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itonashi · 1 year

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I am ME.

SUMMARY : Known around the world — a genius scientist named [Name][Last Name]. Everyone sought to be her as she was deemed perfect. A young prodigy that managed to climb up the ranks alongside her friends. She met her demise at the age of 35. It shook the world. Tears fall because of her. Will there be another her?

PAIRING : aquamarine hoshino x fem!reader

WARNINGS : implied deaths, stalking, drugs, slow burn romance, murder, more will be added.

A/N : 2k words. goddamn.. hehe enjoy and pls remember im not an expert still in the adults world neither i am that smart LOL.

4 years later...

You're 6 years old right now. Well, physically. You do not have the patience to restrain myself from not talking all the time. Your babysitter is sleeping. You're infront of a tv. Remote beside you. Maybe, you should change it to a music show?

You're bored after all. No freedom so what else can you do? You change the channel to a music show. After you change it, The MC was announcing the winner for the music show.

"Let's congratulate, B-Komachi!" The MC exclaimed and the audiences roared at the mention of B-Komachi. The members went up the stage, taking the award.

"That girl... looks familiar." You muttered under your breath. A beautiful girl with a blue purplish hair color took the mic and start her speech while giving a heart gesture.

That's the girl you met before. She was interesting to say the least. Even from a first glance, you knew that she hailed from an abusive and solemn past. She was expressionless, she talked to you without any interest in the world and show the real her. To see her become an idol.. does that means she's lying to herself right now.

What drove her to be an idol? You met her only once and yet you feel like, she would be important later on. How captivating, you hope the future is kind to her.

"And that's all from me! Ai!" She waved and giving the mic to another member.

Idol. A career that isn't appreciate enough. Some people on the world looked down upon this career. Just singing and dancing, they said. It's more than that.

Idol need to have a perfect image. One wrong step, then scandal will come for them. Especially if you're a famous group. They have to lie. They have to please their fans. One mistake and it will be talk about for years even after disbanding. The entertainment industry is dangerous. Strict to the point they could take your life.

Idol is also human. They're not robot. They also have feelings. Idols are admirable, they need to have a strong mental to handle the hate. The world is unfair to them. There's so many cases on what happened to idols for the past years and some of it is cruel.

Every career have it's upside and downside. There's no need to compare.

You broke out of your thoughts when the front door opening. You didn't even realize your babysitter already went home. "[Name]." Your father called out to you. You stand up and walk towards him with a tiny smile on your face. Your father wasn't that bad now that you have observed him for 3 years.

He looks like he love your mother dearly. Before going to work, he would always give a kiss to the cheek on your mother. Your mother would blush a little. He carry you to his arm and bring you to his lap.

"I need you to make a decision, [Name]." He said with a stern tone. You tilt your head and nod. "Do you want the easy life or the hard life?" He added, starting into your eyes with a little smile.

You widen your eyes a little "I choose the hard life!" You give an eye closed smile to your father. You felt like being silly while saying that. You expect that if you choose the hard life, he would put you into the entertainment industry. This is the time for you to reveal how smart you are to your family. You aim to be the youngest people to be scouted into the world organization you were previously in. It is possible, in that organization there's no rules for age. You learn that when a child was born in that organization from a couple.

How's that child you see as a little sister figure doing? You hope she still love drawing and painting. Your plan starts now.

Your father sae the expression on your face and laugh "That's good, [Name]. In this world, there's no one living the easy life. Next week, you will follow me visit some director." Your father said with excitement. This is probably the second time you see him that excited — the first one being the time when you talk for 'first time'

He pat you on the head and left you alone on the couch. 'Did he do that just to left me on the couch?' You deadpan at your father but shrug it off. You lay on the couch and close your eyes, gathering the information you gotten for the 4 years you have been living in this new body.

One thing for sure, one of your friends had a baby at the same year you were born. You pray for the chances to meet the child. This time, there's no mistake. You want more connections than before.

"[Name], are you excited to see a child acting on the site?" Your father is driving the car to a filming site. He said the director is someone named Taishi Gotanda. You don't really remember the great things that Taishi guy have did since you weren't that keen on keeping up with the media world.

"Yeah! I'm excited! They're the same age as me, right?" You exclaimed. "No, you're the older one there." He said. Great, being the eldest means babysitting. Well, not if the children is discipline properly.

You arrive at the site and you scan around the site for a potential connection to be made with. Your father tap your back and you follow him behind his back. "Oh, Yoshino-san. Great to have you here." The Taishi guy shake your father's hand and he noticed you behind your father. You notice his eyes and smile while waving to him.

'This is boring.' You thought while walking a little bit away from your father. "Yoshino-chan, please follow me." A staff called out to you. You faced them and nod. "Your father said that you would only see how the process goes. You don't need to do any acting." The staff stated while leading you to a waiting room. You only hum at her to show that you're still listening to her.

'What a quiet kid...' The staff thought. The staff left you as soon as you arrive at the waiting room. You saw three kids and overhear their conversation. "Bet her acting was so bad they had to cut it all out! She seems to be good at buttering people up, though!" The child with red hair uttered.

The red hair proceed to be kinda rude in your opinion to other people. She left not before noticing you though. She look at you up and down and left. 'Is this how kids are?' You sweat at the child behavior. You look inside the room and saw two kids who you assume is twin because of the similarities. The annoyed expression on their face is visible, probably because of that girl? She's Arima Kana , if you remember correctly.

The girl who can flick a crying switch. Well, whatever. You bow at the twin and introduce yourself. They notice you and bow as well. "Oh, I'm Hoshino Ruby! And he's my brother. Hoshino Aquamarine but call him Aqua." The girl claim. What a weird name for japanese people.. The first thing you noticed about the pair is their eyes. It was captivating enough to lure you in. I'm sure they would become a big part of the entertainment industry. A powerful duo, they would say.

"Nice to meet you.." Aqua greet you with a neutral face. An opposite personality of his sister. A smile crawled up your face. "Soo.. why are you guys here?" You questions their presence at the filming site. "I will be acting while my sister here well.. she's just here, I guess." The boy deadpan. "How rude!" Ruby exclaimed.

You nod and cross your arm "It seems like Ruby is the same as me. I will only be watching." You hope that a friendship will bloom between you guys.

Amazing. You lightly smirk at the acting Aqua did. He only act like himself but he was incredibly creepy with it as that was what's the director aiming for. Maybe, the main part of it was because he seems mature for his age and his eyes. You just can't seem to let go of the beauty. "How did you think about it, [Name]?" Your father ask you with interest towards the young boy. "It's amazing, father. Can I start acting too?" You replied while staring at Arima Kana who was crying.

"It's never to late for you to be like your mother." Your father stated while lightly smiling at you "I can get you a role. Make sure to past my expectations." He added. Looks like the expectations for results is starting.

After that, your father have been keeping contacts with the twin since he have taken an interest on the young boy. You occasionally met the twin and learn more about them one by one. Sadly, your father couldn't keep hold of the them — Director Taishi Gotanda did.

You appear on multiple drama show as a child actor and made a name for yourself. There have been talks that you would conquer Arima Kana the child actor prodigy. You don't intend to do that but if that's what happen, it will happen. But they have to stop the comparison because every person have their own flaws.

You even got to do some photoshoot for a child's brand. Well, this will be memories in a few years. Atleast, you get to feel being a child again. A carefree child. Because of all the acting, you had to learn new skills everytime even things that you didn't learn in your past life. Naturally, you're good at it.

I guess you would still be a genius this time too.

When the death of Ai Hoshino happened, you attend the funeral with your parent. The people grieving over Ai's death make you recall the time your parent got into a bad accident and passed away because of that. You didn't cry because you had no connection to her but it still hurts to know that the stranger you have met before when they're a teenager to died when they almost turn into a full fledged adult.

You hope the people from Strawberry Production is taking their time to heal from the loss of a staff. You can only give prayers to them.

Later on, the death of Ai was just like a wind breeze that pass every day. No one talk about it after a week. Some may move on and some didn't. Ai Hoshino may you rest in peace.

A year of being in the entertainment industry — thanks to your father. You don't care if they call you a nepo baby. You're talented, that's all that matter. You were invited to a variety show and you were excited since you can freely show your talents there. No on can say a thing about it. No one will question it.

You met the cast and greet them. It was going well until they start talking about your acting career. "Yoshino-san, you really resemble your mother and your acting skill is incredible. Mind to share a tip?" The MC compliment your acting. "I can't because I am ME. I don't think much on what to do and just go with the flow." You said with a neutral tone. One thing about the entertainment industry, they won't question what the kids say since their still not mature for their age and just let out what's on their mind. Even if you have a sharp tongue, the people will love it. They don't mind it when a kid do it. At the very least, you have to have a character that will make people love you.

That would make people remember you for a long time.

"Yoshino-san, your father said before in an interview that you are a genius. Top at everything, is that true?" One of the cast commented. You smirk "Why don't you give me a question and let me answer it? I would prefer if it's a math question, though." With this, you will make moments for yourself. The cast laugh at your confidence and gave you a whiteboard. You will be competing with the 'smartest' cast, they said.

"69 x 4."

Ding!

A ring was made by you. The questions was too easy. As former scientist, you had to count percentage so this is a piece of cake for you. The cast beside you look at you bewildered. "276." You confidently said. "Correct!" The MC exclaimed. You know that they're looking down on you. You ought to prove them wrong.

After a series of questions, the people were speechless upon your smartness. The adults didn't expect this. Your mother look at you behind the swarm of staff and smile widely. You notice it and wave a little.

Soon, the filming ended. You were tired and hold out your arms to your mother. Your mom chuckle s and carry you up to her arms and kiss you on the cheeks. "You did good, my little angel." Your mother praises you. You snuggle up to her. Even though, you are an adult mentally but you want to indulge in this child body of your of receiving parent's love.

Even an adult wants to heal their inner child.

TAGLIST : @glitch-karma @kult-o @miyakoa @pandaswitch @serbian-x @nambii @bajifairyy @lumiriai

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itonashi © // don't plagiarize, copy or edit my works.

#oshi no ko x reader #oshi no ko #aquamarine hoshino x reader #aqua hoshino x reader #aqua hoshino #aquamarine hoshino #hoshino ai #ruby hoshino #kana arima #akane kurokawa

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milksnake-tea · 3 days

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❀ ˎˊ- prompt: after the dreammaster tells him the bad news, sunday is left alone with his thoughts and his work.

❀ ˎˊ- sunday x gn!reader

❀ ˎˊ- wc: 753

❀ ˎˊ- warnings: major 2.2 spoilers, mental breakdowns/panic attacks, mentions of injuries and war

❀ ˎˊ- a/n: ive spoiled sunday too much it's time for him to suffer to keep equilibrium 🗿 anyways this isn't a reader insert but rather a character study (i was going to do an essay but this is more fun) so yippee enjoy <3

❀ ˎˊ- img credits

Pen scratched against paper like nails on a chalkboard. The angel’s gloved hand gripped it with enough force to shatter a small bird’s neck, slashing signature after signature onto the pages upon pages of official paperwork, Penacony’s need and his shackles.

The paper could've been a death certificate and he would've signed it. His golden eyes scanned each page within seconds, forgetting its contents by the time he signed it and moved onto the next. There was only one thought on his mind - there was only room for one thought.

Robin- Robin, Robin, Robin. His mind was his worst enemy, conjuring horrific images of her fate.

Bloody- No, Mr. Wood said she was at a hospital now, so she should be fine- she should've been fine when he let her leave. There never should've been a gunman, never should've been a war, never should've been a damned bullet in her neck-

He should've never let her go- he should've convinced her to stay, there were many ways to be a singer without having to leave Penacony, the Internet didn't exist for no reason but she insisted, she wanted to go, she wanted to fly, she wanted to experience the world so why didn't she tell him that she was going into a warzone?

She should've told him- no, she must've known that he wouldn't have let her go, but what kind of older brother would let his kid sister go off into a battlefield? Especially since things like this would happen, and-

CRACK!

Sunday barely registered the ink running down his hand, staining it a deep, deep black. He saw the black seep into whatever paper he was working on. Somewhere in the back of his head, he cursed it, cursed that stupid pen, cursed himself for being careless, but again and again, those thoughts were washed out by his imagined image of his weakened and vulnerable sister barely hanging onto life as she breathed through a machine, light years away from home.

His chest hurt. Was he hyperventilating? Maybe. Probably. High-pitched ringing like a siren filled his ears - he couldn't even hear his own breath. Something pricked - no, stabbed, it hurt more than he'd initially thought - in his hand, likely his pen. Was he bleeding? He hoped not, but honestly, he couldn't care less right now. No matter how much pain he was in, it was nothing compared to the agony that Robin must be experiencing.

Mr. Gopher Wood’s words echoed in his mind.

Following the Odes of Harmony… that was what led Robin on that path. He understood her desires to help the weak, of course he did - he too wished to help humanity, who couldn't help themselves. But like this? By extending assistance to the pitiful and weak humanity, whose only goal was to survive, who would only take advantage of her kindness? By making herself a target?

If she'd told him, he could've secured help for the refugees, he could've put in a request to take them into Penacony, he could've done anything, anything that wouldn't have ended with a bullet in her neck. But no, she decided to lie to him and didn't even bother to tell him of her injury.

He blinked wearily. He could feel his eye bags weighing down on his face. Tiredly, he stared at the dried ink that ruined his hand and his paperwork.

Why didn't Xipe protect her? Wasn't Robin one of Their most devoted acolytes?

He took off the stained glove, absentmindedly checking his hand for injuries. His gaze wandered back to the ruined paperwork, his signature half-signed and broken right at the sharp N.

Weak. That's what the Harmony was.

He stood up. Carefully, he picked up the ruined paper, reading over its contents.

Insignificant.

Its sender wasn't exactly important, either - just another despicable dog of the IPC, and not even a high-ranked one. He could just say that he'd never received it in the first place, and no one would dare to question him.

Taking leisurely steps, casting tall shadows in his wake, he held the paper over one of the many candles that lined his office, and watched indifferently as it caught flame. Within seconds, the paper was charred black, and then mere embers.

Numbly, he turned back to his desk, clicking his tongue at the remaining ink, pooled around a shattered pen.

He should clean it up, shouldn't he. The faster he got his paperwork done, the sooner he could see Robin.

And maybe, just maybe, he could then convince her to stay.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

tags: @sh0jun, @themoderatelyawesomeninja, @xphantasmagoriax, @rainswept, @lucensei

@akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr sunday #sunday hsr #sunday #sunday character study #hsr character study #character study #archives 🏵️

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purlturtle · 3 months

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One of the hardest thing for me all throughout my life has been the fact that my parents still don't trust I could be doing all right for myself. That my life, different though it is from their lives, and from their vision they had for my life, is a fulfilled and happy and working one.

I am forty-four years of age. I have lived on my own for twenty-five of those years: longer than I have lived under my parents' roof.

And yet!

And yet.

And yet it would seem that they see me as a head-in-the-clouds dreamer incapable of navigating this world, constantly in cloud cuckoo land, squawking helplessly (apparently) at such things as taxes or car insurance or, I don't know, cooking without burning the kitchen down or something.

I have been living in this world for forty-four years; twenty-five of them on my own.

They have never had to bail me out of jail, drive to where I live to pick me up crying on someone's doorstep, spot me money so I can pay rent, none of that. I have never once moved back home or even entertained the idea. (Not that there is anything wrong with any of the aforementioned - I, personally, don't think of these things as failures. I know my parents do though.) Never once have I needed them in such a way that it could hypothetically theoretically potentially play into their idea of me being someone who doesn't have her life together.

And yet!

And yet.

And yet I feel so keenly their dismissal of my adultness, of my being capable the way I am. So many things that are so important to me, are taken by them as a sign that I'm childish. So many markers that they put so much importance on of adulthood: car ownership. House ownership. Children of my own. - some I will never check off on, some I passed too late (whoever heard of owning your first car at 38!), some I very vocally dismiss as a marker of adulthood in the first place.

This hasn't gotten any better (heavy sarcasm) since I developed mental health problems. Why only today, in a phone call with my mom, I had to justify my use of social media to her (since of course all of social media is universally bad, and the fact that I "spend so much time glued to your phone" is a dire sign of my impending insanity (more heavy sarcasm)), AND list all of the things that I do to relax to make up for being stressed out of my wits due to my hypersensitivity. And thank GOD I listed knitting among them, "at least that's being creative" - thank you Mom, for your approval; I needed it so badly. (heaviest sarcasm yet)

I mean in a way I get it; she doesn't see me day to day, she doesn't know that I *have* arranged my life in such a way that I'm mostly okay. But the thing is: I have told her. I have told her, and I am not being believed. Because I couldn't possibly know best what I need. Like, even my consumption of food - I tell her that one of my strategies is making sure that I get enough food so that I don't fall into a blood sugar hellhole, and the first thing she worries about is whether or not the food that I eat is healthy food. Fuck, Mom, sometimes all that helps is chocolate and ice cream!!

And this conflating of "we're worried about you" and "we still don't trust that you know what you're doing, so tell me in precise detail what you're doing so that I can judge if youre doing it right (based on my incomplete knowledge of you and of being HSP)" is....... tiresome. Especially when their causes for worry are based on their headcanons, basically; hypotheses and images in their own minds, based on when we see each other twice a year, usually not at my best, because (who would have thought it?!) being around my parents is fucking stressful to me!

So earlier this month we had such a visit, and it went badly, and a few days after I got home, my mom and I talk about the visit and I tell her, in very plain and coarse language so that she'll fucking hear me, how fucking badly it went - and the next thing I know is I get a phone call from my DAD (in itself only a thing that happens in dire needs), saying that I made my mother cry, telling me with tears in his own voice that I need help, that they think I need help (i.e. therapy), basically staging an intervention based on the abovementioned hypotheses and images, and not even talking to me or asking me any background for proving or disproving their theses.

When I do not need therapy, I've worked with therapists and coaches before, I am the clearest on my needs and accommodations that I've been *in my life* - I just need my parents to accept those needs and accommodations, and to trust that I have things handled, and to damn well consult me first before they think that their precious little baby girl is out there in the world not knowing how to deal.

I've been managing myself even when I still lived with you, you numbskulls. Moving out was the best decision of my LIFE (and arguably saved it)!

God, I am so angry. I am SO angry. I can't handle well being treated dismissively at the best of times, and their dismissal is CONSTANT, and they don't even realize it. I told my mother, in today's phone call, several times that she could trust me when I say that my social media usage isn't detrimental, when I say that I have my life arranged in such a way that most days I'm okay, that I have a grip on things. And she said "well all right then, if you say so" and oh the humoring was audible and I am so furiously, incandescently angry.

And the thing is, I cannot have this conversation with them.

Not on my own, anyway.

Oh how I *wish* that there was a way in which I could sit them down, sit down myself, and then look at a family therapist or someone like that, who will then moderate that conversation so that I can be *part* of the conversation, and not also its moderator. Because that is what I'd try to be, if I sat them down with only myself, and that would NOT work out. As it is, every time I talk with them, I walk on eggshells, I constantly watch myself and them, I check everything I say to make sure I'm communicating clearly and factually and in I-messages and that whole-ass shit, and it is such a high demand on my brain that it leaves me shaking with the effort, ten minutes in. (Not because I'm afraid they'd get abusive. Don't worry. It's never been that, neither in word nor in deed. It's just the constant dismissal, which won't be helped if I have an emotional meltdown.) Still, it's an amount of managing them and their emotions that is not fair to put on my shoulders alone, but as the person that I am, that is where I'd put it, because I don't know how to have that conversation in other ways (curse of being a social worker...).

If you've read all the way to here, thank you. I appreciate you.

#jana rambles (a lot)#parental units and my struggles with them #being hsp and my struggles with my parents over that #parental dismissal #fuck 'em

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wrenreid · 2 years

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Conflict of Interest

mature topics discussed in this story. all chapters in series masterlist!

content warning: talk of ‘cheating’, unprotected seggs, smut 18+ nsfw

Chapter Twenty-Three: Date Night 2.0

It’s been now been a month since the day Cat Adams nearly tore apart your relationship with Spencer. Things have been going pretty well since then, but of course there’s been some bumps.

It took you some time to be able to kiss him without the image of his lips on hers swirling through your mind. You hate that you were so affected by that stupid kiss, especially since you knew he did it to keep her satisfied for the time being. But you still hated how he seemed to nearly enjoy being lost in her for those twenty seconds.

Graduation is approaching faster than you’d like it to, but you’re still really excited. In exactly 73 days and 10 hours you’ll be officially finished with FBI Academy and ready to move on to the real thing.

Classes have still been going great; they’re getting harder of course, but as Spencer loves to assure you, it’s nothing you can’t handle. You’re glad to have him as a support system. And you’re especially glad things between the two of you have been bandaged up.

When the wound was still fresh, you didn’t spend the night with him at all. Of course, you still talked to him and spent some time together, but you took a step back and put some distance between you two. It wasn’t too bad either, it gave you some time to figure out your feelings about what happened that day, and it gave Spencer some time to do the same. Most importantly, it gave him time to cope with his emotions.

The three week alone time the two of you were able to have without each other actually helped a lot. Spencer started seeing his therapist again which made you really happy because he would be bettering himself for himself.

This week, the two of you have eased back into the normalcy you once had. You had dinner at his apartment yesterday and stayed after to watch a movie with him. There was even a little bit of making out during the scenes that didn’t peak your interests.

It’s been a month since you’ve done anything sexual, but it hasn’t really affected you guys all too much. Obviously, you miss the intimacy of that level, and you miss the cuddles afterwards, but it’s better to slowly go back to the way things were instead of jumping into it without thought.

Spencer’s been doing much better mentally since that night. He’s still bent over it, but you let him know that people can bend and not be broken. Because he is not broken. He has just been hurt too many times. He is still perfect in his own way.

Nina is relieved to see you guys doing better as well. You didn’t tell her everything about what happened, but you let her know enough so they could understand why you were so upset. She came back to your dorm room hours after you’d taken Spencer back to his place. It was around 9am when they came home to you curled up in your bed crying. You couldn’t help it, the tears just kept coming once you started crying again.

Spencer left for a case this morning, and you’re not sure when he’ll be back, but he’s continued to send you updates. Some of those updates include cute messages about how he’s thinking about you or how he wishes it was you he’d be sharing a room with instead of Alvez. You thought that was pretty funny.

You think that the bumps, or boulder (Cat), that your relationship ran into is starting to bring you guys closer. The distance that was put between you is fading, and is morphing into a new found stronger connection. It is said that distance brings fondness- maybe it’s true.

In fact, the two of you have become more open and honest with each other since the black widow tried to spin your relationship into her web then bite its head off. Honestly, a part of you likes that the smoothing of the relationship can be seen as a sort of ‘fuck you’ in spite of the spider herself. But that’s not the most important part of it all; the important part is that you two are making things work and are happy together. But the ‘fuck you’ is nice too.

After having dinner and game night with Nina and your other friends and fellow trainees, you lay in bed and read the latest update from Spencer.

‘Luke is snoring next to me right now, not how I would like to be spending this night. Wish I was next to you right now… or on top of you… or below… sorry. Too much?’

You laugh and shake your head as you read the text. Your face flushed with a deep shade of pink.

‘I’m sure Luke wouldn’t mind those positions if you just asked!’ you tease him. ‘I miss you too, goof. I’ll see you soon… I hope.’

He texts back a few minutes later, saying, ‘It shouldn’t be too long. Maybe I’ll be back Monday in time for class, or at least in time to see you after:)’

‘Looking forward to it<3’

You haven’t said “I love you” over text yet, it just seems to impersonal and too new for you guys. In fact, you haven’t said it a whole lot to each other since the first time a month ago. You’re not sure why. Maybe because things have been rocky or because you’re both scared if you say it too much, the phrase will lose its meaning.

Sunday passes way too quickly, and Monday rolls around. Spencer isn’t back for class which worries you, but after doing an assignment, you get a call that relieves your anxiety.

“Sorry I didn’t make it to class. We just landed in Quantico,” Spencer says on the other end of the line.

“No worries, love. I quite enjoyed the extra hour and a half of free time.”

“Ouch. So you didn’t miss me?”

“I missed you,” you say with a grin, “just didn’t mind not having to sit and hear a lecture.”

“What I’m hearing is you don’t like my lectures,” he says with a slight laugh.

“I do, I do. But sometimes it’s a little hard for me to keep my hands off of you, so imagine how awful it is to just be able to look while I sit there.”

You hear him cough and chuckle nervously. “Oh.”

You laugh softly, feeling pretty victorious in making your boyfriend nervous while he’s at work. “Anyway, what are you up to?”

“Well, I’ve got to do some paperwork, but I thought we could have dinner after?”

“Ooh sounds good. Your place?”

“Actually,” Spencer says, “I was thinking we could go out. Like on a real date.”

“Wait, really? What if people we know see us?” You ask.

“We could go to a restaurant in Fredericksburg.”

“You would drive all the way to Fredericksburg just to go on a date with me?” You chuckle softly.

“I would drive all the way to the Fredericksburg in Texas just to go on a date with you,” he said matter of factly.

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Plus, it’s only an hour, sweetheart.”

“Two if traffic is bad.”

“True. Either way, I’ll pick you up at 6.”

“Yes sir,” you grin widely, playing with your hair nonchalantly.

“Can’t wait. See you later.”

“Bye,” you say happily and hang up the phone.

“Was that a date in planning I heard?” Nina grinned from her bed.

“I suppose so,” you say with pink cheeks.

She wiggles their eyebrows at you. “Have you gone on a real date before?”

“Not outside of his apartment.”

“Ooh this is exciting!” She stands up, going toward the closet.

“What are you doing?” You breathe out a laugh.

“Helping you pick out an outfit!”

—

Your phone buzzes letting you know Spencer has texted you. ‘I’m in the parking lot:)’

Luckily, you’re just applying your non sticky lip gloss, and fully ready to go.

“I’ve made you beautiful,” Nina grins.

“I’d like to think my genes did most of the work,” you chuckle.

“Sure,” she teases. “I’m kidding. You’re gorgeous. Now go!”

You walk down the hall, purse in hand, to the elevator. It takes you to the first floor. Your heels click on the gravel as you walk to Spencer’s car.

He’s waiting for you with a smile, leaning against the passenger side door. He’s dressed nice, but then again he always is. He’s not wearing a suit jacket tonight, letting the button up show off his muscles.

“You look incredible, Y/n,” Spencer says, and his smile grows, as does yours.

“Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself,” you grin, tugging on his tie.

He opens the passenger side door then hands you flowers. “My lady.”

You laugh softly. “You got me flowers?”

“Well, I couldn’t go up to your door myself and risk people seeing me, so I’m compensating.”

“You very much are,” a grin takes over your features as you smell the flowers. They’re your favorites.

He helps you into his car, and even though you don’t need it, you appreciate the gesture. Spencer shuts the door for you before getting in on the driver’s side.

Looking down at the flowers in your hands and Spencer’s hand on your thigh, you sigh contently. “I love you,” you say, deciding the words aren’t just for certain times or special occasions. You can’t use them too much if it’s how you really feel.

Spencer takes his eyes off the road for a moment to look at you, his beautiful smile plastered on his face. “And I love you.”

You put your hand on top of his own and he turns his, holding your hand instead. The two of you stay like this and talk about whatever the discussion moves to as he makes the drive.

Finally, you arrive at a nice restaurant in Fredericksburg, Virginia and the two of you get out. You stretch your legs then take his hand in yours as he leads you to the restaurant’s doors.

The two of you are sat at a booth under glass ceiling lights that set a nice mood. Spencer orders your favorite appetizer, and you both place your drinks before looking at the menu.

Once both of your decisions are made, your orders are placed and you’re left to enjoy the appetizer.

“Thank you for this, really,” you say with a smile.

“The food, no big deal. My wallet will just suffer a bit,” he teases.

“No, the date. Thank you for tonight.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We’re not even halfway into it.”

You chuckle at him and nod. “Noted.”

The dinner continues and you suggest you can pay, but Spencer says that it was his idea so he is paying. You convince him to let you pay for dessert though.

You get back in the car, happily smiling at each other. “This was amazing,” you say.

“It was,” Spencer agrees.

He starts the drive back to DC. You rest your hand on his thigh and look out the window. Eventually, you toy with him a little, moving you hand up to his bulge, fingertips grazing over it lightly before resting back on his thigh.

“Whatcha doing there, baby?” He laughs a tad nervously.

“Just watching the cars go by,” you say, playing innocent.

He rolls his eyes, you can see it from your peripheral vision. You grin smugly.

A few moments later, you cross one leg over the other, causing your dress to ride further up your thighs. Your hand trails further up Spencer’s thigh as well.

“Dammit, Y/n,” he grabs your wrist, not harshly, but not lightly either.

“What’s wrong, Doctor?” You ask, batting your eyelashes up at him.

“Nope. Don’t do that innocent thing with me; I know you’re far from it.” He says, playing your hand in your own lap and trying to keep his eyes on the road.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I’m sure you don’t,” he huffs.

You pout, but keep quiet.

“What the hell are you doing?” He turns toward you.

You don’t say anything, just plop your underwear right into his lap with a teasing smile. “I was getting a little hot,” you shrug.

The bulge in Spencer’s slacks has grown a lot since you first got in the car. The look on his face is frustrated.

He takes a turn from the highway and ends up in the parking lot of a supermarket.

“What are y-?”

“Get in the back seat,” he commands.

“Hm?”

“Did I stutter, princess? Get in the back seat.”

You nod your head, heart beating fast and you take your heels off and crawl into the back seat. Spencer joins you after a moment.

“If you’re going to act like a slut, you’re going to be treated like one,” he says, pulling you into his lap. You straddle his hips, bare heat hovering over his crotch.

Your heartbeat can be felt all over your body, but more specifically in your core. You nod your head again. “Yes, professor.”

Spencer pulls you down by your throat to kiss you. His hand lingers there, squeezing gently. When that draws out a soft noise from you, he decides to add more pressure as he kisses you deeper. Your tongues collide as one and mouths move against each other’s with heat and passion.

It’s hot. Extremely hot. Everywhere. To try and get the friction you’re so desperately craving now, you roll your hips over his, bare cunt brushing his bulge.

Both of your moans fill the kiss. Your hands rest on his shoulders as you start moving your hips more to give yourself the pleasure you’re needing, but it’s not enough.

“Slow down there, darling,” he laughs softly, biting his lip as you brush against his crotch again. “You’ll get what you want if you’re a good girl. Can you stay still for me?”

You whine softly, but oblige.

Spencer smiles, lips trailing from your temple to your neck as he whispers naughty words to you. He sucks on the skin beneath your collar bone, biting it gently. You moan and try not to squirm under his grasp. “Fuck,” you breathe out.

He continues to leave love bites on your neck and shoulder as his fingertips trace circles down your arms then up your thighs under the dress of your skirt.

“Please, doctor. Please,” you whine, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Please what, baby?”

“Please.. I need more.”

Spencer smiles smugly and slips his hand under your skirt once more, this time dragging a finger between your wet folds and drawing out a sound from you. Deciding he wants to hear it again, he swirls his finger along your core. The moan that comes from your lips is heaven to his ears.

“Please,” you beg again, your voice a whisper in his ear.

Spencer wastes no time sliding one of his fingers into you, causing you to squirm. Your whines fill the car, but you need more. He pumps it in and out of you slowly before adding his ring finger. You roll your hips, riding his hand as he starts to finger fuck you slowly. It’s too slow for your poor heat that is begging for more.

Once he finally begins a pace you like more, he stops, drawing his fingers out of you and causing a sob-like whine to release from your lips.

He grins smugly once again when you ask “Why?”

“Be patient, princess. Can you do something for me?”

“Yes, doctor, anything,” you nod quickly.

“Awh, you’re so eager,” Spencer smiles, stroking your cheek gently. “Take off my belt.”

You do just that, happy to do as he asks. You slide it off of him then unbutton and unzip his pants too. Before you can slip your hand down his pants, he asks you to get off his lap.

You whine about it, but you obey.

“Take your dress off,” he tells you.

You look over at him with a slight smile and nod. “Unzip me?”

“Sure thing, baby.”

You turn your back to him and he carefully unzips the back of your dress, revealing your bare back.

“No bra or panties right now, huh? You are such a little whore,” he laughs softly.

“You like it.”

“No. I love it,” Spencer says.

You slide the dress off your shoulders first, then down the rest of your body. It’s a little difficult since you’re seated in the back of a car, but you make it work. Now, you’re completely naked in his car, and he’s way too clothed. He’s unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his upper body to you, but it’s still way too much.

He notices the stare you’re giving his crotch, and as if he can read your mind, he slips down his slacks.

“That’s still too many layers,” you whine.

“We’ll get there when we get there. Now take your rightful seat again please.”

You crawl back onto his lap, straddling his hips now completely naked.

“This is some sight, baby. You drive me fucking crazy.”

“Why don’t you do something about it?” You suggest, looking down at him with big, needy eyes.

“Oh, I will,” he says hungrily, gripping onto your bare thighs as he connects his lips with yours again.

The kiss turns heated once again and his hands find their way to your breasts, holding them and playing with them while he kisses you. He’s hungry.

One of his hands trails down from your chest to your core, sending goose bumps down your stomach that radiate to your entire body. His fingers find the bundle of nerves that want him so desperately. You jolt forward a bit as he plays with it, circling his fingers lazily.

A trail of curses leaves your lips as you break free of the kiss and lean your head on his shoulder. “Please fuck me, doctor,” you ask in such a needy whisper/whine that could almost send him over the edge right there.

Spencer slips down his boxers and you line yourself up with him before lowering down on his length. You moan right away, and so does he.

“God, you feel so good,” he says, biting his lip.

His hands rest on your hips as he guides your motions.

Eventually, you’re rolling your hips quickly, and he’s bucking his up. The noises of bodies colliding and moans and curses fill the car loudly.

You pull your head from the crook of his neck to look at him. He’s a hungry lion, and you are a vulnerable gazelle. He not only wants you, but craves you, needs you.

Spencer speeds up the pace, causing your legs to shake and whines to grow louder and louder.

“Fuck, Y/n, you’re so good, so wet,” he moans.

—

“Holy fucking shit, my legs hurt,” you breathe as you lean your head back against the passenger seat. You’re back in your dress that’s zipped up only halfway.

Spencer laughs softly, touching your thigh gently and massaging it. “You did amazing, sweetheart.”

“You are amazing, Spencer,” you say, turning your head to the left with a smile.

“I love you,” he grins.

“I love you too, sweet boy,” you reach your hand up to touch his cheek, thumb brushing over his skin.

The two of you take a few more minutes to breathe and bask in the post sex bliss before once again starting the drive to DC.

chapter twenty four

tags: @reidsprettygirl @reidsmilf @reidslovely @awhoreforspencerreid @sexualityisajoke @nomajdetective @kenreadsfanfics @calicocatty @hotchandspencearedilfs @kodiakwhiskey @rory-cakes @444verse @kbakery @crynroom <3

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outrunningthedark · 1 year

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I see the grief as a "Freudian Excuse" more than anything; it explains their bad actions, but does not excuse the bad action themselves because children shouldn't have to compromise for their parents' misery for years, especially when the compromise has a deep lasting impact to the children's development and adult life, especially if the misery is not explained to them until far into adulthood leaving them wondering why their parents are miserable (to them) in all their childhood.

Apologies for projecting, but my aunt was depressed after losing her married daughter after childbirth, but her son-in-law and her siblings living in another city help her walk through it and prevent her grandson from being abandoned even though it takes a long time for her to recover. The lack of extended family involvement and the Buckleys' impression of putting their image in society on front make the grief ineffective in explaining their emotional neglect toward the siblings. Where's their parents? Where's their siblings? Why aren't they involved? Do they even exist and are they alive in present timeline? As powerful as grief is as an explanation, the storytelling narrative isn't strong and complex enough. We see Eddie's parents and extended family discuss what next step Eddie should take after Shannon's death, making him choose to stay. That is what is lacking in The Buckleys' backstory.

I may be remembering some plot points wrong, but I still stand on "this explains, but not excuse" stance on them. If we see an onscreen dedicated scene of them trying to make amends, my opinion on them may change.

(Not @ you, but) I feel like people get my Buckley parents (especially Margaret) posts a little twisted. In no way do I believe their neglect of both of their children is okay. What matters to me is that this is (unfortunately) one realistic portrayal of what happens to a family after a sibling death. Not every parent is able to bounce back mentally and emotionally after the death of a child. Some become dependent on substances to get through each day, don't they? The Buckley's didn't go that route, thankfully, but the fact that the mother was contemplating ending her life tells me 1) she wanted to be with her son, yes, but also 2) when you're considering that big of decision, it's because you think people are better off without you. No insult Margaret's kids can throw at her can be worse than whatever has gone through her head since the early '90s. Her behavior isn't right. But it's understandable. And, I'm sorry, but savior baby story line or not, the resentment towards Buck (and Maddie, let's not forget!) is very much a real thing that can happen. When you're one of multiple kids, and one of you dies, your parents see your sibling in you, so it hurts them to imagine where their child would be if they were still alive. And if you do something that really upsets them? Well. Then the resentment can be mutual, because the child starts to feel that it would have been better if it was them who died in place of the sibling. I know this because I live it, and I've watched others live it, too. The problem with this arc is, as you said, that it's not detailed enough. We did get the semi-reconciliation at the end of Buck Begins, but the show moved away from letting Buck (and his sister) start to heal from their childhood trauma because JLH had to be written out and Buck at peace was not really conducive to the story. His big sister's gone again. How else would he react, right? (My whole issue with that story line is that her coming back did not "fix" anything. If he was only acting like that because he missed his family...he should have been able to tell TayKay to kick rocks after the loft convo. But then L & T wouldn't have met and TayKay wouldn't have been the bad guy all over again. So.) I'm super curious to see whether Oliver was right in saying that Buck's therapy is still a factor off screen (I know that's what he hopes) and we meet a "new" set of Buckley parents - this would be another situation where there was resolution that should have made it onto the show - or we're going to find out that everybody backed out because they still weren't ready. It just depends what kind of story KR & co. think is "best". [Let it be known, though, that a complete erasure of the attempt at healing, brief as it was, is dumb af when we've had no updates on that front since s4. At least throw out a line about "Have you thought about going to therapy again?" or something.]

#people who haven't experienced it will not get it #and you know what? i hope you never have to #anonymous #tina speaks #tv: 911 #tv: 9-1-1 #evan buckley

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whoredmode · 1 year

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Re: "How would your OCs interact with my OCs"

I'm glad lego answered this as a ask because otherwise I'd have no clue of the best way to do so <- still new to tumblr

In SR1 Casey is 15/16, claims to be 18/19, looks more like a very tall 13yo, so if she met Anteros she would probably see him in the same way as the Saints when she first meets them which is impressed/intimidated/has a very brief crush on them (ok not the latter for Julius but that's cos she has some serious daddy issues around him; 'trying to kill each other was our playing catch' etc etc etc). Meanwhile based on their dates of birth Anteros is 8 years older than her and she barely talks so he'd probably have the prevailing view most people do when they meet her at that age which is "this child is very angry, who gave them a gun?" (I suspect he'd also know the answer to that question).

SR2 is SR2 so I feel like most versions of the Boss from that era are going to be kind of scary; I doubt how much they could really form a conversation without accidentally or purposefully killing each other unless Johnny could intervene. Shit, you know it's bad when Gat has to be a peacekeeper.

Pre or during SR3 it depends if she was in 'I have a public appearance' mode or 'I'm wearing t shirts and hoodies and sunglasses because the syndicate are watching' mode because combined with how she talks and being a bit uh... whorey... that tends to exacerbate the perception that she is an idiot. But she has found her confidence and her friendly side so if they talked enough to actually get through to a real conversation they could certainly bond over being bisexual, Jane Austen/literature in general?, and their intelligence being underestimated. One would hope their Greek mythology names would be a talking point since her birth name is Cassandra but lets face it she's not telling anyone her name at this stage. Unless they actually managed to corroborate that they are essentially AU versions of each other. I guess maybe he enjoys the fame? Whereas she sees it as a bit of a chore but a necessary evil to maintain money/power/avoiding the consequences of her actions.

Post-SRIV, she becomes a lot more calm and controlled as she hits 30 but then idk how much your SRTT/SRIV rewrite deviates from the canon so I can just imagine Casey casually describing the events of SRIV/GOOH as they happen in-game and Anteros slowly backing away thinking something along the lines of "This woman is certifiably batshit.". Actually I'd love it if they met then. That sounds fucking hilarious.

How would your OC interact with my OC?

it’s all cool; honestly a good rule of thumb re: how to answer stuff is that sending asks tends to be the easiest way, at least for me, because this is a sideblog and replies can be more cumbersome on sideblogs.

anyway. i’ll put a cut since this is a long post haha

during sr1 era he probably wouldn’t hang out with casey much? even if she says she’s 18-19, he still thinks she looks way too young and doesn’t want to be in charge of watching her😭 (and tbh probably catches her lie fairly quickly but keeps it to himself). overall probably just would not think much of her at that time.

sr2 is pretty much always gonna be the same answer regardless of characters haha😭 they’re just gonna be argumentative and butting heads the whole time. johnny being peacekeeper is a funny mental image. then again i don’t think pierce or shaundi is gonna do much at that time anyway. they’ll watch and bet who throws the first punch.

srtt anteros is a lot more amicable comparatively so if they did have an extended conversation they could probably find some common ground. bisexuality and literature is a good starting point lol. the greek names connection is also super interesting; tbh if she’s familiar enough with it she could be the first person to actually know where his name came from, and he’d definitely be impressed with that.

and yeah i don’t consider all the alien stuff from sriv canon (so i guess that’s. all of it then.) BUT if somehow they met and she started describing all that he would just be laughing incredulously the whole time. he’s like y’know what. sounds good. at this point he’s hoping the aliens come he’s tired.

#asks #thank you! this was so much fun to read

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sobachyakukla · 2 months

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how are people "removed from your internet" like why did ian say that between israel & him i would nmver have to worry about michael again because they removed him from my internet. every time i look him up it generates a page not found image & im wondering if henry had anything to do with this because he would do shit like that, instagating my behavior & then calling me dangerous. its like, a very well known tactic & my therapist told me young men do this when they want to feel vindicated as a victim without being willing to share that title so they start pushing you when they know youre mentally ill & then call you dangerous. i shouldnt be worried about what that type of male thinks of me because i honestly feel really scared of what hes capable of pushing me towards & then acting so innocent. especially since he is thin & reserved. that automatically would make any male cop feel like a million bucks for defending him.

i cant believe my life turned into me talking myself down from hanging myself at the park across the street because a toxic mysoginist wont answer my calls.

yes i made a fucking attempt to look you up every new account i made because the alternative is that your friends are literally on my shit controlling the page returns & controlling what i do & do not have access to. that is scary as fuck. not to mention im the second autistic person that toxic ass dude has done this to, making his unchecked ableism just even more dangerous to the next person like me he unwittingly targets.

i hope he never recieves romantic satisfaction or feels loved ever again. may we suffer as one forever get him out of my head & let me feel my coffee high please

not to mention the worst part thus far is i'd put it down 99% on his friends, i mean i would fuck the everliving christ out of jon its NOT OKAY FOR HIS BULLSHIT VICTIMHOOD TO TAKE MY HORNY ASS & BENCH HER????? also israel mullinex? if that boy is controlling me ID LET IT HAPPEN THEYRE HOT AS FUCK??!??!?!?!?!?!?!? stop all this nonsense im hood rich i travel on public transport bc die hard leftist contributing to public transportation also fear of operating a vehicle with my chronic suicidality but im very attracted to these people & michaels feelings getting hurt (pretty sure he doesnt ever suffer) over me railing the fucking dogshit out of his bandmates is his problem not mine. its not okay. im mad about that the most. but i felt like i had to tell jon who i was. but that was kind of sexy tbh being denied even though i know how attracted we are to each other. id sit on him & wail i mean it. like maybe i just want access to his friends so bad bc they all fall under the category of "traumatised, suicidal, & hot musicians" & that happens to be the very one that makes me tweak my nipples & wipe my upper thigh of p*ssy juice. im disgusting im evil im full of lust & it shouldnt be reciprocated or held to a high standard.

i need to pray & cut myself so i can get the demon out but when i cut for the black blood it takes nearly all of my self control to keep from hitting major areas because i have to get the demon out cut it deep enough for the love to lead it out & the lust to make it leave anything to bleed

bleeding heart jesus chapter zoophile crazy girl let the lamb of god take me of my milk

#psychosis liveblog

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apoorsoul · 6 months

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The rest of the ride passes without incident. When they land, Jimmy reluctantly opens his eyes as orderlies swarm the cabin. They remove the agent first, naturally. She has to be debriefed and examined before she's allowed to return to her section. When she's gone, Jimmy stands, trying to ignore his residual motion sickness. Every eye in the cabin is instantly on him. It should feel good, to be the authority figure for once.

All he can think of is what will happen if he messes this up.

"He's on his third dose," Jimmy announces. Two people take hasty steps back from the stretcher, eyeing the subject with new apprehension. If he was feeling better, Jimmy would roll his eyes in disgust. "So hurry," he says sharply, and everyone turns back to their tasks.

Jimmy mentally shakes his head and turns to go report in.

🧬

He gives his report quickly, and he actually makes it to the isolation room before the subject is placed there. He leans back in the padded chair and watches the live feed of the intake exam. They've freed the subject of his clothing, as is standard protocol, but rather than placing him in a standard-issue hospital gown they seem to have thrown a blanket over the body. Jimmy's mouth turns down, and he checks the notes to see why.

They're worried about the subject waking before they can complete the exam, and so they cut off the clothing the subject came in wearing unusually quickly and didn't even try to put him in a gown.

Jimmy's scowl deepens. He hasn't even met the subject yet, and he's already been denied the first tool to gain cooperation. Hopefully the clothing held no sentimental meaning.

He turns his attention to the real-time notes from the exam. Musculature seems to be above human-normal, but not extraordinarily so. Horns, wings and a tail are only immediately observable gross physical abnormalities. They're postponing the normal internal imaging, so venom glands remain a possibility. Blood draws show abnormal ranges, but nothing inherently alarming in composition.

Dr. Frill seems to think that the healing processes are sped up, which she points out would correlate to the increased drug resistance observed. Dr. Cooper, unsurprisingly, disagrees, pointing to a possible increased metabolism as an alternate mechanism, pointing to the normal bruising patterns from the restraints as proof. That doesn't mean much, though. Dr. Frill and Dr. Cooper would disagree on whether water is wet.

By the time Jimmy's done reading the notes and taking his own on paper, the exam is complete. The stretcher is wheeled out of the room covered by the camera. Jimmy can hear someone in the hall, now, approaching the isolation room with the gurney.

As Katai begins to stir again, he's aware that something is new again. Again. How many times have they drugged him now? Two? Three times? And who are they anyway? What do they want with him? Does this have something to do with what happened a couple weeks back?

As he wakes, Katai doesn't open his eyes right away, opting to figure out what the hell is going on for a moment first. From the last couple of times, he can only assume he'll be drugged again as soon as he opens his eyes. He's... on some type of stretcher or gurney or something. He can feel that it's being rolled over the ground.

What else can he gather... He doesn't have a gag in his mouth anymore. That's... good, but also bad. On the one hand, he can talk now. On the other hand... it probably means there's no one around to hear him who cares. He's also not restrained as fully as before. He can feel cuffs on his wrists and on one of his legs... There's still a collar or something around his neck, too. He can probably sit up, though. And he can kick with his one free leg.

The last thing he notices is that he's cold. Something is missing. He's not wearing any clothes. Someone has taken them off of him.

Feeling like he's taken enough time and figured out pretty much everything he can, Katai opens his eyes and tries to sit up, trying to figure out where he is.

There's a tug on his neck as he reaches the end of a short chain. "Fuck." He swears under his breath, immediately switching back over to struggling, pulling against the cuffs.

He's being wheeled down a hallway. There are bright lights in the ceiling. He's only covered by a blanket. Almost like he's a damn corpse being wheeled to the morgue.

"Where are my clothes??" He demands, tugging hard against his restraints, trying to find any weak links to break.

#lab whump #whump roleplay #whump rp #whumpee #whump #whumplr reader #rp #roleplay #katai

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notladylikes · 7 months

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hands on her hips, hair up in some sort of half-ass messy bun, the brunette begins to pace back and forth, back and forth, enough so she could wear down the wooden floor of her apartment in the space at the front of her desk.

she reaches for a cigarette from a crumpled pack, lights it up, and begins smoking. an inhale of tobacco, exhale, teeth gnawing down one the nail of her index finger as she tries to come up with something that sounds relatively normal.

there is a board hanging above her desk, tucked in one of the back rooms of her apartment, where she's done her research. multiple photographs and newspaper articles are pinned to the cork, scribbled writings and half-eaten granola bars little the surface of the mahogany desk she set up.

she was originally supposed to use it for schoolwork, though she put off the idea of going back to college after her last mental breakdown. her family's interference in her life has always taken a toll on her, even though she has done her best to keep away from them.

she tried going home for christmas, and boy, was that a disaster. her step-mother did nothing but criticize the fact that she'd gone and put a stain on the 'family name' as the wicked witch called it, saying she didn't know why etta couldn't 'contain her crazy'.

it was bad enough that they tried to forcefeed her medications when she got a little too involved in the situation at hand, sending her headfirst into a spiral that ended with her behind the locked door of a mental institution.

a huff of breath and she stubs out the cigarette into an already overflowing ashtray, tears off the piece of her nail that she's been gnawing on, and spits it onto the floor, already forgotten among dust bunnies and various pieces of other junk that she's been too lazy to pick up.

etta has a series of portraits on her desk, drawn by her hand. she keeps them hidden, for if anyone saw them, she fears they would lock her up and throw away the key. images of young women she's never met, scribbled down in ink, the palpable looks of fear in their eyes are enough to make her stomach churn.

tapping her finger against the book of portraits, henrietta sighs and grabs a bottle of alcohol, twists off the cap and downs a swig of it, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

she's so close to figuring it all out, finding out the reality behind her father's lies, and yet at the same time, she feels so far away from it all.

"henrietta,"

the sound of a distant voice catches her ears, and they perk up in response. turning to look at the visage of her mother, distorted by a break of light coming in through the curtains, she swears she can almost feel the coolness of her mother's touch against her overheated skin.

"you're wearing yourself thin, my darling,"

she says, her voice a soft and soothing melody, a stark contrast to the jarring of her step-mother's tone. she hasn't stopped pacing back and forth this entire time, still managing to shift from one foot to the other in an effort to spark some kind of revelation from the back of her mind.

she hasn't slept in two days, hasn't eaten in almost 36 hours, and her only beverage has been that of the alcoholic variety. her body yearns for some sort of normality, but she can't seem to focus long enough.

maybe she should take the sleeping pills prescribed to her. maybe they would help.

she doesn't like the pills, though. they numb her senses and make her feel like she's out of her own head - and that's enough to send anyone reeling. tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she reaches for another cigarette only to find the pack empty, crumpled on her desk. grabbing said package, she balls it up and attempts to throw it into the garbage can, only to miss.

eventually, etta collapses into a chair, muscles burning from being overworked, from standing on her feet for twelve or so hours without any reprieve.

after a few moments, she starts to write.

it's mainly gibberish at first, random thoughts about what has been going on, a journal of sorts holding discarded thoughts. if anyone were to read it, they'd see the ramblings of a woman everyone claims to be mad.

in reality, she's more sane than most of them.

truth will set you free, they claim.

she only hopes that it happens before she keels over from sheer exhaustion.

#mus. henrietta amelie wilkins.#dyn. evelyn morrow.#drabbles.

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bitterarcs · 11 months

Text

PARENTS.

Most of which Reno remembers of his mother is a construct of his imagination. Reno idolizes the memory of her because it’s all he has and really ever had of her. When it comes to his parents and especially his mother, it’s not something he often or wants to recall and certainly never ever speaks of them to anyone. However when he does think or dream about his childhood, he recalls his mother being beautiful, young, and warm; her bright smile is a clear picture in his head. Again, it’s possible the image is a figment of his imagination for Reno was four years old when his mother abandoned him and his father. Reno recalls walking pleasantly at his mother’s side, holding her hand, as she greeted neighbors and strangers. In reality, Reno’s mother often used her son to gain sympathy from the public as she begged for gil.

She loved her son . . to a point, but did not love him enough to stay with him and his father or even take Reno with her. A Midgar resident and aspiring actress, she was just eighteen years old when she met Reno’s father and tumbled head first into a brief romance which ended with disappointment and pain. Reno’s father, thirty-three at the time, was a Mideel native ( and a widower ) who made one bad decision after the next. All he knew was a meager farming life Mideel. He was a farmer, his farther a farmer, and so forth. Like the majority of people accustomed to one thing, he dreamed of the something different, most notably dreamed of wealth and power. He and a childhood friend decided to sell their parcels of land for whatever they could get for it and moved to Midgar to become “big shots”.

Both men had heard rumours about the fortune to win at Midgar through supposed reputable and not so reputable sources ( words purposefully whispered by tourists to trick the ignorant ). Midgar chewed up and spit out Reno’s father eventually. While all Reno can remember is a horrid thing of a man, his father was once far kinder. When he made successful bets and won big, he was generous with his money, friendly, and somewhat charismatic. It was during this short bout of showing off his little sum of wealth that Reno’s parents met. Reno’s father thought her youth and aspiration to make a name for herself was utterly charming, and she found his generosity and country mannerism endearing. The good times lasted very briefly. She ended up pregnant and without work, and he made bad investment after bad investment.

The two attempted to make things work however. They downgraded their lives and Reno was a child of the slums. She mostly took care of Reno and performed small odds and ends to gain extra gil, while Reno’s father worked in a canning factory. These new lives of theirs brought them into a depression. Reno’s mother was a very emotional woman where she completely adored her son or resented him for putting a damper on her career. She was never a particularly outstanding actress, however what she lacked in talent she had in beauty. Beauty did not and could not dominate her flights of fancy and mood swings ( which could be extremely severe ). Reno’s father became more and more dejected, and having his aspirations crushed turned him into a cruel and bitter man. Perhaps he had always been such.

Reno doesn’t know if his memory of his father is accurate, at least physically, for he saw the man for what he was on the inside . . a disgusting and rabid blob. After Reno’s mother left, his father became even worse. He did not love his son. He did not care about his son. There was a lot of emotional, mental, and physical abuse which transpired in the wake of his mother’s absence, and Reno survived due to his own actions. It wasn’t just the abuse he endured from his father, but also the cruelty of street kids who were older or larger than Reno. He left his father’s side at the age of thirteen, and two years later learned his father got in a tremendous amount of debt with powerful men.

Reno’s friends ( primarily gang members ) had informed him that his father was searching for him. He was half tempted to kill his father himself, but upon seeing his father, he wasn’t able to do or say any of the things he had dreamed of for so long. However Reno did snitch on his own father. The men his father owned money to rewarded Reno with a decent amount of gil, and Reno even witnessed his father being bludgeoned and hauled away. That was the last time he saw or heard of his father. He never heard of his mother after she left.

FAMILY.

For all intensive purposes, the Turks are Reno’s family. When anyone mentions family, he will only speak of the Turks. At first he forced himself to think of them as something close ( to replace the void in his heart ), but after trust was gained in a mutual fashion, he really does see them as family.

[ META ] + reno’s parents / family @stingslikeabee

#[ ⁰⁰⁵ ; READING YOUR CONFESSIONS LIVE ON AIR ]#* I usually like to explore this through storylines #* but this was a fun brainstorm #stingslikeabee #[ ⁰⁰⁴ ; EXPOSING THE WIRES IN MY HEAD ]

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unconventionalventblog · 1 year

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🚑

Well, this is wonderful. This started at 10:40 something at night, ended at 11:40 something at night. It’s currently 12:10 as I write this. Not sure how to feel.

So, to put it bluntly, my mother just had a drug overdose. I’ve heard of things like this happening, but this is the first time I’ve actually seen it. The fact that the first person I see it happen to is my mother, make it fucked up (I think).

Luckily, we (me & my father) called and ambulance and she’s headed to a hospital. Not sure if she’s gonna make it or not, hopefully so. Me and my father were gonna drive her to the hospital, but couldn’t get her off of the floor, so that’s when we called.

It was fucked up, seeing my mom throwing up in the bathroom. She could barely talk, and she couldn’t move much. She layed for a moment, but panicked and sat back up because ‘things were spinning’. I can’t image how terrifying that is. I was able to manage to get some information out of her, to help the medical services understand what happened.

I don’t think it was an attempted suicide, even though that does sound like something my mom would do. Unfortunately, the pharmacy couldn’t give my mother her new medicine prescription, due to medicaid/medicare (not sure which one it is) not being able to pay for it for another four days. I think she panicked, and decided to take her old medicine (which her doctor told her to stop taking) believing if she took enough it would help. She was slurring her words, but she managed to tell me she took 8-10 pills, and she did so in the afternoon. (Note : This is strange to me, because me and her were in the living room from 1:00 to 5:30. I never saw her take medicine out, nor take it. I’m not saying she’s lying, but the living room is small, I thought I would’ve saw it.)

The medicine my mom takes (I won’t say the name) is 1 mg per pill, and taking more than 5 mg is toxic. So, she took 8-10 mgs of medicine.

Not sure if I should be understanding or frustrated with my dad’s reaction to this. My mom told him how much medicine she took while throwing up, and his immediate reaction was to call her stupid. Gee thanks, dad, very helpful. That’s the worst thing you could’ve said. The only reason we knew it could be fatal was because I decided to google it quickly to find it out.

My dad’s reaction was selfish, maybe he didn’t realize. He seemed to only think of himself for a moment, instead of my literal drug overdosed mom on the floor. He only thought about how it would affect him, and make things harder for him. Which I understand, my mom doesn’t work. She stays at home and takes care of me, my dad’s the one who works. Her not being here will make it harder, but I’ve been on my own without her before. But his reaction was still bad.

Luckily, when I told him this could kill her, he gave a shit (thank god). He was the one who called the ambulance.

The police were okay. They did there jobs, though a little comfort would’ve been nice. The same things with the paramedics, though this one paramedic called my pet guinea pig ‘ugly but cute’. That made me laugh a little, so I’m grateful for that.

Afterall of this, I’m not sure how to feel. My mother has schizoaffective disorder, and has been diagnosed since 2021. She’s been hospitalized multiple times. I understand how an illness could affect you badly, but during these past 3 years (she first started have trouble during 2020) she’s stopped being a mother to me. She just lays on the floor all day, and it feels like I’m the one who has to take care of her, instead of the other way around (I think that’s what parents do, I don’t know). This may seem cruel to say, but I don’t really see her as a mother anymore, she’s more like some woman who just lives in our apartment. This doesn’t mean I don’t love her, I do, but she’s not the same person she was before. I know this isn’t her fault, as I have diagnosed PTSD and I know how badly mental illness affects people.

I don’t feel sad. Which makes me feel disgusted, I should feel sad for her. But after all the stress she’s put me under, I just don’t feel sad, only frustration because my own health has started to be affected by hers. Obviously, I hope she makes it though, she’s still my mom even if she doesn’t act like one. At the end of the day, she’s the one that overdosed, not me, therefore her health (as it has for these past 3 years) comes before mine (because she’s literally fucking dying right now).

Written On : 12:10 AM, to 12:35 AM. Friday, April 21 2023.

Current Song (I’m Listening to as a Coping Mechanism) : Message In A Bottle - The Police (Ironic, considering I don’t like The Police much.)

Current Emotion : Tense/Frustrated, but Calming Down.

Other Notes : I can’t breathe out of my fucking nose right now, and it’s driving me insane.

#tw drugs #tw drug overdose #mental health #🧭UnconventionalVents

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huge-enthusiast · 3 years

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Miraculous fic recomendations!!

This is just an excuse to show all my bookmarks? Yes. Yes, it is. I'm pretty sure most of this fics are really popular, but try see if you find something you didn't knew about!

All of the fics will be rated Teen and up audiences or lower. Also if I don't put the author's tumblr is because they didn't put it in the fic or/and I couldn't find it.

Pairing: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug

knowing you by emsylcatac (they are not really the author of the fic but that's the account that says in the fic, the actual author doesn't have an account).

After dropping their transformations months ago, Marinette and Adrien see each other for the first time after being apart. They've both left too much unsaid and have to work to pick up the pieces of their confused hearts.

Chapters: 1/1

Post-reveal but mostly ladynoir, light angst with happy ending.

the last day on earth by Reiaji

The first time Marinette sees Chat Blanc, she's fourteen years old. The second time, fifteen—the third time, seventeen.

The closer she grows to Adrien, the harder it is to save him.

Chapters: 1/1

Post-reveal lovesquare, kinda heavy angst, hopeful ending.

tell me something i don't know by carpisuns (@carpisuns here on tumblr)

Do you think it still means something? To love someone, even if the universe said you had to?

The odds of having a soulmate are about negative one billion (or something like that). But somehow, like they always have, Marinette and Chat Noir find themselves together. They’re ready to finally tell each other everything, but it turns out that even soulmates have to keep secrets, and while their bond draws them together, duty forces them apart.

Chapters: currently 17/28 (WIPs can be exhausting but this one is 100% worth the wait!)

Mostly marichat but almost all of the lovesquare sides make an appearance, soulmates au, mostly fluff but it can get angsty if it wants to.

One Thing After Another by SKayLanphear

Marinette notices that, sometimes, Adrien acts a little out of the ordinary--like the time he stood in a cardboard box for no reason, or when he actually hissed at Nino. It's only when she starts to notice the similarities between Adrien and a certain feline that she begins to get suspicious.

Basically, Adrien acts like a cat when he probably shouldn't.

Chapters: 15/15

Mostly adrienette with one sided reveal by Marinette's side, miraculous side effects (by both sides wich is really cool!), it's fluff with a lil tiny angst for drama.

This would take some getting used to by Codango (@codango here on tumblr!)

Adrien peeked out from behind the chimney even as the magic of his own Chat Noir mask fell away.

She was still visible, her dark hair bobbing under the street lamps a couple blocks away.

“Marinette.”

Adrien blew out a confused breath. His fiery Ladybug… was the quiet little mouse who sat behind him in class?

“What. The.”

This… would take some getting used to.

Chapters: 8/8

Adrienette with one sided reveal by Adrien's part, awkward flirting, just fluff, nothing to worry about.

comfort food also by Reiaji!

In Marinette's house, cooking is a language of love, and Marinette loves Adrien more than most.

Chapters: 1/1

Adrienette with a little of ladynoir, super super fluff, a lot of insight into Marinette's chinese heritage.

The right side of his face by walkingonthestars (@hamsternamedmarinette here on tumblr!)

Marinette and Adrien are able to remain in their new seats in the back of the room at the end of Chameleon.

Chapters: 1/1

Adrienette, fluff with light angst.

it's a long way forward so trust in me by aloneintherain (@captainkirkk here on tumblr!)

“You’re not the only strong one around here, Chat,” Marinette said. She looked a little winded, but she wasn’t struggling to hold him up.

This close up, he could see the freckles on the bridge of her nose. He could see how that smug smile lit up her eyes. He could feel the strain of her arms—and wow, okay, he really wasn’t the only person around here with muscles.

Six times Marinette carried Adrien (plus one time he carried her).

Chapters: 1/1

All the sides of the lovesquare! Fluff with LOTS of mutual pining.

a fight that you were born to lose also by aloneintherain

When the prosecution starts throwing around the word victim in reference to Adrien, he has to stuff his hands under his thighs to keep himself from bolting out of the courtroom.

Adrien had felt unsafe during those last few weeks, but, until he had woken up and seen Father silhouetted in his bedroom doorway, that had only been paranoia. Father was controlling and cold, but he wasn’t hateful. Adrien was isolated. He was often hungry. And some weeks ago, when he had snuck out to visit Nino, sitting thigh-to-thigh on his bed while Adrien cried in that silent, crumbling way of his, he hadn’t argued when Nino put a hand on his shoulder and said, tentatively, That’s abuse.

But Adrien remembers being small and Father touching his hair after he’d aced another test; Father holding his scribbled drawings like they were something precious, and framing them around his office; Father, dressed as Hawkmoth, his eyes wild behind the mask, lashing his sword against Adrien’s baton; Father, collapsed against Mum, crying into her ashy hair.

Adrien finds out Gabriel is Hawkmoth, and Gabriel gets to bring his long-waited plan into action.

Chapters: 1/1

This one doesn't really focus in the ship that much as is an Adrien character study and an exploration of his relationship with his father, but they're still there so I put them here. Really heavy angst (this is one of this fics that haunt me in the middle of the night) with a happy ending. ❗TW: parental abuse, eating disorders❗

Supercut by LNC

Marinette loves her friends and Adrien can't deal.

Chapters: 1/1

Post-reveal lovesquare, again light angst, an exploration of Adrien's insecurities, Marinette Dupain-Cheng deserves the world, happy ending.

Madame Snare by jettiebettie

“Sounds like a lot of work for nothing. She should take this as a sign to have a relaxing weekend with no responsibilities.”

“It's a lot of work she put her whole heart into. It wouldn't be right for it to go to waste,” Adrien whispers to him. The look on Marinette's face is enough to cause Adrien's own heart to ache. If anyone deserves the satisfaction and pride from a job well done, it's her.

“Too bad there isn't anyone else who can walk in those death traps,” Plagg says. Adrien hums in thought, tapping his chin.

“I could.”

Chapters: 1/1

Marichat, episode-based, Chat Noir in a dress!!!, light angst but it's mostly just idiots being idiots and a lot of fun.

in the same sun by peachcitt (@peachcitt here on tumblr!)

"It’s hard to believe that I saw you last at the peak of summer, when the sun was close and warm - and so were you. It should go without saying that I miss you. I miss you something terrible."

"It’s been seven months to the day since I’ve seen you. I wish you were here more than anything else."

Two letters, signed with initials instead of names, found in Paris, France.

Chapters: 1/1

Ladynoir, just angst, that's it, written like letters. No ending, just pain.

an uncurtain discovery by Missnoodles (@ladyofthenoodle here on tumblr!)

When he returns from school on Wednesday afternoon, Adrien discovers the darkness in his own home. He struggles to come to terms with it. To his utter mortification and delight, Ladybug is nearby to rescue him.

(He does not discover that his father is supervillain. That will happen on a different Wednesday.)

Chapters: 1/1

Ladrien, it says it's crack, and don't get me wrong, is super funny, but I also found it sad as fuck?

An Open Secret by Kasienda

Adrien whirled around toward Marinette. She smiled at him.

He couldn’t smile back. He stared at her like the dumb blond model that he was often accused of being.

Something shifted in her expression. And her warm open Marinette smile transformed into Ladybug’s grin. He was looking at Ladybug right now.

He knew Ladybug’s name!

Her name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

And he couldn’t say anything! Not to Marinette! Not even to Plagg, who had confided two weeks prior that Master Fu was growing increasingly paranoid since the location of his home and hideout had been compromised. Their master had apparently decided that Chat Noir and Ladybug would have to give up their miraculouses if they ever discovered each other’s identities.

It wasn’t fair!

...

A fic where they both know, but can't openly talk about it.

Chapters: 4/4

Post-reveal... but is it? Mostly adrienette and ladynoir, fluff with light angst and them being absolute idiots at hiding their secret identity.

golden (like daylight) by okayanna (@anna-scribbles here on tumblr!)

Friendship, Adrien decided, shaking off the mental image of Marinette’s hurricane eyes and hesitant mouth, parted in a small, careful “o.” He had a very strong friendship with Marinette. That was all.

Adrien thinks a lot about words, love, and Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Chapters: 1 + epilogue

Adrienette but has lots of ladynoir, another Adrien character study because I hate myself, it tries to not be angst but the writing will punch you in the guts and make you cry, it's so good.

Strangers in the Bright Lights by poodles (@ladybeug here on tumblr!)

Adrien is about two drinks in when he sees a girl at the end of the bar wearing black cat ears. It's kind of weird, so he watches her, and although it's crowded he can see her face when she turns around. She’s wearing a Chat Noir mask. He takes a quick look around- nobody else is wearing a mask. Just her.

Adrien finishes his gin martini and heads over to her. He could use some company tonight anyways, he hasn’t told anyone he’s back in Paris and Nathalie won’t arrive in town for another month. And it’s been a rough day, okay? A rough move! He’s not sure he wants to be back yet, and he spent most of the day in the Agreste mansion sorting through some photographs of his father he found in the study. Maybe he wants a drink and some stranger to tell him he’s pretty! That’s not a crime, is it?

Chapters: 1/1

Adrienette but it's also ladrien??? I think??? It's super super angsty but they're both drunk the entirety of the fic so it's also really funny.

Pick-Up and Chase by also SKayLanphear

After she accidentally trips into Adrien and apologizes about "falling for him," Marinette learns that he's no match for cheesy pick-up lines--whether they were unintended or not. And while she finds it flattering that he turns into a flustered mess with only a few words, Marinette comes to regret making him uncomfortable. That is, until she learns he's Chat Noir. At which point the phrase "just deserts" becomes a permanent fixture in her everyday plans.

A story in which Adrien is flustered, Marinette is smooth as glass at dropping lines, and Chat Noir gets the romance he was always asking for--even if he doesn't quite know how to handle it.

Chapters: 10/10

Adrienette with one sided reveal by Marinette's side, it doesn't say it in the tags but I'm pretty sure the characters are much older than they actually are in the show, so much fluff and so much flirting.

Pairing: Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe

Nino Has Done Nothing To Deserve This by GuardianKarenTerrier (@guardiankarenterrier here in tumblr)

It's nothing, really- just an innocent comment, a joke. But when they hear it, Nino and Alya come to a realisation.

There were, in retrospect, dozens upon dozens of hints. Now that they're suddenly aware of all their friend's flimsy excuses and rushed explanations, they're not only sure how they've missed it, they're not sure how anyone else has either. They realise that it had to be magic protecting their friends- and that same magic has ceased to work on the two of them.

Well, this means they'll just have to start watching over their friends themselves.

Chapters: 7/7

This is more a found family fic than anything else, Alya and Nino are the mom friend, has light angst but it's mostly identity shenanigans in the most bizarre way. ❗TW: eating disorders❗

christmas lights by demistories

Nino checks up and down the street, checking to make sure there’s no raging akuma headed his way before he crosses quickly and ducks inside the small café. He closes the door quickly before the icy air can blow inside and tugs his beanie down over his ears. He spots Alya sitting alone in the corner.

Chapters: 1/1

Just fluff!! Really short but really sweet.

hold on, i still want you also by Missnoodles!

Written for the @thedjwifizine ! Wich I also recommend if you wanna binge a lot of djwifi fics while also looking at amazing art!!!

Five times Alya ran into her ex, and the one time he stopped being her ex.

Chapters: 1/1

Light angst with a happy ending! I don't really like the ex-lovers to lovers trope but this one is the only exception.

I will continue to expand the list in the future! But by now I hope I was helpful in the search of new fics!

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princehrry-writings · 3 years

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Legal Guardian

ugh this took way too long lol, but here it is!!! i forget exactly that sparked this but i thought it was a cute idea.

warnings: injuries (nothing major), hospitals, cursing, harry being a protective dad 🥺, talks about adoption and legal guardians, crying

wordcount: 2481

harry styles x reader, stepdad!harry x reader, stepdadharry x oc!stella

masterlist

Stella gets hurt and Harry is the only one there- but he has no legal jurisdiction…

It all happened really fast. Harry can’t even recall how it started, but he knew very well how it ended. A sobbing Stella strapped into her car seat as he raced to the emergency room, frantically calling Y/n who was in a different state on a work trip.

The 5 year old didn’t understand what was going on, she just knew she was hurting… really bad. And that she wanted her mommy and daddy.

The traffic seemed to be working against him, getting in his way at the most inconvenient times, all the while he was trying to console his weeping daughter, crying out “Daddy it hurts so bad!” effectively shattering his heart into a million little pieces.

Stella had been playing happily in the backyard at home, showing off her wonderful dance moves to Harry who watched with an adoring smile on his face, taking little videos to send to his fiance, when suddenly she was laying on the ground, clutching her ankle, and crying for him to come get her. He rushed into action, not having seen her take the fateful step into what must have been a hole in the ground or something.

Screeching into the hospital car park, he stops somewhere he obviously wasn’t supposed to but he couldn't care less. His mind was racing. What if she broke her ankle? Or tore a ligament? What if she has to get surgery? All of this is what he worries about as he flings the back door of his car open, trying his best to appear calm for his daughter (but it’s not really working), and scoops her carefully into his hold, bringing her inside and shouting for someone to please help him.

A few nurses rush to his side, asking him different questions and asking for someone to “Page Dr. Robbins, tell her we need a peds consult.”

Stella is whisked away from him and before he can start to follow after her, a hand is placed on his chest, stopping him in his place.

“Sir, we can’t have you in the room with her. You’re not on her file as a legal guardian!” A doctor tells him. In that moment, he sees nothing but red, steam pouring out of his ears.

“The hell I can’t, I’m her father! I’m not going to let her sit in there all alone while strangers poke and prod at her!” He all but yells at the man. Harry is not violent. He really isn't. But he’s not afraid to lay somebody on their ass when it comes to his girls. With kindness or course. And maybe a black eye.

From the room she was taken into he can hear her crying for him.

“Wan’ my daddy! Daddy!” Harry didn’t think his heart could break any further than it already had but he was proven wrong by the ache in his chest that only grew stronger the longer he was kept away from his lovebug.

“Doctor, respectfully- if you don’t move the hell out of my way, I will move you myself. That is my daughter, and my fiance is in a different state right now on a business trip so I am the only parent she has right now. If you try to keep me from my child I will take legal action against the hospital and sue for everything you’re worth. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Harry is seething, trying to move past the man in the white lab coat and light blue scrubs. Again, he is stopped.

“I will call security, sir!”

“DADDY!” Stella is now screeching, her little voice hoarse from all the yelling and crying.

“Don’t you fucking hear that? She needs me, and you’re telling me I can’t go be with her! What the hell kind of doctor are you?” Harry is in the man's face, pointing at him vehemently. He doesn’t care that people are starting to watch the scene. Doesn’t care that some people have recognized him and are recording the ordeal. Let the people see him fighting for his family. He doesn’t give a rat's ass if his “image” takes a hit. His daughter is on the line and he won’t back down.

“She’ll be fine-”

“No she won’t! Go ahead and call security. My daughter needs me and you’re not going to stop me from being in that room with her.” With that he pushes past the doctor (who must be an intern or something with how he’s handling this situation) and rushes into the room where his baby is screaming for him. He’s at her side in a matter of seconds, wiping the tears from her face, peppering kisses onto her head, petting her wild hair back from her face, just consoling her in any way that he can.

How fucking dare they try to keep him from her, especially when she’s in a state like this.

“It’s ok baby girl, daddy’s here now. I’ve got you. You’re ok, you’re ok!” He mumbles into her hair, doing his best to stay out of the way of the people examining her but still close enough so she knows he’s right there with her.

Little tears still streamed down her face but she was much calmer now, her breathing more even and body less tense.

“Mr. Styles we’re bringing in the portable x-ray to take a look at her ankle, so you’re going to need to wear this.” He nods and takes the vest given to him, putting it over his shoulders like he sees the others do. A similar article is placed over Stella, who is clinging to Harry’s hand, fearing that she’s going to have to be without him again. But he promises he isn’t going anywhere.

As they’re taking the x-ray his phone starts ringing in his pocket and he checks to see that it’s Y/n calling him back.

“H, what’s wrong, is she ok?” Her panicked voice rushes out as soon as the call connects.

“We’re in the ER right now and she’s getting an x-ray to see what’s going on with her ankle-”

“You’re in the room with her right? She’s not alone?”

The little shards of his heart keep breaking into smaller and smaller pieces as her voice breaks.

“Yeah, I’m right next to her. Don’t worry m’love, she’s not alone!” He glared at the doctor that tried to keep him out as he said that, letting him know he hadn’t forgotten.

“I’m gonna facetime you so I can see her.” She said and he nodded, waiting for it to come through. When it did he quickly accepted it, seeing the love of his life’s face on the screen, with her puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks as she wiped away the remaining tears so she didn’t freak out her baby.

“Stell, mumma’s on the phone, she wants to talk to you.”

“Hi baby girl!” Y/n said as soon as Harry held the phone so Stella could see her mom. The little girl's tear stained cheeks looked exactly like her moms, and her heart broke for her baby.

“Hi mumma,” Stella pouted into the camera, clutching onto her daddy as tight as her little hand could. Harry was a little uncomfortable but he would take this over not being in here at all.

“How do you feel, baby? You ok?” She asked.

“My foot hurts and they wouldn’t let daddy in here and I was scared, but he’s here now so I’m ok.” The little girl rambled off. Y/n almost missed how she said they wouldn’t let Harry in the room but when it finally registered, she was fuming. Absolutely, royally pissed.

“What do you mean they wouldn’t daddy in there?” Stella shrugged and looked up at Harry for an answer. He brought the phone back so he could see her after looking around at the doctors in the room, all doing their job and pretending they weren’t listening to this conversation, but a few of them winced when Y/n asked her question.

“Some bloke tried to keep me out of the room while Stella was being examined but she was on the verge of a whole breakdown. It was like Disneyland in Paris all over again.” He said, referencing the time Harry took his girls to Disneyland while they were in Paris and Stella got separated from her mom and dad. She had never not been able to see at least 1 of her parents before. Needless to say… she didn’t handle it very well. Screaming, crying, and hyperventilating (which freaked her out even more- causing her to scream louder and cry harder) ensued very shortly, disturbing every person around her. But it made it easy for them to find her and she spent a very very long time clutching her tiny arms around her daddy’s neck, not letting him set her down for anything. That was an interesting trip to the bathroom …

“Why would they try to keep you out of the room? You’re her father!” Y/n was on the verge of popping a blood vessel. Of course the one time her baby really needs her, she’s hours away.

“Uh, Mr. Styles, I’m so sorry to interrupt! But the x-ray is complete. There’s no break, it looks like a sprain at worst. Also, about why my intern was saying you weren’t allowed in the room, not that I was listening to your conversation, with ped’s cases we typically only allow legal parents or guardians in the room and your name isn’t anywhere on her file or on her records so he was just trying to follow safety protocols. He didn’t go about the situation as well as he should have because we always want to make sure our patient has what they need and that was obviously you- but that is the reason why you initially weren’t let into the room. You’re not a legal parent or guardian. Based on your situation- you’re legally considered a step-parent and that title doesn’t come along with any legal jurisdiction.” Dr. Robins explained, in quite a few words Harry thinks, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Just sits and realizes that while for the better part of a year and a half, he’s been calling himself Stella’s dad but the whole he’s not been anything… not legally anyway.

Y/n realizes this too and makes a mental note to call their lawyers to do something about that.

“That makes sense… Thank you, Dr. Robbins! I have her mum on the phone, but you knew that, so if there’s anything else I legally can’t do, she’ll have to take care of it like thi-”

“Mr. Styles, we won’t tell if you don’t! Anything else that needs to be signed, we’ll just go ahead and have you do it. Save the hassle for everyone.” Dr. Robbins interrupts him and he smiles, silently thanking her.

“Daddy, what's a legal guardian?” Stella asks after a quiet moment.

“A legal guardian is someone who takes care of you because the law says they can. So because I didn’t help mumma make you and I came into your life a little later, I’m not a legal guardian of you. Not yet anyway.” He mumbles the last part but Y/n catches it.

“Does everyone have a legal guardian?” She hiccuped, rubbing at her eyes with the hand that wasn’t clutching Harry’s.

“At one point yeah, but once you get older you don’t need one anymore because you can take care of yourself.”

The girl pauses, thinking about her daddy’s words before muttering “Don’t wanna take care of myself. Wanna stay with you and mumma forever.”

All the little shards of his heart slowly start to piece back together.

“I want you to stay with me and mumma forever too lovebug.” He cooes. Y/n’s eyes light up, her gaze filled with adoration for her little family.

. * .

“The documents are all drawn up Mrs. Styles, everything is ready for your husband to sign.”

“Thank you so much Ben!”

. * .

“Baby, c’mere. Wanna talk to you about something.”

“Yeah mommy?”

Y/n took a deep breath, trying to quell the tears she could already feel threatening to fall. Her newly wed husband sat beside her on the couch, running his hand along her back and squeezing her shoulder and letting her know he was there if she needed him.

“Do you remember when you and Daddy had that conversation about legal guardians?” The woman asked, pulling her baby into her lap, brushing her hand over the girl's hair affectionately.

“Uhhh, kinda.” She murmured, curling into her mom.

“Do you remember what a legal guardian is?” Y/n rephrased, hoping to jog the girl's memory. Stella nodded and when prompted by her mother explained that “It’s someone who takes care of you until you're old enough to take care of yourself.”

“That’s right baby, very good!”

“And do you remember when we were at the hospital and that doctor was being mean, not letting Daddy into the room with you?” Harry chimes in, scooting closer to his girls. She nodded with a roll of her eyes and a huff of breath, causing a little giggle to erupt from her parents. She really is her mothers daughter.

“Didn’t like him.” She mumbles.

“Do you remember why they didn’t let him into the room?” Y/n asks, knowing she should probably get to the point before her little one checks out and gets bored.

“Cause daddy’s not my legal guardian.” Stella huffs again, rubbing her eyes and nuzzling further into her mom.

“Do you want him to be?”

Stella’s quiet for a moment, tapping her little finger on her chin like she’s thinking hard. “Yeah.”

“Yeah? You want that baby?” Harry asks, pulling her into his lap. The girl wraps her arms around his neck and lays her head on his shoulder, nodding.

“Yeah, Daddy. Want you to be able to come to the doctors with me.” She mumbles sleepily.

The tears Y/n had been fighting off finally broke through, despite her efforts. It’s official. Harry is going to adopt Stella and they would be a family in every sense of the word. No one would be able to take Harry's little girl away from him. All he had to do was sign the paper. Harry felt tears spring to his eyes as well, smoothing his hand along his baby’s back.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that…” He says, squeezing her a little tighter. Y/n snaps a quick picture before she snuggles into them.

“Love you Mommy, love you Daddy.” She murmurs before falling asleep in Harry's arms. Something that isn’t new, but feels different now for some reason. Things felt a little more official and he hadn’t even signed the papers yet.

#daddy? series #stepdad!harry #stepdad!harry x reader #dad!harry #harry styles x reader #stepdad!harry styles #harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles x singlemom!reader #harry x singlemom!reader #singlemom!reader #one direction

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im-poe-dameron · 2 years

Text

Chapter Ten

a/n: i'm aliivveeeee. so it's been a long time since i've dropped a chapter for this fic, but finally i feel ready to finish up a story i started a year ago. i certainly didn't mean to go this long without updating. i think i was stalling on actually finishing it. in the plan i set out for this story awhile ago, i only set it up for fourteen chapters. so after this one i will begin wrapping up storylines and such in the last four parts, but for now please enjoy this one! (side note: i had this chapter planned long before tbobf came out but i managed to match it up with the timeline.) we're also changing pov for this one for a majority of it, so it might be a bit confusing at first. it's not beta read or edited fully so there will be mistakes!

again a huge ass THANK YOU to everyone still reading and still sticking around for these two leather dorks. they're nearly to their happily ever after i swear.

NOTE: I got rid of all of my tag lists besides the one for this fic. you can see updates of other fics at my sideblog @moonlights-library!

summary: just when you think things are okay, the past decides to keep old wounds open and a different path altogether begins to make more sense for the two of you.

word count: 9.9k+

pairing: 1980s!din djarin x fem!reader

warnings: not explicit, cussing, angst, violence, mentions of vomiting, TW: ANXIETY, TW: PANIC ATTACKS, a makeout session, angst because it needs more than one warning, pain, a lot of tears. let me know if i missed anything!

He couldn’t breathe.

Felt like his inside were being pulled out slowly from within the longer he lay there on the bathroom floor. The scent of alcohol filled his senses – pungent enough to have him covering his nose so as to avoid gagging. Only to realize...the smell was coming from him. Ten minutes ago he had passed out on Poe's couch, a bottle of whiskey – your whiskey - beside him. Except after hours of drinking and attempting to forget what had happened, he woke up startled and ready to vomit.

“Fuck,” he groaned, forcing himself to sit up slowly and lean against the wall behind him. He mentally made a note to remind Poe about the size of his bathroom and couch. Not fit for a man bigger than six feet; he felt as if he was in a fun house, being squished in wherever he went.

A knock had him clutching his head at the noise, wishing that he could disappear altogether. Except there was no escaping the shit that he’d done. No taking back the words that spewed from his mouth like venom – striking his victim right in the heart and killing her on the spot. He could see nothing but your face every time he shut his eyes. The image of your expression from his actions – in all your furious beauty - continued to haunt him.

A ghost he never wanted to rid himself of.

“I brought you water,” Poe’s voice shoved him back into the real world, as a glass of water was put in front of his face. “Rey made you eggs. They’re on the kitchen table.”

He couldn’t say anything, as if his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. Who knows it might have very well been with what happened last night. Thanking Poe with a nod, he blinked back the haze of his hangover, trying to grasp onto the memories of what went down.

If there’s one thing he was nearly positive about - his nose was broken. Or at least bruised. He couldn’t tell - what with the pain of his headache spreading down to the very tips of his fingers and toes. Gulping down the water, he stumbled to his feet, getting ready to dunk his entire body in the shower. Only to realize...he had nothing to wear. No clothes or even some of his things packed, because they were back-

“Fuck,” he said, knowing the word was going to become a habit now that he had fucked up his life this bad.

The door swung open slowly, ominous in every way he didn’t want it to be, but he couldn’t help the fact that Poe was only helping him because he was his boss. Din wasn’t even sure Poe considered him a friend. At least not like he considered you a friend. Yet another memory of you had him ready to collapse back onto the floor, the ache in his chest worse than the searing pain in his head.

Once again he felt like he couldn’t breathe. A regular occurrence ever since you walked out of his bar one week ago.

“I’m heading down to the bar,” Poe said, tugging on his jacket and grabbing his helmet - still hesitant to even move around Din. He noticed. Poe didn’t think he did, but he noticed everything, even with a severe hangover.

Din nodded, collapsing onto the chair, the smell of food making him sick and hungry simultaneously. He couldn’t decide, but after the last few days of never being able to keep food down he shoved the eggs into his mouth. Forcing them down enough just to sate the constant hunger in his body. Except even he knew the hunger wasn’t for food, or for the alcohol he now drank like water.

It was for you. Always you.

He was starving for your touch, for your love, for everything you had given him - only to have it shoved back into your face. Din wanted to take it all back, wanted to spew his feelings for you in every way he knew how. But he couldn’t, because every chance he managed to work himself up to go see you he only saw his son. Screaming for his dad as he was taken from his home.

He shuddered, feeling the cold sweat break out on his skin as he continued to eat in the hopes that it would cease the pain. The breakfast really was delicious and he raised his head to thank Rey for doing this - only to freeze in place as yet another memory was shoved into his mind. A cruel trick his conscience pulled out just to have him pushing the plate away and reaching for the mug of searing coffee instead.

“I made you breakfast and you won’t even wake up to see it.”

The image of your face smiling down at him as he lay in bed, just barely stirring awake, returned to his mind and suddenly he couldn’t feel his heart. Couldn’t get air into his lungs as his body silently panicked. The anxiety spiking higher than he expected, because he had broken you – had taken your smile and twisted it until you couldn’t show it anymore.

He knew what he did; heard what your friend said over the phone about your condition and it was then that his body gave out on him. His stomach forced him to the bathroom before he was lying bloody on the ground, because...Poe had punched him. The memory finally broke through his hangover, showing up as clear as sunlight.

Touching his nose softly he winced at the pain, hissing as it went down his entire face.

“I wouldn’t,” Rey said, coming to sit beside him with a first aid kit in her hand. “He got you pretty good.”

He huffed out a laugh, choosing to ignore the way his stomach churned. “I didn’t even remember that it happened yesterday.”

“Well you did pass out after it,” she replied, handing him a small cloth with alcohol to clean up the blood. “Poe had to drag you to the couch with Paz’s help.”

He had passed out from being punched. He couldn’t remember the last time that happened, but in all fairness he drank enough whiskey to rival the regulars at his place. The smell of it still clung to his shirt and he figured he had spilled the bottle at one point. Rey didn’t comment on his state of being for his sake, but he noticed the way she glanced warily at him every few seconds. As if he’d combust right before her very eyes.

“I’m not going to break,” he mumbled, drinking more of the coffee.

She smiled tightly, handing him a bandage for the cut on his face. “I know that. I just - I’ve never seen someone go through a breakup that brutal before.”

He didn’t deserve her pity; didn’t deserve anyone’s pity. Not after what he did. Din figured it was best to walk right to the gates of hell and wait for them to take his soul, because he deserved to be there instead. Not here. Not in a kitchen that looked far too homey to be Poe’s – being served eggs as his wound was cleaned slowly. He wanted to cry, but the tears would no longer rise to the surface. Finally depleted after hours of sobbing in the bathroom until he could no longer get air into his lungs.

Yet he could only see your face. Imagine your sobs as you buried yourself into your room, refusing to leave because the pain was too great.

“I-” he coughed, swallowing back the ball of emotions that had lodged itself in his throat. “I broke her,” he mumbled, watching the steam rise from the coffee mug as Rey sat there regarding him and all his emotions.

What a sight he must be for her. Destroyed beyond repair with his own sanity held together by a single string that was quickly fraying. Slowly pushing him towards the edge of complete and utter darkness. He’d been there before. Knew the pain like an old friend who had come back to lay claim on his mind, and this time he was willing to give in. Ready to give up everything, because he’d pulled the trigger one last time.

Only this time he shot someone he shouldn’t have.

Hurt the love of his life and even he knew...there was no coming back from that. No apology he could give that would ever be good enough for you.

“She still loves you,” Rey said, sipping at what he guessed to be tea.

He scoffed, wincing at the pain that struck him. “I don’t think so anymore.”

She stood, patting his shoulder before grabbing her own jacket - black denim with a sunflower embroidered on it. A strike of yellow and he wondered if that was her favorite color, noticing how it seemed to pop up everywhere she was. His eyes wandered to the potted plant that sat on the windowsill - a mint plant, and it hit him that he didn’t know the people he considered to be his friends. Didn’t know much about Poe or even his friends, and never worried about learning those things, because...you had known.

“If she didn’t love you – she wouldn’t be in pain.”

The door shut softly, leaving him there – alone at the kitchen table as he mulled over her words. At the truth behind them. She was right. He knew she was right, and something grew in his chest. A feeling that he hadn’t felt since that night he watched a drunk woman try and get off the stool of his bar after having finished a bottle of whiskey on her own.

Hope.

Something he thought he lost a long time ago now returned to him, blooming in chest just as the plant before him did. Soaking in as much of it as possible in order to survive. Din inhaled deeply, wiping at the rogue tears that had fallen and stood up slowly from the chair. Knowing that he’d have a lot of changing to do before he was worthy enough to even grovel at your feet.

Let alone be lucky enough to feel even a sliver of your love again.

Walking – albeit slowly - towards the couch he dug through his discarded jacket until he pulled out his wallet. Immediately reaching for the small bent and faded picture he carried with him every day of his life. A moment in time he wished like hell he could go back to. Collapsing on the couch he grinned at the smiling image of his son, being lifted into the air as they played in the front yard of a house he no longer owned.

A picture he had one day wanted to show you.

Opening the rest of it he pulled out another image he carried. One that held no faded marks, no folds, because it was new. He reverently gazed upon it in the hopes that it would become his reality, instead of the one he currently resided in, but to no avail did that wish come true. So he remained there, sitting on the couch and breathing steadily through his nose to counteract the oncoming pain – staring at a polaroid image of you smiling at him.

Clutching onto that feeling of hope for as long as he could.

So he was an idiot.

Not the conclusion he thought he would come up with on a day like this, but at least he had settled on something to explain the way he acted. It had taken days of mulling over what exactly would happen if he re-entered your life, enough time to drive both Poe and Paz insane due to their impatience, and he had come to one conclusion. He couldn’t go back to you. At least not yet.

He realized that he had to come to terms with things in his life before he attempted to make things right. Which is how he ended up where he was. Standing outside of the bridal store while Paz went in to check on you, because he was too cowardly to go in on his own. Not while you were there, possibly ripping him to shreds with your words; something even he had to admit he deserved.

An hour of waiting, of pacing back and forth between his bike and the front of the building, and he was sure people were ready to question what his intentions were. He wouldn’t blame them. Even he was sure he looked slightly insane, what with his anxiety driven movements and wild hair from the amount of times he’d run his hands through it. He wanted to see you, more than he could comprehend emotionally, but he wouldn’t ambush you like this.

He could barely bring himself to step within a foot of the shop’s door.

It’s when Paz walked out nearly an hour and a half later did Din finally feel like he could inhale a full breath. Stepping out of the alley he had found a box to sit on, he waited for Paz to come towards him. That is until…he saw you. Standing there and hugging him, no doubt saying goodbye. He wanted to move his legs. Rush after you and beg for you to take him back; anything to earn a piece of your heart again. He nearly did just that.

What stopped him was the sight of you wiping at your eyes, crying silently to yourself before continuing down the street, vanishing before him.

He’d done that. He had torn a pain from your heart that had shifted into a prominently physical ache that never left. He knew, because you left him with the exact same feeling. You were right at the time. If anyone was a coward, it was him.

He couldn’t even go after you and apologize after everything – he knew that once he saw you, once he stood close to you, he’d be a goner.

“She’s going to the bar,” Paz said, jogging across the street – his attention more focused on not getting hit by a cab. “I told her Poe’s been there all this time and she’s going to – what happened to you?”

That seemed to be enough to shake him out of the stupor the mere glimpse of you had put him in. “What?”

“You look like you’ve been punched, again.”

Din shook his head, blinking back the sharp sting of tears. He’d been crying enough. Although even he knew…there wouldn’t be enough tears to get over the loss of you from his life. Never enough pain to endure in order to survive this. He wondered – what if you never came back. What if…you rejected him after he apologized to you? Would he be left as a hollow human being, stuck in the memories of days gone past?

“Just – just-”

“Saw her?”

He nodded, running a hand down his face. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

Paz grabbed his shoulder, stopping him from leaving so suddenly. “She didn’t see you so what’s the harm? This was for you to see that she’s okay.”

“Is she though?” He knew asking would only bring him more harm than good, but he had to ask.

He needed to get the question out more than he needed to breathe. Suddenly the old urge to smoke returned as the nerves jumped under his skin; it would surely calm him down, but he recalled the sight of you cringing at the scent of it. Smoking was something he did casually with friends years ago. Every now and then he’d pull one out (away from anyone who might see), but ever since you showed your distaste for them he found he didn’t like them as much.

How much had you changed about him without him even realizing? That didn’t matter either. Not to him. You could have asked him to give up his bar and leave the country with you and he’d have done it at the drop of a hat.

After all, you were his home now.

His life.

“She’s surviving.” Paz forced a smile, eyes telling a completely different story altogether. “Like you.”

Din wasn’t sure what hurt more. The sight of you barely holding it together, or the fact that you weren’t happy in the slightest. It seemed the pain that once greeted him as an old pal, now sliced through him deeper than before. Forcing him to watch as his own heart was cut out of his body and tossed on the floor right before his feet.

The truth of how he felt was on the tip of his tongue. How he wasn’t sure how to live now that you were gone. Whether or not he was simply breathing to exist or breathing for something. He’d been this way before, but nobody close to him now had been around to witness how lost he looked when he gave up his son. They wouldn’t understand that he knew where this pain led, what road he was currently on, and how he couldn’t stop himself from driving head on.

He could barely control the wheel at times.

Only now the wheel was gone, and he was trapped in the driver's seat, a witness to the destruction of his own life.

“I’ll be gone for a few days.”

He understood where he had to be; what should be done. It was now a matter of actually going through with it that troubled him. Would they be as understanding of his situation as everyone else had been? In a way…he hoped they weren’t. He hurt you. Took away all the good in your soul and replaced it with his own bitterness towards himself. If anything – he deserved to be reprimanded for his shitty behavior; finally told the truth about what kind of person he was.

“Do you need me to do anything?” Paz inquired, seeing the way his friend retreated back into his own head.

“No. Just – just keep an eye on her please.”

He nodded. “I will.”

Din watched the corner you disappeared around, hoping that maybe just maybe you’d materialize there once more. He wanted one more glimpse of you before he left. One last look to see that you were okay. Even if that was farther from the truth than he liked to admit. You weren’t okay – he knew that now – and he only wished you had turned around to see him.

Maybe then it wouldn’t be so hard to tear his eyes away from that empty street corner.

The drive out there remained one of his favorite parts when making this trip. Usually he took his bike, but the longer he stared at it in the garage, the more he felt himself begin to shrink away from it. You haunted him wherever he went. Each memory – plagued with something so sweet he was desperate for a taste. Yet every time he reached for it, the memory pulled farther away. Replacing itself with something far more sinister.

The image of you – broken.

So, he took the car and learned to get over it.

His hand gripped the wheel until his knuckles turned white; heart thumping an erratic beat in his chest with every mile closer to his destination. He tried to distract himself with music. The news. Maybe even AM radio. Nothing worked. What would she say? What hell would she put him through? Every question that was meant to be fleeting, stuck in his mind until he couldn’t think of anything else.

Sighing, he slammed against the button to turn the radio on. He expected it to be a steady stream of static – the same way he hoped his brain would be – but to his dismay he was greeted by a song. David Bowie played loudly through his speakers singing about…a Starman. He felt his chest seize at the memory of you, the smile you wore, the way you sounded when you were happy. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

Choking out a curse, he swerved the car on the empty road until it hit dirt and he found himself in the middle of an empty field. None of that mattered. Not when the song continued to play, growing louder with every second. Reminding him of what he’d done. How he fucked up everything good in his life over three little words.

“Fuck,” he wheezed, slamming open the car door and stumbling out.

Fresh air filled his lungs. He inhaled it so fast that it burned on the way down, but to him a little physical pain was good. The song still played, now in the background, as he sat on the ground, picking at the stray patch of wildflowers beside him. He couldn’t drive. Not until he could finally feel like his head was attached to the rest of his body. His hands shook, his heart still raced, and yet…he felt like he deserved it. Why shouldn’t he? After what he did.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, unashamed by the hot tears that fell down his face.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, but he saw the sun begin to drop into the afternoon sky, the heat from the sun now beating down against his skin. Stripping himself of his jacket, he tossed it in the backseat. There would be no need to wear it. Not until he was back in the city. He wouldn’t be showing up as Din Djarin the former Mandalorian; the bartender who left his life in shambles.

For now, he’d go back as someone he buried beneath all the grief he harbored. He’d go home as simply Din Djarin. A father to a son he could no longer call his own kin. Ignoring the ache in his chest, he pulled out of the empty field he managed to drive into and got back on the road.

This was a trip he planned long before he broke your heart right along with his own. He wanted to bring you back here. To this place that he once called his home. It wasn’t much, but every street corner was littered with memories he recalled so clearly they might have happened yesterday. He wanted to tell you about each and every one. Explain how there once lived a man who lived two lives. The first – a battlefield of blood, choices, and a brutality he never wanted to experience again. The second – now that was different.

He’d been a dad to a son who was just learning the world.

Sure, he may not have been his son’s biological father, but he was more of a parent to him than anyone else. If there’s a single choice he wished he could do differently – it wouldn't be that one.

He wouldn’t give up the title of father for the world.

Turning onto a deserted road, he stopped the car in front of a house that looked to be falling apart. Shingles from the roof were scattered on the ground and the porch seemed to have collapsed from some storm or another. Even with all the damage, Din could still spot the wooden swing hanging from the tree. The first thing he made to turn this house into a home was that.

A swing for his son.

He parked and got out. Unsure if he should even jump the small fence and take a look. This was where he wanted to take you the most. Against his better judgment he hopped over the already rotting wooden fence, landing in the wild grass that grew instead of the lawn he once had. Everything looked different and yet…beyond the decay and destruction, it was still his home. The walls still remained – holding memories he continued to cherish.

Tugging on the rope, he smiled as it held up even to this day. Reminding him of a time when he’d been a good man. He wouldn’t go inside. Not today. That trip would be saved for when he wasn’t held together by a few measly strings; when – hopefully – he’d have you by his side.

Instead, he sat in that, too small, swing and watched the sun begin to dip down beneath the horizon. Smattering brilliant oranges across the sky and turning the dilapidated home golden.

“I’m coming back,” he said softly, staring at the empty home. “And I’m bringing you.”

He’d made vows before – had broken them in the most reckless of ways. However this one…this one he’d keep.

It was dark outside by the time he reached her place. Really he should have felt bad, but even he knew she’d be up and moving around. There’s one thing he understood about Esmeralda. She rarely ever stopped working, even when there wasn’t much to do. The echo of a familiar fifties song filtered through the night air bringing a smile to his face. He knew this song – had danced to this song – and just like that he could feel some weight lift off his shoulders.

The ringing of the bell attached to her door announced his entrance. That was fine by him, he wasn’t in the mood to talk just yet. So, he took the nearest seat at a table and waited for her to come out from the back. All the while listening to The Drifters play on the old record player he had given her as an anniversary present.

“We’re closed,” she said, shoving a worn down pen in her hair and tossing the rag on the counter.

“Good thing I’m not here to eat,” he said, getting to his feet.

She turned, wearing a shocked expression – for a few seconds. It fell the second she got a good look at him, not wearing his jacket and resembling a person who hadn’t slept in days. That would be an accurate description, given that he barely got a few hours here and there since he started sleeping alone again – and on a couch.

“What did you do?” she asked bluntly; her hands resting on her hips.

Esmeralda might not have been his actual mother, but Din sure treated her like she was. Especially now. He’d only ever seen her look disappointed in him three times the entire time he knew her. When he agreed to work for Moff, when he gave up his son, and when he left for the city in the hopes of running away from his past.

Din’s facade collapsed, his expression now revealing everything he’d been through, how much pain he’d endured in such a short span of time. “I left the city,” he uttered, falling back into the chair behind him.

“I can see that,” she replied, gesturing to his car outside. “You only use that when you’re running.”

“I’m not-” He paused, shutting his eyes and recalling the hasty way he packed a bag before rushing out of the bar. Without saying goodbye. “I had to.”

She took the seat across the table. “You never have to run. You choose to – or'dinii.”

He smiled. “Is that your favorite word?”

“I lived surrounded by Mandalorians who chose to be foolish with their lives.”

“Just because I left doesn’t mean I’m foolish,” he said, unable to lift his eyes from the table.

“Is that so?” He nods in response. “Then where is your cyare?”

He noticeably flinches, clutching his hands together in the hopes that the question might pass him by. It doesn’t.

“She’s-” What should he say? He came here for a reason – to hear Esmeralda’s thoughts on the matter and yet he can barely get the words out of his mouth.

She nods, getting up from the chair and reaching for the half full coffee pot. “So you’re running from her.”

“I don’t want to,” he admits, knowing that he’d rather be with you than anywhere else.

“Then why are you?” He takes the mug from her, drinking it down like it was water – ignoring the searing burn.

“I-” The words were on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t want you to end up like his son, but even he knew there was more to it than merely that. There was always more when it came to you.

“You love her,” she says softly, watching several different realizations settle in his mind, finally clicking into place.

He nods, feeling the all too familiar sting of tears prick his eyes. “I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“She won’t.”

“They came for me,” he whispered, clutching the mug as if it were his lifeline. “They came for me and she was there. She could have died.”

Esmeralda sits silently, listening to him spill his entire heart on the table. All the broken pieces he liked to keep hidden away in a box – in the hopes that they’d mend themselves. Maybe if he hid them, he wouldn’t have to deal with them. Only that’s not how it works. He knows that and still – he refused to let anyone see how much of a fragmented man he was. He refused to let you see.

“Din,” she said, reaching for his hand, loosening his grip on the mug. “Your cyare is not your son.”

He exhales, allowing a few tears to slip free. “I know.”

“Then why do you treat her as such?” Refilling his mug, she leans back in the chair. “You forget – we’ve met. I do not see a helpless person beside you when I see her, I see someone who loves you.”

He knows she’s right. Somehow he knew you loved him before you uttered the words, because the way you looked at him was the way he looked at you. The way he’d always look at you. There wouldn’t be a day where Din wouldn’t love you and yet he still broke your heart. He watched you walk out of his bar – with the intention of never coming back.

“I can’t return,” he said. “Not yet.”

“I know,” she replied, setting her mug down on the table. “You have to see him.”

Din nods, letting go of the mug and running a hand down his face. “I need to know he’s safe.”

“They may not let you see him.”

Again he nods. He knew that visiting with his son wouldn’t be a possibility, but just a glimpse of him would have to do. Enough to keep at least some part of him stable. Esmeralda patted his shoulder, giving him some form of comfort before turning off the lights and locking the door.

“You will sleep on the couch for the night,” she said, leading him upstairs and tossing her apron on the kitchen table.

“Thank you.”

“You can stay as long as you promise me one thing.” Turning towards him, she handed him a wooden box – a name carved in the front that he’d done himself years ago. “After you see him – after you give him this – you go home.

“Esmeralda-”

She shakes her head. “You. Go. Home. You return to your cyare and give her the love you’re too afraid to show. Do you promise?”

Promises were a dangerous thing to keep. Far too lethal for anyone to hold onto for very long – a thing that he had failed at – and yet…he had to. He knew that to not keep this single vow would leave him with an unhappy life. Running his hand over the engraved M on the box, he knew that it was time to finally stop ignoring his past. The excuse that it was to protect you no longer worked and he knew that you wouldn’t want him to forget a piece of himself.

Possibly the most important piece.

“I promise,” he said.

Two simple words that would determine his fate sounded terrifying in the long run and yet they were so easy to say. Was this how you felt when you dared to say those three little words? It must have been.

“Goodnight,” Esmeralda said, shutting her bedroom door, leaving him to sit on the couch and think.

That was the thing though. He was tired of thinking. Exhausted from the words his mind conjured up, but there would be nothing more to do. Not until he finally came to a single conclusion. Does he continue to run as he always had? Or…does he go back to you? Even though he asked himself both questions, he knew there would only ever be one answer.

One conclusion for his story.

THE NEXT DAY

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck- He felt like his insides were being cut open. Din Djarin rarely got nervous about situations, having been put in all sorts of predicaments all through his life. He didn’t get nervous because he was always prepared. There would always be two options for how things played out. Good or bad. Simple and easy. Except now he felt like he was going to pass out the longer he sat in his car outside of a house grander than anything he could afford.

The box sat on the seat beside him, staring him in the face – reminding him of why he showed up in the first place. This wasn’t for him. This was for the little boy that was old enough to hold a memory of him; that saw him as a dad. He may not get to see him, or even get a chance to give him this, and yet…he was okay with it. Just knowing he remained safe – away from his life – was enough for him.

“Okay,” he breathed, grabbing the box and finally getting out of the car.

The walk to the front door felt miles long and yet somehow he was standing on the porch within seconds. Din felt his heart race, the nausea from earlier returning to rear its ugly head. Still he clutched onto the box. Tracing over the M with his index finger to keep some level of calm through the encounter. A part of him hoped he’d finally get a chance to see his son, to say hello and yet…he was terrified.

Would he recognize Din as his father?

Would he care?

Din exhaled, rapping his knuckles on the door. “C’mon.” To his detriment and relief, the door opened, revealing the man he gave his son to. “Hello,” he said, trying not to allow the shakiness to enter his voice.

“Hello. Din right?”

He nods, extending his hand. “I was hoping – well actually if it’s okay. I’d like to see him.”

He watches the man – hesitate and feels his heart begin to sink down to his stomach. Of course he wouldn’t be allowed. It had been a possibility since the very beginning, and yet he still felt like this entire situation was unfair. Sighing, he tried to fight back the bitterness that ate away at his heart. He didn’t think of what Esmeralda would tell him, what anyone else’s advice would be at a time like this. He thought only of you.

What would you do in a situation like this?

“I had something made for him when he was younger. If it’s okay – could you give it to him?” he asked, extending the box.

“I wish we could allow you to see him, but the court said once he was given to us-”

He nods. “Just tell him that this belongs to him. It’s his. Not mine.”

Letting go of the box felt like he was ripping a piece of his own skin off. He knew there would come a time when things would turn out this way. A perfect life is never allowed to remain perfect for long. Even if it was less than he hoped. Eventually – things would fall apart and there he was. Standing knee deep in eventually. His life wasn’t perfect – far from it – and yet somehow that too managed to crash and burn around him.

“I will.”

For a second, Din heard a laugh echo from the back room. One he knew better than his, better than yours, and it caused him to nearly run into the house. There was his son. Sitting feet away with a wall between them and he still couldn’t see him. Thus were the consequences of his actions, and so – he allowed the door to shut as he walked back to his car. He thought he’d be worried, but for the first time since you left, he felt okay. His son was safe, laughing.

That’s all he could ask for – right?

He shut the car door, unable to move for a few minutes as he allowed the stress to leave his body. Every muscle of his ached beyond belief. No matter how many painkillers he took, it came back with some sort of fucking vengeance and now…he was feeling it in full. Groaning, he leaned back, flipping on the radio. He’d give it a few more minutes until he began driving back. For now, he just needed a small moment to catch his breath.

Except he kept retreating back into his own mind, digging around for something that kept popping up. A realization he didn’t ignore. He had wanted you here with him, for this especially. He wanted you to meet his son. Finally see the other side to the man you loved, and somehow – the realization made the hold in his chest larger. He relinquished the last thing he held that reminded him of his son, giving way to a much darker conclusion.

His greatest fear in life somehow came true in the end.

He was alone.

Changing the station, he paused at the song that popped up, recognizing it immediately.

“I can tell – that your soul has lived a life worth remembering.”

Your words played through his mind, as Fleetwood Mac sang about brown eyes that you believed to be about him. For a moment, he pretended that you were here sitting in the seat next to him. He thought about how you’d laugh, call it fate, and demand he turn the volume up. He thought about that night. How you broke down his walls with only a few words.

He thought about anything and everything and suddenly…he didn’t feel so lonely anymore. Somehow you were still here with him even when you weren’t. He wondered if the song playing as he drove out of his parking spot and down the street was actually fate. The universe telling him that he may have fucked up everything now, but things would fall back into place.

Eventually.

The car he borrowed from Paz rolled to a stop directly outside of his bar. While the headlights illuminated the building, showing that Poe had clearly locked up for the night, he still felt like there was someone there. Maybe he’d officially lost it. Yeah, that was it. He lost his fucking mind the second you left, and now to make up for the hole in his chest, he imagined you as the ghost that haunted his bar.

He didn’t want to be here. Not at this time of night, but after staying with Esmeralda for a few days he came back to talk to you. Granted the conversation happened through a door, but he still heard your voice. He felt your presence and for the first time in a while, he felt whole again.

Now he was back. Staring at the empty bar a week after talking to you, because he was what? Finally ready to reopen the place? Ready to be the man he was before you left? He didn’t know at this point, but after sitting in Poe’s living room alone for the third night in a row, he had to get out of there. So, he got in a car and drove. There was no designated destination in his mind. He just drove, in the hopes of clearing his mind.

Only to wind up here.

“Better late than never,” he mumbled, checking to see if he brought his keys with him to actually get inside.

The sooner he opened that door, the easier it would be to finally return home. He didn’t like how vacant the bar looked. It’s why he avoided coming here in the first place, but even he knew. The longer he stayed away, the more he ran and he made a promise to Esmeralda that he wouldn’t run anymore. He couldn’t. Not when he finally revealed every ugly part of himself to you – each scar, blemish, and wound was now yours to see.

He was done barring you from his past.

Not when you were his future.

Unlocking the door, he shoved the keys in his pocket, preparing to get straight to work and restock shelves. Only to stop mid-step at the sight of someone sitting at the bar. In your spot. She ran her finger along the edge of an empty whiskey glass – the very same one he used for you when you used to sit there. He didn’t move, knowing that if she was here, the rest of them weren’t far behind.

“Tell me…Romeo,” she drawled, picking up a bottle set in front of her that had a rubber-band around it holding the bills you both bet on. “How much do you love your precious sweetheart?”

“Get the fuck out of my bar.” He didn’t want to entertain her games anymore. Didn’t want to give her a fucking chance to even rile him up.

She smiled, getting up and setting the bottle harshly on the bar. “I asked you a question.”

“And I gave you an order.”

“Oh – an order?” Her boots echoed on the floor, a small clicking sound of metal against metal echoing around her as she pulled a knife from her pocket. “I remember when you gave me orders of a different…variety,” she whispered, inches away from him.

He kept his mouth shut. What he and Xi’an had was a fling. A mutual understanding that there were no feelings involved, nor would there be, and when he left she understood that. Only now there he stood, watching her scrape the edge of her knife lightly along his jacket.

“Leave,” he said, standing rigid against her playful exterior.

“I just want to know one thing,” she whispered, cupping his cheek. “Did you love me more than you love her?”

Reaching up he gripped her wrist tightly, watching as she winced from the pain. He didn’t incite violence unless necessary. Except for right now. He wanted to hurt her, because she had hurt him in turn. She threatened his calm that he had with you and now…she dared to step foot back in his bar. Leaning down, he visibly watched her shrink herself away from him, tugging on his hold to free herself.

“I will never love anyone the way I love her,” he spit out.

He didn’t flinch when her knife pressed against his throat, didn’t give her a chance to see him with fear in his eyes, because he wasn’t afraid of her. He knew her. How she continued to win the favor of everyone around her for years. The strong exterior she put up day after day – the anger she felt – all of it built up until one day…she snapped.

“I could kill you right here,” she said, eyes narrowing at his eerily calm exterior. “Then what would she do? Without her precious Mandalorian to protect her? I could have some fun with her.”

That got his attention.

Biting out a cuss, he pushed back against the knife, feeling it prick the skin of his neck. “You touch her and there’s nowhere you can go to hide.”

She laughs with glee, finally finding the string she could pull until he snapped. “What are you going to do? Protect her? Like you did your son?”

A shout tore from her chest as he wrapped his hand around her throat and shoved her back until she was pressed against the bar. The edge of it digging into her shoulders. His level headed behavior had been abandoned, leaving someone he thought was gone. He’d taken lives, been on the receiving end of a gun and the one pointing it. Which is why he felt okay pressing down until he cut off her airways, watching her panic slowly when she quickly realized – she might die.

“I’m not going to repeat myself,” he breathed.

Loosening his grip he allowed her a second to breathe, feeling merciful. “You really love her,” she choked out.

“She means more to me than you will ever know.”

“What a shame,” she said, bringing her knee up and slamming it into his thigh.

He stumbled back, blocking the knife she chucked at him with his arm. If she wanted a fight, he’d give it to her, but there was one thing she had an advantage on over him. When enraged, Xi'an was someone who could kill you in seconds, her speed and skill all counting on that sole emotion. Moving out of the way when she sent a kick his way, he tried to do nothing but block her attacks.

If he managed to get behind the bar, he could reach for his gun, but it seemed she knew exactly what he was trying to do. With a cry of fury, she leapt at him, slicing a cut down his side with her blade.

“You should have loved me,” she spit out as he tried to throw her off.

One wrong move and he was gone.

One wrong move and she held the upper hand.

He didn’t see her fatal strike coming, and within seconds she had gotten to her feet and slammed her boot against his face. For what felt like a mere minute, he couldn’t see straight. Spots clouded over his vision as he heard her moving around him. She was saying something, but he was unable to make it out clearly due to the ringing in his ears. Had she hit him more than once? He couldn’t tell.

“It was nice knowing you Mando,” she whispered above him, pressing her lips to his cheek softly before he audibly heard her walk away.

The door shut behind him loudly, followed by complete and utter silence. That isn’t what unnerved him. It was the smell of whiskey that seemed to bleed from the very walls around him. Stumbling to his feet, he tried to shake the disorientation away, but to no avail it continued to cause him to remain dazed. She had hit him right where she knew he’d been seriously injured before.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hitting the wall.

What the fuck had she done? Why did he smell whiskey?

He didn’t have time to process the situation, because outside he heard it. The soft flick of a lighter with a light caressing against her face as she lit a cigarette. Forcing himself to remain stable, he finally managed to right his vision as the sight of the bar came into view. He knew why he smelled whiskey, knew what she’d been doing while he was down on the ground, and he couldn’t do a damn thing to stop her.

“No,” he said, locking eyes with her and watching in abject horror as she threw the half finished cigarette through the broken window. “No!”

Moving forward, he tried to rush at her only to fall back to the ground, his head throbbing from the pain. Orange overtook his vision, as the whiskey she had poured on the floors – caught fire, beginning to engulf his home. The only place he could call his. Within seconds, everything he built, everything he tried to protect was now being burnt to the ground.

Turned to ash literally before his very eyes.

He tried to get up, stop the fire from catching even further, but he was almost positive she gave him a concussion.

Only when the heat became too much to bear and he began to choke on the smoke, did he get up from the ground. He faintly heard the echo of sirens heading his way. Firetrucks to come put out the fire. How long had he been on the floor? He kept going in and out, trying to stay conscious enough to get out. Flinching away from the tall flames, he somehow managed to get to the bar, grabbing the first thing he could think of.

The bottle that sat in the middle of it all.

Your promise.

A wave of nausea came over him, stirring his insides painfully. It forced him to stop and lean against whatever was near him, but even he knew – he had to get out of there. He had to find you; protect you. A shout came from outside, asking if anyone was in the bar. That wasn’t what made him move. It was the sound of your voice, echoing from outside. Screaming his name.

Grunting through the pain, he stumbled towards the door, feeling a slight burn prickle his skin when the flames began to catch on his jacket. He wanted to collapse, give up the continuing fight he had to go through. Except he couldn’t. Not when he could see you through the haze of smoke, sobbing in Poe’s arms.

He remembers calling you, remembers you running into his arm and finally feeling like he could breathe again when your lips pressed against his. He even remembers telling you those three little words that had fucked up so much in his life.

Three words he meant with everything he was.

CURRENTLY

Keeping an exhausted and thoroughly done bartender awake was a lot harder than you anticipated it would be. He willingly got into his car with you, followed you to your apartment – albeit a bit too quietly – and now sat at your kitchen table. Nursing a glass of whiskey from the bottle you bet on. You weren’t sure if you wanted to check his pulse to see if he was still alive, or start gathering ingredients to perform a spell that would bring him back to life.

He sat there, staring blankly at his glass, without saying anything. You weren’t normally one to be worried about this man, but the way he looked, haunted, completely broken, had you gnawing on your bottom lip, your body riddled with worry. Dragging a chair closer to him, you placed a hand on his shoulder to try and snap him out of his trance.

“Din?” you asked softly, smiling briefly when he finally raised his eyes.

He wasn’t dead.

“Is there anything I can do?” You wanted to rip all the anguish from his body. Give him a feeling of hope that you knew to be gone, but all you could do was sit there. Offering him some sense of peace while he grieved for a life he spent so long building.

“No,” he replied, letting go of the glass to reach for your hand. “I should sleep.”

You gripped his hand, stopping him from getting up. “You have a concussion Romeo. You can’t sleep.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“Maybe, but not while you were with me. I’m not letting you leave me so soon. Not after I just got you back.”

He collapsed back in the chair without question, wincing as the gauze you wrapped around his waist pulled at his wound. “Yes ma’am,” he mumbled, grinning at your expression.

Somehow, after everything that happened, he could still smile. He could give you a glimpse of the Din you loved. You wanted to kiss him again, just for the sake of kissing him, but something held you back. Reminded you that…he may have apologized but his words still rang clear as day in your mind. They hadn’t stopped since he said them. Maybe it was ridiculous of you to be so hurt by them except you couldn’t allow yourself to be hurt beyond repair again.

You wouldn’t go back to that version of yourself, because surviving it a second time wasn’t possible.

“How long should I stay awake?” he asked, running his thumb along your palm.

“Paz told me that an hour max? I’m not sure I’ve never had a concussion before.” Scooting closer, you ran a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck, smiling when he tilted his head back in order to lean into your touch.

He sighed, letting his eyes slip close. “Can I go lay down?”

“You can lay down,” you laugh, getting up from the chair.

The concussion may not have been as bad as you thought it was, but you weren’t taking a chance. So, you’d make a cup of coffee and keep yourself up all night. Just to make sure he’d open his eyes the next morning. He had been back in your life for a few hours and already he was making your heart flutter with just a look. You watch him smile, his eyes opening to once again show you that brown you were so attached to. The very same eyes that haunted you when you were apart.

“C’mon.” Your words coax him out of the chair, the grip on his hand never slipping.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, stepping closer until the tips of your shoes touch his. “Can I kiss you?”

You said yes without a moment’s hesitation. You said it because there was no need to pause and think about whether or not you should be doing this. The both of you barely talked about what happened. The majority of your conversation happened through a door, which didn’t help matters. Why did you say yes? Why did you feel okay letting him back in your life so quickly?

There would be no other options when it came to him.

You said yes, because you love him.

His hand slid up your arm gently, cupping your neck to drag you forward and press his lips against yours. This wasn’t like the other times when passion took precedence and the heat was too much to bear. This was…soft, tender, by all means reverent. He kissed you like was terrified of losing you again. He very well might have been, you wouldn’t know unless you asked him, but it seems that he read your mind.

Gasping, you cupping his face to kiss him further. A hard press of your lips to his, your tongue sliding against his until the familiar curl of heat began in the base of your spine. Until the fear melted away, leaving in its wake a need you had missed every passing day. You weren’t sure who started it, but his hands found your bare waist, dragging beneath your shirt as he walked forward.

One more step and your back was pressed against the wall, his thigh slotting into place right between your legs. It felt comfortable – familiar. So, why did a part of you start screaming? Why was your mind going haywire the longer you kissed him? You shoved those worries down, choosing instead to dig your teeth into his bottom lip and tug at his sharply. Eliciting a wanton moan from him.

“I missed you,” he breathed, placing wet open mouthed kisses down your neck.

Your hips shifted involuntarily right as his knee came up to grind perfectly against your cunt, forcing a whine from your lips that he swallowed with a kiss. You wanted to get his shirt off, to drag him back to your bed and let him show you how much he missed you. Except then his hand slid down your stomach, reaching for the button of your pants and the warning bells grew to a crescendo you could no longer ignore.

“Stop,” you gasped, grabbing his wrist and yanking it away from your skin like he had just burned you. “Stop.”

He fell back the second he heard you say it the first time, his eyes wide and body still as you practically collapsed against the wall to catch your breath.

“Sweetheart?” he asked, lifting his hands in a move that made you feel like a timid animal he was approaching. You didn’t want to feel this way. You wanted to give into the lust that still played in your veins, but you couldn’t rid yourself of those fucking words.

“I just-” There was no use fighting back the tears of anger. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I-”

You wanted him to say something, tell you how he felt, tell you that your nerves were misplaced, but he remained silent. Watching you with a look you couldn’t read. Wiping furiously at the wave of fresh tears, you reached out for him. This wasn’t how you thought the night would go, how you expected it to go, but that night – his words – they continued to play on a loop. They were a broken record you couldn’t fix.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked softly, taking your hand.

“That I can’t… I want to but I-”

His face fell. “Don’t apologize,” he said, stepping closer. “Don’t apologize for any of it.”

“But-”

“No.” You thought he would fall into your arms, hug you tight enough to push all the bad away, but to your surprise – he sank to his knees. “You’re not the one who needs to apologize.” Pressing his face into your stomach, you felt the wetness of his own tears.

“Din.” Tugging on his hair to see him, you felt the last bit of strength you had left – fall away.

Holding your hips, he pressed a kiss to your stomach, your sternum, right above your heart, until he reached your lips once more. With every kiss he placed on your skin – he whispered apologies. For everything he had done, all the things he didn’t tell you, all the words he should have never said. He apologized for it all, bringing more tears to your eyes.

“I should have never let you walk out,” he said, leaning his forehead against yours.

If there’s one thing you knew, it was that the man standing before you was it. Your future. There didn’t need to be anything said between you, because he knew just as you did. You made mistakes, you allowed things to get between you, but at the end of it all there you were. Two survivors of your own fate.

“I would have put up a fight,” you whispered, knowing that you’d have been the first to break his nose if he ran after you.

He smiled. “Good. I deserve one.”

“Maybe.” Taking his hand you tugged him behind you until you stood in your room. “But for now – sleep?”

He nodded, pressed one last kiss to your forehead, before he clambered into bed beside you. Clutching your hand tight enough to hurt. You didn’t mind the pain though. Not when you spent every night alone here, aching for him to be beside you – for his touch to be the first thing to wake you up.

“I love you,” he murmured, kissing your hand and bringing it to his chest.

Smiling, you enjoyed the slight flutter of your heart as you watched him settle in for the night, his eyes slipping closed and body relinquishing to the hold sleep had over him. All the while, repeating those words in your head. He loved you. Din Djarin – loved you. There was a certain giddiness that came with knowing that truth. One you wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

Kissing his nose, you felt him smile slightly. “I love you,” you breathed, knowing that nothing truer was ever spoken, than those three little words.

Black Velvet Tags:

@keeper0fthestars @remmyswritings @weirdowithnobeardo @captain-jebi @diogodxlot @mando-amando @fan-of-encouragement @bewitchedbodyandsol @leaiorganas @ezrasarm @elinedjarin @mandocrasis @bendro-pascarnes @eloriadjarin @deadhumourist @w1nt3r-s0lst1c3 @spideysimpossiblegirl @saucerful-strange @caesaryoulater @amidalaraan

#din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin #1980s!din djarin #pedro pascal #din djarin one shot #din djarin series #black velvet #my writing

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