#baby i swear im not going to desert you! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

uyuuma · 23 days

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“ HIT ME WITH YOUR KILLSHOT, BABY ”

hitman!toji x fem!reader ღ MDNI.

❥ summary. he was just on another job, why did you have to go and make it more difficult? normally he isn't sloppy with his work but you were a witness and he had to deal with you somehow.

❥ warnings. nsfw, female anatomy, murder (toji's target dead as hell), gun mentioned, choking, reader being tied up, rough handling, degradation, biting, unprotected sex etc.

❥ a/n. sorry for inactivity recently... having a little bit of writers block fr. decided to just write anyways. (no but my requests are open y'all gimme some ideas!!!) but yeah as soon as i sit in front of my screen im like 'i could write but i think imma play some more valorant' lmaoo

❥ wc. 5.2k

You sighed as you walked down the narrow urban streets of the big city. Your heels clacked on the pavement and the cold air stung your exposed shoulders. Why did you decide to go out? It was just another shitty night at the club, where the loud music was overwhelming and creepy men hit on you constantly.

"Tonight was a bust." You said under your breath, hands clutching onto your elbows trying to conserve warmth. Your breath was warm and you could see it travel as if you blew smoke into the air.

You should've just stayed home and cuddled up next to your cat, watching YouTube or Netflix. Instead you found yourself walking alone on the quiet streets, not even cars were driving by. It was almost eerie how deserted the city was around you. Perhaps it was because it was 2 in the morning, but it still sent shivers down your spine thinking about how dangerous it was to walk alone.

All you have to do is get to the bus stop, there was a bus scheduled to come by at 2:30 am. You clutched onto the little pocket knife that was disguised as a hair comb in your purse. It wasn't much, but it was something at least.

Lost in thought, you didn't realize there was a scuffle happening in the upcoming alley way you were walking up to. Sounds of someone struggling and choked back cries. It took the sound of something cracking violently to make you look up in shock. You turned the corner carefully to a sight most horrifying for a girl alone on the streets.

A large man was standing over another one who was slumped over onto the dirty floor. Crimson pooling onto the cement below his head, traveling slowly over to the other man's shoe. Your jaw dropped at the sight, breath caught in your throat. What the hell did you just walk in on?

"Disgusting, it touched my shoe." a raspy voice scoffed. The voice was aimed away from you, since the man hadn't noticed your presence yet. He had a silenced pistol in his hand and as it dangled above the floor, you realized that's what made the cracking sound. Your eyes widened realizing this might be a real-life hitman. He was dressed in a suit and his gun had modifications that no normal criminal would have.

The man angrily slid his black dress shoe on the cement, trying to clean the blood off of it.

You gasped at the realization that you did not belong in this situation at all and turned around to run back towards the club. You'd rather take your chances at the club than continue walking past the alleyway to get to the bus stop. Unfortunately, your gasp had not only alerted the man, but also your clacking heels colliding with the pavement when you turned.

The man looked behind to see you turning tail and booking it, a disappointed groan escaping his throat. How could he have been caught? Who the hell is taking a leisurely stroll at this time of night? All he could do was chase after you, he had no choice. He couldn't leave any witnesses behind.

As he turned the corner to see you running, he noticed that you took your heels off to run barefoot. He smirked, thinking you to be clever for at least not being dumb enough to sprint in heels. Unfortunately for you, he was a professional and knew exactly how to catch up to you.

You could swear you put enough distance between you and that horrific murder scene, all you could hear was the pounding in your chest and your exasperated breath. You took just a fleeting second to stop running and catch your breath, resting your hands on your knees as you inhaled and exhaled carefully.

In a matter of moments someone roughly grabbed you from behind and wrapped strong arms around your neck. You let out a strained scream as your hands clawed at the bulging biceps that held a tight grip on your delicate throat. Your lungs burned with the sensation of being strangled from behind, you desperately kicked and clawed to the best of your ability. To no avail, you could feel your vision become blurry.

"Pretty thing like you shouldn't be out alone at this time of night." The man whispered into your ear as you lost consciousness.

His muscles began to relax as you became limp in his arms. It would take only another 10 seconds to kill you, but a part of him couldn't bring himself to. He decided he'd take you with him and figure out a plan later. First and foremost, he needed to clean up the body of his target. Once he finished his job, he could deal with you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・✭・.

After some time, you slowly awoke to the feeling of a cold cement floor. You were laying on your side and your neck was still sore from prior events. You tried to open your eyes, but realized you were blindfolded by something. You went to swallow from the dry feeling in your mouth but felt that you were gagged as well. What a nightmare this whole situation is, at least you weren't dead right?

You started to squirm, trying to get yourself free from whatever was binding you. Nothing worked though, whoever tied you up knew exactly what they were doing. You started to panic as most of your senses were stripped from you, the only thing you had left was smell and sound.

Sound may have been your enemy in this moment though, as it made your mind race from the anticipation of hearing footsteps enter the room. The footsteps echoed loudly, ringing in your head as you froze in fear. From how the sounds reverberated in the room, you could tell you were in a large, empty space.

You laid on the floor, helplessly, mind wondering what the hell was going to happen to you. If this man didn't just kill you right away what other sadistic things did he have planned? Or perhaps he was going to hold you for ransom? Fuck, whatever it was it couldn't end well for you.

The footsteps came closer and closer until they stopped next to you. A gust of air that blew down on you indicated that he lowered himself onto one knee to get a closer look. You could smell cologne and a faint metallic aroma, what you assumed to be the blood on his shoes. You felt two strong fingers press against your neck. The feeling caused you to jolt in shock.

"Well, you're certainly not dead." The voice said with slight amusement. It was the same deep voice that you heard in the alleyway, there was no mistaking who this was. He slid his fingers off your neck, knowing he didn't have to check for a pulse if you were moving on your own.

His eyes scanned your form, how it was obvious you just came back from a night out. The way you wore a revealing dress and your hair was all done up, well until he roughed it up a bit.

"Someone came back from a night of fun, I see." He said mockingly as he ran his hand through your hair. "Precious thing like you shouldn't be out there alone, what're you stupid?" He asked yanking your hair slightly.

Your little muffled whimpers made him chuckle. "See what happens when you go out by yourself? You end up bound and gagged like this." He was thoroughly enjoying your panicked squirms and whines when he looked down at his watch. He saw that it was already getting close to sunrise. He needed to figure out what he was going to do with you.

"Alright, well I gotta figure a way for you to keep your mouth shut." The voice said as you heard him rustling through something. You heard items fall onto the floor next to you, terrified at what they might be. You then heard him let out an amused laugh.

"Did you think this tiny thing would stop someone? Oh sweetheart, you're too naive." He tossed something plastic on the floor as he continued to go through a bag of some kind.

It hit you that he was talking about the tiny blade you kept in your purse. He was going through your belongings in your purse!

"Cute name and you're still pretty young." He said as you assumed he was reading the info off your ID. "Be a real shame to cut that life of yours so short." You could tell he said that with a wide grin.

Your panic heightened at the implication that he might have to kill you after all, you were ready to plead for your life. Even if you couldn't talk at this very moment, your body flailed trying to protest the very idea.

"Chill, I'd never kill such a pretty little thing such as yourself." He said continuing to dig through your purse.

"But I don't know... if you keep resisting like that maybe I will." He taunted as he pulled something else from the purse, something that was lodged into the deep crevices of the bag.

"A condom huh?" He said as his voice piqued with interest. He admired the thin packaging between his two large fingers.

"Ah hah, I see what you were doing now." He pulled down your blindfold so that you could look at him.

Your vision adjusted as you squinted. You looked around briefly and saw that you were in what looked to be an abandoned warehouse. Your gaze then fixed on the man that held you captive.

Your eyes widened as you came to the realization that he was... really hot? His eyes had a piercing, dark gaze and he had a small scar on the corner of his lips. His black hair was shaggy and it covered his eyes almost. He seemed to take off his black jacket from earlier, which left him in just a white button up. His muscles and large shoulders could barely be contained by the shirt. The fabric clung onto his large frame and it was mesmerizing. You were lost in his features, not realizing you were practically gawking at him.

"Did you just fall in love?" He smirked down at you, pulling the blindfold off of you. His black gloves glistened as he gripped the fabric of the blindfold.

You looked away in embarrassment, how could you gawk at someone who had you tied up on the floor? Seriously, get a grip girl.

He eyed the condom and then looked down at you with a mischievous smirk. "Did you go out in hopes for some good dick?" He said playing with it between his fingers.

You stared at him in silence. Your mind went blank.

"Bitch, answer me when I ask you a question." He said as his expression changed to annoyance.

You quickly nodded, trying not to get on his nerves. So what if you went out in hopes of getting laid? You were going through a dry spell and wanted someone to blow your back out. Was that so hard to ask for?

"Hmm, this might work out then." The man said as he held his chin in thought. He looked back down at you and smiled.

"How about a deal then..." He leaned down closer to your face so that he could whisper.

"I fuck your pretty little brains out and you pretend like you saw nothing. Got it?" He said as he tilted his head to the side.

"I mean it's that or I shoot your pretty little brains out. I don't know, your choice." He added on with a shrug.

You writhed against the floor trying to plead with him for your life, but you were still gagged.

"Oh right, can't understand you." He pulled the saliva soaked gag out of your mouth and quickly clamped his own hand over your lips.

"Oh and just a little warning, it is not a good idea to scream." He said coldly, hand clutching at your jaw a little too hard.

You nodded in his grasp, face heating up from how close he was to you. He smiled and let go of your jaw.

"Good girl, now tell me what you'd like." He said adjusting the collar of his shirt.

"P-please don't kill me, sir." You mewled out as your eyes welled up with tears.

He groaned in dissatisfaction and rolled his eyes. "The name's Toji and I told you I won't have to kill you because you have another option." He picked up your chin with his hand and got close enough to your face to feel his breath hot on yours.

"Not many men in my position would even give you an option. Now, tell me what you want." He softly dragged his thumb across your soft lips. A smirk creeped onto his face as he enjoyed your terrified expression.

You hesitated to respond for a moment. "P-please fuck my pretty little brains out... I won't tell a soul about what happened today." You couldn't believe the words you were saying right now. I mean, you were only saying what you needed to, to live right?

"See, you're a smart girl after all." Toji said with a wide grin. He carefully undid the ropes that bound you. The ropes left small burns and a bruise, but other than that you were virtually unharmed. He helped you off of the floor and handed you back your purse.

You looked at him confusedly as you held your purse. Was he letting you go?

"What? Did you think I was some sort of monster who'd fuck you on the cold floor? Nah, a pretty girl like you deserves at least a plush hotel bed." He said moving some of your hair behind your ear.

Your face warmed up from his sudden chivalrous attitude. You found it almost suspicious how kind he was.

He then crushed the little plastic comb knife beneath his foot.

"Don't try anything fucking stupid though. I hope you're clever enough to know you shouldn't take my kindness for granted." He said as he twisted his shoe against the plastic remnants.

You could only nod as you swallowed the knot growing in your throat.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・✭・.

The car ride was silent, the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. He was quiet and kept his eyes on the road. You looked at the time on the dashboard and saw that it was already 4 am.

He parked the car and came around to your door to let you out. You quietly stepped out and held onto your purse as he closed the door.

Without a word, he walked in front of you to the hotel and held the door open. He motioned you to walk in, a faint smile on his lips.

You could run, right now. You could run and scream and call for help. It would be over in an instant for him if you did.

Yet, his confident smile made you realize that he knew you wouldn't. He knew through digging in your bag that you needed this. You needed him badly.

You walked slowly through the door, hips swaying seductively as you walked by him.

He glanced at your ass and cleared his throat as he followed you in.

"Sorry sir, we have no vacant rooms at this time. Maybe you'd like to try-" The old man looked up from his computer and his eyes widened.

"My apologies Toji, we'll get a room for two ready right away." He said hurriedly, punching in a number into the phone on his desk.

You looked up at him shyly, wondering how his mere presence was enough to get him a room on a whim.

"Just the many perks of my job." He said, leaning down to softly speak into your ear.

"Here's your room key Toji, it is on the top floor for you and your missus." The old man said, placing the card into Toji's hand.

"Not my missus yet, maybe after tonight she'll be convinced." Toji chuckled. "Thanks ol' man." He said as he grabbed your hand.

He led you to the elevator where you two stood in silence on the ride up. Your breathing became harder to control as you felt the anticipation grow in your gut.

The elevator dinged as you reached the top floor. He walked out first, heavy footsteps could be heard on the carpeted floors of the hallway. When you guys reached the door he scanned the card and let you walk in first. You walked in carefully, observing the room around you. It was like a penthouse suite... clearly the stuff reserved for the wealthy.

Your mouth hung open as you looked out the massive window overlooking the rest of the city. This man must live a life of luxury with the money he makes off of killing people.

Toji walked behind you and grabbed your chin with his strong hand. He let out a low groan into your ear.

"Nice isn't it? Maybe if you blow my mind tonight, you could live like this everyday." He said, his voice sounding sultry. He slipped his thumb past your lips. He let out a satisfied huff feeling your warm tongue glide against his finger.

You sucked on his thumb and it drove him crazy already, he needed more and he needed it fast. He quickly lowered himself so that he could pick you up bridal style. You shakily gain balance in his arms before he throws you onto the big fancy bed.

You landed on your butt, your heels hanging off your foot from the fall. Toji stood in front of the foot of the bed and unbuttoned his shirt, letting it slide off his broad shoulders. It was dark in the room, but you could see the moonlight illuminate the scars that decorated his upper body. You looked at his figure not only in awe, but worry seeing how his job took a toll on his skin.

His giant chest heaved as he took your trembling body in. You looked delicious, like he could devour you in a matter of seconds. He crawled onto the bed, between your legs. He took your heels and threw them across the large room.

"Kinda glad you walked in on me during the job." He said tracing his hands along your body. Every curve of yours was tantalizing and he wanted to savor every little moment he had you.

Your breath hitched as you let out small whines from his touch.

"Toji..." You muttered out his name and it was like music to his ears.

"Yes, don't worry baby." He said sweetly as he moved his hands down to the hem of your dress. He lifted up your dress and observed the sheer tights that stood in his way. He frowned slightly and pushed his fingers against your clothed cunt.

You gave out a pathetic mewl as he slowly pushed his finger against the fabric.

He became impatient and lifted your right leg over, twisting your torso so that your lower body was on one side. He slid his hand along your thigh to your ass where he gripped onto your tights. You could hear him tear at your tights with a 'RIP' sound. You whimpered feeling his strong grip tear a big hole into the crotch of your leggings.

"That's much better." He said satisfied. He moved your leg back over so that you were spread out for him.

Your face grew hot as he moved your panties out of his way. He brought his gloved hand to his mouth and took it off using his teeth. He grabbed the glove with the same hand and tossed it away. He rubbed his bare finger against your slit, gathering your wetness so that he could enter you easily.

His hands were huge, fingers thick and rough from the callouses. Just a single finger entering you made you squeak from how he stretched you out.

"Fuck, you're really tight." He said almost in disbelief. He moved his middle finger deeper, down until he was buried to his knuckle in your warmth. He smiled, feeling how you clenched around his singular finger.

"Oh sweetheart, you're going to break so easily." He said as he slowly moved his finger inside of you. He reveled in how you squeezed your thighs together, as if you were trying to cut off circulation to his hand. He responded to your desperate moans and arching back by adding another thick finger into your hole.

"Toji!" You squealed out gripping onto the soft sheets.

He chuckled seeing how easily you crumbled beneath him. He slipped his left arm under the small of your back and swiftly scooted your body up the bed, as if you weighed nothing. He carefully laid your head onto the pillow, your head was just below the headboard now. He shuffled so that he could lay on his stomach, his head comfortably between your legs.

You gasped feeling his warm tongue begin to lap up your juices. His tongue found your sensitive clit, skillfully flicking against it while thrusting his fingers in and out of your soaking pussy.

Your moans became louder as you squeezed your thighs around Toji's head. Any lesser man wouldn't be able to handle how tightly you crushed him between your thighs. But this was Toji, he could handle your intense grip, in fact he loved it.

He groaned into your pussy, closing his mouth to suck onto your sensitive bud. The fingernails on his left hand began to sink into your soft thighs as his other hand continued to plunge deep into your cunt. He picked up the pace, the sounds of your moans and the wet squelches of your needy pussy filled the room.

You soon found yourself spasming uncontrollably, your eyes darting to the back of your head as you felt your climax approach. Your hands gripped onto Toji's hair as you arched your back, moaning loudly as you came on his fingers and tongue.

"F-fuck! Hnnn...Toji..." Your cunt clenched around his fingers as you rode your high. Your fluids started to leak onto the bed sheet.

He withdrew his fingers and gave them a good cleaning with his mouth. His two fingers parted from his mouth with a trail of spit. He watched as you lay there, out of breath.

"What are you so tired for? I did all the work." He asked jokingly. He smirked and spread your legs nice and wide for himself again.

He undid the button on his pants and took them off. He then moved to take off your dress, not wanting to rip the pretty thing off like he did with your tights. He tossed both pieces of clothing to join the rest that were on the floor.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous." Toji admired your body. He took his right hand to cup your tit carefully, infatuated by how soft it was. His massive hands moved to play with both of your tits, massaging your chest roughly.

Your body trembled from the overwhelming sensations, you weren't sure how much more of this you could handle.

"Shit, I'm so hard right now it's not even funny." Toji said as he pulled at the waistband of his underwear.

You looked down to see how painfully constrained he was inside of his boxers. The imprint was massive and it caused your eyes to widen and your face became pale.

"Like what you see?" Toji let out a small laugh as he freed his erection from his boxers. His cock was heavy, even when it was hard it hung from the sheer weight of it.

You bit your lip, anticipating how something that thick could ever fit into your hole. Even though you were terrified, that warm feeling in your gut returned. You knew that regardless of how tight you were, he was going to make it fit.

"Alright, since you had one on you, I'll just use that." Toji said, grabbing the condom that you had in your purse. He used his teeth to tear open the wrapper and took the rubber out of the packaging. He went to put it on but laughed as he tried to unroll it.

"Baby, this is not big enough for me." He said holding up the half-rolled condom. He chucked it into the trashcan and sighed.

"Was worth a try, guess I'm going in raw." He said, pretending to be disappointed.

"W-Wait!" was all you could yell out before he lined himself up with your hole. His tip prodded at your entrance, trying desperately to push himself in. You gasped and clutched onto his shoulders as he slowly entered your little cunt.

"Goddamn, this is going to be a struggle huh?" He said, his voice strained as he tried to get just the tip in.

"Fuck." Toji cursed as he withdrew his cock. He spit onto your pussy and rubbed it in with his thumb, trying to get you nice and wet.

"You already came and I ate you out, how much prep does that tight little pussy need?" He complained as he stuck his tip back into your entrance.

You clenched your teeth as you felt him finally sink into your pussy. Whines escaping your mouth as he stretched you out, your hole being filled up like never before.

He grunted as his fat cock buried its way into your cunt, his hands holding the back of your knees as he pushed his entire weight against you.

Your vision became blurry from the tears that formed in your eyes. Your body was doing its best to adjust to his size, but it was just too much for you.

"s'too much Toji..." You slurred out as you could feel him bottoming out. You looked into his eyes with a fucked-out expression, mouth hanging open as drool slid down your chin.

"Too much? Already?" Toji asked mockingly. He pushed your leg against your chest, your tights tearing even more from this new angle.

"We've only just started." Toji smiled as he withdrew his cock only to slam it back into your cunt.

You squealed from his hips slamming into you and it caused him to chuckle. He only picked up the pace and continued to roughly thrust into you from your reactions.

"So. Fucking. Fragile." He grunted through gritted teeth while relentlessly pounding into your pussy. God, the way your cunt gripped onto his cock was euphoric. He swears he could cum right now if he wasn't taking his time.

He bucked his hips and folded you underneath him to get an even better position. With you bent in half beneath him, he could reach even deeper into your pussy, slamming that sweet spot that makes you scream.

Your screams were muffled however, since he hungrily pressed his lips against yours. His tongue explored your mouth, dominating your tongue in the process. His eyes were closed, enjoying the bliss of the moment. Your eyes were open, unfocused and rolling into the back of your head from the overstimulation.

Your stomach started to ache from the feeling of him stuffing you full to the hilt. But that giant knot in your core was still begging to be released. You could feel yourself getting closer to climax with every thrust. "Fucking slut... you're squeezing me so good." Toji groaned out of breath. Your bodies were becoming sticky from sweat. Toji hung his head down by the crook of your neck as he continued pounding your sore little pussy. You sunk your fingernails into his solid back, clawing at the flexed muscles.

He liked the feeling of you tearing up his back and decided it was only fitting to hurt you back. He bit down onto your neck with a growl as he bullied himself harder against your tender cervix. Your little cries of pain made him only bite harder. He sucked on the bitemark, leaving a nice little welt for you to remember him by.

"I wanna cum Toji... please..." you weakly asked as your legs shook from the intense pleasure mixed with pain.

"'Course baby, anything you wish for." He cooed as he grinded his pelvis against yours. His cock not only hit that sweet spot, but his pelvis stimulated your clit as well, driving you over the edge.

Your legs gave out, your jaw went slack and your nails dug into Toji's back so deep that it drew blood. "C-Cumming!" Was all you could mutter out as you climaxed, even harder than the first time. You felt ecstasy for the first time in forever, Toji delivering on his promise to fuck your brains out. Your mind was still foggy from the heavenly orgasm, even when Toji fucked you at an incredible speed, all you could feel was your muscles tensing.

"Holy shit, you're clamping onto me like crazy." Toji grunted out as he gripped onto the headboard, the bed creaking as he fucked you into the mattress. "Gonna cum so hard..." He mumbled under his breath. His thrusts became sloppier and less coordinated as he focused on finishing. He looked at your face and smiled seeing the cock-drunk expression on it.

Your whole body was spent, your hands no longer clawing at his back and your legs dangling above you. He could tell he wore you out well.

He thrusted into you a couple of times for good measure and then withdrew himself.

"F-Fuck, I'm cumming..." Toji groaned and pumped his cock with his hand before shooting his hot seed all over your tits. His load was thick and hot, some of it shooting far enough to coat your lips.

"Damn, turns out I also haven't had a good fuck in a while." He said out of breath, admiring how far you made his cumshot go.

You couldn't really respond with how tired you were. You just licked your lips, savoring his salty load. You maintained eye contact with him as he watched you seductively lick your lips.

"Haha, be careful now. I won't ever let you go if you look at me like that." Toji said parting your sweaty bangs out of your face.

Toji took some tissues from the bedside stand and cleaned you off, being careful not to make an even bigger mess. He threw the napkins into the trash and lazily fell next to you. He sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

"I mean as long as you don't snitch, you're free to go." Toji said in a bored tone. His hands resting behind his head.

"Don't wanna go." You said in a whiny voice. You shifted onto your side, facing him. Your soft hands traced his arm lovingly. Any man who could fuck you like that wasn't leaving your life that easily.

Toji smirked and looked down at you, hand resting on your hip.

"Was hoping you'd say that." He said before kissing you on the forehead.

The sunlight started to come in through the window. You blocked the light with your hand, your eyes assaulted by the sudden shine. Toji groaned and clicked on the remote to close the automatic curtains. Darkness once again enveloped your bodies. You smiled and rested your head against Toji's chest.

Guess the night wasn't a bust after all, you ended up with a hot, rich boyfriend by the end of it. I mean, sure he kills people for a living but, only you needed to know that.

#female reader #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji smut #toji x you #fushiguro toji

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 10 months

Note

could you write about Toxic! Rafe Cameron x reader where he makes her quit her job?

im OBSESSED with your toxic! rafe writings! i mean- truly!

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

WARNINGS: Toxic/AbusiveRelationship.

AN: Hope you like this :)

Please, reblog and give me feedback.

–

"Rafe…”

You touch his arm, feeling the muscle tensing beneath your fingers. He doesn’t even look at you, his jaw clenching as he focuses on the road.

“I wasn’t doing anything wrong, I swear.”

He snaps his head to the side, glaring at you.

“So you weren’t trying to get fucked by that guy? Really, huh?” he hisses. You remove your hand from his arm, wrapping your arms around your body as you look out of the window.

“I have to be nice with him, Rafe.” you explain, getting a deja vu feeling. You’ve had this conversation with Rafe so many times that it feels like you’re stuck in a loop.

“He’s a customer, although not sure if he’s still gonna be one after what you did.”

Rafe scoffs, hitting the wheel with a hand.

“So it’s my fault now? I see my girl flirting with another dude and I’m supposed to let that happen just because it’s her job?” even with the dim light inside the car, you can recognize the angry expression on his face.

“If this is about money, I’ve told you a million times that my money is your money. Fuck, you don’t have to work anymore, you know it would me more than happy to take care of you.”

You don’t answer him, looking outside the window.

Closing your eyes, you feel your head starting to pound and you blame that on Rafe, he’s always so jealous that he can’t even let you work without constantly blaming you for cheating.

You hear Rafe sighing, an inaudible curse falling off his lips and soon his hand is reaching for your hand. You look at him as he squeezes your hand.

“I’m sorry, okay? You’re right, I’m being an asshole, fine? You were doing your job and I get that, okay?” something about his apology doesn’t feel right but you nod anyway, reaching to kiss his cheek.

You just want this argument to be over.

“We’re so sorry, Y/N.” you swallow the lump on your throat, feeling your throat dry as a desert. You can’t believe that you just got fired.

Your manager supportively squeezes your shoulder before leaving. You drop yourself into the couch, burying your head into your hands.

You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re a good employee, you’re sure of that. And yet they are dismissing you.

The door opens again and you quickly stand up, hoping to see your manager or one of your co-workers, but it’s Rafe.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he reaches closer, hands grasping your face, his blue eyes going over through your sad expression.

You shake your head, fighting tears.

“They fired me.” you whisper.

“Oh baby, that’s so unfair.” he starts, “Such a pity, but maybe it’s for the best.”

You look at him, incredulous. Was he insane?

“You worked so hard and they just didn’t appreciate you enough, see? That’s why you should have never worked here. You just wasted your time. Time that you have spent with me instead."

“Rafe… what the hell? How can you say that, I love this job so why can't you just...”

You slowly pull his hand away from you, realization sinking in. You can’t believe this, but you know you’re right.

“Please tell me you didn't do anything." you beg.

There’s a glint in his eyes as his lips curl into a wicked smile. He only shrugs his shoulders.

You stare at him, horrified.

“Rafe...”

“Shh.” his index finger touches your lips, pressing against them “See, you can’t go against my word. I’ll make you bend to it, whether you like it or not.”

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #dark!obx #dark obx #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron x reader #tw: dark content #tw: toxic relationships #rafe cameron x reader #dark!fic #dark fic #obx imagine #obx x reader

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luvyeni · 4 months

Note

Illegal street racer sungchan smut!!

streetracer!sungchan x fem bodied reader | warnings: 18+ content (mdni!!), car sex, unprotected sex, mentions of breeding | words: 0.5k ~ (508) 🐸ㆍ₊⊹

You stood on the balls of your feet , tapping your feet nervously, biting your nailbeds — something sungchan hated that you did when he drove, but how could you not when it was so dangerous.

“What is taking them so long?” You stood with eunseok like sungchan told you to — he trusted him to watch over you because the people there were extremely shady. “Oh my god what if he’s hurt , what if he crashed?” You began to spiral.

“Hey, he’s basically a pro , the kid he’s driving is a rookie , sungchan isn’t gonna lose to a rookie.” Eunseok reassured and before you could say something — a car came flying down the street, it was sungchan. “oh there he is!”

Everyone cheered as he flew past the finish line , his opponent coming in second. You ran from eunseok sides , running to greet your man. “Sungchan.” You tightly hugged him. “I thought you were hurt , what took you so long?”

He smiled down at you , your pouted lips. “had a bit of car trouble , but Its alright, I won baby you saw.” He said. “You always win , that doesn’t stop my anxiety.” You brushed the hair out his face. “did I frighten you baby?” You nodded , he chuckled. “how about we get out of here after I get the prize so I can apologize properly.”

That’s how you ended up in the back seat of the car , legs in the air as he plowed into your warm cunt — the anklet he bought you last time he hanging right by his ear, he squeezed your boobs toying with your nipples. “fuck baby keep squeezing my dick like that.” He groaned.

Your head was thrown back , arm up to keep you from hitting your head against the door as he roughly fucked you. “sungchan fuck!” you screamed, thank god the spot was basically deserted, because if your screaming didn’t , the car rocking back and forth would surely get you both caught.

“My supportive princess -fuck- coming to my races.” He grunted, toying with your nipples. “all the guys looking at you, but you’re mine right?” He rubbed your clit, fucking into you faster. “only I get to fuck you like this?”

“Fuck yes!” you moaned as he trusted up hitting that gummy spot. “yeah , that’s it princess, just let go.” Be groaned. “this pussy is mine, only mine to fuck.” You babbled nonsense. “so dumb princess, am I fucking you stupid.”

“c-cum.” Was all you could make out. “you gonna cum princess? Go ahead , cum on my cock, make a fucking a mess on my dick.” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, cumming on his cock. “fuuuuck that’s it, keep cumming on my cock.”

“im gonna cum inside this pretty little hole.” He growled , picking up his pace. “breed you.” He thrusted a few more times, before his cum shot from his cock, filling your hole with his seed. “Fu-fuck such a good girl.” He sighed, staying nestled inside you.

“I promise to be careful.” He whispered in your ear. “I swear I won’t get hurt.” You kissed his cheek. “promise.” He nodded. “I promise baby , I won’t scare you any more.” He said. “now let’s get you home , so we can you clean.” He pulled out , helping you back into your clothes. “thank you baby.”

“No problem baby, tomorrow lets get you a new necklace , I think you deserve it for taking my cock like a good girl.”

©️LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #riize imagines #riize x reader #riize smut #riize scenarios #riize x imagine #riize hard thoughts #riize hard hours #riize sungchan #sungchan x reader #sungchan imagines #sungchan smut

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soothinglee · 8 days

Text

coffee shop breakdowns──★ ˙☕️ ̟ ¡!

| choi beomgyu x fem! reader ─ 2.69k wc✔︎

my notes⎯ i've always wanted to write something coffee shop au and at first i was going to write for yunjin of zb1 but change of plans lol ! (ill still write for yunjin in the future though !) I hope you enjoy, i tried to make it funny( 〃．．). (i know the ending is abrupt, it's 1 am and im exhausted and i really want to publish this). warnings⎯ swearing (mainly f bombs), mentions of exhaustion and overworking (?), and taehyun makes a brief appearance. songs⎯ 사랑으로; wave to earth

나의 작은 마음도 그 안에 작은 파도처럼 부서지고 밀려와선 네게 녹아내리고 그제서야 보이는 나의 영원

⎯ navigation✰ [requests are open]

THE COFFEE SHOP was always busy between 9 to noon, when the college students came in for a fix of caffeinated shots after staying up late cramming in assignments, or partying.

The line of people continued to grow until it reached the door, making it hard for newcomers to come in. Some opted to hop back into their cars and into the deserted drive-through. With each order came more glassware, covered in sticky toppings and cookie crumbs. Unfortunately for you, you always seemed to get scheduled on busy days. Even more unfortunate, the glorified task of dish duty was assigned under your name at the start of your 8-hour shift.

You reach up to nudge the tight knot on your apron's neck.

If exhaustion doesn’t kill you by the end of the night, the choker on your neck should do the trick.

After putting another load into the dishwasher, which was on its last leg due to its slight malfunction when you got a spoon stuck in the disposal, you bend over the sink. There was a slight twitch in your eye out of the sheer annoyance that yet another person went on their break when you had yet to get your own.

The screaming baby in dining is not helping the raging headache pounding in your temple.

“Will someone shut that thing up?” a grunt rises from your throat as you go to stand, wincing when your back cracks loudly.

In the corner of your eye, you see a hand place another dish in the black tub, and a laugh follows. “That's not a nice way to talk about a paying customer.”

You don’t even have to turn around to know who it is.

“If you think a baby works a 9-5 job, with enough money to afford a cup of coffee in this economy, you have another thing coming for you.” The rebuttal comes easy from your lips, months of practice and debates working in your favor with fast responses.

“I mean if they really put their mind to it, babies could take over the world.” The response is quick and witty, an unconscious choice of words followed by a playful hip bump that makes you keel over and onto the wall. Your knees were so close to giving in after standing all day. The thought of sitting on the floor, though covered in unidentifiable grit, seems like heaven for the joints. “Long day?”

A scoff leaves your lips as your head connects to the wall. A way of saying you have no idea. The weight of your eyelids grow heavier with every passing second. No matter how many times you try to keep them open, it’s to no avail.

You look like a toddler fighting sleep.

The question passes through one ear and out the other. Your co-worker waits for another second (perhaps for a response) then giggles when there is none. Though you can’t see him, you can vaguely imagine what he’s doing with all of the commotion going around the cramped space. There’s a slosh coming from the three-compartment sink, a rag hitting the dishes hurriedly, and then the dishwasher handle being pulled up paired with a strenuous huff.

“Holy fuck this thing is heavy,” is mumbled quietly as more thumping continues. Something in the more conscious part of you can't figure out if the room is spinning beneath the dark in your eyes or the headache that spreads itself to the base of your skull.

Where's Tylenol when you need it?

“Beomgyu,” The name comes out weak- a thick coat of fatigue blankets your throat. You clear it a couple of times before trying again. “You don’t have to do it for me.”

Please, please, please do it for me.

He stops pouring out the unused coffee grains to look down and give you a judgmental once over. His eyes flit to your frizzy wannabe ponytail that has one too many flyways, to the apron string on your shoulder that was one fast head turn to the man upstairs, and then to your jeans, that were covered ankles up in milk and chocolate sauce?

Beomgyu hopes that it's chocolate sauce.

With the way he looks at you, a fire lights your cheeks ablaze and you have to turn your head away from him. It feels like you're on RuPaul's Drag Race getting judged on the dress you made but it looks like a ten-can special and a bottle of mid-life crisis. The embarrassment wants to conceal itself with a “Bitch you don’t look better!” retort, but your mouth is glued shut.

“With the way you’re slouched over, I don’t think I have a choice.” He sighs almost pitifully, who knows for you or himself. Even though he was the one who willingly started doing your tasks for you. After a second the tap stops, and then some shuffles of footsteps. They become louder until it stops. “Get up, you look pathetic.”

Get up?

Without realizing it, at some point your body went dumb and slid itself onto the floor. It was a relief to be off your feet and to let your body rest but at the same time,, you can’t remember the last time these floors said hello to a mop and pine-sol. Oh boy. Good thing today is wash day.

“Can’t.”

Beomgyu raises an eyebrow and lets out an agitated breath. “The hell you can.”

“Can’t.” You repeat, throwing in a piteous whine, lifting up your arms so forcefully that he flinches back quickly. “Up.”

“(Name)…” The desperation in his voice is comical. He does not want to lift you like a child. “You are a grown woman, this is embarrassing for you.” He says it like multiple people are watching, a crowd to be sheepish around in your debilitation. You give him a look; eyebrows scrunched, lips upturned, and the worst case of stink eye. Your arms are still dangling limply in the air.

He hesitates for a second.

And another.

Then finally, he grabs you by the wrists, and for a second it feels like you’re flying. It seems as though he might have underestimated how much strength to put into the haul because after what feels like minutes in the air you go crashing into his arms.

“You need to take a shower.”

“And you need to change your clothes. Looks like you got shit on your pants.”

He maneuvers your arms first, throwing one of them over his shoulder while trying to keep you upright with his other hand. You were exhausted to the point where you couldn’t keep your eyes open, but not to the point where you couldn’t stand. You allowed yourself to fall limp to give him a hard time.

He struggles for a few seconds, panicking when you almost slip from his grasp. You can tell that he's nervous about holding you, the way his hands stutter trying to find a place to put them to hold you up. They move from your waist, to your side, to your stomach, finally finding its home in your belt loop. If that would’ve lasted any longer you would have just placed his hand wherever and told him to hurry the hell up.

“You don’t look any better,” you grab onto his left shoulder, holding the material in a tight grip because you do not trust Choi Beomgyu to keep you steady, “You got a little something…” there's a small smudge of coffee dust in the middle of his chest and you put your finger on it.

Beomgyu looks at you funny then at your finger, and after a moment a sly smirk plays on your lips.

What a dumbass.

With a slick flick of the finger you pop him in the nose. Effectively making him reel his head back in pain. “There.”

At his reaction you start to cackle loudly like a deranged person. You have to bend over to catch your breath, taking Beomgyu down with you. He tries to shimmy your hand off of his shoulder but you have an iron clasp, and after a moment he gives up seeing you aren't detaching yourself anytime soon. “Ow-! You bitch!”

There's an instant change of emotion. A sarcastic frown replaces the beaming smile. Beomgyu feels heat rising up his neck. For some reason, it’s not because he feels mad, but the way you're looking at him makes him feel…uncomfortable?

He’s unsure.

“That’s no way to talk to a lady.” You reply, allowing him to drag you like a rag doll to the break table. A small school desk hidden behind an enormous ice machine that admits heat hotter than the Sahara.

“Nothing about you is considered ‘a lady’.”

“Girl fuck you.”

As you pass by the short hallway leading to the front a head peeks out of the main office. Tufts of black hair and wide eyes look around the corner towards Beomgyu (trying) holding you as you still cackle from the childish trick you pulled on him. The look on his face is indescribable, blank but definitely annoyed.

“Everything… okay out here?” Taehyun asks before he actually takes a good look at the two of you. After a second of staring he blinks, “Beomgyu, why are you holding (Name)?”

He points to you without looking and responds monotonously, “She’s going on her break now. Have Iseul take over for her in the meantime.” Taehyun nods and slithers back into the office without another word.

“Aww Beomgyu,” You coo, letting out a breath when he throws you into one of the two chairs, “You’re so sweet, you didn’t have to do this for me.” Your hand finds its way to his cheek, pinching the skin lightly like a grandma would a young child. Who knows why, but he allows it to happen a second longer, your face scrunched up affectionately as you mumble out praises.

He swats your hand away, rubbing at the reddened skin, “You’re right, I didn’t.” You frown again, “I’m doing this out of the kindness of my heart.”

“You have a heart?”

He doesn't say anything in response. His hand connects with your forehead, pushing it back with enough force that it sends you backward, leaning against the wall. There's a shout at the register that you can’t quite make out, but by the way, Beomgyu takes a glance at you and then back towards the cashier and then runs off, you can only imagine that it's regarding you and the lack of clean cups up front. Man forget those cups. Your entire body feels sluggish and your brain feels insanely heavy. A nap sounds so good right now but you're not even halfway through your shift and still have 5 hours left to complete.

Somewhere in the conscious part of your mind, you make a mental note to change your hours.

If you remember.

You don’t know how long it's been since Beomgyu left you but at some point you began to doze off. Roughly around NREM 1 and 2 a voice abruptly breaks the silence, “Whipped cream or no whipped cream?”

A snort leaves your mouth as you jolt up, startled. “What?”

“Whipped cream or no whipped cream?” He repeats back, irritation lacing his words as he taps his foot impatiently as if he has anywhere else to be.

“Um…” You respond after a moment, still not coherently present, “Whipped…cream…?”

Beomgyu nods his head once and disappears again.

He’s so fucking strange.

Your relationship with Beomgyu has always been a little weird. From the beginning when he first joined the team he was this nervous ball of energy, always messing up orders and occasionally spilling coffee on customers. You had, obviously, given him shit for it because it’s not that hard to mess up a latte. To your surprise that nervous energy made him a good fast talker because it took you two days to finally understand the insults he spat back. The next shift you two had together was not… pleasant, to say the least.

It was mainly a game of cat and mouse, you’d say something to aggravate him and he’d respond, and vice versa. It was fun, it kept you on your toes and gave you something to look forward to every time you had to work. Having a job at a coffee shop always keeps you moving and a lot more times than you’d like, it makes you extremely exhausted. Unfortunately, like today.

However, despite not being completely present- it made you realize that this was the first you’ve interacted so…civilly with Beomgyu. Sure, there were a few back-and-forth in the last forty-five minutes but still. You were mainly known as enemies so the fact that he didn’t ditch you to fend for yourself and did some of your work was surprising.

The feeling of perspiration on your fingers immediately wakes you up again. When you open your eyes you find Beomgyu back in front of you. Hands wrapped around a medium iced latte that was covered in a mountain of whipped cream. And funnily enough- chocolate sauce.

You choose not to say anything about how he didn't mess up this time.

“What's this?”

“What does it look like, dipshit? It’s coffee.”

You ignored the comment, “Okay yeah, duh, but why?”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes and pushes the plastic cup to your hands. You don’t pick it up, “Look at you,” he starts, his eyes downcast towards the pool of water collecting on the table, “You can barely keep your eyes open. You work at a coffee shop, I thought you’d be smarter than this.”

You still don't pick it up.

Instead, you narrow your eyes at him.

“You poisoned this shit, didn't you?”

“Excuse me?” he crosses his arms defensively, “Why would I want to poison you?

You shrug, reaching up to toy with the straw. It looks so good. “Why wouldn’t you?”

Beomgyu lets a long exhale and aggressively pulls out the second chair, quickly taking a seat. He wastes no time grabbing on the straw and bending it slightly so it curves at the top and vigorously brings it to you lips. You pursed them and turned your head away, “I don’t wanna.”

“Stop acting like a child for a second and please drink. I am not your babysitter.”

“You probably spat in it.”

“I didn’t- you know what?” He hastily brings the straw to his own lips and takes a brief sip. “Mmmm- Mmm! Yummy! So good and no spit, Mmmm!”

You eye the drink and then his lips for a second indecisively before grabbing onto his wrist and bringing the drink to you. “Give me this, you freak.”

A pleased smile plays on his lips as he watches you almost down the entire thing in one sip. He doesn’t comment on how you still hold onto his wrist when you finished, or when you let out a satisfied sigh while staring at him…warmly?

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Why’d you make the drink?”

“Because you needed it…” he trails off but then adds, “And no one else can take the rest of your shift today so you need to wake up and do your job.”

You continue staring at him and Beomgyu can see the wheels turning in your head, then a burst of energy makes you sit up straight, pointing accusing a finger in his face. It wavers in the air as your eyes go to slits, trying to sniff him out. He tries his best to seem unaffected. There's a beat, and then, “You like me, don’t you?”

“Excuse me?” He shouts a little too loudly and defensively for someone who doesn't like you like that. He really doesn’t-

“Helping me with my work, finding my stand-in, covering for me, making me a drink to feel better.” You list off on one hand, the other one still attached to his wrist. He tries to pry your fingers off but you’re stronger than a bull. He’s not going anywhere, “If you don't like me like that then it seems that at least you want to be my friend.”

-does he?

thank you for reading ! (don't forget to like and reblog please !)

#x reader #x y/n #x you #choi beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x you #choi beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu x fem! reader #coffee shop au #tomorrow x together #tomorrow x together fanfic #txt beomgyu x reader #txt beomgyu x you #txt beomgyu x y/n #soothinglee #txt imagines #txt fanfic

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addictedtostorytelling · 6 months

Note

Still loving the newest addition to the Happy Accidents series & your last chapter got me thinking about a potential scene I would love to hear from your perspective (or maybe you’ve already written it & I’ve just got to be patient…)

In the last chapter you mentioned Sara’s PTSD & Grissom was so sweet. Particularly this part “She knows why he is worried: Over the years, he has learned to associate nerviness in her with periods when her mental health is poor. She isn’t usually quick to startle, but during the times when her PTSD is bad—around anniversaries—she can be. She gets so in her own head that anything happening outside has the potential to shock.”

It got me thinking about how in this alternate universe, Sara would be about 6-7 months pregnant when the anniversary of her abduction came & I would love to read her thoughts on that & how Grissom helps her deal with it. Does it cause her to reflect on how different her life looks now than a year ago? Does she think about all the reasons she didn’t give up in the desert? Does she feel the baby kick & is brought out of her thoughts, grateful for how her life looks?

And if you’ve already written a scene like this…I’ll sit over here (im)patiently waiting.

hi, @chelsshearman!

good to hear from you again! i'm so glad to know you're enjoying the story so far.

i've taken a while to come up with an answer to your (very thoughtful) question, and though i can't show any prose from that part of the story just yet without revealing some major accidentsverse spoilers, i can offer you a more pared down answer after the "keep reading," if you're interested.

note: in order to avoid major accidentsverse spoilers, i purposefully use ambiguous language surrounding sara's pregnancy in this answer.

sara knows from experience: trauma doesn't adhere to a strict calendar.

sometimes exact anniversaries are bad, but other times the days and weeks surrounding are when the cptsd symptoms really hit.

november has historically been a crapshoot for her, any day—not just the exact anniversary of her father's murder—liable to be a bad one, the whole month something of a slog.

though she is hopeful: now that her wedding anniversary falls mid-month, maybe she'll have better associations going forward.

she is well-aware of this temporal idiosyncrasy in her brain, and so is her therapist, which is why he starts counseling with her in mid-april about what to anticipate come may, for what will be the first anniversary of her abduction by natalie davis.

admittedly, she is, at this point, distracted. not only is there a lot going on in her life pregnancy-wise, but things are busier than ever at work. by now, she is no longer in the field and has instead become the de facto "point person" for her teammates at the lab, which, contrary to what she had expected, has somehow upped her caseload. still, she tries her best to complete her therapy assignments with what few spare hours she has. is diligent about going in for sessions. practices all of the self-care techniques her therapist recommends. stays on top of taking her meds. makes sure to look after herself as well as she can.

—and especially because grissom is so obviously worried about her.

not only does he admit as much outright, sans prompting, but he also is so careful with her. he had already been wonderfully attentive, but now she hardly even has to think she might want something before he appears to offer it. she swears to god: the man is telepathic. also, far too sweet.

thankfully, as the calendar turns over into may, there are some fun, new pregnancy developments to help to take her mind off the impending anniversary: grissom is finally able to feel kicking. (for a long time, she had felt fetal movements internally, but they hadn't been detectable in any external way.) also, a first instance of fetal hiccups, which is just about the weirdest, coolest sensation she has ever experienced.

that said, about two weeks before the big anniversary™, she does start experiencing some "trauma residuals" from her abduction. she's not having flashbacks or nightmares or full-on panic attacks, per se; she just feels off. spacey. emotionally unbalanced. like everything in her head has just been shifted two inches to the left of where it should be.

she keeps expecting to have some kind of big breakdown at some point, but the catharsis doesn't ever come.

and, honestly, the lack of punctuation is what bothers her more than anything.

she confides in grissom: she's scared. she tried to get out ahead of her trauma by "doing all the right things," but she is still being affected, not in any obvious, dramatic way but enough so that her trauma is inarguably impacting her behavior. coworkers keep asking her if she’s okay. looking like they don’t fully believe her when she says she is. she can’t help but be concerned: what if the same thing happens a few years on from now? the last thing in the world she would ever want to do to her child(ren) is make them feel like mommy's sad or upset for no reason.

so she and grissom talk the issue through: they both agree that trauma is a fickle thing—particularly as trauma reactions can't always be pinned down to one day or easily predicted in terms of how they'll manifest. show great variance in intensity, duration, form, etc. also can't be totally prevented, even if one tries to account for them as much as possible. chances are, she will be dealing with after effects—from her childhood, from her abduction—for the rest of her life.

sara explains: logically, she knows all of these things. but she still doesn't want their child(ren) to suffer for having a traumatized parent. she has experience that way with her own mother. remembers how helpless she felt when she was little, watching her mother struggle; how much she internalized her mother's sadness and anger. though as an adult, she (mostly) knows better now, back then, she wondered if she caused or exacerbated her mother’s misery and questioned why she wasn't enough to make her mother happier.

here, grissom digs in: "and did your mother ever answer those questions for you?"

her silence tells him no.

grissom offers his postulate: the truth might have helped—not by making sara’s mother “magically better” but by allowing sara, even as a child, to contextualize the situation and understand her mother's mental health conditions existed independent of anything having to do with her. just hearing, in no uncertain terms, that her mother wasn’t sad for any reason having to do with her may have alleviated some of her misplaced guilt.

sara agrees: they should be honest with their child(ren) and explain things at a level they can understand.

but she still worries: it will be a long time yet before they can have those kinds of honest conversations. what will happen in the meanwhile? babies pick up on their caretakers' cues and moods, after all. she doesn’t want to do damage by exuding sadness or fear in their child(ren)’s presence.

grissom reassures her: in all the time they've been together, even during periods when her mental health has been at its poorest ("even in november"), he has always felt loved by and safe with her. he has not been oblivious to her sadness and fear. but he also has never felt that those reactions in her negated her affections. he suspects their child(ren) will feel the same.

still, she makes him promise: if she ever gets to the point where she can't be a good caretaker of their child(ren), he'll intervene. "that was part of the problem," she explains, "with my parents. no matter how miserable things got, no one said anything or did anything about it. no one asked for help. we all just sat there with it."

grissom agrees: they'll ask for help if they need it. offer help when they see it's needed, even if it hasn't been asked for. and neither one of them will give up.

the promise does make sara feel somewhat better.

—though, of course, it doesn’t fully alleviate her cptsd symptoms.

may proves to be a hard month, not only because of the trauma but for other reasons, too.

[insert major accidentsverse spoilers here]

but it also is not without happy moments—sometimes impossibly happy, like the first time they see a footprint, clearly discernible for what it is, show through the skin of her belly—and, most importantly, never without love.

she reflects: one year ago, she was alone in a desert, sure she was going to die. now, she is never alone, and she has never been surer of what she has to live for. lying in bed with grissom, his hand over the footprint protruding slightly below her navel, she feels a kind of peace she could never have imagined she would feel, just one year on from that day. she knows: what happened to her will stay with her for the rest of her life—will sometimes rear up in unaccountable ways—but it won’t be what defines her. won’t be the main throughline in her story. she’s writing that one herself, here, now. and she loves where her story is headed.

thanks for the question! please feel welcome to send another any time.

#answered #chelsshearman #accidentsverse #csiverse #my fic #**

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x-authorship-x · 3 months

Text

10 Fandoms, 10 Characters, 10 Tags

Thanks for the tag @tsarinatorment 🥰

Im not going to try to really put them in any order but...

Uchiha Shisui (Naruto)

We all been knew 🥴 to me, Shisui is just the perfect kind of character to play protagonist with, with enough badassery and charm to come out on top but with the sweetness and the last scraps of his idealism to soften his edges. Kishi, however, threw him down the toilet at the nearest opportunity (which was just so 🤌bullshit🤌 I'm almost - almost- impressed) because he realised he Gone Fucked Up making this amazingly powerful character with no hint of him in prior work so 🤡 canon is dead, Shisui lives forever

Finn (Star Wars movies)

Anyone who's had the misfortune to follow me or has browsed my AO3 bookmarks knows I'm a wreck for Commander Cody and for Obi-Wan but I'm not choosing either of them? How??? Because Finn... FINN, he was literally raised to be canon fodder but he had this deep rooted fear that what they were doing was wrong and he didn't shoot and he took that fear and he knew he had to run. So often we wanna be brave in those moments but in actual fact we just panic, which is what Finn did... And yet he was so brave too? He saved Poe, he fought viciously for Ray, he joined the Rebellion, he met these people for minutes at a time but had already impressed them on his soul, on who he was going to be (and he'd only had a name as of that day???). Finn should've been the protagonist of that trilogy, the sequels were just...well, and I'll die on this hill that Finn's force sensitivity reaalllly should've meant something 😩 I love so many SWs characters but Finn is really the one that got me to actually attempt my own Fics too!

Obi (Akagami no Shirayukihime/Snow White with the Red Hair)

Do I Have a type? .... Next question.

Obi is just ✨🤌 ✨ badass with a mysterious background? ✅ Loyal but sassy? ✅ Pining for the 'lady' he is sworn to protect?✅ Is also her partner in life and crime? ✅ Low self worth but flirtatious? ✅ Gorgeous but dangerous? ✅ .... ✨💕

Yor (Spy x Family)

She is literally the best mother oh my God just kiss your husband though (and maybe get some space from your brother-)

Fíli (The Hobbit)

I JUST-

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 little golden lion prince, heir to his uncle, to a kingdom only told in stories of grandeur he's never seen and with all the hope and grief of his displaced and hurting people.... Mischievous but sensitive, funny (the hidden knives hehe), determined to do his family and people proud (cut down far too quickly, deserved better... Oh god I have a type-)

Boromir (The Lord of the Rings)

Why do I keep listing dead guys 😭 do I need to spell it out? Honor, desperation, valour, love of his people, he is high-key aroace rep, his resentment-to-love bromance with Aragorn that was ROBBED from us, I cannot tell if Merry and Pippin wanted to queerplatonic marry him or if they wanted him as their "getaway horse" for the rest of their lives but dammit 😭✨🤌

Evelyn Carnahan (The Mummy)

Do I need to even give reasons????? She's miles ahead of all those other scholar bitches, she's out there winning desert camel races, she's a reincarnated princess with daggers, she has the most gorgeous hair and eyeliner I swear to God, she is THE moment… For all time. She's a LIBRARIAN

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

*flips desk through solid concrete wall* HE'S THE PERFECT MAND'ALOR

PERFECT FATHER

COOLEST INTROVERT IN THE GALAXY

He is SOFT and SOFT-SPOKEN

He is STERN (except in face of baby's wet eyes) and LOYAL and he has an HONOR CODE DAMMIT STOP TAKING ADVANTAGE HIM

This doesn't count as a star wars pick, which I gave to Finn, because we are, as usual, swerving completely off canon (and this is a TV series, not the movies ha!) because you cannot convince me that Din, the wandering bamf who just wants to get credits for all the kids in his covert and provide for his home but cannot participate in the maiming of an 'alien' child so gets landed in so much shit, wouldn't be exactly what the Mandalorians need for a fucking Renaissance dammit 😤😤😤😤

Hawks (Boku no Hero Academia/ My Hero Academia)

*covers my face in shame* ffs it's so transparent lol

FINAL PICK - WILDCARD: Éowyn(The Lord of the Rings)

Ohhhhhhh and it's the Shieldmaiden of Rohan with the steel chair! The Witch King goes down, and he's not getting back up-! 3! 2! 1! And the crowd goes BALLISTIC!!!

I want to write a fic about her 😐 I want her to have a whole alter ego as one of the Rohirrim's best warriors 😳 I want her, seventeen and coltish, to down her first orc, standing in defense of another, and to know with absolute certainty that she wanted to protect everyone she could… 👁️👁️ yes I know I already did lotr but you're what??? Gonna stop HER???

Tagging @katlou303 @theraynealchemist @looks-like-starlight @zebrabaker @iamnotakitty @kazumirina @eruditeempress @ellorypurebloodculture @welpjesuisla @hidingfromthefeels and whoever else wants to have a go! 💕

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deadlygronkle · 1 year

Text

Chapter 9 Ancestor's Legacy part 2

First half

archive

word count: 1148

Time was then left alone at the bar, carefully nursing his ale. He had a lot to ponder over with the information he got today and plan the next course of action. He obviously wasn’t going to let Twilight go alone, but how would he address this?

“So you're from the past?” Rusl asked, turning back to his own drink.

“From what we know, yes,” Time answered honestly.

Rusl took his drink and swirled it, “That means you are Link’s ancestor, not his father,”

Time looked over to the man startled, “How did you-”

“Your eyes. They are startlingly similar to Link’s,” Rusl interrupted, he then sighed and placed down his drink, “ I would like to apologize for the way I acted back in the room. I thought you were someone else,”

“You mentioned his father? Did you know him?” Time asked, setting down his own drink.

He had been wondering about his other descendants since Twilight snapped at him for bringing it up. Though if anyone would have any knowledge of them besides Twilight, it would have to be the people who raised him.

“No. I didn’t, but someone had to abandon him in the spring. He was lucky enough to be alive when I found ‘im,” Rusl replied, still looking down into his drink.

“What do you mean?” Time asked, looking over while tilting his head.

“Ordon Forest isn’t safe, especially at night. When I found him at the banks of the spring he was practically still a baby,” Rusl let out a fond laugh, “He had a way with animals even back then. There was a golden wolf with one eye protecting him. Left the moment I saw it,”

Time didn’t know how to respond to that. A wolf typically doesn’t care for people, especially young children. Maybe the crying reminded it of a young pup? Then again Twilight could turn into a wolf so maybe someone else could too?

“Why are you telling me all this?” Time finally asked.

“Someone needs to look over him in the desert. From what I’ve seen, you're the leader of that little group, correct?” Rusl answered finally look at Time.

Time sighed, took a drink, then said, “I’m afraid he wants to go by himself. How did you ever deal with him being that stubborn?”

Rusl chuckled, “Just have to out stubborn him. I doubt he would force ya to go back if you just left with him,”

Rusl looked back to where the Chain had been sitting before, “It was nice to see him getting to have fun with others around his age. Him and… Warriors, was it? They act more like brothers than just friends,”

Time smiled, “Yes they do, despite how much they mess with each other. I swear they are going to give me gray hair before this quest is done,”

Rusl barked out a laugh and slapped Time’s shoulder, “Welcome to being a Parent! Link and Colin have given me my fair share throughout them growing up. No doubt Hasa will as well,”

Time’s eye widened briefly. He wasn’t expecting Rusl to say that they were his kids! Granted he did scold them and kept them out of trouble. Oh, Goddesses, Time realized, he really was acting like a father to the Chain!

Rusl, seeing his expression snorted and said, “You just realized you're basically parenting those kids? Look on the bright side, you're getting practice for when you have children yourself!”

As Time was trying to come up with a response, Telma walked up behind the bar, “Rusl, I hate to do this, but have you looked at the time? You better back soon,”

Rusl glanced up and cursed, quickly draining the rest of his ale and placing his payment down, he said, “Yup, looks like I have to get going! Say Time, do ya mind doing me a favor?”

“Sure what is it?” Time asked, confused.

“There’s this big tree in the royal graveyard, you can’t miss it. Link tends to go there before missions. Can you make sure he hasn’t fallen asleep out there?” Rusl answered as he collected his things.

“I can do that,” Time promised, he was about ready to go back to the room anyway.

“Thanks, try to keep Link out of danger for me. Hylia knows he doesn’t have an ounce of self preservation,” Rusl jokes, walking out the door.

Time drained his drink a little after that. When he tried to pay for everyone's food Telma refused. She said that it was the least she could do for them making sure Twilight made it back safely. Time still couldn’t leave without remotely paying, so when Telma was turned around he dropped a red rupee on the table.

Leaving quickly after that Time headed back to the castle. Despite what the others joked about he remembered the way to the room. Going to the graveyard was a different story. After politely asking one of the soldiers for directions, Time went to the graveyard.

It was just a normal tree, big yes, but not the biggest Time had ever seen. Time found Twilight knelt in front of it, seemingly at peace. There were a couple of poppies laid out in front of Twilight, fresh enough to have picked that day.

“Pup,” Time watched as Twilight jumped and looked up in surprise, “You should be in bed. What are you doing out here?”

Twilight looked down and said, “Y’all were wondering who taught me the Mortal draw. Well this is his grave,”

Time glanced down around the tree base, “There’s no head stone,”

Twilight humorlessly laughed, “It's more to honor him than anything, there is no body buried here,”

Time was silent for a moment, “How do you know that this is his grave?”

Twilight glanced up at Time, he had been crying, “I don’t. There is a.. carving in the sewers. I’ve only been able to make out some of what it says, but it clearly says ‘The cursed Swordsman sleeps before the sacred tree’,”

Time, with a grunt, sat down next to Twilight, “Well, why don’t you tell me about him? Sharing memories is the best way to remember people,”

Twilight had a tear going down his face, “He was a stubborn man, when I first met him I couldn’t even land a hit on him. He told me that I disgraced the hero of legend whose tunic I wore. He taught me more than just ‘The mortal draw’, seven hidden skills which aided me on my journey,”

Time put one arm around Twilight trying to comfort his protege, “Why was he called ‘The Cursed Swordsman?’”

Time wondered if he was the one to teach the Hero’s Shade the skills he knew. After all, he created the move ‘Mortal Draw’ so it would have to come back to him. Those questions could wait though, right now he needed to provide comfort to Twilight.

“He… He died suddenly, wasn’t able to pass down his teaching to his descendants. He told me he regretted it so much he couldn’t pass on, until I came along,” Twilight said, with guilt written on his face.

“So you're related to him? What was his name?” Time asked gently.

“The Hero’s Shade. I thought I helped him find peace,” Twilight gave Time a watery smile, “Turns out I didn’t. That golden poe we saw was him, I failed to even make sure y-... he was properly put to rest,”

“Hey, no,” Time pulled Twilight closer to him, “I’m sure that’s not the case. You did your best, and I’m sure the Hero’s shade appreciated you learning and taking his lessons to heart. I’m sure whatever made him stay was not your fault,” Time said softly, giving Twilight a one armed hug.

Twilight gave a sad smile, “Yeah… Thanks for listening, Da– Time,”

Time got a warm feeling at the slip up, but pretended not to notice it, “No problem Pup. Say, is he going to join our group? I would like to meet my descendant who taught you those skills,”

Twilight laughed, “You already have. Now come on old man, I need to at least get some sleep tonight,”

Time wondered what Twilight meant by that. Though before he could ask Twilight had already started to walk away. Time looked back to the ancient tree, the Hero Shade had been dead a long time. He took one of the poppies that fell near his foot, and climbed the roots.

As he placed the poppy closer to the base of the tree, “I hope you’ll be able to rest peacefully soon,” Time whispered to the tree, before he followed Twilight to the room.

#linkeduniverse #ancestor's legacy #linked universe #lu wild #lu time #lu legend #lu sky #lu warriors #lu twilight #lu hyrule #lu wind #lu four #lu fanfiction

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aliens-took-my-iwa-chan · 2 years

Note

for assumptions (idk if youve posted about this or anything) but:

teeny tiny

also hyper and sleep deprived at the same time

has a blue backpack

sunburns easily (or freckles idk)

likes dogs

chaotic academia or cottagecore grunge

plays soccer or field hockey

loves tree houses, but not tree swings

has probably said you too when asked to enjoy the meal at a restaurant

solely uses baby body wash (yk the yellow one by j&j)

has a palm tree in the front yard

sorry if this is stalkerish i swear my mind is just very vivid

OOOO YAYAY!!!

I… may be a littleee teeny tiny but not too small!!! >:( /lh im 5’2 so its shorter than most of my friends but at least im over 5’-

I *am* hyper and sleep deprived at the same time howd you knowwwww xD speaking of which ive been waking up at unholy hours of the morning lately which is super weird and exhausting- but it gives me more time to write so 🤷‍♀️

I do have a blue backpack!!! well, sort of- its an oikawa backpack so its blue and white hehe

yeah no I totally sunburn easily- this is why I dont go outside LMFAOO- (i mean I live in a desert that almost never has clouds in the sky, if I went outside with my skin I would look like a lobster)

I love dogs <3333 I have a dog! his name is higgins and I am now showing you a picture bc he’s lovely <3

hmmm so I dont really have much of an aesthetic, just whatever’s comfortable, but I aspire for both of those!!!

I used to play soccer but I am now extremely out of shape and dont play any sports haha- left defense we stannnn

I love both tree houses and tree swings!!! tree swings do get old after a while tho and ive never had a tree house-

YEAH I ACCIDENTALLY SAY YOU TOO AT RESTAURANTS ALL THE TIME HAHAHDBFN-

uhhh so the truth is I just use whatever body wash is available, I dont really stick to a type or brand

uhhh no palm trees in the front yard but like 5+ in the backyard (I had to check for this ngl xD)

this isnt stalkerish in the slightest hehe I really enjoyed answering this ask!! (well I mean its odd how you were constantly right… 🤨 /j) hehe tysm for participating!!!!! <33333

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commanderquinn · 9 months

Text

Good Space Chapter 2: Man On The Moon

! i dont! keep these posts! updated! like i do! ao3!

that means you're going to find typos and shit (and possibly minor detail changes) that don't match the ao3 version! that's because im not going to bother fixing the tumblr posts until i finish good space as a whole. im only uploading them here as a backup tbh

—

master list / ao3 chapter link

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warnings: lotta swearing and usual heavy pstd bucky stuff. also!! im giving sam's story a little bit of author bias/culture venting. this wont read like canon FATWS sam, though i am trying to honor their show where i dont hate it. i love sam's journey to cap, even if ken doll was nauseating (whats funny is i didnt know his actor's name is wyatt until halfway through THIS chapter when i googled something. oh well lmao im sure he's a perfectly nice dude. the wyatt in this fic is My Baby) plus the trump era commentary was completely toothless imo. and the fact that james buchanan barnes acknowledged in episODE T H R E E of the series that he'd take the shield before letting it fall???? even through all his self-hatred?????? get the fuck out of here that desTROYED ME i hate this fictional man with a passion

song: this one's by kid cudi!! 🥰

its time for the l o n g i n g to start ❤️ grab tissues!! first biggie angst so i had to put it behind our resident teddy bear's pov 🥺 you KNOOOOW i had to finish up this update in time for stevie’s birthday 🥰

—

October 3rd, 2015

Samuel Wilson was not disillusioned when he walked into his first recruitment office. There were no patriotic stars in his eyes, no lotto number clutched painfully between nervous fingers to drive his feet up to that kiosk. He wasn’t foaming at the mouth to earn career-establishing stripes in a timely fashion. All he had to his name was a high school diploma and twenty-three bucks in his pocket. He didn’t have any big dreams for the desert rocks to tear a hole through.

Sam was a kid back then. One who wanted to build a life, and the GI Bill offered to make that happen. A solid, steady income with the vision of a college education somewhere on the horizon. Not a lot of other options for someone like him, no matter which familiar corner of the country he looked at.

It took a long time and the right partner for the Air Force to talk him out of his combat objections once the ANG got wind of him. He turned the experimental program down flat twice; Pararescue was his focus for a reason. They had to bribe him with cutting-edge tech and the authority to refuse an assignment just to get him to agree to a first flight. The words never found their way onto an official record, at least none he knows of, but Sam had relentlessly insisted that he wouldn’t be volunteering as the next Indianapolis. Getting pushback on that assertion was when the anger first set in. The first crack in the armor of his career.

There were a lot of better angels within the service; it took most of them to get him home, tape-free, after Riley’s death. By the end of it all, it felt like every last one of them was outnumbered fifty to one. Nothing felt right anymore, including the idea of leaving the family he found in the sand to fend for themselves. The only thing that felt survivable after the world finally stopped tilting was dedicating himself to the VA.

Living for the memory of the ones he lost helped him find other reasons to want to be a person again. From there, it was mostly helping other people find reasons of their own that drove him forward.

It’s why he’s willing to delve into some shithole facility in the middle of nowhere Russia for a guy like Steve Rogers. And, on some levels, he supposes, if he absolutely has to, for a guy like Bucky Barnes. Even if he is the grouchiest motherfucker on the face of the Earth.

The lumbering moron hasn’t said a word all morning, no matter what small talk Steve tries to open with. And he’s tried everything, ever since they landed. Sam’s responded to a few of the openings himself just to try to fill the silence. He hopes it’s helping. It’s been hard to get a detailed read on the other push-pop’s triggers so far. Steve hasn’t signaled for him to stop, so.

“Cryo is through here,” Bucky rumbles under his breath. They’re the first words he’s spoken since the Quinjet.

“How many should we be expecting?” Steve asks almost as quietly.

“How many people am I asking you to put a bullet through, you mean.”

Steve stops halfway through the door Bucky’s directed them to. “We haven’t decided if that’s what we’re going to—”

“Maybe you haven’t decided. I’ll do it if you won’t.” The former sergeant doesn’t turn around. He keeps walking, getting closer to the stocky metal pods.

Sam already hates this. He already hates this a whole fucking lot. Captain America coming to him with a request to take the headcase to Russia was always going to get weird; he knew that. But he’s been very clear on what he’s down for, and now they’re in murder and war crime weird. He’d like to start slowing down the crazy train—

Steve holds up his hand. “Bucky, listen, it doesn’t have to—”

“Fuck off. You have no idea what it’s like to sit in this hell. You two can wait outside if you’re so uncomfortable. I’ve got it from here.”

Mmm. That’s the voice of a guilt-ridden survivor. Sam recognizes it well. At least it’s giving him a bead on where today’s drive is coming from. “You mean the hell we pulled you from?”

Steve’s head whips around, with righteous, territorial anger in his eyes. “You’re right, Buck; we don’t. But—”

“But you don’t know what they want,” Sam forcefully finishes, staring back at Steve. He banks on the fact that, technically, they’re not really disagreeing. Steve’s trying to back him down, too, in his own way. “Taking away their chance at the same new life you’re getting isn’t—”

Bucky’s cybernetic fist comes crashing down on one of the corroded desks, making the rusted metal whine in protest, deforming to the shape of his fingers. “You two don’t fucking get it.” He turns, angrily tugging his hand back to his side. The assassin doesn’t advance, but his posture is more than ready for it as he glares at them with pure contempt. “You think you’re going to find people in those tanks—humans, with hearts and minds and hopes and dreams. There might as well be skeletons getting freezer-burned in those goddamn caskets because that’s the only salvageable thing you’ll find. You fucking—”

He laughs, the sound empty, and turns back around to send his fist into the side of the table, knocking it across the room. He doesn’t face them again. “You fuckers! You take a fucking look at me. Take a good, long look. I am half alive. I had a radiation-free knockoff keeping me upright through their bullshit. You wanna know what they had? Something that might as well have been piss mixed in some fucking snow. Worthless trash those Nazi bastards bottled up and stuck in a needle.”

“Bucky—” Steve tries to calm his best friend as the man’s voice breaks. Sam could tell him from first-hand experience how well that’s going to go over.

There was a lot of screaming in that desert. A lot of grief disguised as anger. A lot of old ideals leaving newly-shattered men one seething tear at a time.

“They were zombies by the time HYDRA was done injecting them. Do you get that? Are you two grasping the concept? They were rabid dogs I trained to respond to whistles. Rotting corpses that I taught how to aim. And that was before their brains shorted out on them. I looked into every single one of their eyes. I saw what looked back. Fuck species—what was in there was not fucking alive. Fuck you—fuck you so fucking much for even fucking suggesting I should leave them like that—like animated fucking cadavers—hooked up to some fucking machine just to breathe—”

“James.”

Bucky’s flood of words finally cuts off, and Sam isn’t sure if it’s because of the use of his first name or the way he swallows as if he’s choking. His flesh hand comes down on the back of the chair that started out tucked under the table. It keeps the guy upright while he pulls in a few breaths that look painful, even through the curtain of dark brown hair.

“Let’s see what’s what first,” Sam suggests as diplomatically as he can manage. He doesn’t take a step forward, mostly because he doesn’t see Steve take one. “Then we go from there.”

“You’re going to hate what you see.” Bucky scoffs bitterly. “You think you know, but you don’t. You’re going to hate me for bringing you here. For the rest of your lives.”

Steve moves forward, finally, but he stays a few feet to Bucky’s seven o’clock. “I’m not dumb enough to make you any promises about not hating what I see here. I haven’t even looked in one, and I already know you’re right on the money when it comes to that. But I can promise that you’ll always be wrong about me hating you for any of this.”

“So can I,” Sam assures. There’s not a doubt in his mind now that he understands where they’re at.

—

Bucky’s up at 0500.

He hasn’t slept a minute later than that since the first night his body adjusted to New York’s timezone, no matter what hour he falls asleep. He doesn’t attempt more than upright power naps on away missions. They’re the only thing that gets him any rest outside of his room in the tower.

It’s the same every morning. First, he works on his back, popping away the stiffness one awkward bend of his limbs at a time. From there, the extra thick comforter gets picked up off the floor, then the blanket and the lopsided pillow. They always get tossed on top of the bed he’s never used. Except on Saturdays, when he does his laundry. That’s when they get put in a basket to be taken to Natasha’s room. She won’t let him have his own washing machine until he starts using the bed.

So, every Saturday, he shows up with his little pile at 0800 because Natasha won’t unlock the door until then. A pillowcase. A blanket and matching comforter. Two shirts, usually henleys, five black tanks, and two different tactical pants. One pair of gloves. His singular monkey suit gets taken to the cleaners whenever he’s forced to wear it, which thankfully isn’t often.

His dress uniform hasn’t come out of the box Steve dropped it off in after getting it pulled from the goddamn Smithsonian. Bucky hasn’t laid eyes on it since 1943.

While he’s working his hair up into a serviceable bun, he thinks about Natasha’s recommendation to start braiding it before he sleeps. He doesn’t like the idea of something that tight sitting against his head, especially at night. Maybe if he lets his hair grow out a little more. He wants to keep the shoulder length it’s at now, though. It looks good on him. He wants to know what asking someone to pull on it feels like. Eventually.

Online dating has been… overwhelming, to say the least.

He’s reaching for the medkit in the drawer under his bathroom sink when the mental image of Ava creeps in. He isn’t trying to blow off the hippie’s orders. Honestly, the thought of their deal hadn’t crossed his mind until he got to this part of his day. Resisting the urge yesterday had been difficult. He knew ahead of time that today was going to be much worse. It means pushing through a repeated break in his pattern.

That voice, the one that insists he should tell Steve to fuck off much more, rears its head. His flesh hand twitches with the reflex to finish his usual routine. To show up late to her office with some blase excuse about doing it out of habit. He could sell the lie without even trying. Entire countries have fallen thanks to his expertise with it. She wouldn’t have a shot in hell at knowing the difference.

He could work his way out of this with ease. Steve already feels guilty about making him pull a hard stop during his first visit, even if he won’t say the words. It’s the perfect opening to establish a line and push it away to give himself some room, one step at a time.

With a decisive flick of his wrist, Bucky shuts the drawer holding his medkit. For the second time since he was allowed to travel without a handler, he walks away from his morning routine without treating the cybernetics on the back of his neck.

It makes his skin feel wrong—off, unsettled—as he gets his standard gear on. He’s still grounded, thanks to Steve, so it’s the version he’s got closest to fatigues. He hopes the doctor doesn’t mind rolling down a polyester turtleneck to get at his brain port. He almost skips going to the gym for his workout, but that would worsen the off feeling. And he’d have to sit around with nothing to do for hours waiting for their first scheduled maintenance.

He slides his phone into his back pocket, intent on heading to his standard morning haunt. A few hours of going through his paces in the gym will help his nerves. When his mind offers up the suggestion that a workout before seeing the cute doctor could be—advantageous, he tries not to linger in it.

The idea certainly doesn’t make him feel bad. It’s even sort of... motivating in its own way. It... contributes to his reasons for doing a few extra sets on the bench. And adding a quick rock wall climb. There are others, of course. Being chained to the tower like a toddler in timeout because his best friend is an asshole is certainly one of them. He tacks on more time at the reinforced, Super-Soldier-proof punching bag to ease that particular frustration.

Even with the additions to his cardio, he’s still got an hour to kill before their appointment. He fills it by heading for the roof of the tower. It’s not even 0900, so no one but a few graveyard stragglers are out in the open space. SHIELD agents like him that are married to the job, catching a glimpse of the sun and a few puffs of nicotine before going to crash. Bucky stops to help one of them struggling with her lighter, offering up his spare Bic. The other agent smiles at him in tired appreciation before hovering the end of her cigarette over the flame. He counts it as contributing to his social life. He’ll figure out how to phrase it to get his therapist off his ass later.

The brain trust’s space is, unsurprisingly, effortless to find. Ava wasn’t kidding; it’s actually tucked away in one corner of the roof, hidden along the wall that extends up to the tower’s executive launch bay. Bucky had expected them to claim a spot overlooking the Avenger’s balcony. Then again, he’s heard she’s pretty close friends with Tony, so maybe he shouldn’t have. She probably knows better by now.

There’s another collection of gargantuan chairs, this time made out of wicker and upholstery that feels soft when he runs his fingers over it. A tapestry rivaling the paint swatches at Steve’s supply store is mounted to the wall behind them. Two poles hold it at the opposite corners, keeping it blowing slightly in the wind as it hangs over the collected seating. The coffee table in the middle has a lockbox sitting on it, with SHEILDs insignia embossed on the lid.

He’s got level seven clearance these days. He could still easily get through that lock, even if he didn’t. It’s going to drive him batshit, not knowing what’s in it before she takes him up here herself.

Bucky turns around and gets halfway back to the door to the stairwell before the buzzing in his neck builds too much for comfort. He grinds his teeth through the sensation. He even manages to force himself another few steps forward. But, ultimately, the buzzing wins out, and he spins again with a vicious curse.

The confirmation chime of his clearance override feels too loud, even out here in the open. The top of the lockbox rolls back, revealing a set of playing cards, a jumbled collection of stress toys, a SHEILD standard medkit, and some candles. He almost leaves without checking the medkit. He’s so close to being able to stomach the idea.

Almost.

There’s nothing sinister to be found in it once it’s open. It’s stock issue. Not one of the item counts is off, but the lot numbers don’t match, meaning she maintains it regularly. Knowing that information feels invasive, despite being convinced she wouldn’t mind how he got it.

This. Isn’t. Siberia. Ava Ryder is not going to put a gun in his hand. She is not a risk to him.

Bucky leaves the roof, headed for her lab. He’s going to tell her he went snooping. He can do that, at least—a bare minimum level of respect to offer her.

She’s not in her office when he gets through the painted door at 0857. Only one of the doctors is behind the glass today. It’s the other woman—the American-born German. Hannah. Her head is down, focused on a tablet under her hands, with wireless earbuds peaking out from her dirty blonde hair. A hologram of a brain Bucky doesn’t recognize is running next to her. It’s not his; there’s no spider webbing. One of their other patients then.

He takes a seat in the same chair he used during his last visit. “JARVIS?”

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes,” the AI responds with nothing but tranquility. “Something you need?”

“Can you tell the doc I’m ready when she is?”

“Of course. Dr. Ryder has not yet entered the building. I’ll let her know you’ve arrived.”

Bucky frowns. “Ah—cancel that. Is she—“ Don’t ask him to track her, you dumbfuck. That’s weird. “Never mind. I’ll wait.”

This is New York. He’s not even sure what part of the city she lives in. For all he knows, she could be stuck in a cab uptown. He can pull the stick out of his ass long enough to give her room to be human.

He sits there in silence, sunken into pillows with his leg bouncing rapidly, and talks himself up in his head. He’s not uncomfortable. He’s not going to bullshit his way out of this. This is good; it’s going to help him. Bucky is happy about that. It’s a relief to be facing this after a lifetime of running.

By 0901, he wants to leave. The urge is nearly overwhelming. He makes it to 0904 before he stands up. It takes until 0906 to convince himself to sit back down.

“I have an incoming message from Dr. Ryder if you wish to hear it, Sergeant Barnes,” JARVIS tells him eleven minutes after the appointment was supposed to start.

Thank god. “Play it.”

“Morning, JAR!” Her voice is muffled in the recording. She’s got something in her mouth. She’s also in the most broken-down piece of shit in the city by the sounds of it, so not a cab. The subway, maybe? It should be a lot louder than that. “Tell Bucky I’m about fifteen minutes behind and that I’m very sorry. Oh—and tell him to pick the candle!”

His eyebrows lift in confused surprise. “I’m picking a candle?”

“Choosing a candle to burn is part of the daily routine of lab 5923. Dr. Ryder and I usually decide on one, but the option is left open for patients. You will find a box behind her desk; there is a wide array to select from.”

“You pick it together?” Bucky prods, the corner of his lips twitching as he gets back up to check for said box.

“She enjoys having someone to banter with about them. Dr. Schuster doesn’t usually have anything to contribute to the topic. Dr. Combs only has so many opinions on the matter. He is not overly particular about the olfactory state of the lab.”

“Is Ava?” It’s getting easier to refer to her by her first name alone. It helps that it’s made her smile the handful of times he’s done it.

“Not especially. I would call her enthusiastic. She finds the options comforting, and there are very few that she doesn’t enjoy.”

“No kidding,” Bucky mutters as he pulls open the top of a very large box. He smelled the thing long before he picked it up, and looking at what’s inside confirms everything the AI’s telling him. There are dozens of them in here, and most of them are unburned. Various shapes and gimmicky scent names stare back at him. Not a lot of Bath & Bodyworks, he’s noticing.

The hippie is a small business aficionado. How utterly shocking.

He pushes around the amassed jars for a few minutes. His mind files away a few options he wants to try for later if they don’t get used up on the days he won’t be here. Definitely before he finishes talking her out of demanding these appointments. He picks up one that claims to smell like cranberries and peppermint for a test sniff.

Thanks to the combination, the barest hint of the ghost of a memory comes over him. One that whispers the name of his mother. This happens sometimes. A fragment that’s still hanging on by a thread will float by. They never have much context, not anything he can typically extrapolate on, infuriatingly enough. Just his mind taunting him that something should be there, but it isn’t.

He picks that candle, and it doesn’t make him sad as he lights it. None of his pieced-together memories of the life he never got to finish do anymore. He takes them in stride and tries to enjoy what he can.

That’s what Ma would have wanted.

—

Ava hip-checks the door to her office somewhere around 9:30.

This is already shaping up to be a terrible second impression. All that grief she gave Bucky about leaving things in her capable hands, and now here she is, showing up late and half-showered to the appointment that’s supposed to finish acclimating him.

“I am so sorry,” she rushes out, dumping her bag on the closest available surface. It ends up being one of the novelty end tables tucked between the consultation chairs. At least she finally took the one shaped like a leg home. “I completely overslept, and then I wanted to grab you something from my favorite bagel place—do you want one, by the way?” She waves a finger at her bag, then at Bucky, who watches her as she walks and talks her way to her desk. “They’re in that side pouch, the ones that have cream cheese are wrapped up separately. I didn’t know if you were a plain butter kind of New Yorker. Anyways, there was this mouth-breathing dickhead who—”

She stops and takes a deep breath in when her over-taxed mind finally registers the smell around her.

“Good morning,” he says from the chairs, amusement coloring his tone.

She spins on her heel, her glasses jostling with the motion, chuckling softly. “Good morning, Sergeant. Sorry. This is what happens when you talk to me before the coffee finishes evening out in my bloodstream. Fantastic choice, by the way. What is that? It’s peppermint—something.”

“Peppermint and cranberries.” His lips pull up into a half-smile that absolutely sells her on the idea of him being a serial heartstopper in the 30s. “Advertised in what looked like a mushroom cloud.”

Ava’s chuckling turns into an outright bark of laughter as she pulls her work tablet from behind her keyboard. “Yeah. That sounds about right. One of the candle makers I buy from is an anarchist working out of a garage. Great stuff, even if you do have to listen to the most ass backwards view of free trade to get the guy to send you his stock. Good morning to you, too, JARVIS, now that I’m not babbling around a mouthful of food.”

“No need to worry; I’ve become very fluent in your language of scarfing,” JARVIS assures.

“My mother would keel over if she heard you say that.” Ava waddles over to her latest patient, tablet in one hand and medkit in the other. She puts the kit down on the arm of his chair, in the same spot she put the scanner case last time. He looks much less nervous now, and she gives him a warm smile to encourage that. “I know you don’t want me talking your ear off, and the breakfast offer can wait until we’re done, so let’s get down to this.”

Bucky’s mouth opens. There’s a moment of hesitation before he says anything. She doesn’t try to rush him through it. “What’s the plan, doc?”

“Paige won’t be back from the field until later today at the earliest, so I don’t have anything new for you to test. I passed along your request for the field kit dimensions. She says making something that portable shouldn’t be a problem.” Ava taps on the black sleeve of his shirt. “How comfortable are you with the idea of using nanotech?”

“As in the tiny robots Tony’s always testing?”

“Mhmm.”

“For what? My neck?” He raises his hand to the general area of the port, and she hears him scratching at the fabric over it. “I don’t think it’s—I thought this kind of opening couldn’t be—”

“I don’t mean for closing it off,” she corrects quickly, wanting to avoid a misunderstanding that might get his hopes up. “I want to program a batch specifically for daily care of your implants. The port and your shoulder. Something you can keep in safe housing for use in the field. Now—I want to make sure you understand something upfront. This won’t change my professional opinion; you need to have a specialist looking at this on an extremely frequent basis. However, I would prefer it if you had the nanotech as a safety net. The more of this that we can automate for you, the better.”

“I can agree to that. I’m guessing the bug bots don’t come with a manual.”

Ava moves behind him, mostly to hide how the grumpy old man routine is making her grin from ear to ear. “They usually don’t need one. I’ll be making you a checklist to go over if that makes you feel better.”

“You don’t—that’s—” He hesitates again, making her stop before she can make contact with his neck. “You don’t have to keep... doing stuff. Like that. I’m alright with trusting the bug bots.”

Another piece of Ava Ryder’s heart breaks for Bucky Barnes. “That's great to hear. But, just so you know, I’m going to hand you a checklist anyways.”

“Alright.” His head barely nods; she’s guessing because he can feel her fingers hovering. The evaluations of his senses were so off the charts it set a new testing standard for SHIELD. “That’s—appreciated.”

“You don’t have to worry so much about the manners.” Pressing down with a disinfectant, she circles her thumb around the port, wanting to get it done before moving to his shoulder. That’s going to need a shirt removal. She leans down and shifts to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m not reporting them back to Steve.”

“Don’t worry; my work wife will come to weasel it out of you or JARVIS all on his own.”

Ava giggles quietly, her eyes honed in on clearing the excess buildup. “You’re not having fun being married to Captain America?”

“Oodles,” he deadpans, making her giggles worsen.

She gives him a break from the small talk while she finishes working on his neck. At some point, she’ll need to put together a specialized blend for loosening up the scar tissue; the skin around it is dried to hell and back from years of sterile wipes. She doubts comfort has been much of a concern, and she’s not about to recommend putting generic lotion over it, but this is ridiculous. There’s no reason for him to live with pain like that.

“I don’t suppose a man from the 30s is going to appreciate being given a moisturizing routine.”

“Nat’s going to be thrilled.”

“She’s your work husband, I’m guessing?”

“She likes to act like it.” Bucky turns his head to glance back for a split second just as she leans forward to swap out for an ointment. The way his head jerks back into place lets her know he got an eyeful of cleavage on the journey. It perfectly mirrors how his eyes snapped up from her chest when he first walked in. She’s not exactly embarrassed about it, but she does feel bad watching him shift around nervously. “But I’m not dumb enough to argue. About that. With her.”

The awkward charm is starting to make her cheeks hurt. “Sounds like a reasonable choice. I hear arguing with Russian women isn’t a smart idea in general.”

“Not if you want to keep your limbs attached.”

“Is it too early for me to start asking for state secrets? Like, say, if the Winter Soldier happened to get his ass handed to him by a former commie?”

“I’m pretty sure she was still a commie the first time.”

“The first time?” Ava asks with excited delight, her hand pausing on his shoulder.

“There were a few run-ins. She’ll remember more of them.” Bucky grimaces with annoyance. “Worse, she’ll be willing to tell them to you.”

“Would you be willing to let me hear them?” she goads.

His shoulders lift with a strained sigh. “Sure, let’s call it willing.”

“You’ll have to remind me if I’m lucky enough to meet her.” She drums her finger on his mechanical shoulder. “Gonna need you to take this shirt off, superstar.”

“Off? Wait, what did you just—” Bucky shakes his head with a quiet huff of laughter. “I’ve got the arm covered.”

“I know, that’s the problem.”

“Alright, smartass. You know damn well what I meant. I took care of it before I came here; it wasn’t part of our deal.”

“Does gross puss leak out of it?”

She can see his eyes roll, even with his head only partially turned. “You know it does.”

“And is it attached to your brain?”

“Ava—really, I’ve got this.” His head turns all the way, and the smile comes back, in full force this time, and oh. Oh, she can absolutely believe that he broke half the hearts in Brooklyn during his reign of terror.

She leans down into his space, letting her arms rest on the back of his chair. “You know what I’ve got?”

His lips purse in resigned amusement. “Multiple medical degrees?”

“You betcha. They were stupid hard to earn, too, so I’d appreciate it if you could start taking that into account.”

“I’m not trying to dismiss them—”

“Just the expertise that they gave me.” When his smile turns guilty, she shifts her weight as naturally as she can to push her chest against her arms in compensation. She doesn’t miss the way he blinks a split second later. Such a gentleman. It almost makes her feel bad. “I don’t mind you arguing the point of your independence. I’m glad for it, Bucky. It tells me that you really want this to work. I hope you can start trusting that when I suggest against it, I’m doing it with your health in mind. Nothing more. You can tell me what you’re comfortable with from there.”

He stares at her like he’s in pain. For an almost uncomfortably long time. “I broke into your lockbox.”

Ava blinks at the sudden shift. “Okay. Wait—my what? Are you talking about the candle box? That doesn’t even have a lock—”

“Your stuff on the roof. You keep a SHEILD issue safe up there. On the table. I used my override.”

It takes a moment to piece together what he’s getting at. She’s been running late since she woke up on Paige’s couch at 7:50 something. The only thing in her bloodstream right now is caffeine; there was no time for a wake-and-bake. “Oh. Oh, oh, that’s just... it’s not locked locked; we don’t really care if anyone uses the stuff in it. We just needed something to put it in that the weather can’t get to.” She smiles at him as his shoulders relax. “You went to see our little corner?”

Bucky shrugs. “I was around.”

“Mhmm, I’m sure. And bouncing off the walls with Steve’s lockdown, no doubt. The faster you get that shirt off, the faster you and I can iron out a plan to get you back in the field. Work with me here, Barnes.”

Bucky stands up with a sigh, and his hands move to his shirt. He pauses while they cling to the bottom of it, his arms crossed. Once again, she doesn’t push him through his hesitation. “I don’t mind if you talk about things. Steve only said that shit about being direct to keep me from stalling my way out of this.”

Ava’s eyebrows pull in while she thinks over the words. “Is that the only thing he’s lied about? I don’t care if you two keep secrets, but you can’t bullshit about your mental health with me. I need to know what makes you uncomfortable; otherwise, I can’t do my job.”

“That’s all I can think of,” he assures her, and she believes him despite the wording.

“In that case, you’re kind of stupid, full offense.”

It’s Bucky’s turn with the blinking. “Excuse me?”

“You signed yourself up for morning appointments, and you just gave me permission to talk your ear off. You’re an absolute moron; now take off that shirt so I can make sure your brain doesn’t melt.”

—

She has a pet cat named Oreo, of all fucking things.

It’s hairless. And dumb as a box of rocks, according to her. The name comes from the huge black spots in its—pattern. He can’t exactly use the word fur. She was highly offended when he called the cat a ballsack while she was showing him her lock screen. He got smacked on the arm for the comment.

It’s not her first pet. She got it partly to mourn the snake she adopted in college, a rosy boa called Sayer that finally died at 32. She used the reptile as companionship and motivation to push through her first PhD. The one letting her work on his brain now. It was named after the lead character from her favorite medical movie, Awakenings. When Bucky mentioned that he’s never seen it, she made him swear up and down that he’ll text her his honest reactions if he ever dares to rip his own heart out with questionable ethics.

So now he’s got her number saved in his phone. It’s the 11th one he’s added. Two of them are therapists. None of the others are people outside of SHIELD. He’s pretty sure one of the therapists is a plant from Natasha, so maybe he should start counting them toward the SHIELD column.

There were only nine others over the course of his online dating attempts. None of them stayed on his phone for more than a month before getting deleted. He wasn’t about to let his therapist catch their names on his contact list.

Bucky switches the grape-flavored lollipop in his mouth over to his right cheek. Ava gave it to him. Bopped him right on the nose with one and then let him pick from an array of five like the blatant bribery it is. The good doctor smiled at him while she did it, too.

May it bring you back in good spirits and better health.

It’s the nicest way he’s ever been told to fuck off for being a grouch. It made him smile. Him. James Buchanan Barnes, in the year of 2018.

She’s.… Christ, calling the woman a handful in this day and age feels insulting. He’s not put off by it. Overwhelmed a little, maybe, but he gets the feeling she’s alright with him taking time to warm up to it. Hell, he gets the feeling that not much bothers her at all. It makes him envious.

He likes the way she speaks. Not just the crazy and the swearing, though that’s its own comfort. There’s a—it sounds so stupid, but there’s a kind of music to it. She always talks in the same calm rhythm, despite the chaos usually found in her words. He didn’t notice the way it makes his foot stop bouncing until halfway through the appointment.

Bucky scowls. “Davis. Why am I looking at a lost signal?”

The level four analyst Steve’s been telling him to ease up on lately freezes in his swivel chair. His head turns, nervously searching the wall of security feeds. Bucky doesn’t offer up any help. “Sorry, sir, I can’t seem to spot which—”

“Third row from the top, eighth from the left. The one I’m supposed to be monitoring for an illegal exchange of nuclear materials, so if you wouldn’t mind—”

“Yes, sorry, restoring connection now. Apologies, Sergeant, I’ll—keep a closer eye on it.” The agent starts mumbling the rest of his intended sentence, mostly about how many he’s keeping track of, when he cuts himself off. His shoulders pull in a bit, almost chastised. It always takes people a minute to remember the super hearing.

He could let it hang. The feed is fixed; he can go back to staring at an empty lot without interruption.

“You’re doing fine.” Bucky feels bad because he’s having an unordinarily good day. That’s all it is. Nothing more. “Restructure your feed priorities. You can hand most of these off to JARVIS; that’s what he’s patched in for. Focus on the ones your gut doesn’t like.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll start on that now.” The words don’t even sound spiteful.

Bucky sits back against the executive bench of the Datacrux. The stiff leather creaks with the motion, the rigid frame under it keeping him grounded. He tilts his head from side to side, letting it crack and readjust incrementally. His neck doesn’t feel as tight as it should. When he touched it in Ava’s lab, the skin felt even softer than it did after her first round on him. He’s trying not to touch it now. He doesn’t want to irritate it. This is the best it’s felt in—

He doesn’t have a year, he realizes. He can’t remember the one he woke up to cybernetics in. He has no idea when his first taste of cyborg life was. There’s a vague lead, a number written out on paper to fill in the blanks of what’s been destroyed. An estimation anchored around the last day of his former life. But he doesn’t know.

At least you’re still breathing, the better angel in his mind coaxes.

Switching which leg is balanced on which knee, Bucky settles back into his work. It’s been six months since the last lead on his responsibility. There’s been no chatter from the known HYDRA cells, no underground protection contracts with suspiciously good track records hitting Natasha’s web, no suspicious Black Market transfers that scream safe house establishment, nothing. Wherever the Soldats are, they’re being kept under wraps.

His hounds wouldn’t be able to be contained for anywhere near this long. They’re dead or sedated, no matter where they were smuggled. Otherwise, they’d have surfaced already.

Bucky tries not to think about what a life of not knowing will feel like. He doesn’t know if that’s worse than the idea of burying them. They’re certainly not staring down the barrel of a happy ending at this point. How do you mourn—a situation like that? He can’t even figure out how the hell he’s supposed to be fixing it.

Somewhere out there are the last ravaged pieces of a serum that never should have been made. It’s floating, cobbled together and left to rot, in the veins of men and women who didn’t know what they were signing up for. He remembers having to hold their shoulders down whenever the survival instinct kicked in during the first few injections. He remembers watching their faces as they screamed for a mercy no one in that facility was ever going to grant them. He remembers carrying the bodies of the ones that died in the night, over and over for months, all the way to the incinerator.

Bucky tosses the tablet in his lap off to a spot next to his leg out of disgust. His eyes shut, and his hands come up to rub them hard enough to hurt. He needs sleep. Good, honest to god, medication-induced sleep. He hates relying on those damn pills—it’s not as if they help the other half of his problem, anyhow. Falling asleep is only the start of it. The real kicker is staying unconscious, and nothing he can find, even behind the counter, is going to work on his system for that long.

He needs it, though. It’s been weeks since he got more than a handful of hours at a time. Months since he slept for longer than eight. Steve always talks about crashing for ten at a time after an extended mission, and it makes him want to punch his best friend’s lights out. He’ll never say that out loud, of course, but god. If fucking only.

None of his anger toward Steve ever feels fair. The guy had the world’s worst life before the serum, and he’ll bare his teeth at anyone who tries guilting the captain out of the notion. None of them understand what kind of fresh hell it was being Steve Rogers, and all his undying spirit, while trapped in a body with ten billion health issues. If ever there was someone who earned the responsibility of that serum, it’s him, and Bucky’s damn proud of him for it. He spends his days trying to live up to it himself.

He looks over at the back of the analyst with a guilty expression. People used to dismiss Steve the same way he dismisses people now, whenever the anger simmers.

“Davis, pull up your priority flags.”

The level four glances back nervously, then clears his throat and refocuses on his terminal. “It’s alright, sir, I’m working on sorting them now—”

“I know. That’s what we’ll be going over.”

“I—” Davis hesitates for a long moment. Bucky stares at the back of his head. “Sergeant Barnes, I’m very sorry about the—”

“This isn’t a reprimand.” Bucky clears his own throat, trying to knock the aggression out of his tone. It’s. A lot more difficult than he was expecting. “You’re new here, so I’m gonna give you the crash course. I’m in here a lot, at all hours. You won’t get a heads-up about it; I’m just going to show up. When I do, there are certain hotspots I’m going to need you to keep focused on. They’re not going to be tied to any active case. You’re not going to be able to tell which ones I need. I’m going to tell you what’s already on my radar, and you can establish your own categories from there. I’ll tell you what else I need you to add as it comes up.”

“Oh.” A little hope is entering the analyst’s tone. “Yeah, that—you know, that sounds like what I do for Romanoff already.”

Bucky frowns. The hell it does. She has exactly three people on the face of this Earth that she trusts to handle something like this for her. He’s willing to do it for convenience, and because he doesn’t give a shit what SHEILD sees him prioritize. He worked very hard to not give a shit about it, too. But Natasha doesn’t work like that; she’s very particular about her web of information—

His face goes completely slack as the connection finally happens in his mind. He’s going to kill her. No—actually. He’s never going to bring it up, ever, and they’re both going to die before a word ever gets said about it.

That’s just how their brand of family works.

“Yeah. Exactly like how Romanoff has you do it. Pull up her file structure; let’s go over what I’ll need you to change for my end.”

—

“Bitch! It feels like I haven’t hugged you in a year!”

It’s the only warning Ava gets before she’s tackled from behind. She braces her hands on the engineering bench in front of her, barely catching herself from crashing into it. “Two weeks and three days, but who’s counting? How was the flight home, whore?”

Paige leaves a loud, sloppy smooch on her left temple before backing away to let her up from the attack. “That part was fine—it was the team I got paired with, ugh. You’d have hated the guy runnin’ it.”

“How bad are we talking?”

“Eh, your typical good’ ol boy. Mister my way or the highway, with an ego the size’a the fuckin’ Potomac to match. You know the type. Spent the whole mission criticizin’ my tech.”

She looks over at her in surprised confusion. Paige taking shit from other agents is nothing new; that comes with the territory of her personality and most people’s assumptions. Her work is usually the one thing they leave alone. “How critical are we talking?”

“That was the thing—it was the dumb kind. The kind that could’a been avoided if he’d maybe RTFM.”

“And he made it your problem?”

“Over and over. Every ten minutes, it was—” Paige shimmies her upper body dramatically, her voice going low and gravelly. “Why can’t my AIO do this? How do I make it do that? Rogers’ team gets the reliable gear; why are we always stuck with the second rate?”

“He said that to your face?” Ava’s about ready to march through the tower to find the prick herself.

“Not that last one. That was to his buddy when the dipstick thought his comm was off. I got a half-baked publicist apology over it, and I’m pretty sure he only did it to save face in front of the team for leavin’ the mic open.”

“Report his ass.”

Paige waves a hand dismissively, then dumps her go-bag unceremoniously on the workbench. “I ain’t gon’ waste my time. I’ll let him hang his own noose; I’m sure he’ll get around to it with that attitude. Oh! I’ve got a mock-up for your pretty boy.”

Ava smiles, tossing one of her best friend’s rolls of duct tape between her hands. “I didn’t say he was pretty.”

“Puh-lease. You texted about his hair.”

“With the amount of shit man-buns have taken, it was surprising to see on a guy from a less than accepting decade.”

“You only notice stuff like that when you’re lookin’.” Paige tips her head forward, letting her heart-shaped sunglasses fall to the end of her nose. Her eyebrows waggle enthusiastically. “Is he as big as Rogers? I can never tell in the press photos with him always loomin’ like a gargoyle.”

The smile turns deviously smug. “He’s a little smaller than your not-so-secret admirer. You gotta figure that’s expected without the Vita Radiation.”

Paige reaches out to shove at her shoulder. “I don’t think Rogers has really nailed down what modern flirtin’ is yet. Ain’t fair to pin that on the guy. He’s so sweet! And I give him art projects! And anyhow, he rushes outta here like his ass is on fire most of the time—”

“It’s so weird how that happens whenever your dad shows up to hang out.”

She gets a very unimpressed look in response. “You’re readin’ int’a things.”

Leaning in close, Ava squints and whispers, “You’re being oblivious.” She backs up, her smugness returning. “So, I take it our friendship never comes up while you’re giving the captain art projects.”

“I... hmm. Not that I can remember. Why?” Paige looks over suddenly, then back at the bag she’s unloading with more than her usual level of interest. “Did he bring me up durin’ the visit?”

The glitter-sniffing demon not being allowed to communicate with her has been utter hell for two weeks and three days. But it comes with the upside of getting to drop this bomb on her all at once. “No, but I brought you up during Bucky’s first visit. That’s when Rogers realized he’d read your best friend the riot act the week before.”

Paige’s eyes go saucer wide. “You’re kiddin’. You got chewed out by America’s Sweetheart?”

“Funny enough, I called him the same thing while he was huffing and puffing in my office.”

“What the hell happened while I was gone? Did—” Her head swivels around, checking who’s around them. “Did? Y’know?”

Ava shakes her head, then hikes herself up to sit on the workbench next to the bag. “Nothing like that. Turns out he was going for a trial run, trying to see how well I hold up against a bad episode. Stormed into my office, playing up the asshole captain routine just to see what I’d do. Apparently, Tony set him up for it by not telling him about my VA work. He let out the hot air the second I called him on it. He’s pretty cute when he’s blushing, by the way.”

“Oh, tell me about it,” Paige mumbles happily, proving the accusation of obliviousness entirely right.

“The blush or the huffing?”

“I already know about the blushin’, even if I am ready to hear it again. But over dinner tonight. What’re we thinkin’?”

“You’re the one who’s been living off MREs for two weeks. What are you in the mood for?”

“Fuck, that’s a great question. Indian, definitely. No—wait! Sc-ratch that! I want Vietnamese. Actually, I want both.”

“Take-out picnic, got it.”

“And Italian donuts.”

“Okay, but I’m bringing half the order to work tomorrow. They’ll get stale if you pull an all-nighter to catch up.”

“Fiiine. Take my victory donuts to the masses, y’dirty Marxist. Lemme show ya what I worked on for Barnes before I forget.”

The field case she’s designed is cylindrical and shorter than the phones SHEILD issues most of their agents. Definitely something he’s going to be able to carry around with ease. The applicators that hook to the interior are simplistic and utilitarian. They’re entirely mechanical, with no chance of an EMP being able to disable them—a request from the Sergeant himself.

“Tony says I can requisition some nannies whenever—I just gotta get your signature on the form since they’re medical grade.”

Ava tosses an olive from the jar she keeps stashed in Paige’s mini-fridge into the air. She catches it in her mouth on the first try for once. “You have one filled out already? I can sign it now; I know you like putzing around with them for a few days ahead of time.”

“Eh, it’s a standard cleaner tag; I’m not gon’ sweat it. I know you’re all worried about his brainstem and whatnot—”

“That’s usually part of my job description, yeah.”

“—but I feel like sterile’s sterile. Ain’t no way I can make the man cleaner than clean, y’know? Now, if you wanna talk settin’ ’em up for emergency maintenance, that’s a different story—”

“Your not-crush just walked into engineering,” Ava interrupts lowly, wanting to avoid the enhanced hearing even from way the hell over here.

In the most conspicuous way imaginable, Paige whips her head around to stare directly at the bay’s front entrance. In a rival amount of obviousness, Captain Rogers slowly works his way through the amassed benches, his gaze landing everywhere but Paige’s station.

Ava’s eyes roll so hard it’s physically painful. It’s been one thing hearing Paige talk about getting drop-in visits from the super soldier who just so happens to enjoy the blueprints framed over her workbench. It’s another to see it play out in person.

“He’s prob’ly here to check on the kit for Barnes,” Paige whispers back, tugging off her novelty shades.

“Yeah, that’s definitely why he won’t look at you right now—”

“He’s takin’ in the work goin’ on. He’s a curious guy, you know that—”

“And why he’s walking slow enough to trip over his own feet.”

“He’s admirin’ the—”

“He’s working up the nerve—”

“If you don’t fuck off with that, you lunatic—”

“Alright, now you’re being hopeless on purpose—”

“Good afternoon, Ms. Findley. I hope the trip was—oh.” Steve stops dead in his tracks, three feet from Paige’s farthest desk, his eyes finally landing on Ava. He smiles sheepishly. “Hi there, Dr. Ryder.”

Her grin feels positively carnivorous. “Hello, Steve. Come to welcome home our resident space cadet?”

“Hiya, Rogers,” Paige responds, turning with a smile almost as bashful as the captains. She spins back around, busying herself with the mess of wiring she’s pulled from her bag. “Don’t pay her any mind; she’s in a mood.”

“Something happen with the appointment today?” The concern that immediately surfaces knocks some of the teasing out of Ava.

Some.

“No, Bucky played nice, I promise. I even brought him bagels to make up for being a half-hour late. Come to think of it, that’s probably what made me a half-hour late.”

Steve’s eyes go a bit wider, his smile softening. “You two had breakfast together?”

“I ate mine in the car. He took his with him. But I like to think we did so in spirit.” Her head tilts to the side innocently, refusing to let him off the hook. “So. What brings you to engineering?”

His hand comes up to the back of his neck, his expression getting… close to nonchalant. “I had some time on my hands—don’t wanna run off on a mission with Buck being a grump about medical orders; he might sneak out. Take your time with that, by the way. It’s impossible to convince the guy to take a day off. You’d be doing him a favor if you dragged your feet a little more.”

Using a best friend for deflection is a social skill Ava mastered years ago. He’s going to have to try a lot harder. “Who wouldn’t want to kill time in engineering? The wrench monkeys get to have all the fun. Maybe you should bring Bucky next time—”

“Oh, that’s—you know, I don’t think that’d be a real—he’s very particular about where he—I think maybe—”

“I think the sergeant would love to meet you,” Ava tells Paige, who’s biting back a grin with her head pointed firmly down at her workbench. “I was telling him some stories about you this morning. I think he might share a few of his own with some time.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Paige offers, still not looking up.

Steve lets out a nervous chuckle. “That’s—yeah, it’d—it could help out with his attempts to be social, and—you know. Hey, how was the mission, by the way? I forgot to finish asking.”

“It went just fine.” Paige shrugs, and that’s when it clicks for Ava why she was willing to jump topics so fast. Agent Dickhead really did hurt her feelings.

“Towanda,” Ava says plainly, calmly.

Her best friend’s eyes lift to hers. They stare at each other for a long moment. Paige goes through a silent argument that it’s not worth it; Ava silently insists that it very much is. It all happens through shifting eyebrows.

After a moment, Paige’s shoulders deflate, and she looks back at her work with a sigh. “You do it.”

Looking back up at a confused Steve, Ava crosses her arms over her chest. “You’ve got a real cunt running one of your away teams.”

“Oh, sweet lord,” Paige groans, her head falling into her hands with her elbows braced on the workbench.

The captain’s eyebrows go for his hairline. “I’m sorry—I have a—I’m going to need a few more details.” He shifts his attention to Paige’s back, and his expression gets worried. “Did something happen? Who was your lead? JARVIS, can you grab me the associated reports on Ms. Findley’s latest away mission—”

“You don’t have’ta do that—“she tries to assure, her head coming up with blazing red cheeks. She hates confrontation. Absolutely despises it.

Ava used to avoid it. She doesn’t bother much these days. “Actually, your name got thrown into the mix, Captain.”

“Heeere we go.” Paige takes a deep breath in.

“Thrown into the mix of what?” Steve’s tone is shifting into the sub-zero range.

“I’m not sure what Agent Fuckwad’s name is, but apparently, the guy thinks it’s not his job to understand his equipment. He also thinks it’s super cool to talk shit about the engineer that designed what he can’t wrap his head around. On an open comm. With her on the other end.”

“I have the mission data ready for transfer to your private feed, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS reports in. Ava doesn’t miss the smugness sitting in his tone, making her smile. She’s betting the AI has been fuming over this in his own way. He’s been protective of Paige ever since her first all-nighters in engineering.

There’s a boiling rage sitting in Steve’s eyes, one that’s rising by the second. When he steps up to tap the side of Paige’s arm with the back of his hand, it’s entirely held back from his voice. “Are you alright with me handling this?”

It’s Ava’s turn to raise her eyebrows in surprise. Extremely pleasant surprise.

“I—oh, fuck me runnin’.” Paige lifts her hand to scrub at her face. “Look, Rogers, I’m not tryin’ to get anyone in trouble here—”

“There are ways to go about this without leaving you holding the bag from a reputation standpoint. If the guy’s a—a... I tried, I’m sorry, I can’t get the word out—the point is, I can handle this in a way that doesn’t blow back on you.”

“Let him do it for the other people the dickwad is going to end up being a cunt to,” Ava suggests helpfully.

“Exactly,” Steve agrees easily.

Paige groans, shifting her weight back and forth. Finally, she nods with an uneasy sigh. “Alright. But—maybe just have it be somethin’ found from the logs? I really don’t wanna write up a—”

“Your name won’t come up. I’ll take care of it.”

Ava smiles, tossing another olive to catch in her mouth.

—

September 20th, 2015

Sam balances the plate of sliced sough dough and fresh fruit on top of a can of grape Fanta. He keeps his eyes locked on the way it wobbles back and forth as he makes his way down the hallway of the rented house. Propping the bundle of still-warm linens on his hip, he shimmies his hand off them enough to grab at the handle to Sergeant Miserable’s room.

The sack of personified despair is exactly where they last left him, hunched in on himself in the corner of the room. The pile of blankets under him used to be on the perfectly nice bed sitting in front of the window. The one with an unbelievable view of Finland’s countryside hidden behind tightly drawn curtains.

Their resident vampire, un-fucking-surprisingly, fled from it as fast as he could. Steve’s been grumbling about stealing the curtains while he’s asleep just to force the guy to look out the window on the way to the john.

Sam’s decided to start handling the food deliveries alone. It’s time to start pushing, even if Steve’s not entirely ready for it.

Bucky watches him move through the room, never saying a word. Not even when the plate of food gets put on the nightstand next to the bed, where they always leave it. He leaves them empty outside the door at night, so they know he’s actually eating. Poor bastard never looks angry, more just anguished.

Sam sits on the side of the bed slowly, as gently as he can. He keeps his posture relaxed, his expression passive, and looks up at the newly freed prisoner of war. “You and I gotta come to an understanding on somethin’.”

Bucky’s eyes start out mostly hidden, thanks to the angle of his head. The shadows consume them entirely as his eyebrows come down. “What.”

One-word answer. That’s good. It’s a verbal day. “We gotta figure out where we’re at. Steve is too close. You’re gonna need someone pushing you on things he can’t. Things you need help with.”

It’s not a subject he’s brought up with Steve. Being blunt feels like the better option here. He’s guessing the captain’s appeasement is starting to grate on nerves going through this much culture shock. Plus, there’s no pep-talk like a military pep-talk.

“Do I strike you as an invalid?”

“You might not wanna—we’ll work on that. Point is, you need to start gettin’ comfortable with the new reality. Suck it up, Buttercup, the sky didn’t actually fall. The world’s still spinnin’. None of the big baddies who still know about you have the juice to catch you—”

“No, they don’t,” he confirms aggressively.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever, you’re huge and scary. You’re also an idiot sitting around wasting a full pardon. No one’s expecting you to start doing a press circuit. If you wanna walk off into the sunset and go find a picket fence to park your Transylvania routine behind, we’ll help you pack and send you postcards. If you wanna do what Steve did and pick up a life in SHEILD, let’s get you fitted in some Kevlar and find you a therapist. But let’s get you outta this fuckin’ room.”

Bucky’s eyebrows stay firmly set, keeping his eyes shrouded. “Why.”

“Oh my god, could you be more dramatic? Like, shit, if you really tried?” He stands up from the bed, headed for the door, his eyes rolling again. “You wanna know why? Because that’s what people do, Bucky. They hit the ground, they figure out if they’re still breathing, and then they get back up to fix what broke. You keep going for the ones who didn’t survive the landing; because they’d hate your guts if you laid down and died over them. Your friend Steve can tell you all about that if you ever feel like giving the man the time of day. No one’s asking you to do this alone.”

Sam stops at the door, raising one finger and pointing it back accusingly. “You know what— I’m asking you to go outside long enough for a beer in three days. Besides that, it’s up to you how slow you wanna take this.”

“What’s in three days?” The comment is thrown out on a grumble, right when Sam’s nearly got the door closed.

“My birthday, asshole. I’d like to spend it somewhere outside of this house. And, believe it or not, I’d like you to be there.”

—author end notes—

idk abt other ppls trauma foods, but man when im Goin Through Shit all i can ever stomach is bread and bubbles so, for sure inflicted that on bucko. plums i feel like are His to pick up, y'know?

im putting the idiots in my own couples counseling since im robbing bucky of his best FATWS moment so far (yes it is the wrong about me line ty for asking). i also want it on record that grammarly tried to get me to change "the 30s" to "his 30s" and i had to be like no actually i just jacked our leading man from the restricted section of the smithsonian, thanks tho babe

and now you've met paige!! the storm in a bottle herself!! she gonna smooch the shit outta stevie. gonna try to do our babe peggy proud and have her knock that dweeb off his toes at every turn (not hard). still no clue if ill do a spin-off series for them since they're just background here, but i do know im doing some kinktober stuff for them. they get 10 of the days so far (yeah. yeah, its gonna be 4some territory in the last few days, but have no fear, the main fic((s? series maybe? look man im makin a plan as we go. all i know right now is good space and kinktober)) will stay monogamy focused). so, fans of super mega dirty steve, might wanna Check Back Later for those posts 🥰

#chapter update #if you ever get confused by these descriptions just remember that i yoink them straight from ao3 #i dont do shit for tumblr lmao #good space

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feathersforclones · 3 years

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Listening Outpost 9 sat silently on top of a cliff, round roof reflecting the shining stars above except for the small set of three antennas proudly situated right on top in the middle of the roof. Two of them were rotating around the biggest of the three, catching noises and data from all the surrounding land. Not that the surrounding land was much to look at or listen to. Listening Outpost 9 was one of the last ones still standing, still being operated by a Listener. Just one.

Only a few blinking lights could be seen on the sleek black outer walls, gaslight peeking through small gaps in between ill fitting and repaired plates, all painstakingly rubbed down with some kind of black mud and brushed so well that it looked pristine at night.

There is only one door for Listening Outpost 9, which faces the only way to the house and onto the dark land the cliff springs from. Its an island, stone and moss galore but never trees or the semblance of other live than the Listener.

At the bottom of the cliff is a roaring sea, waves clashing like wild hordes of horses against the stones, clawing at it and taking away parts, gouging the ground and stone with long practiced ease. Its so loud, that it can be clearly heard on top of the cliff, can easily be heard and recorded by the moving antennas sitting as innocent witnesses on top.

When they were first deployed, there had been 4 persons to man the tower, the house, the Outpost. This was years ago though. Now there was only one left. One Listener who had long forgotten his name and on somedays even his purpose. It was hard not to follow the other three, to just surrender to what he could hear every night when the two moons of the planet were not to be seen. Not to declare himself free and willing to leave the Outpost to go looking for what he could record. To follow the haunting melody sang by whatever beast sat at the bottom of the cliff, calling for him like it had called for his Brothers.

And why could he not follow it? The Outpost was long since forgotten. The whole planet seemed to have been forgotten by everyone else but himself. The Listener sighed, a gloved hand brushing over the side of his helm, his trusty bucket, which was scratched and dented heavily. But he had no longer the materials to repair it. The screen was broken, one of the radio antennas ripped right off. There were holes in it, leaving him helpless to escape the notes of sorrow and longing drifting up with the winds, playing with his heartstrings.

He tried to escape many times from the Island, but there was no boat nor ship to take him away. And this was his post. This was where the buckets of his brothers rested peacefully. And what would wait for him outside of this world? War.

So he stayed his feet and hands, did not call out to his brothers among the stars to remember him, to get him home and safe and to be sheltered in between humans that looked like him. He took all of this, his emotions and feelings and bottled them right up inside himself. Until today.

The two moons could not be seen everywhere and he knew he had only a little time. With a heart that felt heavy and close to breaking, the man made his way to the small staircase leading upwards to the repair hatch in the roof. It creaked miserably as he pushed it open with his hands, a shoulder needed to prop it open fully. The salty winds greeted him first, pushing misty drafts of clouds around him in a cold and wet but welcoming hug. The quiet beeping of the antennas was drowned out by the roaring of the waves he could hear below him, but not see. He fell more than sat on his behind, head tilted backwards to stare at the vastness of black all above him. Stars shining in it like flickering lightbulbs which had to be changed sooner than later. His helm, his trusty bucket, was clipped to his belt, it would not help him any longer. He slipped the black gloves from his hands, throwing them aside without a care. And there it was, starting up right as the sound of waves finally dimmed down to the gentle heartbeat of a living sea. Foam Horses tamed for a few precious hours of time. A wild beast settling down to listen to one of his own’s call for … for something the Listener didn’t even know.

There were no words to the melody, no rhythm or rhyme. It was feeling, raw and unfiltered and reaching up towards the sky and him and everyone who would dare to listen. But he was the last one. The Listener breathed out, eyes falling shut, heart stuttering in his chest. The voice, the haunting vocals, wrapped around his self like a scarf made of finest silk, bound him just as strong and unforgiving to its source. He could hear his brothers in that voice, calling for him, telling him to join them. Join them down at the bottom of the cliff, where they had all gone after a while, surrendering to the voice, to the emptiness that had spread in all of their chests. They left him alone. One after the other.

No one cared. About the Outpost, about the non existent information and not about one single Brother left on his own on this wasteland of a planet. A single tear made its way from his closed eyes, slowly making its way down his chilled flesh to finally drop on the roof. He would not give in. Not today. But how long until the Sirenscall of freedom and companionship would lure him in as well. He does not want to be alone anymore.

#Snippet #Clone #Clone Wars #Star Wars #forgotten one #where do they station them all?#I felt a bit angsty today #and without asks im just gonna write the haran i want #im feeling bad for him now though #feeling bad with OC #baby i swear im not going to desert you!#Im sending someone to get you away!

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grippingbeskar · 2 years

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The Element of Surprise | Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve: The Call

mando x fem!reader

series masterlist here

word count: 7k (ffs sorry)

warnings: ADULT CONTENT MINORS DNI (phone sex? idk like one way ft sort of vibes, general sexual content) swearing, canon typical violence

a/n: sorry it took so long but school be kicking my ASSSSSSS anyways this one is super long, idk if people prefer longer chapters or shorter ones, i could always write them and just cut them in half? but my first chapter of this was just over 2000 and now we at 7k so sorry for the inconsistency but HERE IT IS. enjoy feedback always appreciated love you guys thanku okay bye

P.S im going to stop putting the ***** in front of where certain THINGS begin because i feel like it takes you out of it and i dont like how it flows but i will put !!!!!! instead so you can skip those parts if u want but YAAA thanku!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Again. You can do it.” You’ve been standing here for about two hours, in the small open space between the cockpit and the room behind you, figuring the less space you both take up the less chance there is that Grogu will get sucked out the vat chamber.

He seems to be getting his meditation rhythm quickly, having spent a few hours this morning simply focusing on control. You could feel his concentration, the Force a strong, unwavering wall before him as he sits in the cutest half-crossed leg position you’ve ever seen. Having worked on objects last time, you thought you would take that same concept and apply it to himself, but it doesn’t really seem to be sticking.

You can’t blame him, the few times you practised with your father never amounting to any height taller than the average step. You didn’t have the focus, nor the will power to push past all the negative distractions and focus on the pure. Grogu, though, has more power than you could fathom, and as inadequate as he makes you feel, he should be flying through this lesson, literally. As he bounces on one leg getting no more than a centimetre off the ground, you slide your back down the wall in defeat.

“Okay. New approach.” You pat the floor beside you, and he plops down, his frustration evident in the energy muddling your own. Thinking back to what was your final day on Tatooine was, you try to remember what you did when you were running away from those incessant little Jawas. Running through the desert, you felt the ground solid as a rock beneath you, giving you the edge to run just that bit faster and stay out of reach. You were sure you even had a bounce in your step, springing you forward with each stomp. You were terrified, remembering how there was an impossible number of them, how tired you were. You were pushed to the extreme, and even that gave you minimal results. You weren’t going to do anything like that just to make the little guy jump a little higher, but this train of thought has you standing straight up.

“Din!” you shout, and you can hear his head turn to face you from the pilot’s chair. “Come here. I want to try something.” You aren’t completely sure where this is going, but it’s worth a shot considering everything else has failed miserably for both you and the kid.

Din appears next to you a moment later, and for a second you forget what you were doing, his presence always so distracting. You take his hand and guide him in front of Grogu, pushing down on his shoulders and he lets you take him to the floor, his legs raised as he tries to fit in the small gap. You stand behind him, and his head comes back slightly to rest on your thighs. It’s such a small moment, but everything about him makes you spin, and having him below you like this, you shake your head trying to rid the dirty thoughts that flash across your imagination.

“Okay. Now hes watching. Give it another go.” Even the baby is confused, but he tries anyway. His giant bug eyes close in concentration, one opening to check if hes still watching and quickly shutting again, and the rush of energy would have knocked you back a step and it not been for Dins hand coming around and holding your ankle. Nothing happens for a minute, but you feel something different this time, and you know your plan is working.

Every time you’ve made progress with the kid, it’s been because Din was watching. You can’t blame him, you want to impress him too, but every time something big has happened, it’s had to do with him. Grogu telling you his name, you had both been sitting at that tree for hours, but as soon as you pointed out Din leaning up against the ship, watching, he unconsciously unlocked something inside himself, and you understood him. When he saved Din’s life before you met them, it was because of him, and he was in danger. Even when you felt that kick of energy a few mornings ago, it was because he wanted Dins attention and didn’t know how to ask for it.

Their connection is something you know because you’ve felt it too – a child to a father. That kind of unwavering, unconditional love that knows no race, no age, just a completely pure and unrestricted care for another. You look down and see him, or rather, you don’t see him, because hes so high up in the air that you have to crane your neck up. He comes back down, then up, and giggles as he flips around in the air, weightless.

You feel Din laughing underneath you, the airy sound of his voice not hiding his shock. As much as it warms your heart to see this between the two people you care about the most right now, you can’t help but be jealous. Not of them, you would never place yourself between or in front of either of them, their connection formed long before you and will likely stay long after.

No, you were just jealous because they had that time. You had a few short, incredible years with your father, and you thank the Maker every day because of it, but it was taken from you, and you never get to make new memories like the one you observe now. It’s so familiar, too. This exact scenario has played out in your head a thousand times, making your father proud of how far you’ve come, what you can do, maybe even one day following in his footsteps, doing something right for once. But you won’t get that time, and it just hurts to see what you could have had.

Din is standing now, reaching out to catch Grogu in mid-air, but he slips out of his reach, coming to perch on your shoulder like a bird. At that speed, thoug, you can tell his feet don’t have the balance. Your hands move faster than your brain does, and you catch him before he even starts to fall, a small screech coming from him at the impending fear that never hits.

Cradling him in your arms, he giggles at you, and the sadness that flooded you fades a little, his tiny hand coming up in front of your face, touching your chin. You smile down at him, and you can feel him reaching out to you through the Force, sending a small but strong wave of warmth, clearly sensing your emotions. These kinds of moments will never cease to amaze you, and you are only slightly aware of the Mandalorian armour coming into your peripheral.

“I knew you could do it, Grogu. Just needed someone to show off too, huh?” He laughs, at least you think that’s what he’s doing, making squeaking noises between your face and Dins chest.

“He just has a good teacher.” The modulator buzzes, and you shake your head. This was all Grogu, and if anything, Din had more of an effect on him than you could teach. The door to the cockpit is open, and you realise it’s entering the atmosphere of yet another planet. In the short time you’ve been with Din, he’s taken you more places than you’ve seen in your life, and you don’t think there will be a time where a flutter of excitement doesn’t rush through you at the prospect of being somewhere new.

“You can go back now; to land, if you need. I just had a hunch that you might have been the missing piece.” You look up at him, dark visor burning into your gaze.

“Missing piece, huh?” You nod your head, and a huff of air comes from the modulator, your head turning slightly as he softly squeezes your side with one hadn’t before returning to the cockpit, door remaining open behind him. The baby fidgets in your arms and you let him go, watching him bounce at inhuman heights along the small hallway.

Shuffling inside the cockpit, you slide into the chair next to him. The sky is dark with flecks of purple and white spreading through it, and you know you can’t have travelled too far, the familiar sandy terrain cluing you in to your overall distance. You seriously need to get some orbital awareness, it’s taken you this long and you’ve barely found your way around the ship, let alone an entire system of planets.

“Okay, tell me where we are today.” You sigh, knowing there’s no way you’re going to guess right.

“I need to talk to you about that.” Your heart stutters in your chest, the seriousness in his tone usually reserved for targets. You mumble a quick ‘okay’ and let him continue. “This next bounty, I need to do this alone.” Oh. Maybe that whole dramatic walk-in-silence after the last time has put him off you coming completely. “Don’t do that.” Can he read minds in that thing?

“Do what?”

“It’s not that I don’t want you there.” You can’t hide the relieved smile that kicks up one side of your face. “His puck had some information – he used to work for the Galactic Empire.”

You feel the wind leave you, and you are instantly terrified. Not for yourself – you’ve trained yourself long enough to be able to hide any hint of force capability all your life. But you are currently travelling with what could be one of the most powerful Force users of your time – and he has no idea how to hide it, partly because you haven’t taught him yet.

“Hes old now – retired from the military for years. But there’s rumours he..” he fades off, obviously not wanting to finish his sentence. You take a deep breath, shuddering as you try to respond.

“And you’re going to bring him here?”

“No.” The answer is quick and confident, and you know what that means. Not asking any questions, you are secretly relieved hes going to just kill him and not bring him back, remembering how well it worked out last time he brought back a bounty while you were on his ship. “I might be gone a day or two – maybe longer. Hes far in the mountains, but I cant risk-“

“Grogu. Of course. Ill protect him.” It sounds a lot more confident than you feel, but with your abilities coming back stronger by the day, you actually feel like you could hold your own. Maybe you should ask Din for another lesson...

“Either of you. I can’t risk you.” It takes you a second to realise that you cut him off, and your cheeks flush red. His voice is raw – as raw as it can be through the modulator, but now that you’ve heard him without it, you can imagine how it sounds, and it means more than you would like to admit to know he actually cares. “So you’ll stay?”

“Of course. Just a couple of days, right?”

“Yeah.” he says, and a low ‘hm’ comes from him as he slides back into his seat. If you weren’t so in tune to every move he made, you probably would have missed it.

“What?”

“Hm? Nothing.” You can hear his smile.

“What?!” you laugh and lean forward so you get a better look at his body language. He sits with both thighs touching each side of the chair, slightly lower down so that he can lean back and look past the headrest to see you.

“Nothing. I just thought you were going to fight me on it.” He shrugs and you scoff at him.

“Come on. Im not that combative.”

Silence. Its full of sarcasm as he stares at you head on. Even though his helmet never changes, he can have so many expressions just in the way he stares.

“Fine.”

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing.” He says a bit quieter this time.

“No? Is that what you want, then? You want me to fight you?” His head snaps back a little, and you think you shocked him more than you did yourself. It came out way more sexual than you think you intended, but the butterflies it sent to your core make you think otherwise. The hand he has on the arm of the chair tightens, and you try your best to keep a straight face, wanting him to lead whatever comes next. Your heart beats faster as he goes to stand, your breath quickening in your chest as you anticipate his next move.

As suddenly as it started, the ship knocks down on to solid ground, shoving you back into your seat and the Mandalorian halfway into his, a large arm flying out to push a couple of buttons and pull a lever to stop it completely.

“Way to stick the landing.” You say under your breath, and another long, sarcastic stare comes your way as he sighs and stands up again.

“I-I have to go.” He says the words, but his tone is almost- whiney? He sighs and rubs the back of his neck.

“Oh! Like now?” He nods, a hand coming to rest on the top of his utility belt.

“I want to get a head start, so I can come back tomorrow. Less time we are here the better.” You nod this time. The quicker you can get off this planet, the faster that means the probable jedi killer is dead and the kid out of danger. You know this is practical. You know. But fuck if you don’t care, desperately wanting Din to finish what he didn’t even get to start, and the thought of him disappearing for days before you get to find out what it was makes you want to throw a tantrum.

Speaking of tantrums, the baby must sense something is off, because he starts to fuss and cry on the floor of the cockpit he has now wandered into. Scooping him up you start to walk out and descend the ladder, hearing Din follow closely behind. The shutter of his crib comes up and you place him in, watching him falling asleep almost instantly after a long day of training.

The Mandalorian spins you as soon as your hands are free, turning you so your entire body feels the cool metal of his armour. You still step into him, wanting to feel every part you can before he leaves.

“I have to go.” he whispers, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself more than you. His chin drops to his chest, and you rise up on your toes to press your head to his forehead, your silent way of kissing him when you cant. It’s not nearly enough to stifle the warmth that has now spread to the rest of your body, but being with him like this will do any day of the week. “Can you just – close your eyes. For one second.” Your eyes were already closed, taking in all the smells and ridges and bumps you can feel, trying to memorise him in every way before he leaves. You nod frantically as you feel him pull away, only to return with the softness of his lips against yours.

This kiss is different than the few you have shared before. Before, it was passionate, fast and greedy. This is slow; purposeful. Its full of promise, and its exactly what you needed to remind yourself he was coming back, and you would have that time with him. You think the feeling in your stomach and the shake in your hands is more linked to the idea that he wouldn’t come back for you rather than the dangers that lie in the horizon of this planet. Every planet has things that could kill you, but not every planet has him.

He bites the bottom of your lip and tugs gently, a small moan coming from you as your eyes roll back under your closed eyelids. He says your name and his lips leave yours, hearing his breathing switch from airy and hot on your cheek to scratchy and modulated. Your eyes open.

“Ill come back as soon as I can. When I leave, don’t open the door for anyone. Only I can open it from the outside.” You nod and step back, the feeling of his body hard against yours distracting you from this important information. “I changed the cockpit controls so they will open for you until I get back. The ship has ground security protocols, so it will protect you if anything happens outside. Take this-“ he shoves something in your hand. Its small, cylindrical and has a wire and earpiece. “-it’s a commlink. You press the button on the back, and it puts you through to me.”

“Where’s yours?”

“Built in the helmet. I’ll be able to see you, too. If you turn the camera on.” You smirk a little, that piece of information swimming in the back of your mind. Later, you have to say to yourself. “If anything happens, call me. I’ll come back to you.”

“How? You’ll be days away. What if-”

“I’ll find you. Always.” his gloved hand comes up to your cheek and skims across your cheekbone. “Always, cyar’ika”

“You never told me what that means.” you smile as he types some codes into the side panel and the ramp comes down

“Didn’t I?”

“No. Hey! What does it mean?!” you half yell into the now complete darkness. You almost lose sight of Din as soon as he steps off the ramp. You want to chase after him, tell him you can help, but the little snores you hear next to you cement your feet. He just stands there, staring at you, one hand on his utility belt, stocked full of weapons. The tall blaster-sniper thing you nearly dropped when you were cleaning up the ship the first time is slung over his back, and he leans to one side, head tilted. You feel a little stupid, but you wave at him as the ramp closes, and he waves back and disappears completely.

Turning to face the empty ship, suddenly filled with dread about how the hell to fill the next 48-72 hours. You have enough food and water to last you well past that, but you can’t exactly sit and eat for the entire time. Sighing, you examine the comm link in your hand. You’ve never used one before, and your curious. How far away will it work? You know he said there was a camera in there somewhere, but you don’t want to turn it on and call him by accident not even a minute after he’s left. Placing it on top of your bag on the floor, you decide you’re going to take a nice long shower, and hopefully you’ll fall asleep somehow.

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You did not fall asleep. After spending way too long in the fresher, you went upstairs to ‘your’ room, wrapping yourself up in the blankets that still smelt like him, but it wasn’t enough, because no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t sleep in there without him. After a few hours of tossing and turning, you gave up completely, bringing both the blanket and pillow down the ladder and curling up in that familiar corner of the ships hull. The kid woke up when he heard you coming down, the soundproof seal of the upper and lower parts broken when you dropped the ladder. He jumped out of his bed, and you were way too exhausted to put him back. Both of you tucked yourself under the blanket, bonding over your mutual dwelling in the Mandalorian shaped hole in your little group. Neither of you woke up, the constant hum of the ship as well as the dark sky outside making it impossible to tell the time, which is a blessing in disguise, because you had no idea how to waste your day locked up in the Razor Crest, counting down the minutes until he came back.

When you finally untangled yourself from the blanket, you had to stretch out, sleeping in that hunched position did nothing for your constant aches and pains. It reminded you of sleeping on Tatooine, lots of late nights, only falling asleep due to pure exhaustion in any spot safe enough to close your eyes. Cracking your back, you step over the still sleeping baby, probably re energising after your long training session yesterday. You figured it probably isn’t the best idea to try and train while your here, drawing the attention of anyone on this planet while the Mandalorian was so far away made you uneasy. You knew you could protect yourself, but you were untested, and you’d like to keep it that way.

Heading up the ladder, you decide to explore the only part of the ship you haven’t really looked at, mainly because someone else usually handles it. The control system looked standard – you knew it was made before the Galactic Empire, and you also knew it had a hyperdrive, only because you’d seen Din use it speeding away from Jakku. Other than that, there were a whole heap of buttons that seemed connected to different weapons and allocated gears. There was a reason you hadn’t been able to build a ship in three years – you had zero mechanical experience. You wondered if Peli would have taught you if you’d asked way back when, but your pretty sure she would have charged you credits you didn’t have. Shaking your head, you wouldn’t have wanted to leave any other way, because thinking about being anywhere but here makes you feel empty. Here you have a purpose, and you don’t wander aimlessly - you are wanted, or at least needed for the time being.

Din had made it clear he wanted you to stay, but it still worried you what your purpose would be if you ran into a Jedi at some point. They would be the clear superior teacher, and you would want that for Grogu anyway, but you still wanted to offer something. Maybe you could learn, while he wasn’t here to tell you no. Running your hands over the controls, you realise the Mandalorian had said not to leave the ship, but he didn’t say anything about moving it.

Slowly, you went through the motions you had seen Din do– so many times you memorised the pattern. You’ve flown before, but only once, and knowing how well (not well) that turned out, you take it slow. This is ten times bigger than the jet you flew three years ago, and its pitch black out, but what else is there to do? You are on a ship – you’re going to at least press a button. You flick the ignition and the engine roars to life. It sounds louder than usual, and the rumbling of the jet fuel churning through the lower hull wakes the kid downstairs, hearing him tumbling up the ladder and suddenly floating into the co-pilots chair, strapping his own seat belt on.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, buddy.” he looks at you with innocent bug eyes, tiny hands clinging onto the seat straps, and you really don’t want to accidentally kill him, so you sigh and flick the switch back off. As the engine dies down, you hear a loud beeping coming from downstairs. You mutter a swear under your breath. Of course the one time you touch one tiny button you set alarms off. No wonder the engine sounded so loud.

After climbing into the hull and walking past the carbonite chamber, you realise the beeping isn’t coming from any machinery, but rather the small comm link on top of your bag. It has a flashing red light next to the button, and you quickly slide the earpiece on before pressing it.

“What’s wrong?” His voice floods into your ear, and you swear you could cry at the sound of it. He sounds out of breath, like he’s running, and its suddenly the greatest sound in the world. “Hey! Answer me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Why would anything be wrong?”

“You started the ship. Where are you going?” What the hell? How did he...

“How do you know that?”

“I track it. Part of the protocols.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You scoff and he continues. “So where were you going?” You sigh.

“Nowhere. I was just bored, and I’m on this massive ship so I thought –“

“You thought you’d try to fly a ship ten times the size of anything you’ve flown before?”

“Yep.” It sounds way dumber when he says it like that. You were very bored though, and now you were talking to him, so who’s the smart one here?

“Even though you crash landed the only one you’ve ever flown?”

“Hey! It was a malfunction in the engine.” You defend. It wasn’t, you just couldn’t fly for shit. He laughs, even though he’s out of breath, and you realise you might be distracting him.

“You sound busy. I’m fine, kids fine. I didn’t mean to worry you; I won’t attempt any more get-aways.”

“I’m not busy.” He says in between short, sharp breaths.

“You’re running.”

“I can run and talk.” Your glad he can’t see the goofy grin that you sport when he says that. “How’s the kid?”

“Tired. He’s still sleeping, curled up in a little ball on the floor.” You look over at him, hardly visible in the tumble of blankets he’s thrown himself back into.

“Bet he was happy when he thought you were going somewhere.” He knows him so well; it makes your heart swell.

“Strapped himself into the seat and everything. Very adorable.” You shutter the door closed, making sure Grogu can fall back asleep in the quiet of the hallway.

“He’s always been a sucker for a pretty face.” Maker, his voice alone could push you over the edge, and something about that compliment, in particular the places you’ve been when he’s called you that before, makes your core tighten instantly. You went so long without any kind of intimate interaction, you think your body forgot what it was missing and now you can’t seem to control yourself, that and everything he does just happens to be the most attractive thing you’ve ever witnessed. You have to clear your throat before answering.

“Must be why he stuck around with you for so long.”

“Must be.” The line goes quiet, just the heaving of his modulated breath in your ears, and you close your eyes, content to just listen to the sound of him. He’s still running, although you think he may have slowed his pace whilst talking to you. His boots hit hard ground, and there’s a slight splash in each thud, so he must be near water. You furrow your brows at this, trying to remember if it rained today.

“How far away are you?” The sky was completely dark when you arrived, but you were pretty sure there wasn’t any rivers in eyesight, meaning he must be very far away.

“Only about an hour. Underground, though. He’s a loner – figured I’d try my luck under here.”

“Undergr- wait where are we?” He never even told you what planet you were on, let alone how he got underground. He does everything with such calm confidence you forget to question him.

“Ryloth.” You take a breath to press him, but he reads your mind even from miles away. “Lots of mountains, underground springs – Twi’leks home world in the Outer Rim. We’re in the Night lands.”

“Night lands?”

“Ryloth is tidal locked, one side is always dark and one light – that’s why you haven’t seen the sun since we landed.”

“Damn. I thought I just slept in.” He laughs in an exhale, and you can hear that his footsteps have become slower and softer, obviously trying to limit his presence. “So its just always night here?”

“Only on this side of the planet.”

“I kind of like that.”

“Yeah?” he whispers, and as much as it makes your toes curl at the low vibration, sounding like he’s right next to you, you remember the reality of his current situation.

“Are you sure you don’t need to-“

“Keep talking. Please.” Its like music to your ears, hearing him like that. You slowly get up and walk up the ladder, letting it shutter close behind you and leaving the kid snoring downstairs. You sit in his chair in the cockpit, taking in the lingering smell of him that almost seems infused in the chair. Maybe its weird, wanting to be surrounded by him all the time, but having him talk in your ear while you can smell that specific kind of shampoo, your senses nearly overload.

“Okay. How do you know all this, about all the planets you visit? Is it like some Mandalorian thing to know everything about planets?”

“Its not a ‘Mandalorian’ thing.” You can hear the sarcastic tone and it makes you giggle as he continues. “I have a book.” You wait, thinking he will elaborate, but the longer you sit in silence, it occurs to you he isn’t going to elaborate.

“A book. You read about them?”

“That is what you do with books, yes.” Oh, how you missed this.

“So, every time you visit a planet, you have to memorise all this stuff about them? How do you remember it?”

“I don’t always, and I only really check the relevant parts, like underground springs that are potentially hiding spots. And I like to be prepared. Helps to get it done quicker.” The image of him sitting in the chair you are currently slumped in, reading while travelling with the kid in tow, gloved fingers tracing words while his visor follows them.

“Is it here?” By here, you mean in the ship, but when he murmurs a small ‘mhmm’ you immediately leap up and start opening compartments in front of you. Most are full of tools, a few small boxes and rags litter through the bigger drawers, but when your hands find the stark white cover of the only book in the ship, you can’t help but run your fingertips over it just once before snatching it up and flipping through the pages, trying to find a planet you recognise. You make an excited sound somewhere between a squeal and a shriek when you finally do.

“Find it?” he says, low and quiet.

“Ryloth, also known as Twi’lek Prime. Located on the Corellian Run in the Outer Rim.” You read proudly, and you can’t hide your excitement at the information you now hold. Every planet in the galaxy is in your hands, and you continue to flip through the pages. You hear Din sit down, a small grunt coming from him as his body slumps to the ground. He sounds tired. You wonder if he’s been able to sleep at all out there. “You okay?” he only grunts in response, and you place the book on the floor, deciding to come back to it later. “Is he close?” You have started to whisper too, if only to allow him to concentrate.

“Yeah. Should be done soon.”

“Good. I miss you.” You almost regret the words when you say them. You are still unsure where you stand with Din, feelings not really being either of your forte’s, but you can’t help what you feel, sitting surrounded by things that remind you so much of him and flicking through his book only pulling more and more longing from your chest.

“You miss me, ner kar'taylir darasuum?” That was new, but it sent the butterflies in your stomach wild all the same.

“Don’t let it go to your head.” he laughs, as loud as he can while still making as little noise as possible. “But yeah. A lot. Especially right now.” You close your eyes, trying to imagine the breathing coming from your earpiece was brushing against your cheek, his voice kissing the back of your neck.

“Let me see you.” He almost growls because of how low he’s keeping his voice, and you set the cylinder in your hand against the controls in front of you without question, clicking the button and sitting back in the chair.

“Is it working?”

“You’re in my chair.” You take that as a yes.

“Mhmm. Smells like you.” You don’t know why, but you almost feel the change in the air when you say that. Din takes a deep breath, and then another.

“You miss me that bad?” You nod now that you know he can see you, eyes staring right into where your pretty sure the camera is. You sit cross legged on the chair, it’s width big enough to allow you to lean back in it slightly, considerably bigger than the one you are used to. Your fingertips graze your bare thigh as they come to rest on the armrests. “Show me.”

!!!!!!!!! Your eyes widen at his request, and you suddenly feel a little shy. You know you are alone, and the pitch black of the night sky as well as the height of the ship ensures no one could see you even if they looked straight in, but it’s still a massive glass panel in front of you.

“Don’t be shy, show me how bad you miss me.” His voice is heavy, and you swallow thickly before biting the bullet and slowly bringing two fingers into your mouth, just like he does so often, and sucking them gently.

You hear his breath hitch and he mumbles something under his breath, so you take that as a sign to let your hand drift out of your mouth, and sliding in straight under the waistline of your shorts. You can feel how wet you are just by skimming the outside of your underwear, and it draws a moan from you even at the light touch. Your eyes flutter closed again as you imagine what he must look like, head leaning back against a wall, forced to watch you do this while all he can do is stare. This turns you on more, putting a little more pressure to your centre with one finger, and you moan his name.

“You thinking about me?” his voice is louder, and you think you hear him shuffle around a little.

“Always.”

“Tell me what your thinking.” You slide your hand underneath your underwear, fully committed to this now. You keep your eyes closed, and try to copy what he does, starting with a slow rhythm that sends ripples of pleasure up your spine.

“Thinking about you. I always think about you. Your mouth on me. You make me f-feel so good Din.” You stutter through your sentence, starting to pick up the pace. You can hear how heavy he’s breathing on the other side on the line. You have never done this before, and you also aren’t sure how much he can really enjoy of this considering his situation, but the pressure in your stomach is building too fast for you to care, wanting to be selfish and chase your own release, the idea of him watching only making you work yourself faster.

“You look so fucking pretty like that. In my chair, touching that sweet pussy while thinking about me. Didn’t know you could be so fucking dirty.” His words and your fingers are the only things making sense right now, trying to imitate the incredible things he does with his hands and tongue. It doesn’t feel nearly as good as when he’s here, but having him tell you how pretty you look while you touch yourself sends you into overdrive.

“Maker I wish you were here Din. Want to feel your hands on me so bad.”

“I know, baby. You’re doing so good for me. I wanna hear you cum while your thinking about me. You gonna cum for me?” Your eyes squeeze shut, enraptured in his voice and your pleasure. You can feel it sitting low in your stomach, like a time bomb guaranteed to go off - you just don’t know when. You hear him shuffle around again, the only audible sounds from his side.

“Fuck. You are so beautiful. Don’t cum until I say.” You whine, and you are about to protest when you hear the clang of his utility belt on the ground.

A zipper slides down through the earpiece, and when you hear him spit into his hand, you don’t care how loud you are when you moan his name. You can only just hear the quiet sounds of his hand stroking his length and he lets out a shuddering breath. You decide to take the lead, knowing it might be hard for him to talk.

“I wish it was my mouth around your cock, Din. I want to taste you so fucking bad. I’d take anything you give me. Just want to feel you.” You have no idea how you get the words out, your pleasure and heat for him taking over and saying the words your conscious mind would be too embarrassed to say, but they are no less true. You hear him moan softly and he try to choke it down.

“Bet your mouth would feel as soft a-as your cunt, cyar’ika.” His filthy words bring you as close to the edge as you can possible be, every time he curses only feeding your fire. You can feel yourself bursting at the seems, his name a prayer on your lips as you chant it, picking up speed nearly forgetting his earlier command. “Your gonna cum when I tell you, okay?” You nod again, unable to do anything but shake at the intensity of what he does to you.

If you had been more coherent you may have heard to commotion on the other end of the comm link, but you couldn’t hear anything past his occasional quiet whisper of a moan, any sound he makes sending you reeling. A string of curses flow out of your mouth trying to keep some kind of composure, wanting to be able to do what he says.

“Okay, baby. I’m going to count to three and your gonna cum for me.”

“Din! I-“

“Be a good girl for me. You know I make you feel good. Listen to me.” You nod your head rapidly, fingers circling your clit in tight, fast motions imitating the way he does. “So good. Okay, Three.”

He stops talking, and you hear a single blaster shot in the background. You are so close you think you might explode, your hand still working as you yell out for him.

“Fuck! Din are yo-“

“Don’t stop. Focus.” He grits out, his hand still working himself, slow wet sounds coming from his end as well as another single blaster shot. He shuffles around, and you are just about to scream at him for being down right fucking crazy when he speaks again.

“Two.” You throw your head into the headrest, back arching off the seat. In the back of your mind you are slightly worried for him, but you know he doesn’t take risks, and if he was in any real danger he would stop. “Maker you look so fucking good like that. You gonna cum all over my chair, huh?”

“Yes! Yes, Din fuck imgonnacumDini-“

“Wait.” A choked gasp rips from you as your body starts to shake; desperate.

“Good girl. You ready?”

Your hand moves erratically and you have no idea what’s taken over you as you moan and shake and scream his name.

“Fucking cum for me, baby. Tell me who’s making you feel so good.”

“Din!”

Your orgasm hits you like a train, and your entire body jerks under your own touch. You had no idea you could make the sounds that rip from your throat, his name mixed in with the shouts of pleasure.

He moans in unison, and you hear the familiar shake of his voice and you know he’s cumming with you. That somehow only turns you on more, wishing you could see how good he feels right now.

Your legs are twitching in the chair as they are now swung over the armrests, putting you on full display to the watching Mandalorian on the other end.

“Shit, baby. You did so well. You feel okay?”

“D-Din.” Is all you can manage and you hear a small laugh through the earpiece. You know he can see you and how very much okay you feel right now, the post orgasm high making you shyly smile at the camera.

“Wish I was there right now.” He murmurs in your ear, and you are about to respond when another blaster shot wizzes past, this one sounding much closer than the last. You can hear him zip up his pants, and clip back the discarded utility belt.

“You are incredible.” You blush at his praise, slowly sitting up. At some point your pants had completely come down, only holding on by dangling off one of your ankles, so you begin to pull them back up. Three more blaster shots come through, and without the haze of your hand in your pants, you become increasingly more worried.

!!!!!! “Din, please tell me your safe.”

“I’m good. Just have to handle this. I’ll be home soon, cyar’ika.”

“You still have to tell me what that means.” You smile at him, leaning forward to be closer to the camera.

“Soon.” He repeats, and you roll your eyes at him. “No more flying escapades.” You hear two more shots.

“If this is what I get when I turn on the ignition, you bet your metal ass I’m flying this ship to Batuu and back.” He laughs, it’s audible now because his cover is most likely blown.

“We’ll see.”

“Please stay safe, Din.” you move your hand to pick up the comm link, bringing it toward you. “Come back to us.”

“Always.” He says, and you drift to sleep on his chair, dreaming of him coming home.

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