#x: Words Are Wind (Answered Meme)

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 3.0k

Summary: In which your friends are idiots who think gallivanting around a haunted castle surrounded by lava is a great idea. And then there's a dragon.

ie. Or, I watched Shrek this afternoon and could not stop thinking about the memes of the Prefect being Donkey and Malleus as the Dragon.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

‘Treasure beyond your wildest dreams!’ Ace said.

‘Knowledge long since lost to time!’ Deuce corrected.

‘Yeah, okay, but what is it,’ you asked.

And neither of them had an answer.

Abandoned castles suspended over a sea of bubbling lava were not your preferred holiday destination. You’d told Ace this several times. You’d begged, pleaded, to please just be normal for once. But noooo. Both the snarky, ginger, bastard and the other half of his singular brain cell had apparently decided that suicide ala boiling rocks sounded like a perfectly lovely plan for your Saturday evening.

“I’m just saying,” you huffed as the rope bridge swung worryingly beneath your feet, “taverns are a thing. Faires. Market runs. Casual side quests that won’t wind up with us being flambeed alive.”

“But there’s treasure!” Ace complained, the muddled light off the lava below illuminating his pout in a way that made it look especially punchable. “I heard there’s this really awesome magical sword! Or maybe it was a shield or something—”

“Or something,” you grit out. “What if it’s a book, huh? You can’t even read.”

“We can try!” Deuce returned, a spark of that familiar determination zipping through his blue eyes.

“Or we can sell it,” Ace said, which was certainly the more likely option of the two.

One of the rickety, wooden, slats cracked beneath the low heel of your boot and tumbled down into the lava below. Maybe it hit the gurgling pool of death with a hiss, or a whump, or some other cool sound. But all you could hear was the ringing in your ears.

“Oh my god. I’m going to die.”

“I mean, maybe,” Ace shrugged. “But at least you’ll have a cool new sword propped up at your grave or something.”

You managed to make it all the way to the other side of the horrible death bridge without plummeting to your doom. Except now you were standing at the foot an equally horrifying castle. It was massive—grand on a scale that seemed entirely impossible for something constructed in the heart of a volcano. Its dozens of ebony spires clawed at the sky. The walls crawled with grey ivy and thickets of thorns so dense that you couldn’t see even the barest hint of brick beneath. It looked evil in the way that cursed tombs felt evil—eternal, and still, and oppressive. Like a creature in its own right rather than just an agglomeration of black stone.

Ace drew his sword and Deuce readied his axe. You sighed and plucked at the strings of your stupid fucking lute, and wished once more that you’d had the foresight all those moons ago to take the cushy internship position Lord Crewel had tried to offer you. But, no. You’d wanted to be an adventurer.

The massive double doors of the entrance swung open with an eerie groan. A pair of stern looking gargoyles stood guard as the three of you cautiously made your way into the castle. You swore you could feel their eyes following you—that you’d seen them flex jagged claws into their stone perches in an aborted attempt to dive after you.

The inside of the looming fortress was no more welcoming than out. Dark, emerald, stained glass windows lined the walls—smothering any of the warmer light from the volcano and tinting the entire hall a sickly green-grey. The stone floors and walls were elaborately carved with the faded stories of dynasties long since passed, but what had once surely been immaculate craftsmanship had shifted and cracked with age—crushing floors into tight slopes and littering already narrow walkways with heavy debris.

“We just have to find the tallest tower,” Ace hummed, swiping at a few dangling trails of thorns with the blunted edge of his blade. “And then the highest room in that.”

“The treasure is never in the highest room in the tallest tower,” you complained. “You just heard that in a drinking song once.”

“Is that true?” Deuce frowned, looking terribly betrayed.

“No way!” Ace snipped. “I told you! An old crone read my fortune in her bone dice, and she said to always check the highest room in the tallest tower! Because that’s where I’d find my greatest treasure!”

“Maybe the greatest treasure is the friends we’ve made along the way?” Deuce suggested helpfully.

“No.”

So you split off from a grouchy Ace and dejected Deuce to try and find some stairs. Every room in this stupid castle was swimming in so many shadows that you could hardly tell right from left, let alone if there were any kinds of secret doors or passageways that may lead to an equally secret tower. The chamber you’d found yourself in now was gigantic, and each tentative step you took echoed discordantly through the ashy gloom. You kicked miserably at a loose rock and it skittered off into the darkness with a dull thunk. And then something… odd, began to happen. That darkness began to move—to rise and unfurl like a great set of wings on a beast. And—oh. Oh no.

“Would you look at that,” Ace whistled under his breath, neck craned all the way back as he squinted at what was most definitely the tallest of all the towers this creepy castle had to offer. “Guess what, nonbelievers. I found the—”

“DRAGON!”

Whoosh went the great swathe of emerald fire as it exploded down the barren hallway and nipped at your heels. You dove out into the open courtyard just in time to avoid being roasted alive, and the gargantuan monster behind you let out a roar fit to shake the earth. A quick tuck-and-roll left you crouched behind a fallen pillar, and the dragon’s bright, green, glower turned on you and your garbage hiding spot with a rumbling snarl. Its rows of sharp, white, teeth closing just above your head—missing its mark by barely a hair’s width.

“Gotcha!” Deuce snarled, his armored fists dragging the dragon away by its tail. Or, well, tried to. Because the dragon was a hundred feet long at least, and your blue haired friend probably looked like nothing more than a pesky rat darting between its feet. It turned and snapped at him irritably, taking a great, big, step forward in a bid to get a firmer stance to attack. You threw yourself in the other direction to avoid being trampled.

“Go!” Ace called, charging in from the other side. “Quick!”

Because at the end of the day, they were still both your brave, tanky, warrior, friends. And you were just a very, very, squishy bard who really would not fare well against a particularly motivated goose, let alone a dragon. So you skidded through the rubble and onto your feet, and started to sprint back into the castle’s halls—hoping maybe you’d be able to find a bit more cover.

There was a great clatter, and both Ace and Deuce yelped. You looked back hurriedly to see the pair of them clutching onto the dragon’s tail for dear life as it whipped them back and forth through the ash and debris cluttering the ground. With one, final, great, sweep, the dragon pitched them into the air and sent them careening through the roof of that ‘tallest tower.’ You muttered a hasty incantation and the sparkling outlines of soft feathers danced along your fingers. You hoped you weren’t too far. You were probably too goddamn far. But you hummed frantically under your breath nonetheless and entreated your middling magic to give them a soft landing.

And then there was another wave of green hellfire raining down over your head and you turned and ran.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—

Even if you’d been a champion sprinter, there was little good it would have done you against a beast whose stride was longer than you were tall. You made it back into some hall or other, and into another cavernous room, and then you were pinned into a corner—the dragon looming over you like a vengeful wraith come to take its due.

It was gigantic. Probably the biggest creature you’d ever seen. And it was sleek—all lithe muscle and glossy rows of black scales that glittered oddly in the dull, grey, light. Its wings spread wide behind it, spanning the entirety of the vast chamber. They looked like the sort of wings that could stir up a hurricane. The curling horns atop its head seemed sharp enough to gore a man or twenty, and the purple crests lining its skull were tapered down flat in a way that reminded you a bit deliriously of a pissy cat pinning its ears back before it swatted at you.

Its lips curled back over pointed canines as it snarled at you, and you were showered in a swathe of hot sparks.

“Oh, what large teeth you have,” you squeaked, and when the dragon dipped closer to bellow into your face, your reeled back with a splutter. “I—I mean white, sparkling, teeth!” you rattled, nearly incoherent. The dragon’s snout twitched away, almost like you’d startled it. “I mean, I’m sure you hear this all the time from your food, but—wow! Just! Very lovely! Definitely the prettiest smile I’ll ever be eaten by!”

Slowly it lowered its great head, and you could see the neon glare from its narrowed eyes.

“Not that you have to eat me,” you added hurriedly, hoping to whatever Gods could hear you that your smart mouth could finally be useful for more than just talking circles around assholes in bars or weaseling your friends out of shitty contracts. “I’d very much like not to be eaten. But all the same, we did intrude in your home—and it’s definitely a very nice home—so I’d totally get it. And I guess if I did have to die today, knowing that my life would be in the hands of something so magnificent is certainly reassuring.”

The dragon seemed to preen a bit at that. You could see the sharp crests beneath its horns soften as tension bled from the beast’s posture. It ducked in close again, and this time you felt a sharp pull of air rush past your cheeks as it sniffed you. Its nostrils were the size your head—bigger even, maybe. You didn’t want to think about it, but the dry heat of its breath puffing into your face made the entire thing a bit hard to ignore.  

“Did I mention what a charming home you have?” you rambled on. “Very aesthetic. The gargoyles at the gate were a lovely touch.”

The dragon made a low, warbling, noise in its throat that wasn’t quite a growl, but wasn’t particularly… reassuring, either. It made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

It ducked away—not far, just enough to reach one of the large, carved, walls at the outskirts of the room. Its long neck slithered out before pausing pointedly over an archway. It took you a long moment to realize it was gesturing to something. Another gargoyle from the looks of things—this one almost entirely crumbled away under the strains of time. You could just barely make out the shape of its square jaw and taloned fingers.

You nodded so hard you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

“Yes! I see! Very beautiful! Such fine craftsmanship!”

The dragon cooed at you. Swear on your life and all the money in your back packet. An actual, honest to God, coo. Fuck, maybe you’d managed to charm your way out of imminent dismemberment and death after all.

It ambled closer once again, a curiosity lighting its eyes and warming those neon irises into something that was less poisonous-hell-fire and more mellow-evening-in-the-forest.

Amidst all the rippling waves of ebony scales, your eyes caught on the smallest smear of crimson. Just a touch of red—right along the spikes of its tail. Carefully, cautiously, slower than molasses, you stepped forward with your hands raised. You whispered a handful of familiar words under your breath and your palms glowed fuzzy and blue. Dragons were supposed to be inherently magical, right? So this one would certainly understand that the string of syllables you’d babbled out were good, and helpful, and not at all a provocation. The dragon was looking down at you with lidded eyes, its gaze a bit unfocused. You gulped.

“I’m sorry my friends messed with your tail,” you apologized, gingerly holding your fingers out to hover over the abrasions without actually touching. “They were just trying to protect me. If—if that makes it any better.” The minuscule wound began to knit itself back together neatly beneath the pulses of your magic. “I do tend to need a lot of protecting—I’m not much a warrior, if that wasn’t completely obvious by the everything about me—so I can’t really blame them for being a bit gung-ho about it.”

After a moment or two, the scratches had faded back into solid, matte, black and you drew back with a content hum.

“There! All fixed!” You gave your most winning smile. Please don’t eat me, your brain chanted on endless repeat. Please don’t eat me please don’t eat me please don’t eat me—

The dragon reared back and settled on its haunches with another heavy puff of sweltering breath. You could feel the heat of it prickling all the way up your arms. After a long, long, moment of silent consideration, the dragon leaned forward again and rumbled deep in its chest. When you only stood there, properly petrified, it huffed again and bumped its nose against your sternum, nearly toppling you over.

“I don’t—” you started, nervous. “I’m sorry. I don’t really get what you’re trying to say.”

With another sigh that sounded entirely too put upon, the dragon lowered its great head. The air itself seemed to grow heavy against your shoulders, and you could taste the cloying bitterness of strong magics on the back of your tongue. Black miasma oozed from beneath the dragon’s talons and melted along its scales. The caustic scent of ash and petrichor burned along your nostrils, and you had to pinch your eyes shut and cover your nose to keep from coughing. You managed to sneak a peek past your fingers just in time to watch the shadowed outline of the beast collapse. And out of that puddle of black goo emerged a man­. He was tall and lithe, just as the dragon had been, with glowing green eyes that were terribly familiar. They were framed with thick, dark, lashes and sat perfectly on a face that was nearly too handsome to be human (well, it really wasn’t human you supposed, so that little tidbit probably accounted for said inhuman beauty well enough). Recognizable eyes and stature or no, the curling horns atop his head would have sealed the deal plenty well enough on their own.

He shook off the shadows twining around his ankles with a lazy twist of the hand and then turned to you with a curious little hum.

And holy fuck Mister Dragon apparently had no sense of shame, or maybe just no qualms about social niceties and practicalities, because his human self was wearing about just as many clothes as his lizard form had been.

You squeezed your eyes shut with a squeak, and then double covered them with your hands for good measure.

A chuckle rolled through the air—as dark and pleasantly rich as the finest of chocolates. And then there was a clawed finger beneath your chin, tilting your head back, and back, and back until you were at least half-way sure it would probably be safe to open your eyes again without infringing on his decency.

“You are fascinating, Child of Man,” it—he—hummed, low in his throat. His thumb dragged down to hook beneath the curve of your jaw and support the finger tucked up under your chin. “And it’s been so, very, long since I’ve been fascinated by anything.”

“Uh,” you replied, like a perfectly functional human being.

The dragon’s lips curled up over his pointed teeth—still just as sharp and white as they had been when he’d been so much bigger and scalier.

“I think I’d like to keep you,” he said with a nod to himself, as casually as one may talk about picking up extra groceries from the market.

“Uh,” you said again.

“You did mention that you needed protecting,” he continued, tapping a clawed finger against his own chin. The small smile quirking his lips twisted into something smug. “And that is certainly something at which I would excel.”

Your head was swimming.

“I—I mean. I’m honored that you—that… you—” You couldn’t even think the words, let alone get them past your brain and out of your mouth. You cleared your throat and fought to keep your eyes level with his clavicle and nowhere else. “D-Don’t you think you’re moving a bit fast?” you laughed nervously. “I mean, I’m sure my friends will probably be on their way back down soon—and—I mean, we haven’t even introduced ourselves yet. I don’t even know your name.”

He blinked, slow and serpentine.

“Oh. I suppose you wouldn’t.” He canted his head to the side, long strands of that inky black hair of his spilling across his shoulder. An amused sort of grin worked its way along his mouth. “Dragons are not keen to give out our true names so readily, but you seem like a clever one. Tell me—what do you think I’m called then, hmm?”

You glanced up quickly at the horns atop his head and couldn’t help yourself.

“Tsunotarou?”

He let out a bark of laughter that seemed to shake the walls.

“Oh,” he trilled, looking positively delighted. The hand not curled beneath your chin reached down to snag your own, and he brought your wrist up to his lips. You could feel the imprints of his canines against the soft skin there. “I’ll definitely be keeping you.”

[leighsartworks216]

Hello! Oh, I am happy to see you're still doing these! How about 48. kisses to shut them up with Astarion, please? And thank you so much if you do this! <3

48 - Kisses to shut them up

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Wanted to write something easy and quick, and this seemed perfect. Honestly after not writing for Star for a little bit, I'm very happy with this

Warnings: none

Word Count: 476

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Astarion hummed noncommittally, nodding along whenever it felt appropriate. When he asked about what you were doing, he didn’t expect to receive an answer as long-winded and enthusiastic as Gale talking about some dusty old tome. Not that it wasn’t interesting - the light in your eyes, the excitement behind your gestures, and the endless tangents you went down to ensure he understood well enough to write a novel all about it.

As much as he loved it, you’d been working on your little project for hours, and explaining it to him long enough for the moon to pass its zenith. It would only be a few hours more before the sun rose and the adventure continued, and you hadn’t gotten a wink of rest. Even as you blinked away the blurring in your eyes, you blundered on, refusing the signs you needed to stop.

You lit up again as you recalled another factor of the process, turning to him as you prepared to start another endless ramble. It was in all your best interest that he swooped in and silenced your mouth. All in your best interest that he cupped your jaw and pulled you in closer, parting your lips with his as his tongue delved in to swallow the surprised sounds you made. Surely, there were no underlying selfish gains to this.

Only once you’d dropped your project and reached out to him, fingers brushing into his hair and fiddling with the untied laces of his shirt, did he pull away with a smirk. Devilish glee danced in his eyes in the light of the oil lamp.

“As much as I’d love to hear all about it,” he assured in a soft purr, “I do believe our dear leader needs their rest.”

You frowned, pouting up at him. “Did you just kiss me to shut me up?”

He gasped, pulling away like you burned him. “After all I’ve done, you accuse me of such underhanded techniques? Darling, please! I have some tact.”

“So that’s a yes.”

“You’re no fun.” He dropped the act with a teasing scowl. His fangs seemed even cuter when they peeked out behind pouting lips. “I simply wanted to ensure you were well rested enough for all the maiming we’ll get up to tomorrow.”

You couldn’t stay mad at him for long, even playfully. All too quickly, a grin broke through your act. You pulled him closer by his shirt, kissing that stupid smirk off his face. It was addicting to be able to kiss him like this. The trust he placed in your hands… You reach up to caress the tip of his ear, a silent thank you.

You pull away with one last peck to the corner of his mouth. “Alright. I’ll go to bed now.”

“You can tell me more about it tomorrow.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

---

Tag List:

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[fandomkaiju]

Cry Wolf

Shadowheart x Male Tav

Summary:

“Are you going to be a good pup for me,” Tav asks in that low, dangerous voice of his. “Or are you going to make me fight you every step of the way.” Shadowheart works out some things via the polymorph spell

Wordcount: 1.6k

Tags/Disclaimers/CWs:

18+ for smut, human barbarian tav, trans male tav, petplay/primal play, rough body play, bdsm, biting, blood kink, frotting, sadomasochism, wolfgirl!shadowheart, knots

A/N:

Written for a fill on the BG kink meme. The Tav I'm writing here is transmasc, but he's got a dick. There is a reference to an arm scar that's similar to phallo and the way his junk functions is in line with post-phallo dicks, but it's never explicitly stated. Shadowheart is transfem in this fic and doesn't have bottom surgery. I use 'clit' to describe her genitals, although she's also described as having a knot for horny polymorph reasons.

[AO3 link]

Shadowheart’s new, long, canine ears twitch, pulling backwards as she bares her teeth at Tav and snarls. The moon hangs heavy in the sky, a cold and brilliant and distant light above them, and there’s something crisp and dangerous on the wind. The beach sand feels wrong underneath her newly clawed hands, but the river Chionthar gurgles and spits as it always does.

The smile on Tav’s face widens, off-white teeth glinting in the moonlight like sun-bleached bones. For a moment, if Shadowheart didn’t know any better, she’d say that he had fangs too, sharp and terrible and beautiful.

“Are you going to be a good pup for me,” Tav asks in that low, dangerous voice of his. “Or are you going to make me fight you every step of the way.”

And Tav knows the answer, knows she’s going to fight him every step of the way. Tav knows that’s what she wants, to claw and bite and scratch and howl. Tav knows that she wants to make him earn his victory, that she wants him to struggle for every inch, that she wants him covered in dirt and blood and sweat. But she knows that’s what Tav wants too. She’s seen him under Abdirak’s hands. She knows how he welcomes pain, how he covets it, how he begs for it.

So she lunges at him, sharp teeth bared.

He catches her right in time, hand pressing against her chest and pushing her backwards right before she bites down on the delicate, scarred skin of his forearm. Her jaws snap around nothing but air, drops of spit dripping down onto the sand underneath their feet. Shadowheart hisses, and in the depth of her throat it somehow turns into a growl, deep and terrible as she can make it.

Tav catches her gaze. Shadowheart knows there’s something primeval and animal and furious in her eyes right now, and Tav meets it as an equal. There’s a feral, rageful animal under his skin too. When Shadowheart lunges at him with clawed hands, she sees the strong muscles of Tav’s arm and chest move, rippling under the thick hair and skin and sinew. She barely has time to register what’s happening before she finds herself with her back on the sand, the force of her landing pushing all the air out of her lungs in one exhaled grunt. But there’s no time to rest, only a moment to understand what’s happened before Tav is straddling her, one hand pinning her hands above her head while the other holds her throat. And he doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t press down, but he doesn’t have to. They both know the threat that lies, implicit.

And they both know the threat isn’t real, that all either of them have to do is say two words and this will all be over. All either of them have to do is say night orchid.

But Shadowheart doesn’t want to do that. Right now, she can’t imagine wanting to do that. And from the look on Tav’s face — his eyes blazing and a beautiful, cruel smile on his face — she’s pretty sure he can’t either. She growls, squirms under his weight and his hold, but there’s no budging. Tav laughs, a deep chuckle.

“I’ve fought fiercer beasts than you. Taken them apart, piece by piece.” The hand that’s around her throat moves, just slightly. Just enough so that Tav is cupping her cheek, stroking her gently, like she’s a precious, stupid pet. “And I’ll break you too. You know that, right pup?”

If Shadowheart were her normal self, she’d say something to that. Oh, do I know that?, perhaps. Not if I break you first, maybe. But she isn’t her normal self right now, so she says nothing. Instead, she thinks about the fact that when Tav cups her cheek, his arm is dangerously close to her mouth.

When she bites down, she hears Tav let out a sharp, surprised yelp. Something catches in Shadowheart’s chest — something warm and satisfied and proud — and she keeps pressing her teeth harder into the fragile skin until she can taste blood. The hands around her wrists have let her go, have released her claws, and she uses the moment of advantage she has to wrap one leg around Tav’s waist, rolling him onto his back on the sand beside her.

Tav’s breathing is heavy and when Shadowheart straddles him, pins him down against the dirt and bites him again, he lets out a soft, half-bitten back moan. He writhes under her body, twitching and shifting as if he’s trying to throw her off. And Shadowheart knows it’s probably just for show, that Tav could throw her off of him if he really wanted to. But right now, it’s easy to believe.

“You’re fucking untameable. Is that what you’re trying to show me, pup?” Tav’s voice is purred into Shadowheart’s ear, his breath hot against her skin. “A huntress with no equal. What are you going to do with me now you’v got the better of me? Bite me? Knot me? Tear me apart like I would you?”

Tav is wearing clothing neither of them care about, just as planned. It pulls apart easily under Shadowheart’s claws, the sound of tearing fabric loud and sharp in the still, empty night. Even like this — even all animal fury and teeth — the sight of his bare chest takes Shadowheart’s breath away for just a moment. He’s strong muscle and broad shoulders and battle scars she only half-knows the stories of, covered in a pelt of thick, dark hair. And when Shadowheart rakes her claws over his chest — forces hisses and gasps and moans from between his lips — it leaves red marks behind.

The teeth and claws, the ears and tail; those aren’t the only parts of her the polymorph spell changed. When she tears her own clothing apart and lets herself bask bare skinned under the moonlight, she can see the changes to her clit. Instead of its usual shape, it’s all pointed tip, round ridges, a thick knot near its base. It drips as she presses it against Tav’s cock, wet and needy and wanting.

Tav reaches down, wraps his hand around both his cock and her clit, and strokes. His hips arch off the ground towards her and Shadowheart finds herself rocking against him in tandem. Tav’s body is warm to the touch — almost too warm, almost so hot it burns — and Shadowheart can feel herself whimper and whine as Tav strokes them both. She knows her tits are bouncing with each movement, knows her ears are flattening, knows her long furry tail is twitching each time Tav moves his hand.

It feels good. Really good. Wet and tight, Tav’s cock hard and warm against her. He’s looking up at her as if she’s the most wonderful, beautiful woman in the world, and when her clawed hands find his chest and dig in, he only lightly gasps at the pain.

“Gods, look at you,” Tav manages. His voice is breathless and Shadowheart can see the sheen of sweat across his forehead. “Perfect and vicious and beautiful.”

And Shadowheart wants to keep going. She wants to hold Tav down until he can’t take it any more. She wants to bite him on the neck, tear at his flesh, wants to sink herself down onto his cock and ride him until he cries. But his hand feels so good on her and she’s so, so close. Tav must see something — a glint of exhaustion in her eyes maybe — because his hand drops and his legs wrap around her waist and he pushes onto her back once more.

Tav pushes her legs apart, kneels between them, and presses the fingertips of one hand into the skin of her thigh as he bends her in half. His other wraps back around the two of them again, but he doesn’t stroke. Instead, he keeps his hand still, waits for her to whine and mewl beneath him.

“Vicious,” he says, that wicked edge back in his voice. “But not untameable.”

The claw marks on his chest are bleeding, deep red dripping down his torso. Shadowheart can’t keep her eye off them, can’t help but think about what it’d be like to touch them, to lick them, to taste them. He’s still just grinding, still just stroking her clit and his cock at the same time, but with his hips angled like that and his fingers pressing into her thigh as he holds her in place and his body looming over her, it feels like he’s fucking her.

“I want to see you swell,” he says, keeping the rhythm of his hips and hand as he grinds against her. “See your clit twitch as you knot a hole that isn’t there.”

Shadowheart’s clit isn’t so much dripping as leaking now, slick and easy. She can feel her heart pounding in her chest, hear the blood buzzing in her ears. A sound comes from her lips, something that starts as a whimper and ends as a growl as she angles her hips just right, pushing her clit against Tav’s cock.

His eyes flutter shut and he lets out a throaty groan. “Gods, that’s it. You're so good for me, little wolf.”

And that’s it. That’s the words that send Shadowheart over the edge. She feels the knot on her clit swell and press against Tav’s cock, knows what’s coming right before it hits her. And it does hit her. She arches her back as she comes, arms reaching up to clasp at Tav’s back, digging claws into his skin one last time. Time slows as her clit pulses, the muscles of her body all tensing at once before they relax, a steam of growls and moans and babbles pouring their way out of her mouth as she squirms underneath Tav. She feels him come with her, thighs shaking and his teeth biting down on the sensitive skin of her neck and his breath hitching.

[prolix-yuy]

Hello honey 💕 As promised, here I am submitting my request for the 500 follower celebration!

The list of prompts is amazing. I truly had a hard time choosing one, but after Chapter 2 of Both Side of the Door I need to know what happened between Mando and X'ian or I'll will never be at peace again. So I'll go for Heartbreak of betrayal with the two of them, hoping that you'll give us an insight into their relationship.

Ren's crew sees Mando as a sort of traitor, but I really can't see him act like that (as leaving Quinn behind) out of the blue. So who betrayed who? Who betrayed first? How? Why? And most importantly, what the hell happened on Alzoc III? S1E5 left us with so many questions. I need answers 🤯

Ma Chérie! My wonderful @amban-rifle! I have to start this off with an apology. I have held onto this ask for SO GOSH DARN LONG. This is from my 500 Followers Celebration OVER A YEAR AGO. I'm so sorry have kept you waiting but holy heck, what an ask! The drama! The complications! The holes in canon we all struggle with! Plus addressing one of the most confusing and complicated off-screen "relationships" many of us x Reader writers ignore. I wanted to do it justice, and it took a bunch of research, gorging myself on other Star Wars content, and staring off into space while that Spongebob meme of my brain being on fire danced in my noggin. But! It is here, finally. And for being so patient, it's an absolute monster.

Interlude: Burn in My Bloodstream

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader, Din Djarin x Xi'an

Summary: The Mandalorian has shared many secrets, but his greatest one is buried in shame and blood.

Word Count: 11.8k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, canonical-type violence, allusions to sex work, rough sex throughout, oral sex (m receiving), gagging, voyeurism, fingering (f receiving), PiV sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), anal sex, creampie, choking, degradation, threesomes, semi-public sex, cuckolding, blood and descriptive gore, character death, genocide (what a tag that was to write), suicidal thoughts, a fuckton of angst, The Helmet Stays On and it's a Big Deal, a very toxic relationship dynamic.

Notes: This one was an exercise in researching and complicated storytelling, but now that it's done I am over the moon with how it came out. I know that the Din x Xi'an pairing is not many people's cup of tea, but if you want my take on how it came about and what I think happened to give us The Prisoner, here's it all as best as I can surmise. I'm staying as canon compliant as possible because it's fun to connect a bunch of dots, but obviously this is all speculation with some liberal fudging of timelines.

Takes place after Both Sides of the Door, with much of the story set pre-S1 and spoilers for S1 Ep6 The Prisoner. Our Reader character makes an appearance at the beginning and end, so she'll still have a place in this interlude. The title is taken from Ed Sheeran's "Bloodstream" and if you want to know where my mood was for most of this, that song is a good place to start.

Cross-posted on AO3

I Think of You Series Masterlist

After you retire for the night, Din contemplates telling you about the other woman who left marks on his life. Omera was easy; wrong place, wrong time, and no right time on the horizon. And if he was truthful with himself, maybe no right time ever. He could have loved her, loved the way she cared for him and allowed a softer life for himself. There are times when he lies in bed and wonders what a world like that might look like for him. 

It’s…difficult. 

Even thinking of a little plot of land, a space all his own tied to the earth of a planet, makes him yearn for the skies and space that surround you three on the Crest. He could never truly root in soil, so used to being a seed on the wind. There would always be bounties to chase, duties to fulfill, missions to complete.

Right?

And if he digs even deeper, he might find the clearest truth hidden among the memories.

His heart belonged to you longer than even he knew. 

There were times when he let others touch it. Omera’s hands held it gently, too kindly for him to accept. And to keep it, she would need him to lift the helmet, the one thing he could not give her. Being a Mandalorian is all he knows. So he took his heart with him, and he’s sure she’s better off without it.

But there was another who reached into his chest with claws and teeth and left him bloody from her affections. One he tries not to dwell on as long as he can. A time in his life that brought more shame than any other, misted in blood and sex and credits. 

He wants to share more of his world with you. You deserve to understand exactly why he is the man he is today.

But he does not think he can tell you about Xi’an.

“Got something special for you, Mando,” Karga says when he settles across the table. “You’ve been requested by name.”

Din cocks his head, one hand drumming restlessly. 

“That’s new,” he says. He likes playing mysterious for Karga, embodying all that a Mandalorian is supposed to be, even when some days he feels like a small child wearing his buir’s armor. At least it hides the worst of his apprehension, impassive helmet masking how his eyes constantly dart around the room, legs tense and ready to spring. 

“Ranzar Malk. Leads a small team of mercenaries.” 

Din tips his head back, folding his arms over his durasteel cuirass.

“Didn’t think you liked sharing the spoils,” he drawls, watching Karga carefully. The man laughs, sipping back some spotchka and winking at a woman sitting at his bar. 

“I don’t. I like my work without middle men. But they bring in very, very good credits. A percentage is more for both of us than the handful of riff-raff I could offer you.” Karga leans forward, elbow coming down and speaking lower. “They want the reputation a Mando can give their team. Help them get some bigger and better jobs. You lend them your striking silhouette, and you’ll be in enough credits to buy a whole suit of beskar. And my cut will be…barely noticeable.” The sly smile Karga schools off his face lets Din know it’s a lot more than unnoticeable, but the job intrigues him. 

“What kind of work is it?” he asks. Flashes of memories play at the corner of his mind - Mandalorians coming down from on high to save him, droids shredded in their wake.

“Malk and I have a strict ‘no questions asked’ policy. You do the work, you get paid.”

Din rolls his shoulders, fingers itching to grab onto something solid and deadly. 

“How long do they need my…reputation?”

Karga leans back and sweeps his hands wide.

“As long as you want. Open contract.”

Din considers the offer. Mercenary work has never been too lowly for a beroya, but he’d never done any. Mostly small-time criminals and shakedowns in return for credits. But if the money is as good as Karga makes it sound, it could help the covert ten times over. 

“Deal.”

“You must be the Mando.”

The voice is snarly, raked over a steel timbre. Din turns to see a barrel-chested, long haired man with a thick salt and pepper beard to match. His face is folded into a smile but the light of it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Extending a short-fingered hand, he pumps Din’s gloved one vigorously. 

“Karga said you were in need of reputation,” Din says, cooly delivering the lines he practiced on the flight to this no-name hangar in Outer Rim rubble.

“And what are you in need of, Mando?” Malk says, eyeing him with blatant curiosity. Din had planned for this question during his supply run. The covert wasn’t to be named, the last of a culture eradicated. So why was he still traveling, wearing the helmet if he’s not of an unseen world?

“Target practice,” is the dry answer he gives, leveling the helmet at the shorter man. Malk raises an eyebrow before a conspiratorial smile splits his lips. 

“I like you, Mando. Man of few words. You’ll get along with the other chatterboxes I run with.” 

Malk leads him to a hangar pad, small ships in various levels of disrepair scattered across the peeling floor. A sharp whistle brings three people into view, two purple Twi’leks and a human man. 

“My crew,” Malk says proudly, gesturing for them to come closer. The female Twi’lek saunters over with a swing in her hip, the heavy forehead-first stride of her companion close behind. The human throws a grease-spotted towel onto a box of tools and comes to an exasperated stop in front of Malk. 

“Can’t believe you shelled out credits for a tin man. I could have put a bucket on and we’d be just as well off,” the man says. His face is Malk claps him on the shoulder.

“Varlo,” Malk says, nodding to Din. He gives a polite tip of his head back. Varlo rolls his cold blue eyes and turns on his heel. His jaw is sharp and squared, matching his lithe frame as he climbs back into an open access hatch. The male Twi’lek approaches Din, soft footwork with his hands in his pockets.

“Qin,” he offers before Malk’s introduction, nodding his head at the amban rifle slung across Din’s chest. “Is it true weapons are part of your religion? Or is that all bedtime stories?” His smirk is condescending, not even veiled. A simmer of annoyance bubbles in Din’s veins but he tamps it out.

“Among other things,” he says instead, earning a sardonic smile and a handshake from Qin. 

“All weapons?” the female Twi’lek says at Din’s elbow, running her fingers up the length of the rifle’s barrel. Din twists away, visor meeting the sparkling challenge in the Twi’s eyes. 

“My sister, Xi’an,” Qin interjects as she circles Din with roaming eyes. She hisses at him, raising Din’s eyebrows under the helmet, before sharply switching to high-pitched giggles, like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever done. 

“Ohhhh, Mando, we’re going to have fun,” she says, finally coming to rest at her brother’s side. 

Din should have walked away in this moment, saved himself a lot of pain and heartache and blood. They were volatile, waiting for a spark to burn everything around them, and Din was only more kindling. 

The jobs were easy to start. Wealthy benefactors needing a little extra muscle to get their way. A handful of runaways returned home. One exceptionally smooth jailbreak. Din’s presence gave them a leg up on jobs, but his skills were where he became integral. Combat all done with the efficiency and proficiency of a Mandalorian, but flying was where he excelled. The Razor Crest, in her infancy when he first shook Malk’s hand, was a deadly bird under Din’s touch. Scrambling signatures aside, with Din piloting it was a ghost on the astral winds. 

It also became a strange cramped home to the five of them while they traveled. After complaints of too many credits spent on lodging, Malk casually inferred that the Crest could be a better home base. “We’re in it more than out most days,” was his dry reasoning, and with four people staring him down Din agreed, pangs of discomfort pushed to the back of his mind. It made sense, after all. The Crest was a cargo ship. Might as well fill it with cargo.

So between jobs and screaming dogfights in the sky, the mercenaries found themselves within the durasteel walls. Hammocks strung along the hold allowed for sleep, belongings mixing and melding to become communal. There was comfort in that for Din. Individuality beaten out of him in training, he preferred not knowing who liked what ration bar or whose ‘fresher items littered the floor. 

In that crush of company, however, he did learn about his family in arms. Not enough to urge him to reveal more of his own past. All of them lived in the present, their histories an inky shadow they let drag behind and paid no mind. He learned instead of their present, trial and error and observation his best tools.

Malk’s connections were far-reaching and unsavory, most bounties questionable in nature but not enough to turn down. He would choose jobs no one wanted, ones that were especially difficult or carried the highest price. A name for himself was the greatest goal, clawing for prestige in how fast, how deadly, how accurate the team could be. Din sometimes caught a feral glint in his eye when they returned, deed done. The crazier the escapade, the more he gloated in cantinas or to his associates. Rarely lifting a finger himself, he worked logistics and timing, connections and credits. And when the job was done, it was only his name that ever hung in the air as they walked away richer.

Varlo was quiet, calculating and cruel. Din thought the standoffishness was a front until he watched the man more closely and realized it was born of a distinct lack of empathy. He could not be bribed, or swayed, or bewitched. While Malk made connections and laid the groundwork, Varlo was the front man on foot. He could talk his way in, execute the seven councilmen sitting at a table full of secrets, and wipe the blood from a particularly valuable one before taking it as insurance. His carefully crafted armor of failsafes and blackmail let him sleep easy every night, no matter the strain Din might feel at the events of the day.

Qin was the strength of the operation. Not bulky like a Devaronian, but leagues stronger and more agile than his body could betray. With enough blaster cover he could incapacitate, maim, and kill anything in his path with his two hands. That surety in his body extended to his place in the world. His smile was always knowing, always scheming something behind the fangs. Time spent across from him could pass pleasantly - Qin could spin you a tale from thin air, wrestle someone into gasping submission, or share silence all in turn - but once he left there was the distinct feeling that he gained more than you meant to give. 

And then there was Xi’an. Qin and her relationship was manic on a good day, volcanic on a bad one. They snapped at each other constantly, enough that Din stopped trying to understand if they were mad at each other or simply passing the time. Where Qin was strength, Xi’an was stealth. Her steps made no sound, the silvery whistle of her knives the precursor to bodies on the floor. The delight she took in her own prowess turned Din’s stomach more than once. Brutal hisses and snarls giving way to raucous laughter and almost childish giggles raised the hair on the back of his neck. She was competent and brash, and Maker help anyone who said no to her. 

Behind all of them was Din, standing silent and glorious. His helmet parted crowds, murmurs and rumors following the swish of his cape. They wondered why he was running with this bloodthirsty lot, a member of one of the greatest warrior cultures. He let them guess. With his contributions his covert would grow, and one day the children - maybe even his children - would be able to stand in the sun on a world that they called home. 

Until then, he hunts.

Din manages to maneuver the delicate balance of this crew living on his ship for over a month before tensions rise. A week without work has made everyone snappish and riled. Malk is hidden away in the cockpit making calls so Din has to remain with them, arms folded as Xi’an needles at Qin. His lip curls into a snarl, and Din braces for a brawl.

“Treating me like your baby sister isn’t going to make the men think you’re tough,” she hisses, sauntering by Qin and circling Varlo. “They don’t care about blood when it comes to close quarters, long hours, pent-up frustration.” She walks her fingers up Varlo’s chest, stroking her pointer along his leather jacket. “Care to blow off some steam?”

Varlo skirts around her touch, dropping down on a crate and leaning back.

“Hard pass, I don’t dip into crazy,” he spits out, Xi’an’s mocking smile chased by a wink of his own. For someone who barely experiences emotion beyond curiosity and satisfaction, he’s good at faking it. With a turn on her heel, she approaches Din instead.

“Ever felt the touch of a woman, Mando? Let someone polish your beskar?” she trills. Din keeps his posture loose, tilts his helmet and sighs. 

“Quit dicking around, I’ve got something,” Malk says as he drops down the ladder. “Decommissioning factory has had some thefts. We’re doing short-term security until we catch the guilty party.”

Xi’an backs off, slumping down across from her brother as Din moves to set the Crest’s course. Out of the thick air of the cargo hold he can finally breathe. 

He’d wanted to rebuff her, brag about the women he’s brought to the heights of pleasure with just his fingers, but it’s a dangerous path to wander in the barrel of rocket fuel the Crest has become. Shifting his hips in the pilot seat, he thinks back to the last time he fucked his frustrations into another person.

A Togruta, maybe? Or was it that sassy brothel worker? 

(a girl on a desert planet that stopped time)

A shiver climbs his spine but he bats it down. In any event it’s been too long since he’s indulged in a soft body. He’ll take care of that after this job, ease some of the stress buried between his shoulder blades. It might make all of this strange arrangement more palatable.

Droids. It had to be droids.

Not the fact that the factory was decommissioning battle droids but that some were going missing, not turning up in the junk pile to be scrapped. The workers didn’t give two shits about it, but because the battle droids were so powerful and dangerous they had to have their chips pulled out and documented for the New Republic. Too many missing chips led to this group striding in like conquering forces. 

The first night is uneventful, Din passing patrols with Varlo and Xi’an. Varlo looks at him like another droid, the cold boredom on his face inexplicably boiling Din’s blood. Xi’an’s constant prowling only makes it worse, still determined to crack his stoic demeanor. He’s tired the next day, body running on too little sleep and too much adrenaline. Malk offers him caf that he refuses. He doesn’t like lifting the helmet in front of them.

The second night the issue comes into sharp focus. Not theft, but escape. A droid spray painted in yellow stripes enters the facility to reactivate its brethren. For what purpose they don’t know, and Din doesn’t care. Putting the droid in his sight, muscles tight around the amban rifle, Din squeezes a lifetime of pain behind the trigger. 

A cloud of dust. No more droid.

He thought that would satisfy the roar in his chest, but back in the Crest he’s more of a caged animal than before. Malk tells them to enjoy a day on-world, and Varlo and Qin follow him out to the industrial maze of the city. Din knows he needs something tonight, a fight or a fuck or both, so he gathers enough credits to cover his proclivities and makes to leave the ship.

“Where are you biding your time, Mando?” Xi’an’s voice purrs in the low light of the cargo hold. She’s draped over a storage crate, inspecting her nails and flashing a devious look at him when his visor turns. “Going to finally lose your virginity?”

He doesn’t know what compels him to say it. Maybe the constant pressure on all sides, or the neverending sniping at his expense. He knows it’s a mistake the moment he opens his mouth.

“Been a long time since I called myself that.”

Xi’an’s eyes flash up to the visor. It spikes in his stomach.

“I find that hard to believe, Mando, with all the…” She waves her hands around her head, pulling a serious face that she can barely keep on. He should stalk off, leave her to pouting and him to pounding into something softer and sweeter than whatever this was.

But it’s been too long, and he’s itching for confrontation in a way he’s never desired before.

“I’m good with my hands,” he says, one coming up to rest on his belt buckle, tilting his head to the side. Xi’an lifts off the crate, circling him with the serpentine swish of her gait.

“Oh I can believe that. Seen you with those weapons, your ‘religion.’ Man who keeps them that well cared for must be attentive in…other ways.” She slinks around to stand in front of him, dragging her eyes over the broad expanse of durasteel on his chest, flaking paint and silvered scratches. She walks her fingers down his chest, stopping at his trim waist. “But that doesn’t mean you know how to use this.” Her hand flashes out to grope at his crotch but he snatches her wrist, jerking her hands up as she squeals. For a moment he thinks it’s in pain, but the glint in her eyes and the flash of tongue between her fangs reveals it’s excitement. Releasing her, he moves to exit the cargo hold and find something, anything, to calm the rushing of his blood.

“Oh Mando, come on, wait,” Xi’an pleads, skipping back in front of him and adopting an apologetic expression. “We’ve all been cooped up here too long, rubbing each other the wrong way.” This time her hands glances down his side, nails lightly scraping along his hips before she drifts them feather-light over his cock. The electricity of her touch burns in his groin, filling him quickly. “Let me make it up to you, Mando. Rub you the right way this time.”

“This is…not a good idea,” he grits through his teeth, common sense screaming at him to leave, but the many-toothed monster that lurks in the back of his mind drools at the feeling of her fingers getting bolder, now stroking her palm over his stiffening cock. The helmet tips back a fraction as Din’s eyes flutter, excuses melting back into the delicious heat of her touch.

“The best ideas are the bad ones,” she teases, sidling closer to him. Her breath is hot on the edge of his cowl, soft little sighs zinging down his spine as she swipes her thumb over the clothed head of his cock. He tries to suppress the groan but it comes out a whine instead, spurring her on more. “You could use some release. Let me suck your cock, Mando. I’ll trade you for a kiss.” 

This is a monumentally bad idea and his survival instinct kicks in just before the monster waiting in the darkness claws his way to the forefront. 

“The helmet…stays on,” he grunts, backing up a half step. She rolls her eyes but triumph lives there now. 

“Fine, fine, your precious Creed. Then how about I give you a hand, and next time I’m in need of one you return the favor?” 

He struggles to take in a full breath, her fingers now wrapped around him and adding just enough pressure to spark in his pelvis and surge into his chest. He nods, fists clenching, as Xi’an’s smile breaks across her face.

“Oh Mando, how long have you been wanting this?” she purrs, sliding down his body to rest on her knees. Alarm bells sound in his mind. It’s too out in the open, too vulnerable. If Varlo or Malk or Qin, Maker forbid, came back he’d be caught and probably gutted. But the lap of her tongue along his waist as she opens the plaquet of his pants dissolves the worries into heady arousal as the monster he’s suppressed so long rears to life.

“Kriff,” he curses, tilting the helmet down to watch her pull his flushed cock out of his pants, thighs flexing when she coos over it. 

“So you’ve got the goods to back up all that swagger,” she sing-songs, looking up at him through her lashes as blood pumps loud in his ears. The arousal he’s feeling is unlike his usual encounters. In those he’s simmering even when his frustration is at an all time high, his pleasure delayed in favor of watching them writhe and gasp with the force of the orgasms he pulls out of them. It gets him harder than anything else. But now, looking down at someone who makes his blood boil at any given moment, his libido is at a roar screaming at him to fuck and bruise and take. The force of it makes his heart pound, unfamiliar and exciting.

“If you’re only going to look at it, I’ll go somewhere else,” he growls, keeping his voice as level as possible. It does the trick, her smile sly before she licks a long path from base to tip. The shudder is involuntary, a hot wet mouth not something he usually seeks out. He prefers a dripping pussy to bury his frustrations in but the power this position yields makes all the lewd cantina talk he’s scoffed at come into focus. 

“Patience, Mando,” Xi’an lightly scolds, but the thin wire of restraint he was still holding onto snaps. One large hand palms the back of her head, fingers digging into the edge of her head wrap for leverage. Her eyebrows lift in surprise just before Din presses his hips forward, breaching her lips with the head of his cock. He groans at the slick heat and the brush of her teeth over the ridge as he thrusts shallowly against her tongue. He thinks he sees a wrinkle of anger in her brow before her eyes flash with vengeance. She wraps her lips around him, sucking his head. 

“I’ve had enough of waiting,” he grits out, pulling back a fraction before sliding in deeper, pressing her further down his shaft. Her hands come up to his hips, fingernails digging in as a warning. The sharp points of pain focus his arousal, the mix with pleasure intoxicating. “You wanted it so karking badly, you….take it,” he growls, his thrusts deepening again as she takes him even further. Hissing around his intrusion, teeth come down enough to scrape along his cock just shy of unpleasant.

“Oh no you don’t,” he punches out, his other hand pinching her jaw to force her mouth wide. The lack of resistance drives him down her throat, a loud gag heaving her chest. The sound shocks his system, pulling back quickly as drool drips down her chin with her gasps. Uncertainty falls heavy over his libido now.

“Are you…?” he starts to ask, but Xi’an yanks him back to her face, pumping his cock quickly with the thick saliva she’s left on it.

“What’s the matter, Mando? Afraid of a little mess?” she taunts before swallowing him down again, the rough gags of her throat beginning in earnest. He can feel her spit dripping down his length, sliding over his balls as she rolls them roughly in her hand. It’s nothing he’s ever felt fucking a woman before, frustration and anger burning him inside out. He palms her head again, thrusting with her own bobbing rhythm as she hums around his cock. His hips pump, thighs clenching, stomach quivering at the onslaught of sensations driving him closer and closer to his high. Hazarding another look at her, she laughs around his cock before pulling off.

“If I’d have known it would be this easy to make you fall apart…” she begins to say, but Din shoves his cock roughly back into her mouth.

“Shut up,” he pants, fucking into her face in earnest. His orgasm is on the brink, body convulsing around her prone form as the monster ruts and chases his end selfishly. His teeth are clenched so hard he tastes blood, puffing air through his nose and snarling behind the visor. Vision red around the edges, his control is long gone as he fights her sharp nails and encroaching teeth and wild eyes. The tiniest voice begs him to stop, to look at what he’s doing, but when he sees her kneading at her mound over her pants, bucking her own hips in time with his punishing thrusts, everything lets go. He cums with a bellow, holding her there as his spend empties into her mouth. He gasps, sweat rolling down his neck and spine, the helmet almost suffocating with the heat trapped inside. 

When he pulls out Xi’an gasps and the gravity of the moment makes him stumble back. Tucking himself away he watches her cough on her knees, white streaks of his cum dribbling down her face to drip onto the durasteel floor. Once she catches her breath she looks up at him, and in her flashing eyes and feral smile he realizes something dark and devastating.

He wants to do it again.

Striding past to slam open the cargo bay doors, her roughened voice calls after him.

“That’s one on the books for me, Mando. I’ll come calling soon enough.”

His hands don’t stop shaking for hours.

Xi’an is right. It doesn’t take long for her to come to him.

A simple job gone bad, the target fleeing into hyperspace too quickly to follow. Xi’an had been seducing him in a flashy racetrack before he fled. Din had followed as her backup, watching her writhe on the target’s lap and whisper in his ear. Every now and then her eyes would flash to Din, holding the expressionless gaze of the visor as she guided another man’s hand to knead her breast. 

He told himself it wasn’t supposed to affect him. He didn’t care what she did, or who touched her. The scene from that night played in his head wrapped in nausea and regret. No partner he’d ever laid with drew out that much uncertainty and self-loathing, and he wasn’t keen to return to it.

But her curves still called to him, now straddling the mark’s waist. Familiar stirrings pulled up hard against disgust as he pushed the ravenous monster back down. It had gotten louder, fiercer after taking his pleasure so brutally. It screamed to take her again.

All of her work led to nothing. The target caught Varlo stalking up to apprehend him and make a quick exit. Even with four highly skilled mercs after him his resources won out. A faster ship, quicker access to his speeder. He was just within their grasp when he blasted off and into the atmosphere.

Xi’an shrieked her frustration into the air as the team re-entered the Crest. Malk confirmed there was no point following. They’d try again when he showed up at whatever gambling circuit he fancied next. She couldn’t stop prowling the ship, head down, glaring through her lashes. Varlo got a few sharp swipes for giving away their plan, but he threw up his hands and moved into the engine bay to let her cool off. Qin reclined in his hammock, watching bemused as she tried to self-soothe with no luck.

“Mando!” she finally hisses, jerking her head sharply as she strides past him and out of the Crest. His shoulders stiffen instantly, her brother’s hot stare branding his back. Hazarding a look back, Qin’s raised eyebrow and smirk make his face burn. But he still follows.

Xi’an is around the front of the Crest, leaning against the landing gear and seething. Din comes close, waiting for her to acknowledge his presence. Her eyes rake over the helmet, snarl less playful and more agitated. 

“I’m cashing in your debt, Mando,” she says, whipping her belt out of the loops so quickly it cracks. Din’s hands tighten on his, stance faltering.

“Not sure that’s a good idea,” he murmurs, bracing for the impact of his words. They land hard on her skin, quick steps bringing them chest to chest.

“I don’t give a flying kark what you think. I gave you my throat to cum in, it’s your turn. Give me your cock.” 

Din balks, trying to disentangle from the swirling vortex of rage, but her hands are small and quick to grab at the fabric around his neck.

“Or you can give me something else, Mandalorian. Show me your face if you won’t fuck me,” she snarls, grabbing for the edge of his helmet. He yanks her arm away, but the other tries just the same. He snags it in his fist, whipping his head back when she tries to knock the helmet off. Both wrists captured he pushes her back, pinning her against the landing gear. Her hips jerk against his own, legs kicking at his shins. Some blows land, leaving dark reminders for days to come. Her bared teeth and hissing finally push him to pin both of her hands with one of his, the other coming to firmly wrap around her throat. 

That finally stops her, eyes fluttering as he puts just enough pressure on her windpipe to quiet her. Hips rolling against his hardening cock, he leans in to crowd her against the durasteel mechanics.

“Is this what you want?” he husks, removing his hand from her throat to shove into her pants. The fit is tight, his thick forearm and vambrace stretching the waistband, but his skilled fingers cup her hot cunt. Even with the gloves on he can find her clit, roughly circling as she gasps and rocks against him. “Needed this attitude fucked out of you?”

“Mmm-hmmm,” she moans, hooking a leg behind his thigh to pull him closer. He yanks his hand out of her pants and pushes slick-soaked leather between her lips.

“Take them off, or I won’t,” he growls, waiting for her teeth to tug his gloves off his fingers. She stares at the tawny skin, all the silvery lines cross-crossing his knuckles and fingers. He tries not to dwell on this, on how she’s already pushed him past what he knows he shouldn’t do. Jamming his hand back into her pants he buries two fingers in her wet cunt, setting a fast and firm pace that has her crying out against his overwhelming hold. The monster snarls inside him, salivating at the prospect of rucking her pants down and…

“Mando, need your cock, need you to fuck me,” she whines, just short of begging. It knots his stomach that she knows how much she’s making him lose control. The rhythmic slap of his palm on her intimate flesh has him full and hard, grip tightening as he feels her walls spasm around his flexing fingers.

“Cum like this first and I’ll see if you deserve my cock,” he rasps, buying himself enough time to calm his raging libido a fraction. He shouldn’t fuck her, shouldn’t let this go on any longer than it already has, but his body is thrumming, snapping and snarling into her as she beckons him to let go, to find something blinding in her soaked cunt. 

Her orgasm clamps down on his fingers suddenly, the raw shriek making him clap his hand over her mouth. The loss of his hands pinning her wrists gives ample opportunity to rush open his pants and find his weeping cock. A few well-placed strokes has his rational mind dissolving into the single-minded concept of fucking.

He bends her over the landing gear, tearing her pants down over her ass to expose her glistening pussy. Normally that sight makes his mouth water. Instead he tugs on his cock a couple times to prepare. 

“Hurry up, Mando,” Xi’an whines, arching her back higher to present her hole to him. He pushes her chest down hard, a whoosh of air escaping before he sheaths his cock in her tight pussy. The momentary ecstasy of his slick entrance washes over him, planting both hands on either side of her head. His first thrust punches a moan from her lips, followed by a litany of curses and whines as he snaps his hips fast and hard. The loud smack of skin pulls out a thin moan of his own.

“Karking Maker, Mando, you feel so good,” Xi’an croons, a momentary lapse in vitriol. It makes Din chuckle as he grunts at her wet clutch.

“This all you needed? A cock to make you bearable?” he teases, angling his hips to drill into a spot inside he knows will make her scream. She gathers air before he shoves his sticky fingers into her mouth, pinching her jaw open as he penetrates her here too. Everything is dripping and liquid and hard and soft at the same time. His own orgasm is fast approaching, a roar in his ears that he chases with fervor.

“Gonna cum again,” Xi’an gasps around his fingers, slamming back against Din’s thrusts as she chases her own end. Two people so far inside but so far apart.

Din dutifully reaches between her legs and pinches her clit, sending her toppling over into a shuddering orgasm that clenches his cock so hard he has to pull out and cum all over her other tight hole. Lightheaded and heavy-limbed, Din tries to regain a semblance of control over the situation. 

This is just returning the favor.

This won’t happen again.

He doesn’t want this to happen again.

Shuffling back, he uses his bare hand to scrape his cum off her ass and flick it on the ground. Xi’an pulls her pants back up as Din tucks himself away and turns to stride back into the Crest. 

Stepping outside looking to be without a care in the world is Qin, licking Jogan fruit juice off his fingers as he discards the peel on the ground. Din’s whole body locks up, fight or flight response screaming at him to get away. 

“Get a good eyeful brother?” Xi’an singsongs behind Din, walking past him to re-enter the ship. Qin mock-glares at her as she passes and saunters away. When his eyes land back on Din he waits for a fist or a blade to connect with his flesh. Instead Qin just shakes his head with an amused expression and follows his sister.

Dread lands heavy in Din’s belly. His grip is slipping and he’s not sure whether he’ll hang on or fall into something even harder to climb out of.

That was the last time, he says to himself as he leaves a freshly fucked Xi’an in the ‘fresher. 

This time it’s over, he says as he splatters his cum on her tits. 

Never again, he promises after he spills his load into her tight asshole, cursing to the Maker about how good she feels choking his dick. 

He tries over and over to stop it, to tell her no, but every time she whines and needles and baits until he can’t help but bury his frustrations in her body. 

It’s been months since he joined Malk’s crew, and the spoils of their missions were fat in his pocket. He knows he should sneak off to the covert, give them the credits needed to keep them safe. Or to Karga, pay him his cut of whoring out his Mandalorian. It itches in the back of his brain, the duties he’s supposed to be performing.

Instead, he ignores Karga’s messages on his holo. He spends the credits on upgrades to the Crest and Corellian whiskey and brothels. The last is in a desperate hope to rid him of his addiction to the purple Twi’lek plaguing his bed. 

She stalks his days and haunts his nights, rarely away from each other. It makes it easy to let her straddle his waist in the tiny cubby of a bed and ride him until he’s dripping out of her. Sometimes she follows him when they’re on-world to the places where he spends his credits. The first time he caught her he made her watch as he fucked a plain but skilled prostitute. The following times, she joined him in his debauchery. 

He tells himself it’s the last time every time, but the fire always returns. The itch under his skin. The monster that roars under Xi’an’s sharp nails and sharper tongue batters the inside of its cage and howls until Din can leave more marks on her skin. It’s feral and bloodthirsty. Definitely unhealthy.

He still can’t stop.

The bounty they lost finally turns up in a swanky hotel on Coruscant. Xi’an goes to complete the job, her cover not blown enough to approach the target again. Words and drinks pass between them before his hands are groping her beneath the table. They slink away together, Din’s helmet following their heat signatures. The man’s crotch is white fire, but Xi’an’s registers no hotter than her body temp.

Couldn’t even get her wet. He’d have her blazing by now.

Din waits for the signal to apprehend the target outside the closed hotel room. Long minutes tick by, Din’s imagination spinning wildly as he imagines the man’s fingers in her pussy, licking her clit like he can never do, spitting in her mouth like he sometimes imagines with a frightening tightness in his groin. 

A trill sounds. Time for action.

Din bursts in, blaster pointed ahead of him to take in the lewd scene. Xi’an is naked on the bed, the target thrusting into her from behind. Her face is bored until she sees Din enter, lax posture trading for silky and sexy.

“What the kark-!” the target shouts, hands shooting up in surrender. 

“Took you long enough, Mando, I had to put up with this paltry cock for much too long,” she sighs, arching her back and presenting her heavy tits between her arms. 

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold,” he rasps, modulator hiding the strain in his voice. Xi’an tuts, shaking her head.

“This is my mission, Mando, and I get to decide that.” She cocks her head at him, backing up against the target.

“Does it make you jealous, knowing he’s inside me right now?” she purrs, circling her hips to elicit a choked gasp. Din’s hand tightens on the blaster, forcing his posture to be neutral.

“You did what you had to,” he grits out. Xi’an shrieks out a laugh.

“I didn’t have to fuck him. I wanted to, because I wanted to see what you’d do when another man tries to cum inside me.” 

Din’s arm begins to shake, and the monster snarls inside him. Mine, it roars. My fucked up little thing to break.   

“What are you going to do, Mando?” she taunts, rolling her hips on the terrified man’s cock. 

“What you want.”

Xi’an’s eyes flash in triumph. 

“I want to bring him in cold.”

Din shoots a blaster bolt between the man’s eyes, toppling him over and onto the bedroom floor. Xi’an wastes no time crawling to the end of the bed and turning around, round ass in the air. 

“Fuck him out of me, Mando.”

They pull orgasm after orgasm out of each other with a dead man on the floor. His blood stains one corner of the bedding, crimson as regret. When Din has her splayed out below him, tits bouncing at the force of his thrusts into her abused pussy, she croaks out a request.

“Take it off.”

He stills inside her, fire in his veins replaced by ice cold clarity.

“No.”

Xi’an snarls at him.

“Show me the face of the man that’s fucking me, Mandalorian.”

His hand comes up around her throat, a warning squeeze rougher than the ones he normally doles out. She quiets, but he has to flip her over to drill out his last orgasm. The disdain on her face is too much.

Seventeen missed holos from Karga. Shadows that follow him when he strides through town. And yet Din can’t pull his head above water. The light get fainter every time. During one mission he freezes in front of a snarling attack massiff and for a blissful moment wonders if its bite would kill him if he bared his throat. Varlo fells it instead, giving Din a confused look as they return to the Crest.

“You been sleeping, Mando? You seem off.”

Din bristles, stride widening.

“Don’t pretend that matters to you.”

Varlo shrugs, veering off to speak to Ranzar. The anger masks the anguish until later that night, when Din begs for the thoughlessness of sleep.

“Need some company, Mando?” Xi’an asks, like she does most nights. 

It’s better than guilt, at least.

It’s not long after Xi’an’s hunt that Qin climbs up into the cockpit while Din is piloting. They just entered hyperspace, the streaks of light soothing Din. The quiet sinks into his bones, contrasted against the dread of re-entering the cargo hold. The air is thick with boredom and potential energy waiting for a spark.

He’s turning to leave, find somewhere to escape for a few more moments of peace, when Qin clears his throat. He stands in the doorway, leaning against it with folded arms. Din stills, a standoff between the two men. He was wondering when he might have to endure this conversation.

“Whatever is going on between you and my sister,” Qin starts, right to the meat of the matter. Din respects that he doesn’t pull punches. “You need to figure it out soon. You may be having the time of your life fighting…and fucking.” He sneers at this, making Din’s face scorch under the helmet. “But the longer she thinks something is going to come out of it, the worse it will be when you tell her no.” Qin shifts to stand chest to chest with Din. They’re close in height but in this moment Din feels small and sacrificial.

“She doesn’t like being told no. I’m sure you’ve seen that.”

He has. The helmet is the symbol of his refusal, and Xi’an seethes at it. More than once he’s had to pin her hands down, too bold in her touches. Some days she playfully grabs at the lip, pulling him down to her level, but doesn’t let go quick enough for Din’s liking. Other times she lays her hands on either side and it feels tender. Her eyes soften, and Din wonders if there’s a hurt girl under all the posturing that wants proof that he cares for her. 

He’d told her once, as they laid in a post-coital tangle. The Creed, the helmet, why it meant so much to him. He didn’t speak of the covert, or of any other Mandalorians. They both have their own secrets.

“It’s a symbol of my fidelity,” he said. Xi’an lifted up on one elbow and studied the sharp lines and curves of the helmet, fingers tracing the impressive profile. 

“How beautiful it must be, to have someone so devoted,” she murmured. “What a gift.”

It’s one he can never give her, and she can never forget it.

“If you aren’t planning on giving her what she wants,” Qin husks, leaning in with a steely gaze. “Don’t drag it out. Make it professional.”

He leaves as quickly as he arrived, the weight of his words now on Mando’s shoulders. Qin has never been kind, but his ultimatum is a balm to Din’s anguish. He needs to end it. If he believes her to have any gentleness underneath her posturing it would be cruel to continue. There is no room in his devotions for her. 

The monster inside his chest finally soothes, curls into a ball and sleeps.

She doesn’t take it well.

“You want this to stop?” she laughs, lounging against a tree. Din had deigned to tell her away from the others, wanting privacy and space for her anger to hit a flash point.

“We’re professionals. This is too messy,” Din says, keeping his voice as even and calm as he can. Her face changes from incredulity to anger.

“This isn’t over just because you get a crisis of conscience.” She pushes off the tree and stalks towards him, suspicion coloring her demeanor. “Did my brother say something to you?”

That’s a trap he’s not going to walk into.

“I can’t give you what you want,” Din says, holding his ground as she comes chest to chest, much like her sibling. How alike they are in their ruthlessness. 

“Of course you can. You’ve got a perfectly good cock and talented fingers and some Maker-blessed stamina. Plus you’re filthy,” she purrs, raising goosebumps on Din’s neck. “What else does a girl need?”

Din tilts his head, watching her closely as he sees the shroud of the lie settle.

“The helmet,” he sighs, exasperated. His words hit the target. Xi’an’s features twist, shocked out of her feigned nonchalance.

“You’re ending this over a stupid little symbol?” she spits out, circling him like a prowling loth-cat. Din tenses, tempted to follow her path but knowing she’ll take advantage of it. He prepares for a blade. 

“I won’t remove it for you. And I’m done fighting you trying to do it yourself.” 

There’s a moment where he sees the hurt girl he’s trying to spare. It’s quickly raked back with fury. She hisses, digging her fingers into his cowl and yanking him backwards. He stumbles to his knees, his cape now wrapped around her forearms as she cuts off his air .

“All your morals and high ground as you’re spilling as much blood as we are, Mando. Defiling my body as you pray to your Creed. You’ll be crawling back to my cunt in no time, and I’ll slit your throat before I let you make a fool out of me.” Just as his vision begins to darken she releases her hold, letting painful lungfuls of air back into his chest. One boot kicks him square in the back, and he topples forward into the dirt.

“You’ll regret this, Mandalorian.”

She storms off to the Crest, leaving him gasping and coughing. He wishes, not for the first time, that he never shook Malk’s hand, never let them onto the Crest, never let Karga talk him into this. 

He wishes for time to stop, to take back everything the last months had carved out of his soul. For a bed, and a soothing touch.

(where is she now? Could she ever look at him the same way, after all he’s done?)

“New assignment,” Malk calls down, a groan of relief lifting the mood in the hold. “Big yield, and even bigger hush money.”

Qin grins, jostling his sister as Malk descends to them. She nods, listless since their argument. Din prefers that to the rage. It still pulls at a confusing feeling in his chest, something akin to regret.

“Where we off to? I’ve been itching to get out of this karking morgue,” Varlo gripes, taking the holopad from Malk. 

“Cleanup effort on Alzoc III. There’s some mines infested with a local species the mining company needs cleared out. Not sentient, but territorial. Mando, need you in the air. Varlo, running logistics. Qin, Xi’an, you’re with me doing ground work.” 

Din rolls his shoulders and cracks his knuckles. A big haul should set everyone up for a good while. Improve spirits, and maybe give him the boost to break away from this group that only becomes more hostile by the day. His silence will cost him, but with enough credits he may be able to buy himself back into the covert, and the Guild’s good favor. 

Alzoc III it is.

The planet is icy and hostile, vast snow-swept tundras and sharp peaks slicing up into the permanently gray skies. The harsh weather eats up heat from the outside in, the Crest’s life support systems working overtime to keep the interior above freezing. Din had to pull out a heavier flight suit, the other crew members donning furs and goggles in preparation for the mission. Xi’an had taken to glaring at Mando any time he was in the room, so he’d stayed in the cockpit for most of the trip. Malk had scoffed at him, standing behind the pilot’s chair as Din maneuvered them out of hyperspace.

“Women problems, Mando?” 

Din did not deign to give him an answer, but Malk persisted.

“Not a good idea to mix business and pleasure. A man of your experience should be more careful,” he says, clapping a hand on Din’s paudron. He tenses, but Malk releases him quickly after and heads into the tense hold with a snicker under his breath.

Din can’t wait to have the Crest to himself. Months of close quarters were making him itchy with tension, a constant frenetic thrum under his skin that he can’t even fuck out now. Varlo’s company would be silent at least. Plus a simple point-and-shoot mission has its appeal. The rest of the dossier states that the mines are overrun to the point that they can’t send in crews to extract the planet’s precious commodities. 

Varlo plots a multi-stage assault; Malk, Xi’an and Qin would place bombs at mine entrances and pick off anything that could tip off the plan. Once at their sniper posts, Din would aerial attack the mines from above, detonating the bombs and dropping his own payloads to collapse strategic parts of the tunnels. The mining company provided blueprints, and designated the choke points that would create the least amount of cleanup effort for them after the fact. 

In retrospect, when Din’s nightmares push into this shadowy period of his life, it was so well thought out it should have made him pause. They didn’t need highly skilled mercenaries, they needed bodies to carry out this plan. What the company really bought was silence, and anonymity.

Din circles the Crest just out of range of the mines, waiting for the go signal from Malk. Varlo lounges in the jump seat, occasionally speaking through his communicator. Din doesn’t much enjoy conversing with Varlo, so of course this is the time he decides to be chatty.

“So, was she purple like…all over?” Varlo says, raising the hackles on Din’s back. 

“You can ask her yourself. I’m sure she’d love to tell you,” Din replies calmly, banking a little harder to the left than he means to. Varlo chuckles low in his throat, his gaze burning into Din’s back.

“I mean I could, but it’s more professional curiosity. I’m surprised she hasn’t gutted you in your sleep yet.”

“Mando, time to shine!” Malk’s voice rings from the Crest’s holocomm.

“Roger,” Din murmurs, the muscle memory of his training kicking in as the Crest dives into the valley. Everything that’s plagued him for months - the loss of control, the cloying atmosphere, Xi’an’s magnetic push and pull - all fades into the background when he’s flying. His shoulders loosen, grip on the controls firm but relaxed. The lift and dip of the Crest is a familiar dance, lapping waves on a beach he’s never visited but somehow always knows. 

Then the first explosion appears through the transparisteel, and he dives into action.

The entire assault lasts maybe a quarter hour. Each explosion triggered by Malk is timed with another bomb Varlo releases out the cargo doors. The more powerful weapons hit their mark, miles of tunnels collapsing with shifting snow to fill in the depressions. Sometimes a small group of moving creatures - barely perceptible - burst from an entry, and the on-ground team quickly eradicates them. Din isn’t even sure he feels the cold creeping into the ship, too wrapped up in the warmth of a skill he’s honed for decades being used to its utmost ability. 

“That’s it, Mando, we’ll bring her down to pick up the rest at the hanger pad.” Varlo indicates a vast stretch of buildings, no doubt some shipping operation, with a generous landing zone. Din wonders how much trade must happen on this desolate planet, and how pitiful their price must be compared to the credits the company rakes in. 

Once landed, Varlo leaves to speak with their contact and provide a final report. Malk gets the payment, but he’ll be a little while traipsing across the frozen grounds. Din takes the lack of anyone on his ship as a brief moment of respite, checking for any potential damage and wandering through the cluttered living space. His annoyance at the mess is less than usual, the silence after a job well done vastly improving his mood. 

Deeper in the ship checking on engine function, Din hears a clatter. His shoulders slump again. He’d hoped for a little more peace and quiet before they returned. Trudging out to the cargo bay, he’s met with an even stranger sight.

Varlo left the cargo door open, the windbreak from the surrounding buildings keeping the elements at a minimum. Instead of the crew ascending the ramp, two furred creatures freeze just inside the warmth of the Crest. The larger one puts its body between Din and the smaller one, four black pearl eyes locked on him. His hand itches to grab his blaster, absolutely certain these are the creatures infesting the mines. They’re supposed to be hostile, ferocious and powerfully strong. He might be able to take one, but two could be a problem. He steels himself for a charge, but the larger one holds up one long-clawed hand, three fingers spread in the universal symbol for wait.

Din stops, confusion and a cold pit of dread opening in his stomach. The larger creature looks back at the smaller one, stroking its face as they make high pitched chirps and buzzes at each other through strange tubular mouths. Their fur is matted white and gray, easy to blend in on the tundra, as they tower taller than most bipedal creatures Din has encountered. The brief conference concluded, the larger creature rummages in its fur.

Din snaps his hand to his blaster, unholstering it in a flash to point at the creatures. The smaller one squeals - Din swears it’s in terror - and the larger one whips its head up to look at Din. It stills, one hand now held out overflowing with baubles. Din’s blaster falters as the creature takes a tentative step forward, offering lustrous milky pearls. His throat closes up, but his training keeps his weapon on them. At his lack of movement the creature looks back at the smaller one, urging it forward. It holds their faces together, foreheads touching as plaintive whines cut through the air. The pearls transfer, and the larger of the two urges the smaller forward. 

Din can’t breathe, chest banded with horror. The littler creature holds out the offering, clicking and chirping as the larger one waits back. It’s all too clear to a man who lost his family in a war he did not understand what this transaction is, and what the consequences of his actions means. He drops the blaster, stepping towards the creatures. They shrink back in fear, but the little one still holds out shaking hands, pearls dropping to clink on the durasteel floor.

“I…” he says, heart hammering in his throat. The larger one - the mother, he thinks - raises its head with something like hope. 

“What the kark?!” Varlo shouts, ascending the ramp. Din tries to speak, to explain that everything has gone so wrong in a handful of moments, but Varlo’s blaster is already out.

Three bolts, loosed with deadly efficiency, and the smaller creature falls, pearls scattering on the floor and rolling away. The shriek of the larger creature will haunt Din for years, as clear as the day he heard it when he finds another pearl lost in the ship.

“No!” Din screams, but Varlo is already turning to the charging creature. Three powerful swipes knock him down, blood spurting into snow, before he fells the creature with another series of blaster bolts. Then it’s just Din, gasping amongst the gore. Sobs wrench his throat, hot tears running down his cheeks as he shakes on his feet.

“Fuck, Mando…need…kit,” Varlo gasps. The creature cut him deep, flashes of white bone peeking through the layers of flesh. Blood dribbles from his lips, teeth stained red as he struggles to breathe. His voice is faraway and tinny, but Din’s body answers. He walks numbly to Varlo’s side, kneeling beside the man’s mutilated body. 

“They were sentient,” he says, and the horror blends into anger, one hotter and more encompassing than any he’s ever felt. 

“Get me a Maker-damned bacta shot!” Varlo burbles, a rough cough spraying blood on Din’s chestplate. He’s not sure when he decided to slit Varlo’s throat, but one moment he’s alive, the next he’s laid out with unseeing eyes, the messy slash of a vibroblade mimicking the brutal claw marks. 

He doesn’t remember moving the creatures’ bodies, laying them down on the icy ground outside the Crest.

He doesn’t remember what he tells the others when they return. Xi’an and Qin stalk by, barely affected. Malk chews the inside of his cheek, staring at Varlo’s corpse for a few moments before entering the Crest.

“Split is four ways now. First come first serve to his things. We take off in 5.”

Din doesn’t recall where his body was during takeoff, or once they got into hyperspace. The events play like a holovid missing an actor, feelings and sensations eerily absent. He thinks he piloted them off world, attributed to muscle memory. He remembers a conversation, but not with who, or why it began.

“The species was sentient. They tried to barter to get on the ship.” 

“Mando….”

“One attempted to sacrifice itself for the other. An animal can’t do that.”

“We got paid not to ask questions.”

“That wasn’t a mission. That was genocide.”

“You’ve done worse, Mando. We all have.”

Except that wasn’t true. In the song of Din Djarin, this would always be his greatest sin. 

One tip to the New Republic was all it took. A set of coordinates and a date and time. Malk wanted to gamble and whore after Alzoc III, and Qin and Xi’an had no qualms. Din only sat silently, the days since the genocide bleeding into one another. Xi’an had tried to tease him about it - seems like you lucked out against those claws - but his cold turn of the head and quick exit quieted her tongue. 

He waited for them to leave, credits in hand, before reporting their whereabouts to the New Republic garrison. He conveniently left himself and the Crest out, detailing his crewmates’ crimes and exactly where they would be. Then he laid low, waiting for enough time to pass so as to not arouse suspicion. 

He would not see Qin or Malk for many more years, though he’d hear of their escape from some Guild contacts. Not much could hold either of them for long. Xi’an didn’t leave him so quietly. 

“Karking traitor!” she screams, leaping on his back outside of the Crest. A blade sinks into his shoulder, ripping a cry from his lips. She pulls it out and drives it back in his bicep, his hands scrabbling to throw her off. She gets him two more times before he crushes her against the Crest’s hull, knocking her grip loose. His left arm is screaming, blood pouring down his fingers. 

“After all we did for you, you turned us in?!” Her knife hits home again, swinging to stab into his calf and the meat of his thigh in quick succession. Din disarms her, skittering the knife away, before landing a blow in the center of her chest that, with a little more force, could have stopped her cruel heart. She lies gasping on the ground, eyes wide and wild as they look at him towering over her. For a moment that uncomfortable feeling pulls at him again, something like regret and remorse and a mourning of what could have been. It weakens him enough to kneel down, body screaming.

“I’m sorry…” he tries to say, the next words lost in his turmoil. Sorry for starting whatever fucked-up thing they had between them? Sorry for not being able to give her what she wanted? Sorry for how it was destined to end?

Another blade sinks into his side, ripping down as she screeches. 

“You are nothing but a traitor, Mandalorian. Betrayer of your allies, of your Creed. I hope your Maker-damned helmet ends up in the gutter with your corpse.”

He yanks the blade free, head dizzy at the realization that much of his blood is on the ground instead of inside him. He puts one hand around Xi’an’s neck and squeezes down. She’s out in seconds, dragged to the hangar entrance for the New Republic guards to find. Safe or not, he takes off with the Crest and manages to close up enough of his wounds with the cauterizer to stop the bleeding, burnt flesh singing his nostrils. He blindly dials in coordinates for Nevarro, barely staying conscious through the jump. Once autopilot kicks in he dips into darkness.

The Guild takes him back. Begrudgingly. He pays his dues and offers them the pearls the creature spilled across the hold. Their value surprises him, almost annoyed he didn’t save some for himself, but the thought of his own pockets lined with treasures given by the dead chills his blood. He leaves them all with Karga, and waits for the distrust to fade from his face. 

The covert welcomes him back with disapproval. His wounds spare him for a few weeks, sequestered from the rest of his people. It makes him ache, the obvious disappointment of his alor and the wariness of his fellow Mandalorians. The rumors swirl about where and why he was gone so long, why their beroya would betray them. He takes his penance, every blow and setback and humiliation. It is no worse than how he punishes himself.

When he returns to the Crest, tucked in the back of a trusted hangar, the mess strewn about the hold claws at his throat. He removes every memory of those months, setting belongings and refuse outside the cargo doors for scavengers to pick through. Even his own personal items make it into the pile, the memories attached to them too painful. 

He cleans the ship top to bottom. No more hammocks strung from every corner. No more constant noise. No more ever-mounting tension. Just durasteel and silence. 

It takes a full day to bring the Crest back to pre-Malk condition. The darkness surrounds Din, and after weighing the pros and cons of returning in the night he closes the cargo door. Shuttling open the small cubby sleeping space, he crawls in and settles on his side. The door slides shut with the lights dimming soon after.

Din lies there as his body slowly quiets, his armor digging into his sore shoulder, tender ribs and neck. Piece by piece he removes it, laying the shining examples of his honor beside him. The helmet is last, and it’s the first time in months he’s been able to breathe without it inside his own ship. The pillow is measly under his head, but he sinks down with a sigh. Arms tucked into his chest, knees pulled up to his stomach, surrounded by the walls of his ship and nothing else, he lets himself mourn the deeds he’d done. It will be far from the last time, but this is the rawest, the most painful as he let the shame grip him. Once exhaustion wins the hums and whirrs of the Crest lull him to sleep.

Din doesn’t tell you about Xi’an. It’s a lie of omission - you never prod him on his past, and he rarely asks about yours. There’s no reason to dredge up pain. If you want to offer something you do, and if you truly ask him he’ll offer pieces of his own. But you’re not swapping stories around the fire. So he sees no reason to tell you.

Until one day, he does.

It was the perfect sandstorm of triggers. A child snarling at her brother, then squealing out a laugh that cuts through his head. The singing of blades through the air as some men toss them at a target. A purple Twi’lek between you and Din, reaching out a hand to clap your shoulder. Din’s hurried steps bring him to your side in record time, helmet tilted down in challenge but the Twi just looks at him curiously and takes a step back. Your own brow knits, a bag of supplies in hand. 

He tries to center himself back on the Crest, busying his racing thoughts with jump calculations and messages to contacts about the Jedi. It works until you climb up to the cockpit, leaning against the console as he turns his attention to you.

“Bean found something in the ship, I thought it might be important,” you say, holding out your upturned palm.

A pearl.

He thought he’d found them all, but the child’s nosiness unearthed one last bloody memory. He freezes, hands tight on the console. 

“Been holding onto some treasure?” you tease, but your face is uneasy as you sense the tension in the air. “I’ll put it somewhere safe, maybe we can barter it…”

“No,” Din rebukes sharply, snapping the visor to you. Your eyes widen, chest curling in on yourself. 

“Okay,” you say quietly, hand closing around the painful object. Din slumps, leaning forward and hanging his head.

“I’m sorry, it’s…nothing good will come of that. It was bought with blood,” he says quietly.

“So are most things on the Crest,” you say, wrapping your arms around your middle. Din heaves in a breath.

“Not the same kind.”

And so he tells you the story of Ranzar Malk and his employment, of the acidic crew and the six cloying months he spent with them. Of Xi’an and her allure, and the pain it caused. Of Alzoc III. Of the pearls. 

You listen in silence, watching as Din relates his darkest story. The shame burns his skin, eats at his stomach, sours his tongue. How can he possibly redeem himself in your eyes after this? Would you ever look at him the same again?

Once he finishes, and the quiet of the ship pervades, you move to stand between his parted knees. Two hands settle on his shoulders, and without reservation he wraps his arms around and lays his head just below your breasts. The rhythmic inhale-exhale of your breathing cools his pain.

“Have you seen any of them since?” you ask. Din huffs out a sigh.

“Malk hired me for a job a few months back. Didn’t tell me the mission, just relied on a debt being repaid and the Crest still flying.” Din shifts against you, considering leaning away, but your firm hands keep him held to your chest.

“Was it bad?”

“We were rescuing Qin from a prison ship. Xi’an was there, set me up to be killed by the new team. I left them there.” After the draining retelling, he can’t bring himself to extrapolate on the tense reunion.

Tell me why I shouldn’t cut you down where you stand.

I did what I had to.

Oh, but you liked it.

You were hired to do a job, so do it. 

Isn’t that your code?

Aren’t you a man of honor?

“Thank you for telling me,” you finally say, stroking your thumbs along the line of his shoulders. “That was…difficult. To tell, I’m sure. It was hard to hear.” Din fists your shirt, squeezing his eyes closed at what will surely come.

“You made decisions and you’ve suffered the consequences of them.” You cup the back of his neck through his cowl. “And if you think I haven’t made a terrible decision about who to trust, I have stories I can share. Later,” you say, lightness in your voice. It makes Din lean back to look at your face. If you could see his, you would know his mouth is dropped open, eyes wide and wet, as you stroke the sharp lines of his helmet. You’re the only one he trusts to touch.

“Did you think I would hate you for this?” you ask, and Din’s nod is barely perceptible but you feel it. “You’ll surprise me, and terrify me many more times Mando, but you’ll never drive me away. The galaxy is only shades of gray.”

He lets you hold him for a time, hands soothing on his worn body. Your acceptance doesn’t heal him. By now he’s not sure anything will. But it balms the wound enough to breathe easier. 

It’s the beginning of letting himself know you, and be known by you. When you say that your best friend taught you how to skip rocks, he asks how you met her. When you look on in wonder as he dresses a piece of game, he explains how his buir taught him survival hunting. And when the child wraps his tiny claw around Din’s thumb and he strokes it gently, you ask him if he has a son somewhere. 

“No,” Din answers, the child warm in his arm and your body close enough to coax into his, if he would dare let himself want it. “But the Creed states the importance of caring for foundlings, and raising warriors.”

You hum and smile, turning back to your task, and for a moment much longer than fleeting, Din lets himself wonder if this is what a clan is supposed to feel like, and when it grew from two to three. 

END

Interlude 2 of the I Think of You series

[junemermaid]

writer interview

I was tagged by @vaynglories, @lynne-monstr and @la-muerta all at one point or another. Thank you all kindly, sorry it took me so long! 💗

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

120 unique works. I have two double entries from when the old Yuletide archive was imported to AO3, so the total on my author page is 122. It's missing any fic I wrote before 2005 but honestly I'm fine with those being lost in the mists of the internet. If you know, you know.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,004,161.

I didn't actually wait to do this meme until I passed the one million words mark, but I also kinda did.

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

bodies full of untold stories (malec, E, Shadowhunters) / 1,343

an act of faith against the night (malec, T, Shadowhunters) / 1,037

House of Ash and Salt (dorian x bull, M, DA:I) / 995

Walkers of the Winding Path (malec, E, Shadowhunters) / 933

Talking With Strangers (malec, E, Shadowhunters) / 930

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I used to and it's my one continuing regret that I haven't been able to catch up with my inbox! The greatest reason why I currently seldom reply to comments is that I have such a backlog. The other reason is that I will either answer comments or write more fic, and I'm sure everyone rather that I do the latter. Still, I miss the conversation around fic that replying to comments often generated.

I mean: I need more writing friends and goddamn, please talk to me because I feel detached from fandom and it's the worst thing.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Probably to make the saints attend them long (malec, T, SH) which ends with extremely heavily implied MCD.

I tend to write hopeful to bittersweet endings, so this was a rarity for me.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Define happy ending? I do have one, all souls sheltered, (dorian x bull, T, DA:I) which IS the soft epilogue I wanted those two characters to have after all their toils and troubles.

These two questions mostly tell me that most of my endings don't fit well on the happy to sad scale. I tend to leave characters at points where they can look forward to the future and any acute crises are over, but I really wish "happy for now" or "a happy middle" would stick as ending descriptions because that's where I live.

7. Do you write crossovers?

I write fusions? Not traditional crossovers but I have a very niche fic thing where I take Alec and Magnus and stick them into the worlds of videogames I love. To wit, the Witcher (Walkers of the Winding Path) and Final Fantasy X (Servant of the Spiral).

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yep. Didn't much care for it.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do! I've written my share of PWP but more typically the process goes something like this:

I find a kink/trope/sex situation I want to try writing

the fic grows copious amounts of plot/worldbuilding/interpersonal drama (exhibit A: the tentacle porn that came with 3,000 words of, uh, creature logistics so I could have tentacles)

I spend two years working on bullet point two before the characters ever get naked in each other's company

My smut fic tends to the tender/longing/emotional, though. I use sex mostly as a vehicle for character exploration or to drive the drama of a story, so most of my sex scenes pull double duty to also move the overall story forward.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge. I'm a pretty niche writer in most of my fandoms, I don't think you would make either much fandom fame or big bucks with my writing.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! to make the saints attend them long is translated into Italian.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. I'm a slow writer and I have to hew out writing time from the bedrock of my RL, so it wouldn't be very conducive to sharing a creative project, even though the basic idea appeals to me.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I was gonna make a joke about being asked to rate my children, but tbh I would rather not refer to fictional characters by any family term. However! I have changing obsessions and there's always some ship or canon that is eating up my brain at any given time, but I don't really get over ships. The details of canons fade with time but characters live forever in my heart.

Back in the mists of time, Ichigo and Rukia changed who I was as a person. (Then I added in Renji and It Got Better.) I adore Alec and Magnus but the fandom was categorically A Lot. Same with Dorian and Bull. Josephine and Cassandra were a total crack ship in the sense that there's no canon but I still love the idea of an f/f lady/champion pairing.

And right now I have two competing wuxia ot3s vying from my attention so. This is not a question I can answer.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

My general fic writing philosophy is "whatever you can, whenever you can". I've made my peace with the fact that sometimes I'll start a thing and post a bit and then it simply won't get finished. Fic is free and no one has to click on a WIP (much as I love those people who will!)

So, unfortunately there's a few old WIPs on my ao3 that I don't think will ever get wrapped. The older the fic, the less likely it is. I keep them up as testament to the process, I suppose, or in case anyone likes the idea enough to read whatever I managed of it.

15. What are your writing strengths?

Putting canon under a lens until I have a mental Wall of Crazy with ten thousand interconnecting red strings and obscure notes, and then wringing story out of elements in the text that might not seem to connect on the surface.

I know sometimes you have to just wholesale go "this makes zero sense" and drop a bit of canon, but what I enjoy is taking bits and pieces and adapting them to fic. My current project is writing all the Mu Nihuang POV she really kind of doesn't get in Nirvana in Fire itself, and I am having a blast.

Also: character voice, action scenes, evocative description, setting up an emotional punch and taking you out with it 2,000 words later

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm slow, picky, and obsessive. I have to be In A Mood before I can put words to paper (I'm trying to combat this by becoming more of a garbage goblin about my first drafts. All words are good words! Hissss!) I'm bad at humour unless I'm accidentally funny.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

It can be used to good effect but it's best used sparingly. I would generally always prefer that plot-relevant or important dialogue were simply, "This is the murder weapon," she said in French. Don't withhold information or emotional impact for the sake of showing off.

And oh god, never, ever put dialogue through MTL and expect it to come out right. If you absolutely need dialogue in a foreign language, consult an actual person that speaks it.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Very technically, ElfQuest. For actual published fic, Rurouni Kenshin.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Mysterious Lotus Casebook tickles my brain but I don't yet quite know what I want to write about! I have enough trouble herding the rowdy cats that are my NiF ideas right now.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Always the one I'm working on. So much of the joy of fic is bound up in the good creative rush of making it happen. Just as so much of the woe of fic is in the fucking toil of making it happen.

Anyway! Flowers in Dreamland Weather (jingsuhuang, E, Nirvana in Fire) got me out of a slump and gave me new characters and relationships to rotate in my head, and I love it for that.

Talking With Strangers (malec, E, Shadowhunters) actually got finished in a satisfying way, and I love it for that.

Maybe those are my current answers.

-

I will no-pressure tag — @theotherjax, @electricshoebox, @faejilly, @sinni-ok-sessi, @ladymatt, and anyone that still wants to do this! I've seen this doing the rounds, so if you haven't yet, please feel free to blame me for enabling you!

[chacusha]

20 questions for fic writers!

I was tagged by @firebatvillain (over here). (No idea where this meme comes from originally because the chain is broken somewhere.)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

119 on my main account.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

302k. Omg, that's a lot... My sock has about an extra 200k words, so... 500k total.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (28), ASOIAF (20), Bravely Default (14), Trials of Mana (10), Soulcalibur (6), Final Fantasy VI (6). (I don't actively write in ASOIAF anymore, though -- I've tried on multiple occasions and nothing comes out.)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

You've Got Subspace Communication [DS9, Quodo] - I wrote this as a treat for Unsent Letters, an epistolary exchange. Odo and Quark are so perfect for penpals who hate each other IRL but are falling in love online...

[Art] Basket-weaving [Brother Bear, Denahi gen] - Not fic, but it deserves a shout-out because weirdly it seems that a lot of people are familiar with Brother Bear even though the movie flopped/is super underrated and it has no active fandom (fan community) as far as I can tell. As such, the amount of love this art gets always surprises me!

Written Correspondence [DS9, Quodo] - This was actually also written as a treat for Unsent Letters but there were a couple of points where I was worried it hit a DNW so I didn't end up gifting it. But I always imagined Quark would write Odo (unsent) letters post-canon.

Accidental kiss [DS9, Quodo] - One of my first Quodo fics, I wrote this as a treat for the first Quodo Mini-fest, because someone was requesting a cute first meeting and these two deserve so many pre-canon meetcutes, lol.

Dinner Together [DS9, Garashir] - So far my only Garashir fic. Written for Pine 4 Pine (a pining exchange). I'm not sure what I think about this one. I don't really have a good handle of either Bashir, Garak, or their dynamic, to be honest, but it seems people enjoyed it well enough. (It's always a strange experience writing in a fandom that has such a clear juggernaut, which doesn't happen to be my OTP.)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, I answer all comments. The only exception is that sometimes when someone has left multiple comments on a multichapter work, I might skip a few. I do try to respond to the last comment someone left on a work, though. Also, occasionally, I lose a comment in my inbox and so don't reply because I never saw it, but it's a mistake/not intentional. I don't get a lot of comments even across all my fic on both of my AO3 accounts, so it's not really hard for me to reply to all of them.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

A Two-Changeling Link [DS9, Laas &/ Odo], maybe? Killing a character who didn't die in canon is a pretty downer ending, especially because I didn't plan on that character dying when I started writing!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Not sure whether to go for a fic where the ending is happy because the characters go through so much (and so the ending is super cathartic) or if the fic itself is just generally happy. For the first, Snowmelt [Trials of Mana, Angela & Valda]. For the latter, maybe Written Correspondence.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Haven't gotten any on the fic itself. Occasionally I get commenters replying to (arguing with, correcting, etc.) OTHER commenters in a somewhat aggressive manner.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yeah, but it all goes into a different account. I write all kinds of things. It skews non-con heavy, but I like to write a lot of different flavors.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not generally, but I have written a wild one, Priestesses of Wind [Bravely Default x Soulcalibur, Agnes/Talim]. It's so rare to see someone in exchanges requesting either of these fandoms, so when I saw someone requesting a crossover between them, I jumped on that prompt SO fast.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope. I am just not a big enough deal for that.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, if into emoji counts. XD I can't share it here because it's for a fic on my sock, but feel free to DM me if you want a link.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not full co-writing. I have done some collaborations that get close but not to the point where I would call it co-writing. When I was young, though, I used to co-write original fiction with friends, which mainly consisted of them coming up with the characters and ideas and me typesetting it because I have good SPAG and typing speed.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Quodo just for the sheer intensity of fannish feelings. Mi-na/Yun-seong is probably the OTP I have had for the longest time and which I'm still actively fannish about. Plus, I've had strong enough feelings about it to make a fansite for it, so that should count for something.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have some older ones on my hard drive that I don't think are getting done, all for older fandoms I don't write anymore. Probably the one I regret not finishing the most is an ASOIAF BTVS fusion fic where Sam Tarly is dealing with vampires in Oldtown (because he's the Slayer, get it?). (Of the fic I've posted to AO3, I fully intend to finish them all, and I get pretty obsessive about keeping my promises so I don't think any of those will stay unfinished.)

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm good at writing highly-structured fic and good at writing action scenes, which includes sex scenes. At least I think so. Also, I'm good at SPAG.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I hate describing settings/buildings/objects and I hate worldbuilding and inserting OCs. I think my fic often suffers as a result. Also, I am a very slow writer.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I am so bad at other languages (can't even learn fictional languages to any degree of confidence), so I largely avoid this, and rarely do I feel like my fic would suffer if I cut the foreign language words themselves and replaced them with English translations, because I don't think multilingually and so don't have (e.g.) wordplay that would get lost in translation.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

If fan comics count, probably Sailor Moon. If this means actual fanfic that I uploaded to the internet, it would be Harry Potter.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Every 16 Hours [DS9, Quodo, 58k words] is my masterpiece. I still don't believe I wrote a finished fic this long, and it has a lot of things I like or want to see in fiction.

Tagging (if you haven't done this before; no pressure): @weaver0fwords @tinyron @corpsebrigadier

[vagrantshiraeth]

You're smart. Do you really need me to teach you this?

BYF/BYI

✦ Mun is 18 turning 19. Mun is also not comfortable with NSFW/suggestive threads with non-mutuals.

✦ I'm a multishipper, and so far, the ships that I enjoy are Chiscara, Kazuscara, Heiscara, Scarabedo, Sethoscara, Haiscara, Traveler x Wanderer and even any poly ships between any of these characters (in no specific order). I also do like other ships but these are my preferences! As for OCs (mutual exclusive), I genuinely do not mind as long as I like them, hehe.

✦ Not sure on how to interact or what's allowed? Here's a quick breakdown:

For anons and blogs with a minor admin: ⋆.˚ can send SFW interaction asks, memes, etc. (short asks like "how are you?" or "does Wanderer like sweets?"). ⋆.˚ can send continuous asks as long as it's not roleplay format or anything of the like. ⋆.˚ can send in random prompts for me to write (like request drabbles). please note i am not obligated to write it. ⋆.˚ cannot have long roleplay threads unless i know you outside of your anonymous alias (like ✨ anon). ⋆.˚ cannot send romantic or NSFW/suggestive asks. (immediate block)

For adult blogs: ⋆.˚ can send SFW interaction asks, memes, etc, and request for roleplay. For roleplay, please head to DMs! Please talk to me first without springing a roleplay thread on me :) ⋆.˚ can do things similar to rule #2 and #3 in the section above. ⋆.˚ can send romantic asks. ⋆.˚ cannot send NSFW/suggestive asks, unless you are a mutual (in which case, again, please talk to me before sending it!).

RULES

✦ Be polite to everyone, including me. We may disagree on certain things but it shouldn't encourage you to stop being respectful to others, much less use any derogatory words.

✦ You can call the Wanderer whatever name you want, just keep it respectful (or don't. If I'm in a good mood and I know you enough to know you're only joking with the character, you might get a silly response).

✦ Wanderer is willing to take part in platonic, familial and romantic relationships, but only if it's slow-burn (takes time to build their relationship). I do not want to roleplay any immediate relationship unless it is established canonically or has been discussed and agreed on.

✦ I encourage canon characters to come interact with me! OCs are strictly limited to mutuals that I've interacted with. Be warned that I might not be interested to partake in romantic roleplays with OCs. I definitely, definitely want to roleplay found family tropes with OCs, should you have any!

✦ I enjoy canonverse, but AUs are also great and I encourage them. Feel free to ask if you'd like to interact / share ideas about them! In that note, do not harass anyone over any headcanons or AU ideas.

✦ I have every right to refuse any roleplays / delete asks that might make me uncomfortable or does not fit the criteria.

Still finding it difficult to navigate? Hah, you're lucky my assistant wants to help.

"— gales of reverie" - The Wanderer's post. (in character)

"— and the wind responds" - The Wanderer / Assistant answering interactions

"— so the wind whispers" - OOC post / Assistant's musings.

"— name's constellation" - interaction with whom.

"— summoning a breeze" - reblogging tag.

"— beloved of the past" - mutuals

"— illuminated history" - important post.

@ vagrantshiraeth 2024

[silvcrignis]

♛ with Keira

{Meme}: Relationship In One Gif {x}

[sailorkamino]

Heat of the Moment

relationship: alpha!stucky x omega!reader

word count: 3.4k

summary: You've haven't been with Bucky and Steve for very long but you already know that you want to be bonded to them. The opportunity comes sooner than later when Bucky suddenly goes into rut for the first time since the 40's.

warnings: body insecurities(bucky doesn't like his prosthetic/scars), threesome/poly relationship, p in v sex, knotting/abo dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, possessive stucky, breeding kink, handjobs, fingering, some cum play, oral fixation/finger sucking, brief vagina spanking, breast play, unprotected sex, biting, mentioned oral sex, metal arm kink, praise kink, pet names(doll, puppy, angel, peach, pretty girl, sweets)

a/n: the much requested part 2 of happy ending! this is also my 1st full length smut. i've been hesistant to write smut bc i worry about the pacing, i would love some feedback!

smut! minors dni

Bucky is a little, well, clingy today. More than usual.

When you giggle at your phone he’s suddenly poking your sides with his socked feet. “What’s so funny?” He asks with a pout. “Just a meme of Stevie,” you hum, typing a response. Meanwhile the blonde focuses on his crossword (he’s long since given up understanding internet humor). Bucky frowns as he sits up, feeling left out. “What’s a me-me?”

You grin as you boop his nose, “you’re so cute. It’s called a meme and a funny picture or video from the internet.” You show him the blurry image of your boyfriend with a glass in his hand. He appears to be in the middle of talking, with his mouth curled up in a goofy smirk while winking dramatically.

Under it was a bubble of text from you that read: “omg is that when Thor brought Asgardian mead?” That’s when he sees the contact at the top of the screen: a picture of Natasha with the name ‘Red Scare’ below it. And a kissy face. Suddenly the me-me doesn’t seem as funny anymore.

He’s quiet for a moment before suddenly wrapping you in his thick arms, pulling you against his chest and laying down. You squeal in surprise but giggle as he places loud kisses against your face, his stubble tickling your skin. He smirks in satisfaction when he notices your phone dropped on the floor. Steve watches curiously. He's known Bucky long enough to spot the thinly veiled jealousy but says nothing, simply enjoying your shrieks of laughter and the other alpha’s satisfied scent.

Later that day when the blonde announces he is going on a run (because even on a lazy day he has to exercise) Bucky is not happy. “Do you remember this morning when you asked me to stay in bed? And I told you if I stay in bed now I’m gonna have to run later?” Steve asks as if he’s talking to a child. Bucky grumbles, curling into your side like a large cat.

You kiss his head while scratching his back. Your attempts to sooth him seem to work as he winds his mismatched arms around your waist. Your other boyfriend smiles at the sight and is just stepping out the door when Bucky speaks up.

“Will Sam be there?”

The deep growl in his voice has you (embarrassingly enough) clenching your thighs in an attempt to hide your sudden arousal. You hope they won’t notice but of course they do. You feel their burning gaze fix on you for a moment before they try to mask their reactions. You had yet to do anything beyond heavy petting together, Bucky is very bodyshy thanks to Hydra and you and Steve don’t want to pressure him.

You watch the blonde clench his jaw before managing an answer, his voice sounding strained. “No, he’s busy with Tony. Something about upgrading Redwing.”

Bucky responds with a simple “good” before leaning in to nibble on your earlobe. You shiver as Steve blushes, obviously affected by the possessiveness in your partner’s tone, before hurriedly exiting the apartment. You suppress a smirk at the thought of Captain America himself trying to hide an erection in those grey sweatpants he insists on wearing.

After about an hour of restlessness Bucky manhandles you into his lap, making you gasp in surprise. A teasing smirk plays on his lips, “why don’t we give Stevie a little show when he gets home?”

You nod embarrassingly fast as his lips descend upon yours, a little rougher than usual but you love it. Eventually his mouth pulls away from yours, making you whine in protest but it turns into a moan as he trails kisses across your jaw and neck. Suddenly the omega part of your brain starts nagging you: nest. Nest. Nest.

You try to focus on Bucky but being the annoyingly perfect alpha he is, he quickly notices your conflict. “Hey, what’s wrong, baby doll?”

You pout, not feeling like talking and really just wanting to kiss him again, but he holds you in place by grabbing the back of your neck. You can’t help but whine at his grip. You feel his cock harden under you but he remains stern. “What’s. Wrong.”

That time it doesn’t sound like a question. You start playing with his hair, not knowing how to explain yourself. “I don’t know. Can we… go to bed? It’s comfier.

Bucky wants to hit himself. Of course! Omegas like soft things! He glares at the couch under you, planning to buy a new one as soon as possible. It’s not good enough for you. Without a word he stands with you in his arms, making you cling to him with a suprised squeak. He looks at your favorite blanket for a moment before grabbing it as well, carrying you both to your bedroom.

____

When Steve opens your suite he’s almost knocked down by the scent. It’s you and Bucky but stronger. And sweeter. He can hear you two talking now in hushed voices. “Alpha’s home,” Bucky giggles, followed by kissing noises. Despite the need rushing through his body Steve grins. His mates are adorable.

He stalks to your bedroom, swinging the door open a little too roughly. You jump at the loud sound. Steve wants to apologize but he’s too distracted by the gorgeous sight in front of him. You and Bucky are tangled up amongst the softest pillows and blankets you own. You’re still in Bucky’s pajama shirt you were wearing when he left but you’ve lost your sweatpants, leaving you in lacy blue panties.

“Why didn’t you call me?” He asks, a protective growl in his voice. You pause, a confused pout on your lips. “I’m sorry, I thought it was ok for us to do stuff alone” you mumble, scent becoming distressed. Alpha’s upset with you. Normally you would have no problem sassing Steve but you’re feeling especially sensitive today and don’t like his gruff tone.

Bucky pulls you closer, wrapping you in a blanket and sending a disgruntled look to Steve for upsetting you. The blonde shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. “What? No ─ that’s not what I meant. I love seeing you and Buck together, you never need my permission for that. Or anything.”

You peer at him from your spot tucked against Bucky. “Oh… then why did you sound all growly?”

Steve runs a hand through his short hair in exasperation. “Do you not realize what’s going on?”

You crane your head to look up at Bucky, who seems equally puzzled. “We were kissing…” he trails off innocently. “I think you two are scent blind,” the blonde grumbles, finally approaching the bed. “You’re in rut,” he states, pointing at Bucky. “And it’s sending you into heat,” he points at you.

You furrow your brow. “But it’s not my team for my heat yet.” You look at the brunet quizzically. “When’s the last rut you had?”

“I don’t know, before the war I guess?”

You let out a sad whine as you nuzzle into his neck. Steve takes his boyfriend’s hands with a pained look on his face, “oh, Buck.” Suddenly, insecurity creeps into your mind. You pull away from Bucky’s hold to meet his eyes. “Wait, is that the only reason you want this? Because of your rut?”

“Of course not, angel. I’ve wanted you since the second I saw you.”

“What took you so long!?” You whine, offended at the thought of being deprived of Bucky dick for so long. He lets out a sad sigh, avoiding eye contact. “I was afraid of losing control and hurting one of you. Plus my arm… it ain’t pretty.”

You feel your heartbreak at the confession. Steve’s face turns deadly serious as he cups his boyfriend’s face. “Buck, look at me. You’re beautiful. I’m just as attracted to you as I was back then and I always will be. Nothing will ever change how I feel about you, alpha.”

“Exactly. I actually find it kind of sexy,” you purr, stroking Bucky’s jaw line. You watch with satisfaction as it clenches under your feathery touch.

“Doll…” He trails off, obviously not convinced.

“I’m serious. A super strong arm that never gets tired? That’s straight out of a wet dream.” His gaze grows darker, making you shiver. “Really?” He asks lowly. You crawl into his lap with an affirmative hum. “I’ve thought about how good your arm would feel when I’m in heat. How nice and cool it would be against my body.”

Steve watches the two of you closely, overcome with affection and lust. Watching you comfort Bucky reassures what he already knew ─ you’re perfect for them. “Yeah?” Bucky whispers. “Yeah,” you purr, lips brushing his. “Knot me, alpha. Please.” Steve licks his lips, voice rough when he speaks. “Don’t make our girl wait, Buck.”

Something in Bucky seems to snap as he rolls you over, pinning you under his body. “Tell me what you need, pup.”

“Wanna feel you,” You whimper, tugging at his clothes desperately. He rumbles a “good girl” in approval then sits up so he’s straddling you, pulling his shirt off over his head. You try not to drool as your hands wander his sculpted body, fingers running over the thin trail of hair that leads to his bulge.

Steve grabs him by the back of his head, smashing their lips together. You feel your panties dampen at the sight. You reach out to the blonde’s shirt (that’s still on for some reason) and pull gently, hoping that will send your message. He pulls away from Bucky, looking down at you with a smirk. “Need something, peach?”

His dominant tone has you squirming but Bucky’s strong thighs hold you in place. “Off,” you simply demand, looking up at him through your lashes. He grins, discarding both his shirt and his pants. You hold back a whine at the sight of his perfect body, tugging him in bed so you can kiss him too.

“I think you’re a little overdressed,” Bucky teases gruffly as you and the blonde pull apart. You’re about to sit up to help him take off your top but a loud rip makes you freeze. “Sorry doll,” he grunts, not sounding very sorry as he discards the torn fabric, hands going straight for your breasts. “God, these tits.”

Steve nips your jaw. “Don’t apologize. She liked it.” He grabs your cheeks in one large hand, making you look at him. “You love how strong our alpha is, don’t you, peach?”

“Yes, yes, I love it,” you babble, gasping again when Bucky does the same thing to your panties. “Oh baby doll, you’re so beautiful. Look at how wet you are,” he muses, kneeling between your thighs so he can slowly rub your clit. He uses his metal hand to hold down your hips as begans to finger you. “Need you, alphas,” you whimper, a new wave of heat crashing through you as Steve plays with your swollen nipples.

“I know, I know, pretty girl, but I gotta stretch you out first. You’re so fucking tight,” Bucky groans. He scissors his fingers inside of you until you're arching off the bed, shoving more of your breasts in Steve’s face. “I’m ready, I’m ready, please,” you beg.

Bucky growls, taking off his underwear in one swift motion then goes back to kneeling between your thighs. He pushes your legs into the air so he can rub his cock against your hole. You gasp at the size. “Tell me if I hurt you doll.”

You nod desperately. “I will, Buck. Promise.”

He smirks at your neediness, finally pushing in with a deep groan. You whimper at the fullness when he bottoms out, heavy balls resting against your ass. He studies your face, making sure you aren’t in pain. Normally you would coo at his sweetness but all you can manage is a whimper of, “please alpha.”

Bucky growls, thrusting into you so hard the bed shakes. He’s borderline feral from going so long without a rut as his hips snap against yours. “Good girl. Just lay there and take it” he growls roughly. Both you and Steve moan at his words.

You notice the blonde jacking himself off beside you and clumsily put your hand over his. “Aw, you wanna make me cum, sweets?” He pants. You nod desperately as Bucky grunts above you. “Cum on her tits.”

Steve obeys, moving so he’s kneeling beside you with his large dick pointed at your chest. You continue to twist your hand around him, sighing lovingly. “I really love your cocks.” Both men chuckle breathlessly at your words. “So good for us. Isn’t she, Buck?” Steve coos, looking at your other partner.

“The best. Our perfect mate,” Bucky praises gruffly. You preen at his words. Suddenly you twist off the bed with a loud moan as he hits your G spot. “There, there! Don’t stop!”

“I don’t plan to,” Bucky pants, lifting your hips so he can angle himself even deeper inside of you. “That’s right, pup. Fucking scream for me.”

“I’m gonna cum,” Steve groans, twitching in your grasp. “Make a mess on me,” you whimper through labored breaths, peering up at him. With a growl he releases on your chest and face. You use your tongue to lick away some of his cum as Bucky grunts above you. “You want my knot, pup?”

“Please, I want it so bad,” you whimper. The sight of you pleading, covered in your other partner’s seed, is enough to push him over the edge. “Cum for me,” he commands gruffly. Your orgasm hits you hard, making you cry out in pleasure as Bucky fills you up. You whimper as the brunet leans over you but it turns into a gasp when he sinks his teeth into your neck. The sharp sting quickly fades to ecstasy.

You're overwhelmed as you feel the bond form between you, simply whining into warm skin. He gently kisses the small wound, nuzzling into you. Steve watches with soft eyes. “Come on, sweetheart. Why don’t you be a good girl and bite him back?”

You’re filled with a new rush of energy as you angle his head to the side, placing your own mark on him. He moans in your ear, “oh doll, I can feel ya.” You sigh happily, pecking his shoulder. “I feel you too, Buck.”

He rumbles happily before rolling the two of you over so you’re spooning. You whimper as his knot is jostled inside of you but it turns into a content sigh when he throws his metal arm across your sweaty body. Steve moves to get up, making you whine in panic. He coos soothingly, “aw, it’s alright peach. I’m just getting a rag to clean you up.”

____

You start to get restless as Bucky’s knot goes down inside of you, squirming as the familiar need washes over you. “You need to be fucked again, sweetheart?” Steve asks, trailing a large hand to your sex. He groans at the sight, “oh alpha, her hole is just leaking.”

Bucky growls possessively, rutting into you unexpectedly. “Don’t want my cum dripping out of you, puppy,” he grits out against the shell of your ear. You whimper helplessly in his strong hold. “Don’t worry Buck, we’ll keep her full,” Steve soothes, cupping your pussy. “Then when she needs a rest we’ll fuck each other.”

You whimper at his filthy words as Bucky growls behind you. “I get to fuck you first. I missed that tight ass.” He kisses behind your ear, “you wanna watch me bend Stevie over? Make him cum untouched?” You clench around him at the mental image. “Yes, please.”

Bucky hums against your skin. “But first, Steve needs to bond you, doesn’t he? I think you’re ready for another knot.” As always, he’s right. Your tummy starts fluttering in anticipation. “I’m gonna pull out,” the brunet announces, squeezing your hip.

Before you can protest you’re suddenly empty. You can only whine for a moment as Steve rolls you over on your back. Once he gets you into position he wastes no time thrusting his cock inside of you. You squeak in surprise as his thrusts rock your body, making Bucky coo. “Fuck, you’re big,” you whine. Steve smirks proudly, “you can take it, sweets. You were made for us.”

You whine at his words as Bucky descends onto your breasts, still sensitive from Steve’s earlier activities.

“Am I hitting your sweet spot, pretty girl?” The blonde grunts above you. You can tell by his smug tone he already knows the answer. “Yes, so good,” you mewl as you fist one hand in Bucky’s locks. His beard scratches your sensitive skin, quickly soothed by his warmed mouth.

“Fuck, I love these tits. Imagine ‘em when she’s pregnant,” Bucky growls against your heated skin. He’s too far gone to have a filter at this point but you love it, a high pitched moan leaving your lips. “You like that peach? Wanna be knocked up by your alphas?” Steve pants.

Your head is too fuzzy to respond, overwhelmed in the best way. Bucky gently slaps your clit at your lack of response, shocking both you and Steve. You clench around his cock at the light sting. “Answer your alpha, doll,” Bucky demands. You whimper. “Yes Stevie, I want you to knock me up,” you manage, looking to the brunet for approval.

He rumbles happily as the man above you slams into you even harder. Bucky runs a thumb over your swollen lip. You instantly kiss the digit. He smirks as he gets an idea, shoving two fingers in your mouth. You began to suck on them with a content look on your face.

“You just needed something in your mouth, didn’t ya, baby doll? I would let you suck my dick but I don’t wanna be in Stevie’s way when he bite’s ya.”

“After,” you manage to respond around his thick fingers. He smirks, the scent of pleased alpha making your head spin. “Ya hear that Stevie? Our pretty ‘mega wants to suck us off.”

“You’re gonna look so good on your knees, peach,” Steve growls above you. You can only whimper at the filthy promise as a familiar pressure begans to build in your stomach. “Gonna cum,” you mewl around Bucky’s fingers, spit running down your chin. “Me too, sweets. You gonna milk my knot?” The blonde growls, hips snapping against you.

Bucky pulls his wet digits from your mouth and uses them to rub your sensitive clit. “Go on doll, make a mess,” he urgers. The stimulation is all you need to push you over. Your arch of the bed with a gasp. The blonde continues to hit your g spot as your legs tremble, before he cums inside you with a growl. He bends over to bite you under Bucky’s mark as his seed drips down your thighs.

____

You lay on the bed, feeling physically and emotionally exhausted from bonding with two super soldiers. Your mates move around you to clean you up and tuck you in. They grab any pillows or stuffed animals that fell from your nest and place them around you.

Steve fetches you some gatorade as Bucky curls up behind you. When the blonde returns he makes you sit up, despite your multiple protests, to sip on the healthy drink. “Good girl,” he praises, petting your head. You grin at his words as you sink back into your pillows. “Rest now, princess. When you wake up it’ll be time to eat,” Bucky croons sweetly in your ear. “Then I can eat you.”

You whimper as Steve joins you in bed. “Don’t get her excited, she needs rest,” he lightly scolds, wrapping around you protectively. Bucky looks at his boyfriend teasingly. "I know, that’s why I’m gonna fuck you while she rests.” You pout. "Wanna watch,” you protest drowsily with a yawn. Steve pets your hair soothingly. “Of course, sweet girl. We’ll wait for you ─ won’t we, Bucky?”

Bucky peers at him through dark lashes. “Yes, alpha. I’ll be good,” he coos, only half jokingly. Steve’s cock twitches against your soft thigh. “Tease,” he growls. He only smirks in response. Enclosed in their strong arms and comforting scents you let yourself drift to sleep.

[musings-of-a-rose]

Meet the Millers - Chapter 7

Pairing: Joel Miller x Benny Miller x Will Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 3300+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Bear in mind the pairing of this fic along with the fact it’s set in a post-apocalyptic setting, so there will be themes and elements fitting the setting. Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: I hit 200 followers and wanted to give y’all a little something so I did a poll and let you pick what one shot I write next. This is what y’all picked! I hope I can deliver. I started this out as a one shot and it MAJORLY got away from me, so now it’s a mini series. Thank you so much for following me and reading my ramblings! Also a shoutout to @astoryisaloveaffair for helping me figure out how things work and being an amazing sounding board, @icanbeyourjedi for helping me to settle on a filter for this moodboard, and @theewokingdead for being delightfully appalled at how many words this one shot has turned into and cheering me on with memes and gifs.

This is set loosely in The Last of Us universe. I’ve only played a bit of the game and watched others play (and the show isn’t out yet), so please forgive any inaccuracies. Also it’s a post-apocalyptic world so I’m taking a bunch of liberties here. Because fan fiction.

Ages at the time of this story (so you don’t have to do math):

Reader: 28

Benny: 35

Will: 38

Joel: 50

*Reader is ethnicity inclusive despite stock photo bias

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

Meet the Miller Masterlist

Main Masterlist

<<Chapter 6

It’s then you hear the sound of an engine, unmistakable in its rarity since the infection, causing your blood to run cold.

Realizing you won’t have time to make it to Joel, you flatten yourself into the ditch, your ears straining for any sound that wasn’t there before. Judging by where the car stops, they’ve found something worth looking at. You hope Joel was able to hide before they pulled up, but you’re unsure of where he was exactly. Vehicle doors slam and you hear a few loud expletives before their voices are lost to distance and wind. You wait one more minute before daring to lift your head to peek over the edge of the ditch. There’s no one there. You wait again, hating that you have to check before moving to help Joel. No movements, which tells you they didn’t bother to check around. Which means they didn’t spot Joel and he’s hiding or they found him and he said he was alone, which gave you an advantage.

Hoping that you were right about them not bothering to check, you crawl out of the ditch and tighten your backpack straps, keeping your bow on one shoulder so you can quickly slide it down into position. Keeping low to the ground, you slink across the remainder of the field and flatten your back against the backside of the first building you come to, pausing to listen. You can hear muffled voices moving into the street a few blocks down from the front of the building you were hiding against.

“...no need for the guns. Just take my bag and go.” It was Joel’s voice, moving into clarity as he was forced onto the sidewalk.

“Something tells me you’ve got more to offer,” a male voice answers him.

You hear nothing from Joel until the sound of a fist on flesh sounds and you hear Joel grunt, anger rising up and threatening to bubble out. Glancing around, you see a ladder mounted to the side of the building you’re against. The building isn’t tall, just one story, but the ladder has roof access for sure. Glancing around once more to make sure you’re alone, you walk several feet away from the building - you’re going to have to run and jump to reach the bottom rung and hope that it’s quiet.

Huffing out a few breaths, you bounce in place, clenching and unclenching your fists before you take off, running full on at the wall as quietly as you can, reaching it and using your momentum to carry you a couple steps up the wall, reaching out and just wrapping your fingers around the bottom rung. It doesn’t move and only shudders a little, its sound muffled by the wild vines that have started to take it over. Putting your feet against the wall, you use them to try and boost yourself up while you pull, just managing to get yourself up a little further on the ladder. You finally managed to climb up and onto the roof, pausing to catch your breath for a moment. Tiptoes on cement, you make it to the edge of the building, crouching low to look over the side.

Joel is on the ground on the sidewalk nearly directly beneath you, blood leaking from his face and dripping onto his shirt. 4 men surround him on all sides, one standing a little closer than the rest, shaking his fist from where he had let loose on Joel again. None of the men make a move or acknowledge the presence of other people inside the buildings, which means you had to get through hopefully only 4 men to save Joel.

You crouch back down away from the edge and slide your bow down your arm, reaching behind you to pull out 4 arrows, each adorned with broad tips that you used for hunting. You notch one and and take a deep breath, knowing you’ll have to move fast. In one swift motion, you lean up on your knees, aiming down at 2 of the men on the side that just happened to line up with each other. You exhale and release, your arrow sprouting out of the first man’s neck to slice into the others. The men grab their necks but crumble, sputtering and gurgling on the ground as they bleed out, the red liquid pouring from their wounds.

Before they hit the ground, you’ve released your next arrow into the third man, your arrow sliding through his neck as well, falling to the ground to join his friends, twitching as the life bleeds from him.

The man in front of Joel lunges for him, wrapping his arm around Joel’s neck and pointing a gun to Joel’s head. Joel is having a hard time standing, his boots slipping on the ground as the man frantically turns from side to side, unable to see where the arrows came from. You’re thankful that he hasn’t actually looked at the arrows, fear and panic robbing him of his ability to think clearly, or he’d easily be able to tell from which direction they came.

“Who the fuck is out there?” the man screams into the street.

You had crouched back down on the roof. There’s no way you’ll be able to get a clear shot with the way the man is frantically moving. You could risk it, but that also puts Joel at risk of having his head blown off - and you’re not going to let that happen.

“I thought you said you were alone, fuck head?” you hear a grunt and realize that the man must have pushed the barrel into the side of Joel’s head. Oh hell no.

You take off your back pack and set it down, putting your bow next to it. You make sure your knife is securely tucked in your boot before you take one more cautious look over the side, the man not even looking in your direction. They’re standing directly below you and you see the man turning Joel back and forth, attempting to scan the buildings as the barrel digs further into Joel’s temple.

Silent, you stand up straight and launch yourself over the side of the building, landing directly on top of the two men. Grunts and scuffles fill your ears as they are forced to separate, the gun flying from the man’s hand as he hits the ground. You roll to the side but your legs seize, momentarily shocked by the impact. The man takes advantage and lunges towards you, knocking you on your back and you feel the wind fly out of you with a huff. He pins you to the ground, legs on either side of your hips as you struggle trying to free yourself. His hands grip your neck and squeeze, anger firing in his eyes.

“I’ll kill you for them! You stupid bitch!” he squeezes harder and your struggle weakens, black starting to come in at the edges of your vision as you attempt to breathe, your hands desperately trying to remove his hands from you.

Suddenly the man is gone, his fingers leaving your throat as you take a giant gasp of air, breathing heavily as the black starts to recede from your vision. Coughing, you turn your head to the side and see Joel standing over the man, sliding his knife into the man’s throat, watching him spit and sputter as he dies. Joel is breathing heavy as he stares at the man, feeling his neck for a pulse that was no longer there. He moves to the other 3 men and checks for pulses there too. Finding none, he quickly returns to where you still lay on the pavement, gasping and coughing for air. His hands quickly pat your body to check for other injuries. Finding no apparent major ones, his eyes move to your throat and the bruises lightly sprouting up there in the shape of hands.

“Ssshh, angel. You’re ok. You’re alive. Just, breathe.” He brings your hand up to his chest and places his on yours, letting you feel him breathe and try to match it with your own. After a few more minutes of coughing and sputtering breaths, you manage to level it out, watching some of the worry leave Joel’s face.

“Angel?” you croak out, coughing once more after. Joel moves for his bag that had been tossed aside and grabs his canteen, helping you to sit up as he presses the opening to your lips. You take a couple sips and cough again, Joel rubbing your back as you do.

“You came down from the sky to save my life. Angel.”

You smile despite your pain. “Cheesy…pickup…line.”

Joel chuckles, knowing that if you’re cracking jokes, you’ll be ok. “Yeah I suppose it is.”

You sit there a few more minutes, taking sips of water and breathing.

“Your bag on the roof?” Joel asks. You nod. “Ok, I’ll head on up and get it. Don’t argue. You sit here and get yourself together, angel.”

You’d fight him on this, but you know you need to rest a bit more. Joel leaves you to go get your things and your eyes land on the men you both had just killed. You had no regrets, knowing that the men would’ve killed Joel and surely done worse to you if they found you. Still, you don’t like taking life if it wasn’t necessary. 3 more tally marks to add to your list.

Joel comes back from around the building, your backpack and bow on his shoulder. He crouches down by you, scanning your body once more for any injuries.

“Anythin’ else hurt?”

You shake your head and Joel relaxes a bit more. “Think you can walk? We need to leave the area in case there’s more around. In fact…” Joel moves to the men and picks up your arrow, sliding the other one out of the man’s neck. He pats them down and grabs out their knives, cutting around the holes in their necks and placing the blades in their hands. He sees you watching and answers your unasked question.

“This way it looks like they were fighting internally. So no one should be comin’ to look for people who killed them. It ain’t perfect but it’s what it is.”

You give him a thumbs up and try to stand, Joel at your side in an instant to help you.

“You sure you’re ok to walk, angel? It’s a long ways to that rest stop.”

Another thumbs up with a whispered “We have to get these plants back for the kid. I’ll be ok.”

Joel cups your face with one of his hands. “Alrigh’. But if you need to rest, tell me. Don’t be a martyr.”

You smile at him as you both turn to walk out of the town, leaving the bodies of the dead men where they lay.

—----

Coming up on the restaurant, Joel motions for you to hide behind the corner as he goes into the building, doing a quick sweep. He’s back out a moment later to wave you in and you follow him to the backroom as he flattens out the blanket he’s brought. He sits and beckons you over to him and you give in immediately, wanting to be held and consoled. You sit and he tells you to wait, getting out a rag and a tiny bottle of alcohol, dabbing it on the rag. He turns to you and cleans off your neck, checking to make sure there were no other marks. The bruising isn’t bad, since the man only had his hands around you for a handful of seconds. He swipes another part of the rag across your hands, cleaning the minor scrapes there from your jump off the building.

“You’re crazy for doin’ that,” Joel chuckles.

You shrug. “I wasn’t going to let him kill you, Joel.”

“I’m not worth gettin’ killed, angel.”

“You’re worth it to your brothers….You’re worth it to me.”

Joel meets your eyes, darkening like they were the last time you were in this room. But his eyes dip to your throat and they return to normal.

“ ‘m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner, angel.”

You look at him, cupping his face to make sure he’s looking at you.

“You did everything-” you cough “-right. You can’t control the actions of others.”

HIs eyes look extra wet and you realize it must be tears. ���You could’ve died savin’ me.”

“And I’d do it all over again. No-” you clear your throat “- way was I going to let them get you. I’ll be fine.”

You drop your hands from his face and smile, moving to pull some food from your backpack and eating in silence. It’s getting late judging by the darkness outside. You turn to Joel.

“I’ll take first watch. I need to-” you clear your throat “-work this out.”

Joel doesn’t argue but you can see his hesitation.

“If I need you, I’ll wake you. Ok?”

He studies your face for a moment before nodding, leaning against the cabinets and closing his eyes. You let him sleep for just a hair longer than he would like, but you couldn’t bear to wake him. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps, the crease from his brows gone, his mouth slightly open as he breathes.

But your body betrays you, begging you to get some sleep so you nudge Joel awake. He blinks and stretches, yawning big as he looks at you.

“Feelin’ ok?”

“Better, actually. But I need sleep.”

“Come ‘mere,” Joel pulls you to his side as you curl into him, much the same as before when he comforted you after your nightmare. You fall asleep almost immediately, no dreams plaguing you this night, your body focused solely on healing.

You feel fingers tracing lines across your arm, applying a little more pressure as they bring you from sleep. Blinking awake, you see the fingers belong to Joel and you watch him trace lines on your skin, back and forth, little circles. It’s comforting, reminding you of his brothers that you love so deeply.

“We gotta get movin’, angel. We can make it back by nightfall. Cover our entrance a bit.”

Yawning, you stretch as you stand, Joel mimicking your motions. Putting out the gas oven, you both pack your things and head out of the diner.

A quick rest at the gas station near the city line and before you realize it, you’re crossing back under that ominous wall, tall and mocking you, knowing you’d come crawling back. The city is still asleep, but you can see people moving about in the dark, slinking down alleyways, ration cards or supplies exchanging hands. The same things you had been seeing. Joel holds your hand at one point, making sure you stick to the shadows against a tall building as you cross around a rather large group of people.

The Garcia’s were in the next sector down from yours, only several blocks from where you lived. Joel holds open the door for you and you walk past him, smiling a thanks as he closes the door behind you quietly. Their unit is on the 2nd floor. Joel knocks quietly and several seconds pass before you hear someone shuffling behind the door, moving locks out of place.

“Joel! It’s so good to see you!”

A man answered the door, shorter than Joel but well built. His hair is short and curly, the dark color of it starting to grey, stubble lining his face from not bothering to shave. As he turns, you take in his back - a scar down his neck and, scanning lower, definitely someone you’d want to watch walk away.

“Santi, this is Ghost. Ghost, Santi.”

“Nice to meet you.” His grip when he shakes your hand is firm but frazzled, laced with the worry of a parent.

“Do you have a bat or anything I can use to crush and grind plants?”

“Uh yeah. My wife she has one of those little-” he does the motions to mimic grinding things in a small bowl.

“A mortar and pestle? That’s perfect. I’ll also need some hot water. Do you have that?

“I do. Follow me.”

Santi takes you into the kitchen and hands you the mortar and pestle. Rifling through your backpack, you take out the plants and get to work, grinding enough for one cup. You toss the ground herb into the hot mug of water, taking the knife Santi handed you to stir it.

“Let this steep for about 5 minutes. Strain it into another mug. Have your kid drink this at least 4 times a day. It should bring down her fever. Take this to her now - I have more to say.”

Santi takes the mug from your hands and heads down a small hallway, presumably helping his kid to drink the tea.

“Joel, I think I may need to stay here a few days. He looks…stressed. If I can give them some help?” you cough slightly on the last word and Joel gently grips your chin to turn your head up, studying your neck.

“You sure you can handle it, angel?”

Placing your hand over his and removing it from your face, you hold onto it as you meet his eyes.

“I’m ok, Joel. Really. These people need my help. Tell Benny and Will I’ll be home in a few days. They’ll understand.”

You try to let go of his hand but he holds tight, rubbing little circles into the back of your hand.

“I’ll come get you in a few days. I don’t want you walkin’ alone.”

“I can-”

“Don’t bother arguin’. It’s a done deal, angel.”

You nod and Joel releases your hand as Santi walks back into the kitchen.

“She drank it. Says it’s a little bitter.”

“That it is. If you have anything to sweeten it, you’re welcome to add it. I’m sorry I don’t-”

“Please. You don’t have to apologize.”

You start explaining the process to him, how to grind the plants, what part to use, and when to give his daughter the tea. You do the same thing with the echinacea and see the overwhelmed look in his eyes.

“Santi?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m going to stay here a few days if that’s ok? You look..like you could use the help. I’m not a doctor but I know a little bit of healing so if she needs anything else, I’ll be here.”

Santi’s dark eyes find yours, tears glistening in them, threatening to trace a path down his cheeks. “You’d do that? You don’t even know us.”

“I know you’re friends with the Millers. And that’s good enough for me.” You clap him on the shoulder. “Now, do you have any twine or string? I’m going to hang these up to dry out. Then you can grind them up and store them for future use. I hope you won’t need it but you never know.”

Santi moves around the home to find the things you need while you walk Joel to the door.

“Tell Will and Benny to continue normally. I don’t want them coming here and making people look twice at the Garcias. Plus, if someone gets wind that I know stuff, the higher ups may move me off the wall and I like it up there.”

“Noted.”

Tension springs to life between you both, a nervous tension, neither one of you sure how to say goodbye. You decide to take a chance and wrap your arms around him, hugging him tight. He hesitates for a moment before hugging you back, and you hear him take an extra deep breath when his nose is buried in your hair. But then the hug is over and Joel is opening the front door.

“See you in a few days, angel.”

—----

Chapter 8>>

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @balekanemohafe @softpedropascal @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers-blog @diaryofkali @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso

@punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @jadore-andor @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21@gooddaykate @alindeluce

Joel Miller Taglist:

@spanishmossmagnolia @xowlan @rosechvnel @maievdenoir

Meet the Millers Taglist:

@miraclesabound @coco-pebbles @evergreenriver @wildmoonflower

[buckybarnesowl]

Friends, for now - Part 3

Pairings: Bucky x fem!reader (Quentin Beck x fem!reader to start)

Chapter summary: Steve and Bucky find out the reason for your ghosting them. Peter gets the support he needs. And you and Bucky get the ending you deserve.

Word count: 4.8k

Chapter warnings: reference to violent hazing; reference to childhood abandonment; reference to parental death; light smut (the loving consensual kind)

A/n: Here’s the last of this three-part mini-series. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure where this story was going, but I think I’m happy with how it turned out. To everyone who reads and comments and reblogs: it means the world to know you’re enjoying these as much as I enjoy writing them.

Part I // Part II // Masterlist

Bucky was seated at his desk, attempting to catch up on some end of term reading when his phone buzzed.

Before you, he would let notifications go. It’s not that he was anti-social. Okay, maybe a little. But that's besides the point. The point was that he was already doing what he wanted to be doing at any given moment. So unless he was waiting on a message from someone, he’d get to whatever the person wanted whenever he was ready. On his terms.

Then you came crashing into his life.

Well, you had always been there, at least for as long as he knew Steve. Though much to his friend’s chagrin, you two just never seemed to click. You were opinionated and strong-willed while Bucky generally tried to avoid conflict. A path of least resistance type of guy. Steve gave up trying to force you and Bucky to be friends. You and Bucky loved Steve enough to tolerate each other, and that was good enough for him.

But ever since that night when Bucky stormed out of the bar, followed by Steve socking Quentin in the jaw, followed by you showing up at their dorm a bundle of feelings that you didn’t know what to do with. Well, ever since then Bucky started checking his phone the second it buzzed. He loved getting messages from you. You sent him silly selfies. Memes and gifs that made him laugh. You were an added light to a life that hadn’t always been bright. It’s like you knocked down walls and turned his world into an open concept space. Everything was softer. Brighter. Easier.

Noting where he was in his chapter, he tapped his phone to open the message. His face crumpled as he read your text to the group chat between him and you and Steve that you were cancelling dinner. He tried to call you immediately, but you didn’t answer. He sent you a few texts privately asking if everything was okay. If you needed anything. To just call.

No reply.

Bucky left his room to find Steve who was seated on the sofa in their shared living room.

“So Y/n cancelled,” Steve said, his voice laced with concern.

“It’s not just me, right? It seems weird for her to just bail like that?”

“Yeaaah,” Steve dragged out, “it’s a bit odd.” He sat with his thoughts for a moment while Bucky huffed, joining him on their shared couch.

“Do… do you think I pushed too soon? Should I have waited to ask her out? It’s too soon, wasn’t it? Shit…”

Bucky dragged his hands over his face, dropping them only when he felt his friend's palm on his shoulder.

“Buck, stop. I’ve known Y/n since we were kids. I’ve seen her with all sorts of people and I can safely say she has never looked at anyone the way she looks at you.”

The apples of Bucky’s cheeks flushed immediately and he could feel his ears burning.

“I… I don’t—”

“Don’t play dumb with me. It’s the exact same look you give her. You’re head over heels for each other and I’m frankly shocked it took you both this long to figure it out. I had shipped you both during first year, but I wasn’t about to get involved. Then Quentin happened and… well, not like anything I could have said would have changed Y/n’s mind.”

Bucky’s mouth opened and closed a few times, Steve’s abrupt summation of their entire coming together knocking the wind (and words) out of Bucky’s lungs.

He somehow found his language again. “You’re a punk, you know that?”

“Only to you, jerk.”

Bucky shook his head with a chuckle, a grin replacing the shock that had frozen his face for a moment.

“I’ve got an idea.”

“Lay it on me.”

The brunette walked Steve through his suggestion that they make the dinner as planned. Then pack up a serving for you and deliver it to your dorm. They could rain check on their “family” dinner, but Bucky wasn’t going to let you not eat—especially if you had an assignment you forgot about that you needed to power through. Steve agreed, sharing Bucky’s concern for your tendency to work through meal times when you got focused on projects.

The two friends started prepping after Steve sent a quick message letting you know that they would be by with dinner in a few hours. Bucky added that they promised not to bother you, they would just do a drop off and let you work in peace.

Then Steve’s phone rang.

“Hey Y/n, sorry for all the messages. We just were worried and—”

Bucky’s ears perked as soon as he heard Steve say your name. Something in his gut twinged at the thought of you calling Steve over him, but he ignored it. He stopped chopping and turned to look at his friend, knife still in hand.

Steve's facial expression had gone blank as soon as his sentence was cut.

“…Peter and Tony’s? When?”

Bucky’s breath hitched. He scoured Steve’s for clues, but his eyes came up empty.

“I understand. We’ll head out— … oh, just me?”

Bucky’s stomach was suddenly writhing itself into a rat’s nest of knots. He could barely make out the tone of your voice through the speaker. He had never wanted to hear the comforting warmth of your cadence as he did in that moment.

“Are you sure? If Peter just wants me, that’s—… okay, we’ll both be there soon. Bye.”

Bucky released the breath he had been holding, his shoulders dropping as soon as he heard Steve say the word “both.” The relief was short-lived. The blonde’s face was pale as he dropped his hand still holding the phone.

“What’s goin’ on, Stevie?”

“I don’t know. It’s Peter. He wants to tell me somethin’. When Y/n said it should just be me, I heard him in the background say the whole team would find out soon enough and to let you come.”

“The whole team? What… why the hell is Y/n there?”

“I have no idea, Buck.”

An entire bar of silence passed as the two friends looked at each other, trying to wrap their heads around what could be happening to Peter that would involve Y/n.

“Well, guess it’s a take-out night then,” Bucky said, looking at their barely started prep work for the dinner.

“Guess so. Let’s not keep ‘em waiting. We’ll sort this out later.”

Bucky nodded and followed Steve as he turned to their entrance hallway. They grabbed their coats, slipped into shoes, and were out the door within a minute. There was no exchange of words as they walked two buildings over to where Tony and Peter’s shared dorm was. Steve had switched into team captain mode, his mind running all of the different scenarios in which Peter might need to share something with the team—that would also have involved you in some way. Bucky was even more pensive than usual, locked into worry mode and wondering the exact same thing.

Steve had barely rapped on the door when you opened it.

“Hey,” you half-smiled as you greeted two of them. “I’m really sorry for cancelling dinner without an explanation,” you added quietly, stepping out into the hall and allowing the door to semi-close behind you.

“Are you ok?” Bucky’s eyes were wide, mouth tight as he stepped towards you.

“I’m fine, really.” You grabbed his hand and gave a reassuring squeeze.

“How’s Peter?” Steve pressed.

“He’s… he’s got something he needs to share with you. But… just, be patient. Promise me—both of you—” you paused, directing a pointed finger from the blonde to the brunette, “that you won’t blow up or react. Just let him take his time and then… just be there for him.”

“Fuck, this sounds…”

“Heavy,” you admitted, finishing Bucky’s thought.

“We promise,” Steve assured, Bucky nodding in confirmation.

“C’mon, he’s waiting.”

You let Steve lead the way, hanging back so you could hold Bucky’s hand as you re-entered the dorm. The captain toed off his sneakers and made his way to the couch where Peter was still sitting with Tony. You let him take the plush chair you had been seated in earlier, while you and Bucky hung back to sit at the dining table off to the side of the open common area.

“Hiya, Pete,” Steve said with a soft warmth. “Y/n says you got something you wanna share with me?”

“Y-yeah. I, I’m sorry cap, for dragging you here on a weekend and—”

“Pete, you didn’t drag me anywhere. I’m your captain, on and off the field. You need me, and I’m there. So take your time. We’ve got nowhere to be.”

Peter sighed, leaning into Tony slightly.

“Gosh, a bunch of boring seniors we are, nowhere to be on a Saturday night.” Tony knew Peter appreciated the comedic relief, garnering further affirmation of that fact when the freshman let out a wavering exhale of a chuckle.

“I… so, you’re probably wondering why Y/n is here.”

If Bucky was about to open his mouth about that exact concern bubbling inside of him since Steve hung up the phone with you, the words were suppressed as soon as you shot him a don’t you dare say a word look. Though you squeezed his hand tighter before returning your gaze back towards the couch.

“Well, I needed to ask her about… uh…”

Peter cleared his throat before saying his teammate’s name, his voice lowered to barely above a whisper. If there had been any background noise—a television, dishwasher, party next door—they might have missed it. But you all could have heard a pindrop with the muted anticipation that filled the room.

“... about… Quentin.”

You felt Bucky tense beside you as soon as he heard the name. You saw Steve flinch.

“Take your time, kid. You’re doing great,” Tony assured, rubbing his hand between Peter’s shoulder blades.

Peter took a long slow inhale, followed by an even longer and slower exhale. And then he told them. Every painstaking detail. The forced stripping. The mocking. The ice water. The paddling. He was sobbing into Tony’s chest by the end of it.

Steve was struggling to not break the promise he had made to you the moment before entering the dorm. The levee had broken that night at the bar when he lost his patience with Beck. And now? Now there were full on class VI white water rapids of rage gushing through him. His hands were twitching. His jaw was clenched.

Bucky and you looked at each other, a silent conversation concluding with a nod as you unclasped your hand from his so you could make your way over to Steve to try and put the pin back in him before he exploded. You placed a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezed twice. His eyes shot up to you, suddenly aware of his surroundings again. He shook his head, then patted your hand with grateful acknowledgement.

“I want to thank you for trusting me with this, Peter. You’ve done such a brave thing coming forward with this. I’m so proud of you.”

Peter sniffed hard as he wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “Th-thanks,” he managed to mutter between hiccups.

“And I want to remind you that we have a zero tolerance policy against hazing. For the past two years now.”

Peter nodded, still leaning into Tony.

“I won’t pressure you, but if you want to make a formal complaint, you have my full support. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“Th-thanks. I… I want to. Report it... I don’t want others t-to…” the tears started again and you swore you heard the fissures as they cracked though everyone’s hearts.

“Then that’s what we’ll do, Pete. The whole team’ll be behind you on this. I promise, you won’t be alone.”

Peter smiled through his wet eyes at his captain, then at Bucky and you. “Thank you. All of you.”

It wasn’t over by a longshot. But it was a start.

—

Steve was right about the zero tolerance policy. Not only was Quentin kicked off the team, effective immediately. Not only did he lose his scholarship. He was expelled from the university, and banned from contacting any of the players on the team again. The university had just been through a slew of sexual assault cases that somehow made it into the media. The last thing they needed was their athletics department to come under fire for hazing.

Regardless of the reasoning, it was a relief for more than just Peter.

Steve would never again have to deal with Beck’s drunken antics at post game celebrations.

You felt like you could fully breathe again, knowing that you would never run into him on campus.

And Bucky? Well he was mostly excited that he might actually be able to ask you to be his girl. But first things first: the date.

“Buuuuck, where are you taking me?” You groaned. He had checked that you didn’t get carsick before making you wear a blindfold as he drove you down what you guessed was some back road out of town in Tony’s car that he had loaned Bucky for the day.

“If I told ya, it wouldn’t be a surprise now, would it?” he quipped back with a chuckle. You could practically hear his eyes rolling.

“Are we almost there, then?”

“Almost. I promise.”

You sighed, but really you were loving every second of suspense. Summer had settled in without any hesitation. All the windows were rolled down and the constant rush of wind cooled your skin. Your hand rested on Bucky’s thigh, his hand on top of yours.

The smooth sound of pavement shifted to gravel and you felt the ride become bumpier. You squeezed Bucky’s leg on instinct.

“Don’t worry, doll, I gotcha.” His velvety drawl always eased your worst anxieties.

After several more jolts—which Bucky apologized for—and a few more turns, you felt the car slow until you came to a full stop. The ignition turned off, and suddenly the scarf was being lifted from over your eyes. You had to blink a few times to adjust to the sunlight.

“Oh my god…” you exclaimed under your breath, reeling from the shock of the view before you. Bucky had parked the car next to a clearing that opened up to golden sand stretching about a hundred feet along the side of a crystal clear lake that continued further than you could make out. A mix of pine and cedar and various deciduous trees made up the dense forest on the other side of the water.

“Whaddya think?”

“I…” you couldn’t find the words to describe what you were feeling at that moment. Your heart felt like it might beat out of your chest and fly onto the dash of Tony’s car. Something about this spot seemed special. Sacred almost.

“It’s beautiful, Buck.” You turned to meet his gaze, the sparkle in his eyes matching the sunlight reflecting off the surface of the lake.

“Sorry about the bumpy ride for that last part. It’s an old abandoned logging road.” He quieted for a moment and his eyes were suddenly looking past you, as if he was watching a reel of something only he could see. You were about to ask if everything was okay when he cleared his throat, a small smile coming back to his lips as his eyes met yours again.

“My dad and I used to come up here fishing every summer. It’s… it’s a good memory.”

You grabbed his hand and brought them to your lips, placing a chaste kiss to each set of knuckles, before leaning into his cheek.

“Thank you for sharing this with me. It’s perfect.”

He turned his head so that his mouth met yours. You sucked in a breath at the surprise before immediately melting into the gesture. It was lazy and warm and wet, your tongues quickly finding each other as he pulled a hand from yours so he could move you closer to deepen the kiss.

“Buck… let's… get out first…” you managed to get out while his lips stumbled over yours.

He sighed and broke the kiss reluctantly, pressing his forehead against yours. “Fine, but only because you’re cute and I want to see you in that swimsuit.”

“Oh, so you think I’m cute, do you?”

“D’you even gotta ask that?”

“No, but I like hearing it,” you replied, grinning wide as you leaned back into your seat before opening the door to step out into the midday heat.

Bucky laughed as he followed your move, making his way to the trunk. “You know I’ll tell you you're beautiful every chance I get. It’s my new favourite hobby.”

“Is that so?” you probed.

“You think I’m lying?” he questioned as he handed you a few bags before lifting out a big red cooler.

“Nah, I just like watching you get all hot and bothered when I question you,” you grinned, closing the trunk. “Lead the way, you charmer.”

—

“I think that is the nicest lake I’ve ever swam in,” you admitted with excitement as you dried yourself off.

You had spent the afternoon getting in and out of the water between bouts of suntanning and chatting and snacking on the thoughtfully planned picnic Bucky had packed for you both.

“It really is the best. I haven’t been up here since…”

You saw Bucky bite his lip and close his eyes. You slowly took a seat next to him on the blanket, shoulders brushing just enough so he knew you were there, but not too much in case he needed a minute.

He released a shaky breath then turned to face you. His eyes were glistening at the corners, and a bittersweet smile formed to match. “He would have loved you, my pops.”

You leaned into his shoulder a bit more. “What was he like?”

“He was stoic. A man of few words. But he showed us he cared in other ways. Coming up here with him. The planning he put into those trips, creating those moments just for the two of us. That’s how I knew.”

Bucky paused for a moment, casting his gaze towards the lake. As if he might see something more than the reflection of the trees dancing on the water. He shook his head, a warmer grin filling out his cheeks.

“I wish I could have met him,” you offered sincerely, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Me too,” he said softly, pressing his head to yours in return.

Your silence was filled by the sporadic lapping of the water against the beach. Various birds echoing through the trees. The cycle of wind rustling the pine and birch. It was a peace you had never known until now. Until Bucky.

Sure this may have been your first date. But with the fallout from Beck, then everything that happened with Peter, then finals, this day trip felt more like a confirmation of what you already knew.

You and Bucky had been more or less inseparable for three months now. And maybe that was too soon in some people’s books, but nothing about Bucky felt rushed. You just hoped you would have the courage to tell him. You had never struggled with words before. Always so sure of yourself, able to speak what was on your mind at the drop of a dime. But suddenly here on this beach, no witnesses save for the trees and the birds, the phrase you kept repeating to yourself was stuck in your throat.

“Y/n, I…”

“Bucky…”

You both started at once, breaking out into the same nervous chuckle at your simultaneous attempt at breaking the silence.

“You first,” you offered.

“No you, sweetheart.”

A heat flooded your cheeks that wasn’t from the sun. “I…”

You trailed off before you had even begun. Why was this so hard?

The more real you feel about someone, the greater the risk, your counselor had told you last week. At first it had scared you, that they meant you were only with Bucky as another attempt at avoiding loneliness. You realized that’s why you had stayed with Beck for as long as you did. But the longer you thought about it, the more you came to the conclusion that you weren’t scared of being alone anymore. It was that you were scared of losing Bucky. You had learned falsely at a young age that the people you loved left you. So it was easier to let in people you didn’t really care about—and who didn’t really care about you—than to let in people you love.

“I love you.”

Before you could sift through your thoughts, the words fell out of Bucky’s mouth so hushed and quickly that you nearly missed them.

“W-what?”

“I love you,” he said again, with more commitment, as if the first time he was just testing it out to see how it sounded. “And you don’t have to say it back. I know it’s still early, and I know this might just be a rebound for you and I’m ok with that. Won’t change how I feel. I just needed to say it. Needed you to hear it.”

The chorus of your surroundings filled the heavy silence that hung between you. Then a sigh that sounded like disappointment came from Bucky as he lifted his head from yours and began to inch away. You grabbed his wrist with a desperation that frightened even yourself.

Eyes wide, you turned to face him, though unable to make eye contact. You focused on the St. George pendant around his neck, taking in a big gulp of air before finally finding your words.

“I love you too. And I’m terrified that now I’ve said it out loud I’m going to lose you, because the people I love don’t seem to want to stick around.”

Your confession tumbled out of you in a whisper. But you barely had time to take a breath before you felt Bucky’s warmth wrapped around you.

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere. I promise,” he whispered back into your neck.

“Please don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Bucky pushed away from you, only slightly, so he could nudge your chin up and force you to make eye contact with him.

“I need you to hear me, ‘kay sweetheart?”

You nodded.

“I love you. All of you. So unless you plan on leaving, you’re stuck with me. You got that?”

You nodded again, the motion sending a single tear streaming down your cheek. Bucky caught it with his thumb.

“You’re the strongest, sharpest, sweetest woman I’ve ever met. I ain’t about to let that go. My ma would kill me if I did.”

You laughed, sniffling and wiping your eyes. “It’s scary how much I love you,” you said shakily, finally looking into his cold blue eyes.

“I know the feelin’, doll,” he shot back.

You licked your lips, his eyes darting down to the motion before shifting back up to meet your gaze.

“Show me,” you whispered.

His breath hitched. His pupils suddenly blown wide, encroaching on the ice blue that encircled them. “You sure?”

“More than sure.”

Bucky didn’t need to hear you say it twice. In one fell swoop, he had you on your back, the large beach blanket spread out beneath you. Your towel fell off your shoulders and you watched as Bucky drank you in.

His eyes danced over you like the shadows from the branches above, casting dappled sunlight across your body.

“So fucking beautiful,” he muttered, more to himself than as praise to you. He placed a hand on either side of your head and leaned down to meet your mouth. But he never connected. His lips hovered over yours, his breath hot and shallow. He all but grazed over the curve of the smile that had formed on your face, moving down to your chin, to your neck, and just behind your ear with a painfully slow pace.

You tilted your head back, the anticipation mixed with the tickle of his breath on your skin was crossing all of your wires. Chills spread through your body while a burning warmth rushed to your core.

You felt his smirk as he registered your reaction. His barely there touch inched from the nape of your neck to your collarbone as he traced his way to the valley between your breasts. Instinctually you squeezed your thighs together as his lips brushed against the fabric of your bathing suit top, easily reaching the peaks that were poking through.

“Oh my god, James.” His name fell off your tongue in a whisper as you suddenly felt a rush of desire pooling between your legs. “Feels so good,” you followed with a moan, arching your back as your body tried to connect with his mouth. Anything to get closer.

A soft moan echoed from his chest and suddenly his fingers slipped behind you. You helped him slide your bathing suit top off, leaving your breasts bare. It was then that his lips finally made contact. The warmth of his tongue over your nipple sent a pulsing heat just below your belly. His fingers finally arrived, allowing his mouth to travel with steady assurance down into your chest’s valley and up the other side to explore the other peak.

Bucky had barely touched you and you already felt the coil tightening dangerously close to release.

“Buck… if you don’t stop… I’m gonna…” You trailed off, overcome by the sensation.

His lips never left your skin. Now that he’d made contact it was as if he couldn’t pull away, even if he wanted to. The synchronized circling of his lips and fingers was suddenly not enough and too much all at once and the warmth burst inside you without warning. You keened uncontrollably as the waves of pleasure crashed through you over and over.

Your chest heaved as you struggled to make sense of the satisfaction Bucky had just sent coursing through your body. No partner had ever made you cum without barely touching you, let alone without working on your lower half. If you were being perfectly honest, more often than not they finished before you and that was that.

You pulled Bucky down onto you, crashing your lips into his. The need to have as much of him touching you was overwhelming.

“That was… I…”

Bucky chuckled at your speechlessness. “We’re just getting started, sweetheart.”

You and Bucky spent the rest of the afternoon exploring every curve and vale of each other’s bodies. Your limbs tangled like the roots of the trees that lined the edge of the beach. Your skin slick with sweat, glistening like the afternoon sun on the lake. Your fingers mapped the lines of each other as if your survival depended on it. You lost yourselves in the rhythm of your breath and the rocking of your hips, ascending together until you reached the final climax, wrapped in each other’s arms, your bodies pressed as close as you could manage.

You dozed in the late afternoon sun, neither of you eager to break your embrace. Even the sounds of the lake and the trees and the birds had taken a lazy turn, the heat of the day lulling everything to a slowed hush.

You awoke to Bucky’s soft lips on your forehead.

“Mmmmm… not time to wake up yet,” you groaned groggily.

Bucky laughed at your protest. “Sun’s about to set. Come for one last swim with me?”

His request was so innocent and boyish, sending a flutter to your chest. You nodded in response, your mind still reeling from the blissful afternoon.

You watched as he pushed himself off the blanket and, without hesitation, walked straight into the lake—bare bum and all. A mile-wide smile stretched across your face, making your cheeks hurt. This man. This quiet, sensitive man whose care for his teammates and his family knew no bounds. You were a part of that circle now. With a promise, both through his words and his touch, that there would always be space for you. If you wanted it.

“Y’comin’ doll? The water’s perfect.”

You wanted it. Every word shared. Every look. Every touch. Every kiss. You were ready to jump head first into his ocean and trust his current to guide you both. Through calm and storm. Ebb and flow.

“Yeah, Buck, I’m coming.”

You jumped up and ran into the water, splashing as you crashed into his arms.

“Please don’t let go,” you whispered into his neck, clinging onto him for warmth as the cool water chilled your skin.

He pressed a kiss into your temple as his arms tightened their hold around you. “Wasn’t planning on it, sweetheart.”

la fin

[glazelilyy]

when i first saw your eyes

request from @kimura-uzuri - "Diluc x female reader love at first sight headcanon"

a/n - you know that one jojo meme that's like "yes yeS YES" that was me with this request. i modified the request a little bit so it's more of "diluc finally takes an interest in someone at first sight rather than think they're evil" because if i'm paying tribute to his character, he's not one to fall in love very easily. but in this the reader definitely catches his eyes ^_^

pairing - diluc x female reader

word count - 3267

genre - fluff

format - headcanons with blurbs

warnings - none!

summary - headcanons + blurbs of when diluc's stomach did backflips the moment you met his eyes

content under the cut!

diluc is a master of perception, there's no face in mondstat that he hasn't committed to memory and attached a name and basic facts to

and seeing all these people happily go about their day brings him great peace, no news is good news and thank the archons that he rid mondstat of any news overnight

but whenever he saw a new face, he was sure to pay close attention and learn anything he could about them. who were they? where were they from? distinctive features that could easily identify them? did they seem malicious?

the last question usually wasn't difficult to answer, it was almost like he had a 6th sense for detecting malicious intent

additionally his position as a bartender allowed him to gather information on these people through eavesdropping, he was always listening in on conversations that never actually concerned him (he usually made it his concern if he had to)

new and unfamiliar people never intrigued him like they did his brother, he's always had his guard up and would continue to do so whenever encountering someone new

he was most aware of this ability whenever he held his yearly formal banquets and invited delegates from all over teyvat

so when he caught wind that fontaine would be sending its newest ambassador to his yearly banquet instead of the old and wrinkled man he'd grown accustomed to, he was more or less as he usually was: on his guard

though she was a formal guest and he'd greet her as politely as he could, part of him couldn't help being suspicious. after all, she could be dangerous and here he was inviting her into his home

but he knew he'd be on his guard, he was always on his guard

the elegant red and black suit stuck awkwardly to his skin and poked at his sides in an uncomfortable manner, yet he shook hands and smiled politely like he was supposed to. he made conversation and furthered connections that he knew would be prosperous for his business. but truthfully? diluc would love nothing more than to hobble away like an old man and collapse into bed; he was beyond exhausted.

he sipped bubbly champagne from a crystal flute glass, filled only for show and as something to do while listening to the many delegates and nobles in front of him. his eyes scan the room once again and he notices an unfamiliar woman seemingly making small talk with acting grand master jean. she dons a gown the color of a fresh spring on a summer's day, (h/c) locks tousled into an elegant style. someone he wasn't familiar with in the slightest. her back was turned to him but from jean's expression it seemed she was quite taken with her. he decided maybe it would be best to take a closer look and speak to her himself, judging from afar would do no good if he didn't even know what she looked like after all.

he excused himself and began to make his way over to greet her but it seemed she was also being called over in another direction. she curtsied to jean and hurried off before diluc could even spare a glance at her face. jean seemed to notice him approaching and sent a polite nod, "good evening master diluc, this is quite the lovely party might i say." he thanked her with a small smile, "say...who was that woman you were speaking with just now? i believe i haven't had the time to make my acquaintance with her..." he trailed off, eyes searching the crowd for that unmistakable shade of blue.

"ah yes that was miss (l/n) of fontaine, i believe she introduced herself as their new ambassador. she's quite lovely! i hope you get a chance to speak with her." diluc hummed and swished the amber liquid in his glass. "should i see them again i'll be sure of it, acting grand master."

he bid jean goodbye and circled around the banquet hall, sending polite greetings to various guests he came across

it itched his brain slightly that he didn't get to see her face, but he'll come around to it

it is common courtesy for guests to greet the host as some point in the night

yet the nagging feeling of dread clawed at his neck. she could be dangerous, and if she turned out to be dangerous it'd fall onto his shoulders to prevent any casualties

he spotted elzer in the distance, pouring wine for an elegant looking group of people and briskly walked over to him

"keep an eye out for the ambassador of fontaine, i've not seen her face but she's wearing a blue frock." he leaned down to his ear and whispered discreetly in his ear. elzer nodded and rose from his pouring position, presumably to scout out the ambassador

he resumed his stroll, stopping near the dance floor to speak with a scholar from sumeru on his newest brand of wine when out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted the soft spring-colored fabric

his trained eyes surveyed the room and caught the familiar shade of blue once more, swishing and swaying on the dance floor with none other than his brother

the scholar kept talking, and diluc nodded along but kept his eyes trained on the young lady in his brother's arms. he seemed to be trying to charm her based on that smug expression of his diluc detested so much. kaeya had winced quite a few times but one wouldn't notice had they not been as observant as diluc was. the ambassador didn't seem to be quite elegant on her feet but from kaeya's flashes of genuine intrigue it seemed she was one hell of a charmer.

he watched as kaeya spun her around and pointed to her shoes, seemingly making a joke about her clumsy dancing to which she responded with a playful smack of his shoulder. diluc would scold kaeya later for messing with his guests but for now his attention was fixated on the elusive ambassador, whose face was still too far away for him to see.

the music ended abruptly and once again, she slipped through the crowd. he sighed and returned his attention to the scholar, who hadn't stopped talking and was probably going to question diluc about things he hadn't been paying attention to

kaeya suddenly interjected with a slap on diluc's shoulder, saying something about borrowing diluc for a moment before dragging him off to one of the less livelier parts of the banquet hall

"you won't believe the beauty i just danced with. my, she was something, talked with grace but sure as hell didn't dance with it." he chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning on one of the ivory pillars.

"and you're telling me this because?" diluc raised an eyebrow, looking at him expectantly.

"oh my, don't go feigning like you haven't been eyeing her up all night. i must say you do have quite the taste, dignitaries from foreign nations didn't exactly seem like your type luc." he clicked his tongue, "diluc, and i'm not eyeing her up. i'm simply...keeping an eye on her." he muttered with a frown.

"keeping an eye on her and eyeing her up constitute as the same thing brother dearest."

"...don't call me that you scoundrel." kaeya laughed and waved his hand in front of his face dismissively. "nevertheless, you've no need to fear her. she's quite a joy to talk to, though she could use a little bit of help in the dancing department." he winced, sticking out his right foot to wiggle it around comedically.

"i don't fear her, i'm just being cautious." he scoffed and turned his head to the side to avoid looking at kaeya.

"well in any case, you should speak with her at some point tonight. it seems she's not aware of many unspoken dignitary rules." kaeya waved his hand indifferently as he walked away, melting into the crowd.

the night's events had left him weary and tired. he passed by more people who wished to talk to him but hurried off with an excuse of tending to an important matter that couldn't be disclosed, quite the bullshit explanation but he wasn't going to go out of his way for an elaborate excuse like kaeya would.

the winery's gardens were lush this time of year, blooming with beautiful flowers and wildlife. the doors to the garden weren't far from the banquet hall, the slightest slivers of classical music came creeping up behind him as he exited the building through a glass door and entered the gardens. some fresh air was what he needed before he dove back in and tried to look for the ambassador to make their acquaintance.

he strolled around aimlessly for a while, taking a few deep breaths. as he rounded a corner, he came across an unexpected sight.

there she sat, in all her glory. the ambassador to fontaine whose face he'd been trying to get a glimpse at all night. initially he made a startled sound not expecting anyone to be out here other than him. here she sat, alone on one of the marble benches surrounded by cecelias. she seemed to have noticed him too because now she stared up at him with alarm on her face.

diluc finally got to look at her face, but the first thing he noticed were her (e/c) eyes. beautiful, stunning, mesmerizing, those words don't begin to cover it.

as if caught in a trance, he couldn't peel his eyes away from hers, and it seemed she couldn't either. his mind scrambled for words but came up with nothing. they both opened their mouths to say something, but their overlapping "ums" and "excuse me's" had them both reeling back.

"u-um, if i may bother you for your name sir?" she finally asked after a brief moment. diluc awkwardly coughed into his fist to divert her attention away from his reddening cheeks as he stuck out his other hand to greet her, "diluc ragnvindr, of dawn winery. a pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss?"

"(l/n), (y/n) (l/n), ambassador to fontaine." she took his hand and rose from her seat to curtsy politely. "you're master diluc? goodness i apologize, i would have come and greeted you earlier but i got swept up in the crowd...and i also wasn't sure of what you looked like. it's a pleasure to meet you though!" she giggled sheepishly, rubbing a gloved hand over the back of her neck.

he wanted to reply but his words latched in his throat. their eyes, their beautiful eyes, were drawing him in and sending swirls of heat to his cheeks. he bit the inside of his cheek to regain his composure and brought his lips to their hand, still held in his and kissed the silken cloth in a gentlemanly manner. she parted her lips, the embarrassment in her eyes not going unnoticed.

"the pleasure is all mine miss (l/n). i take it the party is to your liking?" she nodded enthusiastically. "i'm quite enamored with it! i haven't been to many parties outside of fontaine, and i'll admit i'm not well versed in etiquette as i thought i was. that poor man i danced with earlier surely must have sore feet by now." he smiled slightly as she mentioned kaeya.

"trust me, he can take it. if anything you should've stepped on his toes harder." she looked at him quizzically but nevertheless shook her head with a smile. "sir kaeya was a bit of a flirt but other than that i don't think he warranted the pain of my heels." he wanted to snort but bit his tongue.

"once again, i do apologize for not greeting you sooner. i am extremely humbled to be in the presence of one such as yourself master diluc." she bowed once more, this time more apologetically than formally. "it is...quite alright miss (l/n)-"

she rose a hand to stop him, "(y/n), you may call me (y/n). formalities are for when others are looking." he was taken aback at first, but nodded in understanding. "if it is so, then diluc is just fine." she grinned giddily and clasped her hands together.

whirlwinds of emotions coursed through his veins as he offered her a tour of the vineyards

it turns out diluc needed not to be alert after all, the ambassador was exactly as kaeya and jean had described her: charming in conversation but a tad clumsy, as evident in the multiple times she nearly tripped over stray vines or other miscellaneous items scattered on the dirt paths

her questions were ceaseless, but he didn't mind answering any of them. it thawed his heart ever so gently to see someone care so diligently about his line of work and try to learn as much about anything as she did

"diluc you simply must tell me more about this species of grape! i've never come across anything like it in my studies..." and he would, he'd tell her everything he knew

and when it came time for the night to be over, part of him wasn't ready to stop talking to her

they stood side by side on an inner balcony that overlooked the banquet hall, the night still in full swing as people danced elegantly to the symphonious music.

"if only for one night, i wish i could have danced with someone without stepping on their feet." she sighed melancholically, resting her forearms on the ivory banister.

he turned to her with a questioning glance, "you speak as if the night is already over. surely there must be someone you can dance with?" she shook her head. "i represent fontaine while i am here, i got lucky that sir kaeya asked me to dance and not another dignitary or i'd surely be the laughing stock among them." he clicked his tongue and turned to her, extending his hand.

"then you shall dance with me."

he regretted his decision when she didn't immediately answer, but exhaled when she placed her gloved hand in his. "i'd be honored," she shyly glanced up at him with a smile on her face. he felt the heat rush to his cheeks once more and coughed awkwardly into his fist, "t-then let's be on with it..." she merely giggled and let him lead her down to the ballroom floor.

guests gawked left and right seeing the pair together. diluc felt the burning gaze of them bore into his back and sides but he kept his head high and, like he was taught, kept looking straight ahead (even when that irritating brother of his sent a wolf whistle his way).

he bowed, she curtsied, and he took her hand in his, placing his left hand on the small of her back before whispering, "place your feet on top of mine." she gave him a puzzled look, but obliged without complaint as a new waltz began to play from the orchestra. he moved swiftly, using his taller frame to distract onlookers from the clumsier movements of his partner. "relax and lean into me, you're too stiff," he muttered close to her, and so she let herself go in his arms.

from afar he was sure their dance looked like an ideal waltz, but none of the spectators would know that he was doing all the work. his feet easily carried her weight and moved in time to the 3/4 rhythm. but it wasn't as if he was so fixated on the gaze of others that he didn't notice her barely contained elation.

and once again he found himself fixated on the jewels encased in her face. those beautiful, mesmerizing eyes. she seemed to notice his intense gaze and leaned in closer to his shoulder.

if his face hadn't been on fire before, it sure was now. he struggled to maintain his stoic composure, and he swore he saw kaeya losing it out of the corner of his eye. "diluc you're quite flushed, are you alright?" she moved her hand from his shoulder to press her fingers to his forehead. he struggled to string together a cohesive sentence and opted to nod his head yes as an acceptable answer, as infantile as it was.

the song soon came to a close and he placed immediate distance between them, bowing politely and escorting her away from the dance floor

the banquet was due to end soon, and maybe hours ago he would have been eager to ditch the formalities and snuggle up in his bed

but now his attention was had by this beautifully-eyed woman who seemed to have nothing but pure intentions

admittedly he felt quite guilty at first for going so far as to have elzer keep an eye out for her

and somehow he found himself asking to escort her to her place of stay in mondstat just to spend a little while longer with her

"i must thank you for the lovely time i've had tonight, oh! as well as the dance, i surely won't forget that for a while." she bashfully fiddled with her luminescent skirt, giving him a shy smile.

"of course, i'm glad you've enjoyed yourself on your first visit to mondstat. i hope we've left a good impression on you." she nodded vigorously. "it's been splendid! i love the customs and traditions, they're beyond fascinating. however, is it a monstatian custom for a host to walk one of their guests back to their place of residence?" diluc chuckled silently and merely shook his head as they continued on the dirt path to the small area of cabins near dawn winery where she and other dignitaries would be residing for the night.

"not exactly, rather this is of my own doing." there it was again, the heat on his cheeks was starting to get unbearable at this point but no matter what he did, the ambassador always seemed to amplify its intensity, especially with the way they look at him with their doe eyes.

much to his disdain, the wooden door to her place of residence soon stood in front of them. he opened his mouth to say something, anything, but alas it seemed his mind had been milked of cohesive thoughts. the ambassador seemed to notice his fish-out-of-water-like state and took his larger hand within both of their own. gingerly, they pressed a light kiss to the back of his hand and beamed up at him, "you've been so very kind to me tonight, i cannot thank you enough. if possible...may i see you again?" baffled, and definitely redder than any of the wine he sold, diluc stood there amazed. it was as if she could read his mind and relay exactly what he had wanted to say to her.

he couldn't help but laugh quietly and nod, "please stop by the winery tomorrow, and we can discuss whatever you like." he bowed, and bid her goodnight with a small smile.

he wasn't sure he'd get a lot of sleep tonight, every time he shut his eyes in an attempt to slumber, he'd see those beautiful hues that made his heart do backflips and sit back up in an attempt to calm his racing heartbeat.

for once, his perception had been wrong. without a face, the ambassador of fontaine was a threat, someone to be suspicious of, someone to keep at arm's length.

but when he first saw her eyes, his heart started singing for the first time in a long while.

date published: may 7th, 2021

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Gosh, the Hawks x intern! Reader sure made me tear up :(

Like imagine him regretting not being there for her and his baby girl from the start and trying to make up for it now 😭😭💖

I was going to imagine this, but I couldn't because I ended up writing 3000 words. 😭 I just love fictional babies so much and want them to be happy, okay? I left it open-ended, so I wouldn't betray the "kick his ass" gang. I'm a weak woman 🥺 I still don't know much about him other than what Wikipedia and memes tell me but here we go!

Part One | Part Two

Hawks doesn’t think you’ll ever let him in, not that he could blame you. Every time you see him, your expression hardens, pretty eyes narrow into a glare, nostrils flare, breathing heavy. His only bright light during your last exchange is that you wait three seconds before slamming the door in his face rather than the usual zero.

Oh, he’s definitely softening you up. Not.

It’s been a month now that he’s been at this, and he is starting to wonder if this entire thing is worth the headache. All he’s accomplished so far is bothering you with his requests to talk. Then, he remembers the little angel that you have with you and thinks it’s worth the headache.

At first, he had ignored your previous exchange that day at the park and the nagging feeling in the corner of his mind upon seeing the two of you. Until that same feeling started to weigh on his heart. He quickly realizes what those feelings were. Guilt and regret at not taking another path with the high schooler he so carelessly took advantage of and impregnated.

If he had, he could be annoying Endeavor about his cute little wife right about now.

Hawks feels a bit like Icarus flying too close to the sun and now sinking in a turbulent ocean of his own making. Instead of drowning, the world decides to throw him a lifeline as the receptionist patches a call through to him.

His heart jumps when he hears you on the other side, resistant but succumbed in your plea, “I need your help.”

The very next day you arrive at the agency, a small hand latched in your own as you stand in the middle of his office. You didn’t want to be here. The thought of being in the same place where your daughter was conceived with the same man who left you makes you antsy. You can’t believe you actually let Fumikage talk you into this.

You remember that phone conversation.

Your daughter’s quirk had been coming in full force, so fast you didn’t know how to handle it. You hoped that Tokoyami would have been able to help her control it since he trained with the very person she received her quirk from much longer than you had and that he was part avian himself.

“Please, Fumi. It’s getting worse,” you begged over the phone. “She accidentally hurt a few of the kids at school. No. No. They’re fine, some cuts and a little shook up, but fine. They won’t let her back in until she gets it under control though, so please.”

“I told you there’s not much else I can do. The best solution would be to go to the person with the same quirk.”

He’s right. He’s absolutely right, but you don’t want to rely on someone like that man especially now. What if he ended up hurting her?

“I don’t want to do that.”

“I know you don’t, but he’s been trying to contact you, right? So I'm sure he'd do it if you asked.”

“Yeah…” You growled. “I swear if he makes one smart-ass remark, I might kill him in front of her.”

“Remember it’s not for you. Although, I don’t think you could kill him even if you tried.”

“If we combined our strength…”

“No,” Tokoyami immediately shot down.

You sighed. “I’m only joking. Do you have the number to the agency still?”

Now you’re here, watching the very man who abandoned you kneel down to your daughter’s eye level. Hawks couldn’t believe he’s actually seeing her. It’s a bit exciting to see how much bigger she’s gotten in such a short time with big fat wings at her back holding way more feathers than she can probably deal with.

“So, this is the special girl,” he says. She shies away from him, hiding behind your leg for protection. “Come on out, Baby Bird, you don’t have to be scared of me.”

Slowly, she peeks from behind you, fingers still clutched in your pants leg, and Hawks smiles.

“There you are. Did your mommy tell you who I am?”

“You’re her and uncle Toko’s old teacher, and you’re going to help me control my quirk.”

“That’s right. You just turned five, right? That’s when a lot of quirks can get kind of hectic.”

“Yeah. I had a birthday party with Elsa last month.”

Hawks’ smile falters for a second as he thinks he doesn’t know exactly what day her birthday is. At least now he knows the month. Quickly, he’s back to normal to keep an air of happiness in the situation. “You know I know a lady that looks a bit like Elsa. She has ice powers like her too,” Hawks says, having grown a little closer to the number one hero's family as he tried to figure out what to do about his own family situation.

When her eyes widen, Hawks knows he has her hook, line, and sinker. She throws her initial shyness to the wind in exchange for excitement. “She does? Can I meet her?”

“I’m sure we could make that happen. If not, her son has an ice quirk, too. I’m sure he’d show you.”

The young girl smiles at him, but Hawks notices her vision drifting to something else. Cautiously, her tiny hand stretches out to him, making him nervous as to what she’s doing, before chubby fingers clutch around the edge of his wing, squeezing into his feathers. “They’re pretty,” she mumbles.

“Want one?” he asks, and she nods.

“This is my birthday present for you, don’t lose it,” he says, offering her a single long feather from the back of his wings. She clutches it to her chest tightly, a happy smile plastered on her face.

Then, you interrupt.

“Baby, mama has to run some errands, but she’ll come right back to pick you up when the clock says twelve. You remember how that looks like, right?”

“It’s a 1 and a 2,” she says, bringing up her hands to show you.

Hawks decides to walk you out as your daughter sits in his office chair, twirling around his feather in her hand. He isn’t sure what to say to you now that he has you near him. Should he thank you for bringing her? Or would that only serve to piss you off since it’s not like you wanted to do this by choice?

“Hawks,” you say, bringing him out his thoughts. “There’s one more thing before I go.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t tell her,” you order. “Don’t you dare tell her.”

His chest squeezes at that but he can understand why you wouldn’t want her to know that information when the two of you aren’t even on speaking terms outside this issue. He didn’t want to do anything to make the situation worse either, so he brings his fingers to his mouth and zips his pinched thumb and index finger across his lips. “I’ll make sure mine and anyone else’s lips are sealed if they want to keep their job,” he calmly reassures you, always calm and carefree so you wouldn’t think that your rejection is successfully deterring him.

From then on, you drop your daughter off at his office twice a week to get a better handle on her powers. You didn’t stay long aside from that, but Hawks likes the small moments when all three of you are in the same room together.

The hero can be thankful that at least one of his girls likes him. His Baby Bird quickly attached herself to him, always pattering after his footsteps like a shadow, and always asking if he’d hold her hand, a smile forming whenever he engulfed her smaller one. He even keeps his promise to let her see Rei, or Elsa as Baby Bird so passionately refers to her, now that the woman is out of the hospital.

He thinks that if that family can recover from what happened then his shouldn’t be much different as long as he keeps trying to put in the effort and not step on your toes too much.

It isn’t long before Baby Bird begins to get a hang of her powers. At least enough that she wouldn’t be hurting anyone at school. Hawks had hoped you would still allow him to train her past that point though, but you quickly told him that she wouldn’t be returning to the agency when she reached that point.

He was sad to hear it of course, but he didn’t want to cause what little progress he made to be broken even if he really wanted to see her fly at least a few inches before she left. She’s been getting into the habit of jumping instead of walking to practice like he used to do. Although, she resembles more of a bouncy frog than a bird, to be honest.

He watches, amused, as she bounces along next to him in the hallway.

“You’ve gotten good at that,” he compliments, drawing her attention upwards.

“I’ve been practicing lots at home, but I’m not that good yet. Will you teach me how to fly like you do tomorrow?” she asks.

“No, Baby Bird. Didn’t your mommy tell you that we’re done with training after today?”

She hangs her head down, her bouncing stopping as she drags her feet. “…Yes,” she answers, letting his arm go lax as she releases his hand. Hawks pauses, watching as she draws her hands to her waist and anxiously bunches and twists the bottom of her shirt, and Hawks throat goes dry as she asks with glossy eyes, “Daddy, why doesn’t mommy like you?”

He’s completely silent, wondering exactly when she figured it out or if someone in the office had told her, let alone told her the fact that you didn’t like him. Well, he guesses it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. “How do you know to call me that?"

“Yesterday, my teacher told us that we inhe-inhe-inherent our quirk from our parents. I remember you said Elsa and her son had the same quirk, and you have big wings like mine and can make your feathers move.”

Hawks smiles. She’s a sharp one to piece it together in a day. “Your teacher is right. I bet you’ve never seen anyone else that looks quite like us.”

“No,” she answers, sniffling. “I don’t want to go home. I want to stay and play with you. Mommy is so mean to you. I hate her!”

Hawks cups her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Look at me. Don’t talk about your mommy like that. It’s my fault she always gets upset when I’m around. I was mean and bullied her a lot, so if you’re mad, be mad at me. I’m the reason we can’t play together more.”

She sniffs again but it isn’t enough to stop the globs of tears running down her cheeks. “When we saw you at the park, mommy started crying when we went home. I didn’t know why she did.”

Hawks knows why. The reason you’re always so angry at him is because of the hurt you still hold inside for what he did to you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have cried. The opposite of love is indifference as they say, and he knows it’s true because he had been indifferent to the pain he caused ever since the day you came to him with weepy eyes and shaking arms as you told him you were pregnant. You had been scared, and he told you to deal with it.

Hawks scowls. He’s starting to feel sick.

"If you make someone cry, you should say sorry."

Hawks smiles. “I know, baby. I'll apologize to your mama, and I’m going to try my best to make it up to her, and you, too. I’m not going to make either of you cry anymore. Then, when she forgives me, we’ll play together again.”

She looks to him, a small glimmer of hope. “You promise?”

Hawks chuckles and grins at her, the same charming expression that made you fall for him in the first place. He holds out his hand. “Even better. I pinky promise,” he says and confidently hooks her finger with his. “Repeat after me: birds of a feather stick together.”

“Birds of a feather stick together.”

“That’s my girl,” he praises before dropping her hand to pet her head. “I think we might have a little time for me to teach you something before your mommy gets here.”

At the end of the day, Hawks is already waiting for you at the front steps of the agency as your call pulls into parallel park at the sidewalk. You step out and walk towards the steps, but your daughter meets you halfway by hopping over them, her wings flapping to hover before she falls back down onto her feet.

You smile at her. You can’t believe she’s actually flying, at least a little that is, but your surprise is ruined when she cheers. “Mommy, look at what daddy taught me,” she says, bouncing to show you her new hovering skills. “Are you looking? Are you looking?”

“Yes, I’m looking. You’re so good at that. You need to show me more when we get home,” you say but to be honest it’s the last thing on your mind as you glance over to Hawks. “Baby, why don’t you go sit in the car, and I’ll be right there.”

Hawks watches as she obediently follows your instructions, turning her back and happily hopping towards the vehicle.

“(Name), I-” Hawks says, unsure what to expect when your angry glare turns back on him. It isn’t until his yellow visors are already clicking against the pavement that he realizes you hit him. He hisses at the sting on his cheek. “That actually kind of hurt. I guess I had it coming, but I’m not really sure what I did at least recently,” he tries to play off, but you aren’t having it.

“You told her, you told her,” you keep repeating, and he’s backing away in case you decide to strike him again. “Are you trying to get her on your side?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking, and I didn’t tell her,” Hawks explains. “She pieced it together on her own. She’s sharper than you think, she can see that we look alike when she looks in a mirror, and she knows how quirks work. That’s more than enough for her to tell.”

His explanation is enough for you to halt in your assault, and you angrily huff under your breath. You don’t shift to leave, and there’s no door for you to slam away. He finally has you available. “So, what do you want to do now?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she knows; and honestly, I’m glad she does,” he confesses. “I wouldn’t mind seeing her again if you’d let me.”

Hawks swallows his anxiety as he waits for you to answer. Your eyes shift from him back to where she sits in your car, fiddling with the toys obviously left to clutter in the back before you look back at him, thinking.

“She does seem to like you…for some reason,” you add distastefully, but you know full well how happy training makes her. How her little smile beamed when she fluttered over those steps. How the word daddy came from her so sweetly. “She always likes talking about you after she spends the day here. You make her happy. But that’ll just make it harder for her when you leave ag-“

“I won’t,” he cuts off.

“How do I know that?”

“You don’t but I promise not again. (Name), I’m sorry. I’m sorry for telling you to go away like a burden and for not being there. You must’ve been scared, but I won’t leave either of you alone from now on even if you don’t want me there. I’ll be there if you need me.”

“Drop it. I’m not a part of this,” you tell him.

He knows that you’re rejecting his apology, but his ears can pick up what others can’t. He can hear those soft inflections in your voice right before you harden it into aggression, the slight stutter that you so cleverly thought you hid from him as you nearly fumbled your words, a little glimpse of a teenage girl with a crush on her sensei. “Not yet but do know I plan on trying until I make you fall for me all over again. I miss your cute little face when I'd smile at you.”

You glare. “Say that again, and I will smack you in your "cute little" face.”

"You already did that, but if it makes you feel better go ahead, I can take it if it helps you forgive me.”

He just didn’t expect you to actually take him up on the offer. This time, it’s the other cheek that burns.

“You’re right. That did make me feel better,” you say, smirking as you shake the sting from your hand. Hawks grunts, rubbing his jaw as you begin to walk towards your car. He bends down to pick up his shades before following close behind. You open the driver’s door, and say, “I expect you to pick her up at 9 tomorrow. If you’re late, don’t bother showing up ever again.”

Hawks smirks. You certainly became aggressive these past few years, but he thinks he kind of likes it. As you get in your car, he notices Baby Bird smiling at him from the window, her hand up and clutched around that birthday feather he gifted to her as she waves him off.

He’ll definitely be there on time.

[retvenkos]

to dance among the stars | c.b.

Bridgerton - Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader, fluff requested by @musicallisto

tw: talk of marriage

word count: 1.4k

prompt: “Dance with me?”

A/N: I started writing.... forgot i had a prompt to fit in... decided to just keep going and hope for the best.  i feel like that meme “it’s not much, but it’s honest work.”

Summary: (Y/n) hated dances and balls, but if there was anyone who could change their mind, it would be Colin Bridgerton.

(Y/n) laughed into the clear night air, throwing her head back in blissful happiness, unaware of the way that Colin Bridgerton looked at her - as though his whole life was in her smile. A clement wind greeted the two on their stroll, allowing the music from the nearby ball to drift toward them, a sound much more soft and inviting now that there was distance between the two and the dance floor.

“You, Colin, will be the death of me,” (Y/n) said, her words like a happy sigh, a gentle ending to her enjoyment of his presence.

“The death of you? I thought I heroically saved you from having to entertain suitors all evening,” he teased, straightening his jacket dramatically, as though they were in one of (Y/n)’s novels - the kind with epic romances and gruesome battles. (Y/n) scoffed, swatting him on the shoulder. “I am your knight in shining armor, aren’t I?”

“Well, yes—” Colin chuckled, earning a smile “—but I saved you from your mother. She’s been looking for a project now that Daphne’s entertaining the prince, is she not?”

“My mother is always looking for something.” Colin rolled his eyes. “I’m sure I won’t be properly saved until I marry some girl from the ton.”

“Oh.” Colin’s words ushered in an awkward lapse of silence that had both of them turning away from each other, taking a sudden interest in their shoes. They slowed their walk to a stop, and the breeze drifted between them, as though pushing them apart.

It was silly that something like a wayward comment could reduce them to silence, but the future lay within that statement - a future fast approaching and terrifying in its weight. The ton was designed for marriage. Here, at these balls and parties, both of them were supposed to find someone to marry - to bind themselves to another for the rest of their lives.

Another couple walked past the two and (Y/n) watched them go, disappearing into the evening - perhaps to dance among the stars.

“Well... is there someone who’s caught your eye?” (Y/n) fidgeted with her gloves as she spoke, not entirely sure she wanted to hear the answer. Colin had always been a flirt, and his romantic tendencies had always been something (Y/n) both admired and teased, and yet to know if his heart truly lied with one of them was the very thing she wanted least. Being out here with Colin - away from everyone else and anything that might stand between them - was the only thing that made the ton worthwhile. All else paled in comparison to these moments seemingly stolen from the flow of time, where they were two souls together, walking the same path for a brief while, hearts close enough to touch.

To have them be taken away would be too much of a heartache. Worse than anything she could fathom.

Colin looked at (Y/n) with his brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, (Y/n) took hold of the conversation once more.

“Perhaps Marina Thompson? She was quite popular before she fell ill. Will you be the one to ask for her hand, at the end of the season?”

“Miss Thompson is a fine girl, but... no.” (Y/n) looked up abruptly and met Colin’s blinking stare. Even when baffled there was something light about him - kind and caring - it tugged on her heart more than she cared to admit. “I would much rather wait than make a hasty match.”

“Hasty?” (Y/n) stifled a laugh, the mature word - not at all like the Colin she knew - bringing humor back into the conversation. Colin was forcing down a blush, his cheeks warming in color, like roses beneath his skin.

“I just mean I want to love my wife before we get married, instead of having to force feelings after the fact.”

(Y/n) smiled, taking a step closer to lock arms with Colin once more. “I hope you get to.”

The two resumed their walk, never going too far from the festivities to be considered improper, but managing to stay well away from anyone else. Colin admired the way that (Y/n) looked under the night sky - her beauty something wholly unique to her, and yet perfectly matched to the darkening sky. In the light of her eyes lay all the beauty of the cosmos, and in her smile lay all the thrills of the world. All the universe was captured in her essence, and Colin knew that all of his longing for travel could be satiated with a single touch; a kiss from (Y/n) could carry all of the wonders of the world, and no matter how many times he visited her touch, he would never lose his wanderlust.

(Y/n) fixed him with a look, as though they could sense that his thoughts rested with them.

Colin cleared his throat. It was one thing to care for (Y/n) - it was quite another to admit he had fallen in love. “What about you? Surely you’ve found a suitor who is the least bit exciting?”

“They think themselves exciting, if that is answer enough,” (Y/n) sighed, looking at Colin through the corner of her eye. “But truly Colin, having to entertain them is the worst part about these dances.”

"Even worse than dancing? I know you avoid getting out on the floor like it’s the plague.”

“Because when you’re on the dance floor, you’re trapped! That’s when entertaining suitors is at its worst.” Colin chuckled at (Y/n)’s words. “If I had a choice, I would come to these balls and the only man I would dance with is you.”

“Me?”

(Y/n) nodded.

Colin paused and they drew to a halt so he could better marvel at the woman before him. “If you had your choice in the matter, wouldn’t you rather avoid the dance floor altogether?” 

“No,” (Y/n) said, dipping her head with a look that said she had spoken too much but was too fond of what she said, and not keen on taking it back. “I suppose I would like to dance with you.”

You’d dance with me?”

(Y/n) scoffed. “Well, I know you enjoy it.” 

And around them, the world was hushed. The voices and sounds of the nearby ball were drowned out by the thumping of their hearts. Colin looked at (Y/n) and saw them so clearly, he was almost taken aback. How could one be so beautiful that their existence shamed a sky full of stars?

“Dance with me, then?”

He spoke before he acted, but it wasn’t long before his hand was outstretched, waiting for (Y/n) to take it.

“Right here?” But her hand was already resting in his, her smile bright and warm. "There's no music."

"Then come a few steps this way." Colin pulled her a few paces closer to the ball. (Y/n) chuckled as Colin tugged on her arm, guiding them nearer. He put a finger on his lips to shush her, causing (Y/n) to roll her eyes, smiling all the while. The soft lilt of music was slightly louder, here, but still distant enough that they had to be silent to hear the beat. Colin took a step closer, and although there were still enough space between them and enough bystanders around for their actions to be considered proper, there was an intimacy in the moment to make (Y/n)’s cheeks heat up.

"Is it loud enough for you to hear?” Colin whispered.

"It's perfect."

Adjusting his hand in hers, Colin led (Y/n) into a dance, smiling at her in a way that could only be described as lovestruck. His entire being was in awe of her as they spun around each other, like the moon in orbit of the earth. There was something heavenly in (Y/n)’s eyes, and when the song ended, the light in them did not fade.

“I love you,” Colin breathed, the words falling out of his mouth before he had the time to realize he had said them. It was the purest of admissions, one he hadn’t planned or even dreamed of admitting until the very moment he said it. “I-I love you,” he repeated, as though he needed to affirm the truth.

“Colin, I love you, too.” And all the world was in their smile, once again, all of the universe seemingly wrapped up in their blissful words. 

Colin let out a laugh that was almost a joyful sigh, and in his eyes were stars - constellations that burned brighter than the sun. He took (Y/n)’s gloved hand and kissed it, wishing it could be something more.

“Perhaps you will dance with me more often, then.”

“At every ball we attend.”

  -- taglist: @findmeintheafterglow, @prttybitchin​ // message me if you want to be added!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Flying High, Falling Fast

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; fingering, oral, fucking, subtle creep factor, deceptive charm, the usual fare you know

This is dark!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You meet the new Captain America at an event and impress him with your homemade project, but his interest is more than friendly.

Note: We all need some dark!Sam, right? This is a pretty long one shot, just over 7k words but it was super fun to write a character I don’t get to a lot. But I hope you love him as much as me!

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You’d never been to a meet and greet before but it seemed like the perfect opportunity to meet up with Reese. The two of you met a year and a half ago on a Discord server for PC builds and eventually waded through the awkward blank cursors to real conversations. Little updates on new additions to your machines, memes about coding, and the occasional gaming session. He became a stalwart in your mostly solitary existence between work and your empty private life.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Reese but you felt safer meeting a stranger from the internet in a public setting. Plus, it was his suggestion. His roommate fell through on attending the event with him and you eagerly accepted the unclaimed ticket. Of course, Reese insisted it was his treat but you made him promise to let you pay for lunch.

Even more exciting, you were going to meet the new Captain America. THE CAPTAIN AMERICA. You wanted to squee but had to play it cool as you waited with Reese in the winding queue. 

As exclusive as the meet and greet was, it was stiflingly crowded, even more strenuous as you and Reese tried to adjust your rapport to a face-to-face environment. You mostly ended up chuckling and struggling for some cogent thought.

“What’s in the bag?” Reese asked, finally cracking through the stunted small talk.

“Oh, oh my god, I almost forgot,” you carefully lifted the bag and opened the top to let him peek inside, “I made this last year during lockdown. It’s silly but it was fun.”

He poked his finger around the opening of your drawstring knapsack and his brows rose in surprise. The drone had taken you most of your spare time but you hadn’t yet had a chance to do more than hover it around your bedroom. It was an exact replica, or exact as you could get, of the former Falcon’s Redwing.

“Holy shit! You never mentioned it,” he said.

“Oh, well, I guess… I never thought to. I just spent about an hour or so whenever I could, getting it together. Most of the time was spent on programming,” you closed your bag and let hit hang from your elbow, “and that’s another checkbox on the nerd list.”

“Please, look who you're talking to,” he joked with a snort.

You smiled at him sheepishly and looked ahead of the bodies in front of you as the line shifted forward. He wasn’t exactly disappointing, if anything, he was exactly what you expected. Skinny with black-framed glasses and a bright tee with the Captain’s shield emblazoned across his chest. He wasn’t bad-looking and thankfully not an incel.

“So, uh, you gonna give it to him or something?” Reese asked.

“What-- uh, no, I was hoping he’d sign it actually,” you chewed your lip anxiously, “if I don’t spaz out and just walk away.”

“Right,” he scoffed, “the last time I went to one of these I almost passed out.”

“Oh? Who was it?” you wondered aloud.

“Tony Stark. But I was still in high school,” he explained, “everything else sells out before I get to it. These I got by luck. If David hadn’t swiped them, we’d be standing outside wishing we were in here.”

“I can’t believe he passed on the ticket,” you uttered.

“I’m happy he did,” Reese said, “it made it easier to convince you to meet.”

“Well… we didn’t have to--”

“I’m teasing. Sorry. I’m not very… experienced at this,” he fidgeted.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged as you moved with the line, “I’m just nervous about meeting Captain America, you know? You’re not as intimidating… but I like that.”

“Uh, thanks,” he laughed as you got closer to the table and fidgeted with the straps of your bag. You were almost there.

You stepped up when the people ahead of you cleared away and you couldn’t help but stare at Bucky Barnes’ metal hand as he signed Reese’s special edition Blip magazine. He cleared his throat and you looked the Winter Soldier in the face. 

“Oh, sorry,” you slid the poster you got from the shop on the way in onto the table and he unrolled it and signed. You tried really hard not to focus on his hand, you were so curious as to how it all worked. “Thank you.”

He smiled through tight lips and said, “your welcome” before you sidled down to Sam Wilson as you rolled up your poster.

“Don’t worry about him,” Sam said, “he hates these things. I can’t take him anywhere.”

His laughter received a sharp look from the super soldier. Sam took Reese’s magazine and asked his name. You were too lost in thought to answer when he asked for yours. You coughed and sputtered as you tried to remember and Reese answered for you, adding that you were nervous.

“I, uh, oh,” you lifted your bag, “I was hoping, maybe, you might sign this instead,” you handed the poster to Reese and reached into your knapsack, “if you don’t mind?”

You carefully placed the drone on the table and his brows shot up in surprise. He lifted it just as you let it go and admired it as he leaned back, “you make this?”

“Yeah,” you answered shyly, “doesn’t have all the cool features like yours but it flies.”

“That’s awesome,” he put it back down and uncapped his marker, “where do you want me to sign?”

“Just on the top is fine,” you pointed, “thank you so much.”

“My pleasure,” he put his signature after spelling out your name and he grabbed the drone again, “hey, Buck, look at this? I don’t see any fancy arms that need signing.”

“Shut up,” Bucky grumbled and eyed the drone, “pretty cool, though.”

“Thanks, uh, well, we should get out of the way,” you said.

He handed you the drone and smiled. You began to shuffle away and he called you back to the table, “you code? Do a lot of programming?”

“Mostly just corporate sites,” you answered.

“Here,” he reached into his pocket, “send me a text. I think I know some people who’d like to meet you.”

“What?” you took the card rigidly.

“Sure, we’re always looking for techs,” he said, “and if we can’t find a spot for you, maybe you can see the real Redwing. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Wow, thank you, you… don’t have to do… that,” you stuttered.

“I’d be stupid not to,” he waved off your protests, “you go have fun, you two.”

You backed away and turned to walk away with Reese as you shoved your drone back in your bag with the card, numb with disbelief. 

“Wow, I can’t believe…” you trailed off as you mind wandered.

“Me either,” Reese said oddly, “that’s… wild.”

You looked at him and smiled. He didn’t look mad, only serious. You tightened the neck of the knapsack and slung it over your shoulders.

“So what are we doing for lunch?” you asked.

🌠

In the two weeks since you attended the meet and greet, you and Reese kept up mostly online, many arrangements interrupted by your real life responsibilities. It wasn’t until you offered for him to come with you to the SWORD labs that he had any free time for you. After a stressful text exchange with Captain America, you were too anxious to go alone and he was more than welcoming when you asked to bring a friend.

You stood on the subway as Reese sat and played his Switch. He was jittery as you kept your own nerves hidden just beneath the surface. You found it easier to stay standing as you felt as if you might combust if you sat.

“This is so awesome,” he said as he zipped his Switch up in its case, “thanks for inviting me.”

“I figured I owed you since you got the tickets for the meet and greet,” you said, “and it’s been a while.”

“Sorry about that, work’s been nuts,” he stood as you approached your stop and held onto the pole above your hand, “I kinda skipped out on half a day for this.”

“No,” you frowned, “you didn’t have to--”

“And miss a chance to see the real Redwing? Come on,” he scoffed.

“Oh,” you hung your head, “yeah, I guess that’s worth it.”

“I didn’t mean-- I’m happy to see you too, it’s just kinda a big deal,” he said as you approached the door with the few other passengers readying to hop off.

“No, I get it,” you hooked your thumbs under the straps of your knapsack as the doors slid open and you stepped out onto the platform, “I just… I couldn’t go alone. It’s so… scary.”

“Scary? Jeez, Captain America invited you to a job interview!”

“No, that’s not--”

“Uh, yeah, that’s exactly what it is but I promise, I won’t get in the way,” he said as you head for the concrete stairs, “maybe if he needs an extra coder I might piggy back.”

“Uh huh,” you came up onto the New York sidewalk and came into view of the immense SWORD building, “well, I don’t think it’s all that.”

“So why’d you bring this?” he tapped your bag as you neared the large glass doors and men in suits with coiled wires at their ears squared their shoulders.

“He asked me to,” you said as you were approached by one of the big security guards.

“This isn’t public entry,” he said sternly, “no tours.”

“I have an appointment or… I’m expected,” you pulled out your phone and pulled up the electronic pass Sam sent you, “see?”

“Hmm,” he eyed it and took your phone without asking. Another guard came and scanned it with his phone, “checks out but we’re gonna called down Mr. Wilson and get confirmation.”

“Oh, okay,” you fidgeted as he made no move to return your phone. Reese seemed to shrink as the two men spoke into their headset and nodded at each other.

“Hey,” the glass door burst open as Sam appeared and strode towards you, “hey, sorry, these guys are such buzzkills,” he approached and patted one of the men on the shoulder, “they’re with me.” He assured and waved you after him.

“Um, my phone,” you said to the taller man with the buzzed head. He tilted his head wryly and held out your cell between two fingers. You took it and followed Sam to the doors.

“Anyway, we were just going over some basic maintenance today and I thought you might like to observe. See everything that goes into keeping me and my toys in the air,” he smiled as he held the door and nodded at Reese, “nice to see you again, man.”

“You too, Cap...tain,” Reese answered dumbly.

“Sam is fine,” he chuckled back and tailed the two of you across the lobby as he pointed you towards the elevators. He made Reese look even more like a stick bug. “You bring it?”

“Yeah, it’s in my bag,” you stopped yourself from popping your knuckles out of nervousness, “thank you so much for this. I usually work in cubicles so… uh, yeah… I don’t know what I mean.”

“Hey, don’t be nervous, you built that thing all by yourself? I’m sure you’ll fit right in,” he said.

You got off the elevator and had to hold in a gasp at the shining laboratories as the hi-tech equipment gleamed through the glass walls. Sam led you down the curved staircase onto the lab floors as techs and assistants in both lab coats and starched suits milled around the tables along the edge of the room.

“Hey, Greta,” he called out as he showed you to a metal table, “get a look at this.” A woman with twisted red hair approached as Sam tapped his fingers on the table, “show her,” he urged you.

You swung your bag around and took out the little red and silver drone. You placed it in the middle of the table and the woman, Greta, tilted her head curiously.

“You said you can make this thing fly, right?” Sam asked as Reese watched from the other side of the table.

“Um, yep,” you unlocked your phone and brought up the beta app you designed, “just…”

The drone rose slowly and steadied before you as it hovered over the metal. Greta lifted a dark brow and ran a nail along her chin thoughtfully, “cute.”

“Ah, come on, tell me that isn’t awesome? She did it all by herself,” Sam boasted, “so, what do you think? She’d be a great tech, huh?”

“Tech? I…” you blinked and giggled, that was absurd.

“Does she have a resume? A list of her credentials, at least,” Greta rebuffed.

“Greta,” Sam warned playfully, “I’m her credentials. I’m giving her a reference right now. Hire her.”

“What?” you mumbled under your breath and you saw Reese’s eye cling to Sam darkly, almost enviously.

“You know, if I hadn’t let that kid go for hi-jacking the alpha, I’d tell you to go back to breaking your toys,” she warned, “but I trust you and… I cannot say I’m not impressed,” she narrowed her sights at the floating drone, “how long did this take you?”

“A year or so,” you answered, “it was… just meant to be a hobby but--”

“Well, make it your life,” she said tersely, “Wilson, you deal with HR, Sheila likes you better.”

“Leave it all to me,” he grinned and she walked away.

“Here,” he turned back to you, “I’ll show you the operating system for the real deal.”

He ushered you and Reese over to a computer after you lowered your drone. The real Redwing sat on a module next to the screen and Sam punched the keys and took a hooked earpiece from a small stand, “put this on.”

You slipped the earpiece on as he revealed a bracelet and adjusted it on your wrist, a small ring looping up your index finger. 

“Bend your finger,” he said and you did it, “lift it up, back… like that.” Redwing rose and you watched in amazement, “tilt your head…” the drone aimed in the same direction as your head, “now back,” it flew higher, “just like that. You’re getting it.”

You steered the drone in a circle and Sam helped you maneuver it back down. He let you hand the controls over to Reese who had more fun with it and nearly took out one of the workers. He apologised and Sam just chuckled, though it didn’t sound so amused. 

When Redwing was back in its place, Sam took you all around the room to show you every gadget; his wings, his suit, all his little weapons, and even pulled up some Wakandan schematics of Bucky’s arm. Much of it wasn’t in English however and you could only decipher what was visually laid out. 

He left you there for a moment as he excused himself to chat with a tech about his wings. Reese huffed and leaned against the wall. You were quiet, mostly stunned, though your usual reticence could also be blamed. 

“I don’t think you should’ve brought me,” he said, “I told you it was a job interview.”

“I didn’t know, I thought you would enjoy it,” you felt awful as Reese had given up trying to hide his jealousy.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, “well, it is pretty cool but…”

He was interrupted as Sam returned, “sorry about that, guys, I kinda messed up one of the engines on the wings on my last mission.”

You smiled and said it was fine. You hadn’t expected so much attention and thought it would be a brief little show and tell, not an entire tour. You returned to the table where you left your drone and shut down the app. You packed up your Redwing, it felt lighter but you were sure you were just imagining things as your head spun. You looked down at the bold signature across the shell and knotted the drawstring above its nose.

“Sorry, I…” you took your bag from the table, “I hate to bother but is there a bathroom I can use.”

“Oh yeah, just head back up the stairs, left of the elevators,” Sam pointed above, “we’ll wait here, there’s one last thing I wanna show you.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” you headed for the stairs and latched onto the railing before you could trip upwards.

You bumbled up the stairs and after a brief moment of blankness, you found your way to the bathroom. You quickly slipped into the stall and spent a minute at the mirror after washing your hands to get your head straight. It felt like a dream, or worse, a joke.

You headed back out and Sam was waiting just by the elevators to your surprise. You pursed your lips and glanced around, “where’s Reese?”

“Oh, yeah, uh, he left,” he said as he shoved his hand in his pocket, “said he wasn’t feeling it.”

“Really?” you shrunk, just a little, “erm… that’s too bad.”

“Yeah, kinda weird, I don’t think I’ve ever just ditched a girlfriend in the middle of the city,” he said.

“Girlfriend? Well… it’s… it’s early,” you rubbed the back of your neck, “I hope he’s okay.”

“Damn, I hope he didn’t ruin it, I still wanted to show you the shield,” he intoned, “but if you’re not feeling up to it--”

“No, no, I’m here, that would be awesome,” you forced a smile. 

Had you done something wrong? Was it rude to invite Reese and have all this rubbed in his face? You thought he’d feel worse if you didn’t invite him. Your doubts flurried in your head as you stepped onto the elevator with Sam, chewing your cheek as you tried not to show your disappointment.

You were brought back to the present as the metal doors opened and Sam nudged you as you stared right through the open space. You stepped out ahead of him and he caught up and walked beside you as he explained what was hidden in every room; mostly offices and training gyms.

He unlocked a door at the far curve of the circular hallway and jiggled until it opened. He pushed it open and the lights flicked on automatically.

“Bucky,” he grumbled, “he almost took the handle right off… so now I gotta fight it.”

“Oh,” you entered as he beckoned you inside and you looked around the spacious office.

“You know, there’s lots of paperwork when you take out a whole bridge, even if it is an accident,” he laughed, “and it gives me a place to show this off.”

He went to the wall where the shield was held on small metal hooks and slid it out easily. The vibranium sung in the air as he turned to you and held it out. 

“You wanna?” he asked.

“Sure…” you murmured as he turned it around and held it so you could hook your arm through the straps. He let it go and stood back to look you over.

“It suits you,” he said, “got your own Redwing and you hold that like a real champ. Maybe it’s time I step aside.”

You laughed nervously and shook your head. You peeked down at the metal and lifted and angled around as you admired the smooth curve. 

“Thanks,” you offered it back to him and he took it with one hand, “for everything.”

“You’re taking the job, right?” he prodded, “it’s perfect.”

“Mmm, well, I got a job--”

“Better than here? Better than suiting up the Cap?” he chided.

You bent your ankle under you and swayed on your feet. It was a great opportunity and way better than your desk job. It just felt like you didn’t deserve it.

“I need an answer. Greta doesn’t like indecision,” he said.

“O-okay, okay,” you surrendered, “I… if I said no, I’d feel even worse.”

“You won’t regret it, promise,” he said, “if you do, Redwing is yours. The real one.”

“No, no, I’m…” you rocked as you gripped the straps of your knapsack, “I’m sure I won’t.”

🌠

Your two weeks notice rolled by. Your boss was less than pleased by the sudden departure but you didn’t care much as you wouldn’t have to deal with him for much longer. You wrapped up your last day with your replacement and left feeling free, though the anxiety of your job loomed on the other side of the weekend.

In those weeks since your visit to the SWORD facility, you hadn’t heard much from Reese. That night when you messaged him to make sure he was okay, he didn’t say much more than ‘just tired’. After that, he was always offline when you signed onto the server and all your co-op requests were declined. You were ready to give up. 

Oh well, it was an online thing anyway, you were stupid to think it could work out.

But you were not entirely isolated. To your surprise, you got several messages from Sam, you still couldn’t help but think of him as Captain America and feel like you had nothing interesting to say to a hero. When he found out you liked to game, he even joined you for a session on headset but again, you were hyper focused and quiet. You were flattered that he was trying to make you feel welcome, that he even bothered to get you a job, but it all felt so above you.

When you got home that night, you logged in and sent a request to Reese, just one last attempt. He didn’t even respond, even after fifteen minutes of waiting. You shut down your PC and grabbed your switch instead. You changed as the system updated your Animal Crossing and flopped onto your bed.

You laid across the mattress, one leg over the edge and the other bent. You ran through, planting, fishing, and selling as you tried not to think too much. You’d done enough of that lately. You zoned out as your eyes narrowed at the small screen but in your peripheral, you felt a shadow move. You shrugged it off as the sunlight playing through the curtains and rolled onto your side to ignore it.

You kept on, ready to log out as you didn’t want to spend another Nook Ticket to go to and island and get nothing but flowers. You heard a subtle whirring and glanced over at your computer. It was sleeping and it was never that loud. You noticed that light shift again and turned. There was nothing. Nothing but your dresser and the signed drone, just as you left it.

You squinted and turned off your Switch. You went out to the front room to drop it back in the dock. You stretched and grabbed your phone from your purse to put in an order for some take-out. You stopped as you noticed Sam’s unanswered messages.

‘Whatcha doin’ tonite?’ and several that assumed you must be busy.

‘Sorry, got caught up gaming,’ you replied guiltily. 

Your phone shook before you could close out of the chat and you answered as Sam’s name flashed across the top. 

“Hello?” you squeaked.

“Hey, hope I’m not buggin’ you but I thought-- stop, Jesus Christ, sorry, we’re on our way to dinner and we hoped you might join us.”

“We?” you echoed.

“Oh, ha, yeah me and Bucky, Greta, and some of the techs. Not too many of us but you’re more than welcome,” he said, “since you start on Monday, it will be good to get to know some people.”

“Y-yeah, for sure,” you answered. It felt more an obligation than an invite. You didn’t want to come across snobbish or lazy even if you’d rather eat fried noodles and watch some trash reality TV.

“Great! I’ll send you the address,” he growled and hissed under his breath, “sorry, again, I’m just dealing with this-- I’ll see you there. Save ya a seat.”

He hung up abruptly and you stood dumbfounded staring at your jacket. You dropped your phone back into your purse and headed back to your room. You had to find something to wear that didn’t seem like you were trying too hard or not trying enough.

As you entered, that same whirring floated through the air and suddenly stopped. You looked around confused; not a fly, not your PC acting up, nothing. You grimaced at the poster with the star emblem across it and went to your dresser to pick out an outfit. It was probably the neighbour fucking around. Apartment living was rarely peaceful.

🌠

The restaurant was bustling as you were met by the hostess at the door. You told her you were there to join the party from SWORD. She showed you to the table and Sam saw you above the din and waved to you then shoved Bucky over on the cushioned bench. 

“Right here,” he pointed as he waved you over and stepped aside to let you past. You sidled along and sat, apologizing to Bucky as he rolled his eyes, “not too late.”

You gave your drink order as a waiter came by and shrugged out of your jacket, letting it bunch up around your back. Sam offered his menu and introduced the people you didn’t know at the table; alongside Bucky and Greta, were Xan and Wyatt. You said hello and opted for the fiesta salad as you set aside the menu.

“Are you excited?” Sam asked.

“For what?” Bucky huffed, “she’s gotta put up with you.”

“Hey,” Sam took the lemon off the rim of his glass and tossed it at Bucky, “he lightens up… sometimes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky grumbled but you could hear the humour in his voice. 

You sank into the background as the night went on. You spoke up when you were called on but felt it hard to assert yourself, especially with someone as outspoken as Sam beside you. Still, he made sure to make you feel included when you started to feel forgotten. For that you were grateful and he was right, it made you feel a little less anxious about your first day.

As you came out onto the sidewalk, your wallet painfully lighter, you bid goodbye to everyone but Sam hung around. You clutched your purse and peered down the street.

“Thanks for inviting me,” you said.

“Ah, you know what, I shoulda asked that guy, Reese? How’s it going with him? He your boyfriend yet?”

“Ha, no,” you sucked in your lip and took a deep breath, “I don’t even think we’re friends anymore.”

“Oh no, what happened?” he asked.

“I dunno,” you said wistfully, “but it is what it is.”

“He’s missin’ out. You’re a cool girl,” he said, “building drones for fun. Kinda why I had to snag you, you know? Someone with your skills, that’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” you chortled, “no.”

“Well,” he checked his phone, “how are you getting home?”

“I’ll just take the train,” you said, “my place is only about a ten minute ride from here.”

“You sure? I can give you a ride,” he said.

“Nah, really, you’ve done… more than enough.”

“Alright, well, see you Monday?”

“Monday?” you wondered.

“I’ll pop in before I head out,” he said, “got a mission so I might not be around more than that.”

“Okay, Monday,” you confirmed, “see ya.”

🌠

Monday was a whirlwind. It started on a high as Sam suited up and showed off his wings before he headed up to the jet pad. Greta muttered that she was happy he’d be out of your way before she went through the task of getting you acquainted not only with the tech but with their workplace rituals. It was a lot to take in but you did your best to absorb every word and second.

When you got home, you had a folder full of notes and spent too long going over them before you remembered the groan in your stomach. You ate a lazy super of Kraft Dinner and lazed across your bed doing nothing but watching Youtube tutorials on your tablet. You fell asleep early and woke to your alarm and a dead tablet.

You got up, got dressed, ran out, and did it all again. The first week dragged by and yet it felt like you didn’t have enough time. On Friday, you got home and fell across the couch in your work clothes. You held your phone above you and scrolled dozily through your feed.

A dot popped up and you flicked over to your notifications. The selfie you posted on your first day at the lab with Sam in his suit had lots of hearts but your first comment was less than pleasant. Beside Reese’s icon was all caps: MUST BE EASY SLEEPING YOUR WAY INTO A JOB!

Your heart pattered and you sat up. You deleted the comment but another soon appeared; several as you kept deleting and finally blocked him. ‘Slut, whore, dumb bitch…’ it was the last thing you expected from him.

You opened Discord and clicked on his chat. ‘What’s going on? Why are you doing this?’

The text flicked across the bottom that Reese was typing but he stopped and you sat there for what felt like forever before his response popped up.

‘I can’t believe you brought me all the way there to rub my face in all that shit. And for what? You should’ve just told me I had no chance and I woulda left you alone. If you wanna fuck Sam Wilson, do it, but don’t chain me along like your little bitch boy. Get fucked slut.’

You flinched as you read it and re-read it. You typed shakily as your eyes watered. ‘I’m not fucking Sam and I wouldn’t. I brought you there because I wanted to and thought you would like it. I didn’t know you felt so strongly about it. But I see what you think of me so I only wish you the best and hope you find peace.’

You sent the message but just as quickly, you were blocked from sending any more. You tossed your phone and fell back against the couch. That must have been why he took off but you couldn’t figure out how he thought you of all people were sleeping with Sam Wilson. Really? He was just another incel after all.

You phone jangled with your annoying ringtone and you grabbed it, expecting to be insulted by Reese again but it was Sam calling. You really weren’t in the mood to talk with him. You just wanted to be left alone. But you couldn’t just ignore Captain America.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hey, I just got back in town. Whatcha doing?” you could hear the wind in the speaker.

“Just got home. I’m exhausted. Probably gonna just nap.”

“You okay?” he asked after a moment.

“Fine,” you said dully.

“Don’t sound fine,” he said, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you insisted.

“Oh, so it’s not what that boy said on your photo?”

“You saw that?”

“You tagged me, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, no, it’s…”

“Shit, don’t listen to him. He’s just a boy, he blew his chance and he’s bitter about it,” he said, “how about I come over, make sure you’re really okay?”

“No, I don’t think--”

“Ah, come on, don’t make me worry all night about you,” he chided.

“Sam, you really--” There was a knock at the window and you froze. “Sam?”

The line clicked and you heard the tapping again. You lowered your phone and went to the window. Outside, geared up in his wings and suit, Sam hovered before the glass. You blinked and he rapped again. You snapped out of your shock and unlocked the window and slid it up.

“What are you doing?” you asked, “wait? How do you know where I live?”

He grabbed onto the frame and hooked his leg through as he retracted his wings. He bent under and sat half-in and half-out of the window, “forgive me? I did a bit of snooping in HR.”

“I told you not to come. I really don’t feel up to-- It’s really weird that you’re here,” you sat as he ducked pulled his other leg through and stood, “Sam, I think you should go.”

“You shouldn’t be alone, especially after that moron sending you that shit,” he said coolly as he took off his tinted goggles.

“Well, I want to be alone, so you should--”

“I mean, I haven’t even fucked you yet and he’s jealous,” he snickered, “so I guess we should give him a real reason.”

“What are you talking about? That’s… gross. You should go--”

“Come on, girl, you think this was really about a drone,” he tossed his goggles down and set his shield on the chair as he strode around the room, “convenience. I want you close.”

“I don’t--” you looked down at your phone, “get out, Sam.”

The tone of your finger pressing ‘9’ sounded and he spun quickly to face you. He stormed over to you before you could hit ‘1’ and ripped it from your grasp. 

“You’re gonna call the cops and say what? I’m Captain America,” he snarled, “but you can just call me Cap.”

He winked and threw your phone out the window smoothly. You gasped as he chuckled and lifted his wings off his back. He leaned them against the wall and stretched out his shoulders. He looked around as he twisted his tongue between his teeth.

“I like this, looks cozy,” he toed the side of the couch with his boot, “look better with you on it.”

You watched him stroll around the coffee table as he unzipped the collar of his suit. The scene was like some tainted nightmare. Maybe you’d fallen asleep. You were so tired you must have just passed out but you weren’t waking up.

You spun around and ran into the small hallway that led to your door. You were caught from behind, pulled back by the nape of your blazer as Sam tutted. His arm went around your waist and he lifted you off your feet. He turned and carried you back into the front room. You kicked and writhed as his strength enwrapped you.

“Please, please,” you begged, “I… I don’t understand. This isn’t-- this isn’t what I wanted. I didn’t--”

“Baby girl,” he cooed as he brought you close to the couch, “be good and listen to your Captain. Now stop this.”

“No, no,” you gulped at air as the panic rose in you, “I never-- please, you don’t have to do this--”

“You gotta do what I say,” he snapped and flung you onto the couch, “I don’t want to make you.”

You looked at him as you trembled in fear and disbelief. This couldn’t be. He was Sam Wilson, the Captain America; he was a nice guy.

“You have one minute to get naked,” he said and you just gaped at him, “you gonna make me repeat myself?”

Your throat tightened as his dark eyes bore into you. His hand balled to a fist and finally you found an ounce of strength. You pushed your legs over the edge of the couch and slipped out of your blazer. You stood carefully and watched him cautiously. You had to look away as your hands quivered over the buttons of your blouse.

You turned and folded your shirt over your blazer. You could hear him behind you as you unbuttoned your pants and pushed them down your legs. The question of what you were doing flitted through your head but the fear pulsed through you and took over.

“Ah,” he sighed and you peeked back as he freed himself of the top half of his stealth suit.

You turned back and hesitated. You knew there was more, you knew what he wanted, but your body locked up as your fingers curled and your insides knotted.

“Let me get that,” he came close and his fingers tickled along your shoulder blades and he unhooked your bra, “hmmm,” he let go and the cups fell off your chest, “almost there, baby.”

He stepped back and you shuddered. You dropped your bra and hooked your fingers under your panties. You wiggled them down a little at the time and heard the intake of breath as you pulled them down entirely. You stood still, unable to move, too mortified to face him.

“Come on, baby,” he said, “get comfortable.”

You inhaled and turned slowly. You went to the couch as he shed his undershirt and added it to the pile atop his shield. He looked at you and tilted his head as he licked his bottom lip. He snarled as he took in the sight of you and pointed you to the couch.

You sat and hugged yourself as he stripped off his pants along with his boxers in a single swipe. You flicked your eyes away as you glimpsed his hard dick as he stood straight and you stared at the open window. You smushed your lips together in horror and held in the tide of tears.

He came closer and you tried to tune out the room. This couldn’t happen. It just couldn’t. You felt his hands on your knees and he urged your legs apart. You resisted for a moment then let him guide your limbs. It would be over sooner if you just let it happen.

He knelt on the floor as his hands kneaded along your thighs and framed your vee as he leaned over your lap. You winced and he kept your legs from closing as he pushed his body between them. His thumb grazed your folds and he pushed between them. You let out a hushed gasp as he swirled around your clit.

“See, it’s not so bad to be good, is it, baby?” he purred, “you’re wet already.”

He slid his thumb up and down and spread the wetness along your cunt. You were shocked and humiliated by your obvious arousal. You shouldn’t be turned on by this. Your body was not listening to your mind, it was obeying his touch.

“Mmm,” he hummed as he turned his hand and poked along your entrance with one finger. 

He pushed inside and you clenched around his intrusion. He pulled in and out and added another finger. Your nails clawed at the cushion and you pressed back into the couch. He kept his thumb on your clit as he worked his fingers inside of you and the tension clustered between his fingertips.

“Oh, baby, listen to you,” he bet forward and replaced his thumb with his tongue as he kept fingering you.

You turned your face up to the ceiling and squeezed your eyes shut. You bit your lip as the ripples radiated from your core and your breath hitched. His hand moved faster as he suckled at your bud and his free hand groped your chest blindly. You slapped your hand over your mouth as you came, your back arching as you pushed into him.

He teased you through your climax and pulled away only as you quaked and whined at his unyielding touch. He drew his fingers out of you and sat back to lick them clean. You peeked down at him and quickly away as his eyes blazed back at you.

“Up,” he stood and stroked himself shamelessly as he strode around the coffee table, “put your hands on there.”

You rose unsteadily, legs shaking beneath you as your entire being felt like jelly. You went to him and turned your back to him. You bent over and he grabbed your ass and squeezed with a growl. You gripped the table and hung your head as the cool air grazed your cunt.

He shoved his hand between your legs and rubbed you again. He stepped closer and bent his knees as he lined himself up with your entrance, sliding in between his fingers as he spread you wide. You choked as his tip poked inside and he eased himself inch by inch into you. He held your hip as he reached his limit and groaned.

“Baby, oh god damn,” he thrust so that your whole body jerked. It was painfully delightful. Of the few men you’d been with, he was the biggest, or at least the thickest.

He rocked slowly and a moan escaped your lips. Despite the torturous pressure of his intrusion, you could ignore the pleasure laced in the pain. His hand brushed up your as and along your back. He bent over you as his fingers curled over your shoulder and he pressed his body to yours as he fucked you.

You kept your head down as you tried to measure your breaths and the pathetic noises rising from you. He pushed his hand down your stomach and between your legs again to play with your clit. He moved his legs against yours and forced them together so your cunt hugged him even tighter. He grunted and you whimpered as his fingers added to the new pressure.

He sped up so that the table scraped against the floor but kept you up with one arm around you. He rutted into you wildly as his sultry voice filled your chest and his heat consumed you. You cried out as another orgasm swept through you and your cunt quivered around him desperately.

He pulled you up suddenly so you stood on your toes. He tilted into you as he brought his arms up around yours and tined his fingers behind your head. His flesh slapped yours loudly and you opened your eyes as you heard a familiar whirring. The drone flew before you, the signature on its shell, but a light blinking at its nose. Yours didn’t have a light.

“What--”

“Ah, yeah,” he rasped through rampant breaths, “looks like they got mixed up.”

“Huh--” you sucked in your breath as he thrust harder and deeper.

“I didn’t mind, he helped me keep an eye on you,” he said as he nuzzled you above his hands, “you look so cute in your little tee shirts.”

You groaned and leaned your head against him as another rush of fear was met with unwanted bliss. You murmured senselessly as he picked up his pace and the drone came closer. He purred as you felt his muscles tighten.

“Don’t worry,” he puffed, “I’ll make sure the boy knows he was right.”

He buried himself in you, nearly taking you off your feet, and twitched as he emptied himself into you. He rocked his hips subtly as he rode out his climax and stilled you as his voice gristled to rampant pants. His arms fell to embrace you and he kept you flush to him as he lingered inside.

“Or I can keep that little video to myself…” he brought his hand up to cradle your chin and poked his finger along your lower lip, “it’s all up to you, baby.”

[fearfully-fiction]

St. Albans Pt.4- Dakota Laden x Reader

word count:3625

warnings: Fluff/comfort. PaRaNoRmAl aCtiViTy *insert spongebob meme*

Summary: Based on season 1 episode 4 of DF so all credit to the crew, the show, and the channel! Coming back together after separation reader and Dakota have a comforting conversation before deciding where to sleep alone.

part1! part2! part3!

(not my gif!)

The doors opened and you took a deep breath of fresh air. Dakota went to film with Alex and you went to talk to Tanner.

“Hey Tanner.” you greeted your friend. “Hey (y/n)? You ok?” he asked you. “Yeah, I’m ok. I just wanted to say sorry for overreacting earlier. It was really silly of me, and I hope you know I would never actually mean that.” You apologized. He looked down at you with a smile. “I know (y/n), it’s ok. I know you just want to protect him and I do too. C’mere.” He said and opened his arms to you. You wrapped your arms around him and held him tightly. “I want you safe too Tanner, I want all of you safe I hope you know that,” you said to your friend. “I know that, and I want you safe too we all do. We’ll keep each other safe.” he said and let go. You nodded your head in agreement. "Of course.”

Dakota walked over to you both and you could see his eyes looked a bit glassy. Your heart sunk he walked straight to you and wrapped his arms around you. Tanner walked away letting you both have a moment. 

“What happened my love?” you asked softly as his head rested in the crook of your neck. 

“I swear it doesn’t want us down there. I’m so nervous about this. I really don’t want anyone going back down there. I don’t want to go back down there.” he admitted to you. 

You held him tighter and kissed his head. “I’m so sorry babe, I don’t want you down there either. I can’t stand the thought of you down there by yourself,” you said and he pulled away. You placed your hands on his cheeks. He looked at you with those beautiful eyes that you loved so much. You could see the fear glimmer in his eyes, and it caused a frown to form on your face. 

“If you get the basement/bowling alley, I don’t want you to go alone. I’ll go with you ok,” you reassured him.  “No, I don’t want to bend the rules because I’m scared. You’ll have your walkie close?” He asked you. “Of course I will, but are you sure you don’t want me with you?” you asked him just to make sure.

“I’m sure,” he answered you. You nodded and let your hands slip from his face and down to his shoulders. Rubbing his shoulders gently trying to calm him down a bit. He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours letting his hands grip your waist, your hands moved from his shoulders and to the back of his neck to play with his hair. He sighed into the kiss held you tighter. Your lips moved together slowly as if trying to memorize the feeling. 

“Hey! If you guys would stop making out I’d like to get this night over with!” Alex called over to you. You broke away and took a breath before letting a smile fall on your lips and dropping your head onto his shoulder. He let out a chuckle, something you haven’t heard all night and it made your smile brighter. “I guess we should appease the crowd huh?” you asked with a raised brow. 

“I think it would be best,” he said. You let go of him and were about to grab his hand and walk back to the group but he pulled you back to him and pressed one more short kiss on your lips just to annoy the group. You heard aggravate groaning and it made you giggle against his lips. You pulled away once more and dragged him toward your friends. “Alright, alright, we’re here. Sorry.” You jokingly apologized. Chelsea shook her head and bit back a smile. 

--

“Alright. So, right now, we are going to sleep separately. This is gonna raise our fear levels, and hopefully, ramp up the activity in the sanatorium.” Your boyfriend informed the audience. 

You rolled your eyes. “I totally hope that happens.” you retort sarcastically. “I know right.” Dakota shot back. You glared at him playfully. 

“So, we should agree on the five scariest locations. We already kinda have,” he said and looked at you all. “Yeah. we know it is definitely the bowling alley.” Tanner said. 

“Bowling alley for sure is the worst one,” Dakota said. 

“The electroshock therapy room.” Chelsea put it out there as well. 

“Absolutely the electroshock therapy room, so many people were tortured there,” you said. 

“And then the suicide bathroom for sure.” Tanner threw that on the table as well. 

“Suicide bathroom it’s on the third floor you’re so far away from everyone else. So yeah the three that we have are on this building.” Dakota said. “Someone should be in the east building in that creepy winding corridor.” Tanner also suggested. “Yeah, the basement.” you piped up. 

“So, we did a walk-through of the east building earlier, and nothing happened, but when we were down in the basement that’s when it felt like we were not alone,” Dakota explained to everyone. 

“We also have the boiler room, which really fucking creeped me out,” you said and a shiver ran up your spine at the thought of having to sleep alone down there. 

“Right yeah,” Chelsea confirmed. 

“So Tanner’s gonna now write these five locations out on paper and then we’re gonna draw out of a hat and decide where we sleep for the night.” Tanner placed all of the locations in the hat, and you clenched and unclenched your fists nervously. 

“Okay, you got it?” Dakota asked him. 

Tanner held out the hat toward Chelsea first and you could tell she was nervous. 

She quickly grabbed one and showed the small crumpled ball of paper to the camera with a nervous smile. 

“Alright Chelsea, where are you sleeping?” her brother asked her. She looked right at him. 

“I don’t even want to tell you,” she said and you chuckled. 

You looked at her paper over her shoulder and cringed. 

“Ooh. Electroshock.” All of you cringed at the location. “That’s the second-worst one, you said.” She relays. 

Dakota moved the camera forward to get a good look at her paper. “Chelsea got the electroshock therapy room. I think Alex should draw next.” He suggested with a grin. 

“Alex.” he held the hat out for him, he reached his hand in and pulled out a paper to unravel his location. 

“Suicide bathroom,” he said with disappointment dripping from his words as he showed the camera. 

“Not to scare you anymore Alex but you are three whole floors above anyone else,” Dakota said, and you placed your hand on your best friend’s arm in a comforting manner. “You’ll be ok Al.” you smiled at him reassuringly. 

“Ok babe, you’re up. It’s between the east basement, bowling alley, and the boiler room,” he said and gave you a grin. 

“I better not get the boiler room or I’ll be pissed I swear.” you shook your head as you reached in to grab a paper. “Hey, at least you won’t be three floors away from anyone else,” Alex said. You gave him a sarcastic grin. “Yeah, that makes me feel great Al.” he chuckled at you. 

“Alright, let’s see what you got,” Chelsea said while looking over your shoulder as you unraveled the paper. 

The minute your eyes scanned the paper you immediately dropped your arms to your sides in exasperation. “No way. No way in hell!” you exclaimed. 

“She got the boiler room,” Chelsea explained to everyone. “I got the damn boiler room.” you sighed before holding up the paper to the camera. 

Alex threw an arm over your shoulder and pulled you into a side hug. You leaned into it and sighed. 

You grabbed Dakota’s camera and began filming for him while he and Tanner chose. 

“I hope it’s not the bowling alley because I feel like I’ve been picked on this whole night.” he ran his hands through his hair out of anxiety. “Ok, whatever. I’m just gonna do it. I’m just gonna do it” he tried to muster the courage and reached into the hat when Tanner did. When both of them had their paper. 

“Open at the same time. Don’t look.” Alex said. 

They both unraveled their paper at the same time. “Bowling alley.” your boyfriend read off and your stomach lurched. “No!” he exclaimed loudly while Tanner jumped in excitement and relief that he didn’t have to sleep down there. While you were happy for him you were extremely worried for your boyfriend seeing as he most definitely was being messed with down there. Dakota had a smile on his face but you knew just how scared he was of that place and it broke your heart. 

“Dude, I got touched down there. A handprint showed up on my back,” he said. You looked away because tears were collecting in your eyes. “I’m scared for all three of us,” Chelsea said and looked at her brother. 

“Honestly, the bowling…” he cut himself off. “Can we redraw?” he asked.

You sighed and turned away from everyone else preparing to go get your things for the sleeping arrangements. Your boyfriend noticed that you had gone completely silent and looked over at you. Your back was turned to him, and he could practically see you trying to not breathe too hard.

He could tell that you were about to cry and made his way over to you. 

The others were already grabbing their things. 

“Hey,” he said trying to get your attention. You didn’t turn around and so he tried again this time walking around to face you. “Hey, babe look at me,” he said and you released a shaky breath before looking up at him. He could see the shine in your eyes from unshed tears and sighed. 

He pulled you into a hug and you held him tightly. 

“We can trade places. I know the boiler room still sucks and it’s super close, but it would be better than the bowling alley,” you suggested though it was a bit muffled by his chest seeing as you buried your head there. 

Though your voice was muffled he heard you and pulled away from you. “There is no way, I would ever let you sleep in that bowling alley. Not after what happened tonight and to Chelsea last time. I’ll be ok, we’re close together ok. If you scream for me I’ll be right there, and I know you’d do the same for me. We’ll be ok babe, I promise you.” he said and kissed away the tears that fell down your cheeks. He nudged your nose with his gently and placed a kiss on it. It brought a small smile to your lips, and he smiled as well. “We’ll be ok,” he reassured you both one more time before grabbing your hand so you could both gather your things and head to your locations. 

--

You all walked Alex up to the third floor and helped him set up. You made sure to give him a big supportive hug before leaving. “Love you Al!” you called while walking away. “Love you (y/n)!” he called back. 

You made your way down to electroshock to drop off Chels and help her set up before giving her a hug as well. All of you said your I love you’s, getting the same response back. The next stop was Dakota, you and Tanner help him set up and Tanner wished him luck. You walked over and kissed him. “I love you, Kota. Just walkie me ok, or scream whatever you think will work better.” you joked a bit. He gave you a soft chuckle before kissing your cheek. You began to walk away with Tanner and sighed when you reached the boiler room. 

You set your stuff down and Tanner helped you set the camera up before giving you a hug and wishing you luck. “Hey, wait,” you called after him. He turned back around with his flashlight in hand. “You ok?” he asked. “Yeah, I just wanted to know if you wanted me to walk with you so you aren’t alone,” you said to him. He gave you a warm smile and shook his head. “No, no I’ll be ok. Plus if I ever said yes to that here I’m pretty sure Dakota would kick my ass.” he joked which made you laugh. “I guess you’re not wrong. Well if you need anything just walkie me alright,” you said and he nodded. “Night, Tanner, love you!” you called and he responded the same. 

--

 You sat yourself on the ground and sighed heavily knowing you were not even going to be able to shut your eyes that night. “This is gonna be a night from hell…” you spoke to yourself. 

“So, I am in the boiler room which is right next to the bowling alley actually so me and Dakota are very close to each other. Which is really strange because none of us have been this close in a location before but hey, I am not complaining about it,” you spoke to the camera. “At least I’ll be close to my boyfriend if I die here,” you said with a sigh.

As soon as the words left your mouth you hear what sounded like faint laughter. Your heart dropped as you shone your flashlight throughout the room. “That was a laugh, I just heard a laugh.” you began to panic. “Shit, I hope the camera caught that,” you mumbled to yourself. 

The night had just started and you already felt more unsafe than before. 

You picked up your walkie to get a hold of Dakota to ask if he had heard it too. Seeing as you were practically right next to him he had to have heard it. 

“Kota,” you called. 

“(y/n), what’s up?” he asked with a concerned tone. 

“Did you just hear laughter? Or did you maybe laugh at all?” you asked him anxiously. 

“What? No, I didn’t laugh. You heard laughter?” he asked in a panic. 

At that moment you could just tell you were screwed. 

“Yeah, it was very faint but I heard it. I’m not sure where it came from but I swear on my life I heard it,” you explain to him. “We’re not even 20 minutes in, and this is already frickin sick,” you said in a frustrated huff. 

“We’ve got this, only a few hours left ok.” his voice crackled through the walkie. 

“Alright Kota, you know what to do if you need me,” you told him. 

“Got it see you soon.” he ended. 

You went back to just sitting in the dark just waiting for something to come out at you. You knew for a fact that you were not alone in the room. It made your skin crawl at the feeling of someone or something watching you. 

--

You sat there in the dark making sure to listen for Dakota if he yelled for you or if something happened. As you sat there you still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Seeing as you were so focused on listening you suddenly heard something go by you. It wasn’t like walking more like the sound of shuffling as if someone were to crawl across the floor. It made you freeze in your place your breath got caught in your throat and you felt completely helpless. You wanted to walkie your boyfriend or even just yell for him because you were so scared but you didn’t want him to worry more than he already was. You knew that something wasn’t willing to let up and it scared you more than you had been at any other location. 

You finally let out a shaky breath, “I just heard something literally crawl past me I swear on my life. I know I’ve been like a baby this entire night but damn…” your voice broke. You hated feeling weak but tonight you just couldn’t help it. You were extremely emotional and it most definitely wasn’t helping your situation. You needed to pull yourself together for your sake and everyone else’s. “Ok, I’m pulling myself together. I’m gonna be ok, Dakota is gonna be ok, we’re all gonna be ok. We’re stronger than this thing.” you spoke to yourself as calmly and confidently as you could. After saying this you once again heard faint laughter and it made you jump and turn your flashlight on to scan around the room. Still, you saw nothing but knew you would always feel something watching you. You took a breath and kept the light on for a few more seconds before turning it off and trying to push the events to the side. You just tried to focus on everyone else and it seemed to help slightly so that’s what you kept in your mind.

--

It was about an hour later when you began hearing noises again. You heard what sounded like tapping, “what the hell?” you whispered. 

Then you heard your boyfriend from the other room. 

“What the fuck? Ok. No. No.” your head snapped in his direction. 

“Dakota! Hey, are you ok?!” you yelled. You heard him gasp. “Shit” he mumbled. 

“Did you not hear that?!” he called to you. “The tapping?!” you asked. “No, the loud scratching noise!” he shot back. Your eyes widened, and all of a sudden things felt really heavy. 

“No, I didn’t! Are you ok?!” you yelled hoping to get a good answer back. 

“Fuck that was loud.” you heard him say. “Red if you’re down here, please leave me alone.” he pleaded. Your heart wrenched at the tone of his voice. 

 You got up from your spot as quickly as you could and grabbed your camera and flashlight. You made your way out of the room and into the bowling alley where your boyfriend sat with his head in his hands. 

“Kota, hey. I’m here are you ok?” you asked softly trying not to startle him. He looked up at you and his eyes flooded with relief. 

“(y/n), crap you should’ve heard it. It was frickin terrifying, and it was so loud,” he said as you sat down next to him letting one hand rest on his back while you set the light on the floor next to you. 

His tense muscles relaxed at your touch and he sighed. 

“I’m so sorry. Is there any way that Chelsea may have made the noise? I know she’s above us but maybe she did it.” you suggested. “I’ll check right now,” he said and picked up his walkie. 

“Hey, Chelsea,” he said into the walkie. 

“What?” she asked sounding exhausted. 

“You’re not moving at all upstairs?” he questioned his big sister. 

“Not moving at all,” she answered. You could tell that she was ready to be done with this place just as much as you were. 

“You have to hear this. What I just heard.” Dakota said to her. 

“Thanks for sharing your fear. Now I’m fricking wide awake,” she responds. 

He sighs heavily. “Fuck.” you said in exhaustion.

“What was that?” he asked. 

“I believe you. We know you’re down here.” he talked. 

“I’ve heard you. You’ve talked to me, she heard you laughing earlier. I get it. We get it. Please leave us alone.” Dakota spoke into the dark. You both knew he was there, and it was even scarier that he didn’t respond, and knowing the things that had happened earlier in the night to you. You decided not to mention it in fear of making his fear worsen and his panic rise even more.

You turned to face him. “Do you need me to stay with you Dakota?” you asked him with sincerity floating around your words, quietly hoping he would ask you to stay, as you didn’t think you could handle that room alone.

He let out a heavy sigh before looking at you with disappointed and fear-filled eyes. 

“Honestly, please. I really don’t want to be, I can’t be here alone anymore,” he responded and you set down your camera to wrap your arm around him and sit close to his side. “Then, I’ll stay. Just like I said. I’ll stay.” you told him and rested your head on his shoulder. Letting out an internal sigh of relief. He placed his head atop yours and let your presence be a grounding force for him. 

“I’m sorry I made us do this.” you heard his voice, it was small and sounded so apologetic. 

“Hey, it’s ok. Look at us, hell yeah we’re scared, and rightfully so but we’re together and we’re close to the finish line and then we can leave and never have to come back.” you tried to relieve his fears. 

“I never should have brought us back here,” he said and put his head in his hands once again. You switched your positions so you were sitting in front of him.  You took his wrists in your smaller hands and pulled his hands away so you could properly look at him. You could see guilt forming in him and you understood why, but you also understood why he had done it. He wanted to conquer this building because they didn’t before. 

“Listen to me, Dakota. You came back here, to conquer the challenge that you quit last time. Now here you are hours and hours in. You’re here, we are all here and we won’t let it win. We can beat this. So let’s do it together huh.” you said and tried to smile though it was barely visible in the darkness. 

“Together,” he said. “Together,” you reaffirmed. 

--

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