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waitimcomingtoo · 5 months

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Line Without A Hook

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: Peeta freaks out when you get hurt in the arena and gets teased for how much he takes care of you (catching fire arena)

Masterlist

Peeta had barely gotten out the words “stay by me” when the cornucopia on the island starting to spin. Tributes flew off and fell into the water as others struggled to grip on to whatever they could.

“It moves?” Finnick shouted to no one in particular as he gripped the first arm he could see through the salt water spray. The arm belonged to Peeta, who looked to his side and panicked when he realized you were no longer there.

“Where did Y/n go?” Peeta shouted over the sound of the waves.

“I think she went over by the weapons.” Finnick shouted back as the dial began to rotate faster. Peeta looked into the center and saw Johanna and Mags struggling to stay aboard but no sign of you.

“Well she’s not there anymore.” Peeta shouted back as his anxiety grew.

“I’m kinda busy here, Peeta. I don’t know where your girlfriend went.” Finnick replied.

“There!” Wiress called and pointed towards one of the arms. Peeta followed her finger and saw you fighting with one of the careers on the edge of a spinning arm. You were winning the fight until another career threw an axe your way and got you right in the rib cage. Peeta just about lost his mind when he saw you go limp and fall into the water. He let go of the center and grabbed the first weapon he could see before sprinting toward where you had been.

“DON’T TOUCH HER.” He shouted as he threw his weapon at the career you had been fighting. It buried in his chest and sent him flying into the water. Peeta then dove into the water and forced his eyes open in an effort to find you. He followed the wavering trail of blood until he found your body floating in the water. By the time he pulled you to the surface, the dial had stopped spinning. Finnick helped him pull you out of the water and tried to give you CPR but Peeta pushed him out of the way. He did chest compressions and mouth to mouth as tears fell from his eyes and onto your face. Finally, your eyes opened and you coughed up some water. Peeta gently rolled you on your side so that you could get it all out and held your hand when you were done.

“Y/n? Are you okay, sweetheart?” Peeta asked as he held your hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

“Peeta?” You coughed out.

“I’m here. Are you okay?” He asked again and brushed your wet hair off your face.

“I’m okay. It’s just a knick.” You said and winced from the pain of the wound in your side.

“I watched it happen. It was a lot more than a knick. And you’re still bleeding.”

“It’s fine. I just do that sometimes.” You tried to wave it off but Peeta was not budging.

“Come here. We gotta get you off this thing.” Peeta looked at the cornucopia angrily before carefully lifting you off the ground. He and Finnick brought you back to the beach and helped you lay down on the sand.

“Really. I’m okay.” You tried to assure Peeta once you were on the ground again.

“Let me see how bad it is.” He said and tried to rip your suit around the wound.

“Peeta, I’m fine.” You insisted and pushed his hand away.

“You’re not fine. Just let me see.” He pleaded. You knew he wasn’t gonna let it go so you sighed and unzipped the back of your suit. You’re gingerly rolled it down to your waist, leaving you in the black bikini top you had underneath. It was the least amount of clothing Peeta had ever seen you in so he blushed and adverted his eyes at first.

“How bad is it?” You asked him, making him snap back to the moment. He looked at the wound on your side and relaxed a little when he found it wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought.

“It looks worse than it really is. We just need to get it clean.”

“We?” You raised an eyebrow.

“You took care of me once. And I’m not gonna let you die from infection after everything you’ve survived.”

“But-“

“Just shut up and let me take care of you?” Peeta whined.

“Okay.” You smiled softly. “Fine.”

Peeta returned the smile before carefully picking you up. He walked into the water with you in his arms and went deep enough that the salt water could clean your wound. You winced and arched your back to stay out of the water.

“Sorry. I know it hurts.” Peeta apologized and bent his knees to put you back in the water.

“It really hurts. I want to get out.” You told him and flinched when a wave stung your side.

“Not yet. You have to keep it clean.” Peeta said sympathetically. You gripped his shoulder and hissed in pain as he dunked you in again.

“Look at them.” Finnick snorted and nodded towards you and Peeta.

“You think it’s real?” Johanna asked as she sharpened her axe with another knife.

“What?”

“The whole lovelorn star crossed lovers plot. Think it’s all an act?” Johanna asked as she watched the two of you in the water with the sun beginning to set behind you.

“I used to.” Finnick replied.

“Used to?”

“Yeah. I thought it was an act at first. I think we all did. But that boy loves her.” Finnick said most assuredly.

“Okay. That’s enough.” Peeta decided and carried you back to the shore.

“I can walk.” You chuckled when he continued to carry you up the beach.

“I know.” He said simply and continued carrying you. He gently laid you down by the rest of your group and knelt beside you.

“I need something to cover this.” He realized and looked around but all he saw was sand.

“Can you please get me some leaves from the jungle?” Peeta asked Johanna.

“Get them yourself.” She scoffed.

“I can’t leave her. Please, just help me this once.” Peeta asked again.

“Peeta, it’s okay. Really. You can go.” You assured him by taking his hand and squeezing it. He blushed when you did this and nodded his head.

“I’ll be right back.” He promised before running off into the jungle. He returned shortly after with a couple leaves and water in a coconut shell.

“I got some leaves and water. Can you sit up?”

“Yeah. Thank you.” You smiled in appreciation as you painfully sat up. Peeta held the coconut shell to your lips and helped you sip some water before using the leaves to create a bandage for your wound. The sun had set below the horizon at that point and you were definitely ready to go to sleep.

“You can sleep. I’ll keep first watch.” Peeta said as he read your mind. You usually protested and let others sleep first, but you were too tired to do that today.

“Thank you. Wake me up in a few hours so you can sleep too.” You told him as you laid down on the sand. Peeta sat beside you until the morning came and when you woke up, you realized he was in the same exact position as he was when you had fallen asleep.

“Hey.” You said through a yawn that hurt to complete. You winced and touched your side as you tried to sit up. Peeta put a hand on your back to help you sit up and immediately handed you a coconut shell full of water. You smiled graciously at him and drank the whole thing.

“When did you sleep last night?” You asked when you were done.

“I don’t know. Sometimes after-“

“He didn’t.” Finnick cut him off. You looked at Peeta for an explanation and he was red with embarrassment.

“What? You didn’t sleep?” You asked and smacked his arm.

“I tried to take over after I got a few hours but lover boy didn’t let me. He said he needed to make sure you didn’t bleed out.” Finnick continued as he headed towards the water to fish for some breakfast.

“P, you need to sleep. I was fine.” You said and shook his arm.

“I was too. I wasn’t tired.” Peeta replied and you knew he was lying. You gave him a look but he just looked to the side.

“I’m really okay. The salt water helped.” You tried to assure him.

“Oh, yeah. Salt water. We have to keep it clean.” Peeta remembered and stood up. Before you could protest, he scooped you up and carried you to the water. You didn’t complain this time even though it hurt to be in the water. You knew he just needed to take care of you or else he’d lose his mind with worrying. Once he was satisfied, he carried you back to the beach and gently laid you down.

“Are you hungry?” He asked once you were back on the sand.

“I’m all right.” You answered.

“Are you hungry?” Johanna mocked Peeta’s voice in a high pitched manner. You looked at her angrily as Peeta turned red.

“Instead of mocking me, why don’t you do something to help?” He said to her.

“Help how? No one else can get near her because of you. You should’ve seen the way he was watching you last night. I don’t think I ever saw him blink.” Johanna snorted. You looked over at Peeta and he was looking down at his hands with embarrassment. You put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it endearingly.

“It’s nice that Peeta cares so much. He’s right about infection. A lot of people have died from it in these games before they even realize what’s going on.” You defended him, making him smile at you.

“Oh, give me a break.” Johanna groaned. “Why don’t you two make out some more and get us some sponsors?”

“Yeah. Put on a show so we can eat.” Finnick laughed. Peeta shifted uncomfortably and you felt bad for him. You knew your fake relationship was a sensitive subject for him and now he had to listen to his allies mock it.

“Stop it.” You stated. “We’re not doing that.”

“Please? Just say your vows again in front of the camera. I’m starving.” Johanna whined.

“Then go hunt.” You snapped.

“Come on. What’s the point of being allies with the star crossed lovers if you’re not gonna kiss and get us some parachutes?” Finnick asked with a teasing smile.

“I know. I thought we’d at least get something when Peeta nearly lost his mind after not being able to find you for-what was it- two minutes? I thought his head was gonna explode.” Johanna added on.

“So did I.” Finnick agreed. “If you think about it, we don’t even have to kill the other tributes. Let’s just hide Y/n for a few hours and let Peeta kill everyone while he tries to find her.”

“Leave him alone. No more jokes.” You ordered all while Peeta stayed silently looking out at the waves. Everyone was quiet for a minute and you assumed the jokes were finally done. Peeta looked at you and smiled sadly so you took his hand and squeezed it.

“If they show us how they made that baby, I bet the Capital would send us a feast.” Johanna said to cut the silence. Finnick burst out laughing, making Peeta get up and walk away. You watched him walk into the jungle before looking at Johanna and Mason angrily.

“Look what you did. Why’d you have to tease him?” You asked and smacked Finnicks arm.

“Sorry. Go check on him. Tell loverboy I didn’t mean to make him cry.” Finnick pouted teasingly. You rolled your eyes at him and got up off the floor.

“You guys don’t know him. He’s a lot stronger than you give him credit for. Don’t forget that he won his games.” You said in Peeta’s defense. That left Johanna and Finnick silent as you walked off into the jungle in the direction Peeta had gone in. You found him using the spile to get some more water from you. You weren’t even thirsty from how often he’d been getting you water but you weren’t about to tell him that.

“Hey.” You said as you approached him.

“Hey. I was getting you some water.” Peeta said without looking at you. You could tell he was upset by what the others had been and you hated that you couldn’t even talk about it without the cameras picking it up.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly at him as you took the water.

“If you’re hungry, I can go pick some stuff. I know Finnicks been catching a lot of fish so if you need something sweeter, I can try and go find a berry bush.” He offered and still didn’t look in your eyes. You took him face and turned his head so that he had to look at you. He finally looked into your eyes and smiled sadly.

“Thank you.” You said sincerely. “But really, I’m really okay. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I know you can take care of yourself.”

“I can. But I appreciate you taking care of me. I just don’t want you to worry about me so much. We all need to be on high alert. I can’t be taking up your thoughts all the time.”

“But you do.” He said with a sad smile. You smiled back before pulling him into a hug. He hugged you back and was careful not to put his hands anywhere near your wound.

“I’m sorry they were teasing you.” You said into his ear.

“It’s okay. I deserve it for being so sensitive.”

“I like that you’re sensitive. It’s one of my favorite qualities of yours.” You told him as you pulled out of the bush but kept your arms around him.

“One of?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I like your banana bread too.” You replied, making him roll his eyes.

“Oh great. She likes my banana bread.” He chuckled. “That’s not one of my qualities.”

“I know. But I think about it all the time. I smell it sometimes in my dreams.”

“I’ll make you some when we go home. Your own loaf.” He promised you.

“I can’t wait.” You said through a sad laugh. You knew there was no possibility of that happening, but it made you happy to imagine anyway.

“Do you think we’ll go home?” Peeta asked after a beat of silence.

“I don’t know. We did last time.”

“Yeah but what are the chances of that happening again?” He said quietly.

“I try not to think about it.” You admitted.

“Me too. That’s why I spend so much time thinking about you.” Peeta replied. You looked into his puppy dog eyes for a while and stayed in comfortable silence. Peeta stared at you and touched your hair to keep himself grounded.

“I killed that guy.” Peeta said suddenly in a quiet voice.

“The one who attacked me?”

“Yeah. Him. I threw an axe at him. I could’ve just punched him but I didn’t. I went for the kill.”

“Why?” You wondered. You weren’t mad, it just wasn’t like Peeta to kill someone.

“Because he attacked you.” Peeta said simply.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you kill.”

“I didn’t either.” He admitted. “Do you think differently of me?”

“No. As long as you don’t try to kill me now that you’ve tasted your first blood.” You joked.

“I would never hurt you.” Peeta said sincerely.

“Oh, I know. I was just kidding.” You assured him.

“I know. I just…I don’t think you understand what you mean to me. I saw that guy put his hands on you and I just lost it. I saw red. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I thought he was gonna take you from me.” Peeta’s voice cracked on the last part so you pulled him back into a hug. You swayed back and forth and rubbed his back to calm him down.

“Hey, hey, hey. I’m okay. You saved me.” You said in his ear.

“I can’t lose you.” He sniffled and hugged you tighter.

“You won’t.”

“I can’t.” He repeated. “So when I’m a pain about keeping your wound clean or drinking some water, please just listen to me. I need to know that you’re okay.”

“Okay. I can do that.” You assured him.

“You better. Because I swear to God, if you die-“

You cut Peeta off by pulling out of the hug to kiss him instead. Peeta stiffened for a moment at the unexpected contact but then melted into the kiss. The kiss didn’t last very long because Peeta got in his head about the motive behind the kiss.

“You don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to.” He pulled away to whisper to you.

“I know that.” You said simply and reconnected his lips in a kiss. Peeta cupped your face to keep you close as he kissed you back. His insecurities melted away into the kiss and he let himself believe you really did feel the same.

“Hey, lovebirds. Get a room or join us for breakfast.” Finnick called from the beach. You pulled out of the kiss and rested your forehead against his.

“I wish he’d leave us alone.” Peeta sighed.

“I got this.” You told Peeta and turned to Finnick.

“I thought you wanted to see how we made the baby?” You called back. You could hear Finnick laugh as he walked back to the water to catch more fish. All while Peeta was a blushing mess over what you were implying.

“You hungry?” You asked Peeta once you were alone again.

“Can we just stay here for a while?” He asked you. You smiled and nodded your head to show him you weren’t going anywhere.

“As long as you want.”

#peeta mellark whump #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark fluff #peeta mellark angst #peeta mellark fanfic #peeta mellark fanfiction #peeta x reader #peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark #the hunger games peeta

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futureman · 8 months

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hi idk if u remember me but i literally love u okay anyways

so literally just dbf!joel saying “sweetheart i need you to be quiet” and ”baby i’m gonna cum if you don’t shut up” and maybe covering her mouth at some point 🤭

have a wonderful day and thank u sm for ur time 🙏🏾

hii love, ofc i remember you! tysm for sending this in ♡ accidentally got inspired by my dinner last night, oops. hope you enjoy!!

does your mother know?

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, close family friend!joel, language, smut, rough sex, unprotected piv, age gap, mild exhibitionism, old man joel can't keep it in his pants at family dinner

word count: 1.7k

Friday night dinner wasn’t supposed to go like this.

One hand buried in your hair and the other slapped over your mouth, muffling every moan and sigh you make while Joel fucks you against the sink in the upstairs bathroom of your family home.

He'd arrived late with a charming, drawled apology and immediately made the mistake of taking the seat across from you. If he'd sat literally anywhere else, he might've been able to ignore the perfect curve of your tits in the lowest-cut shirt he'd ever seen you in, or your constant need for the salt and pepper shakers, conveniently placed right in front of his plate.

Every time you leaned over the table, he was reminded of the fact that you’d decided to forgo a bra. Whether that was for his benefit or yours, he was doing his best not to find out.

Not after your parents had taken the time to invite him here, insisting that he eat a home-cooked meal for once, knowing full well he's been surviving off TV dinners ever since Sarah left for college.

“That’s kinda rude of me, huh?” you smiled sheepishly after giving him a particularly revealing peek, but the look that followed was downright sinful. "My bad, I just didn’t wanna keep interrupting your dinner by asking you to pass the salt. Figured it’s been a while since the last time you ate."

And you were right. It had been a while since he’d tasted anything as sweet as you, that satisfied him the way you do, but you already knew that. It’s why you were baiting him—because you know he can’t resist you.

Still, he tried. He really did, but the Southern gentleman in him couldn't refuse dessert or the hefty glass of wine your mom poured after he'd finished helping her clear the table. So, when he'd found himself trapped between your familiar warmth and the armrest of the couch, he should've known there'd be trouble.

When you'd casually gestured a little too widely during the story you were telling and splattered half the glass across his flannel and jeans, he should've gone to the bathroom to treat the stains alone instead of accepting your apologetic offer to help.

He should’ve known better.

But the second your doe eyes lock with his, roving over his body like the lovely dinner your mom made wasn’t nearly enough to fill you up, he realizes he does know better. He just doesn't give a shit.

And that's why you're bent over the sink, taking his cock like you were made for it, and making the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard. You either don’t care enough to stop, regardless of whether your parents can hear you or not, or you’re too blissed out to notice. But he does.

“Sweetheart, I need ya to be quiet,” he grits out tightly, barely audible over his hips slamming into yours and the filthy squelch of your pussy around him. “Don’t want us gettin’ caught, do ya?”

You can’t respond, or even nod, with his hand still held firmly over your mouth, so you whine your acknowledgment into his palm, squeezing your eyes shut as you try your best to do what he asked.

You’re clearly struggling. Those muted, stuttered whimpers grow louder every time he buries himself to the hilt, and he almost wants to remove his hand and let the sounds of your pleasure echo around the room, so everyone in this house knows just how good he’s making his girl feel.

“I know, baby, I know. Feels good, don’t it? S’hard to keep all those pretty noises in when you’re takin’ so much, but I need’ya to try,” his lips graze your ear with each growled word.

Another pained whimper passes your lips through the cracks between his fingers, and he accidentally bucks into you harder than he means to. Christ, he’s never heard you sound like this before. So needy. He shouldn’t, but he wants to hear more. To feel your chest vibrate with it, watch in the mirror as your mouth parts around even just one perfect, drawn-out moan.

The hand buried in your hair trails down your neck, beautifully elongated as your back arches to take him deeper, and snakes around your body. He tugs down the front of your shirt—that flimsy fucking tank top that's been teasing him all night—to cup your breast and, fuck, you like that. Your pussy grips him in response, clenching intermittently while he roughly tweaks your nipple between two calloused fingers.

You’re tight, almost too tight for him to keep up his merciless pace if he wants to last much longer, and so goddamn wet. You’re seeping right into the wine-stained fabric of his jeans, making an even bigger mess than you started with.

“Look at ya,” he mumbles, slowing to watch in awe as his cock drags against your entrance, reappearing slicker with every thrust. “So fuckin’ tight...and sloppy. You’re makin’ a mess of me, sweetheart."

You shudder under his rapt attention, at the sheer want in his voice, but despite the obvious effect of his words, you’re still staying quiet, just like he told you to. You’ve been such a good girl, so he decides to take a risk and reward you.

“M'gonna let go, alright? But ya gotta keep bein' good for me," he leans down to press his lips between your shoulder blades, his hand dropping from your mouth to settle on your waist. "Don't need'ta be silent, just need'ya to keep it down. Can ya do that?"

You gasp as his slow, deep thrusts still and he presses flush against your ass, grinding into you languidly as he waits for your answer.

"Y-yeah...yes, yes," you reply weakly, cold ceramic digging into your breasts as you pant heavily into the sink. "Keep going—p-please, just fuck me."

"That's my girl," he breathes raggedly, and he's a little ashamed at how quickly his balls start to tighten at the soft timbre of your voice.

His pace abruptly picks up, and then he's forcing you onto his cock again, his hips slamming into yours with a steady, wet thock-thock-thock that's probably louder than you've been all night. But he doesn't stop—you feel way too fucking good to stop, and he likely couldn't even if he tried.

In the back of his mind, he tells himself that your parents are probably doing dishes by now, and whatever he's doing to their daughter upstairs is getting drowned out by running water and clattering dishware.

He continues to repeat the shitty lie to himself as he yanks you up, pulling your back flush against his chest and wrapping an arm around your stomach to hold you in place. The abrupt shift changes the angle of his hips so he’s fucking up into you instead, and it feels...indescribable.

He's hitting something he wasn't able to reach before, a sensitive spot impossibly deeper inside you that has your pussy squeezing him, gushing down his cock, and he's—

Fuck, he's not going to last long.

"Mmph...fuck—there, Joel, there. So, so fucking close, please, need it harder."

Christ, and you begging him to fuck you harder isn't helping. His hand drops between your legs to your swollen clit, slipping through the slick mess to rub tight, insistent circles into the hardening nub, and the heady friction has your thighs quaking almost immediately.

"S'good...feels soso good," you slur deliriously, teetering on the cusp of your orgasm. "Wanted you so fucking bad all night...ngh, should've fucked me right there on the table—"

Joel cuts you off before you can finish, pushed a little too far past his limit.

"Baby, m'gonna cum if ya don’t shut up," he grits through his teeth, still pounding into that spot, still rubbing hard and fast swirls into your clit, and he can feel how close you are.

"F-fuck, me too—m'so close. Fill me up, please."

That sends him over the edge. You barely have time to gasp in a breath before he shoves you back down, lifting one of your legs up to the side so he can sink even deeper as he practically mounts you on the edge of the sink.

"Fuck yeah, I'll fill ya up," he groans, drawn-out and wrecked, as he empties inside you, thick spurts coating your convulsing walls. His hands greedily roam your body, caressing every inch of bare skin he can reach. "Send ya back downstairs to your momma and daddy with my cum leakin' out of ya. Filthy fuckin' girl."

Three more achingly deep thrusts, and then you're cumming hard, exploding hot and wet around him, already feeling him start to drip out of you and down your thighs. Your entire body seizes, desperate not to make a single sound while he fucks you through your orgasm, but then Joel meets your eyes in the mirror.

The warm chestnut of his eyes has been completely overtaken by his blown-pupils and he looks a little wild, like he's about to do something you'll both regret. Then, he does. Without warning, he buries his face into the crook of your neck and bites down hard, sucking a bruise into your skin he knows you won't be able to hide, and the squeal that erupts from your chest is high-pitched enough that you know everyone in the house heard it.

The thought alone stokes the heat already starting to build in the pit of his groin again, and the sight of his cum leaking out of your pussy in thick globs when he pulls out only fans the flames.

"M'takin' you home, sweetheart. Gonna fuck ya the way you deserve," he mumbles into your marked skin, and you tremble in his arms, whimpering softly through an aftershock. "Then, you can scream as loud as ya want—"

"Everything alright up there?" Your mom's voice filters up the stairs. "What, did one of y'all fall into the sink?"

Joel noses into your hair, chuckling before he responds.

"Just finished."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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soobnny · 10 months

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ten things kim seungmin says when he thinks you’re asleep — fluff, established relationship, a sprinkle of angst

one. i know i complain a lot when you reach out to grab my hand but i actually really like it. please don’t stop doing it. i guess, i just have never been used to touching anyone intimately, even if it’s just holding hands. but it feels safe when it’s with you. i didn’t know before that it was possible to have your whole world in your hand, but it feels so much like that when i’m holding yours. and for a moment, it makes me think my thoughts are closer to you. can you hear how much i love you?

two. you make me believe in forever. god—what have you done to me? i’ve always known things come to an end eventually, but knowing you and loving you has made me yearn for an eternity. i hope i make you believe in a forever too.

three. the boys told me i’ve gotten softer. i’m not quite sure what they mean, but they told me it’s because of you. i think they might be right.

four. you looked tired today, and you didn’t finish the meal i cooked for you. i know you hate being coddled when you’re upset so i don’t do it, but i wish i could do more. ah, please eat well tomorrow. i’m worried. you know you can tell me anything, right?

five. you know, i almost cried a few hours ago. it was because you started crying! i’m sorry you thought you couldn’t tell me about it, but thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. it’s gonna be okay, yeah? you’ve survived everything so far, so you’ll survive this one too.

six. i noticed something when i went out to karaoke with the boys. i think of you when i sing love songs. i didn’t notice it at first—not until hyunjin pointed out how i was smiling so much, more than i normally would. you know how i feel about my smile. then i realized it’s because i was thinking of you. i smile without thinking because of you. i’d never tell you this, ah i can already hear you teasing me but every love song is dedicated to you. they’re only ever for you.

seven. it’s so lovely to see how i’ve grown with you. i really think you’ve helped me change for the better. thanks for sticking around even when i got annoyed really easily. i didn’t think anyone could believe in me as much as you did.

eight. i hope you’ll do what makes you happy. it’s all i’ll ever ask of you.

nine. i think i need to tell you i love you more often. i don’t say it a lot, but i really do. it’s just that—my heart hurts when i say it. i think i love you too much.

ten. goodnight. i’ll smile tomorrow for you.

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risuola · 4 months

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LOOKS LIKE WE'RE SNOWED IN FOR THE NIGHT — F. READER x KAMO CHOSO, with whom you got stuck in a cabin

A fireplace, a nice blanket, a bunch of snow and the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree… for some it might sound like a perfect way to spend the night during the festive season, but not when you’re stuck in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with your biggest enemy. And it’s cold.

cw: smut, enemies to lovers, oral (f. receiving), angst-ish vibe, death mentioned (I put it as a warning, but honestly, if you're into jjk you're probably used to it, just sayin'), reader discretion is advised — 2,9k words

kissmas masterlist

“Looks like we’re snowed in for the night,” Choso pointed, making few futile attempts to push the doors open. “I can force the way out but I doubt you’re gonna survive it.” He added, venomous tone evident in his otherwise calm and low voice.

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. This is horrible, you thought, it couldn’t possibly get worse than that. The cabin, secluded and nestled deep in the woods, once a welcoming refuge from the cold, was now a claustrophobic cage trapping you and Choso inside. The doors, blocked by the snow piled high behind them were impossible to open and the windows – old and grime-stained – covered with ice, offered no escape. The interiors, now cleared out of the cursed spirit that resided in here scaring the owners away, were as cozy as they could be with warm colors of the creaking wooden floors and the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree, that funny enough was the only thing that still was working inside. The furniture was faded and worn-down by the humid air, the cobwebs decorating every corner.

The task at hand was simple enough – get in, exorcise, get out – but the snow and the cold were making everything more difficult, not to mention the man you had to share the experience with. It was a part of introducing the Death Painting into the jujutsu society and a silent attempt to make the two of you fonder of each other, but the result proved itself to be starkly different, when you got stuck with him for the night, or god knows how long.

“Damn,” you groaned finally, realizing there’s nothing you can do to make the situation better. No escape, no signal, not even a goddamn kettle that would work.

“Looks like you’re really screwed, huh?” Choso mocked you, a smirk twisting his features because he knew – he just knew that you’re not gonna make it through the night and though he enjoyed the idea of watching you freeze to death, he involuntarily threw some more wood into the fire to keep it alive.

“I’m perfectly fine, fuck you,” you snapped, glaring at his stupid handsome face from your place across the room, hoping silently that maybe once in this world a glare could kill.

You and Choso had always been on opposite sides. Your fights always end up in blood, there was little to no respect between you two, and though in a fight you two were able to work together, outside of it, it was a much different story. You just couldn’t stand each other, you could never put a finger on the reason why, but you just never clicked. Always having different opinions, always too stubborn to let go and not even once agreeing on a plan of work. You trusted him just enough to know he will most likely not kill you in your sleep.

Now, as the sound of the howling wind outside was constantly reminding you on the dire situation, the storm outside showing no signs of letting up, the pressure between you and him seemed to reach a breaking point. At first, you moved through the cabin, walking back and forth, avoiding each other’s gaze and trying to ignore the fact you were trapped together. “Sit quiet and stop being annoying,” you growled at him, hating the way he was sprawled comfortably on the little sofa while you were feeling more and more cold as the hours were passing by. Kamo and his damn temperature regulation.

You had been fighting constantly since you arrived, each blaming the other for the predicament you were in. You argued and hurled insults at each other, both trying to assert dominance over the other. You were constantly on the edge, you bickered until both of you were that close to exploding. You fought about everything, from the mission to the tiny space you were forced to share. You could barely stand the sound of each other’s breathing, much less the sight of each other’s faces and the constant, near proximity. It was only a matter of time one of you snapped.

It felt claustrophobic, nearly – the way only four walls were surrounding you and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t quite navigate yourself through the treacherous environment. You had no idea what exactly was oh-so wrong with this place. A desolate cabin with nothing but cold air and the palpable tension between you and Choso was slowly taking a toll on you. Harsh winter wind howled outside and it was clear that your spirits matched its bitterness. The twinkling, colorful lights adorning the mismatched Christmas tree in the corner did nothing to warm up the bleakness of the place.

Hours passed and you got tired of the banter. Choso noticed how slowly you became, quiet, less talkative. It became easier and easier to outsmart you as the cold was taking a toll on your body. Your retorts were less sharp, a little delayed as the temperature went even lower along with the night progressing.

“You’re gonna die in here?” He asked, his tone as nonchalant as ever, but it was getting to him that you might actually die that night. It was fun while it lasted and you did an excellent job in making him believe that you’re gonna survive the night, that you’re fine. He allowed his eyes, that up until that point were closed as he was resting on the sofa, to look at your form. You were shivering, seated on the furry carpet near the fireplace and though you were as close to the heat as it was possible, it didn’t do much to help you. Your breath was visible and you were constantly rubbing your hands together in hopes to stop them from going numb.

“I’m fine,” you said again, your voice much punier than you intended it to be and Kamo found it amusing how you forced yourself to sound strong, when in reality, you were so small and weak and vulnerable.

“Oh, are you?” The question had mocking qualities that Choso couldn’t hold back. “You know, all it takes is for you to ask nicely and I might consider warming you up.”

“Fuck you.” Oh, you were so stubborn. He shrugged and kept observing you.

The cabin fell quiet. The air was thick with tension and the only sounds were the occasional drip of water from the ceiling, crackling of fire in the fireplace and the soft tickling of a clock. The rattling of the windows in the wind accompanied the cacophony.

“Isn’t the big, strong sorceress now uncharacteristically quiet?” He joked once again, and you could have sworn that even in the freezing cold, he had an ability to make your blood boil. “Cat got your tongue?”

“I miss the times when paintings were not talking,” you retorted, wrapping yourself tighter in the imitation of a blanket you found laying around. “You have no idea how much I’d love to exorcise your half-cursed ass.”

“As if you were ever gonna be strong enough to put a harm onto me,” he said, pushing himself up from the couch. “Besides, you might wanna pick your words carefully. You’re at my mercy right now.”

“I’d rather be eaten by a polar bear than be at your mercy.”

“Oh, that would be a cool death, right?” He laughed, a taunting tone piercing the air and your soul, it seemed. “Or a curse. It would sound much better in the report later if I told your friends that you lost your life in battle, with bravery and strength, yeah? For sure it’s more appealing than a lame reason like freezing to death.”

“Oh, shut up…” you sighed, leaning your cheek on one of your knees. You kept them tightly pressed to your chest, a desperate attempt of storing any leftover heat along your torso, but it did little to nothing. “Come on, get your ass over there.”

“I already told you, you have to ask me nicely.”

“That’s as nice as I’m gonna get.”

“So that’s as close as you’re gonna get me,” he smirked, teasing you beyond decency, well aware of how delicate was a situation you were now in. To him, cold was nothing more than an inconvenience. In all honesty, he could break the doors open and just go through the snow during night and he would be just fine, but you… it was a different story and truth is that he stayed in the cabin only because of you.

“Choso, please, don’t be a dick, I’m freezing to death, literally,” you whined, forgetting about your pride and prioritizing the survival. “Please?”

“Much better,” Choso chuckled and moved from the sofa to the floor, sitting behind you with his legs on both sides of your frame. “Loosen up a little,” he ordered, throwing away your blanket and as his arm sneaked around your waist, he pulled you into himself, your back now pressed against his chest.

“Oh god…” you whimpered, shifting your position and wrapping yourself around him. He was hot and it felt like the heat was emitting from him, seeping onto you the moment you made contact with his muscular frame. You pushed your face against his neck, nuzzling your cold nose into his warm skin.

“Aren’t you a greedy little thing?” He commented, putting on an indifferent, snarky mask but inside, he was feeling things. It was odd, it was new. He wasn’t exactly an expert in romantic situations, in fact besides few really brief adventures with women, it was the first time he was actually somewhat intimate. Choso’s mind was in a limbo, trying to fight the thoughts of his body which were going crazy. The way your frame fit so closely to his, the way you turned your face and melted into him… it was almost too much. Thoughts raced around his head a mile a minute.

“Aren’t you a scrooge for letting me freeze while you’re that hot?”

“Well, I’m your partner on the job, not your personal heater,” he shrugged, allowing his hand to run along the curves of your waist and hip. “Also, I’d assume that the low temperature is a natural habitat for a cold bitch like you.”

“Ouch,” you acted hurt but couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “I have a great idea, why don’t you shut up?”

“Oh, did that sting you, princess?”

„I’m serious, you should shut the hell up,” it was a mumble, an unharmful one, but Choso must have gotten a different impression.

It was a flash. It took you few seconds to even register what just happened and once you did, you were already helpless beneath him. The soft, furry carpet now tickling you in the face as Choso kept you, chest down and pinned to the ground. It annoyed you how easily one of his hands kept both of your wrists pushed up above your head. You felt his weight on top of your thighs, his crotch pressed tightly to your ass and his other hand supporting his weight on the wooden floor.

“Now, if you’re gonna act like a brat, I’m gonna treat you as one,” he said, his voice low and close to your ear as he leaned down and gathered some of your hair to the side to uncover your face to his eyes. Your hopeless pulls and wriggles did nothing to loosen up his hold. If anything, his fingers only tightened their grip around your wrists.

“Get off me,” you groaned, trying to find your way out of the situation, but the movements of your body seemed to make it worse. The man hummed darkly, aiming a mean slap at your ass.

“Stop wiggling,” he warned, smirking at the way your body tensed for a moment. He couldn’t tell what’s gotten him into such a playful mood. Maybe it was all the thick air between you two finally exposing its true colors – something once filled with anger and hostility, now crackled with an undeniable sexual tension.

“Did you just slap me?” You couldn’t believe it, but you’d sooner be dead than you’ll admit out loud that it somehow felt good.

“I did,” he said nonchalantly. “You whined you’re cold, huh? Well, guess I’ll have to warm you up for real,” Choso added, now grinning mischievously. “Be a good girl, I know you can do it. Now I’ll let go of your hands and you’ll turn around, yeah?”

You hummed in response, not really sure what’s gotten into him but you were far from minding it so you flipped to your back as soon as he gave you a chance. Still on top of you, Choso kept a controlling grip over your hip, his touch burning your bare skin over there.

The fire crackled and flickered, casting warm, dancing shadows on the two of you but you couldn’t tell if the sparkle in his eyes was a reflection of it or just pure lust. The latter, you thought, catching his gaze as it scanned your form, paying a little more attention to your lips, chest and the little strip of skin that showed from underneath your blouse.

Kamo was enticed by you, fascinated even, by the way his body was suddenly yearning for you. The unusual desire overflown his senses and he found himself inching closer and closer, until he was just one, mere breath away from your mouth. He could feel you gasp, see the look of your eyes and if he wouldn’t know better he would be convinced there was lust in them too.

“Nervous?” He whispered, with a slight shadow of teasing painted all over his stupidly handsome features. His nose, now brushing against yours initiated the touch, a prelude of sorts to what was going to come and Choso chuckled at the lack of response from you. It was, in a way, an opening for you to push him away, to set a boundary, to lay down the consent but you made no effort to do any of that. Instead, you let your fingers to find his hair and once you pulled at them, there was no going back.

His lips pressed into yours. The kiss and the heat from your bodies warmed the cold air around you, melting the icy tension that lingered between you as you, too, melted below him. The time seemed to slow down and the melody of howling wind and fire was now a white noise to the soft sounds and whimpers you were making. Your mouth parted and Choso took the invitation eagerly, running his tongue along your lower lip and reaching yours. They twirled and twisted, danced and explored each other and you swore at the moment that the world around you had fallen away.

It didn’t take long since you were bare, completely exposed underneath his muscular body; the cold air around you a stark contrast to the extreme heat that was coming off of Choso. He was all around you, exploring your shapes with touches so tender, you couldn’t help but feel worshipped. The way he touched you, the way he kissed and drank every inch of your skin made your heart rumble against your ribcage. He went down, tracing the ups and downs of your figure with wet, sloppy stamps of his lips until he reached your thighs – both of which he kissed with as much attention.

It was intoxicating. Kamo felt as if everything around him twirled and he was drowning in the soft feeling of your plush skin. The curves of you filled every bit of his mind. Addicting, you were, so addicting he couldn’t find a strength to pull back and before he knew it, his tongue was already lapping at your clit. The beautiful melody of your moans filling his ears as he worked his mouth over the puffy bud, sucking and licking simultaneously. Waves and waves of pleasure you felt, spreading from your core and reaching every part of you. It was hot, it was like nothing else you’ve ever experienced.

“Oh god, Choso~” you were whining, a surprise to you cause up until this time you would swear you’re not the one to make such lewd noises during sex. All of that went out the window when it came to the man between your legs. He was flicking his tongue, twirling it and pressing it flat; every movement centered and focused, sharing one objective – to abuse the most sensitive, sweet spot on your body. He took his time, it was wet and sloppy, it was messy. The silky sensation of his tongue, warm and soft… oh, man has a talent.

Your breath was stuttering, hands grabbing the fluffy fibers of the carpet as your thighs were trembling and the urge to squeeze them over Choso’s head was slowly becoming irresistible. The way he was making out with your clit drove you insane, it brought you to the edge and pushed you over. You came undone and you came hard. He wasn’t stopping, just slowing down and leading you through the high as if it was his job and the very core of his existence.

“Feeling warmer?” He asked, once slowly coming back up above you. His face was now a real painting, covered with your essence and his lips, swollen and wet, stretched into a grin of satisfaction as he was taking in the sight of your breathless form. You nodded, barely registering the subtle teasing undertone he had in his voice. “Good. But I’m going to make you even hotter.”

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milfjuulpod · 6 months

Text

I Bet On Losing Dogs

after realizing your feelings for Melissa, you stop putting yourself in the position to be hurt over and over again.

content warnings: angst, eventual comfort, mentions of alcohol

A/N: heyyyy…so this was more of a therapy session for me so ignore how sad it is lol

It was your first open house at Abbott Elementary when you realized the feelings you had for Melissa were more than friendly. Throughout your second year at the school, the redhead and you became closer than ever. The first year was cordial between the two of you, but upon seeing you return for another go at the underfunded school, Melissa’s view on you changed from just another newbie to someone who might mean something. You took advantage of that change, taking up on her offers to help you with planning or grading after school, listening to her few open moments about her personal life with all the attention you had. There was something about the older woman that drew you to her, a constant need to be in her presence. To learn from her, to make memories, to exist in her world. You chalked it up to being impressed, wanting to be mentored. Until she started acting friendly, giving you space to learn about who Melissa was, not just Ms. Schemmenti. She felt like a breath of fresh air and the strongest of drugs all rolled up with a red ribbon tying it together.

It was when you sat and watched Melissa play Jacob in poker it hit you. It wasn’t wanting to learn, or wanting to be friends, you wanted her. She sat smugly as she threw down her cards, beating Jacob after she had just lost to him. “So, we’re tied. Dealbreaker?” She asked her opponent. Upon his agreement, she started shuffling cards for the third time. Without looking up, she called to you. “Hey hon? Could you go grab my purse for me? I’m gonna need to put all this cash away after I win, again.” It was small, but for some reason, it awoke something deep inside. The pet name slipping from her mouth, the fact she knew that you knew where her belongings were, and the way she trusted you with it. It felt domestic and familiar, and you wanted more.

It was the wanting of more that killed you, knowing she would never feel the same. At first, it was easy to ignore the sadness that came with the euphoria of being around her, her attention was worth the pain. Shortly after that moment in the break room, your view on every interaction changed. Did she notice the way your cheeks flushed at the slightest touch? The way you held on to her every word? Now that you were aware of your feelings, they only grew stronger by each passing day. Which meant everything Melissa said or did, was taken a lot more seriously. You barely survived the day Gary first came into the break room, the way he looked at her and talked to her. Most importantly, the way she ate it up. She seemed to love this attention from a new person, taking all of it in. As if you didn’t do everything she asked, and even things she didn’t. It hurt, more than words could describe. But you couldn’t act out, of course not. So you swallowed the anxiety and sadness that washed over you every time he came in.

And yet, you always came back. The minute her attention was back to you, it was like nothing bad had ever happened, she made it all worth it. Every moment of melancholy, she could take it away, despite being the reason for it all. You knew that she was hurting you, even though she didn’t mean to. She would never do something on purpose to hurt you, which made all the pain even worse. She cared so deeply for you, just not the way you wanted. For whatever reason, you continued down this path. Romanticizing every interaction together, every time she called you hon or love, you told yourself maybe it meant just as much to her as it did to you. Until she didn’t give you what you wanted, and the vicious cycle continued.

The wake up call could not have come sooner. After a Friday spent practically alone, you had a breaking point. Melissa didn’t stop by your classroom at all that day, when usually she would check in multiple times with you. At lunch, she spent the whole time working, shooting you a text letting you know she wasn’t coming to the breakroom. You opted to stay in too. You were happy she was able to spend some time working, always admiring the dedication she had for this job. But after her unusual absence in the morning, it hurt a little more than usual.

When she left with a simple “See you later, kid,” you knew it was time to create some distance. For whatever reason, it felt like your heart was breaking (the reason was love, of course). You had become so used to Melissa’s constant attention that the moment you didn’t have it, it was like the world came crashing down. Maybe it would be easier if she knew how you felt, if you could just tell her everything that’s been going on inside your head the past few months. Except it wasn’t that simple. The fear that she wouldn’t return the immense feelings, or laugh, or stop talking to you all together, it was too much. And it stopped you from ever opening your mouth about it.

The pain had begun to override the love you felt, and you were tired of letting yourself go back to such a dark place. So after the boring Friday without much from Melissa, you decided to skip your weekly wine night with her. Every Saturday night, Melissa would cook for the two of you, and she would task you with picking a wine for the evening. You felt like a coward sending the text saying you couldn’t make it, but it was better than confronting your feelings. Her response made it even worse.

I understand hon, take it easy tonight. But I will miss you.

That cancellation was the first of many. Day after day, and week after week, you pulled back from Melissa. The two of you went from being inseparable to you avoiding her at all costs, even if it meant taking hours to respond to her texts.

It was stupid to think she wouldn’t notice. Sitting on the couch with a near empty bottle of wine, you felt your phone buzz.

You’re not coming tonight, are you?

You stared at the screen, Melissa’s name at the top, rereading her message over and over again.

Not tonight, I’m sorry.

You half expected her to respond with care, or maybe anger. But when an hour went by and she still hadn’t answered, you knew she was upset. What you didn’t expect, however, was a rather aggressive knock at the door. Standing up from the couch, you realized opening the second bottle of wine might not have been the best idea. Opening the door, there she was.

“What the hell is going on with you? What did I do?” Melissa asked as soon as she saw you, voice filled with so many emotions. You were surprised to see her so emotional.

“Hello to you too, Mel.” You teased, hoping to lighten the situation. It didn’t work.

“You don’t get a hello, and don’t call me that. You have been hurting my feelings repeatedly and I still don’t know what I did. Every day and night I think about the last time we hung out and what I could have done to make you hate me so much.” Somewhere in her speech, the redhead walked past you and was now pacing in your living room.

You felt awful. In the midst of distancing yourself for the sake of your own emotions, you completely disregarded hers.

“I don’t hate you, Melissa. I…I don’t know…”

“Yes you do. You don’t pull away for no reason. Is this the wine we were supposed to have tonight? You don’t do that for no reason either.” She gestured to the empty bottle on the table. Her voice was loud and angry, but you could read on her face how hurt and sad she was by all of this.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I had to pull away it’s-it’s too much. You’re too much. My feelings for you are too much and it’s suffocating and as much as I love spending time with you it hurts too much now. I can’t do it Melissa.”

“Can’t do what?” She asked, slowly stepping towards you. At the same time, your words that just left your mouth came back to your brain, and you felt sick. But you were in deep waters already with her, might as well sink.

“I can’t be around you knowing you look at me differently than how I look at you.” Melissa didn’t answer to that, so you continued. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, you’re so kind to me and sweet but at the same time the strongest person I know. I admire everything you do. I love you.”

“I love you too, but-”

“No, Melissa. I love you.”

You watched as the gears turned in her head, but quickly looked away. Tears began filling your eyes and despite not facing her, you were worried she would see. You felt arms wrap themselves around your torso and the scent of perfume engulfed you. For a single moment things were okay, until you remembered who it was. You tried to pull away, but she wouldn’t let you, instead, she turned you around to face her. To your surprise, her eyes were watery as well.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She said so quietly you could barely hear, but her arms still held you so closely you were able to understand.

“I didn’t know how you would feel, I was terrified to lose you. So I just did it myself. I’m sorry. I was scared of what you would say.”

“I would say I love you too.” Melissa responded, louder this time, so you would absolutely hear her. You were silent, still unsure of what was happening. As if she could read your mind, she rolled her eyes and smirked. “Oh my god, just come here.” That was the last thing you heard before you felt soft lips on your own.

She kissed you like her life depended on it, and she tasted exactly how you imagined. Not wanting to push it, she pulled back. “You taste like wine,” she smiled. “I love you,” you replied. That made her laugh, and it was so lovely to hear that sound again. “We’ve established that. And we’ve established I love you too, hon. Y’know we could’ve avoided all of this had you just told me.”

“You could’ve told me too, Mel.” You giggled, feeling silly that this whole time, you could’ve been with her instead of avoiding her. “I thought you knew, you think I treat anyone else like I treat you?”

“What about Gary?” You nervously asked.

“What about him? He’s a flirt, and you were avoiding me. You are the only one I want that attention from.” She erased those negative thoughts from your head immediately.

“Good, I know it’s late but, can we still have dinner?”

“Of course, I would love to. But I think you’ve had enough wine for the night.” She smirked, and pulled you with her into your kitchen to start cooking.

#abbott elementary fics #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #wlw #reader fic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti

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shadowdaddies · 6 months

Note

I’m so sorry but these are not gonna stop anytime soon 😭😭 I have so many ideas for stories and I love seeing how they turn out and you’re the only writer I trust to do it. Feel free at any point to cut me off! Could I get one where the reader and az are in battle and one of them jumps in front of the other to save them and end up getting very seriously injured but they survive. And when they wake up the other can’t belive it and is still upset so they kiss all over them to prove that they are okay. Can I also get a little bit of worrying from cassian and Rhys in there too! Maybe if the reader is the one to get hurt they are worried about her and if it’s az then they’re the ones to comfort her. Thank you!!

lol keep em coming, love! I'm always happy for the requests💜

The Greatest Casualty

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: depictions of battle, blood, injury and death

A storm personified, you surged through the battlefield, cutting down enemy after enemy in a blur of clashing swords and blood. Azriel fought alongside you, the two of you working in tandem as you fought in a darkly beautiful dance together.

As you moved forward, you caught the archer’s bow directed at you, cutting her arrow down effortlessly with your blade. What you didn’t notice in time was the archer lined next to her, firing their arrow quickly after, aimed straight for your mate. You didn’t have time to calculate the swing of your sword to deflect another arrow in time, adrenaline taking over your thoughts as you pushed Azriel out of the way, diving in front of the arrow yourself.

As your flesh began to burn, excruciating pain spreading through your veins as the world blurred, you realized the arrow was poisoned. Azriel’s raging scream was the last thing you heard before your vision faded to black.

Fading in and out of consciousness, you were unaware of how much time was passing as your body warred with itself to stay in this world. There were occasional muffled voices, some you recognized and some you did not. You once thought you could hear Azriel crying as a voice that sounded like Cassian’s comforted him, but when you tried to send reassurance to him through the bond, the connection was weak. All that you could feel from his end was a maelstrom of emotions, swirling torment and agony. Your heart broke for him before drifting back out of consciousness.

Another time, you could hear Rhys and Feyre, more clearly than you had heard other voices before. They were speaking in hushed tones, but the words you heard were enough to build a fire within you. As your High Lord and High Lady discussed what would happen to your mate should you never wake up, you felt a fire in your veins. You crawled out of that dark place in your mind where you had been resting, clawing your way towards the light in front of you, that golden mating bond tethering you to this life.

You grabbed that thread and tugged it with all your strength as a blinding light overwhelmed your senses. Your eyes shot open as you gasped for air, the blinding light you saw proving to be daylight shining through the window of your room. Rhys and Feyre turned from their conversation, shock and awe in their expressions before Feyre burst into tears, running to you from across the room. She brought you in for a gentle hug, the ache of your joints eliciting a wince from you regardless. She turned and directed Rhys to get Azriel and a healer, refusing to leave you now that you had awoken.

You nearly sobbed as you heard Azriel’s voice coming closer as he argued with Rhys that they shouldn’t have made him go downstairs to eat, because he missed his mate waking up. The door burst open, Feyre stepping aside to let Azriel settle next to you on the bed. You tried to speak, but the words came out raspy as if your voice hadn’t been used in too long. Feyre and Rhys left you alone with Azriel, heading downstairs to greet the healer whenever they arrived.

Az studied your face, pressing kisses to every part of you that he could reach. He brushed your hair from your eyes, aiding you as you sat up against the pillows. He helped you drink some water, making it possible for you to speak well enough to ask, “how long was I out for?” Azriel’s face crumpled, sighing as he clutched your hand as though if he let go, you might disappear. “Ten days.” Your lower lip wobbled as you attempted to hold back the tears, Azriel gently shushing you as he held you close to his chest. “You dove in front of an ash arrow with a poisoned tip.” You heard his voice break as he whispered, “We didn’t know how you could survive.”

Azriel pulled back to look in your eyes, a scarred hand stroking your cheek. “Why would you do that, love? I waited for you for nearly six hundred years. I didn’t know - I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.” You took Azriel’s hand in your own, pressing a kiss to his palm. “The arrow would have hit you. I can’t lose you either, Azriel. I would take an arrow for you again without thought. You are my mate, and I would give my life gladly knowing that I will find you in the next.”

Azriel laid down next to you, the two of you enjoying each others’ presence as you began to drift off to sleep. You were startled from your peaceful state as the door was bust open once more, Cassian running in to bring you into a bear hug, your stiff joints protesting as you winced at the overwhelming affection. Azriel pushed him off of you, snarling, “you’re hurting her, Cass.” Cassian pulled away apologetically. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I’m just happy to see you. The healers are here, by the way.”

Madja entered with another healer who apparently specialized in poisons, the two of them examining your injuries as Azriel kept a protective arm around you the entire time. They left, clearing you for light activity until your next check-up, and Azriel carried you down to have dinner with your family, the both of you overflowing with love and appreciation for each other and the others in your lives.

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no-droids · 1 year

Text

Another Rough Day

gif credit @chrishemsworht

Part Twenty of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.7K

Warnings: Angst, violence, canon-typical blood and gore, language, hurt/comfort

A/N: i wanna thank yall for sticking around during my hermit era, in the time ive been gone i am now officially a junior at a university majoring in aerospace and it’s a fuckin nightmare and i hate everything and god help us all literally kill me and I will be posting INCREDIBLY slowly because of that (I’m talkin weeks or months in between updates yall, im sorry I can’t dedicate more time to this but I am going to finish this fic within the next handful of chapters idk maybe 5 or 6 so you shouldn’t have to wait too too long). As a heads up there will be hard angst as we enter the final arc, there will be hurt and it’ll get dark but everything is gonna turn out alright so thanks for sticking with me and continuing to stick with me. im sorry if you dont like it or your expectations were subverted or if this isn’t what you’d hoped it would be after following and waiting around for so long but this was planned a long time ago and it took me a good year or two to recognize that I started writing this fic for me and now I’m going to end it writing for me and I hope yall can respect that

ALSO I asked my best BEST FRIEND in the entire world @cptnbvcks to collaborate with me for this after we both took a very long break from creating and she drew some GORGEOUS artwork for this chapter so it will be posted at the end, everyone please go follow her and say hello

ps brittany girl you’re a fuckin menace i had to use my own two ears and listen to ethan literally say the words “the mandalorian cums, hard” what the fuck was that im actually suing

anyways chapter below the cut lets get serious yall

---

You take two of them down before they even realize they’re being attacked.

Your aim is as swift and steady as if Din were behind your shoulder right now, calmly pointing out which stationary tree to hit next in rapid succession. You’re positioned perfectly at the bottom of the ramp to take full advantage of the ambush, the only thing running through your mind is strategy and the constant calculating of angles and ricochets. The other three troopers are trapped inside the open Crest and you’re right next to a large boulder that you can step behind for cover, but it proves unnecessary as the rumors were apparently true.

They’re… awful.

Not a single blaster is even fired in your direction—you think you see maybe one panicked red shot bounce around in the hull, but that’s it. The troopers fumble for their guns and trip over each other at the unexpected attack—a few scream like children through the modulators, but you’re temporarily deaf to anything besides the screech of your weapon hitting its target and the crumpling of armored bodies.

Later on, if someone were to ask you to describe exactly what happened—who died first, who ran for cover, who cried out for help—you don’t think you’d be able to. You don’t even really feel like a person right now. The entire thing is cold, robotic survival instinct, pure ruthlessness rising in your soul for the first time in your life. It feels sick. Wrong in your bones. Born from preemptive defense in fear of your life, but that doesn’t mean you stop. Not until all of them stop moving.

You empty the entire fucking canister for a handful of stormtroopers, firing plasma and char marks across every square inch of the pristine hull even after the last one drops. Your heart is beating too fast, your finger keeps pulling the trigger multiple times even after the blaster clicks uselessly, completely empty and beeping a warning that it must’ve begun emitting ages ago. Being out of ammo scares you—you suddenly feel vulnerable, even though the very far away logical part of your mind reminds you that they have to all be dead at this point and no physical threat was ever able to graze you.

Regardless, you quickly spin behind the boulder and grab another canister from your belt, giving it a spare check for leaks while the empty one slides and drops to the rocky ground. It’s the first time you’ve ever had to reload this weapon instead of just pointing and shooting, but the mechanics are relatively simple and your brain makes up for your lack of coherent thoughts with lightning fast perception. What's difficult is that your hands are starting to shake now that you’re not aiming, you’re not breathing correctly because you’re not really breathing at all. You can’t tell the difference between the adrenaline-fueled dissociative silence that muffles everything around you or if it really is just that quiet now. No more clatter of armor, no modulated voices or terrified screams. No blasters, no footsteps along the ramp, no birds singing.

You quickly pause to lift your elbow and check the enormous eyes blinking up at you, tiny claws still holding tight to the fabric of your tunic and completely unharmed, and then you force yourself to move. The blaster is held out in front of you while you walk forward and your finger rests on the trigger, begging to be pulled again. It’s suspenseful and terrifying in a different way than before—now it’s less about psyching yourself up for confrontation and more about the fact that any sudden movement could mean your very swift end.

Silence. Silence. You’re numb and raw at the same time, walking up the ramp as your eyes fly everywhere, not even registering the blood or gore, just searching for movement. You don’t know if you feel like a predator or prey, you’re that much more brutal and inhuman because of how fucking terrified you are. You count four stormtroopers in the hull laying crumpled and still on the metal floor, but the one in the far corner only has blood on his shoulder. You quickly swing the blaster around to remedy that, but then—

“P-Please don’t kill me!”

His words remind you of something. Reality, maybe. A world outside yourself and the kid’s survival, the living beings behind the bloody armor your enemies wear.

It’s a miracle your finger stays hovering over the trigger, and you watch him throw the blaster at your feet with a clang and scramble to show you his empty hands. “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me—I’m not loyal to the Empire, I don’t want to be here, please, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die—”

Behind the mask, your expression furrows. Stormtroopers are loyal to the bitter end, what is he saying? They embrace their expendiality, it’s the only thing that makes them any sort of a real threat. Kuiil told you horror stories about them during your childhood, the cloning facilities and the propaganda they’re force fed since infancy. It’s nearly impossible to find one who hasn’t been raised from birth to serve the Empire, no matter how crumbled and trace its remaining authority may be.

No, this is a trap, it has to be. Your expression twists with dread after hearing him speak, readjusting your aim with the blaster and preparing yourself for the years of nightmares that’ll follow—but then he cries out, “Wait!” and then removes his helmet with trembling hands.

You pause, staring down at him in shock.

It’s him, you recognize him immediately. It’s the same face from a hologram puck you bore into your memory, spent multiple days staring at so you’d be able to spot him under any disguise or circumstances. Oshua Ryler. Your quarry, the fifth puck, the one Din was out Maker knows where searching for before this entire mess happened. A stormtrooper? His puck said nothing about the Empire, this doesn’t make any sense. What is he doing here? Stormtroopers don’t have pucks, they don’t have bounties or relatives or loved ones searching for them. They’re brainwashed, replaceable, faceless soldiers in suits of armor and they don’t even have names.

“Please don’t kill me,” he begs again, staring at you with wide eyes even as he cowers. “I have a family, I-I just want to go home, please—”

“Shut up.” You can’t think straight with him crying like that and you’re wasting so much time just standing here trying to process when your brain had to literally shut itself down to even do the things you’ve already done. You have to kill him and escape, you have to—you can’t trust this complication, not with the tiny claws currently digging into your back and reminding you of your purpose, but it was so much easier when he had on a helmet. You hate looking at his face. It’s going to haunt your dreams now, just like the man you stabbed on Corellia.

“Please don’t kill me—please don’t kill me,” he screws his eyes up and breathes over and over instead, and your stomach wrenches with disgust. His posture and expression are so fucking pitiful, you can barely keep your eyes on him through the overwhelming nausea and aversion that climbs up your throat. He’s with the Empire, and they’re looking for the baby. You know what needs to be done. Pull the trigger, just one small movement from you and it’ll be all over. It would be the easiest thing in the world, it would be so easy.

But then instead, you ask, “Why are you a stormtrooper?”

“I’m n-not—I hate the Empire—”

“The Empire is ashes.” You don’t know if you’re yelling or whispering with how much blood is roaring through your ears. “They hold no power anymore. Why are you with them?”

“Because the one thing they have left is money!” The quarry shrills the words at you, ghostly pale to the point of turning green. “Th-They buy troopers now—they opened up a whole new market for the smugglers, there’s a base nearby that’s used for training and…” He stares wide eyed at you and gulps. “C-Conditioning.”

Your brain is already going a trillion lightyears an hour and it doesn’t have the capacity to empathize or understand anything beyond the child’s survival and the relevant details right now. “Were they expecting the baby?”

“W-What?” He squeaks up at you.

“Was the bounty put out on you a trap set by the Empire?” You ask him, lifting your free arm just enough to flash him the tiny child clinging to your side. “He said they’re coming after the baby, so tell me if this was planned from the beginning.”

“Who is ‘he’?” The stormtrooper asks, furrowing his eyebrows and looking around. “What are you talki—”

“Tell me if the bounty on you was a trap to take this baby!” You roar, your blaster shaking as you aim it down at him. Your mind is acutely focused on the tiny claws hanging onto your tunic, the continued safety of the kid and the life or death situation facing him that you were given absolutely no information about. “Now—”

“If it was I didn’t know!” He quickly cries out, pleading with you and clamping his eyes shut in terror under the barrel sight. “I don’t know anything about a b-baby, or a bounty! They just put blasters in our hands and told us to search for a ship and to bring back anyone we find alive, I swear!”

You’re silent for a moment, biting your lip under the mask and caught halfway between discerning and stalling. You could still kill him. You should still kill him, time is ticking down and more troopers could be heading this way any second.

Shit. “Who put the bounty out on you?” You ask sharply. It might not be a completely fair question, but he can’t exactly blame you for not feeling completely fair right now.

“I—I don’t know,” he gasps, clutching his bleeding shoulder. “Could’ve been anyone—my mother, Cyra, o-or my dad, Obediah, or Thia, or Benja, or S—”

“Thia,” you interrupt his rambling, catching the slurred word and repeating it back to him.

“Yes!” Oshua jerks his head up, tears and hope immediately filling his eyes at the sound of her name, “Yes, Thiadura Celi Ryler, that’s my sister!”

Maker, if he’s lying, then he’s fucking brilliant at it. You look towards the cockpit of the ship, biting your lip under the mask. Get to Nevarro, tell Karga and he’ll… something. Din was cut off before he finished. Help? Know what to do? You’re lost, but you have a clear directive and the precious seconds are sliding by. The controls are right up there, two steps to the ladder and less than a minute until you’re rising into the atmosphere.

But then you think back to the terror in Din’s voice. The blistering panic that made him speak faster and with more urgency than you’ve ever heard from him. Get to Nevarro. Tell Karga. Get to Nevarro. Tell Karga.

You look back at the quarry. “How many of you are there?”

“At the base? Around three hundred,” he immediately spills. “Half of us are in the hole right now getting brainwashed, they do it in shifts, but they can be mobilized in a few hours. There were a lot of bodies outside when we were ordered to split off, maybe a third of our squadron, but the rest were still shooting at whatever was—”

“So around a hundred left,” You finish breathlessly, almost wanting him to speak faster and cut to the chase so you can calculate quicker. “How many were dispatched on the search?”

“Uh, there were eight groups of five sent in each major direction,” he informs you, still trembling on the ground. “Told us not to come back until we covered the entire sector.”

Of which, four you’ve already taken care of. In other circumstances, you’d be nauseated at the thought, but right now, it’s just another number to subtract, just more panicked math in Din’s frightening absence. That leaves at least sixty troopers left wherever the base is, minimum, and likely a couple more hours before they’ve combed the sector. If this wasn’t a preconceived trap purposefully set for the kid, then that means reinforcements haven’t arrived yet but likely will soon. And if this is a base meant for training and conditioning, then that also means there’s a chance not all of them will be loyal yet.

You make the decision immediately.

“Okay,” you announce, clicking the blaster’s safety switch and holstering it, sounding lightyears more certain than you feel. “Then you’re going to help me carry out a rescue mission, and I’ll take you back to your sister.”

“You…” He looks uncertain, blinking at your blaster and slowly lowering his hands. “You want to rescue the men?”

Ideally? Sure. Realistically? You don’t say anything in response. Instead, you kick his regulation firearm at your feet further away from the quarry just in case your judgment is flawed, and then turn around and grab one of the bodies behind you.

Your adrenaline is still blaring so fast that you only just barely note the severity of what you’ve just done and what you’re continuing to do. The corpses aren’t real to you right now, they’re inanimate things that you need out of your ship before you can close the doors to it. They are, however, heavy as fuck, but the only other adult here has a wound in his arm from the gun on your hip. Regardless, you have experience with lifting dead weight without a big, strong, capable man to do it for you.

“Help me out here, kid,” you mutter over your shoulder, and in response, you feel his claws dig in and climb up just a little bit until he can peek out in front of you. Thankfully, the burden is suddenly lifted and you can quickly slide the dead troopers down the ramp with ease. It takes hardly any time at all—you just yank and haul and release and all four of them tumble the rest of the way all by themselves.

When you stand back up, Oshua hasn’t moved and he’s looking at you with a pale, queasy expression. Glancing down, you see that your white robe is now stained with streaks and patches of rusty blood. Instead of swallowing back bile at the sight and bolting to the shower to scrub off every last remaining trace, you breeze past it, noting nothing more than a change of color. Dirtying your white, pristine clothing with the consequences of protecting this baby—you’d rather have blood-soaked fabric with an unharmed kid clinging to you than any other combination of those things.

“Can you make it up to the cockpit?” You ask the quarry, kicking his rifle off the ship before closing the ramp and then gesturing up the ladder. Your voice is calm and steady but your hands are beginning to shake again. “I need as much information as possible about the base.” You know that’s where Din is, judging from the wall of blaster screeches that drowned him out through the comm. Logically, you know you could be headed right into a trap, and every instinct inside you wants to find safety, but… you just cannot imagine flying the ship away from this planet without Din onboard. It isn’t fucking happening, you’ve made your choice.

Without waiting for a response, you climb the ladder and plop down in the pilot’s seat of the Crest. While Oshua finds some way to clamber up the steps behind you in bulky stormtrooper armor with one good arm, you hold the kid closer on your lap and begin flight checking. Din will be fucking furious, but the scolding you’ll be sure to get is the least of your worries right now. Following his instructions and going back to Nevarro is just making shit infinitely more dangerous for him, turning what could be a potential rescue mission into an undeniable suicide mission. Even if Karga somehow decides to send a few guild members along to infiltrate the base, it’ll be a war you want to avoid.

Besides. What did you always tell him about running away from him, even when he instructs you to?

It’s just… not really your thing.

---

They’re everywhere.

They crawl like flies out of the base, and for every single body that falls, three more spill from the open doors. Rapid fire plasma beams launch from the end of Din’s blaster, melting white armor with every twitch of his gloved finger. Their aim is terrible, as is to be expected, but the sheer number of them more than makes up for it, as is by design.

Din’s heart pounds with exertion, his breath comes in ragged huffs through the modulator as his helmet identifies and isolates which body is closest to him, which body he needs to bring down next. His blaster is so hot it nearly burns his hand, even through the thick gloves he wears. When he runs out of ammo, he holsters the pistol and swings his rifle from around his shoulder, spinning to catch a handful of troopers behind him in the obliterating blast.

He’s not thinking much. He can’t think, even though your safety and that of his son is currently dangling by a thread. If he focuses on that, he’ll be dead before he can even picture your faces. He just reacts, he maims and kills without a single thought in his mind. Blood splatters, screams and sirens blare as he becomes surrounded by more and more troopers. Din can hear the sound of plasma colliding and ricocheting off his armor; every single one of them is a potential injury he could currently have but might not even be able to feel right now.

His helmet starts beeping rapidly and he turns just enough to see, highlighted in bright red on the screen, two enormous artillery turrets slowly rising up out of the roof of the imperial base. He feels a fierce flash of anger burn in his chest, it’s like a lightning strike to his veins.

Din needs to go.

And yet… if he was another man. If he wasn’t a father, or a husband, if he had no family and no attachments like the creed declared he should, he would go. With just a twitch of his fingers, he could be launching into the sky and retreating as far away from this battlefield as he could reasonably get. He’s never been the type to run from a threat, but this isn’t just a threat. Dozens of troopers are gaining on him, they’re trampling their own dead to get within range. Plasma pings off his shoulder, another one hits his back as they flank from behind. He can feel the heat through the sizzling beskar, he can see them surrounding him on all sides, and the propulsion trigger for his jetpack is right there under his wrist.

Din holds his ground and continues firing, he plants his feet firmly to the dirt with only one thought in his mind.

Run, sweet girl. Run.

---

You type in commands to scan for Din’s signal, quickly locating it through the Crest’s computer onboard. Not far from here, three minutes or less. The ship rumbles to life beneath you, slowly lifting off the rocky ground and rotating in place as it hovers. It’s not on autopilot but you feel like you are, you can barely feel your hands as they move the yoke forward and the Crest takes off in the direction of Din’s blinking frequency.

“Tell me about defenses,” you instruct Oshua, restlessly bouncing your leg while the baby coos.

“Two plasma turrets on top of the base,” the quarry quickly answers. “There’s usually guards stationed around the perimeter, but everyone who’s capable will be outside right now.”

Your mouth twists downwards under the mask. Blasters don’t scare you much from this high up, but Din’s armor doesn’t cover every inch of his body, he’s not completely invincible. Doubt churns in your stomach, but you have to stay focused on one task at a time so you don’t get overwhelmed. The turrets, then. “Are they automatic?”

“Manual,” he corrects with a shake of his head.

“Radar?”

“Old. Only engages above fifty meters.”

You eye your altitude and dip the Crest considerably, beginning to weave through the rocky canyons and dodging crumbling cliffs while you travel. “What about ships?”

“None,” Oshua says, “except for a passenger shuttle used for transport. TIEs are flown in the Vesta sector, this base is remote and used for basic training only.”

“Anything else?” You ask, stomach twisting with the knowledge that barely four questions is all you’ve got. You’re planning to drop into an imperial base to save the man you love and you can’t think of a single other question?

The quarry shrugs, and your heart slams, does somersaults in your chest at the mere notion that you could fucking die here. Today, in two minutes or less, you could die here. The child in your lap looking over the ship’s front panel with a quiet determination in his eyes could die here. Din could already be dead—that signal broadcasts his location to this computer regardless of whether he’s still breathing or not. He could already be gone and you’d be flying the baby right into a trap without knowing any differently.

Whelp, you think while taking a deep breath, some strangely calm existential acceptance beginning to flood your soul. If he isn’t dead, he will be soon if you don’t make it to him on time.

You immediately lift your wrist and speak into the communicator. “Mando?” You have no idea if he can hear you, but you need to try anyway. Your voice is still firm, there’s a strength to it you don’t feel in your chest, but it certainly sounds convincing. “I’m coming to get you. Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside. If you can’t, I’ll just… uh. Try to figure something else out.”

That’s it. That’s it, improvise until you don’t have to. Even if you’re lacking confidence, you can at least scrounge up some conviction. Your arms gain feeling again while you veer the Crest through the stony terrain, the familiar reverberations under your feet begin to fill your body with a powerful sense of purpose. Your breaths begin to come steady, every falling rock you see through the transparisteel feels like it drops in slow motion, allowing you to evade them easily. It would normally be stupidly dangerous to fly this low with so many unexpected obstacles and hazards narrowly missing the ship, but considering what you’re flying into, a few boulders seems comical.

“Where’s your helmet?” Oshua asks out of nowhere, and for a second, you don’t think you heard him correctly.

But then it strikes you all at once what he’s attempting to imply, and the sheer lunacy of the thought is enough to make you laugh while you clutch the controls. “I’m not a Mandalorian.”

“You wear the armor of one,” he points out… rather fairly, you have to admit. “You cover your face like one. You have a blaster that fires Philithiorium, a rare and expensive gas native to Mandalore’s stratosphere, and you’re a bounty hunter—”

“I’m not a Mandalorian.” Your words are short and cutting, you have a daunting task to focus on and don’t feel like having small talk right now. “I’m not a bounty hunter, either.”

But then again, Karga made you a member of the Guild, didn’t he? He handed you Oshua’s puck and said this one is for you to find, and you are technically part of a Mandalorian clan. All of this seems like it happened without your knowledge. You may be marrying a Mandalorian, you may wear his armor and mother his child and shoot a blaster with his signet branded into it, but war isn’t in your blood. This robe was a costume when you first made it, this armor was a relic that was restored as a hobby. In a sense, it still feels that way. The mask covering your face lended itself to a temporary surge of bravery earlier, but beyond that, the only thing that’s keeping you moving forward now is your family. The man you love that may or may not be alive right now, the baby holding tight to your leg while the ship sways and weaves through the stony landscape.

Your eyes quickly flick down to the child in your lap, both of his three fingered hands clutching onto the stained fabric of your knee without moving a single inch. He’d know, you tell yourself. If his father is gone, he’d already know somehow. Din is still alive, and he’s counting on you.

---

There’s too many for Din to handle.

They swarmed him, overpowered his endless artillery with massive numbers and there’s nothing he can do anymore. The backs of his knees are kicked from behind and he slams down to the ground with a clatter, his sizzling hot blasters are ripped from him, and Din folds his hands calmly behind his back even as one of the stormtroopers barks out, “Binders,” to another one, who disappears quickly in response. In the meantime, a few of them apparently decide to just attempt holding his arms in place, and their measly combined grip is almost enough to make him roll his eyes under the helmet. These imperial soldiers are even more pitiful than they usually are, but his silent resolve to stall to ensure your escape is enough to keep him stationary and compliant for the time being.

Eventually, a few voices call out from beyond the crowd and there’s some movement from the back. Dozens of troopers with their blasters all pointed at him begin to shuffle to make way, careful to keep their barrels aimed at him while a path slowly forms. The crowd of white parts and a stormtrooper with a singular red pauldron on his right shoulder saunters confidently towards Din as he kneels on the ground.

An officer, he assumes. Conveniently missing from the firefight, the scanner inside his helmet would’ve caught the change in color and Din would’ve made sure to kill him first.

“Well now, what do we have here?” Comes his thin metallic voice through the tinny filter. The officer studies him curiously for a few moments, before slowly looking down by his feet, reaching out one cheap, plastic covered foot to gently nudge the body of a dead trooper on the ground with a sigh. “What a shame.”

Coward, he thinks, his lip curling with disgust under the helmet.

“This is an imperial training base,” he turns his attention back to Din to inform him when he doesn’t immediately respond, rather stupidly he might add. “How were you able to find us?”

Silence. The grip on hands held behind his back is even looser now. He just tilts his chin up slightly in defiance, the scanner inside his helmet locating each weapon strapped to the man’s body and highlighting it red. Small text boxes blink into existence under each one with a manufacturer and classification—a BlasTech E-11 rifle, a Merr-Sonn thermal detonator, a Kolvo vibroblade—and Din is severely unimpressed with the quality. The detonator is the only weapon that even catches his eye, and that’s only because the chamber inside that houses the explosive baradium has a release mechanism that’s completely dead. Useless, then. Good to know.

After a long moment of quiet tension where Din refuses to speak and the officer continues to confidently scrutinize him, in some strange sort of silent battle of egos that only one seems to have a genuine interest in, another stormtrooper makes his way to the front, shoving past his fellow soldiers to address the superior in charge.

“Commander, we’ve sent out an alert for an intruder,” he tells him, slightly out of breath from running through the crowd in the lightweight armor. Din wants to roll his eyes, but what he says next makes him snap to immediate attention. “The fleet informed us that Moff Gideon is currently on route.”

Gideon. The last time someone spoke that name, it was a quarry on Coruscant and you just barely managed to stop Din from suffocating the bastard for even saying it aloud before freezing him in carbonite. It would’ve meant half the return on a hunt that lasted nearly a month but he saw red and his hand was crushing his windpipe before he realized what happened. But he’s dead, Din thinks with a clenched jaw and fists tightening behind his back, he watched that TIE fighter explode and slam into the ground, crushing the man inside it. The wreck was unsurvivable, he can’t be alive.

“For what? This Mandalorian?” The trooper in charge scoffs in response, and Din remains completely mute.

“Yes, sir,” the other one confirms. “Orders were to capture him, alive.”

“Hm.” The officer turns his attention back to him, less analyzing and more musing while he tilts his head. “I see,” he eventually says, and he sounds like he’s grinning, before strolling slightly closer as Din stays completely still on his knees. “He must want the beskar. I’m sure it’s worth more than this entire battalion combined.”

All of a sudden, a gloved hand carelessly catches the rim of his helmet and tugs, and Din’s movement is explosive. He launches off the ground, arms easily slipping from the pathetic grip they were being held in and his fist colliding with the side of the officer’s flimsy white helmet, the plastic making a deafening crack against his face.

Multiple hands immediately rush forward to grab him and yank him back down again while the commanding trooper stumbles backwards in shock, and Din amicably drops to his knees and folds his hands behind his back once more like nothing happened at all.

“Binders!” A trooper behind him roars loudly once more, and a few men surrounding him begin trotting away this time.

The officer in red stands a few feet away from him now, grabbing his helmet and twisting it back to its proper position on his head where it was skewed. There’s a shattered hole near his jaw where the material splintered and busted like the cheap piece of banthashit it is, and while he might normally feel pleased with himself for being able to see his skin peeking through, it just fills him with more righteous fury. It’s such a punchable jaw.

After a few awkward moments of silence, the other one clears his throat and continues. “He… has inquired about the location and status of a child that should be accompanying him.”

Din inhales deeply through his nose and grinds his teeth. He wants to snap their necks one by one for even just mentioning his son, but there are just too many, more than even his whistling birds can neutralize. Still, he gave you as much of a head start as physically possible. You should be rising into the atmosphere right now, making the jump into hyperspace towards safety. Karga will know what to do—he’ll protect his family, separate you and the boy so the threat is evenly dispersed instead of collected all in one place, and arm dozens of trained hunters to keep watch over you both individually. It’s the best Din can do, and it’s the only thing keeping his knees planted on the ground and his body completely motionless while they continue speaking.

“We are combing the sector for a ship with as many men as we can afford to lose,” the trooper in red says, but his voice filter is shattered and now sounds like a puny little droid with a broken voice box, “but our numbers are unimpressive. Assistance may be required.”

It’s too late, Din thinks, mouth twitching under the beskar with a satisfied smirk. They’re wasting their time, looking for a ghost. You’re both long gone by now. They’ve got no idea you even exist—

“He also spoke of a girl.”

And then he feels his heart stop in his chest. Every single cell in his body turns to fire, it’s a fucking miracle he doesn’t move a muscle in response. His sweet girl, the one so far removed from the nightmare of the Empire that she made best friends with the orphans of it. How the fuck did he know? He shouldn’t even be breathing, let alone gathering information about you, how did he know?

But then Din thinks back, remembering your makeshift bed on the floor, your panicked eyes and heaving chest as the quarry taunted him with a sick little smile. Who’s this, Mando? She’s just darling, isn’t she? Does Gideon know your crew has a lovely new addition?

“A girl?”

The trooper nods. “Moff Gideon insisted that if the Mandalorian did not have a child with him, then a girl would likely be protecting him instead.”

He’s going to kill them, Din decides. Every single one of these imperial pigs, every single soldier standing right now is a dead fucking man. The blood pumping through his body suddenly turns to acid, deadly black hate poisoning his soul. His heartbeat morphs into a war drum, the armor strapped to his limbs is the barrel of a gun. He’s going to fucking kill them and leave an imperial base full of bodies to greet his old nemesis upon his return, and he’s going to enjoy every single second of it.

Except, then—

“Mando?” The sweetest voice in existence suddenly crackles through the earpiece under his helmet. “I’m coming to get you. Less than a minute to your location, do everything you can to get outside. If you can’t, I’ll just… uh. Figure something else out.”

And, as Din kneels there in surrender, surrounded by a crowd of enemies he thought he destroyed long ago, all the anger—all the fury and defiance and murder surging through his veins—suddenly morphs to fear.

The emotion is so foreign and old to him, it feels like a face he barely recognizes and a name he can’t remember. He’s panicked before. He’s been in situations where a threat has made him blind with rage, he knows what it’s like to look death straight in the eyes and say that he’s busy and to come back another time. This is different. This is ice cold that freezes over beskar.

He can’t speak out loud to warn you—he can’t move his hands to press the button on the back of his helmet and allow him to talk without detection. There’s plasma turrets on the roof of the base, he can see them right now. The helmet’s scanners say they’re manned and engaged, and though he is outside and this is how you retrieved him before whenever he needed a quick escape, he has fifty fucking imperial blasters trained on him and you know absolutely nothing about this threat. You’re flying right into a war zone and if either you or his son dies, he won’t ever be able to forgive himself.

Behind the helmet, his eyes fly to each and every trooper, wondering which blaster will be the one to do it. Which weapon is going to be the one he can’t block in time when you descend, the one that’ll kill him right in front of you. Which turret will be the one to obliterate the Crest with you and his son inside of it.

“Maker, where are those fucking binders—” he hears someone behind him snarl, but the white noise of pure terror roaring through his ears drowns them out. His chest starts heaving against his will, sheer panic begins to blur his vision. For the first time in his life, his armor feels too heavy, his lungs feel like one of these boulders are sitting on them instead of beskar.

All too soon, his helmet starts making a familiar sound that signals quietly in his ear, alerting him of an incoming ship, and the only thing he can physically do is count down the seconds to prepare himself for what is to come.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…

Like lightning, Din breaks the grip of multiple troopers and surges up, tackling the officer in red to the ground. There’s a clatter as they both slam into the rocky floor, but in the ensuing scuffle, he easily snatches the thermal detonator from his side holster and holds it up for everyone to see, before pressing the red button on the front and hearing it begin to beep rapidly.

---

You’re right on time.

The Crest rises up through the rocky cliffs surrounding the base and you spot the turrets you were warned about. Weapons controls are already engaged and you’re too low to be detected by radar—you fire once, twice, and blast both of them to smithereens from behind before they can even rotate around to target you.

Alarms start wailing but the guns are destroyed. It’s not comforting, though; blasters won’t touch you up here, but that doesn’t mean they can’t fire at Din on the ground. Your eyes dart across the sea of white, looking for a flash of silver anywhere, and then you spot him instantly in the chaos.

For some reason, the troopers in his vicinity all seem to be bolting away from him. Their rifles are down, clutched in their hands while they nearly fall over each other to run away as fast as possible, and your heart soars when you spot his jetpack firing up. Din launches into the sky while another trooper is revealed underneath him, seeming to juggle something in his hands and then throw it into the crowd of retreating soldiers, but the sight of the man you love rising into the air while a flurry of blaster shots from the far edges of the imperial structure follow him gives you the confidence to immediately turn the guns down towards the horde of troopers.

“Which ones are in charge?” You ask Oshua breathlessly, who leans forward and points out the transparisteel.

“Red pauldrons—” he barely has time to say it before you aim and fire at one of the troopers wearing red that was closest to Din, the plasma beam launching from the Crest so powerful and devastating that it outright obliterates the surface he’s laying on. Pieces of shattered armor fly and a smoking crater of rubble is all that’s left behind, but your mind is whirling and you’re already onto someone else wearing red at the edges of the complex, and then two more near the doors, and then another—

To their credit, you think the sixty or so soldiers in training seem to figure out that you’re not aiming into the enormous collection of them. If you were, the damage would be catastrophic and spraying everywhere, but you’re precise and meticulous with your shots, and the only ones who are loyal enough to the cause to hold still and raise their blasters at the incoming threat tend to be the ones you need to mow down anyways. The rest of them scatter in all directions, scrambling over each other to escape and then disappearing into the distant boulders surrounding the base—but you notice that not a single one of them runs back inside the safety of its open doors.

The hull dips with the weight of Din dropping in, and relief floods your soul even as you continue raining hell down on the superiors in charge. Any flash of color you see is a target, your eyes lose focus of everything, your vision blurs and turns monochrome as you just search for red.

“Lift up!” You hear Din’s voice roar from the hull. You can hear his rifle unloading through the open door. “Now! We have to go now!”

You press the button to shut the hull door with Din inside and punch it, rising so fast that the shove of gravity makes it difficult to keep your head up. Through the sudden surge of downward force, you just barely manage to raise your incredibly heavy arm to push the button that pressurizes the Crest and ignites the launch boosters, preparing the vessel for space travel. Outside the transparisteel, the gray sky begins darkening as the atmosphere eventually disappears. The ship’s engines roar, burning so much fuel at once that you’re actually accelerating through the climb, you’re boosting through the gradual ease of gravity as the planet’s curvature and glow becomes softer and softer below you.

As soon as the blackness of space begins to fill the windows, the slight subsiding of force allows you to plug in the coordinates for Nevarro with less difficulty, but you’re still moving, still rising, still escaping. You can’t find it within yourself to slow down, but then something catches your attention.

Claws suddenly dig sharp into your thigh, sharp enough to sting and cause you to wince, and you look down to see that the kid has gone incredibly tense. Deadly tense. Your heart is still pounding even though you’re away from danger, you’ve got Din in the hull, everyone is safe, and yet—

It flickers into existence all at once. One second it’s just space, just the endless depths of nothingness spread out for light years in front of you, and within the blink of an eye it’s suddenly there.

A star destroyer.

Your body freezes in horrified awe, having never seen a ship so fucking big in your entire life. It looks like a massive satellite, the size of an enormous asteroid instantly appearing in your vision and dwarfing the vastness of space around it. All the stars you used to dream about are suddenly blotted out within a fraction of a second, terror so immense seizes your soul that you stop thinking. You stop calculating, you stop being yourself for a split second that lasts an entire lifetime.

Before you can move a single muscle, the computer beeps quickly and lurches the Crest into hyperspace.

---

The stars streak across the transparisteel like so many times before. Utter silence nearly deafens you with how abrupt it is after so much noise, but the peace it used to bring does nothing to quell your fear. Everything is the same as it always was, same bursts of light as you hurdle faster than it towards Nevarro, same quiet, same rumbling hum of the ship. But now, everything has changed.

You hear the quarry next to you suddenly inhale and exhale loudly, and it shocks you a little bit, reminds you that there’s a person next to you and another is on your lap. Other people exist outside of the vision of death that just flickered out of existence just as quickly as it appeared. They’re breathing, Oshua is shakily unbuckling his seatbelt, life is continuing on in the quiet cockpit but you can’t seem to move like he is. You can’t seem to breathe like he is. It’s only when the baby slowly maneuvers himself around on your thigh and blinks up at you, placing a tiny hand on your stomach that you finally feel air enter your lungs.

After a moment, you reach down and click open your seatbelt with trembling fingers, scooping the kid up in your arms and slowly attempting to stand. Everything feels wobbly and dreamlike, you have to brace yourself on the headrest to prevent yourself from falling back into the chair again.

“That was…” Ryler mutters, his voice sounding foggy and distant, “uh. A close one.”

You look over at him, recognizing that he’s speaking but not quite able to understand the words right now. Red catches in your vision, and you blink down at the way he’s clutching his left shoulder, the smear of blood darkening the white armor he’s wearing. You blink a few more times at the sight of it, and though it feels like you normally would be sickened at the wound, somehow shocked out of your state of shock, it does nothing to you. When you look back up at his face, his expression seems strangely grateful, even when it’s screwed up in what you know must be excruciating pain. You did that, a quiet voice whispers in your mind, even though the rest of it seems incredibly blank.

Instead of responding, you stumble a few steps over to the ladder, spinning around and hesitating for a moment. You’re severely lacking in coherent thought, but one thing seems to break through. You’re not sure if you have enough coordination to do this safely right now. However, when there’s movement in your peripheral and you look to see Oshua gently offering his right arm to you, seeming to understand you’d like to use both hands for this, you snap back to your senses just the slightest bit and hug the baby tighter to your chest. Carefully, you begin making the slow climb down the ladder with the kid, still trembling with the aftershocks of adrenaline. Your limbs feel extra heavy, but eventually the floor meets your feet.

Din is standing there when you slowly turn around, armor gleaming and still as a statue, but he has his back to you. His helmet is tilted down at the ground, and when you follow his gaze, you’re met with the sight of the bloodstains of dragged bodies that leave dark red streaks all the way up the ramp.

You feel something this time. It’s… cold. A burning, searing cold that creeps into your skin. Like your heart decides to pump nitrogen through your chest instead of warm blood. You did that.

There’s a sudden urge inside of you to speak, to address him and inform him of your presence, tell him everything is okay, everything worked out, but you can’t find it in yourself to say a single word. You can’t find a single word to say. The kid twists as best he can in your clutch, his ears drag against your chest to greet his father, but for some reason, there’s still a strange sense of fear in your bones. It’s enough to wake you up slightly, it’s enough to tell you it’s not over yet. There’s a terror in your heart that hasn’t left since he first called over the comm and begged you to run, a crippling dread that you thought climaxed after seeing that star destroyer appear, but it’s somehow only increased after laying eyes on him like this.

You watch as his helmet turns, slowly meeting the pauldron on his shoulder, and for some reason, you feel yourself harden. Your feet brace against the metal floor like this is another threat you have to face, you let its unyielding metallic strength transfer up through the souls of your boots to your heart in your chest.

But the second you hear cheap white armor clatter as the quarry steps down the ladder behind you, Din bursts into movement. He suddenly spins and storms up to you in one single step while catching your holstered blaster on your hip. It’s out and aimed in the blink of an eye, and it’s a miracle you remember how to speak before he remembers how to kill.

“Mando—” you warn, just in time for the quarry to land on the floor of the hull and turn around to reveal his face.

Din holds there for a second, his helmet locked on Oshua’s features. His gloved fingers twitch wildly on the trigger of your gun held over your shoulder, like he has to remind himself multiple times not to. You hear Oshua’s armor clack while he likely raises one good arm in surrender, but then Din’s helmet moves a fraction of a millimeter to your face and holds there. He just stares down at you, and the air feels heavy, your body feels heavy, the feather light child in your arms feels heavy.

Slowly, he lowers his arm, lets it fall while he continues looking at you from behind the visor. You look back at him, unblinking, unfeeling, and there’s a few seconds that last an utter eternity where nobody moves. Nobody speaks, nothing happens, but then a soft coo comes from your arms before you can finally break eye contact, knowing there are still some things that need to be done.

You eventually turn around and lift your chin to address Oshua.

“You have to go into carbonite,” you inform him quietly. Your voice sounds strange, like it’s coming from outside of yourself. “We’re taking you to Nevarro, and then you’ll be transported to your home planet. When they unfreeze you, your sister will be there to collect you.”

He looks uncertain, one hand still raised while the other hangs uselessly at his side, and you don’t blame him.

But you also don’t feel like saying anymore, not unless he decides he doesn’t want to go in willingly. Normally you might’ve tried to empathize, offer him further reassurance beyond just a couple short sentences, but you don’t. Speaking feels difficult, thinking feels difficult. You’re still in survival mode, not active but reactive. There’s also no reason for you to lie to him about this, and you can see him glance at Din standing silently behind you, who hasn’t moved a muscle.

He eventually nods and you walk him over to the chamber without another word, watch him turn to face you as he backs into the opening while you reach up towards the control panel.

But then there’s a moment. One where you hesitate slightly, one where your vision flashes back to the sight of those bloodstains on the floor, and that burning cold fills you again, so cold it feels completely numb.

“I’m… sorry,” you whisper quietly to him, though your voice sounds so empty. There’s so much emotion that should be there but isn’t, so much regret and pain that should break through but can’t. “I’m sorry I… killed your friends.”

Later, you’ll think about how you felt absolutely nothing saying it. Your heart doesn’t constrict with remorse at the mere words leaving your mouth, guilt doesn’t flood into your soul, pain doesn’t wrack through your bones. You could’ve been saying anything at all and nobody would be able to tell the difference.

He blinks at you, flicking his eyes between yours for a second or two, but then you press the proper button and watch the gas quickly freeze him where he stands. He’ll be conscious the entire time, but Karga will send him to the correct location and you have no doubt that this elemental purgatory is leagues better than where he just escaped from. It’s a benefit being the last quarry to be retrieved—he’ll only have to spend a few days trapped in here before being reunited with his family.

When that’s done and Oshua is a complete statue in front of you, bulky white armor now colored a dull metallic gray and frozen in time, you will yourself to finally turn around to face the enormous mountain of a presence behind you. The baby gently reaches out for him, but Din doesn’t move from where he’s stood. Your blaster is still clutched tightly in his hand, and he isn’t looking at you.

Slowly, you walk over and stop directly in front of him in the middle of the hull, blinking at him while the helmet subtly moves to lock onto your face. The kid begins wiggling in your arms, making soft impatient noises while you both stand in complete silence across from each other.

After a few moments, you hear him flick your blaster’s safety on by his side and then toss it carelessly to the ground. It skids along the floor, light enough to be mostly quiet. Gloves reach out as he carefully takes the kid from you and settles him in the crook of one arm, and then he looks you up and down, still not saying anything.

Your eyes follow his movement, watching his arm slowly reaching out to you, and you think he’s going to cup your jaw, or brush your hair back. Give you some sort of physical reassurance since he hasn’t spoken a single word of it.

Instead, Din suddenly grabs the armor clinging to your chest and starts ripping it off you with one hand. It clangs to the floor so loudly in the silence of hyperspace, the kid’s ears twitch and flutter with each shattering bang. You hold still while he does it, you barely respond except the unavoidable movement your body experiences as the pauldron is yanked from your shoulder and thrown against the ground. The ammo belt is tugged over your head and hurled away, the thigh braces are snatched from your legs and they clang to the floor, and the pearly, opalescent fabric revealed underneath is stained in dead man’s blood, rusty and in such great quantities that it shows up as brown instead of red.

“Are you hurt?”

He sounds… dead. So monotonic that you can’t possibly gauge his emotional state. He doesn’t move. His fists don’t clench, he says every single word like it means the same exact thing as the last. If nothing at all was a person who could speak, they’d use his tone of voice.

“No,” you eventually whisper.

The helmet nods once, and then he spins around and walks away without anything else. Without saying anything, without touching you, or double checking you for injuries in case you were lying. You stand utterly still while Din climbs the ladder with the kid cradled in one arm, and you don’t even flinch when the door to the cockpit slides shut behind him. You have no idea how long you stand there in the splitting silence afterwards, numb and unmoving.

You feel… nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The hard defenses you strapped to yourself today to reconcile the things you had to do are still high and strong, guarding your soul even if he stripped away your physical armor. Self preservation is still animating your body, and your facial expression barely changes. Your first thought, as soon as you remember that you can have one, is that there are things that still need to be done. Tasks to complete.

Alone, you shower the lingering traces of blood off your body, the normally clear and refreshing water running a sickly, toxic brown. Alone, your stomach rolls and suddenly decides to empty itself of the very little that was in it as the scalding drops rain down over you—mostly liquid and bile that easily rinses down the drain. The water is too warm, it beats down on you like blazing hot sand pelting your skin in the desert. You feel like you did those first few months with Din, where the silence was suffocating, where you’d only interact with the baby if he was on a hunt or if you could tell he didn’t know how to calm him when he was fussy. If you were in hyperspace, you usually spent time by yourself in the hull while he lived in the cockpit, and if he decided he needed to be in the hull for whatever reason, then you’d trade places with him. It was… isolating. Lonely by yourself. The quiet used to haunt you before it became your cherished friend, but now it’s a betrayer, a ghost that whispers memories and nightmares in your ears.

When you finally finish rinsing the blood from your skin and get dressed, you see the sheets that used to make up your bed now have fried holes in them from your charred plasma marks, the inside of the hull is covered in them and the trails of dried blood where you dragged the bodies down the ramp. Your armor is still strewn about the hull, the kid’s hovering shield lays dead in the corner. Everything you meticulously cleaned and organized and collected and created, now the scene of a bloodbath. One committed by your hand, your blaster still laying uselessly on the floor forever linked to this atrocity.

You spare a glance towards the ladder, but you don’t want to come face to face with Din yet. You already knew he’d be furious, but… you had hoped that he’d at least…

What? At least what? Comfort you? Coddle you after you deliberately ignored his instructions? What exactly, in the past year or so of learning Din’s inner workings and intricacies, would ever give you the impression that he’d come give you a big hug after you purposefully defied him? You flew the kid directly into an imperial base after being told to protect him, you ignored every order he gave to you in the moments he thought would be his last, and though you did it to save his life, you have a feeling that Din has never valued his life even a fraction of what you do.

The misery stabs at your soul, but your mind is finally beginning to process things logically. He’s alive, the kid is alive, the quarry is secure, and you’re all onboard the safety of this ship hurtling through hyperspace where nobody, not even the Empire, can touch you. You weighed the consequences before making your decision, you did what you had to do. If he wants to be mad, then he can fucking well be mad and you’ll find some way to comfort yourself. At least he’s here being mad, at least he’s alive and safe and breathing and mad, and your rare act of disobedience is to thank for that.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize it’s probably easier than it should be to reconcile the punishment. Right now, you welcome the exclusion, the negativity and sorrow beating itself into your soul. Four innocent people died today on this ship, gunned down under your blaster while they panicked and ran for cover. You keep hearing their screams.

So you start to clean up the hull, needing another task to focus your thoughts on. You work to erase every inch of the evidence of your deeds, make it disappear like the pool of blood Din once cleaned up while you were sleeping and never acknowledged again. You only allow the bloodstains to fuck with your head for a single moment, and then you swallow back the nausea until you’re a blank slate again and sink to your knees with a rag in your hand. After that, your vision stops focusing and it just becomes red contrasting against gunmetal gray, and you work tirelessly to get rid of all remaining traces of it.

Then you start on the blaster marks, you need them gone. After a few informed attempts at mixing cleaning chemicals, you find one concoction that allows you to wipe them away like they’re nothing more than dirt that got tracked in. The Crest’s oxygen recycling system works overdrive to constantly purify the air so you don’t get high or pass out, but your nose still stings. It’s fine, it’s sterile, it burns a bit but it smells sharp and metallic and keeps you hyper focused on the task at hand.

After that’s done, you pick up the charred blankets and ball them up to throw into the trash vent. You don’t feel anything as you do it. You don’t think about how long it took you to collect these over months and months of being stuck on this ship, how comfortable they were when everything else was industrial and rigid, how many nights you spent with Din curled up in their softness while he breathed easy and warm. Sheets are just luxuries, they can afford to be lost.

Next, you gather your armor and wipe it down with the rag, put it away along with your blaster. The stained robe goes in the trash, along with the sheets and the blood soaked cloth you used to clean everything. They’re all ruined, you’ll never be able to make them right again.

The hull is sparkling clean when you decide to take another shower. Nothing on you is dirty except your hands, but you feel filthy. Wrong, cold, numb, cold, stained, cold.

After scrubbing your skin raw under the water and changing clothes again, since you don’t really know what to do with yourself anymore, you slowly climb the ladder to the cockpit, keeping perfectly silent. When you reach the upper platform and come face to face with the closed door, you can just barely hear Din’s whispered voice speaking quietly to the baby beyond it.

You raise your hand for a moment, hovering your knuckles over the metal, but then it eventually falls. Instead, you look over and spot the corner, the same corner Din bunched himself into when he snapped at you for even suggesting going on a hunt with him, blew up at you for the mere notion of something happening like what happened today. You back yourself into it in defeat and slowly sink down on the floor, resting your head against the metal and hugging your knees to your chest since you don’t have a tiny baby to take their place.

You can’t sleep. You don’t even try, it’s pointless. The concept feels foreign the longer you sit here by yourself. You don’t hear Din or the baby anymore, but you feel… so fucking awful that it’s fitting that you don’t knock or go looking. You don’t want to hold that sweet child with hands that were covered in blood just a few hours ago. You killed more people than you can count on your fingers today, and of the ones who had done nothing wrong… They screamed like younglings, ducked for cover and were able to fire off one single useless shot in the mayhem before you closed their eyes forever and left their bodies to rot in armor that wasn’t ever their choice to wear.

You didn’t know they were kidnapped and smuggled and forced into that situation. You couldn’t have known, but that isn’t the point. In this case, knowing doesn’t make one bit of difference.

You also can’t face Din yet, not like this. You don’t want him to see you cowering, shattered with guilt over the decisions you made under pressure. How will you ever get him to forgive you for not listening to him when you can’t even forgive yourself for the result of your choices? Din is a hardened man who grew up in blasterfire and bloodshed, just because you love him doesn’t mean he’s going to magically become someone he isn’t. You’re here letting guilt sink sharp claws into your chest over four dead men when he had a good fifty or more corpses scattered on the battlefield around him. You decided to wear that armor, you decided to fly into an imperial base with the kid on your lap, and this is now your penance. You’ll accept it with your back straight and your chin held high.

Figuratively, of course. Physically, you’re smaller than you’ve ever been. Crumpled up into a ball, taking up as little space as possible, curling up as tight as you can like an animal protecting all your vulnerable parts during a brutal attack.

So, since he isn’t here to comfort you himself, you just try to think about what he would tell you. A long time ago, what would he tell you?

Din would tell you… that you killed someone. Multiple people, this time. He’d also tell you that it doesn’t matter what he tells you, what you could have reasonably foreseen or what you should have done. The end result won’t change. You own this now. You’ll carry their deaths with you.

You take a few deep breaths, self-soothing with the undeniable truth that would be murmured matter of factly from his quiet voice. He wouldn’t argue with you. He wouldn’t deny the decisions you made or the consequences of them. It happened, and at the end of the day, you either learn how to handle that, or you don’t.

And, for the four you did shoot, you were responsible for freeing ten times that amount. You’re responsible for reuniting Oshua Ryler with his family, even if your place in yours is momentarily shunned. You’d rather be out here alone than in there with the kid, wondering where his dad is or if he’s even still alive. You rescued Din and now he gets to be here to shut this door on you, hold his son, and whisper calm reassurances to him. If you listen really hard and imagine, you can pretend they’re for you, too.

That’s it. Focus on them both, alive and well together. Focus on the bodies wearing white armor that were moving, the ones that were bolting away from the imperial training base as fast as they could, free from the torture of imprisonment and conditioning.

Finally, you close your eyes and slip into unconsciousness. It’s not a testament to your exhaustion, but rather just how long you’ve been left to sit here by yourself. Hours, maybe. Time is strange in hyperspace.

You dream of a faceless man ringing bells.

---

When you wake up, a small baby has been placed in your arms, and you’re being dragged into a strong, secure beskar hold on the floor.

“Din,” you suddenly lift your head as soon as you’re conscious and nearly bonk it into solid metal, apologies rising in your throat before you even remember where you are. You did what needed to be done to keep your family alive and together and you’d do it a thousand times again if necessary, but that doesn’t mean you won’t apologize anyways. After the deeds you’ve committed today, regret feels as natural on your lips as speaking your own name. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I know you’re mad at me but I—”

“Shh,” he whispers, running his gloves through your hair. He’s still wearing his helmet, he hasn’t taken anything off yet. “Don’t say anything. Just… stay here, stay right here with me.”

“I tried to save you,” you croak, tears instantly flooding your eyes. You did save him. You saved him and the baby and yourself but you’re so physically and emotionally exhausted that all you can recall is your intent. “I tried. Wasn’t gonna leave you there by yourself. I tried to be brave, like you—y-you wouldn’t have left without me.”

His arms tighten around you, cradling you in such a strong embrace that you burrow into him, you find a place for your head on the hard metal strapped to him and bury yourself there, wishing that you had shovels of dirt being piled on you to justify the death you still feel staining your soul. Your heart is starting to pound now that you’re remembering, your body is starting to shake with tremors of shock now that you’re aware of your own skin again.

“I was so sc-scared, Din, I didn’t—didn’t know what was happening,” you lament through watery eyes, gasping it out in hopes that it’ll relieve the slightest bit of the gut wrenching guilt just mercilessly crushing you. It caught you before you could protect yourself against it, that armor you built around yourself isn’t on when you first wake up. “I-I didn’t want to kill them, but they were already on the ship and y-you said—you said they were coming after the kid s-so I had to, I had to—”

“Stop,” Din whispers, voice so quiet that you can barely hear him.

“I-I cleaned up the blood,” you turn your face against the cold beskar to let all the positives you listed for yourself before scrape across your throat. They don’t sound comforting anymore, they just sound like excuses. “It’s gone, it’s like it never happened, everything is okay now, I got the quarry, I protected the baby, I saved a bunch of people, you’re both safe—”

“Stop,” he chokes out. The modulator cuts off before you can hear his next breath, but you feel it shudder under your body. “St-Stop it, please.”

Your eyes clench shut so tightly you feel like the streaking stars outside are behind them, tears drop down against his pauldron and you press your face tighter to it like it’s a wound, like the pressure will somehow ease the bleeding.

“Listen to me,” he says very quietly, and you instantly brace yourself. The walls you just let down shoot right back up, your body physically tightens in preparation for another pain, another trauma, another scar you’ll carry, and you stop shaking. You stop breathing, even when his hand comes up to ease your face away from his armor.

“You,” he whispers, holding your chin so you’re staring right at him, and your eyes flick fearfully in between his behind the visor, “are a sweet girl.” Din’s leather thumb brushes along your skin, dragging over the tears below your puffy eyes. “Not,” his voice catches, “a Mandalorian.”

Your heart goes cold. Again, everything turns numb. It doesn’t matter that you already said this yourself out loud earlier today. It doesn’t matter that you acknowledged this fact, verbally insisted it more than once to hammer home the truth and felt some sense of comfort in it. For some reason, hearing the words from his mouth is a fucking knife to your chest.

“I taught you how to fight, how to shoot a blaster,” he murmurs, thumb catching every single tear that continues to fall as he speaks. “I taught you everything I know, everything that’s been taught to me. I taught you how to defend yourself, how to protect yourself when you’re in danger. I gave you your blaster, I gave you my armor, I gave you everything I could give you to keep you safe. And when I thought you were ready, I let you loose on Sanctuary II. Do you know why I did that?” The helmet tips forward the slightest bit at the question, probing deep into the most shattered part of your heart. “After all those months of fighting, and shooting, and training, do you know why I told you to run?”

You blink silently at him, a shaky breath quaking through you, and your expression wants to crumple under the reprimand. You’re so fragile right now, taking hit after hit after hit to the softest parts inside you, and you want to just give up. Let the guilt and remorse take you, let it wash you away. But then, instead…

There’s a flicker of something inside you. Something strong, endlessly strong, and it makes you want to revolt against what he’s saying. It replaces the hurt and fear and desperation for comfort with a strange sense of insurgence, like it did earlier when you were hiding behind a boulder, cowering and trembling and not wanting to die. You’re filled with a quiet urge to defend yourself in the face of this, stand up for yourself and refuse to be beaten down any longer.

“Because you needed to know how to escape danger,” he answers himself when you don’t. “You needed to know how to disappear, how to outsmart any pursuer and find safety, even the trained ones. Especially the trained ones. Anything else was meant to be your last resort. Not your choice. Not something you chose.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” you admit to him quietly, voice shaky and tears still coming even as you try to speak up for yourself. The regret you carry has nothing to do with this, and you decide right now that you won’t feel bad for saving him. Your hurt comes from the meaningless things, the ones without any need whatsoever, not the necessary ones, and you tried. You repeated his words to yourself over and over again, told yourself to run, told yourself to get to Nevarro, and it wasn’t going to happen. “I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t a choice.”

“It was,” he tells you. He says it softly, whispers it like it’s the gentlest thing in the world, but the power and inherent distance of the armor strapped to his body finds its way into the words. “And it was the wrong one.”

“What was I supposed to do?” You ask, just a hint of that rebellion swimming to the surface now, rising out of the waves of self doubt, the one that feels like a spine growing in your back, an energy coursing through your veins that makes your heart start to beat faster. Din’s hand slowly drops from your cheek but you don’t care. “Was I supposed to run away and just let you die?”

“Yes.” It’s quick and blunt and completely emotionless. Delivered like a punch to the vulnerable parts of yourself he taught you how to protect, and the utter silence following this single word is comparable to the physical pain you learned to defend against. It jabs hard against everything good and sweet and tender inside of you, and you’re left speechless even as he continues impassively. “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.”

It takes a second, but then that unfamiliar feeling suddenly surges up, breaches with the power of an entire ocean. Your voices may be nothing more than whispers in the dark, you may be clinging to each other, holding each other with the softest, gentlest love in your hearts, but the strength of your conviction on this would rip metal apart.

“No.” The word holds the might of your entire being, and it stands alone and defiant in the face of everything you fear, everything that threatens you, him, and this child. Never. You’ll die before that happens. “I love you, and there’s nothing in this galaxy that would ever make me do that. Not fear, not danger, not the Empire, nothing. Not even you.”

Din stares at you. His visor reflects your hardened expression back to you, the force in your soul and the purpose in your eyes, and you don’t even realize the gravity of what you just said because like your love for him, gravity is a constant. It’s a fundamental truth cemented into the rules that govern your actions and it stays true no matter where you are, no matter what terror you face, or how scared you become. You have him, you have this little boy in your arms, and if that’s all you have, then you have everything.

After an eternity of this, of feeling his eyes pierce deep into you from behind the helmet while you refuse to wither under his stare, you watch him slowly turn and look down, landing on the sleepy child tucked between you both. He holds there for a long time, before finally whispering, so quiet that the modulator barely picks it up, “It was the wrong choice.”

You stay quiet. It happened. What’s done is done, you can’t change the past. He can scold and reprimand you about this as much as he wants, but you did the right thing and that decision is the only reason he’s even here to be able to do so. This exhausted child was reunited with his father because of your choices, and this exhausted father was reunited with his child. You won’t argue anymore, but it’s a certitude that lives deep in your heart now, builds a home there right alongside the both of them. Din eventually looks up, his eyes find yours again behind the visor, and his hand rises once more to gently cup your jaw.

“I… thought I’d enjoy seeing you in my armor,” Din finally whispers. It’s not what you expected, but his voice sounds… weak. Broken. “You wore mine once before, and it was…” He brushes his thumb along your cheek, and then his head shakes slightly, pushing the thought away. “It wasn’t real. It didn’t fit. It dwarfed you, it made you look out of place, it made everything soft and innocent about you stand out. I liked it because it wasn’t real.”

“Was it… really that bad?” You whisper back, partially to ease the tension just slightly but quickly breaking eye contact with him when you realize it doesn’t land correctly, it just sounds self conscious and sad. You try to find that conviction again, that strength and assurance that propped you up so sturdily before, but… Not a Mandalorian, he’d said. Of course not. Of course not.

“It wasn’t the armor.” Din gently tugs up on your face so that you look at him again. “It was you covered in blood. It was you purposefully putting yourself in danger. You killed multiple armed soldiers of the Empire, you dragged their bodies off the ship. And then you flew into an imperial base, where you killed the officers, too. You…” He shakes his head slowly at you while speaking, and although you can’t see his face, you don’t need to in order to hear the horror in his voice. “You… collected a quarry… in the middle of a massacre, sweet girl.”

Not a Mandalorian.

“You don’t chase down bounties,” he tells you. “You don’t fly into war zones. You don’t kill imperials, you don’t collect quarries, you don’t sacrifice yourself, or our son, to save me. You said you tried to be brave… like me.” His fingers tighten against your cheek, he dips his helmet to make sure you understand. “I’ll never ask you to be brave. I’ll ask you to survive.”

“I’m… sorry,” you finally whisper, and his arm drops from your cheek to join the other in wrapping around you and holding tight. They hug you and squeeze, encasing you and the baby in a beskar shield and staying there for a long time. Long enough for you to tuck your head back into its proper place under his helmet, long enough to start to feel okay with the silence again. It brutalized you the last time you were surrounded by it, it made you feel alone and desolate and barren inside. You greet it warily now, settling into it for an unknown amount of time until it’s forgiven once more.

After a while, Din quietly breaks it.

“How many?” He murmurs to you. You already know exactly what he’s asking, there's no more clarification necessary on his behalf.

You slowly close your eyes and think back to the smoldering craters, the blood soaked ramp, the fear in Oshua Ryler’s eyes as he begged you not to kill him.

“That didn’t deserve it?” You ask, clenching your eyes tighter at the memory. “Four.”

And maybe, maybe six or eight months ago, you would’ve begged for some guidance on how to reconcile that. Hell, maybe a few hours ago, you could’ve used his arms around you exactly like this, his low voice repeating the same things he’s already told you before, over and over again, if only for some semblance of stability when everything feels turbulent and uncertain. You’ll never be able to change it, though. This belongs to you now.

This time, all Din says is, “I’m sorry, too.”

And that covers everything.

The silence envelops you both again, but… there’s something else. Something that still sits deep in your worries, an image that isn’t a scar of what’s happened but a dread of what’s to come. You need to tell him. You don’t feel like saying it, you don’t want to speak it aloud for fear of bringing it into existence, but you need to tell him.

“Din?” You breathe out, and he makes a soft noise in his throat while cuddling you on the floor. “I saw…,” you whisper, every word sitting tight and reluctant in your throat. “Right when we made the jump, I was looking through the window and I-I saw…”

“A star destroyer.” He says it like… like it’s the worst thing in the world and also completely expected at the same time. He says it like he already knew, yet can’t even imagine. You lean every bit of your weight against him since you can’t hold him in return, squish him as best you can against the small corner and curl up even tighter in his arms for comfort.

He takes a deep breath, a shuddery sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard him make before. It holds untold anxiety, unsaid conflict, uncertain action, an unknown path forward.

“I don’t know what to do,” Din eventually whispers to himself, to you, to the baby in your arms. His voice is barely a breath through the modulator, his fingers digging into your skin with how many emotions he’s repressing. “What do I do?”

He sounds so distressed that you automatically feel your soul find the floor—instantly, you become steady and calm and you locate all that rationality that kept you going today. All your worries still twist deep down, all the guilt and the turmoil wrestles with your soft, easy nature until you can only find bits and pieces of it in the most vulnerable places inside you, but if he’s struggling this terribly, then the least you can do is offer some good, true, unwavering faith in times of uncertainty. You’re in hyperspace, everything worked out, and it’s going to stay that way for right now. If he doesn’t know how to talk about it yet, then you trust him enough to wait for him.

“It’ll be okay,” you tell him with a newfound confidence and purpose, carefully easing the baby into one arm so that the other can find its way to the other side of his helmet and pull him closer. Din tucks his head and allows you to brush your lips against the metal, whisper the words soft and steady to him. “We’ll figure it out together.”

---

@cptnbvcks thank you so much for the incredible art!

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #reader insert #fanfic #star wars #rough day #no-droids

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 7 months

Text

"Did you lie to me?" Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x F! Reader

Summary: The Daggers are about to embark on the most dangerous mission of their career. The odds are survival are slim. Too bad that your boyfriend Rooster has failed to mention that.

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x F! Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, lying, he's so pretty but that doesn't mean smart.

Cross Posted on AO3

“How you feelin’ kid?” Maverick sits at one of the stools, his hands tightening on the glass of bourbon before him, the glass sweating from how long he’s sat there.

You glance across the room at Rooster, laughing with the rest of the squad, “I don’t really want him to go, but it’s his duty.”

“You’re taking it a lot better than Penny,” he shakes his head, swallowing the last mouthful of liquor. Your brow furrows and you lean closer to hear him above the crowd, “I’m gonna do my best to bring him back home, but this mission,” he sighs, “this one I’m not so sure any of us are coming back from.”

The glass in your hand shatters and his eyes widen as he stands, “I’m sorry kid, I wasn’t thinking…” Maverick starts apologizing but you put a hand up, and it visibly trembles.

“It’s that serious?” You ignore the way he swears, obviously realizing that you have no idea. “Rooster didn’t tell me any details obviously,” you mumbled to yourself running over every word he’d said, “but he told me it was safe, a surefire mission, nothing to worry about.”

You glance up at Bradley, his eyes meeting yours across the bar and the smile drops from his face. He hands the pool cue over to Hangman and quickly crosses to you, “You okay, baby?” he reaches a hand out for your shoulder when you take a step back, out of his reach.

“Did you lie to me?” you whisper, the tears getting choked in your throat. From behind him the over aviators close in noticing the tension vibrating from your body.

“What?” Bradley furrows, “I can’t hear you, baby.”

“I said,” you raise your voice, other patrons turning closer, “did you lie to me?” His expression turns somber and you let out a sob, covering your mouth, “oh, my god,” you whisper, “you did.”

“Robbie,” Bradley calls out, “can you cover?” his eyes never leave yours, “she needs to go home.”

“Fuck that,” you shake your head, the tears falling down your cheeks, “you were just going to let me work till close while you drank a beer and played pool with your friends, knowing that you could be going off to die tomorrow?! You didn’t even have the decency to warn me.”

“I didn’t want it to change anything,” he shouts back, his voice cold, “yeah,” he nods, “there is a strong probability if I’m chosen I don’t make it back alive. Is that what you wanted to hear?!”

“Rooster,” Phoenix puts a hand on his arm, grimacing over at you, “calm down, man.”

He pulls his arm out of her grip, turning back to you. “I saw what losing my dad, did to my mom. I saw how she would worry herself sick waiting for him to come back. I didn’t want that for you. I just wanted to leave you with a happy normal night, is that too much to ask?! But no, you have to go turn it into a goddamn soap opera. What?” he throws his arms up, “did you want to lay in each other’s arms and cry? Is that what you want?!”

You wrap your arms around yourself, knuckles turning white with how hard you’re clenching, and the tears are silently spilling down your cheeks. He’s breathing hard, the anger seeping out as he takes in your trembling form, “fuck,” he whispers, pressing his palm to his eyes, “Baby, I-I didn’t mean it.”

“Please just go,” you whisper, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie you stole from his closet before work. He lowers his hands, his eyes watching you but you refuse to meet them, focusing on a point on the bar. “I just want to get back to work, we’ll have a normal night, just like you wanted.”

“Baby,” he reaches out but the others hold him back.

“She needs some space,” Bob puts a hand on his chest, “just give her some time.”

“Yeah,” Phoenix nods, “that was a lot Rooster.”

You can’t listen to them anymore so you switch sides with Robbie, his hand softly pressed to your shoulder. “You can head out,” he nods toward the door, “I can handle the rest of the night by myself.”

“I’m scheduled to close,” you remind him, “and besides, I don’t have anywhere I need to be right now.” He lets go with a nod and takes his place before the others, Rooster arguing with them.

“If you’re not ordering a drink, then get the hell out of the bar before I ring the bell on your sorry ass,” Robbie puts his beefy arms over his chest.

You tune the rest out, making drinks and focusing on the routine and pattern. Rooster is eventually pulled away from the bar and back to the pool tables but he stays in a hightop in the corner watching your every move. His eyes burn as they follow you but you don’t have the heart to even glance up at him.

Robbie clocks out, giving you a wave and glaring over at Rooster before he locks the door behind him. Everyone else is long gone, leaving just the two of you alone at the bar.

“Please just go,” you finally turn towards him when you hear the chair being moved out at the bartop. His eyes are bloodshot and he swallows hard, as you turn your back to him.

“Are you coming home?” he asks, his voice trembling.

“No,” you shake your head, “I’m going to stay at Penny’s. I sent her a text a few hours ago and she said it was no problem.”

“Baby,” he takes a deep breath, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” you walk over to him, “Sorry for yelling at me in front of an entire bar for giving a shit? Or sorry for lying to me about how you're going on a suicide mission?”

He goes to answer when you cut him off, a hand to your chest, “Oh, I’m sorry,” you gasp, “is this too much of a soap opera for you?”

“I deserve that,” he nods, “and all the rest of it. Baby,” he holds out a hand, “I’m so fucking sorry for all of it. I should never have lied to you, I was just trying to spare you.”

“Spare me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” he stands, coming over to the opening of the bar bending down to get in and walk to your side. “I was so fucking scared that if I told you the truth, you would spend the next few days worried sick. And when I didn’t come back-”

“If,” you correct him taking a step closer, “if you didn’t come back.”

“If,” he puts his hands gently on your waist, “I didn’t want your last memory of me to be sick with worry. I was trying to keep everything normal to spare you the pain.”

“That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, Bradley Bradshaw. I love you, I should be given the choice of whether I get to worry or not. And for the record, we’ve only been together a short time and I already know I’ll ALWAYS worry about you when you’re gone.”

He’s gone slack-jawed, and you realize what you’ve said. “You love me?” he whispers and the tears stream down his cheek, he clears his throat before asking again. “Do you love me?”

“I do,” you whisper, “I love you so fucking much, Rooster.” He grabs the back of your head and pulls you close, your back digging into the bar as he devours your mouth.

You come up for air a few minutes later and he holds your face keeping your eyes on him. “I love you,” he mumbles between kisses, “I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you. But I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“Well you need to get used to something, Bradley Bradshaw, if we’re going to be together forever.” He smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“And what’s that?” he leans back and forth taking you with him as he rocks you both to the jukebox still playing in the corner.

“You don’t spare my feelings, or try to protect me. I can make up my own mind.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods, “noted.”

“Now Bradshaw?” you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Yes, ma’am?” he grins, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Take me to bed, or lose me forever.”

#Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw x Reader #Female Reader #Rooster x Reader #Top Gun Maverick #Top Gun Fanfiction #Autumn Writes

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queen-of-the-avengers · 8 months

Text

Explosion of Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: stepping on a mine, thinking you're gonna die, thinking the love of your life is gonna die, angst, fluff at the end

Summary: Fury has you and the team going through a minefield to look for lost data the Soviets left behind. Your scanners pick up most of the mines, but luck has it that you step on the most dangerous one of all.

Squares Filled: explosion (2020) for @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: I realize that landmines explode as soon as someone makes contact with them, HOWEVER, this is my story and it's fiction so I get to make the rules and I say only when the pressure is relieved do they explode like in the movies.

Miles of wasteland stand before you, acres of land that are charred from the explosions that happened between the Soviets and US Intelligence. The Soviets stole data with the intention of selling it to assassins and killers, so Fury tasked your team to go collect that stolen data. When the Soviets knew the Us was closing in on them, they scattered the data across acres knowing it would take them forever to try and retrieve it.

You’re about to step foot onto the charred land when Bucky stops you.

“Look at this.” He points to a sign a few yards away. “This is a minefield. Be careful. I don’t really wanna clean bits and pieces of the team.”

“Should we turn back?” you ask. “We only have technology scanners for the area. We can grab mine scanners.”

“No, we’re already here. Just be careful. Our scanners should be able to detect them.”

“Easy for you to say. You can fly,” you joke with Tony.

The land is so large that you have to split up on your own. Tony’s right, the scanners you have are able to detect most of the mines. Some of them are hidden so you’re not going to touch those areas if you don’t know if there is a landmine or not. Everyone is connected with earpieces so you can communicate if something is wrong, so you’re just listening to the casual conversation some are having as if you’re taking a walk in the park instead of through a deadly minefield.

“Are you and Laura finally taking that vacation you’ve been talking about?” Natasha asks.

“Yeah. Cooper is old enough to watch the other two. I was thinking of taking her up north.”

“I think she’d like that.”

You scan the ground as you walk slowly and find one of the boxes buried containing data. You kneel and dig the box up before plugging your flash drive into the data box. Once it’s done downloading, you take it out and continue to search for other data boxes. Your scanner is picking up most of the landmines but there is one patch of land that is coming up blank.

Stupid you walks right over it thinking it’s safe. You step onto fresh soil and hear something click from below you. You pause and look down to see what you stepped on. It’s buried underneath the ground but you can definitely feel something under your foot. Since this place is so big, there is no one around you to help you. No one knows you’ve stepped on one. No one knows you need help.

Your first instinct is to run like hell and hope you can survive, but you’ll only have a second before the mine goes off. Tears start rolling down your cheeks at the thought of dying. You’re still young, you still want to see the world, get married to the love of your life, and live life to the fullest with him by your side.

“Hey, guys?” you sniffle and wipe your tears even though more fall. “I’m in trouble here.”

“What’s going on?” Bucky asks in concern.

“I stepped on a mine.” Everyone becomes alert. Your body shakes in fear and your voice cracks under the pressure. “What do I do?”

“I’m on my way. Don’t move,” Bucky says. Only Bucky comes to your aid because he doesn’t want to put anyone else at risk of stepping on a mine. Bucky can see just how terrified you are when he gets to you. “Doll, you’re gonna be okay. Don’t worry, I got you.”

“I don’t want to die,” you cry.

“You’re not gonna die. I promise I won’t let that happen. Take some deep breaths for me, Doll.” The first and second ones are shaky but the third and fourth ones are much smoother. “Good girl. You’re doing great. Keep doing that. I’m gonna dig the mine out so I can see what we’re dealing with. This won’t explode. I’m just digging around it.”

“Okay,” you sigh shakily.

Bucky gets on his knees and uses his knife to dig out the soil around the mine. Tony, Rhodey, and Sam fly over to see how bad the situation is while the rest of the Avengers make their way back to the start of the minefield.

“What’s going on here? What do you see?” Sam asks Bucky.

Bucky digs out enough soil to see exactly the kind of mind you stepped on.

“It’s a bounding mine.”

“Shit,” Sam sighs.

“What does that mean?” you panic.

“Nothing--”

“Don’t bullshit me, Bucky. What does that mean?”

“It’s a more deadly mine than the others. It shoots the main propeller about four feet into the air, and metal shards fly out of it over the span of six hundred feet. It’s very deadly.”

“Can you disable it?” Steve asks over comm.

“No.”

“Oh, God,” you cry and cover your mouth. You take two deep breaths to calm yourself down. “Bucky, get the hell out of here.”

“Like hell, I’m leaving you.”

“Bucky, please,” you whimper and take his hand. He stands to his full height in front of you. “I don’t want to die but I don’t want you to die more. You need to get out of here. There’s no use for this mine to take both of us out. Tony, get him the hell out of here.”

Tony is about to take Bucky when your boyfriend holds up a hand to stop him.

“Wait. Can I at least get a kiss goodbye?”

Instead of giving him a verbal answer, you pull him close and kiss him like it’s gonna be your last. He slides his hand into your hair and grips it gently so he can control the kiss. He kisses you in a way that makes your head dizzy. The kind of kiss that makes you forget about everything but the feel of his lips.

If he’s gonna kiss you one more time, may as well make it memorable. You pull away from him and open your eyes to study the shade of blue in his. You expect him to pull away and leave your side but you frown when he doesn’t. You look down to see him standing on top of the mine and you are free. He must have switched positions with you while kissing you.

“No, what did you do?” you gasp.

“I promised you I wouldn’t let you die.”

“No, I’m not letting you do this!”

“Tony, get her out of here.”

As soon as Tony’s hands are on you, you’re fighting him.

“No! Bucky!” Tony grips you tightly and flies off with you in his arms. The image of Bucky gets smaller and smaller until you can’t see him anymore. As soon as Tony sets you down, you’re running toward Bucky. Steve jumps into action and practically tackles you to the ground. “No! Let me go! Please! Bucky!!!”

“Y/N, stop fighting.”

“No! You gotta let me go. I have to be with him!” Suddenly, an explosion happens and you sob loudly. “NO! Bucky!!”

You fall to the ground in a fit of sobs at the loss of your boyfriend. Steve’s arms are still wrapped around your body to prevent you from going after him. As soon as one explosion happened, another one followed suit, and another one, and another one. The air is covered with thick smoke that is very hard to see through so you’re not sure if Bucky is even alive.

Everyone is silent for their fallen friend. The only thing that can be heard is your heartbreaking sobs.

“Look, I see something,” Clint points out something in the smoke.

You look up and see something emerging from the smoke. Once the smoke clears, you can see Bucky walking toward the group with his vibranium arm in his flesh hand.

“Did you really think I was gonna let a mine take me from my girl?” he coughs.

The spikes on his body open to welcome his arm and he locks it into place. He whips his arm around to make sure it’s on properly, and you scramble out of Steve’s arms. You run into Bucky’s arms and cry against his chest. You’re too overwhelmed to say anything but hug, kiss, and embrace him. When you’ve calmed down, you pull away from him and slap him in the chest.

“Never do that again!”

“I had no choice. I knew I could have survived but you wouldn’t have.”

“You could have at least told me that!”

“I didn’t know if it was gonna work or not,” he says quietly.

Everyone got what they needed from the minefield, so you head back to the Compound. You haven’t said one word to Bucky after leaving the minefield, and he hates when you give him the silent treatment.

“Doll, please talk to me,” he begs. He follows you into your shared bedroom, and you quickly head into the bathroom. Before he can join you, you close the door and lock it so he can’t get in. Of course, he can get in with his metal arm but he’s respecting your privacy. “I’m sorry, but I had to save your life.” He rests his forehead on the door and he can hear you crying softly inside. “Y/N, please come out.”

You don’t. He sits on the floor right outside the bathroom door and waits for you to come out. He sits there for hours waiting patiently for you to come out of the bathroom. When you do, you take a seat next to him on the floor.

“What we have is a partnership, Bucky.” You look into his eyes. “Your life isn’t fully yours anymore. You have my heart in your hand so if you die, then so will I.”

“The same thing goes for you, Doll.”

“If you would have told me what you wanted to do, I would have been more likely to go along with it. You have to be better at communicating. I will do the same.”

“Okay, you got it. Do you want to watch movies for the rest of the night?”

“Yes,” you smile.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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love-hatred-stuff · 8 months

Text

»envious bucky«

genre: if u know me, u know it’s gon’ be angst, bestfriend/soulmate!bucky

warnings: drinking ig, mentions of being interested in another man (but not really), immensely jealous bucky, who doesn’t know how to process that feeling (he’s being mean), mentions of toxic ex

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

»I don’t like him.« Bucky grumbled under his breath.

You shoot him a look. »Yeah, but I do, darling.« Giving him a strict smile.

»Why? He’s like not even your type.« He sighs in frustration.

Your brows raise at that, looking almost offended.

»What would you know about my type?« You challenged.

The bar you’re sitting in is crowded and busy, much to Bucky’s dismay. But he stays of course, for you. As though it’s different than usual. You didn’t look at him much today, although you’re sitting right beside him, -barely touching each other’s knees, but the contact is there. You two live in the same apartment block and are used to seeing each other every day of the week.

He has a bigger problem with not having your full and honest attention than he would like to admit. You’ve been looking the opposite direction the moment you’ve found yourself these seats. Bucky hates it, because he can see what –or rather who– you’re stalking from his point of view –just as perfect as you can. It’s this french guy Gabriel. He’s new to town and new to your friend group now as well. Nat had brought him with her a couple weeks ago and everyone loved him. Well, except Bucky. But he wasn’t someone who particularly enjoyed meeting new people, everyone knew that. So they weren’t suspicious about it.

It’s not that he didn’t like the guy in general, it’s that you liked him. And every time Gabriel came up to you and started speaking french (because you apparently loved it when he spoke his native language) your eyes started to form into hearts and all those giggles and laughs wouldn’t stop flowing. God, James hoped he would survive tonight without lashing out on you or Mr. “I’m french and handsome so I’m going to steal your girl”.

»I know you prefer rough guys. You don’t like a baby face with a smooth haircut. You don’t like anyone ever actually. But especially not this kind of guy.« Bucky tries to wear his grin proudly, but he’s questioning himself when he sees your expression.

»Oh, is that so? Thanks for reminding me, Mr. Barnes.« You scoff and turn yourself away from him once again. Bucky feels crap after that reaction. He didn’t intend to make you upset.

»No- You know how I mean it, Y/n.« You ignore him and continue to look for your knew found bestie.

Bucky sighs in defeat.

»Do you actually like him?«

He didn’t want an answer to that question if it was a „yes“. So he felt like punching himself realizing what he’d done.

»Bucky, quit it? Please? I’m not talking to you about this.« You brushed him off, annoyed by his demeanor.

He breathed out deeply, looking at you and wishing once again, he would be the one you’re looking at the way you’re watching Gabriel learning billiards right now.

This never happened before. That’s why he was so determined to remind you that you don’t like anyone but him. To remind you you’re his. Except, you’re not. You never were. And realizing that made him physically feel sick to the stomach. He didn’t just not like the idea of you finding something in Gabriel, Bucky depended on you. If you were gonna fall in love with someone else, who would be there to take care of his broken soul? A soul only you had the capability of healing.

It was when you touched his shoulder and slowly gripped your hand around his bicep, that he came back to earth.

»Barnes? Baby, are you okay? You’ve been staring into space for the last ten minutes.« He looked at you, studying your facial expression. You were worried.

Although the nickname and your touch gave him comfort, he still felt like vomiting all over the place. His chest so tight, he struggled to breath normally, hoping you wouldn’t notice.

»I think I’ll head home. Had enough for the night, just feel tired, that’s all.« He tried convincing you with a exhausted smile hanging on his lips.

You figured it out in about five seconds. He never looked that crushed around his friends and you. You knew it had upset him what you said earlier, but you realized it too late. Preoccupied with thoughts of another man.

You mentally slapped yourself. You should’ve been more sensitive about it. Everyone knew how protective Bucky was over you. You suspected why. But you could never know to which extent his love went for you. Bucky himself couldn’t even form it into words, how important you were to him.

»Okay, I’m just gonna inform everyone that we’re leaving. Wait here for me.« You gently squeezed his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile.

You were about to go do that but Bucky stopped you.

»Hey, no. You don’t have to go with me. Let Sam walk you home later. I’ll be fine.« His voice sounded almost strangled. So sharp and raspy. You could tell, something wasn’t right.

»Buck, I insist. You don’t look well. Let me take you home, please?«

It irritated him immensely how you went from scoffing at him earlier to wanting to take care of him now.

»I think you’d rather go sit beside Gabriel over there and tell him fancy things about yourself. You don’t have to act like you’re more interested in taking me home than staying here and spending time with him.« You were baffled by his brutal honesty.

He was often like that with others, but never with you. His gentle tone and careful, loving words were only meant for you. Until now it seemed.

Bucky studied your face once again and he could feel the hurt and confusion through your eyes, not making his already heavy heart any lighter.

»W-what are you saying?« You felt the air getting thicker inside your lungs.

»Oh please. You’ve been ogling that man since the moment we walked into this place. Why don’t you just go there? Maybe he’ll get lucky and you’ll even let him take you to bed.«

All that air made it’s way out of your system again and you stopped breathing for a moment.

Bucky’s eyes were telling a different story, but what he’d just said to you made you grow cold.

»Fuck you.« Was the only thing you were able to breath out, before snatching your coat and making your way out of this bar and onto the streets. Right now, you just wanted to wrap yourself in your sheets and forget his dumb face.

Barnes was not fast enough to get a hold of you and apologize. He realized it was the most stupid thing to say to you. It was just that he felt so jealous and hurt, his mind acted on instinct and wanted to hurt you back. Which obviously worked a little too well.

What was he expecting though, when he hit right inside your weakest part? The people who knew you well enough, had heard about your ex. And what he had done to still influence your decisions to this day. It was a long story, but one thing was for sure; you’ve never trusted anyone else with your heart (or body) since then. Only Bucky. But it looked like not even he deserved it.

…

»Fuck!« He punched the concrete wall of the building he was standing next to –leaving a hole– after landing on your voicemail once again for the nth time.

He felt horrible. Not being able to reach you. Not knowing where you were. Not being able beg you for forgiveness. And worst of all; not knowing what to do without you.

Pt.2

Masterlist

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky moodboards

578 notes · View notes

fintan-pyren · 27 days

Text

Sometimes, life is busy. You shouldn't let that stop you from enjoying a good book, but who has the time to read the same words over and over again?

For your enjoyment and convenience, I have removed all duplicate words from the first Keeper of the Lost Cities book.

blurry fractured memories swam through sophie’s mind but she couldn’t piece them together tried opening her eyes and found only darkness something rough pressed against wrists ankles refusing to let move a wave of cold rushed as the horrifying realization dawned was hostage cloth across lips stifled cry for help sedative’s sweet aroma stung nose when inhaled making head spin were they going kill would black swan really destroy their own creation what point project moonlark then everblaze drug lulled toward dreamless oblivion fought back clinging one memory that could shine tiny spot light in thick inky haze pair beautiful aquamarine fitz’s first friend new life ever maybe if hadn’t noticed him day museum none this have happened no knew it’d been too late even white fires already burning curving city filling sky with sticky smoke spark before blaze miss foster mr sweeney’s nasal voice cut blaring music he yanked earbuds out by cords you decided you’re smart pay attention information sophie forced open not wince bright fluorescents reflected off vivid blue walls amplifying throbbing headache hiding sweeney mumbled shrinking under glares now staring classmates pulled shoulder-length blond hair around face wishing hide behind it exactly kind went way avoid why wore dull colors lurked blocked other kids who at least foot taller than survive twelve-year-old high school senior perhaps can explain listening your ipod instead following along held up like evidence crime though probably he’d dragged class natural history balboa park assuming his students be excited about all-day field trip didn’t seem realize unless giant dinosaur replicas came started eating people cared tugged loose eyelash nervous habit stared feet there make understand needed cancel noise hear chatter from dozens tourists echoed fossil-lined splashed cavernous room mental voices real problem scattered disconnected pieces thoughts broadcast straight into brain being hundreds tvs different shows same time sliced consciousness leaving sharp pains wake freak secret burden since fell hit five years old she’d blocking ignoring nothing helped never tell anyone wouldn’t you’ve above lecture don’t give asked pointed enormous orange duckbill center how lambeosaurus differs dinosaurs we’ve studied repressed sigh flashed an image card front display glanced entered photographic recorded every detail recited facts twisted scowl classmates’ grow increasingly sour weren’t fans resident child prodigy called curvebuster finished answer grumbled sounded know-it-all stalked exhibit next over follow thin separating two rooms block muffled grabbed little relief nice job superfreak garwin chang boy wearing t-shirt said i’m gonna fart sneered shoved past join they’ll write another article child teaches lame-o-saurus still bitter yale had offered full scholarship rejection letter arrived few weeks allowed go parents much pressure young end discussion so attending closer smaller san diego college year fact some annoying reporter newsworthy enough post local paper chooses ivy league complete photo freaked wasn’t strong word more half rules unnecessary front-page articles pretty worst nightmare they’d newspaper complain editor seemed unhappy story run place on arsonist terrorizing trying figure mistake bizarre white-hot flames smelled burnt sugar took priority everything especially unimportant girl most ignore or used caught sight tall dark-haired reading yesterday’s embarrassing black-and-white looked seen particular shade teal smooth sea glass beach glittered flickered expression gaze disappointment decide shrugged leaning closed distance between smile belonged movie screen heart did weird fluttery thing is pointing picture nodded feeling tongue-tied fifteen far cutest talking i thought squinted brown uh yeah sure say reason felt conversation accent british somehow crisper which bothered know are suck words soon left mouth course boys cute made mushy perfect returned told hulking greenish standing albertosaurus all its lizardesque glory me do think that’s it’s absurd

isn’t see saw small t rex: big teeth ridiculously short arms fine laughed i’ll get meet turned leave just classes kindergartners barreled fossil crushing screaming knock step whole realm pain kids’ stinging high-pitched needles many once angry porcupine attacking hands darted rubbing temples ease stabbings skull remembered alone reaction locked forehead pained imagined seconds hushed blood drain mean created plenty racket shrieks squeals giggles plus sixty individual chattering away gasped solved earlier everyone boy’s distinct accented speaking totally completely silent possible whispered widened moved whisper telepath flinched skin itch gave can’t believe backed exit reveal total stranger okay holding sort wild animal calm afraid froze my name’s fitz added stepping name searching sign part joke joking thinking wobbled spent seven find someone else world tilted sideways steady here looking twelve we better question: want air jerked bolted door stumbling shaky legs rhythm sucked breaths ran down stairs burned lungs bits ash flew ignored wanted space strange come shouted picked pace raced courtyard base steps wide fountain grassy knolls sidewalk got inside because poor quality footsteps gaining wait pouring energy sprint fighting urge glance shoulder halfway crosswalk sound screeching tires reminded both ways terrified driver struggling stop car plowed right die second blur swerved missing inches jumped curb sideswiped streetlight heavy steel lantern cracked plummeted instincts hand shot pulling strength somewhere deep gut pushing fingertips force collide falling gripping extension arm dust settled floated feel weighed ton put familiar warned bringing trance shrieked dropped without hurtled watch yanking split crashed ground impact knocked tumbled body broke fall landed chest stretched flurry questions swirling coherent idea sat replaying sense need witnessed miracle tighten panic let’s overwhelmed plan resist street reached intersection north zoo where crowd during firestorm running missed hearing changed terrifying scenarios involved government agents throwing dark vans experiments watched road ready bolt anything suspicious zoo’s massive parking lot relaxed outside milling cars happen witnesses slowed walk breath promise sincere easier opened hesitated supposed am trust won’t considered father sent specific age observe report always talk frowned disappointed himself does means expected threw what’s wrong touched eyelids suddenly selfconscious figured again awe us stopped whoa hang ‘one us’ frowning spotted fanny-pack-wearing within earshot deserted corner ducking green minivan there’s easy we’re human stunned speak hysterical laugh escaped repeated shaking riiiiiight insane trusting kicked stomped telling truth minute last listen plea humans vanished gone reeling leaned argued taking clear set pole minutes ago almost three managed finally saying alien erupted laugher cheeks grew hot also relieved compose elf hung foreign object belong visions tights pointy ears danced giggling expect guess stick wavy spikes rock star good crazy agreed refused serious frodo ring save middle-earth toys hid corners showed oh ought folded slender silver wand intricate carvings etched sides tip round crystal sparkled sunlight magic asking rolled actually pathfinder spun latch top dangerous you’ll faded depends take concentrate matter happens proof prove whisk land curious harm someone’s willed palms sweat fingers laced stupid tingled everywhere scanning warning look scowled bit tongue concentrated racing seriously become those silly girls counted raising facet beam refracted tightened grip forward warm tingling million feathers swelling underneath tickling giggle melted goo keeping oozing blanket warmth wrapped faster blink eye might squeaked stood edge glassy river lined impossibly trees fanning emerald leaves among puffy clouds row castles walt disney throw rocks kingdom golden path led sprawling elaborate domed buildings built brick-size jewels each structure color snowcapped mountains surrounded lush valley crisp cool

cinnamon chocolate sunshine places exist less appear forgotten released realized hard squeezing unable castle towers oddly our capital call eternalia heard shangri-la lost cities you’d stories rarely ridiculous things elves burst quiet gentle breeze brushing soft murmur traffic hammering unspoken very silence rising tiptoes view streets ghost town building towered others stones emeralds banner flying tribunal progress everyone’s watching proceedings council basically royalty holds broken law they’re deal laws well shook wrap cringing question funniest glared funny regained control try cling remaining strands sanity sun casting ray onto leaping hitched ride headed impossible infinite travel haven’t theory relativity stumped dumbest i’ve albert einstein huh dumb argue confident unnerving harder waited feather sensation dryer scattering directions until rubber band later shivering ocean whipping glowed carved moonlight failed passed bring herself true science book read confused observed ‘hey learned smug grin best minds begin comprehend complexities reality elves’ ahead slowest trump proper education shoulders sagged sank four scenery blurred whether tears entire lie nudged hey fault believed taught i’d done works bells chimed large gateway floor-length velvet capes draped tunics emerged followed creatures marching military formation rocky pants muscles prominently flat noses coarse gray pleated folds armadillo goblins signed treaty hating trembling dressed forbidden lumenaria worlds gnomes dwarves ogres trolls mentioning focused motioned farther squatting betrayed ancient councillors intelligent rule planning war ancients violence disappeared forbid any contact devices working defend race famine problems chilled frigid wind licking who’d known must’ve after eventually evolved myths simple yes peeked glowing crucial identity clicked spinning thousand loud clang gate stepped shadows sleek cobalt home jolted mom bus bland boring stole incredible blinding swept smoky fresh surprised recognized plain square houses narrow tree-lined house ask lived coughed handle putting pollutes planet these aren’t normal chemical smells usually wildfires smell barbecue melting cotton candy burn rain arsonists admitted pocket hoping notice dad wants knows neither important meant mystery he’s happy careful please shown today thank act family doesn’t suspect squared courage telepaths special ability rarer ones thirteen six months corrected liking youngest manifest start reverberated scanned positive waking hospital moment forget hooked kinds machines hovering shouting barely separate hold happening group adults haunted worry brows narrowed doing extra private keep wall weak hated bossed answering concerned action worked imagining stretching shadow mine blurted pale process hardest worries live fumbled answers long trouble knees link amazing will tomorrow panicked battered cluttered living phone she’s receiver having reeled daggers calling wandering worried police sorry stammered convincing horrible liar scared mom’s anger concern nervously curly guy realizing lies based freaking walked trolley train teacher guard ugh complained closing adult rubbed wrinkle appeared stressed upset safe stand weirdo understood dangers teased tormented bullied deflate wish trailed close rest sister slipped pin painful tight hug welcome honey dinner ten amy upstairs kitchen unease twist stomach worn linoleum pastel tacky knickknacks ordinary glittering kissed cheek shabby briefcase table how’s soybean wink baby apparently pronouncing thousands times lid simmering pots garlic cream filled handed silverware turn crackin’ scooted plopped usual chair nine role mastered opposite lower average grades popularity sisters wondered definitely powers lowered breathing: inhale exhale repeat care nickname dizzy must lay should eat skipping acting fettuccine night favorite rich sauce sudden nausea tug eyelashes chewed bite swallow fork official thanks great homework sprinted bed hiss shattered marty pounding fluffy cat sitting tail slunk settling lap marty’s purring

confront downstairs settle explained blonde chubby brunette screamed throbbed deeper ripped apart blinked related change lots adopted poked brought e l fudges plate cookies milk getting sick palm fever tired cookie stumbled routine crawled blankets wrapping pillow dreams kissing tucked tradition breathe ella yep elephant stuffed sleep tonight um guys hugged tighter hours labor endured switched birth daughter doubt wondering anymore dreamed keebler perfected recipes liked oreos drown vat fudge woke overrated morning quick shower jeans shirt buttery yellow stripes item closet self-conscious wear gold flecks admit clipped toyed lip gloss snuck check crept yard blinking stuck contained next-door neighbor perch middle lawn forkle rearranging garden tableaux nosy checking effect beady bored hers loved sentences complaining 911 obligated gnome fraction inch gives headaches yapping interrupted ball fur streaked barking spandex jogging shorts chased grabbing dog leash clumsy lunge kneeled stroking wild-eyed panting creature drew growled strained mad sister’s hates displaying several halfmoon wounds bleeding scar suppose willing carry blocks seems winked piercing certainly yelled jogger guy’s louder chaos wonder grab drag should’ve trick react stopping tracks side man straightened height quite intimidating ordered glowered promised snorted grumbling moving explaining whenever appearance waiting incident eyewitnesses frustrating confusing bell rang lurking scream demanded loudly heads bad flashing cocky rush blush unanswered tries creepy snatch slow replayed scene remember growling forkle’s quietly quieter we’ll we’d eyeing suspected impending mischief leap english ditch yesterday strangle pull disappearing fail willingly use telepathy brushed whispering pushed further test tested permission assignment frustrated matters invading offense scrunch nod movement nearby oak drowned could’ve sworn jogger’s campus gestured tree either imagine adjusted shouldn’t anyway who’s committee sidelong heat breaking automatically furious enjoyed caused determines grinned future shield surveyed surroundings metal nearly everglen leading doors absorbs directly likes privacy stressful doubted king kong faint click swung inward striking clearing growing midnight cape fastened clasp diamond-encrusted wings lean vibrant resemblance alden introduced bow curtsy shake greet shy pleasure prominent kidding unusual flush smiled embarrassed fire alden’s injury muttered son shared kidnapping considering such might’ve paranoid has touch rude assure love kidnapper searched reassure kindness agree placed gently jacket ticked indeed fascinating sounding triumphant perfectly specifically nexus forgot covered dug cuff coat clamped bracelet wrist twisting fit snug comfortable accessory single jewel rectangle symbols letters spelled gibberish odd decorate finality safety precaution break particles carried concentration circumstances bare early fools overestimate skills fade cautious answered lose yourself able fully reform pulls forever goose bumps dimple cleared throat prefer reproving send mission collect long-lost guests wiped blooming red pink purple rainbow perfume flowers dizzying testing qualify foxfire paused fungus insulted prestigious academy named represents glow darkened comes ‘fungus’ strongest talent kiss goodbye excuse proud attend accomplishment earliest levels develops abilities continue studies elvin sneak work knowingly chills mixed night’s troubling revelation sickening councillor bronte difficult impress feels upbringing lack disqualify surprises existed miffed votes squat brown-skinned huge tended fairy tale plants slantways shuffled carrying basket twinkling fruit guessing pictured men hats statues servants stare choose safer gardens enjoy privileged taste gnomish produce lunch treat dig slimy tubers slugs hoped menu peeled meadow elegant manor entirely intricately numerous turrets gables rose tower resembled lighthouse braided foyer prism widest hallway fountains spouted streams colored water hall dead-ended encrusted jeweled mosaic

diamond unicorns amethyst spoke wealth squeezed formal dining sheer silk curtains drawing chandelier waterfall shimmering crystals platters fancy goblets figures jewel-encrusted circlets plush thronelike chairs surrounding curtsied necks clasps keys horribly underdressed fabrics except disguise kenric oralie football player toothy princess rosy ringlets met smallest cropped features finger pairs floor laughter squirmed joined pleased shape it’ll transformed noticing autorepeat: scooting oralie’s one’s died yet hurt immortal trace sorrow bodies aging reach adulthood wrinkles belongs yourselves guest uncovered grimace strips glop goop tasted juiciest cheeseburger stuff mashed carnissa root umber leaf tastes chicken animals tone ate toxic waste squirming grimaced vegetarians horror vegetables cheeseburgers tells swallowed mouthful thud discussing openly respond kenric’s jaws dry remembering warnings stay begun eight pass mentioned learn relax bronte’s icy gust common announced jaw flushing chagrined incredulous impenetrable key sentence ‘almost breached guilt conscience sounds infallible thinks likely exceptionally lift weight telekinesis recovering embarrassment shrank goblet accident raised lifting invisible scoffed unimpressed limitations unlike physical confidence clue giving blew pretending imaginary extend sharper worth saucers applauded excellent praise couple glasses determined stronger ounce core empty collective gasp including breathed celebrate cramped strain knocking thunderous collision open-mouthed shock hollered sealed clapped language guys’ enlightened leaped instinctive interesting babbling teasing noisy gripped ‘soybean’ mispronouncing blushed chuckled beside dusting waved insisted sighed suldreen stretch line rare species bird puzzle solve uncomfortable coincidence convince decision barked shoving moonlarks vote otherwise fight favor final fragile lovely empath emotions extended grasped delicate fear confusion sincerity describe azure settles revisited till adjust invoke demand probe planned arranged quinlin busy decipher fun training looks iffy ‘bothered’ dad’s reluctant emptiness exploded choked saving colder implications ditched stall punishment atlantis nowhere patch white-capped waves signs seagulls screech poop hardly continent tide pool triangular slip slick shoes match gown begged status noble members nobility offices empire waist beaded neckline dress costume seeing clothes: tunic embroidery edges pockets sewn sleeves exact size sit boots completed thankfully knowing biana comparison changing subject ledge engineered catastrophe compartment revealing bottles label bottle whirlpool uncorked flung blast whipped faces roar churning ladies suggested worse gulped maelstrom beneath salty sprayed jump push count dignity drowning flailing idiot formed tunnel dipping weaving craziest waterslide starting launched vortex sponge licked toe pack kittens minus kitten sprang cushion smoothed wet incoming rocketed slightly squishy packed sand gleaming metropolis dome beyond soared skyline bathing radiating spires network canals interconnected arched bridges pictures venice modern clean despite bottom underwater muted hum background seashell ear build stores power precisely amount changes plated reflect firelight illuminate sink wandered shops renaissance fair women’s gowns shifted advertised two-for-one specials bottled lightning fast approval spyball applications strolled hybrid chicken-lizard invented main canal hailed carriages floating almond-shaped boat rows high-backed benches elbow-length steered bench reins skimming surface eight-foot-long scorpion deadly pincers reared curled sting eurypterid stroked shiny shell eurypterid’s slice emitting low hissing petted harmless carriage quinlin’s yours fiber mutant insect doom probed gritted pressing hideous sonden’s office thrashed heebie-jeebies commute while secure needs protection file highly classified business district windows tracing bearing names treasury registry interspeciesial services unreadable random strings runes nonsense writing

alphabet clueless chin jumble nah affected gap kid option country tests dropping member broad kelp ornamentation precise read: sonden: chief mentalist cube swiped elbow ping assurances humiliating bypassed receptionist dim damp stone desk dark-skinned chin-length seat ceremony unique understatement squirm handing lick dna unsanitary tiniest hologram center: rotating unearthly breathing prentice sacrificed double helixes sacrifice reasons fears hundred seventy-eight murmured began pacing invaded she’ll greatest keeper older midstep record share trained charge protecting currently hidden karaoke game sing off-key notes clearly eavesdropping strip slid winding stairway climbed oval footage brush projected chill aerial southern california lines circle area images deepened valleys ruled reflections note interrupting communicate waving warn turning overreacting glancing shuddered desperate kidnapper’s threatened easily implied nameless faceless entity quickly threatening authorities would’ve shivered accelerant chemicals leads lighting spilling oil blowing investigate council’s position here: takes visit babysitter decent equally spying steam secrecy existence discovered hoax search updated slight bypassing distracted evillooking matches keepers lagoon glint shimmery dunes lake west shore statue topped hollow iridescent film shimmered loop apparatus resemble bubble lifted clung shrieking levitate forming touching bubble’s rumble coming geyser shoot eleven crash below bobbed where’s scary pure joy popped whisked glaring gates flash strode olive contrast youth shone nerve summoning personal shorter intimidated difference sooner exiled clench fists backward tiergan aware opinion summoned convinced tiergan’s fierce crumbled crossing expert inventory widening whatever foxfire’s newest mentor puppy officially weirding becomes provide retired given persuaded return resentment mixture surprise hone assistance reasonable restrictions pretend opportunity silencing bet terrible mood mumbling mostly irresponsible manage choice benefit stares notify dame alina returning kept bruise meantime session listed remedial schedule lessons dummies correct assumption warmed tuesday brilliant panel everglen’s grounds sessions study student subjects one-on-one nerves one-onone succeed mention level grade relearning self-doubt heavier fragmented disappear explanation aside pleasant dis arguing overstuffed armchairs woman squealed snickered wife della pinched gesturing dear vanishers smiling musical hint della’s beauty tossed pursed heart-shaped parents’ combined gangly troll interceded borrow errands frumpy files requested denied request approve grady edaline case torn radiant parcels strobe unwrapped packages clasped cord neck choker pendant elf-y anytime fund’s activated fund register money standard dollars lusters laughing luster dollar crinkled ew insult afford differently limited seventy eighty makes sad curved window overlooking silvery floor-to-ceiling aquarium wingback facing piled books scrolls anxiety remind stacks newspapers circled crossed news removed drawer theories irritation super stuttered discuss faced solution allow ours they’ve effective immediately too-simple accept kick constant discovery longer unbearable loneliness friends grasping overwhelm areas access severely restricted dead deciding gravestones became vivid: grave tearstained draw suffer struck complicated relocated jobs erase tear obvious believing shutting function erased armchair scrubbed forbade sob occurred risking twenty alert plans clothes sees wiping focus bent unshed horrors cringed buried trembled bouncing busted eavesdrop grounded hugging worrying pouted pettiness bratty obnoxious pain-in-the-butt embrace struggles play daughters mouths senses hook hurry daze rememorize room: dusty available quilt mother tripped furry crouching releasing pathetic meow disk sleeping gas release drugging physically ill backpack slung giggled elizabeth clutching anywhere couch fingered ordering thirty crumpled burying recognize crouched smearing drool snot drugged sobs

overcame jerk washers bags regret bear slept finish hawaiian family’s limp determination taken fourteen cried assured stranglehold haunting gets hope personally oversee relocation flared wrung guardians title selected enthusiasm strangers elwin’s blue-crystaled temptation shiver raked bones orphan conservatory lead backyard security choosing saved ache suffering gift raise ended abandoned wipe elwin physician medical hate doctors brave regular nightmares brief stays struggled dragging direction drop free implying biana’s glare escape punch bathed gigantic glued cushioned cot syringe goes fidget spectacles scientist snapped painless orb flasher manipulate skilled orem vacker show eclipse biggest celebrations traditions damage permanent tensed food chance innocent cells dashing depending orbs squinting lenses stunningly lit dramatic expecting toxins research rifled satchel vials liquids major detox braced medicine syrups nectar unknown fruits tingly drink youth legends enzymes essential health refreshing downed contents gulp drank medicines list follow-up checkup whistled sometimes heated lame stinky stegosaurus shame horrified production wimp doctor phobia jumping needle strap bunch shots allergic how’d concrete nine-one-one unconscious genes kicking trigger bedroom canopied chandeliers room’s gotten deserve ruined chanting mantra shut pajamas tuck asleep belonging alive twenty-five catch breakfast clock shop furniture detoxes materializing clutched ghostly exotic heartbreaker fitted glamorous shopping explosion behold wardrobe outfits extras pick beat-up sparkly casual packing leaked days unpack hungry knotted sadly dampened preserve havenfield exciting jolie deny loss wonderful booming fenced-in pastures spread scrambled versions rehabilitation centers sanctuary protected trap nessie artist endangered gorillas lions mammoths extinct thriving herd woolly colonies saber-toothed tigers slack exists rob qualities provides thrive feeding hunt diet steep cliffs caves flower-lined using ropes lasso lizard neon beast protest drama queen husky male commanded beast’s heave feat twice snaarrll bucked guardian lunged tangled writhed losing balance verdi tyrannosaurus comments meeting jaculus winged serpent feeds support contain bloodsucking snake claws snout tremble lowering fangs glinted slobber motioning glimpse dinosaur-riding chiseled feather-covered james bond robin hood balding relate handsome feathery banged pet rub rex’s stayed docile unblinking separated verdi’s wound plugged slime death rot tuna fish combination kelpie dung bites jar swear edaline’s grady’s wary compared palatial estate mansion standards columns cupola roof entryway central upper floors cascaded ceiling wispy fabric turquoise amber curls similar circles fluff presentable rex picking playing rodeo cowboy nope wash staircase sadness lingered tea mallowmelt insist gooey cake fresh-baked chip soaked ice frosting butterscotch dripping hasty slices served nook grazing linens painted china homesick woken lushberry juice pop possessed conjurer form teleporting objects coolest unfortunately scraggly slurps burps letting friend’s ached grieve fished imparter simply strangled pounded reassuring deafening third star-shaped dangled glittery weaved carpet scent canopy occupied dressing bookshelves brightly volumes bathroom bathtub swimming biting awesome assumed jolie’s tour awkward delicious soupy pizza unpacking wrinkled scrapbook wherever welled remnants dried sixteen sunrise streaks blending mirror darken awake finishing hovered doorway interrupt riser shades clap bruises conjured bowl spoon banana bread tempted impose sloppy handwriting upside symbol corner: bird’s beak tickled babble scare extremely documents cipher moisture particularly believable prescribed drawn eager fidgeting ruffles simplest bought hi kesler groaned island mysterium identical mold vendors spices sweets buzzed crowded sidewalks working-class social rank ‘talent simpler correspondingly unfair born lesser lives type designed village avoiding whispers ruewen pretended different

store crooked nursery rhyme burps: merry apothecary belched maze shelves pills laboratory beakers bubbling burners rainbow-colored lab skinny tousled strawberry periwinkle blob tubes add amarallitine dex tongs vial experiment poured beaker sparked plume dirty gag concoction exclaimed hello ‘hello impersonation sludge eda scrap sheet kesler’s brother-in-law nephew practically monday al freaks dimples burped beanpole hooded cloak vika annoyance handiwork written girl’s bald scalp meanwhile stina ’cause twitched battling sell solutions sasquatch dent bony appendages children throttle hairoids stock week wailed ogre wicked misses responsible friendly rage here’s spat helping customers potent hat flinch useless buy countered retort stina’s oooh slammed fist timkin heks helps situation traditional absolutely brings stuffy nobles happier grinning mess tweak supplies armful worktable sneaky beard dex’s evil mortar pestle teach tingle attempt fifty-seven solo property collapse practiced checked displayed sliver percent chose he’ll hawk mentors monitor weakness expelled pushes transferred exillium swallowing bile mounting attack messy juline riveted gossip interruption interest hilarious bookshelf mounted cover camera summer flipping pages naked mouse suit disneyland dizznee photos honestly movies outlets flipped technology solar powered rifling sir conley’s luck lady galvin highest rate rig calming flooded seventeen gadgets chimes arrive uniform skirt leggings shirt-vest-cape combo laceup jerkin long-sleeved slacks waist-length superhero captain blueberry rescue meaning order demonstrate rid wimpy halcyon mastodons mascot birds storm mastodon ceremonies costumes glad idiots appealing crest triangle heart: scarlet eagle soaring talons chemistry equipment theirs adopting adoption adopt temporary enrollment manticore themselves parties dies span cope calmed orphans wylie whose recover connection blames wylie’s hanging leapmaster 500 lucky authorized 250 tons rotated five-story pyramid sharply angled u stained seventh amphitheater extensive fields grass hopelessly prodigies uniforms building’s finding ducked starts orientation principal reads announcements attendance collar track peal close-up stunning porcelain caramel-colored foremost whoever reekrod weekend mark punished fullest extent threat dangle continued detect ah spotlight hissed viper’s nest ssssssophie hole crawl concludes today’s nearest exception divided wing banners bore midflight halls quad throughout sparkling sapphire chatted doorways lining atrium spectacle creating marked rune locker mirrored lock uses gross faculty picks flavors pepper sneeze croak yelped stench rotten eggs dash diaper muskog wheezy snicker whirled towering mass frizzy cackling hags stalking hairs shave earth serum friday retorted raven swishing behavior phasers ashamed apologize obviously spend detention alexine stinks beet minions kinda frog fumes catching jensi rapid-fire speech talked buckets redder instructed honest ‘human girl’ ‘sophie’ whim elementalism pride backtracked twists turns drops warped wooden session’s zapped ‘zapped’ thunderclap eighteen tray electrocuted quiver conley hitting fluted botched sending tornado tornadoes mastering elements entering foods series stalls court mall recognizable eaten tables cafeteria whom discourage joining verge perceptible message clear: focusing bigger jensi’s acne braces fairly slicked greasy ponytails drooled setting bang c’mon dude unison ‘e’ duh drooly volunteered singed universe daunting exaggerated messing ‘dude’ killing explode cough pixielike rescuing tossing petite balled braids suicide overeager marella mare nicknames obeyed enemies honored pucker licorice lemon fan prettypants rather grumpy brat brother’s dreamy willpower copying sip looped defending dizznees triplets says ‘bad match’ genetically incompatible inferior aunt uncle superstrange celebrities famous vackers superimportant marella’s sympathy grandma heartbroken helpless veins hopeless cases guarantee scooping mammoth shudder awful afternoon feared astronomical

learning astin whispery complex maps planetarium effortless excelled hour survived approaching dragon hateful invited feelings letters: extinguished stuffing fill animosity deck ‘nice uncanny royal highness bothers remembers talented ‘deck beaming nineteen thursday disaster goal sandwiched colosseum pe vanity near door: sneakers ponytail owned ship slap reply lasted compare redek squish may fool stops idle threats grouped twos tromps manifested fifty-fifty manifesting mysterious remark required variable reign terror ‘everyone’ impressive jolt supervise caton titan god informed channeling supereasy channel parts body: heights speeds normally unimpressive attempts threes bumped defense appetite startled spaceship unremarkable studying superintently snapping scraping probing concept unsettling establish forcing eighty-seven puckered brow assume cheerful scraped intended drained steadying suggest ethics attached meganeura exercise annoy fidgeted cocked wanna buzzing dived vulture-size dragonflies patted freaky-looking bug blown gargantuan proportions creepiest disco balls grown monster enclosure phys ed intense emergency weirdest part: proven trustworthy receive assignments lectured responsibility detecting discover elite avoided mesmer nauseated wow sheesh inflicting curiosity won causes dara lecture: pyramids tidal army hairy hollowing himalayas strangest mumble creeped exile interested dying supertalented fundamental guilty underground eternity ruin fluke churned abandoning illegal washer alter dump brother secluded sorted reminding effort flavored flumes spritzed shove disturbing failing smirked alchemy pupil encouraging cracking melody ominous ingredients trophies gilded items pointy-toed suspiciously midas milky liquid dancing rushing rustle red-brown updo hunter silky decorated patterns swished slightest alkahest universal solvent stored itself dissolves wood flesh taxes substance alchemist wise teaching masters tincture poultice basic serums yellowed box flask jars iron transmuting metals recipe formula labeled instructions fiddled rechecked mistakes plunged whip fizzed rumbled jelly galvin’s exquisite dissolved luxurious damaged salvage welt healing ma’am murder retrieve afterward muttering incompetence flunk sprawled hallways stark ditching keefe gulon disheveled untucked popular belva crush blame 90 certain paid accidentally cue epic alina’s ugly crying treated whiter phobia consisted rooms: treatment beds brewing physician’s paperwork slinky scurried bullhorn demented ferret banshee adorable fellow dramatically wanting seize mmm-hmm acid mimed effects destroyed salve measured whap wash present laughs clarification confirming twenty-one embellished version destruction joked bottling anwen multispeciesial 324 faxon metaphysics complimented requests brown-eye create overnight granted incredibly challenging explosions occurrence unlearn lifetime knowledge levitating rainbows constantly messed highlight skill effortlessly amazed unwanted transmit else’s psychic photograph needing patient plague suspicion snotty maruca i-hate-sophiefoster club reaching growl jealous prettiest bedlam subdue chasing rabbits antlers swinging trunk lump verminion pen boosted mammoth’s trumpeted earthshaking squeal ringing mound timid twig hiiiissssssssssss uncurled rodent bulging hamsters rottweiler-size hamsterzilla trample japanese hamster cooed snaarrrlll impressed chase steer dashed catches fifty stupidest clod mud nailed grooowwwwllll fatal flaw pinned grunted press snarling squeeze verminion’s unlocked assortment spewed whined pile gloves shed trade trudged oversize squirrels rats identify burlap sack quivering snarl steeled shriek batlike heaved wool scratches leg outbuildings carefully organized veterinarian’s laid sterile spreading limbs smeared eyedropper dripped creature’s rewarded squeaky rumbling crackly purr smiles cage barrel soapy chain-sawesque snores vibrating brattail tuber sausage imp guessed six-inch venomous stings snoring vicious describing tame yetis outnumbered conked chipper iggy strand swell

generous hugs touches gestures glistened dubious trails twenty-two sharing congested warthog roommate snuggly sleepless spoil caring ultimate splotching championship sacks cheered sympathetic secretly celebrating partnered naturally teamed splotcher splattered loses winners person wins marks smugly win splotch splat deserved colorful prize contest pardon hopes wonderboy gagging rounds beat opponent knots backing aim ow raw telekinetic flushed compliment disqualifies pumped victory hotter cheering opponents experience duel beginner’s talents mighty competition grumblings battle odds experienced evidently four: sixes trella dempsey paired hopeful muster bested winner fluttered appears competitors betraying butt preference keefe’s chant ladies’ float clenched adrenaline surged audience back-up splotches rebound phenomenon weightless collided simultaneous fate collapsed twenty-three placing compress wincing muscle injured whermiwhahapped worse: laying banshees mortal danger stirred lucid winced stiff glands zinged collected rebounded bounce specialized hammered controls actual mix matched draining practice evenly awfully sidelines wobbling auditorium applause teensy annoyed copied blushing elbowing ribs tie protested declared excused lesson rejoin splotchers acted delivered p congratulations confirm bath lathering bathers soggy instinctively besides creased drive twenty-four meter one-third younger that’d wonderboy’s precious midterms score seventy-five recommend nissa tutoring consider tutor projection gagged flavor yell daily tore prattle chewy caramel peanut butter pouch cracker jack horse mane prattles’ unicorn pins collection examined digital 122 185 number eighty-five super-rare bitterness vaguely compute unexpected development century too-little-too-late branch other’s replaced beeline simultaneously sniff aw stuck-up snob wasted invite humiliate walking ambush capable teeniest details clanged cricket chirped embroidered satin sash wringing exhaled seeming makeovers wrestling polite fortunately braid flutter dirt pitter-patter eh sayin’ shooting quest grateful team jealousy guarded raid questers tagged sentry tabs isolate general nail targets listened softer instantly presence tremendous connected forest thundered vision racked credible crashing bushes partner deceive insists hasn’t secrets toes staying chain apologizing visitors sulking funk snipe wagged there’ve weekly jokes havenfield’s defied exams panicking passing guide narrowing shipped exam brass copper transmutations ideas challenges thwarted spilled gashrooms reek pored frozen cause shattering cheated accomplished cheat ideal dreading twenty-six tri-angular apex streamed pane angle reflection examining confessed forgave neutral violated ethical regulations expulsion suggesting argument ruling obey flourish bother violating reporting stifle closely icily respect authority advises wedding flapped nor pointless cheating tolerated huffed regrets confess serve minimum assigning becoming theme slipping unnoticed what’d gloomy atmosphere desks thumbs-up siren song appreciation art nature clapping earsplittingly shrill whine whale nails chalkboard toddler uncover broadening horizons claiming repentant company brand torture ballroom belva’s sirens dances edwardian claimed valin ponytailed promenade dancers valin’s sweaty chime stars shined brighter spit wickedly slobbery octaves fanned hmm irritated flattered scored points empathy forked smirk ironing holes stack detained increased practicing leaps eyebrow empaths powerful mundane purification vein easiest transmutation lockers traded twenty-seven banging annoyingly caps disqualified chorus groans nonstop cap smurf amalgam telepathic integrity wrote essay betrayal over debate automatic 100 last-minute mentally repeating tips negative vibes stress ethic claim fame skipped skip supportive doubting brag mercifully stalled magenta berries rusty discipline chosen purify ruckleberries fifty-five nasty impurities elderly human’s alchemists methods dive knife pierced berry dribbled pinky haggard glacial quarters

deducted mediocre performance forth whirlwind crack exhausted brutal slamming slumped that’ll public hooks presents spine cards schools hassle babysitters edged obstacle tugging stressing rigid suitable gifts jewelry charms charm twenty-eight unrecognizable streamers shrub toilet-papered tinsel confetti bubbles prizes popping appointment teal-wrapped package uglier hurrying plowing regain literally prying trademark smirks spoken sapphire-encrusted navy-blue intently hairstyle contrasted pristine infamous deflated wilted father’s oily insincerity resigned flame cassius lord performing unremarkably radiated apologies fos er disappointing scores fake critical said: creeps prize-filled prattles dwarf lollipop topple snappy comeback comment loser fails organize overflowing half-empty month misunderstanding shushed slim parcel chiming signaled parent-mentor conferences celebration feast unwrap snatching self ‘dear dance sometime vice president boyfriend rattled reader tease ribbon tapped gadget fingernail speaker thingies coloring dunno disbelief variety edible glosses speckled spider snapper plant fed spiders riddler writes riddle miniature violet thanked showing misty seventy-nine improvement range sensing tomato congratulated comfort sobbing partying included sneer party note: f snap k sugarplums boy-craziness necklace cuffs wristbands vanisher platter customs gelled perfection gym ornate immaculate alvar talks often rumpling fizzleberry wine juggling girlfriends hero beamed piddly quicksnuff emissaries tend conspiracy possibility myself pieced undivided swan’s curve pattern term replied active recently unauthorized investigation frustration twenty-nine alternate spending smelling clues accomplish consumed trapped counting resumed vacation finals received eighty-one eighty-three unacceptable prepared chorused poufy thrown towel drooped oven roasted frosters transmitting charts transmitted peed suffered rested cryokinetics freeze manipulating pyrokinesis mesmers inflictors monitored pyrokinetics inflict fire’s unpredictable truly forbidding pyrokinetic library surely three’s librarian banned archives libraries bust problem: section dire wolves peek promising bins mountain littered haphazardly spaces scan unrolled flip papers helpful lacy dulled childhood: strung lanyards dolls framed bone picture: breathtaking tragedy drinking leftover junk trunks piles unopened bin disturbed murky midterm roll scroll shelf sample starlight moonglade: fireflies flickering stellarscope upside-down spyglass view’s billions wad tag amaranthis memorized fourth lambentine bag spout wider scope knobs cluster dials stiffened lever thumb clinked rubini orroro azulejo cobretola indigeen scratching spectrum rearranged indigo zelenie isolated this’ll bluff scrounging elementine adjusting fidgety hummed shining teared welts frantic thirty-one blackish-purple blisters pot burns sprinkled powder adventure soaking numbs balm miserably regulate temperature palace crown nicer handful roots mutilating blades destroying bashing stubbornness reappeared ointment knelt furrowed fingertip rags longest hottest soapiest griffins discreetly boring-looking firecatching bode bundle solid downright incoherently darkly quintessence fifth element myth truest conditions blow metallic-toned bronze wildly flamed audible unmapped locations merit thirty-two platform thrones remotely procedure involving throne cushions tourmaline sturdy polished dotted onyx heard: clarette velia terik liora emery ramira darek noland zarina flicked mere evacuated three-thousand-year task undisclosed location trial salivating convict straighter dozen marched stationed bodyguards swordlike weapons belts fanfare blasted crowned amateurs seated sapphires shall world’s ungraceful consuming detector fuzzy lying endlessly jell-o hobbled astin’s honesty assigned emery’s argento auriferria pennisi merkariron styggis achromian slower plotting map cowering submit lists convenient judgment frightening hardened remained expressionless mediates telepathically consensus united aspirin unanimous

rise violates actions intentional accountable foster’s involvement addressing agreement millionth wished exchanged dimpling kiddo thirty-three banks sienna bark paintbrushes purfoliage palmae calls pures filter pollution freshest crispest tinge fuzzed hesitation observant instruction lurched sunset farthest councillors’ steadied emerald-encrusted circlet bowed pleasing honor beg refuse descryer response delightfully potential clamoring backfired speaks beginning optional 327 sensed crane sweeping peacock log dream softly regularly useful one-armed fiancé’s projecting vividly replace album dinner’s stroke retracted apology hurting tricks arches replica model thirty-four planted curl plotted page difficulties rivaled protect quieted los angeles hollywood trash conspicuous spider-man batman posed mann’s chinese theatre blended beams issued ‘forgot’ oblivious ourselves stubborn softened unwillingly seeped ‘got of’ ant pavement explore warring hurried consequences captured pleaded mercy prentice’s behalf oversaw shatters society metaphor insurgents rebellion kindest whatever’s decisions encouragement revelations ability-detecting exercises cornered superbusy insistent significant elf-ish onetime played envy tracked master tracking switch spots conspiracies investigating headway ignorance ever: permanently jarred conservation legitimate scientific principle nagging elixir nogginease limbium mineral supposedly resisted bike wheels giddy week’s supply unnaturally syrup absorb nauseating unfastening vest skin’s collapsing allergy dimmed cradling thirty-five fluttered chafed sandpaper wildhaired soothed sensations spectators cleaned vomit upright moaned allergies wits bullhorn’s trite soiled airtight vomiting swollen blotch-free humiliated undershirt noticeably absent dazzling alvar’s raptor disgusting decade spare injected steroids tied budge scolded showers heels crisis ushered deathly tough disasters blankly rests brothy soup elsewhere shadowy comforting yawn snuggled thirty-six squealing hundreds eagle-size pterodactyl somersaulted screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech stability rein speed momentum gained screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech torch pasture dispersed uncannily fried engulfed birdbath sparks jerking possess flareadon fire-resistant replay triggered animal’s cares octave higher killed resting flareadons volcanoes occur gildie strayed ‘flareadon female correcting wade debacle breaks wrestled socks shredded apparent vague emotion animals’ distances qualified lightened results defined iggy’s gildie’s paw tummy reward downy fury paled out-of-breath aura recoiling imperative vital violate risk humiliation fled her: cooperate freezing peered railing partial drifted bars errand thirty-seven mush nights begging blend processing forgetting tearing fluorescent locker: insider’s librarian’s timing shoe absolute librarians plastered sinking confirmed dog-ear chapter everblaze: unstoppable blind thirty-eight paper-strewn something’s ‘everblaze frissyn x stands detailed extinguish overruled excluded unheard indecision warred babies hatch extract unregistered code name: egg cast conventional purpose determine pregnant fertility posing implanted embryo manipulated outstanding retain discovering affects genetic anomaly renegades weapon ‘prodigy illegally forgiving messages suffocating choke word: controlled puppet issue triggers twilight proudly soothe facade crumble table: throaty fix drove wedge messenger delivering seal reseal rampaging limits chaise skimmed bead luminous nonluminous generated lumenite drilled clarify rip grubby paws riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip chunk possession skittered treasure retrieving tattered assess rug glue document accordance canceled thirty-nine heartbeat scrubbing choked-back muffle misery acknowledge gaping owe regardless charade obeying command churn yeti ricocheted ooooookaaaaaaay slinking acknowledging attempting library-appropriate slothlike triple-check echoing phew scrutiny shrug candleshade overhead clipping playlist jarring numbness bass mature speakers bands sarcastic tune swirled seeping cracks triumphed

tiptoed rustled creaked padding crawling lonely forgive forty cheer stricken envelope headline: claims victims scrawl announcement corridor stark-white gulps sneaking suggestions weigh resolve admirer flood applying replacement heal eased uncertainty brothers recent discoveries recording spy undetected textbook dreaded licensed pathfinders restriction threatens ‘everblaze’ accusation fintan pricked balefire fintan’s requires fuel supported cosmic ‘fire ignite conclusive example surveillance ruining depths former dealing approved overrule objection trusted phantom rebels snatched emissary citizen confidential duly noted digging forty-one partly imprisoned sorting reminders pity tension distant lately preparing prejudice megacrush cave commands successful method unwrapping names: connor kate natalie freeman apply permit huddled thinner echoes evacuee note’s unquenchable abandon supporter afar forty-two stashed drawers ‘you threaten chaperone global dumped significance supplied clothing resistant fly willful punish facets stagger hills screeched tying pried displays seals survival glinting corneas swoop thickest raspy coughs locate singeing shift current overcome coughing inferno ouch thrashing clouded watery beads capped treats paced treating scorched angrier contorted squatted pee severe scalding plunked sticky-sweet healthy grim balled-up yelling homes camped affairs mesmerized desperation launching steal dumping tenderness justified reacts offer unintelligible agreeing concerns forty-three relatively illness actress w-what admitting lifeless freaky dumber connections traitorous resisting grasp peace decency furball storm’s appropriate cliff reveling shard clatter soothing relishing pulverized smithereens boulder violent frightened irrational fallen possibly smothered meaty cloaked swooped sickeningly nostrils sedative cursed rallied scuffle scuttled captor circulation rasped viselike lolled rescued forty-four bonds staging unfortunate complication fog scrambling muddled funerals pendants vise sweetness blackness necessary loomed constricted heaving choking gruff hyperventilating suffocates coated hacking nods croaked relocate stolen grunt syllable drugs mist strapped bound shivers eerie breathy wheeze venom trail gumption predicament footfalls disposed disappearance guts throb ignorant cackle toy reserve widen contorting poison ple clarity struggle overwhelming happiness rocked jostling rescuer foggy occasionally elevator altitude delirium parted flimsy fumbling promises caress weary forty-five searing heightened awareness sensory overload barrage cigarette butts alley surveying hideout interrogation kidnappers scoured alexandre desperately operates anyone’s him: upcoming rounded apologized broom peeking roofs yards landmark eiffel gaped graceful paris france french indian saris currency exchange robbing bank machine atm watches account measures ‘make work’ cameras covering buttons alarm bills robbed technopath froster internet café sandwiches cheese once-living boxy computers navigated web browser googled number-one result pont iii bridge seine lanterns shopkeeper sped excitement decorations horizon lamp nexuses lasts mathematics applied dawn forty-six melder stun evening strolls cloaks leader obscurer bends distortion coil rope goons goon pathways underestimate wire enhanced wishful swirl severing rapid duck whizzed seizure dusted flailed gurgling blank forefinger crescent shaped jagged cowl stumble scarred heft frenzy hatred writhing strengthened pumping pulse heavyset figure’s hideouts options battering crushed nearing tug-of-war lessened allowing glorious drift fading surrendered mind’s imagination funeral weariness overtaking hazy snow labored conscious sparkle freedom sweep forty-seven brightness peaceful wove persisted appeal surge newfound pooled aches splintered clearer enveloped strawberry-blond-haired numbing sedated tingles luxuriating gulping wetness numb shhh sniffled recognizing propped girly seasons faltered proves meaningful floppy snickers emergencies conversations flirting scratch

blasts streaking injuries concentration’s cell half-drained gaunt fleeing canceling flitted nuzzling scratched there’d yawned lights forty-eight covers washed sandor goblin bodyguard inflictor paralysis semiconscious incapacitated dormant trauma latent polyglot languages advance interrogated sandor’s bunny seven-foot-tall buffed-out overtime blindfolded seared monitoring proved arrested custody awaiting deaths tragic innocence error motivate condemning madness reluctance single-handedly now’s crescent-shaped recalled epiphany overweight swells digest explains operative guarding subliminal advantage activate developed who’ll address database detectives arson reigned supreme wisest greater questioned decades measure influential amok globe rejected imprison devastated uprooted supporters initiative resign outspoken recruited activity satisfied handled poorly kidnapped prisoner resolved disposal stamped justice voiced revenge birthday birthdays indefinite spans thirteen-year-old crushes plots rebellions grown-ups understands teenager accepted bargain relented insisting uncertain responding arrange forty-nine pedestal charges bylaws sub-bylaws committed transgressions minor tortured regal express safely accused drafting addressed firmly murmurs debated arguments raging attitude disrespectful rebellious overlooked gratitude however static rulers experiences inappropriate assign ‘already served’ sang admission din bursting provisional basis due aforementioned cannot proceed suggestion issues seats smoothing occasion fancier signaling require records indicate provided remain appreciated despised gladly nicely dipped textbooks someday squash toughest earn deserves murderous successfully fingering justifiably displeasure smirking retake propose alternative state events revealed therefore practical prudent career prospects shifting internal logical volatile qualifies majority erupting directing registered cuddly earned oneon-one immediate tangle concluded gathered twirling nudging trades sidestepped congratulate surviving multiple tribunals swirls diamonds feminine unlatch decides woven triply journey

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schrijverr · 1 month

Text

How to Survive Gotham as a Goon

Late one evening, a goon is there to witness his boss – Red Hood – shoot at Robin. Which means he goes through the five stages of grief as he imagines all the ways Batman will skin them, trying to get Red Hood to stop before it’s too late, which only leaves him with more questions.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: references to violence & gun shots

~~~~

Joseph does not want to die. He especially does not want to die at the hands of Batman. It might seem unlikely that that will ever happen, even if Joseph is a henchman, however watching his boss whip out a gun to shoot at Robin, he knows it might only be a matter of time.

It’s kind of the unspoken rule of the goon and henchpeople underworld to not hurt the kid in a way that’s permanent. While the big villains don’t keep to that rule, Joseph had hoped that Red Hood, with all his rules surrounding children, would be different.

However, all that hope is snuffed out when the two of them are taking a smoke break and Hood spots the kid on a warehouse across from their own.

Joseph is immediately on guard as he goes to scan around for the Batman, despite knowing it’s quite useless. But Hood stiffens in anger and screams: “You!” as points at Robin.

The giggle Robin lets out is heard easily as it echoes across the yard. It sends shivers down Joseph’s spine. He knows Robin is just a kid, but all goons and henchpeople have learned to fear the sound of that laugh and it isn’t any less intimidating when he can see the kid giving them a jaunty wave.

Hood’s street instincts must be broken, though, because he doesn’t do any of the things you’re supposed to, instead scrambling for his gun. Joseph is so in shock that he doesn’t even stop him when the first few shots ring out.

Across from them, Robin back flips away from where he was just sat, thankfully not getting hit by any of the bullets.

Robin starts to run and Hood follows him with a spray of bullets, yeering loudly: “Yeah, fucker, ya better run! Ya better fuckin’ run! If ya ever pull tha’ shit again, I’m killin’ you. Killin’ you! Ya hear me?”

Joseph gathers his senses and against the better instinct of keeping his boss on his side, jumps Hood, pushing his gun away as he exclaims: “Are you crazy!?” while Robin disappears over the rooftops.

Hood pushes him off and Joseph lets him, though he likely couldn’t have stopped Hood even if he wanted to, the man is built like a brick house. “What’re you onnabout?” Hood frowns, like he truly doesn’t realize who he just shot at.

“You shootin’ at Robin,” Joseph exclaims. “Do you have any idea the kind of carnage ya would’ve brought down on us if ya’d hit ‘im?”

“What?” Hood asks, sounding truly confused and a little taken aback.

“Do you really not know? By your accent I would’ve sworn ya were from ‘round these parts,” Joseph replies, more confused than normal by his enigma of a boss.

“Well, I’ve been outta the loop for a bit,” Hood grouches. “Explain.”

“I mean, most of the big fish don’t keep to it, but it’s common knowledge to not hurt Robin too bad unless ya want the big Bat to rock your shit,” Joseph explains. “I was already in the henchin’ business when the little guy first hit the street. Course we were all wary of ‘im but what ya gonna do? Fight a little kid?”

Hood lets out a bitter snort, commenting: “Yeah, who’d do that.”

Joseph isn’t sure where that comes from and hesitates for a second, then cautiously goes on: “But the kid was good, better than any of us thought. Fuckin’ embarrassing tha’ was. So we started fighin’ back a little, ya know. Actually punching the kid here and there. It was Jimmy who first truly hurt the kid.”

“Wait, Vegetable Jim?” Hood asks.

“Yeah, isn’t a vegetable anymore. Sonnabitch’s damn lucky that Wayne Enterprises offers compensation for those hurt while working, including hench work,” Joseph laughs a little bashful and awkward. “He clipped the kid with a baseball bat, broke his arm. God, I never heard a kid wail like that,” Joseph grimaces at the memory. “What’s worse is that the kid called for his dad. His dad.”

“Wait, tell me more,” Hood asks, sounding gleeful now, which weirds Joseph out a little. “Like was it super pathetic? Did he really just break his arm, nothing more?”

“No, nothin’ more, just the arm,” Joseph answers carefully. “And ya know how kids can get, it was piercin’ and whinin’. Why’d ya wanna know? Poor fella did nothin’ to ya. You’re to young for that.”

“Nah, I know that, just gonna bully the shit outta him when I see him,” Hood grins and now Joseph is fully confused, because from what he’s heard their first baby Robin is now Nightwing in Blüdhaven and they’re not planning to expand that way. However, before he can ask, Hood says: “Sorry, continue.”

“Well, uhm, Batman came immediately. It was carnage, like I said,” Joseph replied. “Jimmy became a vegetable for a year and a half. Bats usually tries to give us injuries that’ll only last a few weeks max, so we all knew we’d fucked up with that.”

Hood is quiet at that and Joseph explains: “Jimmy was the first and one of the worst, but all the goons tha’ ended up in the hospital for longer than three months hurt a Robin. I think the worst might be those tha’ helped, uhm, that villain kill the second Robin. His organization’s still recoverin’ from tha’ one. Think it’s the closest the Bat ever got to killin’ a man.”

Joseph knows that Hood has some deep seated grudge and hatred for Joker, despite taking his old moniker. So, he isn’t sure how well it will land.

He holds his breath as he watches how his boss will react, hoping he isn’t about to get a bullet in the leg. With Hood you’re less likely to get one in the head, but he’s absolutely not above taking out your femur or kneecap and that also sucks.

However, Hood surprises him. Joseph has always guessed that Hood is younger than he pretends to be, but he now sounds like a lost kid as he asks: “Really?”

“Yeah, boss, the Bat don’t play around when it comes to his Robin,” Joseph answers, suddenly feeling like he’s talking to his own son, instead of his crime lord boss. “New kid’s lucky. I mean, he made Batman nicer, god was he fucked when the second one died. But Stan over at Mr. Freeze’s operation cracked a few of his ribs by accident a coupla weeks after the Bat took ‘im in, I hear he still eatin’ out of a tube now. Bat’s gotten more vicious.”

Hood doesn’t say anything and to avoid feeling awkward Joseph just keeps talking: “Heard through the grapevine tha’ the kid got attacked pretty bad at that fancy Tower they’ve got out there, if the guy who did tha’s capable of thought, it’ll surprise me.”

At that Hood shifts slightly and Joseph is surprised to see a bit of guilt in his stance. It’s not something they see often from their boss. Like everything this smoke break, Joseph has no clue how to react to it.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to, because Hood speaks first. Softly he says: “Guess the kid’s lucky. Just hope the Bat’s nearby when he needs ‘im.”

“Yeah, suppose,” Joseph agrees. “Though he usually is. Never seem ‘im leave the kid alone, especially this one.”

“Good, I’d kill ‘im otherwise,” Hood grunts.

While it fits with Hood’s penchant for protecting kids, Joseph is still thrown off by it, since Hood was shooting at Robin earlier. So he gives him a look, before saying: “I mean, ‘s good tha’ he worries. Kid’s a sprout. Must be older than my boy with the way he talks, but by god is he skinny.” Joseph laughs. “It’s almost funny tha’ I worry for the kid.”

“Nah, worry’s good,” Hood surprisingly assures him. “Wouldn’t be the same if he weren’t jumpin’ ‘round, even if he’s a nuisance.”

“That why ya were shootin’ at ‘im?” Joseph can’t help but ask, even though he knows it’s stupid. It is just- he can’t help it. Not after this strange conversation.

“Kinda,” Hood shrugs. “Little shit needs to learn not to touch my shit. Fucker moved my furniture, I like where my furniture is.”

“He was in your home?” Joseph exclaims, because what the fuck? Why didn’t they hear about it. If the Bats are investigating them close enough to break into their boss’s home, they have a big problem. Very big.

“Yeah, fucked up my alarms too, even though he got a perfectly good key,” Hood mopes and Joseph’s brain screeches to a halt.

Almost as if he’s misheard he asks: “He got a key? Robin got a key? A key to your home?”

“Not voluntarily,” Hood sulks, seemingly not aware of how fucked up that is. “He’s a little stalker. Still. Stole it and copied it.”

“We need to change the locks,” Joseph says, getting up immediately to get going. “Who knows what they’re after. You- you need a protective detail. We need to up security.”

Next to him Hood startles, looking surprised. Then he laughs and waves him away: “Nah, nah, no worries, Joseph. No worries. The Bats ain’t after us.”

“They broke into your home,” Joseph feels the need to point out, because that’s a very important and very worrying detail.

“Just Robin. And just to move my shit and eat my leftovers, which is fuckin’ rude, he has his own chef at home, I have to cook all by myself and it isn’t like he chips in for the groceries,” Hood complains, while Joseph just stares at him, bug eyed.

After a beat, Joseph says: “Uhm, boss, I- uh, I hafta ask. How- how close are ya to the Bats, because that ain’t normal. No- uh no ‘fence.”

“Batman can go suck a dick and Robin needs to go back to school,” Hood scowls. “Kid shouldn’t be out here and I’m not talkin’ to the old man. But he’s a persistent little shit, I haven’t shaken him yet. Doesn’t look like I will.”

That answers absolutely nothing, but does tell Joseph that he doesn’t really want to know, because his brain is putting things together, but not things he wants to think about, because if he thinks about it, he might realize that his boss is a teen and he doesn’t think he can handle the mental weight of knowingly working for a teen.

So, Joseph follows another unspoken rule of the goon and henchpeople underworld and keeps his mouth shut when the boss is spewing nonsense.

He already has a kid to raise, he doesn’t want to think about raising his boss and by the sounds of it, the boss already got people looking after him. Even if they annoy him. Joseph is just going to be grateful about that and ignore the rest.

And pray each Sunday in the Church he doesn’t go to anymore that Hood is gonna keep missing the kid when he shoots. He hasn’t faced that sort of wrath from the Bat yet and he doesn’t plan on ever doing so.

Best to keep his head down and follow all the unspoken rules. Next time he’s smoking alone or with more people than just the boss. He has his blood pressure to think about.

#rr writing #dc #dc comics #detective comics #jason todd #tim drake #robin dc #robin #tim drake as robin #red hood #OCs #red hood goon #tw: violence #tw: gun use #batman #batfamily #batfam

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lovelybeesthings · 6 months

Text

Stupid bunny ch 1? 2 3

Coriolanus Snow x reader

Word count: 1.8k

Y/n Ashwood was the daughter of a very powerful family that was a part of the structure of the Capito, the Ashwoods had been one of the few honorable families to survive the falls of the most powerful families. Y/N was a very sweet innocent girl who never had to survive by eating raw meat or scraps and didn't have to fight for a scholarship to attend the Academy.

Alongside her wealth she was a beautiful girl with long lashes, rosy cheeks Doe eyes, and plum lips, her hair was in bubble braids or in long curls her hair was silky smooth by the touch of it and her looks were ones of a saint, y/n was looked at as a white soft rabbit or a doll to some as her life seemed to be in the hands of her family.

As Y/n attended the academy it was inevitable she was popular she had the looks and the Brain which amazed her peers how can a girl who looks like a saint and fragile to touch look at such hordes of sights? Y/n had known of the Snow family as they were one of a higher class but close to the bottom she knew exactly of Coriolanus Snow his long curly locks and his charming looks.

There was also one more reason Y/n Ashwood knew of Coriolanus Snow she had been his fiance since the moment they were both been born the Ashwoods and The snows had set the engagement in motion when y/n was 7 years old she met snow on one occasion and it was breath taking she still remembers it the way he had walked toward her as she hid behind her mother he took her hand and kissed it introducing himself.

*Present day*

As our days with our distracts pass soon to the games I notice how Coriolanus looks at his distract trains Lucy grey I’ve seen her girl from distract 12 I see the way she build skinny pretty from her distracts condition but to me there’s no hope a performer in an hunt I say shell die in the first 10 minutes but the way I catch his eyes longing at hers every moment at her*

My trainee was a boy named Reaper his build was strong and what I’ve read he had even attacked a peacekeeper which betters the odds.

“Coriolanus!” *I say as i see him alone for once passing by as I say his name he turns his head as his eyes lock to mine* “y/n?” *I walk closer* “I’ve missed you it’s been so long it just seems your time has been consumed so much into the game you know my family’s gonna. Host another dinner party you should come!” *I say smiling brightly* “I don’t think so I-i have to see how to better Lucy’s chances” *I look at him and my nose crutches from his response* “you mean your tribute right?” *I say harshly* “Yes, is their something the matter y/n?” *he responds more in colder tone* “it’s-s just seems like your mind is more on the girl then the goal of winning I mean she’s not the strongest tribute and doesn’t seem that smart” *I say as my words drop with venom getting so hung up on my words I don’t notice his expression to get more pissed* “Y/n! I have to spend my time on her, okay? I don’t have the riches to pay for the academy I need to be on this scholarship you can’t even view my point as your life is handed to you” *he says coldly making me shiver and I realize where I went wrong* “Coriolanus wait-t I didn’t, I wasn’t trying to make it seem that way!” *I say as my face blush’s from the embarrassment and I try to resolve this small argument* “y/n just shut it I have to get back to Lucy” *I feel this utter poison in me as I grab onto his shirt as he begins to walk away* “STOP! Don’t leave me!” *i say as a demand he quickly turns and looks at me but his eyes cold his look disturbed with my existence* “you’re just a stupid bunny” *he says as his words feel like a ridicule*

I’m end it here cause I started to hate it 🥲 if you have any suggestions or anything just tell me plz

#coriolanus snow x reader #reader

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redstarwriting · 11 months

Text

partners

hobie brown x reader

request?: yes

request: “Hello! Sorry if this request is really long ;-; okay so hobie and the reader are new recruits to the spider society and are partnered together at first was difficult to get along but as time goes on and they get the whole partner thing down an obvious attraction between the two, but no action was made until one difficult fight against an anomaly. While fighting pieces of a broken building had fallen on the reader, leaving them stuck while hobie went over to try and get them free but was struck by anomaly and the reader hated seeing hobie get hurt used all their strength got out from under the rubble and took care of the anomaly and realized that they could no longer stand idly by without telling hobie the truth. I'm sorry about the length and thank you if you chose to write it 🫡🙏 love your work !!”

requested by: anon

word count: 2.7k

genre: angst(ish), fluff

Warnings: language, stab wound, broken ribs, panicked Hobie, mentions of blood, mentions of severe injuries, stitches, mentions of needles

A/N: ok so i got a little carried away with this one LMAO and NEVER apologize for a request being long! I appreciate all the requests i get no matter how short or long they are 🖤 please enjoy!

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Hobie Brown was the bane of your existence. The most attractive bane of existence that there could possibly be.

And unfortunately for you, Miguel insisted on the two of you being partners.

The reasoning was because he didn’t trust Hobie to do any of his Spider Society duties — at least not in a smart way — and you were very… meticulous. You had a way you did things and didn’t like when your way was compromised. It helped that the two of you were the same age, so Miguel’s dad side popped out and figured the two of you could influence each other.

The first time the two of you went on a mission together, that was far from the truth.

Walking back into Spider Society, you would have thought the two of you didn’t complete the mission. You did, obviously, but the two of you literally looked like your asses got beat. Because you did. “What… happened?” Miguel asks, honestly a little concerned and shocked at the state of you two. “What ‘appened is ‘at I work alone, but you insisted I work with this bloody fuckwit.”

“I TOLD YOU A PLAN AND YOU SAID ‘Yeah, sure, mate, but I’m doin’ what I want’ AND THEN ALMOST DIED YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING DUMBASS!” you yell and he rolls his eyes. “Well, ‘ave you ever considered your plan was shit, mate?”

“No! Because it wasn’t!”

“Yes! It was!”

“It was better than your fucking plan of jumping in and just winging it!”

“That’s rubbish! I—”

“Would the both of you stop?!” Miguel yells, and the two of you glare at each other before looking at him. “Hobie, listen to them next time. (Y/n), don’t be afraid to let some things be improvised.”

“Next time?” Hobie nearly screams, and Miguel nods. “The two of you are partners. You’re a team. It’s time to act like it,” Miguel says, and the two of you groan. “I don’t ‘ave to do anythin’ you say, asshole,” Hobie says to Miguel, and he frowns. “You both need to learn how to work with others.” “But we’re Spider-People! We’re supposed to work alone,” you say, and he shakes his head. “No. The two of you are partners. Learn to work together.”

From that point on, the two of you exclusively went on missions together. And you slowly started to learn how to work together. To the point where the two of you were nearly unstoppable. Miguel’s plan worked, Hobie learned some structure, and you learned to be a little more flippant in your decisions. To say he was a proud spiderdad was an understatement. He bragged about it to Peter and Jessica any chance he could get. Something he didn’t expect was the unwillingness from the two of you to then stop being partners. “You’re mental if you think ‘m not gonna keep workin’ with ‘em. Dumbass’ll die,” Hobie crosses his arms. “How to you expect him to survive if I’m not there to tell him what to do?” you roll your eyes.

Miguel was confused, but he didn’t hate the pair-up. So, he said fine and continued treating you two as a partner unit.

It was only later on that he realized why the two of you refused to stop working together. And it was thanks to Pavitr that he found out. “Miguel!” Pavitr yells, running over to him. “Yes, Pavitr?”

“How did you know?”

“How did I know what?” Miguel asks, already exasperated with the conversation. “About (Y/n) and Hobie!” Pav says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow at him. “What about them?”

“That they’re so obviously head over heels for each other! That’s why you paired them up, right?” he says excitedly, and Miguel just stares at him. “No.”

“Oh… well, forget I said anything, then. You had me worried there for a second, bro. I thought you could read people better than I could, and I couldn’t have that,” he trails off as he starts webbing away. Now that Miguel thinks about it, you and Hobie did have some sort of gravitational pull toward each other. He noticed that even when the two of you weren’t working together on a mission, you were constantly near each other. Even when the rest of the problem children weren’t around. And he never did quite see Hobie smile at anyone else the way he smiles around you. And you did tend to stare at Hobie for seemingly no reason. Damn. Guess pairing you two up was a good idea for multiple different reasons. Now he wasn’t just a proud spiderdad of the two of you, but of himself as well. “Good job, Miguel,” he nods, talking to himself.

However, while it was obvious for everyone, including the two of you, there was never anything pursued. No one could really understand why the two of you haven’t just been honest with each other, honestly. It was obvious to everyone the two of you cared more about each other than anyone else in the multiverse, but the two of you just continued saying you were merely friends and that there was no special relationship between the two of you. Which was a blatant lie, even to the two of you, but it continued to be the story told.

Until this latest mission.

The two of you were tasked with capturing an anomaly in your world. Of course, you were the only one told about it, but Hobie showed up anyways. It ended up being a Doc Ock variant, easy enough, but this specific one was tough. His arms were stronger and more technologically developed than others. Not to mention his annoying willpower to not give up. “Right, what’s the plan, then, love?” Hobie asks, and you frown. “We need to find a weak spot in his arms,” you say, and Hobie tuts. “And ‘ow are we gonna do ‘at?”

“Guess we’ll have to improvise,” you shrug, and he smiles at you. “‘ave I ever told ya I love it when it’s clear I’ve rubbed off on ya?”

“All the time, Hobie. Now, let’s go catch ourselves an octopus,” you say, and the both of you start fighting. And he was indeed harder to beat than the both of you expected. And it quickly becomes apparent to this Octavius that the two of you have feelings for each other with how often Hobie is trying to protect you, and how often you’re trying to protect Hobie. So, he figures it would be easier to take one down and distract the other long enough to take the other down. And that’s how you get thrown into the side of a building with so much force that it collapses around you.

Hobie, of course, immediately panics. He rushes over to you, frantically digging through the rubble. He sounds the most panicked you’ve ever heard him “(Y/N)? LOVE CAN YOU ‘EAR ME?!” You cough, yelling out a quick yes before trying to push as much of the rubble as he possibly can off of you. He manages to free enough of the rocks that he can see you, and you can see him. “‘m gonna get you out of there, love,” he mumbles, and you shake your head. “Deal with him first, I’ll be fi—”

“No.” Hobie doesn’t leave any room for arguments, continuing to throw rubble around to try and get you out. Unfortunately, he’s too focused on you and the worry that you might get severely injured to notice the mechanical arm about to smash into him until it’s too late. You scream his name as he gets struck, and flies into another building with a thud. He hears a sickening crack in his head and pain spreads throughout his torso. He groans, realizing his ribs just broke (again) and he can’t move for a moment.

He’s dazed, you can tell, and it just pisses you off. Doc Ock laughs, muttering something about how it was ‘too easy when it came to partners.’ You were enraged. You rarely use your full strength, in fact, nearly all the spiders try not to use their full strength for fear of what they might do to their enemies. But you’re too angry to think straight, and you just want this asshole to shut up so you can go home. You growl, beginning to lift the rubble off of you. The piece you’re lifting is a large part of the building, which is why you were trapped in the first place. Doc Ock glares at you, preparing to continue the fight. He didn’t expect you to fight back like this after the other had been struck down so violently.

You push the rubble above your head, casually holding a large piece of a building and breathing heavily. Not from overexertion, but from anger. Doc Ock extends his arms toward you, one opening to reveal a sharp dagger going directly for your heart. Before it can stab you where you would surely die, you’re able to twist your body to ensure it only goes through your shoulder. The pain is searing, but you’re too distraught to care about it. You rip the dagger out with one arm, somehow holding the building with one hand before you throw the rubble at him. He quickly brings up his arms to soften the blow, and even though they successfully make the rubble crumble around him, the kick you deliver to his face is enough to knock him back. Hard.

He looks up at you, dazed and confused about how you got to him that fast, before you deliver another blow, knocking him out cold. Your chest heaves as you raise your arm to strike him again before it’s held back by someone. Hobie captures him in one of Miguel’s specially designed prisons, and then opens a portal. He just tosses him in. He’ll show up in Spider Society one way or another. “Calm down there, sweetheart,” he says, and you turn, immediately checking over him to see how hurt he is. You can see some gashes throughout his suit, but he seems stable enough. All because he saw you get stabbed, and he’s pretending like his ribs aren’t in half. “I was just caught off guard, love, ‘m fine,” he says softly, slipping his arm behind your shoulders and slowly lowering you to the ground. “Wish I could say the same for you,” he mutters, staring at the stab wound pouring out blood. “Oh, this? This is nothing,” you grunt, the pain coming to the forefront now that the adrenaline is gone. He scoffs. “Yeah, ‘m sure,” he mumbles, unable to take his eyes off of your injuries. “Hobie… hey, my eyes are up here. Mask is on, so they’re so big you can’t miss ‘em,” you tease, and he looks up at you. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For bein’ soft in the ‘ead. Now you’re ‘urt cause a’ me,” he says quietly, and you shake your head. “You’re hurt because of me. I should have been paying closer attention to where I was going,” you mutter, and the blood loss begins to affect your head, “I kinda lost it when I thought about how your pretty face may have gotten fucked up.”

“Pretty, eh?”

“Mhm. So pretty,” you mumble, and he picks you up, carrying you with one arm and applying pressure to the wound with his other hand. You wince, and he frowns. “Sorry, love, can’t ‘ave you bleedin’ out on me after you admitted ‘m pretty,” he says. “Hold onto me best you can, yeah?” You wrap your good arm around his neck and your legs around his waist as he removes his hand from your wound and begins swinging to your place. He has one arm wrapped firmly around you to make sure you don’t fall, especially when he feels your grip loosening. “Stay with me, love,” he mumbles in your ear as he lands on your fire escape, hurrying up to your window and opening it. He steps in, carrying you, and goes straight to your bathroom. He props you up against your wall, sitting in front of you, and getting out the first aid kit all Spider-People are oh so familiar with.

You struggle to stay awake, but the stinging of the alcohol when he started cleaning your wound wakes you up and causes you to wince and whine. “I know, it ‘urts, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says, getting the needles ready to stitch you up. The pain of being a Spider-Person never quite lets up. You clench your teeth, and he works as fast and diligently as possible to get you fixed up. The whole time you just stare at his face. He’s so concentrated and worried that you can tell he’s gnawing on the inside of his cheek. He finishes up, looking up at you. “You’re starin’, love.”

“How can I not?”

“The blood loss must really be gettin’ to ya,” he says, setting your first aid kit to the side, and giving you a small smile. You snort and shake your head. “Thanks,” you say, and he nods. “’Course, (Y/n/n).” Then you frown. “You have a cut on your forehead.”

“I’ll live,” he says, and you motion him to come closer. He gladly scoots closer to you as you apply a butterfly bandage to his forehead. He stares at you the whole time, waiting for you to finish. When you do, the two of you make eye contact. “Ya really think ‘m pretty?” he mumbles, and you nod. “Have for a while.”

“Serious?”

“Mhm,” you process just how close the two of you are in this moment and feel your face heat up. He smiles softly. “Not as pretty as you, though,” he whispers, glancing at your lips before returning his gaze to your eyes. The two of your noses brush, and he gently puts his hand on your cheek. “‘m tired of runnin’ from this,” he whispers. “Me, too,” you say, closing the gap between the two of you. He wraps his free arm around your waist, gently pulling you closer to him as you place your hands on his shoulders. The two of you stay like that for what feels like way too short. He slowly pulls away, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. He strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Reckon we should go back to Spider Society,” he mumbles, and you sigh. “I dunno… I kinda wanna stay here. With you, no one else,” you say, and he chuckles. “Oh, me too. I don’t wanna go, but Miguel will call both of us if we don’t. We go, tell ‘im we didn’t die so ‘e doesn’t bother us, come back, yeah?”

“Deal,” you mumble, and he slowly stands, wincing. You frown. “You broke a rib, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, a few. I’ll be fine, nothin’ new,” he says, holding his hand out to you and helping you up. “Are ya lightheaded?”

“A little, but I’ll survive,” you assure, and he nods, wrapping his arm around your waist anyways to steady you. You wrap yours around his waist as well, offering him some extra support as he opens a portal to Spider Society. The two of you walk (moreso limp) your way there, and Miguel looks at the two of you. “What… happened?”

“Eh. Bloke was an ass,” Hobie says. “I was worried when he came through a portal but the two of you didn’t.”

“We had to stitch ourselves up. We just stopped in to say we didn’t die,” you shrug, and Hobie nods. “Well… alright, then. You can go to the hospital here if you need to,” Miguel says, and Hobie shakes his head. “Nah. We’re just gonna go sleep it off.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re even recovering as partners now?” Miguel asks, and the two of you look at each other. “We do everything as partners now,” you say, and Hobie smiles. “You mean…?” Miguel realizes the two of you have finally come to terms with your feelings. And finally told each other. “Yeah. We’re partners. In every sense of the word,” you grin, and Hobie nods. “Guess I should thank ya, Miguel. Don’t get used to it,” Hobie says as you pull up the portal to your world. Miguel watches the two of you disappear into it.

Hobie Brown was the bane of your existence. The most attractive bane of existence that there could possibly be.

And fortunately for you, Miguel insisted on the two of you being partners.

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#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #atsv x reader #hobie brown #spiderpunk #spiderverse #atsv

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