#I agreed to watch alien with her because she’s always asking and I’m a baby and always say no | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

supercorpkid · 3 years

Text

Extraneous Variable 3

Error: n3

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Alex Danvers x Niece!Reader, Kelly Olsen x Niece!Reader

Word Count: 3120.

“What the actual fuck!”

“LANGUAGE!” Kara scolds Alex, pointing at you. “My kid is here!”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but WE ARE KIDS TOO!” Alex runs to the front of the mirror, and you get out of her way. “This can’t be true! I’m gonna kill Brainy!”

She marches to the door looking like she will absolutely kill him. You wonder if you should do something, but Brainy can protect himself, besides you’re not a superhero anymore. You look at your moms. Kara and Lena are staring at each other, so shocked, nothing leaves their mouths.

“Moms?”

Kara seems to be the first one to come down from her shock. “I’m you! I’m about your age!”

“Yep! We’re one in the same.” You agree with a big smile. Alex is close by, yelling at Brainy to reverse this mess. You try to ignore her.

“That’s so cool!” Kara holds Lena’s hand, who still hasn’t said a word. “Love, I’ve always wanted to know you as a teen. Hey, now we can say that we have! And, YAY, I’m going to kiss you as a teen.” Kara’s face goes towards Lena’s, who sleekly moves away. “Lena!”

“Nope.” Your mom finally lets out. “You’re her. I’m not doing that, it’s weird.” She points at both of you and sits on the chair that is closest by. Her hands cover her face, and she lets out an exasperated sigh. “I told you not to mess with alien tech. Look what you've done.”

“I didn’t do this! It was Brainy.” You defend yourself, pointing at him instead.

“In my defense, I’m just trying to undo the mess you made.” He also ignores Alex for the sake of defending himself.

“Well, you’ve made more messes than I have now.”

“Only if we look at this numerically.”

“How else would we look at it?”

“You star-”

“STOP IT!” Lena yells, making everyone in the room flinch at the sound of her teen voice coming out so loud. “Both of you, stop it! I have a damn company to run and how the hell am I supposed to do that looking like a teenage girl?”

Kara opens her mouth, but before she has a chance to speak, Lena snaps at her again.

“Kara, I swear to GOD if you say ‘language’ right now, I’m going to curse in five different languages!”

“Someone’s a moody teenager.” Alex mutters and you hold your laugh, biting your lip, knowing damn well not to add into Lena’s moodiness.

“I think I can-” Brainy starts.

“NO!” Alex slaps his hand away from the piece of tech. “Do not touch that again.”

“But-” He tries.

“NO!” Kara yells protecting the tech with her own body. “I’m scared you might turn someone into a zombie next and they’ll come for me.”

“In that case, you don’t have to worry. Zombies eat brains, so you’re safe.” Alex looks at Kara and you look to the other side trying to hide your laughter again. Aunt Alex as a teen is way too funny.

“Hey!” Kara interjects.

“I just have to-” Brainy starts again.

“NO!” It’s Lena who says it this time. “You heard them! Step away from the alien tech. Actually, can we all get out of here and leave it for the kid to figure this out?”

“You know, you can’t call me ‘kid’ anymore. I think I’m actually older than you are, right now.”

“And I am actually still your mother, so you better find a way to reverse this, or you will be in deep-deep trouble, young lady.” Lena says and you drop your head low. Why is she still so scary even looking younger than you?

“But if the 12th-level intellect can’t find the solution, what chance do I have?”

“Well, you have the motivation.” Lena smiles at you, blinking her big green eyes at you. “Find the solution, don’t get grounded for messing with alien tech when I specifically told you not to.”

“Touché.”

“But how is this even possible?” Kara says, counting something on her fingers. She looks around confused. “We’re not all the same age, yet-”

“I have neither the time, nor the crayons to explain this to you.” Alex says and this time you can’t hold your laugh anymore. You wheeze out a laughter and Kara furrows her brows at you in response.

“You don’t know, do you?” She asks Alex, who denies with her head.

“No idea.”

“Ok, that’s it. Everyone out of this lab. Let’s all wait upstairs.” Lena points outside and you watch Brainy, Alex and Kara leaving with their heads hanging low.

“But I need help.” You mumble, but are left unanswered. You don’t know if they didn’t hear you or are just choosing to ignore you for the sake of Lena not yelling at them.

“So, we’re not gonna kiss?” It’s the last thing you hear before the door closes behind them.

“KARA!” Actually, that’s the last thing before you find yourself all alone in your lab with the alien tech in front of you.

It’s not that you’re scared of it, but yeah, being a baby and then a boy wasn’t the best experience in your life. Now your moms and aunt are teens. One is moody, the other is a sarcastic queen, and the other one is… Just… Kara.

You: Need help. Brainy turned our moms into teenagers.

Jamie: WHAT! OUR moms? This is gold!

You: Yeah, well, Lena is still scary as a teen, so I need a solution ASAP. Help. Please?

Jamie: Don’t know how I can help, but yeah. Sure. On my way now.

Jamie shows up some time later. You try to fill her in on what’s going on. She can’t stop laughing. Seriously. She can’t be stopped.

“I’m serious!” You roll your eyes at her reaction. “This is bad! Really bad.”

“I know. I wish we had popcorn.” She jokes, grabbing her phone in her pocket and going to the lab door. “Come on, I gotta see this with my own eyes.”

“Jamie.” You try. She ignores you, still going to the elevator.

“You said they’re at Lena’s office, right?” She’s already inside the elevator when you decide to follow her. She smiles satisfied when she sees you. “Relax.” She says pushing the button for Lena’s floor. “We’ll say we need to assess the situation, or like, whatever.”

“Fine. Just be aware, your mom is a savage.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it. I’m going to film the whole thing. Whenever I say something she doesn’t like, I’ll use this video as proof I’m not as bad as she was.”

You two sneak into the top floor, but there’s no need. Your mom’s assistant was sent home. Lena probably didn’t want to explain how she was turned back into a teenager. You open a little crack on the door and Jamie sneaks in her phone so she can film them.

Brainy is no longer with them, so right now only the three of them are in the office. Lena’s on her chair, still doing some work even as a teen. Alex is on the couch and Kara is impatiently walking from one side to the other.

“Seriously Alex, what do you think? I could wear Superkid’s suit, and no one would know.” She asks, looking at Alex waiting for a response. It doesn’t come. “Alex?”

“There’s no need to repeat yourself, I ignored you just fine the first time.” It’s what Alex says. You and Jamie try not to laugh out loud.

“Rao, you’re the worst teenager ever!” Kara complains, throwing herself in the chair in front of Lena. “Lena. Hey.” No response. “Lenaaaaaa, do you have any snacks?”

“Kara, I’m trying to work.” Lena shots her down, making Kara roll her eyes.

“Why? We’re teens. We’re not supposed to work. Besides, it’s not like anyone can hear your voice or see your face right now. Am I right, Alex?”

“I stopped listening, so why don’t you stop talking?” It’s what Alex answers. You seriously have to cover your mouth not to make any sound.

“You’re not funny. Just very cruel.”

“Yes, well. It keeps me young.” She winks at Kara. You and Jamie laugh so loud, Kara stands up in one motion, grabbing Jamie’s wrist -the one with the phone still filming- and you watch your cousin being lifted over Kara’s head. She struggles trying to put her feet back on the ground.

“It looks like we have company.” Kara says finally putting Jamie back on her feet, and you get up from the floor and go inside the office too.

“I thought I told you to reverse this!” Lena says, looking at you. You shrug.

“Well, I needed to see how you’re all thinking.” You lie, trying to justify yourself. “Momma doesn’t seem to have changed at all and you’re still working, but aunt Alex seems to have turned into a teen completely.”

“I have not.” She stands up, crossing her arms. “It’s just nice to annoy Kara. Now, I would very much like to return to my old body.”

“Me too! Lena doesn’t even want to make out with me anymore.”

“Oh, dear God.” Lena gets up, going to her cocktail bar and pouring herself a glass of whiskey.

“What are you doing? You can’t drink! You’re not old enough!” You tell her and she looks at you with wide eyes.

“Yes, I am! I’m a forty-six woman in a teenage girl’s body!”

“Well.” You take the glass of whiskey out of her hands. “When I was a sixteen-year-old girl in a baby’s body you fed me baby food, so I guess we’re respecting that rule. That means no drinking for you.” You look at Kara. “And no, you cannot use my super suit and go save the world, because, like I told you, Superkid doesn’t exist anymore. Now, be nice and go buy us some snacks.” Then, you turn to Alex. “And you, stop giving Kara a hard time or I’ll call your wife and have her come and babysit all of you. Now, if you can excuse us, the older ones must figure out a way out of this mess.”

“She’s your daughter alright.” Kara mumbles, looking at Lena and you shoot her a warning look.

Kara follows you and Jamie out of the office and into the elevator. Jamie looks at both of you with a weird expression.

“I thought one was more than enough.” Then she agrees with her head, looking away. “I was right.”

“And you’re Alex’s daughter alright.” Kara steps out of the elevator when it gets on the ground floor and you hear Aly talking to her.

“Hello, Miss Luthor-Danvers! It’s good to see you.”

“Oh, um, yeah! It’s me!” Kara says and you look at Jamie rolling your eyes.

“You know what? The sooner we finish this, the better.” You push the button for the underground level, and it doesn’t take long for you and Jamie -kind of- start working.

You absolutely hate the fact that you started messing with alien technology in the first place. You should’ve listened to Lena when she told you not to touch it. Kara comes in and out with food, Jamie takes several naps next to you, but you keep working.

“Ok, honestly. That’s enough.” Jamie gets up, holding your arm. “We’re going home. They’re not going to die being teens for a day. I mean, you didn’t die being a boy, so they’re cool.”

“Lena told me to find the solution.”

“Yes, well. She said, ‘find the solution’ not ‘find it today’. So, we’re leaving.” Jamie sighs, tired. You look at the clock and agree with your head. “Let’s take our teens home.”

And despite protests, you all go home. It’s funny that none of them can drive, so Jamie is the one left driving all of you around in Lena’s fancy car. You can tell Lena is not enjoying the ride, but there’s not much she can do about it.

“And here we are.” Jamie says, stopping in front of your house.

“Why are our lives so goddamn weird?” It’s how Alex says goodbye, and you look at Jamie raising an eyebrow.

“Good luck with her.” You slip out of the car and follow your moms into the house.

“Well, I’ll go watch TV.” You hear Kara’s voice, and she makes her way to the living room. You look at Lena who just shrugs.

“Meh, guess I’ll do that too.”

“Ok, no.” You follow Kara and turn off the TV. She interjects, but you ignore. “You’re going to take a shower, and Lena is going to help me with dinner.”

“I don’t wanna.” Lena says, throwing herself on the couch and you breathe deep.

“Ok, come on. You guys are not actually teens. Stop being annoying!” You take the control out of Kara’s hand again, when she motions turning the TV back on.

“And you’re not our mom, so stop bossing us.” Kara complains. You breathe deep one more time.

“I wouldn’t have to boss you, if you would just act your age, young lady!” You hear yourself saying that and your eyes widen. “Look at what you’re making me say! My God, I hate myself right now.” You toss the control back at her. “Do whatever you want, I don’t care.”

You still go to the kitchen and get started on dinner. How dare they make you be the responsible adult in the house? They only look young. They’re not actually young. Right?

Jamie: Why does my mom keep acting like a young brat? Isn’t she supposed to be like 50 but look younger?

You: Maybe? My moms are also being immature right now.

Jamie: Do you think their minds are catching up to their body?

You: Maybe???

“Mom!” You call but hear no answer. “Lena!”

“Ugh, what? Can you just leave me alone for like a second?” Lena’s voice comes a while later.

You run to where they are. They’re sitting on the same couch holding hands.

“What’s going on here?” You ask and receive rolling eyes as an answer. Those little weasels!

“God, you’re so annoying for a teen. Are you sure you’re not a 60-year-old woman?” Lena says and you bite your tongue not to answer her. “We’re holding hands, ‘cause this one apparently needs human contact to survive.”

“Well, aren’t you a ray of pitch-black as a teen?” You go back to the kitchen and finish the dinner. But they’re awfully quiet in the living room, so you make your way there in silence to see what’s going on. “Wow, that’s a big kiss!”

You interrupt them, like Kara once has done to you and Maya. They are breathless and flushed and are now shooting daggers at you.

“Dinner is ready.” You say but none of them move. They’re really starting to annoy you. “Did you listen?”

“We’re choosing to ignore you.” Lena says and you close your eyes, breathing deep a few times. Come on, you’re not that annoying as a teen. She’s the worst.

“Get up, come on.” You make your way towards them, hold Kara’s arms and make her stand. “Come eat, and then we’re going to sleep. I can’t stand you both anymore. Go on, Kara. Don’t make me say it twice.”

At that she obeys. Lena still rolls her eyes at you once more, before getting up and going to the kitchen table. You thought it would be a lot more fun having your moms being your own age. You felt like they would understand you, but instead they’re so self-centered it is impossible to hold a conversation. There’s no doubt, their minds are catching up to their bodies for sure.

“Hey, hey, hey.” You stop them, before they run out of the kitchen. “You two are not sleeping together. And you still have to do the dishes and clean the kitchen.” You smile, actually excited you get to say that to them. “Go on.”

You don’t even care about the rolling eyes, and the mumbles under their breaths. You’re sitting while they do all the work. You get now why Lena likes bossing you so much. It is fun!

You don’t let them sleep together. You already saw way too much when you went to the living room earlier. So Kara’s stuck sleeping with you, and the moody teen gets to sleep alone in the other bedroom.

It’s early when you wake up. Jamie, Kelly and teen Alex show up at your house sooner than you’d like.

“Ok, I’m going to the lab, you stay here and try to wake my moms up.” You tell Kelly and look at Jamie who grabs the car keys at your signal. “You might have to hire an exorcist for Lena.”

“Can’t be worse than this one.” Kelly points at Alex with her head, who rolls her eyes in response. You fight the urge to roll your eyes at Alex and leave with Jamie.

“Do we roll our eyes that much?” You ask her and she agrees with her head.

“Not anymore. My God, that shit’s annoying!”

You go back to the lab, and surprise! You can’t do it alone. But since Lena’s not around – physically or mentally – you call Brainy, and he shows up a while later to help you.

“Ok, this time, I think we actually got it.” He says and you agree with your head.

“After we undo this thing, I swear to Rao I’m breaking this machine into a thousand pieces.” You look at Jamie. “Ok, call your mami. Time to bring them back.”

It’s not long until Kelly shows up with three moody teenagers fighting behind her. She looks as done as you imagine you would with their bullshit. You pray to Rao this works. You’re done with this tech, and this nonsense all together.

You shove them inside your lab. Show Kara which button to press – she’s the less annoying one – and the rest of you wait outside.

“You did it!” Kara says, opening the lab door, excitedly. You look at them looking normal again and breathe relieved.

“Thank Rao.” You hug both of your moms, while Kelly and Jamie hug Alex. “You two were terrible teenagers.”

“Well, you handled us very well, babygirl.” Lena kisses your forehead. “I love you guys. But, um, I have to go to work.”

Lena leaves in a hurry. Kara, Alex and Brainy also excuse themselves running out of your lab back to their jobs, and you find yourself alone with Jamie.

“Hey. Help me with this?” You give her a piece of wood and point at the alien tech. She nods with a big smile.

Bye, bye weird situations alien tech put you through. Hello, weird situations your life puts you through.

Notes:

Once again thanks @oncemoonie for this fun prompt. I had too much fun with this series.

#supergirl #kara danvers #supercorp #supercorpfamily #lena luthor #supercorp daughter #kara x lena #kara x reader #supercorp fanfic #lena x reader #alex danvers #kelly olsen #reader insert

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marsbutterfly · 3 years

Note

Hiiiii! I just binged all your writing on AO3 and I love all your work, especially the one with poor Hange hallucinating. I'm not sure if requests are open right now but if they are, I'd love to make one! I'm sorry for being hyper-specific but I just had my wisdom teeth removed, they had to hammer and drill to get one of them out that grew wrong and, I'll spare you the details but it took over an hour for the one and I'm sore and swollen to say the least and not looking forward to having to eventually eat something, and I wonder how Hange would take care of a reader that just had their wisdom teeth removed.

Please feel free to ignore this if you're not interested, and regardless thank you for your time and sorry for the wall of text! Hope you have a great day!

Note: Thank you so much anon, I appreciate your support <3 It makes me really happy! I hope you are all right now and that your mouth healed up ok. This is a mixture of a short fic and headcanons. I hope you enjoy! <3

Tooth Ache

Summary: When you get your wisdom teeth removed, Hanji tries her best to take care of you. Modern AU!

Warning: Mentions of blood.

AO3 Version! | Wattpad Version!

“Come on, baby.” Hanji says as her torso reaches over you, struggling to fasten the seatbelt. You shift your body to the left gently, trying your best to help her but the effects of the laughing gas having yet to leave your body.

All you can do is giggle, watching the messy brown hair dangling in front of you. Without realizing what’s happening, a heavy weight is lifted from your body and your lungs can expand to their full capacity once again.

You look around confused, trying to understand what just happened, only to shift your eyes to the left, watching as Hanji starts the car. The sound of the engine roaring makes your heart beat slightly faster, a hint of fear rushing through your veins.

Before any words form, a warm, gentle hand brushes against your exposed thigh softly and the feeling is enough to soothe you.

Body resting against the car seat, you take your fingers towards your mouth, touching the area around it as you try to make sure everything is still there. The piece of gauze that sat in your mouth now lies in between your legs, a few blood splatters following closely behind.

“Hanji, did you give me cranberry juice?” You ask, not realizing what that hot liquid was. She holds in a laugh, eyes shifting from the road to you for a second as she reaches for a small pill bottle sitting in the cup holder.

“Not yet.” She replies, handing you a decently sized pill and a small, cold box of juice. “But here, why don’t you drink this?”

You grunt in annoyance but still obliged to her request, earning a bright smile in return.

The car falls silent, only the sounds produced by the vehicle fill the void. Your eyes wander outside, green leaves dance atop of the trees while an old lady’s blonde hair flows around in the wind, reminding you of last night’s dinner.

“Can I have some noodles when we get home?” You ask with stars in your eyes, knowing that Hanji has never once denied you anything at all.

“No, love. I’m sorry.” She replies, eyes focused on the road as you enter your neighborhood. In that moment, her words felt like a knife going into your skin, destroying your heart as a consequence.

“But…” Tears form in your eyes and your bottom lip quiver.

“It’s for your own good.” She says, right hand squeezing your thigh before you push it away and all she does in response is sigh.

Grabbing your phone from the glove compartment, you speed dial your most recent caller. A few seconds pass before Eren answers the phone and the image that welcomes him is the desolated, groggy mess behind the screen. Tears flow down your face as you try to speak through the gauze pads in your mouth.

“Hanji won’t let me eat noodles.” You say, earning a quiet giggle out of the brunette driving the car. “All I want is to eat my noodles.”

“It’s for your own good, Y/N!” He replies, a smile on his face as he tries not to laugh. From his end, you can hear two other voices but, in your current state, you don’t realize they are coming from Mikasa and Armin.

“That's what I said.” Hanji replies, reaching for your phone. “Now hang up Y/N.”

“NO!” You scream, pressing your body against the door and moving the device barely out of her reach. “I want to show Eren my lipstick.”

“Lipstick?” The camera shifts angles and now Armin’s face fills the screen. “Uhmm… Y/N?”

You pull your head back, fingertips gently brushing against your chapped lips until the warm liquid touches them. In response, you let out a giggle. “Oh no. I think it’s blood.”

Hanji’s laugh echoes through the car as she pulls into the driveway. Once the vehicle comes to a full stop, she places her left arm against the window, fingers pushing her glasses up as tears of laughter stream down her face.

You shoot her a confused look, trying to understand why she’s laughing. In response, she reaches for your phone once again, finally being able to catch the device from your hands and immediately hanging up the call.

“Come on, baby.” She says, removing her seatbelt and unbuckling yours.

You reach for the handle to open the door many times but your hand simply slips right past it. After what seemed like an entirety, you’re able to hook your hand on it and open it, little do you know Hanji is actually the one to let you out.

Your vision is fuzzy as you try to step out of the car, everything spins around and you look at the sky. A pair of sturdy hands begins to guide you towards the entrance to the house and you smile gratefully.

Hanji seats you on the couch before handing you a cold compress. You stare at it for a few seconds, wondering what it is that she expects you to do with it.

She laughs and sits beside you, your knee touching hers. “Like this.”

The cold compress against your cheek feels godly and it relieves some of the pain you are in. You instinctively let out a moan.

“I’m gonna go get your meds and be right back, ok?” She says while getting up.

“Otay.” You reply, humming to a random song you heard on the radio early that day. Unknowing to you, Hanji’s eyes glow as they watch you from behind the couch, her heart beating slightly faster as her cheeks blush.

A few minutes go by and when she returns, you are still moving your head and feet to the melody you sing.

She hands you a cup of cold water and you happily take the pills from her hand.

Your eyelids become heavy and you rest your head on her shoulder, feeling as her hand goes through your hair gently. You smile through the bloody gauze pads and she giggles.

“Hanji…” You whisper, calling her close to you with your finger and she leans towards you, “I want noodles.”

“Not this again!”

Headcanons

Hanji is not a good driver so it takes her a couple of days to convince you to let her drive you to the appointment instead of asking Armin or Mikasa to do it.

She nearly sleeps for too long the day of your procedure because she spent the night before worried sick, even if you’re just getting your wisdom teeth out.

Once it’s done, she has to control herself and not give in to your every request like she usually does. No solid food, no milkshakes, no moving more than you have to.

Hanji sets alarms for every 8 hours so you won’t miss a single dose of your pain medicine and, if the pain is too bad, she gives you an extra pill. Not only that, she constantly reminds you of when to change the gauze pads.

You always have fresh ice to apply to your cheeks and Hanji kisses them every chance she gets.

She can’t cook for shit, she tries but when the house ends up smelling like burned soup, she immediately calls Levi, who shows up with at least 3 days worth of food. For you and for Hanji.

When the anesthesia wears off, she pulls up her phone and shows you the embarrassing videos she took while you were high. Of you singing terribly to whatever is playing on the radio, your conspiracy theories on how your dentist was an alien or simply videos of you begging her to give you solid food.

She brushes your teeth for you when you can’t, always making sure to go around the extraction sites and scrubbing your tongue.

The day after the surgery, she rinses your mouth out with warm water and salt, even if you can do it yourself she keeps saying she’ll do it better than you, so you simply let her.

Hanji always makes sure your head is propped up while you’re lying down, even when you beg her to let you put your head down, she won’t let you. Instead, she sits behind you and props your head on her chest. You can hear her heartbeat so you can’t complain.

Once you are healed, she buys you an insane amount of junk food and you suggest going on a picnic with Levi and Erwin to eat it all. She agrees and immediately picks up the phone as you run upstairs to take some medicine so you won’t throw it all up.

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pastrnaks-sainz · 3 years

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Pasta’s Secret Wife

Pairing: David Pastrnak x reader

Type: Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: You and David met in his rookie year when you traveled to Boston with the Capitals for a game. You never lost contact, and dated long distance until three years later David proposed. You were married in secret, no friends or family present. Nobody besides close family knew, not even your respective teams.

Request: Can you do one where the reader is an athletic trainer for the caps but is secretly married to Pasta and the team finds out at a bruins v caps game? (from anon)

A/N: okay I actually love this so much, nonny thank you ily

~~~~

Bergy had noticed the ring Pasta wore on his right ring finger; he just never said anything about it. He thought it might have had something to do with his father and never asked. He thought that for months until round one, game five.

“Do you know where Pasta is?” Bergy asked, adjusting his mask as he stepped up beside Marchy. “I haven’t seen him for a couple hours.”

“Last I saw him he was eating in the hotel café,” Marchy responded. “Why? What time is it?”

“Five minutes until we need to get on the bus,” Bergy answered, holding out his wrist so Marchy could see his watch.

“Oh,” Marchy said. “Oh that isn’t good.”

“No,” Patrice hummed, scanning the lobby for his missing line mate. “No it’s not.”

“Hey guys,” Pasta’s voice came from behind them, making them both turn around. “Sorry I’m late, I got caught up talking to someone.”

“You’re here now, it’s fine,” Bergy said with a smile and a shrug before shooting Brad a warning glare. Brad held up his hands in mock surrender and motioned for Patrice to follow Pasta out of the hotel.

The incident stayed in the back of Patrice’s mind up until he was putting his jersey on. It was unusual for Pasta to be late to leave. He made a mental note to talk to him about it after the game, but right now he needed to focus on winning and getting into round two.

Your mind was running wild. You had met with David at the hotel before the game like you did before every game the Bruins and Capitals played. Your meetings were typically brief, and you tried your best to blend in and not draw any attention to who you were with or, more importantly, who you were kissing.

“Y/N,” TJ snapped his fingers in front of your face. You shook your head, looking up from the wrap you were putting on his ankle. “Something’s up with you, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answered, securing the ace bandage and cleaning up your station. “Why do you ask?”

“Because when I said that aliens were invading at the end of the month you nodded and went ‘mhm’,” TJ folded his arms over his chest. He looked at you with an expecting gaze.

“Sorry,” you sighed, rubbing your face. “Just been really distracted lately.”

“Wanna talk?” he asked sincerely.

“Not right now,” you shook your head, turning to face him. “You should go get ready, you’ve got a big game.”

“Yeah,” TJ said, clearly not buying your answer as he left the training room.

You sighed deeply and grabbed the things you kept with you on the bench. You hoped the fast paced action of the game would be enough to keep you distracted from the conversation you’d had with your husband just two hours earlier, but you knew seeing him on the ice was just going to make you want to get out of Washington faster.

A couple weeks before the playoffs started you had made a deal with David. When the Capitals’ season was over you were going to join the Boston training staff. David had talked to the necessary people to make it happen and the last time you were in Boston you agreed to the terms. Now, with the Capitals facing elimination, it was seeming way too real way too quick.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to join him in Boston and finally be able to tell people about your marriage. You had just lived in Washington all your life and, while you were on the road a lot for your job, the thought of leaving for another city was daunting. David has assured you that the move to Boston wouldn’t be difficult and that he’d hold your hand the entire time. His words had soothed your worries some, but your mind was still going a million miles per hour.

You absentmindedly chewed on your gum as you stood on the bench. Despite the distraction, you were still looking for anything that might need your immediate attention.

In the first period when David scored you had to use all your self restraint to not cheer. You were thankful for the mask that hid your near giddy smile.

When the game was finally over you were relieved. Though you couldn't show it, you were happy the Capitals had lost. Now all that was left for you to do was turn in your Capitals gear and head over to the Boston side of the arena. Your boss knew you were leaving when the season ended weeks before the playoffs started. He was the only one who knew the true reason for your departure.

“Pasta!” Bergy called, jogging to catch up with his teammate who was already halfway down the hallway. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

“Yeah,” David nodded.

“What’s going on with you, man?” Patrice asked, folding his arms over his chest and looking at David with a concerned look. “You’ve been distracted all night, that’s not like you.”

David glanced over his shoulder to make sure there was no one around to hear what he had to say. He was about to tell Patrice everything when he saw you walking up to them behind Patrice. David instantly relaxed in your presence.

“Give me two seconds,” Pasta said, holding up a finger and darting over to take your hand. “I’m so happy you came.”

“You didn’t think I would?” you asked as David cupped your cheek in his hand. His blue eyes were casted down to your feet. “Baby, I was never not going to come to Boston with you. I just needed to turn in my stuff. Did you really think I wasn’t coming?”

“For a second I thought you might have decided to stay here,” he responded in a low voice, his accent thicker than normal. He shook his head as if he were clearing the doubts from his mind before taking your other hand. “Is it okay if we tell Patrice?”

You looked over his shoulder to where Patrice Bergeron was intently watching the interaction.

“Yes,” you nodded, your gaze flicking back to David. He smiled beneath his mask and led you over.

“Patrice, this is Y/N,” he introduced you. You shook Patrice’s hand as you clinged to David’s side. “My wife.”

“Wife?” Patrice asked, freezing as he dropped your hand. He glanced down to the ring on David’s finger and it all fell into place. Why he always disappeared for a couple hours whenever they were playing the Capitals. Why he started to leave team functions earlier. Why he was almost always alone when he was on the phone with someone.

“We got married in August,” David said, looking down at you with nothing but love in his eyes.

“We didn’t tell anybody because we didn’t know what the reaction would be,” you said.

“First, as your captain, I want you to know you can tell me anything and I won’t say a word if you don’t want me to,” Patrice said, looking at David. “Second, it’s nice to finally meet you even though I had no idea you existed.”

“Nice to meet you too,” you laughed, already feeling welcome.

“So can I ask why you’re just telling us now?” Patrice asked, folding his arms once more.

“Well in March I finally realized that Washington wasn’t the place I wanted to be and that I wanted to be in Boston with David,” you said, looking up at your husband. “We had a conversation and we agreed that once the Capitals season was over I would join the Bruins training staff since there was an opening.”

“We kept it secret until the opening came up,” Pasta said, giving your hip a comforting squeeze. “I talked with the people here I needed to to make sure she got the job and she talked with her boss.”

“That sounds great,” Bergy shrugged his shoulders. “So why were you all distant before the game?”

“This series put a strain on the plan,” Pasta sighed. You rubbed his back, sensing his uneasiness.

“I didn’t want to look bad, leaving Washington for Boston when this series ended,” you said, interjecting so David didn’t need to speak. “I know nobody knows the training staff but if announcers got a hold of it we didn’t want me to look like I was jumping ship to Capitals fans.”

“Makes sense,” Patrice nodded.

“I think I’ve kept you a secret for too long,” David said, looking down at you. “Is everybody still in the locker room?”

“Yeah, they should all be there,” Patrice nodded, pushing himself off the wall and starting down the hallway. “I should give you a word of warning, Y/N, they can be a bit much sometimes.”

“I’m used to it,” you reassured him as Bruce Cassidy stepped out of the locker room.

“Good, I was just going to come look for you two,” he said before his gaze landed on you. “Y/N, I presume?”

“That’s me,” you nodded, shaking his hand.

“Welcome to Boston,” he said warmly. “Wanna get the paperwork out of the way then meet the team?”

“Sure,” you nodded, detaching yourself from David and following Bruce down the hallway.

“You picked a good one,” Patrice said, clapping David on the shoulder.

“I know I did,” David smiled to himself as he watched you step into an office, followed by Don Sweeney and Cam Neely. “I’m proud of her.”

“You should be,” Patrice nodded.

“I’m looking forward to working with you,” Bruce shook your hand as you parted ways with Neely and Sweeney and walked back towards where David and Patrice were waiting outside the locker room.

“So am I,” you agreed.

“Come on, let’s introduce you,” Patrice said, patting your shoulder and walking into the locker room. The team, once antsy with waiting, feel silent with the sudden presence of their coach, captain, teammate, and new girl.

“Thanks for waiting, boys,” Bruce started. “You all had a good game and I’m sorry for keeping you but I’d like to now hand it over to Bergy and Pasta, they have something to tell you.”

“As you guys know Nate had to leave the training staff a few months ago and we’ve been a little shorthanded,” Patrice started. You could feel the glances the team sent your way. “So I’d like to introduce Y/N as the newest member of the training staff.”

You nodded in thanks to the applause the team gave you.

“But I think Pasta might want to introduce her as someone else,” Patrice stepped aside.

“I would like to introduce Y/N as my wife,” Pasta ripped the bandage off. You braced yourself for whatever reaction the team might have. They were silent for a moment before Tuukka stood up, walked over, and all but yanked you from under David’s arm into a hug. The locker room erupted into what could only be described as chaos as the players jockeyed for a hug.

“Still think it was a good idea?” Patrice asked jokingly as he watched the scene unfold before him.

“Yup,” David nodded before going over and ripping you away from Jake.

“What the hell man? I wanted a hug!”

“I’ve decided that I’m the only one who gets to hug Y/N.”

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lgbtqlegends · 2 years

Note

Would you be open to sharing more about your mixed feelings about the pregnancy thing because honestly even though I love Avalance, I’m not too happy about it and I feel like I’m the only one. I’m not sure if it makes sense but to me, Sara doesn’t seem like the type who would want to be pregnant (they were planning to have Ava carry the baby!) and I kind of don’t like that they forced that story onto her, especially having it be an unplanned pregnancy made possible by something that was done to her without her consent (cloning her as a human-alien hybrid) by a man who was obsessed with her and kidnapped her. And now she’s also potentially going to be pregnant in jail? It feels like the potential for even more trauma although I’m pretty sure the show won’t delve into that.

okay i'm gonna be honest, at first glance after only reading the first few words, my initial reaction was "i'd rather not." however, after actually going into my inbox and reading through the whole ask (very nicely stated btw /gen), i've decided that i will, so here goes:

my initial and main reason for mixed feelings about the avalance baby/pregnancy is much the same as the first thing you listed in your ask. mod choco and i have said before that we, together, have never really been able to picture ava and sara as the type to really want kids, or that if they Did want kids, they'd go the adoption route rather than pregnancy, because neither one of us saw either of them as being the type to really want to be pregnant. that point though especially extends to sara, because we have truly never seen her as someone who would want to be pregnant; it just never seemed to fit with her character and who she is.

as for your second point anon, before this i hadn't actually had the chance to analyze it that in-depth (life is a whirlwind rn and my head is a mess of jumbled thoughts most of the time), but upon reading through your whole ask: i agree. i have always been someone, throughout my journey of watching sara on arrow and on legends, who has called into question the ethics and morality (or lack thereof) of things, such as the lazarus pit and, of course, bishop's genetic meddling (whether i have done so on here, with mod choco, or just in my own head, the point still stands). anyways, i don't, at this time, have much to add to that point because you've already summed it up pretty nicely.

also not to mention that they Could have just as easily gone any number of different routes, like adoption, donor, bone marrow, or they could've even made one of them trans

anyways, i think that was about it for the general reasons why i have mixed feelings about the avalance pregnancy? i'm definitely not incredibly Thrilled about it, but i will, of course stick it out if we get a season 8 because i love this show too much, and maybe the whole avalance pregnancy thing in General might eventually grow on me, idk (of course, Not disregarding the above points, though)

#hesitant to put this in the tags lol #i'm going to but to anyone who sees this just know: i am Not here to argue about any of this!!#we're allowed to disagree and have different opinions abt things!! just a psa for ppl #avalance #sara lance #ava sharpe #legends of tomorrow #lot spoilers #legends of tomorrow spoilers #also to anyone follows me/reads all the tags: i still have a Bunch of asks in the inbox im not ignoring yall n im sorry its taking so long!

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checkingoutforheroes · 3 years

Text

B.A.B.Y PROTOCOL.

Part 2.

Avengers x fem!reader

Pt.1

Words: 1892

Synopsis: This takes place in Avengers: Age of Ultron. When The Avengers were at the rock bottom, Nick Fury and advised by Maria Hill, to initiate the B.A.B.Y Protocol. Will a young, damaged and broke girl agree to this initiative and help a team to save this planet earth?

Main Masterlist

Maria and Fury bring you to The Avengers tower for mission briefing and meet the rest of the team. To be honest, you are beyond excited you see the building. You move from your seat to another, looking out of the window, facing the tower. Maria looks at you at the rear view mirror, seeing your awe face and smile. “If you open that window, I might’ve mistaken you with a dog.” You ignore her comment and ask them “Is this S.H.I.E.L.D? You guys work here? You build this place papa Bear? This is taller than I thought it would be!”

Fury look at you and then Maria “Now she’s excited.” Maria answer your question. “That is Avengers tower. S.H.I.E.L.D no longer exist. Burn to the ground.” You didn’t keep up about them after left the agency so you don’t know what happened. “What happened? Did this moody papa Bear show his emotion through action?” You let out a small laugh until Fury annoyed “Once again you call my name other than Fury, I’ll burn you too.” “Nahh, you’re not going to burn me. You need me. Otherwise, I’m not in this car right now. I said to him and Maria drive through the parking basement. “She got you, boss.”

Fury walk ahead to their meeting room. You stop your track when you see an aquarium placed at the wall. You never see something like that before in your life. When Maria realize that you are not walking behind her, she turns back to get you. “What are you doing?” “Looking at these fish in an aquarium stuck on the wall. How they do that? How they going to feed the fish? Rich people shit, quite awesome.” You said and Maria just shake her head. “We have a world crisis and the first thing you did is watch the fish?! Are you kidding me? Let’s go meat the team.”

Meanwhile Fury already told the team about a new protocol or whatever. You didn’t hear that clearly until you are inside the room. Fury talk to them. “Since all of you are here, including Maximoff, I have a new protocol that you can use.” Steve looking confusing at Fury. “We already made a plan.” Tony interrupt to teasing Steve “Yeah and a good ted talk by the captain too.” Natasha asking about the protocol. “Do we know about the protocol?” Fury take a seat “No, Romanoff. No one knows about this protocol except Agent Hill. This protocol was created to help the team when in need, and this team clearly need it right now.” Steve ask him. “What protocol is that?” Natasha looking at Clint and he shrug. “B.A.B.Y PROTOCOL.” Tony just laugh while Steve have a serious face looking at him. “I’m sorry. That’s kinda funny name for a protocol.” Maria open the door and you both going in. All eyes on you and you feeling slightly nervous. How can you not, they are The Avengers! You recognize all of their face except one person wearing black dress and red cardigan.

Fury introduce you to the team. “Right on time. Avengers, I introduce you B.A.B.Y PROTOCOL, as in Best Associate By Yours truly.” Maria added “Also, we call her Baby.” They are quiet and shock appear in their faces except two people. Natasha and Clint. They go greet you. “Baby!” Natasha walks to hug you while Tony look at you two weird. “Nat! Omg, I miss you. Clint! Miss you too!” You hug Clint and he hold your head. “Well, she grows up.” “Yeah, with some food and water, I did. Man, you’re old.” You said to him and Natasha smile “Kids growing, Barton.” “Natasha, beautiful as always. You have to drop your skin care routine, sis.” Tony interrupt the moment “You both knew her? Fury, you said no one know about this protocol.” Fury nods. “I said no one know about this protocol not that Romanoff and Barton didn’t know her.”

Steve starts asking question. “How old are you?” Tony interject again. “Yeah. You don’t look like a baby to me.”

You looking back at Steve, smirk on your face. “How old are you?” Maria sign you to behave. “Baby.” Tony sit down at one of the chair. “I like this kid already!” He earns a glare from Steve and you apologizing “I’m sorry. That’s not a good first impression. I’m 22.”

“What is your name?” Damn he is a serious one.

“People call me Baby.”

“What people didn’t call you?”

“If they didn’t call me? Silence, I guess.” You whisper at Natasha left ear “Can I not tell them my name?” She crooks a little smile. “It’s up to you.” “I prefer being call by that name that Maria & Fury has told you or anything you want except my real name due to personal reason.” You nod and smile at them.

“Why? Dark past? Major criminal? Wanted by CIA? Interpol? MI6? Ugly name? Kicked out of family or something?” Seriously, how can they work as a team with a guy name Tony Stark? Maria, Natasha and Clint have your back.

“She’s here to help us. Nothing else, Stark.” Maria said to him.

Natasha glare at him. “I suggest you stop right there or you’re not going to see any sunlight.”

Clint agree with them. “Leave her alone man.” Tony look guilty. “Everybody in this room has dark past. I’m just curious, not judging. She’s not alone.” Wanda tell them that he told the truth. “He’s not lying.” “Thank you Wendy. Peace?” You walking toward him “No heart feeling.” You guys fist bump each other.

Steve ask again. “How do you know Barton and Romanoff?”

“While I was in S.H.I.E.L.D Academy, which I thought a Juvenile school at first, they trained me combat espionage. Since that’s the only thing on my expertise. I wish to have Jemma Simmons and Leo Fitz brain though. They’re genius in bio-chem and engerneering.”

“Why you thought it was juvenile at first? You commit crime?”

“Duh.” Both you and Tony said it at the same time and again “JINX!” Natasha look at Steve. “Relax captain, all of us commit crime back then.” “I didn’t” Tony look at him. “Are you sure about that?” “What do you mean Stark?” Steve ask and he say “You literally cheated your medical checkup to join the army.” “I did it to protect our country.” Steve said and Clint chuckle “Still crime.” Fury tell Maria to handle the briefing and he’s out. You ask where is he going? “Where is he going?” “He have another thing to do Baby.”

“I know most of you but I don’t think I know or seen you, Mr. ?” You ask and Natasha introduce him. “That is Dr. Bruce Banner.”

You shake his hand. “Nice to meet you. What did you do?”

Bruce seems like to hesitate to answer that. “You didn’t know? New York?”

“Alien? Chitauri?” You ask him back innocently.

“Um. I’m, the big green guy.” He anxiously answers that.

“An ogre! Wow, that is so cool!” Clint hold my shoulder. “The other green, buddy.” “Oh, I know. I’m sorry, I forgot your ogre name is Shrek. Still cool though. I watch all of his movies when I was a kid. Maybe we can watch it again sometimes.”

Bruce look at Natasha and then back at you. “That’s, not me either, but yeah, we can watch that, big green cartoon sometimes.” Tony finally tell you who he is. “You seriously don’t remember who broke New York kid? He’s The Hulk!” Bruce looks down and tilt his head to look at Tony. “Yes. I’m that! Thank you for bringing back memory, Tony!”

You feel guilty for not remember that. “Gosh, I’m so sorry. But hey, New York already broken before you broke it. Can I have a selfie? You’re incredible.” You snap the picture before he even answers. Tony said something “I’m literally right here. The coolest guy in the group.” You turn your head to the girl in black dress, red cardigan. “And you are?”

She answers with a thick accent “Wanda Maximoff.”

“You’re not from here? You have an accent just like Nat. Well, once she’s mad at me during training years ago.” You remember the detail and Natasha rolls her eyes at you. “That is one time. I slipped.” “Human make mistakes sis. You aren’t machine.”

“I just got here yesterday. I made a mistake. Wrong judgement, I want to make it right. I join them.” She explains and you currently melting, just to hear he talk. You want her to talk more so you can hear her talk. Thing is, you didn’t know that she can read mind. Where is that accent came from? Russian? You ask those questions in your head. “From Sokovia.”

“Where are you from? What? I just ask-“

Maria answer my question. “She’s a telekinesis, energy manipulation and some kind of neuroelectric interfacing.” “Huh?” You don’t even know what that is and Maria make it simple for you. “Telepathic.” You turn to look back at her. “That is so awesome!” Tony huff at your statement. “Yeah, until she’s in your head.” She just looking down “I’m sorry.”

Right after she said that, Thor, God of Thunder walk into the room and tell about the scepter. You are amazed and suddenly you bend the knee. “Oh. My. God. You’re Thor!” He looks back at you. “and you tiny female human.” “You. Are. the God of Lightning! I am a fan! No. I’m an air-conditioner.” He smiling, feeling proud. “Thank you, tiny human lady. It’s God of Thunder, actually. What’s an air-conditioner?”

Maria gives us final brief. “You guys might want to prepare something for tomorrow. We’re flying to Korea and find Dr. Chow tomorrow morning. Get some rest, sleep early, you guys need it.”

You ask them a question. “Can I go back to my place, then come back? Clint can you take me?” “Yeah, I can.” Steve kind of not agree with you. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “Why? I need to take my stuff.” “I can pick her up tomorrow.” You and Clint said and Steve ask you again. “Do you have a suit? or uniform?” You unzip your sweater and show your Donut Do It uniform. “Will, this do? Because someone decided that it was okay to give a surprise visit when I’m on my way to work.” Maria just smirking at you and Natasha smile “I don’t think that appropriate gear for the field.”

Tony offers you to stay with them at the tower. “Captain’s right. Don’t want to risk anything on the team member night before fight. Stay here, I’ve got plenty of room. Natasha can show you. They basically live here. We have spare shirts too.” You look at Wanda “You live here too?” She’s thinking about the answer. “I spend the night here.” Natasha turn you to look at her. “That’s a good idea. Just stay here tonight. Wanda’s here too.” “Natasha can show you your room, take a shower and dinner later.” Tony said. You look at Maria by the mention of dinner. She sighs “Okay, spaghetti and chicken wings.” Natasha add “And caramel pudding?” You smile at her “You remember?!” “Of course I do.” Clint jokingly say “How can she not, you guys practically sisters.”

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

Thank you for spending your time reading this. Feel free to reblog or ask me anything, thank you in advance!

Part 3 is coming!

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333sth · 3 years

Text

dove. (frankie morales)

chapter ii. previous. series masterlist.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n

warnings: ptsd/military service, violence, injury detail, language, angsty.

summary: santi’s hunch is no longer a hunch, but only will knows how close they are to finding frankie’s girl.

rating: mature wc: 1.8k

When a strong hand had clamped around her shoulder, Dove’s instinct was to break it. It wasn’t menacing; they were just waiting at the bar to be served.

A burly, middle-aged man was towering beside her, clutching a beer bottle that looked miniature in his thick grasp. His arms, still holding the shadow of what was once impressive muscle, were littered with military tattoos. Dove could spot a stick-and-poke from a mile off.

“I recognise that,” He gestures to her neck, where a small Delta Force tattoo was usually disguised by her long hair. “You ex-forces? Delta?”

She wanted to kick herself. The sticky atmosphere had gotten the better of her and she’d thrown her hair into a ponytail without thinking.

“Yeah, but that isn’t exactly public knowledge ‘round here.” She murmurs.

Across the room, Roni throws her head back in exaggerated laughter. A group of men, who looked barely out of their teen years, had come over to make some desperate attempts at getting laid. Dove had excused herself to buy the next round after one of them had cracked a mortifying joke about liking older women.

“That’s understandable.” The man held out his hand, which she took hesitantly. “My name’s Mark, I just retired out here. Served for twenty three years.” He chuckled gruffly, his voice thick from cigarettes. “I got jack shit to show for it, mind you.”

“Tell me about it.” She laughs, but she doesn’t offer her name.

Mark notices as the conversation lulls. “I trained with a guy who made Delta. Santiago Garcia - we called him Pope, ‘cause he just had that way about him. You probably knew him.”

Dove swallows, chest lurching. “Sounds familiar… You know how it is though, the nicknames all blur into one eventually.”

That’s a lie, you never forget your teammates’ names. Mark knows it and so does Dove. Thankfully, he doesn’t push a conversation she clearly doesn’t want to have, and raises his bottle to her.

“Well, it was nice to meet you anyway. Enjoy yourself out here.”

“You too, Mark.” She tries to smile, but her lips press into a thin line that probably looks more like a grimace.

Mark had called Santiago the following day, the alcohol-blurred memory peaking his interest once he remembered his old friend’s plea a few months back. He’d asked around for any heads-up if any ex-Delta women around their age popped up. Mark had thought the man was delusional when he’d heard. If she was Delta Force, she wouldn’t be found unless she wanted to be.

Apparently, he was wrong. Maybe even the best of the best got rusty after a while.

The town Dove had been spotted in was questionable to Santiago. It was too cosmopolitan for a woman who was starting over. However, after a onceover on a map of Mexico, Santi spotted its smaller neighbour. He’d never heard of it, which meant it must be the place. Small population, right on the coast, with enough amenities and business to get by without any trouble.

“And, man, she had a wicked scar on her throat. Sort of shit you’d only see on a Delta.” Mark had added, with a chuckle. “I can’t imagine that ain’t your girl.”

‘Dove isn’t my girl,’ Santi wanted to bite back instinctually. He bit his tongue, and instead offered, “It sounds like her. I can’t thank you enough, brother.”

Santiago only told Will what he knew about Dove. He had the mind to retain that information no matter what this trip threw at them. Plus, he trusted him with his life, plus a couple other lives that came to mind. Call it insurance, if things went south.

Plus, Will didn’t have Tom’s mouth, or twisted morality. Tom was more than willing to accept that Dove would miss out on their prospective fortune, that the ‘hunch’ would have to wait until Lorea was dealt with. Santiago knew his brothers well enough to know Benny would throw a hissy fit if they knew where Dove was and she wasn’t included. She’d spent enough time stitching up their war-torn skin and shoving them out of bullets to deserve a cut.

So, Pope told a little white lie. They had a stop in Mexico to meet with a contact.

Frankie had murmured, “Better be worth it, stuck in this shitty car with you fuckers for ten hours.”

Santiago resisted the urge to agree. God, he hoped it would be worth it too. He hoped he wasn’t driving them into a dead end, a bluff on Mark’s part. Or even worse, invading Dove’s beautiful new life without them. That would destroy everything; Dove, the boys, Frankie. What if she had settled down? What if he pulled into that idyllic beach bar she wanted and she’s there, a baby with the same brilliant eyes balanced on her hip? She was never sure about kids. A vivid mental picture of the wrong diamond, glistening on her ring finger in the afternoon sun, and the wrong man pecking her lips, made Santi physically wince.

Fish would never forgive him. Will and Benny would never forgive him. He’d never forgive himself.

It was a long, apprehensive drive. Santi’s eyes were drying, squinting against the headlights that occasionally glared past them. His jaw had been clenched for the last few hours as his anxiety grew, nothing but open road to stare at while he contemplated over and over as to whether it was the right decision. It didn’t help that Frankie never really slept like the others did on the move. While the other boys passed out, Frankie’s soft eyes continued scanning the scene flying past the window. It was like he stayed awake to watch Pope’s back, as if they were still in combat, or as an unspoken act of kindness to keep him company.

Really, Frankie was a terrible sleeper. Santi remembered that from the early days, before he and Dove gave it up and became an item. He was the last to drift off and first to wake up, always restless. Once Dove started tip-toeing over to his cot in the night, he became the worst snorer in the division. Always splayed on his front, one arm tossed over Dove’s waist and the other under his pillow. She’d kick him in the night so he’d roll over and shut up, but it never lasted long.

One night, Benny had enough, and groaned to Dove, “Put us out of our fuckin’ misery and smother him with your pillow, for the love of God.”

Dove had snapped back, “Fuck off, Benny, just ‘cause you aren’t getting any of the action doesn’t mean you have to get all bitter.”

“I’ve told you guys - I’m more than willing to join in-”

“Ben.” Frankie grumbled into her shoulder. It was gruff with sleep but still menacing enough to make the hairs on Dove’s arms stand on end.

Before a pillow smacked into his head, Benny guffawed, “Oh, so he is alive after all.”

Wringing a soft rag for polishing glasses between her fingertips, Dove descends the wooden steps at the entrance of the bar. The last huddle of regulars holler behind her, wrapping up their weekend drinks as the evening creeps closer to the early hours; Dove always notices the time when moths start colliding with the lanterns.

Roni rises from a crouch on the ground, dropping a paintbrush into a can with a clatter. “See, your own little touch!”

The wooden panels that constructed the side of the bar, usually concealed by a stack of cardboard beer boxes, is decorated with little doves. Despite studying criminology, mainly for the satisfaction of her parents, Roni loved painting and insisted on brightening the exterior of their beach shack.

Dove cracks a half-smile. “It’s lovely, Ron. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” She beams, throwing the half-empty cans into the nearby bins. She pauses, glancing hesitantly at the older woman over her shoulder, “Dove’s not your real name, right?”

“No, no. Nickname from when I was nursing overseas.” Dove chuckles, before adding, “Feels more like my real name than my Christian one nowadays.”

Roni passes Dove on the steps as she returns to the bar, “It suits you. You’re always graceful, but… you’re fucking fast.”

Dove laughs with her, ignoring the familiar clench in her chest. It’s exactly what Frankie used to say. The difference is Roni notices when she almost drops a glass, or her tray of drinks starts to wobble, and Dove is there to catch it with such fluidity Roni never saw her coming. Even the way Dove’s knife slices through fruit like each piece is a slab of melted butter. Frankie witnessed the extreme of that, the stealth and grace that usually ensured the enemy was dead before the others had even thought to raise their guns. Still, he admired her the same way Roni was right now. It was like awe.

It’s probably because he loved her effortlessly, every single aspect of her being without a glimmer of doubt or judgement. And now he wasn’t here.

The group of regulars stumbling down the steps break Dove from her thoughts, chortling and wishing her goodnight. One of the older men turns and jerks his thumb towards the road, “You might wanna tell them you’re closing, bonita.”

Before the road becomes the sand, there is a small, dusty wasteland that doubles as a makeshift car park. A vehicle is parked, glaring headlights facing towards the ocean and forming peculiar, alien-like beams in the dark. She’s definitely getting rusty; she’d barely registered the idling truck.

“I’ll sort ‘em out, Miguel, don’t you worry.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” He jokes, waving to her. “Buenos noches, Dove.”

Military habits are practically impossible to shake, and immediately, Dove’s mind launches into overdrive. She raises her hand above her eyes, squinting against the blinding white LEDs in an attempt to make out a registration plate or even a recognisable model. Her mind is fine-tuned to memorise; most of the locals’ cars are already catalogued in her memory, but this isn’t one of them.

Maybe they’re tourists, ready to push their luck with the opening times. That’s the reasonable side of Dove’s mind. The irrational, dark edges whisper, ‘What if someone found you?’ By someone, it means someone bad. Someone she wronged during her service, an enemy or straggler that got away. Even a civilian that might have been caught in the crossfire. She thought about those ghosts often. Hell, some of them she could still name. When she can’t sleep, sometimes she lists them, pictures their faces if she can recall them, just in case they ever came back.

She inhales a sharp gust of ocean air through her nostrils, welcoming the clarity that spreads through her mind. Parting her lips (the lips Frankie always teased were in a permanent pout), she released the breath slowly, trying to relax the stressed scrunch in her features.

“Your face is gonna get stuck like that someday.”

The voice is familiar. A deep, breathy chuckle, barrel-toned and gravelly. It sounds like home.

taglist: @mishasminion360

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie x reader #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier fic #frankie morales x ofc #dove #Santiago Garcia #Benny Miller #Will Miller #pedro pascal #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales fic #francisco morales #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal characters

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let-them-read-fics · 3 years

Text

BP Headcanon / One Shot: Raising A Kid With Lisa

Requested By Anon: Lisa / Reader while they're raising a kid

Quote Requested By @ssamssamu: "I knew I did from that first moment we met. It was… not love at first sight exactly, but- familiarity. Like: oh, hello, it’s you. It’s going to be you."

Pairing: Lisa x Fem!Reader

Warnings / Misc. -- Fluff, Slight Angst, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: This one's kinda long, guys 😳 I hope you enjoy, though. Thank you for the requests!

PS ~ Your child is female in this

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Dear lord... 🛐🤰

Let's get started

First off: milf

Second off: you'd either come home to find her, your child, and your 5 cats passed out, or chaotically playing with one another

WHEN YOU'RE NEW PARENTS:

If you give birth, she's literally the most supportive wife ever

Getting you any and everything you need, no matter the time of day or night

"Lis?" You ask into the darkness, voice coming out rough as it slips past your sleepy lips. Her soft snoring is cut off in an instant as she wakes up, ready to help.

"I'm here, my love." She yawns, quickly stretching before reaching forward to take your hand into her own.

"Can you get me some ice chips?" You wince, hating to make her trek all the way down the hall when she was comfortable and sleeping so well.

"On it, baby." She stands and brushes her lips against your forehead, reassuring you that she doesn't mind the task.

"Thank you; I love you," you call after her as she walks towards the door. She turns to you just as she reaches it, pressing a kiss to her fingers before holding a finger heart up for you.

"I love you more."

----

"Here you go," she says, helping you sit up in the hospital bed. "I got you a little water with it, just like you like." She raises the cup for you, tilting it so that the cool liquid can slide towards your lips, soothing your dry mouth. The styrofoam squeaks lightly, momentarily accompanying the sound of the beeping monitor that's keeping track of your vitals.

You gently push the cup away after you're satisfied, wrapping your arms around her waist as she puts it on the bedside table. She cuddles you back, kissing the top of your head.

"Thanks again, babe. I don't know what I'd do without you." You mumble against her, still exhausted from all that you went through earlier today. She crouches down beside you, taking your hands within her own as she looks up into your eyes.

"You've made me the happiest woman in the world, Y/N/N; I have you and our cute little baby girl now. I think that's more than a fair trade for getting ice chips at 3 in the morning."

You laugh, leaning forward to rest your forehead against hers.

"We did pretty good, didn't we?" You ask after a moment, gazing over at the clear bin your daughter is laying in, resting peacefully.

"We sure did." Lisa says, feeling tears prick at her eyes. She raises a hand to your cheek, cupping the soft skin as she looks at you tenderly.

If she gives birth, you'd do everything for her as well and take good care of her as she recovers

She'd try to be a bit more independent, though, just because that's how she is

She secretly loves when you surprise her with just what she wanted, but was too shy / stubborn to ask for

You come back into the bedroom with a pint of ice cream and two spoons in hand, clad in one of her oversized shirts.

"I got your favorite," you smile, saddling up next to her on the bed. She sits up with a shy grin, feeling beyond lucky to have someone like you.

"Thank you baby," she says, taking a scoop of the sweet treat as you stick it out to her. She sighs as the flavor coats her tongue, reminding her of all the reasons it's her favorite.

"You know," she starts after a minute, grabbing your attention mid-bite. "You taste even better than this."

She smirks as you nearly choke on the ice cream, coughing a bit as it trails an icy path down your throat.

"Yah, jagi! Are you trying to kill me?"

She doesn't want to feel like a nuisance

You reassure her that she isn't at all, and eventually she listens to you

Lets you help her more and cater to her needs

Repays you in the form of cuddles and millions of sweet kisses

As soon as she can safely take care of herself, she's back to normal (aka, being a crackhead)

If you adopt or have a donor, oh boy

That child is spoiled the moment you lay eyes on it

Raising her as your own

You agree to tell her about her past when she's older, if she wants that

Constant reassurance of your love for her

Telling her how proud you are of her

---

She'd be teaching your kid dance moves before she could even walk

"Lis, baby, she literally just bent her knee."

"I don't know what you're talking about. She was definitely practicing the move I taught her last night."

Almost always making a mess when she feeds her (though that's not entirely Lisa's fault... babies are messy)

Seriously, both of them completely covered in baby food and milk when you walk in

Lisa asking if she can buy a hazmat suit for when it's her time on diaper duty

Pouting when you say no

She decides to wear goggles, gloves, and a face mask instead

Singing softly to your daughter as she rocks her to sleep

Sometimes falling asleep in your rocking chair with your baby in her arms

And you find them and just 🥺

WHEN YOUR DAUGHTER IS A TODDLER & UP:

Visiting Lisa's family and your own when you can

Very wholesome memories being made with them

Food fights

She is 110% down to act silly and do anything your kid wants

You unlock the front door of your shared home, tiredly rubbing your neck after a long day of work. The sound of one of your daughter's favorite movies playing on the living room TV brings a smile to your face, and you quickly set your things on the kitchen table before joining them.

Upon stepping foot into the room, you comically narrow your eyes.

"What are you wearing?" You ask both of them as an amused smile grows on your lips.

Lisa turns to you now, appearing to have been so invested in the movie that she hadn't even heard you come home. You start to wonder if maybe she was the one who wanted to watch the movie all along.

A tin foil hat rests atop her head, matching the adorable, mini-sized version that your daughter is modeling. Lisa's grin widens cutely as she looks you up and down, happy to finally have you back home.

"Here mama, we made one for you, too!" Your daughter says excitedly, giggling as she hops up and runs towards you, cap in hand. You crouch down so she can put it on you, feeling your heart melt at the happy look in her eyes; she's proud of herself, and so are you.

"Thank you baby, it fits just right." You praise, lifting her into your arms as Lisa stands up and approaches you.

"We missed you, lovey." She presses her lips to yours, humming against them when you bring a hand to her hip to pull her even closer. You pull away before you can get too invested and scar your child for life, opting instead to cuddle into the cozy embrace that Lisa offers to the two of you.

The warm material of her sweater brushes against your skin as she brings her arms around both of you, protecting you from the slightly chilly air of the room.

"You know, I still have no idea what the hat's for..." you smirk, feeling your daughter raise her head from where it previously came to rest against your shoulder. She scoffs, sounding offended that you don't know the answer.

"It's to protect us from aliens. Duh," she rolls her eyes, making you and Lisa chuckle. Clearly Jennie has been giving her some sass lessons lately.

"My most sincere apologizes, princess," you bow your head in mock shame, doing your best to conceal your smile.

"Let's go sit back down. I wanna hold my girls," Lisa declares softly, kissing your temple as you go to agree.

The three of you make your way back to the couch, snuggling up close as Lisa presses play.

Very affectionate

Constantly squishing your cheeks and gushing about how cute you are (she does the same thing to your daughter too)

Spoils her (and you) rotten

Matching onesies

Matching outfits, totally coordinated (usually Celine or some other designer brand)

Pillow / blanket forts

"Queen Y/N, requesting entrance." You announce with a smile, hands full of snacks for the three of you as you sit back on your knees in waiting.

From inside, you hear Lisa say, "Your Highness, there's a guest at the door. Would you like to see her?"

Your daughter's faux royal voice almost makes you crack up. "Oh, alright. Open up." She commands, sounding British.

Lisa parts the front two blankets, doing her best to conceal her grin as she locks eyes with you.

"SNACKS!" Your daughter shrieks, completely breaking character.

"No no no! Wait--" She eagerly rushes over to you, knocking you over in the heat of the moment. Your mom skills kick in and allow you to angle the bowls correctly and keep most of the food in, though a few stray pieces of popcorn fall out and land in your hair.

"Oops... sorry mommy," your daughter says, snickering softly.

Lisa leans over you, peering down at where you now lay on your back. She smirks as she picks some of the popcorn out of your hair.

If you're preparing a meal for the three of you, they'd turn on some music and come hang in the kitchen with you

Dance battles everywhere

Lisa doesn't always let your daughter win, either, and it makes your little girl all the more competitive

Taking your daughter to street markets to introduce her to new foods and develop her palate

Betting on what foods she'll like more

Lisa getting sulky when she loses, and never shutting up about it when she wins

PICTURES PICTURES PICTURES

Lisa's always taking pictures of you all to add to your family photo book

More like photo books

Seriously so many pictures. She just can't get enough of how cute her little unit is

Taking trips to local cat cafés to let the gang play

Lisa convincing you to let her get another cat

"Pleaaaase?" She draws the word out, wrapping her arms around your waist. You glance over to where your daughter is surrounded by a sea of fluff balls, almost unable to be seen. She's laughing her head off, filling the room with her cute giggles as the kitties brush against her.

"Just one more. Last one." Lisa says, gathering your attention again.

"You said that last time," you quip.

"I mean it this time."

"I feel like that's a lie..."

"If you let me get this cat, there'll be a reward for you later." She husks the last part out, letting her fingers trail to the back of your neck to rest there. She leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek, then your jawline, smiling against your skin when she feels your heart beat a little faster.

"Fine, Lisa. But this is the last one," you point a finger at her, pushing her back slightly.

"Thank you, my love. You won't regret it." She smirks, head held high as she slaps your butt and goes to the crate to pick her cat of choice.

Roadtrips

Sightseeing and exploring

Teaching your daughter how to take good pictures, too

"My little prodigy" - Lisa (🥺🥲)

You and your daughter go to Lisa's performances anytime you're able

Cheering the girls on, fully decked out in BP merch

"BLACKPINK IS THE REVOLUTION!" Your daughter screams, bonking her light stick against her head wildly. From the vantage point of your front row seat, you lock eyes with Lisa before glancing down at the little human with an amused smile. Lisa laughs when she notices her, leaving only the backing track to play for a second. She giggles again and points to you before picking back up with the song, a wide smile on her lips.

The other members look down and laugh, too, clapping for her.

Your baby has too much energy for her own good -- something she definitely got from your wife.

Visiting the girls often

They always love to see both of you

Jennie makes food for her and spoils her with lazy days, Jisoo teaches her how to play video games and be more of a crackhead, and Rosé teaches her to paint and sing (and also speak with an Australian accent)

"Nœř"

They all have a secret handshake with her, different for each member

Which you think is absolutely adorable

They always take such good care of her

Always showing up for her school recitals and performances

When you pack your daughter's lunch, Lisa will usually sneak extra sweets into her bag, thinking you don't notice. You do, but you'd never tell her that. Seeing her think she's actually being sneaky is cute

Your Relationship With Lisa

Playful banter

She still makes time for you

Likes to be connected in some way as often as possible. Holding hands or pinkies, back hugs, kisses, gentle caresses, cuddling, etc. -- anything she can do to constantly remind you of her love.

You both always look forward to date nights

You drop your daughter off so the girls can watch her, or you call a sitter

Lisa takes you wherever you wanna go

Some past places: the park (to stargaze), the roller rink, fancy restaurants, art museums / galleries, couples dance classes (when you want to practice a new style and have an excuse to dance the night away together), or even just the couch

Sometimes both of you are too exhausted to go out, so you opt to stay in instead

Other times she wants to get all fancied up and see how gorgeous you look in your outfit of choice

She loves to show you off

"Damn, baby. How do you get hotter every time I see you?"

You look over at her with an incredulous expression, still clad in your oversized shirt with you hair pulled back.

"I haven't even gotten ready yet..."

"Still sexy," she coos, coming up behind you to give you a hug. You settle back into her arms, sighing softly when she trails soft kisses along your shoulder, towards your neck.

"I have to shower," you inform her, releasing the words gently. Part of you knows you'll be late for your reservation if you let her continue, but you can't find it in yourself to care. You've been aching for her touch lately, both of you caught up with the stressors of life. But she's here now, letting her hands roam to the places she knows they shouldn't be.

"Lis..."

"You know," she pecks the mark she just finished making on your neck, feeling satisfied as it darkens before her eyes, "I'm in need of a shower, too." Her fingertips flirt with the waistband of your panties, dipping underneath the material to caress your skin.

"Didn't you get in a couple hours ago?" You ask, furrowing your brows in genuine curiosity.

She laughs at that, letting her head fall against your shoulder as she stills her movements.

"Y/N, can't you just go along with it? Jeez, let me flirt with you."

Both of you chuckle together now, giggles mixing together as they fill the air of the room.

"Alright, alright. Go ahead."

"You look-- No, you know what? Let's just get in. I'll show you instead."

One of the best showers of your life ;)

You somehow managed to make it to your reservation on time

Lisa had to help you walk, though

Cause, ya know

Wöbbĺý łəğ§

Flirted like crazy at dinner

But was also very romantic

As a plane blinks by in the distance, merely a speck on its journey across the dusky sky, Lisa ponders on what her life would've been like, had she not met you. That lonely looking plane symbolizes what she'd probably be doing right now: flying somewhere for tour or brand deals. Every flash of its lights is like a call out to the universe, searching for something it doesn't yet have. It reminds her of how she felt before she met you -- like something was missing.

"I love you, Y/N/N, so much," she says out of the blue, looking over to you. "I'm lucky to call you mine." She says sincerely, gazing into your eyes with a big smile. You turn her into a lovesick, giddy teenager just by being yourself. One look from you is capable of sending her falling all over again.

Her fingers intertwine with your own, hands resting on the table.

"I'm so proud of us. There's no one I'd rather grow old with." You bring her wrist to your lips, kissing it tenderly. Her heart melts at the action, and she cups your cheek in her palm.

She takes you to the park after dinner, right back to the place you met

It leads to a big sentimental talk about when you fell for one another and realized you were in love

You take a bite of the froyo you got as desert on the way here, looking over to her as she begins explaining.

"I knew I did from that first moment we met. It was… not love at first sight exactly, but- familiarity. Like: oh, hello, it’s you. It’s going to be you."

She looks so sweet after she says it that you almost melt right then and there. You put the container down on the bench beside you before turning back to her. Curiosity shines in her doe eyes as she waits on your answer.

"Oddly enough, it was the same for me," you start, feeling your cheeks tug up into a smile as the memories come flooding back. "As soon as I made you laugh that first time -- when I saw your face light up after I told that stupid joke -- I knew it was you. I never knew what I was missing until I met you."

She cups your cheek, rubbing the pad of her thumb across it as tears begin to well up in her eyes. Years ago, when both of you happened to be in this very spot at the same time, you had no idea what life had in store for you. She had no idea that when she accidently bumped into a complete stranger, that that person would become her world.

She wouldn't feel complete without you, and neither would you without her. The life you've created has taken sacrifices and courage, but you know you'll always have one another no matter what. She makes the hard days bearable, and the good days unforgettable. She's your reason, just as you're hers.

"I love you--"

Both of you say the phrase at the same time, laughing when you realize it. It's a sweet moment, plucked straight out of a romcom.

She leans forward after a few seconds to kiss your lips, reclaiming them for her own.

Holding hands as you walk through the city

Not wanting the night to end

You stop in a couple other thrift shops and take some pictures together before deciding to go home

You catch up on some movies / Netflix / trashy TV that you've been wanting to watch together, finally having enough time to do so

She holds you close, snuggling up against you and not letting you go

Fights

Of course, they're inevitable

Never fun

You both communicate well, though, so they don't happen too often

But when they do, they usually start over little things, your annoyance only heightened by the stress you're constantly under

It's tough on Lisa, being an idol on top of everything else, and it's tough on you to have to raise your daughter alone sometimes

You don't fight in front of her (your child), and you don't say things to attack each other's character. Sometimes you just get loud because you're frustrated and trying to get the other to understand things from your point of view

You usually take time to cool down and then come back together later, once you've had time to think and reflect

After putting your daughter to bed, Lisa comes to your shared bedroom.

"Y/N/N, baby, I'm sorry. Please open up, I need to see you." She says quietly, resting her forehead against the door. She's beyond disappointed in herself, baffled by the fact she could treat you in such a way.

You look over to it, weighing your options as you toy with your wedding ring out of habit. This was a particularly nasty fight, and you hated every second of it; the anger in her eyes broke your heart.

She hears shuffling from inside, and she stands up straight. When you open the door and lean against it, eyes red and cheeks puffy from crying, her heart sinks. It's not surprising that her words hurt you so much, but knowing that she caused you pain in any way is almost too much to bear.

She purses her lips as she gathers her thoughts, and you momentarily look down to the floor, scuffing your foot to busy yourself.

"I never should've said any of that to you. Work has just been stressing me out lately with the comeback and all, and I took it out on you. I was wrong," she says, fresh tears spilling out of her eyes. She quickly wipes them away, not wanting the moment to be about her. She knows if she breaks down in front of you right now, you'll be forgiving her in an instant and wrapping her in the embrace that she's been in dire need of all evening.

That's exactly why she doesn't give in; now isn't the time to be selfish. She sniffles, willing the tears away as she finds the words she wants to say to you. She has to make things right.

"You're everything I've ever wanted, and I treated you like that? I'm ashamed of myself, Y/N. I'm not asking you to forget about this; I just want you to know how sorry I am."

You let a shaky breath out as you look into her eyes, deciding on what to do. You can tell she's being genuine; her fear of losing you is real, and she's doing everything she can to prove how guilty she feels.

You drop your hand from the knob and step through the threshold of the door, wrapping your arms around her neck. The second you do, her tears finally begin spilling out again. Your hair tickles her nose as she nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck, securing her arms around your waist like her life depends on it. You cry together, letting out all of your stress and frustrations while muttering out strained apologies and I love yous.

"I forgive you, Lisa." She sobs a bit harder at that, and you feel her lip tremble. You stay like that until you both calm down, your sniffles fading to hitched breaths every now and then.

"Come on, let's go take a bath."

She decides to take over, wanting to make it up to you. She has you sit down and relax while she lights some candles and fills the tub with your favorite scents and oils

She comes back out into the bedroom to get you as the tub fills up

She carries you back to the bathroom, cradling you lovingly in her arms

You get in and cuddle, massaging the pain and tension away from each others shoulders

Very soft way to end such a stressful day

She reassures you that she'll be better for you and that she never wants to lose you or jeopardize what you have

You believe her, and to this day she's never been like that again

You still argue from time to time, but you both listen more and stop things before they can escalate

When All Is Said & Done

At the end of the day, Lisa always makes sure you know how happy you make her and how much she loves her life with the both of you

Even though things get hard sometimes, you wouldn't want to do it with anyone else

One day, when your daughter is away at school, Lisa and you are snuggled up on the couch, watching some TV

"Y/N/N?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Let's make another baby."

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insomniac-dot-ink · 3 years

Text

Is it wrong to lie to children?

A personal essay on reconciling with a shitty childhood and the question: is it wrong to lie to children?

It’s perplexing to have a shitty “unorthodox” childhood because initially I tried to throw out everything about It. Toss out the plumping and the rafters and the roofing, dispense of every single part of my upbringing I could get my hands on and not look back. Naturally, this approach didn’t work. It wasn’t even a real possibility. You’re still haunted by it, a ghost in the bones of a house, a foundation that remains long after the builders have left. That’s part of recovery too, to look at that ghost, to look at those bones, and keep saying: I see you, I see. I let you in. You sit with it and accept, accept, accept.

The really terrible part of this, the part where I don’t throw away the baby with the bathwater, is that you then have to raise the thing, deal with it. You have to do the hard work of parsing through the endless bits of self and placing them in “keep” piles and “discard” piles. I want to keep my mother’s kindness. I want to keep my father’s sense of humor. I want to discard the isolation. I want to discard the delusions.

But then there are these weird . . . “I don’t know” things. The things I am unsure if they helped me or hurt me. As I’ve gotten older I’ve gotten more and more of those “I don’t know” categories piling up. I’ve worked my way through most of the more obvious ones and now it’s all grey and mushy and as cloudy as a London winter. Recently, more than anything, I’ve been grappling with the fact my mother believed it was wrong to lie to children. She believed, in her flower-child way, that it was unethical in all forms.

I never believed in Santa Claus. I’m sorry to say I was a pretty obnoxious kid too because I would preach on the playground about how there was no Santa and there had never been any Santa. Which was a bit harsh, but in my defense I was under the impression these people were suffering from some sort of collective mass delusion. They were being lied to. And lying was wrong.

Is it wrong to lie to children?

I’ve known about sex since I was around 5 years old. I don’t remember why I asked, but it was something about where babies come from and so on. Most parents talk about a stork or love or some other abstract side-step. My mother described the anatomy to me and showed me a scientific diagram of the process. She told me that a sperm meets an egg and fertilizes it so the baby can grow. I learned most of this in scientific terms and was surprised when none of my middle school friends knew how a penis worked.

Is it wrong to lie to children?

When I was 9 or so our cat was eaten by a coyote. I asked my mom where he went and she said that he accidently got out the night before. She said they looked for him all morning, but it was too late. She didn’t use the word “gone” or “passed on” or “he’s in a better place now.”

She said he was dead. I said oh. She asked if I wanted to see him. I said yes. For the record, I am not actually sure if 9 year-olds should see corpses. That is neither here nor there. It was something that stuck with me though, the body of my cat with his tummy ripped out. I had never seen intestines before. His eyes were open.

But there was something cathartic about digging the grave. About helping pick up his little stiff body by the feet and placing him inside. There was something about piling on the red dirt as the sun set and letting the tears fall.

People on sitcoms hate talking about death. It’s understandable, it’s not funny, it makes for good dramatic irony when the kid asks “Where’s Socks?” and the parents go “Uuuuuh. He ran away.” I’ve never felt more alienated at those points. My cat died. He was eaten. I saw his body, and I buried it. Sometimes I think I wouldn’t want to be told he ran away-- that he had a choice in whether or not he left me.

Is it wrong to lie to children?

For a long time I thought the entirety of my childhood was wrong and bad, because I was miserable and broken at the end of it. I will assure you, my parents fucked up time and time again. But sometimes I have to stop and keep asking: Was this the wrong part? Was this the part where they fucked up? Was any part of this valuable? It’s a hard process to comb through an entire life and decide which bits are worth keeping, and if there are any silver linings.

So here is one: I am an honest person. I am a crooked person too, unsure of where to place my feet in social situations, picking my way through others normalcy. I do not readily share information, I am not forthcoming, and it’s a slow burn for me to open up about anything.

However, I notice time and time again that strangers will share personal things with me. I don’t mean for it to happen, but there’s just this pattern in my life. I once went on a car ride with a girl I barely know from my debate team. She described how she wanted to lose her virginity, she wanted it, but was scared God would be angry. That she’d be dirty afterwards. I told her that that was impossible, sex was just an act, it had no eyes, it had no priestly robes, or bearing on her soul. She cried. She said she hadn’t told me anyone this before.

I had a friend in high school who was struggling with an eating disorder, people had tried to get her to talk about it before, but I was the first person she admitted it to. In the hallway, sitting, just discussing nothing, and out it comes: I’m scared to eat sometimes. I was on a city bus and an old woman struck up a conversation with me. Over an hour or so, and she ended up telling me her fears for her own daughter going away to college. Her fear of growing old and passing on. Her problems with sleeping as she lay awake and dreaded it.

People have told me about their problems with substance abuse, their struggles with sexuality, and childhood trauma. People spill to me and I sit there thinking: Why? Sometimes I think it’s my gender or just how people are, but it always feels like I’m missing some part of the picture. Why do people open up to me, unprompted, all at once? Why me?

Is it wrong to lie to children?

Recently, I was reading a memoir set in 2001 where two young kids ask the narrator, their mother, about 9/11. They asked what happened to the people on television who were jumping off the building. Where did they go? The mother says this: They were caught. There are people-catchers that flew and saved them. Everyone is okay.

This story was meant to be heartfelt and lyrical, relatable. It ended like this: It is the job of mothers to offer gentle lies.

I had to stop reading because I was suddenly lost in a white-hot rage, unexpected, knee-jerk. How could she do that? I found myself frothing. They trusted her with answers and she lied. How could she? I knew it was irrational. It was silly even. This was a sweet story. It was meant to be heart-warming and framed in a way that suggested this is what all mothers do. This was what they needed to do.

I felt my own mother, pumping through my veins, furious that these elementary school students were being betrayed. I stopped myself of course, I knew it wasn’t reasonable. I wasn’t raised “correctly.” I had no legs to stand on.

But still, is it alright to lie to children?

I am once again faced with that unending dilemma: how to throw-out those parts of myself that don’t work and keep the ones that do. It’s difficult to say, because in some ways I agree with my mom. How can I not? But death is cruel. Sex is weird. Santa Claus is a beautiful lie.

And what’s wrong with lying? I still don’t know. What’s wrong with letting them never hurt? Never knowing the pain or gross parts of the world? What’s the harm in letting them make-believe?

But sometimes I think about all those people who have cried to me. All these unprompted confessions come with an unspoken plea: I hurt. I am afraid. I am so scared. It’s all so heavy, these painful truths.

And some part of me stands there, the part my mother raised and says: there is nothing in this life that is too shameful. There is nothing in this world that is unnatural. There is nothing in this life to lie about, even to children.

Is death too painful? Is sex too gross? Would you tell an adult that a man lives in the North Pole and watches them?

I asked my mom, years later, when I was less furious and able to talk with her again without screaming, about why she believed all this. She had told me about it since I was very young, but I never asked why. She shrugged. She said: children are people, aren’t they?

I still don’t know what to do with this.

Children are people, but they are not adults. They shouldn’t be exposed to “adult” things, right? But is that line so concrete? Is the word “adult” just a mask for the greater word, the one we really mean? We all agree: honesty is good. Lying hurts. But it’s alright to lie to kids, because in many ways they aren’t people yet, they aren’t people yet, they don’t count.

I am admittedly an argumentative person. I was on the debate team, mock trial, United Nations, I studied political science in college and fought with every single one of my professors I thought was wrong. And I stood in that playground, age 6, and told every single one of my classmates Santa wasn’t real and I wouldn’t stop. The truth was important. And my mother, no matter what, thought I disserved it.

I often felt tiny and powerless as a kid. Terrified and holding myself together by shoestrings. I often felt there would be nothing better in the world than to be grown up. Not for the money or the dating or the job, I just wanted to feel like the hurricane would end. That one day I could stand on solid ground again. My friend often says: I wish I could be a kid again, ya know? No responsibilities. Just bliss. I want to be a kid again.

I can’t relate. I never have. I’ve been busy weeding through the pipes and lighting and the carpentry of my upbringing and asking myself: is any of this worth keeping? Is any part of me built correctly? There are no right answers.

But still, I am haunted. I sit and ask myself in circles: is it alright to lie to children?

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#personal essay #nonfiction #creative nonfiction #writers on tumblr #story time

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fijiangecko · 3 years

Text

The Gr8King

Camboy!Oikawa Tooru x Fem!Reader

+9k words

MDI, Explicit, Smut, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers

Read it on AO3 here

Finding an apartment for college was one of the hardest things you’d ever done. Searching endlessly through ads, you ciphered through countless creeps and dingy houses that were not up to code. Up until the second to last week of summer break, you had no where to stay, but a friend of yours from high school said that he knew a guy looking for a roommate within your price range.

Thanking him a million times, you met up with Tooru Oikawa the next day at a coffee shop and got acquainted. You found him charming, and something clicked between you two immediately, a spark if you would.

Two days after you met him, you were moving in. And very quickly after that you met his best friend; the three musketeers were together at last. Hajime, Tooru and yourself were always together and you all got along extremely well.

You were a middle ground between the two, somewhere between the lines of rude and flirtatious, but it made for some fun nights out. Hajime and yourself are even better friends than Tooru and you, but both of you agree that it’s because of the mutual “hatred”. He became your best friend in a matter of weeks, and people often assumed you were a couple. Every time, it was quickly denied as either of you stated that you would rather shoot yourselves than hook up with one another.

Fast forward almost a year later, and the three of you are sitting on the couch, watching some shit alien documentary Oikawa put on in the background.

“Do you think we should buy a bigger TV, Y/N-chan?” Tooru asks you while shoveling some noodles in his mouth.

“Dude, it’s fine. I mean if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it? Plus, I don’t have the kinda cash for that at the moment.” You stand up, stretching slightly while reaching out to Iwaizumi, seeing as his bowl is empty. “Unless you wanna pitch in?” Laughing softly, he places the bowl in your hand and shakes his head.

“No chance in hell I’m helping you losers buy a bigger television for your apartment.”

“Well that was uncalled for…” Oikawa quietly mumbles. “But! I think I’m just gonna buy a new one. You don’t have to worry about the money or anything. Think of it as our one year anniversary gift!” He wiggles his eyebrows and bumps his elbow into Iwa’s side as you roll your eyes and walk to the kitchen. You’re just glad that you make it to the sink before he can see the bright red on your face.

You weren’t sure when this started, but whenever Tooru teased you, a rush of blood would flow through your system. You’ve known each other for years at this point, and nothing like this has ever happened. You’ve noticed that he’s been building more muscle, almost like he’s glowing. You’re unsure, but not upset.

“How the fuck can you afford that? You’re at practice all the time, and you don’t have a job.” You turn around after washing the dishes, leaning into the counter as you speak.

The two men quickly share a glance before Oikawa speaks. “I have my ways.” The flirtatious tone in his voice lures you in, wanting for the subject to change, and you give in to the pretty boy's ways.

“Whatever Flattykawa.” He sticks out his lip and pouts as you insult him. “I’m gonna turn in for the night, I have an eight thirty lecture and I still have to meet with a TA beforehand.” A yawn escapes your mouth as Hajime stands up from the couch, making his way to you and wrapping his rather large arms around your frame. The man has always been a walking space heater, and you place your arms around him. He rubs his hands on your back before saying goodnight and walking back to the couch. Tooru is still pouting, head turned to look out of the window as he sees his best friend hug his crush. The slight twinge of jealousy lasts for a brief moment, going away as he whispers a brief goodnight to you as well.

A week or so has passed since that night, and things are still the same between yourself and Oikawa. He did end up buying a new t.v., and you got the “old” one for your room. Not only that, but he’s been receiving packages all the time. Almost everyday he gets something shipped to the apartment, and you can’t help but wonder where the fuck all of this money is coming from.

It’s none of your business Y/N. If Tooru’s rich, then there’s nothing you can say about that. He’s just a little luckier than you are, with money, talent and looks he’s practically got no issues… Your thoughts run on and on as you sit at the bar, distracted from the homework on your laptop screen. It’s roughly seven or eight at night on a Monday night, meaning Oikawa’s home since it’s his day off. He doesn’t like being bugged when doing work of any kind, and tends to stay in his room until he’s finished doing whatever it is he’s doing. It was an agreement you both made when you first moved in to learn each other's boundaries and respect privacy at all times.

Your phone dinged on the other side of the counter, and you quickly picked it up to look at the notification. At the same time, Tooru walks through his bedroom door and into the kitchen. His unruly hair was even more disheveled than usual, and his shirt was nowhere to be seen. It’s a rather common occurrence for him to be shirtless, but it’s been happening more and more. Unaware of your gaze, he continued looking for a snack like nothing mattered. You glanced at him quite a few times, admiring the light viel of sweat covering his chest and the soft breaths as he took a few deep inhales.

Not taking any chances of being caught, you went back to checking your phone and saw a text from the group chat you had with a couple of gal pals. They were asking about going to brunch tomorrow and you quickly responded that you were down to clown before placing the phone back on the counter.

“What’s up Tooru?” Your eyes settled back on his frame as he turned to you, a smile grazing his lips. He liked it when you called him by his first name. Not that he’d tell you, but he thought it was cute that you only called him that when you two were alone.

“Nothing much Y/N. Looking for something sweet to eat…”

“Hmm, if I recall you’re the one who ate the last of the rice krispy treats.” You cocked your eyebrow, smirking at his over exaggerated reaction.

“And?” He placed his hand over his heart, “Just because I ate one of your rice krispies treats, and it happened to be the last one doesn’t mean I don’t deserve something sweet.”

“Riiiight, so by one do you mean five? Because I did take the trash out of your room the other day, and there just so happened to be some more wrappers in your bin.”

“Y/N. I would never, and when I say this, I mean never eat all of your snacks. I can’t believe you would accuse me of such a thing.” Oikawa sassed you back, feigning innocence.

“Mhm.” You hopped out of your seat and walked to your room.

“Where are you going?” He calls out, a little dumbfounded that you up and left.

“Hold your panties dude, I’ll be back.” He crosses his arms and leans into the counter as he waits for a few seconds. He can hear your footsteps coming back to the kitchen only a minute or so later, and suddenly a chocolate bar comes flying at him. It hits him square in the chest, but he catches it as it falls.

His lips stretch out into a genuine smile, looking between you and the chocolate. “I love you Y/N,” Tooru says in a sing-song voice, but rips open the wrapper as he speaks. Once again, his words cause a sudden blush to cover your face and you practically run over to your laptop to use it as cover.

“Whatever Tooru.” He chuckles while getting something to drink, and you see that the group chat has popped off during your short encounter. Decisions had been made in a small amount of time, but now you have plans tomorrow.

“What’s got you so happy?” He says, mouth full.

“Oh, just going out with some friends tomorrow. Haven’t seen them in a while so it’ll be fun.” You don’t bother looking up as you type.

“So I won’t be getting a breakfast special?”

“Are you saying you like burnt toast and crispy eggs?” A soft laugh fills the space when Tooru throws the wrapper in the trash. He pads over to the living area and plops down onto the couch.

“Vegging out for the rest of the night?” You call from the kitchen, still engrossed in the group chat.

“I think so. I’m all caught up with everything and a new episode of that alien series came out yesterday.” A hum in affirmation leaves your lips before sitting down next to him.

The rest of the night is quiet as Tooru watches his show and you text your girlfriends, both of you content with being next to one another in comfortable silence.

“So Y/N”, one of the girls smacks her lips once she places her champagne glass on the table, “You and Oikawa together yet?”

A blush erupts over your skin, and wanting to hide you start to shield your face into your shoulder. “No,” you mumble while the girls laugh at your reaction. They’re some of the only people, mind Hajime, that know about your crush. It hasn’t been that long since you’ve developed these feelings, but it’s starting to have an affect on your dynamic with him.

“Well,” another one of your friends starts, “I think you should hop on it girl. He’s fine as fuck, and I can’t help but imagine what he can do with that body-”

“Alright!” Your best friend breaks up the conversation, seeing you get more uncomfortable by the moment. “We don’t need to talk about Oikawa’s anything right now, but I am curious about him buying new things for your guys’ apartment all the time.”

“I don’t know guys. I think he’s just rich, or something,” you shovel some of your food into your mouth, speaking in between bites. The girls look around at each other and shrug it off.

“Maybe he’s got a side business.”

“Or he’s a sugar baby!” They all laugh, minus you who takes the idea seriously.

Maybe he has a sugar mommy or daddy… I mean, he’s got the looks and personality… You pick at the food on your plate as they continue their conversation.

“I would kill to be a sugar baby,” one of them whined, “Then I could sit around and do whatever I wanted.”

“You mean you could sit around and watch porn,” your best friend interjects. Silence fills the space before another round of laughter erupts from the table.

“Okay, but hear me out…” Another girl whispers under the hollers that can be heard across the restaurant. “I started watching this camboy the other week and it’s really hot.”

“Oh, like the guys who jack off on stream?” They sip out of their champagne glasses.

“Yeah, but when you donate money you can request or get things out of it. The guy I’ve been watching has been doing stuff with some vibrators lately, and I can’t get enough.”

“So,” you look up at them all, placing your fork down, “there’s just this whole category of porn where people do what you want.” They all turn and nod, almost eagerly.

“Did you not know about this Y/N?”

“I mean,” you could feel the heat rise on your face again, “I’ve heard of people jacking off on streams, but I didn’t know it was that popular…” Some of them laugh softly at the notion, but others try to explain further.

“You know, you might like it. I can send you the guy's username I’ve been watching. He streams every Monday for sure, and a few other times during the week. I’ll just text you.” She winks and the rest of the morning is just catching up with everyone.

Over the course of the past few days, your curiosity grew about cam culture and what it entailed. It’s been over a year since your last relationship and it has taken a toll on your sex drive. You aren’t about one night stands or friends with benefits, so you just stick to watching, listening and reading porn when you need to get off, and as the days went by you needed the release.

Making sure your room was locked, you opened your phone and searched through the texts to find your friends suggestion.

“Gr8King”, you whisper to yourself while typing the name into the search bar. The livestream pops into frame and the man is fully clad in a slutty maid outfit, teasing his own nipples with his fingers while he speaks ever so softly into the mic. His head is above the screen, allowing you to only see his mid and lower body down to his calves. He’s lean and toned, and you can feel your own arousal growing at the sight. The notification tones going off every few seconds, hundreds of people donating and thousands watching as he moves a hand slowly down his torso, grabbing the hem of the skirt.

“Should we move on to something more,” he moves closer to the mic, breathing softly and talking in a deeper tone, “sensual?” The vibrations from his voice cause chills to run down your spine. You run a hand over your clothed sex, dying for friction while clenching your thighs.

The skirt comes off, falling to the ground and it leaves him bare on screen. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath it, and his cock is already getting hard. The tip is red, leaking with precum as he moves his hand up the shaft, rubbing the head with his thumb and smearing the liquid around.

Messages increase from the viewers, begging him to do something more, but he stays in his position. “I can’t do anything until the masters say I can,” he whines. Never in your life did you think that you would have a thing for guys in maid outfits, but what was left of the outfit and him calling the audience “master” fueled your curiosity.

That’s when you realize the small animations on screen. Based on the donations, there’s a vibrator going on and anytime someone donates they can change it, and if they exceed a certain amount they get called “master” for the night. More people donate, rapidly changing the speed and he bucks his hips into his fist, moaning breathlessly. “Not- not so much,” he releases his hand except for the pointer finger, running it with a feathery touch from the head to the base. A larger notification shows on screen, a “master” donating a rather large sum of money. Once again, the chat waits in anticipation to see what he’ll do next.

“Looks like master wants me to fuck my dirty little fleshlight while the vibrator gets turned up all the way.” He turns to find what’s necessary, and you stare at the screen, biting your lip.

Am I really enjoying this that much? Your eyes are glued to the screen, waiting in anticipation for what’s about to happen. He returns to the frame, toys in hand and resumes the broadcast.

“How could I deny my masters when they’ve given me so much? I need to be a good boy for them..” he purrs into the mic, teasing the head of his cock on the entrance of the clear fleshlight. The vibrator goes to max, and he shoves the toy down his length, moaning viciously.

Embarrassment floods your system as you listen to this random person whisper sinful things into your ear as he reaches his peak. It’s definitely foreign to you, but the throbbing between your legs makes you want to watch more.

Watching the “Gr8King’s” streams becomes almost routine over the next few weeks. You convince yourself that it’s healthy for you to jack off whenever he streams, but deep down you know it’s just an excuse to stare at some guy guy's body while he talks dirty. In fact, this past week you’ve found yourself wanting to donate for the first time, but you don’t have money to just throw around willy nilly so you just lurk.

The stream boots up, this week being just a normal show where he takes suggestions from any amount. You settle into bed, getting prepared for the night’s activities while listening to the voice call you pet names like “cutie”, “gorgeous” and countless others.

It was a stressful week full of work and school, so you decide to take the time now to really let loose and let him guide you to your climax. He talks about nothing in particular, but does as his audience wants while moaning and playing with himself, leaving you panting on your bed, waiting to release at the same time.

Taking all the time in the world, he edges himself multiple times. You can barely hear his words as you desperately try to keep up, but you can feel the knot grow even further in your lower body. After teasing for almost fifteen minutes, he starts to whimper, begging the audience for relief. The way he speaks into the mic is weirdly familiar, just a few phrases here and there catch you off guard, almost as if you know him. This feeling is quickly washed away from the growing knot in your stomach. The audience give into his pleas immediately and you feel the shock waves of pleasure wrack your body. The high washes over and you pant to regain composure. After lying on the bed for a few seconds, you lazily get up and wash up very quickly before hearing a short growl come from your stomach.

Making something quick, you watch some TikToks on the couch as you eat, too entranced by the memes to see Tooru walk out of his room. Once again, he is shirtless, but he spots you on the couch before entering the kitchen.

He slows his pace to admire your flushed skin and glow as you laugh. His heart beats quickly, and he targets the fridge. You can hear him in the next room over, but you don’t bother to call his name, figuring he would join you shortly.

A few moments later, you hear his bedroom door shut and you’re left alone. “What the fuck?” You check the date on your phone, making sure it’s Monday. He usually watches his alien show with me on Monday’s since we can hang out… With a frown, you turn on the t.v. The newest episode plays out as you mindlessly scroll, wondering what was wrong with him.

Two days later, you finish watching a stream, taking longer than usual to clean up and head back out to the living room, wanting to clean some before Hajime comes over. Much to your surprise, it’s being worked on by Tooru, who’s wearing a muscle tank top and some running shorts. He’s panting quietly as he bends to pick up various pieces of trash, but it leaves you stunned.

When did he get so buff? You peered at his abs and pecs through the large slits on the sides of his shirt, but he turns and catches you staring.

“What’s up, Y/N-chan?” He’s got a sly smirk plastered over his face. Your reaction is involuntary heat takes over your body. Without saying anything, you turn and go back to the safehaven of your room.

Tooru is also stunned over your movements, expecting some kind of sassy retort. Then his phone dings in his pocket. Still freaked out over what happened, he checks his messages and sees you’ve texted the group chat you both have with Iwaizumi.

[I think I’m sick, so you guys have fun tonight <3] His brow furrows; now he’s just confused.

“The fuck did you say to her man?” Hajime shoves a piece of sushi into his mouth, talking between chews. Tooru and himself sat at the counter, talking over some movie that all three of you were supposed to watch.

“I made a joke about her staring at me since I was wearing workout clothes, but I thought she was gonna just punch me or something.” He places the chopsticks down on his plate and tries to think. A light goes off in his head, Hajme can see that, but the look is quickly replaced with one of defeat.

“Imayormaynothavebeenavoidingherforthepastfewdays.” All at once, Oikawa speaks in a rushed and hushed sentence, hoping his best friend caught on.

“Excuse me: what.” There’s no playful tone in the air. Hajime popped that balloon and glares daggers into that thick skull of Oikawa’s.

“I,” he plays with his hands, “may or may not have been avoiding her over the past few days.” The first go around was quieter, but Iwa hears it more clearly, finally understanding what’s going on.

“You’re a fucking moron, you know that right?” Hajime places his utensils down, “I’m not going to get in between whatever’s going on here, but you both need to figure shit out. You can’t just avoid her all of the sudden. Not that she’s said anything to me, but she might be going through something and having one of her best friends just avoiding her out of the blue might not be the best thing for her.” Oikawa’s eyes widen at the words of wisdom. He makes a mental note for later, and the night goes on with the two men watching Godzilla for the 100th time.

Monday afternoon rolls around, and Tooru walks through the door of the apartment, finished with his classes. You’re making some tea to get some homework done, and he marches into the kitchen, raiding the pantry and fridge.

“You okay man?” Your brow pops up in concern. He didn’t have practice today, so why was he acting like this?

“Huh?” He turns with some food stuffed in his mouth. After swallowing, he answers, “Yeah, I’m good. Just wanted to talk with some friends on chat tonight so I wanted to eat quickly.” Hesitantly, you nod, returning to your laptop on the counter. What you couldn’t see was how his heart rate picked up after seeing you in the kitchen. He’s been wanting to confront you about his sudden absence in your life, but everytime he sees you he gets extremely nervous and bolts.

Tooru finishes up with whatever, and practically runs to his room, slamming the door. He scolds himself quietly behind the closed door for not saying anything to you.

Rude. You focus on homework for another thirty minutes or so and check the time, knowing that your weekly ritual is gonna be starting in the next fifteen minutes or so. Packing everything up, you move into the bedroom, checking the lock on the door for the thousandth time before settling down.

In minutes, “Gr8King” appears on screen, this time in a sports uniform. He starts out like normal, teasing the audience with his voice, running his hands along his body as countless people donate and chat in real time.

Just as he’s about to take his jersey off, a notification dings somewhere off camera and he tenses. “Excuse me cuties,” in a rush, he moves out of frame, slightly knocking his camera from it’s normal setup.

In the background, you spot a poster on a wall that’s eerily familiar. It’s light blue, with a man jumping high, arms reaching back as he prepares to attack. A net is settled before him as a volleyball is high in the air. There’s words in a foriegn language, except for the large letters at the bottom of the poster: “Argentina”.

This causes you to stop what you’re doing. You’re not entirely sure why, but the poster pokes and prods at the back of your mind. It’s a thorn you didn’t know you had.

Why does this guy have an Argentinian volleyball poster? The live stream continues in the background while your eyes haze over. Why does this bug you so much? It’s not like I know the dude, but he did seem familiar in a sense...

That’s the last piece. Everything falls into place as you hastily slam the laptop close. Your breaths are heavy as you finally understand. He’s not fucking rich, he’s a fucking camboy! Your fingers run themselves through your hair over and over as your brain tries to process what’s happening.

I’ve been watching Tooru fuck himself for weeks and had no idea. I was watching the guy I’m crushing over please himself for thousands of people, and he’s just down the hall. What the fuck. You try to stop fidgeting, but your anxiety starts to spike.

“Maybe it’s not him. Maybe this is just a weird fucking coincidence that some streamer has the same schedule as Tooru and the same volleyball poster,” legs pacing around the room, you try to rationalize the situation. Talking out loud helps you realize what’s happening, but you speak quietly to ensure he won’t be able to hear you. Your heart is hammering in its cage, the rapid beating making you dizzy.

Before making any hasty decisions, you walk out into the kitchen and grab a glass of water. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence…” You pull out your phone, turning the sound all the way down and go back to the stream. You don’t actively watch, bouncing your leg as you lean on the counter, and wait for it to end.

You realize it might be a while, and you creep through the hallway, wary of the floorboards that creak and press your face onto his door, listening as closely as possible. Very softly, you can hear moans and grunts, but no actual words. Maybe he’s just working out...

The stream is still playing on your phone, but you return to the kitchen. Not much later, it ends and you wait patiently, timing everything from when it ends. Preemptively, you fill an extra glass with water and set it down. Five minutes pass, and Tooru walks out of his room, sweaty and shirtless. He turns the corner, taking the glass with a small thanks before going to the living room.

The timing makes sense. If he’s the Gr8King than it would make a lot of sense...

[Hajime we need to talk] you type and send before returning to your room, avoiding Tooru. He notices your disappearance and frowns, debating on fetching you. He misses the time you two used to spend together, and he scolds himself further for not bringing it up.

Taking a deep breath, he tells himself to “man up” and sends, [hey, i'm here for you if you need me :)]. He presses his lips into a line before hitting send and placing the phone on the couch next to him.

“So what’s up? Not to be rude but you never wanna go to the juice bar…” Hajme laughs lightly, hiding how nervous he is to be meeting up with you.

“I need to ask you something,” you sip the green smoothie, smacking your lips in disgust at the flavor. “And I need you to be honest with me.” Making eye contact, you set the cup down on the table.

“Y/N you’re freaking me out,” he meets your eyes and clenches his jaw.

“Well,” the blush rises in your cheeks, “I always joke about where Oikawa gets his money,” Hajime tightens his grip on his own cup, but remains silent. “I thought it was weird that he got packages all the time when he was either at home or at practice. Then I realized when he was at home, he’d lock himself in his room.” Your face is bright red and you take a deep breath in. “A friend of mine suggested something to me a few weeks back, and when I looked into it I saw something I don’t think I should have.” You look up at the ceiling, avoiding Iwa’s strong gaze. You don’t say anything, trying to think of a way to ask in the least embarrassing way possible.

“What is it Y/N?” He speaks with a small voice.

“Istooruacamboy?” You whisper, still looking up. Hajime’s face also breaks out into a blush, but he chuckles at the events. His chuckles grow into full on laughter as he buckles over and you’re stunned into silence. This continues for a few minutes until he calms himself down, wiping a few tears from his eyes while he looks up to you.

“I can’t believe you found out by watching him.” Some would say it’s impossible, but your face turned two shades darker as you slap him on the chest.

“Fucking asshole! You fucking knew, didn’t you?!” You punch him in the bicep for good measure as you scold him. His laughter is brought back while sipping on the rest of his drink.

“He started after the first semester of school, just trying new things. He told me it was interesting to him, and I said I wanted no part. He hated working at that sports store, you know that, and when he started to get popular there was no going back.” You sit silently, letting him explain. “I hope you don’t think that he’s like, sex crazed or anything… He’s just doing it for the money as far as I know and he likes being able to work from home.” He smiles, acknowledging his friends work but finishes his drink in silence, waiting for a response.

“I don’t think any different of him,” you shake your head and begrudgingly take another sip. “I just- It’s hard for me to take in? I think? Like, I wanna be supportive for him, and I’d like to think that I am but that doesn’t change that I want to be more.” Hajmie nods in affirmation, already knowing that you have feelings for your mutual best friend.

“I'm gonna keep saying it, just tell him. Tooru’s a good guy, and you two deserve each other.” You bite your lip and keep silent. “But first you should tell him that you know about the cam stuff.” Iwa is nonchalant about it all, and grabs your cup, finishing off the drink.

You sit on the couch, bouncing your leg but keeping an eye on the package that sits on your lap. It was something for him, but you don’t open it. You just sit there, eye’s on the door, waiting for him to get home from practice.

This is a stupid fucking idea, I should just go back to my room. Your leg bounces faster, and the anxiety bubbles in your stomach. You have no idea what’s gonna happen when he steps through that door, but you were set on telling him tonight.

Just then, the sound of keys entering the lock draws you away from your thoughts, the handle jiggling slightly before it turns and Tooru steps through. He’s dressed in sweats and a tee, hair damp from a shower and a gym bag hanging from his shoulder. He kicks his shoes off and enters the living area, setting the bag down without noticing that you’re watching his every move. Moving into the kitchen, he still doesn’t acknowledge that you’re there as he grabs a glass of water and walks back down the hallway to his room.

“Tooru!” You don’t know what you’re doing, but you need to get this over with. He stops his movements, and pulls an earbud from his left, looking at you with concern.

“Yeah?” He’s unsure what’s causing your outburst, but then he notices the package sitting in your lap, hands softly grasping it to keep its place in your lap. A wave of panic settles down his spine as he slowly spins around and walks to the couch, taking a seat on the other side from you. His eyes are glued to the package, but he notices that it isn’t open.

“I have something I wanted to tell you,” you start softly, placing the cardboard box between you both. He gently sets the glass of water on the glass coffee table and folds his fingers together, settling them on his lap.

“And what’s that?” He’s still shaken, but looks into your eyes.

Your heart starts to pound. What if this is a mistake? He looks like he’s about to throw up. Shaking the doubt from your head, you take a deep breath and hold your gaze. “I know what you do.”

His head cocks to the side, taking in your words. “I’m sorry Y/N, but what does that mean?” He hopes you aren’t alluding to what he thinks you’re getting at.

Another deep breath and you start again, “I know why you spend so much time in your room.”

Tooru’s face flushes with color, the pink hue finding its way onto his skin and he laughs anxiously at your words. “I don’t think I follow.” He’s trying to change the subject, hellbent on finding a way out of this. “Are you saying you know that I masterbate Y/N?” He’s trying to tease you, hoping this conversation would stop and you would hand him his package and be on your way.

Cue your face turning red, but you huff in annoyance, throwing the box at him. “Yeah, if you mean that you’re streaming it.” He catches it and looks at you, eyes are blown wide, and he realizes this is the worst timeline to be alive in. You, on the other hand, are annoyed that you had to say it out loud and stand up, folding your arms and staring him down. “I don’t care, but I wish you would’ve said something to me. As your roommate and your best friend,” ouch, that hurt, “it would’ve been nice to know.”

With that, you march into the kitchen, looking for a way to cool off, but a pair of arms sneak around your waist as you rummage through the freezer.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything,” he mumbles into your hair. The close contact wasn’t abnormal, but it never felt like this. Your body heats up when his breath hits your skin, but you remain in your place. “I just- I didn’t know how you would react and Hajime kept telling me to talk to you about it, but I always get too nervous to bring it up.”

You spin around, his arms still on your hips, and watch his face carefully. He looks concerned still, but there’s a small pleading in his look. “And why were you nervous?”

Tooru’s face turns a shade darker, “It’s just weird, I guess. You’re one of the only girls in my life that I'm kinda serious about I didn’t wanna loose you if you thought that I just thought about sex all the time.”

Was that a confession? Your head starts to spin when he realizes what just happened.

“I MEAN, uh, you’re one of the only girls that I consider a big part of my life, you know?” He’s frantic and stumbling over his words, but you stay absolutely still. His grip on your hips loosens, he wants to run into his room but sticks it out to see what you do.

Instead, you surprise him by nuzzling yourself further into his neck. “You’re very important to me too, Tooru.” Your voice is soft, and muffled against his neck but he smiles into your head, living in the moment. He wraps his arms around your frame, squeezing you tight against his firm chest.

“I’m kinda serious about you too…” The statement was almost lost to the hum of the a.c. unit, but Tooru caught your words and he stiffened up. You stay exactly as you are, praying to whatever god is out there that this all works out in your favor.

It takes a few seconds for him to come back to earth, realizing how hot your face is against his skin, but once he regains consciousness he chuckles. The vibrations ripple through your body, as you both remain in one another's arms. Your first thought was that he was laughing at you, and the panic settles under your skin. He can feel you start to pull away, but tightens his grip on your body, effectively trapping you in this position.

“Iwa-chan’s right, we are idiots.” Everything is so confusing. Does he like me back? Is this a joke? What does Hajime have to do with any of this? Countless thoughts along these lines run through your head, and Tooru knows this. “We’ve both been pining over each other for months.”

His words process with high speeds as you pull back. He had loosened his grasp, but his hands remained on your sides as you both stared into each other's eyes. You search his for answers, while Tooru finds comfort in yours.

He laughs breathlessly once he can see your body relax, and he dips down to meet your lips. Tooru’s movements are fluid, moving both hands up to your jaw while tilting his head. You gasp once his soft lips meet yours. They taste like his dumb chapstick that he carries around everywhere.

Tooru takes it slow, moving at your pace while humming into the kiss. Pulling back after a few seconds, you lean forward to catch his lips before he detaches himself. Rubbing a thumb on your cheekbone, he flashes the most brilliant smile. In the year you’ve known him, this is the most genuine and beautiful thing you’ve ever seen him do, and you can see it in his eyes.

“Y/N,” his voice is ever so soft, gliding in the air from his lips to your ears. Tooru’s eyes hold nothing but adoration in them as you stare into each other's eyes. “I don’t want to be serious with anyone but you.”

The bright blush returns to your cheeks, the warmth between your two bodies rising exponentially. His thumb doesn’t stop moving across your cheekbones. He's in total bliss as nothing in the world could matter more than what was happening at this moment in your shared apartment.

You smile up at him and grab onto his hand that's stroking your face, and just hold it closer to your skin. After a light squeeze, you both shift positions to hug once more, Tooru's arms latching around your waist and yours around his neck.

"Thank you," he states, the world muffled from your hair as he has lodged himself in the crook of your neck.

"For what?" You mumble back, rubbing an arm up and down his neck.

A deep chuckle causes your body to rumble, and a soft breath cascades down your neck before he pressed feathery kisses behind your ear. They're lighter than air, but you can sense he's holding back a bit. "For not being upset with me, for putting up with me, for accepting me, for everything." His whispers are woven into your skin, goosebumps rising up and down your spine as he speaks.

You push yourself further into his chest, a silent affirmation that everything is okay and will be okay. He smiles as he continues to press his lips to your neck, humming in the silence.

After a few minutes more of embracing one another Tooru pulls away, hands grazing your hips as he stares deeply into your eyes. His chocolate iris’ swirl with several emotions as you take in the vulnerability. You have only known Tooru as the charming, flamboyant character he puts on around almost everyone else. Maybe once or twice in your year of living with him have you seen this side of him, in which he offers himself as he is, not as who he wants to be perceived as.

Tooru presses a quick kiss to your lips and puts some pressure on your hips, signalling he wants to move. You both relocate to the couch, where he traps you in his arms and lap.

“I’m curious,” you reposition to look up at him, but he chuckles at your wide and curious eyes. “How did you find out about my streams?” A teasing grin makes its way on to his lips and your brain short circuits.

“Uh.. about that…” You purse your lips, looking anywhere but him, embarrassed of the insinuation of your actions.

Tooru breath fans against your neck, his face dipping down into that crook once more while letting out a low laugh. Sparks fly between you two when his lips brush your ear. He whispers, “You’ve watched me, haven’t you?”

With lightning speed, you snap your face to match his, but he’s quick to recover the initial shock with a deep kiss. He cranes his neck to further the kiss, pulling at your bottom lip with his own. Still startled by his teasing, you give in easily to his antics and within seconds his tongue has entered your mouth.

A low growl escapes him all while you succumb to his movements. His hand snakes up your side, settling itself on your rib below your breast. Tooru rubs his thumb in that spot, but you are lost in his taste to feel his hand.

You start to move in sync with him, moving together and letting each other take the reigns. Oikawa adores your feisty spirit, and when it starts to show through your movements, it only excites him more. You explore his mouth with your tongue, and suck on his lower lip as he slowly moves his hand back down your sides to cup your ass.

Now that you’re in control of your actions, you feel his hand stop right above your butt, almost as if he’s asking permission, but you grab a hold of his wrist and shove it down. That hand lets go of his arm and down to the hem of his shirt. A few fingers make contact with his toned stomach, and he shivers at the cold sensation.

“Impatient much?” Tooru repositions you so you’re straddling him. You don’t break off the kiss and place your hands on either side of his face, the tips of his hair tickling your fingertips. His large hands grasp under your thighs as he hoists the both of you up and off of the couch. Hastily he moves down the hall and into your room, busting through the door and gently he places you down on the edge of your mattress.

You pull away, breathless and stare into his eyes once more. The tension in the room is thick, but warm and comforting. He smiles at the look in your eyes, knowing that you’re in no way anxious of what’s about to happen.

“Are you sure about this Y/N? We don’t have to do anything before the first date.” His smile is intoxicating, and he doesn’t want to pressure you in any way.

“I want you Tooru, I’m good,” this time you rub a thumb across his cheekbone in reassurance. Smiles on both of your faces, he dips back down to capture your lips and push you onto your back.

Your mattress is firm underneath you, the bed frame shifting under the weight of two people. The cold sheets scrunch under your back contrasting the warm embrace of Oikawa as he dips down on top of you, running a hand through your hair.

“Do you trust me?” He speaks while hovering over your body. You push yourself up to meet his lips, giving him a quick peck on the side of his mouth. “I’ll take that as a yes then.” You laugh and lay back down, pulling the front of his shirt to pull him down with you.

Tooru laughs into the kiss, pressing his chest into your own. All of his kisses are electrifying, the spark runs up and down your spine while you both like with one another.

You take the next step and tug at the hem of his shirt while wrapping your legs around his lower half. His skin raises in temperature but he follows suit, practically tearing the fabric off of himself. You watch Tooru get shirtless and fully take in his figure.

It's not like you haven't seen him like this, but this is the first time you've ever actually took a good, long look at Oikawa's figure (knowing it was him, at least). He works out regularly for volleyball and maintains a good diet, and it shows. His chest is firm when you place a hand on it, and his abs create a valley down his stomach.

As you feel him up and down, Tooru stares at your face as it scrunches curiously. "Like what you see cutie? It shouldn't be anything new."

You blush but smack his chest in retaliation. A low laugh escapes his lips, but he sneaks a hand to the bottom of your shirt, poking a few fingers into your stomach in a wordless question of what to do. You squirm in your position and he helps remove your shirt.

Arms cover your chest instantly as you realize you're wearing one of your older bras that isn't the most flattering thing on the planet.

Noticing the shift in tone, Tooru gently unfolds your arms. "None of that Y/N." You don't put up any resistance as he speaks sweet and salty worlds into your ear. His hands are coarse and rough, calloused from years of training but he untouched you with a softness, almost as if he was handling a dove.

He kisses your neck making his way down your chest while reaching underneath you, unclasping the bra and throwing it onto the floor.

With your breasts exposed, Oikawa pins your arms on either side and continues down your clavicle, down through the valley between your chest. You whimper when he suddenly takes one of your nipples into his mouth, gently biting and sucking of the soft bud.

Instinctually you squeeze your thighs together, but he stands between them and he hums into your breast, knowing you're starting to grow impatient. Tooru's other hand moves to the opposite breast, kneading it in his palm.

A soft moan escapes your lips and you roll your hips into his, shock waves of pleasure wrack your body while your cunt starts to throb.

Oikawa moves further down your stomach, reaching the button of your pants. He peers up at you, pupils dilated and hungry. You nod and lift your hips while he removes both the pants and panties you were wearing.

He stands at the edge of the bed, removing the rest of his clothes and let's his cock spring free. It's red at the tip, which reaches up to his abs from being hard.

Tooru’s hips meet yours, laying his long cock over your bare stomach while rubbing soft circles into your thighs. “Look at how deep I’m gonna be inside of you cutie.” A quiet whimper leaves your lips, wrapping your legs around his waist in a silent plea. His eyes burn into your skin.

“Tooru, please…” The desperation in your voice only spurs him on as he drinks you in, lying bare, begging for him. It’s everything he’s ever wanted, and his dick hardens further at the sound of your voice.

A switch flips in his brain once you swirl your hips, and a smirk pulls at his lips. He leans forward, pressing his body into your, getting dangerously close to your ear and fanning hot breath over your skin. Chills erupt from the sensation and make their way across your body, causing a whimper to involuntarily escape your mouth when his hot skin presses into your cold chest. “What do you want, Y/N?” Tooru’s voice is quiet, but the vibrations from his words have an effect on your body you thought wasn’t possible. He presses feathery kisses into the sweet skin on your neck, causing you to tilt your head.

“I want-” Your voice is breathless as you search for words. “I want you to-” Suddenly, he slips his dick in between your folds, slowly moving his hips up and down, getting himself ready with your slick. The electricity of his movements force a moan through your throat, Oikawa relishing in the sound of your voice as he uses his thumb moves to apply pressure on your clit.

Still breathing hot air onto your neck, he mumbles, “You want me to fuck you, is that it?” Your eyes shut as a thousand tiny confirmations leave your body, physical and not. He revels in the moment, realizing the control you both have over each other. He can’t help wanting more of you, all of you. Your aura is intoxicating, and Tooru feels drunk off of your presence.

“Please.” He continues grinding his length down your folds. “Just fuck me already.” Your voice is raspy, pleading for movement, connection, anything. Arms folding around his neck, you grind harder into his cock while he continues to rub the sensitive bud.

“So impatient.” His voice is dark, sultry and enticing. It draws you in, leaving you stunned and you can’t think straight anymore. “I bet you’ve wanted this. Watching me stream, you got to see all of me little cutie,” Tooru readjusts himself, placing the tip at your entrance, drawing circles with it. “Now I get to see all of you.”

He slowly pushes forward, letting his dick get sucked in to you as you cry out at the contact. Oikawa starts to lose himself at the feeling of your pussy when it twitches. His eyes never leave the sight of his cock disappearing into you.

You take a moment to breath as his hips lay flush with yours, but you take action and raise your hips. He hisses at the movement, not expecting you to set the pace so quickly.

Snapping out of it as you move your hips back, Tooru moans loudly and grabs one hip and leans over you, placing his other hand next to your face. His face gets inches in front of yours, matching your movements and leans in to take your lips once more.

His hips move back and forth, building up speed through both of you ravenous moans and whimpers. Through the sounds and movements, you feel his cock penetrate you with endless force, as if it fits perfectly inside of you.

You moan his name as Tooru pounds into you, scratching at his back from the waves of pleasure. Feeling you clench around him almost teasingly, the hand on your hip moves to your clit, and Oikawa starts to rub circles.

"Fuck Tooru!" You press your nails harder into his skin and he growls at the sensation. You can feel yourself getting close, the knot building larger with every second.

He pulls back from your lips and looks at your face. Your eyebrows are scrunched and your eyes are shut. The way his hips move is better than you could’ve imagined, even more sexual than his streams. Oikawa shifts his position to hit you deeper, his dick just barely hitting your cervix.

"I'm close," you mumble from bruised lips. He can’t hold himself back much longer and his thrusts become erratic. Tooru plants his lips on your ear, speaking a thousand words to you which you’re unable to hear. His thrusts and deep and fill you to the brim. The pleasure becomes too much for you to be able to focus and with one thrust you tense and the knot snaps.

He moans your name loudly when he feels your walls clench down on him. Swiftly, Tooru pulls out and finishes on your stomach, white ropes decorating your soft skin.

His head is still next to yours, but you’re both panting. It takes a few seconds for both of you to come back to your senses, but he prys himself up and off of you, looking down on his work. “You’re gorgeous Y/N, just fucking stunning.” He admires your glowing form while you stare at him, a smile adorning your features.

Oikawa moves first, placing another soft kiss to your lips before going to the bathroom for a warm towel. You lay in bed, just thinking about everything. How did I get here? You never thought that watching camboy porn would ever lead to you getting with the guy you’ve wanted for a while now, but if it works out then it works out you guess.

He returns a few moments later and cleans you up, throwing the rag with the rest of your clothes and climbs into the sheets, maneuvering you onto his chest where he cuddles you and runs a hand through your hair.

You close your eyes, breathing onto his bare chest and take in the beat of silence. You can’t see it, but Tooru looks down at you and smiles. You’re finally his. He can finally hold you in his arms and give you all the love he thinks you deserve. His heart swells at the notion, and makes a mental note to thank Iwaizumi later in general since he feels in a giving mood.

Oikawa feels your breath even out, your chest rising and falling in a slow pattern. Your senses are drifting from you, but you’re able to make out a few things before you pass out. Tooru places a kiss on the crown of your head, pressing his lips into your hair and he whispers something before you completely fall asleep.

“I love you Y/N.”

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amiedala · 3 years

Text

SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 28: You Wanted Proof

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: sexual content & descriptions of violence

SUMMARY: “Where the hell did you go, you scared the life out of me—”

And then you’re done talking, because Din pulls out a ring. You gasp, choke back a sob, and stare at it. It’s a simple silver band, but the structure and strength of it looks exactly like the beskar his armor is made out of. You inhale again, staring at it, and when you get close enough, you see that there’s something carved on the inside. It’s a star, the same one you embossed into your necklace, and around it, the words “ni kar’tayl su”, light but intentional. You try to breathe, but all you’re doing is sobbing, looking frantically from the ring in Din’s palm to his open face, and when you cross the divide between the two of you, seizing his glorious cheeks between your hands, he meets you in the middle.

“You wanted proof,” he says, again, and everything feels dizzying and starry and huge. You feel your heart rush with the feeling of belonging, that something more that started right here, in this same spot, on this barren planet, months and months again. “Last time, I didn’t have a ring. But I do now, and I’m never leaving your side again.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HELLO MY LOVES AND HAPPY SOMETHING MORE SATURDAY!!!! i had such an emotional time writing this chapter, and i hope y'all love it!!! this chapter is dedicated to Brittany Broski (yes THE kombucha girl) because she recommended SM to all of her followers?!?!?! i am still in shock!!! Brittany if you're somehow seeing this, i love you <3

more notes at the end angels!!! enjoy!!

When your consciousness fades back in, everything is starry and dreamy. Kicker’s design has a lot more open windows than the Crest did, so you open your eyes to the blurred galaxy slowly traipsing by, an ache deep in your skull, the feeling of prolonged sleep heavy on your bones. You rub at your eyes with your fingers, shifting to find Din, because even though there’s light in here, he’s still good at avoiding it. When you turn your head to where he’s sitting, faced away from you in the pilot’s seat, you see the Darksaber hanging out of his hands, his head low, his vision intense.

You skip by it at first, cataloguing the way he looks—haunted, exhausted, hungry—and then your eyes find the wicked beacon again and something clicks into place. You shoot upwards with a gasp, rocketing your aching body up by the heels of your hands, wild and shocked.

“You’re awake,” Din remarks, quietly, and you point at the saber held in the palms of his gloved hands.

“I just had the craziest dream,” you say in response, heart still hammering. “We—we were in a city, getting shot at, and after you patched me up, you told me you were the ruler of a whole entire planet and then just…let me go to sleep.”

That gets a smile. Just a little one, his pink mouth quirked up at the edges, his eyebrows still hesitant. You’re not used to seeing Din’s full face, watching his bare skin shift and change in real time, even though you’ve catalogued every inch of it, it still feels off. “I hate to break it to you,” he starts, lowly, “but none of that was a dream. And the bacta knocked you out, so you needed the rest.”

You laugh. It’s not full, it comes out disjointed and too loud, but it’s enough to coax you to sit up straighter and stare at it. “What…does being the ruler of Mandalore entail, exactly?”

Din stares at you, down at the Darksaber, and back at you. “Bo-Katan didn’t tell me,” he sighs, finally, and you can tell he’s reluctant, but you also know he’s been keeping this in for two weeks, maybe more, and so you scoot closer to where he’s sitting on the floor, trying to show him you’re attentive, that you’re listening. “I—she told me about the saber, when I went on that mission with her and her…Mandalorians.” He grimaces at the word, like it tastes rancid in his mouth. “You were there on Nevarro when I told her I didn’t want it. I have no interest in it. What do I need a weapon like that for, anyway? I just wanted to get it out of Gideon’s hands.”

You nod. “I remember.”

“Well,” Din sighs, looking back at the weapon in his hands, “she didn’t tell me why she wanted it. She gave that whole speech about wanting to—to have it returned to the rightful leader of Mandalore. I didn’t care, honestly, at that point. All I wanted to do was protect you and the kid and kill Gideon. But when we…we asked for her help, when Cara and I were going to attack Gideon and save Grogu, Bo-Katan told me again that the Darksaber was hers. I agreed. But she didn’t tell me that the weapon has to be won in battle for it to…belong to someone. Gideon had the Darksaber. I fought Gideon. I defeated him, so I took it out of his hands. I tried to give it back to her,” Din exhales, low and long, dragging a hand over his face and stubble, “but she wouldn’t take it. I told her she could fight me for it, even, that I’d roll over for her and let her have whatever ceremony she wanted, but she just stared at me like she wanted to kill me. Eventually, I just let her take Gideon back to Mandalore, because I didn’t…know what else to do.”

You nod again, slowly. “So…so you can’t challenge her to a duel or something?”

Din looks at you, incredulous. “I tried—”

“What about a thumb war?” you ask, and you’re not trying to make light of the situation, but a laugh starts bubbling up in your throat and you press your lips together. “Like, a real one, with a ring, Cara as the referee. You just…let Bo-Katan win, and that’s it. No harm. No foul. Just sore thumbs.”

The look on Din’s face is totally unreadable. Just as quickly as it started, your laugh evaporates back down your throat, and you lean in closer to him, immediately wanting to apologize. You’re not sure why, you just know that there’s something deeper to all of this, something more. “Apparently, I’m a zealot,” Din says, finally. “My…my clan, who raised me—they’re descendants of purist, extremist group from back on Mandalore. Before it was sieged, before—” he cuts off, abruptly, and you know he’s frustrated. “I wasn’t born there. I don’t even know the history of the planet,” Din continues, tiredly. “And it seems that I don’t know what it means to be a true Mandalorian. How am I supposed to be anyone’s ruler?”

You bite your lip. You lean in closer, and when you lift your hand to touch his face, you feel him relax under your fingertips. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough. “For what it’s worth,” you whisper, cocking your head to the side, stroking your thumb across his cheekbone, “I think you’d make an excellent one.”

“I don’t know the first thing about being in charge—”

“You’re a father,” you interrupt him, quietly. “To the strangest, strongest, alien baby in the galaxy. You’ve protected us—and countless others—from certain death. I’d say that’s more than enough credentials to be deemed a fit leader.”

Din stares at you. “Except,” he says, hollowly, “I don’t have my kid anymore, I’ve shown my face, and with the way Bo-Katan and her group hate me, I can’t imagine Mandalore would ever accept me as their ruler.”

You swallow. Your breath hitches in your throat, caught on words that aren’t there yet. “Din—”

“I just—” he starts, then cuts himself off, eyes drifting from yours down to the Darksaber in his grasp. “I don’t want to,” he admits, his voice low. “I—I miss being a bounty hunter. I miss not having the fate of the galaxy in my hands. People relying on me—you, the baby—having to do this all—I want to go back. I want it to stop.”

It’s your turn to stare. “Wow,” you say, quietly, dropping both of your hands away. “So taking care of your family is a burden to you.” And you don’t mean it, because you know that’s not what he meant, but your fiancé begging and hoping to go back to a time before you were in his life, before his child was either, cuts deep. And it stings, the more you look at him.

“Nova,” he starts, “cyar’ika—” and then Din cuts himself off, hands dropping the saber to the floor, leaning earnestly towards you. “I don’t want to go back to that. I never—I never want to be without you again. I’d be the ruler of ten planets if it meant I go to keep you by my side. I just—”

“It’s a lot,” you finish, quietly, hands fumbling at your collarbone for the necklace that isn’t there. Immediately, you feel horrible. “I know.”

Din looks back at you, hooks his finger under your shin, gently forcing your gaze to return to his. “For what it’s worth, I’m going to help you save the world,” he whispers, and you know he’s exaggerating, but his promise, free and so gentle, makes everything in your body quiet. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

“For what it’s worth,” you repeat, the words so quiet that they’re barely air, “Mandalore would follow you anywhere, too.”

Din’s gaze is complicated, complex. You don’t know what he’s going to say, and when he does, you have to strain your ears to listen. “I didn’t mean it, when I said I miss being a bounty hunter. I don’t miss anything from before I met you. I—I just want my life back. The one with you, and our kid, and the ship we called home.”

You lick your lips, looking slowly out the window at the crush of space. Even without looking, you feel Din’s eyes follow yours, tracking the luminescence, and just for a second, you hold the two of you there. “I’m here,” you remind him, finally, “and this is a new ship, but I think we can make it into a home. And…” you trail off, grabbing both sides of Din’s face gently, gravitating his eyes back to yours, “Grogu might not be here, right now, but he’s always ours. And I think we both know that between the three of us, there’s nothing in this entire damned galaxy that can keep us apart. What was it that you called us back on Dagobah? A clan of three?”

That small smile works its way back onto Din’s face. He nods, just once, resolute.

“Clan Djarin,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss the man you love, “is pretty resilient, you know.”

“Oh,” Din mouths back, and you let him come the rest of the way to you, meeting you in the middle, “are we now?”

“You’re a Mandalorian bounty hunter, I’m the Force sensitive punching bag of the new Empire, and Grogu, our child, is older than the both of us and off with the greatest Jedi Master we know of,” you murmur, feeling the weight of your foreheads bumping together, “I kind of think we have to be.”

When you kiss Din, you let everything run out of you backward, trying to clear your mind. And when he pulls you onto his lap, guiding you as close to him as physically possible, you feel your knee crash up against the saber before it skitters away, back under the dashboard, into the darkness. You kiss him, letting the thing roll away from the both of you, too preoccupied with the security you feel to care about where it lands.

Hours pass. The two of you doze, on and off, and when you wake up for good, you check the nav system built into the dashboard to just see where you are. You’re not in much of a hurry to dock anywhere, truthfully, because you’re enjoying the uninterrupted coast through space, and the last time you were on a planet, the both of you nearly died, but there’s something pulsing under your skin. It’s alive in the same way your worry has been, the anxiety of knowing something big and scary is coming. It’s restlessness, you realize, everything about your fight or flight activated in both directions at once. When you get up for good, you slip away to the fresher, letting the hot water roll over your face, your aching shoulders, your tired muscles in your legs from always running. When you’re clean, you step out of the shower, studying your reflection in the tiny little mirror. You press your fingertips lightly to your face, puffy from sleep, trying to decide if you still look like you used to, or if the past year of love and fighting and loss and everything in between has settled permanently in the ridges of your face.

When you dry off, slipping back into fresh clothes, you take extra time to catalogue all the pockmarks of scars drawn into your skin. As always, you spend extra attention on the jagged, lightning bolt shaped thing running across your stomach. No matter how many years pass, none of it fades away. The skin is still raised slightly, a memory of the ache, and every time you press on it, you can feel it, residual. The other battle scars you’ve accumulated since are smaller, each one trackable, quantifiable. This one—and the way it catalyzed the rest of your life—stands triumphant, eternal. You let your shirt drop back down over it before you spend too much time staring at it.

The second that you climb back up the ladder, you realize something is off. Din is half-clothed, and you’re ready to lay back down on the floor with him and let him undo all the cleaning you just did, but he stands and turns around at your reappearance.

“What’s wrong,” you say, immediately, voice catching on its way out of your mouth.

“Someone called,” Din says, and his voice sounds off. “Tried to reach you through the comm system. I couldn’t tell who it was, or what they wanted.”

You stare at him. “Did you pick it up?”

Din looks from you to your commlink, his gaze skipping back over to you, his full eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I…tried to,” he answers, finally, “but it seemed corrupted. Listen for yourself,” he continues, pressing the microphone into your hand. You fold yourself down into the pilot’s chair, squinting out at the space slowly streaking past the window, knowing neither of you are currently under attack, but no one’s told the anxiety bubbling back up into your chest.

Slowly, you press the playback button. Din’s right—the voice is scrambled, tinny, off-putting. It sounds like random, grotesque grunting. The rhythm of it doesn’t sound much like a language. Even though you can’t understand it, you’ve heard the natural cadence of dozens of different languages, and the sounds playing back to you are warbled and disjointed, and you can’t get anything viable out of it.

“Weird,” you mutter, under your breath, sliding your fingernail between your teeth. You press the button again and again, let the voice spin down to nothing until you’re sure you’ve listened to it enough to gain any kind of insight, and you give up, letting the noises warble and stomp their way to their incongruous end, seconds of loud screeching building up until it cuts off. The feedback makes both of you cover your ears.

“Did you get anything?” Din asks, lowly, and you shake your head. “I—I thought you had the contact system disabled.”

“I do,” you whisper back, bringing up a knee to your chest, resting your cheek against it, gaze flipping from Din to the comm to back to Din. “I can only make outgoing calls right now. My tracking’s off, too, and there doesn’t seem to be a lot of traffic out here in this part of the galaxy.” You hesitate, scanning the space around you frantically, making sure that your guess is accurate. It is. There’s no one out here except the two of you and the small asteroid fields that flux and flow, and the silence that was once comforting is now unsettling. You stare again at the commlink before you attach it back to the dashboard, pulling up your exact coordinates, trying to locate the two of you. You’re coasting through the bridge between the Mid Rim and the Outer Rim, a vast no-man’s-land. The planets are scattered haphazardly, and you check the fuel gauge, trying to see how much longer you and Din can stay out here, floating, unnoticed.

“Nova.”

You barely recognize your name’s been spoken until Din asks it again. You spin back towards him, biting down on your lower lip. “Yeah?”

He hesitates before moving a step closer to you. Maker, he’s so tall. The two of you have been in this exact position countless times, you sitting, him standing over you. It doesn’t intimidate you anymore, how large he is, how present his body is, but it’s still exhilarating to have him eclipse you. “How are we doing on fuel?” he asks, and something deep buried inside of you tells you that wasn’t the question he was initially going to ask.

“We need more soon,” you answer, softly, trying to figure out what his original point was going to be. But Kicker starts beeping, and you turn your attention back to the dashboard, trying to figure out what she needs. And, right on time, the little lever built into the fuel gauge has shifted to empty, and you sigh, setting the course to the next planet in the nav system. “Have you ever been to—” you squint, trying to sound out the name in your head before speaking it aloud, but you’re not in much luck, “—Khubeaie?”

Din stares at you blankly.

“Yeah, me neither,” you say softly, letting Kicker navigate her way down into the planet’s atmosphere. It’s night, so everything is cast over in deep blue shadow, but the city seems to glitter even in the silence. You park in a nearly empty landing bay, and when you stand up, Din’s already almost completely dressed. He stares at his helmet, and you pick it up off the ground and press it into his hesitant hands, nodding at him. “I know,” you whisper, “but remember the last time we were on the ground without you armored up?”

He looks at you to the visor on the helmet, his deep brown eyes intent and wary. “It still feels wrong,” Din manages, and his voice is still so unsure that you feel your heart ache in your chest.

“I know,” you repeat, reaching your hand up to graze against his face, thumb tracing the pattern over his groomed mustache, letting him settle into your touch. “It’s safer this way.”

Din nods as if he’s steeling himself, and then he inhales, pulling the helmet over his head. You offer him a small smile, the corners of your mouth upturned and reflected against his armor. You pull on your jacket over your nondescript clothes, adjusting the shawl you got back on Cantonica over your shoulders to pull up over your hair if you’ll need it. The atmosphere here is sultry and shifting, the darkness cast over the tall buildings amorphous. You’ve never heard of this place, but with its proximity to Tatooine, you’re not surprised that the people here a mix of the same locale—mostly humans, some Twi’leks, a Rodian or two. It’s easy enough to blend in, and when Din falls into step with you, you slide your palm into his, squeezing, to reassure him that everything’s okay, but when you go to drop it, he just laces his fingers through yours even tighter, the two of you silent, walking hand in hand.

“Here,” Din says, quietly, and you look up at a glowing sign that indicates a fuel source in the back. You follow him into the market, looking around for the exits. The second you step into the light of the store, you pull your shawl up over your head, trying to disappear between the aisles as you restock some of the nonperishable food and the bacta the two of you have burned through since the last refuel, and you pull out your small bag of credits to pay.

Din doesn’t come back. It takes a minute, and then another one, and you’re starting to get nervous. The clerk and the other customers don’t seem to be paying you much mind, but after the events on Cantonica, and Takodana, and Ryloth, and Tatooine, you don’t take passivity as innocence anymore. After a few more minutes, you exist the store, shoving what you can into your pockets, peering down the alley that Din disappeared in.

Something about it is off. It give you that same uneasy feeling that kept running cold through your veins back on Kicker, the same anxiety rush that the Darksaber comes with—powerful and intense and not entirely yours.

“Mando?” you call out, quietly. You step gingerly down the cobblestones, trying to keep your footsteps as light and intentional as you can. It’s dark down here, darker than the shifting streets, and it’s a longer path than you would have imagined, but when you turn around to check that you’re not being followed, the street is open and clear in the dim moonlight. “Hey,” you call again, not daring to use Din’s real name, “where’s the fuel?”

Still nothing. The toe of your shoe catches on a cobblestone, and you go down to the ground, hard and fast. You groan, cursing under your breath, pressing your scraped hand to the street, trying to regain your balance before you haul yourself up, but the alley disappears. You gasp out in the darkness, and at first, you think it’s just because the moon is hidden, but the way that the blackness pulses and swallows you doesn’t feel like it’s from natural causes. You’re plunged into another vision, so quickly you get motion sickness. You’re on the ground. When you look up, there’s that violent clash of red and blue again, and that version of yourself that’s running to get in the middle, to blast apart the energy sources—or the lightsabers, you can’t make them out from this distant—is heavy and laden with desperation. You can feel it, wet and hot, muscle memory from something that hasn’t happened yet, and then you hear a noise behind you, so you turn. Suddenly, everything is raining, the ground soaked, your clothes pooling in rivulets all over the ground. You can’t even see two feet in front of you, and when you get plunged underwater, you struggle against the sinking tide, trying to find the right way up. Your name is called, once, then twice, and you scream against the current—and then you’re on solid ground again. It’s like this vision, this type of premonition, doesn’t have anything specific. Everything feels huge and thematic rather than predicting glimpses of what it’s about to happen, like you’re in a dream state and everything is vivid and garish and loud and will slip away immediately when you get pulled out of it.

And then you see him. The baby. He’s sitting on a rock, maybe, or a cliff, you can’t tell, and his little fuzzy head is tousled in the wind, his big bug eyes closed shut, his tiny green palm raised into the open air. You yell out Grogu’s name, and you start running. He doesn’t look like he’s in any danger, it looks peaceful, but that same exact dark feeling bubbling up in your chest says otherwise. You’re running and running as the ground falls away, and you scream out, trying to get to the baby, trying to get there before you fall through the cracks again, and the second you make it there, within an arm’s reach of his glorious little body, something dark and dangerous spits through the air, slicing into you. You yell, thrown backwards, as the shadow completely engulfs you, and, horribly, you get thrown back into the present. You can feel the cobblestones under your hands, the ground hard and weighted underneath your touch, and when you feel yourself come into reality again, Din’s there, standing over you.

“Nova,” he says, his voice low and concerned, “what just happened?”

“Vision,” you manage, gasping, eyes fluttering as your face gets dragged upwards so Din can inspect you. You shake your head back and forth, trying to clear your mind. “I—it was a weird one. Where the hell did you go?”

Din shakes his left hand, the one not on your face, and you register the sloshing of the fuel can before your eyes adjust to the point of recognition. “I was getting us fuel,” he says, gloved hand grabbing at your chin.

“You were gone for a long time,” you manage, finally sitting up fully, your breath catching in your chest. “How far does this alley go on for?”

Din cocks his head at you, visor looking out at where you are. Right in front of you, not even a full foot from your touch, is the end of the alley. Frantically, your head flails from side to side, and then you realize the fuel is a few feet away, a market stand in the dark. You swallow, embarrassed, when you see the owner and his patrons stare over at you.

“Weird,” you mutter, rubbing at your eye, the one still starry and disjointed from your premonition. You get the same unsettled feeling that you did when the feedback from Kicker blared out. “I could have sworn this went on for miles—it doesn’t matter. Did you see me come out here? Did you see me fall?”

Slowly, Din shakes his head back and forth. “No,” he answers, finally, and the gentle, bracing way he’s talking makes your heart accelerate again. You nod, slowly, trying to keep yourself under control, but you’re panicking. Between the odd, screeching message back on Kicker and completely misinterpreting the alleyway, you’re shaken up. Not much, because you don’t scare easy, but enough to feel like you might slightly be going crazy. Eventually, Din pulls you to your feet, and you follow, keeping a close eye on the shifting city around you, intentional about where you plant your strides.

The refueling process is easy. It’s the one procedure on Kicker that she doesn’t fight, and she takes far less gas than the Crest ever did, so it’s much easier to spend your credits on more fuel. Din offers to do it while you start programming in where you’re going next, and you climb the gangplank and scale the ladder, biting your nail as you ponder where to go next. You miss Hoth. You miss Nevarro. Honestly, you miss Kashyyyk most of all, and that’s where you want to go, but you don’t think that the isolation of being there would give you any favors. You have to call Wedge and tell him about what happened on Cantonica, and some part of you really wants to call Cara. She’s not as cut and dry as the Alliance is, but she’s big and strong and every time you’re in her presence, you’re not on high alert. You know Din’s probably not in any hurry to get back to Nevarro now that he’s the one being hunted, but, selfishly, you want to go there.

“Hey, cyar’ika,” Din says, startling you out of your reverie. “Are you okay?”

You nod. Hesitantly, at first, and then stronger. “I’m just trying to decide where we go next.”

Din sighs, long and heavy, and then his fingers are hooking under the rim of his helmet and pulling it off. “Do you have any idea what to do from here?”

You shake your head slowly. “No,” you admit. “I don’t like being aimless, but I also don’t think running wildly around the planets in our closest proximity is the safest thing to do, especially after Cantonica. I know that was our initial plan, but with how much we’ve been attacked, I think it’s safer to let the rest of the New Rogue Squadron poke around for evidence because they’re less likely to be detected. I hate it. I…” you trail off, looking out the window, and your eyes catch on something. You think it’s just the strange, shifting darkness around the both of you, but something feels off. Din calls your name, and you snap out of it, back into your conversation. “I think we need to find out what the Order is,” you continue, even though it makes your heart hammer in fear. “I…I don’t know how. I wish I did. I’m sorry. I feel a little out of my depth.” Admitting it feels like climbing a mountain, but the second the words are out of your mouth, you feel like you can exhale a little better.

Din looks at you, and then he pulls you, gently, to your feet. “I’m not scared of them,” he says, cradling your face between his two big hands. “I don’t know what they want with us, and I don’t know how to stop them. But I also know,” he says, sighing, “that between the two of us and the people standing in the sidelines, we can take them on.”

You give him a small smile. Your heart aches in the same way it did way back on Yavin, back when Din took you home, when he proposed. It feels like a lifetime ago, but it’s so vivid and so clear. That same tug is pulling on your heartstrings, and you can’t place it until your hand goes to close around your necklace that isn’t there. You swallow.

This is how it felt. When you were a teenager, when the Alliance was on the brink of collapsing the Empire. Your parents held each other like this, a warm and steady constant through such turmoil. You close your eyes, just for a second, and imagine them here with the two of you, ready to fight back.

But when your eyes flutter open again, Din’s gaze isn’t on you anymore. It’s locked on the window, behind you, and as you spin around to see what he’s staring at, you see it. You weren’t imagining a figure earlier, and it wasn’t the smoke and mirrors of the darkness. Someone’s out there. You gasp as Din’s eyes narrow, and before you can stabilize yourself, his helmet is up and over his head and he’s descending the ladder, lowering the gangplank.

“Hey!” you call, racing after him. “Din! What are you—”

A blaster shot rings out over your head, and you scream. It isn’t your finest moment, you have to admit, but you’re shell-shocked and you have no idea why Din is racing towards the figure, into the dark of the night, on an unfamiliar planet, running away from you again even though he promised you the rest of your battles would be fought together. You stare as he runs, and then you’re getting shot at again, and you duck and cover, rolling back up into the ship and accelerating the lift of the gangplank. You swear, catapulting yourself up to the cockpit, maneuvering Kicker around, because you have no idea who’s shooting at you. It’s not stormtroopers. It’s not the smaller force of Gideon’s troops, either. Whoever’s sending you the blasts, you’ve never seen them before. You punch in the sequence needed for liftoff, praying to the Maker and the ship gods above that Kicker listens to you. She does, and you breathe sighs of relief as you navigate into the air.

Again, you’re being blasted at, and anger sets in. You’ve lost sight of Din and the figure, and you don’t want to abandon him here, but you’re getting shot at from somewhere in the darkness, and you don’t know what the hell else to do.

And then your comm buzzes again. You’re expecting the weird bleeping, so you roar a very uncharacteristic “what?” into the mouthpiece, forcing Kicker straight upward.

“Whoa,” Wedge’s voice comes through the line, and immediately, you buckle.

“Don’t get me wrong, Wedge, because I am so thankful to hear your voice, but how the hell,” you pant, dropping out of the artillery range of whatever—or whoever—is shooting at you, “did you get through to me?”

“Your callsign was reinstated,” Wedge says, confused, and as you get shot at again, you scream out of sheer frustration. “Nova, what’s going on?”

“If I knew,” you pant, scanning the shadowy grounds for where Din disappeared, “I’d tell you. Have you gotten any—weird calls, or anything? Scrambled radio waves? Anything like that? Strange things keep happening to me,” you admit, voice slightly lowered.

“No,” Wedge answers, but there’s an edge to his voice. If you weren’t so preoccupied with trying not to die, you would interrogate him, but whatever’s volleying blasts at you is so persistent that you can’t even ponder why he sounds so strange. “Listen, Nova—”

“Do you know anything about the Order?” you yell, punching in the code for the thermal tracking sensor. The ground is covered with life forms in the shadows, so it’s hard to identify where Din ran off to, but you squint and scan it, looking for a heat signature that matches his.

“The…the Jedi Order?” Wedge asks, his voice crackling.

“No,” you interrupt, immediately, “definitely not. We ran into some…unsavory people on Cantonica that mentioned it to me. Apparently,” you say, swinging around to inspect your creaky artillery, “they want me for something. The man, the one who—it doesn’t matter. He told me ‘What died didn’t stay dead’.”

On the other end of the line, Wedge is quiet. “What did he mean?”

You sigh, frustrated, exhausted. “I don’t know,” you manage, and you hate the way the words taste in your mouth, heavy and stonewalled. “And now I’m getting shot at. Again. Every time I think we know what we’re up against,” you say, firing a round of blasts off into the general direction of the other ship, “something new unfolds.”

“Nova—”

“What were you going to say earlier?” you say, and when you realize you’ve cut Wedge off again, you wince. “I’m so sorry,” you apologize, genuine, “I’m—I’m not on my game.”

“I heard from Luke,” Wedge says, and then you catch glimpse out of the corner of your eye. It looks like a green lightsaber flash, even though it’s not, even though it can’t be. You squint, and then the full weight of what Wedge just said hits you, and your attention is immediately snapped back to the comm.

“What?” you ask, voice wobbling with something you don’t entirely understand.

“I heard from Luke—” Wedge repeats, and then whatever’s screeching in your commlink cuts him off entirely, and you scream out into the noise before you realize the connection’s lost. The ship in the darkness is shooting at you again, and this time you’ve had it. You yank up on the controls, hard, and Kicker groans as you accelerate her into the sky.

“I know,” you whisper, voice too jittery to be placating, “but you need to work with me, Kicker.” Reluctantly, she does, and when you roll over into your signature move to shoot back with all the artillery you can muster, something shiny flies up in front of you, obstructing your vision. You yell out, slapping your own hands away from the controls before you can shoot Din and his jet pack out of the sky. “What the fuck!” you call, and you know he can’t hear you over the ships’ engines, but with how loud it is, you think he might be listening anyway. Din flaps his hand at you, and you move backward, away from the city, landing just on the outskirts on a pile of gravel. You pull your blaster back into the holster, hand outstretched to the Darksaber, which flies back into your hand as if it’s being called. You stare at it for a second, still so conflicted about the sheer power it radiates, and then your grip tightens around it, storming down the ladder and lowering the gangplank. You don’t have your shawl draped over your head, you’re not being nearly as safe as you should be, especially since you don’t know who was trying to ground you, but you’re rattled and on edge and scared, and you hold both weapons in your hands, preparing.

The other ship blasts out of the darkness and shrouding of the city, and you stare. It’s such a strange shape—a flat back on the rear end, the cockpit round but menacing—and you glare at it, eyes following it all the way to the ground. You start to storm forward, and then Din lands in front of you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Din Djarin,” you say, so low that anyone outside of a one-foot radius can’t hear you, “you better have a good excuse as to why you’re stopping me from fighting back against the ship trying to shoot me out of the sky—”

“I do,” he says, and his voice is low and urgent. “I know them.”

You stare at him as two figures emerge from the ship, and Din steps in front of you as they break into a run, shielding your body with his own.

“Stop,” he says, and both of them do. It’s dark, and you can’t see very well, but you see the long, multifaceted black braid hanging off one of the silhouette’s shoulder and you realize with a jolt that it’s Fennec Shand. Your eyes refocus on the stockier, set figure next to her, and as he steps into the light, you see his face and your heart jumps. He’s older, and he’s marred and scarred from the time he spent in the Sarlacc pit back on Tatooine years ago, but it’s Boba Fett. Your heart jumps in your chest. “It’s us.”

“Why,” Boba Fett starts, his voice low and dangerous, “are you in that ship?”

You stare at him. “Because the Razor Crest was blown up and we needed another vehicle? Also, if you know him,” you continue, voice shaking slightly, pointing to Din, “why are you shooting at us?”

“Where is the Jedi?” he asks, staring at you.

“No Jedi here,” you say, voice still unstable, “unless you mean the untrained one with the weapon of ruling Mandalore in her hands, and then here I am.”

“He must be here,” Fett continues, and you look back and forth between everyone, trying to understand what the hell he’s talking about. “I saw his lightsaber. I saw the ship.”

You look back at Kicker. “Who?” you ask. Your heart is beating so fast, feeding on your adrenaline. You inhale, the breath rattling in your chest. “What are you talking about?”

“Luke Skywalker,” Boba Fett seethes, and your heart drops. You step forward.

“You saw him too?” you ask, voice small.

“No,” Fennec Shand starts, and then Din steps forward at the same time.

“I did too,” he admits, and you look up at him.

You swallow, looking between the three of them, brain working furiously to try and keep up. “I just talked to Wedge,” you say, voice small, “and he said he heard from Luke again.”

Din whips around to face you. “Where’s Grogu?”

Your eyes widen as you shrug. “That’s all I got from him. Then my commlink went haywire again, and the connection dropped. What the hell,” you say, inhaling sharply, “is going on?”

Fett stares back at you. “You know Skywalker?”

“I—I know him in passing,” you say, and you drop down to the ground, exhausted. “I’m in the Rebel Alliance, and he’s training our kid! What do you want with Luke Skywalker?”

“To pay him back for sending me to certain death,” Boba Fett says, his voice measured and angry. Your eyes try to track the differences between him and Din, because in the dark, the similarities are startling. They stand at about the same height, Boba Fett’s armor is older and greener, but right now, it’s nearly impossible to tell. You shiver. This planet is weird.

“Looks like you escaped certain death,” you say, and a small smile curves across Fennec Shand’s face. You look at her, and for the ruthlessness her reputation carries, she has a warmth to her you didn’t expect. “Why were you shooting at me?”

Fett’s face changes. “I thought I saw Skywalker,” he admits, and his voice is less confrontational. I could have sworn it was his X-wing.”

You want to retaliate, and then the shifting shadows of the city in front of you catch your eye, and you understand. Something about the atmosphere seems to be playing tricks on the both of you, so you just exhale and nod. “And you,” you say, turning to Din, “what happened back there? Why did you just leave like that?”

Something in him shrinks.

“You’re in trouble, Mando,” Fennec smirks.

“I thought I saw Luke Skywalker,” Din says, and his voice is just as honest and tired as yours is, and you let him pull you back to your feet. “Something about this place…it isn’t right. We need to get out of here.”

You nod, fervently. Boba Fett and Fennec Shand follow suit.

“That weapon,” Fett says, guarded, eyes locked on the Darksaber hanging from your closed hand, “doesn’t look like it belongs to you.”

“It doesn’t,” you say. Fennec looks at Din, and back at you.

“Belongs to him,” she smiles, and Din sighs, low and heavy, through the modulator.

“It,” Din says tiredly, “does not. You know how hard I tried to get rid of this thing back there. I’m still working on it,” he says, and you feel his gaze on you underneath the visor, “but right now, I think we need to regroup on Nevarro.”

Your heart flips over, half in excitement, half in dread. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

Fennec grins again, equal parts venom and warmth. “Not as dangerous as us,” she posits, and both Din and Boba nod in agreement. You shake your head, but the smile on your own face is furious and determined. You split up, Boba and Fennec heading back to his strange, deadly ship, and you and Din return to Kicker, punching in the coordinates for Nevarro. You’re exhausted, and when your eye catches sight of the Darksaber again, it’s in Din’s palm. That colossal, colliding feeling of belonging to each other and belonging to something more sparks up in your chest like a supernova. As you jump into hyperspace, you watch him turn it over and over again, and a small, tiny, sparking part of you imagines him ruling Mandalore with it in one hand and your own in the other.

You missed Nevarro. It’s a wasteland, a strange volcanic desert that spits up lava whenever it desires, and there’s always a weird edge to it, but landing in the same spot as Fett and Shand, knowing Karga and Cara are close by, it gives you a small, strange fortification. Safety, you realize, as the four of you are walking into town, that’s what you’re feeling. You feel safe here, in the presence of people who you know are on your side, even if half of them were just trying to shoot you out of the sky.

Din makes friends so strangely. As the four of you walk into town, over the ashen dried magma, you learn a little bit about how they joined together at the last moment to try and defeat Gideon. Fennec, you realize, is another enemy-turned-ally. She met Din on Tatooine weeks before you did, and she crossed paths with Toro Calican. She says it so freely that you don’t understand at first, and when you remember who they were dealing with, your stomach flips over. They reunited back on Tython, right as Grogu got whisked away by Gideon’s dark troopers, and formed a wary alliance. But the way the three of them are talking now, it seems like every moment of dissonance has been smoothed over, now that everyone’s on the same side. Cara and Din became friends like that, too—guns to each other’s skulls before realizing they were on the same team. It makes you smile as Boba and Fennec talk about Din on your way into Nevarro City. He doesn’t say much, but you can tell he’s at ease, which is a very hard thing for either of you to come by these days. And this is how you know he’s going to be a good ruler. Every single person you’ve met through Din recognized his goodness under all of that bounty hunting and beskar. He’s strategic, and he’s levelheaded, and he can speak more languages than you can. He’s great at both descalation and escalation, at rushing into battles and playing mediator. It doesn’t matter if Mandalore doesn’t accept him straight out, because they’ll see the man he is and the ruler he can be, and every single one of them will fall in love with him, too.

“What’s your plan after this?” Din asks, and you fade back into the conversation, still wearing a small smile in the shape of a badge of pride across your face.

Fennec and Boba exchange looks. “We have business on Tatooine,” Boba says, lowly. “But if there’s still something to be defeated out there, if our job wasn’t finished, then we’ll help you again.”

Din nods. “And after?”

“You know I’d rather have you on the throne than the Kryze girl,” Boba continues, his voice quiet but intense. A small smile snakes its way across Fennec’s face. You think maybe you’ve read her wrong. She doesn’t seem outright malicious. She’s dangerous, and she could easily cut you down if you tried her, but she doesn’t seem to relish double-crossing or killing like you’d heard in the rumors. She just seems to crave chaos, and if that’s what she wants, you’re glad she’s here.

Din sighs. “I don’t want it,” he says, but there’s a reluctance in his voice that you haven’t heard before.

When you look up again, you’re at Nevarro City. You breathe a small sigh of relief, the outcroppings of the familiar buildings stand tall over the horizon. As you cross over into the gateway, you see more stormtrooper helmets on the pike than you thought you saw last time, and your tummy flips over at the knowledge that you might be bringing danger here. You swallow as the four of you make your way to the cantina, and the second the door closes, something shifts. You lift your chin higher, scanning the room for familiar faces. And while you’re preoccupied, Cara comes out of nowhere and punches Din on the arm, in an unarmored spot beneath his pauldrons.

“You know,” he says, “a simple hello could suffice—”

“I’m mad at you,” Cara retaliates, her eyes glinting when she looks over at you. “I put it to rest while we were trying to get the kid, but don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

You quirk your head, trying to get her to explain, and she folds you into a gentle hug for a second before appraising you at arm’s length.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she says, genuinely, and then her hand snaps back out to jab Din on the same spot on his arm. “When he told me he just left you somewhere, I could have killed him with my own two hands.”

You smile at her. “I’m honored.”

“I had a plan,” Din mutters.

“Not a good one,” Cara responds, but then she smiles at him. You watch how it lights up her rough face, how pretty she is, especially when her eyes sparkle. “If Nova’s forgiven you, so have I.”

“Well,” you say, looking up at the man you love with a little fire of your own, “about that—”

“Mando!” Greef Karga’s booming voice cuts through the static, and you drop it for now. He walks over to you, cutting around customers and Guild members, weaving a clear path to the five of you. “Welcome back to Nevarro City. I’m sorry about the kid,” he continues, genuinely, slapping a large palm down on Din’s pauldron. “But if I know anything, I know you can get him back.”

You feel Din shrink, just a little, and then he stands up straighter. “We’re here because we have a problem,” he says, lowly, “and we need your help.”

Everybody starts drinking except you and Din. You refuse the spotchka, because it’s daytime on Nevarro, and mostly because you’re too on edge to drink anything, especially if the usual pattern follows suit and you get into some sort of altercation today, but while the rest of them are drinking, you hatch a plan. You and Din will tell Wedge everything you know about the Order, the Alliance will search for information across the galaxy. Karga will stay here on Nevarro City and hold down the fort in case anyone unsavory comes by. Cara will split her time between being the Marshal, traveling with you and Din, and joining forces with Boba and Fennec to keep the six of you connected and up to date. Boba and Fennec, while not with Cara, will use their skills and abilities to act like they’re still in league with the Empire’s leftovers, try and scour of any information they can. As the conversation comes to a close, you realize that you and Din don’t have anything to do immediately other than notifying Wedge.

“What’s our plan?” you ask, lowly, looking over at Din in the low light. “What do we do in the meantime?”

Din looks over at you, then to the other members of your recently forged alliance as they talk and drink. “Did you really think you saw Luke Skywalker back on Khubeaie?”

You stare at him. You blink once, twice, and then nod. “I thought it was just my vision playing tricks on me,” you murmur, fingers flapping around where your necklace used to live. Din, under the visor, tracks the movement, but you don’t pay it that much attention. “And I don’t think—well, the planet was weird. It was playing tricks on all of us. But if you saw him, I saw him, and Boba Fett saw him, then…”

“He was there,” Din finished, lowly, the second half of the sentence raised up as if he meant to ask a question but didn’t go all the way.

“I don’t think he was physically there,” you manage, brushing a way a loose piece of hair, “but I think we all saw him for a reason. Either Khubeaie’s haunted,” you breathe, “or something there is connected with the Force.”

Din stares at you. You can just tell, especially here and now in the cantina. “For you, maybe. But if I saw him, and Fett saw him—”

“Then maybe the planet’s haunted,” you interrupt, and you don’t entirely mean it, but the memory of the comm system warbling and screeching twice makes your blood seep cold through your veins. “Or, at the very least, something weird is going on. But when I talked to Wedge—” you breathe, sharply, “he said he heard from Luke again. And I don’t know about you, but I—”

“Don’t believe in coincidences,” Din finishes, his knee knocking up against yours under the table, “I know. These days, neither do I.”

When you part ways for the night, it’s temporary. Tomorrow, you and Din will hail Wedge and fill him and the New Rogue Squadron in on everything, and Boba and Fennec will head to the places in the galaxy where there’s still affiliates of the Empire to dig for more information. Cara will go interrogate some of the prisoners she’s brought in, offer them reduced sentences if they can fill the rest of the team in on anything related to the mysterious, dark Order. Karga will stay on Nevarro, speaking to the Guild members to try and fish for information about what the Empire leftovers are planning, and how they’re communicating with one another.

You and Din walk back to Kicker, hand in hand, in silence. You can feel sleep calling at you, edging in from the corners of your eyes. It feels like forever since you’ve gotten a full night’s sleep without being knocked out from the bacta, and as much as you love its anasthetic properties when you’ve lost a lot of blood, you want to fall into sleep on your own tonight. Neither of you shower, just undress and strip down into whatever you’re wearing to bed, and crawl into the nest of blankets you’ve made on Kicker’s floor. For hours, it seems, you lay there, together, in the dark, before Din speaks.

“Nova?”

You sigh, halfway into a dream. “Mmm. Yeah?”

He’s quiet, again, and you think you’ve imagined it, so you just burrow down into his warmth, feeling your skin brush up against his. His hands tighten around your waist, just for a second, and you feel so secure that fighting sleep doesn’t really seem like a favorable option. “I love you,” you hear, and then as you drift off into sleep, you hear him whisper, “I meant it. I’m never leaving—” and then you’re gone.

You wake up, and Din isn’t there. Panic floods into your chest, wet and heavy, and you flail around in the blankets, even though you know he’s not cuddled up in there with you. You get up, redress frantically into your only pair of clean clothes, swinging your jacket around your shoulders. The fresher’s empty, and he’s not in the cockpit, and when you slide down to inspect the gangplank, you see it’s been lowered in the last hour.

“Fuck!” you yell, slapping at the thing, which doesn’t do anything except lowering it again. You grab your blaster and shove it into the holster, holding your arm out for the snap of the Force to let the Darksaber fly into your grip. Your heart still hammering, you race down the gangplank, comm on your wrist, yelling the whole way into the city. “Where are you?” you ask, and you realize you sound angry, and you are, because Din keeps promising he’ll never leave your side and then whisks himself away to fight a battle that would be so much easier to win with the two of you in it together, but you’re also terrified. Nevarro isn’t the safest place, especially since Gideon and all of his troopers found Din, Grogu, Cara, and Karga here before, and even though Din’s wearing his armor, you’re scared.

And most of all, you’re upset. You want him here. You promised, a year ago, that you wouldn’t run from him again, and even when you’ve wanted to bolt for your life, you stayed. You don’t go back on your promises. And for Din assuring you he’s a man of his word, he hasn’t kept the most important thing he’s ever sworn to you, and it hurts. Grief and anxiety are two burning pyres in your chest, and as you haul yourself over Nevarro’s rocky, barren surface, heading towards town, you can feel the tears threatening at the corners of your eyes.

You’re tired. You’re so tired. You just want to be back on the ship you call home with the man you love and your child, and you’re so sick of fighting against the people who are trying to either steal you for themselves or make sure you die and stay dead. You know that this wasn’t Ahsoka’s fault, that she didn’t intend to send you on such a draining mission, but some small part of you is angry at her for letting you leave, for spearheading the chain of events that amounted to one huge loss after another. You flutter your hands around your neck, tears streaking down your face once you realize that it too is gone.

You step forward, trying to not let the big, raggedy sobs out into the open air. You duck behind one of the buildings so you can cry in peace, exhausted and strung out, worried for Din and heart still aching with him leaving. You know you should pull it together, go all the way into town and tell Cara, but right now, you can’t move. You cry, quietly and completely, letting the tears build and fall until you’ve run dry.

“Hey,” a voice from behind you says, “I’m looking for a pilot.”

You whip around, hand on your blaster in its holster, ready to fire if needed, but when you spin all the way, it’s not a stranger. It’s Din. He’s down on one knee, helmet off, in the exact place that you met here a year ago.

Your heart flies into your chest. “What are you doing—” you hiss, but no one’s here. And you seem to be frozen to the spot in the same way you were back on Yavin when he proposed the first time, everything rushing through you, exhilarating and confused.

“Preferably a Force sensitive one. Used to be in the Rebel Alliance, and recently reinstated to her previous rank. Can fly anything. You wanted proof,” Din shrugs, and your eyes roam hungrily over his bare face. He doesn’t look hesitant. There’s no trace of him rushing to put it back on, so you step forward, heart in your throat, thrumming and beating like an erratic butterfly. “That I’ll follow you anywhere. I have proof.”

“Proof of what?” you breathe, still walking towards him. Even on his knees, his head comes up to your chest. “Where the hell did you go, you scared the life out of me—”

“You wanted proof,” he says, again, and everything feels dizzying and starry and huge. You feel your heart rush with the feeling of belonging, that something more that tarted right here, in this same spot, on this barren planet, months and months again. “Last time, I didn’t have a ring. But I do now, and I’m never leaving your side again.”

“Din—”

“I tired to make it back before you woke up,” he whispers, earnestly. “I left a note on the dashboard. I just had to make it down to my—to where I used to live, to forge this.”

You swallow. “That’s where you went?”

“I’ve been kicking myself ever since I didn’t give you a ring in the first place,” Din continues, “and I know promising to never leave you again and then waking up must have been—I’m sorry. It was going to be in and out. But I ran into someone down there.”

Your heart flips over. “Did they hurt you—”

“No,” Din shakes his head, the ghost of a smile dancing across his face. “No, it was the Armorer. I thought she was gone, but she’s still alive—it’s a story for another time. But I told her about you,” Din says, lifting his hand to stroke a line down your face, “and she made you something, too.”

Your eyebrows furrow down the middle, and then he pulls out something else made out of the same metal as the ring was—a simple, secured chain, with two charms hanging from it. The symbol of the Alliance, and Din’s signet of the mudhorn. You cry as he loops it around your neck, tears intense and filled with disbelief and magic. “You did this for me?”

Din stares at you. “I’d do anything for you,” he says, finally, voice so soft. “You wanted proof I’d follow you anywhere, right? This is me trying to prove it.” He takes in a shuddering breath, and you smile at him. “You don’t have to forgive me, yet. I know I need to earn it. But, cyar’ika, I’d really love it if you’d agree to marry me.”

“You,” you start, taking a huge, shuddering breath, “always surprise me. I love you.”

Din smiles. “Is that—”

“Yes,” you scream, nodding frantically, “yes, of course, I’ll marry you, I love you, I love—”

And then you’re cut off, the ring slid on your finger, and Din’s on his feet, picking you up and dragging you backwards, down the alley towards a wall, and when he lifts you against the concrete, you sigh out into his mouth. “Ni kar’tayl su,” he starts, and then you pull him in closer, his mouth latched onto yours.

“Darasuum,” you agree, between kisses, “forever.”

He’s pulling at your clothes, and the part of you who knows this is a bad idea is silenced by the way his teeth sink into your shoulder, leaving marks all up and down your upper chest. You kick down your pants, not even bothering to take them off, and when Din rests your feet back down on the ground, immediately, he dives in between your legs, tongue wet and warm and full for you. You moan out, loud, too loud, but you don’t care who hears, not now. His tongue slides up and down, finally locking on your clit, licking swift little circles. You moan, hands seizing into his dark, messy hair, running your thumb over the metal of the ring. He licks into you like he’s been hungry for years and you’re the only thing standing between him and starvation. When he pushes a single finger inside, still eating you like his life depends on it, it’s enough for you to see stars. It feels like forever since you’ve been touched like this without interruption, and you lean into it, breath running ragged, moaning out his name.

“I want to touch you—” you manage, voice high and breathy, “please, Din, let me—”

“Not here,” he says, roughly, pushing another finger inside you. It buckles you over, right on the edge, and you moan into his shoulder, “I’m taking care of you. Don’t argue with me.”

You close your mouth, nodding. His tongue finds you again, his hands on your hips, digging slightly into the flesh there, voracious and insatiable. When he makes you cum, it’s three orgasms in a row, and your legs shake. “Din—Din, I can’t stand up—”

He’s on his feet quicker than you can imagine, like a lightning lash. “Then I’ll hold you here,” he says, and both of your legs are being hiked up. Your bare back scrapes against the concrete, but you barely even hear it sting as you’re being hoisted into the air. “I’m going to fuck you now,” he breathes, something low and lustful in his eyes, “and you need to try to keep quiet, or everyone in Nevarro City will know my name. You can do that for me, can’t you, cyar’ika?”

Your eyes widen, wet heat seeping between your legs. You feel like you’re buzzing. “Yes,” you manage, syllable broken down the middle, and when you feel the head of his cock start to push its way inside of you, wet and ready, you have to clap your own hand over your mouth to keep the very unsavory noises from leaking out into the open air of the town.

“Good girl,” Din manages, and then his mouth is on yours, his hips fucking into you hard and fast, a staccato rhythm punctuated by both of your muffled moans, burying himself into you. You let yourself be held there, hands tangled up ferociously in his hair, using as much gravity as you can to get him to pound you like you’ve never been pounded before, writhing with your hips, everything starry and alive, wanting him to get to whatever universe you’re in. His breath hitches, and you know he’s close, already, he’s close, and it feels like you’ve barely started, but you grab at his bare face with your hands and nod, giving him permission. Your comm warbles, but Din’s muttering sweet nothings in your ear, telling you you’re so fucking wet, sweet, pretty girland I can’t wait to have your pussy forever, and right before he climaxes, he moans out your name, and then a breathy I love you, and whatever your comm is yelling out, you don’t hear it, because you’re too preoccupied with letting the man you love mark you as his, over and over and over.

When you finish, you feel how puffy and wet you still are, and if it wasn’t for the incessant bleeping and blinking on your wrist, you’d beg him to fuck you again. And then your head registers it’s Cara, hailing the both of you, and you and Din make eye contact in a panic, both frantically redressing.

“It’s me,” you manage, voice still fucked from going to heaven and back, “are you okay?”

“You both need to get here, to the cantina,” Cara says, and her voice is clipped and short. You exchange looks with Din before he slips the helmet back on, and you run your hand over your messy hair, hoping the braid isn’t beyond repair, and both of you bolt towards the cantina. You toss Din the blaster, he tosses back the Darksaber, steps matched up, hurrying toward the center of town.

“I want you to know,” Din says, lowly, right before the door opens, “ regardless of what’s waiting for us in there, I’m not done fucking you.”

Despite everything, you grin back at him, brazen, chest still heaving. “Better not be.”

When you break through the vestibule, it takes your eyes a minute to adjust. When they do, you realize who’s standing there, Cara’s eyebrow lifted, staring over at you and Din intently. The other woman turns around, and your feel the smallest bit of panic flood into you as you take in her chiseled jaw, her short red hair, the way her eyes lock onto you holding the Darksaber.

“Bo-Katan,” you start, and she steps forward, not aggressive, but intentionally.

She looks both you and Din up at down, gaze landing on the Darksaber, and then back on your face. “I’m not here for that.” You watch her face, looking for a bluff. It isn’t there. “We need to talk.”

I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!!!!! it's so bittersweet, because so much of this chapter feels like the prelude to the end none of us wants to come, but i want you all to know that even though SM is coming to a close, there is so much more going to be in the sequel. if it doesn't feel like everything is resolved, please remember MORE IS COMING!!! i needed to leave some loose ends to make sure i had enough content for the second one ;)

with that being said, i anticipate SM will be ending with one or two more chapters. likely two more, because there's so much content planned, but as soon as i start writing, i will update you all on tumblr (amiedala) and tiktok (padmeamydala) to give you a definitive answer. if it is just one more chapter, it will be LONG!!! i don't want any of this to end, but this part of the story is coming to a close, and i cannot wait to share the sequel with you all <3 i love you all so much!!!!! thank you for taking this journey with me!!!!!

CHAPTER 29 WILL BE UP AT 7:30 PM EST SATURDAY, JULY 10TH!!!

xoxo, amelie

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supercorpkid · 3 years

Text

Flashback Friday.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader

Word Count: 2430.

“You know, this whole baby talking-” Maya says, pointing at the doll in front of you. Lucky for you, it’s already Friday and after the weekend you can give the doll back to the teacher. You raise your eyebrow at Maya for her to continue. “I’m really curious about what you were like as a kid.”

“A pain in the ass.” You answer, making her smile.

“I doubt that. You were probably the perfect little witty kid that everyone was so in love with, first sight. I mean, just look at these big blue eyes of yours.” You blush when she points at your face. “I don’t think anyone could not like such an adorable baby.”

“Ok, well, you’re assuming I was adorable.” It’s what you say, but you get up from the couch and make your way to the projector. You change your mind right after. Outside this house Kara plays the part of Kara Danvers the reporter, but here she can be herself. So there’s superhero stuff in some videos, and you can’t show Maya any of that. “I have some pictures if you want to see.”

“Oh, please.” She asks and you nod, taking a few photo albums from the bookshelf, then sitting back on the couch with her. “I know you were adorable just by looking at you now.”

“Come snuggle.” You hold her tight in your embrace, kissing her cheek. “We have to finish this before momma gets home, or she’ll join us.”

“What’s wrong with her joining us?”

“She’ll cry non-stop.” You laugh and Maya smiles at you. She opens the first page and already laughs at the picture.

“See? I knew it. Perfect little witty kid.” She points at a picture of you dressed as Batgirl for Halloween. “I thought your momma said you guys are Supergirl stans in this house.”

“Yeah. Before this one I was dressed as Wonder Woman. And the one after I think I was dressed as Dreamer.” Maya gives you a questioning look and you smile. “I don’t know, I never once dressed as Supergirl.” You shrug. “I even dressed as Miss Martian once. Wait.” You shuffle the album and show her the picture.

“Wow. You painted yourself green, but didn’t wear a Supergirl costume? And you wouldn’t even have to do much. I mean you have blonde hair, blue eyes, cute smile-” She looks at you for a second, and you smile feeling very nervous about it. She is REALLY staring at you, and you feel lucky she can’t hear your heart beating out of your chest right now. She furrows her eyebrows for a second, and your heart stops. “And yet you painted yourself green.”

“Right.” You give her a forced laugh. “Didn’t want anyone to confuse a 5-year-old-girl with the actual superhero so… Probably for the best.”

“Aw! Look at little Jamie!” She points at some other picture and you let out a breath. That was close. Too close.

Weirdly, looking at old pictures with Maya filled you with nostalgia. So as soon as she leaves the house, you make your way to the projector and sit back on the couch, watching video after video of your childhood.

You were an adorable kid. You have to admit that.

The first video starts with Lena still pregnant. Kara’s face comes first and she gives a huge smile to the camera.

“Are you filming me?” Lena asks, trying to get up from the couch, unsuccessfully. “That’s not funny, Kara. Come here and help me, I weigh a thousand pounds with a half-alien-baby making me eat for 20 people.”

“But love, you’re doing so well.” Kara smiles again. Putting the camera against something and walking towards Lena.

“You’re the worst.” Lena says, giving Kara her hand, but instead Kara picks her up bridal style. “My back hurts, my feet hurt, my hands are swollen. I can’t wait for this baby to come out of me.”

“Me too.” Kara agrees, looking at Lena’s belly without her glasses. “But, you know, she seems to like it there. She’s even smiling.”

“It’s not fair you can see and hear her and I can’t.” Lena grunts, but Kara kisses her, making her blush instead.

“Well, it’s not fair you’re holding her all the time and I’m not, so I guess we’re even.”

“Kara, stop filming and come hold her.” Lena says, you’re sleeping on her arms. She has a tired look, but still a smile on her face.

“No, I don’t want to wake her. Look how peaceful she looks.” Kara says, and you see her hand touching yours. “Look at her Lena. We made the world’s most beautiful potato with eyes.”

“Kara! Just say she is a cute baby.”

“She’s the cutest potato that ever was.” Kara chuckles, and Lena once again tries to give you to her. “No, Lena. She is so small, what if-what if I hurt her?”

“You won’t hurt her, honey. Here, put the camera here.” Kara puts the camera on the couch next to Lena, and a few seconds later Lena picks it up to film you in Kara’s arms. “See, it’s all fine.”

“I will always keep you safe, little one.” It’s what Kara whispers to you, and you reach for her finger, making her smile in excitement. “I think she knows who I am.”

“I’m sure she does.”

The next video is Lena who is filming, you know that because her voice is really close to the microphone.

“Honey, it’s the middle of the night.” She films Kara. “The baby is not even crying, why are you creeping over her crib?”

“Just wanted to make sure she was breathing.” Kara says and Lena films you. You look fine.

“Well? Is she?”

“Yes.” Kara agrees and Lena turns the camera to Kara’s face again.

“Then can we go to bed now?”

“I think I’m gonna hang back here for a while. I’ll join you in a little.”

“Did you get the camera?” Lena asks, not looking behind, to see Kara already filming. “Look at her going. She’s walking alone!” Lena opens her arms to you. “Come on babygirl, come to mom!”

“Mom!” You repeat, making your way to her, but you fall before you get there. You look at her doe-eyed, and she smiles softly at you.

“You can do it. Come on, I believe in you baby. Come on.” Lena calls you with her hands. Kara places the camera somewhere, and goes to you. “Kara, she can do it alone.”

“She’s one, love. She can do a lot, but not everything.” Kara puts you up on your feet again, giving you a kiss on your forehead. “Go on, little one. Go to mom.”

You look at Lena, and then at Kara. Not moving. Kara smiles and whispers something in your ear. Next thing you know, you turn to Lena and make your way to her. They celebrate like you just ran a marathon, and you get so excited yourself, you don’t even mind when you fall butt first on the floor again.

“Little one, how old are you right now?” Kara asks, and you show her a number two with your fingers. “Very good! And how old is mom right now?” You show her four fingers, and you hear Lena’s chuckle somewhere behind the video. “And how old is mommy?” You show her five fingers, making Lena laugh harder. And even though you can’t see Kara’s face, you absolutely know she was pouting.

“No. No.” You say, after one look at her. “Mommy is this much.” And you show her two fingers.

“Ah, that’s more like it.”

“Shhh. Are you filming this?” You hear Lena’s whisper behind the video. You’re alone in the video, opening the refrigerator door, climbing all of the shelves, to get to the top so you can get the cookie jar that has been perfectly placed there, just so you can’t get it.

Your little hands are trying very hard to get the cookie jar, and you hear Kara’s and Lena’s muffled laughter behind the camera.

“Oh my God, she’s gonna do it.” Lena mutters and you hear Kara humming.

“She’s a superhero, love.” Kara says, giving the camera to Lena, going very quietly behind you, and taking the cookie jar before you. “Oh well, if it isn’t our very own super stealer!”

“Mommy!” You yell in shock, letting go of the shelf and falling back on the floor. Kara drops the jar, to try to catch you, but you still fall butt first on the floor. Lena rushes to your side, not exactly filming, but not really letting go of the phone also.

“You’re ok.” Lena says, picking you up from the floor, and leaving the phone there instead. The only thing it’s filming now is the ceiling, but you still can hear voices. “Are you hurt? Does anything hurt, babygirl?”

“No.” You say softly, like you were thinking about crying, but it wasn’t worth it enough.

“You’re such a strong girl.” You hear Lena reassuring you. “And you know what strong girls get? Cookies!”

“I don’t want cookies anymore, mom.” You hear your tiny voice coming from the phone. “Can we go watch cartoons?”

“Yes, baby. Let’s watch cartoons.”

The video stays silent for at least a minute, and you’re almost skipping it, until you hear a muffled cry and Lena’s voice right after.

“Kara, honey, come on. She’s not hurt, it’s all fine.”

“I was supposed to catch her.” It’s Kara who is crying, you can tell by the way she sounds. You furrow your brows to this video and you don’t think you’ve ever seen this part before. “It’s my fault she fell.”

“Honey, she was climbing the fridge and we were filming in the back. I mean, I don’t know how we didn’t realize sooner that was not going to end well. It’s not your fault. Come on. She wants to cuddle with us and watch cartoons.”

“She wants me too?” Kara asks, voice small filled with scare.

“She specifically requested that mommy was there so she could sit on your lap.” Lena says, picking up the phone. You get a glimpse of Kara’s red face before Lena turns the video off.

You watch video after video, with a smile on your face. There’s one video for every age you were in, and around five you got to be exactly like Maya thought you would. The perfect little witty kid, with big blue eyes, and great comebacks.

“Ok, go on, little one. Show me what you made.” Kara asks, pointing the camera to you, and you show her your little robot with a smile. “It’s a robot! What does it do?”

“It dances!” You say excitedly, pressing something in it to make it dance. “Look, momma. It dances like you.”

“How dare you!” Kara places the camera on top of something, turns on the music somewhere, and picks you up from the chair, dancing with you in her arms.

You have the biggest smile on your face, while she spins around on the kitchen floor, doing the dopiest dance moves so you can laugh harder.

“I wanna fly!” You ask, and Kara is quick to comply, holding you up with one hand, and you make her flying pose -one hand on your waist and the other raised in a fist- while she runs around the kitchen with you like this. Lena walks in the kitchen a while later, and laughs at both of you.

“Hey! No flying around the house.” She jokes, and Kara puts you down. Lena picks you up right after, kissing your flushed cheek, and smiling at you. “What are you two doing?”

The answer is Kara coming to hug her from behind, and starting to dance again, making Lena dance too. The video goes on, with the three of you dancing with smiles around the kitchen, and you can’t help a smile that it brings to your face.

“Hey!” Kara walks in the living room and sees you curled up on the couch, watching old videos. She smiles. “Watcha’ doing?”

“I miss that.” You press pause, and look at the scene. The three of you have the most truthful smiles on your faces, and you all look so in love with life and with this family. Kara smiles at the scene, a longing smile, because she misses it too. “We just looked so happy together.”

“We still are, aren’t we?” Kara makes her way towards the couch, throwing herself back in it, and holding you tight. You let your head fall on her arm, and you breathe deep.

“I feel like we all grew up from that.” You mutter, but it doesn’t matter because Kara can hear you just fine. She furrows her brows at you, then stops hugging you and stands up. “Momma, don’t be mad, I just-”

But she’s not mad. She is putting some music on, moving the couches to the sides of the living room -with you in it, like it’s nothing- and making space in the middle of the room. Kara stares at you, before starting to dance like crazy in front of you.

“You might have grown up, but mommy is still this much.” She shows you two fingers and your smile comes, without you even thinking about it.

“Well, I haven’t!” You stand up too, dancing next to her. And before you know, she has picked you up and is spinning you around like you’re still that same 6-year-old-girl with not a care in the world. And right now, you feel like you are.

“Hey, what is-” Lena looks at the scene. Her living room looks like a mess with couches on the sides, pillows on the floor, forgotten videos of your childhood in the background, very loud music playing, Kara spinning you around by the hands and sweet smiles on both of your faces. “Going on?”

It’s the moment of truth. That’s the moment you’ll see if you all grew up from that, or if you all can still look that happy together.

Lena unties her hair, tosses her shoes to the other side of the living room, and gives you both a very satisfied smile, before joining the dance party.

“Welcome home, love.” Kara says, giving Lena a sweet kiss on the lips, then another one on her forehead. She pulls you close and kisses your forehead too, and you smile, wrapping your arms around them both.

“Yes.” Lena agrees, kissing your cheek. “This is home.”

Notes:

Someone was feeling a little nostalgic, and by someone I mean @supercorpenthusiastic and I’m so thankful cause it got me to think about Superkid as a baby, which is lovely. So thank you!

#supergirl #kara danvers #supercorp #supercorpfamily #lena luthor #supercorp daughter #kara x lena #kara x reader #supercorp fanfic #lena x reader #reader insert

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avengerscompound · 3 years

Text

Moving On - Chapter 4

Moving On: A Falcon & Captain Marvel Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Sam Wilson x F!Reader, Carol Danvers x F! Reader

Word Count: 2107

Rating: E

Warnings: Smut (MF, oral sex, vaginal sex, accidental exhibitionism/voyeurism)

Synopsis: You thought Sam Wilson was the love of your life. You had planned to do it all with him - marriage, kids, see the world. Even when you’re life gets turned upside down, and you both end up international fugitives, he’s there by your side.

Then Thanos comes.

When Sam is one of the many turned to dust, leaving you alone and pregnant, you don’t think you’ll ever stop grieving. Yet, everyone tells you that Sam would want you to move on and live your life - that he’d want you to be happy. Gradually you open your heart up to another. Carol Danvers has lost people too. First her daughter, then her wife. As the two of you lean on each other, feelings grow and you move on together.

So what happens when Sam is returned to you?

Chapter 4: On the Run

It is strange how quickly your whole world can change. One minute you’re planning a wedding and living in the Avengers Compound in Upstate New York, an official agent for the Avengers. The next you’re considered a war criminal and you’re on the run with your fiance and three other people, one of them who happened to be Captain America.

It had been like a slow-motion car wreck watching everything go wrong. First, there was a completely unnecessary fight against your friends in the airport because no one wanted to listen to each other. Then you’d been arrested by people who you’d once considered not just friends, but family. Then you’d been shipped off to some secret supermax prison in the ocean for enhanced individuals with no trial, even though you weren’t enhanced. Then Steve Rogers had busted you out and you’d ended up on the run.

You were with Sam though, and you’d rather be with him on the run knowing you were on the right side of the fight than safe in New York alone.

You’d all been trying to make the most of your time working as vigilantes. There had been a lot of alien tech ending up in the hands of criminal organizations and Steve had been leading your little band of merry men to go and get it back.

Things weren’t easy for any of you. There was a lack of money coming in and everyone had had to quickly withdraw their entire savings before the government blocked all of their accounts. Thankfully Steve’s pension from the army had accrued a lot since he’d been lost at sea, but he hadn’t been able to withdraw all of it.

It had meant that a lot of the income came down to you, as out of everyone - you were the least recognizable. Yes, there were alerts out for you, but you were a spy - you knew how to disguise yourself and you knew where to find under-the-counter work when needed.

The trick was never staying in the same place for long and returning to countries that didn’t sign the accords. Even those weren’t safe for long - Ross was not above sending people into countries illegally to detain people who he was hunting - Bruce Banner was a testament to that - but they were safe for a little while and meant that once a month rather than sleep in the stolen Quinn, you could splash out and get a hotel. Although you were pretty sure that Wanda was often sleeping in hotels - with Vision most likely - anytime she said she needed to have some alone time.

You woke up and stretched on the cold metal floor of the Quinn, your spine popping loudly. Sam shifted in close to you, his arm draping over your sternum and his hand resting on your neck so his fingertips lightly caressed your jaw. “Was wondering when you were gonna wake up,” he murmured.

“Is it late?” You asked, blinking your eyes in the dark of the jet. There was light coming in through the cockpit window, but it was low and you couldn’t tell if that was because it was early or just overcast outside.

“Not particularly,” he said, his hand running down your neck and over your collarbone. “You just normally sleep like shit in the Quin.”

“Who says I didn’t,” you grumbled, rolling in toward him, and breathing him in. There was an acrid sting to his scent thanks to the fact that neither of you had showered for a few days. You were all due for a trip to somewhere remote with beds and good water pressure. Steve had said maybe going back to Wakanda for a few weeks was in order. He didn’t like to go too often because T’Challa had already extended himself above and beyond anything that was fair to ask of him just by harboring Bucky. But it had been over six months since any of you had been there, and you had accumulated a lot of alien technology that you knew Shuri would love to get her hands on.

Sam chuckled and his hands ran down to yours, linking your fingers together, and playing with the engagement ring that sat on your finger. “What if we just get married in Wakanda?”

You looked up into his eyes. They looked black in the dim light and when he smiled at you, the corners of them crinkled slightly. “I’m not sure that’s what you really want,” you said. “Don’t you want Sarah to be there? And the kids?”

Sam frowned. Sarah’s kids had been two and four years old when you’d gone on the run and every month that he missed of their lives hurt him. He’d been sending money back to his sister to keep the family business running back when you’d both had actual jobs, but these days he was barely scraping by himself.

He sighed and nuzzled into your neck. “I just want us to start our lives together.”

“I know, but life had other plans,” you said. “I love you and I don’t need to get married to know that. It’s not going to change anything. We will still be on the run and we won’t be able to build a stable life and have kids.”

Sam sighed and leaned his forehead against you. “I know, but I want you to be my wife.”

“I am your wife,” you said.

“Not legally,” he said.

“We don’t do anything legally at the moment,” you said, playfully. When Sam didn’t laugh, you sighed and wrapped your arms around him. “Sam,” you said. “If you really want to get married in Wakanda, I’ll do it. I’m sure I can get something nice to wear together, and Nat and Wanda can be my bridesmaids. I’m sure given how close we’ve all gotten they would be who I’d have picked anyway. Just like I know you’d have Steve be your best man. But I know you. This isn’t really what you want. You want the big wedding down in Louisiana like you always planned. With the catering done using fish that were caught by your family’s trawler and you want AJ and Cass to be our little ring bearers. And I know… I know that if you do this - if we get married in Wakanda without Sarah, she’ll murder you. She will murder you and then disown you post humus.”

Sam started laughing. “Yeah, she will.”

“Sam, I love you. I’m yours, no matter what,” you said.

“I know,” he replied with a sigh. “I know we’re doing the right thing now. I mean - Tony can get all on his high horse about how important the accords were, but he still broke them immediately. That fucking kid he brought to the fight is still breaking the accords and living his best life. I just… I wish we could have both.”

“So do I,” you said. “I hope they come around, but I’m scared that the thing that makes them realize how wrong they are is gonna be real bad. Like; world-ending bad.”

“Yeah, me too,” Sam said. “Which is why I’m doing this.”

“So, what do you want to do? You asked.

“I guess… we can wait,” Sam relented. “But maybe we can see if there’s any way we could do something small that we could sneak Sarah to? Like … she goes to the Maldives and who just happens to be there getting married?”

“They’ll be watching her,” you said.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “But we can look into it.”

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed. “We’ll look into it.”

Sam leaned in and kissed you deeply. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him down on top of you, so the full weight of his body pressed down on the cold metal floor of the jet.

Sam groaned softly and rolled his hips, his cock starting to harden against your thigh. “Where’s Steve?” you mumbled against his lips as he continued to kiss you. He was currently the only unknown factor as Wanda was on another of her ‘retreats’ and Natasha was dealing with some ‘personal things’ that she wouldn’t tell the rest of you about. He pulled back and smirked down at you. “Why? You want him to watch?”

“No,” you giggled, smacking his arm. “I want the opposite of that.”

Sam laughed and nuzzled at your neck, pushing his hands up under your sleep shirt. “On his morning run. Just you and me, baby.”

You kissed him again - more frantic this time, and your hands dug into his shoulders. Sam began to squeeze and massage your breast as he ground down against you, sending a warm buzz through your body. He began to move down your body, taking his time to both undress you and kiss every part of you. By the time he was crouched between your spread legs, your whole body prickled like a live wire.

He gripped your thigh with one hand and reached up and began massaging your breast with the other as he dipped his head down and began lapping at your cunt. You moaned and arched your back, gripping his bicep with one hand as you reached over your head with the other. A hot current ran through you as Sam focused on your clit, sucking and nipping at it as he squeezed your breast. He moaned into your cunt, the sound sending vibrations through you. You slowly fell apart under him, writhing as a coil of hot pleasure wound itself tightly in your core. Sam thrust two of his fingers inside you, and as soon as they hit that sweet spot inside you you cried out loudly and came hard, your whole body shuddering as your orgasm crashed through you.

Sam sat up onto his knees and looked at you. “Gonna have to be a little quieter,” he said tapping your thigh. “Steve’s got pretty good hearing you know.”

You scrunched up your face. “Maybe you need to gag me.”

Sam chuckled and bit his bottom lip as you got on our hands and knees. Even on the bedroll, your knees were going to hate you after this, but right now you didn’t care at all. Sam moved up behind you, held onto your hips, and thrust hard into you. You stumbled forward a little but managed to catch yourself on the cargo trunk in front of you. He began to fuck you hard immediately, not even waiting to steady yourself. You cried out and clenched around him as it felt like a hot shard tore through you.

Sam leaned over you, kissing your neck and shoulder, as he put his hand over your mouth. “Hush now,” he growled in your ear. “You don’t want to wake up the whole forest.”

You moaned into his hand and opened your mouth, letting him push two of his fingers inside for you to suck on. He railed into you, his hips moving quickly and erratically as your bodies slapped together. You tried to bounce back on him, adding to the pleasure coursing through you, but it wasn’t long until your arms gave out and you were helpless under him as your orgasm built.

As his hips began to stutter, Sam wrapped his arm around your waist and began to rub your clit. It was all it took for the dam inside you to burst. You buried your face in your arm and cried out as you came, clenching around Sam’s cock. He began to thrust even more erratically as he chased his own release and with a jerk and a low groan he came, releasing inside you.

You let yourself flop completely on the floor, breathing heavily and feeling a little high on endorphins. “You think Steve is out there and heard us?” You asked as Sam lay back down next to you and kissed your shoulder.

“Caught the tail end of the show!” Steve yelled, his voice muffled through the jet walls.

You and Sam both broke down into peels of laughter and you hid your face in Sam’s chest.

“Get a move on, would you?!” Steve yelled. “We have a lot to do today.”

You laughed even harder and Sam held you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Come on, duty calls,” he chuckled.

You let him help you up and the two of you both started cleaning yourselves up the best way you could. You hoped to god that Steve would say it was time for a break soon, but in the meantime, you were glad you were here with Sam.

// NEXT

#sam wilson #carol danvers #sam wilson x reader #carol danvers x reader #falcon #captain marvel #falcon fanfic #captain marvel fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #moving on

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Text

worst case scenario part 5

finally!! so sorry its been an age to anyone still here but lives been interesting atm so.... also this really feels a bit rambley and the ending is deff underdeveloped but I just kind of wanted this done tbh x

[previous part] [part 1]

warnings: hospitals - ICU, ventilation that sort of stuff, just a lot of ANGST post a difficult birth - please don't read if this could be upsetting for you, and my inbox is always open if u wanna chat :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a complete 360 degree flip from earlier that day, after leaving the hospital Tom had become obsessively attached to Aurora. They’d got back to his parents place in Tom’s car; Aurora in the carseat Y/n and Tom had ready in their car door for her arrival. Clearly his parents had already pre-warned his brothers, who had thankfully already gone over to Tom and Y/n’s - collecting the Moses basket amongst other items Harry had been listed off from his mother.

Apart from explaining a little behind her name to his parents on the journey back, Tom had spoken very little, choosing to keep himself to himself - physically stationing himself beside the Moses basket the whole time. Of course, there had been a bit of light conversation and almost procedural passing round of Aurora between all her uncles and grandparents, which Tom had kept a wether eye on - but ultimately not engaged.

He also knew that physically his body was failing him. Although eating a little of the lasagne Sam had made for everyone, he could only stomach a minuscule amount, which did little to boost his energy levels. It felt as though sleeping was the enemy, because he was neither ready to leap into the car if the phone went; or to hear the smallest sound from the wicker basket, suggesting something was wrong. So as much as he tried to fight it, before even nine o’clock he began to dose off on the familiar couch of his parents sitting room - occasionally jerking himself awake before loosing the fight once again.

Nikki had tried to gently push him to take a break in the spare bedroom, which had been Tom’s before he’d moved out, but was unsuccessful - every time he retaliated with a stern shake of his head, while checking his phone just in case he’d missed a notification. Eventually Nikki relented, later in the evening both her and Dom retiring to bed; once Sam had agreed to stick around downstairs till a bit later - as a chef he worked till late in the nights, so even on his days off like today, his sleep schedule was just a little fucked.

Left alone with his new little niece and now pretty firmly asleep brother, Sam draped a blanket over the latter just in time for Aurora to start fussing in the need of a bottle. His mum had explained how to do everything, how to mix the formula and heat it up, so after scooping up the little wriggling girl in the hope his brother wouldn’t get disturbed, Sam dealt with her. To be honest no matter how clueless and useless he felt, Aurora was just so cute - if a little wrinkly and alien looking, but in a good way. This was the first baby any of them had had, so the first time Sam experienced this instant connection and love for the little being that was his niece or nephew. It was terrifying, lifting the bottle against her lips for the first time, but then it just sort of seemed to work. She was incredibly smart for less than 24 hours old, instantly latching on, like she had done for Haz at the hospital.

That gave Sam a little confidence in his ability as an uncle, giving himself a satisfied nod while swaying from the kitchen to move back into the living room. It was just a preference to be within reach of Tom… just in case. His poor brother still hadn’t moved, slumped against the corner of the sofa, leaning toward the now empty Moses basket. Normally, Sam seeing his supposed heart throb of a brother looking as rough as he did now - double chin, mouth hanging slightly open, deep sunken eyes - he would’ve taken a photo to blackmail him with. Now though, it was just desperately sad, seeing his brother like this, hand still clutching his phone tightly above the blanket.

Rather hoping the calm would last for a while, Sam successfully finished off feeding Aurora; winded and then put her down to sleep again just in time. Because, perhaps expectedly, Tom’s phone began to blare off the default iPhone ringtone making Tom jump and throw the device across the room as he awoke with a start. Sam ran to grab it off the floor, mainly with the hope of turning it off before Aurora was awoken too - knowing that it was best tonight to tackle one thing at a time.

And so he immediately swiped to answer the call, not even registering who the call was from, much rather just wanting the noise to stop.

“Hello?”

“Sam? It’s Harrison” Tom had jumped up from his seat hovering beside Sam with petrified look. It took barely seconds for Tom to snatch the phone back, launching questions down the receiver.

“Slow down would you? Y/n is fine I was just phoning to check in.”

“Oh er yeh… um sorry I just… just thought…”

“It’s the other way mate. Nurse says she’s starting to get there cos first she moved her arm a bit when we pinched her shoulder and then I just called because she started to like gag and now the ventilator thing is gone.”

“W-what?”

“I think she’s breathing by herself? Like she’s got an oxygen mask instead of the tubes down her throat.” Clearly Harrison was not, by any means, a medical expert.

“They said she would have the ventilator for a few days at least.”

“I guess Y/n got bored? To be fair she couldn’t ever sit still.”

“I’m coming to you.”

“Tom it’s nearly midnight, I was supposed to be kicked out at 10. Just come back in the morning, they won’t let you in I’m pretty certain.”

“What if she wakes up!”

“Then they’ll call you! She’s getting better Tom you should be try and relax for like a second.”

“FUCK OFF HAZ! If she wakes up all alone and terrified then-“

“I’m not going to having a screaming match on the phone with you. I think we both know you wanting to come is more for you than for Y/n, because Y/n would want you to be looking after Aurora.”

Again guilt tripping using the newborn. Harsh but effective. Stopping Tom’s anger dead in it’s tracks.

“Look I can put the nurse on for her to tell you they won’t let you in and they’ll call if anything happens - but you already know that.”

“Yeh sorry fine … I know don’t bother.”

“Okay… I’m was gonna head back to my place and I know you’ve probably got your mum begging to fuss over Aurora but if-“

“Can you come?”

“Didn’t need to ask mate.”

And that’s how the night went. Until Harrison arrived at the Holland family home, Tom had spent the time pacing back and forth, blatantly ignoring the pleas of Sam just to sit down. Once he arrived though, going through all the updates in a lot more detail Tom seemed, for the first time, optimistic. By no means could you call him relaxed or happy - but compared to the rollercoaster that had been the last 24 hours, Harrison thought that was more than enough. Aurora had started fussing again at 1 but by the time it had turned into a full blown scream at Tom, Sam already had the bottle ready. It took a little bit of encouragement and promise that Tom would be able to feed her but actually, she instantly latched on, settled in her Dad’s hold while guzzling down the contents of the bottle.

After a bit of winding she ended up falling asleep on her dads chest, only when he felt himself start to flag did Tom place her back in the basket. Harrison and him ended up crashing on the sofas, Sam retiring to his own room. Phone still tightly clutched in Tom’s grip.

////////////////////

The first thing Y/n became properly aware of was this intense heaviness all over her body. It felt as though her limbs were all composed completely of lead, meaning as much as she was just craving rolling over, it was as though her own body was holding her down. A very alien feeling that unsettled her slightly, trying to shake of the misty feeling in her head to work it all out. It took a while to drag herself out of the depths of sleep, to the point where background noise slowly faded in - an alien beeping as well as distant shuffling making her heart thump with unease. Finally, perhaps most distressingly , her eyes felt glued shut. Not because they were heavy, in the way someone extremely sleep deprived cant keep their eyes open; rather stiff like they hadn’t been used in so long they’d rusted over or something.

The feeling was quite horrific and isolating- as though she were locked into her body without an escape in sight. Whilst trying to calm her racing thoughts, Y/n chose to focus completely on the one thing she could do. She could listen. She listened to the beeps, focusing on the type of sound, the way it chimed so regularly; and it’s form. It was familiar, for that she was sure but for now at least she couldn’t place it.

It felt like an investigation, trying with all her might to try and workout what the fuck was going on. To put it mildly.

The most useful clue though, a breakthrough if you will, is when a voice sounded - clear and familiar.

“Excuse me nurse?” It was Nikki. For sure. It was a clue, but didnt seem to make a hell of a lot of sense. Y/n was so focused on why the hell Nikki was apparently watching her sleep unconscious, she completely missed the reference to the nurse. As in hospital. As in Y/n was in hospital. “… I’m just going to swap out for my sons friend.”

“Harrison?” That voice seemed new and unfamiliar.

“Yes, he won’t be a second I’m sure.”

What was Harrison doing here too?

It was all very confusing and hurt Y/n’s brain to try and unpick. Gradually then, everything sort of melted away, diving back into the darkness.

The next time Y/n woke up things were different. This time she woke up like she would at any time of day. She woke up and her eyes followed suit. Not particularly easily, since as soon as they cracked open she was almost blinded by brilliant white lights, it taking a build up of willpower before she tried it again - bracing for the pain.

By now she knew something was wrong. She remembered all these patchy and hazy periods. All full of confusion and disorientation but with different voices keeping her at least semi calm. Familiar voices, all too often laced with such emotion. Especially Tom’s. She couldn’t remember what he had said, nor had she probably been able to understand it at the time - what stuck was the tone. The sadness, the hopelessness , the emptiness.

It was scary. But it made her want to help. Made her want to open her eyes.

After wincing at the dazzling white surroundings, Y/n blinked her eyes quickly, in an attempt to get them to adjust quicker. She saw an unfamiliar ceiling, one that was tiled in a similar way to her old school canteen. There was a weird pressure round her mouth, eyes quickly darting down to see edges of a clear mask pressed up against the bridge of her nose. That wasn’t it though, the further she looked the more her eyes panned down this pale blue blanket, following the outline of her legs to the bottom raised edge of the bed. The hospital bed.

Her hospital bed.

As much as she wanted to jump up in panic; physically right now that was an impossibility. So instead, Y/n focused on trying to gleam as much information from the situation. It took a hell of a lot of effort, her muscles literally stiff and ridgid with disuse but with a small groan her neck eventually agreed to follow orders. Just a small tilt to the left and suddenly Y/n felt so much more less panicked. Everything was that bit less scary because there was Tom.

Admittedly he didn’t look amazing, or even not bad. Tom was sat with his back pressed against the side of chair, so his body faced her. Had he not looked so ruined, Y/n would’ve laughed at the side of his face squashed into the back of the seat. But he did look horrific, for lack of a better word. His brown eyes were locked shut, but also looked puffy and red, while dark at the same time - as though he’d been attempting to gouge his own eyes out prior. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, hence why he had appeared to have collapsed in the arm chair. At least though , he wasn’t in a hospital bed himself.

That was Y/n’s pleasure.

Her next job was to get her neck muscles to pull her head to the other side. It was a slow wincing gesture, yet she was so aware of another presence that needed to be addressed too. But actually it was 3 people.

Right at the back, a nurse sat on a little spinny chair, scribbling something down in a file of papers but to be quite honest that wasn’t were Y/n’s focus zeroed in on. Instead on Harrison who was sat in chair mirroring Tom, except instead of being passed out asleep he was cradling a baby. Her baby.

Y/n literally felt her heart in her throat at that point, eye widening almost comically. That was her baby - it must be? The monitors all started to loose their regularity as Y/n threw an uncoordinated limb to that side of the bed- already having realised her throat was way too scratchy to try to say anything comprehensible.

Immediately that got the attention of both the nurse, who immediately leapt up and called for support, as well as Harrison - who looked like he was seeing a ghost.

“Oh my-Y/n-?” Luckily he kept the baby safe in his arms rather than dropping her in shock, whilst Y/n kept her eyes locked onto the bundle in his arms. Nodding down, she tried to remove the mask (actually just very slightly knocking it to one side) and attempted to ask of the baby. Her throat, being inhumanly dry and scratchy, didn’t really work but Haz still got the message, scoffing in amazement.

“Aurora… here’s your mummy.” Harrisons voice was quiet and wavering as he delicately held Aurora against Y/n’s collar bone, the babies little tuft of har tickingling her chin. Now Y/n was crying with happiness, looking up at Haz’s icy blue eyes and questioning her name. Harrison confirmed with another disbelieving whisper, whilst the arm that wasn’t still holding Aurora clasped Y/n’s hand with a death grip. “Tom’s choice.”

The mention of him had both of them shift their gaze across the room to Tom’s chair. Even with all the developments, Tom still seemed completely unaware, fast asleep with the side of his face squished against the back of the chair making his lips slightly askew. Y/n were acutely aware of the small congregation of doctors that had accumulated in the corner of the bay but they seemed to be respectfully waiting before they would prod and poke. Haz went to call Tom’s name, before he could though, Y/n squeezed his arm and minutely shook her head. That wasn’t what the blue eyes boy had been expecting, causing Haz to unfold and bring Aurora back up to his chest as he quirked his eyebrows at her.

She didnt need to be filled in on the situation to know exactly what was happening. She had no idea why she was in the hospital bed; how long it had been since she’d given birth - but she knew all she needed to. From Harrisons unbelievably shocked face; and from the state of Tom - it hadn’t been good. Her fiancé looked almost ghostly, it seemed evident that he needed her. First then, she gestured to Haz for some water, which after a panicked look to the nurse; then from the nurse to various doctors; she was eventually given permission.

After somewhat alleviating the sandpaper feeling in her throat, Y/n then croakily asked for a bit of privacy. Right now the doctors all were gawking, Harrison assumed it to be because they’d all led him and Tom to believe she wouldn’t wake up for a while- and even then she was supposed to barely be awake, not able to talk and drink or anything of the sort. With an ecstatic nod Harrison, shuffled out - while doing so prompting the medical people to draw the curtains completely shut round the bay.

Already Y/n had tears welling up in her eyes, purely because she hated seeing him like this. He just looked so broken and shattered which honestly felt worlds worse than the labour she’d gone through. Her whole body still hurt, stiff and achy for reasons yet to be explained to Y/n. None of that mattered though, as she strained her arm out to the side in order to gently reach his knee that was folded up and sticking out awkwardly at an angle. After swallowing one again, Y/n squeezed round the joint and tried to shake it slightly. Instantly the man jumped up in his seat, heavy eyes blinking quickly and repeatedly as he tried to adjust to the room.

Being so sleep deprived and stressed out, Tom’s brain was not working normally, instead with a delayed haze as he apparently skipped over Y/n in the bed, rather surveying the the closed curtains and Harrison’s now empty chair. As he was lifting himself to sit more normally up, uncurling from the armchair, was when he noticed the hand on his knee. Breath caught in his chest, Tom instinctively bit his lip as his eyes gradually traced up the hand, to the forearm, up to the shoulder. It felt like a fever dream, as though all it would take is for him to move and she’d slip away again. But there were her green eyes, gleaming in a way that literally lifted a weight from his shoulders. Her smile was tired and a little confused, but so her - after spending days of just seeing all her features lax, Tom swore that it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Only when Y/n finally croaked out a small ‘hi’ did Tom gain awareness of his body, or rather control of it, enough to leap up and leave over the bed - cradling her face in both his palms. Like a psycho he stared intently, swapping his focus from her left to her right eye like a madman.

“Your-I-I” He was trying to speak, trying to communicate all the thoughts and regrets of things he wished he’d said to her all at once. Weakly she reached up to fully remove the oxygen mask, dragging It down to below her chin, before squeezing his wrists in comfort. Only then did Tom notice the small puddle that had collected on her cheek, which made him realise he was absolutely bawling.

“You ‘kay?” Her voice was like sandpaper but everything about her was so completely Y/n and it was just giving Tom this unreal wave of euphoria. Physically incapable of replying, the brunette just scoffed, leaning over the bed even more so he could press his forehead on hers. He was laughing too, the fact she was asking him that seemed so preposterous, given all the tubes and wires attached to her at the moment. It took Y/n squeezing his wrist harder again to make him lean back a little, searching her eyes with his. She seemed so worried; seemed so full of concern - only then did Tom consider quite how much he’d ‘let himself go’ the past couple of days.

It had been two days since Aurora was born, only 48 hours. But the transformation was mad, none more so than mentally. 48 hours had quite literally changed everything for Tom; changed life forever and himself too. It was showing in his unshaven face, with unwashed greasy hair, everything just looking ‘tired’.

“‘m just really glad your awake.” It was so honest and sincere it did have Y/n wondering what had happened and for how long. What had she put her fiancé through?

“How long?”

“The worst two and a half days of my life… I got you now though, yeh?” Tom whispered wetly, while stroking the side of her cheek - wiping both his and her tears away.

“Always.”

The doctors and nurses then came in, podding and poking Y/n like no tomorrow while Harrison and Tom stood back a little - excitedly grinning at each other and the sleepy girl Haz was cradling, before Tom stole her off him. There was a momentary sick-to-his-stomach feeling after some of the professionals had cleared, seeing her eyes shut again felt like everything was crashing around him. Thankfully though, one of doctors noticed the look of despair on his face, explaining to the two men that she was just asleep normally. That although sh’ed spent along time unconscious, waking from a medical coma is in itself exhausting.

After the initial excitement of Y/n waking the next couple of days were pretty samey. She’d been moved down to a normal ward, no longer needed all the incessant bleeping machines but still had to stay in hospital. Tom found it tricky too, he just always felt he needed to be by her side ‘just in case’. In fact, it had been a source of a bit of tension between him and his fiancé - she could see how exhausted he was from looking after Aurora, plus the stress of being in the hospital for hours a day with her. As Y/n got better and more switched on to the state of him, she realised it was inevitable he’d crash at some point.

But after a week and a half in hospital - comprising of a baby, emergency surgery, 3 days on intensive care, followed by 8 on the ward - Y/n was discharged. Nikki and Dom moved in to Y/n and Tom’s place, to provide care support both for Aurora; and Y/n for the rest of her recovery; and secretly Tom for everything he’d been through.

She was still order on bed rest due to her surgical scars, so Tom and Nikki helped to set her up in the master bedroom as soon as they got in. Of course, everyone was aware of Toms odd mood that day. Until then the only thing he wanted was to get his fiancé back at home with him but now she was over the threshold his excitement and joy appeared to have been zapped out of him. In fact, he’d barely uttered more than a couple sentences. So once Y/n was properly comfortable and Dom had brought Aurora and the cot into the room, Tom’s parents quickly made themselves scarce.

Tom hadn’t stopped, finding some reason to rummage around in the chest of drawers m while Y/n chewed at her bottom lip, watching him.

“Tom?” All she got in response was a light hum. “Tom please will you come and sit down for a minute?”

“I just need to-“

“Tom!” Her exclamation finally properly got Tom to listen, jumping round to face her. “Please... please will you just stop for a second?” Y/n’s eyes felt as though they were boring holes in his skull. Really, Tom knew he’d be forced into this at some point because he couldn’t avoid Y/n. She had some power of mind reading over him. So with a defeated nod and sagging shoulders Tom rounded the bed, weaving between his side and Auroras cot - where she was sleeping soundly.

A silence overcame the room as he heavily planted himself on his side of the bed, mirroring Y/n’s posture leant against the headboard.

“I think we need to have an honest conversation T.”

“If you want.” Nothing about his reply was the picture of enthusiasm, causing Y/n to hesitate a little.

“Look I am so beyond grateful for everything you’ve done while I was in hospital... and it doesn’t take a genius to tell you’ve worked yourself half to death-“

“I’m fine-“

“Don’t lie to me. I know you’re trying to protect me but please... will you just talk to me? Honestly?”

His reply this time wasn’t completely unforeseeable but it still shocked Y/n quite how quickly it happened, especially almost unprovoked. Because that’s all it took for Tom to break, for the past 2 weeks to get their vengance, for all the repressed emotion to escape.

He was crying- well more accurately sobbing- into his hands, his back quaking. Naturally Y/n reached out to pull him into her side, suppressing the groan of pain as she moved a little too much for her abdomen to handle. “I’m here T. I got you and I’m not going anywhere m‘kay?”

And that’s how they stayed, for at least 10 minutes, with Tom crying into her shoulder as Y/n rubbed up and down his back. Eventually though, everything did calm down and Tom repositioned himself to lean his head on her shoulder just facing forward and focusing on playing with her fingers, lacing them fingers with his.

In all the time since she’d woken up, Y/n was yet to broach the subject of their babies name yet. She sensed it was a sensitive topic to say the least, so had thought it best to wait till they were properly alone - not in a ward of 6 strangers where the only privacy came in flimsy blue curtains.

“So…. Aurora huh? Thought it was too airy-fairy, head-in-the-clouds for you?” Smiling lightly, both of them were transported back to the pregnancy when they spent hours and hours bickering over names. Aurora had always been Y/n’s favourite but to Tom thought it was more a name for a hippy kid who went around clad in tie dye and bandanas.

“Still is a bit...but I needed a bit of a miracle and Iceland was in my head. Plus I sort of accidentally word vomited while shouting at Haz, for being nice to me.” Iceland as in when Tom had proposed under the aurora borealis in the freezing sky - when Y/n had agreed, promised even, to be with him forever.

“But you like it?”

“Of course... mother always knows best after all.”

“I think it suits her too. One of your best choices to date, listening to me.” Y/n mused, earning herself a very delicate but still playful elbow in the side before the room drifted back to a much more comfortable silence.

“We’re gonna get through this you know? Me, you and her, we’re together in this... I’m sorry I wasn’t in the beginning and I’m sorry I hurt you but now? I promise you got me and I’m not going anywhere…” Y/n needed to say it and needed Tom to properly listen. “ ...literally, I still cant walk properly.” Tom chuckled wetly at that, which made Y/n feel a lot better too.

To be completely honest, Tom was still hurt and he knew it’d take some mending to move past everything. By no means did he blame Y/n in anyway but just the fact he was left alone and abandoned - well, it was the worst time in his life. The way Y/n understood that and had apologised to him - if completely unnecessarily- meant everything. Meant she would help him to heal... whilst he helped her too.

“Can we just go to sleep? I need to wake up beside you in our bed not at tiny hospital one.” It was only 3 in the afternoon but because of Y/n’s medicine she was constantly drowsy and Tom? Tom was still in this permanent state of exhaustion. So it wasn’t so much of a weird request as it was on the face of it. With a nod, Y/n shuffled down on the bed a bit more resting her head against the top of Tom’s. It was exactly what they both needed, just a bit of peace with each other.

That lasted all of 5 minutes before Aurora woke and started to scream.

Life had most definitely changed. Especially for Tom. Because even though he was he was mentally and physically exhausted, he only appreciated his daughters screams whole heartedly... because Y/n was there groaning with a tired smile too. They were in this together.

~~~~

I really hope the ending didnt disappoint too much, im aware its rushed as hell, but thank you for getting this far! And I hope maybe this series has done a teeny tiny bit to normalise not everything in pregnancy and child birth being perfect - that there is morbidity and mortality associated. Obviously this is all fictional (esp the amazingly quick recovery and lack of neurological/other impairments) and not medically accurate in the slightest !!

my inbox is always open :) t x

Tagging : @whitewolf51

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #Tom Holland angst

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