lashes. A tear rolls down her cheek. Her wide, beautiful eyes meet his and for a split second, for a mere moment, he lets himself admire her beauty. She's too fucking pretty for this. She doesn't deserve to cry like this. She's too perfect for all of it. There's no amount of apology in the world that would bring her back to her normal self.

But then, her sadness quickly turned into rage. He saw the shift in her eyes. "Who are you keeping in the basement?" she bitterly asks him. She didn't just heard the gunshot, but she also heard a person down there.

Six looks at her confused, even though he knows what she's actually talking about. He stays quiet instead.

Lloyd stammers. "Uh… well, we… okay, I don't know what's happening there but it's not entirely on me. I didn't order them to kill him. I swear." he hesitantly responds.

She turns to him with a scowl. "Was it one of the guys from the hospital? The one who shot me?" she quickly asks, finally using her smart brain to connect the dots.

He shakes his head. "No, the ones who shot you are already—" he stops himself before saying the actual word but she gestures for him to continue. 

Lloyd frowns confusedly, hesitating. "Well, they're dead. Six killed them there. The agents caught the guy holding the hostages and took him here. I mean, it was chaos when we brought you here so we didn't really have the time to—" 

She nods, surprising both men. "No, it's fine. You don't have to justify it or whatever. I get it. Well, if he isn't already dead by now, then I want him dead." Elle declares what she wants, her tone is stern and her accent slips into something foreign at the end. 

He and Six quickly look at each other, exchanging confused and worried looks. She's never said anything like this before, let alone think about wanting someone dead. More than two weeks ago, she was a mess when she found out what Lloyd had done for her, the whole bloodbath. This wasn't like her at all. But, her eyes are assuring them that this is exactly what she wants. She is so different now. It's scary. 

Six looks at her before kneeling down onto his knees in front of her, his arms resting on each side of her chair. Her eyes dart down to him and she's still looking at him with the same ruthless and tired look she gave Lloyd.

"Are you sure you want that?" Court softly asks her in that soothing voice she loves.

She gulps and for a second, her gaze softens at the sight of him like this, on his knees just for her. Nodding her head, she glances at both of them. 

"I just want this to end. I don't want a rotting alive body in our fucking basement. He's not worth the headache for us. I just want to move on, okay?" Elle clarifies in a serious tone, not letting a single crack in her voice. 

They both stayed silent for a moment, contemplating on it seriously. She does make a point, though. The poor fuck isn't even talking and he won't ever. So it's pointless keeping him in the basement. 

"I'll order the agents to do it." Lloyd tells her after a long pause. 

She shakes her head. "No. I want to do it. It's not like I haven't killed anyone before." she firmly tells them in a demanding tone she's never used before. 

They won't ever refuse her request or demand — they'd do anything she asks of them. But, she's never wanted something like this before. Lloyd looks at Six for approval and he subtly nods at him. This is what she wants. Maybe this way, she'll feel better after all this. It'll all be okay again, they think.

He sighs exasperatingly. "Okay, alright, fine. Let's go." Lloyd eventually agrees as she immediately gets up from her seat way too carelessly and she trips over her feet.

Six instinctively catches her before she completely falls, with both of his hands on her arms. "Hey, careful." he murmurs. 

Elle glances at him up-close and nods. Lloyd starts to walk past them as they follow from behind. 

*** 

The basement reeked of blood and gunpowder, which felt familiar to her nose. It twisted something in her stomach. 

She needed to be strong for this. No time for her trauma. She could get past this, she'd been through way too much trauma already. She's not new to it anymore. She's used to it. 

Lloyd guided them down the stairs to the basement before she finally saw the guy strapped onto the chair, all beaten up and looking like on the brink of death. His face is filled with blood and bruises that she can't even see his face at all. There's a bullet wound on his thigh that has blood spurting out of it. All of his fingernails are gone, shattered somewhere on the floor. All of his fingers are already crooked and broken.

She'd never seen someone tortured so badly like this. It was a damn sight. But, she didn't flinch or gasp for a second. Instead, she slowly walked over to him. Six wanted to stop her from getting too close but he stopped himself doing so. He's reminding himself that this is what she wants even though he's always wanted to avoid her from all this. 

"Hey, don't use your bare hands for this. Here," Lloyd softly tells her, handing her a pocket knife from his pocket.

She grimaces, holding the knife like it's some weird object. "Do you just carry this all around?" she asks him.

He frowns. "No. I usually carry a gun. But I'm not going to have you use a gun now. Not after what happened." Lloyd clarifies. 

She hesitantly nods. "Yeah, okay." she softly says before gripping the knife correctly and aiming it onto the man.

The man is barely moving and breathing. He can't even properly see her through all the bruises and cuts on his face. She could hear his weak heartbeat and it's only a matter of time that he'd die on his own. She's just trying to end his suffering. It's a good deed, actually. If he was released, he would've been killed by his boss anyway. Probably way worse than what she'd do now. 

She lunges the knife forward, grimacing in disgust but before it even hits the man's heart, she drops the knife onto the floor making a loud clattering noise. She just couldn't do it. She steps backward and bumps into Lloyd's chest as she immediately turns around, looking up at him with wide, distressed eyes. 

She looks like she's about to cry again. He doesn't know what to do with her. He's not sure he'll be able to comfort her like she wants him to. 

Wordlessly, she buries her head against his chest as she sobs quietly, smelling his strong signature perfume on his thick shirt. His hands hesitantly hover around her for a second. Finally, he rests one of his hands on her head and his other hand wraps around her back. It's sort-of awkward for him since he's never hugged anyone before in his whole life. He's done all sorts of physical things with someone except for a hug. 

She's so relieved that he's holding her like this when she needs him the most. Her hands slowly wrap around his waist and she hugs him tighter. "I can't do it. Please, kill him," she begs him, her voice muffled against his chest. 

Lloyd lightly nods against her and moves her away a few inches apart before his eyes glances at Six, who's already standing beside the man strapped to the chair. They both exchange agreeing looks. He quietly picks up the pocket knife from the floor and without hesitation, he slits the man's throat from behind with a smooth line. He doesn't make a single sound. Heavy amount of blood spills all over his body. Six keeps his hands clean and away from all the blood. He usually doesn't mind it, but this time it's different. 

Six immediately walks to them, shoving the knife inside his pocket before he places a hand on her back. "Hey, come on. Let's get out of here." he tells them softly.

She knows the man's already dead. She heard his heartbeat stop. She's glad it's over now, at least.

*** 

They've finally got her to relax. 

She's cozily laying down on the couch, leaning her head against Six's chest while her legs rests on Lloyd's thighs as he's carefully massaging her legs. 

She's watching a movie. A stupid rom-com. The guys both hate every minute of it. But at least, it's getting her to laugh a little.

Because after all the violence she's just witnessed today, she deserves something to cheer up again. 

"Hey, would you like some popcorn? Or ice cream, your favorite flavor?" Lloyd softly offers her.

Elle slowly turns her head to him, ignoring the movie for a second. "No, I'm good. I'm not hungry anymore." she replies. 

He frowns. "Oh. Okay." he simply says, not wanting to urge her on why that is because he knows the answer already. She's still sick after seeing all that. 

Lloyd pulls her legs to stretch longer while his fingers gently massage them. "So, I've got some news." he announces as Six and her look over to him curiously. "A few new field agents are going to arrive tomorrow. More trained and much more experience. I'm also flying out some extra security for us. They're trusted mercenaries. And for all that, I bought one whole floor below us."

"You're still going to keep the previous ones? The assholes?" she asks, calmly.

He nods. "Yeah. As much as I hate it, yeah. They're good in the field regardless and I do believe that we need as many agents as we can get. But, I won't let them anywhere near you anymore. They don't fucking respect you." Lloyd sharply states, defending her.  

"They don't listen to me. They only listen to you and Six." Elle tells him as a matter of fact. 

He tips his head. "Well, then they should start listening to you. You're the weapon. The most valuable asset in the entire fucking CIA." he declares.

She scoffs gently, chuckling. "Don't say it that way. Like I'm all that. I haven't even officially joined the CIA yet. I've only ever done missions for my own city. I'm just a foreign asset."

Lloyd rolls his eyes playfully. "Do you have any idea how powerful you are? How much Denny values you so much that he'd be willing to do anything for you just like we do? You have all of us wrapped around your little finger, honey. And that's a good thing. Dangerous, but good." he casually tells her even though she wasn't supposed to know. Six simply nods, agreeing with him.

It's true. She has had no clue about it until now. Denny likes her and that's rare — he hates all his assets. She obeys every single order and never asks too many questions. She does all the missions perfectly, never has disappointed him and she's really damn smart for her age. She's his best asset and he's proud that he assigned this mission to Lloyd and Six in the first place. 

She furrows her brows. "Wait, really? But he doesn't even talk to me." 

"It doesn't matter. He sees so much potential in you. You know, we both went to college together and are practically fucking inseparable ever since. I've never seen him so fixated on something before. You're special." Lloyd points out, genuinely.

She groans, rolling her eyes. "I've heard that way too many times." Elle grumbles, throwing her head back against Six's chest as he chuckles softly and their eyes meet. 

Six touches her cheek, leaning down onto her lips as he gently kisses her upside down. She giggles against his mouth before they both pull away slowly. Her cheeks blushed at his sudden action. Their eyes continue to stare at each other in silence. 

Lloyd grimaces. "Why do you guys always kiss in unnecessary situations?" he asks them.

Her lips curve into a warm smile. "Because we like it. It's a show of affection and comfort. And I know you don't like all that so—"

He cuts her off by abruptly pulling her by her hands and connecting his lips against hers in an awkward position. Six helps her sit up, holding her lower back with both of his hands while he watches them.

She breaks the kiss, frowning. "You could've just said so if you wanted to kiss me too, you know." 

Lloyd looks down at her, amused as a smirk forms on his lips. She hates that smug asshole smirk of his but she can't deny that it makes him look even sexier all the time. It highlights his whole perfect face and that sharp jaw of his. And his fucking trash stache. She doesn't fully hate it, but it makes him look even more like an asshole than he already is.

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?" he teases as she suppresses a smile on her lips, shaking her head. 

She lightly throws her weight against Six again and leans back onto him. His arms wrap around her shoulder as her eyes stay on Lloyd's, now quietly staring at each other. She looks away for a second to look at the night view behind him. The city lights luminate on them. The traffic seems to diminish. It's seemingly quiet for a Saturday night. The people must've rather stayed at home after the whole hostage situation at the hospital. 

Then, her mind drifts on everything that has happened and she can't stop thinking about it. She won't. She'd remember it for ages. 

In the deepest part of her heart, she wishes and hopes that this doesn't happen ever again. She can't go through that same pain anymore and the same chaos which forced her to become something else. But, she's not stupid. She knew that one day, someday, something like this would happen. She almost predicted it. She just wished that after all of this is done, she'll still be herself and she could still hope for a better life somewhere. 

She sits up from Six and stretches her arms. Her eyes glance between them. "So, I'm gonna go to bed. It's late and I'm tired. But, can I not sleep alone tonight?" 

Lloyd nods. "Sure. You can sleep with me. Or Six. You know, doesn't really matter. Anything works for me. You can choose whoever." he ends up rambling because he didn't want to seem forceful. 

Elle chuckles softly before crawling into his lap. Her hands wrap around his neck and she smiles up at him. "Honestly, I'll feel way safer sleeping with both of you. In my room." she tells the truth. 

Six regards her with a soften look, reminding himself how grateful he is that she's alive. He's more relaxed now than ever, despite just killing a man down in the basement, a few hours ago. He's always separated himself from all the murder. He kills and kills but then he goes back to being his normal self. He's not himself when he's doing his job. And that's a good thing. He's still capable of being a normal person. He hasn't completely lost it yet.

Mostly though, she helps him through all this. She keeps him going. Just by her existing and being with him. Alive and happy. He's really just glad to be here. 

"Your bed's a little small. No offense." Lloyd points out as he squints his eyes and slides his hands to casually rest on her ass.

She rolls her eyes, shifting her weight against his lap and he has to bite back a groan. "Really? I thought we'd all fit just fine. You know, with what he did, two weeks ago?" She reminds him and he's gone speechless.

Six laughs softly and she turns her head to him. "She's right." he mutters. 

Lloyd whips his head to him and frowns. "Seriously? You always take her side." he accuses.

"Well, because she's always right." Six plainly argues.

"Not always." he grumbles, knowing damn well she is but he's not going down without an argument.

He shakes his head. "Yes, always, Lloyd. Just accept the fact and move on. She's getting sleepy." Six points out, always noticing the small tiny details of her. 

Her sleepy eyes turn to him and she smiles faintly. "You know me so well." she mumbles. 

He nods. "Get ready for bed. We will too." 

"Okay," she agrees, climbing off of Lloyd's lap but he grabs her arm gently to stop her halfway.

His eyebrows knit in concern and his eyes search her face. "Hey, are you still in pain?" Lloyd asks, just remembering what she had said during dinner.

She casually looks at him and shakes her head. "Not really anymore, no. I'll be so much better tomorrow." she assures him.

He nodded in relief. "Great. Just making sure. Or you know, for when—" 

She cuts him off with a loud, hearty laugh. "Or for when you get a hard-on for me while sleeping next to me? Yeah, Lloyd, I'm all healed up for that." she fucks with him. But it is true. She is healed for that.

Six leans comfortably against the couch. He laughs softly with her and tucks her hair under her ear, silently agreeing with her. He knows Lloyd as much as she does. Maybe too well.  

Lloyd's lips stretch into an easy smile for her, shaking his head. "I didn't exactly say that, honey. You did." he denies it, knowing damn well he was thinking exactly that. He always gets a hard-on for her, no matter what the situation is. She has too much of an effect on him.

This time, she actually notices the sweet pet name he's been giving her. 

She smiles wider and frowns. "Honey? You've called me that two times now. That's a little more affectionate than your usual. Careful, Hansen, you're getting too soft on me." Elle teases, leaning down onto him as her index finger presses his heart. 

He leans back and smiles again. "Maybe. But maybe, you're also starting to like it." Lloyd teases her back and he's right. 

She laughs again, leaning close to his face and taps his nose. "Yeah, maybe. We're both changing, Lloyd. All of us, actually." she murmurs softly before shifting her eyes towards Six. 

He agrees with her. Lloyd, too. They won't admit that out loud though. They weren't even aware that change was possible for people in their line of work, where violence has always followed them, no matter what. In truth, they never wanted to change who they were before her because it made them better at their job. But now, it's all different and she's worth changing for.   

She's worth everything to them. 

***

After her daily skincare routine, she wore her favorite pajama set. It's a pink, matching tank top with shorts. It's her comfiest one. 

She turned all the lights off in the penthouse already. She does it almost every night. She likes it dark better, anyway. It doesn't blind her eyes in the middle of the night. 

Her room is also dark with a little light from her small lamp and the TV playing some reality tv show. Most of the time, she keeps it on while she sleeps so she can't hear any other noises from outside. It's comforting for her. 

She slides into her bed and her thick blanket, tugging herself in at the middle. Her head sits up on her pillow while waiting for them. 

She tries to pay attention to whatever reality show is on. It's about dating stuff. People from different countries and ages meet. Too much drama for her liking. 

She rolls her eyes at the show and rolls over to the side, facing the door from a far distance. Her eyes begin to betray her as she gets sleepier every second she waits. 

But, just as she was about to fall asleep accidentally, she finally hears their exact footsteps approaching her room at the same time. The door gently and carefully opens quietly. She barely even hears it. 

Six is the one to first enter the room, stepping aside for Lloyd to come in as well before he closes the door behind him. They both slowly walk to her while she watches their every moment. 

She places her hand behind her pillow as her lips faintly smile. "Hey, I've been waiting for you. Was just about to fall asleep." she whispers weakly. 

Six gives her a quick smile before going around to the other side of her bed. He's usually behind her because she likes to be the little spoon. She likes to be cuddled like this. But that's not the only reason. Sometimes, when they're in the mood for it, it'd be easier to just put it in while they fall asleep. She likes to be fucked to sleep. It's her form of comfort. Which is fucked up, but it does help her sleep. 

He slowly gets onto the bed with her, pulling her blanket a little to fit himself in too. His hand wraps around her torso and the other rests under his pillow. He pulls her in closer until her body pressed against his without leaving any space or barrier. It's how they always sleep. 

Lloyd sits on her bed first before laying down right beside her, awkwardly. This is sort-of the first time they've intimately slept together on a bed since yesterday was a bit of a blur for him. She came into his room when he was half asleep so he barely remembers anything. But, there was also that one time around four weeks ago, when they had to share her bed together in her house. Except, that was different since that wasn't because they wanted to. It was forced. 

They're doing this now because they actually want it. 

She frowns at the huge space between them. "Come closer, Lloyd. You're acting like we've never touched each other or anything." she complains.

He scoffs lightly. "Fine." Lloyd mutters, scotting closer to her but when he stops, it's still not close enough because they're barely touching. 

She groans softly before grabbing his hand and pulling him closer to her until his body bumped against her side. She smiles up at him and he just accepts his fate. 

"Not much oxygen here." Lloyd grumbles but she just ignores him.

His eyes drift to her TV that's still playing the reality show and he's been wondering what it was ever since he came in here. "What the fuck are you watching?" he asks.

She looks over to it and laughs softly. "I'm not even watching it. But it's either this or the shitty news or the horror movies."

Lloyd frowns, turning to her again. "Do you even need to keep it on? You could just turn it off like everyone else's does." he suggests.

She hums in response. "Yes, I do. It blocks out the outside sounds while I'm sleeping. It calms me better." she tells him.

"Oh. Okay, then we'll keep it on. For you. Even though both of us do prefer sleeping in silence." Lloyd softly says, based on what they do for a living, silence is so much better for sleeping. Violence is loud and they're used to waking up because of it. 

"It's fine with me." Six plainly adds.

"Does she usually keep it on with you, Six?" Lloyd asks him, his eyes meeting his.

He nods. "She does. Every night. I'm already starting to get used to it." Six respond. 

She involuntarily yawns softly. "Sorry, guys. I'm extremely sleepy and tired. I'm gonna sleep. You guys can continue to talk if you want. It's a way better noise to fall asleep on rather than that stupid show." she weakly murmurs.

Six kisses her temple before she shifts a little to get more comfortable and leans back against him. 

"Good night," she whispers and she's really close to saying his real name but she doesn't. She wants to keep it as their special thing.

"Night." he whispers in her ear, his fingers tracing her arm to comfort her more.

Lloyd leans down onto her, brushing her hair aside from her face and tucking it behind her ear. "Get a lot of sleep. Sleep in if you want. It's Sunday tomorrow." he softly tells her. 

She nods, looking up at him with her heavy eyelids. "Thank you. For saving me. Lloyd…" She trails off gently before her eyes start to finally close and she drifts to sleep.

Six and Lloyd both glance quickly at each other, continuing to stay silent for a few minutes. They carefully look down at her after hearing her soft snores. It's cute when she does this. Six likes hearing her snores when they sleep together. 

"Yeah, she's asleep." Lloyd confirms, as quietly as possible.

Six nods, glancing at him. "So, what'd you do with the body? Not many options here considering we're in a crowded city." he softly whispers. 

He looked at him, relaxed. "Oh, I asked the agents to get rid of it. They chopped the body into small pieces and burned it. I was going to just dump it somewhere. The local police, perhaps. You know, because it was their fault he escaped in the first place." he explains, so casually like it didn't even matter. 

Well, it didn't. He never thinks his victims or his targets matter. They're just a tiny mark in his life. Bound to get rid of and killed. He looks down on them. He does that because they're horrible people, way worse than him. They don't deserve to live.

"But, she wouldn't have liked that." Six finishes his sentence for him. He knew him too well. 

He nods. "Yes. Exactly. By the way, I haven't told you this yet. I don't know if it's true but it probably is. I think… Denny has a crush on her. See, I would know that. I've known him since forever and he never once called a girl he's never met special. I wouldn't blame him. He's right." Lloyd shares his thoughts and feelings. He's practically gossiping now. 

Six grimaces a little. "That's a little weird. He's her boss." he mumbles. 

"Well, yeah, I know that. Don't worry, I'm not gonna let him know that we're, you know, with her." he tells her. 

He nods. "Good. Maybe, we should sort-of avoid her from him? It's a little off that he likes her. She's too pure for him." Six suggests to him. 

Lloyd furrows his brows. "And she's not too pure for us?" 

"Not really. But Denny's worse than us." Six states, as a matter of fact. He knew how bad his boss was. 

Even though that's his only true friend, Lloyd doesn't deny it. He agrees with him. He is worse than both of them combined. He might not be the one on the field, but he's the one orchestrating everything behind his desk. He's behind every single thing that goes down in the CIA. He has no more remorse anymore. Not like Lloyd and Six. They still have some of it, at least.

"Yeah, you're right. Anyway, nothing would happen because he's not here." Lloyd assures him in an assuring tone.

Six looks at him for assurance and it's all there on his face. He knows he'd always protect her from anything or someone. It's not only that, though. He doesn't want to share her with anyone else. He can't. He'd kill anyone who'd dare to even think about touching her. He only wants her for himself. Just like this. Pure and precious. 

She's not just a pretty little thing for him to fuck and take care of, she's his partner. In everything. He never thought of having a partner because the idea of it made him disgusted. To have someone by his side in every single situation, share a home with them, share a bed, share food, share his ideas, share his own personal space. He used to hate it with all his heart and now he finds himself wanting all that with her.

It's almost the same with Six. He never wanted a partner because he preferred to be alone. He lived and worked alone better. Less obstacles and complications. He liked to be quiet more because he never trusted anyone enough to talk about what he's thinking and feeling. But all of that changed when he met her.

She's precious in so many ways that they'd be willing to bend their own rules for her. 

***

The next morning it dawned and it wasn't very sunny as usual. The rain poured violently and heavily. It was the first time in months. 

The lightning struck and rumbled loudly every minute, waking up the whole city. It's still very early.

Lloyd snuck out of bed early to start briefing their new team of agents and security. Six stayed in bed with her.  

She wanted to sleep in. She wished she could. But with all the nightmares she kept having, it was nearly impossible.

Every nightmare was the same. She was stuck in that hospital, getting shot at as many times as she remembered. She was floating in her own pool of blood, helpless and paralyzed. She felt every single pain of it. She was stuck in a loop the whole time. She couldn't wake up from it. 

Not until the loud sound of the lightning, that is. Which she's secretly grateful for.

She flinches and startles from the sound, finally waking up from her nightmare. She opens her eyes to see that she's back home again. She's alive. And she's with Six, sleeping beside her. He's already woken up after he heard her. 

Six sweetly shushes her, shifting to lay on his back as he places his arm around her.  Her head uses his chest as a pillow and buries her face on his shirt. She just wants to lay like this but not go back to sleep. 

"Go back to sleep. Sleep in." he whispers, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. 

"Why don't you ever sleep in too?" she sleepily mumbles, her eyes still half-open.

He chuckles softly. "My body can't sleep long. It knows I have to be on alert every time." Six truthfully tells her, gently as possible because she just woke up.

She hums weakly. "Well, just sleep. You don't have to be on alert here." she murmurs. 

Six faintly smiles. "Yeah, no can do. You just sleep and I'll stay here. Promise won't move a single muscle to not wake you." 

Except, she can't go back to sleep even if she wanted to. The nightmares are going to definitely come back again. She doesn't want to risk that. She'd rather be here in the real world with real people. It's funny, actually, considering how one month ago, she'd always rather choose to sleep in so she could escape the real world. It wasn't a good life that she had before this. 

She hums, turning her body around to him. "Not really sleepy anymore. Could we just stay here?" she asks softly.

He looks down at her and nods. "Of course. We could stay as long as you like." 

Her eyes searched her room and just noticed that the other man beside her was gone. "Where's Lloyd?" she asks him.

Six frowns confusedly at first, then realizes something. "Oh, I thought you were sort-of awake when he told you he was leaving to go meet the new team." 

She would've heard him if she wasn't stuck in a neverending nightmare loop. 

She subtly nods, leaning her chin on his chest. "Oh. Okay. Well, I wasn't. Um, so, what's the agenda for the next few days? Do we just start going on missions again? The same ones?" 

He shrugs. "That's up to you. You know that. You don't have to force yourself, though. If you want to keep going or if you want to do this differently." Six softly responds. 

Elle contemplates on it, her eyes drifting away from him for a moment. She knew what he was talking about. Frying the bigger fish. The real deal. The big mission. The part where she doesn't just call the local police on them. She gets rid of them instead. Permanently. No trace. No evidence. There'll probably still be a body, but it won't ever trace back to her. She won't use her hands for it. She'll use her mind and powers. It'll be a mystery murder that the police won't be able to solve for decades. 

In a way, it'll make this mission way quicker and probably less collateral, too. She wouldn't have to get hurt again like yesterday. They can't try to kill her if they're already dead. She does want to do things differently now. Better. She can't make the same mistake she kept on doing. Hesitating. Being merciful. Terrified of them. She could make things easier for her and the team if she agreed on this. 

Her eyes meet him again after staring at the window. "I want to try. If I could." she whispers, almost innocently like she isn't talking about murder at all. 

Six gulps, his eyes gazes openly at her and he brushes her hair away from her face. "We could try it slowly. We don't have to rush. This is your first." he gently tells her.

Her eyebrows furrow, curiously. "My first kill?" she asks.

His hand strokes her back to calm her. "Well, not exactly. It'll be your first kill for the CIA. I'm probably not supposed to warn you on this but… once this is all over, you'll start your missions in other countries, where you have to do it. You can't avoid that." Six explains, as softly as possible. 

She hums, nodding. "I know. I mean, now I know. I knew the risks of agreeing to be their asset. But at least, I could still alter a few things." Elle says. 

Six nods slowly, regarding her with a softened look as he smiles a little. "Yeah, you could." he whispers to her. 

"What time is it now?" she asks him, her voice still sleepy. 

He turns his head to her nightstand beside him, glancing quickly at the small digital clock. 

Six turns his attention back to her. "7.52 am. It's still early. You could still sleep if you want. There's not much to do today."

She sighs softly, shaking her head. She's so tired of hiding the truth of what she has endured. She's done it her whole life. She has had to act like nothing's happened after suffering through the abuse from her parents. She had no one to tell. No one would've believed her. No one could've done anything about it, anyway. But she'd feel so much better if she had someone to tell. No one was ever really there for her. 

Now, she does. And there's nothing that she'd say that they wouldn't believe. They trust her. With their life. 

She slowly sits up from him and he looks up at her curiously, trying to figure out what she's doing. "I don't want to go back to sleep again because I had a nightmare. About yesterday. I was stuck in a sort-of loop. I just kept lying there in my own blood, unable to move or anything. I wasn't going to tell you this because I've never told anyone about the nightmares. I've had it ever since my parents started experimenting on me, then it continued after they left me, and the last one was about what I did in that lab. That's why I took those painkillers. To stop the nightmares." Elle finally told the truth about everything. It does feel a little better for her, to not repress it anymore. 

He knew what she meant by her parents experimenting on her. They abused her during her whole childhood. She was just a child. Just like he was, too. His dad did it to him and his brother. Eventually, he had to do what he had to. It was either his abusive dad or his brother. He picked the latter. He doesn't regret it, he's glad he picked up that gun. He fought back and survived through it. 

She didn't. She just accepted what was done to her and did nothing to fight back. Absolutely nothing. She was helpless. She didn't have the heart to hurt her parents even though they've never had a single ounce of remorse hurting her. 

Six sits up from the bed too and cups her face, forcing her gently to look directly into his eyes. "You're not alone anymore. You don't have to hide it. I'm here. Always." He makes a real promise he's going to keep. He might not be here for her forever but, at least for now, he is. 

She slowly nods, staring up at him with those sad, pretty eyes he's already so familiar with. He hates to see her sad like this. It's like she can't even catch a break. It's another trauma after another. It just doesn't stop. And it won't stop, especially after she just decided to start killing for the agency. The worst mistake anyone could ever make. But he couldn't stop her. He doesn't want to control her. It's her decision. 

Six wraps his arm around her and a small smile quirks on his lips. "What do you need now? Do you want to stay here and watch some shitty reality show while we do something else?" he suggests, joking about the last part. Just to get her to smile again. 

Her eyes light up and she slowly smiles. "Something else? And what could that be, Court?" she whispers, his real name coming off from her pretty lips. 

"I knew I could get you to smile again." Court murmurs softly before leaning down onto her, his other free hand cupping her cheek. His lips meet hers and he kisses her delicately and slowly. He pulls away after a second. He doesn't want to devour her entire mouth at 7 in the morning. Not after what she just confessed to him. 

"When do you think Lloyd's gonna be back?" she asks him. 

He shrugs. "He should be back anytime soon. He went out around 4am." Six informs her, plainly.

Her eyebrows lift in surprise. "Wow. 4am just to get them all here?" 

Six nods. "Yep. Just for you." he states.

She giggles, leaning her head on his shoulder as she lightly kisses his skin, where there are huge, evident scar tissues all over. She thinks it's beautiful. It's a sign of survival. She's never gotten to keep any scar of hers. She could kiss his scars away, but she knows he won't want her to. 

"You should talk more with Lloyd. You haven't been with him without me. You guys deserve a one-on-one." Six suggests, all of a sudden. 

She looks up at him with a small pout. "I don't even know what to say. We're fine." Elle confirms. 

His palm brushes her hair before touching her cheek gently. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to. Just like what we've always done. We just… be together."

She'd always listen to him, no matter what.

"I know. Okay, then. I'll try." she says.

"Meanwhile, we'll just wait. We can do anything you want." he tells her. 

"Let's just watch some shitty reality show, yeah." she suggests, nodding. 

Six chuckles. "Sure. But I won't be paying attention." he warns her.

She hums in response, giving his lips a quick peck before grabbing the remote from her nightstand. Turning the tv back on, she clicks the button to the channels.

They continue to just lay there on bed, enjoying this nice and peaceful moment. Without any problems or interruptions. This was rare. 

***

Lloyd was so fucking exhausted and frustrated. 

He'd been working all morning. He hasn't even eaten or drunk anything. He didn't even get the chance to sleep back in with her. 

He had to greet the new team, then guided them to their new place and briefed them on their new mission. Protecting the weapon. Helping with their mission. 

Thankfully, they were all attentive and obedient towards him. They knew he was the boss around here and who was the one that called the shots. They also knew not to piss him off. He's dangerous, according to the stories they've heard.

After that all was done, he finally went his way to go back up to their penthouse. 

He needed a drink. Maybe, some food too.

He wasn't sure if she and Six are already awake or not. It was too early and it's Sunday so he assumed that they're still cuddling in bed, sound asleep. 

He felt a small tiny emotion of envy. He wished that he could do all that with her.

Just stay in bed with her as long as he likes without a single care in the world. Take all his time with her. Spend his day with her only and without all the missions and shit. 

Of course, that was impossible. It's just a passing thought of his. A big 'what if'. An unrealistic hope. A dream. 

He couldn't have her like he wanted. She's not only his. She belongs to the agency now. To the missions she's dedicated herself to. She's not fully his to take. 

Lloyd stepped out of the elevator as usual, walking into their living room without even looking around. He expected them to be asleep. 

Elle turned her head to him while she sat on the middle of their couch with a bowl of cereal in her hands. She'd been watching some random movie from the channels as she waited for Six to shower in his room. Though, she hasn't showered. She figured she'd do it later since it's still early. She's still in her pajamas from yesterday. 

Her lips slowly tug into a wide, cheery smile. "Morning. You're back!" she exclaims as she's about to get up from the couch to hug him. 

Lloyd whipped his head around to her and his entire face finally relaxed. He walked over to the couch. "Woah, careful. Don't jump on me. You're still healing, sweetheart. I don't want you hurting yourself." he seriously says.

She leans back on the couch and smiles relaxedly. "I love it when you call me that. Even when you weren't so affectionate about it back then. I still loved it." she admits.

He sits beside her and gives her a small smile. His face softens as their eyes meet closely. "Yeah, I don't just call anyone that." Lloyd calmly confesses. 

She frowns, scrunching her nose. "You sure I'm the only one?" she teases.

He rolls his eyes. "Of course you are. There's no one else like you. Literally." 

Elle giggles softly, leaning her arm behind the couch. "Cereal?" she offers him, pointing toward the bowl on her lap.

Lloyd grimaces, shaking his head. "I don't like that one. It's too healthy and unsweet. It has too much nuts and grains and granola and whatever the fuck is in there." he complains. 

She furrows her brows. "What? I thought you liked this one. You bought a dozen of them every time you went to the shops." 

He frowns. "Yeah, because you love them. I stocked our entire cupboard with this shit just for you. You hate normal cereals." Lloyd casually admits. 

"Because they're way too sweet." she quickly responds while staring into his eyes in admiration and shocked. She was never expecting him to do that. It's a small tiny gesture but for someone like Lloyd, it's rare. He'd never willingly do something for someone just because he wants to. He only understands orders and threats. He doesn't do romantic gestures for even the slightest.

Lloyd leans closer to her and studies her face up and down. "You should know by now that I'd do anything for you. Don't be surprised by that, honey." he remarks.

She smiles brightly. "Call me that again."

He cups her face and tips her head up to him. His lips pressed onto hers softly, giving her a quick peck. Her soft skin brushes his harsh stache. "Honey," he murmurs against her lips.

She pulls away from him for an inch to properly look into his eyes. "I wanted to talk to you about something important." She breaks the news.

Lloyd lets out a sigh, not being able to figure out if it's something good or bad. Her face seems unreadable. She's not happy or anxious either. "What is it?" he asks her. 

She turns away from him to place the bowl of cereal on their coffee table as he watches her every movement. She comes back to him, scooting closer while her soft hands find his calloused hands. Her fingers intertwine with his thick fingers before her eyes stare up at him, innocently.

Elle takes a deep breath. "I want to start getting rid of the corruptors. I have to start somewhere anyway, right? The CIA would probably assign me to these kinds of missions in the future. It's better to be experienced for it. I want to do my first with you, Lloyd. You could teach me properly. You could guide me. You could help me more." she finally tells him, a little excited but also feeling a little nervous that he'd reject her. 

Lloyd pauses for a bit, processing all the information at once. He certainly wasn't expecting this at 8 in the morning. He wasn't going to force her or press her more after he told her to think about it during Friday. A lot has happened ever since. He actually thought she was just going to decline it. And he'd be fine with it. It's her decision and he won't try to change it. Even now that she actually decided to do it. He's still going to accept and support it anyway.

His hand squeezes her small ones, gazing at her openly as his eyebrows knit lightly. "I told you already. Whatever you ask me of, I'd do in a fucking heartbeat for you, without any hesitation. You don't even have to ask sometimes. I know what you really want. I know you." Lloyd gently tells her in the softest tone he's ever used before. He's starting to get soft on her. 

Her lips stretch into a smile, nodding. "You do, yeah." she mumbles softly.

He nods. "And, I know you want something right this second," he predicted.

She widens her eyes in surprise as she laughs softly. "Well, yeah. You're right. I need a favor." she admits.

Lloyd's lips curve into a smirk. "Name it, sweetheart. The sky's the fucking limit." 

Her cheeks blushes and her smile grows until her small dimples are showing. "I just need your phone." she requests.

Wordlessly, Lloyd immediately grabbed his phone out of his pants pocket and handed it to her, without any questions asked. 

***

She'd been pacing back and forth on their balcony with Lloyd's phone in her hands. 

None of them have ever even gone in here. It's just an empty balcony. There's no chairs or tables or anything else. They never wanted to go out here mainly because they'd have to hear the sound of traffic and the smell of pollution.

But right now, it's very quiet down there and it just stopped raining. 

She made a plan to call Denny herself, personally. Tell him about her decision. Ask him his strategies and his future plans for her. So that's why she borrowed Lloyd's phone earlier. 

Lloyd and Six are still having breakfast in the kitchen island, having a small casual discussion about her. She's not going to eavesdrop on them, she prefers to focus on what she's about to say after this. It needs to be right. She's never talked to this man personally. 

Finally, she gathers the courage to click on his contacts and her finger accidentally presses the video call option. She curses under her breath and before she could even undo it, the call connects almost immediately. 

Denny would never ignore or delay a call from Lloyd. He's loyal to him that way. He'd cancel any important meeting just to pick up the call from him. It could be important but it also couldn't. It doesn't really matter to him. What matters is he's calling and he'd answer anytime, no matter the time or place. 

The image of Denny shows up on the phone screen and she widens her eyes. He's still in bed sitting up against the headboard, wearing a black tank top as the night lights luminate on him. He's in a hotel somewhere in Berlin, one of the CIA's stations. It's late at night. He was still very much awake when his phone rang. 

He squints his eyes at his phone, to make sure that he's seeing right. He's not seeing Lloyd. He's seeing Elle on his screen, also still in her pajamas as she looks at him, stunned and not sure what to say. 

She stammers nervously. "I—I am so sorry. I didn't know it was going to be a video call. Um, hi, it's Elle. I don't know what time it is there so I'm sorry if I woke you up—" she softly rambles. 

Denny cuts her off. "No, it's fine. I couldn't sleep anyway. How are you feeling?" He quickly asks about her well-being first.

She nods assuringly. "Yeah, I'm better now. I'm all healed up. Thank you for that, by the way. I knew you had something to do with all of it." She thanked him. 

"I couldn't lose my most valuable asset and weapon." Denny formally tells her, sternly. He almost sounds like Lloyd when he's working. 

She smiles politely at him. "I'm sorry for calling all of a sudden like this. I borrowed Lloyd's phone because I needed to talk to you in private." Elle admits to him.

He nods. "I'm all ears." he firmly says.

She clears his throat, looking away for a while. "Right, so, uh, you know that thing that you discussed with Lloyd on Friday? The one about me frying the bigger fish." She refreshes his memory. 

Denny frowns at first, before realizing what she's saying. He clears his throat. "Ah, yes. Well, it's pretty simple. You want to get rid of the corruption easier, so you eliminate the source. This mission will be done sooner than later for all of you." he informs her.

Her eyes stare at him on the screen. "And then, I'll go to Langley to train for the CIA?" she innocently asks him.  

He shakes his head. "No. Not anymore. You're an asset now. You don't want to be an official agent. That way, you'll just be stuck doing missions in the states. Is that what you want?" Denny carefully asks her. 

She stammers again. "I don't… know. I mean, I haven't thought of it. So, if I just stick to being an asset, what's going to happen?" she asks. 

He straightens up and the screen moves a little. "First, you could travel the world whilst doing the missions. And you definitely won't be riding commercials. You'll get paid way more. You'll always be safe and protected. You can choose your missions. If you don't want to do a certain one, just tell me. You'll be valued more because you're my most important asset. I can't ever afford to lose you." Denny explains to her.

She nods. "Right. Because if I keep being an asset, you'll be the one handling me. But if I'm an official agent, I'll answer to someone else?" she confusedly asks him with furrowed brows. 

Denny nods at her. "Yes, exactly. You decide, then." he leaves her to make a decision. 

She hums in approval. "Well, it's an easy answer. I want to be an asset." Elle replies with a proud smile on her lips.

His lips almost stretch into a tiny smile for her. It's been a long time since he's ever smiled for anyone. "That's good to hear, then. When do you want to start your big mission, the one in the city?" he asks her.

She contemplates on it for a while. "Can I take a few days off and then start again next week?" she asks him for something that a foreign asset has never had the privilege to ask before. She didn't know that. She doesn't know how privileged she is. 

He nods without hesitation. "Sure. Of course. Whatever you need." Denny immediately responds before he pauses, "Also, try to get my number from this phone so you could contact me on your own phone. I am curious, though, how did you manage to get Lloyd to hand over his phone to you? He's always so sensitive over his own personal belongings." 

Elle breaks into a small chuckle. "Well, I mean… I just asked him and he gave it to me right away." she innocently answers.

Denny raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Really? Just like that? Well, you must be really precious to him as well, then." he remarks, calmly. 

She stammers confusedly. "Uh, yeah, I guess." she hesitantly says, not sure if she was even allowed to say that. She doesn't know if he knows they're sharing her. She isn't sure she's supposed to tell him that either. 

He sighs, looking over at his nightstand. "Right, well, it's late. For me. So I'm going to bed. We'll be in touch soon. Take care, Elle." Denny ends the conversation.

She nods obediently. "Yeah, you too. Bye." she waves at him before she presses the end call button. The phone screen goes back to the homescreen. 

That was probably the first time he's ever called a foreign asset by their name. In truth, he doesn't just see her as an asset. She's so much more than that to him. She's his strongest and most precious weapon. There is no other weapon like her. He's seen her through surveillance cameras on how she's blown up and destroyed things just with her mind. She has so much more potential to live up to. She just needs to be taught and molded by him. 

Elle thinks nothing of it. She's just glad that he's allowing her to take a few days off after everything. 

***

Sliding the glass door to get back inside the penthouse, she steps into their living room and closes the door behind her.

The men are still sitting beside each other, a cup of coffee in their hands as they snapped their heads to her. 

She walks over to them with no expression. Six frowns, trying to figure her out. Lloyd's face relaxes at the sight of her.

"Did it go okay?" Lloyd asks her, slowly.

She nods, handing him his phone and he just places it on the counter while his eyes are focused on her instead. Like it didn't even matter. She could've found a lot of nasty things on his phone but yet, he gave it to her within a heartbeat. He trusts her. Something that he's never done before with anyone. 

She stands beside Lloyd. "I asked for a few days off." Elle casually replies, her eyes meeting Six.

Six grimaces. "Oh. How did that go?" he carefully asks. 

She blinks confusedly. "What do you mean? He approved it. Why wouldn't he?" 

Lloyd widens his eyes in surprise. "He did?" he asks her. 

Six lifts his eyebrows. "Really?" he asks her, in disbelief.

She nods at both of them before frowning confusedly. "Why are you guys reacting this way?" she innocently asks.  

"Because foreign assets aren't even supposed to take a day off. No matter what happened on the last mission." Lloyd explains to her. He knew the real reason Denny approved of her taking a break. He'd do anything for her.

She knits her eyebrows lightly before tilting her head to the side. "Well, maybe he just felt bad for me? I'm sure no one's gone through the same thing I did yesterday and still lives." she assumes, looking at the bright side a little. She hasn't suspected a thing.

Six simply nods, remembering what Lloyd had told him last night in bed. She shouldn't have to know that he has some fucked-up crush on her. They'll just keep her in the dark on this one, for her own sake. Lloyd nods as well, humming to assure her. 

"Yeah, you might be right." Lloyd mumbles.

She chuckles. "I am right." she remarks while walking towards the kitchen counter which is right in front of the guys. 

She stops by at the fridge, quickly taking a cold water bottle from their water stock. They buy more than a dozen of these almost everyday because tap water isn't clean in this country — they didn't know that before and she laughed at their faces when they first tried to drink the tap water. 

Her eyes stare down at the bottle before casually flicking the cap off with her mind. The plastic cap falls to the ground. The guys aren't even fazed by that anymore. They've seen her do this a couple of times when she's too lazy to open it herself. 

She goes to stand behind the counter while she tips her head up as she gulps the water. She places the bottle down after drinking half of it. Resting her hands on her hips, she glances at both of them. They both look up at her in sync.

She clears her throat. "So, I think I'm going back to my house for a while. Not to stay in though, just sometimes visiting. Maybe we could stay there some nights when we don't have a mission. It'll be like a little escape. I know I said I'd say goodbye to my old life but it's just… it's been more than three weeks that I haven't been there and I feel bad. My dogs probably miss me already." she truthfully tells them.

Six simply nods, understanding her completely. He'll always support her. He'd never question her or doubt her. She is always right in his eyes. She can never do any wrong. She is a saint to him. Pure. Kind-hearted. Gentle. The most beautiful thing on earth. He feels lucky just to get to be in her presence. To sleep with her. To enjoy her. To get taken care of by her. To get touched by her. To get kissed by her soft, beautiful lips. To have her smile at him like he's the best thing that happened to her — he is. 

"It's okay to miss home, Elle. It's not a crime. We'll be glad to stay with you there. It's only ten minutes away. We have a car for a reason." Lloyd assures her, softly.

Her lips tug into a smile for both of them as her hands come down to rest on the counter. "Thank you. And, it's not really my home. You guys are my home. A place doesn't just make a home, the people inside of it do." she says, happily and her words just made both of them realize something. 

"You're right." Six says out loud, with the most gentle tone possible. A warm smile slowly touches his lips. He'd never smile for anyone like this. This is a real smile. Natural. Genuine. She's the only reason he ever truly actually smiles. And he means it. She is right. He's never had an actual home before that was safe and comfortable enough. He actually trusts the people he lives with now. 

Lloyd's blue eyes gazes at her openly and she stares directly into his eyes from their fair distance. They keep their eye contact for a while and she catches a look from him. She finally notices how he's been looking at her this whole time as her lips part in realization. He's never looked at anyone like he looked at her. It's like he changes his entire facial expression whenever he looks at her. It's so different from him. Distinct. Dissimilar. He doesn't even realize how he's looking at her sometimes. He's too busy admiring her to notice. 

His whole face changes into something soft and delicate for her and it brings her comfort to know that he has gone soft for her. His eyebrows knit lightly, paying more attention to her. His eyes only focus on her and nothing else as he quietly looks up and down her face to observe her beauty. He studies her bare, sleepyhead face and her slightly messy hair. He doesn't mind it. He'd give anything to see her every morning like this. It'd be much better if he could see it in his own bed for once. But he'll wait. He'll be patient. Just for her. 

He subtly nods, his eyes softening for her and she catches it again. "You are right about always being right, honey." Lloyd admits as a small sincere smile creeps up on his lips. She breaks into a soft giggle at her official favorite nickname from him. He's grateful that he finally has a home with someone he wants.

Home was a luxury they couldn't have before. They each were always moving from one safehouse to another within a few days. Nothing was ever constant. Danger always followed them. They never had anyone else beside themselves. It was consuming and painful. 

This isn't exactly a home because it is technically sort-of a safehouse as well but it's the closest they'll ever get to it. They have her. She's their home. Their only one. They'd go anywhere with her and it'd still feel like home. 

[ottos-wahn]

i don't think we, as a society, talk enough about the scene at the piano in season 4, episode 22 (i'll be waving as you drive away part 2) of little house on the prairie, which is, in my opinion, one of the most romantic scenes in television history for so many reasons. it reminds me so much of the phone scene in it's a wonderful life, with its quiet intimacy, with the way you can really feel the longing between mary and adam, how they're sitting so close, but they can't quite touch. they're sort of hovering, being very careful with one another, until it becomes too much, and i just love the hesitation, the slow burn, the pining!!! but also it's the first time they really allow themselves to realize what they mean to one another.

it starts like any other lesson, with her doubting her ability to learn how to play piano because she's blind and his reassurance that she can do anything she wants to do; he offers to teach her, and his sitting so close to her isn't that unusual in this context (he sat right next to her and touched her hands when teaching her Braille earlier), but then the context changes when she admits that it isn't just her being blind that's dissuading her from learning how to play. there also isn't the time. and you can see his face fall, you can see the sadness on his face when she reminds him that her family is coming to take her home. because before this, they spent so much time together, and they always had so much more time to come. but for the first time, they're faced with the idea that they won't be together anymore. and we, the viewers, can see how her leaving is affecting him, but obviously she can't, so she tells him that she's scared. and she's scared explicitly because he won't be there to help her.

and for a moment, he's back in teacher mode and tells her she can't depend on him forever (which we, the viewers, obviously know isn't true), but this only lasts a moment, because he knows this isn't Mary's usual self-pity and self-deprecation. this isn't her usual way of trying to get out of something she finds too difficult, that she's too afraid to try, and she doesn't need tough love; this is a moment of real vulnerability, and, as if in effort to make her feel better, he reveals he'll be leaving too (which i genuinely believe that he would not have gone to winoka had she stayed at the burton school but i digress).

to which she responds that she's glad she's leaving, if he won't be there anymore.

and then we get The Moment, where, faced with both of their impending departures, they can't hold their feelings in anymore. and she laments, so quietly and gingerly, the fact she's never seen him. and he takes her hands and tells her to look at him. and he brings her hands to his face!!!! the way he closes his eyes and leans into her touch! her little smile! the way her voice cracks when she asks what color his hair is!!

the music swells and then it ebbs and we hear adam, his voice barely above a whisper, ask what she looks like. because, he tells her, he's never seen her, either. and she takes his hand and brings it to her face, and there are tears in her eyes! and she's holding his hands even as he caresses her face! and his fingers linger over her lips! and he laughs in disbelief at this revelation, that his feelings are requited!

but it's more than that for mary! because this is the first time she realizes that adam is also blind! that he actually does understand her!! and not only does he understand her, but all of his preaching, all of his lectures on how blind people are just as good as anyone else, how they can do anything they set their mind to, how important it is for her not to make excuses for herself, were not the condescensions of a sighted man, but lessons he wanted to share with her from his own years of struggling with himself and his blindness!! and that offers her hope, that she will also overcome her current struggles, and that she can achieve self-actualization just as he has! i don't think it's just love of adam that allows her to reconsider her dream of becoming a teacher, though obviously his support is helpful! but she moves to winoka without being engaged!

and it's also just so tender! the way they caress each other! how happy they are! and the new understanding they gain of one another through this scene!

it's the first time they're "seeing" each other, and it's also the first time they're seeing each other. and i wish so badly that tumblr was around when lhotp was airing because i want so many gifsets of this scene

[midnightstargazer]

so, re: Regulus and Barty in the latest chapter of Reborn from the Ashes

so, I've mentioned this before, but Regulus can't save everyone. There were people on Voldemort's side who he genuinely cared about and considered friends, and betraying Voldemort means betraying them, too. It always did. The only way it wouldn't is if they were willing to betray Voldemort with him.

Sure, the Malfoys and a few others from his old social circle are perfectly happy to live in a Voldemort-free world. But Barty would never have done that. Not this specific version of him, the way that I've chosen to characterize him. Little eleven-year-old Barty was a sweetheart, and his father's awful, but he was very eager to join the Death Eaters and never regretted it for a moment.

Which is hard for Regulus, because I think out of his Death Eater friends and acquaintances, Barty is the one he was holding out the most hope for right up until the end of the war. He would've loved to find out that Barty also changed sides and welcomed him with open arms. Not only because they were friends at school, but also because Barty was brand new to the Death Eaters when Regulus left, so Regulus wasn't there to witness any of the stuff he did. Unlike, say, Evan Rosier, who he was friends with for even longer but then actually witnessed committing heinous crimes with zero remorse, who he actually tried to talk to about his own concerns only to have Evan dismiss them. Regulus was still upset to hear that Evan had died, but he had already written him off by that point.

On the other hand, there are several points throughout the series where Regulus looks at Barty differently and is still hoping he might come around. Particularly in this conversation with Pandora in Toujours Vivant chapter 9:

“He’s still in school, and his family doesn’t support the cause. The Dark Lord probably won’t ask him to do anything big until after graduation. It was different for Evan and me, of course; our parents were happy to let us go out on missions during school breaks.” "Does he believe it, though?" Regulus paused to consider. If Barty didn't believe the Death Eaters' rhetoric, he certainly wouldn't have shared his doubts with the man who recruited him. And yet ... “It’s not about blood purity for him, I don’t think," said Regulus thoughtfully. "He pays lip service to the idea, but I think he’s mostly just an angry kid trying to be the opposite of what his father wanted.”

And this conversation where Lily is asking him about Snape in Toujours Vivant chapter 24:

“He’s a Death Eater, though? You’re sure of it?” There was an easy answer, but Lily looked so thoroughly disappointed that it made him hesitate. No matter how badly their friendship had crashed and burned, she obviously still cared enough to wish the answer was “no” - so he told her what he told himself when his thoughts lingered on Barty for too long. “He was a Death Eater when I left, and once you’re in, it’s very difficult to change your mind. But like I said, it’s been a while. I really don’t know what he’s doing now.” He paused and then added, “I know this doesn’t make it any better, but I think he still cares for you.”

Even in this most recent chapter of Reborn from the Ashes, he says he might have tried to help Barty if not for what had happened to the Longbottoms. Realistically, there's not much he can do either way. He doesn't have the influence on his own to get anyone out of prison, and none of the people who are on board with trying to prove Sirius's innocence would be willing to help free a Death Eater who stayed a Death Eater until the end. But what Regulus really means there, I think, is that he would not personally see Barty as beyond hope of redemption if he hadn't helped torture the Longbottoms.

But he did torture the Longbottoms, and if he got out of Azkaban, he would absolutely start hurting more people and trying to bring back Voldemort. So Regulus can't allow himself to care too much about Barty, because it's not just that he can't help him, he wouldn't even if he could. He has to prioritize Sirius - who actually doesn't deserve to be in Azkaban - and making sure Voldemort can't come back. Except that of course, he does care, because Barty did used to be his friend.

there's not anything coming up soon in canon that could make the whole thing a million times more complicated, is there? Nah. Definitely not...

[morosepresence]

March 28, 2023 5:11 pm

This past year I've tried really hard to accept that I need to make things happen for myself. Sitting in my house and witnessing time ticking by can only be so healthy. However, I didn't realize how hard it would be to break years upon years of bad habits.

I've always known that time heals all wounds but right now it doesn't seem like it. It seems to me that when I feel bad about something, I never truly seem to forget or move on. It just lingers there for a minute, then goes away with time, and now it's back again. I try to find the foundation of the problem but I struggle everyday. To understand why I hate myself so much. Why I feel that everyone else is deserving of a beautiful life but not me. I'm finally asking "why me?" when I've always thought that only cowards did. I need to learn why because I'm sick and tired of feeling lost everyday.

Growing up, I didn't have much of an identity. I didn't have an interest that made me feel like me. I did find video games, but it was an excuse to not battle the demons outside. I don't know what I would of expected if I did find my niche, but I just feel like I've done nothing. And other people seem to believe that too. Don't get me wrong, I've lived a beautiful life. I'm loved by my family and friends, I've traveled the world, gotten the best education, and had the luxury to live my life the way I've wanted to. But it's somehow not enough. Everyday I have woken up feeling like I'm missing something, I'm just never satisfied. I've been slowly realizing why and I think I've found it? Not sure

I feel like nothing. Physically and mentally, nothing. It sounds redundant but it's true; I just feel like a dead end in everything. With everyone I know and everything I do, nothing. I feel like I've lived through other people my whole life. The funny part is, no one has told me explicitly what to do. I just have no idea what to do. I don't know what I want or who I want. I have doubts about every little thing I touch. One bad word towards me even when the intent is positive hurts more than anything. I care so much about what other people think to a pathological degree. I've always been seeking everyone's approval and acceptance that I don't think positively about myself, and I've realized that I've never been comfortable in my own skin. I've put on this front my entire life; that I'm confident and I'm always right and that I don't care what people think of me but I wear a mask because I'm able to romanticize the life I really want. How I actually want to feel.

I also hate my body and I feel so lonely within that mindset. I know other people have body image issues and low self esteem but I don't think anyone does like me. I'm addicted to food. I love eating because it's the only thing that I know will be good. Food is good. It's delicious and I eat too much of it. I was told today by a family member that they want to set me up with this boy in the summer and that it's going to be so exciting for me. But before that, I have to look amazing so let's sign up for workout classes!

Don't get me wrong, I want to loose weight and sign up for workout classes. But I can't look amazing without being skinny? Will I just never reach my maximum potential/beauty because of my weight?How do I date or meet people when I do get skinny? Would they have loved me when I weighed this much? Will people take me seriously when I don't weigh as much? How is this all supposed to make me feel? Inspired? Motivated?

Guess what? I don't. One little fucking comment is sending me over the edge. And you know what's funny? It wasn't even meant with ill intentions, just the delivery was off. I can't stand shit like that. Worry about your own body and not mine. You're projecting your insecurities onto me because you want to break the cycle with me and you don't want me to be like you, I get it. Trust me, I do. But why does it hurt so bad? Why do I feel like the ugliest person that walked onto this earth? Why has my confidence squashed overtime?

Because I don't know my worth. Or what I deserve. I was never taught to have confidence like this because truth be told, no one around me has it. That's what I think anyway. I don't expect perfection but I hate being a people pleaser when I can't even please myself. I hate loving when I don't love myself and I hate helping when I don't help myself. I'm so exhausted.

I want to work on myself so bad but I just can't do it. I just can't put everything into anything and I feel so stupid. So whoever is reading this, learn from me and accept that you are enough and that you are worth saving. Even though I know that deep down I still can do it. I will with time but I can't today. Also, I know I will be more confident when I weigh less and experiment with different styles and I do believe I will reach my maximum potential when I am physically the healthiest. But in order to start that journey I truly believe that you have to love yourself just enough to do what the old you couldn't. So don't make sensitive comments like that because even when the intent is good it can come out terribly. I will follow suit and make sure I don't do the same. Life is too short to risk being an asshole and ruining someones day.

[mjlovescm]

15- Snowflakes, 🍋

Completed, 30 chapters, “Grey” Fezco O’Neill x black fem reader

Content- nsfw, edging, p in v sex, clit rubbing. 

"Oh shit." Rue said, walking into your room. "You actually cleaned it." she was talking about her room.

"I told you I would."

"Yea, I know, but I didn't like actually believe you."

She took a seat on your bed and grabbed the stuffed that Fezco had won you at the carnival.

"You talk to Fez since the raid?"

Her tone is casual, but there's a hint of concern in her voice.

"No, but the police didn't find anything." You said, voice matching hers.

She nods and presses her lips together, and you can tell that there's more Rue wants to say. She plays with the bear for a moment before turning to you.

"I know whatever you and Fez have is complicated and kinda fucked up because of me-."

"Rue, it's not your faul-" You quickly try to tell her, but she speaks over you.

"But it's not gonna like trigger me if you guys get back together." Rue half jokes, trying to ease the sudden seriousness of the conversation. "I know you miss him. Plus, I doubt Fezco has like moved on. He never stops talking about you."

She waves the bear in your face as a sign of his commitment to you, regardless of your official title. You roll your eyes playfully, but your lips hold an embarrassingly genuine smile and take the bear from her. You set it in your lap of and for some reason try to think of an argument against

what she was suggestion, but you didn't know why. Rue was quite literally giving you the green light, but still that instinct to put her first was there.

"I don't-" You pause, unsure of your words. "I don't wanna be a bad sister, Rue. I just- I wanna keep you safe." Your words were raw and you spoke sincerely.

"Thank you." She says your name with the kind of softness you haven't heard from her since you were little kids. "I am safe, and you'll always be a good sister for trying to keep me that way. You and Fezco mean a lot to me, and so does you being happy."

Rue gives you a smile before returning to her room. You sigh and throw your head back, lying flat on your bed with the big stuffed bear lying on you. Gripping like you do before you sleep, you take a breath and let the weight lift from your shoulders. The crossroads seemed to come together as one. And the path lead where you knew it always would.

As a senior, you felt sorta obligated to go to any and every school event, considering that it would be your last chance. At first, you didn't want to go, but truthfully, you couldn't miss the opportunity of seeing Jules and Rue dance together. You weren't completely sure how you felt about her or them together, or even if they were actually together. But Rue cared a lot about her, you just hoped that Jules felt the same way. Walking through the school gym behind them, you smiled as you took in the decorations.

After the three of you found an empty table, you were quickly joined by Cassie, Lexi, and Maddy And eventually Kat. You all greeted and Complimented each other, but there was a clear unspoken separation between you, Maddie and Kat. None of you had spoken since Cassie's McKay dilemma. In all honesty, you weren't really too focused on the two of them, or anyone at the dance for that matter. This year's winter formal would be your first without a date freshman and sophomore year Fezco took you and Junior he who shall not be named did. And yet you were only daydreaming about one of them. Your mind lingered around the idea of him being here. You laughed to yourself at the thought of dancing on him to some song that was definitely too inappropriate for highschoolers. But soon it turned into a sigh and a new thought appeared. Swaying back and forth to the slow music, pressing your head to his chest and just being held.

A notification flashes your phone, you blink and suddenly the fantasy is gone. It was Rue telling you her and Jules were leaving. If it was the beginning of summer you would have maybe freaked out and checked her location to follow her, but right now you didn't really feel the need to. You trusted Rue, and the fact that she told you meant she trusted you too. Things were different now better. You sent her a quick text before taking a big leap of faith and texting Fezco.

…

"Damn." Fezco comments as you get into his car. "Shit, I see you."

Your glossed lips grow into an ear to ear grin. It's almost embarrassing how giddy he already made you feel.

"Looking all for fine for the school dance, huh. You have fun? " He asks genuinely, his eyes more on you than the road ahead of him.

"Not really." You tell him honestly. "But Rue did, though."

"And why didn't you? I thought you like to dance." Fezco's voice is softer but still carries its natural husk.

"I do, but there was only one person I really wanted to dance with tonight."

Your response is not as ambiguous as you hoped it was, clearly it was pointed at Fezco. He frowns at the thought of him not being there to make your night better. He was occupied with Mouse, but regardless, he still felt bad. Picking up on this, you decided to steer the conversation in another direction.

"But the night ain't over yet, and I really don't feel like dancing no more."

You scan his body up and down, then smile. Before he answers, Fezco does the same.

"Well, what chu feel like doing."

He spoke lowly with a playful teasing tone matching your energy. You shrug and play coy for the rest of the ride. But by the time you got to Fezco's place, you quickly drop the act and make your intentions crystal clear.

"I've been thinkin' bout you all night." You confessed between breathless kisses to Fezco's neck.

He doesn't respond, and instead uses his hand on your jaw to guide your lips to his. He kisses you with a need, a hunger you hadn't felt from anyone except him. It shoots a heat through you, and you stumble a bit as you both walk to Fezco's room. He catches you with his free hand, hooking it around your waist and holding you close to him.

"I got you, baby." He whispers in your ear before pressing a kiss to your jaw, and you hold back a moan.

The two of you were all over each other giggling, laughing and stumbling on the way to Fezco's room. Your dress already unzipped and Fezco's large hands already under it. Gripping at your ass and thighs. Somehow you managed to make it to the room without alerting Ashtray and immediately your dress falls to the floor.

Pulling away from Fezco, you sat on his bed and gave him a moment to admire your body. It had been such a long time since you and him were like this. The last two times you had sex with him were more spur of the moment things fuelled admittedly by alcohol or weed, and that's not what you wanted you and Fezco to be anymore. It's not what you and Fezco ever were or would be.

"All night huh."

Fezco says with a smirk, his cheeks dusted with a darkening pink blush. His voice was deeper than it was in the car, rougher. Quickly, he discards his tracksuit and meets you on the bed.

"All … night." You repeat with a tilt of your head, running your hands over Fezco's now bare chest. "Longer than that, actually."

You take a moment to feel him, and he does the same. It feels different, almost new, but certainly far too familiar. It was like your mind had memorized every small detail of him, every freckle or beauty mark, every scar. All of him was carved on the inside of your mind in a place one but him could reach. You could blame it solely on memory, but you both knew it was more.

Brining his hand to your face Fezco cups your cheek leaning into his touch you give his palm a kiss. He smiles and moves the hand to the back of your neck before pulling you into a kiss. You gasp, but it's caught between each other's lips. With his free hand on your. Taking his free hand off your ass, Fezco hooks it under your thigh and pulls your body closer to his with a grunt, leaving your leg atop his parted from the other one.

A light sparks within you, and you whine as Fezco cups your pussy. He applies pressure gently to your clothed clit, and instinctively you grid into his hand, already desperate for more. The cool air hits your face and the warmth of Fezco's lips find a new home at the base of your neck.

"F-fez." You moaned.

"I know." He mumbles against your sensitive skin. "I know baby."

He intensified his movements, his lips traveling at the same pace as his palm. Slow deep circles matching the strong sucks and light bites send waves of pleasure crashing through your lower stomach. Shamelessly, you lose yourself in the moment and let the feeling grow stronger without any interruptions. Fezco chuckles lightly, and you laugh in response, but it cruelly twists into a sharp gasp and stuttered moan.

Pulling you closer to climax, Fezco whisper dirty little nothing's into your ear. Teasing and conflicting you.

"Just like that." He coaxed, falsely guiding you towards the edge while simultaneously keeping you from it. "Not yet. Not without me." He groaned.

Fezco knew edging was a challenge for you. Your body and mind went against each other, so ultimately the choice was his, and he knew this. But instead of reveling his choice early Fezco rather watch you try to choose of for yourself. Undecided, your hips squirm into and away from his touch, pushing and pulling yourself back and forth, stuck atop that mountain of pleasure and need. And even when you did make the decision to fall off the edge, Fezco throws you back down that hill. He pulls his hand away and the lack of him hits you quick instantly. Before you can react another feeling hits, completely taking over your body, with a harsh smack Fezco brings his hand down to your clit. It catches you off guard and your reaction is immediate, you gasp and attempt to close your legs, but Fezco keeps them open.

"All night." Fezco teases with a cocky smile. "I got you thinking bout me all night, huh. Sitting in that cute ass dress waiting for me."

He continues to work your overstimulated clit with his palm, and you struggle to respond with anything that isn't a broken moan. He laughs at the interesting sound that leaves you, and your heart swells. Your lips can't help but to grow into a hazy smile. Fezco's hand leaves where it was and gently trails up your body, the mood shift to something more peaceful. Hooking his index finger under your chin, he moves your head to better face him before Fezco kisses you.

"I been thinking bout you for a long time." He admits against your lips before away.

You sigh opening your eyes already you miss the feeling. Rolling your tongue over your bottom lip, you try to hold onto what's left of it. It was confusing, even though you were both present and both of your minds were clear. Even though you just being here ensured that things would go back to the way they were before. That fog of confusion and uncertainty still hung over you.

The snap of Fezco undoing your bra instantly clears your mind, and you're met with Fezco's gaze. Those beautiful light blue eyes of his you were sure you'd looked into at least a million times by now. But still every time felt brand new, this one especially. There was just something about looking at someone and seeing everything you could be and everything you were.

"A long time, huh." You joke.

Fezco's chuckles and smiles a toothy grin.

"Longer than that, actually."

He copies your previous words, and you laugh as your head falls onto his shoulder. Fezco wraps his arms around you and falls back on the bed before flipping you onto your back. Leaving him between your parted legs.

"I don't know why you laughing at me, you the one who said it first." He says, pressing his lips to your jaw.

"I'm not laughing at you." You tell him, still laughing but no at the feeling of Fezco's lips on your sensitive skin.

He continues to shower you with kisses as they grow less and less gentle. Fezco releases you from his arms and grips your hips with his hands. Giving them a generous squeeze before pulling them to his with a groan. You gasp and moan at the sudden feeling of Fezco's dick pressing into you. Truly, it caught you by surprise, you'd both been so focused on you that you hadn't realized Fezco was even hard. But now that you were aware, you pushed in, wrapping your legs around him before happily grinding and causing him to take a sharp inhale.

"You somethin' else." Fezco comments, and you smile, taking it as a compliment.

Swiftly, he unwraps your legs and takes your underwear off for you before simply pulling his to his knee's. A cold shiver ran through the both of you as Fezco teases your entrance with his tip. Collecting the result of his edging before stroking himself for a moment. You were both a bit worked up, so it all happened a bit quick. Fezco bottoms out with ease and soft moans, as always he gives you a second to get used to the feeling before moving. But after that he gave you no breaks Fezco picks up a quick pace and keeps his thrust deep shooting pleasure through both of your bodies with every rock of his hips.

"Damn, you feel good." Fezco whispers. "Fuck, I miss this."

His words only add to the complete ecstasy of the moment. God, you missed him, missed this. Every little and large detail. The light, easily ignorable or even unnoticeable feeling of Fezco's gold chain hitting your face as he fucks you. The tickle of his bread as his lips press to your ignited skin. You could feel release speeding towards you, Fezco pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His name spewed from your lips like a broken faucet. Flowing over and over nonstop.

"There you go, there you go." Fezco whimpers, encouraging you through your impending orgasm, knowing his would come less than a second later.

The familiar feeling grows strong and stronger. Wrapping your arms around him, you beg. Beg for him to right there with you. To keep you pinned under him like this, to stay like this forever if it meant never leaving this moment. Your orgasms came and went as they always do, yes you were left feeling satisfied but for some reason more than that you were left feeling exhausted physically, emotionally. And ironically even empty.

"Can we stay like this for a minute." You ask. Beg. Plead with Fezco, who you still hadn't let go. "Please."

He doesn't respond, he isn't sure how to. His instinct was to comfort you any way he could and staying in this position cradling your head and kissing sweet unspoken promises to your skin was at this moment the right way to do it. First your left cheek then right, then forehead and lastly your chin.

Balance and stability.

Fezco's small pink bag had really come in handy tonight. Sex with makeup on was never a good idea, and right now yours was hanging on by a very thin thread. Quickly you cleaned your face then washing and moisturizing it before meeting Fezco in his bed. You climbed into bed next to him, and sleepily he presses a kiss to your forehead. Fezco wraps his arms around you, humming at the contrasting feel of your body on his now and compared to just a few minutes ago. You both say goodnight and there's a beat of silence. Nothing but calm breaths and synchronized heart beats for the one sweet moment, but Fezco could tell there was still more left for you to say, and truthfully there was. You and Fezco were definitely something good, great even, but you weren't some fairy tale. Just because you kissed and "made up" didn't mean that everything could just be swept under the rug. You both wanted to move forward, and conversations like this was how you made it happen. But regardless of the importance or even need of the talk, you were still hesitant on having it.

"You gon tell me what's wrong, or we just gon lay here all night."

You sigh at Fezco's words, hoping he couldn't feel the tension you felt.

"I love you, Fez." You start off on a good foot, but no time getting straight to point. "And I promise that you mean the world to me, but Rue gets into some shit and I find out it has anything to do with you, I'm never gon speak to you again. And I'm definitely not letting you anywhere near Rue."

The words leave your mouth much easier than you thought they would, it wasn't much of a threat, but it was definitely a promise. You were redrawing a line that Fezco had already crossed in hopes of moving forward together. But more important, you were setting a boundary and letting him know what would happen if he broke it.

Next chapter ;)

All chapters :)

[hessafeelsfordayss]

Some of my thoughts about Bridgerton season 2 (these will be out of order) MIGHT CONTAIN SPOILERS:

• First off, I just want to start out by saying that Simone and Jonathan's performances were out of this world. You could feel every emotion they portrayed; you could feel the yearning, the frustration, the passion, the angst, every single time they were in a scene together. They brought Kanthony to life better than anyone else could have ever dreamed of.

• Because of them, Kate and Anthony's chemistry was unmatched. Every touch, every lingering stare, every almost kiss, had my heart fluttering and me biting my fist from pure excitement. During their intimate moments it almost felt like I was intruding on their privacy. I felt like Anthony and Kate were real people, and not just actors playing a part. All I'm saying is Jonathan and Simone better get all the rewards!

• I've already stated this, but Lord Featherington and Portia's scheming 'romance' was really boring to me and also quite gross. The fact that it came out of nowhere and the lack of chemistry was a turn off.

• But I'm so so proud of Portia for choosing her girls without hesitation. She has made some questionable decisions no doubt, and isn't the best at showing her affection towards them, but I know she does love them and want them to be happy. If she didn't she would have gone with Lord Featherington, because she obviously did have feelings for him. Big props to her for that.

• I'm gonna get hate, but I don't really like what they did with Edwina's character. In the book Edwina is more understanding and happy for her sister, and knows exactly what she wants in a husband, but then again Anthony didn't propose to her in the book 😒 I can understand her feeling hurt, truly I can, but I feel like she took it too far when she told Kate that they are only half sisters. That was a low blow, especially considering Kate felt she needed to earn her way into their family, and set aside her own happiness to ensure that Edwina and Mary got theirs first.

• Even when she wasn't blind to their feelings anymore, and she could see how much they truly cared for each other, she was still acting bitter and treating Kate poorly and calling her an unkind person and not forgiving Kate until the accident. Edwina in the book would never do these things. I still love her though. She is only human after all.

• I saw a lot of growth with Colin towards Pen this season. The way he stared at her when he first saw her after a while, him protecting her and her family and telling her she's special to him... Only for him to once again regress at the end. I love angst though, so I'm not really bothered by what he said. It makes me think that in season three it will play a big part in his and Penelope's story. What I am upset about is how he laughed at the expense of her with the guys. That was really messed up, especially after he had just got done telling her she was special to him and that he will always protect her.

• I better see Penelope distancing herself from him, or better yet straight up ignoring him. I want him confused and I want him to pine for her presence without even knowing that's what he is doing. Most of all, I need Penelope to have suitors. I need obliviously jealous Colin like I need the air to breathe! I want the tables flipped, I want Pen to give up on the fantasy of Colin and actually show interest to these suitors. After the little stunt he pulled, I need Colin to be the one doing the pining this time.

• My heart broke at Eloise and Penelope breaking their friendship. I love them both dearly, but maybe this is for plot purposes? Like maybe so Penelope won't be around the Bridgerton' s anymore, which will affect Colin? And Eloise and Penelope as well. Because let's be real, Penelope and Eloise are for life. I just wonder if El is going to tell her family or anyone about Penelope's secret.. 🤔😩

• Loved all the Bridgerton family scenes, along with all of the individual family members. They will always be one of my favorite things about the show. The playful jabs and banters, all of them always being there for one another no matter what, the raw emotional moments, etc.

• When Anthony sniffed the air when Kate walked by and Lady Danbury caught him and loudly cleared her throat - that was peak comedy 😂😂 I snorted so loud I was afraid I woke the rest of the house up.

• Not to mention his reaction to seeing her bare thigh.. the man is a capital R Rake but was left speechless and flustered at just seeing her leg. He already had it bad. 🤭

• Marina being the number one polin shipper... Hell yess! I didn't see it coming, but I'm so happy about it.

• The Queen's storyline was boring as well, but I love her so much for putting her own desires aside and approving of Kate and Anthony's love. If it wasn't for her, I'm not sure how Kate and Anthony could have ended up together without tarnishing their families names.

• That's all I can think of right now, but if I happen to think of more I'll be sure to share them with you all!

[no-droids]

Whenever You Want

Part Fourteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.2K

Warnings: Listen there is some dirty smut in this one yall okay like I was blushing when I wrote it, it has a very stark beginning and theres a pagebreak afterwards if you would prefer to skip over it. Smut includes oral sex (female receiving) rough sex, sensory deprivation, butt stuff (ass to mouth, anal fingering/penetration) so PLEASE LOOK OUT FOR IT PLEASE. Also there is jealous/possessive mando in this, season 1 Karga makes another appearance, and some angst/fluff towards the end

A/N: Nothing much today yoditos just love you all

***

Din said he’d meet you here.

You’re currently sitting across from Greef Karga in a cantina on Nevarro, a closed shield next to you and a blaster tucked into the back of your waistband, hidden underneath your shirt.  You’re barely even looking at him, though—your eyes are attached to the door by an invisible string, forcing your gaze back to it no matter how much it bounces around the room.

You don’t know where Din is, you haven’t seen him in hours.  But you do know that when he left, he was moving slower than you’re used to.  You don’t think anyone else would notice, but you sure did.  Not that he was obvious about it—you only picked up on very subtle hints.  Leaning up against things just a bit more than he usually does.  Taking slightly longer exiting the ramp of the Crest than his normal strides would carry him.

He didn’t say what he was going to do—just that he needed to find someone before meeting with Karga, and you accepted it.  But truthfully, you didn’t want to.  You were worried about him—still are, actually.  But for all intents and purposes, he was speaking and acting like himself, showing no real signs of exhaustion other than the smallest instances you described before, so you didn’t really have a leg to stand on.  He’s been through way worse, and you know it.  You just… find yourself worrying about him so much more than you used to, and you need to learn how to gain some control over that part of you.

The kid was still passed out from healing him and you remember Din carefully setting four pucks down in the sleeping baby’s sphere and giving his ears a gentle rub between leather fingers.  He turned back to you and told you to meet him at the cantina in three hours, but if it ended up taking him too long for any reason, to try your best to see if Karga will let you exchange on his behalf.

Admittedly, he didn’t sound too confident about it—the instructions were delivered with a tone that implied a doubtful, just-in-case scenario he wasn’t foreseeing happening.  Or maybe he just doubted the likelihood of Karga agreeing to do business with you, you’re not entirely sure.  All you know is that when he left, you were almost certain he wouldn’t be late, but you also took the time to grab the smallest blaster from his armory before heading out just in case.

Yet—here you are, three and a half hours later, eyes flicking between the door and Karga as you attempt to keep up polite conversation.  After turning down his offer of alcohol for the fifth time and still not seeing any glimpse of beskar coming to your rescue, you figure this may be as good a time as any to start the exchange.

During an extended break in the small talk, you slowly reach over to the corner of your booth and press a button on the face of the kid’s shield.  It hisses open and you completely miss the way Karga’s hand raises while three of his guards automatically reach for their hips.  The little green monster is still snoozing comfortably while you pull out the four glowing pucks Din left you and set them on the table one by one.

They scrape along the top of it as you slowly push them over to him, before sitting back in the booth and clearing your throat, flicking your eyes between Karga and his guards.  To you, nobody appears to have moved, so you muster a polite smile at him.

Karga smiles back, but makes no move to gather or inspect the offerings in front of him.

“Um…” you say after a moment, suddenly feeling your heart start to beat a little faster.  “Mando… Mando gave me permission to exchange on his behalf.”

“I believe you,” he drawls out in response, but the pucks still sit untouched in front of him as he leans back in the booth and studies you.  “Mando has always had a… let’s say, a frustrating penchant for disregarding the pillars of our code.  My apologies, young lady, but I’m afraid that I cannot accept these from you.”

Your voice comes out quieter than you’d like it to sound.  “Why not?”

“It is… unlawful,” he answers after a moment.  “Our organization operates under strict rules.”

Does it?  You blink.  No, it doesn’t.  You’re nothing to the Guild and you’ve sat next to Din quite a few times while Karga talked, listening to him drunkenly boast about return rates and out members by name.  You’re not sure why he’s barring you like this, but you’re also not self-assured enough to put practically any spine into it whatsoever.  “I’m… afraid I don’t understand.”

“I cannot legally do guild business with individuals not recognized as members in an official capacity,” he sighs, sounding grave and almost apologetic about it, but you don’t know him well enough to know if he’s a good actor or not.  “There’s nothing I can do for you besides provide you with my company, not until Mando decides to show.”

Well now that doesn’t make any sense, and you’re starting to worry that for some reason or another, he isn’t going to show.  Though it was incredibly well concealed, you’re well aware that Din was still lingering in the final recovery stages when he left the Crest earlier and all you have to go on is his word that he’d be here.  Something could’ve happened.  Something could be happening right now, you need to push.

“People pick up bounties for extra credits all the time,” you mumble, still way too fucking quiet about it.  Maker, you’re not even sure if he could hear that over the sound of the cantina.  Speak up, speak up.

“Yes, but those quarry are listed on the New Republic’s most wanted database,” Karga acknowledges diplomatically, educating more than he is arguing, before uncorking the bottle of glowing blue alcohol in front of him and beginning to pour himself another shot.  “They’re fodder.  Up for grabs—names, last known locations, and biometrics published for the entire galaxy to read.”  He tilts his head down at the four metal pucks on the table without removing his gaze from the gradually filling glass.  “Those pucks are different, they’re commissions.  Tied specifically to Guild contracts.”  Karga clunks the bottle back down again and corks it, pinning you with a stare.  “For all I know, you could’ve murdered a member of our ranks and come to collect payment for his bounties.  Can’t have that.”

Your blood suddenly turns to ice at the implication, eyes wide and your heartbeat rocketing as you look from Karga to the three guards casually stationed behind him.  “You—You think I murdered Mando?”

“No,” he says, easily and in the very same breath, before throwing the shot back and wiping his mouth with a grimace.  “Not sure I’d care too much if you did.  It’s not my rule, but I am required to follow it or risk losing my position in the Guild.”

Shit.  Shit.  What do you do?

You’re blank, left quiet and feeling increasingly unsure of how to proceed.  Karga, however, seems completely unbothered and even appears to be enjoying himself and your company.  He gives you another smile, this one a lot friendlier and more genuine than the one earlier, before setting his elbows on the table and leaning forward.

“Look, I want to help you,” he admits, keeping his tone light, “but my hands are tied.  Just relax and share a drink with me until he gets here, it’s not a problem.”

Fuck, you don’t like this, and a quick look around brings another reminder of Din’s continued absence.  Your chest feels tight, the anxiety starting to compound and make you jumpy.  It’s been too long—it’s been at least forty minutes or so of waiting by now and something just feels wrong about this.  Not having him next to you feels wrong enough on its own, but when he specifically told you he’d be here?

You clench your jaw and try to work up your nerve.  Karga is a nice guy, right?  He knows you by name, he knows who you are to Mando.  And while you never really thought about the bounty hunter’s omnipresent protection as being anything other than metaphorical, you suddenly realize that… it might be literal, too.  How much sway do you actually have here, you wonder?  You’re not stupid, you’re not going to try anything stupid, but maybe just another question won’t hurt?

“Well, um… how do you become a member, then?”  You ask him, and you watch as he leans back in the booth, raising both eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me?”  He asks, though there’s a genuine amusement in his voice.  Stunned that you’d even say the words aloud.

“I have four bodies,” you tell him shortly.  You’re still quiet about it, but his thoroughly entertained astonishment is beginning to rub you the wrong way.  You don’t want to be part of the Guild, you don’t want to be here, you’re doing this out of growing necessity.  “One of which I dragged through a blizzard on Hoth by its ankles and put into carbonite myself, so please just tell me what I have to do to get you to take them.”

“I can’t,” he repeats, shaking his head like you’re just not getting it.  “New members are only accepted if they bring in an S-level criminal from the database or if they complete a commission that was granted to them by someone of my station—neither of which apply to you.  If you cannot present me with any sort of reasonable argument for which they could, then I’m afraid this is not a favor I can swing.”

“I was sitting right here,” you return, suddenly finding your voice.  If Karga wants an argument from you to get this to happen, then you’ll do it.  You just need to finish this exchange, go back to the Crest, and scan around for Din’s signal.  “When you first gave the pucks to Mando, I sat right here and you pushed them over to this side of the table—I was present for the commission and now I’m here to complete it.”

He shakes his head.  “But I didn’t give them to you, I gave them to Mando—”

“Yes, but you only wanted to give him three,” you immediately point out.  “The last one, the one I told you I put into carbonite—you said you threw it in because you liked me, it could’ve been for me.”

Karga suddenly stops and blinks at you for a few seconds, and you bite your lip, wondering if the logic will hold.  It’s flimsy as fuck and you know he could very easily rip it apart if he wanted to.  It could’ve been for you but it wasn’t, he gave it to Mando.  You also purposefully leave out the fact that you’re also the reason Mando only gave him three bodies in the first place; your only goal here is to complete this transaction as quickly as possible and leave.  You don’t like the fact that it’s taking Din so long, and you also don’t like the fact that Karga seems so keen on keeping you here with him, no matter how many reassurances he provides.  He said he wants to help you?  This can be his chance to prove it.

After a few extended moments of consideration, Karga finally shrugs like he really couldn’t care less before reaching across the table for the pucks and beginning to stack them in his palm.

“What is your last name?”  He asks, turning behind him to gesture for one of his men with a jerk of his head.  The bodyguard exits the cantina without another word and your eyes flick back to Karga’s.

“Why does it matter?”  You ask uncertainly, watching another guard approach with a holopad as he shrugs once more.

“It doesn’t, but we need something for our records,” Karga explains, grabbing the device as it’s tapped against his shoulder without removing his gaze from yours.  “I can just use Doe if you don’t feel like sharing—most of our members tend to prefer anonymity, including your companion.”

Your eyebrows furrow even as your heart continues to pound, wondering how they can afford to be so lax about some things but take others so seriously.  “You have him down as John Doe?”

“First name Man,” Karga grunts in response, finally breaking eye contact to begin navigating through pages on the holopad.

“Ah,” you say shortly, knowing you’d probably find the joke funny in other circumstances.  You’re not out of the trenches yet, you still feel the worry tugging hard at your chest.

“Very well,” Karga announces with a sigh, pocketing the pucks in his leather overcoat and then handing the holopad back to one of the men flanking him after a moment.  “Someone is collecting the carbonite plaques from your vessel as we speak.”

You give him a nod, taking a deep breath that you hope is slow and subtle enough to not give your anxiety away.  He helped you out, you’re halfway through this.  Now comes the exchange.  Now it’s his turn to give you the credits and four more pucks, that’s how this should go.

Only, Karga leans back in his seat and cocks his head at you.  “Unfortunately, I believe we have found ourselves in the midst of yet another predicament.”

Your heart continues to slam, praying you haven’t somehow majorly fucked things up by getting this far.  Din still isn’t here, why is he so fucking late?  He nearly froze to death and you handled a dead body just to make this meeting on time, where the fuck is he?

You raise an eyebrow at him, willing the building panic not to show on your face.  “Have we?”

“You’re lucky credits are attached to commissions instead of rank within the Guild,” he prefaces, pulling out a large handful of them to begin counting, and your eyes flick around the cantina while you know he isn’t looking, “or else you’d be getting about half of what I’d normally give him.”

Heart galloping when you still don’t see any sign of him, you just decide to keep extra quiet as you watch Karga divvy out a sizable stack of credits, hoping your prolonged silence will protect you somehow.

“The question now becomes…” he lifts an eyebrow at you while sliding them across the table to you, “how many pucks do I give you in return, hm?”

Fuck, you don’t like this, you’re trying to make it crystal fucking clear that your intentions do not extend beyond the perimeter of this table.  There’s no you to be found in this deal, you’re just an emergency proxy in Din’s absence and you only inserted yourself in the situation to accomplish that task.  “I told you I’m only here to exchange on Mando’s behalf, that’s it.”

“Be that as it may…”  Karga glances around the cantina like he’s thinking extra hard about it.  This is a made-up problem, you both know there’s no predicament here.  He knows you didn’t kill Mando, he knows there’s no real reason to be giving you such a hard time about this, and you clench your jaw as he still seems to take his time considering it.  “Tell you what, young lady,” he finally turns back to you.  “Do me the honor of sharing one sip of this fine spotchka with me and I’ll give you four pucks to pass along to Mando.”

Okay.  Okay, you can do that, if he really cares that much.  Karga gestures for the closest droid to come by with a glass for you, but you just grab the bottle in front of him and uncork it without thinking too much, balancing the glowing blue liquid with two hands and diligently taking a small sip of it before setting it down again.  Appearing satisfied with your demonstration of upholding your end of the bargain, Karga grins and reaches into another pocket.

“Four for Mando,” he pushes four pucks across the table, “same rate and return as last time, as promised.”  You nearly deflate in relief as you quickly gather them up and begin dropping them into the snoozing baby’s shield along with the credits, but then Karga reaches back and pulls out another puck, pushing it over to you.  “And one for you.”

You blink at him, frozen in place.

“Lowest level, lowest pay.  Not even a criminal by New Republic standards, just a missing person,” he goes on to say, but then quite suddenly… 

Quite suddenly you’re absolutely fucking horrified.

You don’t want it.  Everything inside you surges up to scream that you do not want that puck.  It’s a waste of time, even if it’s an extra job—it’s too much trouble, too much fuel for such a small reward.  You already know good and well that Din won’t want to bother, getting this extra puck would be considered a detriment to him.

“What if I don’t want it?”  You ask, sounding nervous and vaguely out of breath as you look down at it.

Karga scoffs.  “Of course you don’t.  Nobody wants these, why do you think I’m trying so hard to pawn one off on you?”

Shit.  This is not at all how you expected any of this would go.  You know he’s not really asking, even if his tone and continued courtesy implies it’s only a request.  There’s an expectation attached to this, and it appears you take too long pondering an offer that isn’t actually voluntary.  Karga stares at you and your clear apprehension for just a few seconds more, before finally giving you an ultimatum.  “You said you’re here on his behalf.  You either take all five pucks now or Mando only gets three next time, your choice.”

Oh.  Oh, no.  This is a lose-lose; three pucks means more fuel and less credits, five pucks means more fuel and less credits.  It’s not like you have any real bargaining power here—almost everything he’s done for you today has been a favor of some sort and you’re well aware that things can always get worse.

Still, you take a deep breath and try your best to throw around whatever weight you have left in one final agreement.

“Give me your word you’ll go back to giving him four from now on, no more hassling or hard time constraints and we’ll take it just this once,” you tell him, trying to conjure and put power behind your words even though you’re unsure if they’ll stick.

“Deal,” Karga readily agrees with a smile, reaching his hand across the table.  You have no choice but to meet him in the middle and clasp it, unable to feel anywhere close to good about your performance here.  It was clunky and insecure and even though you just barely succeeded in making the exchange overall, you’re massively disappointed in the specifics.

But then Karga’s eyes quickly flick over your shoulder.

“Ah, Mando!”  He suddenly calls out, and your hand nearly snatches away from his while your body goes rigid.

Oh, this isn’t good, this is not good.  Well, it’s good that he’s here but it also really fucking isn’t.  You don’t even turn your head; you sit completely straight and still while the cantina falls to a hush and heavy footsteps begin to approach behind you.  You fucked up—you fucked up, you didn’t wait long enough and you feel the sharp regret instantly twist in your stomach.  He said he’d be here, why didn’t you trust him?  Your anxiety and stress compounded and spurned you to act too quickly, you made the deal a few fucking seconds before he showed up.

And, as Din eventually comes into your peripheral, taking his time leaning his rifle up against the table, you immediately realize that you should not have worried.  Recovery isn’t even a word in his vocabulary right now—he’s more intimidating than he’s ever been, more powerful and certain and dangerous while he lowers himself into the seat next to you than he’s ever felt to you before.  Everything is so quiet now that he’s here; you feel like even just swallowing against the sudden dryness in your throat turns into an audible gulp.  The man sitting across from you may own this cantina and every material good under its roof, but the one sitting by your side feels like he steals the literal air from the room just by walking inside it.

Yet, in spite of the daunting presence of the Mandalorian, Karga beams and tips his glass at him.  “I believe you’ve arrived just in time for your favorite part of the conversation, friend.  The farewells.”

You stare wide-eyed down at the table as Din leans back into the booth and very slowly extends his arm behind your shoulders, saying nothing at all to him.

The testosterone is radiating from him to the point of near suffocation, you can taste the alpha in the air.  Your heart slams in your chest at the unspoken claim he just made with a subtle movement, and though you’ve never been one for masculine displays, this one weirdly feels… good right now.  You know it’s primitive and crude and you’re not a piece of meat to be fought over, but it doesn’t feel like that at all.  It’s the immediate feeling of security that serves to heat your cheeks, the fact that you’ve been a nervous mess trying to be extra brave this whole interaction and then suddenly you have the backup of an entire army contained within one single suit of armor next to you.

If you weren’t internally panicking at how badly you screwed this shit up, you’d probably be going fucking feral for him right now.

Karga says your name and your gaze snaps to his, feeling like you can’t breathe.  “My associate has collected the plaques, nothing keeps you here any longer.  It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

Still, nobody at the table moves.

After a moment, you carefully glance up and to the side at the sharp, metallic profile of his helmet.  Maker, you can’t explain it—it’s like you feel terrified but not really for yourself, if that makes sense.  You’re upset with yourself for not having enough trust in his word, absolutely, but something in Din’s demeanor tells you that he’s going to be considerably less understanding of how Karga handled this situation than the way you did.

The helmet slowly turns down to look at you, and you bite your lip while carefully placing your hand on his thigh brace under the table, letting him feel your fingers brush against the bend of his knee.

He turns back to Karga after a few seconds, still not saying a single word, until eventually Din’s arm is lifted from behind your shoulders and you feel his leather fingers gently clasp your hand, before he starts to rise from the booth and pull you along next to him.  You both stand, and he silently presses a button on his vambrace without dropping your grip, urging the kid’s shield to follow along behind him.

“Um, goodbye,” you just barely remember to tell Karga as Din begins leading you away, apparently not waiting for the polite farewells he arrived in time for.

“Wait!”  A voice calls out just before you can make your exit, and Din pauses just in time for Karga to extend that damned fifth puck out for you to grab.  Right in fucking front of him.  “Can’t forget this!”

Fuck.  Great.  Thanks.

Blood rushes to your face while you go to reach for it, taking the puck and then placing it in the open shield along with four others in a way that you hope is casual but you know isn’t.  You close the lid on it and then squeeze Din’s hand slightly, but he stays rooted to the spot for a few more seconds, having watched the entire exchange play out.  Though you obviously wouldn’t be able to read his facial expressions even if you could lift your head to look up at him, you can’t will yourself to do so right now.  You’re too disappointed in yourself and nervous—you just stand there silently as he looks back at Karga, staring at your feet and praying he doesn’t do anything brash.

After too many moments of uncertainty, you squeeze his hand again and slowly begin to pull on it.  Without needing much pressure at all, he goes where you go, and you end up being the one to lead Din out of the cantina by the hand still tangled with yours.

*** 

The walk back to the Crest lasts an eternity.

Neither one of you say anything at all to each other the entire way there, and you know he’s not mad at you yet, but you’re worried.  You feel incredibly self-critical right now and it’s really not helping that he seems even quieter and more wound up than usual.  You don’t know if it’s because he already figured out that you just handed him extra work or if it’s because whatever made him late to the cantina also altered his mood, hit a reset button and reminded him of the way he used to be, the armor he’s wearing.  Was there a confrontation, you wonder?  Is he okay?  He seems like he’s… extra Mandalorian right now, there’s not really a better way to describe it.

He doesn’t drop your hand, though.  As you pass through the markets and shanty huts lining the streets, Din holds onto you.  Shoulders tense and strides heavy, but his fingers stay tangled in yours.

Regardless, you keep your mouth shut and eventually the Crest comes into view.  The ramp drops to the ground and the three of you make your way up, and you have enough foresight to carefully drop Din’s hand and lead the baby’s shield over to the unused cot built into the hull walls, closing him in a safe quiet place to sleep and continue building up his strength again.

You turn around to see Din press another button on his vambrace.  He stays with his back to you as the ramp slowly closes, but as soon as it latches up against the hull and locks into place, he nearly whips around and suddenly he’s right in front of you, gloves cupping your face.

“What happened?”  He asks sharply, the helmet looking you up and down.  “Are you alright?  Why did you look so scared?”

You reach up to rest your hands on his, blinking up at him and not knowing what to say.  How are you going to tell him?  He’s gotta waste extra fuel and time on a bullshit quarry because of you, what are you going to say?  You don’t even know if it’s last known location is nearby; he might have to fly to some remote, desolate corner of the galaxy just for a handful of credits because you couldn’t wait a fucking hour for him.

“I, uh…  I-I’m sorry, I just…”  But it’s nearly impossible to form a coherent thought when he’s this close to you and sounding fucking sincere, genuinely concerned about you while you’re stuck worrying about how to break the bad news to him.  “Oh, stars, um…”

“Did Karga fuck with you?”  He asks in that same sharp tone when you don’t finish your thought, but you’re so absorbed in your own conflict that you barely even hear him.  “Because I can go back right now, the cantina is just—”

“Okay wait, please—” You suddenly speak up, “before I tell you, just… please keep in mind that I did save your life two days ago, so…”

“Sweet girl,” Din rumbles slowly, a subtle warning for you to hurry up and spit it out.  His fingers tighten just slightly on your cheeks, still so gentle but needing you to communicate with him right now.

Tell him, you just need to tell him.  If he gets mad, then he gets mad, but at least he’ll know at that point and you won’t just be springing it on him out of nowhere.

“I fucked up,” you breathe out, eyebrows pulling up in the middle as you tighten your own grip on his hands.  “I’m so sorry, I fucked up and you were late and I got nervous and I didn’t wait long enough and I tried to make the exchange like you asked me to but then I had to take a fifth puck and I didn’t want to but Karga threatened to short change you next time around unless I agreed to take an extra one for the lowest pay just this once and I didn’t have any bargaining power and you showed up right after I agreed to the deal and I’m so so sorry—”

You cut yourself off with your own ragged gasp, not having paused once to breathe throughout the entire thing while your expression twisted up with regret more and more the longer he allowed you to speak.

Din stands there in front of you and doesn’t move, hands still attached to your face.

“Okay,” he eventually tells you.  Stunted words, like he’s trying extra hard to find them when yours just fell out of your mouth in a complete mess.  “It’s okay.  You did… good.”

The silence is tense and you’re becoming more and more anxious the longer he takes to speak.  He’s lying for your benefit, he must be.  When he drops his hands from your face and takes a full step back, you take the gesture as symbolic and nearly launch into panic.

“Maker, I’m so sorry I didn’t wait for—”  You start to say, but Din cuts you off.

“Did he make you…”  His back suddenly goes a little straighter, voice finding a quiet edge through the modulator as his fingers subtly twitch at his sides, “…Uncomfortable?”

You pull back at the sudden change in subject and furrow your eyebrows.

“Who, Karga?”  You have to think about it.  Did he make you uncomfortable, or were you just uncomfortable already?  You might’ve just been scared because you were making it scarier than it really was, you can admit that���s a valid possibility.  “Um… no?  I don’t know, not… not really, I don’t think.”

“No?”  He asks, taking a small step forward.  “You don’t know?  Or not really… you don’t think?”

You know you can only see the blade of his visor, but something makes you feel like you’re looking right in his eyes.  You even go back and forth between where you’re pretty confident each one is, trying to read his intentions right now.  It’s like he’s purposefully trying to keep space between you even though he looks like he wants to move closer, fisting his hands at his sides when he looks like he wants to touch you.

“No, he just… lowballed me towards the end of it and I got intimidated, but I’m also not…”  Your expression narrows in concentration while you try to find the words to explain yourself, wanting to be as honest as possible with him.  “I don’t know, I’m not like you.  I’m not that strong, but I’m trying to get better.  I think he was probably just being normal.  He did offer me alcohol a bunch, but I’m pretty sure he also did that last time, so—”

“And I didn’t like it the last time he did it,” Din says quietly, taking another small step forward.

You blink up at him, completely dumb.  This is what’s bothering him?  Is he really not upset with you at all for giving him more work?  It’s like the major fuckup on your behalf just went in one side of the helmet and out the other, he barely even acknowledged it other than the role Karga played.  He said it’s okay and you did good, which are like… five of the most common words in Galactic Basic, a Wookiee could probably find a way to say them.  How are you supposed to take that?  Were you just overthinking this whole thing from the very beginning?  You know anxiety tends to be irrational by definition, but has none of your panic from the past hour been justified whatsoever?

“Why were you so late?”  You ask him, but it’s not accusatory in the slightest.  It’s… concerned, worried about his well-being without having a real reason.  He’s clearly more than fine right now, he’s like a hurricane enclosed in metal and holding still in front of you.  Too much potential energy just waiting for a reason to be released, too much tension held tight and ready to snap.

“I’m sorry.”  He quickly reaches out to grab your hand and squeeze it, before dropping it just as quickly.  Fucking lightning quick, you’ll never understand how he can be so damn quick with all that extra weight strapped to him.  “It took longer than I thought it would and she’s not really someone you can rush.”  His response, ironically, feels very rushed, like he’s trying to address the tangent but also keep things on track, but something in the answer he gives catches your direct attention.  “Did he flirt with you?”

“Who is she and what can’t be rushed?”  You blurt at the same time, not even taking a split second to think about it.

Din stops short at the blunt question, staring at you in a silence that feels like it’s vaguely taken aback.

After a few moments of that… strangeness, of the two of you realizing that you’re both feeling slightly possessive over each other for absolutely no reason whatsoever, you start to feel… warm.  In another weirdly stupid, primitive way.  You know that letting those kinds of thoughts have their day in a relationship isn’t a good thing, but you can’t explain it.  Some deep-seated, prehistoric instinct inside you just goes fucking nuts whenever he gets in either provider or protector mode.  Now you understand exactly why he wanted to get you alone after you admitted to being jealous once before.  You totally fucking get it, you’re right there with him right now.  He hasn’t said anything, but you think he feels it, too.

“She makes things,” Din finally answers you, careful with his words and somehow managing to address your question while also sidestepping it, leaving you with only the smallest bit of information to go off of.  “Did he flirt with you?”

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly.  “Maybe.  He could’ve just been trying to be friendly.  What did she make for you?”

“She made it for you,” he responds, again not really answering the question but continuing to juggle two separate conversations for your benefit.  “Did he scare you?”

“For me?”  You ask, eyebrows shooting upwards.  Provider, that stupid cavewoman DNA whispers to your lower body, making your voice go a little breathless.  “You asked her to make something for me?”

“Did he scare you?”  Din repeats sternly, grabbing your hand and giving it a firm squeeze.  “Because I can go back, I swear—”

Protector, it whispers this time, and your knees nearly buckle.

“Everything is scary when I don’t know where you are,” you admit to him, knowing it’s the truth regardless of how self-deprecating it sounds.  The only times you’ve ever truly been brave was because of him or the kid.  Stabbing a Corellian and then immediately flying the Crest out to him afterwards, walking through a pitch black forest believing a dangerous criminal was hiding in it, dragging a dead body through snow and shoving it into carbonite, standing up for yourself and pushing a deal through when odds were stacked against you.  Though it’s nothing to him, it’s nothing, it’s leaps for you.  You’re slowly learning to find a backbone, and he’s the one inspiring it.

Din holds there for a moment, unmoving with his hand still clutching yours.  You can’t get a read on him but you know how you feel right now.  Achy.  Hot.  Needy.  Wanting him to come closer.

“Will you do something for me?”  He asks you after a prolonged silence.  His voice is quiet, but… incredibly restrained.  Controlled chaos—his body is rigid and he’s flexing muscles that aren’t necessary for just standing, feeling like a sprinter holding still on the starting blocks.

“Of course,” you breathe out.

Din lets go of your hand and tilts his helmet over at the corner of the hull behind you.  “Go turn around and face that wall.”

You freeze, immediately recognizing the undertone in his voice.  Heat ladles deep into the pit of your tummy, sends warmth pooling downwards.  He wants to do this here?  Right now?

“We’re—” you look around the enclosed hull, “Mando, we’re not in hyperspace, we haven’t even left the surface yet…”

He looks around too, taking a second to blankly take in his stagnant surroundings like he had absolutely fucking no idea, before turning back to you and not saying a word.  Maker, everything below your waist is already stirring, twisting hot and deep inside, but you’re trying to be the voice of reason for a second.

“What if somebody hears us?”  You whisper, and Din cocks his head to the other side.

“I can help you stay quiet,” he murmurs, and… fuck.  You don’t know what it means, but you immediately imagine his hand held tight over your mouth while he takes some of this stress out on you and you already feel yourself wilting at the thought.  Okay.

“Okay,” you breathe without needing anything else at all, before spinning around and standing exactly where he told you to.  It’s just a corner near the back of the hull, nothing else here to look at besides two metal panels meeting at a right angle, but that’s admittedly what makes your heart start beating quicker.  You can’t see him come up behind you but you can feel it.  Slow, measured, but so restrained.

But then he stops almost immediately, before the back of your shirt is suddenly being yanked upwards and you remember at the very last second.

Din carefully grips his blaster and then eases it out of your waistband, the metal sliding warm along your skin from pressing against it for so long.  You never told him you took it with you, and he’s so fucking quiet behind you.  You have no idea how he’s reacting to that piece of information you originally didn’t think twice about.

“Do you like carrying my gun around?”  Din’s voice murmurs soft through the modulator to you, but then the blaster is tossed uselessly to the side, skittering loudly across the floor of the hull.

“Yes,” you reply, beginning to shyly turn your head back to look at him, hoping to gauge his response.

“Don’t turn around,” he quickly interrupts you, pushing your shoulder back into position and keeping you facing the corner.  You blink at the metal walls in a bit of a daze but follow instructions regardless, feeling your heart pound at the sudden display of dominance from him.  He has a very valid reason for it and you don’t realize what it is until a few seconds later, but even if he didn’t and he was just telling you what to do for the fun of it… you’d still like it.

But then his helmet is carefully being lowered over your head and you shudder as your vision is replaced with a familiar black abyss.  Fuck, his helmet, why does he like it so much when you wear this?  Admittedly, you don’t have much time to contemplate—as soon as it’s fitted and secure, he spins you around and you have to just do your best to maintain your balance, not having any visual to help.

“Can you hear me?”  Din asks, and your clothes start to be ripped off of you.  Your shoulders tip sideways with how quick he is about it, feeling him pull the fabric off and hearing the soft sound it makes landing on the floor.

“Yes,” you tell him, but he doesn’t respond, continuing to strip you completely naked in the hull.  Once your upper body is bare and he’s yanking your pants and underwear down your legs, you try saying it again as you step out of them, louder for him this time.

“I can’t hear you,” his voice grunts after a moment.  You know he’s in front of you but you can’t really tell where, now that he’s not touching you.  “Scream.”

You take a second, not having hard evidence anymore but still very well aware that you’re parked close to a marketplace on Nevarro and multiple people are nearby while you’re wearing his helmet.  This is dangerous for him, and not sure if you should, but then an arm is wrapping around your back and a large leather palm rests directly over your chest.  Din repeats his last word very slowly and clearly for you, waiting to feel it under his hands.

Your sternum lifts while it rises with your deep breath and then collapses as you diligently yell as loud as you can into the helmet, feeling like you might deafen yourself with the trapped sound.

“Good,” he growls, suddenly spinning you around and pushing you back into the metal paneling.  “I can’t hear you, be as loud as you need.  Hit me or something, put up a fight if you want me to stop, alright?”

Arousal rockets through you and you let out a moan already, taking advantage of the noise suppression and beyond turned on at this point.  You feel like you’re buzzing with it, lit up with excitement and wondering with bated breath what he’s planning to do to you.

“Alright?”  Comes his voice from behind you once more, and you quickly jerk the heavy helmet in a nod for him.  You can put up a fight and you know he’ll stop, you don’t have any problem with that and the fact that he specifically made sure to wait until he knew you understood him makes you start to pant inside the hollow beskar.

But then you feel him flick a small switch at the base of the helmet and then everything abruptly cuts out and goes dead silent.

Nothing.  Nothing.  You’re standing in a pitch black room where no other sound exists besides your own labored breathing.  Just like the waterfall on Naboo, but you can’t speak this time.  Temporarily making you blind, deaf, and putting a proverbial gag over your mouth all with one powerful piece of armor.

You shudder and he kicks your legs apart before you can do much else, yanking your hips back while you just try your best to cling to the wall for stability.  You don’t know what he’s going to do, you’re completely isolated in here and the only way you can even tell he dropped to his knees is the hot glide of his tongue through your pussy from behind.

Oh fuck—you arch into position as best you can while hands wrap around your ankles to pull them apart, trying to make the angle better.  His tongue licks softly over your clit and each time is like an electric shock jolting through your body, making you twitch back and up for him, stretching and begging him to do it again.  You can’t see anything right now so your mind readily imagines the visuals instead, providing you with a third party view.  Din, fully clothed and face shielded by your thighs, eating you out from behind while you brace yourself against the wall, completely naked and at his mercy, head tilted down from the weight of his helmet and living for the moments he decides to drag his tongue across your clit.

Without warning, a sudden burst of sensation ripples along your backside and causes you to lift the beskar in surprise, but without being able to hear anything, it takes you a second to figure out that he just smacked your ass.  The realization comes more or less at the exact time he decides to flatten his tongue and follow the curve of you back and up.

You gasp into the pitch black and there’s a moment where you just hold utterly still for him, experiencing and processing the sensation for the very first time.  His mouth is soft and warm as he tastes you here, his fingers digging into the swell of your cheeks to spread you open.  You’re glad your face is hidden so he can’t see the shock in your expression, the way your mouth drops and your eyes close as you let him explore you this way.

His gloved hands leave you for just a moment while he continues gliding his tongue against you, along every single bit of skin he can reach, and then you feel a bare hand reach up between your legs and begin to rub slow circles around your clit.  His other arm pushes against your lower back and you’re forced into the corner even more, your naked breasts pressing hard against cool metal and feeling his hot mouth and strong fingers work you closer to the edge from behind.

You’re panting into the helmet, your hips arching back to feel that stimulation on your clit better, and as his fingers move over it slow and strong, you feel a soft vibration against your skin and you realize he’s moaning into you.  The knowledge sparks a different kind of heat through you and makes you suddenly go still and tense right here.  If he stays just like this for even just a few more seconds, you’re going to cum.

“Din, I’m gonna cum,” your voice warbles inside the enclosed steel—just as his touch decides to abandon your body.  You groan loudly in distress, completely alone without his hands or mouth on you anymore, but all he likely hears is the silence of the hull and the way your palm smacks against the wall with it.  You were so close, everything feels like it’s pulled up so tight and painful and it hurts—

A hand clutches your hip and then a thick cock is suddenly pushing up against your soaking wet entrance, going to alleviate that twisting discomfort.  Your eyes roll back and your whole body goes limp as he slowly eases forward and breaks you open, fitting himself deep inside where you love to feel him most.  Your hands claw down the walls with a swell of bliss as he pulls out and then starts thrusting—and fuck, you love this.  You love the way he’s trapping you up against the corner and making you see stars at the same time, the way he’s supporting your weight but crushing down into you, too.  It makes you go boneless and want to riot simultaneously, groaning loud into the quiet abyss as he gives you what you both desperately needed.

One of his hands sinks down between your legs to play with your clit again, while a slick finger presses up against your ass and you gasp as he slowly penetrates you there, too.  Din’s hips work steady and powerful behind you, pushing you into the wall with every desperate thrust, using the arm shoved between your legs to support you as well as stimulate, and you just feel yourself move into a different place.  You don’t have a name for it but it feels like hyperspace.  Silence so loud it feels suppressing, faster than anything light can touch, nowhere and everywhere, hurtling towards something you can’t see but know lies in the distance.  You can tell he’s still fucking the tension out of his body, you can feel him working another wet finger inside you and stretching the virgin muscles back there, but every sensation begins to slowly blur together in a wicked uprising of ecstasy.

You don’t know where you are anymore, just that his fingers keep rubbing your clit and you think he's trying to ease a third into you when your destination abruptly arrives.

You nearly collapse when you cum, contracting so hard around his cock and fingers that you cry out unexpectedly—and because of the helmet, you think it’s just as unexpected for him.  He stops moving—everything stops moving besides you.  Your hips stutter backwards into his stationary body, dragging your clit back and forth against the tips of his unmoving fingers and fucking him as best you can.  It shatters white hot and goes straight through to your soul, wringing pleasure and wetness between your legs in waves.

Your knees are knocking against each other when Din pulls out, his cock still deliciously hard and now soaking wet with your cum, and then they just suddenly decide to give up without warning.  You don’t fall necessarily, but you do slowly slide down the wall like a slug and Din follows you to the floor instead of holding you up any longer.  His sternum moves quick and heavy against your back as he breathes and then suddenly the same switch at the base of his helmet is flicked, and sound bursts into existence all at once.

He’s panting.  Harsh breaths behind you that match the rapid pace of his chest, and the ambient noise of the rest of the hull.

“Can you hear me?”  He gasps, sounding fucking wrecked, and you nod the helmet against the wall while gravity and exhaustion and his beskar chestplate squishes you into it.  “P-Put up a fight if you want me t-to stop, p-please—” he rasps out, almost the entire thing air and so close to cumming, and then his knees lift just slightly and the blunt head of his cock presses against your other entrance.

And, if you wanted, you absolutely could.  He’s got you boxed into the corner but he’s not constricting your movements, he’s given you every ability to struggle.  You could easily throw an elbow back against his side, push against the wall to shove him away, smack at his arms or even just flail against his body in panic—you could do one or all of those things to signal him to stop and you know he’d do it immediately, he’s asking you to.  You could struggle.  If you wanted.

Instead, you just grab hold of the beskar strapped to his thigh and drop the helmet to your chest, nearly vibrating with the thrill and preparing yourself for it.  You know he’s gotta be inches away from orgasm, you know from the tone of his voice that he’s right there on the edge and it’s not like it’s going to last a long time.  Thanks to him, you also feel like you’re just as slick and wet back there as you are between your legs, stretched open by his fingers while you came all over him.  You want nothing more than to give this to him, to let him be the only person in the universe that knows how you feel this way.

When you pointedly do not put up a fight and even go so far as to arch your lower back for him in presentation, Din curses and his fingers begin jerking back and forth over your sensitive clit once more.  It might normally be too much for you, but your body is sparking with lust and quickly acclimates to the stimulation, learning to burn and ache for it, too.  Fuck, it feels so good, you tense and melt into it at the same time, letting him ease you back up to that peak once more.

He pushes up against the tight ring of skin and you can’t fucking explain it—his fingers keep rubbing your clit and he’s slowly pushing into your ass and—

“I—I think I’m—” you suddenly lift the helmet to gasp out in surprise, forgetting he can’t hear you, “ngh—D-Din, I think I’m gonna c—”

He’s just barely able to breach the tight entrance and fit the head inside before he freezes—and even though everything happens consecutively, it’s all so rapid that it feels simultaneous.

Your hips could go forward, but they don’t.  Your body decides to send you backwards into him, pushing him inside nearly halfway all at once as your muscles lock down and just fucking strangle his cock.  Your piercing scream gets trapped in the silence of his helmet as you cum once more—painfully, madly and with every fucking part of you for him.  There’s maybe one or two mind shattering pulses of ecstasy before the rest of your body catches up and starts convulsing, and by then Din is already gasping and fumbling behind you, suddenly realizing what’s happening without hearing the sound of your ragged warnings and then ripping himself away just in time.

He punches out your name when he cums like you just fucking snapped him in half—his body hunches and the beskar digs hard into your back as warmth starts splattering along your skin.  You crumple while he shoves his hips up against your spine, riding and working the orgasm out of himself while yours just fucking obliterates you.  You think you whine his name—or a curse word or something, but it gets strained and your lungs lose air every time his powerful armored body humps you into the wall of his ship.

Finally he eases up and you just lay there and listen to the ringing in your ears.  Blissfully empty, still pulsing from cumming so hard and feeling like your bones just decided to stop existing and the rest of you was okay with it since you were already on the floor anyways.  You feel him shudder and twitch behind you, letting go of that last bit of tension until he too allows gravity to slouch his heavy torso over onto you.

You both stay like that for a while, until your eyes close and your everything below your waist goes numb.  Eventually you feel him shift and your head bobbles as the helmet is slowly removed, but a large palm cradles your chin to stop your face from slamming into the wall in exhaustion once it’s off.  You just continue to melt into the paneling like you’re nothing more than goo of a human being while he trades it back to its rightful place on his shoulders and tucks his cock back into his pants, before wrapping his arms around you and lifting you both up.  The floor and metal walls, once feeling like you and them were one, suddenly decide to disappear entirely as you’re hauled up into Din’s powerful arms.

He slowly carries your naked, fucked senseless body over to the fresher, and you squint your eyes open over his shoulder to see… he’s still got his rifle slung around his back while his cum is dripping down yours.  Not a single thing on him is out of place and you’re, well… a mess is a word that works.  Limp and doll-like, carried like your weight is practically nothing to him after years of having the densest armor known to the galaxy strapped to his body.

Setting you down is a mess, too.  At some point you think he just gives up and decides to return you to your humble floor abode with a patience and care unexpected from someone who just defiled you so thoroughly.  You hear the fresher door open and the faucet squeak, before he turns back around and crouches to your level.

“Stay here,” Din tells you lowly, his modulated voice coming gentle and warm through the sounds of water raining down against metal.  You don’t feel his touch directly, but your hair moves away from your face.  “I’ll be right back, okay—just stay here.”

Can do.  Easy.  He waits until you murmur a soft mhm to him before he leaves the tiny compartment, and then you soon hear his heavy footsteps ascending the ladder to the cockpit.

***

You don’t think you fall asleep, but the powering up of the Crest’s thrusters make you realize your eyes were closed.  Opening them barely qualifies as a squint though; you look around to see steam slowly filling the fresher, the water already running hot and welcoming in the small room.

You know you need to shower but you’re so fucking exhausted, you feel like you can’t even move your body.  You also know you can just do the same exact thing in there as you’re doing in here, you just need to muster up the energy necessary to get inside it and then fall back asleep.  He set you down in the small little space outside the shower door and then got everything set up for you, you can at least stand up and take a few steps.

Unfortunately, you might pick just about the worst time possible to plant your hands on the ground and work to struggle upright on all fours like a newborn animal.  The steady rise through Nevarro’s atmosphere pushes gravity down harder than you’re expecting—is he trying to fly quickly or are you just that dead-limbed?—and then of course, by the time you do manage to fight it and successfully get on two wobbly legs to hold yourself up, the subtle shift of the hyperdrive kicking in nearly knocks you back down again.  You stumble and grab the walls, bracing yourself against them and looking down at your knees in exasperation.  Come on, work.  Move forward.  Come on.

You’re glad he’s not here to witness this monstrosity, honestly.  Just opening the door and taking a few steps into the fresher is a feat—while you’re not in any pain and he didn’t leave any marks on you, you just feel… steamrolled.  Ran over by a truck.  Only having the strength to keep your feet beneath you as you finally move under the water and close the door behind you.

Oh, but this is wonderful.  This was such a good idea, he’s so fucking smart.  The shower falls warm and lovely against your body, wetting your hair and immediately heating you down to your bones.  You don’t move really at all—you kinda just stand there and slouch, closing your eyes against the spray and slowly breathing the mist into your lungs.  It feels so nice—not really restorative even though you like that word, it would imply the water provides you with any energy whatsoever.  It just feels like a comfort, a relief and sedative for your already wildly fatigued body.

You haven’t been in here for more than a minute or two when knuckles tap gently against the metal walls of the fresher, before the natural bass of Din’s unmodulated voice murmurs from somewhere beyond it.  “Hey.  Keep your eyes closed.”

How did he know?  You figured you’d be way ahead of him.  You’re standing but slumped over, wanting nothing more than to just say fuck gravity and pass out right here.  The walls are too cold to lean against now that you’re all toasty from the heat and steam, so you’re just unconsciously swaying on your feet, trying to balance the precedence of sleeping versus not falling over.  You don’t even comprehend the sudden flip of the light switch overhead beyond the fact that it makes it easier to snooze without being so bright behind your eyelids.

The door eventually opens at the very same time you realize you never answered him, but you just commit to the silence at this point.  It’s easy, you like it.  Soon you feel warm hands touch your shoulders, slowly spinning you around while you follow and hang your head, your neck not wanting to support it any longer, and then suddenly a bare chest is pressing up against you and powerful arms are wrapping around your body, and you can just lean all of your weight into him while your head rests right here on his shoulder.

He holds you without moving for a long time, keeping you just like this—your ear pressed against his skin while water rains hot and comfortable down your back.  Knowing you’re facing one of the walls, you crack your heavy lids just the slightest bit and finally notice the tiny compartment is dim and shrouded—the only light source is a single one coming from somewhere in the hull beyond the partially closed doorway.  It’s dark and quiet and you can barely see anything besides the metallic fresher walls and unfocused droplets chasing each other down Din’s naked skin.  Just you and him, flowing water with a sheet metal backdrop.

You think you spend an eternity like that and yet you still find yourself wanting another when he finally shifts, reaching over you to grab a bar of his generic soap but making sure to use the arm whose shoulder you’re not currently resting against.

It glides slow and hypnotic down your back, dragging up over your sides and then back down the curve of your spine.  He’s so sturdy and he doesn’t say a word while he does it, lathering it along your body and rubbing it into your skin.  His bar of soap, not yours.  They started out almost the same since you picked them up at the same vendor, but there’s just a slightly bolder and sharper scent to his that you recognize.  How the bar is far larger than yours because of how often he’s gone away.

Your eyes droop and you feel the water trail over your lips, dripping down your chin and pooling the dip of his collarbone.  The only other time you two shared this fresher was terrifying and he’s rewriting the memories right now, whether consciously or not.  Hot water, not freezing cold.  Standing upright and supporting you.  Heart beating strong under your ear, taking care of you this time until you can care for yourself.

You… you just worry so much more now, it’s becoming an issue.  You didn’t realize how much until you nearly lost him, and you know in your heart that he’s just going to go away again.  Throw himself into more danger, tempt death as always, risk his life for mere credits while all you can provide in return is this.  Skin to skin contact.  Someone to hold.  Someone who knows him, who knows the way he struggles between reaching out for a softness that life has always denied him and clinging to what is rough and familiar.  Someone to remind him that there’s still gentle and forgiving things in this galaxy that won’t disappear when he’s gone, and that he can always come home to them, as long as he can manage to find his way back.

Something sad tugs hard at your chest.  You want to tell him not to leave.  Again, again—you want nothing more than to beg him to stay.  You don’t have anything better to offer instead; if he asked you how it would work, how you imagine your lives would go if he wasn’t hunting quarry on a constant timetable, you’d be hard-pressed.  You don’t know.  But you know what you want to say, because it’s two words you shouldn’t say but always find yourself needing to say regardless.  

Don’t go.

But, instead of two words, you give him three.

Instead of asking him not to leave you again… in the haze and comfort of his arms, you think you just tell him that you love him.

And… you also don’t think the water falling down on the two of you is loud enough to cover it up this time.

It’s not ideal, you know.  You know.  From his point of view, he just got finished releasing all sorts of pent up tension on you, overwhelming your body with the strength and power of his in a way that normal people wouldn’t take as an expression of affection.  But you know him.  You know that he finds it much easier to express the things he feels in a physical way, which is why there’s a bar of soap against your back right now instead of his voice in your ear, telling you all the things you’ve always wanted to hear from him in return.  You know that sex is how this all began and it’s likely just the closest link between roughness and sweetness that he can really put his hands on, something that can fit him equally as well as it fits you.  Love is different, it’s thrilling and scary.  Even to someone like him, who lives everyday of his life surrounded by thrilling and scary things, who’s seen more bloodshed and suffering and pain than you can ever even imagine, you know that it’s scary.

Din doesn’t say anything back to your confession, and truthfully, not a single part of you was expecting him to.  It wasn’t said so he could say it back.  It just is.  Some things don’t need explanations, they just are.  You’re okay with that.

But, you eventually come to realize that he always waits until you’re just on the very edges of sleep, holding out until your blurry vision and fading consciousness can trick you into thinking you only imagined it.  You won’t ever figure out if it’s purposeful or if he just needs that long to find what he wants to say.

Another soft, lilting sentence in a language you wouldn’t be able to translate, even if you could pick out a single word.  It sounds so beautiful though, regardless of how mysterious and far away its meaning feels.  There’s something hidden underneath.  You ache to know what it is.

But you’re so tired.  You just whine softly against his shoulder, not being able to transform the thoughts into sentences anymore but hoping he understands regardless.  He can’t just resort to bearing his soul in Mando’a all the time now, especially when you’re always on the verge of sleep when he chooses to do so.

But at some point, his arms subtly tighten around you and the pressure is one of the only things that’s keeping you awake anymore.

“I won’t ever ask you to,” he says to you, the quietness of his baritone getting lost in the gentle spray and your looming slumber.  “I’m…  not allowed to ask.  I can’t.”

Your expression twitches just the slightest bit against his shoulder in confusion, wondering distantly what word or sentence you must’ve missed from before that would make him make sense.  Was that a translation?  Or a continuation?

But then your wet hair is slowly moved away from your nape and his head tilts down, face pressing into your neck and voice lowering until it’s nothing more than a breath against your skin, nothing more than a confession that he couldn’t ever say out loud with his full chest.  It’s a secret he only ever wants you to know, a truth he’s choosing to admit to even though you could ruin him with it.  You have no idea how much, you won’t know for a long time just how much power he’s giving you by telling you this one very simple thing.

“But whenever you want to look,” Din finally whispers, the only version of I love you too that a Mandalorian knows.  “You can.”

[erwinsvow]

𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

summary: uncle eren comes to visit.

warnings: step-cest, jealousy, manipulation, hints of verbal/emotional abuse + touch of dubcon to con, reader feels guilty, grinding/dry-humping, overstimulation, orgasm denial, unprotected sex

author's note: part two of sole salvation. i really hope everyone enjoys this! the warnings are just to be on the safe side as i do not want to accidentally trigger anyone, please feel free to message me if you want to ask about something before reading.

tagging @sangwoos-mom & @divine-delight :)

If Zeke didn’t want my interest to get piqued, Eren thinks to himself as he watches you stroll away, off to get him to a fresh cup of lemonade, he should have kept his mouth shut.

When his brother had mentioned his new fiancee had a daughter, Eren had supposed it would be some spoiled, bratty kid. After all, he had met your mother once before, and he didn’t think that kind of a woman could raise someone even remotely well-behaved.

So given that, he was more than pleasantly surprised the first time he met you. It was all a shock, from the almost angelic way you float down the stairs to greet him, your soft skin and sweet smile, to the genuine look in your eyes when you tell him that you’re glad to finally meet him.

He still doesn’t know what Zeke did to deserve you in his life, the taste in his mouth a touch too bitter when he watches the way you look at his brother, even when your mom is in the same room. It’s dreamy, as though there’s no better way to spend your time and nothing better to think about than your step-father.

It’s a little unfair, Eren thinks, that Zeke has a sweet, doting little thing head over heels for him. It’s a little unfair that Zeke waited so long to invite him over, to introduce him to you. Maybe it was brotherly instinct, maybe he knew that once Eren met you, he wouldn’t be able to think about anything else, just like it had been for Zeke.

Regardless of what it was, Eren knew one thing for certain. Sibling should always share.

It finally takes an unbearable conversation on the phone with your mother for an excuse, an opportunity to arise. The lie is taking hold in his head and spilling out of his mouth before he can even control it—“Yeah, the pipes burst and it’s just a mess, I called Zeke but his phone’s off- no, really? Just for the weekend, I promise- thank you, I’ll be over soon.”

His bag is packed and cock is twitching at the idea of getting you alone in that house, maybe when Zeke’s locked away in his office and your mother’s out shopping. It’s going to be a hot week, with almost intolerable heat, and he’s positive it’ll have you in revealing clothes (no doubt ones that his brother bought for you) and teensy swimsuits when you go for an afternoon swim.

That’s what he’s thinking of—the image of you soaked to the bone, wet hair and the thin, dripping material of your suit sticking to your skin—when he pulls into your driveway later that day.

It’s almost easy enough to miss the slight wobble in your steps, the way your clothes are just a little too wrinkled for someone that’s been sitting around the house all day.

But Eren notices it, of course, and doesn’t miss the way Zeke practically keeps one eye on you the entire day, no matter who he’s talking to, either.

Maybe if Eren was just a drop stupider, a bit less cunning, you and Zeke could get away with all of it, but he’s not. He thinks it’s his turn to have his fun with you.

Your mother’s even more intolerable than he remembers. He wonders how bad a family dinner could be, but this is much worse than he could have fathomed. It’s a whole host of things, like how she’s oblivious to the affair happening right under her nose and her small comments that have your lips trembling and eyes blinking away tears before they can fall.

Jeez. Eren had initially felt bad for himself, but he’s starting to wonder how you put up with it. Maybe fucking around with Zeke is your own way of getting revenge, payback for every ‘Why do you look so tired, it’s not like you’re the one working all day’ and ‘Don’t you have plans with friends, or are you just gonna bother your parents all day?’

By the time dinner ends, you’ve made your way to the kitchen almost automatically, putting away dishes and wiping counters without even being told, as Zeke gives your mother a cold, hard stare.

“Was all that really necessary?” his brother questions quietly, eyes fuming with anger yet still disguising his true reason for being upset.

“What?” your mother responds innocently, pretending as though she hadn’t said anything wrong. Eren watches the interaction carefully. He thinks it’d be better if he didn’t interject on a married couple’s little spat, but here he goes again, words out before he can control them. They’re spoken a bit louder than they needed to be, but he wants to make sure you hear them over the running water.

“I don’t know, she seems like a good girl to me, no? Maybe you should be easier on her.”

And a few feet away, in the kitchen, your heart skips a beat. Uncle Eren—who you’d only met once and heard about a handful of times, someone who doesn’t owe you anything, someone not even really related to you—defending you?

It was enough to make tears rush to your eyes again, a smile on your face as you rinse off the dishes.

Good girl. The words run through your head again, seemingly on repeat. They’re your two favorite words, enough to pick you up from the dark, sullen headspace you’re in as a result of your mother’s cruel phrases and Zeke’s stinging silence.

Zeke claims it’ll become too obvious, even to your clueless mother, if he always takes your side and speaks up for you, despite how much he wants to, he says. You’re so hopelessly gone, so devoted to him that you don’t think you have it in you to fight for it. The words he says when the two of you are alone, how he makes you feel and spoils you rotten makes up for it, right?

That’s what you’d been telling yourself all this time, but you’re not sure how much longer you can keep the act going. Does he think it’s easy to watch him walk into the bedroom he shares with your mother every night? To watch her kiss him goodbye, hold onto his arm in public, while you trail behind like a lost puppy?

It’s not actually revenge you’re aiming for, when you start greeting Eren in the morning brightly, walking straight on over to him in the living room rather than the kitchen where your step-father is. It’s closer to a plea for attention, like you’re waiting for Zeke to realize you can play at this game too.

Eren’s more than happy to indulge you, spending hours of the day beside you on the couch watching movies, or watering the lawn while you work on your garden, claiming that he just wants to help out around the house as much as he can. His weekend-long visit turns into a week, as the ‘good for nothing contractors are taking their sweet time.’

It’s terribly easy to make you believe every word he’s saying, with you even defending him when Zeke asks how much longer he’s planning on sticking around.

“He’s family,” you had argued valiantly, leaving your step-father with narrowed eyes and a tense jaw as he noticed Eren smiling behind you. For once, your mother had agreed with you, and Zeke was left with no choice.

It’s sunny and warm when Eren’s opportunity, the one he’s been waiting for patiently, appears. Your mother’s gone out again, this time to the salon, there’s that hour of time right after she’s left that you usually treasure, because you know there’s no chance she’ll be on her way back or call home.

It’s usually your favorite time of the day, when you know you can have Zeke all to yourself, and that’s what you’re thinking, when you hesitantly make your way to the door of his office.

Truly, you hadn’t meant to make Zeke angry, you just wanted to be there for Uncle Eren how he was there for you. You were ready to make up and forget about it now, dolled up in a new sundress that you hadn’t gotten a chance to wear yet. Zeke had bought it only weeks ago, before Uncle Eren’s sudden visit, and you thought he might like it if you wore it now.

Your hand has just reached the cool metal of the doorknob, just about to twist when you hear a ringing from inside the room, of Zeke’s phone going off.

You step back, knowing better than to interrupt one of his calls. You’re disheartened a little, mind wondering why he would schedule something when you and he both know this is your hour, your chance to be alone.

You make your way back downstairs, lingering on the last step and thinking about going back up in a few minutes, when Uncle Eren’s voice calls to you from the living room, making you jump a little.

“Oh, sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, voice calm and quiet, a contrast to your thudding heart.

“That’s okay, Uncle Eren,” you say, and your head turns back to look in the direction of Zeke’s office inadvertently. “I was just-”

“Waiting for Daddy, huh?” Your lips part a little in surprise, confused by his implication. Though surely, Zeke wouldn’t have told Uncle Eren anything. No, he wouldn’t do that.

Right?

“I-I just needed to ask him something, but I think he’s on the phone with someone,” you say quietly, confused at Eren’s tone, the confidence with which he spoke those words, almost mockingly.

“Oh, yeah. He told me he’s busy all afternoon, something or other about work and a report-” Eren stops himself right when he notices your expression change, looking thoroughly upset that Zeke was busy when you were ripe for the taking. “He didn’t tell you about that?”

Fuel to the fire, maybe a bit too much, but Eren doesn’t care. Not as long as you keep it up, looking like a maimed little prey upon realizing that Daddy was too busy for you.

Yes, Eren was getting much better with the lying. It doesn’t even register to you to question his words, to go back up and double check, that Zeke might, in fact, be waiting for you to knock on his door at this very second.

Your feet find their way to the sofa, slumping down dejectedly, as Eren sits right next to you. It’s the way you two have been sitting for the past week, except he’s ready to take the risk. His hand finds your knee, thumb rubbing the soft skin as you let out a shaky breath, wiping away a stray tear.

“All afternoon?” comes your quiet voice, trembling at the mere notion that Zeke was upset with you. You hadn’t meant to take it this far, hadn’t thought he would be ignoring you just because you disagreed with something he said for the first time.

But your sadness is turning into something different when you look at the hungry, almost predatory way Uncle Eren is looking at you now.

“That’s what he said, sweetheart. Did you two have plans, or something?” It’s coming off nonchalant, or so he hopes, because every bone in his body is excited at the prospect before him, blood rushing to his hardening cock as he catches a glimpse of your exposed skin as you fiddle with the hem of your dress.

“N-no, I just… He always spends time with me when mom leaves. I just thought he would be free.”

It’s the sweet, lonely way you’re looking into his eyes, your own doe-like and watery, that tips him over the edge.

“Well, I can keep you company.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah, baby. A sweet thing like you shouldn’t be left all alone… it’s not right, well, at least to me.”

“Yeah?” Eren nods his head, line between his lies and the truth blurring suddenly as you inch closer and closer to him.

“I wouldn’t treat you like that, if you were mine, you know-” and he can’t finish his sentence, because your hands are on the collar of his shirt and you’re shifting onto his lap, and your lips are on each other.

It’s stupid, you know, to be so easily guided by a few choice words, putty in virtually anyone’s hands if they say the right things and make you feel seen and heard, but you can’t stop now.

Eren’s tongue is in your mouth, your lips practically glued together as you feel his hands go under the soft cotton of your dress, exploring the supple skin of your thighs. It’s not long before his hands find your ass, squeezing and groping as moan into his mouth.

A sharp slap to your ass makes you yelp, pulling away for just a second before Eren’s hand is on the back of your neck, guiding you into a kiss again. You moan again, louder, when his teeth bite down on your lip just a little bit, when Eren finally pulls away.

“Can’t be too loud, remember, sweetheart? Daddy’s busy upstairs,” he says, somehow knowing exactly what would rile you up. The words act like a little shock running through your system, making you even more eager for Eren’s touch.

“Don’t care-!” you mewl, head going fuzzy when you feel Eren’s hard cock grind against your core, waves of pleasure rushing through your body. You’re still, Eren’s hand coming up to cover your mouth as he continues his rocking movement, making you moan against his hand.

Your eyes roll back when Eren increases his speed, and it’s silly, how the barely-there contact is making you shake, the coil in your stomach tense and unwinding, when Eren stops completely.

You whine loudly, muffled some by his hand, but not entirely, causing Eren to spank you again.

“I thought you were a good girl, hm? Don’t get bratty on me now,” he says, though he thinks it went in one ear and out the other as you come down from your incomplete high.

“I want-I want you, Uncle Eren, now-!” Another whine, another spank. You cry out again, until the fourth slap—which leaves your ass sore already from Eren’s heavy-handedness—silences you.

“Sweetheart, stop misbehaving or you’re not gonna get anything, okay?” he coos, fingers finding your chin and directing your face to look him in the eyes. They’re lust-blown too, and his hardness is still evident underneath your body, but your body’s inclined to follow his rules, despite how badly you want to cum.

“Yes, Uncle Eren,” you say softly, your squirming body finally stopping. Eren’s fingers find their way to the thin straps of your sundress, pulling them until they rest on your shoulder and expose your neck and collar to him.

“Tell me something, baby, did you wear this for me? Or for him?” The very mention of Zeke makes your body stiffen, but you’re still desperate for more and eager to please Uncle Eren.

“For you,” you mumble, wanting to just bury your head in the crook of Eren’s neck and feel him inside you, though you know you won’t get what you want that easily.

“Me? I’m so honored,” he says, letting out a laugh at how your body shakes in anticipation but you stay completely still. He wonders if Zeke had to teach you to be this obedient, or if it just comes to you naturally.

He thinks it’s the latter when he rolls his hips quickly, watching you squirm and bite your lip hard to keep quiet, another rush of pleasure coursing through you, though it’s not nearly enough.

“It’s okay, baby, you’ve been good enough to me, haven’t you?” he asks, and you nod your head quickly. “You deserve to feel good, don’t you?” You nod again and let out a shaky breath when Eren moves your hips with his hands, finally giving you the much-needed pressure on your clit.

“Why don’t you cum for me, baby, just like this? Mmh?” You’re letting out little squeals at each contact, hips moving faster and faster as Eren lays back and lets you use his cock as a toy to grind against. His head falls back at how good it feels, though he won’t let himself cum until he’s inside you.

You’re close again, stomach tensing again and that familiar feeling gathering inside your chest, making you feel warm all over as you speed up.

The breaking point is when Eren’s hands come to your chest, pulling down your dress and exposing your tits to the cool air. His fingers pinch one while his mouth finds the other, and suddenly you can’t keep quiet no matter how hard you try, moans spilling out your mouth as well as repeated cries of Uncle Eren, that sound sweet as sugar to Eren.

It’s when Eren starts bucking his hips up too, that you finally cum, a bolt of pleasure running through your entire body as he keeps going. You’re not entirely sure what kind of noises you’re making—everything seems to be muted and fuzzy as repeated shocks make you shake, Eren’s firm grip on your tits being the only thing that’s grounding you.

When you finally come down, forcing yourself away from Eren’s lap and legs pressed tightly together to calm your oversensitive cunt, there’s a lecherous look in Eren’s eyes. It’s screaming to you, silently, how he’s not done with you yet.

“Aw, baby, look how fast you came just from a little bit of humping. Are you that desperate, bunny? Is Daddy not taking care of you?”

Your face feels like it might be on fire, blood and heat rushing at the same time and burning quickly with shame at the realization that Eren knew all along, that he’s been playing this little game with you since his arrival and you never, not once, had the upper hand.

He feels more predatory than ever before, spreading your legs despite how your legs ache and your core is burning—even if you wanted more, you don’t think you could take it—but it doesn’t seem like Eren cares.

“U-uncle Eren, we shouldn’t- h-he might-” you start, but are cut off as Eren presses a finger to your lips.

“Sweetheart, isn’t that a little unfair? If you get to cum, and I don’t? Be a good girl and spread for me,” he says, and you feel your body comply automatically.

Your back’s on the couch now, Eren hovering over you. All it would take is a few steps in this direction after coming down the stairs for someone to find you, but you can hardly care when Eren’s shoving your dress up, exposing your panties and shoving them to the side, your wetness on display for him.

“One day, baby, when Daddy’s not here, I’m gonna fuck you stupid with my tongue—just not today,” and the words go straight to your head. Your heart thuds uncomfortably in your chest every time he mentions Zeke, a sense of guilt washing over you and replacing the pleasure you feel, but you forget all about it when you see Eren undos his pants and take out his hardened cock.

It’s plainly wrong to compare it to Zeke’s, and though it might not be longer, it’s definitely thicker, not as pretty but covered in throbbing veins that you can’t even imagine feeling inside you.

Eren’s about to grant your wish, running his cockhead over your sensitive clit once, twice, and just as you're expecting a third, he pushes inside of you.

A strangled, loud moan escapes your lips before he can cover your mouth again. It’s agonizing, not being able to make a sound as your step-uncle fucks you into the couch, movements picking up and a steady pace filling the room with obscene noises. You can’t see where the two of you are connected, since your eyes are locked with Eren’s pretty green ones, but you know you’re making a mess.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, every thrust stretching you out, you think he’s ruined your cunt for anyone else—but that’s exactly what he wants.

It’s silent, save for the heavy patter of Eren’s balls against your ass with each thrust, the sound of his hips knocking with yours. He’s trying to keep his grunts silent, but it’s getting harder and harder with the way you’re clenching around him, so tight and wet and soft, he wonders what his brother did to deserve someone like you—he wonders why he doesn’t spend every minute inside you.

Your sensitive cunt tightens around him, knowing only another few strokes and grazes on your clit will be enough to tip you into your second orgasm. Your shaky hand finds Eren’s, pulling his wrist away from your face and meeting his lips again, releasing muffled moans into his mouth.

You know he’s close too, from the way his pace picks up, and you pull away just for a second, just to say three words.

“Please, Uncle Eren.”

And it’s enough to make his hips stutter, enough to uncoil the knot in your tense stomach and have your orgasm washing over you, as you feel Eren fill your cunt with his hot cum. Your lips are on each other, the lewd squelching of his slowing thrusts matching the small squeaks you release, until he finally pulls out and your panties snap back over your leaking cunt.

It’s hard to catch your breath, from your position laying down, feeling your tight hole throb and Eren’s cum spill out, probably onto the sofa seat. You adjust the top of your dress, covering your tits and pulling one strap up. When you’re fixing the skirt, you feel Eren’s hands pull the other strap onto your shoulder, hands lingering on your exposed skin.

You shy away from looking at him, despite how his cum is still inside you. It feels too intimate, almost, because a part of you thinks you were taken advantage of, and another part of you doesn’t ever want Eren to leave you.

Eren’s fingers find your chin, forcing you to look up and meet his gaze. You blink quickly, licking your swollen lips and biting the inside of your cheek nervously.

Neither of you speak, though you know what’s lingering in the air. You can tell he’s gotten what he wanted, and he’s going to leave, and yet you can’t stop yourself from speaking first, throat scratchy and dry and your words nothing more than a whisper.

“C-can I… did you- did you mean all those things you said? Before?”

And suddenly Eren understands everything, why you’re this way, why you need to be validated so badly, why his brother’s such a good match for you. He thinks he’d sacrifice anything too, like his marriage and a new life, just to make you happy.

“Of course I did, sweetheart. I meant every word of it.”

“Really?” There’s a soft smile on your lips, your eyes watery and he thinks it doesn’t have anything to do with how hard he fucked you.

“Yeah, I-”

“Well, what do we have here?” Zeke’s voice comes from behind you.

[clouds-rambles]

Hands

I was going to just add this to the queue but I really like this so you guys get to see it now

Man am I in love with hands omg

please reblog bc hands

Pairings; (Seperate) Eula, Albedo, Beidou, and Xiao x reader

Warning(s); A little suggestive at times, but overall sfw, HANDS <333

Summary: Hands headcaons, just hands. Pretty hands. Hands. Let me kiss their hands. Hands <3

Keep reading under the cut!

Eula

Her hands are a lot softer than you ever imagine them. Not like there’s anything wrong with that, but you always imagined her hands a lot more calloused because of the claymore she lugs around.

‘Oh I’ve been wearing gloves since I started training in swordsmanship so I’ve never had to deal with rough hands’

Her hands are on the bigger side but they’re delicate and always look smaller than they actually are. Eula will sometimes just hold your hand and you’re just like ‘wow I forgot your hands are bigger than they look’

Eula loves fingertip kisses, be it when her hand or gloved or not. She just loves the feeling of featherlight kisses on her fingertips

Her hands are a little sensitive because of how she protects them in gloves so you like to just surprise her by running your fingers over her palm to see her cheeks turn a little rosy, it’s cute.

What mesmerises you as Eula dances is the way she moves her hands when she’s dancing alone and when she’s dancing with you, you can feel her delicate touch on your back.

Eula loves holding your cheeks with her hands and caressing your cheeks with her thumbs. The way you lean into her touch always causes a blush to reach her face.

Eula’s hands are cold (the same with her overall body temperature), and she loves the way you jump just a little bit from the cold contact on different parts of your body. If she’s really lucky you’ll offer to warm them for her either between your hands or on your shoulders where you can rest your neck on them.

Eula knows you’re obsessed with her hands and often finds excuses to just touch you, be it grazing her fingers against yours or tucking a ‘stray strand’ of hair behind your ear. She’ll do the latter even if your hair isn’t prone to falling into your face.

When the two of you sit together in Angels Share you often find yourself taking her hand and fiddling with her fingers as she and Amber talk about the favonious gossip

 Albedo

Albedo is naturally enamoured with your hands, he’s obsessed by the way they feel against his own hands, and the way they feel as you touch his face. And the strange obsession you have of tracing the outline of the mark on his neck.

Though Albedo has never gotten the hint that your love his hands has much as he loves yours.

His forearms and hands are often soft and sensitive because of the constant protection they have thanks to his gloves, there’s an odd scar or two on his hands, but nothing to disrupt the overall softness of his hands.

You love to just slowly pull off his gloves just to kiss the soft skin of his forearm and nuzzle your nose into his palms. The blush Albedo has whenever you do this is always more than adorable.

Albedo also finds himself doing similar things, he loves the feeling of your hands against his lips. He loves just covering your hand in kisses before he kisses your lips.

Seeing someone obsessed with your hands is so crazy to you, it never fails to make you blush like crazy, even at the simple movement of taking your gloves off.

The tips of Albedo’s fingers always feel perpetually cold even when his palms are warm. He enjoys watching the way your goosebumps react to the soft, cold touches of his fingertips.

Albedo’s favourite time to hold your hands are after long experiments, especially when he feels the cramp in his hands act up a little bit

Albedo is also obsessed with the way you massage knots out his back, there hasn’t ever been a time he’s come from a back massage feeling unsatisfied

Albedo often greets you with a soft kiss on the back of your hand, even if your hands are covered by a layer or two of fabric. He’s just obsessed with the way your hands look and feel

 Beidou

Beidou’s hands are calloused from years at sea, it’s only been in recent years that she has started wearing gloves. So many scars from various battles as well as general rope burns adorn her skin.

The texture of her hands against your cheek is always something to swoon into, especially after not seeing her for a long while, the way her rough thumb rubs against your cheek makes you want to kiss her until you can’t breath

Beidou doesn’t quite get your obsession with hands, but she’s always more than happy to entertain you with the grin she holds close.

The feeling of her ungloved hands against your bare back, or even your shoulders is enough to make anyone swoon for her

Considering the fact her gloves are fingerless Beidou loves to tease you with lingering touches of her hands as she goes about her business.

When Beidou holds your hand and rubs her thumb against your hand? Just say you’re in love already, you don’t even care if she teases you because damn he hands are just great

Nights that the two of you are drinking Beidou loves to just have some kind of connection to you, ranging anywhere from holding hands, to a supple grip on your thigh.

You enjoy kissing Beidou’s palms and leaving soft chaste kisses on them. Maybe Beidou doesn’t understand the hand thing, but she does understand raw affection when she sees it. So yes, Beidou no doubt about it always has a light blush on her cheeks after you kiss her palm, a darker blush if you tell her how much you love her as you do it

Beidou’s hands always seem to have a static current to them, her light touches through the day always feel electrifying, and not in the cheesy sense. You honestly believe that she uses her vision just to give you small shocks through the day. Not like you’re complaining though

 Xiao

Xiao is helplessly in love with hands, no matter how much he refuses to admit it.

It’s common knowledge that the adeptus is touch starved with all caps, and will often happily melt into a hug. But your hands on his skin always feels, different, they always feel more despite less of your body touching him.

He especially loves it when you fiddle with his own fingers, even more so when they’re ungloved.

Xiao’s hands are rough, not many new scars are apparent because he’s been wearing his gloves for some time, but they are there. Xiao enjoys the feeling of your fingers, and hands in general, gently grazing over the bumps of old scars.

More than once your hands just touching his own has made him more than content, if you whisper things to him his cheeks will flush a dark red

Xiao is a man that’s adept in the art of fighting and finds himself naturally excelling in the art of his job. He’s used to being strong, being alone, being the only fighter. So why does he feel the opposite when your hands are on him? Why does he feel overwhelmed with love?

Xiao isn’t so great at expressing his emotions, especially verbally. And even when it comes to gifts Xiao finds himself thinking too hard about something you’ll love anyways. So? The two of you found a way for Xiao to happily express his love to you without forcing him to say the words aloud.

Three simple taps ‘tap tap tap’ that’s all you need to do to say I love you.

You find him doing it everywhere, especially when your focus is either on his hands, or your hands are on him. ‘tap tap tap’ on your thigh as you hold his cheeks, ‘tap tap tap’ on your head as you delicately kiss his palms

That’s where you worked out his like of hands, he always seems to tap you more whenever your hands are involved. It makes you smile and makes you want to scream to the entirety of Liyue that your adeptus boyfriend is the most adorable, loving man you’ve ever met

[contemplativepancakes]

Geralt is possibly the least interesting vampire in the world. Jaskier is strangely okay with that. 4k, G. read on AO3 here!

for @theamazingbard (:

Geralt holds up two ties in front of the mirror, comparing the fabrics against his suit. By now, he’s used to the headless suit that reflects back at him in the mirror. Geralt’s never been one to overly question things, so he couldn’t tell you why vampires don’t show up in mirrors, but really, that’s fine. A relief, even.

He’s not sure he wants to know what he looks like. He knew once, before he was turned. He wasn’t exactly a looker then, and he highly doubts he is now.

Geralt chooses the black tie with the tiny dots instead of the black tie with the stripes, and clips it on to his suit. What? He can’t be expected to tie a tie every single day. He smooths it down over his chest. Satisfied, he sits down on the bed to tie his dress shoes. Reliable double knots.

He walks down the hall to crouch in front of the refrigerator, pulling out one of the bags of blood he keeps there. He pauses to look at the label. It’s his favorite, AB. He tucks it into his lunchbox, then pauses to rip one open and dump it into his travel mug. He pours some protein powder in it to make the blood coagulate. He can definitely see the appeal of this boba tea the humans have been drinking recently.

As he heads out the door, he darkens a little as he looks at his neighbors’ decorations. He hates Halloween. A time for people to get everything wrong about monsters. They live with them, the least they could do is be a little considerate and do their research.

No, they can’t repel Geralt with garlic. He scowls at the thought.

Geralt’s distracted from his thoughts as a young man runs by him out of seemingly nowhere and falls on the sidewalk just in front of him, his knee splitting open.

Geralt rubs a hand on his neck as the man looks up at him beseechingly.

“Uh. Do you need any help?”

“My, you’re ever so kind,” the man says, extending a hand that Geralt uses to pull him to his feet.

“Probably want to get that cleaned off,” Geralt says. “Make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

“Oh, dear! You’re right. Would it be possible for me to use your sink?” he asks, batting his eyelashes.

Geralt squints. “I...guess?”

“Oh, thank you!”

Geralt unlocks his door and leads the man into his bathroom, graciously pretending not to notice the man looking around the apartment in wide eyed fascination. He must not know that Geralt is a vampire, then, or he wouldn’t be so quick to ask Geralt for help. People around here avoid Geralt for the most part.

“I’m Jaskier,” the man says, as he bends his leg so his knee is right under the faucet. Geralt politely looks away when he notices how the motion makes the material of his pants stretch right across the seat of his ass.

“Geralt,” he replies, watching Jaskier closely for a reaction.

There’s none, so Geralt kneels down and looks under the sink for his hydrogen peroxide. When he finds it, he hands it to Jaskier wordlessly.

Jaskier flashes him a winning smile. “I guess it was my lucky day to run into you, hmm?”

Geralt doesn’t think anyone has ever said that about him before. “Anyone would do what they could to help you avoid infection,” he says dutifully.

Jaskier deflates a bit. “Well, there must be some way I can repay you. How about coffee?”

“Oh. I don’t really...drink coffee.” Geralt waits for Jaskier to get it. It’s not like monsters like him are uncommon, per se.

“How about dinner, then? A steakhouse.”

“Sure,” Geralt says, surprising himself. He blinks. His brothers are always telling him he needs to make more friends. And a steak does sound particularly good. He rarely lets himself indulge in things like that.

Jaskier brightens. “Hey, would you mind putting a band aid on this for me? I can never get it to stay.”

“I’m not sure that applying band aids is exactly rocket science,” Geralt says, but he does it anyway, his nose twitching at the scent of the fresh blood.

Geralt is centuries old, though, so it’s not like a little blood is the end of the world. Maybe when he was a fledgling, but those days are long past him.

He gives Jaskier’s knee a tiny pat. “Looks like those pants are done in for,” he says inanely.

Jaskier shrugs. “A worthy sacrifice.”

Geralt doesn’t respond to that, and Jaskier lets the silence linger. Geralt clears his throat. “I’m going to be late for work.”

Before he leaves, Jaskier insists Geralt give him his number so that he can arrange their dinner. “I’m very much looking forward to it,” Jaskier says with a grin.

Geralt gives him a hesitant smile, looking at the clock. He really does need to get a move on.

Jaskier seems to get the hint and lets Geralt usher him out the door.

In the end, Geralt’s not late, but he is grumpy that he only arrived five minutes early instead of his customary fifteen. It throws his entire day off, and the numbers seem to swim before him on his computer screen like never before.

Geralt scowls. He should have picked the tie with the stripes.

-

Jaskier contains his pout as he walks along the sidewalk, away from Geralt’s house. He practically offered himself up on a platter to be ravished, and Geralt was completely unaffected. There was blood right in front of his nose!

Jaskier doubts his information for a second, but Priscilla was the one who told him in hushed whispers that the word was that Geralt was a vampire. If Valdo had been the one to tell him, then he would have had a few more qualms, but Priscilla wouldn’t lie to him like that.

She knows how the idea of being partners with a monster makes him feel hot under the collar.

Jaskier resolves to be better. If a cut knee wasn’t enough, he’ll just have to step up his game for this dinner. And surely, if Geralt didn’t want to be seduced, he would have sent Jaskier on his merry way after bandaging his knee instead of bandaging it for him, for gods’ sake.

Maybe Geralt wants to be the one being chased after for once. Well, Jaskier is happy to oblige.

-

When Geralt gets home from work, there’s a text waiting for him. How about Friday night for our little get together?

It’s not like Geralt ever has any plans that might get in the way besides his weekly meeting, so it’s not like he has to check his calendar before he replies. Sure.

Great! I’ll pick you up at 8! :D

Geralt frowns. This doesn’t seem right. He hasn’t made a new friend in possibly fifty years, and now one literally falls into his path?

He hums to himself as he does his nightly routine, pushing on the gum above each fang to make it pop out so he can properly brush it. Cleanliness is next to godliness, and all that. Actual dentists that weren’t just going to try to pull out his teeth have only been around for less than the majority of his life, so it’s habit to take good care of them.

Geralt strips off his clothes until he’s left in just his t-shirt and boxers and climbs into bed. No, he doesn’t have a coffin or hang upside down like some sort of bat. Geralt’s not sure where all that nonsense got its roots in the first place.

There’s so many things that humans seem to have no qualms believing about monsters, though, and Geralt frowns as he punches his pillow into a better shape. He’s almost 250. His lumbar health is no joke.

-

His anxiety bleeds into his work, making Excel blink more error messages back at him than he’s ever seen before. Geralt’s boss pulls him aside to ask if he’s okay. Geralt sulks.

He is the consummate professional, and he’s not going to let this dinner get the better of him. Geralt contends anyone would be nervous if they hadn’t made a new friend in decades, too.

Now, he stands in front of his closet. He’s certainly not going to wear a suit, but he rarely wears anything else. It’s not like he goes much of any place besides work and his weekly meetings. Geralt sighs as he pulls a pair of jeans out of his wardrobe.

They’re a lot tighter than he remembers, but this is all he has, so it’ll have to do. He finds a long sleeved shirt that is luckily on the baggier side. He hopes that will make up for his too-close fitting jeans.

Geralt brushes his hair, but he can’t see it in the mirror, so there’s no point in doing anything else with it. He’s more likely to make himself look ridiculous than presentable with whatever he might attempt.

Geralt plants himself on the couch, reaching for his book to read until the clock rolls around to the time Jaskier promised to pick him up. His fingers play with the corners of the pages, bending them in a way that he’s sure would make a librarian displeased.

Geralt huffs when he realizes he’s not going to get any reading done and sets the book down on his side table. He takes a deep breath through his nose. He is ancient; he shouldn’t be getting social anxiety right now.

His phone pings with a text. Outside!

Geralt looks out the window, and indeed, there’s a car there. It’s a lime green slug bug, with rust eating its way up from the undercarriage. Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose. That looks like Jaskier’s car, all right.

-

Jaskier tries not to drool as Geralt walks down his steps. He’s wearing pants that are skin tight, which should frankly be illegal, and his shirt hangs off of him so that it shows his collar bones. Jaskier thought that vampires should be the ones who wanted to bite, but he would really love to get his mouth on one of those.

Geralt gets into the passenger seat with a half smile playing around his lips. “Like my ride?” Jaskier asks.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Jaskier claps his hand to his heart in mock offense. “I’m wounded.”

Geralt hums, shifting in his seat as he fastens his seatbelt. Jaskier drums his fingers on the steering wheel, flexing his right arm to draw attention to the bandage he has there. He went and donated blood this afternoon, and if Geralt doesn’t get his hint this time, he is going to pound his head against the nearest wall.

-

Geralt shifts his head to look out the window as Jaskier keeps his arms on shameless display. He knows times have changed, but it’s also always a little dizzying to see so much of everyone’s skin on display all the time, their pulse thrumming invitingly underneath it.

Geralt shakes his head to clear it of its reverie as Jaskier pulls his car into drive. It gives a concerning lurch. Before Geralt can open his mouth to comment, Jaskier is holding up a hand. “I can assure you, we are perfectly safe.”

“Hmm.”

“Hey!” Jaskier protests. “It is. I take care of it.”

“All I said was hmm,” Geralt says with a tiny grin. “That’s why it has so much rust, right?”

Jaskier sighs. “I was going to get around to repaint it, and then I just...other things came up.”

Geralt makes a face at him, laughing at Jaskier’s increased defenses. Some of his anxiety fades away as he realizes this isn’t so bad, after all. Maybe Jaskier needs a new friend just as badly as him.

When they arrive at the restaurant, Jaskier pulls Geralt’s chair out for him. Geralt gives him a polite nod. He can’t say he has a firm grasp on all the recent customs. Lambert’s always telling him he’s stuck in the past.

Geralt crosses his fingers and rests his chin on his hands as he watches Jaskier eat his salad, taking endearingly large bites. Jaskier hasn’t even mentioned anything about vampires yet. Geralt is starting to feel a tiny bit guilty. Would he still want to spend all this time with him if he knew Geralt wasn’t human?

As he’s thinking that, Jaskier takes a big gulp of his water and starts to sputter. Geralt’s across the table in an instant, his hand around Jaskier’s bicep and another hand on his back. “Are you okay?” Geralt murmurs, tense and ready to help if the need arises.

Jaskier coughs and waves him off. “Just went down the wrong pipe.”

Geralt relaxes a bit, but as his hand lingers on Jaskier’s arm, he can’t help but feel how warm it is, such a contrast to his own constantly cool skin. When Jaskier turns his face to look up at him, Geralt quickly drops his arm and beats a hasty retreat back to his seat.

He could swear Jaskier looks disappointed. He must be delusional.

When the main course comes, Geralt cuts neatly into his pink steak, mouth watering as the juices come leaking out of it. He sucks the tip of his finger into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut at the salty taste of it.

He makes himself cut the steak into tiny pieces. He’ll have to tell Jaskier he’s a vampire eventually; he might as well make sure he doesn’t think he’s a barbaric onel. Geralt tries his best to keep his eyes on Jaskier’s face instead of his arms. He can’t help but notice that he has some very nice veins. They’re a striking blue, and a perfect compliment to his eyes.

Geralt bites his lip, flinching when one of his fangs pops out on its own, pressing into his lip.

“One of my uncles is a werewolf,” Jaskier says, apropos of nothing, looking at Geralt meaningfully.

A trickle of sweat runs down Geralt’s back. Does Jaskier think he’s a werewolf? Werewolves are generally regarded better than vampires; at least they’re only monsters one night a month.

“Hmm,” Geralt says, not hearing the rest of Jaskier’s sentence.

Jaskier laughs at his own joke, and Geralt blinks rapidly until he can focus again on what Jaskier’s saying.

When the waiter comes with the check, Jaskier insists on paying for it. Is this what friendship has evolved to since Geralt last had one? He doesn’t know enough about it to argue with Jaskier, so he lets him do what he wants.

-

Outside of Geralt’s house, Jaskier puts a hand on the console between them, making eye contact with Geralt before dropping his gaze down to his lips. Geralt gives him a gentle smile, his eyes crinkling. His white hair looks ethereal in the moonlight, and Jaskier is only a little infatuated.

Geralt’s exterior is stony, but he also had no problems giving Jaskier all sorts of secret smiles throughout the night. Jaskier’s not sure he’s met a better listener than Geralt, and he tends to drone on and on, so that’s somewhat important to him.

Jaskier closes his eyes and starts to lean in when Geralt opens the car door. Jaskier opens his eyes.

“I had a great time, thank you,” Geralt says, one hand on the top of the car.

Jaskier bites his lip, stopping himself from saying what he wants. “Me, too. Let’s do it again some time?”

Geralt nods eagerly, and Jaskier watches him walk away, his gaze fixed on Geralt’s devastating pants and not at all on the way his ass looks in them.

Jaskier rests his head on the steering wheel in despair. He doesn’t know how to be any more heavy handed than this. He went and donated blood! And Geralt let him pay for their meal! He’s not sure how he can get across the point any better that he’s a talking blood bag, and he’s open for business.

Jaskier heaves a gigantic sigh and resolves to go home and plot his next move.

Maybe Geralt’s just shy.

Well. Jaskier can work with that

-

Geralt’s weekend passes in its normal fashion. He goes for a run, drinks some blood out of his supply in the fridge, then crashes on the couch for a whole day while he thinks of anything other than work. Sometimes Eskel lets himself in using his key, but he doesn’t that weekend, and Geralt crosses his arms over his chest as he tortures himself thinking of what Eskel might be doing.

Eskel’s never had problems making friends, unlike Geralt, so he’s sure he’s out having a good time with them.

Geralt used to be good at making friends, gods damn it, before all of them died of old age and he just didn’t see the point anymore. He’s come to suppose that there’s not all that much of a point in immortality if all he does is work, though.

The weekend’s over just as quickly as it began, and on Monday night, he can’t help the smile that creeps across his face when Jaskier texts him about some inane thing he noticed. Was he thinking of Geralt? That’s...nice.

Cautiously, Geralt lets himself hope that something is going to come out of this.

But first, he needs to tell Jaskier he’s a vampire. He wouldn’t be the first person to run away screaming, even though they are much more accepted now than they used to be.

Geralt shudders as he thinks of the industrial revolution. No regard for any monsters then. Humans invent light bulbs, and all of a sudden they think they’re too good for a healthy dash of respect.

Geralt looks back down at his phone, at a music video Jaskier sent him of someone playing a singing saw.

He lets himself focus on that a while.

-

Wednesday creeps around, and with it, Geralt’s weekly meeting.

He takes his spot in his customary chair, and looks around for Lambert, ignoring the look Eskel is trying to burn through the side of his face with.

“Why do I have to be here, again?” Geralt asks, when he gives up on Lambert to come save him.

Eskel rolls his eyes. It’s an argument they’ve had more than once. “If you won’t become a sponsor, you have to at least show them that things get better.”

Geralt huffs a breath out through his nose as he watches the regulars file in. There’s one new person, and Geralt eyes her curiously. She looks a little terrified, and Geralt softens in sympathy.

The meeting starts, and they go around in the circle, the seat beside Geralt still empty in Lambert’s tardiness.

“Hi, I’m Geralt, and I’m a blood addict,” he drones when it’s his turn.

When they’ve moved on to their personal struggles for the week, Lambert finally appears, dropping into his chair.

He elbows Geralt, seemingly unaware of everyone staring at them.

“Hey, what’s got you in such a good mood?”

Geralt firmly fixes a scowl in place and ignores him. He’s not sure why he even wanted Lambert to show up in the first place.

Geralt leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he listens to everyone else, Eskel being disgustingly reassuring to them all, as per usual. Geralt stamps the jealousy down. It’s not Eskel’s fault he’s so good with people.

The meeting drags by, and when it’s finally over, Lambert doesn’t let Geralt just sneak away. He digs his elbow into his side again, holding Geralt by the shoulder. “You didn’t answer me earlier. What’s got you in such a good mood?”

“I’m not,” Geralt says.

Lambert hums. “You don’t have your usual storm cloud above your head, so I’m going to count it.”

Geralt scowls at him and looks at Eskel for back up, but Eskel just raises his eyebrows at him.

“I hate you both,” Geralt grumbles.

“You love us,” Lambert says.

“Fine. I made a new friend,” he grates out.

Lambert and Eskel exchange an insufferable look.

“What?” Geralt demands.

“You, make a friend? Well, we’re just going to have to hear all about this to believe it.”

Geralt huffs, but he tells them about Jaskier.

“He took you to dinner? And paid? And you think he wants to be just friends?” Lambert asks.

Geralt flaps his hands around and hisses, “Look, I’ve barely been anywhere that isn’t here or work in the last three decades, how am I supposed to keep up with all this human nonsense? And besides, I haven’t even told him I’m a vampire yet. I’ll be lucky if he even wants to be my friend after that.”

Eskel bites his lip. “You know that’s a turn on for some humans, right?”

“What?”

“And you said he scraped his knee the first time he saw you? Geralt, I think he already knows, and he’s just trying to get in your pants.”

Geralt deflates. That makes a twisted sort of sense. “Oh.”

Lambert punches him in the arm. “Hey, lighten up. If anyone can charm him with their stunning personality, it’s you.”

“Fuck off.”

-

It’s difficult to fall asleep that night.

-

A week goes by without him answering any of Jaskier’s texts. He still painstakingly reads and savors each one, but he can’t bring himself to reply. If he was looking for some sort of...fling, he would have gone on one of those apps Eskel keeps telling him about.

As pathetic as it sounds, he could really use a friend. And if sex came later, well, Geralt wouldn’t complain, but he just desperately needs someone who’s going to stick around. He needs someone just for himself, someone outside of Lambert and Eskel who isn’t going to tease him about every little thing.

Geralt sighs. This was at least good practice. Maybe he can try again with someone else.

His heart sinks at the thought. He doesn’t really want someone else. Jaskier wormed his way into his chest in just a week, and Geralt knows he could yank him out with only a little pain if he tried, he doesn’t want to.

Geralt wants to have something nice, for once.

-

Jaskier bites his lip as he peers out the car window at Geralt’s house. He’s half scared there’s not going to be an answer when he knocks, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do then. He thought their date went swimmingly, so he’s not sure why Geralt suddenly stopped answering him unless something happened.

Jaskier has a vision of getting into the house only to find Geralt on the floor, the only way to revive him being letting Geralt drink straight from his neck, obviously leading to Geralt ravishing him against the nearest wall.

Jaskier shakes himself like a dog. Geralt’s given him no interest in anything like that at all. Maybe he needs to lower his expectations. The dude seems lonely, anyway, so maybe he just wants someone to talk to that’s not one of his coworkers.

Geralt told him he’s an actuary, and from the questions he asked of Geralt and Geralt didn’t answer, he’s not convinced that Geralt talks to his coworkers at all.

Jaskier blows out a puff of breath as he unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door. He’s not sure what he hopes is going to happen when he opens the door.

He walks up the door and knocks.

He waits an agonizing moment before the door swings open, revealing Geralt. He looks even paler than Jaskier remembered him, wearing a pair of sweatpants with a hole in the crotch that he can see Geralt’s plaid boxers through and a t-shirt with a collar that’s outrageously stretched. Jaskier swallows hard.

“Have you considered not oiling the hinges? I think it would do you a world of good to develop a creaky door aesthetic.”

Geralt’s forehead wrinkles adorably. “What?”

“Just, you know. Being a vampire and all.”

Geralt slumps against the door frame. “How long have you known?”

Now it’s Jaskier’s turn to be confused. “Known what?”

“That I’m a vampire!”

“Oh.” Jaskier pauses. “I didn’t think it was a secret.”

Geralt’s hand pauses in its path of trailing the wood grain of the door. “Do you have a...kink?” he spits.

Jaskier raises his hands. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

Geralt fixes him with an unconvinced look.

“Look, that might have been part of the initial intrigue, but—”

Geralt raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“But, you’re really fucking hot and also possibly the most boring person I know, but...I’m into it. You know all these weird facts and—gods know I could use a little stability in my life.”

Geralt gives him a bashful smile, and Jaskier wonders if anyone has said anything nice to him at some point this century. “Yeah?”

Jaskier leans across the threshold and cups Geralt’s face with his hands, their mouths a breath apart. “Yeah.”

[1kook]

card swiped (4)

→ jeon jungkook x (f) reader

→ “I’ve known Jungkook was a virgin since he first tried to tell me he wasn’t,” you tell him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows.” GENRE romance (romcom?), eventual smut, teensy angst WARNING mentions of a hand job, talk of virginity OTHER college crushes, volleyball player!jk, student council president!oc, idiots to lovers, besties to lovers, childhood friends au RATING m (18+) bc brief sex ment WC 1.6k

NOTES (!) sorry for taking so long to update </3 school be kicking my ass. anyway here they are! an idiot couple. lmk what u think!!

[ masterlist ] 

In the past, whenever something had bothered you, the first person you ran to was Jungkook. Low grades, fights with your parents, boy drama— as your best friend and number one confidant, Jungkook was always your first choice. He was always willing to lend you a shoulder to cry on, even if that meant staining his white t-shirts with streaks of your mascara. He was always ready to go beat up a mean boy who had hurt your feelings during lunch, even if he’d miss his favorite special. And he was always down for some good old fashion i hate my parents ranting, even if he adored your parents. He was a great listener, an even better best friend, and had rightfully won you over from a very young age. 

That being said, how were you supposed to talk to Jungkook about something that bothered you when that something was him? 

You could easily tell any of your numerous girl friends, those of which would probably understand your predicament better than Jungkook or any man ever could. But after years of vehemently denying any notion of a romantic relationship between the two of you, you get the feeling your call for help will be met with more unimpressed glares than actual assistance. Besides, as much as you bring up Jungkook, none of them really know Jungkook to truly offer you any worthwhile advice. 

Your next option: Kim Taehyung. Now, Kim Taehyung held a similar background as Jungkook (translation: he also went to the same high school as you). He knows both you and Jungkook—frankly, more than you’d like him to—so he would be able to dissect the issue easily and offer trustworthy advice. The problem with Kim Taehyung, however, is that aside from knowing you at your embarrassingly dorky teenage prime, he doesn’t know how to keep a secret. Anything he knows, Jungkook knows. So if you were to, hypothetically, ask Taehyung for advice on Jungkook, well. Chances are, you’d probably get a rather confused text from Jungkook two minutes later. 

Which leaves you with one option— Park Jimin. There’s a reason Park Jimin isn’t your first option, and that reason presents itself now as you glare at him from across the empty room. For as long as you’ve been in university, Jimin has always lingered around the student council meetings, giving everyone he sees the prettiest, meanest stink-eye. You suspect it’s because he waits around for Min Yoongi, your Vice President (which isn’t an issue; Jungkook also frequents student council meetings while waiting for you), and doesn’t really care for anyone else. Your problem with Jimin doesn’t lie there but rather with the fact he’s adamant on taking up space and not lending so much as a finger to help. 

Today he is sitting with his feet on the table, dirty volleyball bag tossed on the floor. He’s watched you for the last fifteen minutes wrestle with the broken copy machine and hasn’t said a word since. He pretends he doesn’t see you struggling, because if he does, he’d be obligated to help you. 

To summarize, Park Jimin may be the fastest libero your university’s volleyball team has seen in years, but he’s a good-for-nothing bum everywhere else. 

And despite all that, he’s your best choice. There’s no one quite as blunt and honest as Park Jimin. There’s no one in this world who truly doesn’t care enough about anyone’s problems to gossip about them as Park Jimin. You plop down beside him, rumpled papers in hand. Without warning, you jump straight into it. “Jungkook is going to take my virginity,” you announce, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. If any of your fellow student council members heard you, you’re certain you’d shrivel up and die. 

Jimin hums. “That’s nice.” His eyes don’t leave his phone, thumb hovering over his screen. It’s a testament to how much he truly does not care. His extended silence plants a seed of doubt in you— was this the right person to tell? you begin to worry. But after a beat, Jimin’s thumb taps against his screen and he says, “Jungkook is a virgin.” 

You clench your jaw. “I know.” 

The thing about Jimin is, with the right wording, you can get him interested in something. Not interested enough to genuinely care, but interested enough to at least listen and offer his own piece of straightforward advice. His thumb comes to a standstill over his phone, eyes momentarily going blank. It’s a minute gesture, one that’s taken you four years of paying attention to catch. Just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. “Really,” Jimin sighs, back to, you now realize, playing CandyCrush on his phone. “You’re gonna let a virgin take your virginity.”

Not a question, but you nod anyway. “Yup.” 

There’s sweat building on the back of your neck, nerves at an all time high, but you’re trying to play it off. Just a little bit more and you know you’ll have caught him. Beside you, Jimin’s jaw twitches. 

Finally, after what seems like an eternity of trying to act calm, Jimin clicks his phone off and turns to you. He’s as intimidating as ever, ash blonde hair pushed back today to reveal his forehead and dark eyes. “You’ve known Jungkook was a virgin this whole time?” he asks, has this calculating look in his eyes that makes you feel like you’re being questioned by an officer of the law and not the shortest person on the volleyball team. 

With a practiced air of nonchalance, you shrug. “I have,” you confess, and it’s the truth. 

While you may have been initially fooled that night two years ago, you weren’t that oblivious. Oh, you knew clear as day that Jeon Jungkook was still a virgin, just as well as you knew that he religiously washed his sheets every weekend or that he had a specific color coded system for his underwear drawer. Jungkook was a fool to try and lie to you, not only because you had found out, but because you had found out that very next morning. 

It had been subtle. The night at the party, you had watched on with a throbbing heartache as some pretty girl led Jungkook up a set of stairs, had barely fought off a wave of emotion when he returned twenty minutes later, his hair a rumpled mess. “Did you… ?” you had mumbled, pressed closely against him by the back door. Your eyes had been glassy, from your emotions and from the drunken stupor you had gotten yourself into while he was away, wondering what he was doing. A sense of jealousy you would never admit to had curled around your heart. His hand had landed on your hip then. He smelled like flowers and vanilla, a smell unlike his own. Your heart clenched, hand mindlessly reaching up to cup his jaw, so drunk and heartbroken, you couldn’t stop yourself from trailing your fingers along his pretty cheekbones. 

Jungkook had graced you with a simple nod, and then, “do you wanna leave now?” 

You’d left, stumbling down Greek road on your way back to his dorm. Jungkook had held your hand the whole way, tucked you into his twin bed, and then promptly knocked out on the floor between his and Taehyung’s beds. The latter was nowhere to be found, wouldn’t appear until the next morning when he’d accidentally step on Jungkook’s ankle and wake both of you up. 

Jungkook had yelped, and your eyes had fluttered open. You remember debating rolling over, checking on him like you wanted to, but Taehyung was already there doing just that. So you had laid still instead, listened as the two boys clattered around the room. They chatted mindlessly, about the party and tomorrow’s practice. Taehyung had been bragging about some girl he’d slept with last night. “What about you?” he had asked, and your breath caught in your throat. “Did you and…”—a pause, the distinct ruffle of fabric—“finally?” 

“What— no,” Jungkook had said, and you felt the bed dip as he sat down on the edge beside you.

Taehyung pushed on with a snort. “Well, did you get lucky at all?”

Jungkook groaned, placed one warm hand on your back soothingly. You tried your best to level out your breathing, relaxed your facial expression as you clung to the sound of his voice. “Just a handjob. Some girl I didn’t even know. Does that count?” You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, felt it beneath your fingertips when you fisted the sheets. 

And that curt admission sat in the back of your mind everyday for two years. 

You turn to Jimin. “I’ve known Jungkook was a virgin since he first tried to tell me he wasn’t,” you tell him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows.”

Jimin lets out a low whistle. “You’re smarter than I thought,” he grins, this conniving little smile that is a genuine cause for concern. “So you’re letting him think you don’t know?” You nod. Jimin’s smile grows. “My, my. If I had known you were this evil, maybe we would’ve hung out more.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’m not evil,” you insist, flicking him on the nose. Jimin huffs indignantly. “I think what he’s doing is sweet…” you confess, feel your entire body heat up as you recall that wide-eyed look Jungkook had given you just yesterday afternoon, your kiss print fresh on his cheek. “And, well,” you look down at your shoes. “I used to dream about him being my first.” 

Jimin groans. “You two make me sick.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[fireinmoonshot]

SPIDER | BUCKY BARNES x READER | PART ONE

CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR TFATWS EPISODE 3 ONWARDS.

PART ONE OF ? Summary: Bucky doesn’t know what to make of you when he meets you. You’re friends with Sharon, and you seem pretty easy to read on the surface. But the more time he spends with you, the more he seems to uncover, and the more he becomes tangled in the web you unwittingly weave.  Pairing: female!Reader x Bucky Barnes Fandom: Marvel / The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Word Count: 1,138 Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER EPISODE 3 ONWARDS A/N: Title is taken from the song Spider by Hoshi! The lyrics really inspired me for the dynamic between reader x Bucky in this one. This does contain spoilers for Episode 3 of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier and it will probably contain more as the parts go on. I’m not sure how many parts there will be at this point, I’ll just see how I go! Please let me know how you enjoy it and I’ll try and get the second part up relatively soon!

Bucky specifically makes sure he doesn’t look at you for too long just so he can avoid the teasing from Sam – because he knows Sam will tease him. Sam always teases him. He also avoids looking at you for too long because he’s worried you’ll catch him and he’ll have to explain himself. He’s not good at explaining himself.

From where you’re sat across from him in your and Sharon’s apartment, you cross your legs and take a long sip of your drink. Zemo has made himself at home, Sam and Sharon are having a conversation by the wardrobe and Bucky is sat on the couch looking more uncomfortable than you’ve ever seen anyone sit before.

“We don’t bite, you know?” You say.

He looks at you for a second. “You’re funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be. I’m telling the truth. Sharon and I – we genuinely don’t bite. And that couch doesn’t either, it’s actually rather comfortable.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at you. You smile.

He doesn’t know what to make of you and it bothers him.

When Sharon had found them in Madripoor and essentially saved their lives, Bucky hadn’t expected to see her, let-alone see her with someone else. In the time it’d taken you to get back to your apartment Sharon had explained the basics. You’d met accidentally one night when you were both on the run from different people. A friendship had been struck and you’d been by each others sides ever since, saving each others asses on a nearly daily basis. The blip had taken the both of you, but when you came back things were just the same, if not stronger.

Sharon crosses the room and sits down rather comfortably on the couch next to Bucky. You smirk at the difference in their posture and Bucky flashes a glance at you once more, and thankfully you don’t catch him.

“Karli Morgenthau and at least seven others have taken the serum,” Sam sits down on the chair beside you, ignores Bucky’s comment about your best friend and instead, focuses on the situation at hand.

“You guys really should steer clear of all of this… for your own safety.”

Sam shakes his head. You’ve only known him personally for a matter of hours, but it’s clear to you that he’s the type of man who never backs down. You find it easy to trust people like him. “We know it’s a risk but we’re not gonna leave until we find the person who cracked the code.”

Bucky speaks up. “We got a name. Wilfred Nagel.”

You recognise the name. Sharon meets your eyes and you can see the apprehension in her face. “Nagel works for the Power Broker.” She stands up and goes to get her drink. The protective instincts you feel for her nearly make you stand up and order the three men out of your apartment, though you truly doubt they’d listen. You and Sharon have been through too much to get yourselves tangled up in more, right?

“We need your help, Sharon,” Sam starts again. “I can get your name cleared.”

Unintentionally, you suck in a harsh breath. Bucky looks at you, the only one in the room who seems to have noticed your intake of breath. He notices that you’re tense now, no longer comfortably slumped in your chair. He also notices that the grip you have on your glass is much tighter.

Sharon raises an eyebrow. “You haggling with my life?”

“Not like that.”

“I don’t buy that. You pretending like you can clear my name.”

“Okay, maybe it is hypocrisy. Maybe you’re right. What happened to you. But I’m willing to try if you are,” Sam stood up and walked over to Sharon. “They cleared the bionic staring machine, and he killed almost everybody he’s met.”

“I heard that.” He speaks without looking away from you, not caring that he’s living up to Sam’s nickname. You don’t notice.

“I don’t trust charity.”

“Okay, a deal, then. You help us out and I get your name cleared.”

Your grip on the glass tightens as you watch Sharon sigh and reach out a hand to shake Sam’s extended one. Bucky, at this point, is surprised that the glass hasn’t shattered, but then again – you’re not a super soldier, and the glass is pretty thick.

Sharon lets go of Sam’s hand. “Well, I sell to some pretty connected people. Lay low, enjoy the party. Try to stay out of trouble. I’ll see what I can find.”

You’re on your feet in seconds, putting your glass down a little too heavily on the table and walking out of the room after her. Bucky is smart enough to put two and two together as Sam comes and sits back down.

“Only Sharon’s name?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“What? I don’t know her friend. She’s barely said a word. We know Sharon. Her friend could be anyone. We’re not in the business of trusting people we don’t know. Not when this much is at stake.”

Bucky looks across at the glass you’d left on the table. “You’re judging people based off of first impressions now?”

“Don’t you?”

Bucky can’t bring himself to reply to that. He stands and wanders over to one of the windows that overlooks the city and the streets below. He pretends he’s looking out at the view, but he doesn’t see anything except for his reflection staring back at him darkly. He does. He did. He judged you, and then he judged Sam for doing the same thing. He shakes his head and turns back around.

“Let’s just get this damn party over with and find Nagel. I want to get out of here.”

He’s about to walk back over to Sam when you come downstairs. You grab your coat from the coat rack by the door and tug it on, pulling the hood up over your head. Sharon is nowhere to be seen and Bucky has a bad feeling your conversation hadn’t ended well.

“If anything the three of you are doing is going to end up hurting her, I’d rethink your plans.” You take a moment to look around the room and Bucky could have sworn your gaze lingered a little longer on him.

And then you’re gone, disappearing out the door without another word. Bucky ignores the tug deep in his stomach that pulls him to follow you and stays firmly rooted to the spot.

Sam frowns. “See? I knew something weird was up with her.”

***

Bucky doesn’t see you at the party that night. He looks, though. He spends too long looking. He sees Sharon talking to several people, he sees Zemo dancing and wishes he could erase the sight from his mind. But he doesn’t see the one person he doesn’t realise he wants to see. You.