#you took my thoughts that weren’t yet fully actuallized and put them into words

[calmlb]

adding my two sense because it’s probably the best Dazai analysis i’ve read to date…

i think that Dazai's distorted self perception is vital to his character (similarly to how Yozo in NLH was an unreliable narrator). he cannot see himself as good no matter how much good he does, or how many people tell him, because he believes to his core that he is bad— so bad that he is disqualified from being a human being. and so he is consumed by shame, adding to his hopelessness.

the irony in this is that Odasaku was right— Dazai didn’t (doesn’t?) see much difference between right and wrong. it’s hard for someone like Dazai to see the difference, with as smart, and able to see through people as he is— because the hypocrisy of human nature is so blatant. plus, when you can’t find a reason to live, nothing really matters. everything starts to become pointless. what’s the point in discerning between right & wrong if life itself is pointless?

i think this mindset contributes to Dazai’s apathy towards killing. when you don’t see the point in living— when it doesn’t feel worth it— it becomes nearly impossible to fathom why anyone else would want to be alive… to fight to stay alive (enter Dazai’s fascination with Chuuya).

“There is nothing worth pursuing at the cost of prolonging a life of suffering.”

it might even seem like mercy to end someone’s life (i don’t know if Dazai saw it like this, but i don’t think he saw it as a bad thing. and we saw him show mercy to the GSS solider by killing him so he wouldn’t suffer a slow, painful death). we know Dazai considered dying to be a luxury— he was giving the soldier exactly what Dazai himself wanted so desperately, hence his slight mental breakdown in that scene.

“Ha ha ha. What a luxury. Ha ha ha ha ha!”

i also think this excerpt from stormbringer is so important because it shows that Dazai rarely, if ever, enjoyed the things he did in the port mafia, such as killing (and this remains true). that’s the point.

The longer he worked for the Mafia, the darker and more unfathomable he became. Nobody knew exactly why, either. Nevertheless, Dazai continued to slaughter his enemies and serve the Port Mafia in order to force himself into an even darker place. His achievements were outstanding. But there was one person who did not take delight in his glory: Dazai himself.

he joined the port mafia, pushing himself further & further into the darkness, thinking that if he could observe death up close, he could find out just what it was that made people fight to live. yet he still couldn’t find it— partially because he took no pleasure in the things he did. whether or not he felt negatively about his actions, i'm not sure, though if Dazai does feel a lot of shame it’s possible. but at the very least, he was neutral/apathetic about them. like op said, it was logical… able to be rationalized— the optimal solution. a way of thinking that he was naturally inclined to, but was trained into him even more by Mori.

most of the things Dazai had to do were either:

1. just part of the job/how the mafia functioned. i think he very quickly became desensitized to death & violence, if he wasn't already before meeting Mori, which i don’t think he was completely, based on his reaction to seeing the Old Boss murdered.

OR 2. orchestrated or subliminally influenced by Mori. Mori was training Dazai because he saw himself in him— he projected on him because of his own loneliness and groomed him to be, probably, the next boss. i don’t think a lot of people realize how Mori’s abuse of Dazai actually worked. it was much more covert and subconscious manipulation. he put the idea in Dazai’s head to recruit Chuuya, and how to do it, but he did it in a way that made Dazai initially believe it was his own idea. Mori was trying to train Dazai to think like he did— to always make the optimal, logical choice— because that’s how Dazai’s brain was already inclined. but as we saw in dark era, Dazai was much more emotional than Mori (or at least, he couldn’t completely put aside his emotions for the sake of logic. and after Odasaku’s murder, Dazai wouldn’t put aside emotion for the sake of logic— another reason he left the mafia).

Dazai is not emotionless, nor is he sadistic. this is one of the reasons i’m so passionate about doing away with using the “Demon Prodigy” nickname in the fandom so casually (it was originally a spin on a line from a fan translation of The Heartless Curr, but it’s found nowhere in canon). in my opinion, it badly mischaracterizes Dazai because it pushes the idea that he was an absolute demon of a person. when in fact, the moments when he could be interpreted as sadistic, cruel, or heartless were usually just masks.

Dazai is a chameleon— he shows people exactly who they need him to be in order to accomplish his goals. if you think PM Dazai was a demon, then Dazai (and Mori) accomplished their goal. Dazai, because as a child in the mafia & the boss’s right hand man (& accomplice in the murder of the Old Boss), this protected him. Mori, because if everyone feared Dazai, not only would they listen to him, but Dazai would be even more alienated and lonely. this would make him even less resistant to Mori’s influence, and to suppressing his emotions & connections in favor of the end goal, which is what Mori was training in him.

this isn’t to say that Dazai didn’t do anything wrong when he was in the mafia. obviously he did, but most of it was just doing his job. Chuuya and everyone currently in the mafia still do those things every single day, but i don’t see people acting like they’re merciless killers all the time. intentions matter, and from everything we’ve seen in canon, even when Dazai looks like he’s doing something wrong or cruel, etc, it’s always with a good intention (unless i’m forgetting something).

much like Kyouka, Dazai was very talented, and his skills served him very well in the mafia. but that doesn’t mean he himself was well suited for the mafia, or that his skills couldn’t be used for good (hence why he was able to get through to Kyouka).

one of my favorite things about Dazai is how he’s always taking in the strays. i don’t know if he’s consciously aware he’s doing it, but he’s always saving the lost or those with nowhere to go. this was true even when he was in the port mafia— he recruited Chuuya (granted the idea was put into his head by Mori but my point stands), he recruited Odasaku, he recruited Akutagawa, and Gin by extension.

after he joined the agency, Dazai recruited Atsushi, who in turn recruited Kyouka (but Dazai aided in that too), and now we have the potential of Sigma being recruited (we don’t know how the Tanizakis & Kenji joined so who knows? maybe Dazai had a hand in recruiting them too).

Dazai is naturally inclined towards helping people, no matter how much he’s blind to the fact (other examples include leaving the choice to Chuuya in stormbringer, renting out an entire building for Oda’s orphans to keep them safe, training Akutagawa so he wouldn’t end up killing himself, etc).

but Dazai doesn’t let himself get close or attached to people, because:

1. everything he wants is lost the moment he obtains it. yet there are certain people he can’t help but get attach himself to. like a barnacle, along for the ride so he observe these people he finds “interesting,” and hopefully learn what makes them want to live… because that what’s he’s after right? a reason to live.

Dazai doesn’t want to die because he’s depressed. he’s depressed because he wants to die can’t find a reason to live. i think Dazai is more of a case of “doesn’t want to be alive” as opposed to “wants to die.” it took me a long time to understand the meaning of this quote from dark era, but once i did, i think it perfectly sums this up:

“Awaken me from this oxidizing world of a dream.”

being alive is too painful. and Dazai hates pain.

awaken me = death. oxidizing world = just the act of being alive is eating away at him. world of a dream = this world has to be a dream because if this is reality, it’s too painful to bear, so he’s clinging to the hope that whatever comes after death is better than this.

and 2. like op said, Dazai is terrified of people seeing his “true self,” which he believes is not human. so even though what he wants most is to be seen & known, it’s also what he fears most. he hides behind his masks and resigns himself to being misunderstood. this disorganized attachment style dooms him to his loneliness just as much as his intelligence does.

“He's sharp-witted with a mind like a steel trap. And he's just a child— a sobbing child abandoned in the darkness of a world far emptier than the one we're seeing." He was too smart for his own good. That was why he was always alone. The reason why Ango and I were able to be by his side was that we understood the solitude that surrounded him, and we never stepped inside it no matter how close we stood.

Dazai’s loneliness is just as vital to his character (and this intense loneliness is also what Dazai and Chuuya mirror in each other).

“…nothing beyond your own expectations will happen. Nothing in this world can fill the hole that is your loneliness. You will wander the darkness for eternity."

even now, in the agency, that loneliness still isn’t gone. Dazai still feels alienated by his intelligence and imposter syndrome and feeling like a monster masquerading as a human in a world of humans. he still doesn’t want to be alive. but he’s still searching for a reason, and he figures, while he’s here, he might as well help others along the way

(and you know he’s being genuine here bc harukawa sensei drew him with the faded effect <3)

Writing a complex character such as Dazai is actually really hard even for people who understand him because he is, as you said, extremely unpredictable. I don't know exactly what to tell you, but I'll try to help a little bit!

The whole thing about Dazai is that he doesn't understand humanity. He understands the basics and why people do what they do because he is analytical and has been studying people's behavior and human connections forever. But he doesn't feel connected with humanity and empathy the same way other people do. He perceives others from like, the other side of a barrier. He studies them carefully. Manages to care about them deeply sometimes. Even deeper when they're able to see him and get to him (Odasaku, Atsushi, Chuuya, the whole agency in fact means something to him). But there's always this layer of disconnection and apathy and emptiness he doesn't know how to get rid of. It's like he cares, but he actually doesn't because he rationalizes everything and turns it into a game of chess, more or less? And I think that frustrates him. He isn't used to caring about people because he doesn't understand them, but he takes an interest in the people he finds amusing to study and once he cares deeply, they're taken away from him (that's why he mourns and regrets Oda's death so much. He feels like the world takes everything away from him the second he manages to feel human). Hence the whole thing about not feeling human (amongst other things). He cares and yet he is realistic. He has regrets and suffers and feels pain and he can care about others (ignore all the people who keep portraying him as an emotionless monster, please) but he doesn't drown in self-pity when it comes to all the people he has killed and his past because he can rationalize that. It was another era. He has moved on. And if it's for the greater good of the mission or his journey to find something to live for, he doesn't care how many random people he has to kill (when he was younger he valued other people's lives way less, of course. Now that has changed because his apathy is something he doesn't turn into cruelty and instead uses to rationalize plans and help the world and the agency. Basically, when he was part of the mafia it was kind of "I don't give a fuck about random people" because he genuinely didn't feel anything for them, but now, even if he doesn't genuinely care for them, he protects even random people because that's what the image of kindness Oda had planned for him). Oda tells him that, if the good side and the bad one are the same and he hasn't found anything to live for yet, why not help the world while he's at it? And it's such a beautiful thought because Dazai has this issue with understanding humanity and making bonds. But he understands, now more than ever after Oda's death, what living and killing means. He might not actually care that much for society and its well-being, but maybe he can find something to live for in the light more than he would in the darkness. He keeps wanting to kill himself, right? He keeps trying. But he doesn't actually want to. It's common sense. If he truly wanted to, he already would've done it. "I don't like pain" is the most common thing to say when you don't actually want to do it. I think that, unlike Nikolai, who actually craves to die as a representation of freedom, Dazai only wants to keep trying and trying to find a reason for living. Chuuya was that thing when he was in the Mafia. Chuuya and Oda, because Chuuya is quite literally his soulmate (in the sense of bringing amusement to his life and also making him feel human, as his ability is the only thing that can help Chuuya. And also Chuuya not being human but being the most empathetic and emotional of all the people Dazai has met in the mafia) and Oda was the first one to actually understand him and see him for who he is, something I don't think he'll ever find again and that's why Oda's death fucked him up so bad. He found a place to belong and somebody to live for, and then he dies and leaves him alone? It's not fair, but he'll try to fight for good and live in the light if that's what Oda wanted for him. As if Oda knew him better than he knows himself because I also think he has a hard time with his own perception and personality.

In simpler words: Dazai has a hard time understanding humanity because he feels disconnected from it by a layer of apathy and the fact that he doesn't understand basic human needs/actions because he doesn't share them. One of the things that makes us human is desires, right? Wanting. Loving. Longing. Dazai rejects all of that because he doesn't know what he wants and nothing he tries ends up making him feel whole. In "No Longer Human", actually, you can read things like "It is almost impossible for me to converse with other people" and "I have never known what it means to be hungry / Eat or die, the saying goes, but to my ears, it sounded like just one more unpleasant threat". So he isn't a monster, his brain just functions in a different way. He sees everything. Analyzes every little thing. He's smarter than everybody else and he's aware of that, but he feels lonely there and only wants somebody to understand or something to fight for. Oda gave him both things, and the agency gave him a reason to keep going because he genuinely cares about doing good and keeping them safe. I don't think Dazai's journey has ended, because he still fights against.... So many things with himself. His past. His future. His desires. But at least now he has a thing to enjoy and bring him happiness. His constant act of being "silly" isn't that much of a facade. I mean, I think it is because if he acts like a clown, nobody will ever see the true self he hides. But I think he ends up having fun with the agency and annoying Chuuya because he sees them respond to his behavior and he finds it amusing. I think being extremely smart and lonely and tormented can coexist with being fun sometimes.

As per writing in his POV.... It depends on what you want to write, really. I think his brain functions differently depending on his mood. I guess the most important thing is to keep in mind his surroundings because he's always hyperaware of every little thing. But it frustrates him not knowing how he's feeling or not understanding what he actually truly needs, often focusing on others instead of looking into himself, because every time he does, he only finds himself empty and craving for something he doesn't know what it is. In his worst moments, I think it's quite obvious he tries to fix things with distractions and impulsive actions like substance abuse. In his more analytical moments, it's when he becomes more apathetic and sees the world as his game of chess and people as only pawns. He knows he's human, he just doesn't feel like it. Fyodor has a sense of superiority Dazai doesn't share. He's smarter because his brain functions differently, but he is no God. He is no entity. He analyzes from the POV of somebody external to humanity but knowing quite well he isn't God. And when he's having genuine fun and feeling some type of care/love? I think he's grateful. The emptiness is always there, though. Always haunting him. In the back of his brain. But he sees hope in Atsushi and a place to keep his promise in the agency and maybe fulfill his heart. He might always have a fucked up perception of himself, but at least he's aware that doing the right thing fills the hole in his chest more than tormenting others. As I said, he likes it there (and Chuuya) because it makes him experience humanity even if he keeps telling himself he isn't human (No Longer Human quote: "You miss her, don't you?" / "Yes." / "That's human nature, I guess").

I don't know if I helped you?? I think it's a bit of a mess, sorry 😭 It's like 3am and I don't know if what I said makes any sense, but I really hope I was able to help you!

holy FUCK it took me fifteen minutes to read all of this and i'm glad i did because this is the most succinct and articulate analysis i have ever seen of dazai's underlying nature and his ambitions in relevance to the plot OP I THINK IF ASIGIRI CANT WRITE ANYMORE YOU SHOULD TAKE OVER BSD MANGA BC I THINK U UNDERSTAND DAZAI BETTER THAN HE DOES SOMETIMES TBH���💀 aaaa jkjk i digress you were so real for bringing up the yozo/dazai parallels bc there's genuinely so many and if i still had my fucking BOOK :side eye: i could go through the intricate and profound commentary i left in the margins but alas my dear friend insists on keeping it longer. there's nothing more i can say on this topic bc i agree w you on everything wholeheartedly i think you deserve a scholarship to harvard or smth bc god DAMN you would slay as a lit or lang major

[heartsandstars46]

Imagine Peter like sitting down with you before bed and reading to you 🥺

(You can just respond to this with your thoughts or this could be a request if you'd like)

My first request! 😭🥹 tysm lovely, it was a lot of fun to ride this creative wave! It ended up being a fluffy lil prequel to bf tasm!Peter x fem reader where he takes care of you when you have a cold. 🫶🫶🫶

word count: 1.1k

Be Nice to Spiders

“Peter, I’m fine. You didn’t have to come all the way home with me from the Daily Bugle.”

He stared at you. “Oh sure, right, you're totally fine on your own practically bumping into things and slurring your words. How much of that cold medicine did you take? Is this your house key?”

You couldn’t deny that his concern was sweet, especially since you guys were just coworkers/kind-of-friends.

“Yeah. Wait… we took the subway already?”

Peter laughed, unlocking your front door. “Yes. You slept most of the way. On my shoulder.”

“Oh my god. I hope I didn’t drool on you!”

Peter could only laugh as he ushered you inside and locked the front door. “No, you were fine.”

“Great. Well, okay then!” You dropped your bag and coat on the living room floor. “I think I need to lay down.”

“Good idea. Is this your bedroom here?”

“Yep. God, I need to put on some comfier clothes.” You were too out of it to care or fully remember that Peter was standing in the doorway. Luckily, he spun around in time to avoid seeing anything or getting hit with a flying blouse. 

“Whoa! Ha! Um, just let me know when you’re changed there.”

“Okay, all good!” Now in your pjs, you climbed into bed.

“Great.” Peter pulled the comforter up to your chin, then frowned. “Do you mind if I…?” He gently pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. “Oh man, you’re burning up.”

“It’s okay, I just need to sleep it off.”

“You should probably take something to bring down the fever.”

His care and kindness made your heart flutter. “Don’t worry, I already did. Hey, Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you gonna head out now?“

“Uhh… not yet, if that’s all right. I think someone should keep an eye on you in this state.”

“Cool.” You smiled and pulled the blankets nearly up to your nose. 

Peter looked around for a place to sit and dragged your desk chair over to the edge of the bed.

“Hey, what did your parents do for you when you were sick?” You asked. “Did they read to you?”

“Ah, maybe? If my father read anything to me, it was probably, like, Watson and Crick discovering the DNA double helix.” Peter looked very pleasantly surprised when you laughed. “I’m going to choose to believe that wasn’t just the medicine talking and that you truly appreciate my fine science humor. I’m guessing your parents read to you?”

“Oh yeah, every night. We practically lived at the library.” You smiled, remembering. “Goodnight Moon, The Snowy Day, all that stuff, sure, but other awesome books that people have probably never even heard of. Like If I Owned a Candy Factory! Ooh, or Be Nice to Spiders! Whoa, are you okay?”

It looked as though Peter had nearly fallen out of his chair. (Weren’t you supposed to be the woozy one?) “Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, you had a book about being nice to spiders?”

“Yeah! I don’t remember much, except that the spider’s name was Helen, and she was actually really helpful to people—and that’s why you should be nice to her instead of scared of her. And I was terrified of bugs as kid, so my dad made it, like, required reading. Look it up, see if it’s on Google Books or Amazon, or something. It’s a real book, I swear. This is not the medicine talking!”

Peter started scrolling on his phone and murmured, bemused, “Spiders are really helpful to people. Oh wow, here it is—Be Nice to Spiders. And the spider’s name is, in fact, Helen.”

“I knew it!”

Peter smiled. “So… how do you feel about spiders today? Are you still nice to them?”

“I try to be. They’re not here to hurt anyone, and they spin their cool webs. Why do you look so excited about this? Please don’t tell me you have, like, a pet tarantula or something, because I cannot deal with that.”

He laughed, looking weirdly delighted. “No, no tarantula, don’t worry.”

“What then?”

“I don’t know. I guess you’re just… cooler than I thought.”

You stared at him. “Oh yeah, that’s me! Sleeping on you on the subway, babbling about kids’ books and spiders, super cool. What a delight!”

Peter smiled. “You are a delight.”

Your face suddenly felt flushed and not entirely from the fever. You had thought he was cute and sweet for a while now. And you were just delirious enough to make the slightest bit of a move…..

“You know, there’s something else my parents used to do when I was little and couldn’t sleep. My mom would sit next to my bed, kind of like where you’re sitting, actually, and she’d hold my hand. It was like that last earthly connection as I drifted off to sleep.”

It looked like he was trying not to smile. “And that helped?”

“Yeah, it felt really nice. Comforting.”

“Do… you think it would help if I did it?”

You nodded shyly. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay.”

Slowly, tentatively, you reached toward each other. You’d only ever grazed hands exchanging papers at the office. You could feel your heart beating faster. Then you noticed Peter’s face.

“Hey, you’re awfully flushed. Oh gosh, I hope I’m not getting you sick!”

His face turned an even deeper shade of red, and he ducked away from you. “No, no, I’m fine. I’m great. Don’t worry about me, you’re the patient here.”

Hmm. You smiled, interlacing your fingers. Could it be that he liked you too…?

“Peter, I really appreciate this, but I don’t want to make you stay all night.”

“Actually, uh, if it’s okay, I’d rather not leave. I want to make sure you’re okay. If that’s okay’s with you.”

He was so endearing when he got flustered. “Sure. And you don’t even have to hold my hand or read me kids’ books all night, I swear.”

“Oh, that’s right!” With his free hand, he picked up his phone, scrolled a bit, then looked at you, cleared his throat, and said very seriously. “Be Nice to Spiders. A dramatic reading.”

You laughed and snuggled down into your cozy bed, your hand holding his.

“‘One morning as the Keeper of the Zoo was about to unlock the gate, he noticed something on the steps. It was a matchbox with a note that read: ‘Please look after Helen. I’ve had her since she was a baby, but I can’t keep her anymore. We have to move to an apartment that won’t take pets.’”

You could feel yourself smiling as your eyes grew heavy and began to close. Peter’s hand was warm and gentle; you didn’t mind it being your last earthly connection as you drifted off to sleep.

Part 2!

[e-mm4]

A zack fair cannon with fluff and kisses and gentle interaction for an SO who's got anxiety over an appointment or just overthinks stuff MAJORLY

Zack Fair with Anxious S/O

pairing: zack fair x reader!

cw! : none!

he knew you were anxious by nature and when you told him about your upcoming appointment he took it upon himself to make you forget about that the fact that you were dreading it.

the week before he had showered you in love and gifts. which he usually did anyways but he was laying it on thick now.

he had taken time off so he could take you on date after date. and he made sure you thought of nothing but him.

he felt good when the night before you had yet to mention the appointment and you fell asleep without much trouble.

the morning of he was able to breath easy knowing you weren’t anxious, getting out of bed and brushing your teeth without a word about it.

but then you move into the kitchen and take a look at the calendar and suddenly your all over the place.

your fully dressed. you were ready for the day. and you were almost out the door.

but now you sit on the leather ottoman in front of your door, unable to put your shoes on. and all he can do is chew on the inside of his lip as he looks between you and the clock.

and he knows that his own anxiety about being on time is only making things worse for you, proven by the fact that your breathing becomes faster.

he’d approach quickly, kneeling down in front of you and grabbing your hands in his own, bigger ones. callouses rubbing against your smooth skin.

“baby, baby, it’s okay, it’ll be okay, yeah?” and you nod but nothing changes. “it’s just a checkup.”

and you’d reply, “but what if something is wrong with me and i don’t even know it? what if the doctor tells me that i have some incurable disease? or that they missed something last checkup and i actually only have 4 weeks to live? or that i can’t ever have kids!”

your breathing would become more panicked, and your hands would be idly playing with zack’s finger.

he pulls his hands from yours, lifting them up to your face, “my love, you are going to be fine. i will be right beside you the whole time. and even if you had 4 weeks to live, they would be the best 4 weeks of your life.”

and you open your mouth again, suddenly more anxious then before but he puts a finger over your lips. then moves his hands back to cup your face so you can’t look away from him.

“but the doctor is not going to say that because you’re perfectly healthy, same as always. and if he did say you could never have kids, which he won’t. we will find another way. everything would be okay. everything will be okay.”

your breathing steadies as you copy his calm demeanour. and he smiles a little bigger when a small smile appears on your face.

“now how about we put on your shoes and we go to your appointment. And then after we can go get ice cream, yeah?”

you nod, and tie your sneakers which miraculously appeared on your feet and you have a feeling the man in front of you is to blame.

he’d pull you up to your feet, spinning you around and holding your hand out the door.

“and i’ll hold your hand the whole time, kay? ya big baby.”

and he’d only laugh as you punch his shoulder with minimal effort.

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now - ch. 16

Fic masterlist

This writer ran away because she’s too nervous to write an A/N

Warnings: language

Words: 2,5k

Aelin hadn’t slept an ink today, partially because Rowan took her sleeping pill for last night, and she brought a limited amount for this trip.

She cuddled Maisie, caressing the little girl’s back as she reminisced about what happened. Aelin’s body went stiff every time he moved in his sleep, holding her breath, trying to anticipate what would happen in this conversation that was long overdue.

Aelin liked to be private about her mental health issues, but she knew they weren’t a big deal. She wasn’t special for taking sleeping pills and antidepressants, and millions of people went through the exact same thing. Still, every time Aelin opened her mouth, she choked with the words and let them die on the back of her throat, clogging it further as the years passed by with every word she wished she’d said, but didn’t.

When Rowan’s movements went from sporadic and uncoordinated to a clear motion of him dragging his hand to scratch his eyes, Aelin’s pulse skyrocketed. She stayed frozen, unable to breathe until he turned around and gave her a faint smile.

“Morning.” Rowan’s tone was husky, and he moved closer to take a sniff at Maisie’s hair—who Aelin may or may not be using as a human shield at the moment.

“Hey.” Aelin gave him a tentative smile. “How do you feel?”

“Like I died.”

She grimaced. That was predictable, since he took sedatives he didn’t need for the first time. Aelin got up and sat on the edge of the other side of the bed, making him turn around to face her.

She held Rowan’s hand, fiddling with his knuckles and fingers. “What do you remember from last night?”

He sat up against the headboard and scratched his eyes before answering, “My mom and I were playing with Maisie, but I had a headache, probably from the sun. Then I came upstairs and… oh.” Rowan’s brows went up for a moment. “Okay, I see where you’re getting at.”

Aelin squeezed his hand, her heartbeat still fast despite his ease. “You took my sleeping pill.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that.” Rowan ran a hand through his frazzled hair, frowning. “I remember you had trouble sleeping, I just thought it was Maisie’s fault,” he mentioned how she half-lied to him about her insomnia being due to the pregnancy.

“You’re not upset I take them?” Aelin’s voice was careful, testing the waters to see how far she should go with this conversation.

“No, why would I be?” Rowan blinked, raising his eyebrows to drag his eyelids open for a second, not fully awake yet. “They’re actually quite effective. I get the appeal now.“ He sighed, looking a bit more serious now. “I just don’t get why you lied to me.”

Indeed, telling him her psych meds were headache pills wasn’t her brightest move. Aelin rubbed her hand against her forehead, trying to think of a good way to explain this, when she noticed little green eyes staring them down, Maisie’s brows wrinkled as she hid under her blankie.

Despite the unrest in the pit of Aelin’s stomach, she smiled at her daughter. “Good morning, Maisy Daisy.”

Rowan quickly picked Maisie up and put her in his lap, kissing the crown of her head. “Are you hungry?”

“Hey,” their daughter said with a hesitant tone. “Not hungry.”

“Are you sure?” Aelin wiggled her eyebrows. “I heard your grandma has chocolate cake downstairs.”

Maisie looked conflicted, chewing on her bottom lip while her eyes darted between her parents until she agreed. Aelin took the little girl’s hand and led her downstairs, leaving on a silent agreement with Rowan that he’d wait for her to come back.

“Good morning, you two,” Owen greeted, in the kitchen. If the smile he sent Aelin was soft, the one reserved for his granddaughter was absolutely mushy as he and Rory showed everything they brought from the bakery earlier today.

Maisie didn’t look like her usual self, though. Her plate still looked like a little mountain, stuffed with more food than she was capable of eating, but her expression was borderline downcast, not what Aelin expected for a morning with baked goods and her grandparents.

Aelin was putting together a small tray with two croissants and orange juice, for herself and Rowan, when she asked her daughter, “Honey, can you stay with your grandparents for a minute?” Aelin wrinkled her nose, dramatically feigning annoyance for the little girl’s sake. “Your dad and I need to talk about boring, grown-up stuff.”

“No, I want to go with you.”

Aelin snapped her head back to the little girl. “What?”

Maisie’s green eyes looked wary as she studied her mother. It was a rare thing, her being hesitant to hang out with her grandparents.

“I thought you and Daddy didn’t fight anymore.”

Her daughter’s small, concerned tone was a punch to Aelin’s gut. With all the fights, therapy and trying to make amends, she hadn’t talked about it with Maisie once. The only reason Aelin even knew the little girl was aware of it was because of her drawings and the teacher.

Truth was, Aelin wasn’t going to bring her issues with Rowan to their five-year-old daughter. But her chest felt hollow as she considered that maybe her communication with Maisie was lacking too much, making her anxious even after they were in a better place.

Aelin sat by Maisie’s side, carefully assessing the little girl’s guarded expression. “Your dad and I used to fight a lot. I bet that made you upset, huh?”

Maisie didn’t answer, just pouted with her eyes trained on her breakfast.

“I’m so sorry you saw that, Mais.” Aelin caressed the crown of her head. “But it’s okay to disagree sometimes. Remember what happens when you don’t want to stop playing before dinner?”

”I get upset.”

“And when do I get upset?”

Maisie’s expression turned sheepish. “When I yell at you.”

“That’s right.” Aelin’s tone was calm, reassuring despite the mention of her daughter’s misbehaving. “Because disagreeing is normal, what’s important is that we always respect each other.”

“But you yell at Daddy too.”

“Your father and I used to yell at each other a lot, yes.” Aelin held back a grimace, feeling her face heat when she noticed Rory and Owen both were pointedly not looking at them during her talk with Maisie. “But we realized we were wrong, apologized, and stopped it.” Aelin put a hand on the little girl’s shoulder to grab her attention further. ”Because your dad and I are friends, okay? No matter what happens, it’s never your fault, and we’ll always love you very much.”

“‘Kay.” Maisie nodded, fiddling with her spoon. “Love you too.”

“I’m going upstairs, your dad and I are not going to yell at each other, and then we’ll find you and play whatever you want. Is that okay with you?”

Maisie’s nod was solemn. “Hopscops?”

“Of course.” Aelin kissed her daughter’s forehead, grabbed her breakfast tray and excused herself from the kitchen, leaving with sympathetic looks from Rowan’s parents.

˜˜

”You’re tense.”

“I’m not,” Aelin said before chomping on her croissant. She wasn’t even hungry. In fact, Aelin felt like she could retch her breakfast any minute now. But for some reason, right now, she’d rather vomit croissant than the words stuck on her throat.

It’s not a big deal, she repeated inside her head before balking over and over again.

“You are. You’re so tense you’re making me tense too.” Rowan sipped his cup of coffee, only half aware of her anxious state. “Is this about the sleeping pills? Because I don’t mind that I took them. In fact, I don’t think I slept that well ever since Maisie was born.”

“The sleeping pills…” Aelin trailed, weighing how small those baby steps would be. “I take them with a psychiatrist.”

“Elide?”

“No, Dr. Blackbeak.” A pause. “I can see her anytime from every three weeks to every six months. It really depends on how well I’m doing.”

He frowned. “Like how well you’re sleeping?”

”Could be.” Aelin’s breaths were too shallow, her heart too fast. “But it’s mostly about how well I’m doing with my antidepressants.”

”Your…” Rowan blinked one, twice. “What?”

Aelin‘s stomach rolled, his baffled face creeped a crawling sensation on her skin. She rubbed her temple with two fingers, wondering how she should deal with his confusion. Again. If Rowan had a similar reaction from last time, she wouldn’t know what to do.

She held his face with both hands. Aelin’s voice was gentle and firm when she said, “Don’t say anything until you fully process what I’ll say, okay?” She waited until he nodded to continue, “I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder in my late teens. That doesn’t mean I’m sad all the time, I’m just prone to have depressive episodes throughout my life. One of my episodes was postpartum depression, which I’m sure you know what it is.”

Rowan‘s eyes widened and he opened his mouth, but she beat him to it.

“No. Think about it, talk later.”

He silently nodded then collapsed against the headboard, his eyes growing distant as if he was watching a movie in his head. Aelin watched as Rowan’s body became unnaturally still, his aimless gaze on the wall behind her going from bewildered to haunted.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Then Rowan muttered something incomprehensible to himself a moment later, but Aelin decided it was better to give him more time to process it. Half because of him, half because she was dreading his next words.

“Shh.” Aelin ran a finger on his bottom lip, sealing his mouth closed. “Not yet.”

But Rowan aimed his anguished green eyes towards her, his gaze so intense it rendered her speechless. He gently took her wrist off his hand.

“I failed you.”

Aelin stiffened, a sudden coldness hitting her core. “Don’t say that.”

It could look like that depending on which angle they saw it, but it isn’t how Aelin liked to think. This wasn’t the time to argue about it with him, but even if Rowan had messed up in the past, she also did her own mistakes that led to their separation before that fateful day. Lying to him, for example. She was hoping to correct this one today.

“Aelin, I—“ He motioned to caress her face, but stopped his hand in the air. Instead, he reached to squeeze her hand. “I’m so, so sorry. I can’t even—“ Rowan let out a deep, pained breath. “I should’ve been there, Aelin. I should’ve…” He rubbed both hands on his face. “I was so mad at you, but just to think you were sick, and I left you alone in that house with Maisie, I—“

“I told you to leave, Rowan.” Her voice was gentle yet firm, but it didn’t seem to soothe him in the slightest.

“I loved you.”

Time slowed down, Aelin’s muscles went numb, her core too heavy as she struggled to grasp his words.

He loved her?

Rowan cared about her back then, Aelin was sure he did, but love?

He continued, “And if I weren’t so blind, then angry too…” Rowan muttered, his voice cracking. ”I shouldn’t have left after one fight. I should’ve asked you questions, I should’ve put you before my concerns—“

“You loved me?”

Rowan nodded, his pine-green eyes having the same agonized, crumbling look from five years ago. “I still do.”

Aelin’s mouth fell open, and she felt dizzy all of a sudden. She couldn’t think, it was her pounding heartbeat and tingling skin that made her itch to touch his skin. Aelin outstretched her hand to caress his left cheek, stroking her thumb against it and—

He flinched.

She jerked away from him, confused. Rowan just told her he loved her, didn’t he? Or did she hallucinate—

It took her a few moments to grasp what happened. This didn’t look like a standing-by-your-window-and-begging-for-your-love kind of confession. Rowan’s posture was hunched, and the crease between his brows and ragged breath was a painstaking portrayal of his tormented state.

Aelin had five years to process what happened. So far, Rowan had five minutes.

It wasn’t the right time to make a romantic advance, so Aelin moved to sit next to him and hug him. However, he was the one to hold her instead.

“I should’ve been there with you, I… I won’t make the same mistake twice. I promise.” He kissed the crown of Aelin’s head, holding her as if she was his lifeline. “And if you need me, I can…” Rowan sighed, running his palm against his face. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, but I’ll do it.”

“Hey!” Aelin exclaimed, trying to lighten up the mood. “I’m a big girl, okay? I can take care of myself. I just wanted you to know.”

“I know you can, it’s just…” he trailed, crumbling against the headboard. “How did you handle things? When Maisie was little.”

“Littler, you mean? Is that even a word?”

Rowan squeezed her hand. “Tell me.”

“Shared custody broke my heart, but it allowed me to have time for myself.” Aelin closed her eyes, supporting her head against his shoulder as a bittersweet feeling took over her. “Turns out my family got so overbearing after you left the house, their assistance almost made me lose my mind.” Aelin snorted, overwhelmed with memories of her fussy family. “Dorian was there almost every weekday, even after Fenrys moved into his house.”

“And how about you?”

“Healing was a… painfully slow process, but I was in a really good place when Maisie was a toddler.”

“Really?” Rowan sounded almost like himself now, his tone close to a tease. “I’m pretty sure my job only got harder when Maisie learned how to speak.”

She laughed at his snarky comment, her chest filling with warmth. Parenting such an argumentative little girl wasn’t an easy job indeed, but they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Aelin didn’t know if her reveal was a success or not. Rowan was understanding, yes, which she was grateful for, but she didn’t expect him to feel guilt. To be honest, she didn’t want him to feel bad about it at all. Aelin just wanted to forget about that whole thing and move forward with him.

“And how did you get to see Yrene every week?” Rowan frowned. “I can’t imagine going to her office every week when Maisie was a baby.”

“I was seeing Nesryn back then, Yrene’s kind of a recent addition. And I had online sessions.”

“Oh.” Rowan’s brows went up. “I forgot that was an option.”

Aelin chuckled and snuggled him further. Whereas she hadn’t forgotten about her promise to play hopscotch with Maisie, right now, Aelin just wanted to hold Rowan in bed and answer the million questions he had.

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[indigosunsetao3]

Would It Be Enough?

Chapter 20 - Yours

Masterlist of Chapters

Warnings: 18+ - No minors Rated E - Please read the tags on A03 for any of your triggers

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Original FMC 9.0k words - AO3 Link

Emma's knees nearly buckled out from under her when Soap spoke aloud. It was a voice she thought she may never hear again and she had to lean her hip up against the bed to keep from falling out fully. Pulling her hand back from behind his ear she gripped his face gently with both hands, grinning as he slowly blinked a few times to try and focus his eyesight. “Took you long enough,” Emma breathed as she leaned down to press a kiss to his lips gently. “I was beginning to think you enjoyed keeping me waiting,” she finished reaching up to smooth his hair back from his forehead with one hand as he shifted his head to the side a bit to look around.

“I’d never purposely keep you waiting,” he answered after returning the kiss, though it was weak on his part. “But you do remember the part of where I was shot and stabbed, right?” Soap asked, the humor in his words evident even if his voice was still nothing more than a rasp. Despite being awake he still didn’t feel fully there just yet. He’d been hospitalized plenty of times before, been knocked out and put back together more times than he could remember but this was different. Without knowing exactly how long he had been gone Soap was acutely aware it had been a while based on how he physically felt. His body felt disused, sluggish and his brain was fogged, and vision was still a bit out of focus as he continued to squint at the brightness of the light in the room.

“I remember it a little too well actually,” Emma answered as she darted her eyes over to look at his monitors. Everything was staying at its normal baseline and she grinned a bit while she tried to ignore the nagging fear that this was too good to be true. “How are you feeling? I can get you some ice,” she finished knowing from experience his mouth and throat had to be dry and painful. She needed to go get his doctors, he would need a full evaluation, medicine update, and a plethora of tests but selfishly she wanted to keep him to herself for a little while longer.

“Little dazed,” Soap answered truthfully as he forced his arm to bend so his hand could reach up and cover her own that was resting on his cheek. He wanted to hold her hand back like he had felt her hold him so many times while he was out. Despite not being fully conscious Soap had been coming around for a while now. It had only been snippets here and there between long jaunts of just darkness. He heard voices speaking the room, sometimes they were muffled and others they were as clear as day. He’s also heard Emma crying a few times as she begged him to just wake up, move, do something. It had been infuriating, and terrifying, to scream at his body to move and reach out to no avail.

“And you? How are you doing? Your back was ripped to shreds…” he trailed off as the heart rate monitor shot up, the memories along with the anger catching up with his body again. Things were coming back to him in spurts as if puzzle pieces were being put into place. “The team?” He tacked on, eyes darting around the room as if he just remembered the rest of the 141 were in the truck with them and they weren’t in the room.

“I’m okay, lots of stitches but I’ll be fine,” Emma said softly as she pulled her hand away from his cheek and gripped his hand instead. “Everyone else is okay as well. Alex has barely left my side and Ghost is in here with you most of the time,” she looked at the door surprised he hadn’t walked in yet, he usually ate his breakfast and then sat in the corner reading when Emma left for her therapy. “You need to keep that heart rate down though,” Emma grinned as she squeezed his fingers, “I need to go get your doctor so they can evaluate you,” she felt his fingers tense. “I’ll be back in just a moment, I promise, I thought I was going to lose you and now that you’re okay I’m going to be stuck to you like glue. You’re going to be sick of me before long.”

“Never,” Soap answered with a smile before coughing a bit as Emma slid her fingers out of his grasp. He watched her quickly dart toward the door, stopping to glance back at him as if to assure herself he was awake. He gave her a small nod before she disappeared into the hall, shutting the door behind her. In the silence of the room, aside from the small radio playing softly, Soap looked down at himself. His side was still bandaged down by his ribs and his left arm was also wrapped up tight over his gunshot. It was disorienting to blackout in the back of a truck still in your gear with blood everywhere then wake up in clean soft clothes in a very sterile-looking room.

“Gaz,” Emma breathed as she jogged out toward the nurse’s station, having not seen anyone in the hall. He was on the phone and writing furiously in a notebook when he snapped his head up to look at her. Her voice sounded frantic and the look on her face caused him to tell the person on the line to hold as he stared. “Gaz where is the doctor?” Emma asked as she whipped her head to the side and then leaned to try and look around a wall.

“I’m not sure,” he replied, slipping his hand over the microphone of the phone, “what’s the matter? Did something happen?” She looked frantic and he was about to round the corner of the counter to run toward Soap’s room when Emma held her hand up to him.

“Nothing’s the matter,” Emma answered with a smile, “he’s up. He just…woke up like it was nothing,” she was grinning so wide that Gaz couldn’t help but return the smile. “I need to find the doctor; they’ll want to run a few tests and assessments now that he’s awake. Make sure everything is how it should be. Have you seen Ghost or Alex? Someone needs to let Price know,” she rambled on, turning on her heel to see if anyone else was around.

“I’ll take care of the team,” Gaz answered as he lifted the phone to his ear and stated he would have to call whoever it was on the line back. “I saw one of the nurses a few minutes ago, I’m sure she’ll know,” he stated as he pocketed his notebook. Emma knew the team was still working on taking down the Russian cell, even while they were posted inside the hospital. The Americans had agreed to assist finally so they were running most of the groundwork while the 141 did intelligence gathering.

It didn’t take Emma long to locate a nurse and explain through the limited language and hand gestures what she needed. The nurse seemed apprehensive as Emma led her back to the room but when they opened the door and Soap gave a very half-hearted wave of his hand, she ran off to get the medical team in charge of his care. Emma entered the room and took up a chair out of the way and a moment later Ghost appeared in the doorway, looking as if he had run from wherever he had been, followed closely by Gaz and Alex. They only had a few moments together to appreciate Soap’s recovery before doctors kicked everyone out, the room too small to fit them all, to do their assessments. No one went far though, all of them waited in the hallway for the rest of the day.

“You need to eat,” Soap said a few hours later, his voice had returned back to normal though he sounded exhausted after everything. “Just because I’m stuck with this,” he shook his bottle of protein drink, he was strictly on a liquid diet until they worked him back to solid foods, “doesn’t mean you have to starve.” He nodded his head toward Emma who was sitting right by his side, her chair scooted as close to his bed as possible.

“I know, but the food isn’t that great anyway,” Emma said as she picked at the overcooked noodles of her pasta. She had been too busy fussing over Soap to pay attention to anything else, skipping lunch and only accepting dinner when a nurse shoved the tray at her and ordered her to eat. Despite being so sure he would come back to her, she was still in a state of shock that he had, finding herself constantly looking at him to assure herself he was there and it wasn’t a dream. When the rest of the team had been allowed in the room to talk and catch up Emma just watched Soap in silence with a disbelieving grin on her face. Then throughout his small catnaps during the day Emma just held his hand, grinning when he would lightly squeeze her fingers back in his half-asleep daze.

“Probably still better than this swill,” Soap answered as he took a sip and pulled a face. He was only allowed to eat in small increments which meant he had to consume his nutrition more often. Emma hadn’t moved though, her eyes watching him as he shook the bottle again to mix it. “Eat,” he said again, ever the commanding tone in his voice even if he grinned, “I’m not going anywhere. I doubt I could stand up if I tried anyway,” he shifted his legs a bit which felt like they were weighed down with lead. The doctors were already talking about rehabilitation and he knew it was going to be a long tiring road to get back to his full potential.

Emma sighed and began to eat her food, not tasting or enjoying it, before she took up the small cup with her nightly medication in it and swallowed them down. “We’ll get you moving soon enough,” Emma stated as she attempted to break apart the stale piece of bread they gave her with her meal but gave up when it just crumbled and flaked. “They’ve been relentless with my recovery. Constantly making me move, lifting weights, stretching, ice baths for my legs” she sighed and stretched her arms above her head. They had given her the day off considering all that transpired, not that Emma would have listened to them if they tried to pull her away anyway. “Stitches still pull a bit when they make me work my shoulder,” she added after a moment. That was the last part of her back that was still stitched. The rest had either closed up enough on their own that they didn’t need any sort of help or she was downgraded to steri-strips and glue.

Soap finished his shake and set the bottle on the small table that was across his bed, his eyes tracking Emma’s movements. She looked exhausted, there were still deep purple circles under her eyes and she was pale, though not as bad as she had been when he had found her in the bunker. “How are you?” He asked after a moment, his words careful and low. They still hadn’t talked about anything that had happened, what had ended them all in this situation, to begin with. He had talked to the rest of the 141 to get a quick recap of what transpired but none of them had discussed anything in depth outside of confirming Crane was dead and the Americans were helping to take down the cell. Alex had mentioned in passing, when Emma stepped out to talk to a nurse, that Emma hadn’t spoken to anyone about what happened to her and usually changed the subject if anyone even hinted toward it.

“I’m fine, just a little tired and stiff. Sitting in a chair all day will do that I guess,” Emma answered with a shrug as she took the tray off her lap and set it on the nightstand before grabbing Soap’s finished drink and adding it to her things. She pushed the wheeled table that rested over his legs away and as she was about to turn and ask him if he wanted the radio Soap grabbed her hand. It was a weak grab but he had moved with a purpose and she felt him tug on her slightly. “What?” She asked smiling a bit as she twisted and rested her hip up against the bed to look at him, lacing her fingers into his.

“Emma,” Soap said quietly, “how are you. I can see you are up and moving fine but what’s going on inside of that head of yours?” He knew he was going to need to work through and process everything that he had been through but he had just woken up hours ago. Emma had been up for over a week and according to Alex, she was behaving like nothing had happened. Soap knew how that went, it never worked things always caught up and the sooner you dealt and began to heal from them the better. “What happened to you is not,” he started but Emma cut him off, squeezing his hand.

“Don’t,” Emma said quickly, knowing where he was trying to go. “Not yet, I’m not,” she sighed and took a steadying breath, “can we not? Just not right now?” She asked knowing that the smile she was putting up was tense. “I just got you back, I don’t want to talk about all of…that. Let’s just enjoy this now. We have plenty of time to discuss the rest,” she finished.

All of them had tried to get her to talk about what happened at one point but she had shut them down, not wanting to even think about it. She used the excuse that she had to focus on Johnny and getting him recovered, that she was too busy to think about herself. Price had even tried when he found her lost in her thoughts staring at nothing one evening. He had used one of his own experiences to try and talk her through it but she had shot him down and walked out of the room without another word. She still needed to apologize for that one. She knew the men understood what she was dealing with but it still felt wrong to talk about. Made it too real. Johnny being dead on the gurney in front of her had hurt too much the first go around to try and talk about it so soon and when his life was still in limbo she knew she couldn’t have handled a discussion.

“The funny thing about time,” Soap said after a moment, “is it tends to move pretty fast. And before you know it, you’ve compartmentalized things you shouldn’t and it eats at you slowly from the inside. Take it from someone who still hasn’t learned that lesson.” He gave her a small smile as he ran his thumb over the back of her hand. He figured she was still going to resist him, could see it in the way her eyes darted away from his face to try and avoid eye contact. He shifted his head a bit to try and get into her downcast view but he couldn’t move far enough. “You don’t have to talk to me, or any of us if you don’t want to,” he began but Emma’s eyes flashed back to his and he saw a shift in her face. Shit. “Lass,” he shifted on the bed a bit to try and sit up more to pull her into him.

“I still see it,” Emma said quietly as the tears that were ever present behind her eyes spilled down her cheeks. “See him hurting you, feel his hands on me,” she sighed and wiped furiously at her face, “smell the salt water.” She groaned frustrated as she turned her head again from Soap to try and blink back the tears. “I wake up and it takes me a second to remember where I’m at, I’ve made them leave a light on in my room so it’s not dark when I wake up. Last time it was dark I almost had a panic attack. Crane liked to leave me in the dark,” she muttered before slamming her eyes shut to try and compose herself. Just saying his name brought back flashes of his face, of his voice, and images of his body hanging there at the end.

“Those things will fade over time,” Soap said after a moment, grunting as he moved out of sheer willpower to shift up the incline on his bed. The doctors said his wounds were healed enough that he didn’t run the risk of dying from them anymore but that didn’t mean they hurt any less. “I won’t lie and say they go away because they don’t ever fully go,” he moved his left arm to shift himself over on the bed to make room for her. He hissed through his teeth at the stiffness and pulling sensation in his muscle from the gunshot wound from the movement but he still managed to maneuver anyway. “But you’ll learn how to deal with them so they aren’t always in the forefront,” he patted the bed next to him where he had made room, “come here.”

Emma had started when Soap moved and she instantly moved to try and help him but he did it on his own. Her eyes darted to his arm to make sure the bandages held before going to his side, everything looked fine. “I can’t make the thoughts stop,” Emma breathed out as she shifted a bit on the bed staring at the small space he had made. It was going to be tight and she was nervous to knock into him but she really did just want to hold him, and be held, right now. “I keep myself busy but the second I let my guard down they’re back. It’s like he’s still torturing me,” she let her shoulders slump, it was as if she had let the floodgates down and everything was coming out now after days of keeping it locked away.

“I know,” Soap said gently as he tugged at her hand again to get her to come to him. She bent at his second tug and shifted around on the bed. It was tight and he clenched his teeth together to keep from grunting as he raised his left arm higher than he probably should so she could curl up against his good side. The doctors would be pissed if they walked in now and saw this but he didn’t care, he needed her against him as badly as she needed him right now.

Emma was quick in her movements, her smaller frame folding up against his side like so many nights in the past. Her leg was twined around his above the sheet and her head was pressed against his shoulder near the crook of his neck. It was like they were made for one another for how seamlessly they fit together, even in a creaky old hospital bed. Her cheek was wet as it pressed into his bare skin and despite the fact she was crying Soap felt content at the contact, it felt like coming home to him.

“It’ll get better,” Soap promised after she had stopped silently crying. Her arm was wrapped around his chest and holding his other shoulder, careful to avoid his ribs as she pressed herself tightly against him. “We’ll get through it all together,” he said as he ran the fingertips of his right hand gently up and down her arm. “I have someone you can talk to if you want. She’s helped me through a few of my own issues,” he paused and kissed the top of Emma’s head. “Her office is not far from my place,” he explained lightly before grinning as he felt Emma still at his words. That was just what he was going for.

“Your place? Where?” Emma asked as the words sank in for her and she shifted her head up to look at him. He was smirking.

“Ghost was right you know,” he said smoothly, “that I could still hear you, I don’t remember all of it but there’s some stuff I recall.” He waited for Emma to put the pieces into place and he saw the telltale look on her face when she figured out what he was talking about. “You asked me to take you back to Scotland, show you where I grew up,” he shrugged his head to the side a bit, “I figure I’ve got a little bit of leave coming my way after all of this, some time to recover before I’m at it again. Come back with me,” he stated though it was more of a question.

Emma smiled, though it was a bit watery and she knew her face was a blotchy mess from all the crying. “Are you sure?” She inquired, “I mean I don’t want to, you know, intrude,” she stumbled a bit before laughing at Soap’s face that he gave her. “I’d like that,” she said finally before pressing a kiss to his cheek, “I want to be wherever you are.”

Soap grinned broadly at that before settling himself back down on the bed, adjusting himself down a bit and closing his eyes. He knew it was only a matter of time before a nurse walked in and forced Emma out of the bed but he was going to enjoy the closeness that they were sharing. It was something he had been terrified he would never get again when she had been ripped from him all those days ago. But now as her breath slowed and her tense muscles relaxed against him Soap found he had never been more at ease.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Four months later

The old townhouse in the Scottish Highlands had finally started to feel more like a home in the past few weeks. When Emma and Soap first arrived late one night the air was stagnant inside with a thick layer of dust over everything and no amenities. Since Soap was barely ever home he didn’t bother with anything to make it feel cozy or welcoming and Emma had to dig in boxes to find a few extra blankets for the bed since the place was freezing. After that first night though, Emma had gone to work to make the place a little livelier. Fully unpacking all of Soap’s items that were piled in boxes throughout the house, going to the store to stock back up on all the necessities and even purchasing a few plants which Soap warned her would be left to fend on their own when they were called back into the field.

Standing in the kitchen Soap took in the downstairs of the house, sipping on his water after getting back from a run. He had begun working on his stamina now that everything was fully healed. Running every morning, hitting the gym most afternoons and even working out at home in the evening with Emma to help her with her own physical therapy and strength training. She had started her own healing journey and was seeing the therapist in town that he had used in the past. It had been a rough few weeks when she started, the night terrors pulling them both out of sleep were a normal occurrence. She still had the panic attacks and nightmares but they were coming less and less frequently, though Soap still saw the haunted look in her eyes when something triggered her.

Glancing at the clock showed it was barely six, which meant Emma was hopefully still asleep. She had been up late the night before reading, another hobby she had picked back up now that they had more quiet time. There had been plenty of times he had to literally drag her into bed to get some sleep and pry the book from her hands. He knew the stories were an escape for her, as his drawings were for him, though he hadn’t picked up his sketchbook in a while. The images in his mind weren’t ones he was ready to put down on paper yet.

Slipping into the shower Soap made quick work of his wash down, pausing to look at the still pink skin under his ribs that slashed straight down his side toward his hip. Just another scar to add to his ever-growing collection. He knew he had been lucky, beyond lucky, this time and in those quiet moments he wondered to himself how long until all that luck finally ran out. How long could he keep fighting the good fight and come home? Now that he had the drive to come home that was. Before he was just a good soldier in the field that would do whatever it took no matter what, sacrificing himself for one of his brothers. But now? Now he had someone depending and waiting on him and he wasn’t sure how much he was willing to risk anymore. He nearly lost his chance with her once and Soap didn’t know if he wanted to do it again.

Wrapping a towel around his hips Soap walked back into the bedroom and paused at the sight before him. Emma was sprawled out on her stomach on the bed, her head tilted to the side and eyes still closed with sleep. She was barely covered in the sheet, leaving much of her bare back exposed in the weak morning sunlight. Her back, while still beautiful to him, was covered in scars. Much of her whipping injuries had left dark red gashes and lumps on her back. The knife slash that dug along her shoulder blade mingled with a scar from one of her old surgeries was the worst, the skin raised and jagged where the doctors did their best to repair it. She was self-conscious of them, never wanting to look at them in the mirror and always wearing leggings to cover the matching marks on the backs of her knees.

It angered Soap that she felt the need to hide but his anger wasn’t at her, it was at Crane. For what he had done to her, to them, to everyone. He had caused irreparable damage that was still echoing after his death, which had been conveniently covered up and swept under the rug to prevent an international incident. Soap still hadn’t received the whole story yet but Ghost had passed along a heavily redacted file that the bunker under the barn was destroyed along with all the evidence of what happened.

Crossing the room Soap took a seat on his side of the bed and reached over to brush some of Emma’s hair off her face, running his hand over her cheek before gently sliding his fingers down her neck and shoulders. He felt her body shiver from the touch and she shifted a bit coming out of her sleep with a little groan. “Sorry,” Soap said with a small chuckle, waking her up when she wasn’t ready to be awoken still wasn’t advisable. He had been on the receiving end of her half-asleep cursing a few times already. “Couldn’t help myself,” Soap finished as he leaned down to kiss her shoulder as she stretched out a bit “all this bare skin on display is too tempting.”

“What time is it?” Emma asked as she attempted to roll but Soap had pressed his hand down on her back to keep her where she was. It was habit for her now to keep her back hidden, she didn’t like looking at it, didn’t like the doctors seeing it, or even risk people getting a glimpse of it if she could help it. So much so that she never wore anything less than a t-shirt anymore and made sure she covered up even when she went to bed. When the lights were out and Soap reached for her in the dark, as he had done the night before, it was a bit easier for her to ditch the clothes because there was no chance of either of them seeing the marks. Her eyes were looking around to where he had thrown her shirt, spotting it stuck on the small chair near the foot of the bed, before she took in the fact he was sitting there in a towel. “You’ve already showered? What time did you go running?”

“I was out the door by quarter of five,” Soap answered with a small shrug. He had awoken from a nightmare and had flown out of bed as fast as possible. He didn’t want to wake Emma; she hadn’t been sleeping through the night very often and he didn’t want to be the reason she was awoken this time. “Stopped at the farm for a bit and watched the farmers letting out the sheep,” he grinned. While this wasn’t where he grew up, his hometown had been a rough area, this was the place he loved. It was slow-paced, simple, and most importantly unobtrusive. People were friendly but they didn’t pry into other’s business and no one batted an eye when he brought an American girl to the local pub for dinner on their second night back into town. He’d take her to where he grew up one day when he was ready to face that. “I was too early for the corner shop to get you a muffin, I can go back out though,” he added as his fingers danced down her spine to the dip of her lower back, careful to keep his eyes on her face to watch for any reaction.

“Mmm, no,” Emma answered as she reached out a hand to grab the hand he was using to lean on and support himself on the bed then tugged. “I think you should come back to bed instead,” she stated simply. She wasn’t ready to leave the softness and warmth of the sheets and judging by the clouds outside the window it was going to start raining any minute. “We have a few hours until our call with Laswell,” she coaxed, “unless you have somewhere to be.”

Laswell had been checking in on them periodically and providing quick updates on the rest of the team when she could. The 141 was still at it, back out in the field taking care of things though Laswell couldn’t tell them too much of what those things were on unsecured lines. She had assured both Soap and Emma that their spots on the team were still there, that Ghost wouldn’t let her fill them if she tried anyway, but for them to continue to take their time to recoup. Emma still wasn’t sure what she wanted. She wanted the work, though after viewing her bank account one day she realized she certainly didn’t need the money anymore. The money transfers had hit her account in the same large increments every day for a week solid and she had asked Johnny if it was some kind of joke. The amount of money was not what she agreed to on her work contract, it was almost four times the amount. Soap just laughed and informed her that Laswell took care of her own and he had a sneaking suspicion that many of her family’s debts had disappeared as well.

“Back to bed?” Soap asked as he shifted to lean over her, using both of his hands to grip where her neck met her shoulders and squeezing lightly. “But what if I’m not tired?” He asked as he kneaded the soft skin, grinning as he earned an appreciative moan and Emma shifted a bit to pull her hair further off her neck and back. “I thought we could maybe walk down to the grocer, we’re running low on a few things, and maybe make a quick stop into the bookshop,” he added with an eyebrow raise as he continued to work her muscles, careful to not squeeze too hard on her still sensitive skin.

“Just because I want you to come back to bed doesn’t mean you have to sleep,” Emma retorted simply as she forced herself to ignore the fact her back was on full display and instead enjoyed the moment. Her therapist had been working with her on accepting her new self, that there was nothing wrong with it and instead embrace it and let Soap help her with it. He too was covered in marks and scars and he never tried to hide them, even letting Emma sit on his lap and question each one and get the story that went with them when she couldn’t sleep or felt particularly self-conscious. “You could just draw, or read a book with me,” she groaned a little again as he found a knot between her shoulder blades and he worked it out. “Or keep doing this,” she tacked on with a small chuckle.

Soap kept up his ministrations in silence for a while, his fingers making quick work of the tense spots he found in her back before sliding the blankets off her lower body and moving down to her legs. He could tell that despite the fact her body was relaxed under him her mind was going a million miles an hour. She hadn’t allowed him to really see her properly in weeks so this was progress even if she was questioning it. “Get out of your head,” Soap said after a moment as his fingers massaged her thighs just below the curve of her butt. “Be in the moment,” he continued, knowing that the therapist had given her that tactic because she had already given it to him to use when he was having flashbacks. “What do you feel right now?” He traced a finger up the inside of her thigh getting dangerously close to her center before dragging it down to her knee.

“I feel,” Emma started before hesitating and biting her lip at his finger before he pulled it away again, “your hands on me. The sheets on my feet, a bit of a breeze from the fan,” Emma listed slowly and quietly. She kept her eyes closed as she attempted to keep her brain at the moment and not worry about everything else outside of her control. It was a losing battle though; she could feel the breeze on her back from the fan and it kept drawing her mind to the scars peppering her skin and what caused them. She was going to back out and roll, the thoughts were catching up too quickly, “I think I,” she gasped as she felt Soap bend over and place a kiss right along her spine, “I feel your lips.” That had certainly distracted her from running away.

“What else?” Soap asked with a grin as he kissed his way further up her back, his hands sliding back between her legs to push her thighs a little further apart to make more room for him. She obliged without question so he positioned himself between her legs on his knees, his hands planted on either side of her as he leaned over her again and kissed one of her scars. He knew she was about to back down so he acted quickly, planting another kiss to keep her pleasantly distracted.

“Your knees brushing my thighs,” Emma breathed out as she kept her eyes closed just feeling what he was doing instead of watching. “My scars,” she said after a second as he seemed to be drawing his lips over every mark on her back in a slow, soft rhythm. She stiffened a bit at the thought of it but fought to remain in the gentle moment they were having together. “Johnny,” Emma breathed squirming a bit, “you don’t have to do,” she started but Soap cut her off.

“Do what?” Soap asked as he moved to grip her hips and tug her backside closer to him so she could feel him pressing against her. “Admire you?” He questioned lightly as he moved his mouth up to her neck and bit down gently into the soft skin, laughing as she gasped. “Desire you?” He kissed the spot he abused, “because you’re the sexiest goddamn woman I have ever seen,” he continued, his lips brushing over her ear. “And keeping my hands to myself is a fucking problem when you’re laying in my bed naked.”

“You know what I mean,” Emma ground out, though her fight was weak. If his goal had been to get her out of the anxiety loop in her head he had done that. Her skin was humming with anticipation of what was next. “You don’t have to look at my back, I can roll,” she started and adjusted to try and show her intent to move again but Soap pressed his weight down on her holding her there.

“Emma,” Soap said gently as he slid his palm up her back in a soothing gesture, “when I said you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen I meant it. That means all of you,” he continued, “you think I care about these?” He ran his finger along a particularly long gash that wrapped toward her side, “I’m covered in marks, scars, and bullet wounds. Do you find them unattractive on me?” He stayed silent waiting for an answer which he knew would be no, and Emma didn’t say a word. “Exactly. So why is it so hard for you to believe me? I mean I know you can feel the attraction,” he laughed as he pushed up against her and saw her breath catch.

“I know,” Emma dared to say after a moment, opening her eyes to look over at him. “It’s just, hard when it’s so new and,” she paused, “I just need time is all.” She saw Soap nod as he ran his thumb over the most jagged wound on her back. “I believe you; I just can’t get myself to look at it the same,” she finished as he continued to gently trace his fingertips along her back.

“I have no problem reminding you,” Soap answered, laughing a bit as he saw goosebumps pop up along her skin as he dragged his nails along her ribs. “You know, you managed to get me back into bed,” he said after a moment, his eyes darting to the window where a downpour had started. “And I don’t think we’ll be walking to the grocer anytime soon,” he turned his attention back to Emma again. “So what are we going to do with our time?”

“I suggested reading or drawing,” Emma answered but subtly wiggled her backside against his length. “Then you started groping me,” she taunted, laughing a bit as Soap caught her movement and not so subtly pushed himself back against her with a small huff. “I think I know what you want, apparently last night wasn’t enough.”

It never was enough between them it seemed, though Emma was not complaining. During the start of both of their recoveries, the intimacy had been nothing more than soft cuddling in bed or heavy kissing sessions, with careful consideration to not push one another too far. There had been plenty of times they stopped and one of them excused themselves for a cold shower or a step outside for a breather. Soap had been the first to crack after two and a half weeks home, dragging her into his lap on the couch and all but tearing her sleep shorts off her so he could get inside of her. He paid for the strain later, only relenting to take a pain pill when Emma threatened she’d cut him off for another month if she had to.

“I have a suspicion if I just,” he slipped his hand between her thighs, “run my fingers over you I’d find I am not the only one that didn’t get enough last night.” He gave her one second to react before he did just that, sliding his fingers through her center which elicited an indecent moan from her. “Mm, see?” He asked, sliding his finger to brush over her clit to which she arched her backside up and into him to give him better access. “I don’t want to hear a single word from you about me not getting enough,” he admonished, “you are bloody soaked leannan.”

“Your fault,” Emma groaned out as she squirmed against his fingers to get more friction, biting her lip as she wantonly pushed back. All worries about what her back looked like were gone from her mind at the moment, her attention laser focused on his ministrations. This had been the first time she had allowed him behind her like this and she found she missed it. Missed the control he was able to exert over her in this position as well as how deep she knew he could get when they were like this. “Where are you…” Emma started as Soap pulled away from her completely. She twisted to look behind her to see him throwing the towel off the side of the bed before his hands grabbed her hips hard and yanked her back and up toward him so she had to prop herself up on her elbows.

“Not going anywhere,” Soap answered her as his hands slid around her thighs to hold her still before he bent down and ran his tongue over her center. He kept his hands gripped tight on her legs to keep her properly spread and pushed up against his face as he worked, knowing she would try to roll her hips to assist. He heard her gasp into the pillow as he lapped his tongue in and over her in long sweeping strokes that went from her center to her asshole, his teeth scraping along her every now and then to get her to cry out.

“Fuck,” he breathed as he leaned back to admire his work before slipping a finger into her easily, not giving her any time to adjust as he started pumping. She was whining in her throat before he added a second finger to give her the stretch she was looking for. “So eager for me,” he admired as he curled his fingers a bit and started moving them faster, his gaze flicking up to look at Emma’s face as she started to breathe faster, curling her fists into the sheets as she twisted her head to watch. “You’re gorgeous,” he growled out feeling her getting close, her body clamping down on him. “Don’t you ever think otherwise. You are incredible and fucking beautiful and most importantly,” he shifted his thumb to rub small circles over her clit to get her over that edge, “you’re all mine.”

There it was. His praising words had thrust her right to that edge but those last three words sent her over. Emma cried out loudly and felt her legs lock up and body tense as the orgasm ripped through her, but Soap kept his fingers moving. He was going to send her right into a second one if he could and she shuddered, rocking her hips with abandon to ride out the high. “I’m yours Johnny,” she agreed a bit breathlessly once she got her voice back, smirking as she felt him gently rubbing at her asshole now that his fingers were sufficiently wet.

“What do you want gorgeous?” Soap asked as he continued to rub her ass gently. He pushed in lightly when she didn’t answer him, cursing under his breath at the sensation and visual. He felt her tense for a moment around his finger and he hesitated before she relaxed and he pushed further. “Tell me what you want,” he stated more commanding as he pulled his finger back a bit and pushed in, the rhythm slow and methodical. He noticed she was moving her hips a bit with him and he huffed pushing in a little more with each thrust but then stopped altogether. He wanted her to say it and not just go with what he was giving her.

“I want you,” Emma breathed but knew he wasn’t going to take that for an answer. “I want you to fuck me,” she continued and pushed back against him. “Like this,” she added before pushing up on her hands and pulling her hair over one shoulder. “I’m yours so make me yours,” she tacked on looking over her shoulder at him. She could see her scars out of her peripheral vision but she didn’t care now. Right now she cared about Johnny and how he was looking at her like she was the damn air he breathed to keep him alive.

There she was. The confident Emma that didn’t hide and told him what she needed from him and it was sexy as hell. He adjusted up onto his knees and guided himself toward her entrance before he pushed in, hissing out a breath at how easily he slipped in. He paused to steady himself before rocking his hips into her, pushing further in with each roll until he was fully seated. But it was not enough for her apparently, she was pushing back against him and arching her back with a small plead. “How do you want it?” He inquired as his fingers dug into her ass cheeks, keeping her still on him so she couldn’t wriggle. “Soft?” He pulled back antagonizing slow, “or hard,” he snapped his hips and she all but shrieked as she clamped around him.

“Hard,” Emma whimpered. They had done soft and slow the night before, most of their times together had been soft lately thanks to her insecurities. “Hard and fast,” she stated before dropping her head down as Soap began to slam into her. He had one hand on her hip to keep her in rhythm, the other finding her asshole again. She moaned as he pushed his thumb into her and he matched the thrusts of his thumb with his hips. “Fuck,” Emma moaned as she arched into him, sliding her body down so her head was rammed into the pillow and her hands were pushing back against the headboard to keep from slamming her head into it. “Keep going,” she begged.

“Jesus Emma,” Soap breathed as he looked down at her, her face was already getting red and there was sweat breaking out on her brow. “You take me so good,” he praised knowing she was preening under the attention, “you were made for me. You’re mine and I’m never letting you go,” he continued before sliding the hand that was on her hip up to her shoulder and neck to help keep her pushing against him and also to help her not injure herself. “Fuck you’re tight, you going to come for me again?” He asked his fingers tightening around her neck ever so slightly.

“I’m close,” Emma answered as she reached one of her hands back to grab at his leg and dig her nails in, knowing he liked the sting. “Right there,” she said after a moment as she felt him slide his thumb even further in her ass as he slammed home again, “Johnny right there, please.” Her voice had taken on a bit of a begging tone which only amped Soap up as the bed squeaked loudly underneath them. “Finish with me,” she breathed out as his fingers flexed on her throat again, pulling her head up off the pillow as he angled her body just right. She was there, the tightening in her body was about to be unleashed, and when she heard Soap let out a curse and his hips stuttered a bit she climaxed. It was a ragged sort of moan that escaped her lips, followed by whimpering pants as Soap finished with her. He was pounding into her hard enough that it was stealing her breath and she was gasping against the grip of his fingers before he slowed to a stop.

If he wasn’t exhausted from his run before he was certainly spent now. Soap was breathing heavily as he admired Emma while still buried in her, the way her skin was flushed, and how her arms shook to hold herself. He smiled a bit as he slid himself out, his hand gently letting go of her neck to slide down her slick back before moving out from between her legs. “I love you,” Soap said after he managed to even his breathing and collapsed onto the bed next to her.

Emma was rolled on her side looking at him with a smile, her hair a ragged mess around her sweaty face which only made Soap’s chest swell with emotion at the sight. Reaching out he tugged her against him and pulled her in for a heart-stopping kiss, his hand winding into her hair at the back of her head. He didn’t care that they were both panting and trying to bring themselves back down to earth. “Fuck I love you, Emma,” he said again with a small laugh as he crushed her tight against his chest and used his other hand to hold her face to his to kiss her multiple times.

“I love you too,” Emma answered, laughing a bit herself as she half laid on top of him in the bed. She smoothed his hair back off his forehead a she looked into his eyes, her thumb tracing over his eyebrow feeling the small indent of an old scar that ran through it. “I never want to leave this room,” she said after a moment, “or this moment. Let’s just…let’s never leave.” Being in this room with him meant the outside world wasn’t there. Her issues weren’t there, the insecurities and fears were on the other side of the door where they couldn’t hurt her. In here she was in a safe bubble with the man she loved and that’s all she truly wanted.

“We may need to leave eventually,” Soap answered her with a grin, “but I’m on board with staying in this bed as much as humanly possible. Only if it’s with you though,” he answered cupping her cheek as she nuzzled into it. “What I said before,” he continued, “that you’re mine,” he hesitated. “And you agreed,” his eyes searched hers, flicking his gaze back and forth over her face. “I meant it, and not in just a fun sexy way,” he laughed as Emma laughed. “You’re mine Emma and I want you to stay mine. Forever.”

Emma hesitated at his words, her hand sliding over his chest to feel that his heart was still pounding though she wasn’t sure if it was from the exertion moments ago or what he was saying now. He had a look of apprehension on his face and Emma thought she saw a nervous gleam in his eyes as he watched her. That was very unlike him, Soap never betrayed a sense of nerves when it came to anything, always confident and cocky no matter what he was doing. “I already said I was yours and I don’t have any intentions of leaving you. So, what are you saying exactly?” She asked, curling her fingers a bit so she was gripping at his sternum. She needed him to say it because the mood had certainly shifted from the high of sex to some charged apprehension.

“I’m saying that I want you to marry me,” he swallowed, his eyes trained on her face for any sort of hint of her reaction. “I promise that my proposal will be much better than this,” he grinned a bit, sure that his face was probably looking grave because of the nerves. He knew it was quick, they hadn’t even known one another for a full year yet and he was already talking marriage. But nothing in their relationship had been slow anyway and he couldn’t picture his life any other way. Everything they had been through together already had shown him she was the one for him and the thought of not having her around sent an icy punch right through his heart.

“I just wanted to know if you also felt it before I went and bought the ring.” That was a lie, he had bought the ring over a month ago and had hidden it just waiting for the right time. Because despite how nervous he felt he knew she felt the same way, there was no denying it with how well they fit together.

Emma blinked a few times before nodding, doing her best to not cry. “I’d take this as a proposal right now,” Emma answered him truthfully as she leaned down to kiss him. To be honest she hadn’t thought too hard about marriage, not yet. It had of course crossed her mind a few times, wondering if she had finally found her person and they would be together forever. But ever the man that was two steps ahead, Soap had already been seriously thinking about it. The first to cross that boundary of friends to lovers, the first to say I love you and the first ready to contemplate marriage. “But I have a feeling you are going to want to do it ‘properly’,” she added grinning a bit as he nodded.

When he had died in her arms Emma had felt part of herself die in that moment and that’s when she knew he was hers. She couldn’t be without him, because being without him meant she was missing part of her. Emma lost the fight with the tears and felt them spill over but she didn’t move to wipe them away. “I love you John MacTavish and I am not going anywhere. I’m yours,” she promised.

“And I’m yours,” Soap replied, pulling her back for yet another soft kiss. “Tha gaol agam ort, Emma.”

[aylacavebear]

Stockroom Antics - Chapter 3

Maria had changed jobs numerous times over the last five years, more to keep herself safe than anything else. Her mother had told her she was a fairy but she thought it was just her mom being weird. Honestly, though, she had no other way of explaining what had happened to her that stormy day before she'd gone into a coma for two weeks.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 1474

Pairing eventually Dean Winchester x OC

Warnings: Angst

A/N: This one's written a little differently than my last one. Let me know what you think. It's the first time I've tried this type of writing. Chapters will alternate viewpoints as well. I also looked into an actual area so this one could feel more realistic.

----------------------------------------- Stockroom Antics Chapter 3

You and Sarah went back to the hardline to finish unboxing what had come in on the truck that day. She was still laughing a bit from the little sofa incident, taking out her phone and getting it posted to her social media account.

“So, he was hot,” Sarah mused as she put her phone back in her pocket, pulling some items out of the box in front of her.

You shrug your shoulders, working your own box, “He’s FBI, probably married anyway.”

“Doesn’t mean you couldn’t have flirted a little bit with him,” she teased you.

You now rolled your eyes, “Men are nothing but trouble. How many are flirting with you these days?” you asked, teasing her a bit.

“A few,” she chuckled.

The two of you chatted while you worked, laughing and joking around, as well as planning your next antic to film. Luckily, management was fairly lenient when it came to goofing off at work. Most times in the stockroom there were jokes, laughter, and better than any comedy show you’d ever watched. It all managed to mostly take your mind off of the sulfur question the agent had asked you about but it never fully left your mind.

Your break came up around two-thirty, a typical time when you worked till five. You liked sitting outside in the sun, even on chilly days like today. Most times you’d scroll through Tumbler, reading some fanfic about one of your favorite characters. These days it was Damon from The Vampire Diaries. To you, it was just fantasy. You knew vampires weren’t really like that, and you had no desire for a domineering man in your life either.

Five minutes before you had to go back in, you looked up as the scent of sulfur moved across the air from behind you. Almost a dozen people were walking around the parking lot and the sidewalk in front of the businesses there but none of them stood out. You took a deep breath, the sulfur smell gone as you felt your heart rate increase a little, knowing you’d have to be even more vigilant than before.

As you took care of the hummers for the last half of your shift you paid more attention to the customers in the store, but more for the scent of sulfur. If you had been running the racks of clothes, you probably would have smelled it but since everything on the hummers went in the back half of the store, you never noticed. 

Several customers asked you to unlock the bathrooms for them, which you did with a friendly smile, enjoying being able to help them with something. You missed cashiering, which was your last job at the Wal-Mart across the street. Ross hadn’t started cross-training you yet, so for now, you just enjoyed helping the customers who came up to you on the floor. You smiled while you worked, dancing around a little to the music playing in the store. Sometimes something you liked came on even if most of it was more new-aged.

“So, if we get pillows in the shipment tomorrow, pillow fight on hardline,” Sarah told her as you put another hummer in the backroom near the end of your shift.

“Oh my god, that is gonna be so much fun,” you laughed, thinking about it.

“We’ll see who else we can get in on it and get to film it,” she chuckled.

The two of you were always coming up with new ways to have fun at work, “How’d the last video do?” you ask her, mildly curious.

“They loved it and want your profile so they can check your stuff out too,” Sarah told her.

You laugh a little as you look away from her, “You know I’m not into all that stuff. I’ll just be a silent contributor.”

She rolled her eyes, “One of these days you’ll cave,” she teased you before asking you for a code 99, as she did every day the two of you worked together.

You check her bag, say your goodbyes, then clock out and head outside. The smell of sulfur is present but you can’t identify its source. You stop at the edge of the sidewalk, looking both ways and around the parking lot. There is a really nice Impala sitting in the parking lot but you can’t make out who’s inside it, not from this distance. That was not what you should have been focusing on but it was the only odd thing that stood out. What you didn’t notice was the couple that was watching you from near the Petsmart, right next to your work.

Once the way was clear, you crossed the small road and headed toward your truck, feeling your heart rate increasing as you walked. You at least were aware that the sulfur odor was coming from somewhere behind you but that didn’t mean you didn’t suspect whoever was in that Impala either. You’d warded at least the inside of your truck from demons, making it so they couldn’t enter. The breeze blew again, sending that sulfur smell back over you as you closed the driver’s door of your truck. 

For a moment, you just sat there, hands on the steering wheel, attempting to calm your racing heart, as well as looking around for anyone suspicious. You saw them, the couple standing near the Petsmart, watching you. One more deep breath, and you started your truck, heading toward home. It was a half-hour drive from where you worked, out in the quieter part of Avra Valley.

You checked your rearview mirror repeatedly as you drove home down those long stretches of road. There was the usual five o’clock traffic but out this way, it was minimal compared to in town. A couple of times you thought you were being followed. You even slowed down, going five under the speed limit. The cars passed you, and you sped back up, now back to five over the speed limit. There was also a brief moment when you could have sworn you saw that black Impala in the small line of vehicles behind you but it wasn’t there when you rechecked. 

It was five-thirty-five when you pulled into your driveway. You lived on an acre of land in a mobile home attached to a scamper with a twenty by seventeen-foot enclosed porch that connected the two. As you put the truck in park and shut off the engine, you sat there, taking several, slow deep breaths. You’d already found a decent protection spell with sigils that you’d marked each corner of the property with, as well as warded your house as a just in case.

The sun was low but not quite down, not for another half hour at least, and the wind had picked up again. You sighed as you climbed out of your truck and headed inside. Luckily you’d remembered to leave your heater going so the scamper was warm, that was where you slept and spent most of your time. 

Your regular night routine consisted of changing into comfortable pajamas, setting up your coffee pot for the following day, checking Snapchat due to Sara and her tagging you in the antics you did at work, and then spending the evening enjoying your favorite show at the moment. Dinner was leftover baked chicken while watching The Vampire Diaries.

After dark, the neighborhood dogs started up like they usually did. There were plenty of strays in the area but within the last week, the neighbor's dogs had gotten more annoying. It was almost as if people were taking a walk or someone may have been lingering too long. No matter how many times you checked outside, through your window, you never saw anything, not even a stray dog. With the subdivision across the street, lots more people had dogs in the area. There were also the annoying drivers who either blared their music or had the bass turned up so high that you could hear them coming a mile away. It was the usual light traffic for the night since it was a weeknight. On Friday and Saturday nights, all the kids and teenagers were out on dirt bikes and quads.

When eight rolled around, you reluctantly turned off your show before heading to bed. You knew you’d be up for at least another hour reading some fanfic on Tumbler, or several. It was probably the most relaxing part of your day. Snuggled in your bed, leaning against your pillows, letting your mind drift to some fantasy through a fanfic, even with the dogs going off from time to time outside. There were plenty of things you weren’t aware of that night as you plugged in your phone, turned on some relaxing music to sleep to, and turned off your light. 

----------------------------------------- Chapter 4

Link to the series Master List

[mystery-star]

Whumpril 2023 - Day 4 | Needle

Pairing: Ben Wade x reader (gender neutral)

Words: 819

Warnings: injuries

A/N: Missed a day? Find all Whumpril entries on my Whumpril Masterlist.

-

The wound looked really bad. You swallowed when Ben had removed his clothing to show it to you.

“That bad?” he asked with a raised eyebrow

“I can’t say yet. There’s so much blood” you took his arm and helped him sit down “Sit”

“Already am sitting, am I not?”

“I meant stay” he chuckled and you walked away to get the medical set. By now you shouldn’t be that bothered about the gang’s wounds anymore, it was a regular occurrence and being the camp’s you treated all of it. But it was different with Ben. The two of you were courting and he was more than a friend. You didn’t necessarily like the rest of the gang so of course it didn’t bother you. And now, for the first time since you were with them, you had to treat Ben. With a sigh you got the set and returned to Ben who was wiping away the blood with his shirt. Gently, you pushed his hands away to see for yourself. “That was a bigger gun, right?” you asked

“Yeah”

“Well it looks like there’s two wounds. I have to see if the bullet’s still inside and I think we need to stitch them up” he let out a grunt but nodded.

“Do it” grabbing your tools you told him to lay down but he refused

“You told me to stay seated”

“Well now you should lie down”

“I’m fine sitting” he replied through gritted teeth. Oh well, you could work like that but you understood why he didn’t want to lie down. He was the gangs’ boss after all. He didn’t want to appear weak by lying down.

“Well, you’re the boss” you replied, making him chuckle. As you got to work on getting the bullet out you felt his muscles tense and he closed his eyes, his hands gripping his bloodstained shirt. “That’s the worst part, I know” you assured him, amazed that he didn’t utter too many sounds of pain.

“Thank you” he suddenly pressed out

“Of course, you’re welcome”

“I meant thanks for being considerate” he added more quietly before he let out a little groan of pain. You placed a hand on his other shoulder to calm him down “I remember a time when you weren’t around and we’d either do that ourselves or others did and well…”

“I can imagine” you gave him a reassuring smile and continued your work, feeling glad when you got the first bullet out. But the second one was worse for both of you, not just because it took longer but also because it seemed to hurt more. You heard him sigh in relief and relax once you told him that it was done. As you took out the needle he glanced at you. “It’s over soon”

“I know”

“How did it go anyways?”

“Robbery?”

“Of course” again you wiped off the blood before you got to work

“Oh well…” he started telling you about it and what had happened, how he got shot and they got away without trouble

“Well that’s nice to hear. That you got away easily that is” you smiled but it fell when you saw how he clenched his fists again in pain.

“I can’t say what’s worse”

“What? What’s worse?”

“Well, I don’t know, as I said” you rolled your eyes

“What are you comparing?”

“Getting out the bullet to this. Just the thought you use that needle to actually make more holes in my skin over and over feels weird, ya know? And instead of getting stuff out you put the thread in” you shrugged. He did have a point but how he got these thoughts so randomly you didn’t know.

“But it helps with healing later on”

“Oh, I know. I know you know what you’re doing” he looked at you and you got the hidden message. That for him it was a great sign of trust to let you treat him. Of course, living as he did he couldn’t really trust anyone and even his gang could use the chance to get rid of him right now instead of helping. Somehow it made you sad because you couldn’t believe how hard it must be if you had no one you could fully trust. Or be yourself with. He had even admitted that sometimes he wished back times where he was just another gang member where people wouldn’t be jealous of him and he hadn’t to fear they might just murder him in his sleep because he had nothing to offer. You smiled

“Well, I have to make sure to get you back to your feet or else I might need to start earning my keep if you’re gone” his hand squeezed yours.

“I think you already do just by doing all this” he looked at you with a smirk “And I have rather you treat me than anyone else”

-

Taglist: @woman-with-no-name

Return to the Whumpril Masterlist

[loveandmurders]

Hello :))) I love your Sinclair little sister stuff and I was wondering if you could do y/n bringing a guy back home and going up to their bedroom to 😈 but Bo finds out runs up there and stops him being protective, they fight for a little bit and the y/n’s guy goes home but it ends in fluff <333

Hello there, I’m so glad you’re enjoying my work <3 I’m sorry I took so long before answering you but here you are! I hope you’ll enjoy <3

And as usual, if you think you missed any of my work, you can check this out on my masterlist here.

COCKBLOCK 2

Warnings: mention of murders, mention of making out, overprotective and possessive Bo (but he gets better), mention of a fight, argument between reader and Bo, a few strong words, kinda angst/comfort kind of headcanons

Your brothers didn’t know it yet, but you had started to see someone.

Actually, Bo and Vincent were getting suspicious that something was going on because you started to come back home later in the evening and you were always very evasive when they asked you questions.

They really didn’t like it when you weren’t telling them everything, but they couldn’t force you to answer, and Lester was always reminding them you could move out if you were fed up with them.

And it was a threat that was working wonders on them.

They finally got you home; they couldn’t push you away.

And the reason why you weren’t saying anything was because you perfectly remembered how they had acted when you had tried to have some sexual fun with one of the tourists, and you weren’t certain they would be nicer to a non future wax statue actually.

They were overprotective of you, and they wanted the best for you, you knew it.

But it was actually easier to see your lover when you still had a flat, but now you were living with your brothers again, you had to go to his place or at hotels. 

It was fine, of course, but you wished you could bring him home from time to time.

The occasion appeared when Bo had to leave for an errand, and Vincent was busy at the other side of Ambrose, because some statues got destroyed in the last tourist visit.

You were quick to send a message to your lover for him to come. He was more than eager to comply.

You just hoped Lester wouldn’t come by and notice anything.

After you gave your lover all the instructions for him to find Ambrose, you met him outside the house.

It was quite fun to have to sneak him inside your room, but it was also annoying you couldn’t freely live. It was even worse than when your parents were alive and you were a teen.

You were on your bed, kissing and slowly starting to touch each other. His hands were already under your shirt.

But you got interrupted by a phone call. You almost didn’t answer but you saw it was Lester, and you knew better than ignoring your brothers.

“What’s up?” you asked

“‘M sorry” he started, and you could indeed hear the guilt lacing his voice

“What for?” you asked

“Saw a new car close to the house, and thought Bo got it from the last tourists or somethin’ like that, and told him it was in a really good shape for once” he babbled and you groaned

“Great” you mumbled

“Didn’t know ya were bringin’ someone home, or wouldn’t’ve said anythin’” he continued

“Bo’s on his way?” you asked

And you got the answer because you heard the front door being violently opened and then someone running upstairs.

You just had the time to hang up, sit up and put your shirt fully back on. You turned toward your lover with a sad smile.

“If ya don't want to see me again after this, honestly I’d understand. My family is crazy and intense, and I love them as much as I hate them sometimes” you told him and he arched an eyebrow, not too sure to understand what was going on.

Until Bo opened your bedroom door and stared at the two of you with crazed eyes.

“Ya could at least knock on the fuckin’ door” you groaned

You saw several emotions passing through Bo’s face before his attention fully went on your lover.

“Hey ya, what do ya think ya’re doin’ with my baby sister?” he finally said as he walked to him.

You instantly placed yourself between the two of them, trying to prevent them from fighting and being two idiots.

Bo was such a dead man for reacting that way, but you were doing your best to stay calm for the moment. You were disappointed in him even though you knew he would react that way.

You really didn’t know why you came back leaving at Ambrose.

“Look, Y/N invited me to come over. And I believe she lives here now, so I don’t see why I couldn’t be there” your lover said

“Oh but Y/N perfectly knows why” Bo replied and sent you a look promising you were going to have a discussion later on.

“Really, darling, I don’t understand why you came back there if it’s for you to be treated that way” your lover commented and you hated how much you agreed.

No need to say Bo felt instant anger rushing through him at such words: he couldn’t stand the idea of you leaving when he finally got you back.

Before you could do anything about it, Bo pushed you away and he hit your lover who fell on the ground

You jumped on Bo before he could start hitting again and you tugged him away

He was trying to get free from you so you said the only thing that could prevent him from attacking your lover again: “Touch him one more time and you’ll never see me again” you threatened and Bo stilled.

You helped your lover to get back on his feet and you helped him go to his car, apologising to him over and over again, tears in your eyes.

You should have known better than asking him to come here.

But he was more worried about you than anything else, asking you why you came back to Ambrose and being concerned Bo was abusing you.

You tried to explain to him that you loved your brothers, and they loved you back with everything they had and that they would never hurt you. They would rather die than lay a finger on you.

Bo was just too protective for your own good, and maybe you should have presented your lover to him before trying to sneak him inside your room.

But you promised to both of you, you were going to have a discussion with Bo about what happened and you would force him to be better.

Or you would truly leave, and you would never go back to living at Ambrose.

Your brothers needed to be aware it was the only chance you were giving them, and if it wasn’t working, you would find another flat away from them and only came back sometimes, as rarely as possible.

You watched your lover go, quite upset.

Actually, you even regretted not agreeing to leave with him, but you knew it would have made things even worse.

You sighed and went back inside the house; Bo was waiting for you, quite pissed at you.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked you and you crossed your arms on your chest

“Just invited my boyfriend over” you replied “I thought I was allowed to… ya know since I live here” you added

“Oh ‘cause ya have a boyfriend now” he grumbled

“Ya’re my brother, ya ain’t allowed to be possessive over me” you sternly said

“Ain’t knowin’ him. Ya never talked ‘bout him before either, and I found him in your bed, how I’m supposed to react, hmm?” he argued back “And what if he had come in the middle of a hunt?” he asked again

“I didn’t say anythin’ ‘bout him ‘cause I knew you’d be a dick ‘bout it” you replied “and it was quiet, so I thought it’d be fine” you continued

“Oh ‘m bein’ a dick now? ‘M just tryin’ to protect ya here, so don’t be so ungrateful”

“I never asked ya anythin’!”

“Oh yeah, then why did ya come back home?”

“That’s a good question, I really don’t know what I expected when I came back here to be honest” you mumbled as you looked away.

Bo was about to add something, anger rising even more because your words stabbed him in the heart, when Vincent opened the front door and you both fell silent. Vincent could feel the tension between the two of you so he asked you what was going on. You shrugged.

“Nothin’, just clearly made a mistake” you hummed as you were about to go upstairs, defeated.

But both the twins reached for your wrist.

Bo wasn’t stupid; he knew you weren’t talking about having brought your lover home. And Vincent knew your body language well enough to guess what you were thinking as well.

You turned around. “What?”

“Ya really like him?” Bo asked and you were surprised by the sudden change of attitude.

“Yes” you simply said, not sure where it was leading anymore.

“Then invite him to come at dinner” he said and you stared at him in disbelief.

“What did ya say?” you asked, to make sure you understand well before frowning “ya ain’t plannin’ on kilin’ him, right?” you sighted.

“No. But I will if he ever treats ya badly” he replied

You could tell he was really trying for you in that moment, because he didn’t want you to regret to live with him and Vincent.

“So, ya wanna properly meet him?”

“Not really, but I guess I’d feel betta ‘bout him if I see more of him”

“And ya won’t beat him?”

“No…”

“And ya’ll agree for him to sleep here?”

“No, please, no desire to hear my baby sister fuckin’ a guy” he grumbled and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at that.

You stepped closer to hug him and he wrapped his arms around you, before kissing the top of your head

“Fair enough” you hummed “Tonight?” you asked as you looked up at him and Bo nodded. You knew he was agreeing before he could think more about it and refuse.

“But you bake dessert” he told you and you nodded

“Sure thin’” you happily smiled before turning your attention toward Vincent, and you kissed his cheek.

“I don’t want ya to regret livin’ here, but don’t bring strangers home” Bo tried to compromise and you could guess Lester had long conversations with the twins for them to not push you away because of their overprotectiveness, their possessiveness and their controlling behaviour.

Love made them dangerous, but mostly because it made them feel vulnerable.

Especially when it was about you.

“’M sorry ‘bout that” you said and he shrugged

“Probably shouldn’t’ve hit him” he recognised

“Be careful, Bo, I could almost hear an apology” you teased him and it relaxed him, and Vincent as well; if you were teasing him it meant you weren’t mad at him anymore or thinking about leaving.

“Of course, ya can warn him he’ll be questioned to make sure he is suitable for ya” he added and you rolled your eyes at him

“Bo”

“What? I wanna the best for my baby sister, that’s all. And ya can’t stop me”

And you knew that.

Taglist:

@feathery-ass​

@g0thl3zz

[flightlessangelwings]

Safe and Secure

Din Djarin x afab!reader (smut with no pronoun use, no use of y/n)

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: smut (18+ only!), unprotected sex, needy desperate sex, pining, protective!Din, nondescript violence, kidnapping

Notes: This could be read kinda as a prequel to Can’t Deny You, but it also stands on its own. As y’all know, I’m such a sucker for protective!Din, so this comes as no surprise here lol! I hope y’all enjoy this, let me know what you think! Feel free to also follow my update blog and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post @flightlessangelwings-updates​

~

If someone had told you that your life would be spent traveling the galaxy with a Mandalorian, you would have told them to lay off the spotchka. Yet, here you were, a loyal companion to the best bounty hunter and fiercest warrior you had ever seen in your life. You weren’t sure if it was fate or just random chance, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. And unbeknownst to you, the Mandalorian felt the same way about you. 

It took some time for the two of you to open up to each other. Many days and nights on the Razor Crest were filled with awkward silence as you felt like you tiptoed around him. But, eventually you learned that he spoke in ways other than words, and once you learned how to read his body language, you found that he actually communicated very clearly. Soon enough, awkward silences became comfortable ones and you found that you smiled more when you were around him. Oftentimes, you wondered if he smiled under the helmet at you too.

The truth was that the Mandalorian couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.

And once you helped him rescue the little green child, your bond became even deeper. He looked at you with such fondness as you took great care of the child, and never once questioned his motives. Your loyalty meant a lot to Mando, as did your affection for the little one. In his head, the three of you were like a family, a jumbled and barely held together family, but a family nonetheless. And he swore to himself that he would do anything to keep you both safe, even though you were both fully capable of handling yourselves in your own ways.

But, traveling around the galaxy still cost money, so the Mandalorian left you alone on the ship with the child while he tracked the bounty he was after. As much as you wanted to join him, you knew it was important to keep the child safe, and you promised him you’d protect him. Mando tilted his head, and you swore he had a thought on the tip of his tongue, but he stayed silent and left with just a nod of his head.

There were worse planets to be on, and you opened the cargo door of the Crest for some fresh air. It was a tropical planet that you had never seen before, though you couldn’t remember the name of it. A coo to your right called your attention and you turned to see the child had followed you to the doorway and chittered happily at your side.

“You like this place too, huh kid?” you asked with a smile as you picked him up. You decided you could wait to clean your weapons and just enjoy the peaceful atmosphere of the forest since no one seemed to be around.

Your peace, however, did not last.

An alarm went off on your belt that alerted you of nearby intruders. You immediately knew they were after the child, and you had to act fast before they got to you. In a flash of movement, you scooped him up and rushed over to the ship to tuck him away in a hidden compartment. There wasn’t enough time for you to hide as well, but you made the decision to put the child first. Just as you closed the compartment with a finger to your lips in a silent plea for the child to stay silent, an unfamiliar voice called out to you.

“Well well, what do we have here?” one man snarled at you and looked you up and down with a face that made your skin crawl.

You stood and exited the Crest, ready for a fight, “I’m just passing through,” you tried to sound nonchalant as you closed the cargo door behind you.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s the case, sweetheart,” another spat as the men pulled out their blasters.

You hovered your hand over your own weapon as you surveyed the group. There were five of them, and three of them were bigger than anyone you had never seen before. You swallowed hard, but you held your ground.

“I know you have something of great value,” the biggest of the group said as he closed the space between your bodies, “You and that Mandalorian you travel with,” his gaze pointed at you as he spoke. 

“You must be mistaken,” you tensed as he got closer to you than you liked. You acted first and pulled out your vibroblade and launched yourself at him. In your head, you planned to take out this guy first, since he was the biggest and seemed to be their leader. Then, all you had to do was hold out long enough and hope that Mando would be back in time to back you up. You also cursed yourself for leaving your communicator on the ship.

The leader was only momentarily caught off guard, and though you held your own enough to take out one of the group, the rest soon overpowered you. One of the smaller men knocked your vibroblade out of your hand while the others grabbed your wrists. As much as you struggled and fought back, they were able to pin you down and leave you vulnerable. You grit your teeth as you growled in frustration at having been beaten.

“I’ve also heard that the Mandalorian has a looker of a partner,” the leader leaned in and whispered in your ear, “I’ll bet you must be important to him too.”

Before you could retort, you felt a searing pain at the back of your head and your world went black.

*

The Mandalorian had a bad feeling in his chest even before the Razor Crest came into full view. But his feelings were confirmed when he saw signs of a struggle in front of the ship and a dead body on the ground by the ramp. He let out a low growl of frustration as he bolted toward the ship and noticed a comm at the top of the ramp. His anger only grew when he picked it up and saw a holo image of you unconscious along with coordinates on where to find you.

But the next thought Mando had was of the child, and he quickly burst into the ship, “Kid?!” he called out.

But the silence didn’t last long, and Mando soon heard the soft cries of the child from a hidden compartment. His shoulders dropped as he realized you stashed the child there to keep him safe. Mando quickly pulled him out from the hiding spot and cradled him in his arms, “It’s ok, it’s ok,” he tried to soothe the child though his voice strained from the rage that boiled within him, “You’re alright.” Mando tightened his grip on the child as he whispered a promise to get you back and keep you both safe. You had taken care of the child in his absence, now it was his turn to take care of you. 

*

You slowly opened your eyes with a groan, and the searing pain in the back of your head throbbed immediately when you woke up. You let out a soft hiss as you lifted your hands to your head, and found that your wrists were bound together in front of you. With a huff, you carefully pushed yourself up and looked around the room only to find that there wasn’t much to it. You were laid out on the floor in a tiny, empty, dark room. And with your hands bound, you were completely helpless. 

Suddenly, you heard blaster fire from nearby and you immediately went on high alert. You held your breath as you strained to listen for any hint of what could be happening on the other side of the door. It wasn’t until you heard a familiar voice that you finally exhaled in relief.

With one final shot, there was nothing but silence on the other side of the door, and you held still as you heard the soft sound of footsteps. You flinched when the door suddenly opened and you raised your hands in defense, unable to do anything more. But, you quickly relaxed when you heard your name in that familiar voice again and felt the comfort of gloved hands on you.

“Hey, it’s me,” Mando spoke softly as he scanned you for injuries.

You blinked your eyes open in surprise and your shoulders slumped down when you were met with the beskar helmet that you were so familiar with, “Mando,” you breathed. A soft coo made your eyes drop down and you smiled brightly when you saw the big eyes of the child staring up at you, “Hey kid,” you whispered as you brushed his cheek softly.

“Are you hurt?” Mando asked as he released your bonds.

“I…” you were too lost in a whirlwind of emotions to even register the pain you were in. You felt the tension in Mando’s grip, and even through the helmet, you could tell he was out of breath. How long had it been since you were taken? How much did he panic when he got back to the ship and you weren’t there? Did he take on that whole gang alone? For you?

Another coo interrupted your thoughts, and both you and Mando looked down as the child reached out to you. Without a word, he closed his eyes and focused his energy towards you. A gasp escaped your lips as you felt the rush of energy from his little hand. It was as if you were a brand new person within minutes. Mando watched the interaction in silence, and it wasn’t until the child collapsed back down that you both moved.

“Is he ok?” you asked as you cupped the child’s little face.

Mando placed his hand over yours on the child’s cheek, and both of you swallowed hard and stilled for a moment before he broke the silence, “He’s alright,” Mando turned back to you as he gave your hand a squeeze, “Let’s get back to the ship.”

You nodded as you didn’t trust your voice. Something about the way he held your hand felt different than before, and the rush of feelings came back with a vengeance. Neither of you spoke as you leaned against Mando for support as he led you back to the Crest. Once you were all safely back on board, he locked the ship up and you leaned against the wall as he set the child down to rest with such tender care that it made your heart skip a beat.

“Are you ok?” Mando repeated his earlier question and turned his attention to you once the two of you were alone. He quickly crossed the space and checked you over once more, and the same feeling as before crept up within you as he rested his hand on you.

“I’m fine,” you breathed as your gaze dropped to the floor, “I’m sorry Mando. I was careless and I couldn’t beat those guys and…”

Mando cut you off with your name as he squeezed your wrist, “Don’t.”

Tension hung in the air as you lifted your head and met his visor. Your heart pounded in your chest as you suddenly became very aware of how tightly he held onto you. One hand held your wrist tightly while his other hand landed on your hip. It wasn’t painful, but it was a strong grip, as if he didn’t want to let you go. The room felt warmer as the two of you stared at each other, both at a loss for words. Yet, perhaps words weren’t needed.

Slowly, you reached your free hand up and slipped it underneath his armor. Mando tilted his head down and watched your movements, but made no attempt to stop you. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you were sure his eyes watched your lips as you parted them for a heavy breath. Both of you gasped at the same time when you touched his skin directly for the first time.

As if a switch suddenly flipped within him, Mando spun you around in a flash and with a soft squeal of surprise, you suddenly found yourself up against the wall with his strong body pressed against your back. Mando’s hands roamed all over your body in desperation and he nuzzled himself against you. You let out a moan when you felt him rock his hips against your backside and a new type of desperation took over your head.

Mando squeezed your hips tightly before he ran his hands up your sides and caressed your body. “Is this alright?” he asked in a hushed tone before he grabbed your breasts.

“Yes,” you breathed, “Please…”

Your thoughts were cut off when Mando’s large hands palmed your breasts and he rubbed your nipples through the fabric. You clawed at the wall for any sense of grounding as Mando kneaded your soft flesh. You bucked your hips back against him, and both of you groaned when you felt how hard he was already.

Mando let out a needy moan as he ran his hands back down your body and pushed past the hem of your pants. One hand held your body tight against his while the other dipped lower and rubbed at your clit. You cried out when the gloved finger made contact with your heat, and you didn’t even realize how wet and needy you were.

Through half lidded eyes, you reached back behind you and grasped at the air until you found Mando’s body. Without turning around, you fumbled your hand as you tried to find his cock. When you did, both you and him gasped as you gave it a squeeze and rubbed it through his pants.

Mando hissed when you rubbed at his cock faster, and in turn he rubbed at your clit in tandem with your movements. Heat quickly rose in the room as you both worked each other in desperate, sloppy movements.

“Wait,” he suddenly froze and pulled you flush against him.

All the breath left your body as you suddenly felt the cool beskar against your back, “Everything ok, Mando?”

“I won’t last if you keep that up,” he groaned as he rested his helmet against the side of your face.

“Me either,” you whispered as you felt your muscles clench around nothing, “Please Mando… I want you inside me. Please fuck me.”

Mando let out a low growl as he quickly slid his gloves off and unzipped his pants. He moaned your name as he fumbled with your pants next. You leaned against the wall as you let him strip you just enough for what you both needed. The desperation was too much for both of you to move or strip completely, and you both felt that.

You shivered when you felt the cool air against your hot skin, but you weren’t cool for long. You closed your eyes when you felt Mando’s body against yours again, only this time you felt his cock at your entrance. You whimpered as you shifted yourself and parted your legs for him.

Both of you let out loud gasps when Mando finally entered you. Slowly, he pushed his length inside you and filled you inch by inch, and neither of you had ever felt more pleasure in your lives. Your hands were splayed out on the wall as you leaned your forehead against it for stability as you felt so deliciously filled. Mando groaned as he trembled behind you; he had never felt like this with anyone before.

Emotions ran high within both of you as he rocked in and out of you at a steady rhythm. With your eyes closed, Mando leaned forward and used the wall as he pushed his helmet up enough so that his lips were exposed. He reached for your shirt and tugged it down enough so that the skin of your neck and shoulder were exposed and he kissed and nibbled on the skin there.

You cried out at the feeling of his lips on your skin, and you couldn’t handle the overflow of emotions from your connection. Tears fell down your cheeks as he pumped in and out of you while he held you tightly. Moans from both of you filled the room as Mando took you against the wall.

As Mando rocked his hips against yours, tears of his own fell down his face. You shivered when you felt the drops against your skin, but it only made you cry more when you realized he felt the same emotions that you did. You let out a loud moan and Mando thrust into you faster and harder as a newfound desperation took over him. He wrapped one arm around your waist in an attempt to hold you even closer while the other hand covered yours against the wall. You wrapped your fingers around his as best you could; you wanted to hold him as badly as he wanted to hold you.

“Fuck… Mando…” you moaned as he sped up his thrusts.

He filled you completely and paused. Both of you panted hard at the feeling of his cock deep inside you before he broke the silence, “Din.”

“What?”

“My name, it’s Din,” his voice was raw as he spoke into your ear. From under his helmet, Din’s eyes were red from the tears.

“Din…” A tingle ran up your spine when you realized you felt his breath against your skin and heard his voice unmodulated for the first time.

Again, something snapped in Din, and the moment he heard you say his name, he thrust into you harder and faster. He groaned against you as you cried out in pleasure. The arm that he had wrapped around you lowered and Din found your clit again. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer, and he was determined to make you cum with him.

He didn’t realize how close you were as well, and after only a few more erratic thrusts, both of you came hard at the same time. Desperate whines from both of you filled the room as Din rode out both your orgasms until you collapsed forward against the wall.

Din quickly held you up and whispered your name as he stilled himself inside of you, “Are you ok?”

“Yeah…” you breathed hard as more tears fell down your face from your climax. “Just… that was a lot, emotionally,” you paused as you held Din’s hand tightly, “Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” was all he answered through his own sniffles.

The two of you stayed still for several long moments. Whether it was because you were too spent or too scared to lose your connection, neither of you were sure. Perhaps it was a mix of both. Din held you tightly as both of your tears finally stopped and you both were able to breathe normally again. He placed one last kiss to the top of your shoulders before he used the wall to push his helmet back on fully and slowly pulled out of you.

Whines filled the room, and neither of you were sure who they came from: him or you. You and Din both used the wall for support as you redressed, but neither of you strayed out of reach of the other. Once you were more sure of your own strength, you turned around and faced him again. You reached out and grabbed his arms while he reached for your face at the same time. The two of you stayed locked in an intense gaze again, both unsure of what to say next.

But it was another voice that broke both of your trances, and Din turned around just in time to find the child opened his pram. Your breath hitched in your throat as you suddenly hoped he didn’t hear what you and Din just did.

“What are you doing up?” Din asked as he crossed the room and scooped the child up in his arms.

“I hope we didn’t wake him,” you added sheepishly, and you only felt more flustered when Din turned around with the child tucked in his arms.

He held your gaze for a moment before he finally answered, “Let’s hope not,” he replied in a light tone that made your heart skip a beat, “Come on, let’s get some sleep,” he held his hand out for you.

On shaky legs, you walked over and took his hand and let him lead you to his bunk. The three of you were quiet as you all settled in, and it took some awkward shuffling to get yourselves comfortable. You gently nuzzled yourself around the child and held him close against you while Din wrapped his arm around you both. In the moment, everything in the galaxy felt right to him, with the two he cared the most about safely secured in his arms. Unaware of Din’s thoughts, you adjusted your head so that you laid on the space between his pauldron and his chest plate, and exhausted, you quickly fell asleep.

Din, however, stayed awake and watched both you and the child as you both slept peacefully. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind as he gave both of you a tight squeeze. As your lips parted and soft snores escaped, Din slowly lifted his helmet enough to expose his lips once more and he placed a long kiss to the top of your head before he whispered in the softest voice, “I love you.”

[rviden]

hello!! may I request for hcs for when you get into an argument with the genshin boys (you can choose who!!) and the guys end up saying something hurtful, and your reaction is like "well, if that's what you think, then maybe we shouldn't be together." and walks away (tryna hide a tear,,)?? I'm sorry if this is too specific aah I'm just in the mood for angst ( •́ ‿ ,•̀ ) I really like your characterization!! <333

— 🧧 THEIR S/O BREAKS UP WITH THEM AFTER A RUDE COMMENT THEY MADE

includes — kazuha, tohma, diluc

warnings — angst, pre tohma release

pronouns — they/them

note — in honour of the 2.0 announcement trailer, i included the newest boy to my writing list (tohma by beloved) - i’ve also added baal (or raiden), ayaka, and yoimiya!

KAZUHA

kazuha wasn’t usually confrontational off of the battle field — opting for more serene and peaceful things while resting and spending his time with you

but sometimes when emotions boil over, we say things that we don’t mean, nor wish to say at all — it’s in the heat of the moment type of thing, which is exactly what was happening to kazuha in the present time

“you don’t get it- you never will,” kazuha paced away from you, wanting to put an end to the conversation station as soon as he could.

“and what’s that supposed to mean?” you took strides to catch up with the upset male, desperate to understand his reasoning. “why don’t you face me, and tell me why the hell you won’t let me help-“ the moment your hand made contact with his arm, he turned in fury — something you had never seen him in ever.

“you’re too clumsy, too reckless, and simply not able to withstand that type of battles that would occur!” kazuha’s face was mere inches from your own. “you’re just not enough.”

you weren’t enough.

he was talking about physical ability, but... why did it feel as if he was talking about everything — the way you dressed, the way you acted, the person you are.

he didn’t think you were enough.

“... if- if you think so lowly of me, then i don’t think this is going to work,” your feet slowly brought your body away from the now shocked and calming male, trying to put as much distance as you could between the two of you.

“y/n-“ he reached out for your arm, only to pull back as if he had been shocked as you flinched away from it. “i didn’t mean it like that.”

“well that’s what it sounded like kazuha.”

you never called him kazuha — it was always kaz, or some other nickname — but never kazuha.

“i’ll leave you to your business, and i’ll board with beidou in the morning,” the distance grew greater, and hearts cracked piece by piece. “i hope you find someone who’s enough on your travels.”

kazuha’s heart left with you — the emptiness in his chest product of his own doings, his own words.

it seemed that he was the one not enough for you.

TOHMA

tohma didn’t like to fight, argue, or even cause any sort of pain to you — and in the past if he ever did, it was not by his choice, or it was a complete accident

yet here he found himself, spouting words he didn’t mean, watching the look of anger on your face crumble into hurt and betrayal

tohma was tired — beyond even — with the job that he possessed, and the dedication to match, nights were often spent resting and resetting for the next.

“y/n i really don’t have time for this right now, you know this,” his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, desperately trying to rid himself of both the anger and headache that clawed at his mind.

“i think you have plenty of time right now — all i’m asking is for you to consider my idea,” you stepped closer to the blonde, brings your hands up to run through his hair in order to help calm him down. “i just want to see you a little more often, even if it’s only a day a week — just more then i see you now-“

his head was yanked away from your hands, and his eyes burned into you like the vision that hung on his hip. “for the last time! i have my duties with the kamisato clan, and they need my dedication and focus — i don’t have time to waste.”

his words didn’t fully click in his head, until he saw your eyes widen in both shock and hurt — and all he could do was watch as your body slowly backed away and shrank into itself, becoming smaller and smaller by the second.

you tried to appear bigger in mere moments after the metaphorical slap to the face — your chin being held high, eyes narrowed, and drawn in tight.

“don’t bother coming home tomorrow, or the nextday, or even the next,” he could see the hurt as you tried to keep your composer. “wouldn’t want you wasting time, now would we?”

“y/n-“

“leave tohma — you have your duties, remember?”

it happened too fast for tohma to handle — one minute you were happily chatting, next the argument broke out, and the next, he had broken the one promise he had made to himself and you.

he had hurt you, one too many times.

DILUC

he was a calm and collected man, trying many other options before it truly came down to a fight — he poked and prodded most times during arguments, but never before had he pointed out things he knew would hurt

maybe that’s why he wasn’t only in shock as he watch the anger turn into sadness and thought, but also at the words that seemed to flow out of his mouth like a river

“dee, please take a break,” your hands worked on his shoulders — thumbs pushing on the knots and sore spots in the muscles, trying anything you could to get the red haired man to relax.

“y/n please — i’ll come to bed in a few more minutes, i just have to finish this-“ the quill was plucked out of his hands before you could finish — now dangling between your own fingertips.

“you said that the yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that — i know you dee — like that back of my hand,” you waved the back of your hand in an example, the smile on your face doing nothing to ease the furrow in his brow.

he was committed to finishing paperwork and documents — and if that meant forgoing a few nights of actual rest and calmness, then so be it.

but you were making that difficult.

“give me that,” diluc harshly grabbed the quill from your hand, not caring or registering if he had hurt you in the process.

he turned back to his work as soon as it was in his hand, but the moment didn’t last long.

“diluc-“ your hand reached down for the quill again, but were quickly shoved back as he stood from the chair.

“would you just give me some space!” his eyes and cheeks gleamed red, similar to the colour of his hair. “i can’t get any actual work done when your clinging to me like an animal in heat!” in the moment, diluc didn’t care if he had hurt you, and that was one of his many mistakes in that moment.

the quietness was tense and uncomfortable — dilucs heavy breathing, and the sound of soft fidgeting being the only things that could be heard.

“i’ll leave you be then,” you turned in that moment, the tears running freshly down your face the second your back was to the man.

diluc didn’t panic at first.

he had hurt you, yes — but you would let him cool down, calm, and finish was he was doing. that was all.

but the empty room that was once occupied by two and the quick feet that turned and walked in the other direction every time he was near — was enough to tell him the truth.

you left him to be on his own.

for good.

[no-droids]

Out of a Trillion

gif credit: @bestintheparsec​

Part Fifteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.6K

Warnings: uhhhh so there is a bit of SMUT in this one, not too much and I imagine if you’ve made it this far then that won’t be too big of a deal LMFAOOO uh some ANGST and my attempt at HURT/COMFORT and also violence/blood/injury description, so look out for that!

A/N: I started writing this before the season finale aired and I know we all want a bit of goodness and softness after it, but hopefully this will be okay!  I’ll start working on the next part tonight

***

Everything changes and yet somehow nothing does.  

From that point on, it’s like… like you’re both just suspended in this perpetual state of wondering, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  You know he said it’s up to you, but what the fuck?  Look whenever you want?  That’s way too much fucking pressure, he’s out of his mind.  You’re not equipped to handle that, who does he think you are?  Someone that can just… decide things?

And it’s not like you’re afraid of the commitment, or that you don’t want to look.  You do, but every single time a moment comes, it just never… feels right.  You don’t know what you’re waiting for, what feeling or meaning you’re expecting to magically present itself to you, but you can’t shake the idea that there should be more to it than just randomly deciding to open your eyes at some point, shouldn’t there?  Din said there was no ceremony, nothing fancy, and he gave you permission to look because he said he’s not allowed to ask outright, whatever that means.  It’s a standing offer because you guess he isn’t allowed to prompt it for some reason, but unfortunately, that leaves you in just about the shittiest position possible.  Now everything falls to you—initiation, execution, and consequence—and Maker knows you’ve never been that great making decisions under pressure.

But you do want to look.  Sort of.

Sort of.  Because… well, this probably won’t make that much sense, but you’re afraid.  Mostly for him.  What if he’s making a mistake?  It sounds stupid, but you’re afraid of what this means for him, the sheer perpetuity of this decision he’s now expecting you to make for the both of you.  This isn’t your creed, not yet, and you feel like there’s still so much to learn.  Not only about the Mandalorians and his culture, but about him.  To know is to love, and so you’ve taken to asking any nonsensical question you can think of whenever he’s around.  Though you weren’t expecting it at first, you’ve learned that he’ll always give you some sort of an answer.  Some of the highlights include:

“How old are you?”  (“I don’t know.  Probably mid-forties, but there’s no way to tell anymore.”)

“You don’t know your birthday?”  (No, I… think it was in the winter.”)

“What’s your last name?”  (“Djarin.”)

“Do you have any freckles?  Or moles, or birthmarks?”  (“No, none that I’ve ever noticed.”)

“Do you cut your own hair?”  (“Yes, but it’s been awhile.”)

“Do you have dimples?”  (“I don’t smile in mirrors.”)

“Are your earlobes attached or detached?”  (“What kind of question is that?”)

And so forth.

He also gives you so many fucking opportunities to look.  One right after the other.  You used to think Din was incredibly trusting with how often and voluntarily he decided to take his helmet off around you—he didn’t wait a single day once he first felt your hands on his skin to take it off in your presence.  You remember being blown away by his unexpected willingness to part with it after hearing so many tales of the Mandalorians from Kuill; stunned by the ever-present ability to just open your eyes at any moment and that’s all it would ever take.  One simple movement—life-altering, and so easy.

Now you find it nearly impossible, muscle memory just won’t allow it to happen naturally.  And yet somehow, avoiding it is like stepping around land mines.  He doesn’t trick you—he doesn’t set it up, he doesn’t surprise you or anything, but he’s… less careful.  When the kid is awake, Din acts normal—he walks around fully armored, he goes on hunts and returns a few days later with a quarry, teaches you more self-defense techniques in the cleared out hull while the kid watches and giggles at your pain from the safety of his floating crib.  But when the baby goes to sleep, he’s taken to lounging with the helmet off.  He only used to remove it to eat, sleep, or… do other things with you, but he never used to take it off just… because.  Now he does.  Now he’s less careful about darkness, less strict about how much light he allows to touch him.

Now he shares every single meal he can with you, sitting just off to the side so you’ll never see him on accident but providing the free exercise thereof should you ever decide to seek it out purposefully.  Now he interrupts you in the middle of your complaining about the bruises on your knuckles just to lift the rim of his helmet the slightest bit, lean down and give you a quick kiss, and then lower it back into position again before you can even catch a glimpse of the lips you only recognize by touch.  Now he keeps the light on when he goes to take a shower, he leaves the door cracked.

It’s starting to give you heart palpitations, you swear.  At one point, he lets you to see the entire back of his head and it nearly launches you into a fucking crisis.

It’s the middle of the night and he just got up from bed to use the restroom.  He’s quiet enough not to wake you on the way over, but then across the hull and with his back to you, Din flicks the light on in the small bathroom without closing the door.  Immediately rousing you after being so accustomed to the pitch blackness, you lift your head from the warmth of your shared pillow just enough to blearily make out the sight of him leaning a hand up against the wall and dropping his head down, and it takes you a second to realize that it’s actually him.

Soft, dark brown locks ending at his collar but somehow looking longer than you ever imagined when you’ve run your fingers through them.  Cascading in shaggy, natural curls—tall, broad shouldered and trim waisted, naked as the day he was born.  Your heart starts to squeeze in your chest and it just never stops, and for the second time in your life, you feel like he woke you up in the middle of the night just to show you one of the most beautiful things the universe ever decided to hide.  There are trillions of people in this galaxy and how many of them have ever seen a sight that would compare?  He’s just a man, you don’t think a single person would bat an eye.  But to you, he’s… his own monument.  Constructed in honor of everything dazzling that happens to lie just underneath something else.  A breathtaking view, even from this angle, that could only ever mean something to you.

Would you ever be able to know him?  No, that’s not phrased right.  What you mean is that… over the course of all your time together, you remember thinking that if he ever took his helmet off, he could walk right by you and you’d never be able to tell the difference.  He could be anybody.  There are trillions of people in this galaxy and how many of them have the same features?  Brown hair, brown eyes, sunkissed skin that only one person is allowed to kiss, not even the sun.  Would you ever be able to know him?

Staring at his back in the blissful silence of hyperspace and feeling like the Maker himself is letting you in on one of his proudest secrets, some wild thought suddenly occurs to you that… you think you would.  Somehow.

You can’t explain it and you’d never be able to prove it, but you feel like if you lined up every single person in this galaxy shoulder to shoulder, all however many trillions of them there are, then you could walk the entire length of it and somehow come to a stop right where he’s standing.  Every single time.  You feel like you could do it in the pitch black.  You could do it with your eyes closed.

And, he must just be so gorgeous.  Maybe not in a traditional sense (or maybe in one, you’d have no way of knowing), but mostly in just… the rawest sense imaginable.  Not like how symmetry and straight lines are gorgeous, but how a mountain is gorgeous.  Rocky, dangerous, steep, the product of constant conflict between two immovable sides.  He’s got scars littering his body, one of which you remember giving him yourself with a cauterizer on his lower back.  He holds himself like his shoulders could tell their own story if anyone ever asked them; built to endure, weighed down and made strong with a collection of burdens he chooses to strap to them, steel or otherwise.

You don’t want to close your eyes once Din slowly turns around to look at you, but it happens anyways and you’ve never been so disappointed in your own cowardice.

But then, in a way, it could just be your own self-preservation instincts taking over.  No matter how stunning and life changing the spectacle would be, why would anyone ever stare directly at a supernova?  For so long, you’ve told yourself that his face is something you shouldn’t ever see on principle, but in a way, you suppose it’s fair he put this decision on you because he always has, even from the very beginning.  He trusted you to keep your eyes closed for months on end and you never had a problem with it, so why is it so hard to open them now that he’s given you permission?

A couple weeks of that, and you start to worry that you’re unintentionally rejecting him.

It’s the last fucking thing you want, but how can you avoid it?  Din is… different, he notices.  He’s made a living off of finding things that inherently don’t want to be found—he knows all too well what secrecy looks and sounds like, he’s quick and observant and you don’t stand a single fucking chance against him in all the years of his practice.

But strangely, for as often as you feel like you can figure out what he’s thinking without ever seeing his face—realizing what his intentions are ahead of time and not feeling slighted when he phrases things a certain way or just chooses not to speak at all—you never truly realized how much that extended back to you.

He knows you, too.  He told you so.

For some reason, you didn’t even consider the possibility of it working just as well the other way around.  That you could choose to stay silent, and he’d know why.  You feel like the mystery of him just eclipses you in every single way that you don’t consider even yourself much of anything, much less something else to be contemplated and understood.  While you wouldn’t necessarily qualify the conflict as not being ready to commit, he seems more than willing to respect it regardless and nothing about the way he treats you or interacts with you changes.  Normally you’d say it’s like he forgot the whole thing ever happened, but it’s almost the exact opposite.  Like he was just naturally expecting it from you.

Are you truly so predictable, you wonder?  He said you’d say no.  Was he right?  You’re not saying no, you just… can’t remember the word for yes right now.  It’s right there on the tip of your tongue and the harder you work for it, the more frustrated you become with your own inability to find it.

But, instead of waiting, you think Din just decides to continue the conversation with the promise to come back to you when you finally figure it out.

Sometimes, especially when he’s gone, you find yourself thinking about what moment you’d choose, if you could.  Since you can never seem to find the right one naturally, how would it all go if you could construct everything yourself?  Where would it be?  Naboo?  No, that’s too cheesy.  One thing you and Din both have in common is your practicality, your respective propensities for wanting to tackle one thing at a time and not needing frills attached to something in order to find a deep connection to it, a personal value to it.  You weren’t even bothered when he didn’t claim you as a girlfriend to Peli, that’s how reasonable you used to be about labels.  Now you’re your own antithesis, trying to conjure meaning where there isn’t any just so you don’t feel like you’re the one who’s ripping it away.  You want this decision to feel as permanent as it is.  You want it to be a happy thing, something that happens when you’re both so in love that you can’t bear to have metal separating you any longer.

You think… you’ll just know it when the time comes.

***

“I have to leave,” comes Din’s hushed voice through the darkness, and even though it’s the first thing either of you have said in hours, it sounds frustrated.  Like it’s been bothering him for awhile and he’s just now finally telling you.  “I… fuck, I can’t stay here, I should’ve left a long time ago.”

You whine softly into the pitch black, turning your head into the pillow and curling your fingers into his hair.  “But it’s still so early…”

“It’s mid-afternoon,” he groans back, dropping his forehead down against your skin and breathing hot air along it.  “We’ve been parked here for hours, I don’t know how you can sleep so long.”

“I’m not sleeping,” you pout, before gently dragging your nails down his scalp and feeling his whole body shudder with it.  “Earlier I was.”

“Mhm,” he murmurs, leaning down to give you one last long, slow kiss.  You sigh when his tongue comes out and glides soft and hot against your lips, tightening your grip on his hair.

But soon he pulls away, lifting the covers from over his head and pushing up from between your spread legs.  “This one shouldn’t take long,” he gruffs, planting both palms next to your head and kissing you once more in the darkness, dipping his tongue into your mouth this time.  You moan softly and taste yourself on him, moving to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, but he breaks the kiss and leans back before you can, preemptively avoiding the possibility of getting lost in it.  “I’ll be back around dawn.”

You’ve known it was coming for hours now, so you’re able to play it off way better this time around.  “Okay,” you breathe softly, dragging your palms up his bare chest as he lifts himself tall over your body.  The slight disappointment underneath is so masterfully hidden, you’re almost positive you’re going to get away with it.  “Be safe.  Please.”

But then… well.  Bounty hunter.

Din pauses for a moment like that in between your open legs, letting you slowly slide your hands down his ribs and over the lines of his stomach.  You wait for him to move, find his clothes so you can get around and make some food, wake the kid up from his nap in an hour or so.  Can’t stay in bed all day, no matter how much you wish you could.

Only, he still hasn’t moved and you start to become concerned.  “Din?”

But then he suddenly groans like he just can’t help it, grabbing both of your spread legs and easily lifting them up.  You make a sound of confusion as he maneuvers them until they’re pressed together and draped over one of his shoulders, and then his hips drop and push forward to slide himself thick and perfect into your blazing hot cunt.

Still drenched and swollen from cumming in his mouth so many times earlier, you gasp and he just groans louder, a ragged thing scraping out of his throat while you struggle through blind and unexpected euphoria to reach him.  But you can’t—Din hugs your legs tight to his chest and settles in just like this, turning his head to drag soft lips and a hot tongue over your ankle before he starts fucking you.  Right up against your g-spot, with your whole lower body in the way and preventing you from slowing him down.

You just have to clap both hands over your mouth just to keep quiet since you can’t reach him.  You feel his teeth sink into the meat of your calf, hips pistoning far beyond your reach and it feels so fucking good that you almost don’t hear his gritted words against your skin.

“I have to go,” he groans, repeating it over and over until his voice begins to pull tight and it just sounds like a plea.  “I have to go, I have to go, I h—have to… h-have to go, I have to, I have to, I have…”

*** 

When Din finally steps foot out of the ship, fumbling with his rifle and cursing quietly through the modulator, it’s the middle of the night some twelve hours later.

***

Steady…

Steady………

Fire.

—and… you blink as bark splinters.

Did you…?  You look down at the blaster in your hand and then back to the ginormous charred tree trunk for a few seconds, wondering if you’re just seeing shit.

No, it’s real.  You actually fucking did it.  You…

… hit the target.

All of a sudden, your ecstatic giggle echoes loudly throughout the foresty autumn wonderland around you, reds and oranges and yellows crunching under your feet while you start to dance.

“Hey!  See that, bug!?”  You call out, shoving the blaster into your waistband and shimmying up to your enthralled audience of one, who just so happens to be smiling as wide as you are as he’s scooped up into your arms.  “I hit the target, I hit the target,” you sing, beginning to sway the baby back and forth as he squeals, laughing while you bounce him.  “No demon powers necessary, little man!  I figured it out, I just have to use one hand instead of two.  You can retire now, you’re the right age for—”

A twig snaps in the distance somewhere to your left, and you quickly spin around while reaching for the blaster behind your back.

Except all you see is a blue Twi’lek standing out amongst all the fall foliage, his hands cuffed behind his back and stumbling a few steps at a time while a considerably taller suit of beskar shoves him forward.  You relax and immediately turn to look down at the ground, trying to bite your lip so you don’t smile too hard while they both approach.  You did it—finally, you did it, you’re on top of the fucking universe right now.

You wait for them to pass by and move up the open metal ramp to the carbonite chamber, but then Din apparently decides to pause when he’s directly behind you, yanking the quarry to a sudden halt.  

You know you should probably turn around to address them, but you can’t hide the happiness from your expression, it’s way too obvious.  Though, after a moment, you decide to shyly turn to face the two men while continuing to bounce the baby in your arms, hoping that his and your matching expressions of excitement aren’t too terribly inappropriate right now.

Din looks from you to the splintered bark on the tree, and then back to you again, before slowly tilting the helmet up in a way that feels… proud of you.

“Congratulations,” he finally says, and you can hear the genuine smile hidden in the modulated drawl.

“Thank you,” you beam up at him, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks.  “Was pretty awesome.”

“I’m sorry I missed it,” he tells you, and you don’t know why, but the tone of his voice makes you go so warm.  It’s not like he’s openly flirting with you, but coupled with your giddiness and sounding like that in front of a bounty he caught in record time, it just makes your heart fucking throb for him.

“It’s alright,” you murmur, shuffling your feet through the crunchy leaves below and trying to play it as cool as possible.  You have company.  “I’ll be able to do it again.”

“Let’s see it, then.”  He tips the helmet over at the tree, and you look between him and the unfamiliar quarry for a second, not used to Din just… ignoring their existence entirely for you.  It’s not like the Twi’lek has said anything or inserted himself into the situation at all, but still.  Din has one hand latched onto the cuffs behind his back to prevent him from booking it, but other than that, it’s like he’s pretending he’s not even there.

“Uh…”  You immediately feel yourself get nervous.  “I can… try.”

He nods one single time in silent encouragement, and you slowly turn to face the tree once more.  The kid stays cradled in your arm while you reach for the blaster in your waistband, removing it and using your longest finger to flick the safety off with a practiced fluidity.  Then, extending it out in front of you and taking advantage of your newfound strategy of only firing with one hand, you line up the sight and pull the trigger.

You wish you could say it hits.  It would be so fucking cool and impressive if you hit the target like that, wouldn’t it?  But it doesn’t hit.  It misses, like usual.  Miserably.  And then an amused snort comes from behind you.

“Right stormtrooper, you are—” you hear an unfamiliar accent begin to snark, but the rest of it turns into a garbled howl the second Din jerks his elbow back to slam it in his face.

You whip around just in time to see a cascade of blood pouring down blue lips and sharp teeth—holy fuck.  You gasp and take a step backwards with the kid, not horrified by the sudden display of violence (not after Din spent an hour teaching you how to do that, too) but not quite expecting it at that moment, either.  But then, well… that’s the second time he broke a quarry’s nose for addressing you with disrespect.  There was that other one he choked, you’re pretty sure—though you can’t remember exactly what initiated that.

Din yanks the bounty up the ramp without another word, leaving both you and the kid there to process while he shoves him through the hull and towards the carbonite chamber none too kindly.  However, by the time he seals the quarry to his fate and eventually makes his way back to you, you just… 

Fuck, you feel so stupid.

You shouldn’t even bother, what’s the point?  All that practice and nothing to show for it.  If you can’t even hit a stationary target with the pressure of others watching, what makes you think you’ll have any hope at all in a situation where you actually need to shoot?  Are they gonna stand still for you?  Are they gonna be as wide as a fucking treetrunk?  You’re horribly embarrassed, so downtrodden in the face of a cruel taunt that you don’t even want to look at Din when he steps in front of you.

“Hey, just try it again,” he says without delay, but the damage has already been done.  It’s not his fault, you’re just… not the kind of person who is meant to shoot a blaster, maybe.  

“Ah… it’s alright,” you look out and smile sadly at the line of trees surrounding you, wondering how it’s possible that you only managed to hit one of them this whole time.  You don’t see it, but Din quickly touches the tips of his fingers to the side of his helmet twice before you look back at him.  “I hit it earlier.  I did, I promise.  You can see the mark if you look.”

His glove reaches out to brush your hair back, so unbelievably gentle after using the same arm to shatter bone just a few minutes ago.  “I know you did.  It was a perfect shot, you hit dead center.  I see it.”

“I did it with one hand, that’s why I tried the thing,” you mumble stupidly, looking down at your feet.  Dumb.  Dumb.

A strand of your hair is tucked behind your ear.  “Wish I was here.”

You glance over at him, feeling your expression suddenly go soft with a wave of affection.  It stops all the harsh criticisms, halting your negativity in its tracks and replacing it with just… soft, abstract things.  Mostly just warm, nonsensical fluff, but one clear and resounding thought breaking through.  You wish he was here, too.

“Maybe I’ll get good at it eventually,” you sigh, slowly handing him the blaster with the barrel pointed down and away from both of you.  Din carefully takes it from you, tucking it away somewhere on his utility belt while you gaze out at the designated target and victorious char mark decorating it.  “Or hopefully just okay at it at some point.  I guess I just need to practice more, right?”

“That’s right,” he tells you warmly, catching your free wrist.  “Try using this one when you do.”  And then a lightweight piece of metal is gently pushed into your empty hand.

Your expression furrows while you quickly look down at it, and—

You go utterly still at the gift, not even knowing what to think.

The first thing that you notice is the craftsmanship.  Brilliant, structurally flawless, the perfect size to fit your hand.  You don’t recognize the specific kind of metal that was used—definitely not beskar—but you think it might be constructed from the same material as Din’s old armor.  Dull silver, but with reflective chrome filigree accents around the handle, trigger, and safety.  It’s uniquely constructed and unlike any weapon you’ve ever seen before—no hard lines or edges, just a soft fluidity to the design that’s so aesthetically pleasing, it doesn’t really even resemble a blaster at all.

You can feel the visor silently studying your reaction while you continue marveling, noticing something new every time you look.  The safety is towards the back of the chamber, just like he said it’d be.  The sight is electronic, and you examine the way it’s built directly into the barrel.

Are those extra magnets on the inside?  Is this able to micro-adjust the plasma release for the best shot?  Holy stars, it must have cost a fortune.

“Din, this is…” you can’t decide where you want to look—the gorgeous crafting, the custom design, or him.  Standing so close to you, not saying a word while you search for the right ones.  “It’s so beautiful, I…”

“Was made for you,” he murmurs.  “Had to be.”

You look back down at the blaster to stop your eyes from tearing up.  He didn’t have to do this.  This is so… sweet, such a lovely thing to do.  Don’t cry, don’t cry—

“What is this?” You ask breathlessly instead, rotating the gun until he can see the symbol branded on the handle.  You recognize that it’s his signet, but you never bothered to ask him what it’s called, you never saw it as your place.  It’s an animal of some sort, one with a giant spike attached to its skull, and you’re glad you’ve never come face to face with one.

“It’s a mudhorn,” he answers quietly.  “They’re… dangerous animals.  Fiercely protective, preferring solitude.  The kid saved me from one a few days after I met him.  It’s… the mark of my clan.”

How fitting, you think, and an honor.  Perfect for him, and a bone-deep reminder of your two favorite people in the galaxy on your hip wherever you go.

“Thank you,” you tell him, hoping the sincerity in your voice sounds anywhere close to how you feel.  You haven’t even had it in your hand for longer than a minute and it’s already your prized position, the most important thing you’ve ever called yours.

Din nods and takes a small step back.  “Now hit the target.”

Feeling invigorated and renewed in every single way, you keep the kid tucked firmly in one arm while raising your blaster with the other.  The safety clicks off and your back straightens, chin lifting until something about the angle feels… right.  The trigger moves easily under your fingertip, and there’s almost no kickback considering how light the weapon is.  What you’re not expecting is the pure white beam of plasma shooting out of the barrel—unlike any blaster you’ve ever seen before—but then the immediate sight of it hitting the tree dead center sends a roar of triumph through your ears.  Fuck yes.

“Look at that!”  Din calls out over the kid’s happy squeal, and there’s nothing you can do to stop your loud whoop of victory.  Even though you know it only hit with the addition of those extra magnets to correct your terrible aim, that still feels so good—you feel so fucking powerful and dangerous.  You glance over to Din with a wide smile, but then his arm extends out towards the trunk directly next to the one with charred bark.  “Hit that one.”

You automatically swing the blaster in that direction and shoot.  A few pieces of wood split on impact and send sharp bits flying as soon as the bright white beam collides with it.

“That one,” Din tells you, and then bark splinters a half second later.  “That one.”  Bark splinters.  “That one, that one, that one—” hit, hit, hit, white plasma flying through the air and bark splintering in rapid succession.

He stops and spins around, pointing to a tree at the very edge of the clearing.  “That one?”

It’s furthest away but the trunk’s diameter is enormous.  As you lift the blaster, you know you’re likely to get it easily with this sophisticated weapon, even across the considerable distance.  So instead, feeling like nothing at all can touch you right now and wanting to see how smart the aim mechanism is, you raise up a few degrees higher before pulling the trigger.  Pale plasma launches from the barrel, and then one of the tree’s most prominent branches comes creaking and crashing to the ground right where you split it.

You’re beaming by the time Din turns back to you, the most excited you’ve ever been with your own progress.  He holds there for a moment while you lower your blaster and wait for him to speak, both of you looking at each other and not moving, until suddenly you hear his voice coming back to you.

Hit the target and I’ll marry you.

One of Din’s hands slowly comes up to the edge of his helmet, but before you can even process the implication behind the gesture, you’re immediately looking down at the crunchy leaves under your feet and clearing your throat.

There’s a beat of silence where you stare down at the dead foliage and wonder why the fuck you just did that.  Right in front of him, right to his face, too startled at how quickly you were being confronted with the possibility that you responded in an equally startled way.  It was instinctual, automatic and entirely out of your control, but that doesn’t mean you don’t want to take it back.

But… you can’t take it back.  That’s the way things are, and after a few moments, you hear his boots begin to cross the distance to you.

“Come on,” Din murmurs gently through the modulator, carefully taking the blaster from your hand and clicking the safety back on again.  “We have to get going.  The fifth quarry is far.  Three day trip through hyperspace.”

He doesn’t sound upset or disappointed by your unintentional rejection, thank the Maker.  You want to explain yourself somehow, but it appears it isn’t necessary in the slightest.  His arm wraps around your lower back and he leads both you and the baby back up the open ramp of the Crest, squeezing you close enough to his side that you have to learn how to walk in a different way to stop yourself from tripping over his boots.

The helmet turns and presses to the top of your head while you focus on moving straight.  “Proud of you,” Din murmurs quietly, and your chest fills with enough air that you’d be worried about floating away if he wasn’t latched onto you so tightly.

He eventually releases you and walks over to the armory, pressing a button to unlock the doors while you hold the kid and watch him start to remove the multitude of weapons strapped to his body.

Maybe… maybe this isn’t the right time, but something brave surges up inside you.  After receiving the most precious gift imaginable from him, hitting all those targets and hearing him say that he’s proud of you, you’re buzzing with just enough energy that for better or worse, it makes you open your mouth and ask.

“Could I… come with you this time?”

Din nearly jerks upright and looks over at you immediately, but he takes a while in responding.  You hope he sees it in your eyes.  You hope he sees just how much you don’t want to be stuck here again when this is possibly the one time you’d be able to tag along.  It’s a bullshit quarry, one he could do in his sleep, and you’ve been getting increasingly restless while stuck on this ship.

When Din eventually does respond… well, judging from his shift in tone, you’re assuming he was just shocked at the question and didn’t take any of that time to actually consider his answer.

“No.”  Short.  Unfeeling, and not sorry about it in the slightest, before turning back to return the blasters you were using previously to the armory as if you said nothing at all.

Okay…  Um.  Not great, not what you wanted to hear, but maybe if you explain yourself better, he’ll listen.

“I just… I’m the only reason you have to get this quarry in the first place.”  Your voice is quiet, trying to let go of some of the concerns you’ve kept to yourself over the past two weeks.  Your fingers fiddle idly with the kid’s little woolen sack as he hangs out in your arms, wanting to plead your case but feeling slightly nervous now.  “You were out having a crazy expensive blaster made for me while I shook hands with Karga and agreed that you’d take more work for less pay.  I hate that I did that.”

“You had no choice,” Din mutters, turning around and striding past you while pressing a button on his vambrace to close the Crest’s ramp.  “My fault for being late.”  And… for as warm and comforting as his voice sounded earlier, it now just sounds… dismissive.  Aloof.  Half-listening, not really wanting to talk but forcing himself to.

“Well this time, I thought maybe… I might be able to help?  Maybe?”  Maker, you feel yourself going quieter the more he walks around the hull and ignores you.  “Karga said it was just a missing person, not even a criminal…”

“Karga says a lot of things,” he grunts with his back to you, voice completely monotone through the modulator.

Come on, speak up.  You’ve lacked a backbone for so long, you’ll never get what you want unless you say it out loud and let it be known.  You take a deep breath and straighten your shoulders, trying to put a little bit of spine into it.  “I can be useful.  I can fight now, I’ve been working on my—” 

“You think I’m telling you no because I don’t think you’re capable?”  He suddenly whips around, voice ringing sharp and challenging throughout the hull while you freeze.  You don’t move but everything about you suddenly feels like it shrinks.

“I-I didn’t—” But he cuts you off, taking a step forward.

“I know you can fight, a Mandalorian taught you how.  I know you’re useful, I know it’s just a missing person, and I know you hate it when I leave.”  He pins you with his eyes through the visor, his tone harder than you think you’ve ever heard it before.  “No.  Your job is to stay here, on this ship, with my son, where it is safe, and my job is to go get the quarry.  Quit asking.  I’m not telling you again.”

The baby makes a tiny little distressed sound in your arms and you blink a few times up at the cold metal, feeling all the good feelings from before just… drain out of you.

Okay, that’s fine.  Uh.  You… the cockpit is behind you, you’ll go up there and fly then.  No reason, just… he should get going.

“Okay, yeah,” you nod and tell the wall over his shoulder brace in immediate agreement, before abruptly spinning around and grabbing the ladder.  Din doesn’t move a single fucking muscle while you try to find your way up to the cockpit with the baby held to your chest and a dead stone sitting heavy inside of it, hoping your face doesn’t show the vulnerability you feel wanting to take over as you retreat.  Get to the cockpit first, get to the cockpit first, get to the—

“Sweet girl, I…” you barely hear murmured through the helmet from the floor, soft enough to sound slightly shocked, but you scramble into the cockpit and shut the door behind you before he can say anything else.

***

Silence didn't used to feel like this.

At first it was eerie, unnatural and stifling when you spent years in a wide open desert, wind swirling and dust pelting.  It suffocated you the first few times you jumped into hyperspace, a phenomena you read all about and considered mathematically fascinating before ever experiencing for yourself.  It was… foreign and strange, but you began to value it more and more as time passed.

Then, you started to get to know him and silence just became comforting.  Something you could bask in, knowing it was a comfort to him.  A choice he made because it just fit him best.  You felt safe in it, you felt like you didn’t have to be anything else but you.  You never had to break it just to avoid awkwardness, you became… closer to it, until you learned to fall in love with it.

But only when he was with you and it was his silence.  Not… everything else’s.  Now it’s haunting again.  Now the sheer lack of sound through hyperspace is a stranger to you, and the distortion of light surrounding the cockpit feels less about the sheer magnificence of manipulating space time and more about the fundamental disconnect it causes.  Gorgeous, but at its core, a severance.  Ripping the fabric of the universe apart, tearing a wound in it.

It’s been a few hours and nothing exceptional has happened since your conversation in the hull.  

You’ll admit that you’re a sensitive person, and because of that, you’ve always had a problem knowing if you were right or wrong when someone comes at you with a hard enough will.  You second-guess yourself, it’s one of your worst traits, and you feel like trying to squash that tendency without knowing the limit is partially to blame for why you’re holed up in this cockpit with the kid.  You’re quiet but in a different way from Din.  When he doesn’t speak, it’s because most of the time, he’s sure of himself and doesn’t need to.  When you don’t speak, it’s because most of the time, you’re insecure and don’t want to.

After being left alone with your thoughts for this long, you’re starting to realize that… he was right.  What were you thinking, wanting to tag along?  Wanting to hang out while he risks his life for this occupation, you probably sounded so fucking ignorant.  Maybe… maybe he didn’t have to say it like that, but his point is still very valid and you’re not sure if you’re really justified in hiding like this anymore.

The way he said… your job, though.  That still stings a bit.  This hasn’t felt like an actual job in a very long time.  Was that just an expression, or did he mean it literally?  You’re stuck on it, you’ve just been going over this for hours in your head, trying to figure out if you should be the one to apologize or not—or if this is just you overreacting from the start and no apologies will be necessary at all.

“Sorry you got stuck with me, kid,” you mutter sadly to the baby, watching him fiddle with his favorite metal ball in your lap.  He makes a little gurgle, purring in that weirdly adorable little way of his and it somehow feels like a reassurance directed to you that he’s just fine the way he is.

Maker, you haven’t heard anything from the hull in a fucking eternity; it’s like Din turned into a ghost, hasn’t even made a single footstep that you could hear since you last left him standing there.  You remember performing a quick flight check as soon as you got up here, lifting off as fast as you could and hoping the thrusters would rumble loud enough to cover your series of pitifully shallow sniffles at being yelled at unexpectedly by a very large and intimidating man, not really crying but not really able to breathe normal either.  The little monster was able to wiggle himself around in your lap as you were trying to punch in the correct coordinates for the fifth quarry with rapidly blinking, watery eyes, and then proceeded to give your belly the smallest hug you think you’ve ever been given and pretty much break your heart with it.

Lovely little boy, so sweet when he wants to be.  He’s sat with you this whole time, he even tried giving you his metal ball to play with but ultimately decided to keep it to himself when he realized you aren’t nearly as fascinated by it as he is.  You know it’s probably getting late for him, and you’ve been weighing the idea of handing him over to his father so he can at least get a good night’s sleep somewhere that isn’t your arms.  There’s no blankets in here, just your lap.

“I think I gotta go take you to your dad soon, tiny.  He’s probably missing you,” you tell him, trying to keep quiet enough that you won’t disturb Din in the hull.  There’s a good chance he’s already asleep.  “I think… he might still be mad at me.  Maybe you can give him the big eyes, soften him up a little?”

Right on cue, his enormous eyes start to droop closed, and you let out a tired sigh of exasperation.  That’s not gonna work, come on.  They gotta be open, booger.

You watch him slowly drift to sleep, his ears relaxing until they too start to droop, but when you try to take the ball from him and set it down on the console, his eyes immediately pop back open and the toy slips from your fingertips.  It levitates right back into his tiny hands as you watch, and then he closes his eyes once more while tightly cuddling the thing he loves most to his body.

Unbelievable.

He’s a child, and yet he’s…

“How are you so strong?”  You ask him, unable to even fathom.  “You’re the smallest, most helpless little thing I’ve ever seen and you’ve got such… strength.  You defy the universe for a piece of metal.”

He doesn’t hear you, you think he’s asleep again.  It’s just as well, you figure.  He needs to go sleep in his crib, it’s time.  You scoop him up and make sure the little ball stays tucked snugly in his arms, before finally standing up and stumbling over to the door on numb legs.

Only, when it slides open, you quickly stop short.

Because there, sitting on the floor and resting his helmet against the corner of this small little platform leading to the ladder, is the Mandalorian.

So much closer than you expected him to be.  So big, crammed into such a tiny place.  You didn’t hear his footsteps climbing the ladder, and you would’ve noticed it during the hours you’ve spent in the suffocatingly muted quiet of hyperspace.  He can be silent but not when absolutely nothing else exists and he’s got a thousand fucking pounds of steel weighing him down at any moment in time.  You took off almost immediately once you barricaded yourself inside the cockpit, so has he… did he follow you up in those last few seconds, right after you shut the door?  The ones when you were sniffling like a child and trying desperately to turn the thrusters on before you let the tears come?

His head lifts and his back straightens as you’re looking down at him with his sleeping son cradled in your arms, your eyes slightly redder than they should be.  You’re a mess and… he’s been here this whole time?

“Could you hear me in there?”  You whisper in sudden mortification, but Din just keeps gazing up at you through the impenetrable metal visor.  A complete mystery again.  Unreadable—he could be anyone.

When he doesn’t answer you, your heart twists with the possibility that he’s still upset with you, and you quickly turn to the ladder to figure out the best way to get down without jostling the baby.

“I’m sorry.”  His voice stops you dead in your tracks.  It’s so soft, nearly flipping in and out of the modulator from the lack of volume, the most cautious sounding thing you’ve ever heard coming through the filter.  “I… hurt your feelings.  I’m sorry.”

And…  Maker, if anybody else had said it.  If literally anybody else had said it, you know it would’ve sounded like the most sarcastic, dickish remark in such a delicate moment.  But, you also remember him telling you once that you were tenderhearted.  That the galaxy would never be as kind to you as you are to it.  This… comes out sounding like he’s trying to change that.

It comes out sounding like he’s trying to use his voice to hold you because he doesn’t think you want to be touched right now.  Like… like he’s doing everything he can to be as careful as possible here because you think he might be attempting to do something he’s never done before.  Apologize for saying something he didn’t mean.

“You don’t have to,” you quickly tell him.  He’s not good with words and apologies are difficult enough to phrase for normal people, you don’t want him to fret over it if that’s what this is.  “It’s okay, I know you’re not… you don’t have to.  It was stupid of me to ask.”

“It wasn’t,” he instantly counters, his voice finally seeming to find the floor when it was just hovering before.  Not loud—still gentle, still making sure the kid doesn’t wake up and you’re not frightened away, but a bit more grounded this time.  “It wasn’t… what I wanted to hear, and I didn’t take it well.  Not stupid.”

“It was stupid,” you return amicably, looking down at your feet.  “That’s not my… job, like you said.”

Din suddenly hangs his helmet down to his chest, pressing his gloves to the part that curves over his forehead and rubbing it.  “Shit.  I didn’t mean—”

“You were right,” you acknowledge, having spent the past few hours coming to the understanding that it’s the hard truth and he just phrased it poorly.  “I’m not… built for it, I’d only get in your way.  I barely just managed to shoot stationary targets with a blaster today, and that’s only with that aim corrector built into the barrel.  I’m here to be helpful, not—”

“What are you saying?”  He suddenly lifts the beskar to study you, sounding genuinely confused.  “What aim corrector?”

That… makes you pause.

“The, uh…”  Now you’re confused.  “The one that adjusts the plasma release on the gun you gave me.”

He doesn’t move an inch or say a single thing to you in response and you awkwardly shuffle your feet for a second, everything so quiet that you can hear every little snore that goes in and out of the kid’s tiny button nose.

You blink at him after way too long of that, not knowing why he still hasn’t said anything.  “There’s an electronic sight and like a bazillion extra magnets packed into the barrel, Din, what else could—”

“Sweet girl, that’s… that’s for the Philithiorium,” Din breathes out, like he’s absolutely blown away by you right now.  “That gas is less stable than normal canisters, it takes more magnets to focus the white beam without overheating the metal.”

You stare at him, not truly processing.  He’s saying that… you made all those shots today without any help at all?  By yourself?

Your eyebrows furrow and you blink a few times, but then his slow, heavy sigh echoes throughout the metal walls with disappointment… and you don’t think it’s directed towards you.

“You’re just… always so unsure of yourself.”  He sounds genuinely distraught as his helmet tips down to look at the ground.  “I made that worse today.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you quickly shake your head, your chest already beginning to loosen slightly by just being around him, hearing his voice, seeing the metal glint under the fluorescent light overhead when he’s in such a vulnerable position on the floor.  “It’s okay, let’s just… pretend neither of us said anything at all, okay?”

“Is that what you really want?”  He asks you after a moment of quiet, and for some reason, you hear something in your mind tell you that his arms look so nice right now, don’t they?  You could fit right there, perfect and safe again.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you smile at him, feeling a bit of the ache trapped inside you continue to work itself out little by little.  You’ll be back to normal soon, it’s fine.

“No, I mean… do you really want to come with me?”  Din asks you, the words sounding cautious.  Confused, like he truly never expected the proposition from you at all.  “Or… do you just not want me to go?”

Oof, what a fucking question.

Why would he ask this?  It’s not pointed; it’s the softest, gentlest inquiry you’ve ever been posed.  Maybe in other circumstances, you’d say that him leaving doesn’t have anything to do with it, but… you’re certain that internally, it absolutely does have at least something to do with it and he was just able to know it before you did.  Which is probably why his sharp words seemed all the more cutting earlier.  It hurt because he said the truth first, verbalized a very deep insecurity you’ve been trying to hide from him and threw it right in your face when shutting you down.

Though, if it worked differently and you were the one who had to be away while he stayed here, you’d like to think you’d handle it way better than how it is now.  At least you’d have a real mission to focus on, new things to see and experiences to have.  You just feel… confined sometimes.

You take a deep breath and figure you’ll use sitting down as an excuse to think for a second.  There’s practically no room but you find it in the back of the cockpit near the doorframe anyways, doing your best to keep the kid level while you slowly lower yourself to the ground near him.  Not touching him, but close.

“I just… I lived my whole life stuck in one spot, wanting to see the galaxy,” you finally admit to him, staring at his chestplate but seeing the helmet tilt slightly in your peripheral.  “Sometimes it’s just… hard to see the galaxy and still be stuck in one spot, I guess.”

“…You want an adventure,” Din proposes quietly, and though there’s not a single hint of mockery in his voice, you suddenly feel like it’s really fucking dumb when he phrases it like that.  What are you, an eight year old?  Wanting to go on an adventure, see things you’ve never seen without any concept for real life?  Credits?  Time?  Resources?

You shrug a shoulder to make it seem like it’s no big deal.  Why is he even entertaining this right now?  “It’s stupid, I kn—”

“Like on Naboo,” he goes on, ignoring your harsh self-criticism, not allowing you the ability to even get it out once he heard the first couple words.  “Going through the forest, seeing that waterfall.  Someplace to find for yourself.  Explore.  Experience.”

You… you want it so badly that you think your eyes might tear up just hearing the words coming out of his mouth when he says them like that.  Like he… just inherently understands.  He knows.

He knows you.  He’s not good with words and yet he found the single most succinct way to put what you thought was a complex yearning without even trying.  You can’t even answer him, he hit the target dead on and you’re left with nothing to say that wouldn’t just be a miserable lie.

“Okay,” Din says after a moment, giving you a small nod.

You’re lost now.  “…Okay?”

“You’re never going on a hunt with me,” he tells you very seriously, no room for arguing.  “Ever.  And not because you can’t handle it, understand?”  He inhales, quickly adding on to his response before you’re able to analyze it the way you want to.  “But if you want an adventure, then… I can try and find a way to give you one.”

Stars.  He’s… too kind.  You somehow feel like it’s more than you deserve.  You were honestly hoping to just shadow him on a hunt, watch him work and stay well out of the way when he needs you to.  Helping if you think you’d be of any help; an extra set of eyes and hands.  You would’ve been fine even if he didn’t apologize for raising his voice at you, he doesn’t have to do this for you.

“Thank you,” you say for the third time today, feeling like each one has somehow multiplied in sincerity.

“It can’t be right now,” he quickly tells you, apologetic but earnest about it.  “I have to find the quarry, and I’m supposed to meet with Karga again in a week.”

You never did let him know about the other part of the deal you made with Karga, you admit.  Four pucks, no hassling, no hard time constraints.  That’s what you shook on, but you just never found a way to bring it up to Din.  Especially since you’ve been so preoccupied with hiding your growing disappointment from him whenever he has to go.

“If…” you pause, wondering the best way to phrase this.  Yikes, this is a toughie.  “Um.  If Karga… I don’t know, hypothetically, if Karga decided to loosen the time constraints back to the way they were before the Corellian bounty, would you… still need to meet with him again in a week?”

You don’t think he even bothers shuffling through all those words.  “Say what you mean.  Please.”

“That was part of the deal I struck with him,” you quickly explain.  “You can hunt on your own timetable again and he’ll keep giving you four pucks like before, no more or less after this one extra quarry.  It’s like a… replacement of sorts, for the one I kept you from getting the time before.  If credits aren’t an issue, you can take more than a week.  But only if you want to, you don’t have to.  It’s just there and you should know, that’s all.”

He takes his time responding, lifting his helmet just the slightest bit in… surprise?  Maybe?

“You never told me you did that,” Din finally murmurs.

“Ah.  Well.”  You look down at the sleeping kid in your arms.  “I didn’t want you to think I was trying to… keep you here.”

It genuinely is a struggle for you, and you think he’s just now realizing that.  As much as you know he gets frustrated with you for always wanting him to be here when he physically can’t be, you think it’s only now that he’s truly realizing the lengths you go to in order to stomp that part of you down whenever you feel it threatening to come up.  You allowed him to leave every single time without telling him he could stay, knowing that all that was left for you was babysitting and target practice for days on end.

“Will you come over here?”  Din finally asks, and the tone of his voice just punches you in the chest.  So soft, so distressed from having you so close yet so far from him and just… full of a quiet hope, like he’s fully expecting you to say no.

“Will we fit?”  You whisper after a moment, even quieter.

He doesn’t answer, he just reaches for you.  You do your best to scoot over to him without waking the kid, and then Din pulls you the rest of the way once he has a grip.  You go right into his arms, laying sideways across his lap and supported by his steel embrace.

Oh, it’s not comfortable but you’ve also never been more fucking comfortable.  One of his knees lifts and allows you to rest your back against it without worrying about falling over sideways and down the ladder to the hull, thank the Maker.  The beskar pauldron over his shoulder digs into your cheek, but Din immediately pushes an arm up to nudge his helmet off and make it better for both of you.  Your face automatically fits into the crook of his neck while he sets the beskar on the bend of his knee, and then he silently cradles you while you do the same to his little boy… who does the same to his favorite metal ball.

“Ni tar’tayl su,” he murmurs into your hair, the one phrase in Mando’a you do recognize, especially with how beautiful and elegant it sounds rolling off his tongue.  “Forgive me.  Ni ceta.”

You sigh your contentment and melt into him, well aware that you’d still be more comfortable in bed.  But when you’re pressed hard against his chest like this and the baby is fast asleep in your arms, you get to feel both of them breathing.  Din’s right lung is probably bigger than the kid’s whole entire body, but you like the radically different cycles they go through.  You think you count six full breaths coming from the brown sack in your palms for every one of Din’s and two of yours.  It creates the most beautiful little symphony that sometimes gets a little off track, but always finds its way back around again.

“How do you say…”  You ask, feeling his hand slowly move down the curve of your spine, mindless and hypnotic.  It catches the edge of your shirt and goes underneath, and even though it’s not his bare hand and there’s no skin to skin, it still feels so good.  Not sexual or sensual even, just… a comfort to you.  “In Mando’a, how do you say… out of a trillion?”

Din’s breaths pause for just a second, his portion of the synchronized rhythm faltering.  Soon it starts back up, and his head turns to press his lips against your hair.

“I don’t think there’s a word for it,” he admits, gently brushing a thumb across the baby’s forehead while he snoozes.  “There could be, but I don’t know it.  I’d use… out of a million million millions.  Dayn alanyc bal alanyc bal alanyci.”

Your eyes begin to drift closed, exhausted from keeping them open after shedding a few tears earlier.  Your first fight and you’re already completely in love with him again after a handful of hours of sulking and one conversation.  How is that possible?  You’re normally a very forgiving person and it wouldn’t have taken much to make you feel better, you just never expected him to… actually want it from you that badly, care enough about it to get on the floor and ask.

Din doesn’t move the entire night through.  You assumed he’d make everyone get up at some point and move to the hull, but he doesn’t.  You fall asleep against his chest, comforted by the silence once again.

***

The next morning, Din quietly climbs into the cockpit while you’re humming in the shower.  You’re too busy basking in the indoor rainfall to feel the ship pull out of hyperspace, and then jump back into it a few moments after.

***

“How long do you think you’ll be this time?”  You ask two days later, sitting on the extended flattop of Din’s old cot and swinging your legs back and forth.  The baby is currently sitting on your lap and trying to roll the metal ball down your knee so you’ll kick it in the air, you think, because he keeps dropping it at different moments and forcing you to stop moving your legs to prevent accidentally denting a wall.  Every time the ball clatters to the floor, he makes a sad sound and it immediately lifts back up into his tiny hands for another try.

Heavy boots clang against the metal floor as Din drops down from the ladder, having just landed the Crest on the surface of whatever planet you’re on.  “I’m not leaving yet.”

“Oh…”  You blink, surprised.  “Okay.”

“I wanted to do some more training with you first, if that’s okay.  You can say no if you want, but maybe not,” Din drawls, striding over to the armory and opening it.  He carefully removes your blaster from the front shelf, speaking with his back to you.  “You’re going to run.”

“Um.”  You take a moment to glance around the enclosed hull, before turning to look back at him with your eyebrows raised.  “What, like… in place?”

Din sighs and closes the armory before leaning back against the doors, rubbing the face of the helmet in exasperation.  “From me, sweet girl.”

Your legs stop swinging, and the baby grumbles and slaps three fingers against your knee.  “What?”

“We’re on Sanctuary II,” he explains, turning to grab his black bag from one of the storage shelves.  He unzips it and reaches back into one of the larger pockets on his utility belt, before grabbing a handful of credits and stuffing them inside.  “It’s a moon, the New Republic occupied it years ago and made it a safe world for refugees and orphans of the Empire.  You’ll have your blaster, some credits, a communicator, and a day head start.  You’re going to run from me.  Show me how much you’ve learned.”

Is… he for real?

Right now?  You don’t even know how to respond, you’re too surprised.  Even when Din approaches and carefully trades the kid for your blaster, setting the bag down next to you on the metal bed, you still haven’t answered him.

“If you want?”  He asks after a moment, and you quickly jerk your head into a nod and jump off the raised platform, almost knocking into him with your sudden excitement.

“Okay!  Fuck yeah,” you grin, but Din shakes his head.

“Rules,” he says seriously, and you quickly do your best to frown, trying to compose your thrilled expression to match his tone.  “One.  This is a safe world, but things can always happen.  You have a blaster now, but it’s for emergencies only.  Do not shoot me with it.  Do you understand?”  You nod, but Din reaches forward to grab your elbow.  “Out loud, please.  For me.”

“I will not shoot you with this blaster,” you vow obediently, carefully cradling the precious firearm in your hands.

“Do not shoot me,” he repeats while pointing a leather finger at you.  “Do not… shoot at me.  Near me.  Around me.  No, just—don’t shoot.  Unless I am… very far away.  Okay?”

Well, he didn’t have to phrase it like that.  You frown, but acquiesce regardless.  “I will only resort to blastering if it’s an emergency and you are not around.”

He nods a thank you for putting it into better words.  “Second rule.  Since you don’t have a ship, I won’t either.  We’re on foot.  I don’t doubt you can hotwire a piece of junk to do what you need it to do, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t.  Good?”

Entirely accurate and entirely fair.  “Good.”

“Three,” he says.  “I’ll have the kid with me, which is both good and bad news for you.  Good news is he’ll slow me down, bad news is I can’t promise he won’t also try to intervene at some point if you’re serious about putting up a decent fight.  What I can promise is that I won’t encourage it.”

“Reassuring,” you nod.  “Also not really a rule.  Please continue.”

“Four.”  He pauses for a second.  “I think I’m wanted by the New Republic.”

You nearly jerk back.  “What?”

“I can’t confirm it and I’m not proud of it,” Din quickly tells you, probably the vaguest possible explanation he could provide.  “I’m only telling you so that you’ll know your advantage and find a way to exploit it.  I can’t be seen by any officers, or they might arrest me.”

Is he fucking serious?  “I don’t want you to be arrested, Din, I—”

“I won’t be,” he assures you.  “They owe me one, I just don’t want to cash in yet.  Trust me.”

You… do.  Insanely, and against every logical thought flittering through your head, you do.  If you were ever going to bet money that someone would be able to navigate a safe world on foot without being caught by the numerous officers scattered across the surface, then you’d put all your credits on Din Djarin.  It… also shouldn’t really surprise you at all that the people seeking his incarceration also owe him a favor, should it?  It actually sounds right on par for him.  “Okay.”

“Fifth, and this one is important, so listen up,” he continues gruffly.  “You check in with me tonight over the e-comm, alright?  I don’t care where you are or how safe this planet is, if you don’t check in, I’ll come find you before the sun rises.  Say you understand me.”

“I understand you,” you tell him, your heart beginning to pound in your chest at the reality of this actually happening.  “I’ll check in tonight.”

“And if,” he goes on, “by some miracle, you manage to make it more than a full day, you check in with me tomorrow night, too.  Say it.”

“I will check in with you every single night for the full five days it’ll take you to find me,” you assert, the adrenaline starting to make you brash and giddy.  

Din tilts his helmet at you sternly.  It is a very, very stern tilt.  “Okay.  New plan, forget everything I just said.”

Your expression furrows.  “What’s the new plan?”

“That is the new plan,” he says, dead serious.  “Us.  Not doing this.”

“Oh, come on,” you grin cheekily up at him, poking his chestplate.  “I’m just giving you some motivation to find me quicker, that’s all.”

Din stares down at you, and… yeesh.  Tough crowd.

“Tell you what,” he finally grunts, sounding incredibly unamused with your jesting.  “If you can last that long with only a day head start, I’ll let you come with me to collect the fifth quarry.  You can even cuff the bastard yourself.”

You know it’s just because he’s rightly confident in his own deadly skill, but hearing him propose the possibility still shoots a thrill down your spine.  “Oh ho, you are gonna regret saying that, shiny,” you beam up at him, starting to hop back and forth on each foot with excitement.

“But if I’m able to find you, you can’t ask me ever again,” he finishes shortly, and you immediately go still in front of him.

“What?”

“If I’m able to find you in five days, I don’t want to hear about you coming with me on a hunt and you can’t ever ask me not to go on one,” Din tells you, his voice rough and gravelly through the modulator.  Not mean or harsh, but firm.  “From now on, it’ll be off-limits.”

You… take a moment, not knowing if you should feel scolded or not.  When you don’t immediately say anything in response, he sighs and turns the helmet away from you.

“Leaving is hard enough as it is,” he mutters, looking at the ground.  “Hearing you ask… makes it impossible.”

You slowly lower your gaze to the floor as well, feeling your heart constrict tight in your chest.  There’s a real pull under his voice, telling you that information even though it sounds like he doesn’t really want to admit it out loud.  It… really is a struggle for him too, then.  You understand.

“Okay,” you nod.  There’s not a single part of you that actually thinks you’ll be able to stay hidden from him for five days while stuck on foot, so this is essentially a given.  You’re not thrilled about the idea, but you’re going to do your best to respect it nonetheless, especially if he cares enough to put off hunting and allow you this experience for yourself.  It’s a better compromise than you ever imagined, and you’ll do everything you can to hold up your side of the bargain.

Din clears his throat and straightens his spine, turning the visor until it faces you head on once more.  “Final rule.  I reserve the right to break any rule we just agreed to, or any fucking rule in this galaxy to keep you safe.  Good?”

Your cheeks flush with heat, your stomach suddenly filling with butterflies.  He doesn’t do that.  Din says what he says or he doesn’t say anything at all, there’s no… taking things back, he’s already breaking his own code.

“What happened to The Way says no take-backs?”  You ask quietly.

“This is my way,” he answers you.  Quick, not even taking a moment to think about it, before pulling out a fancy looking wristwatch thing and clipping it on you himself.  “This is your communicator.  It takes more power than the one you have now but it’ll reach a further distance.  I have one just like it, they’re locked into the same frequency and timesynced together, and the batteries need to be charged every three days.  If you make it that long, I’ll remind you.”  Din grabs the bag while you slide your arm into it, helping you hook it around your shoulder with one hand while he cradles the kid in his other.  Your heart is pounding now, pumping with adrenaline as he pulls you towards the middle of the hull and then wraps an arm around you.

“Hey,” he murmurs, pulling you tight to him and pressing the helmet to the crown of your head.  His voice is barely a whisper through the modulator.  “Gar darasuum.”  For an eternity.

You find some way to wrap your arms around him, even with your blaster in your hand and the kid hanging out in his dad’s other arm.

“Dayn alanyc, bal alanyc, bal alanyci,” you murmur dutifully against the beskar chestplate, knowing your accent is probably butchering the words but hoping they still carry the same sentiment.

And then you’re squeeeeeezed hard enough to get a little air out of you, before you’re let go and he turns around, pressing a button on his vambrace so the ramp begins to lower.

It’s bright outside but not too bright, and everything is warm and gentle and breezy, right in the middle of a lush plain.  You inhale the fresh air into your lungs, looking out across the wide open field, having no fucking clue this is where your day would be leading when you woke up this morning.  Oh Maker, it’s gorgeous here.  Not like Naboo, where every single thing is picturesque and fit for an e-card, but in a soft, understated kind of way.  The sky is a canvas of swirling pastel clouds, pale pinks and yellows and blues, and the communicator on your wrist lets you know that it’s just after noon here.

You take one single step down the ramp, before immediately stopping and turning around to bite your lip at him.

“How am I… how am I supposed to outrun you?”  You ask, already clueless.  “You’re too good, better than me at everything.”

“That’s not true,” Din reminds you sternly, grabbing your hand at your side.  “You already know who’s after you, that’s an advantage nobody else has ever had against me.  You know how I think.  I don’t know how, but sometimes it’s like you can…”  He slowly shakes his head.  “See me.  Through the metal.”

“But… but that works both ways,” you point out, breathless at hearing him say that but needing to focus right now.  “You know me, too—you’ll know exactly where I—”

He shakes his head again, but quickly this time.  “Remember what I told you a long time ago?  What your best weapon is?”

You… do not.  He told you so many things, and you’re assuming every single one of them is going to come into play during this endeavor if you want to outlast.  You’re going to have to think back and remember all of them individually, find the time to figure out your best plan of action based on the remarkably little you know about how he hunts.

“You’re smart, remember?”  Din murmurs, squeezing your fingers.  “Your mind works differently, it sees things in ways I’ll never be able to, not even with this helmet.  So…”  He shrugs a shoulder like it’s the simplest thing in the galaxy.  “Don’t try to outrun, okay?  Just try to outsmart.”

You give him a nod after a moment, still not really sure about it, before giving his hand one last squeeze in return and eventually letting go.  

Outsmart.  Outsmart him, use what you know about him to be the most elusive quarry he’s ever hunted down.

As you make your way down the ramp, you’re already thinking.  His helmet tracks footprints, that’s a thing you know.  You’ll have to find someone to trade shoes with, then—yours aren’t too beat up, maybe you can find a local who’d appreciate a better pair.  Are you going to a city?  Would there be one in walking distance?  The wilderness won’t work, you’ll be too exposed and it would make you an easy target for either him or wild animals.  The weather seems clear here though, and you don’t think you’ll need to worry about rain or snow, but if—

“Oh—but when you do see me,” Din decides to add when your feet finally touch the grass, and you pause once more to turn around and look at him.  He stays quiet for a second, studying you through the helmet for too long.  Like the anticipation is getting to him already.

You bite your lip back at him and adjust the bag on your shoulder, tummy swirling with nerves and excitement.  He tilts the visor up, gazing down at you from the hull with the kid tucked in his arms.

“Try to outrun,” he says gruffly, before turning back into the ship and letting the ramp slowly close behind him.

[nateezfics]

happy halloween!!!

♔ PAIRING — jongho x reader

♔ GENRE — smut, vampire au, vampire!jongho, dom!jongho, sub!reader

♔ WARNINGS — mentions of blood, blood drinking/blood play, mentions of weapons/sharp objects (knives), smut, unprotected sex, rough sex, biting, cutting, edging, begging, fingering, knife play/knife kink, bondage (chains), oral (f receiving), foul language/dirty talk, Jongho a freak y’all

♔ WORD COUNT — 3.0k

♔ SUMMARY — a blade at your throat should unsettle you, and so should the vampire that wields it, but your lust knows no bounds. you thrive off the sense of danger, intoxicating yourself off of his very presence.

♔ FIC PLAYLIST — sick thoughts by lewis blissett, pain by boy harsher

(cover made the ever wonderful and talented @aveateez )

“I’m going to break you. And you’re going to fucking love it.”

You couldn’t see him, only able to listen to his voice as it reverberated in the dark room. It tangled around your limbs, ensnaring you just like the chains that currently bound you to the large bed. The metal shackles clanked as you squirmed, and this futile attempt at moving must’ve amused him. 

“My dear, you’re completely at my mercy. You’re like a little rabbit entangled in the thicket, unable to get away from the fox that preys on it.”

Your eyes strained to find him in the dark. The only light in the room was the lit candles. They weren’t helpful outside of illuminating the bed you were laying on and casting the black darkness in an or orangey hue. You were splayed out, all four limbs chained, and completely naked. You couldn’t see him, but he could see you and that sent shivers up and down your spine.

You were like a meal served on a silver platter. It shouldn’t have aroused you, but oh, it did.

“Are you just going to stay in the shadows or are you actually going to come out and touch me?” You tried to put on an unbothered front, but there was a tremor in your voice, and you didn’t doubt that he picked up on it. 

“Where is the fun in just giving you what you want? I like to play. Don’t you?”

You squirmed again, restless and impatient. “I didn’t come here to play games.”

You heard steps and you sensed him come closer to you. “Then what did you come here for? It certainly wasn’t to kill me. At least, not just to kill me.”

Certainly, ending his life was one reason for your visit, considering you were a vampire hunter, but you’d be lying if you said it was the main reason for being here. You’d been stalking him for months now, learning his patterns, his routine. You couldn’t just go into a hunt blindly, not with vampires. Hunting them wasn’t like hunting animals. Vampires were like humans — self-aware, smart, cunning. And vampires like him took a while to stake out. 

Somewhere, you didn’t know exactly when, waiting on the perfect time to strike lead you into an infatuation with him. He was unlike any other monster you’d taken out. 

And now, you were here, so close to him but you were the one chained. 

“You hunters are an odd bunch,” you heard him say. “You’re so obviously in over your heads with us, yet you persist. Sure, you can take out some fledglings and a newly turned vampire or two, but the ones like me? You overstep your abilities.”

“We try because we are tired of being preyed on. We won’t be complacent, and we refuse to be sitting ducks for you to pick off one by one.” Indignation swelled in your chest at his haughty attitude. 

“That’s commendable, I assure you.” You heard more steps. “But naive. Besides, vampires could easily wipe out humanity completely, but without you we have no sustenance.”

He stepped from the shadows, revealing himself fully, eyes bright. “And without you, we have no one to play with.”

You sucked in a breath. He was regal, handsome, striking. You thought maybe that’s what lead to you being so intrigued by him. He was beautiful. Most vampires of his stature generally were, but him? His beauty stood out amongst the many. 

He stalked around the bed, eyes all over you, snaking along your skin and making you want to move, to flee from under his heavy gaze. The chains. They kept you right where he wanted you, and fuck, right where you wanted yourself to be. “I must say, dear. You look very delicious sprawled out like this. How are the chains? Too tight?”

He didn’t care about the chains, and you didn’t either. They were just an annoyance, the very things that kept you from getting a chance to lay a hand on him. “The chains are doing their job keeping me in place and keeping me right where you want me.”

Jongho smiled, deciding to overlook the bite to your voice. “Perfect,” he cooed. “Then you understand that you will be at my mercy and will take everything I give — or don’t give.”

Or don’t give. You could only imagine what that meant. You lifted your head to look him directly in his eyes. “Do your worst.  I’m not scared.”

A well-manicured brow rose at your gumption. He smirked, leaning down to tug on the chains. “We shall see.”

You weren’t expecting the rush of pleasure that filled you when he swooped down over the bed to lick a stripe up your folds. Your back arched, limbs pulling taught against the chains. You couldn’t conceal the moan that spilled out of your mouth, but you bit your lip to keep more from following it. 

“You won’t be able to hold back for long,” he warned you and you didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking, but you did anyway, skin prickling at the sight of his eyes staring back at you, face between your spread thighs. 

You were determined to prove him wrong. Your lip stayed between your teeth to keep all the noises at bay, and to not give him that satisfaction. But oh, the pleasure his tongue was giving you was great, toe curling, and overwhelming. You hadn’t expected it feel this good, and you didn’t expect to be hurtling towards your climax so quickly. 

“I can tell you’re already close, dear,” Jongho mused as he nipped at your bud. “Why don’t you let me hear those pretty sounds fully, hm?”

You clamped your mouth shut to ward off the pleas that wanted to erupt from your mouth. You were shaking from withholding, like your body needed to cry out to process the onslaught of stimulation. He nipped and sucked, tongue delving in your folds. You were becoming a mess already, body writhing under him. 

It was right there, right in your reach. You could practically taste your high, feeling the bliss began to coil in your belly —

Jongho removed himself from you, and the reaction was immediate. He laughed when you visibly deflated, relishing in the little whine that slipped. “Oh, you didn’t want to cum, did you, my dear?”

If your legs weren’t bound, you would’ve kicked him. You exhaled. “Fuck you.”

The vampire only chuckled, unbothered. “Language, my dear,” he admonished smugly. “If you want something, you must ask.”

You huffed and stared at the large canopy that hung over the bedframe. You looked him in the eyes a moment later as you said, “Don’t you mean beg?”

Jongho’s eyes flickered wickedly, but his face remained stoic save for a small, almost polite smile. “Ask, beg. They are both the same, just depends on how desperate you are.”

You shivered, limbs shaking just enough that he noticed. Your heart was erratic in your chest, and you were already beginning to grow restless from being held in place. “I won’t do neither, because I am not desperate.”

His expression was arrogant, challenging, like he already knew who the victor would be. You knew it, too, you were just trying to stall the inevitable. “Yet, you are not desperate yet. I assure you, you will beg for me sooner rather than later, my dear.”

The back and forth ended there because he dipped his head again, taking your clit back between his lips, tongue flicking out to add that sweet pressure. The chains rattled as you squirmed. This was already too much to handle. You were falling into his grasp rapidly, spiraling out of control and heading to your demise. Groans and curses bubbled from your throat and the closer you got to your release, the harder it became to withhold the sounds of bliss. The chains were pulled tight as you jerked and tugged, body barely able to bear his mouth on you any longer.

Jongho’s small laugh reverberated against you. You heard the amusement in his voice. “You have a strong will, I will praise you for that,” he admitted against you, tongue sliding up your seam. “But I know you will break soon.”

It was all too true. Release after release he denied you, always getting you to the edge before pulling you back. Each time it was like being doused with ice water, denial crashing into you and shaking you to your core. Your nerves and patience were frayed, and you were where he wanted you all along – your breaking point.

Jongho stood straight, towering over you like a lion over its fresh kill. You watched his every move like your life depended on it. Maybe it did, you weren’t sure, but you knew you were highly anticipated for what he was to dish out next. What you didn’t expect, however, was for him to pull out a dagger, its shiny steel glinting from the candlelight. You gasped.

“Why do you have my dagger?”

He shrugged. “I noticed it with your belongings,” he explained. “And thought maybe it would be fun to play with.” Jongho got onto the bed, motions smooth and elegant, and settled himself over your thighs, straddling you. He studied the dagger closely as if he was intrigued by it. “You really kill vampires with these?”

You felt unnerved at his fascination with it, but not in a negative way. You were on edge, but the danger of him wielding this weapon of yours made adrenaline pump in your veins. It was doubly lethal, him with the dagger, but you would’ve had to have been clueless to believe that the dagger was the more dangerous weapon. He was the weapon, and he was more lethal than any blade. “Yes.” You hated the softness to your voice.

“Must be lower-class vampires,” Jongho deducted, and you didn’t miss the insult made to you. “I wouldn’t fall victim to these little…trinkets.”

You huffed. “Even you have a weakness.”

Jongho shrugged. “I suppose, but you’d never figure it out.”

“That’s what you think,” you shot back at him. He chuckled.

“It’s what I know, dear.” Jongho’s gaze shifted into something sinister as he lowered the tip of the blade to press it between your breasts. You sucked in a breath at the cold steel. He was content to drag its blunt end down your sternum languidly for a bit, eyes flashing at your small, nervous breaths. He chuckled when something amusing seemingly crossed his mind. “How ironic this is. Here you are, a vampire hunter, at the mercy of a vampire that currently holds the blade meant to kill him, dragging it against your bared flesh.”

A mix of shame and exhilaration snaked through your body, twisting and coiling in the bit of your belly. Goosebumps erupted on your skin in the wake of the blade as he grazed it over you. You watched it as it traveled from your navel all the way to where the seam of your sex began. Your hole fluttered. “What –”

“My dear, I won’t put this blade inside you,” Jongho said in amusement. “Unless you want me to.”

You shook your head.

Jongho trailed the blade down your inner thighs, its blunt side still towards you. He rolled it over in his hand, blade slightly slicing your skin. You gasped at the sting just as a line of red formed on the cut. He did this repeatedly, switching between legs. He groaned at the sight of your crimson essence, and when the scent rose to meet his nose, a low growl rumbled in his chest. It wasn’t just your blood he sensed, and when he gazed at your cunt, he saw the way fresh arousal glistened along your folds. “My, my. How utterly amusing you are, my dear.”

You whimpered when his free hand went to your sex, fingers pressing into your dripping folds.

“Look at you, getting aroused by being at the end of this blade.” The evil amusement saturated every word, every syllable of his voice.

This wasn’t supposed to be this erotic, this arousing. Danger was very well right above you. You should have been scared, and to a degree you were, but your deranged lust clouded all your senses. Two of his fingers plunged into your drenched heat and your spine arched immediately. Your senses were still frayed from the countless rejections of a release, body shuddering as he fucked you with them. “Oh. My god.”

Jongho snickered. “He won’t save you now, not after how filthy you are, my dear.” The blade traveled back up your middle, occasionally pressing into you just enough to sprout little beads of blood. “Though, it is nice to hear your pretty cries.” He pumped his fingers inside you, filling you with ecstasy until you were on the edge again. He felt wicked victory swell in his chest when he saw the desperation on your face, your eyes pleading with him not to stop.

A plea threatened to slip off your tongue and you barely withheld it, but you feared he already knew how needy you were. Needy for release, needy for him.

You watched the blade as he brought to his lips. Your whole body shook with unhinged lust when his tongue darted out to lap at your blood on the dagger. Your cunt wept around his fingers at the sound of his crazed moan of pleasure.

Jongho’s eyes were the brightest you’d seen them, his senses coming to life at the taste of blood. “You taste delicious,” he praised. “I love that metallic taste, and that sweet aftertaste of your arousal on my tongue.” He licked the metal clean and brought it to your neck. “I could splice you open and feast, but I prefer the traditional way of getting blood from my prey. I like to sink my fangs into the flesh and hear all the pretty screams, it’s so much more satisfying that way.”

The blade pressed into your jugular, not enough to bring blood, but enough to make your pulse hammer under your skin. You were rigid, breath caught in your throat.

“Speaking of screams, I can give you what you want and let you cum if you beg for it, or I will antagonize you until you scream from delirium. Your choice.” His fingers were agonizingly slow, moving just enough to keep up the momentum, but not enough to let you unravel.

You groaned. “Please.”

“Oh?”

When his fingers didn’t change tempo even after your plea, you huffed. And you snapped. “Please, I want to cum. I need to feel release, or I will go insane. I don’t fucking care anymore. Please, please, please!”

Jongho smirked as he relished in your defeat. “Oh, there’s a good girl. See? It’s not so scary to tell me what it is you want. I will surely do as you ask.” But he didn’t let you cum again. His fingers left you, your hole feeling so empty, and you sobbed from another denied orgasm.

“Fuck you! You’re a liar!” You missed the way he unclasped his pants. You didn’t see him draw out his cock from its confines to stroke it. You weren’t aware until you felt him brushing against your entrance. You gasped.

Jongho pushed himself in roughly with a grunt. You thrashed in place against the chains at the overwhelming fullness of him inside you. He didn’t wait for you to accommodate, hips snaping into yours at bruising speed. “Would you care to take that statement back? Awfully rude to call people names.”

You had no choice but to take it all. He used your lack of mobility to his advantage, fucking into you with reckless abandon, cock battering your insides. There was no way you could conceal the cries. It was all too much to bear.

Jongho ran the blade along your lower abdomen, just over the bump that formed from his cock bulging within you as he thrusted in you. “You’re gorging yourself on me. Your tightness feels amazing, my dear.”

You were insane from the pleasure, from the rush of danger, from the inability to move. You were beyond the breaking point. “I’m not…I’m not going to last!” Fear that he would deny you again was at the forefront of your mind. You wouldn’t have been able to withstand that torture again. Not now.

The vampire smiled wickedly. “My dear, how beautiful you will look when you come undone around me.”

The pleasure was consuming. Your blood felt like it had turned to molten lava and all you could was scream as the bliss conquered every inch of you. You shook enough to make the chains rattle, limbs convulsing. It felt like eternity had passed before you began to calm down. You deflated into the mattress, spent both mentally and physically. You were almost numb to his thrusts inside you.

Jongho unraveled some time later, and you thought this would all be over then, but his face right above yours meant that he was far from done with you. He grinned, fangs on full display, and now that pleasure had passed, you truly understood the danger you were in. “Oh, poor thing. You thought I was finished? I haven’t even gotten to the main event yet.”

All you knew in the next moments was the sharp pain of his fangs, the feeling of your blood leaving you, and the sounds of his feasting.

And your screams.

You heard the chains rattle before everything went black.

A/N: Happy Spooky Day! Well...what’s left of it. There’s only an hour left and I’m sure for a lot of you Halloween has passed. I really cut it close with this ghfdgfgh. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. We are seriously lacking some solid and nasty and wonderful Jongho fics okay. It’s a crying shame :’( 

And for the Mingi fic...I’m still working on it :’) I will try to get it up tomorrow!

Tag list: @couchpotatoaniki @kisaraginami @shingisimp @ainaatiny @hongshines @ruwaidahmulla @dani41 @pinkbbygirl @yunsangoveryonder  @jeongyunhoed​ 

[youryanderedaddy]

I had a dream just now that might make a good story. So, I had a virus on my laptop which allowed a hacker to see everything I did on my computer and use my webcam. The hacker ends up falling in love with me after stalking me for a few months and pays for someone on the dark web to kidnap me. It works, and then I wake up tied up in the hacker's arm as he caresses and kisses me. That's pretty much it, good night! 🌙

Yo this is my kink 😳

Also I couldn't not write this for Saeran, ok.

Title: Stranger danger

Tw: nsfw - ish, female reader, masturbation, cyber stalking, hacking, mentions of dark web, very irresponsible online behavior, obsessive behavior, implied kidnapping

You knew that this was a stupid idea. Lurking on the dark web with almost no protection other than the Tor browser and some free anti-virus program wasn't your best decision, but fuck it if it wasn't entertaining. You had always been drawn to the darker, scarier part of the human mind and this side of the internet proved quite interesting. Your friends always warned you about the dangers that came with looking up shady online searches and sites but everything had been quite peaceful so far. There weren't hackers or murderers on the dark web, the worst you had seen were people selling drugs and weapons for unreasonable prices, along with some questionable fetish porn and the typical popping ads.

Your favorite thing to do while online was chatting. Two weeks ago you had stumbled upon an unusual forum called "Scream buddies" where upon entering you were automatically connected to another random profile. The whole theme of the forum was discussing horror and mondo movies, shockumentaries and overall creepy stuff, your forte. The person you met on there shared a similar fascination with all things dark and gory which soon made talking to them the only thing you were looking forward upon opening the site.

You didn't know much about the guy behind the profile yet, except that he was a young man. His icon showed an eye so green it emited with the neon pigment and his username was just as mysterious - BlueRose7. You enjoyed chatting with him about your hobby but the thing you liked the most was undressing him little by little, metaphorically so, by getting pieces of information about his life. It started small - his favorite food, favorite book, favorite game, but the moment you tried digging deeper and asked whether he had siblings or not, the man simply disappeared for the next few days. You quickly realized just what type of topics you needed to avoid to keep your new friend from leaving. Family, childhood memories and work matters were out of the picture.

The stranger wasn't fair, not really. He didn't show you vulnerability and kept his secrecy while demanding to know everything there was to know about you. For the longest time you didn't want to answer just to stay on a equal footing, just to show him how frustrating it was, but there was something about the man that drew you in. He was magnetic, clever and witty, if a bit pessimistic and dark at times. You couldn't help telling him everything he wanted to hear - what your job was, whether you were single or not, all that jazz. In your defense, BlueRose7 actually listened to your stories, took your problems seriously and provided solutions, which despite being too extreme and overprotective at times (upon hearing that your bestfriend talked behind your back he offered to "take care" of her), were comforting. It was nice to have someone caring around even if you met him on a sketchy website.

Meanwhile your personal life wasn't going too great. You had to balance between attending college, working long shifts as a waitress and meeting your friends from time to time which was draining. On top of all there was a weird virus on your computer which resulted in the camera turning on and off and the most random times of the day - while you were studying, watching TV, or in some cases, fully naked and ready to take a bath. You didn't think much of it though, with all the illegal movies and games you downloaded along with the dark web lurking it was more than expected for your laptop to behave weirdly. You didn't even mention it to your friend from the IT major because you knew that he'd force you to delete Tor and put an end to your internet adventures.

One time you were particularly bored after several long lectures and you were laying in bed, the camera turned on once again. It was a hot afternoon and you were wearing boyshorts and a loose T- shirt with nothing underneath it, you were home alone so there was no need. The bright red spot was twinking like a recorder, the light reflecting in your eyes, when a silly little idea came to your mind. You slid your hand under your blouse and lifted the fabric up, exposing your breasts to the laptop, your nipples hardening due to the sudden coldness, becoming pink and stiff in seconds. You played with for a few minutes, pinching and pulling the buds gently, moaning softly into the pleasant sensation. Soon you could feel yourself getting wet, and slowly, teasingly, removed your shorts and panties. You smiled at the camera, biting your lip provocatively, imagining you were a camgirl performing for her desperate little fanboys and fangirls. The thought alone was enough to make you spread your legs wide and slip two fingers into your throbbing cunt, using the wetness to push deeper. You used your other hand to stroke your clit and whimpered wantonly, your face red, your neck sweaty and your heart pumping fast from the adrenaline. You were quickly reaching your orgasm and your mind wondered to the boy you were talking to in the forum. You wondered how he looked like, how his body was built, whether he was a sweet sensual lover or a rough mean one. Fucked up as it was, you pictured the man as one of your most loyal viewers, watching all of your streams with a fist around his thick vock and an excited grin on his face. He would comment things like "you look so beautiful like this" or perhaps even "pretty little slut" after tipping you enough to last you a week. Soon all the mental stimulation sent you over the edge and you came with a loud cry full of pleasure. Well, this felt good.

After your "performance" was over the camera was magically turned off, which may have caused some concerns if you weren't too busy feeling embarrassed and dirty about the unhinged fantasy you had just had, and with a person you knew nothing about. You managed to calm down though - it wasn't nothing more than a fun pastime, a naughty thought that would never become the reality. You would never actually meet BlueRose7, right? There was nothing to worry about, so you just went on with your day.

You had some dinner afterwards and decided to have an early night as you already felt full and tired. You put on your favoruite pajamas and laid in bed, staring at the ceiling until you fell into deep dreamless sleep.

You woke up due to a weird noise. You could hear someone's heavy breathing right next to your ear, someone's grabby hands were wrapped tightly against your body, trapping you between the wall and their hard chest. You had only a few seconds to scream before the intruder's palm covered your mouth.

"Shhh." The man whispered softly and stroked your hair like you were a doll he was playing with. "Don't scream or I'll be forced to hurt you, flower. I have a gun." His voice sounded deep and rough but this didn't stop you from thrashing and turning on your side until you came face to face with the man. It was dark in the room and you couldn't exactly see all his features but his enchanting green eyes would forever be burned into your memory - they seemed dashing, hypnotizing. You couldn't utter a word.

"It's me, the person you've been talking to all these months. I came to take you home" He spoke out suddenly, the line of his mouth twisting into a smile or a smirk, you couldn't quite tell. You shook your head no, tears threatening to spill all over your cheeks from the fear. It couldn't be him, the man would never do that to you. Or would he? With what little information you knew, you couldn't really tell. His hold finally loosen, seeing you quiet like that.

"Let me go, please." You begged, pushing at his shoulders weakly since you were still sleepy, groggy and tired. "I don't know you." You said, hoping this would remind the stranger you weren't friends, lovers or anything that gave him the right to be so close to you, to touch you so intimately. Unfortunately, this only seemed to amuse him and he chucked darkly as he pulled your hair away to place a small chaste kiss on your neck.

"But I know you, flower." Your supposed online friend replied shortly after, his eyes full of malice. "And your little show today makes me think you want to know me too." He added in a low tone, licking his lips before smashing them on yours, forcing his tongue deep into your mouth just to hear your whines and protests. Then it hit you. The camera, the virus, the questions. He had watched you, he knew where you worked, where you lived and studied, everything. You had told him after all.

The hacker thought you looked so adorable right now, figuring things out, helpless, confused, regretful and most of all, weak. You were so weak and careless, and he loved you for it. It reminded him of himself before life screwed him over.

You wouldn't be in this position, underneath him, if you had just told someone about your laptop virus and the bad guy you had encountered online. But Saeran couldn't say he wasn't glad your self-preservation instincts were so very broken and dysfunctional. He wouldn't meet you otherwise. "I need you, princess. That's why I'll take you to Paradise." These were the final words you heard before you felt lightheaded and sleepy again, your last memory a pair of green mint eyes.

You really shouldn't have trusted strangers on the internet.

[finelinevogue]

he’s so vogue

Description - you are the journalist for the new Harry Styles December Vogue Issue

A/N - how is everyone doing? hope you enjoy! if you have any requests please feel free to ask. love you all and have a lovely rest of the week!

warnings: swearing

[masterlist]

Being a journalist for Vogue was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

After 3 years of studying English Literature at Surrey University, you never thought, only a year after, you'd be working as an apprentice at Vogue UK. If it weren't for your Aunty, who worked in the fashion design section at Vogue HQ, then you'd no doubt still be a broke-ass, single, lonely student. Ok, lonely you still were but your job was so full-on that you didn't have time for a relationship.

Two years into your apprenticeship you were promoted to an official member of the team, and then another two years later you got promoted to team leader in your department of journalism, and editing; The Media - or as you like to call it - "The Celeb Goss". You were beyond happy with your job and found such passion in every article your wrote. Whether it be about a new celebrity romance or the collapse of one, you found a way to story-tell in such a meditated way that everyone loved your pieces.

That's why the Harry Styles had requested you to be the one to interview him.

Of course you'd written about A-list celebrities in the past, producing articles on pregnancy rumours, or engagements, or breakups, but you'd never met them before authoring an article. You'd met plenty of D-list celebrities who thought they were mega famous, but if you mentioned their names people would turn around and ask "who?".

This is why interviewing Harry Styles was a massive thing for you.

Not very often did you get to do work out in the field, especially in these covid infested days, but nevertheless it was your favourite part of the job. Getting to meet the people you were writing about was completely refreshing, allowing you to obtain a clearer outlook on which direction to take on your journal piece.

You were asked to go to Stonehenge, where the photoshoot was being filmed, as your office of interview. Even though you'd lived in the UK all your life, you'd never actually been to Stonehenge. It wasn't really on your bucket-list, but it was a pleasure to get to see it all the same.

Being the prepared interviewer you were, you'd prepared an array of questions that you were set on asking Harry. You'd never met him before, but after much googling and youtubing of him prior to meeting him today you would already be confident in saying he's the most brilliant man to ever exist. You were really nervous that you were going to screw this interview up and make a terrible mess in front of Harry Styles.

"Lisa! What if I accidentally say something I shouldn't?" You ran your stressed hands through your hair.

This whole morning had been frantic. It had started off by you waking up late, no thanks to Lisa, your best-friend and co-worker, pressing snooze on the alarm. You wanted to look professional today so you'd put on your best shirt - only to spill coffee down it ten minutes later. So now, you smelt of coffee and were wearing what was left in your wardrobe - and it wasn't much. The only things left clean were a pair of pink corduroy flares and some, pastel coloured, graphic t-shirt to go with it.    

"You won't. Stop being so negative." Lisa rolled her eyes, probably fed up with the amount of winging she'd heard from you this morning - and you'd only been awake an hour.

"My outfit is hardly professional either." You huffed, pouring the rest of your, second, coffee down the drain.

"Well I think you look gorgeous." Lisa stated, whilst putting her breakfast bar wrapper in the bin.

You and Lisa were back and forth about you stressing, and such, for about half an hour before you had to leave. You had a great panic about losing your glasses too. You could see without them up close, but for long distance viewing and reading you were practically blind. You were taking Lisa's car, since she didn't think you were emotionally stable enough to drive. Lisa was the creative director on the set, and thank goodness she was so you could at least ramble to someone.

After a two hour drive up from London, you arrived at Stonehenge and it was freezing. Although the sun was out, it did nothing to keep your body heated. The journey up had been nice because you sat in your nicely heated car, chatting away with Lisa and blasting some Harry Styles out of the speaker. You'd made it through the first album, and the second one up to Canyon Moon before reaching your destination.

Upon arriving you could just about, without glasses, make out about 15 other cars, arranged at the bottom of a hill. There was an array of Audis and BMWs, a few Range Rovers, which you placed your bets on one was Harrys, and a green, vintage, Jaguar which was most likely belonging to the fashion editor or something. There was also a modern barn, perched at the foot of the hill, which was where Harry would be getting changed in to his various different outfits.

It took you a moment to register that Lisa had parked and was already clambering out of the car, making you look a little idiotic still blankly staring at the beautiful scenes in front, and around, of you.

But it was still bloody freezing.

You jogged a little to the boot and whipped out your white cardigan. Originally you'd thought that this would've been enough to keep you warm, but now you were starting to think otherwise.

The atmosphere here was amazing. People were rushing around left, right and centre loading, and unloading, various pieces of equipment and clothes. You caught sight of brightly coloured fabrics being carried to and from various places. There were the camera crew, and presumably director, all chatting amongst themselves. The smell of the very fresh air was so lush that you'd forgotten what it smelt like - especially after years in London.

You grabbed your bag from the boot, which had your notes, recording kit and laptop stuffed inside, before locking the car and following Lisa in to the barn.

It was lovely and warm inside - a completely different climate to than the outside. It was as if it was Bali inside and Antarctica outside. Better Bali than Antarctica though.

"Ok. Let's put our stuff down over here and then go find people we need to meet and such." Lisa instructed, you still too in awe of the place to fully comprehend what was going on.

You followed Lisa and you two ended up dropping off your stuff next to some other bags. You took a liking to the purse next to your stuff. Next to your bag, it made yours seem ancient - like it was worth nothing more than a penny. It was luscious and a beautiful baby blue colour. You softly ran your hands over it, finding satisfaction in how smooth and subtle it was.

"Hope you're not planning on stealing that, love." A manly voice appeared from behind you. You whipped around to see who's bag you'd been messing with, and it was just your luck that it was to be Harry Styles'. Of all the people's it could've been it had to be his. 

Perfect.

He looked dashing. He was in black flares and his iconic 'But daddy i love him', t-shirt, along with a huge green anorak. His hair was prettily clipped back with a pink clip, presumably placed there to gave his curls greater volume. In his hand he had a pink toothbrush and you guessed he'd come back over to put it away in his bag - only to find you caressing it instead.

"Oh - no, no. Not at all. I - uh - I just thought it was beautiful." You stammered over your words, choosing them carefully to try and make you look less like an active criminal.

"Mhm." Harry nodded whilst looking you up and down, most likely judging why a peasant like you, in comparison to him, was touching his expensive property. "Well, I love your flares darlin'." Harry looked down at your trousers, his compliment making you blush a little.

"Thank you. That wasn't professional, and neither is my outfit, I know, and I apologise." You added, because you knew that if your boss knew you turned up today the way you did she would give you a right bollocking - and potentially even fire you.

"Never apologise for flares. You look amazing." Gemma perked up, making you feel more self conscious surrounded by all these other beautiful women. Gemma was in a slouchy, knitted, jumper and basic jeans - no doubt all from shops beyond your budget - and yet she looked like a model fit for the runway for Vogue.

"Okay, sorry." You apologised again, to which you, creepily, got the exact same, stern, look from the Styles siblings at the same time.

"My stylist, Harry, introduced me to big pants. He offered whether I wanted to try a pair of flares, and I was like, 'Flares? That's fucking crazy'!" Harry laughed as he told his story, earning a laugh out of you too. "Now they're my favourite item of clothing. Have a whole wardrobe dedicated to them."

"I wish he was joking." Gemma laughed at her brother and his flare obsession.

"Well you do look handsome in them, so I understand why." Your words rolls off your tongue before you could even comprehend what you were saying. Only after you finished your sentence did you completely intake what you'd just said.

"Good start." Lisa giggled to you, before turning to walk over to the coffee station. It was a help-yourself coffee bar and you knew that you were going to bed at least five cups to get over the last five minutes alone. You'd probably drain the station before letting anyone else have any.

"Oh god." You awkwardly mumbled, not daring to see how weirdly Harry would be looking at you, before walking off outside.

You had spent less than 10 minutes here and yet you'd never felt like a bigger clown. Joining the circus had never been so easy.

The outside wind hit you like a powerful leaf blower, and your hair blew around like crazy - most likely compiling into a birds nest on the top of your head.

Today was supposed to be the start of something great. Your hopes were set on a promotion from your written masterpiece, whilst enjoying the company of one of the most handsome, most lovely, most talented men of this century. Those hopes seemed a little too distant now. They seemed to mock you, as if to laugh at how you ever thought you were going to be any more successful. You'd completely, in more ways than one, made a fool of yourself in front of your interviewee, you were so underdressed, you were caught fondling his Gucci purse and you were still bloody cold.

It all felt too unprofessional for a job where professional was practically the driving force of the company.

You leaned against the barn, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself. You were a master in over-thinking, but unfortunately that wasn't something you could add to your resumé. You let your eyes close and the other senses come alive for a few moments. The sounds of distant sheep and the smell of the cold wind were just two of the senses that allowed you to take a step back for a minute, and breathe.

"Thank you." A voice interrupted you from your attempt of quick meditation. You looked to your left and noticed Harry standing there, still in the same outfit as before.

"I'm sorry?" You asked confused, taking a step away from the barn to considerately pay more attention to him.

"Thank you - for saying I look handsome in flares." He repeated, smirking when he added the second part.

"Oh." Was all you could respond, feeling too embarrassed to take the conversation any further. "I should—" You pointed back to the barn, using it as an excuse to leave before yet screwed up anymore.

"Lisa told me you're the interviewer." Harry added, and it only occurred to you that you'd never actually introduced yourself. "So it's lovely to finally meet you Y/N." He stuck out his hand for your to shake, which you did willingly. His hands were a lot softer than you'd expected.

"Ho... You know my name?" You asked surprised.

"Of course. I also know you're the best writer in Vogue right now." He flattered you, which made you blush. You had a feeling he'd make you do that a lot today.

"Sure." You rolled your eyes as you spoke sarcastically.

"Well I chose you for a reason, didn't I?" He rhetorically asked.

"I mean.. I, well.. I don't know?" You stumbled over your words, making yourself look like a larger fool than you did already. Today was just turning out to be exactly what you didn't want it to be. "Sorry."

"Stop apologising. You do it too often." He told you, nearly making you apologise again but he gave you a jokingly stern look, as if he knew what you were going to say, and so you decided otherwise.

"Harry!" You both turned to see there was a man waving towards you both, but specifically to Harry. "Come get changed!" The same man shouted. Harry lifted his thumbs up, as if to signal he'd be there shortly.

Harry turned back to you and noticed you shiver a little.

"I'll start the interview after I come back from the dressing rooms, yeah?" Harry asked, taking off his, khaki green, trench-coat in the process. He handed it to you before you could oblige against it.

"Wait what?" You confusedly looked down at the coat and back up to Harry.

"Gives me a piece of mind knowing my interviewer isn't going to die of hypothermia before actually interviewing me." He smiled, obviously attempting to crack a joke and you have to admit you did laugh.

"Thank you." You say, before he runs off to where he's being called to.

                                                            ••••

You'd been sat inside for a little while, waiting for Harry to come back. It gave you time to perfect your questions though.

Thinking up questions to ask Harry had been a challenging task, but one that you'd been fully invested in. You loved creating questions to ask him that were going to get to understand him on a deeper level. He was a very private man, and you completely respected that. If you crossed any boundaries, with the questions you'd ask, you would write them out of the interview. You liked to think you hadn't thought up a question that would make him feel uncomfortable though.

Pissing off Harry would be on another level of shame.

"Coat kept you warm?" Harrys voice disengaged you from your notebook.

"Hm?" You asked then replayed what he'd just asked in your mind. "Oh, yes. Thank you very much." You stood up, from where you'd been perched on the floor, picking up your nearly finished green tea as you did so.

Only when you stood up did it come to your realisation that Harry was now in costume. He was dressed in luxury. Each item looked like it cost more than your rent, and that was saddening. He looked rich and luxurious. To be quite honest, you were finding it rather difficult to take your eyes off him.

"You think the outfit is Vogue enough?" Harry asked, striking a few poses, which made you laugh. It was refreshing to see him act so relaxed and carefree, rather than a stuck-up-prick you knew some celebrities to be.

"Completely. I love it!" You exclaimed, appreciating the twirl he did for you.

He was wearing a kilt-like skirt and he looked beyond beautiful in it. Fuck toxic masculinity. Fuck being a manly man - like what does that even mean? Harry was embracing gender fluidity and experimenting the ways in which there was no definitive line between men and women's clothes anymore, and you thought it was marvellous. Revolutionary, for times as politically and socially troubled as these.

You started removing the coat in attempt to give it back to him, but he refrained you from doing so by holding on to your forearm.

"Keep it. I thought we could go outside to start the interview, so you'll be needing that." Harry told you, and you agreed - however reluctantly that was. You couldn't really complain though, because the coat did kept you warm and, what's better, it smelt divine - just like you'd imagine Harry to smell.

"Okay. Thank you. Do you want to go now?" You asked hesitantly, not knowing whether he was busy for someone else right now.

"Whenever you're ready, love." He answered, making you feel more relaxed. He was going at your pace and was making you feel settled - he was even more of a gentleman than people described him to be.

The two of you had walked around the backside of the barn in silence, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence. Well, at least you were. It was a blessing no one was back here. It was just you, Harry and the scenery that surrounded Stonehenge.

You approached a bench and you plopped yourself down on one end, whilst Harry sat on the other. He respected the fact that there was a pandemic going on, and didn't want to make you uncomfortable in any way. You still had your mask on, so Harry had taken that as you were very conscious about the virus - which he admired.

You pulled out your glasses, from the depths of one of the coat pockets, and placed them on your face, probably making yourself look even geekier than you already felt. Today was just one of those days you wished you had good eyes...

You opened your spent notebook, musty pages practically falling apart, and turned to the section of questions you needed for that interview. You were so nervous already and you hadn't even asked anything yet, all because of the previous interactions with Harry today. Your shaky hands shuffled through the pages and you cursed under your breath when you struggled to find what you needed.

"Shoot. Come on." You mumbled quietly under your breath, hoping it would make this terrible situation end faster. You mustn't have been as quiet as you thought though.

"Y/N." Harry's name broke through your clouded mind of self-disappointment.

You looked up at him to see him softly smiling at you, blowing all worries away from you away with the wind. "Yes?" You timidly asked, pushing your wind-swept hair out of glasses - where it'd gotten caught.

"You’re alright, love. You don't have to be professional around me, alright? We're just two strangers having a conversation, to get to know each other, okay?" If his words didn't calm you enough, the soothing sound of his husky voice certainly did.

"But that would mean you asking me stuff too?" You replied, confused at his implications of the phrasing 'getting to know each other'.

"Mhm." Harry nodded his head.

"Oh I don't know Mr Styles, i'm not a very interesting person." You answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, pushing your glasses back up the bridge of your nose from where they'd fallen.

"I refuse to believe that." Harry chuckled, making a quick smile appear on your face. "And please call me Harry. Just Harry." He begged, obviously finding it weird you calling him by his professional title. All you wanted, ever, was for your interviewee's to feel comfortable and safe, so if Harry wanted you to call him Harry then so be it.

"Ok, Harry," you sarcastically said, earning a shake of the head on his behalf, "you can ask me a few questions throughout the day." You told him, but you knew he'd struggle to find even two questions when he realises how bland you are.

"Does that mean you only get to ask me a few as well?" Harry smirked, already knowing the answer to that question. Unlike Harry, you had to write an article about today when you got home and so he knew that you'd have to dig as much dirt as possible from him.

"No, sorry. I don't particularly want to lose my job." You paused to look down at your notes, squinting a little as you did to see better. "Okay. Tell me your experience with corona virus."

"Sorry I didn't quite catch that, love." Harry apologised, leaning in slightly to see if he could hear you a second time around.

"Sorry." You looked down to fiddle with your fingers - a habit you'd undertaken when you're embarrassed. "Um..," you cleared your throat, "would you mind if I took off my mask?"

Your timid voice sent tingle down Harrys spine. He didn't think anyone could ever be this sweet. "Not at all, ‘course you can." He replied, again, wanting to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

You hesitantly took off your face mask, feeling like you were in some dramatic movie where they face revealed someone. You kind of liked having the mask on, because, for one, it kept you warm, and for two, you were a little self conscious with how you looked compared to all the other women here today. You shoved the mask in your pocket, with trembling fingers, before looking back down to your notes.

"Woah." You heard Harrys voice being mumbled under the wind. You eyes shot up to his and you noticed him staring right back at you.

"W-what? Is my acne playing up? I knew I should've—" You self-consciously run your hands over the areas you know you got acne. The masks really didn't help when it came to skin care.

"Hey, stop. No. You just... You look beautiful." Harry complimented you, and a roaring blush arose on to your cheeks. You'd never been called beautiful before, and so you were taking the compliment like such a 13-year old.

"Oh, uh, thank you." You awkwardly answered, not really having any other words come to mind in that moment. Harry chuckled under his breath, still keeping eyes on you for some reason.

"Would you mind repeating your last question, I didn't quite catch it?" Harry asked politely.

"Sure. Um, tell me how you've experienced corona virus." You repeated for him, gripping ahold of your pen to start copying what he says and pressing start on your recording device in case you needed it later.

"Well, it's been tedious that's for sure. However, I just want people to be safe and for life to return back to normal, so therefore i've been very MIA for a lot of the time. Keeping to myself mostly. I only went out for hikes or bike rides. All my meetings were online, so it's been very lonely." Harry kept eye contact with your figure the entire time, and if it weren't for you concentrating on writing what he was saying then you'd probably melt away under his gaze.

For such soft eyes he sure was intimidating.

"I presume the loneliness sent you crazy at times." You laughed, because you sure felt that way through lockdown. Curse being single.

"You have no idea." Harry laughed along with you, making you, slowly, feel more at ease.

"Actually, you'd be surprised." You looked at him unsure, before returning down to your notebook.

"Okay then, first question from me," Harrys words made your head shoot up, "How can someone as amazing as yourself be lonely?" He asked and you made a mental tally of how many questions he'd asked.

"Could ask you the very same question, Harry." You slyly replied, avoiding the question by answering with another question. It was a tactic you'd learnt, throughout your years of journalism, when you wanted to dismiss something .

"That's cheating." Harry pointed at you and raised his eyebrows, but you couldn't take your eyes off the big, cheeky, smile perched on his face. You shrugged you're shoulders in defence and returned to your questions. "But you did just call me amazing, so I think i'll let it slide this one time." You blushed, again, when you understood what he meant.

He was amazing though - that was the truth.

"You were in L.A. for the majority of quarantine, am I right to say?" You already knew the answer but your manager had just wanted confirmation.

"Yeah, but L.A. feels like holiday, whereas London feels like home." He answered, which you appreciated. He hasn't got lost in the way that Hollywood could let people. He'd stayed grounded.

"So what did you entertain yourself with during quarantine?" You asked curiously, slightly side-tracking from your pre-written questions - just because you were intrigued (nosey).

"Not much, not to be boring. I ate a lot of bread. I worked out pretty much every day. I wrote quite a bit actually." He used his fingers to pinch his bottom lip, something you'd noticed he did in interviews.

"Does that mean a new album on the way?" Your inner fangirl was screaming at the thought of HS3.

"Can neither confirm nor deny." Harry smirked to himself, like the cheeky bugger he is.

"That's a yes then." You joked, pretending to write it down in your notes.

"You're impossible, you." Harry laughed and shook his head. It made you feel all funny the way you could make him smile like that. You were the source of his happiness for just that moment, and that was enough to make you feel happy for a lifetime - not that he felt the same.

"Next question," you stated, moving swiftly on because you knew you had limited time, "How's your experience with Vogue been so far?"

"Wonderful. Everyone has been so welcoming and that makes it so much easier for me to have fun. It's daunting going at things alone, but i'm getting slowly used to it now." Harry sniffled a little, probably due to the freezing cold weather here.

"Must be strange, not having four best friends around you, all the time, anymore." You stated rather than asked him, sure that he was missing his bandmates. I mean, you were - so he definitely would be.

"Brothers." Harry replied, making you look up at him confused.

"I'm sorry?" You asked, giving him your full attention.

"You said four best friends. Well, actually they're my brothers." His words actually caused a rift in your heart. You could feel it being pulled apart and torn in to two. If you wrote this in to the magazine the fans would have a worldwide passing-away-party.

"Harry." You said softly, slightly tearing up at his words. "God, I swear i'm not normally this emotional." You chest your throat and try to establish your dignity - however there wasn't that much left anymore.

"Oh shut up." Harry looked away obviously trying to hide the fact that he was tearing up too. You laughed at him but didn't draw any more attention to it than you guessed he would've wanted.

"They mean a lot to you then?" You asked, hopefully not treading on any unwanted territories.

"Much more than a lot, yeah." Harry nodded his head, turning it back to face you. He could tell this conversation was now off-the-record because of your closed notebook, your undivided attention towards him and the fact you’d turned off the recording device. He liked being able to look at you, rather than the top of your head. He swore you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

"You still see them often?" 

"Not as often as i'd like. Niall did come around the other week to drop off some old guitars he didn't want anymore, and then we ended up playing around with some music for a bit." He admitted, which stitched your heart back together.

"So does that mean a Narry collab?" You teased, biting your bottom lip in anticipation.

"Narry? You so are a directioner." He laughed along with you.

"And you just avoided my question, therefore there is a song out there written only by you and Niall." You concluded, which shut him up.

This conversation was going a lot better than expected. Certainly a lot better than earlier. You will be permanently scarred by the way you spoke to him and handled his belongings. It was going to haunt you forever - and yet he'd forget about it by tomorrow. Or maybe he wouldn't, which is why you felt the need to apologise.

"Harry?" You asked, clearly indicating this was still a conversation away from the interview.

"Yes Y/N?" He watched you intently, listening to your every word.

"I, um, just wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. I was just really nervous to meet you, and to be honest still am. I didn't mean to touch your stuff without your consent and I certainly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable with any of my comments. So, i'm sorry. I can only imagine the awful, yet true, things you must think of me." You rambled really quickly, that you were uncertain whether Harry even caught one word of what you'd says.

"Do you know why I asked for you to interview me Y/N?" Harry asked, which wasn't the first thing you expected him to say after your apology.

"No. I...well Lisa told me it was because I can write well or something." You suggested, not wanting to sound egotistical.

"I mean you do write perfectly, but no." You were intrigued now. "I asked for you because I, and this is not for your magazine, have a secret - but not-so-secret - crush on you." This time it was Harrys turn to blush.

"Harry... you don't have to say that to—"

"I'm not saying it for anything. I sincerely think you are the most delightful, most prettiest, most fucking sweetest person i've ever met." Harry exclaimed, which you were taken aback by. Never, ever, did you think that Harry Styles would proclaim his likeness towards you. Ever.

"Harry don't mess with me, please." You shyly spoke, tilting your head down in disbelief that the Harry Styles was smitten about you.

He shuffled along the bench, stopping a little way from you but close enough to reach out for you. Your heartbeat increased when you noticed his hand move closer towards you. It didn't stop till he reached your face. He took his time, courteously, pushing your hair behind your ear before removing you of your glasses. He held the right-eye frame and slowly pulled the glasses off your face.

Once he'd successfully taken them off he folded them up and placed them alongside your closed notebook.

"Can see those pretty eyes now." He whispered quietly, but loud enough for you to hear.

"Don't lie. They're so dull." You mumbled, lifting your head up slightly. His face was still away from you.

"Not to me they're not." He retaliated, looking deep into your eyes as you did his. "I hate this corona virus."

"Why?" His words were so out of the blue sometimes, it gave you whiplash.

"Because I can't be as near to you as I want to be." Harry told you. And yeah, you hated corona too. It was getting a little laborious now.

"Smooth, Styles." You chuckled. You wondered how many new and weird pick-up lines could be made from covid. 

"I know." He winked, which honestly would have made you throw up if it were any other man on the planet. Somehow, though, Harry just made it seem attractive - along with every other thing that man ever did. "After this, would you like to come back to my house for a cuppa tea?" He asked sweetly, like a five year old asking whether you wanted to play together.

"Okay. Lisa was my ride though." You said more to yourself than anything else, debating on how you'd even get to Harrys. Uber? Taxi? Lisa? Walk?

"I'll drive us, it's fine. I have to drop Gem off, but i'd be more than happy to chauffeur you." Harry kindly offered, to which you were internally screaming about. You were literally, and metaphorically, having a field-day with all this Harry content and interview.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden." You question politely, not wanting to overstep any boundaries - especially in these covid infested times.

"Of course. I wouldn't have offered otherwise." He protested, waving his hand at if to say it was no bother. You were already trying to work out, in your head, how much petrol money you were going to owe him.

"Then i'd be honoured to have a brew with you Harry." You giggled at how cringe you were being, even if this was just your normal self speaking.

"Great." Harry genuinely smiled, teeth and all. "My shoot should take a couple of hours, but feel free to continue to write and journal. I'm looking forward to reading this particular article." He winked at you before standing up.

"Wonder why?" You sarcastically asked, knowing full-well it was due to his exposure of his own feelings towards you. Even though you'd never says anything back you were quite in agreement on how you felt about him, like he did you. He would be a narcissist to say he knew you liked him the same, out loud, but he knew. And you knew that he knew.

"Wonder why indeed." He gave you one last smile before he'd disappeared for the rest of the afternoon, leaving you to digest and relive the past half an hour or so.

Being Harry Styles' crush was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

                                                          ••••

After Harry had finished up his shoot he was quick to come find you again.

You'd watched parts of his shoot and he looked magnificent. There wasn't a good enough word to describe how amazing he looked. Harry, his stylist, was probably the best stylist out there. His fashion choices were unmatched and you wanted him to be yours. You were not rich enough nor fashionable enough, ironic for working in a a fashion company, to hire a stylist, but you would if you could.

You were so proud to see what he was achieving now as the person that he was. Harry was just being Harry, without the devilish control of shitty managements or ridiculous amounts of PR stunts. Harry was more free than ever, and it definitely showed just how much he was enjoying it.

You were certain that this Vogue magazine would break the internet - his fans were good at doing that. This could be a turning point for many people, with their outdated and ignorant views. There was no room for people with racist or homophobic or transphobic or xenophobic - and the list does go on - views anymore.

You were waiting by the front door of the barn, to catch Harry as he walked past. You caught sight of him in a white robe, presumably to get changed back into his everyday clothes. He looked really pretty in the robe - very domestic actually.

Today had been a good day.

Harry asked you to send over the more specific Vogue questions to him via email, so he could devote more time in to answering them in a lot more depth. You thought he meant you'd be sending them to some PA in his team, but you were shocked to understand he'd given you his personal email.

People were walking back to their cars and packing away the filming kit. You saw Lisa and the director talking to one another, no doubt discussing some in-work gossip.

"You ready?" Harrys voice reminded you that you'd been waiting for him. You looked to see he was back in the same clothes as this morning, only this time without his coat.

"Here?" You offered, having him over the coat once again but he declined.

"Looks better on you anyways." He winked at you, before walking through the car park and to his car. You were very surprised when you found out Harry was the one to own the green Jaguar. You assumed all celebrities drove the Range Rover, but no. The vintage car added to Harrys immaculate vibe and just made him that little bit more hot.

Harry properly introduced you to Gemma, who was equally as lovely as Harry. They were both amazing people and they were crazily alike. From the way they looked, down to the way they phrased their words, they were mistakingly twins. Gemma explained how Anne, their mum, didn't know they were doing this photoshoot and that it was going to be a surprise, which you thought was so cute.

Gemma spilt a lot of gossip on Harry, to which he got very embarrassed over. You learnt that Harrys first word was Cat. You learnt that Harry is godfather to multiple children, which you found heartwarming. You learnt Harry used to be a baker - which was something he elaborated on for a good half an hour. Harry was just a fountain of memories and Gemma was the one sharing them all with you.

The drive back to London was relaxed. You sat in the back, listening to Harry and Gemma pointlessly argue whilst an Arctic Monkeys album played in the background. You forgot that people like Harry drove, and listened to music, just like other regular people. You often misplaced celebrities in society, thinking they had everything done for them but in reality that (often) wasn't the case - at least not for Harry.

Gemma was dropped off quickly before Harry drove to his. It was no surprise that the Styles siblings didn't live too far away from each other. Harrys house was beautiful. Bigger than anything you could ever dream of buying. It was a palace compared to your cupboard-sized house. You were unbelievably jealous. He gave you the tour of the house, showing you where the toilets were, and even his panic room if necessary.

You migrated to the kitchen for a bit, talking about anything and everything. Getting to know the minuscule pieces of information that no-one else was trusted with, made you feel special. Harry made you feel special - even if he weren't meaning to.

Every moment held a spark. Every touch set off a firework. Every laugh was an electric burst. He made you feel so alive.

"We can go to the living room after this has boiled." Harry said, pointing towards the streaming kettle. He wanted to show off his fancy tea collection he had, and let you have a try if you wanted to. Harry was boring and chose the basic green tea, but, after much deliberation, you chose the cranberry green tea. It intrigued you and it sounded delicious.

"Why the extensive tea collection?" Not even you, a certified caffeine addict, had this much tea in your house. Coffee was a different story and one in which you didn't want to talk about.

"They help me with my meditation." He took the teabags and placed them in his glass mugs. They had a delicate Gucci stamp on them, and you just imagined that they probably worth the same amount as your daily salary.

"You meditate?" You were slightly surprised that he did.

"I try to yeah." Harry nodded, focusing on pouring in the boiling water into the mugs. "I've got very tight hamstrings and so it helps if I meditate twice a day."

Harry finished making the tea, in the light-filled kitchen, before showing you around to the open-lounge area. Everything was modern and chic. It was exactly how you imagined it, but better. The open, red-brick, wall was a beautiful feature and one that you were a whore for! It reminded you of New York and the memories you'd made there one summer.

The sofa was a beautiful velvet, green, sofa. It was soft and gentle, a lot like Harry when you thought about it. The whole house was an architectural masterpiece and you'd be lying if you said you weren't jealous. You sat on one end and Harry went to go and sit on the other end.

"I don't bite you know?" You joked, self-consciously wondering whether he didn't want to be sat near you.

"I know, I just don't want to step on any of your covid boundaries - which is perfectly fine by the way." He added, apprehensively taking the spot next to you.

"No, not at all." You ushered him to sit next to you, as you took a sip from your steaming hot cup of fruity tea. "If I smell though, do tell me!"

"Yeah, you smell bloody awful!" Harry sarcastically remarked, but laughing afterwards to assure you he was joking. The atmosphere went quiet for a minute, only the sounds of passing cars and deep breaths being heard.

"Y/N can I ask you something?" Harry turned the tone of the conversation. It sounded like he wanted to be more serious than you two were being beforehand.

"Anything." You encouraged him to continue. You placed the cup of tea down on the table, deciding it was too hot to drink right now, and gave him your full attention.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Harry questioned. You didn't think you'd be having a conversation this intense - especially if you had different opinions - on your first day of knowing each other, but here you were.

"I believe you can love someone at first sight. I don't believe you can be in love with someone at first sight. Why?" You were curious as to how his brain had journeyed to this particular topic. You'd never really had this conversation with anyone before, mainly because you were unaware of the true power, and meaning, of love.

"It uh... It doesn't matter." Harry shook his head and you could tell by his body language that he was shutting you out. Maybe you'd made him uncomfortable.

"Sorry I didn't mean to—"

"No, no. Please don't apologise. It's just - I like you a lot more than you may think." Harry shyly told you, which made you all soft inside. He was being vulnerable and that was something you admired in a partner. You didn't just need love, affection and trust in a relationship. No. You needed vulnerability and heartbreak too, and Harry was revealing that part of him to you.

"I like you a lot more than you think too." You repeated, not because you felt bad for him but because you truly did like him a whole lot. Love was a weird yet wonderful thing, and if you were to hazard a guess you'd say you loved Harry. 

You couldn't wait to be in love with him.

"Does that mean I get to crown you my girlfriend?" Harry excitedly asked. Harry happy was something that should be made a constant, and you were more than happy to be in control of that.

"At least take me out first." You bargained, wishing for nothing more than to go on a date with Harry. Where you'd go, you had no idea. Everything was closed right now and there was still the chance of becoming sick with corona, but no doubt Harry would think of something not only clever, but special.

Of course you'd love to be Harrys girlfriend. However, you wanted one more, official, opportunity to really get to know him - unprofessionally. You wanted to make sure that you knew, and he knew, that you wanted to be with him because he was the charming Harry you've come to love, not because he was Harry Styles.

"So you're allowing me to take you on a date?" Harry smirked like a little child, your heart fluttering at how excited he was to be able to treat you to dinner.

"Yes, Harry. Yes I am." You answered sweetly, offering him the cutest smile you could.

You can't believe what a turn of events today has been. You've gone from nearly writing yourself on Harrys enemy list to writing yourself on to his 'people he's dated' list. Who knows what the future would offer you. At the start of the day you had wished this whole day to end and for the ground to just swallow you up, now you never wanted it to end. It was too perfect to be true and yet it was.

Harry was the most wonderful human to exist and you were beyond surprised to be the one to catch his attention. You didn't understand why you were so special, but it was nice to feel like this for a change. It was nice to feel wanted.

                                                             ••••

A few months later and you were officially Harrys girlfriend.

It had been such a crazy few months. Harry religiously took you out on dates every week. Whether it be to grab a hotdog at a local diner, a coffee from a quaint cafe, a walk in Hyde Park or a late-night drive around London - which normally ended up with you falling asleep before you could make it back to yours. On sleepless jet-lagged nights he'll still drive through London's quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way, just as an excuse to spend time with you.

Harry often stayed over at yours. Even though you looked like you lived in a shoebox compared to Harry, he liked it. He liked the subtly and normality of it all. He wanted your life to remain as normal as possible and, apart from the occasional paparazzi incident, it did. You never had anything to complain about. Of course the online bullying created emotional wounds, at the start of your relationship, but it was nothing that Harry couldn't repair with a bit of love.

Lisa has nominated herself to be maid-of-honour when the day comes - if the day comes. Harry has already pinky sworn that you are it for him. The one, as some may say. You were utterly flattered, but you certainly unsure of what the future help for you both.

You loved Harry, you do love Harry and you will forever always love Harry.

It was ridiculous to think that all this stemmed from you working at Vogue. From you studying English Literature in a city away from London. From you dedicating you extra hours gaining work experience and money to be able get in and afford university. So many moments in life have you stopped and said 'i wish i hadn't have done that', but now you were convinced that they were the best things to have happened to you - because they lead you, all, to Harry.

And, being Harry Styles girlfriend was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

[iwadori]

When they neglect you for another girl Part 4 (Sakusa)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Word Count: 2.6K

Genre: Angst to Fluff

masterlist

AN: YES I DID PUT MYSELF IN THIS STORY! SUE ME. This is basically inspired by a random conversation i had w the great @teesumu, so this is basically for you doll <3

Sakusa:

You and Sakusa have been together for a around 10 years and love eachother immensly.    

However recently Sakusa has been busy and you havent really had much time together lately as he claims been busy doing loads of visits with his new agent.

But of course, being the loving partner you are you wanted to revive the spark in your relationship.

You have been seeing a lot of people on social media posting their aesthetic ‘picnic dates,’ and you knew that this was something that appealed to you before it was ‘on trend.’ Kiyoomi immediately came to your mind once you had the idea of going on a date. You knew that you haven’t be around each other lately, as Kiyoomi always had either a ‘meeting’ or some sort of ‘interview’ that his new agent “Empress” has set up for him.

You didn’t really know Empress that well, just that she was ‘good at her job,’ a ‘hard and dilligent worker,’ and a ‘raging hottie’ with Atsumu’s opinion being the last one. You weren’t suspecting her to have any malicious intent towards you or Kiyoomi, since you knew that he had a great judge of character. But it was just odd, that every time Kiyoomi was running late or having ‘super-secret’ conversations on the phone it was always because ‘my agent set up this,’ ‘my agent set up that,’ and that’s what left you a bit wary.

As you were scrolling through your phone you see a calendar updating saying : Next Week‘ A DECADE AGO WE FELL IN LOVE.’  

10 years. How could you forget? You and Omi have literally been together for a decade. You think back to the decade of madness and love you’ve been through together, smiling fondly to yourself but then you think about where you are now... barely even talking to each other, only mainly seeing him when he comes home from work.

You need to fix this. Or at least make an attempt to get you and Kiyoomi talking again. So, the only thing you can do, is plan that picnic.

You spent the rest of the day planning your anniversary picnic. ’It’s going to be great,’ you think to yourself, you have a list of all Omi’s favorite foods you're going to make him and bring and you are probably going to pick up a few board games and maybe even get some paint supplies. You and Kiyoomi used to paint a lot together, with the two of you not being the best of painters, but you enjoyed eachothers company non the less.  

Everything was sorted...for the most part. All you needed to do was get Omi there, and it’ll all be okay. Right? As you were bubbling and looking for more picnic inspo, you hear your front door open which made you even more excited to tell your boyfriend your plans.  

As you rush to go greet him, you see he’s on the phone making you roll your eyes. “No Empress it won’t work, we need this sorted by next week. Okay? Next week.” he says in an agitated way. He hangs up the phone and sighs, shoving off his duffel bag.

“Hey Omi, how was your day?” you say a bit hesitant, noticing his annoyed mood.  

“Fine” He said dismissively, aiming to walk past you aiming for your bedroom.

“Oh well I have something amazing planned for ne-” you try to say following after him.

“Can we not do this right now Y/N,” he says again turning too look at you making you frown a bit, all you wanted to do is surprise him with your plans and have a day out with him. After noticing your sad look he finishes with “it’s just that Empress she’s bee-”

“I don’t want to hear about her.” you say bitterly folding your arms, Empress is the last person you want to hear about right now “God Omi can’t you just care about me? For once.”

“I do I-”

“You don’t anymore,” you say, with all the emotions and feelings you’ve been just supressing from a while coming up. You don’t even know how you got from point A to B with this conversation, but there's no stopping now. “I feel that, for a while now we haven’t been how we were before when we were just Y/N and Kiyoomi. Instead of how we are now. Just Y/N. Then Kiyoomi and Empress.”

After hearing his agents name, Kiyoomi’s name contorts to confusion “Empress? What does she have to do with anything?”

“How can you not see? For the past month all it’s been is ‘Empress this’ ‘Empress that,’” you complain “Having your super secret conversations with her, like god Kiyoomi can’t you see a problem with this?”  

“It’s not like that Y/N, we’re just work partners” he says looking a bit annoyed “Just business.”

 “Just business? So Kiyoomi, what were you talking about on the phone earlier” you say with your voice slight accusingly.

“Umm I, I can’t really say?” he says more of a question then a fully assured statement. You squint your eyes at him and scoff.

“What is going on with you Omi?” you say “are you cheating on me with her is that it?”

“No, no of course not Y/N! How could you even ask that?” he frowned at your question making your chest hurt, since deep down you knew he could never do that to you. Could he?

“Well tell me then, what were you talking about?” you ask again.

“I can’t say..” he finishes  

“Well I can’t stay.” you say and his face goes back to confusion “Here. With you.”

“What do you mean Y/-”

“I need a break or something. I just can’t be here right now.” You start to rush and pack a big of things whilst Kiyoomi just stands there.

After you pack up your stuff, you look back and see Kiyoomi just there. Standing. You were upset, you kind of wanted him to rush after you and beg you not to leave, but he was just there. Standing. So you put the hand on the door and just before you leave you turn back and say “bye Sakusa, see you later?” to which you see him slightly nod at.

When the door shut, Kiyoomi starts to cry. After hearing you call him by his last name really twisted the knife that was already in his heart. You haven’t called him that since you were like 15. He knew what you wanted; he knew you wanted him to rush towards you and beg you not to leave, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. But what he could do is call the one person he only could call.

After a few rings, he hears “What do you need Saku?”  

“She’s gone, she left.”

“What do you mean she’s gone, did you tell her?”  

“No I didn’t tell her. And that’s the problem, Empress she think-”

“Saku, don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.”

“You’ll handle it?”

“Don’t I always?”

He couldn’t argue with that, he just had to trust that Empress could sort it. “And also, don’t spend the week with your head up your ass crying, you’ve got a lot of grovelling to do kiddo.”

He nodded even though she couldn’t see him, as he knew that what just went down needed to be resolved, fast.

Meanwhile, on your end. You’re a mess. Sobbing all the time, tissues are your best friend, you’ve been waiting just waiting for a message or a call, or some form of communication. You just wanted to feel wanted by your boyfriend (can you even call him that now.)  

You spent the rest of the week at your parents, immersing yourself in your work and doing ‘self care’ things, trying to forget all about the argument you and Kiyoomi had.  

One day, you receive a letter, it wasn’t delivered by a mail man though. It was slid under your door, in a golden envelope sealed with a red hot wax seal. It read:

‘Dear Y/N,

My sweetheart, im sorry for how the week has been and I know a letter with only a fraction of how I feel won’t make up for how I acted that day. But im inviting you to join me at the Gardenia Botanical Gardens at 2 pm tommorow, to celebrate our 10 year anniversary.  

I know there is a big chance, you may not want to see me and I understand but please. I love you, so so much, that words can’t even describe. But I need you to see me apologise and I need to make it up to you.  

I hope to see you there, I’d wait the whole day for you. If you don’t show, I understand.

Sincerely, Sakusa Kiyoomi

P.S The theme is ‘summer hot day, tea with the queen’ - Atsumu’

You smile at the letter, but wonder if you should actually go or not. You did want to see him of course and get this all resolved, but you had your own plans for your anniversary which wouldn’t of been spoiled if he didn’t withhold his super-secret phone calls.

It took you hours to contemplate on what to do, but you decided to just sleep on it and see how you feel tomorrow. In the morning, you knew what you wanted to do. Of course, you had to go, at least to hear him out and see if he really did cheat on you or not. For all you know he’s inviting you to tell you that he’s going to run away with his agent and his secret kids they had together. You shook the negative thoughts from your head and just repeated your mantra ‘hope for the best and prepare for the worst.’

When you got there, you didn’t exactly know where he would be but he said ‘botanical gardens’ so of course you decided to just wander around there. It was nice walking around and just smelling the roses, and seeing the pretty scenery.  

“Excuse me ma’am,” you hear someone say tugging on your leg “um that mister over there told me to give you these.” Looking down, you see a small boy who looked about the age of four with a crumpled up bunch of roses handing them to you.

“Oh thank you,” you say giving the kid a head pat “where is this ‘mister’ might I ask?”

“He’s over there!” The kid pointed behind him and you look to see Kiyoomi sitting under a white gazebo which is surrounded in your favorite flowers and the table is filled with food.

You walk over to your ‘boyfriend,’ with him not noticing your present yet. When you reach him you say “I think she stood you up buddy,” you joke making him jump abit startled.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, instantly beaming “You came you made it!” he stood up and pulled you into a hug, which you return before you remember why you came here in the first place.

“Oh I-” he says awkwardly

You decide to sit down pulling him down with you. You kind of sit there in uncomfortable silence, for a while until you both say.

“So I-”

“What are yo-”

You both laughed at your simultaneous comments, before Kiyoomi looks at you letting you speak. “What did you want to bring me here for?”

“I didn’t want, what happened last week to happen Y/N I-” he says looking a bit panicked “It wasn’t supposed to go this way.”

“Then how was it meant to go Sakusa.”

“Y/N, please don’t call me that, I know I made you upset but pleas-” he starts before getting distracted again “Y/N, I called you here to say a few things..”

“Them being.?” you ask a bit impatiently.

“I love you. I love you so much, you don’t even understand. Ever since I saw you at my volleyball game in our first year, in the stands just cheering us on. I knew that from that day, after I scored the winning point and our eyes met, that we were destined to be together. I just love you so much Y/N”

“Omi I don’t understand I-”

“Just let me finish please, It’s taken a while for me to say this. And trust me, there’s been so many times when I wanted to just say ‘hey Y/N let’s get married,’ but I couldn’t I was scared, and I wanted it to be perfect, so perfect. Because you deserve the world Y/N. That’s why I got Empress to help, I know that our conversations may seem odd, but I love you and she knows that she just wanted to help trust me. And she did, all this wouldn’t of been done if it wasn’t for her. But anyways Y/N what I waned to say was I love you and I love you and I-” he rambles on loosing track of his words.  

But in the midst of his speech, you hear all that you needed and responded with the only way you can.

“Yes.” you say simply, with a growing smile on your face.

“Yes?” he repeats confused “What do you meann ye- ohhh" Kiyoomi blushes embarrased that after all that he ended up ruining the thought out proposal he wanted to give you with his ramble.

“Im sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean to say it like that I wanted it to be perfect and I-”

You shut him up with a kiss making his eyes widen as he reciprocates it anyways.  

“What did she say?” you hear someone shout from a far, and you look over to see the MSBY Jackals all standing there with shit eating grins on their faces.

“I said yes!” you yell back, to which they all cheer and rush towards you guys giving you both hugs and slapping Kiyoomi on the back.  

As the boys celebrate Omi finnally do what he’s been planning for ages, you get approached by Empress who awkwardly walks up to you. “ I didn’t want to leave the impression that me and Saku were any sort of thing?” she says

“Yeah I think it was definitely a big misunderstanding, it’s just that Omi was never around and whenever he was he was just talking to you and you know how it is.”

“I definitely know, I’d feel the same way if my boyfriend did that to me.”

“Oooh boyfriend?” you ask her feeling nosey on her romantic life.  

“Yeah boyfriend. You know iwaizumi hajime... the trainer?” she says smiling a bit when she said his name.

“The trainer! Nice.”

The rest of the night was fun and was basically an engagement party for you and Omi all you and friends just partying and celebrating yours and Omi’s love for each other. “Omi” you say getting his attention “Happy ten year anniversary babe”

“Happy anniversary, I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

After the party you spend your months now planning for a big fat wedding, with the help of your new found bestie, Empress (who you obviously misjudged from the start.) You and Omi could never be happier, every thing was back to how it was before, maybe even better. And you definitely spent at least two Saturdays a month going out for picnics and it was now a tradition in your relationship, so in the end you did get your ‘aesthetic picnic date.’

AN: WHAT DID U GUYS THINK??

[weepingvoidpenguin]

One of Your Favorites

Jealous Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have an objective. Get Rumlow to confess. Simple enough, right? No. Aside from his usual condescending attitude towards you, Bucky has made it extremely apparent that he doesn’t think you’re capable of - well, anything, but especially not handling Rumlow. And yet, he is the biggest challenge of this entire ordeal.

Warning: T R I G G E R WARNING!! ATTEMPTED SA, DRUGS, language, light smut. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT READ IF SA WILL TRIGGER YOU. 

Word Count: 8.3k

   “We have good intel stating he’s working as a double agent for HYDRA. Selling information, exploiting tactics, even going so far as to tell them where we’ll be and when.” Natasha scanned the room, making sure she had everyone’s attention during the briefing. 

   You slouched back in your swivel chair and twisted to-and-fro slightly with your hands gripping the arm rests on either side. It took all of your willpower to act engrossed in her words. And you meant every single drop. You’d been paying attention, sure, but the only issue was the dominating presence two seats to your right and directly in your line of sight to Natasha. You rolled your chair to the left to clear the path for the third time, only for him to block your way without missing a beat. The growl that left your mouth was nearly involuntary. Nearly.

   How long would this man act like a child? Despite his graceful and seemingly unsuspecting movements, you were fully aware his placement was intentional. This was not the first, nor did you doubt that it would be the last, time that Bucky acted impudently toward you. Frankly, you’d grown bored of his behavior. It was the same thing everyday. He would act a nuisance during the briefings, speak over you whenever he had the chance, steal the limelight from you and invalidate any concerns or thoughts you shared. The whole charade grew tiring and he had been dancing on thin ice for months now.

   You averted your gaze from burning holes through the freshly washed, brown locks and switched your attention back up to the redhead. Thankfully, too, because you managed to catch the end of her sentence just as she locked eyes with you.

   “And that’s why Y/N is going to be the one to extract the information from him,” she finished.

   You blinked, “Wait, what?” 

   Bucky straightened his posture and threw a quick glance your way, “Yeah, what? She’s got no heat, couldn’t toast marshmallows if we gave her all day. She shouldn’t lead this, she wouldn’t know how,”

   “Well, tonight might be a good time to start learning, then,” Steve chimed in, throwing a wink your way. You smiled and appreciated his aid, not because you needed it but because at this point, you were seething and if you opened your mouth to defend yourself this meeting would go south, quickly. Luckily, Steve always believed you were capable of a great deal of things and knew you strove for more experience so any opportunity to lead or expand was one he thought you should take. 

   “Besides,” Tony spoke up, twirling a platinum pen between his fingers from across the table, “our little double-agent has always had the hots for Y/N so unless you’re gonna be the one to bat your eyelashes at him and get him alone in a room, Mr. Barnes, we have to use his own flaws against him.” He turned to face you and held up a hand, “Not to say that liking you is a flaw, you’re great Hot-Stuff but exploiting him is our best option indefinitely,”

   “Do I have to seduce him?” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and raising a brow towards Nat, trying your damned hardest to avoid the unmistakable glare the brown-haired super soldier was sending your way. 

   “The only thing you have to do is extract any information on him that you can. Get him a little drunk, catch him in a slip-up or two, take note of any inconsistent stories and be on your merry way,” she reassured, “How you manage to do that is up to you,”

   “Ooh, extortion,” Clint chirped up from the far back corner, his hands rubbing together maliciously around an arrow he pulled from his sheathe, something you noticed he did a lot when he was uninterested; be it a person, mission, or conversation.

   “No. Not extortion,” Steve shut it down and you chuckled at how Clint’s countenance fell into one of disappointment. 

   “Not yet anyway,” Natasha mumbled and you sighed as she walked around the room and handed each of you a folder with your individual objectives inside.

   “But he’s such a pervert,” you grumbled.

   “All the easier,” 

~

   The rest of the day was drudged with Nat while she taught the pertinence of body language (both yours and theirs), verbal ruses, and overall ensnarement. You bat your eyelashes until you were certain you would catch enough wind to fly away, smirked enough that your cheeks began to ache and raised your eyebrows ‘til you felt the impending wrinkles on your forehead. By the end of the drill you weren’t sure you were even going to make it to the company party from the migraine creeping its way on.

   “How’s the bait coming along?” His voice alone caused you to roll your eyes but you paid no mind while you rubbed at your temples and stood up alongside Natasha.

   “She’s not gonna be able to lie to me any time soon but she can flirt her way to whatever she wants,”

   “Benefits of targeting a narcissistic misogynist, they don’t think anyone can fool them.” Tony belted as he sauntered into the room with strawberries, offering them out to you while he munched on one.

   “She’ll still mess it up,” Bucky countered, “Make someone else do it,”

   You plucked the fruit off Tony’s tray and examined it, trying to figure out whether you were going to consume it or use it as a weapon.

   “I really appreciate your words of encouragement, James. Unfortunately, they’re not wanted, nor are they needed.” You bit into the fruit and glided towards the door, looking over your shoulder at the super soldier, “So unless you actually have something to contribute, I suggest you stay the hell out of my way while I get the job done,”

   Nat walked out behind you and handed you a tiny, skin-colored device meant to conceal itself and you placed it in your ear. 

   “The conversation is gonna be recorded so we can catch any inconsistencies. We’ll all be able to hear what you’re saying so tread on delicate waters but don’t be afraid to shake mountains if you have to,”

   You nodded and opened your door for her to enter your room knowing she’d want to help you get ready for the event. Natasha, shocking as it turns out, enjoys company while preparing for events. She would much prefer to be surrounded by people than be alone. You never had gall to ask her why that is. Or maybe you respected her too much to ask.

   An hour had passed, maybe two, but you enjoyed the silence between you both. There was no need to fill the empty quiet when it was so comfortable and welcoming. You two spoke without words at times and that was probably your favorite personal skill. Eventually, there came a knock on your door and you opened to find Wanda with her flat iron and make-up bag in tow. It’d long since been decided that your room was the gathering center.

   Wanda helped you finish touching up your outfit and you waited on your bed while they finished getting ready. Nat occasionally quizzed you on certain situations and how you should act depending on the tones and moods of the conversation. You tried to explain that you didn’t have difficulty reading a room but Nat tested you all the same. 

   “And if he puts his hand on your thigh?” She called out from your bathroom.

   “Then he loses it,” you practically sang in response.

   You were met with a flying hairbrush and laughed at the onslaught.

   “You’re not the only one with that mentality,” Wanda called out as well, her iron glossing over thin strands of hair.

   “Nat knows I can handle myself.” You sat up on the bed and went over to your closet to collect your favorite pair of shoes to go along with the formal attire Nat selected for tonight. “What a coincidence that we happen to have a company party the same night we have to extract information,” you hollered over your shoulder, moving aside terribly worn shoes while you scoured for the pair you had in mind.

   “This objective has been in the works for weeks now,” Nat released the tendril of hair from around the barrel and pinned it to her head so it could cool.

   “Wow, thanks for the heads up, then.” You gripped the desired pair and placed them beside your nightstand for later.

   “The plan wasn’t solid until we knew for a fact that Rumlow was coming. It’s a company party so it’s not mandatory but once he heard you were making an appearance, it didn’t take very much persuading,”

   You rolled your eyes and plopped back down on your mattress, “He’s so annoying, I doubt I can hold much of a conversation with him,”

   “Take a shot or two to ease your nerves, if he sees you drinking it’ll put him at ease too. He’ll be more inclined to drink,” Natasha recommended. “But don’t act too out of character. If you were always curt and short with him and suddenly you start acting over-friendly, he may get suspicious. He’s an idiot but he’s a paranoid one,”

   You nodded, taking a mental note to have a half-empty bottle in your grasp when Rumlow arrives. If he thinks you’ve already been drinking, he might also consider catching up. 

   “Y/N? Not uptight for once?” Wanda sarcastically questioned. “I can’t picture it,”

   “Oh, fuck off,” you grumbled and in turn received laughter from the two girls. “Besides, of all of us I’m by far the least uptight. Barnes takes the cake for that one,”

   There was a beat of silence that you didn’t register before you were met with a response.

   “Ya know, he’s not as bad as you paint him out to be.” Nat unpinned the curl from her head and moved on to the next section, “He’s got some serious loyalty and always willing to volunteer first for everything,”

   You lifted your head to stare at her reflection through the mirror, “What are you talking about? He’s annoying and irate and lacks a filter,”

   “Mmm, irate isn’t the word I would use,” Wanda countered, looking over to Natasha.

   Nat shook her head in response, “I’d lean more towards . . . over-protective,” 

  “Much better,” Wanda agreed.

   You squinted your eyes at their image and felt the corners of your lips turn downwards, “Over-protective? Since when are you two defending Barnes?”

   “We’re not defending him, per say.” Wanda glanced over to Nat, “We’re just trying to give you a fresh perspective,” 

   “You could give me a brand new pair of eyes and I’d still see him the same,” you retorted, now leaning on your elbows due to the strain on your neck. 

   They ignored the comment, “And he’s only annoying to you,”

   “You’re telling me he doesn’t annoy you at all?” You asked, an eyebrow raised.

   “More like . . . he doesn’t go out of his way to mess with us.” Nat applied a nude color onto her lips.

   “So you agree that he goes out of his way to irritate me,” you stated rather than asked.

   “That’s been made very apparent,” Wanda responded. “But you have to wonder why,”

   You huffed a little and sprawled back out on the bed just to result in staring at the ceiling above. If you looked hard enough your mind would create pictures from the chaos of the cracks and shapes began to form. Sometimes, when the night lay still and life seemed to dwindle at the edges of your reality, you could swear a familiar face fashioned together and your imagination ran wild with the images you’d see. Some that brought a warmth to your cheeks even now. 

   You shot up out of bed and shook the memories from your vision. Ugh. He haunts you even when he’s not actively tormenting you. How he’s managed to crawl his way so deeply within your skin you had no idea but you fought for control of your thoughts whenever you caught them slipping into that hellhole.

   “Or slipping into euphoria,” Wanda chimed in.

   “Wanda!” You scolded, crossing your arms, “Euphoria my ass,”

   “Yeah, he thinks so too,” she continued and you chucked the abandoned hairbrush back their way. 

   “Stay out of my head,” you jokingly sniped at her but was met with a low chuckle.

   “I didn’t even have to be in your head to know what you were thinking of,” Nat defended and caught your weapon of choice.

   “Are you guys done yet?” You rolled your eyes and stretched yourself out before swiping up the pair of heels you’d chosen and sliding them onto your feet.

   “Why? Are you in a hurry to see a certain someone?” Natasha teased and Wanda let out an eruption of laughter.

   “All right, I’m done.” You made a beeline for the door and threw it open, “Lock up when you’re finished!” You bellowed over your shoulder and made your way to the top floor of the building where all the parties are typically held.

   You didn’t run into anyone on the way up and you used that time to calm yourself, prying inch by inch away from the invasive thoughts that called for you in the darkest hours of the night. But, then again, maybe those tormenting thoughts weren’t that bad? You mean, he certainly IS handsome, very much so actually. And he has the most knee-wobbling smirk you’d ever come to know, not to mention those little tricks he does with his knives always manage to entrance you. God, did he know how to use a knife. 

   On more than one occasion had you caught yourself staring at how his hands encapsulated the hilt of the blade. How they clenched and relaxed, drawing out some of the more prominent veins on one of the extremities; of course, you were even more so enticed by the hand he hid as well. You’d imagined what it felt like to have such strong hands grip onto your thighs and coax you into spreading them open with just a few teasing touches here and there. You couldn’t fathom the front you’d put up would last very long, he was stellar at pulling reactions from you. He’d see you break under his caresses and he’d degrade you like he always did but this time it’d emit a different response from you, one that made you whimper and shake. At that, he’d probably call you a good girl, he definitely seems the type to switch between degradation and praise, and would press his mouth up just where you wanted it the most. You’d try your hardest to be quiet but damn the way that tongue moved against you and the way he’d pull you harder against his face at each sound of pleasure you let slip past your lips. He’d enjoy it, too. Eyes closed as he devours you, he likes to put on a show for you to watch. Give you a memory that’ll slick your thighs later that night if he hadn’t fucked you into a coma by then. He’d make you watch him and if you dared to close your eyes you’d earn a firm, cold smack on your ass. He knows you like when he uses temperature play. He growls a little too, he can’t help his innate behavior. Then, just as the accumulation is coming to its apex he’d pull away abruptly and kiss you straight on your mouth so you can taste yourself and that’d earn him another whimper which would result in another smack that leads to that cold metal trailing its way to your core and just as he pushes the tip of his finger inside-

   You cough and straighten your posture as the elevator door opens. When had you leaned up against the back wall of the elevator? Oh Gods, you could feel the slick at the apex of your thighs and you squeezed them together as inconspicuously as you could in fear that you were producing a . . . scent that would be rather difficult to conceal. But the slick only grew worse when you locked eyes with the person stepping into the elevator.

   Fuck.

   “That’s what you chose to wear?” He asked, a certain venom in his tone that immediately calmed the ache in your heat.

   “And what would you have me wear instead, Barnes?” You quipped back, your body facing forward as he took his place beside you in the cramped space.

   There was a beat of silence. Then another. “Not that,” he responded.

   “Well I’ll make sure to ask you next time since you have such impeccable taste,” you retorted, your eyes yet to abandon the sight of the closing doors.

   You weren’t sure of all the effects of the Super Soldier Serum that had been injected into Bucky and all that it heightened but you prayed to any God that would listen that his hearing wasn’t one of those things. You were too preoccupied with attempting to settle the hot pulse beating between your legs to worry about how loud your discomfort came across.

   “What do you look so nervous about?” Bucky’s gruff voice prodded. “You can’t possibly be nervous about the mission considering how big-headed you are,”

   You took a deep, long breath and held it to soothe you. Had you not been so previously preoccupied, you’d have given him hell for the insult. “I’m not nervous about that,” you sniped and rested back against the cool wall to satiate your burning skin before lifting your gaze to him only to find him already examining you.

   “Of course not, I just said that,” he retorted, bringing a gloved hand to his face to rub along his jaw, “there’s obviously nothing for you to worry about,”

   You scoffed, “And why is that, Barnes?” Cue the dramatic crossing of your arms. 

   “You’re smarter than Rumlow and significantly better trained. Overall, he really doesn’t hold a candle to your ability,” He paused for a second, his whole frame tensing until he remembered to relax, “But that’s not really saying much considering it’s Rumlow,” 

   You hadn’t noticed you raised your eyebrows until you felt your face fall, “Ah, there he is. You had me worried there for a second, Barnes. Thought you might actually try something new and display common decency for once,”

   A corner of his mouth turned up subtly and he shook his head. You trailed your gaze down to his hidden hand and stared long enough to burn a hole through the fabric.

   “If something’s bothering you, Dollface, go ahead and speak up,” 

   You weren’t sure what possessed you to say anything, especially knowing how touchy the subject was for him but the words left your mouth anyway, “I don’t know why you insist on hiding yourself,”

   He lurched his head back, your statement seeming to have a physical affect on the man and you mentally slapped yourself for saying anything.

   “I’m not hiding myself,”

   “But you are,” you interrupted, your thoughts coming out in pools of candor, “you aren’t your hand. You aren’t your past. You are you. Presently. You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore. That’s not even the same hand you had back then. It’s not tainted and neither are you. I say drop the gloves,”

   “And why would I care about what you say?” He growled, his eyebrows furrowed together and his neck tight in potential restraint.

   The elevator dinged and you looked towards the opening doors, “You don’t have to but they don’t look right with your suit either.” You walked through the exit and sauntered over to the others who had already gotten the party started, leaving Bucky dumb-founded behind you. “I need a shot,”

   “Already ready,” Tony quipped up, holding the small glass in the air for everyone to behold before bringing his cheek to yours in mock welcoming, “This’ll up your tolerance for the next hour, try to get all your drinking done within that time-frame,”

   You pulled away with a warm smile after faux kissing his cheek, “Finally!” you displayed and threw the liquid back in one swift motion, your face scrunching together against your will.

   “Yeah, she’s got a kick to her,” he mumbled and handed you a fruity drink to chase it down with. 

   You went around and said hi to everyone as you recognized most of those present. You made small chatter with those lesser known and drank the liquid in your hand significantly quicker than you’d like to. You excused yourself after you finished the drink and walked over to the bar, scanning the room as you were handed another glass. No Rumlow in sight.

   You headed towards the foosball table and gripped the handles after setting the beverage down on the counter beside you. You flinched as a reflection of light caught your eye and at first you thought your glass was the source. Until your eyes fixated on the reflection’s actual origin. To your far right, and up a few steps you found Bucky conversing with Steve, a dull light emitting from his hand. Not a glove in sight.

   “So, where’s your boyfriend?” Sam inquired when he filled the opposing spot.

   You rolled your eyes, “Bucky’s not my boyfriend,”

   “Bucky?” Sam’s tone chirped up teasingly, a knowing look wearing on his face.

   Your grip tightened around the handles and you slowly pulled away to throw the little white ball through the circle, your hands immediately twisting the miniscule players around. Your eyes shot back and forth, your sight never leaving the darting sphere. Sam still managed to win the first point.

   “Ha!” He shouted in triumph, bringing his finger up as if to scold you, “Don’t think you got away with that comment either, Y/N,”

   “What comment?” you questioned and gulped most of your drink before slamming it back down on the table.

   You heard your earpiece come to life with quiet static and you tried to keep your face masked. Rumlow had entered. Not a surprise either, the party was finally starting to pick up now.

   Sam threw the ball in and you turned the players meticulously this time, brute strength hadn’t helped you earlier so maybe you should take it slow. Steve made his way over to the table and threw his drink back, the liquid trickling down the side of his face before he wiped it away. Sam won the second point.

   “I play winner,” Tony chimed, standing beside Steve.

   You made a point to catch up and now you two were tied at three each. 

   “Best out of five?” You proposed, quirking an eyebrow at Sam.

   “If you didn’t want to play anymore you could’ve just said that,” he teased and you smirked at him as Tony made a subtle show of handing you another drink and you finished your second. “Loser takes two shots?”

   “Deal.” You nodded, knowing you didn’t have much of a choice as a small crowd began to form around you two. Rumlow amongst them. 

   Your jaw dropped when Sam shot the ball directly into your goal as soon as he’d let the ball go.

   “What the fuck?” You shouted, “No fair! That doesn’t count!”

   Thor erupted in laughter to your right and you blinked slowly, staring at the gargantuan man. 

   “It most certainly does,” Sam shouted back, his grin practically touching his ears.

   “Sam, take it easy on her,” Bucky muttered from beside him, quickly averting his gaze from yours and his expression loosened, “The brat hates losing,”

   “Brat?” You snarled.

   Bucky took a swig of his beer, watching you the entire time and you reeled back the fire beginning to form in your chest just to bring your drink up to your lips and chug the entire thing down. You handed it over to Tony who left to replace it. 

   “Last point,” Sam stated, “It’s not too late to quit now,”

   You shook your head and blinked away the feign distortion you were supposed to have. “Just play the ball,”

   “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he teased and threw the ball in. 

   You wanted to win. Desperately. But you had a character to play tonight and she was supposed to be drunk. So you hit your hand against the corner of the table just as Sam happened to make the winning point. You grumbled and threw him a glare when Tony broke through the crowd.

   “Coming through,” he shouted, handing two small glasses to you while you gripped your knuckles in pain. “Noooo, you’re not getting out of taking these. C’mon, take your punishment,”

   “Yes, Daddy,” you grumbled and cringed at your own words when the realization hit you. Whatever. You were supposed to be drunk, anyway. 

   “Daddy?” Tony quipped and pulled the drinks back towards himself, “Maybe you should be cut off,”

   “What?” You argued, leaning slightly on the table with your hand and snatching the drinks from Tony’s hold, effectively spilling some on yourself. “See?” You lifted up the half empty shot glass, “This barely counts as a shot,”

   “I’ll get her a new one,” Rumlow offered and disappeared before anyone could argue. 

   “She really doesn’t need another-” Bucky tried to interject and take the shots from you but you twisted around and chugged down the one full glass.

   Water.

   You looked up at Tony and his smirk was barely noticeable. But you could tell. Bucky nearly ripped the other drink from you but Tony blocked his path and you exaggerated your next drink as Rumlow broke back into the crowd, shot in tow.

   “Here.” Rumlow’s calloused hand held the drink up above you and you stared at him with a questioning look. “Open,” he ordered and the fire burning in your chest fought to destroy everything in its vicinity. You bit your lip in refrain but tossed your head back and opened your mouth.

   Static broke over your earpiece. Don’t drink that! Wanda’s voice erupted.

   Your eyes widened as the liquid made its way down but you coughed hard to stop whatever you could. 

   Why? Steve’s voice came through right after.

   You choked on the liquid and shut your eyes at the way it burned its way down. You reached your hand out to grab someone’s drink to ease the burning and grasped a tall glass and tossed it back. The burning didn’t ease up and you felt a hand rest on your back.

   “Are you okay?” Rumlow’s voice rang out and your skin nearly recoiled from the contact, “How about we get you some water?”

   You looked up at him when the burning subsided minimally and nodded your head, letting him lead the way to the bar. He parted the crowd and someone took step right behind you to follow when the presence suddenly died out abruptly. You turned around to check who it had been and found no one.

   Why? Steve asked again.

   Where’s Wanda? Bruce broke through.

   You lifted your head and flitted your gaze around the room until you found the familiar Sokovian on the couch, laying down with her eyes closed. You pulled away from Rumlow but his grip on your hand tightened and his steps grew in haste. You whirled your head to yell at him but the way the room swayed with the movement cause you to shut your mouth in surprise. 

   Didn’t Tony say you would have a higher tolerance?

   “Couch...” you muttered, pointing over your shoulder just in case your target was curious enough to ask but the message was delivered.

   Rumlow hoisted you up onto the bar stool and stood on your open side, using his body to keep you from falling over. Or to cage you in.

   “I don’t feel good,” You rested an elbow on the countertop and held your head up.

   “I can’t imagine you would. You’ve been chugging those drinks like they’re water.” Despite that, Rumlow motioned to the bartender and asked for two more.

   You giggled and your head lulled forward with the action. You let Rumlow catch you from tumbling over. Why did your body feel so heavy? Not to mention the way everything around you dazed about. You couldn’t catch a single action, let alone attempt to read Rumlow’s body language. But you did happen to notice the way his eyes searched the room before coming back to you.

   “You okay?” You rested your forearm against his chest and pushed slightly to allow yourself a better view of his face.

   A small smirk, “Am I okay? What about you?”

   You smacked your lips and brought the ice cold glass to your lips. That’s not water. “I’m doing reeaalllyy good,” you drawled.

   Rumlow chuckled and pushed you deeper into the chair, “I can tell.” He took a sip, his attention never faltering from your body, “Just be sure to pace yourself from here on out,”

   You made a show of cocking your head to the side and letting a smile sprawl onto your face as you studied him. 

   “What?” he questioned, a curious lift in his brow.

   You shook your head gently and kept your gaze on him over the brim of your glass, “You’re just . . . not what I was expecting,”

   “And what were you expecting?” 

   Don’t forget to bat your eyelashes. “Worse,”

   “Sorry to disappoint,” he jeered, his attention once again cast throughout the room before centering back on you.

   You followed his action but quickly came to the conclusion that moving any pace faster than a sloth was going to make you nauseous and you could barely keep a thought together. Your stomach began to rise in your chest and the fear seized your throat shut. Why couldn’t you hold onto a thought for longer than a second? It was like you were aware of your lack of consciousness but could do nothing about it because any thought or bout of panic phased through just as soon as it arrived.

   “What are you so tense for, Rumlow? You know you’re not currently on the clock, right?” You teased, your head leaning on your shoulder as you spoke.

   He brought his drink up to his lips and finished it off in three gulps, “I’m not tense. It’s just hard to turn it off sometimes,”

   You nodded slowly and pushed your drink towards him, “Relax. You know everyone here,”

   He shook his head and placed your drink back in front of you before asking for another beer.

   “And two shots!” You shouted to the bartender, throwing two of your fingers high up and instantly regretting how fast you’d done it.

   “Are you trying to get me drunk?” He asked you, a side smirk beginning to form.

   You placed your finger over your lips and hushed, “Shh, I won’t tell if you don’t.” You dragged your lower lip down and his eyes fixated to commit the scene to memory. “Besides, I always feel dumb if I’m the only one drunk,”

   He motioned to the rest of the party, “Believe me, Sugar, you’re not the only one enjoying yourself,”

   “But are you?” 

   “Am I what?” 

   “Enjoying yourself?” 

   Your skin crawled when he placed his rough hand on your barren thigh, “Absolutely,”

   Don’t forget what you’re here for. Don’t let the objective slip. Gods, how the fuck were you supposed to retain anything when you were so sleepy? And why was it so warm?

   “Hot,” you mumbled, fishing around in your glass for an ice cube to rub on your face.

   “Thank you,”

   You threw your head back in laughter and nearly earned yourself an up-close and personal view of the floor had Rumlow not wrapped an arm around your waist and held you steady. Once he was certain you weren’t going to toss yourself onto the ground, he parted your legs and stood between them to keep you rooted to your seat.

   All the movement had you spinning and you white-knuckled Rumlow’s cotton shirt to keep yourself grounded to something, anything. Red warning lights were firing up in your chest and you tensed with the way your body buckled to the panic coursing through you. Your heart pounded in your ears and danced across your skin, lighting it on fire and making the room too stuffy to bear. Please, no. Not now. Focus. Snap out of it. Come back, stay back. Your breathing hitched and you looked down at the sensation crawling its way up higher on your thigh. Too hot. Everything was too hot, if you didn’t get out of this now you would never-

   “Vision!” You cheered, happy to see your friend.

   The presence on your thigh recoiled slightly.

   “I’m taking Wanda to her room, seems she’s had a bit too much to drink,” Vision informed and you’d only just then noticed the body in his hold.

   “Wanda!” You smiled, admiring her peaceful features as she slept in his arms. You poked at her cheek then jerked your gaze back up to Vision. “What? Wanda doesn’t drink,”

   She’s not acting, Sam’s voice erupted in your ear and you flinched at the sound. 

   Vision’s eyes went from you to Rumlow then back to you slowly, “Y/N . . . are you okay?”

   You beamed at him and slowly brought up your thumb. “Good,” you responded.

   You followed Vision’s gaze back up to Rumlow and smiled at the agent beside you. You guess he’s kind of cute. In a strange, unsettling way.

   “She’s had a lot to drink, so we’re just trying to slow down the pace. Aren’t we, Y/N?” Rumlow looked down at you.

   You nodded fervently, “Yup!” 

   Vision hesitated but knew he didn’t pose much of a threat with Wanda in his arms unconscious, so he quirked a smile and walked towards the hall.

   Someone get to Y/N, something’s not right, Vision ordered and you lifted your head up to find him. You could have sworn he just left.

   “Here.” Rumlow handed you a glass, “Drink this, it’ll cool you down,” 

   You stared at the glass in his hold and looked up at him, “You drink it first,” you slurred, holding your finger up at him.

   He cocked his head to the side but took a swig of the drink and you watched it go down his throat. You shrugged and grabbed at it.

   Do not drink that, Nat ordered from somewhere and you looked around in wonder at who she was yelling to.

   Bucky, Sit down! Steve growled.

   Like hell, responded a voice you knew all too well.

   Your smile grew and you looked through the crowd, “Bucky!” You feverishly called, completely expecting to see him before you. Rumlow’s head lifted instantly, his eyes scouring the area.

   “I’ve got this, Pretty Boy,” Tony hastily spoke, “How ya doin’, Hot Stuff?” He interrogated and you reeled at the tone.

   “Quite well, thank you,” you responded tenaciously and attempted to take a swig of the drink in your grasp.

   Tony’s hand shot out and covered the top, slamming the cup back down on the counter and effectively getting the drink all over your dress.

   “What the fuck?” You tried to shout but the words came out heavy and required too much energy to speak.

   “You’ve had enough for tonight,”

   “It’s just water,” Rumlow defended but Tony paid him no mind.

   Your jaw dropped open and you glared at the older man. Who the hell did he think he was? Tony’s stare burned through your skull and despite your irritation, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was so pissed.

   “Are you mad at me?” You drawled, lulling your head to the side.

   “No,” he responded curtly. 

   “Am I being too loud or something?” You pushed. You couldn’t imagine you were any louder than any other drunken bastard at this party.

   “No,”

   Get her out of there or I swear to God I will, his voice hissed into your ear.

   Your eyebrows rose slightly in excitement, “Mmm, Bucky,” you smiled and Tony nodded.

   “’Mmm, Bucky’ is right. Wanna go see him?” Tony offered, sticking out his hand for you to take.

   You fell forward into Rumlow’s chest but shook your head furiously none the less, “For what? So he can tell me I’m horrendous at my-”

   Oh shit. Your job. The job.

   If only your body didn’t feel so heavy and your mind so light.

   You pushed off Rumlow’s chest and glared at Tony, “I can handle myself,” you insisted, a new sort of sober tone making its way through that caused him to do a once-over. “I know what I’m doing,”

   “How many drinks have you had?” Tony challenged and you fell silent.

   Then you felt a tap, and another and a few more.

   “Six,” You said, hoping you’d counted right.

   Tony, don’t you even fucking consider it, Bucky threatened.

   “You could at least change, recuperate and then come back,” Tony offered and you sighed a breath of relief before nodding.

   “Deal,” you agreed, “I’m hot anyway,”

   Tony gave you one last glance before turning around and blending into the crowd on the other end of the room.

   You looked up to Rumlow who’s gaze was still locked on the sea of people, “Don’t you wish you’d taken that shot now?” you tried to jeer, every last word bringing you deeper and deeper.

   “Are they always that intense?” He questioned, not turning his attention to you.

   “They can be over-bearing,” you admitted, hand grabbing the water from earlier and pressing it up against your forehead, “They consider me the baby so they’re always criticizing and suffocating until I just wished they’d disappear.” You took a gulp, “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the family and I like that I have a cause but . . . they don’t let me do anything. It’s exhausting,”

   You let out a long breath and smeared the condensation from the glass onto your chest. Rumlow studied you then, not just your body but your reaction. He was watching how you dropped your shoulders at the confession and how you faced your back to them to block them out. 

   You plastered your torso on the countertop and tried to slow your heartrate down. You couldn’t be the only one here unfathomably hot.

   “Why is it so fucking hot?” You questioned, fanning yourself weakly.

   “There are a lot of people around,” Rumlow offered, “how about we go somewhere else? Tony did say you had to change,”

   You peered up at him through half-lidded eyes and meekly groaned in compliance. “Fine,”

   You lifted yourself away from the counter and gently placed your feet on the floor. You’d touched the ground faster than anticipated. Had the ground always been so close?

   “Don’t worry, I gotcha.” Rumlow threw an arm around your waist and helped you trudge towards the elevator.

   Where the hell are you going? Bucky yelled and the sound of shuffling could be heard from his end.

   We can’t let you leave with Rumlow, Y/N. We’re not even sure you’re acting anymore, Sam stated.

   Rumlow pressed the button when you couldn’t muster the strength to do it yourself. The level that your room was on lit up and the doors began closing. You thought you saw Rumlow wave at someone but the mock smile on his face didn’t make it seem like a warm good-bye.

   Your legs had all but given out by the time the elevator reached your shared floor. 

   “Heavy,” you muttered, letting Rumlow carry your weight fully.

   “I know, Sugar. We’re almost there,” he soothed and you conceded to the fatigue wearing you down.

   Your head hung low and your arm dangled uselessly at your side. The familiar sound of your door sliding open caught your attention but you did nothing. You couldn’t. 

   “How . . . know . . . my room?” You questioned, each word causing you to pull from an empty well of energy.

   “I’ve been here before.” Rumlow tossed you onto the bed and sprawled you out.

   “Oh. Ok.” You tried to turn on to your side but strong hands gripped down onto your ankles.

   Rumlow sighed and slipped the heels off your feet, examining the pair like he wanted to wear them. You extended your feet until you felt every muscle in your leg stretch to its capacity and let out a groan of pleasure at the release. Those shoes hurt so bad.

   “You seem . . . intelligent, Y/N.” Rumlow dropped your shoes onto the floor and slithered to the side of your bed, standing beside it with his hands tucked into his pockets.

   A bead of sweat trickled down your forehead, “Hot . . .” you croaked and he nodded.

   “You’re right. It is getting kind of hot.” He brought a hand up to his neck and ripped off the tie hanging around it.

   Get the fuck out of my way, a growl erupted in your ear.

   We’re going with you, Buck, Steve responded before knocking something over.

   “So, what I have a hard time understanding is. . . why you’re here?” 

   You groaned a weak ‘huh’ but even that didn’t sound right.

   “You’re good at what you do, you finish every mission successfully and yet you’re underappreciated.” He took a seat at the foot of your bed and placed one of your legs into his lap, “Why do you allow them to treat you like that? We wouldn’t,”

   The shuffling in your earpiece halted.

   “We?” 

   He began to massage your calf and brought your knee up to his lips, peppering light kisses on it. “We could use someone with your skillset, babe. We’d take real good care of you,”

   The shuffling started again.

   Rumlow had made his way onto your thigh at this point and you let out an involuntary moan when he skimmed over a delicate part on your inner knee.

   “Ya like that?” he questioned but didn’t wait for a response. He brought a hand up to his temple and grabbed the earpiece. You figured he just hadn’t taken it out from his earlier shift but when he pulled it apart, you understood why he always kept it on him.

   “Flash . . . drive earpiece?” Your weak tone tilted a little. “W-why tell . . .”

   “I figured I’d give you the option to leave since you seem so . . . suffocated. If you said yes tonight then I would remind you tomorrow. If you didn’t,” he chuckled, “well, you wouldn’t remember anyway.” His hands trailed to your mid-thigh and you squeaked. “I’m impressed though, I’ve never given anyone else as much as I’ve given you tonight. The drug usually works so quickly on others, but not you. It’s kind of hot, actually,”

   Sick fuck, Natasha growled through a ragged breath.

   The world around you was slow or maybe it was you that was slow? You couldn’t tell, honestly. But when Rumlow moved as if he could predict your actions before you could make them, you wondered whether you were moving at all.

   “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon,” Rumlow sighed.

   You shook your head, or thought you did but despite the way your body was live-wired, it remained still against all desire. 

   Fight. Move. 

   You managed to push your legs shut but his hand slithered between and spread them open similar to opening a door, but this required much less force.

   “Kill,” You threatened and the sinister smile that crawled its way onto Rumlow’s face was vile enough to sink your heart into your stomach.

   “Kill is fucking right.” Someone snarled and your door was ripped from its hinges.

   Rumlow’s hand jerked away from your body and Bucky seized his open palm, intertwining their fingers and pushing Rumlow’s so far back that they touched the back of his own hand. The cracks were sickening onto themselves but had you not been so weak you would’ve turned from the sight altogether. You really couldn’t fathom how his fingers were still attached at all.

   “Lay another hand on her and you won’t be able to use it again.��� Bucky spit.

   Despite Rumlow’s pain, the sinister smile remained sprawled on his face, “You should’ve heard the noises she made,”

   Bucky’s grip tightened and the bones in his palm broke next, “I did,”

   Natasha flew in right behind Barnes but completely dismissed the two and headed straight for you with a needle in hand. Your eyes shifted from the needle to Nat’s face and back again until she stabbed it into your upper arm. Ouch. 

   “Wha-”

   “Shh,” Natasha hastily hushed, “Keep your strength, you should be back to normal soon,”

   Steve came behind Nat and scooped you up to lead you out of the havoc going on in the room. Nat turned her focus to Bucky and reached over to grab the earpiece from Rumlow. Who knows if his nose will ever heal back normally. You held one finger in the air as Steve stepped over the splintered door.

   “Goddamit, Y/N,” Steve huffed, jogging towards the elevator and pressing the floor that led to the infirmary.

   “We won,” you croaked out, a small smile on your face and Steve shook his head.

   “I’m never going to hear the end of this,” 

   Steve looked you up and down for bruises but couldn’t find any and you promised you weren’t lying to him when you told him Rumlow did not get very far in his ‘advances’ at all. You had to swear the mid-thigh was the worst that it came to. 

   Bruce was the one that took a few blood samples and made sure everything was reversing back to normal. Apparently, as soon as Rumlow took you to the bar Tony handed Banner the shot glass that Rumlow gave you and Banner ran analysis on it. The cure was pretty easy to find.

   After being given strict orders to lie down for the next hour or so, it had been decided that Rumlow was to be turned in considering all the evidence required to make the arrest was in the flashdrive and everyone was to gather together for a ‘family night’. Whatever the hell that meant.

   You were in the middle of debating which movie to pick with Steve when the infirmary doors flew open.

   “Where is she?” Bucky nearly shouted upon seeing Bruce.

   “That’s my cue.” Steve stood up just as Bucky rounded the corner, “If you need anything me and Banner will be right over there,”

   You smiled and thanked him then turned your attention to the super-soldier who just arrived at the foot of your bed.

   He didn’t say anything for a while, just looked at you. No, not really. Not at you but through you. A few painstakingly slow seconds went by that way.

   “You owe me a new door,” you joked, a half-smile on your face.

   “Are you okay?” He asked, finally registering your presence.

   You nodded slowly, “I am,”

   Then a few more seconds.

   Bucky turned his gaze down to his hands, both of them barren and on display for the world to see, before shifting his weight between either foot, “Did he- did he touch you?”

   “Not really. Just really liked my legs for some reason,” your attempt at another quip didn’t reach Bucky. He stared back up at you waiting for an answer, an honest one. You sighed, “The damage is more mental,” you admitted, now you were the one not able to look up, “I didn’t like being in this altered state of mind. It’s invasive and . . . scary. He could’ve done things, much worse things but it never got that far or that bad. It was more realizing that I wasn’t completely conscious or present and having that state of mind be taken advantage of, that mostly frightened me. Ya know?”

   “More than anyone,” he answered immediately.

   You looked back up towards him, finally making eye contact, “But I’m fine now, really. Just a little spooked. Steve wants to do a movie night tonight and I would actually prefer that over being alone.” Your eyes fixated on the way his hands clenched and unclenched on the bar by your feet, “If I’m alone then I’ll get stuck in my head about it. Besides, I consider this a hard victory with a few bumps in the road,” 

   He chuckled, lulling his head a bit, “You’re too stubborn for your own good,”

   You shrugged, “Maybe. How’s Rumlow?”

   Bucky hissed and moved over to the side of the bed where he took a seat, “He’s unconscious. And has a hand that he’ll never be able to use again. But other than that, he’s fine,”

   You chuckled and Bucky watched how the laugh met your eyes. He liked that look on you. It was one of his favorites.

   “Why are you looking at me like that?” You questioned once it fell silent between you two again.

   “You called me Bucky earlier,” he remembered.

   You scoffed, “I call you Bucky all the time,”

   “Not to my face,”

   “Not to your face,” you agreed, a teasing smile dancing on your lips and Bucky had one that mirrored yours. 

   “It was nice. Hearing it, I mean,” he admitted and a wave of warmth made its way to your face.

   “I see your hands are exposed,”

   He looked down as though he weren’t aware that he’d taken off his own gloves, “These bad boys? A friend of mine reminded me that I’m not my past. I’m my present. Why hide my growth?”

   You twiddled your thumbs together, “She sounds smart,”

   Now he scoffed, “Oh, it wasn’t a girl, it was some old buddy of mine.” He quirked up a brow, “Unless the person being a girl would make you jealous because in that case it was most definitely a girl,”

   You fought against the natural tug at the corners of your mouth, “Is she at least pretty?”

   “Stunning,” 

   “Smart?”

   “Genius,”

   “Good at her job?”

   “Amongst the best,”

   “Then consider me jealous, Barnes,”

   Bucky chuckled and you watched how the laugh met his eyes. You liked that look on him. It was one of your favorites.