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one-way-dream · 1 year

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The King's Shadow - Ch. 2

Rating: General

Words: 3000+ (4600+ Total)

Media: Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic and the Black Knight

Pairing: Sonic/Lancelot (Sonic/Shadow)

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Developing Feelings, Pining, Alternate Universe - Medieval (Check AO3 for any tag changes!)

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Chapter: 2/3

Link to the original work

AO3 Summary/Excerpt:

The other’s embarrassment slowly melted away into a resigned sigh, before turning into a smile; mischievous in appearance, but nothing short of putting the sun’s radiance to shame. And then Lancelot truly felt the carefree and trusting weight, the sheer warmth of the newly crowned king’s hand in his own.

And he knew more than ever that his life now belonged to him.

Author's Notes: WOW sorry this took so long! nearly two years..... truth be told it's just been sorta sitting there but i finished up the chapter tonight (ya boy got medicated finally) and i hope to get the next one eventually too! hoping to get it out within the next 5 years /j

thanks for reading and for all the support!! ❤❤❤

Previous/Next

Lancelot came to learn that King Sonic was not fond of excessive armour.

Surely, it was made clear enough by the fact that he only sported a gauntlet most of the time during his time as a self-proclaimed knight. Though despite being crowned as king, he still insisted on minimalism.

“It’s just a little too much, y’know?” Lancelot barely picked up on words that still sounded slurred to his untrained ears, “It’s easier to run with less of that metal stuff on me.”

Said “metal stuff” lay in a carefully discarded heap in the grass by the entrance to the moat, which would undoubtedly be picked up by one of the castle’s workers after the king would accidentally forget about it. Despite being polished daily and in pristine condition, there wasn’t a soul alive in the kingdom to actually wear that armour for more than two hours a day.

“Alright, patrol time is finally over! Ready to move out, pal?” Sonic glanced back at the knight keeping a respectful distance between them, who gave a silent nod in agreement. Lancelot’s visor generally hid his face during daytime patrols – the sunlight had been stronger and brighter than usual, bouncing off dirt paths and stone walls all the same. It was a bit too harsh for the knight, who preferred the cool whispers of the evening air dancing through his black and red quills. It was quiet. It was safe.

The king technically wasn’t obligated to wear armour if he didn’t please, but Lancelot noticed that Sonic at least attempted to wear it once a week, even if it was just for show until they were out of sight from the prying eyes of townspeople. The knight assumed it was a way of balancing his lifestyle of freedom with the customs that a life as king expected from him. In a sense, Lancelot found it to be rather noble.

He could only imagine the turmoil he faced leaving his people – it became clearer each day that there was a major cost, a sacrifice, to staying in a different world as their king.

As they made their way into the open meadows, Lancelot watched the other hedgehog stretch to the best of his ability, locked hands reaching above his head suddenly swooping down to the flower-adorned grassy field under them, fingertips grazing the white straps of his well-loved ruby sneakers.

“Y’know,” He starts, posture reverting back to a casual stance as he turns towards Lancelot, “I didn’t really expect to have to wear all this bulk.”

The knight felt his frown deepen without him meaning to.

“That ‘bulk’ is a royal heirloom, passed down from monarch to monarch, your majesty.” But as soon as he processed the sound of his own voice, Lancelot regretted his tone. “…I— I beg you to forgive me for my insolence, sire.”

Sonic could only shrug, as if Lancelot hadn’t just spoken abrasively to him like he was some low-ranking squire. As if their relationship weren’t that of a legendary king and one of his many knights. As if their relationship didn’t have complexities woven into it through the gaps between each fibrous cross of thread. Impenetrable, so to speak, – not only to outsiders, but also to them.

“I mean, you’re not the same as him, but I’ve definitely heard far worse.” He smiled back at Lancelot even brighter somehow, like he didn’t have a care in the world, “Don’t sweat it, Lance.”

The knight’s expression grew even more perplexed.

“What?” Sonic stopped, expression mirroring Lancelot’s own, or at least whatever he could make out through his visor, “Surely that painfully abrasive tone meant that you’re a little more comfortable around me right?” He said with a sarcastic grin, motioning with a nod of his head for them to keep moving and conversing.

“That’s a good thing then! You can let your quills down and be as casual as you want, and in return I can give you a nickname. That sound like a fair trade?” Sonic laughed breezily, grazing the back of his hand against Lancelot’s arm in a half-hearted but friendly nudge.

Warmth stirred in Lancelot’s chest at his words, at his touch; like a sweet nectar that trickled down his parched throat and made him feel alive.

“You know, back home I have a friend who goes by a nickname. He’s like a brother to me, so nicknames came pretty naturally after I met him.” He spoke fondly, not catching the way he had Lancelot’s attention rapt thoroughly and genuinely, “His full name is Miles Prower, but we all call him Tails. Actually, he looks a heck of a lot like the blacksmith we have back in town! A kind and brilliant kid… just like him.”

Lancelot tried to crumple the odd feeling he got at the mention of “brother”. The conversation had more or less settled into its usual back and forth of the day as they continued strolling through the field of sweet violets; admittedly, one of Lancelot’s favourite parts of each day.

Usually these hours were somewhat one-sided conversations, but only in the sense that the king loved to talk, and Lancelot was more than content to listen and affirm. Though, he kept silent mostly out of respect and necessity – he had a responsibility to focus and protect the king, after all.

But today, when the winds are quiet and gentle and the skies bloom with iridescent clouds above them, somehow everything shifted on its axis again; for once, Lancelot was willing to finally hold up his end of the conversation. His heart throbbed loudly in his throat, in his ears, as he took a few short breaths and practiced his next few words in his head.

“I… have a sister.”

There. He said it.

He breathed her back into existence, and never again could she be kept buried deep inside of his soul.

The king slowed his pace, glancing to the side at Lancelot who still kept his eyes hidden under a visor. “Yeah? That’s really nice to hear!” Sonic immediately perks up, livelier than ever at the fact that his favourite knight companion was finally, finally opening up to him, “What’s she like? How old is she?”

Lancelot’s hand slowly reached up to his visor, hovering by the edge as he contemplated, before lowering his arm again and letting it settle by his side, not catching the way the king’s ears drooped slightly at his actions. He let a smile play on his lips instead, reminiscing about sky blue and moonlit gold.

“She’s… a good person, and she’s a little older than me. Full of love; always eager to share it with those around her, even if that means giving up parts of herself.” Lancelot spoke wistfully, affectionately, and in the back of his mind he realized that this was the most he’d ever divulged to anyone about her, “Whenever she’d scold me, there was never any harshness to it – even that was always out of love. She wasn’t perfect of course, but to me she was the closest anyone could ever be. More than anything, I… I think I miss her stories and her mischief the most.”

“Oh… what happened to h—” Sonic’s eyes widened in realization as bit his own tongue into silence, shaking his head and hastily covering up his tracks, “I’m so sorry— please disregard that, you really don’t have to answer anything you’re not—”

“…It was illness, your grace.” He solemnly answered.

“And it’s alright, please do not apologize. We live in difficult times, after all.” He gave the king a small smile, though he didn’t doubt that he could see right through his mournful expression, “I do miss her dearly, but… now that I have shared a piece of her – proof of her existence and a piece of my soul with someone like you, I do not think she will be forgotten so easily.”

The king comes to a standstill and turns to face the other, and it’s only then that Lancelot’s mind catches up with the gravity of what exactly he’s said. He hadn’t said enough to betray how he truly feels, surely, but he can’t help but feel his joints lock up anyway. The first emotion that rushes to him is dread, but then he remembers who Sonic is in the first place, takes in his charming smile in a single brave glance, and relief cleanses every bit of dread out of his system.

“Still…” The king steps closer, reaching out and letting his hand gently hold onto the other’s arm. It takes every bit of self-control Lancelot had been taught in training to not have a visceral reaction at the contact, “I really am sorry for your loss.”

But Lancelot had not been prepared for the faraway look in Sonic’s eyes as soon as he chanced a glimpse at his face. There was something… unreadable. Almost sorrowful in its nature; although something told him that King Sonic wasn’t just mourning the loss of his sister.

For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to listen to his gut feeling.

As quickly as his expression had come, it was gone like the wind, replaced with another casual smile. A rare glimpse of his walls unguarded. Lancelot thinks carefully – but even if Sonic was going to pretend that nothing happened, he couldn’t let it go so easily. The knight wills his heart to settle before taking the dive.

“Do you miss it?” He finally says it, quiet enough that the other could disregard him if he so pleased. “Do you miss your home world, sire?”

“I…” Sonic opens his mouth, then shuts it with a shake of his head, as if to shake an unwanted thought out of his mind, “Nah, I’ll go anywhere an adventure takes me.”

But somewhere in his heart, Lancelot felt that he wouldn’t.

He would tire of this adventure.

He would tire of his duties.

He would tire of this world.

Would a free soul like King Sonic be able to bear the crushing weight of a kingdom in pain? His kindness had seemingly no end in sight, but for how long until he runs on empty? How long until he may have to realize that there were more mouths to feed than plates to give? Or worse: more sick people than there were beds in monasteries? Would Sonic give out pieces of himself at that point, or would he have the courage and humility to step down?

Rather, would Lancelot be able to bear the sight of seeing the king’s spirit broken until it was a mere ghost of what it used to be?

“You’re thinking way too hard about this,” Sonic spoke somberly, as if reading the other’s mind. “I’ve got no plans to leave just yet.” Lancelot felt his heart leap out of his chest from being caught off guard. “Did… you hear what I just said?” he paused, “Sire, did you perhaps use witchcraft to listen in?”

Sonic stopped in his tracks, turning on his heel with an incredulous look on his face only to find that Lancelot was completely genuine. He laughed, bright and lively.

“No, of course not. I just have decent intuition… erm, sometimes.”

They continued in silence for some time, taking in the scenery around them and Sonic carefully stepping around the flowers the best he could. Things continued as normal, walking side by side for once instead of Lancelot acting as King Sonic’s tail. They watched the sun slowly dip closer to the horizon – but there were still many hours left of the day, and many more hours to spend with each other. The thought alone made his heart squeeze for a moment, and he selfishly let his mind wander with thoughts about the other world, wondering if he could ever be a part of it, even if only in his dreams.

And then, against all odds, Lancelot made a request for the first time.

“Your majesty, if you don’t mind… could you tell me more about your world?”

-x-

Another month had passed peacefully.

The king and Lancelot had gone on their patrols together as usual, Lancelot never needing to prod Sonic for answers about his world, as the latter happily indulged him with hours upon hours of grand adventures and small tidbits about his dear group of friends, and occasionally, rivals. It was the one time in the day, besides the mere minutes he spends in his chambers before inevitably crashing from exhaustion, where he felt like he could truly let his guard down and be free.

Lancelot smiled to himself. Even under the rule of a king, he felt free for the first time in years.

In the present day, King Sonic had an audience with the duke of a neighboring kingdom, accompanied by Merlina. Though one of the knights generally accompanied the king, he insisted that he could manage the meeting this time, especially with Merlina’s assistance. Lancelot casually shrugged – another unique quirk that he adapted from Sonic through his behaviour and his stories alone, although he made sure to only ever do it when the two of them were alone. It makes him both nervous and happy that he’s able to learn so much from him, that he’s able to grow even closer to him as his right-hand – his most trusted knight.

Both Sir Gawain and Sir Percival had invited Lancelot to a sparring match between the three of them, as a means of refining their skill over the course of the meeting, as well as during Sir Lamorak and Sir Galahad’s absence. If he had recalled correctly, the two of them had been sent on a great expedition.

Percival and Gawain clashed viciously, sparks flying as they both met their match. Sir Percival knew all the right points to hit; she had a keen eye for weakness and vulnerability, which meant that letting one’s guard down could be fatal within seconds of realizing it. The latter had to be the most powerful of the knights – sheer, raw, energy channelled directly into Galatine as he threw himself head on towards Percival. Lancelot personally preferred a more strategic method of fighting, but even he couldn’t deny that his strength had the potential to overwhelm him.

He stares up at the overcast sky, already missing how blue it was that day he had a heart-to-heart with his king. As the other two finish their match, with Percival as the victor, his gaze eventually settles on the dirt floor before him. Now that he really thinks about it, before he met Sonic, he’d… never really noticed these things about the others.

“…Do you know if the rumors about the king are true or not, Sir Percival?” Sir Gawain was the first to speak, chest heaving from their intensive sparring match.

Lancelot’s head shot up from the ground, any fluttering thoughts screeching to a halt as he stood from his place on the bench.

“Sir Gawain, I do not wish to partake in the spread of—”

“Rumors…?” Lancelot interrupted, taking the other two knights by surprise. It was rare enough for the black hedgehog to speak, let alone intrude on a conversation. Gawain cleared his throat, looking hesitantly between Lancelot and Percival, before he continued, “Yes, I thought… you might have already known, given that you are closest to King Arth— I mean, King Sonic.”

Lancelot continued to look onto Gawain in questioning silence, his breath caught in his throat.

“King Sonic is said to depart back to his world in a week’s time.”

Everything slowed down to a crawl for Lancelot, and he couldn’t fathom why. It was a simple sentence, but one that had the power to shatter his entire world.

A week’s time? He couldn’t be serious. It just didn’t make sense to him how or why everything was happening so suddenly.

But more than anything, even if it wasn’t true, why couldn’t Lancelot simply be happy for the king returning to his beloved home? Nausea brewed inside him, twisting and thrashing around in his stomach – anger only adding acid to the mix as he stormed up to the other knights, eyes locked onto the red echidna.

“Sir Gawain.” Lancelot says coldly, looking straight at Gawain’s confused expression and feeling relief in the back of his mind that he left Arondight propped against the bench. He didn’t know what he would do if he brought it with him. What had King Sonic even done to him to make him feel this way? “If these allegations prove to be false, and lest I find that you show yourself to be the perpetrator of these lies… there will be consequences.”

“What… do you mean by ‘consequences’?” Gawain’s look of confusion sharply morphed into one of intimidation, shoulders tense and letting out a low rumbling growl under his breath as if to challenge the other knight, “Tell me, do you doubt me, as your fellow knight? Do you doubt the loyalty I have for our king?”

Something ached inside Lancelot’s very core. Whether it was burning him up inside or settling him with a pit of grief, he couldn’t begin to differ.

“That is quite enough.”

Percival speaks up next, deep and commanding – enough to make them less tense, but not enough to break their unwavering eye contact, ruby upon amethyst in a deep scowl.

“If you are not guilty of any such crimes, then you shouldn’t feel the need to bare your teeth back at me.”

But Lancelot was the first to quickly mellow, the guilt setting inside him and taking the anger’s place as he realized that he was being impossibly defensive, far enough to threaten a fellow knight. It gnaws at him, because he knows well enough that he’ll regret this action in the coming hours – especially if the king hears about it.

He steps back, giving up and tearing his gaze away from Gawain in defeat as he clenches his jaw, heartbeat in his ears loud enough to make them twitch.

“All I was… —all I am ever after, is protecting our king’s honour.” Lancelot watches Gawain lower his guard as well, rage fading from his features as he also takes a step back, seemingly willing to listen. “I will not let his image falter.”

“That is all there is to it.” He lied.

#sth #sonic the hedgehog #satbk #lansoni #satbk lancelot #sonadow #shadow the hedgehog #sonic and the black knight #satbk king arthur #sir percival #sir gawain #my work #my fics #fanfiction #I THINK THATS IT OK #party rockers in the house tonigh

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psychedelic-ink · 2 years

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Million Dollar Man | Chapter Two - Heart in a Cage

series summary: Two years had passed since your break up with Jack, a fellow Statesmen agent. But everything re-ignites again when Champ asks you to go San Francisco to investigate the disappearance of multiple women across the country and, sadly enough, agent Malibu. While doing anything with Jack is chaos enough, you also run in to another ex, a man that actually showed you kindness and someone you thought you could spend the rest of your days with that is until he started asking too many questions about your job, Frankie Morales.

pairing(s): jack daniels x fem!reader, past frankie morales x fem!reader, eventual (+endgame pairing) jack daniels x fem!reader x frankie morales

chapter summary: Tensions rise high between you and Jack when your suspect, Arthur Dunn, manages to escape. Frankie gets wrapped up in Statesman business.

word count: 8.8k

chapter warnings: graphic depictions of violence, canon typical violence, gory imagery, mentions human trafficking, alcohol consumption, near death experience, lots of nicknames being used by Jack (buttercup, baby girl, sugar etc.), oral (receiving), dirty talking, imagined voyeurism (feat. frankie), cumming on body, piv, angst, a brief panic attack, spoilers for kingsman the golden circle

a/n: sorry that it's been so long everyone, hopefully you'll all enjoy the new chapter <3

masterlist | series masterlist | playlist | series inspo board | AO3

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The clock ticks. The air inside the hotel room is still, silent, heavy with made mistakes. Every small movement of the hour hand makes a sharp sound, it’s in sync with the beating of your heart. Your eyes flicker to the wall, the round object taunting you both. You feel suffocated, unable to breathe. Jack’s sitting on the couch, his legs spread wide as he bounces one up and down. His head snaps to the clock.

“For fucks sake–”

Hauling himself up, he stomps towards where your gaze lays and yanks the clock off of the wall, leaving a round, brighter color of plaster behind. With a grunt he throws it across the room, it shatters at impact, glass shards flying everywhere. Your eyebrows raise but you’re not surprised. Jack didn’t like failure, no one really did, but he despised it. Dragging your gaze to him, you see that he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, breathing heavily.

“You should calm down,”

“Calm down, you say?” his eyes fall to you, his hand dropping from his face. “I’m going to jerk a knot in your tail girl, it’s your fault we’re in this situation in the first place,”

“My fault?” your voice raises a pitch but you don’t get up from the bed. “How is it my fault?”

“If you hadn’t been busy flirtin’ with your man–”

“My man?” you sneer and get up, anger bubbles inside you. “You were the one groping me during the job. It was like you were marking your territory, I mean you might as well just peed all around the table!”

Silence follows your outburst. He stares at you a moment too long before lowering his gaze, Jack lets out a stuttered breath. You know you’re right but you still can’t help but feel bad. The air is still heavy with tension, pressing your nails into your palms, you tear your eyes away from him. Your thoughts return to Frankie and your last moments together at the bar. You foolishly told him that you would call, well that will soon prove to be a big fat lie now wouldn’t it?

“We should go to bed, this argument is pointless. You put a tracker on him didn’t you? We’ll follow him tomorrow,”

He stills, eyes a shade darker as he looks at you with a questioning gaze. An unsettling feeling blossoms across your skin.

“You want me to sleep on the couch?”

You know that at this point if you say yes, he’d probably spend the night on the couch. Shaking your head, you turn to the bed and pull at the sheets.

“No,” you answer, voice barely a whisper. “It’s going to be a long day tomorrow, you should get some decent sleep,”

“Thank you, sugar.”

The soft baritone of his voice surprises you. He heads for the mini fridge and begins to prepare himself a drink. You're dazed, not really knowing whether you should close the light, join him, or talk about what happened earlier tonight. You think this is the closest Jack has ever come to apologizing for anything, maybe he’s actually changed after all this time. Or maybe he’s grown softer with age.

“What are you doing?”

“Pouring myself a drink before bed,” he remarks, pouring whiskey into an old-fashioned glass. The gold liquid sloshes around, the ice coming up to the surface. “You want one?”

“Sure,”

“Mind getting the lights?”

Your movements are sluggish as you walk and turn the lights off with a sheer click. The city illuminates half of Jack’s face, a soft light softening the sharp edges and hiding the other half in darkness. Your eyes adjust to the shadows on your way back, you crawl under the sheets, back pressed against the wall while you wait for Jack to join you. Some part of you almost hears a soft hum of a melody, it’s reminiscent of the times Jack would sing a lullaby to you on nights you couldn’t sleep. His southern drawl enough to relax your mind and pull it down into a peaceful slumber. The pleasant sound of liquid spilling into glass fills the room, soon he joins you, extending you a whiskey with a twist. Just how you like it.

Your pulse picks up when you feel his knee graze upon your bare thigh. Images of an airplane bathroom floods your mind, the way your body contorted with pleasure in the reflection of the mirror as he took you from behind– Swallowing, you press your legs together, the heat between them growing.

Unaware of your predicament, Jack swirls the glass and takes a sip. His dark gaze is fixated ahead, it almost seems like he’s avoiding looking at you.

“I am sorry,” he croaks, your eyes go wide. “I didn’t mean to bring out any ol’wounds. How–” Jack swallows, adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “How did you two break up?”

Your eyes flicker to him, brows knitted together as you bite the inside of your cheek. Jack clicks his jaw, fingers twitching around the glass. He takes another sip and swirls the liquid in his mouth, the moisture on his lips glistening under the city’s faint light. You’ve never seen him like this before. He’s also never asked about your relationships, even when you were together, he just didn’t seem to care. When you commented on it he’d said;

“All that matters to me is that you’re mine in current time, I don’t care about your past nor future if it’s not with me. Why pain myself with the thought of you being with someone else?”

“He asked a lot of questions,” you mutter, pressing the cool glass rim to your lips. The citrus flavor makes your tongue stick to the roof of your mouth. “You know the rules, we can’t talk about Statesman business,”

Finally he turns to you, his eyebrows drawn together as his eyes flicker between your eyes and lips.

“A technicality? That’s why you broke up with him?” he tuts. “Poor fellow,”

“Frankie was suspicious, I didn’t want to keep lying to him– He was also scared I was…doing something else,”

“Something else?”

“Never mind,” you shake your head. “Anyway, that’s pretty much it. There wasn’t much else to do at that point,”

“You could’ve told him the truth,”

“Why do you even care, Jack?”

Annoyance laces itself into your tone. Placing the half empty glass to the bedside table, you slid down into the sheets and lay on your back, staring at the dark ceiling with guilt thrumming in your ears. His dry laughter reaches you, encircling you like a snake.

“I don’t,”

“Fine, then shut up about it.”

Jack downs the rest of his drink and kicks the sheets off of him as he lays down. A broken sigh falls from his lips, a tremble in his chest when he turns to lay on his front. Again, Jack leaves you simmering in your own anger, now guilt sprinkled into the mix. He’d said it as if telling the truth was the easiest thing to do. There are rules that need to be followed. You can’t just say you’re a Statesman agent to the first person that’s nice to you.

Okay, that wasn’t fair. Frankie is much more than someone who was nice to you.

You feel like a fool. You actually thought a conversation with Jack would end up being a decent one. Shame on your part. You should know better than to hope that the man has changed. He is still the asshole you once loved. Or maybe still love. You don’t know. He brings out the worst in you. Heart heavy in your chest, the feeling of it makes you toss and turn under the sheets. With a hitched breathing, you turn to your side, back facing Jack, and curl up into a small ball. There’s no way you can sleep now. Not with your mind in a fiddle.

The silence of the room fills with your heavy breathing. At least that’s what it feels like. Tears flood your lash line, threatening to fall as whimper after whimper stumbles out of your lips. You squeeze your eyes shut, lashes now wet.

Your side of the bed dips with Jack inching closer to you. His strong arm falls above your waist and pulls you close, flush against his chest. His chin is pressed snug on top of your head, Jack’s fingers find their way under your shirt and with a hum he draws lazy circles across your soft stomach. Goosebumps burst across your skin, the fine hairs on the back of your neck raising with his warm breath raking across your skin.

“Calm down sunshine,” he mutters, voice heavy with sleep. “You worry your pretty head way too much,”

“I can’t help it,” you’re not sure what’s happening to you, a tear escapes your eye and you tremble. “You don’t understand– I just never wanted to hurt him,”

“I know,”

“He was there for me when you weren’t. He… You don’t get to say stuff like that to me. It’s not fair,”

The silence is dreadful.

His thumb still moves across your skin, but now it feels as if it belongs to a stranger. It’s uncomfortable. You can almost almost hear his heartbeat, unlike yours, it beats steady in his chest. He slowly breathes out, the soft curls of your hair move along with the puff of air. When he speaks, your heart is about to leap out from your throat.

“You shouldn’t pay much attention to me,” his words unrushed, he takes his time pronouncing every word. “I didn’t mean to pry. I certainly didn’t mean to make you feel bad,”

“Whatever, let’s just go to sleep,”

Despite choosing to be petty, you can’t help the shake in your voice. Anger boils in your gut and you want him to feel it. And he does, by the way his thumb stills on your skin and the way he pulls an inch away, the curve of his nose now pressing against the back of your head. Jack doesn’t utter another word, and soon you hear soft snores making their way out of his lips, his arm still sprawled on top of you. You don’t move away. You don’t want to. Your anger fades, his warmth caressing your skin akin to soft waves.

The tears in your eyes dry away, your heart once again beating steadily.

You take in a deep, long breath, the air that surrounds the two of you is crisp, it chills your lungs. The cold nipping your skin as you follow Jack uphill. The Santa Cruz mountains are quite refreshing compared to the hustle and bustle of the city. Noticing the soft orange rays adding color to the otherwise blue sky, you stop and turn your gaze towards the horizon. The sun is only now rising. With a sudden call that came in last night from Ginger, you learned that Arthur Dunn had fled to the top peak of the Santa Cruz mountains. Which was odd, considering Ginger told you there was nothing up there. You and Jack had gotten ready in a hurry, both of you annoyed about being woken up so early.

“I swear if you we go up there and there’s nothin’ I’m gonna throw a fit,”

Sighing, you drag your gaze away from the view and to Jack. Rolling your shoulders, you speed up after him.

“Why do you always give her such a hard time?” you scold him. “She’s amazing at her job, you know this, I know this– hell the entire Statesmen knows this!”

Jack scoffs, the tips of his mustache flickering. You roll your eyes, grabbing the straps of your bag, you hug it closer.

“She wants to work in the field you know,”

He stays silent, only the occasional branch or two napping under his boots. You lick your lips, the air has thinned, making you spit cotton.

“Why do you always vote against her?”

This was one of those questions that you were always curious about but never had the courage to ask. Ginger, for the longest time, longed to be an agent, to work in the field. She loved her current place in Statesmen and knew it was important, but she also wanted a taste of the action which you understood. But whenever she had the guts to actually put herself out there, Jack voted against it. It had to be unanimous. You hated seeing her so broken down after each vote. And this situation only added to the bad blood between Ginger and Jack. It’s an odd thing to worry about considering your own issues with him but you desperately craved a distraction.

“Look, sugar, I know she’s your friend and all but,” he stops mid sentence, gazing ahead. A second later he chews on his bottom lip and kicks a small stone. “She’s not ready for the field. Bless her heart. She’ll just end up getting hurt,”

“That’s not your decision to make Jack,”

“Isn’t it?” he keens with a wide grin. “Then tell me, why do we cast a vote?”

Touche.

His chuckle is a baritone, clear and far-reaching. He got you good, you’ll have to hand it to him.

“Still, you’re too hard on her,”

“Why the sudden queries about Ginger, buttercup? Spit it out,”

You shrug, your feet digging into the dirt a bit deeper with your next steps, “There’s nothing to spit out. Just curious,” a hum vibrates in your throat. “So, you’re just worried she’ll get into trouble huh? Get hurt?”

“I worry about everyone equally, we’re Statesmen. We look out for each other,”

“Aw, you’re just a huge pile of marshmallows underneath that mean face, aren’t you?”

“Who’s out there sayin’ I have a mean face?” he grunts, his voice a tone lower, barely audible, but the wind carries his words to you.

“Mostly me,” with a grin you gently bump your shoulder into his. “It’s nice to see this side of you. Sometimes I forget you’re actually a good person,”

“Well, you fell for me for a reason, so I’m guessing that must be it.”

That, you were not expecting. Your heart skips a beat, body burning despite the cool, morning air. For some reason you thought he wasn’t aware of how much you cared in the past, even if everything that he did told you otherwise. You suck in a deep breath, eyes watering as it burns your throat. You decide not to say anything or add to it. The constant bickering exhausted you. It ate you whole and spat you out with every word said. However, it doesn’t matter if you don’t reply to him. His sentence sticks to you like a tick, you’re unable to remove it and it keeps sucking your life source, making you feel nauseous.

You fall behind, staring at Jack’s back as his long legs take him further away. Unconsciously your hand ghosts over the rope that dangles from your waist, the material itself isn’t heavy, but it might as well be made of iron.

You must be getting closer to Loma Prieta, the highest peak the Santa Cruz mountains has to offer, seeing how Jack’s demeanor changes. He hunches over, steps having more of a jump to them as he scans between the many sequoia, pine and oak trees.

A sudden gust of wind blows, urging you to look up towards the peak. A cumulonimbus cloud swirled at the summit, its tall, column-like appearance intimidating. Very faintly, you see the color of lighting crackling among the gray, a burst of light followed by a deafening sound. Air hurls between you and Jack, the rope on your hip fluttering and slapping your thigh as you try to move forward. The sheer force of it makes your eyes water, it makes it hard to breathe.

“Did you know there was gonna be a storm today?” you shout, shielding your eyes.

“No,” Jack screams back, he slows down, waiting for you to catch up. “It might be a trick to keep people away. Do you see that?”

He points towards the top, his lips an inch away from your ear as he fights the wind so his voice can reach you. Squinting, you follow his finger. You see a small outline of a building, it’s hidden among the thick flora but you can definitely see it.

“Yeah, I guess that’s where– Shit–”

With another strong gust of wind blowing past you, you stumble back, nearly toppling . over. Jack moves swiftly and without effort, he helps you regain your balance by wrapping an arm around your waist. He pushes you back up, a glimpse of worry in his eyes.

“You alright?”

“Y-Yeah, thanks,”

His attention drifts back to the building that gets closer with every step, his arm never leaving you as you walk against the wind, it’s the best security rope you’ve ever had.

The rest of the hike carries on without another word. It’s impossible to hear one another over the wind, and as the building looms over the two of you, it’s easy to shift back into work mode. You focus your senses, eyes flickering to every sound you manage to pick up despite the storm. The lightning quickly becomes more frequent, leaves and dust lifting off of the ground. Jack pulls you tight against his body, as if he’s afraid you’ll fly away, and leans down to speak into your ear.

“We should call Ginger, she might be able to pick off heat waves of who’s there when we’re closer,”

You nod, the building finally coming into view. A moat full of water surrounds it, a handful of stairs leading up to the main facility, a glass wall bordering around it. Blue lights buzzed in the glass, the color inching up the dark gray walls. Jack pulls you down behind a bush. Funnily enough you can’t spot any guards covering the multiple entrances. Either they’re stupid, or this is a trap.

He pulls out his Statesmen glasses, the nose pieces shifting down as he puts them on.

“Ginger, you there?”

“Yes, Agent Whiskey,”

The modulated voice echoes in your ears.

“We’re here, can you tell us how many complications we should be expecting?”

Soft taps against the keyboard and her voice buzzes in your ears once more.

“I can’t get a proper reading, there’s something disturbing our channels,” she says, sounding concerned. “You two should be careful, that storm isn’t normal,”

“Figured,” you grunt. “I swear, everyone’s an evil genius these days. So annoying,”

Jack’s gaze flickers to you, a grin spread across his face.

“We don’t know if he’s a genius yet sweetheart, don’t get your panties in a twist just yet. In any case, we should head out,”

“Good–”

“Ginger Ale, wait,”

“Yeah?”

She sounds a bit surprised, and worried. Which is a common thing whenever Jack addresses anyone with such an urgent tone.

“Thank you,”

You’re pleasantly surprised. A satisfying tingle of actually getting through to the stubborn man makes you smile to no end. In fact, you’re grinning like an idiot, unable to stop despite your cheeks beginning to ache. Ginger must’ve been shocked too because she doesn’t answer for a while, the only thing indicating that she’s still on the line is her subtle breathing.

“You’re…welcome?”

When a giggle forces its way out of your tightly pressed lips, Jack shots you a glare. Ginger clears her throat.

“Anyway, good luck agents.”

And she’s offline. You can imagine her telling Tequila about this, you’re definitely going to write this moment in your diary; The day Jack actually thanked someone. God is real.

“Shut up,”

“I didn’t say anything,”

“I can see the wheels turn in your head, girl–” he huffs, brows knitted together. “It’s not that big of a deal,”

“Well it is to me,” your wide grin softens into a smile, reaching out, you delicately trace your fingers down his jawline. “And probably Ginger,”

“I don’t know why you think she cares so much about this,”

“I don’t think I know. Besides a little praise hurt no one,”

The wind blows again, and you think it drowns out the rest of your words. But he heard you, loud and clear. You fail to notice the mischievous curl of his lips, his fingers lacing into yours, he drags the inside of your palm to his lips. The feeling erodes your skin, goosebumps rising not because of the cold or the harsh wind, but because of the softness of his touch. He presses a tender kiss, the bridge of his nose nestling against the curve of your palm. Jack continues to mold his lips into your skin, moving lower and lower, until he reaches the vein curving along your wrist, your rising blood pressure makes it pop. Your breathing caught in your throat, your lungs stuttered in your chest, not knowing what to do.

“If you wanted my praise you should’ve just said so, sugarcube,” he mutters, the ticklish sensation spreads from your wrist and makes the entirety of your body tremble. “What do you want to hear? How gorgeous I think you are? How I want to devour your very being so you can’t go anywhere? How I think you’re the perfect agent for any of mission?”

Eyebrows rising, your eyes grow wide. It feels like the storm is a manifestation of your thoughts. Chaotic, spiraling, confusing. His lips move along your inner arm, the soft skin burning with every scalding press of his mouth. You’re frozen. Body unable to move. Jack reaches the inside of your elbow, the wetness of his tongue leaving a wet trail that chills as soon as he moves away.

Bells start ringing in your ears. It’s loud, shrill. Nothing but red flags appear before your eyes, the color of blood waving across your sight as his lips bury themselves into the crook of your neck.

You jump away with panic surging through your veins. Heart beating in your throat as you fall and land on your bottom. Jack looks down at you confused, lips still parted. The moment is still in time, a bubble forming around you when the heated moment turns icy cold. He licks his lips and once again the world around you shifts, time moving forward. Swallowing, Jack rips his gaze away from you and stands up.

“Let’s go,”

Never in your life could you imagine him sounding so cold. Especially towards you.

Splitting up is a rookie mistake, but one Jack feels like he is forced to do.

The clean halls echoe with his footsteps, everything is too damn white, too damn bright. He hates infiltrating and having to be sneaky, he was always a more guns blazing type of guy. And if he was alone for this mission, he might as well have done just about that. But he can’t risk it, not when you’re with him. Jack would rather get strapped up into one of those hospital beds and get experimented on than to see you get hurt because of him. He’s made that mistake once, he wasn’t keen on making it again.

However, he contradicted himself. If he really didn’t want you getting hurt, he wouldn’t have offered that the two of you should split up. He couldn’t help it. Not after seeing the look in your eyes when you backed away from him, nothing but fear swirling in them. He hated seeing you like that. He hated that he was the one causing it. He’d damaged you, hurt you beyond repair. Never would he have thought that that hurt would make you fear him. But oddly enough, that same fear gave him the power to comfort you. In a way.

Jack still remembers how you spiraled down the clear signs of a panic attack. Then, the fear, the hurt, had granted him some sort of power over you. He couldn’t quite understand it nor did he care that much about it. If it’s the fear that’s going to help you, force you to calm down, then so be it. He’d be the villain to your salvation.

He had you, but he also didn’t. A curse.

Jack’s steps slow down. Maybe he shouldn’t have let you wander alone, you’re an exceptional agent, but considering recent events, he isn’t sure how put together your mind is. Internally cursing at himself, he’s just about to turn on his heel and head back, but a loud buzzing echoes between the walls, a murmur of words following soon after.

“What was it again? Agent Whiskey? Okay, alright–” whoever is talking clears their throat. “Agent Whiskey! This is Arthur, from the bar, and we have your girlfriend so, if you don’t want me to hurt her–”

“Oh screw you, you pompous–”

Relief washes over him upon hearing your voice, until then he hadn't realized how fast his heart was beating.

A growl is heard, and it’s soon followed with a violent sound of a punch. Jack’s blood starts to boil, seeing a set of stairs heading down, he quickly makes his way towards it and goes down them two at a time. He sees nothing but red.

“Anyway, like I said, if you don’t want her hurt– at least more than she already is– I advise you to– Oh there you are!”

Jack’s pulse picks up as he sees the sharp edge of a blade digging into your neck. Your arms are tied behind you, a thick layer of sweat coating your skin. Upon noticing a dark red circling the skin of your right eye, Jack grits his teeth together, the sound of it makes his stomach churn. He sees the thirst for blood lingering in Arthur’s eyes, he wouldn’t hesitate to press the blade a little bit deeper in order to end your life right then and there. He’s holding a microphone in his other hand, which he drops as soon as he sees Jack.

“There you are, now tell me,” he leans in closer to you, his disgusting cheek pressing against yours. He notes the way you wrinkle your nose. “Why are you two looking for me?”

Jack’s fingers twitch, the tips hovering an inch away from his trusty bullwhip. He takes a slow step forward, Arthur’s gaze flickers to his feet, Jack takes another step.

“We just wanted to ask a couple of questions–”

He stops when he sees a drop of blood trickling down your neck, you hiss but instead of squeezing your eyes shut, they’re glued to Jack, searching him for any kind of silent plan he can relate to you. Sadly, he has none.

“Stay back,” Arthur squeaks, blue eyes delirious. “I can hear you fine from there cowboy,”

Jack shakes his head, hands raised. “Don’t squat on your spurs son. I’m just trying to talk, just take a breath,”

The man eyes him suspiciously which Jack couldn’t care about in the slightest. His sole attention is focused on you. He allowed this to happen. Him and his stupid ego. This is why he never wanted you for this mission, you are his poison, he can’t think clearly when he’s with you. Your smell, your voice, your touch. All of it is enough for him to relapse into his old habits. He would burn the world for you, and there isn’t a damn soul out there who didn’t know this. Well, everyone except you.

Jack meets your gaze, this time he sees no fear, only relief. He shoots you a crooked smile accompanied with a wink, a wordless signal that tells you everything would be alright. He’s delighted when he sees the faint quiver of your lips curling up.

“We just wanted to ask if you knew anything about the disappearance of multiple women,” he says, his tone lighthearted and calm, despite the storm roaring inside him. Arthur winces, which answers Jack’s question. “So you do,” he muses, cocking an eyebrow.

“I–” Arthur shakes his head. “He’ll kill me, I’m not telling you two nothing.”

Arthur steps back, a slight tremor in his arm. The unstable movement makes the blade cut further into your skin, this time your eyes do squeeze shut, your breathing hitched as a pain filled whimper escapes you.

“I might do a lot worse if you don’t let her go boy,” he threatens, lowering his arms and grabbing the handle of his bullwhip. “Choose your next moves very carefully,”

“Oh don’t worry about that,” he cooes. “I know exactly what my next move is,”

There’s a press of a button and you vanish, the sound of wind rushing inside as raindrops loudly hit the metal floor. Arthur’s grin spreads wide and wicked.

You’re gone.

“How about that, now I have only one of you to worry about. Isn’t that lovely?”

“Greyhound!”

There’s a shake in Jack’s movements. He lunges towards the giant door Arthur had opened up, he ignores the needle like sensation of the cold raindrops and throws his bullwhip forward, hoping that the end of it will catch you and bring you up to safety. But before he can get a clear sight of you, Arthur comes in between him and the door, striking a knee right into Jack’s ribs.

“She’s gone son,” he mocks, he lifts a foot, and stomps it into Jack’s chest. The air gets knocked out of his lungs, chest squeezing tightly. “Now I’ll just have to kill you and that’ll be that,”

Jack doesn’t move. His body feels like it’s nailed to the floor, all sensations of life draining from his limbs. He remembers all those times he woke up drenched in sweat after being shown horrid images of losing you. Now, his body is fading into the same routine of paralyzation. The moment of Arthur throwing you down the mountain plays out before him in a loop. He can’t move, he can’t speak, his vision blurry with dark spots hovering above him. His mouth is dry as a desert. He actually did it, you’re gone, and it’s because of him. He can’t even process it. A world without you? Without your voice, your nagging and glares. Is that a world even worth living in?

His eyes follow the way Arthur’s lips move but he can’t hear him, a sheer ringing in his ears makes everything else fade away.

The last thing he sees is the light bouncing off the blade and blinding him.

All he feels is the grief running through him, making him unwilling to defend himself.

“Greyhound!”

That’s the last thing you hear before the ground disappears from underneath you, the blade replaced with the harsh chafe of the wind and the sting of rain. The scenery of mountains spin before your eyes, it makes you feel sick, bile rising up to your throat.

It takes you a moment before you realize that you’re falling.

“Shit shit shit!”

You adjust your position by drawing large circles with your arms, heaving a breath of relief, you stop madly spinning in the air and fall horizontally, at least now you have a bit more time until you break like a watermelon against the earth’s crust.

The sting on your neck is still fresh, pain blossoming as the wind passes through you. Horror and dread thrumming in your ears, you forcefully pull your hand up to your earpiece and manage to call Ginger.

“Agent Greyhound!” she shouts, making you wince. “What happened? Where are you? Your heart rate is off the charts!”

“I’m falling!” you shout back, panic laced in your voice. “Ginger I’m gonna fucking die what do I do? Help me out–”

A furious staccato of clicking echoes in your ears and Ginger’s modulated, also panicked, voice follows.

“Alright I locked in your coordinates and I’m sending aerial support right now but I need you to slow down,”

“And how will I do that?”

“Which shoes are you wearing?”

“I do not think now is the best time to criticize my wardrobe Ginger!”

The grassy ground grows closer and closer, fear spikes in your gut as death looms over you.

“Are you wearing the Statesmen issued boots or not?”

You vaguely remember putting them on this morning, groaning as they squeezed your feet.

You nod despite her not being able to see, then you add, “Yes– fuck– yes!”

“Click the heels together,”

“What?”

“Just do as I say and click the heels together!”

It’s hard, moving your feet closer together as you’re falling, the wind forcing them apart, but somehow you manage to click them together. Heat spreads across the soles of your boots and a faint hiss reaches your ears.

“Now move yourself so you’re falling vertically, like when you’re using a jetpack,”

Without a word you do as you’re told. Frantically moving your arms, you finally take the position and you notice that instead of falling like a brick now you’re floating…again like a brick but you’re not going as fast as before.

“Good, that’ll win us sometime,” more clicks follow. “It should be there in two seconds,”

“What should be here?” your heart is still racing in your chest, the need to throw up now stronger than ever. “Also, shouldn’t you tell us that these uncomfortable shoes have other utilities?”

“We gave you two a pamphlet–”

“No one reads those things,”

“Well maybe you should,”

You sigh, your eyes fearfully looking down at the ground. It’s still growing closer, it’s going to take you a while till you hit the soil.

“How about we argue about this when I’m on solid ground,”

“Agreed,”

A soft hum echoes in the air and wires strap around your waist, your arms, then, just like that, your descent down turns into the opposite. Looking up you notice a rather large drone with the Statesmen logo on it, thank god.

“Remind me to buy you a drink after this,” you mutter into the air piece.

“Noted. I’m free this saturday,”

Your body relaxes when the wind that was cutting into your skin ceases to exist. But that didn’t mean that the gusts coming from the storm didn’t send chills down your spine. The feeling reminds you of Jack, his blood curdling scream as you fell. Your heart beats with fear, you know that in a regular fight Jack can beat the likes of Arthur, but the circumstances are different. Rage will consume him, which is certain to bring his doom.

“Is Jack alright?”

“Not for long,”

Something bad is happening, you can hear it in her voice. You’re scared. Fear consumes you the same way rage would consume Jack. You can feel it sizzling across your skin, blood boiling within your fingertips.

“Shit– he’s not listening to me,” Ginger’s tone is hushed, worried. “Greyhound, get ready.”

The wires uncoil around you as soon as your feet grace the floor you were thrown off of not moments ago. Your eyes immediately land on the scene that was playing out, Jack on the floor, defeated with Arthur’s foot pushing him further into the surface. Why wasn’t he fighting back? Why wasn’t he–

Time stops.

You see the reflection of light in the blade, Arthur’s hand raised up as he clutches the handle of the knife, you can see the white of his knuckles.

Ironically enough, you were never one for needless violence. It’s something you frequently berate to your fellow agents, they make a show of the blood and gore. Especially Jack. He loves a good show.

But not you.

When time begins to flow again, everything around you moves in slow motion.

The blade begins to descend down. Jack’s eyes read no emotion, there’s no light in them, no nothing. No force of survival. He doesn’t know you’re there. He doesn’t know you’re safe.

With an iron cold gaze your fingers expertly remove the lasso from your waist. You hear the crackle of electricity as you throw it forward, the blue lighting blinding. It lights the room as if there’s a million news reporters inside.

You blink.

You miss the moment rope cuts deep into his flesh, the sizzling echoing as screams accompany the sound.

When you open your eyes you see the blood splattered across both Jack’s and Arthur’s outfit. Tiny droplets of red serving proof of the violence that entails for this job. Your stomach churns, the taste of bile returns to your tongue. It’s a sickening sight and you do whatever you can not to move your eyes towards the lifeless limb that’s an inch away from Jack’s face. The fingers still loosely holding the blade.

Arthur’s head snaps towards you, his other hand holding his wrist that now attaches to nothing. His eyes bore into you, anger and hatred evident in them.

“You fucking bitch!”

When Jack’s eyes meet yours, it’s like witnessing life being born. The light comes rushing back, his dark brown eyes now sparkling with specs of gold. His lips curl with disbelief and amazement.

“You’re alive!” he shouts, his giddiness contagious as you smile back at him. “How on earth did you manage that?”

“I told you, Ginger is really good her job,”

“Well I’ll be–”

Arthur glares down at Jack but before he can utter another word, Jack punches him square on his jaw. He falls back, falling unconscious as soon as his head meets the marble. Without casting Arthur a second glance, Jack gets up and hurries towards you with wide arms. He pulls you in for a tight embrace, the smell of pine and sweat engulfing you as you return the gesture with a hug of your own.

“I’m so happy you're safe buttercup,” he mutters, his heart beating fast. “It’s all my fault, I shouldn’t have–”

His voice breaks and so does your heart. Pulling back, you hold his face between your hands, your gaze soft as you stare at him.

“It’s alright. I’m safe. Nothing’s going to happen to me, I’m right here,”

“And you’re sure you’re not hurt?”

“Positive,”

“Okay,” his breath hitches, chest stammering. “Okay– I just–” he cuts himself off with a sigh and hugs you again, pressing your face into his chest. You hear his next words through the earpiece. “Ginger send in a cleaning crew. We got our suspect.”

Everything had been wrapped up in a pretty red bow in the end; Arthur was brought in for further interrogation by Statesmen, they were also investigating the odd storm and the rest of the building. Meanwhile you and Jack had headed back for your last night at the hotel.

Emotions still run high as you close the door with a push of a heel. Jack hadn’t said much during the road back, and him being silent always worries you. He throws his hat and jacket on to the couch and turns to you, you meet his gaze, warmth blossoming within your stomach when his eyes rake your body.

“Come’re,”

You don’t let him say it twice. Walking up to him, you just stare silently as he cups your cheeks, fingers gently caressing the skin, thumb grazing across the bruise that had gotten darker with time.

“I need to touch you sweetheart,” he groans. “Can I?”

Your eyes grow, and you blink rapidly. You’re surprised by the softness of his tone, melted caramel licking the inside of your ears. You sigh, nodding slowly. Jack leans forward, capturing your lips in mellow kiss. They move against yours sensually, he tilts his head, tongues shyly touching one another with deep gasps of each other's air. He takes a step, urging you to do the same but backwards. His lips and tongue devours you until the back of your knees hit the end of your bed, as you fall, his hand nestles above the small of your back and lays you down gently.

“Jack…” you whisper and his eyes flicker to you, hands ghosting across your clothes as he crawls above your frame. You hadn’t turned the lights on. The familiar light of the city elevates his features like the night before, only this time it casts a soft yellow, a heavenly glow. An angel. Your lips brush against his, your words seeping into his skin. “Jack, I need you, please,”

He doesn’t mock you. Doesn’t tease you. He licks the seam of your lips right before his mouth travels south, teeth nipping the sensitive skin of your neck. Your back arches, the wetness between your legs growing with every touch of his body.

Jack strips you slowly. He takes his time, paying special attention to move his fingertips across every patch of your skin. While he removes your bra, his thumbs ghosts over your peaked nipples, you gasp, pushing more of the flesh into his open palms. He accepts the offering, squeezing them as he would a ripe peach. Then he leans in, taking a bite of the sweet fruit. You press your thighs together, moaning as he takes bite after bite, savoring your taste with the swipe of his tongue.

Your hands move on their own accord, ripping away his stubborn buttons and throwing his shirt to god knows where. He chuckles, breathy and silent, as you spread your fingers over his chest. Jack pushes himself up your body, allowing you to trace your tongue across his sternum, your fingers pressing into his nipples. He quivers at the feeling, chin touching the top of your head as his breath hitches.

“You have quite the appetite,”

“I could say the same thing for you,”

“You haven’t even scratched the surface of my hunger yet, pretty thing. I'm starving.”

A disappointed whine parts from your throat when he slides down your body. But your disappointment is short lived as he pulls you to the edge of the bed, ass loosely hanging off, Jack throws your legs over his shoulders, face only an inch away from your core. His glance meets yours and you see nothing but the dark pits of lust. You whimper, body aching for his mouth. Without removing your underwear, he dips in, pressing the curve of his nose into your sex and inhaling deeply. His eyelids flutter, a groan rippling in his throat, he presses his mouth, tasting the remnants of your slick from over the already damp cloth.

Only images of curse words you so desperately want to say appear before your eyes, you’re unable to speak, the pleasure making nothing other than moans fall from your lips. Jack continues to taste you, the sound of his deep breaths making slick drench the fabric. Pulling back, he removes the undergarment, hence stripping you of the last thing separating you two. Jack spreads your folds with his fingers and blows a puff of air, grinning wickedly as he sees the way your cunt flutters around nothing.

“Jack stop playing with your food,” you hoped to sound more coy but instead it came out desperate and needy.

He stays silent. Allowing the words to linger in the air right before gliding his tongue between your folds, the tip ending on your clit, he presses against the sensitive bundle of nerves. The sudden burst of arousal makes your hips jolt, his tongue delves deeper, tracing the rim of your entrance before pushing through the tight muscle. Your hands find their way into his short hair, tugging at the dark locks, you pull him closer.

Life is nothing but fleeting moments of chance. You could’ve died today. The same Statesmen agents that took away Arthur might’ve been scraping your remnants instead. And that would be it, the end of your journey. Life is delicate. The slightest breeze capable of altering your life course just like that. And that thought alone makes you yearn for the man eating you out like a starved man, you’re restless, nails scraping against his scalp as you pull him closer and closer. At this moment you don’t care if you’re needy, desperate. You don’t care if the two of you should be doing this considering your past.

You just don’t fucking care anymore.

“Jack just fuck me, pelase,” you cry out. “I can’t take it anymore,”

“Not yet baby girl,” he groans into your core. “Want you to cum first, come on you can do it for us,”

“Us?”

You open your eyes, vision blurry, did you hear him right? Did he just say us? Your gaze lands between your legs, your breath hitches when you see that he’s already staring at you, a subtle curve of his lips peeking up.

“I want you to close your eyes sugar, will you do that for me?”

Nodding, you fall back and allow your eyes to flutter closed.

“Good girl,” he purrs. “Now, wouldn’t it be fun for you to cum all over me while your darling Frankie watches? Hm?”

It doesn’t take much for you to imagine Frankie there, your back arches, a wanton moan slipping past your lips while Jack’s fingers start to play with your clit. He mouths against your folds, still talking, pulling you further down into the darkest parts of your imagination.

“He’s right there isn’t he? Sitting on the couch, stroking himself while watching me give you pleasure. He’s hard as a rock isn’t he? Tell me girl, tell me how big his cock is,”

Your legs tremble and you fear you’re about to lose it. Unshed tears sting the corner of your eyes, heart beating at a maddening pace. He makes you imagine it so clearly that you can almost hear the lewdness of Frankie fucking his fist, his eyes focused, curls sticking to his head from the sweat– You gasp, rolling your hips into Jack’s mouth. He swipes his thumb over your clit once more before pushing two fingers in, your eyes roll back, your body tingles with want and need.

“Answer me,”

“He’s–” you swallow, mouth feeling incredibly dry. “He’s big–”

“Bigger than me?”

“T– fuck – Thicker than you, but–” you’re cut off when he purses his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking it into his mouth, your fingers tightens around his hair. “Y-You’re longer,”

He hums, pulling back briefly to mutter another question into your core.

“And what do you want him to do now, sweet girl?”

“I-I want him to kiss me while you make me cum,” you gasp.

His chuckle vibrates around your clit, the sensation makes your thighs close around his face. You can’t make out the line between what’s real or not anymore, you swear you hear footsteps nearing the bed.

“Can’t really kiss you and lick you but I can offer this,”

Light flashes before your eyes at the way he rolls his tongue after each word. And before you know it, you feel two wet fingers nudging at your lips. Greedily, you open up and suck him into your mouth, groaning at the bittersweet taste of yourself and the taste of his skin. Your lips move along his fingers as if you’re actually kissing someone, and after that no more words are spoken, Jack licks, sucks and nibbles. He doesn’t stop and soon, he has you cumming heavily into his mouth.

He slurps hungrily, licking between your folds until he’s satisfied that he’s taken in every single drop. The sheer force of your orgasm makes your head spin, your breathing uneven and quick. You feel like you’re dying. It’s too much. The thoughts of Frankie, the lewdness of Jack’s mouth, all of it builds up inside you, wetness blossoming between your legs again–

You bite his fingers.

“Ouch!”

Jack pulls back his hand and his mouth. Your dazed mind is only capable of making you whine and nothing else. Even then you’re still not quite aware of how hard you bit him, or if you even bit him at all. Only when he’s crawling up your body, muttering something along the lines of “you wild thing” you realize what you’ve done. A semblance that you need to apologize flickers in your muddled mind, but before you can, his lips press into yours. Jack sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, teeth gently biting into the soft flesh and when you meet his gaze, his eyes sparkle and a sting of pain breaks out across the skin.

“Ow!”

He releases you with a child-like grin, both hands cup your breast and at the same time he mouths the underside of your jaw. It’s hard to stay mad at him when he’s treating you so well. The pain almost dissipates immediately, leaving only a pleasurable tingle in its wake.

“Want me to fuck you now?”

“That would be ideal, yeah,”

When he slides into you, it’s so natural that you think that you imagine it. Jack buries his face into your neck, both hands gripping your head and pushing you back to have you expose more of your skin. He feasts as he thrusts into you, his strokes languid, forcing you to feel every inch.

It doesn’t take him long to dangle you over the edge once more, the coil ready to snap as his hips picks up, fucking into you nice and hard. He breathes heavily, teeth sinking into your skin. Without an ounce of fight, you moan his name, over and over again. Begging, crying, heaving.

You see a bright flash of white, mouth opening wide as you gush around him, cunt throbbing almost painfully while he continues to rock his hips.

“That’s it baby,” he rasps. “Break down, let me feel you–”

And suddenly you’re empty, cold. His body towers over you with his cock in his hand, soon you feel the scolding heat of his cum painting your worn out body. He heaves a sigh, head falling back as his lips part with your name. You watch as his body relaxes, he’s mesmerizing, and when he looks down at you, your heart nearly stops. Jack’s eyes are clouded when he leans down, his open palm smooths his seed over the skin of your stomach, you can see the way his eyelids flutter, his face full of something you can only describe as sorrowful. You’re not quite sure why though, there’s something else poisoning his mind and heart, something besides you.

Opening your arms, you wrap them around his broad shoulders and pull him down, the weight of his body makes you feel safe, secure.

When you wake up the next morning you see Jack sleeping on the couch, fully clothed and clearly ready to move on.

Maybe you should too.

It’s good to finally be back and fall into your natural routine. You greet the other agent with the tip of your head, smiling to the ones who smile back. Jack’s sitting right across from you, looking at Champ’s direction. He hadn’t spoken a word to you since the last night at the hotel, so, business as usual. Tequila sits right next to you, his shoulder pressed snug against yours as he leans in and whispers about getting drink later on, just you, him and Ginger.

When everyone takes their places, you notice Ginger at the end of the room and the lights go off, burying everyone in complete darkness. However, it doesn’t last long as Ginger slides her fingers across the surface of her trusty tablet. A hologram appears in the middle of the table, a faint shade of blue lighting up the faces of everyone inside.

“Has the suspect said anything useful yet?” Champ speaks, his voice strong.

“Not yet,” Ginger replies, eyes focused on Tequila. “But he’ll speak soon. Meanwhile we found someone else who’s been in contact with one of the victims,”

The hologram shits and shows a still frame of the outside of a crowded bar, squinting, you lean closer. You note a blond woman, tall and beautiful. But you’re not interested in the victim, rather you’re interested in who’s standing next to her. A familiar looking man. A man with a ballcap, his hand on the small of her back, seemingly guiding her inside.

“Who’s that?” Tequila asks and you feel your pulse pick up.

“That’s the last person to have seen her,” Ginger answers. “And his name is–”

You breathe out.

“Frankie,”

Everyone’s curious filled gazes turns to you, and you immediately regret speaking out. Anxiety squeezes around your heart, you feel faint. Pushing back your chair, you stare unblinkingly at the smooth surface of the table.

“Do you know him, Agent Greyhound?”

Champ’s question echoes in your ears. You want to say no. You want the earth’s crust to swallow you whole. Frankie can’t be involved– There was no way that he was–

“We both do actually,”

You look up, pulse quickening as you and Jack exchange a brief glance. His eyes comfort you but you still read no emotion in them. He’s become a blank slate.

“That’s good,” Champ clasps his hand together, you jump at the sharp sound. “You two can carry on with the investigation then.”

You can’t concentrate for the rest of the briefing, you fail to notice that Jack’s gaze never leaves you.

a/n: to be notified of future works follow @psychedeliclibrary and turn on notifications <33

#jack daniels x reader x frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #jack daniels x frankie morales #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters #million dollar man #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x f!reader #jack daniels x fem!reader #jack daniels x f!reader

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Hi, I love your blog so much! I recently got ankle lateral ligament reconstruction done, and as an athlete, it sucks so bad. I watched my basketball team play yesterday, and it felt really horrible to watch them lose by one point in overtime when I know I would have made a difference if I were on the court... I know you have lots of asks and prompts, but if you have the time and want to, could you possibly hurt me more than I’m already hurting with some angsty ankle injury stuff😩 like maybe Cap watching the Lions lose without him.

Thank you for all the awesome fics you write! Your blog is amazing!

Anon, this ask really struck a chord with me and I wanted to do it justice as best I could--going through a sports injury like that is the worst feeling in the world, and watching your teammates play without you just adds salt to the wound. Sending all the love and healing vibes your way, okay? Please keep me updated on how you're feeling if you feel comfortable <3

Combined with an ask for pre-Coops and Sirius' photo of Remus! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for canonical injury and mentioned scars (Remus)

Sirius felt a nudge at his arm and his irritation flared, but he did not take his eyes off the game. “Fucking hell,” he muttered as James missed yet another blatant pass. There’s three.

The next nudge was more insistent.

“What?” he snapped, sparing half a glance to his left and feeling his stomach swoop.

Remus raised his eyebrows and held the mouthguard out further. “Either put this in or unclench your jaw.”

You’re not my mother, Sirius almost snarked back, just to be even more of an asshole. He was cold from being at the rink without his gear, severely pissed off by the general bullshit happening on the ice, and the itch in the boot locked around his stupid fucked-up ankle was slowly driving him mad.

Remus offered the mouthguard again, and Sirius’ temper cooled by a few degrees at the soft encouragement on his face. Pretty, his brain supplied. He swallowed hard around his sudden dry mouth and shoved the plastic between his teeth, beating back the unruly emotions with a mental baseball bat. Nope. Not tonight. Focus on being angry.

Logan got distracted, and Finn paid the price as an enforcer slammed him against the boards; he bounced back immediately, but Sirius ground the mouthguard so hard it squeaked. “Tabarnak—”

“Come with me for a sec,” Remus said, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the angry shouts of Lions fans.

Sirius shook his head. What he wouldn’t give to be in the heart of the fight, letting off some of the steam that had been building with no outlet for weeks. “Game’s not over.”

Remus pressed his lips together, but said nothing; Sirius’ throat constricted as he looked at the scoreboard. There may have been three full minutes left on the clock, but the Lions had already lost—unless they pulled a miracle out of their asses, this game would be a stain on their record. Or if they just let me play.

Sirius sighed through his nose. The urge had been growing stronger the longer he stayed cooped up and restless, banging at the walls of his brain and bringing headache after headache.

“Cap.” The hand on the back of his bicep was surprisingly gentle and he closed his eyes as Remus gave him a light tug. “Come on. We can at least be productive instead of sitting here and stewing.”

He smells nice. How does he always smell so nice? Sirius stood and followed Remus down the tunnel, not even bothering to force smiles for the people pounding on the glass partitions. Don’t focus on the game.

Focus on his shoulders, something close to his heart suggested. You like his shoulders.

He scrunched his nose up at the thought—if he dwelled on the smooth, strong curve of Remus’ upper back for any longer, he would start remembering the one time he saw them bare, covered in sweat with scars that shone like moonlight and—

“Are you okay?” Remus asked, snapping him back to reality. Sirius jumped and concern flickered over the golden planes of his face. “You’re twitchy tonight.”

“Just…” He made a vague, aborted motion toward the ice before continuing toward the PT room, though he did not miss the worried look Remus shot him. Fantastic, now I look like a dick and an idiot.

“What’s going on, Sirius?” The door clicked closed behind them and Remus leaned against it with his arms crossed loosely as Sirius limped over to the table and sat down, pulling the mouthguard out. He stared at the floor and the hunk of plastic—don’t think about how nice his voice sounds around your name. Don’t.

He shook his head; through the door, the sounds of the game were faint. “They’re better than this.”

“Yep.”

“They’re all going to be angry tomorrow, which makes them sloppy.”

“Probably.”

“Coach will be upset.”

“No question.”

“It’s the Badgers.”

Remus made a face. “I know, right?”

“They’re a good team, but—” He tightened his jaw again and looked away.

“But we’re better,” Remus finished for him.

“Yeah.” Silence fell between them for a few moments, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. Being quiet around Remus was never uncomfortable, and Sirius was pathetically grateful for every scrap of it he could get. “I—the game would be different if I was out there.”

“Would it?”

“It would.” He had been going over every mistake for two and a half hours, placing himself in like a chess piece to stop the missed passes, fumbled pucks, and thoughtless plays. “They need me with them.”

The paper crinkled as Remus sat down next to him, and every one of Sirius’ senses went on high alert. “They need to you get better,” he said simply, those caramel-apple eyes making Sirius’ knees go weak. “Have you been doing your exercises?”

“Of course,” he scoffed.

“Good.” There was no defensiveness or indignation in Remus’ voice—guilt snapped, a firecracker behind his teeth.

“Sorry.”

Remus smiled wryly. “When you’re around injured hockey players all day long, you get used to a little bit of bitchiness.”

“I’m not bitchy!” Sirius spluttered. The poorly-concealed amusement on Remus’ face made mortification heat his cheeks. “I’m not!”

“Uh-huh.” The note of smug disbelief should not have been as attractive as it was. “Alright, lay down.”

Sirius swore he heard a few crackling noises as his brain short-circuited. “Quoi?”

“I’m not kneeling on freezing linoleum to check out your ankle, Cinderella,” Remus snorted. “Now get a wiggle on.”

“You have the strangest sayings,” he said as he laid back and stretched his leg out, bewildered and yet somehow relieved.

“And you—” Remus pulled the top buckle free. “—have no appreciation for the great American north.”

“I can take it off,” Sirius mumbled, feeling redness rise once again.

He cocked an eyebrow. “The boot? I might not be a muscle-bound athlete, but I’m pretty sure I can manage a couple strips of Velcro.”

“No, it’s—doesn’t touching people’s feet freak you out? Like, the sweat and everything?”

“If it did, I’d have to find another profession, because I’m damp all the time from you fuckers and you all seem to have a habit of breaking things below the knee. Bend.”

Sirius complied, drawing his knee toward his chest. His bare foot looked weird in the bright lights, pale and still swollen, but Remus was as golden as ever. You can watch from afar, he conceded when the cute little furrow appeared on Remus’ forehead while he felt around the bone. Just for a little while. “Your hands are warm,” he said before he could stop himself.

Remus glanced up, and his small smile caused a flood of butterflies in Sirius’ stomach. “Thanks. They’re usually pretty cold, so I’m glad I’m not accidentally giving you foot hypothermia.”

“Is that real?”

“No,” Remus laughed. Sirius wished he could keep that sound forever. “How’s that feel?”

“Uh, fine.” He blinked a couple times to come back to himself as Remus put light pressure on the sole of his foot. “Still fine.”

“You’re a lot more flexible than before. Things are healing well.”

A loud buzzer went off outside—Sirius closed his eyes as disappointment and frustration fired up once more. The crowd wasn’t cheering. The windows weren’t shaking. He didn’t even want to look at the TV to check the score. I should be out there, he thought for the umpteenth time. I’m letting them down.

“I’m sorry,” Remus said quietly as he worked through a few more exercises.

“Not your fault.”

“It’s not yours, either.”

Sirius wanted to believe him. “I’m the captain.”

“And you’re being responsible by doing this with me so you can heal faster.” People rushed past the door outside, but the PT room remained peaceful. Sirius stared at the plain ceiling and wished for a miracle. “They miss you.”

“Y’know, that’s not exactly making me feel better.”

“Sorry.” They lapsed back into silence. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Cool.”

Sirius chewed the inside of his lip for a solid two minutes, following Remus’ simple instructions without looking at him. He should have been out there with them, ankle be damned. It was basically healed anyway; they were just tying up loose ends, and maybe Remus needed to be a little less careful. “Is this really necessary?”

“I’m gonna give you five seconds to ask a different question.”

“I’m just saying, it feels fine and—”

“Time’s up.” Remus let go of his foot and Sirius only spared a moment to mourn the loss of his comforting touch before he caught the stormy, mulish stubbornness that took the place of Remus’ concentration. “Sit.”

“I am.”

He narrowed his eyes, and Sirius dragged himself upright with a huff. Arguing with Remus Lupin was about as useful as arguing with a brick wall, and that was coming from someone who won the ‘Most Stubborn’ superlative at their last end-of-year party. “First of all, ankles are annoying and the soft tissue will still be damaged even if the bone is healed. Second, it’s my job to fix you up so your boys stop whining to me about healing you faster. And third, I’m not giving up on you.”

Sirius paused for a long moment. “What?”

“I’m not giving up,” Remus repeated. His jaw set and he made direct eye contact. “I would love nothing more than to kick Snape in the kneecaps and let you go out there as soon as you can stand on your own, but that’s not what I’m here for. I’m here to make sure you’re ready to kick ass and take names no matter what that little shit was trying to do. So don’t you dare sit there and try to chicken out at the finish line, because I know you want this even more than I do.”

In his chest, Sirius heart was hammering like he had just run five miles. I’m not giving up on you. Sirius had never wanted to kiss him more. “Thank you.”

Remus softened with a slow breath. “We’re in this together, Sirius. You and me.”

“I know.”

“Then let’s get to work. Next time you play the Badgers, make ‘em regret this game.”

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

Sirius walked back toward the locker room feeling rather nauseous. The whole team leaked their bad moods into the air—Arthur had barely looked at them before sending them home with a quiet “we’ll talk more tomorrow”, the equivalent of an arrow through Sirius’ heart. I need a pick-me-up, he thought as the rest of the guys trooped out in a melancholy raincloud. He fist-bumped each of them, per tradition, but their responses were weak at best.

Ice cream sounded good. Maybe a milkshake. Oh, who was he kidding, he needed a solid hug and something other than ice to look at. Not for the first time, he contemplated getting a dog, just so the house wouldn’t be empty and dark when he returned.

Laughter rang out ahead and Sirius inhaled sharply, letting the sound roll over him. “I’m not kidding!” Moody chuckled.

“Bullshit,” Remus countered, still snickering. “There is no way—”

“I’ve been around here longer than you’ve been alive, kid.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Remus groaned, though Sirius could hear the smile in his voice even from around the corner. “You only bring it up every goddamn day.”

“Brat.”

Sirius entered the room just in time to see Remus playfully knock the side of his foot against Moody’s; both were grinning. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, old man?”

Moody nodded to him. “Night, twelve.”

“A demain,” Sirius called, offering a slight smile as his eyes lingered on Remus. He was leaning back against the wall with stick tape in his hands—his hands, which never failed to make Sirius throw caution to the wind—and raised it in farewell. “See you, Loops. Thanks again.”

“No problem, Cap.”

He grabbed his duffel off the floor and slid his keys, wallet, and phone into his pockets as Moody and Remus resumed their conversation. He wondered how long they usually stuck around, and if they would oppose him staying—he wouldn’t interrupt, but being around people who weren’t going through the five stages of grief already felt nice.

An idea struck as Remus’ laugh raised goosebumps on his arms once again. With a careful glance over his shoulder, he slipped his phone out and snapped a picture before hurrying off toward his car. His breaths were shallow; that was such a creepy move, and surely one of them noticed—

No voices chased him. Nobody gave him strange looks. He waited until he was safely in the front seat of the car before unlocking his phone, and all the air in his lungs left in a rush.

The photo was perfect. It caught the lopsided tilt to Remus’ mouth, his slender-but-strong fingers, his long legs, the scrunch of his nose mid-laugh. Everything Sirius never let himself look at for long. He didn’t have much space left among the collection of paper memories on his dresser, but maybe if he put it in the back where nobody would see it unless they knew where to look…

He turned the car on. Later. He would print it out and deal with the taut rubber-band-ball of feelings later. Until then, he could settle for the imprint of Remus’ warmth taking away the pain in his ankle and the determination on his face as he promised to bring Sirius back from the personal hell he was living in. You and me, he had said, and Sirius wanted nothing more than to believe it.

#fanfic #my fic #sirius black #remus lupin #alastor moody #james potter #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #sweater weather #coops #injury #pre-coops #lumosinlove

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smellsfaintlyofvanilla · 3 years

Note

Hi, I have this super specific idea so feel free to ignore this one lol. So basically, Annie and the reader have been dating for a while, like at least a year. And the reader is in the survey corps right, so during one of the missions she ends up getting injured in an explosion and she's like all burned up and covered in injury's that'll scar really bad. And so the reader gets taken to a hospital or med bay or whatever, and she's been out for days, and like Reiner, Eren, Mikasa, etc. are all there, ya know her little gaggle of friends. And like she's been unconscious for days but sometimes she'll wake up for a few minutes and pass out again. So when Annie gets the news and comes to see her she like starts to wake up, and when she's coherent Annie is holding her hand and says "I'm glad you're alive" or something, then the reader just kinda stares at her for a minute and says "are you one of my friends from the cadet corps" and everyone's shocked and Annie kinda runs off. And ass the reader gets better she's allowed to walk around town and shit as long as someone's with her because she he's trouble walking, and she like can't hold things in one of her hands without shaking like she's about to fall apart. She basically hos no memories of absolutely anything so if someone says that their friends she just believes them and wants to be with them, which is a contrast to how she was in the cadets because she was always super short tempered and would pick fights with everyone, but she always had a soft spot for Annie and would follow her around and shit while being an ass to everyone else. So now she has no memories, blind as shit, can barely walk, and is super kind and polite to just about everyone. And like she insists on Annie seeing her and wants to go with her wherever she goes and is all smiles and happiness while Annie is kinda having a crisis. Because they were both very closed off people and they opened up to each other and built unwavering trust and loyalty but now one of them doesn't remember, Annie wants to help her but at the same time she feels that it's for the best if they stay apart, uh spoiler they don't stay apart it's just gonna take time. I'm really sorry this was so long dude. Also please tell me this made sense I haven't stopped think about this for days

I- It’s a little confusing but I think I get it.

Let me know if I get anything wrong!

I also included a lot of platonic AruAni because it’s cute.

Unbearable

(Annie Leonhart x Reader)

AU: Canon

Warnings: Implied season 3 spoilers

Category: Both angst and fluff (somehow)

Summary: After getting seriously injured in a mission, Annie’s s/o doesn’t recognize anyone, and is left very weak. Still, Annie and her S/O stick together through the recovery.

Words: 5.5K

It’d gone wrong. It’d all gone horribly wrong.

A freak accident—only preventable by, perhaps, closer gear inspection, but it was far too late for that. The damage had been done.

The most recent Survey Corps mission was just concluding, and you managed to call yourself one of the lucky ones who survived this far. Erwin led the charge back to the walls at full speed, having completed the objective by the skin of his teeth, but an abnormal titan was tagging dangerously close behind.

The towering beast approached closer and closer, until it kicked the horse you were on, sending you and it abruptly flying through the air and away from the Scouts.

It took you a minute to regain your senses and realize the gravity of your situation. Your horse lay dying 40 feet away from you. Clearly, it would be of no help. The abnormal lurched towards you unnaturally, and your eyes widened in fear.

A quick movement of your upper body caused a jolt of pain to shoot up your chest, and you were positive you must’ve broke a few ribs when you collided with the dirt.

Still, you had limited time before the monster reached you, and you weren’t about to die that easily. You bore the pain in your chest as you stood up straight, beads of cold sweat rolling down your face as you surveyed your situation to find the easiest way out.

You were too far from your horse, and the rest of the Scout formation, and you were in no shape to run. Your head turned towards the walls, and an idea popped into your mind—you were going to scale the wall.

You broke into a quick sprint before you shot your ODM gear into the wall, flying towards it at lightning speed. Your back took the brunt of the impact, and you groaned in pain.

Still, it seems as if the abnormal wasn’t going to let you get a moment’s rest, as it caught up to you and tried to jump and grab you, but narrowly missed your boot. The rush of adrenaline kicked your body into gear as you shot the grapple of your ODM gear onto the ledge of the wall and hauled yourself up, a garrison soldier helping you before turning to man one of the cannons.

You stood up triumphantly on the wall, the titan below you still trying in vain to reach you. You could hear the distant shouting of a commander—and what you could out assume was the foreboding shout, “FIRE!!!”

And that’s where everything went wrong.

The cannon, no more than three feet to your right, exploded into a supernova of sparks and flames, and the last thing you saw was fire as blinding pain shot through your body.

And then it all went black.

---

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but only family members are allowed to see her at the moment, you’re going to have to wait until she’s discharged.” The poor receptionist sighed, staring up at the distressed woman in front of her.

“I don’t care if ‘only family is allowed’! I’m her girlfriend, I should be allowed to see her!” Annie shouted, dressed in a simple white hoodie and grey pants. An outfit too casual for her to wear outside in most occasions, but when she heard the news of your admission to the hospital, she didn’t care to change.

“I’m sorry, there’s really nothing I can do-”

Annie leaned in closer, grabbing the receptionist by the collar of her shirt and pulling her in, a dangerous look gracing her face. Her voice came out in a threatening growl.

“Look, I’m a part of the military police, so if anyone asks, I’m just her older sister,” She glared daggers the woman, who shook like a leaf at the intimidation, “Got it?”

The woman nodded urgently, sweating bullets at this point, and Annie was thankful the intimidation had worked. “R-Room 302...”

She didn’t bother letting out a response as she ran to the wing of the hospital you were in. She didn’t know quite where the room was, but she would find out soon enough.

After a painful few minutes of searching, her eyes found the plate outside of a closed wooden door, the number reading “302″.

She walked up to it, and took a deep breath in before twisting the doorknob and pushing her way into the room, but her eyes widened in surprise and she gasped at the sight.

She knew it was bad—after all, nothing good ever came out of being so close to an explosion like that—but she couldn’t have been prepared for what she saw.

You were laid down on the bed, clearly unconscious, and sweltering burns covered at least 60% of your body, especially your right side. Many limbs were elevated and covered in taunting white casting, and you let out shallowed, labored breaths.

She mentally cursed the primitive healthcare the Eldians seemed to have, and the lack of a doctor in the room. She was no professional, but you definitely didn’t look to be in a state to be alone.

She though you were alone, that is, until her rationality returned to her and she noticed many figures in the room, though none bore the staff uniform.

They seemed to notice her before long, and a few stared at her quietly with pity in their eyes. She scanned the faces that surrounded her; Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Sasha, Connie, and Reiner were all present in the room.

“What in...” Her voice came out short in her throat; the words were just as powerless as she was, “What in God’s name happened to her...” It was hushed, almost husky, and it sounded like she was about to cry. Maybe she was, but she didn’t notice.

Mikasa seemed to be the first one to speak up through the heavy silence, stepping forward to grab Annie’s attention.

“It was on the recent scouting mission yesterday. She narrowly escape a titan by climbing over the wall, but one of the Garrison’s cannons blew up.” Mikasa looked to the side, clearly troubled by the situation as well. “Of the four people caught up in the explosion, she’s the only one still alive.”

Annie didn’t process quite what Mikasa had said at first, her mind was more focused on a pressing question that suddenly arose in her mind.

“The only one still alive?” She echoed. “Why did you phrase it like that?”

Mikasa sighed, covering her mouth with her scarf—something she often did when she was troubled. “Well, the doctor is doing all he can at the moment, but she’s been drifting in and out of consciousness nonstop for the past hour. Even when she is awake, we can’t seem to get a coherent response out of her.”

She froze.

Her eyes moved back to your battered form. She hadn’t taken in exactly how bad it was until now. Shattered bones, burnt skin, compromised organs—you were nearly unrecognizable. Not in the way that you were scarred beyond recognition, but in the way that she never imagined to see you in such a state. You looked like you had, quite literally, went through hell and back.

She let out a pained sigh, slinking down in a chair next to the bed and staring at the floor in defeat. She reached out and grabbed your limp hand at your side, running her thumb delicately over your burnt hand, as if the slightest mistouch would cause you to shatter like delicate porcelain.

“Please...” She knew you couldn’t hear her, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to pretend, for a brief moment, that you could, and that you’d bounce right back up. But, you stayed limp on the bed, unmoving. “Please wake up...”

The others were able to read the room and came to a silent consensus, filing out of the room wordlessly.

She continued to hold your hand, sitting silently on your bedside for hours.

You never regained consciousness once.

---

Dreams flashed through her mind, the inner turmoil she faced was too fierce to not have such vibrant, nonsensical dreams. Dreams of you, spending late nights with her, or eating with her in silence. Dreams of your broken and bloodied body being sent flying from a hellish firework of flames. Dreams of visiting a newly dug grave. Dreams of—

A loud banging startled her out of her sleep, and she opened her eyes with a start, the dreams stopping abruptly as her brain pieced together the fragments of reality. Right, they were just dreams.

The banging—what was it? She looked around for a source. Nothing had fallen, nothing had moved, the room was still.

*BANG BANG BANG*

She jumped at the loud so, before facepalming internally. Of course someone was knocking on the door, what was she thinking?

A quick glance at the clock showed the time; 3AM. What is going on?

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she threw on some sweatpants, just presentable enough to answer the door.

She twisted the knob open and was greeted by...

“Armin?” She slurred, confusion and tiredness laced her voice.

“Annie...!” He had a strange look on his face, like he was in a hurry. Yet, it didn’t look like desperation, nor was it excitement. “Y/n woke up!”

---

She had never run faster. She didn’t care about leaving Armin in the dust at her front doorstep—hell, it didn’t even process until minutes later that she didn’t even close the front door. She just ran, ran, ran all the way to the hospital.

She made it to your room again, panting and desperate to see you again.

She went inside, and an immense wave of relief and joy washed over her face. It was true, you were conscious. Sitting up in the bed, talking to someone at your bedside, likely a nurse or a doctor.

Her loud footsteps and heavy breathing brought the attention of both you and the staff member to her, and you locked eyes with her.

She froze. There they were. The beautiful E/C eyes she had fallen in love with, and the same ones that filled her vision when she first awoke next to you in the morning. Except, something was off. She couldn’t quite place it, but there was disarray in your eyes. A storm.

She paid no mind to the rotten gut feeling, though, and rushed by your side to grip your hand tightly. A spark of sympathy arose in her chest when you whimpered in pain at the motion, but that was the last thing on her mind. Tears of happiness sparked in her eyes and threatened to roll down her cheeks.

She bowed her head—a sign of vulnerability that only you were ever able to see.

“Y/n, I...!” She choked out through the tears in her eyes, the back of her throat tightening with emotion, “I’m so glad you’re okay...”

You didn’t embrace her, you didn’t squeeze her hand back. No, you were still. Still as you were when your battered body was first admitted to the hospital. She looked up at you, and the same misguided look was in your eyes.

“Sorry... do I know you?”

---

She slammed the door behind her, locking it as she slid down the wall of her house, sobs wracking her body.

Her mind had neglected to process it until just now, but the truth was inescapable; you didn’t know who she was anymore. You didn’t know anyone or anything anymore.

Amnesia.

She couldn’t bear to see you like that. Seeing you so physically broken was bad enough, but seeing you confused and lost, years of memories and connections and friends just out the window? If there was a god, he sure as hell must’ve hated you.

She had no idea what to do. You weren’t going to just magically remember her. No, the Y/N she knew and loved all those years was gone. You were just a blank slate. She no longer meant anything to you, she was a stranger in your eyes.

She laid down to go to sleep, but she couldn’t even bring herself to close her eyes. She didn’t sleep that night.

---

She chose not to get up the next morning. She stayed in bed, staring at the empty space next to her where you usually slept. She wanted you to be right there next to her. God, she wanted you back.

She would’ve stayed in her depressed, hibernated state for hours, or even days, had someone not stopped by to check on her.

She figured it would be Armin. The sympathetic blonde man would always stop by to check on her. Not just now, but throughout their days as cadets. He was always the second person—after you, of course—to check up on her and ask how she was doing.

But when she opened the door and saw Mikasa, she was a little confused.

“Mikasa, what are y-”

“Y/n wants to speak with you.” She stated flatly, and Annie physically recoiled at the mention of your name.

“She... what?” Annie muttered, confusion enveloping her tone.

She understood the statement, on a surface level at least. But she didn’t understand why. Why did you want to talk to her? She meant nothing to you. What was there to talk about anymore? You probably didn’t even know her name.

She complied silently, though, and before long, she had trudged herself all the way to the hospital.

302. Such a depressing number to her now. But it was unavoidable. You were on the other side of the door, awaiting her for some odd reason.

She pushed the door open, and her eyes met yours silently. You were sitting up with your hands folded neatly in your lap. Your eyes followed Annie as she wordlessly shut the door and took a seat next at your bedside.

“Annie.” The blonde women flinched at the sound of her name, eyes staying fixated on anything but your face. “Annie.”

She finally shifted her head, meeting your gaze. There was a pitiful look tracing her features. It would look like indifference at first glance, but being so close to her allowed you to notice small features on her face, like her sunken in eyes, and her lips, tucked into a frown slightly tighter than normal.

She looked like she was about to cry.

You moved your arm slowly, wincing internally as your wounds burned and ached, and took her hand in your own, rubbing your thumb over the back of her hand in a soothing manner. Annie didn’t want to enjoy it—she knew this wasn’t the you she had fallen in love with—but she couldn’t stop herself from remembering the simpler times, where small affectionate gestures like this were normal to her.

“Mikasa told me just about everything I’ve forgotten.” You finally spoke up. “About the Scouts, about the accident, about us.” A painful silence filled the room for a moment following the word ‘us’. Surely, it meant more to her than it did to you.

“Annie.” You squeezed her hand despite the pain shooting up your arm, and your hand trembled involuntarily. “I know I don’t really know you,” You chuckled lightly, “or anyone for that matter, but I want to spend more time with you. We can just restart, fall in love all over a-”

“No!” She snapped, the sudden outburst causing you to jump. Her distressed eyes softened when she saw you, almost as if she thought you were made of glass, and that you would break at any moment. “No... please...”

She stood up abruptly, dropping your hand to lay dormant by the side of the hospital bed. “You don’t even know me! What’s the point?!”

Despite her angry appearance, her bottom lip trembled, and her voice shook as she spoke. Pricks of tears appeared at the corner of her eyes, but she wiped them away desperately.

“You forgot me, so I’ll forget you in return.” She turned towards the door, grabbing the knob firmly. Despite her desperate need to get out of the room, her hand trembled and shook, refusing to turn the knob.

“I’ll...” A small sob wracked her body. “Find someone else...”

---

Contrary to what her heart truly desired, she refused to see you. She forced herself to cut off all emotional ties to you—after all, you didn’t even know her. It was painful to even speak to you. Somehow, the loss had felt like you truly had died in the explosion. Sure, you were physically here, but all that was you was gone.

It was Armin who finally brought her out of her depressed slump. He saw the state of her after weeks of staying huddled up in her room. It was so unlike Annie. Her room was a mess, and so was she. Her hair was unkempt and unbrushed, and she hadn’t even showered at all. Clothes lay scattered across the room, and the trash can in the corner of the room had started overflowing.

It wasn’t a pleasing sight, but he couldn’t blame her.

He had offered to meet him at a local café to talk—albeit, after she showered. She hesitantly agreed, and went into the bathroom to get ready. While she showered, Armin absentmindedly picked up some of the scattered clothing, putting it in it’s proper place, and even emptied the trash can for her.

He saw the slight shock in her eyes when she came out, surprised, but internally grateful for his help. She didn’t show it verbally, but she gave a thankful nod, and he understood.

---

Armin brought the cup to his lips, the steam flowing from the cup blocking his face as he sipped his tea silently, and Annie took another bite of her glazed donut.

“So, Annie.” He turned to face her, setting his cup down. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

She sighed internally. Nothing yet had been spoken, but she knew it was about you. Her silence beckoned him to continue.

“I... No, we all noticed how you’ve been recently, and we understand it. Who knows what you’re feeling right now...” His sympathy went mostly unappreciated. She really didn’t want to be reminded of the depressive state she had fallen into.

“It’s completely up to you, but... we think it would be better for you if you decided to talk to her again.” Armin didn’t need to say who this ‘her’ was. Annie already knew.

She raised an eyebrow and considered his statement for a fleeting moment, but regained her stance. She wasn’t going to talk to you. No convincing from her friends would change that.

“See, the thing is, Y/N has been discharged.” He spoke, bringing the cup back to his face to preemptively fill the silence he anticipated.

No amount of emotional cover-up could hide the shocked look on her face. Part of her was ecstatic, deep down. She was glad you were well enough to leave. But, the other part reminded her that associating with you would only bring her more hurt.

“But, there isn’t really going to be any recovering from what she experienced, unfortunately.” He brought the cup back down onto the table, now empty of all it’s liquid. “So, the doctor advised that she be under careful supervision from someone at all times.”

Annie wasn’t stupid. She knew where this was going.

“So,” he huffed a breath of heavy air, “We decided that if anyone was going to take her in, it should be you, Annie. We want to take her back to live with you.” She could feel her jaw slack at the proposal, and a full-fledged war had just started in her mind. She registered he was still speaking, but was too conflicted to listen.

Once again, part of her mind was desperately trying to reach you. To take you in and care for you, and to ensure you have a safe and comfortable recovery with her. She could restart with you, and make new memories with you, and everyone else.

But she understand it would be painful. Unbearable, even. She might as well be taking care of a stranger. You didn’t act like Y/n, you didn’t look like Y/n, hell, you hardly even knew who Y/n was at this point. It would just hurt her even more, all she needed to do was get away from you—!

“Annie...!” Armin spoke firmly, slightly leaned over the table as if he had been prying for her attention for a while now. He reached across the table to grab her hand, causing her to gasp. His hand was warm. It reminded her of you.

“I know what you’re thinking.” His voice was soothing and inviting, and she was reminded once again of what great friends she had made in the 104th.

“You think it’s gonna hurt, and it will, I’m sure. I understand too. She doesn’t quite act like she did before, we all noticed. It’s...” He paused, leaning back in his chair and looking to the side. It had hurt him, too. “Strange. To see a friend like this.”

He leaned forward, pulling his hand away to place it back on the table. “But you have to do something! Separating yourself from someone you care about so deeply isn’t good for you.” He brought his head up slightly, staring daggers into her eyes. “And don’t lie to me. I know you still care about her. You wouldn’t be so conflicted if you didn’t.”

Tears pricked at her eyes once again. She didn’t want to get emotional, and certainly not here of all places. But she knew he was telling the truth. She still cared, and it wasn’t good for her to ignore you.

“Besides,” He stood up, turning to leave. “She misses you too, Annie.”

---

She made up her mind that day. She was gonna bring you back home.

It wasn’t easy. Both the emotional aspect, but also cleaning up her filthy room in such a short span of time. Still, she prepped it perfectly for your arrival. She cleaned up the room, organized her things, made the bed, and even bought a second pillow—surely, you two couldn’t share just the one.

Picking you up from the hospital was bittersweet. You managed to stay standing, although only with the help of a wooden cane. Your hand gripped the handle tightly, and you leaned a large portion of your body weight on it, just to not fall over.

You had changed out of the raggedy hospital clothes, finally getting to wear something comfortable after so long, but even with the cloth, the purplish-redish burn scars coated much of your body. It reached from the very fingertips of your right hand, all the way up your neck and part of your face.

Still, you smiled weakly and brought your hand up to wave at her.

She approached you hesitantly, but as soon as you tried to stumble over to her, she rushed up to support you with an arm around your shoulder.

“Easy, now.” She muttered. “You should be careful.”

“Right,” You chuckled nervously. “Sorry.” You breathed out a sigh of relief, having seen the outside for the first time in weeks. It didn’t stop the stone walls from towering forebodingly over you, though, but you felt at least some freedom.

“Where are we headed?” You sighed, and started walking. Annie guided you for the most part, but you managed to get your injured legs to cooperate, somewhat. You hand trembled as it gripped the cane, and even step on uneven ground caused you to stumble, but Annie’s grip kept you upright.

“We’re going...” She hesitated. “Home.”

---

Early morning birds chirped their greetings through the open windows, and the sun shone rays of dawn down from the sky. A typical wake-up call to her.

That, and your snoring.

She opened her eyes and stretched, easing up the tension in her muscles, which had laid painfully dormant for the past eight hours. Yawning and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her attention shifted to the mass attached to her side.

Your arms were wrapped tightly around her torso, and your head was buried in her chest. Despite having lived with you for a few weeks now, she hadn’t gotten used to the change. In the past, neither of you really cuddled in your sleep. You gave sweet goodnights and passed out on opposite sides of the bed just like that.

It was a welcome change, though, and seeing you tucked so comfortably into her side brought a smile and blush to her face. She ran a hand through your messy h/c hair, smiling softly as you stirred in response to the affection.

“...Mm?” You let out a groggy noise, having been woken up a little earlier than you were used to. Annie was always the morning person in the relationship.

“Good morning.” She cooed, removing her hand to sit up and get out of bed. Once she tried to stand, though, she felt a frail hand tug at her wrist. You grip was weak as a result of your injuries, and she could very easily wiggle out if she wanted to, but she faltered.

“C’mon...” You muttered, face down in the blankets, still halfway asleep. “Can’t you stay a little longer?”

Annie huffed in defeat, climbing back into the bed and shuffling back under the cotton sheets. You were back at her side in an instant, and she smiled once again. Even after everything, you were still just as cute as always when you were sleepy.

“We can’t stay like this for very long, you know.” She sighed, placing a warm, calloused hand on your back.

You groaned in annoyance at that. “Why’s that?”

“Armin and the others invited us out to get lunch. It’s been a while since the Survey Corps has had a day off.” She looked to the side before muttering quietly. “I also have to go to work with the military police... I’ve used up all my paid leave.”

“Oh... yeah, we should probably get ready.” Contrary to your tone, you were actually quite happy. Annie had been quite a bit overprotective of you since your injury, so you hadn’t gotten the chance to get out much. You couldn’t blame her much, though. You could hardly walk, eat, or do just about anything without assistance. You were glad she took good care of you, but it got a little overbearing sometimes.

“Let’s get up, then.” She said, slinking out of bed. You watched wordlessly as she slipped out of her night clothes into something more presentable, sliding her shirt over her head effortlessly. You couldn’t help but blush as your eyes trailed down her toned stomach.

She looked back at you with an unamused expression as she slid on a plain white shirt. “You shouldn’t stare, Y/n.”

“R-Right.” You looked away flustered. You had only technically known her a few weeks now, but man were you lucky.

Annie’s warm hand enveloping your own brought you back into reality, and you accepted her help wordlessly as you got out of bed.

She helped you out of your clothes and handed you something nice to put on for the day. It was a comfortable ritual the two of you got into, helping you get dressed in the morning.

She sat you down in one of the chair’s in her room, ordering you to stay put while she went to the military police mess hall to pick up breakfast for the two of you.

She came back into the room only a few minutes later, carrying two trays of food, and sat them down in front of both of you. It was a boring meal, typical of any military ration, but you didn’t complain.

“So, Annie,” She looked up from her food, still digging her fork into the baked potato on her plate. “Tell me a story.”

She smiled longingly, staying silent for a moment as she recollected her memories for a good story to tell. Ever since you lost your memory and started staying with Annie, you often spent mealtimes getting her to tell stories about you, her, and your other friends. About what happened in the 104th, and the Survey Corps, and sometimes, you’d ask Annie about her childhood and time before the military. She seemed very hesitant about the last one, but she still told you bits and pieces. You could easily infer that she didn’t have a very pleasant childhood, so you didn’t push the subject.

“Well,” Annie finally spoke, swallowing a gulp of water from her glass, having seemingly found a story she felt like telling. “One time, in the 104th, Sasha had managed to convince you to steal food from the pantry with her.”

You listened intently as she continued recounting the events, a sad smile on her face. “So you and her snuck in late at night, but Shadis heard both of you because of how loud Sasha was. So then, you two had no where to go but a tiny cramped pantry in the kitchen, and then—”

*CRASH*

You sat there like a deer in headlights as the glass shattered into hundreds of transparent shards on the floor, startling Annie out of her nostalgic trance.

“Y/n!” She exclaimed, standing up from her seat swiftly. She spotted the broken glass, mixed with the water it had held, and looked back at you. Once she pieced it together, she facepalmed.

“Y/n...” She sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you to not to try and pick up things right now...”

“Sorry,” You muttered. “I just wanted to see...”

Despite the severity of your injuries, you were quite stubborn. No matter how much Annie insisted that you not hold things in your state, you did so anyway. It seldom worked, since, like now, you always dropped it within seconds.

“It’s... It’s fine,” She sighed, leaning down to carefully pick up the larger fragments of glass. Once she got the larger pieces, she dumped them in the trash and knelt down in front of your chair on one knee, grabbing your hand in her own. “But you need to remember, your injuries haven’t healed yet. Nowhere close. I know you hate it, but you need to let your body rest.”

You nodded sorrowfully. Yet, despite how much you promised, you knew you’d never really stop trying to push your body. Even if your skin was scarred, and hands were shaky, and the muscles of your legs atrophied and partially-paralyzed, you would never stop trying to live a normal life.

Annie had finished sweeping up the smaller shards of glass in the dustpan, and dumped it into the trash can, before returning to the table.

Silently, she grabbed her glass, still half filled with water, and brought it up to your lips. When you had first started living with Annie, you were a little embarrassed about having to be fed like this, but you had long since gotten used to it.

Once the glass was empty, she sat it down on the tabletop once again, and checked the time.

“Shit, we should get going, it’s nearly time.” She sighs, grabbing your cane from it’s spot leaning against the wall and handing it to you. You thank her and, with her help, stand up from your spot. Her arm slinks around your waist, allowing you to lean half of your body weight on the cane and the other half on Annie.

As you made your way out of the building and down the street towards the restaurant, you finally broke the silence.

“Annie?” You asked, quietly. There was an uncharacteristic sadness to your voice.

“Yes, darling?” She inquired, keeping her eyes glued on the trail in front of you.

“How come you still take care of me? Even after the accident, you still stick with me. Why is that?”

Annie chuckles dryly. She doesn’t want to tell you that it’s still a sore subject for her, so she answers honestly.

“It wasn’t so black and white, really. It was pretty upsetting to see someone I loved so much not even recognize me at all.” Her eyes bore into the pavement below her feet. “No offense, of course.”

“None taken.”

“But a friend of mine talked to me about it. And I realized there would be no point in running from it. I decided that if you didn’t know me, I would make you fall in love with me all over again. Plus,” She looked to the side, a faint red blush on her cheeks. “I didn’t want you to feel lonely...”

You giggled at her embarrassment, opening your mouth to say something, but she cut you off quickly.

“We’re here.” She stopped in front of the doors, and you easily spotted Mikasa, Armin, and Jean already sitting inside at one of the tables, exchanging lighthearted banter.

“Hey Annie.”

“Hm?” She turned the knob of the door, stepping foot into the bustling room.

“Thanks for taking care of me.” You sighed, a small smile gracing your lips.

“Of course.” She smiled in return. “I’ll always be here for you.”

“Oi!” Jean shouted from across the room, and Armin immediately tried to shush his yelling, but he wasn’t phased. “Annie, Y/n, hurry up!”

You and Annie giggle at his boisterous attitude, walking over to find your seats.

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen you, Y/N.” Mikasa smiled warmly, tucking her scarf around her neck.

You smile at the three of them, looking so happy and peaceful. You’ve missed it.

“Yeah,” You laugh. “So, what did I miss?”

This feels badly written but I can’t place it, I dunno.

Probably ‘cause I wrote the first half like a month ago and only finished it today lol.

And no I totally didn’t reference someone else’s fic in this haha nope

#attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin x reader #aot #snk #aot x reader #snk x reader #annie leonhart #annie leonhart x reader #annie x reader #fluff #angst

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beskarberry · 3 years

Text

Krayt’s Teeth

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 3 (The Mandalorian x f!reader)

The sound of crashing and shouting was hot on your tail, the other hunters had followed you and were gaining fast. You saw a light rapidly approaching ahead of you, and the two of you burst out into the brilliant daylight to the worst possible place: a dead fucking end.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 6.7k

Content warnings: Canon typical violence, killing in self defense, headcanon angst, FLUFF, sensory deprivation, body worship, oral sex (f receiving).

A/N: These are my headcanons regarding Mandalorian culture in terms of sex, I didn’t find much lore on it so whether it’s accurate or not idk but I like them and that’s all that matters! Enjoy~

<-Previous Next->

You could have slept forever, even on that horrible little cot you were so comfortable that you could have been out for days, but the only one on it was you. You did’t know when Mando got up from the tiny space you both shared through the night, or how he managed to get out from your tangled bodies without waking you up. You opened your eyes to tiny green baby hands tugging at your fingers.

“Hey booger, is it time for breakfast? Where’s your papa?” You started to sit up, but the horrible sticky mess underneath you made you reluctant to move, a mix of passion and pain from the day before. “Yikes. I’m gonna run all his water out if I have to keep using the fresher. Come on, let’s get scrubbed up.” The baby gibbered excitedly at you, though you weren’t sure how much of what you said he actually understood. You scooped him into your arms without looking back at the sad little cot and all its stains. “You’re water proof, right?”

The ship’s engines were rumbling away, so you guessed tin man was up in the cockpit flying you towards your next bounty. Or Nevarro. You would have to find Mr. Mystery later, the grossness that was you had to be dealt with. Between you and the child your shower took forever, the two of you getting water and soap bubbles from top to bottom. You didn’t care. You had been on Tatooine for months without having a real shower, being consigned to the sonic freshers that vibrated the sand off of the moisture farmer’s bodies; and this was the second real shower you’d gotten to have in twice as many days. You spent a good deal of time trying to get your chatty friend to hold still long enough to be dried off, the little fart squealing with joy every time you went for him with the towel.

An ordeal later you were both fresh and presentable, but your host was still nowhere to be seen, though the ugly sheets had thankfully disappeared from view. The ship was quiet now, without the engine running you knew you had to be back on the ground, and you could hear a distinct hum of activity coming through the walls. Space port? He flew us into town? The thought was replaced immediately with a rich, savory smell coming through the air vents: FOOD! Your gut grumbled loud enough to resonate through the cabin and earn you a confused look from the baby. When was the last time you really ate? You’d been living on ration packs for the last couple of days. That was going to change right now.

“Ya hungry buddy? Me too! Maybe that’s where your dad is, hmm?” Grabbing your old backpack and hooking the baby under your arm you started punching buttons on the wall to get the door open, sending walls sliding and cabinets opening before you got one of the access ramps open. Bright double sunlight nearly blinded you, and on reflex you covered the baby’s giant googly eyes. It took a moment for your own to adjust to the radiant light of the Tatooine morning, and the smell of cooking food hit you like a ton of bricks, making your mouth water. As your eyes adjusted you were able to take in your surroundings: though it was bright outside you were parked low inside a maintenance bay, the walls of which soared high above you; littered with engine parts and humming with droid activity. Sound was the last input your hungry brain could process, but when it did you didn’t like what you heard. The sounds of an argument echoed around the hangar, high and shrill.

“I already told you, you can’t park here! You’re bad for business!”

“I just need to park here long enough to get supplies.”

“Well you’re gonna have to pay up, Mando! I’m not running a charity here! You got credits for supplies you got credits for parking! Up front this time!”

Oh no.

Of all the mechanics and docking hangars in Mos Eisley he had to pick this one. The fireball of a woman barely came up to your partner’s chest, but she made up for it with unbridled fury; and the giant cooked animal leg she was swinging around like a club between bites made her look even more formidable. She noticed you coming down the ramp and stopped grilling your comrade long enough to glare daggers through your skull.

“Oh NO! No nope nuh uh! You can turn right back around and get back on that ship, missy! I knew it! I knew you were bad for business, Mando! What’re you doing running around with her? I hope she’s your bounty because she’s your problem!”

“Peli.” Your words were cold as ice, but the squirming baby in your arms took all the malice out of your stance. He wiggled until you set him down, and he ran towards the mechanic with open arms.

“Baby! You can stay but your dad’s gotta take the mean lady somewhere else! She cheats at sabacc!”

“You lost fair and square, Peli! Try playing a better hand next time!”

“Ladies please!” Mando cut through your bickering, holding his arms up between the two of you like he was trying to corner a pair of wild blurgs. “If I let the child stay with you for the day, will you let me park the Razor Crest here? Just for a couple hours?”

Peli bounced the child on her hip, offering him a bite of her breakfast. The baby squealed happily while he sank his little teeth into the mighty snack, though the size of it comically dwarfed his itty bitty hands. “I’ll tell you what, you let me keep him and then maybe I’ll let you park here in a week.” Mando cocked his helmet at her with disdain and she huffed loudly, “Well if you put it that way, I guess you can park here, but you gotta put five hundred credits down, and not a cent less!”

Mando reeled, stabbing his hands to his hips with indignation. “Five hund- absolutely not! What am I going to buy our-” You interrupted his tirade with a hand on his shoulder, waving a slew of credits in front of his eyes. Peli snatched them out of your hand, fanning them out like cards to count them.

“Who’d you cheat these outta?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You leaned casually against your metal man, eyeing Peli with a smug look on your face. “Let’s go, Mando. Bye baby green bean, have fun with Auntie Cheats-at-Sabacc!” You spun him around by the hand and dragged him towards the exit, ignoring the insults being slung at your back. “We are getting breakfast and that’s final!”

The Mandalorian allowed you to pull him along a few feet before grinding his heels into the sand, shaking his head. “You have to stay here.”

Now it was your turn for sassy head tilts. “I just paid for your parking, buckethead, that makes me in charge and I’m hungry! I’ll buy you breakfast too if you want.” He didn’t budge, fixing you with that intense stare of his and grabbing you by the shoulders.

“You are still being hunted. Mos Eisley isn’t safe for you.”

Ah.

You knew you could look after yourself, and he himself had compared you to a ferocious rancor just yesterday. You groaned loudly, “Shit balls of hell. But dad, I’m huuunngry!” The man bristled at your paternal harassment, sighing heavily and letting his helmeted head fall to the side like the world was ending. He glanced around the hangar exit, his shiny beskar snapping to each object of interest until he located a protocol droid corpse that was missing everything from the waist down. He strode over to it and held it down with one boot, yanking it by the head until it popped off. He began prying the droid’s vocorder apart at the mouth, pulling it wide until the droids face plate broke off with a snap! Tossing the rest of the logic processing unit to the ground, he held the face plate up to the light, inspecting the clarity of its photo receptor casings. He bent back down to the junk pile and fished out a stray wire to thread through the ruined audio processors, then tossed the finished creation to you.

“Put that on.”

You turned the makeshift mask over in your hands to check for sharp edges before you pressed it to your face. The bug eyes on the front were dirty, but you could see well enough. Before you could clean them more thoroughly you felt the weight of fabric on your head, his cloak now worn as your own. The thought of how you must look made you giggle. “You make me take my clothes off, now you want me to put clothes on. It never ends with you, Mando. Next you’ll be forging me beskar. Now can we eat something, please?” Without a word the armored man turned on his heel and walked out the hangar exit. I’ll take that as a yes.

Mos Eisley buzzed with life, people and animals and things you couldn’t explain made their way up and down the bustling streets. The smell of food led you to a vendor selling something that could have been a root vegetable, covered in herbs and spices and grilled to perfection. You couldn't wait, all thoughts of self-preservation went out the window as you hauled ass to the stand, waving two fingers in the air. When you had both of your prizes in hand you stuffed the savory veggie under your mask, sighing contentedly at the taste of real honest-to-Maker food. “Hey tin man, I hope you like... whatever this-” You turned to offer your partner something to eat, but he had disappeared from the crowd. “Alright... more for me.”

Taking a newspaper from the vendor you wrapped the extra snack up tight and threw it in your pack for later, continuing to chow down on your own. You would find Mando eventually, and you had credits to spend. You had held onto your hush-money for months to avoid suspicion, but now it was burning a hole in your pocket. Wandering the streets of Mos Eisley from merchant to merchant you began accumulating a small hoard of supplies, ranging from bacta to hand tools, and food. Whatever you could get your hands on that would survive hyperspace when you inevitably left this fucking dirtball for good; though you still weren’t convinced that you wouldn’t be making that flight in carbonite. You picked out new clothes and underwear, a much-needed bedroll, and some soft bantha-wool blankets. Something further down the marketplace caught your eye, and you made your way to the fancier items that glittered in the double daylight. You didn’t wear jewelry yourself, a poor choice of attire for a hunter, but the way the trinkets caught the light still made you wistful. Your hidden eyes danced over the glittering treasures; jewels and geodes that had been found deep in the sands and polished to a radiant shine.

You spotted something opalescent at the end of one table and found a pair of krayt teeth, each about the size of your palm. They had been sanded to a smooth, flat finish and carved with intricate desert patterns. The backs of them had tiny fittings that could be sewn on as buttons, or pulled off to reveal magnets. Something about their shape seemed familiar, though you couldn’t imagine why in that moment. You purchased the unique pieces anyway, something to remind you that even the harshest of places could hold hidden beauty. After a while you had so much junk piled in your arms that you could barely see over it, and tin man was nowhere to be found. You spotted a courier droid and paid for it to deliver your treasures back to Hanger 3-5, though you kept the pricey teeth in your pockets. With your arms free you started looking for your missing comrade.

The streets were busy with people, you would have to get somewhere out of the way in order to scan the crowds. Your eyes went from shimmer to shimmer, looking for his reflective chrome dome. “Big jerk,” you mused to yourself “‘Mos Eisley’s not saaafe...’ If he’s so worried then where the hell is he? Bah!” The scratched-up photoreceptor casings of your mask made it a challenge to see through the crowd, and you took a moment to adjust the iris apertures so you wouldn’t have to keep squinting into the double sunshine when you felt a hand on your back. Finally. “Mando, where have you-”

“Mando? Whos’sis man-do? Nah sssweetheart, I think you got me confused wi’ sssomeone elssse.” The slithering voice in your ear made your blood run cold. Not Mando! You rocketed your elbow backwards, connecting with the gut of the stranger on your back with an -oof! The hand let go long enough for you to make a run for it, and you tore off down the streets of the busy spaceport, smashing into bystanders in your wake. You cast a quick look behind you to see a large reptilian body flying after you, brownish scales catching the reflection of the noonday suns. Though you had your blaster, the risk of hitting a civilian was too great, so running would have to do. You were thankful for the courier droid that had freed your hands just minutes before as you barreled down the busy streets.

Market stalls flew past you, your boots kicking up sand and dust. The mask on your face, as dirty as it was, kept the debris from your eyes as you raced through the sunburnt city. You had to lose this fucker and fast. You turned down an alley, left, right, another right, leaping over supply crates and low fences like a lothcat. You turned to see if you had lost your chaser, breath heaving and heart pounding. Behind you was clear, but you took your eyes off your path for just a second too long, and were taken by surprise when a heavy weight fell on you from above.

The Trandoshan had gone over the low sandstone roofs, chasing you easily through the alleyways of Mos Eisley while you were none the wiser. He pinned you under him quickly, ripping your blaster off your hip and pointing your own barrel in your face. “Tha’ss enough, princesss! Nice n’ quietlike now. You gonna make me a pretty penny you are.” The lizard’s words dripped with metaphorical venom, though you were sure by the look of those fangs that real venom was probably right behind. “Ahm gonna cart yer arse right back to th’ Guild’n I’ll become th’ most famous hunter in th’ galax -urk!” With a sickening gag the hunter above you grew a shiny new fang in the back of his throat before falling down dead on top of you, a vibroblade protruding from back of his skull.

“Took you long enough!” You hollered at your chrome companion, who was stepping forward to kick the carcass off of you. “Where the fuck have you been? Getting your rifle polished?” He pulled you to your feet, handing you your blaster while readjusting the mask on your face. You swatted at his fussing hands, but when you looked at him you were shocked to see not one but three blinking bounty fobs dangling from his belt. On the ground by the dead lizard was a fourth, flashing rapidly in the sand.

“I told you you weren’t safe! We need to leave right now.” You were barely able to grab the remaining bounty fob while you were being tugged away by your allied hunter. He had a death grip on your hand, pulling you along behind him towards what you hoped was the docking hangar. You would have to cross the main street to get there, and as the pair of you plowed across the dusty, busy road there came shouts from either side. More hunters, fucking Guild! You didn’t have a single second to assess them before you were lead through an alley on the other side of the street. These were darker than the ones you had run through on the west side of town, and shady bodies moved quickly out of the way of your living locomotive.

At the end of a narrow alley you both burst through a door leading into an abandoned building. The darkness was almost worse than the blinding sunlight, you would need time for your eyes to adjust but the Mandalorian had enough sensory detection equipment that he ghosted through the ruinous building with ease; never once letting go of your hand as you tripped and stumbled through the dark. The sound of crashing and shouting was hot on your tail, the other hunters had followed you and were gaining fast. You saw a light rapidly approaching ahead, and the two of you burst out into the brilliant daylight to the worst possible place: a dead fucking end.

“There! Get down!” Mando pointed at a pile of rubble, probably big enough to hide behind, but that’s not how you handled business.

“Fuck you! I’m not going down without a fight!” You pulled your blaster out and aimed at the incoming assailants. He growled at you and stepped closer, putting his body in between you and the door. The reptilian hunters burst from the darkness of the warehouse, firing rapid shots of blaster charges that bounced off of Mando’s beskar. You fired over his protective arm, taking out the first one and tripping up the second, who fell over his cohorts limp body. Mando took shot after shot to the chest, reeling with each impact. His other arm cocked back and shot out, sending a wall of fire into the last of the Guild’s hired guns.

Both of you were panting, shaking and sweating from flying through Mos Eisley, but the sound of blaster fire would draw attention and you knew there was no time to waste. You stepped over the incinerated corpse, making sure the fob it carried was melted, the second body still squirmed in the dirt, and you weren’t going to let it get a second chance, firing your blaster through it’s scaly skull. You picked the remaining two fobs and stuffed them in your pockets, making a run for it back through the building with Mando right behind, the blaze of his flamethrower lighting your way.

You took a different door out of the building and were relieved to see the words ‘HANGAR 3-5′ painted in bright blue Basic straight ahead. You skittered through the entrance, rounding the corner and dropping down behind the edges of the hangar doorway. Mando did the same on the other side, both of you pointing your blasters back towards Mos Eisley’s dark heart. Bootsteps behind you made you snap around, and you nearly shot your mechanically inclined host.

“You kids have fun out there?” Peli stood over where you were hunched, and you lowered your blaster to the ground. At her feet your little buddy was holding onto her pant leg, making big puppy dog eyes at you. You looked over to Mando to make sure there weren’t any more coming, but he still held his blaster out ahead. After a few tense seconds he lowered it down until it was back in its’ holster, then pulled himself to his feet.

“We can’t stay any longer, we’re putting you in danger. Time to go, kiddo.” His charred beskar still shimmered when he bent down to pick up his adopted son, who chirped with delight. “Thank you for watching him.”

“He can stay any time! Oh and thanks for all the snacks you made that droid bring me!” Peli called after the three of you as your party quickly boarded the Razor, making you turn around and stick your tongue out at her. She happily flipped you off and started closing the ground entrance to the bay, letting you board the ship uninterrupted. Fortunately, the courier droid’s delivery had made it to the ship, though you couldn't help but notice a few of your most carefully picked snacks had been taken as collateral. Fucking Peli. As much as she infuriated you, there wasn’t another person on all of Tatooine that you would rather play sabacc with.

The old rust bucket rumbled to life, taking off into the midafternoon sky and pointed towards the stars. Finally! Bye motherfucker. The hazy atmosphere of the outer rim planet fell away below you until the light of the bright yellow world illuminated the Crest’s stern. The pre-Imperial scrapheap started howling with noise, and you were almost thrown to the deck when it blasted into the safety of hyper space.

Your heart was still racing and you struggled to catch your breath. Once you had yourself in order you started busying yourself with putting the supplies away, filling the food larder to capacity. The child was contentedly telling you about his day with his auntie in his cute baby gibberish, and you picked him up off the ground to give him a much needed hug, pushing your stolen identity onto the top of your head to give him kisses. You almost wanted to ignore the sound of heavy armored boots hitting the floor panel under the ladder, their wearer opting to jump down from the cockpit rather than climb. You could feel the fury coming off of him as he stalked over to where you were sorting your treasures.

“You could have been hurt! I knew it was a bad idea to let you go wandering around, even with your face covered. What if they’d caught you? I picked three of them off before you even saw one!”

“I had it under control, Mando! I’m not some princess that needs you coming to her rescue at every sign of a struggle. And you don’t get to let me do anything, you don’t own me!” The man under your scrutiny paced the cabin on stiff legs with his hands on his hips, helmet snapping with rage.

“I know you can handle yourself, but I need to protect you.” He said with a huff, “And that lizard was... he had you pinned down, had his filthy, scaly claws on you... Nobody should touch you like that! What if.. what if he... I- I- didn’t like that he was...” Listening to the sound of the gears jamming in his head made you realize the ridiculous thing he was trying to say.

“Are you.. Mando are you jealous?”

“No! I- I’m.. Cyar’ika I... ”

Oh no, you don’t get to be cute right now. “I don’t know what that means, Mando! What is that, some kind of sexy little pet name you use on all the girls you take underneath of you?”

“NO! I didn’t- I would nev- I’ve never had... There’s never been- no!” Oh how you wished you could see his face, watching him flail trying to defend himself from your accusation, he was probably white as a sheet under all that armor.

“Never what, Mandalorian?”

“I’ve never had anyone in this ship before!” The Mandalorian’s confession lost steam halfway through as embarrassment and fear crept into his throat, threatening to choke him with his own secrets.

“Wait.. wait wait. Never? You’ve never had anyone in this ship or...” You started approaching him, analyzing his visor for hints of meaning. “Or you’ve never had anyone at all?” The Mandalorian stopped his pacing, but his shoulders looked like they were carrying the weight of the galaxy. His silence told you everything, and the last piece of his puzzle fell into place. “Mando...was I your first?”

“Y-yes.” His visor tilted up to you, hands fidgeting at his sides. His voice was faint and sheepish, a stark contrast to the thunderstorm you were arguing with a moment ago. Your eyes were full of questions, all racing through your mind so quickly none of them made it to your mouth. The metal man answered them all for you in one singular motion, raising his fist to knock a couple times against his beskar helmet. His creed.

“So, what, you guys aren’t allowed to have sex?”

He sighed his heavy, trademarked sigh and plopped down on the nearest supply crate with a defeated thud, cradling his head in his hands. “No it’s not that. Not... not exactly. In Mando’a the word we use is me'dinuir. It means ‘to give’, specifically to give yourself to another. And... when you give yourself away to someone-“ He turned the black gloss of his single eye up to you, “-you belong to them. That is The Way.”

The weight of his words made your blood cold. He was jealous, but not just because that other hunter had put his scaly hands on you. Everything about his attitude around you suddenly made sense, the way he had looked at you when you were presenting yourself to him that first day, why he never threw you in carbonite when he probably should have, and how he had stayed with you through the night after you nearly died hunting his bounty. His mysterious way of life decreed that giving his body to you meant that he had also given you his soul, and that made you just as important to protect as his foundling.

Mando reached out to pat the fuzzy green head of the baby you were still holding, who gibbered sleepily up at his armor plated papa. “I’m sorry to put that on you, and I’m sorry for how I acted. You’re not my bounty anymore, and I shouldn’t try to control you. I understand if you don’t want to continue with me to the next bounty. You can take whatever you want from the armory when we land next. I’m.. I’m so sorry.” The monolithic man looked so tiny now, sitting on the edge of the crate with his shoulders hunched. He reached his arms out to take his infant son from you, hugging him to his blast-burnt chest and smoothing his massive ears. "I didn’t get to thank you for washing him earlier, he smells really good.”

You desperately needed to know more, though the sight of him fawning over his sleepy son made your heart swell. “I kinda got the feeling that you were rusty when we met, but that was actually your first time? And what does that mean ‘you belong to them’? How can you belong to me? I don’t even know your name.”

"It means that I’m now sworn to protect the one that carries my soul. I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian.”

His words made you feel sick, ashamed that you had taken something so sacred from him without a second thought, but how could you have known? He could have stopped at any time, you were the one in cuffs that day, not him. No, out of trillions and trillions of sentient beings in the galaxy he chose to give himself to you, knowing full well what his heritage decreed. Why you? Arms crossed, you dug deeper. “You’ve never seen another naked body than your own?”

He shook his head. “Just... holo-vids...”

You were going to have to ask him about those later. “Nothing? You’ve at least kissed someone before though, right?”

“Kissed?”

Maker fucking help you. “Yeah you know, kissing? The thing you do with your... oh, right." You reached up and tapped him twice on the beskar. “You need your face to do it.”

He cocked his helmet at you. “Can you show me?”

The innocence of his question made you melt. Fuck you, tin can, you’re not supposed to be cute when you’re in trouble. You reached your hand out, demanding he give you his, and shyly he obeyed. You pulled his hand to your lips, unsure of how much he could actually feel through his thick leather gloves. You pressed his hand to your lips and watched his whole body snap straight. “Kiss, like that.”

He was staring at his hand like he’d never seen it before, and after a moment he pulled your locked fingers to his head, tapping his forehead with the back of your hand. “Kov’nynir, But we do it with our helmets.” At this rate you’ll be speaking Mando’a in no time. He still held your hand gently, running his thumb over your fingers. “I think I like your way better. Could... Could you do that again?”

So polite, maybe having him stuck with you wouldn’t be so bad. You pulled his hand back to you, giving him another soft kiss on the side of his thumb, and you heard the sound of his breath catching in his modulator. Your lips pressed to each of his knuckles, and then you turned his wrist to kiss his palm. “How’s that?”

“That’s amazing.”

“You like that? Watch this.” Addressing the bantha in the room would have to wait. You tugged his glove off, revealing the warm bronze skin underneath and kissed him again. The hitched breaths coming out of his modulator were honey to your ears, and you turned his wrist over to kiss his bare palm again, hunting for more sweet sounds. His body was so stiff, so tightly wound you thought he might snap. “Are you ok? Do I need to stop?”

“I- I- want to... Can... Can I try?” You nodded, your heart jumping to your throat at the thought of him removing his helmet in front of you, but instead he gently reached up to the busted droid face you still wore on your head. With a twist of a knob the armatures inside of the eye casings coiled shut, and when he slid the mask down into place you were thrown into total darkness. “Can you see?” You shook your head. “Promise?”

You sighed, long and frustrated. “I promise, dark as a sarlacc’s backside.” You were met with only silence. Then, after what felt like an eternity you heard the sliding sound of metal as the child’s pram shield slid closed, then the shuffle of armor being removed, and lastly the dull thunk of something heavy being set down on the crates. His hand found yours again, and he pressed his lips against your skin. They were hotter than you were expecting, and soft, almost plush. You understood right away why he was so rigid when you were doing the same, it was amazing. Gentle kisses made their way over the back of your hand and made heat flood through your veins. He moved slowly over each joint, following the same pattern you had shown him, then turned your hand over and kissed at your fingertips. Something fuzzy brushed along with his lips, and you imagined that he might have a mustache. The shivers that crept their way up from your captured hand knocked all the strangeness of your conversation out of your mind, but when he reached your wrist he stopped.

“Where else do you kiss at?” You nearly fainted at the sound of his unfiltered voice, a rich baritone that dripped with dark intentions and stole all the words from your mouth. You could only point with your other hand at the forearm attached to the hand he held. Again you felt his lips on your wrist, then slowly, inch by agonizing inch he made his way up your arm, each kiss slower than the last until your toes were curling in their boots. When he reached the edge of the tunic’s sleeve that hung at your elbow he paused again. “Where else?”

“Everywhere.” Your tormentor hummed at your consenting words and let go of your hand to run his palms down your clothed thighs. When he reached your knees he pulled on their joints, bidding you to bring your legs up over his lap. When you were seated on him he resumed his trek up your arm, kissing at the crease of your elbow and then upwards over your tunic until he reached your shoulder. When he got to your neck you almost buckled over, but his hands were at your back in an instant, wrapping heavily around your waist. Your own hands made their way to the nape of his neck, and your fingers found the edge of his hairline that you had felt before. To your delight you felt that the tousled curls went all the way up, and you tangled your fingers in them, exploring their softness while he explored you.

His journey led him up your neck to the base of your jaw where he nipped gently at the sensitive skin like you had done to him last night, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps from your head to your toes. When his nose bumped the edge of your mask you were suddenly aware of how silly you might look with your big bug eyes. “Can I take this thing off?” you asked in a whisper. “I won’t look.”

“I have a better Idea. Hold on tight.” You dug your hands into his shoulders and felt his arms wrap under your legs as he stood up, lifting you with such ease that you wondered if he felt your weight at all. His boots echoed through the cabin until he stopped at the other end. You hung on for dear life while he climbed the ladder with you still wrapped around his front. When you both reached the top you let yourself unwind from him and scooted on your butt over the floor, listening to the sound of him pulling himself all the way up. You remained seated as your host fussed around the flight deck, the noise of buttons pressing and switches being thrown the only input to your deprived senses.

You were only unattended for a moment, then his hands found your waist, fishing for the edge of your shirt. The tunic was pulled up and over your head, taking your mask with it, and you squeezed your eyes shut to protect his modesty; unsure of what his unconventional oath to you included in the fine print. Your diligence was rewarded with a kiss on your forehead, then down to kiss both of your closed eyes, and then lastly to your lips. The searing heat of his mouth on yours threatened to throw your eyes open, but when they fluttered all you saw was darkness. The transperisteel’s blast shielding had been closed, and the only light in the cockpit came from a handful of illuminated buttons on the dash.

He was lying over top of you on the metal floor, one arm wrapped under your neck for support. The cold decking under you was uncomfortable, but you couldn’t be bothered to care, letting yourself be consumed by his kisses and becoming drunk on the scent of leather and adrenaline. The soft fuzz of his facial hair tickled slightly as he pressed into your lips, and you couldn’t help but smile. Your hands went to his face, running your thumbs over his cheeks and feeling what you weren’t allowed to see. His face was scruffy but not unkempt, and the bristles went all the way from his jaw up to the bottom of the defined nose that bumped against your own. You felt the creases on the corners of his eyes, wishing you could see his smile lines and all the stories they would tell.

You kissed him back, letting your tongue glide over his plush lips and making him inhale sharply. You licked into him again, and this time you were met with his tongue as well, just the faintest touch of its tip. He hummed in your mouth, and the sound of him so close made your belly pool with heat and your kisses bolder, sending your tongue deeper into his mouth until he was almost vibrating with the sensation of you exploring something as forbidden as his human body. He mirrored you as best he could, rolling the smooth muscle over your lips and the edges of your teeth until you were both lost in each other’s taste. He pushed his forehead against yours, pulling his mouth away with frantic breaths that spread fire over your skin. “Everywhere?”

You pushed your lips against his again, giving him an ambitions ‘Mmhmm’ as an answer. His growl made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you realized where his goal was. He kissed and nipped his way down your throat, letting his tongue glide over your skin. He made his way to your breast, taking its’ tender tip between his teeth and making you gasp. He sucked at it gently, rolling his tongue around it while it grew harder for his efforts. The hand not under you groped at your free breast so it wouldn’t be ignored.

"Beep!”

An urgent chime echoed in the tiny space, the hyperdrive indicator was flashing its countdown warning: 10 minutes remain.

The Mandalorian’s growl on your breast made your blood turn to ice and your core flush with heat at the same time. He wanted to devour you, taste every single inch of your exposed skin, but time was not on your side; and he became a man on a mission to prove himself worthy of you. Bristles dragged over your skin as he slid down your belly until he hit the edge of your pants. They were yanked off so fast you briefly worried about the krayt teeth that were still in their pockets, but you didn’t have long to think before Mando was poised over the apex of your thighs, kissing at each leg to make his intentions known. Those must be some good holo-vids you’re watching, tinman. You let him push your legs apart with his chin, receiving a soft kiss on each one once they were far enough apart for him to stuff his face in between.

Your back arched, hard, followed by the most ragged moan you‘d ever heard escape your throat. The grip on your thighs kept you in place as he lapped at your clit, sucking and teasing in an experimental way. His inexperience didn’t seem to matter, his hunger for you fueling his efforts and making you squirm in delight. Your hands sought desperately for something to grab onto to keep yourself grounded, finding his lovely curls to bury your fingers in deep. It was all you could do to hold on for dear life, tangling in his hair and struggling to breathe as he worked you into a frenzy.

The noises coming from below your waist were heavenly, wet and greedy in between his hums of contentment. It took you a while to realize they weren’t hums at all, but alien words of worship being prayed at your sinful altar; but the blood pounding in your ears and the gasps from your throat were too loud for you to hear his devotion.

“Beep beep!” Five minutes remain. Fuck.

The Mandalorian’s efforts doubled, running his tongue almost too quickly in his attempt to eat you alive. You let your hips grind into his mouth, begging him to bring you your release, and it wasn’t long before he succeeded. Stars flashed behind your eyes as you came into his hot open mouth, but he refused to leave until he had drank his fill of you. Eventually he pulled his face away from your spent heat with agonizing slowness, as if he would rather drown than address the impending drop from hyperspace. He kissed at your shaky thighs, your soft belly, and each breast before pressing his lips into your panting mouth, pushing the taste of you onto your own tongue. His breath was ragged, and you could feel the sweat of his brow where it was pushed against your face.

He lifted away from you, and the weight of the handmade mask was draped over your face, making you groan with the displeasure of your passion being cut short. However, once it was in place, it was almost immediately pushed under by strong fingers to lift its edge, and you were given one last kiss to swear his promise of return to you.

“Din. My name is Din.”

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catboynecromancy · 3 years

Text

Kissing prompts day 3, given to me by the wonderful @creativefiend19. Thank you so much for this one, I loved writing about their first date. 💕 Do I get the extra points for making it in canon verse? 😊

Pynch — An awkward kiss given after a first date.

So, how about a date night, Parrish?

This is the question that started it all. Adam had been in the middle of homework for his Interpretation and Application of Mathematics course, unable to hold back his groans and sighs of frustration, while Ronan bounced a Spongebob ball against the wall. At one point in time, Adam would have found this distracting, but now it’s become so commonplace it melts into the background along with the buzzing of his miniature fridge and the ticking of a clock on the wall.

“So,” Ronan says after a while, pausing his incessant fidgeting. “How about a date night, Parrish?”

Adam takes a moment to glare down at the paper, his overworked brain screaming for something to break the monotony and stress building with each passing minute. He’s been at this for hours now and he thinks, if he keeps going, it’ll probably be counterintuitive to getting anything else done.

So.

Date night.

“You want to go on a date? With me?” Adam asks, turning in his old, wobbly wooden chair to glance back at Ronan where he sits on the bed, black, ripped-up jean-covered legs spread out in front of him.

Ronan shrugs, an attempt at being nonchalant but failing miserably. “It’s been weeks since we started dating,” there’s a weird bite to the word when he replies, wiggling his Doc Martens. “We haven’t even been on a real date.”

His mouth opens to respond but Ronan quickly interrupts, “And making out in the BMW doesn’t count, ya horny bastard.”

And promptly snaps shut with an audible click. “Okay,” Adam says, giving a slight nod. “What were you thinking?”

“Dinner. A movie. Taking a long, romantic drive through the countryside,” he continues in a teasing tone, “Promise I’ll get you back at a decent time.”

It doesn’t sound like the most remarkable of ideas, no different from things they would normally do, but something about it changes when the word date is attached. All of a sudden, what they’re doing is too real, no longer just two horny teenagers giving into each other’s visceral desires, and Adam isn’t certain how he feels about this when it crosses the line between physical vulnerability into the emotional side.

But it’s Ronan and there’s no one Adam trusts to hold his heart in their hands more than him, even if he’s loath to admit it.

So he leaves his grueling coursework and they go on a date. Ronan takes him to Nino’s (Really, Lynch?), where they toss fries into each other’s mouths, laughing maniacally every time they miss (which is more often than not, admittedly). They find a dumb action movie to watch at the theater a town over, stuffing their faces with the plethora of sugary snacks Ronan purchases at the concessions stand, laughing more at how inane the film is.

Then, they climb into the BMW, and Ronan puts on an impossibly dark and sultry beat, the bass throbbing in time with Adam’s pulse. The whole atmosphere changes, the creature of wants and needs inside of Adam clawing to get out. He wants Ronan to pull over on the side of the empty street; he needs to crawl on Ronan’s lap and claim every part of him mercilessly, with abandon, until there’s nothing left to give.

Instead, when Ronan pulls over, he hops out before Adam can do anything and demands that he drive them back to St. Agnes. Adam thinks of protesting but, if he can’t have Ronan, the next best thing is getting to drive the BMW. So he does this, making sure to shift gears with careful consideration and intimacy, treating her like he would a lover. Or, well, maybe not, since the way he handles Ronan is often not so cautious with his touch.

They get back after midnight and park in the church lot, climbing out of the car. “Decent time my ass, Lynch,” Adam says. “Wanna come up?”

Ronan shakes his head, stepping around the BMW, edging nearer until they’re so close, Adam feels the warmth pulsing off of him in great contrast to the chilly, autumn air. “Nah. I don’t put out on the first date.”

Adam rolls his eyes but leans in for a kiss. His parted lips hit Ronan’s cheek and he pulls away, blinking, to look at Ronan. He’s turned, dark eyebrows drawn in, uncharacteristically nervous in a moment that should be simple and easy, like all the other times their mouths have met.

What’s so different about this?

“Uh…” It’s Ronan’s turn to try, but Adam’s taken a step back and he misses.

They hesitate, mumble excuses, attempting at the same time only to make it inches away before they both pull back. Adam feels a hot, anxious flush build in his cheeks that crawls up to his ears, and Ronan’s pale features have darkened as well, apparent even with just the flickering streetlight illuminating them in bursts.

“Fuck,” Ronan mutters, “Try again.”

Adam gives himself a moment to consider what is so dissimilar about this from every other time. Maybe, he thinks, it’s more real than the rest. It’s weird, how things change, when feelings are laid bare and actual romance is involved.

This Ronan isn’t the one who just wants to make out endlessly, this is the Ronan who cares, who Adam is pretty sure is in love with him. Who Adam, although still not wholly convinced, thinks he can fall in love with, too. Soon. Maybe sooner than he intends.

“Okay.”

He cups his hands around the sides of Ronan’s throat, brushing a thumb along the very faintly risen skin where pointed, black imagery has been etched in. Ronan takes a hitching, shaky breath, all nerves in the shape of a teenage boy, and Adam pauses to allow them both a second to bask in a rare instance of shared weakness.

When he bridges the distance, pressing chapped lips together in an awkward, chaste kiss, there’s a spark of something that Adam recognizes from the first time they did this in Ronan’s childhood bedroom. The gesture is returned, but just so. Ronan is shaking, or Adam is, or maybe it’s both of them. Heat spills from Ronan’s mouth into his own, lightning courses through Adam’s pumping blood, sending dangerous shocks straight to his heart. All that anchors him to this miniscule, human form is the boy before him.

Adam wants, he needs, and yet he realizes it might be okay to take things slow for both their sakes. He pulls away but not far, jittery with equal parts apprehension and excitement. “Sure you don’t want to come up?”

It’s Ronan who breaks their connection, stepping back to look at the pavement beneath their feet, it's cracks brimming with slowly dying plants. He palms his buzzed scalp, shifting back and forth. “Not tonight,” Ronan says. “I...got some shit I gotta do in the morning.”

He recognizes a Lynch not-lie-not-truth when it's given. Carefully skirting the truth but not outright lying, a compromise that doesn’t betray his earnestness.

“Okay, I’ll seeya later.” Adam doesn’t push, even if a part of him wants to.

“Yeah, later.”

Ronan is almost at the driver’s side door when Adam finally gets the nerve to say what he should have much earlier. “Ronan?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks. For the date. I really needed a break.”

Deep-set, ice blue eyes shift towards Adam, an intensity to them that is quickly broken by a wide and goofy grin. It’s one for Adam’s eyes only, more defenseless than anything else they’ve done this night. “No problem, Parrish. Someone’s gotta keep you from melting your magnificent brain with all that boring homework.”

Adam nods. They leave it at that because there’s nothing left to say. He watches Ronan effortlessly drop into his M6, watches as he caresses the steering wheel in a way Adam wishes was him, watches the red tail lights as they speed out of the St. Agnes lot and down the street, and he watches even once Ronan is long gone and only the memory of him remains painted there, an afterimage of his wants and needs personified.

With a sigh, Adam runs his hand over his face, letting a few curses learned from Ronan spill from his lips.

It had been almost too good of a night.

Maybe love isn’t as far away of a concept as Adam had assumed.

#pynch #ronan lynch #adam parrish #trc #the raven cycle #my fics #writing prompts #kissing prompts #creativefiend19 #I took a break yesterday to write some of tapoma chapter 6 #back at it again #:)#I don't heavily edit these btw so if there are errors don't mind #haha

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tendercrispstan · 2 years

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The Worst That Could Happen - Pt. 4

Eventually Viktor x OC fic based on Netflix’s Arcane. No warnings beyond what’s already in canon. SFW. Prev: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3. Cross-posted to AO3.

Ada wanted to make a good impression on her first day. She tried to go to sleep at a normal human hour the night before, made sure everything was set so she could get ready and look presentable bright and early the next morning… and then proceeded to throw all that preparation out the window by lying awake, brimming with so many ideas she felt like she could bounce off the walls, until she finally managed to quiet her brain by scribbling down the ideas till they ran out. She awoke the next morning — late — with the notepad squished under her arm firmly enough to leave an imprint in her skin.

Forced to abandon her (in hindsight, far too ambitious) plan to both look like an elegant professional and arrive at the lab before ten, she settled for ‘clean-ish,’ ‘wearing clothes,’ and ‘at ten.’ She struggled a bit with the unfamiliar Academy clothes she’d been provided (gave up on the tie), and managed to burn her tongue on her coffee (didn’t add as much cream as it needed, didn’t have time to go back and top it up), but she made it.

She made it. She let out her breath in a little puff, feeling her heart skip a beat. She noticed she was a little warmer than she would have liked to be; she decided it was too late to do anything about that like go back and change. She took another deep breath… and she knocked.

A woman about her age opened the door.

Ada smiled nervously. “Hello. I’m here to break stuff.”

The woman tilted her head for a brief second in confusion. Then her eyes widened. “Oh! You must be Adelaide.” She smiled and extended a hand.

“Just Ada is fine.” She shook the woman’s hand. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Sky Young. I help out around the lab.” She stepped back and opened the door a little wider to let Ada in. “Here, let me show you around. I think Jayce has a spot set up for you to work.”

She followed Sky almost mutely, nodding politely and trying not to look too awestruck at the architecture or the contraptions that caught her eye. She was pleased to hear that while the Council wasn’t permitting her to have a key, she was free to come and go as long as someone else was in the labs. She noted the little break area for food and drink, the designated danger zone that was NOT for food or drink under any circumstances, the storage area for miscellaneous supplies, a quiet little nook with a library and materials loaned out from the Archives…

Sky perked up noticeably as they drew closer to the main work area with the desks.

“Jayce, Viktor,” she said, waving to get their attention, “she’s here.”

One of the figures at the desks looked up right away and stood, beaming. Having seen him at the hearing — not to mention his likeness plastered over half the city for Progress Day — she immediately recognized him as Jayce Talis. What she didn’t know, hadn’t realized seeing him seated in the council chambers, was that he was absurdly tall and exactly as broad-shouldered as the posters made him out to be.

“Hey! Great to finally meet you in person, Miss Gibson.”

His warmth was strangely infectious. She smiled without forcing herself to as he shook her hand. “Ada is fine… Councilor?”

“Jayce. Honestly if someone tried to get my attention here in the labs with ‘Councilor’ or ‘Mr. Talis’ I’m not sure I’d notice.” His eyes flickered back over to the desks. “Speaking of getting attention…” He raised his voice slightly. “Viktor, come over and say hi.”

The other man — Viktor, clearly, and she assumed the ‘colleague’ that had been mentioned in the hearing — responded without moving much. “Hm?” he said absently. “Oh. I’ll be there shortly. I’m… in the middle of something.” His voice trailed off as he turned his attention back to his work.

Jayce grimaced apologetically. “Sorry, he does that.” He gestured over to a desk that was noticeably more bare than the others, though it had obviously been cleared recently, still bearing the vestiges of a communal dumping ground. “We got a desk set up for you. If there’s any equipment you’ll need just let one of us know and we can order it in.”

“Thank you.”

There was a soft knock from across the room, and Sky excused herself quietly to deal with it.

Ada crossed her arms and leaned, half-sitting, against the desk. “Actually, I was hoping to ask you some questions… I don’t know exactly what equipment I’ll need yet, because I’m still not exactly sure what it is I’m trying to break.”

Jayce seemed unfazed. “From your notes, you were off to a good start,” he said.

“I…” Strangely, the affirmation flooded her with reassurance, even though Heimerdinger had already told her as much. “Thank you. But even so, there was only so much I could observe without tampering with the Hexgates or trying to take measurements during travel. I know what the Hexgate looks like it’s doing and I’ve recorded some of the signals it emits right before and right after transit. But I have no idea what it’s actually doing to get things from origin to destination. I mean, I have theories, but…”

Jayce crossed his arms, matching her posture. “Let’s hear them.”

She frowned. “Wouldn’t it be faster just to tell me?”

Jayce shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m curious to hear what you think.”

“Oh…” Ada blinked. “Ok.” She stood and approached the nearest chalkboard with empty space. “Well, there’s a few possibilities I’ve toyed with.” She picked up a piece of chalk and started to write with it. Immediately she stopped, cringing at the sensation. Bad chalk. Shuddering a little, she tried a different piece. To her relief, it wrote more smoothly. “Option A, the Hexgate moves stuff conventionally through space, it just does it really fast. Within this, there are a few different sub-possibilities… does it travel in a straight line? Personally, I think that one is unlikely. Too many obstacles. Does it travel in an arc up and over all potential obstacles? Does it take a circuitous route to evade obstacles? Is it the same path every time or—”

Jayce raised a hand, stopping her before the branching tree of ‘Option A’ ideas got out of hand. “Got it. Lots of possibilities for Option A. What’s Option B?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Option B, the Hexgate spontaneously transports stuff from origin to destination. This one I’m a little unsure on. I’m not sure what the mechanism would be for this to happen…perhaps the Hexgate analyzes the composition of whatever it’s transporting on one end, transmits that information, and reassembles it on the other side? Somehow? I don’t like this one. Too many question marks, too many weird philosophical questions.” And if it went wrong the results could be… disturbing. She kept that thought to herself for the moment. “And you’d still have to transmit the information, so that would need to travel through something. I just jotted the option down because I realized that I was operating under the assumption that when the Hexgate moved stuff, that the stuff would have to traverse the points in between origin and destination… and it occurred to me that assumption might not be airtight. More importantly, that realization brought me to Option C.”

“Which is?”

Ada jumped a little at the sound of Viktor’s accented voice, much closer than it had been before. She hadn’t gotten a good look at him at the hearing; he had been seated behind Jayce, just out of the light illuminating the councilors’ seats. Now he was standing directly in one of the beams of morning light shining through the skylights. The light caught in his eyelashes and cast striking shadows along the sharp lines of his face — his lips, his cheekbones.

He was beautiful.

She turned back to the chalkboard and tried to get herself together, hoping her look hadn’t been too obvious or lingering.

“Option C,” she said, more nervous than she had been for the first part of the explanation, “the object being transported does pass through something intermediate between the origin and destination… but not through points in space that we could plot on a map or a globe. More like…” She tapped the chalk restlessly, trying to figure out how to capture the idea. “Um…” Paper. She grabbed a scrap of paper and a pen. “So instead of traveling like this—” , she scribbled two dots on the paper and traced a line between them, “—it travels like this.”

She folded the paper in half. Then, squinting at the folded paper in the light, the tip of her tongue poking out a little in concentration, she lined up the pen (trying to control the shake in her hands) and jabbed it through where the two dots should have been. Relaxing a little, she removed the pen and unfolded the paper… only to realize that she’d folded the paper unevenly and missed both dots by a few centimeters.

“Or… well it would have,” she sighed, showing them. “If I had aimed that better and made the pen actually go through the dots… You get the idea. I hope.”

She fidgeted with the paper as Jayce and Viktor took in her scribbles.

“So… was I right about any of them?”

Jayce raised an eyebrow. “Hm? Oh. Uh… We’re not completely sure.”

Ada froze. “What?”

“I mean,” Jayce added, “I’ve gone through it myself, and what I saw makes me think it’s that third one you described. But we don’t actually know for certain. We’ve just figured out the configuration of runes and frequencies and everything like that to consistently get stuff from one place to another.”

“So you… what… did lots of trial and error?”

“Much more error,” said Viktor. “But yes.”

“Plus going off what I remember from the mage I saw as a kid. Yeah.”

Ada glanced between the two of them for a long moment, suddenly seeing them in a very different light. Finally she asked, “How have you not blown yourselves up?”

“Oh, we have,” Viktor said. “Numerous times, actually. At least once a month, I would say.”

She gaped at him.

“Nobody’s been hurt though,” Jayce interjected hastily. He stumbled, correcting himself. “Or at least, nobody’s been hurt seriously.” He paused, seeing that she was still looking at the two of them with something approaching horror. “His leg was already like that,” he added, perhaps thinking that was her concern. “Not a lab accident.”

Viktor shot Jayce a look that Ada couldn’t quite decipher, but it seemed to be somewhere in between bewilderment, annoyance, and a plea for Jayce to stop digging.

Ada raised her eyebrows. “What? No, that’s not… I would hope not,” she said. “That’s not usually what explosions do. Unless something about the explosion could cause mutations or neurological disease or something like...” She trailed off, thinking. “Unless they…” She frowned. “Can they do that?” she asked, suddenly overcome with morbid curiosity. “Hextech explosions, I mean? Do they have other long-term effects besides just…” She made an exploding sound and gesture.

Jayce shook his head. “No, I don’t think…”

Viktor looked more thoughtful. “No… although it is an intriguing…”

“No,” said Jayce more firmly, glaring at Viktor. “They don’t. They can’t.” He hesitated, then added quietly, “Not that we’re aware of.”

Ada’s gaze flitted between the two of them. “Right,” she said. “Well… I guess I’ll just… study the schematics you guys have then.”

#viktor arcane #arcane viktor #arcane netflix #jayce talis #oc: ada gibson #arcane oc #sky young #arcane sky #viktor x oc

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eldrai · 3 years

Text

Seventy Two Hours (1/3)

Whumptober 2021 - day 8 - prompt: definitely just a cold

Character: Hotch

Warnings: canon-typical discussion of violence, vomiting

Word Count: 2.5k

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3

Summary: Four victims. A fifth suspected missing. There is no time for self pity - the world doesn't stop just because he's a little sick.

A/N: Part of a multichapter work for this whumptober! Next installment should be in a week.

masterlist / ao3

Aaron picks listlessly at the salad.

It’s some chicken pasta thing from the 7/11 around the corner, marginally less unappetising than everything else, and he’d bought it to stave off the faint dizziness. He’d skipped breakfast with the assumption the nausea might fade – and hadn’t felt particularly hungry to begin with.

The first mouthful tastes like cardboard and he has to wash it down with lukewarm coffee. Even so it sticks in his throat. The second is somehow worse, a clash of textures and tastes, sits at the back of his tongue and he forces himself to swallow before he starts retching. He gives it a minute to settle but eating has had the wrong effect: his hands go clammy as his stomach protests.

So.

Lunch isn’t happening.

It isn’t much of a surprise. He’s had a low-grade fever since he woke up, present enough to irritate him, not severe enough to stop him working. Jack had come down with a bug on Friday afternoon, complaining of a sore throat and a headache, and woke him up during the night to tell him he’d thrown up in bed. And promptly vomited on the floor. It must’ve come from school. A weekend of chicken soup and blankets on the couch had done wonders and he’d bounced back as children are wont to do. He’d thought he’d managed to get away without catching it but it shouldn’t be more than a cold.

Aaron massages the deep ache just above his nose. The headache isn’t bad on its own, but the low blood sugar and probably dehydration are taking their toll. The nausea outweighs the desire to go get a drink and anyway, if he’s going to drink something it might as well be coffee. He’s not getting energy elsewhere.

He tosses lunch in the trash and sits back down. Papers flutter as the door swings shut. There’s a pattern somewhere, there always is, and they’re missing it. Their last lead was of no help – an imprisoned relative more interested in the details of the crime than helping their investigation.

Work is an easy distraction and he lets his attention narrow to the case in front of him. Ignores the goosebumps prickling along his arms and a moment later sweat. Ignores his skin brushing painfully against the collar of his shirt. Ignores the stabbing pressure behind his eyes. And for an hour, it works.

His stomach lurches. It’s all the warning he has, a painful twinge in his gut, and he’s swallowing mouthfuls of spit and brushing past officers and just about reaches the restroom. The stall door bangs shut. He coughs wetly and vomits the pitiful attempt at lunch, the coffee, in forceful retches straining at his abdomen.

Aaron braces an arm against the wall. The dusty tiles swim beneath his feet and his head pounds, as if his brain is trying to work its way out through his eye sockets. Fuck. He wipes sweat from his face with the back of his hand; his forehead burns and his hand is icy cold. A disjointed shiver of relief and cold trails down his spine.

Jesus. How the hell did Jack recover so fast? It’s hardly started and he’s already wrung out.

He flushes and belatedly hopes people hadn’t heard him puking. The restroom is empty when he washes his hands, cups cold water in them to rinse out his mouth. It’s going to take more than tapwater to get rid of the taste but he’s only got a toothbrush back at the motel and thinking about eating something is… it won’t happen.

But with four dead victims and a fifth underway, it isn’t the time for pointless self-pity. Nothing in the world stops because he’s a little sick. Aaron spits out a final mouthful of water and heads back.

Instead of ignoring the illness, buzzing under his skin, inside his skull, he pretends it isn’t there. Swallows down the creeping nausea before it can truly come back. He finishes the coffee and the taste only slightly improves the acidic bitterness. He works through on autopilot and he’s starting to think it’s okay – it’s a one-off – by the time they’re crammed into the SUV. Morgan and Reid have the same debate they always do and Aaron doesn’t volunteer himself to drive. For one his joints ache, right from his neck to his ankles.

The roads out here, this rural, are prone to crumbling and potholes and a hell of a jolting ride. To its credit the SUV handles it fine – just not particularly smoothly. Aaron is usually the one driving when they get to roads like these, the kind he first learnt to drive on, but either way he’s used to it.

Not fifteen minutes in, he comes over in a thin, cold sweat as they navigate the winding roads. Aaron rolls his thumb over the pressure point on his wrist. Not now. For god’s sake, not now.

“Morgan,” Aaron says, when he really can’t ignore it, “pull over.”

“Like, now?” Morgan says. “There’s not really—”

“Yes, now.” He swallows and the acid taste is there again, thick and cloying.

Morgan catches his eye in the rearview mirror. “You okay?”

Aaron doesn’t trust himself not to throw up if he opens his mouth so he just nods.

“Yeah, you don’t look like it,” Prentiss chimes in.

It’s difficult to glare at her and try not to throw up at the same time, but from the look of it he manages. It isn’t worth the pain it takes to move his head.

“Can you—” His stomach flips and he cuts off the retching with a sharp, choked sound.

“Shit, yeah, hang on,” Morgan says.

The car jerks to a halt and he fumbles with the sticking seatbelt. Aaron gets the door open then he doesn’t have the chance to try again with the belt, leaning over the edge of the seat and coughing into the dirt. It’s all spit and bile and a splash of coffee.

Well. They aren’t going to believe he’s all right now.

He wipes his face and accepts a bottle of water. Sits up like nothing has happened and doesn’t wait for them to ask questions. “It’s a cold. Maybe a migraine. It’s fine.”

“You told me to rest when I had a migraine,” Reid says.

Aaron tilts his head back and offers a protest they all ignore.

Morgan drops them off at the scene and insists on taking him back to the hotel despite his insistence that he’s fine to be there and, if not, is fine staying with the car in case they need him. By the time they actually get there, Aaron is almost grateful. Exhaustion has sunk right into his bones and the sickness is stirring up and his sinuses ache like they’re infected. Sleep is admittedly not the worst thing in the world.

It’s strange, how the walk up to his room is as exhausting as the whole morning has been. The pressure has coalesced into a sharp stabbing pain through his right eye and he knuckles it until sparks burst in his vision. It doesn’t help.

Aaron doesn’t so much sleep as lie down and hurt. His jacket in a rumpled heap by his head, an arm thrown over his face, he closes his eyes and drifts into a half-asleep awareness. The pain ebbs and flows through his joints. Coarse against his cheek, the pillow grows warm within moments each time he rests his head. Heat hums under his skin.

He is somewhere close to sleep when he jerks out of it with a heave. A hand over his mouth, Aaron struggles upright and swings his feet over the edge of the bed. The world lurches sideways the moment he stands and he stumbles to the bathroom, trailing a hand along the wall for guidance.

The cool tile is a welcome relief as he falls to his knees with a jolt; he retches into the toilet, his palms pressing down on his temples to just ease the awful pressure. He ends up with one on his abdomen, over the sharp cramping accompanying every heave. When it stops, his trembling arms lack the strength to haul himself up for several minutes. Aaron shivers. The cold hurts.

With sleep unlikely, and the faint pain in his stomach a distant warning, he spreads out his paperwork on the small desk provided. The chair is hard and his arm hurts all the way down to his fingers. Maybe he’ll work some of the stiffness out of it. If nothing else, he’s done something far more productive than lie around and watch generic television.

As the evening light dims, the lines blending in to the shadows cast over the paper and his writing hardly visible, he doesn’t get up and turn the main light on. Resting his eyes, isn’t that what they say? And the paperwork has to be done. It’s a compromise.

The nausea comes back and it seems to him that every time, the intervals grow shorter. All he throws up is water. He doesn’t have the bile to spare. Aaron leans on the sink for leverage to stand up and drinks mouthfuls of water right from the faucet. The thirst hits him the moment the cold water soothes his sore throat and he drinks until he has to stop for breath.

It stays down for all of two minutes.

His stomach protests so violently he coughs it right into the sink, and he doubts he’d managed to retain even a few sips’ worth. Aaron stands over the sink and lets his head tilt forwards. The throbbing pain eases as he presses his forehead against the cold tiling.

Everything hurts.

He drags himself back to the desk, because if he’s going to crash anywhere it won’t be an old hotel bathroom, where it takes him three tries to grasp his pen and not let it fall from his shaky grip. Back and forth and back and forth he goes, refilling the glass of water on his desk every few trips, never allowed to settle semi-comfortably between vomiting bouts.

It occurs to Aaron, slumped against the bath for the ninth time tonight, this is hitting him much harder than it had Jack, and perhaps that isn’t usual. But his alternative is to call one of the team and tell them what, exactly? It’s a stomach bug hitting harder than normal. They can’t do anything about that. Toss him something with electrolytes in, perhaps, but he’ll throw it up before it can take effect.

A couple of times later he abandons the desk and brings his work with him to the bathroom: sits in the corner where the bath meets the wall, uses his legs as the surface, and saves his energy for the half metre to the toilet. Aaron sips water and takes the medicine he had the foresight to bring with him and the vomiting doesn’t stop, but it doesn’t worsen.

This is the peak of it.

The fever hasn’t wavered and he concedes defeat, unbuttoning his dress shirt and letting his skin prickle with the cold air. His sleep clothes are thinner, lighter, but his bag is a mile away on the bed.

His phone buzzes.

His phone.

On the bed.

Shit.

Aaron heaves himself to his feet with a grunt and steadies himself as the vertigo threatens to seize his feet from under him. He screws his eyes shut as the headache intensifies and feels his way to the bed, hits it knees first. He grabs his jacket and falls back on the bed, out of breath.

“Hotchner.”

“Hey,” Morgan says. “You all right?”

Aaron rubs his thumb over the most painful spot. “Yes. It’s a migraine. It shouldn’t last.”

Morgan winces. “Didn’t know you got them.”

“Not often.”

“Reid says he’s got a heat thing and a cold thing which helps with the headache.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Real convincing,” Morgan says. “We’re wrapping up for the night. The Petersen guy isn’t the unsub, he’s got a solid alibi. Just wanted to let you know.”

Unsub. Case. “I’ll be with you in the morning.”

“You think it’ll have stopped by then?” Morgan asks disbelievingly.

His stomach flips and his mouth tastes sour. Aaron pushes himself off the bed. “It should. I’ll talk to you then.”

He hangs up, cutting off Morgan’s rebuke, and makes it to the bathroom. Paper slides underfoot and, when he’s done, Aaron takes everything to the desk in case they check on him. The chair is a fraction more comfortable with his jacket thrown over it.

Aaron flicks on the lamp and winces at the harsh glare; his eyes ache as he blinks away the dots in his vision and fumbles for the off switch. The main light is the same standard cheap bulb, masked by a thin lampshade, and even the meagre yellow glow from streetlights outside the window hurts his head.

He rests his head in one hand and writes with the other.

Jack had been better by the next day so it stands to reason if he gets through tonight and eats something in the morning, he… he’ll be…

A sharp knock on the door.

Aaron lifts his head and cries out at the seizing tension in his shoulders; the base of his neck is a mess of strained muscles. The paper peels away from his jaw as he eases himself up from the desk—he hadn’t remembered falling asleep there and definitely hadn’t intended to.

He shrugs his shirt back up around his shoulders as a chill runs through him and forces his aching fingers to button it. Remembers to wipe his face just before he opens the door.

The hallway is studded with artificially white ceiling lights drowning in the softer morning light. Aaron turns his head – thinks if he listens hard enough he might hear the bones grinding together – and blinks at the sudden brightness. His skull is too tight.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Dave says, “but you look like shit.”

If he looks half as bad as he feels, Aaron doesn’t doubt it. “Good morning to you too,” he says, the words tearing at his throat.

“I was going to ask if you’re coming with but you look worse than you did.”

“Go,” Aaron says. “I’ll catch up.”

“Yeah, no. Take the day off before we all catch—” Dave gestures vaguely at him. “—that.”

He’d argue if his joints didn’t protest at his being upright. “Let me know if you need me.”

Dave goes and it’s a relief to shut the door and let his weight fall against it as he screws his eyes shut and presses his hands to his temples. His pulse beats sickly. The pressure comes as if his brain is pushing outwards and his skull caving in, pain from each side, impossible to relieve.

The sheets are pooled at the bottom of the bed, rumpled where he’d kicked them during the night. Aaron tosses the cover back up and, wincing, tugs the cord for the blinds to rattle shut. It isn’t dark, per se. Just a hell of a lot more tolerable.

He crawls under the sheets, goosebumps prickling along his skin, adjusting the pillow around his neck rather than lift his head and jostle the sore muscles, and this time sleep rushes up to meet him.

#whumptober 2021 #no.8 #definitely just a cold #criminal minds #fanfic #eldrai does whumptober #whump #vomiting #cm fanfic #hotch

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eloquent-vowel · 3 years

Text

Part 3 "Sigh" Bucky x OFC (#043)

Description: The past mistakes of #043 are discovered, Dr. Leeb is none too happy with her. Now she faces the consequences for her actions. Now she must be prepared for her upcoming fight with the Winter Soldier.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Slow burn, very much a slow burn. Bucky Barnes x OFC, Winter Soldier X OFC.

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Please enjoy the next chapter of #043's story, these parts always vary in length so I am sorry about that. There is also no Bucky in this chapter but I swear he is coming in soon! Gotta make sure I build things up right first, I wasn't kidding when I said it was a slow burn. <3

Part 2

Dr. Leeb was ecstatic for the first few days after the mission. He called it an 'indisputable success' that would 'go down in the history of Hydra.' His happiness meant that #043, or Eris as she had begun to refer to herself, had what she considered to be days off. Instead of facing soldier after soldier until she could no longer stand she sparred with her trainer for hours, there were no ribs broken, her legs did not seize up from exertion, there was no hours of sitting and counting every snap of a rib that fell back in place.

She was given more time outside, time to stand still and contemplate, something she never had before. She didn't know if she loved or hated it, having time. For the first time the watched the small birds that flitted around the courtyard, their red bellies were a splash of colour in the grey concrete. They were so delicate, so gentle as the hopped around, barely leaving a trace behind them, they would always fly away when she moved towards them so she soon learnt to be content to just watch them hop around each other.

The smallest one was staring at her, its black beady eyes curious. She didn't dare breathe too heavily in case she scared the tiny creature away. Her enhanced eyes focused entirely on the bird, the world around it became hazy. She focused on it small chest moving up and down in quick breaths, its head never stayed still as it stared back at her with one eye then the other, its beak clicked. She watched as snow began to fall, surrounding the robin, the air smelt like pine trees and cinnamon and so familiar. Somewhere deep within her mind a voiced peeped through.

"Bruce! Bruce! Go get your sister!"

A women, friendly, not too old and so painfully familiar but she had never heard it before, she could have sworn she had never heard that voice before.

A disappointed sigh caused the bird to fly away and snapped Eris out of her trance. She whipped around to see Dr. Leeb, dabbing at his nose and shaking his head. He looked up at her as he spoke.

"#043 you have disappointed me and the whole of Hydra."

"Sir?"

"Did you really think that we would not find out, what happened to no witnesses #043"

"I am Eris." She tried to sound stern but Dr. Leeb only sighed once more.

"You have not earned that title yet, #043. in fact, due to your little mistake there may no longer be an Eris project!" Spittle flew onto her face, she resisted the urge to wipe it off- remaining stock still. "Now I have the General yelling at me, blaming me for your mistake-"

"I am sorry, Si-"

"No, no, no, no, no don't get to apologise #043." His voice was filled with venom, his hands were gesticulating wildly. "Lucky for you, #043, you are not going to be terminated. I managed to persuade the General that you may still serve some..." His eyes flicked over her. "other purpose."

"Who am I?"

He slapped her. He slapped her with his bare hand, it stung. It stung more than anything she had been through before, the force should not have been enough to turn her head but she found herself facing the ground never the less.

"You! You. Are. No one. You are nothing until you complete your training, you will be nothing, nobody until you defeat the Winter Soldier."

Dr. Leeb began to pace around her frozen form, examining every inch of her with a clinical gaze.

"You likely have more to grow and it would be unfair, after all, to let a 16 year old girl fight Hydra's best Asset. No, no, no, that won't do. We have scheduled your test when you have matured fully. But to ensure that you never make this mistake again we must perform a few upgrades, my dear."

"Upgrades?"

He chuckled, darkly, "Yes, dear, upgrades. We shall improve you physically and mentally of course and throughout the next two years you shall make the most beautiful abomination. Now, follow me, it is time for this fist stage."

Dr. Leeb walked inside, #043 followed dutifully. Her hands were shaking violently, her muscles began to ache. She followed Dr. Leeb through dark grey corridors that went further and further down on a decline, lit only by the occasional white, fluorescent bulb that hurt her eyes. Had she been to this part of the facility before? How did she not know that it went this far down? Where was she going? What was stage one? Their footsteps echoed harshly off the walls, the only sound that was made between them, it bounced around her head- creating obscene rhythms that caused her mind to dance erratically just as it reached a deafening crescendo Dr. Leeb, stopped, turned and scanned his key card at a door.

The door opened and there, framed perfectly was the chair. The chair that haunted her memories, she felt the electrical pulses weaving their way through her veins. Panic immediately filled her.

"I see that look on your face, Dear." Dr. Leeb's voice was calm, cool, collected. "You must understand that in order to make you better, we must rewire the very fundamentals of you. You do want to make Hydra proud, don't you?"

She hesitated, eyes flickering from corner to corner- anywhere but the chair.

"You want to make me proud, don't you, Eris?"

Dr. Leeb placed his hands on her shoulder's, eyes begging her. She thought of the Wall, the symbol, the comfort in the red skull. She thought of the Robin, of the smell of candied apple, the voice."

"Who is Bruce?"

Any sympathy Dr. Leeb's face held fell immediately and was replaced instead with a blank anger. No words were said as he gestured to two of the guards inside to grab her. She was strapped down to the chair, a gag forced in her mouth and Dr. Leeb let out one last disappointed sigh before turning to the scientists.

"Wipe her completely, she is beginning to remember again. Then sedate her and prepare for the first procedure." He turned back to face #043. "Soon we will build Hydra's very own harbinger of chaos."

Then there was only pain and the sight of the robin flying away.

Part 4

#marvel #hydra #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x original female character #bucky x oc #bucky fic #angst #avengers #eventual fluff #winter soldier #winter soldier x oc #bucky barnes one shot #sebastian stan #hydra are assholes #eloquent-vowel #043 #slow burn

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peachyproserpina · 3 years

Text

Wickedly Domestic - Roommates and Puppies

Now that I am back on tumblr I figured I might as well upload my John Wick x Fat!OC fic here as well. Maybe I'll find the motivation to write it as well.

TW: Alternate Universe Canon Diverence, Mutual Pining, Slowburn, Sex

If I miss anything please let me know!

There is a consistent thunk, thunk, thunk of her roommates bed hitting the wall. Despite a whole floor separating them she could still hear the sounds of her roommate getting fucked into next week, literally. Usually Maria wouldn’t care that her roommates late at night shenanigans would run into the next morning but, there was more at stake on the agenda today than usual. Maria pressed her pillow over her ears and looked at her phone; it was almost 4 am Monday morning.

There was a meeting in downtown New York that she had to attend, which the commute was a little more intense then she usually had to deal with. Living and working in a suburb outside of New York City allowed for a stress and traffic free drive to work, usually 15 minutes or less, but driving into the city always was a hassle, that drive tends to be close to an hour. Maria rubbed at her eyes and unlocked her phone, she still had 3 hours before she had to be downtown. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, this meeting was with the CEO. Those kinds of meetings either ended up in promotion or termination, she buried her face into her pillow. She could still hear the thunk and a few giggles from her roommate and company. Considering she was already up and too anxious to go back to bed she might as well get her workout in now instead of later.

Heaving herself up and out of bed with a groan she let out a yawn before looking around for her workout clothes. Pulling on her leggings and finding a clean shirt she fished around her room for her headphones. Despite living in New York state for a little over 3 months now she still hasn’t completely unpacked. Moving boxes were still stacked around the room and there was a stack of art needing to be hung up.

She wasn’t planning on moving when she did, the roommate who was busy getting fucked, offered her a place to stay. All she had to do was pay utilities and cook for the house once a week. The home had been a surprise to her roommate Cooper. An estranged great Aunt had willed it over to her, Cooper was already living in New York, and the full ride she received was barely enough to cover the dorm she had to split with 2 other people. When she was contacted by lawyers telling her she is now a proud homeowner and didn’t have to worry about student loans for the rest of her life.

One of the first things she did was reach out to Maria. Cooper was well aware of the tension at home, brewing in Maria’s family since they met in high-school. Unfortunately she had first hand seen more tear stained faces and frustration that Maria was put through. They spoke often and were close, promising to push each other to do amazing things. Sometimes amazing things means moving across the country but their love and friendship didn’t diminish over the distance. So offering the room

All Maria had to do was fund the move and drive 30 hours across the country. Dying to get out of the town she has spent her whole life, as well as always loving the east coast, she packed up, put in her two weeks at her current job and submitted an application to anywhere within a 10 mile radius of her new address. She thanked the stars when a local bank picked up her application and allowed for Skype and phone interviews, giving her the job before she even moved out there. She was introduced to her coworkers through a group chat and she fell into her role easily before she even met them in person.

The hardest part had been leaving old friends, leaving her family on the other hand had been a blessing. Her father and his side of the family had always been hard to please and any relationship with them over the last couple of years had been more of a formality than anything else. Her mother was a different story, tears were shed and a few fights were had due to this hasty decision on moving across the country. Maria’s mother had always wanted more for her daughter than what she currently had but packing up and leaving across the country in less than a month gave her mother bad feelings. Her mother backed off and gave Maria her blessing once she got her job, knowing how stubborn her daughter is once she puts her mind to something.

Her siblings had felt the same way, constant calls and texts were exchanged during the long drive while everyone was proud and knew she would be better for the move. It still hurt, promising to visit during holidays and letting them stay over if they ever visited. But it was like ripping off a bandaid. It had to be done or else it festers and could lead to infection, staying stagnant had been driving her crazy.

Once changed and headphones found under some papers she had been reviewing at her desk, she slid them over her ears and made her way upstairs, closing the door and making sure it was locked behind her. Her cat had the habit of running outside and getting lost or turning up at the local shelter and the last thing she needed was to also be worrying about her cat while she was working in the city.

She jogged down to the gate and opened it before she got into her car and made her way to the nature preserve just a few minutes away from her home. She could have ran there but she wasn’t quite ready to commit to the workout while the air was so chilly. By the time she has parked and started her stretches the world had started to wake up around her, birds chirping and the distant sounds of honking while she tried to figure out what playlist she wanted to run to. Deciding on something beat heavy she started down the trail that would lead over the swamp, it had been a while since she had run outside, usually opting to do her cardio in a class setting or on a treadmill while she binges whatever series she is watching on Netflix at the moment.

She was only half a mile in the trail before she had to stop for a moment. Her “ultra support” sports bra did not help as much as she hoped, having big tits was a blessing and a curse. They made working out hell on earth but it got her more free drinks at the bar then she would like to admit. But it also kept her from being able to run as much as she would like to before she has to stop and readjust.

She pulled out her phone and checked the time, quarter past 5 am, she still had time. She could do a mile before she went home and showered and get ready for a grueling day. She paused her music, taking deep breaths before she started up again, she thought she heard rustling behind her. Which despite being close to the city the swamp held more wildlife than she thought it would. She sat and listened, chancing a glance behind her. The sun was nearly up but running by herself in public always put her on edge. There was always the chance of someone grabbing her and doing whatever they would like to her, she shuddered and unlocked her phone, sending her location and a text as to when she would be back to the roommate group chat. Just in case she were to get snatched up at least her roommates would know where she was last.

She started up again, turning her music up all the way to drown out her heavy breathing and the sound of her feet hitting the trail. It wasn’t until she was almost across one of the many bridges in the nature preserve stretching her calf muscles when she felt something warm and slimy against the skin of her leg. She screamed and pulled her head phones off, looking down to see if she had unknowingly picked up a slug or if some creep had managed to sneak up on her. Letting out a sigh when she saw it was a small Beagle, whining and licking at her leg. She crouched down pet the dog who was whining at her feet.

“Hey baby, where are your parents?” She picked up the dog and looked it over, she saw a name tag, “Daisy- that’s a cute name. Matches my tattoo,” she flipped over the name tag and saw an address, thankful she wouldn't have to drop the dog off at home and try to find her owners later. Daisy fell asleep in her arms while she walked the pup back to her car, the thought on finishing her run gone from her mind. Once the dog was rested safely in her front seat and plugged the address into her phone. It was a quick drive back to the owners house thankfully, it was getting dangerously close to 6 am but she couldn’t not take the sleepy baby home.

She knew if her cat went missing longer than usual or her roommates dog she would be worried sick. No parent should be worried about their baby, that was the biggest motivator for her as she snaked through the neighborhood following her GPS until she pulled up to one of the biggest houses she had ever seen. She knew she lived in affluent part of the state but pulling up the gravel driveway of what was basically a mansion she started to sweat. The bouncing of her car woke the puppy up, who was happily wagging her tail, grateful to be home after wandering away in the early morning. Maria smiled, happy that the pup was glad to be home.

“Lets go baby, let's get you back home.” Daisy ran up the door and pawed at it. Maria knocked and waited a moment, when she didn’t hear any movement in the house she rang the doorbell. Daisy was sitting by her feet waiting patiently for the door to open, it felt like hours while she stood in the massive door hoping someone was home to take the pup in. In reality It had probably been only 5 or so minutes, she chanced a glance around the driveway and didn’t see a car. Figuring that whoever would have been home was gone she turned and started walking back to her car, calling for Daisy, she could take her home and try again after work. Knowing her roommates would be sympathetic to the lost puppy and take care of her until she could try again. It was then she heard the large door open. She turned and nearly lost her balance when she caught a glance at the man who opened the door.

#peachy writes #wickedly domestic #john wick x oc #john wick fic #slow burn #I hope yall like this #it's been my baby for years #im getting to the smut promise

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moskaisley · 4 years

Text

migraine pt. 6 | vertigo

rating: NC-17 kinda

word count: 7k........

warnings: a smidge of smut, angst, canon-typical violence (someone’s arm gets bROKE), cursing, REAL SOFT SHIT, a lil homage to filipino lolas everywhere

a/n:

i know..this is v late so i’ll just cut to the chase.... she’s finally here and i’m finally happy with it so that’s all that matters. thank you all for being incredibly patient ily 🥺💘

summary:

“You never liked being angry with him and now you understood why; it always took so much energy. It kept your heart in a perpetual state of tension, and you couldn’t figure out if you wanted to cry or scream. It has you wondering, how did you keep that up for three damn years? “

Where it converges and collides and slowly comes back together, little by little.

parts 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

ao3 link / masterlist

“I’m gonna fucking die.”

“Quit being dramatic.”

“It’s hot.”

“I know.”

“Mando?”

“What.”

“We’re lost.”

Din’s jaw clenches, and he briefly looks over his shoulder to shoot you a cold glare. You two had been hiking all day, getting lost in twisting canyons in the high desert heat and bickering with each other about which way was north. Din insisted this was a faster way through and it would be easier to catch the bounty off guard on the other side. You, however, were adamant on the fact that the old woman in the cantina warned you of the thick forest nested in the valley, and that many had gotten lost trying to travel to the other side. He ultimately got his way, but the further you two crept into the chasm, the more disoriented you became. That, combined with the blazing heat on your skin, made for a very bitter argument in which you both came to a steely silence for a few miles.

A few hours later, the sky had just begun to dip below the horizon, and you stopped in your tracks at a faint crashing sound in the distance.

“Hey, do you hear that?” Startled at the sudden call of your voice, he whipped to you and tilted his head curiously. Din stills and watches as you crane your neck to hear where the noise is coming from. You completely ignore his calls to you when you shuffle off path into a thicket of trees and rocks. Din huffs in frustration and begrudgingly follows behind you, cursing under his breath at the fact that the bounty is probably long gone by now and that he’s gonna chew your ear off for wasting more time.

But the words die on his tongue when he sees you in awe of a towering, roaring waterfall cascading into a crystal clear pool at your feet. Trees surround the small shore, and wild grass and weeds sprout in patches along the smooth sand. The air was cool and crisp, and if he strained his ears, Din could hear birds fluttering amongst the treetops.

It was an oasis, probably untouched for decades, and you’d inadvertently found it by getting lost.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

A tender feeling bloomed in his chest when you turned and gave him an excited smile. In an instant, all of the arguing and nonsense from earlier had melted away. It was an image he’d commit to memory: the sight of you smiling beautifully in this hidden desert paradise.

“Yeah,” he says, “Yeah, it is.”

It was also the perfect place to set up camp. Seeing as you could barely navigate the forest in the day, you both knew you couldn’t continue your trek through the night, so you settled down in a clearing beneath a few trees and right off the side of the shore. Dusk had started to fall by the time you were all set up. As Din stoked the flames of the small fire, he caught you casually stripping in the corner of his eye, breath hitching at the sight of your bare skin.

“What are you doing?” He asks dumbly.

“Washing off,” you say “Why? Wanna join me?”

You neatly fold your pants and put them on a mossy rock, leaving you only in your underwear and bandeau.

“Tempting, but I’m good.”

“Suit yourself.”

Din continues uselessly poking at the fire as he tries his best not to stare. Even if he’s had sex with you and seen you naked on multiple occasions, it’s instinct to respect your privacy. But he’ll still catch glimpses of you splashing around in his peripheral. The curve of your ass, your hair, the contours of your stomach...Maker, you were so fucking pretty.

“Having fun there, Mando?”

Din scoffs and stands up, striding over to the edge of the water.

“I’m fine, you?”

“It’s nice. You should come in with me.”

“Not in this, I can’t,” he gestures to his beskar.

“C'mon,” you croon. A devilish smile spreads across your lips as you bend down and lightly splash him with a little bit of water.

“Don’t start.”

You don’t listen, sending another splash at his legs.

“Y/N.”

Another splash, and he’s suddenly wading through the pool to get to you. You squeal as Din scoops you up into his arms and holds you close to him.

“You gonna behave for me now, mesh’la?”

You giggle against him as you say, “No.”

“Wrong answer.” He all but throws you back into the water like a damn fish.

But you emerge laughing happily, wading back to the shore with a goofy look on your face.

Back at the camp, you’re both by the fire, basking in each other’s company. While you lay spread out on your side, propped up on your elbow on top of his cape, Din is sat up against a boulder. He listens to the sounds of the canyon–the waterfall roaring in the back, the crack of the fire, the rustle of the wind in the trees– and nearly dozes off until you say,

“We should just stay here. Screw the bounty, let’s just be desert hermits.”

“And what? Live off bugs and tiny fish?”

“I mean...yeah. That sounds perfect.”

You look at him fondly from your place on the ground, and he taps your nose. You don’t know it, but he’s giving you that same lovestruck look. It does sound perfect, running off into the woods with you. Stupid, but perfect.

Your expression suddenly turns remorseful; with your free hand, you grab his on his lap.

“Hey um– I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be angry with you.”

In all honesty, he’d completely forgotten that you’d fought at all. Din intertwined his fingers with yours, and held it reassuringly.

“Don’t worry about it,” he apologizes, “I’m sorry, too. It was my fault we got lost in the first place.”

“Yeah, but look what we found,” you gesture to the oasis around you, “This is worth something, right?”

He nods and you grace him with another sweet smile.

“I don’t like being mad at you… Din.”

He knows that his name still feels unfamiliar on your tongue, but his heart still skips a beat whenever you say it.

“I don’t either.”

You sit up from your place on his cloak, and he flushes with heat as you crawl onto his lap and straddle his legs, hand still in yours. “Then, let’s just–let’s try not to destroy each other, okay?

“Okay.”

The fire had already died down, embers dusting bright against the black wood. Night had settled over the canyon, the only light now being the glow of the stars and moon above. Your soft, heady moans echo off the cavern walls as he guides your hips up and down his cock. You bury your face into his neck and nip at the small sliver of skin just below his jaw. Din grunts and grinds into you, dizzy at good you feel against him, and then he hears you mumble something into his shoulder.

“What did you say?”

It was hard to hear you over the sound of rushing water. You pull yourself away and meet him with a nervous stare, gazing at him directly in the eye through his visor. Din straightens himself up, gripping your waist tighter in worry.

“Hey, what’s wro–”

“I want to see you, Din.”

His stomach flips. Panic starts to settle in and he shifts under you. Your hands caress the sides of his helmet and his arms quickly go to your wrists out of instinct, but you don’t move any further.

“Relax, it doesn’t have to be now,” you assure him, but he still remains tense, “Or tomorrow, or three years down the road...Or… Or ever.”

You pause for a moment, and Din looks at you in awe.

“I know it’s too much to ask, but I need you to know that I want to. One day. If you’d let me.”

He would. When that day would come, who knows.

But he would. You kiss the forehead of his helmet and his eyes fall shut, holding you closer.

So... forever, huh?

The word bounced and echoed in his ears. You thought you’d know him forever. A life where he’d see you every single day until you returned to the earth you stood upon…. And he took that away from you.

Din was stunned into silence, the weight of your honesty pulling at his chest. You watch him with bleary eyes, expectant for his response.

“Was I stupid enough to think you wanted it too?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“No, absolutely not.”

His hand gingerly travels from your shoulder down to yours, taking a loose hold of your palm. He expects you to pull away, but you don’t. To his surprise, you grip ever so slightly tighter.

“So why did we let it fall apart?”

“Don’t think for a second that any of this is your fault.”

“Then what was it?”

He doesn’t respond and you scoff, irritation pulling at your features.

“Mando, you’ve gotta give me something. I’m trying to be fair but–”

“I screwed it all up with you,” he interrupts, “Let you go when I shouldn’t have. I–”

Din stills, once again paralyzed at the thought of spilling out his heart to you. The words swell in his throat and sit heavy behind his teeth. He squeezes your hand, telling himself to be brave and just spit it out already because if he doesn’t do it now, he probably never will.

He pulls and you follow, sitting yourselves down on a rock next to the still water. He keeps your hand in his, and takes a deep breath.

“I don’t remember what my family looks like,” he begins, “I remember being with them. I remember what it was like to go to markets, to be in our house, but every time I try to picture their faces, I can’t seem to piece it all together.”

You don’t say anything, now listening intently. It’s strange– damn near uncomfortable– to have this conversation in the daylight, considering these kinds of talks have only existed in the safety and darkness of the Crest.

Din continues.

“When I was taken in as a foundling, I didn’t want a new family. I thought I didn’t need one, and I denied myself from one for a long, long time. But when you talked about leaving it all behind and starting your own, I–uh–I couldn’t help wanting to be the one you did it with.” You shuffle in your spot, heat rising to your cheeks. “But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I suddenly had something to lose. That it would be easier to let the dream go before I lost it all over again.” You furrow your brows and ask, “So you left?”

He bites his lip and nods.

“It was selfish–I was selfish. I convinced myself it was easier this way, that you’d be better off with someone who could give you what you wanted.”

“And you couldn’t?”

“At the time, no.” You nod slowly, soaking up his words. Your gaze travels down to your intertwined hands, and you don’t look at him when you ask, “Why’d you pull a blaster on me? Sure, you wanted to push me away but why’d it have to be like...that?”

Din clenches around your fingers, swallowing hard and answering earnestly.

“It’d be easier if you hated me.”

Your eyes shut tight and he can tell you’re struggling to keep your composure.

“That’s stupid,” you say sardonically, “And it obviously didn’t work. You just broke my heart.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. For everything. For me.”

Din has said the words more times than he can count in the past few days, but it’s only now that he feels them carry any real weight. He watches you stew over his words, taking long heavy sighs and brushing your fingertips over your temples. Your face remained as still as it could, hiding your true feelings under the mask of heavy concentration. A trick I picked up from you, actually, you once said.

When you finally speak, your eyes meet his visor once again.

“So what now?”

Din tilts his head, confused.

“You said ‘at the time,’ you couldn’t give me what I wanted,” you explain, “But what about now? Where do we go after this?”

He ponders over the question, looking off into the distance where he sees the child splashing along the lakefront. Then, he remembers something you said a few days ago.

“It’s always going to be about us.”

You were right. It was always the two of you against the universe, fitting so perfectly together and falling so easily on one another for support. In another life, where you fully embraced those feelings and spoke them aloud, maybe it would’ve been easier for you to follow each other to the tailends of the galaxy. But years have carved a canyon between you, and now? Things were different. He wasn’t as young and you weren’t as kind. You both needed time to heal your wounds and explore the space in between.

He looks back to you, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles.

“Wherever you want,” he says, as if it were the most simple solution in the world, “It wasn’t fair of me to ask so much of you and I should’ve just been honest. But know that I’ll be here when you need me.”

You’re pursing your lips, face tight and unreadable.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

His heart clenches and he braces for the worst.

“I understand. I don’t expect you to.”

“And I don’t think I can stay around you either. At least, not right now...”

He hangs onto that last part, hope shamelessly building inside him. He watches you brush a tear from the corner of your eye.

“...but thank you. I really needed to hear this.”

You’re the first one to break away, standing up and letting go of his hand. Din follows suit, turning to head back to your campsite. But you surprise him. You always do. He feels a tug on his sleeve and your arms around his neck. He allows himself to be stunned for a beat before holding your waist and pulling you in close, breathing you in while he can. The words tumble from his lips, wet and sad.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I know.”

You reach the village by dusk, weary and tired from walking all day with little to no break. It finally came time to find new parts for the Crest, as there was only so much you could do with the scrap that Mando kept onboard. The hike had been mostly quiet, save for the occasional fussy cry from the child. You were still raw and tender from this morning’s talk, and though things still remained uncertain between you, things felt a lot… lighter, like the air was easier to breathe. You never liked being angry with him and now you understood why; it always took so much energy. It kept your heart in a perpetual state of tension, and you couldn’t figure out if you wanted to cry or scream. It has you wondering, how did you keep that up for three damn years?

The town was relatively small, most likely acting as a trading post for travelers on the main roads. When you cross through the main square, the vendors are already breaking down and turning in for the night. You and Mando agreed to find a place to stay for the night and pick up parts first thing in the morning.

“Back for more, little one?”

You smile at the sound of Amir’s voice calling from one of the stands, and you walk over to greet him with a shake of your hand.

“Just the man I wanted to see.”

“I’m glad to see you again so soon,” he says fondly.

You turn to your partner, “Mando, this is Amir. I helped him with his wagon this morning.”

He nods at the old man in greeting, “Thank you for the food. You’re very kind.”

“So, you’re Mandalorian I’ve heard all about?” Amir asks with a cheeky smirk, “I’ve been told you’ve been causing quite a lot of trouble.”

You snort lightly when Mando stiffens next to you, letting him wallow in embarrassment before coming to his rescue.

“We’re looking for parts because our ship needs to be repaired right away,” you tell the old man, “Is there a place around here we could stay? It will only be for one night.” “Of course! My sister has a spare room. You can eat and rest there, and continue your journey tomorrow.”

You help Amir pack the rest of his produce stand and follow him to a dwelling at the end of the street. The outside of the home is covered in overgrowth, ivy climbing up the concrete walls and wild flowers decorating the front porch. Windchimes and stained transparisteel dangle over the doorway, and you could see propagated plants in clear bottles along the windowsill. When Amir opens the door, the smell of eucalyptus and broth immediately overwhelms your nostrils.

“Igme! We have guests!”

You hear the clanging of pots and shuffling from the far end of the hall. She was a shorter, stout woman with tan skin and crooked teeth. Adjusting her thick glasses, she squints and you and your partner.

“What kind of trouble have you gotten into this time, brother?”

Amir scoffs, “Trouble? I’m no trouble. This is the girl that helped me this morning! The one with the Mando.”

“Ah, so you’ve dragged them all the way here, have you?”

The siblings bicker for a moment before she beckons you all to come inside, barking at you to sit down. When you all flood into her kitchen, she looks curiously upon the excited child in his floating pram.

“Oh? And who might you be?” She asks him with a toothy grin.

When the baby only gurgles in response, she looks at you and Mando, “You two are quite the odd couple.”

You both panic, speaking over each other as you quickly say something along the lines of, “We’re not–It’s not like that–” But the old woman only laughs, waving you off as if to say, yeah, okay, sure.

Igme is much more of a firecracker than her brother: Overbearing in the best way possible, but she is kind and welcoming all the same, serving each of you a helping of food before you even have a chance to introduce yourselves. You immediately tuck in, not realizing how hungry you were until you caught a whiff of whatever she had on the stove. Mando, on the other hand, sits awkwardly in his seat.

The old woman asks him pointedly, “Are you not going to eat, Mandalorian?”

He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish under her intense stare.

“Igme, he can’t take the helmet off. It’s part of his religion,” Amir butts in.

“Oh! Why didn’t you say so?” She places her utensils on the table, quickly standing and shuffling over to her pantry. She pulls out a tray and starts putting Mando’s dinner on it before handing it to him.

“Please, ma’am, it’s okay. I don’t want to cause you any trouble,” he tries to say, but Igme is relentless, pointing a bony finger in his face.

“You’ll give me trouble if you don’t eat. It’s disrespectful to deny food,” she scolds, “Go upstairs, and I better not see any leftovers! You’re too skinny; you need to grow.”

Mando stands stiffly in the doorway with his tray, and you shoot him an amused smile.

Bowing his head at the elders, he says, “Thank you both. We’re very grateful.”

“Eat!”

“So, it seems you’ve patched things up with him.”

You swallow, shifting in your seat shyfully. You don’t look at Amir, instead focusing on feeding the child in front of you.

“Somewhat. I thought a lot about what you said, and it really helped when I talked to him this morning.”

“Oh good,” he muses, “So you told him you loved him then?”

Your hand slips and the spoon clatters loudly to the ground. Your heart flutters wildly in your chest, and you hope to Maker that the walls are thick enough that Mando can’t hear you from upstairs. Amir slaps his knees, his laugh bellowing throughout the kitchen while you clean up the mess you made.

“Igme, these kids are going to kill me.”

After helping clear the table and washing the dishes, you thank your hosts profusely before bidding them a goodnight. You knock on the door gently, and hear a muffled “hold on” followed by footsteps. Mando emerges in the doorway, clad in only his clothes and helmet.

“We have a problem,” he says and you furrow your brows.

He steps aside and you push through. The room is fairly small, containing only a few pieces of furniture along the walls: a rocking chair, an overcrowded bookshelf, a dresser, and one bed.

Not two, one.

“It’s fine,” you huff, chewing on your bottom lip, “It’s not like we haven’t shared one before.” “Yeah, but–” he cuts himself off, “Look, I’ll just sleep in the chair.” You give him a suspicious look and cock an eyebrow.

“Don’t be weird. What you were going to say?”

“I was gonna say the last time we did, things were a lot...different.”

Your cheeks burn. He was right, of course. The last time you shared a bed with him, you weren’t in the midst of a dramatic falling out and there were a lot less clothes involved.

“That... was a long time ago,” you reason, trying to keep your tone even, “It’s just one night, a–and we’re both adults. We can handle it.”

You lay tense on your side, facing outwards toward the wall and hyper aware of the emptiness behind you. The lights were off already, moonlight illuminating the room in soft blues. Mando was taking an awfully long time getting the baby settled, and your stomach flipped when you heard the carrier doors close shut.

“You sure this is okay with you?” “Just get in the damn bed, Mando.”

He sighs another modulated sigh, and you feel the weight of the mattress dip and he settles into a position much similar to yours. The silence of the universe descends once more, and you’re suddenly confronted with the chasm of space between you. You swear you’re exhausted, but despite it all, you’re kept conscious by the presence of the man a few inches away.

“Are you awake?” You don’t mean to say it, but it comes out anyway.

“Yeah.”

You pull at the knitted quilt, clutching it closer to your shoulder.

“Y/N.”

“Hm?”

“You’re pulling the blanket.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

You loosen your grip on the sheet, and you feel it move as Mando adjusts it on his side. Another beat of silence passes by. And then,

“They’re nice people,” he says, “Igme and Amir.”

“Yeah. They are,” You say and smile fondly, “They have such great personalities to them.”

“I know. I’m damn near forty and Igme thinks I still need to grow. I was afraid she’d kill me if I didn’t eat.”

You chuckle lightly; watching him get chewed out by a woman half his size was entertaining.

“Amir’s quite nosy, y’know? Kept asking all kinds of questions about us.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Oh, you know. This and that,” You hesitate, pulling nervously at a thread on your pillow. The bed jostles lightly, and you could only assume that Mando had shifted places.

“And what does that mean?”

You will yourself to turn around, and you’re met with the slick black of his visor. Your heart skips a beat and you can’t control yourself when you whisper,

“He asked if I loved you.”

A crackle of static cuts through the heavy air, and you see his chest heave.

“And?”

“I said I was angry with you.”

“But do you?”

You blink at him a few times, dizzy and drunk on fatigue. At this point, you wonder if you’re dreaming, that you’re not really awake and these kinds of confessions exist only in your head. In the morning, you will be facing the wall, and soon, you will fix the Razor Crest and then jet off in your own ship, parting and going your separate ways. And this late night exchange of secrets would’ve never happened because there’s still an angry, ugly part of you that wants to launch him into dead space.

Right?

You hold your breath and tenderly reach over, looping your pinky finger in his and pulling your hands between your bodies as you utter a single word.

“Maybe.”

You’re silent for a moment, but you acquiesce,

“Yes.”

Because in the morning, you’ll wake up like this, intertwined with him in the most gentle way possible, and you’ll savor every fleeting moment with him while you can. You’ll still split up, go your own way because something in the universe is signaling that it isn’t time for you yet. And you’ll mourn over him every second he’s away because things have gotten so complicated, and the gravity of all your lost potential will always wash over you. Everything that ever is and was and everything that could’ve been– you could drown in it if you weren’t careful. Because even though he didn’t deserve you, he had you. He always did.

Din is quiet for a while, letting your honesty sink in. Your heart slams against your chest and you think you’re on the verge of tears because you’ve said too much and you don’t think you can handle it.

And then he asks,

“Do you remember when we got stuck in that canyon?”

“The one with the waterfall?”

“Yeah, that one. What if we stayed there? Became hermits like you said?”

“Does it even matter now?”

You don’t mean to sound so cynical, so you backtrack.

“We’d probably be happier. Or dead.”

You don’t see it, but you know he’s smiling.

“We should’ve gotten it right the first time,” he murmurs, “But it’s too late now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

You’re not sure how much time passes. You don’t even remember falling asleep, but the next thing you know, your eyes flutter open to meet that familiar beskar helmet, and there’s a soft whine coming from the other side of the room. In your sleepy state, it takes you a second to realize that it’s just the baby and ghosts aren’t real.

Pulling yourself out of bed and padding over to his pram, you pick up Mando’s vambrace and fiddle with the buttons until the carrier doors open. The little green bean gawks at you with wet eyes, whimpering and sniffling against his blankets.

Scooping him up into your arms, you whisper to him.

“Hey, kiddo, it’s okay. Did you have a nightmare?”

He digs himself into your chest, and his cries get louder. You panic when you see Mando stir from his place on the bed, so you bounce the child lightly in your arms. “Ssshhh, it’s alright. I’m here,” you assure him, “Your dad is asleep. I don’t want to wake him up. Maker knows he needs his rest.”

The kid begins to settle down after some time, relaxing in your arms while his eyes droop trying to stay awake. You breathe a sigh of relief and settle down into the rocking chair, swaying slowly and lulling the child back to sleep.

“He gets them too, you know? The nightmares,” you tell him, “Must run in the family.”

He yawns, slipping back into unconsciousness slowly and surely. You glance at Mando’s peaceful sleeping form on the bed and continue to ramble to the child in your arms.

“That man… He’s infuriating. Things can never just be easy with him. ” He’s fully asleep now, snoring softly just like his father. You gaze out the window and notice that dawn has just started to settle over the horizon, a bright pink dusting the indigo skies. You’re overtaken by this incredible sense of calm, meditating in the quietness of the early morning. Selfishly, you think about how you could get used to this.

“What was that word? The one he uses for children?”

Sleep begins to pull at you, too, the motions of the rocking chair settling you further into exhaustion. But you still wrack your tired brain for the word, your already limited Mando’a out of practice after not using it for so long. Adiik? A’den? Ad’eta?

“Ad’ika.”

It feels like a shot to the chest when Din wakes up and you’re not next to him because now he can’t tell if last night was a dream–if you really took his hand and said you loved him. Neither of you had ever explicitly said the words out loud, and last night was about as much as he would ever get. When he shifts to the other side, his vision is still adjusting to the bright sun of the morning, and his heart sinks when he sees your blurry form asleep in the chair.

Did you regret it? Pushing himself off the bed with a groan, he walks across the room and suddenly, all the doubts die in his mind when he finally gets a clear look at you. The child is asleep in your arms, tucked against your chest while you snooze with your head slumped against the headrest. Din could watch this forever, and he can’t help but wish that this was his normal. Intimate nights, calm mornings and a loving family within reach.

Din’s heart twists when he realizes he could’ve but he stupidly let it go along with you.

So he indulges in the fantasy just a little longer, taking his sweet time to get himself ready and stealing glances at you every time he could. And when it was time for it to end, he slips into the refresher, shutting the door loudly.

Igme and Amir wouldn’t accept your money even as you both bickered with them on giving at least something as a token of your appreciation. The only thing they’d accept was your help in setting up Amir’s produce stand in the market before you went, and so you did. Mando and Amir pitched the shade, and you laid out all of his stock on wooden tables while the child watched from his pram, happily eating some berries. Though the morning had been relatively easygoing, the air had been deeply awkward between you and your partner. You’d barely spoken aside from the occasional “sorry” for when you briefly brushed too close. But you still steal quick glances and stare at each other’s backs when the other isn’t looking, wondering when someone’s going to talk about the blurrg in the room or not.

Tearing yourself out of your thoughts, you look back at the baby, who’s thoroughly made a mess of himself with his breakfast feast.

“Oh Maker, look at you!”

He giggles happily and you laugh with him, purple fruit juice all over his face and jacket. Crouching down, you pull at your sleeve and proceed to wipe it from his lips.

“It’s gonna stain,” Mando’s voice suddenly complains behind you.

You clear your throat, trying to ignore the tension between you.

“Maybe you can find some new clothes for him here,” you suggest.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You smile at Mando warmly for just a moment before turning back to the child. After fruitlessly trying to rub off the juice from his shirt with your sleeve (and Mando prodding you with “quit it, it’s not going to work), you notice something missing from his carrier.

“His silver ball is gone.”

Mando tilts his head and digs through his blankets only to turn up empty.

“It must’ve fallen in the room.” Amir, who had stayed entertained from afar, came up to you two in your confusion.

“Did you lose something?”

“Yes,” you say, “The baby left his toy and I’d hate to leave it here.” “Igme should still be home. Go ahead and grab it.”

“Thank you so much.” You turn to Mando and gently place a hand on his arm. “Go ahead without me. I’ll catch up with you.”

Walking up to the house, a Pantoran and a man stand at the porch. Igme stands proud and tall at the doorway, hands propped against the frame to act as a steel wall between them and her home. Even with her loud, scathing voice, you don’t hear much of the conversation aside from “I don’t know who you’re talking about” and “there’s no one here.” You stride closer, hand itching to your blaster’s holster when Igme catches your gaze.

The men turn around and your heart drops when you see how heavily armed they are. They’re dressed in sleek black, clothes oddly pressed and neat. You narrow your eyes at them, and you don’t know how, but you swore you’ve seen them before.

“I thought you said there was no one here,” one of them says.

She answers quickly before you can respond. “That’s my niece, Tala.”

With their backs turned, they don’t see Igme give you a pressing look, nodding her head and encouraging you to keep up the act.

“Doesn’t look like she’s from around here, grandma.”

“What’s it to you?” you ask, keeping your face stern.

“You tell me, darling.”

Your gaze darts from the men and then to Igme.

“I’m visiting my family,” you lie, “Is it a crime?”

The two thugs tilt their head at you suspiciously.

“We’re looking for someone, and we have reason to believe that they stayed in your aunt’s house last night.”

“And who might that be?”

“A Mandalorian, a child, and…”

The Pantoran takes a step closer, golden eyes boring into yours. He’s menacing and at least a head taller but you stay indignant, feet planted firmly on the ground. He takes a lock of your hair in his forefinger and your stomach turns.

“...A pretty little thing like you.”

You roughly smack his hand away and push past him, standing with Igme at the door.

“Sorry boys, but you’ve got the wrong house. Your chances of finding a Mandalorian here are slim to none. I’m here on a family vacation, nothing else.”

The two hunters exchange looks, deliberating over their next action. You shift slowly, hand creeping towards your blaster before they turn back to you and Igme with sinister smiles.

“Thank you for your time, ma’am.”

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Igme ushers you inside, slams the door shut, and pulls the curtains on her windows. You let out a huge sigh of relief, heart slamming in your chest and sweat beading at your brow. Out of the corner of your eye, Igme stands still, staring at a picture hung on her wall. Her hands shake ever so slightly, scratching the wrinkly skin on her forearms.

“You need to find your Mandalorian and get out of here. It isn’t safe for you,” she instructs, “Take the back door and make sure you aren’t seen.”

“What about you?” “We can handle ourselves. Hasn’t been the first time.”

You nod, and say nothing more. You rush upstairs, taking the child’s ball and slipping it into your pocket. You take one last look at the small cozy room and it breaks your heart a little; Igme and Amir had been the first genuinely kind faces you’d seen in a very long time. Even if you’d only been here a day, it was easy to feel like this place was home.

Walking down the stairs, you see Igme still gazing longingly at a photo, unmoving.

“You remind us of her, you know? We were devastated when we heard the news.”

It takes a second, but then it dawns on you.

“Tala was Amir’s daughter, wasn’t she? The one in the Rebellion?”

She nods slowly, breaking her gaze from the wall to turn to you.

“I told her to go. To never stop fighting. Amir was furious with me, but eventually, he came around. She was a hero,” She says, with a shaky breath. Circling back to you, Igme takes your face in her bony hands.

“I don’t know who those men are or why they’re here, but I know that you’re good kids. You be careful out there, okay?”

You’re speechless, heart blooming with adoration. “Igme, I can’t thank you enough for everything you and Amir have done.”

The old woman pulls you in for a warm, loving embrace, and it takes everything in you to not cry your eyes out.

“Then don’t. Just stay alive, that would be enough.”

You do exactly as Igme says, stalking behind buildings and hidden streets around the bazaar to find Mando. From the end of an alley, you see a glint of beskar and your heart leaps. But as you make your way down the small road, you’re stopped by a sharp, painful tug on your hair and the barrel of a weapon pressed at your back.

“What did you say about slim chances, darling?”

Cursing under your breath, you raise your hands in begrudging surrender. The Pantoran’s hand moves from your hair to grip the back of your neck, turning you around and shoving you away from the main street. He guides you a few paces down the abandoned back road, pushing past cargo crates and trash cans that litter the way. In an alley up ahead, the sounds of struggle echo off the concrete walls and the grip on your neck tightens as your captor aims the blaster past your face in defense.

Mando tumbles onto the ground in front of you, the other hunter stalking in tow. You act quick, slamming a hard elbow into the Pantoran’s stomach and seizing his arm, taking aim with the blaster. In his panic, he fires and the shot lands on his partner’s ribs, knocking him back into a stack of cargo crates and giving Mando a chance to get back on his feet. With your captor’s arm still in your hold, you throw him onto his back and fall to your knee. Bringing it flush against your leg, you tug with all your strength, a nasty crack resounding in your ears. He wails in pain and his blaster falls to the floor.

“You bitch!” He seethes. His uninjured hand reaches toward his belt and whips out a vibroblade, but it’s swiftly kicked out of his hands, clattering onto the dirt as Mando stalks to your side.

“Don’t try it.”

He aims his blaster at the writhing hunter, who squeezes his eyes shut at the sound of the gun cocking. But something about these men itch in your consciousness–something that wasn’t right. Sure, every bounty hunter and their mother was after Mando right now, but this felt different. These two weren’t some rugged, run-of-the-mill mercs who were hired in a seedy cantina; they were trained, calculated, and damning of all, they were familiar. They knew exactly who you were at Igme’s, and if they wanted to take you in or kill you, why didn’t they do it right then and there? Unless they were explicitly told not to cause a scene.

“Wait.”

Mando’s arm relaxes only slightly, looking to you for explanation. Rising to your feet, you take a good look at the Pantoran, studying his features intently and trying to figure out where have you seen him before?

“Who do you work for?”

He spits at your feet, “Like I’d fuckin’ tell you.”

You don’t react, steely gaze darting to his limp broken arm. Tilting up your foot, you hover over his swollen elbow, brushing it with the sole of your boot. His golden eyes go wild in panic.

“Let’s try again, darling,” you sneer, “Who. Do. You. Work. For?”

Every word was punctuated with added pressure on his injured limb. He thrashes under your hold in agony, desperately trying to pull himself from under you as curses fly from his lips. But your stance remains strong and you don’t move a muscle.

“F–f–fuck! You kriffing bitch!” “You want me to break the other one? Start talking!”

You slam your foot against his arm and he wails. Out of the corner of your eye, Mando tilts his head in what can only be worry.

“Alright! I’ll talk!” he relents, “I’ll talk.”

Your hold loosens ever so slightly and you let him speak.

“Ever since his arrest, people have been fighting for Khan’s spot at the top. In the end, it was his cousin Kirnall Myn who took over. Once he found out the price on the Mandalorian’s head, his first order was to send us after you.”

The name made your blood run hot. You read his file on the Crest and it made you sick to your stomach. Though Khan was the main face of his ring, you learned that Kirnall was the one who kept it running like a well oiled machine. He’s the reason it expanded across the Rims; he moved the money, pulled in the most expensive clients, and had deliberately placed set-ups on planets with loose laws. With him in charge, things could get a lot worse.

And these clowns must’ve been his trusted hitmen. You let out a frustrated huff, stepping off the Pantoran’s arm and lifting his neglected gun from the ground. He’s weak, groaning in pain and slowly slipping into unconsciousness. But before he can go under, you point and send a shot through his legs. He cries out in agony again, and you’re back on your knees, pulling him by the collar of his shirt.

“I’m not going to kill you today,” you seethe, “because you’re going to go to your little hitman friends and tell them to back off. And then you’re going to tell Kirnall Myn that I’m coming for his head.”

taglist

@bella-ciaao @tiffdawg @peggers-n-beggers @sinnamon-bunn @adlerorzel-blog @theocatkov @paryl @fruitsaladtree @allisondavis236 @roxypeanut @benedrylcumbersnatch @skylerrae-solo @weirdowithnobeardo @gabbygurrl @cheesybadgers @nopeforyou @dartheldur @altarsw

thx loves 💘

#migraine #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #shes HERE FINALLY #star wars #the mandalorian fic #by homage to lolas i mean my lola bc she heavily inspired igme

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akindofmagictoo · 3 years

Text

20 first lines tag game

this comes from @zmlorenz and also I think @amillionwips — thank you both!

rules: list the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20 stories just list them all). see if there are any patterns. choose your favourite opening line. then tag others.

(I will tag @writingbyjillian @pamsdrabbles @sleepyowlwrites and anyone who wants to play!)

Hurricane

Tempest stilled her bouncing leg, eyeing her sleeping husband. Had she woken him? She took a careful breath and didn’t let it go until he snored and rolled over, pulling the covers tighter around himself. Still she waited. One breath. Two breaths. When he still didn’t move, she stood up and grabbed her coat and sword belt, not even bothering to put them on. Because she had to leave, and she had to leave today.

Theo x Aella Little Mermaid AU

Water closed over his head, tugged at his clothes. Tugged him down… down…

He wanted to cry out for help, but the water filled up his mouth before he could make a sound. Cold stole into his limbs, heavy and dark, weighing him down.

His chest ached, searching for air. Deep, cold darkness wrapped around him. Dragging, pressing, pulling down.

Down… down… down…

When he’d hit the water, he’d panicked. That was gone now. All he felt was the cold, the deep dark cold.

a random post-canon Theo x Aella oneshot

Thunder rumbled overhead, blending into the drumming of the rain on the roof. Aella tucked her blanket more tightly around herself, but it did no good. She couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t keep her mind off the locked front door, Alanna’s instruction to stay inside. It felt too much like other locked doors. Every time she closed her eyes, she was back there again and—

No. Sitting in this bed alone with her thoughts would do no good.

a post-canon Theo x Aella oneshot (sort of the former version of the one above)

“Read the mermaid one again.” Aella snuggled against Theo, pressed up between him and the arm of the big old armchair.

a Theo x Aella modern AU

Even with a map on his phone, Theo was impressed he’d made it to the small cafe on the main street. True, it was the main street, but his new house wasn’t, and directions weren’t his forte. Given how recently he’d moved, it was at least understandable.

The cafe was small, but its list of drink options was larger than he’d expected. But it included several types of tea, so he ordered a familiar English Breakfast and sat down at the nearest table.

post-canon oneshot of the Hurricane women play ‘theatre’

“So, who’s up next?” Aria stretched out in her hammock. “As much as I enjoyed being the defence lawyer, I think it’s someone else’s turn.”

“I’ll play the accused. I want to try my daring escape again,” Aella volunteered, sitting up.

Theo grinned. “Because you got caught last time?”

a crossover royalty AU with another project (Labyrinth)

(this isn’t the first line, but it’s the first lines where Theo appears. also, you would be correct if you assume that the Spanish princess is not Aella. that is the complication.)

“Spain confirmed the marriage alliance,” said Jared. “We still have to confirm it one last time, though.”

Theo glanced up at his dad. “Hardly surprising, really. They offered it, after all.”

Jared nodded. “Are you still alright with this? We can turn them down now, if you want.”

“My calendar is free,” said Theo, straight-faced. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve got my eye on someone else or whatever. Just as long as I’m not expected to actually have a romantic relationship with the Spanish princess.”

the below are all fanfictions. [ps my AO3 is @/ sidebysidewithafriend go check it out if any of these fics interest you]

Shadow and Cottontail (Harry Potter: Marauders (OC insert))

(this is co-written, I’m posting the first part that I wrote)

“Is there mail today?” Kai Lupin jumped the last step down to the dining room. This was the same question she’d been asking for five days, but she asked anyway.

Her mother Hope was about to answer when an owl swooped through the open window, a parchment envelope clutched in its beak.

“I think the answer is yes,” said Remus, descending the stairs behind her with a little more care than she’d taken. Kai rolled her eyes and crossed the room to see what the envelope contained.

Hope was already taking it from the owl. “It’s from Hogwarts,” Hope said, and Kai’s heart leapt, only to be dashed by her mother’s next words. “But there’s only one envelope. It’s addressed to you, Kai.”

Told You You’d Kill It (Harry Potter: Romione)

“Ugh.” Ron shoved his books to one side and ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in all different directions. Hermione hid a smile as Ron drew his hands inside his jumper sleeves.

Through a yawn, he continued, “I’m done. I’m so tired.” Probably from his basketball training, but schoolwork was also a struggle for him, she knew. And they’d been studying in the library for several hours now. No wonder he was exhausted.

Thank You For Saving My Cat (Harry Potter: Jily)

Lily pushed herself up to a sitting position and breathed a small sigh of relief. At least she was out. She turned back to the house, watching the orange flames that danced over the structure with her heart in her throat. Was it her imagination, or were they growing smaller?

Most of her stuff could be replaced. But she hoped nonetheless that she wouldn’t have to.

Then she remembered the one thing she’d left behind and couldn’t replace. Crookshanks. She stumbled to her feet. Legs shaking under her, she ran to the nearest firefighter and grabbed their sleeve. The firefighter gear covered its occupant’s face, but the voice sounded male. “Are you alright?” He took her arm gently, steadying her.

3AM (Harry Potter: Wolfstar)

The beeping of the fire alarm filtered into Sirius’s sleeping brain, burrowing in until he couldn’t help but wake up. At which point he groaned and wrapped his pillow around his head, trying to block out the noise.

But this was a fire alarm, so really he had to get up. Grudgingly, he removed the pillow from his head and fumbled for his phone to check the time. The light from the screen was blinding in the darkness of his dorm room, but after a moment his eyes adjusted to see that it was 3:07 AM.

Give Him Back to Me (The Great Library: Wolfe x Santi)

Day 1

“Nic?” Wolfe half-rose from the bed at the sound of knocking, leaving his Codex open beside him. Something was off, though. Nic wouldn’t knock. He had a key. Besides, Nic was away in Belgium, training a new company. He wasn’t due back for another day or two, and that was assuming everything went to plan.

Nevertheless, when the knock came again he got to his feet and headed for the door.

Death Is Not Fair (Shadowhunters: (very angsty) Malec)

It wasn’t fair. Then again, life wasn’t fair.

And neither was death.

It shouldn’t have happened. It should have been a simple mission. The scans and all the reports had said there was just one demon in the area. It was a larger, stronger demon, and would’ve put up a good fight, but it was still practically nothing to a Shadowhunter like Alec.

Untitled (Shadowhunters: Sizzy) (unfinished and un-posted)

Izzy was swearing off dating. She’d kind of thought about it before, but hearing about the amount of drama in Jace’s love life right now cemented the idea firmly in her mind. No more dating. Between that and the mess Alec had gone through a couple of months ago, she wasn’t sure she wanted any part of that. Not to mention that of all the boys she’d dated, none of the relationships had really been right. Did she believe in The One? She wasn’t sure. But none of her boyfriends had been it, that was for sure. So no more dating for her. She was here to study forensic chemistry, after all, and surely it was better to concentrate on that.

Moving Day (Riordanverse: Blitzstone)

Last? signed Hearth.

Blitz brushed a speck of dust from the shoulder of his shirt, studying Hearth’s face. He knew exactly how many boxes were left to move, and it was more than zero, but the elf was looking paler than usual. If that was possible. As he watched, Hearth swayed a little and put a hand on the wall for support. “No. But I’ll get the rest. You need a break.”

Untitled quarantine AU (Riordanverse: Percabeth) (unfinished and un-posted)

“Thanks for letting me stay over to finish this project,” said Annabeth, setting the last piece on the model Coliseum she’d made. They’d done most of it last night, and she was just adding the finishing touches now. Although that had been before school had been shut down; they’d been notified the night before, but since she was here she’d been determined to finish it.

Untitled (The Hobbit) (I have a “better version of Tauriel’s arc” thing in the works, and this is an accompanying oneshot of how the Durins died in this version) (un-posted)

“Where is he? It looks empty. I think Azog has fled.” Fili glanced around nervously, his breath steaming in the icy air.

“I don’t think so,” said Thorin.

Footsteps sounded on the ice, echoing in all directions. It was impossible to know their source.

“We’ve got company,” Thorin growled.

Kili readied his sword.

This was practically everyday for them at this point. Every motion of his sword, every footstep, every bit of it was familiar. Fili hardly had to think. His sword flashed in the faint light. Droplets of blood and crystals of ice spattered his exposed skin, hot and cold. He was at home here; he might not have been on the ice before, but with a sword in his hand and Kili and Thorin at his back, he was content.

this is VERY long. if you read to here, thank you! and maybe consider reading some of them in full on my AO3?

#tag game #20 first lines tag #wip hurricane #wip labyrinth #zoe writes

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lucas-koh · 4 years

Text

Stitches - Bryce Lahela x MC VII

Parts 1-6 are linked in my bio!

Doesn’t exactly follow canon, but elements of canon. FWB.

Song: Try A Little Tenderness - Otis Redding

Rating: M; implied sex, sexual language, swearing

Word Count: 4273

Taglist: @lahellacute @lahamseiroshoe @anotherbeingsworld @fuseboxmusebox @choicesficwriterscreations @bubblelaureno @bratzlahela @eleanorbloom @bryceslahela || please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from this list

Chapter Seven: A Simple Favour

Suki stood in the corridor, glass of water in hand, utterly confused. Where the hell did Bryce go? She walked the length of the hall to be sure she wasn’t just being dim, but he was no where to be seen. Had he been really that annoyed that she wouldn’t kiss him despite their rules? Or, maybe Suki was being too self-centred. The likelihood was that Bryce had to run off for some work thing – it was the middle of the day after all.

She continued on with her work day, but her mind kept flicking back to her strange morning. Especially when she’d seen Bryce only hours before back at his place and he’d been completely normal. They’d had a great time as usual, and there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. He’d even told her to leave early because he wanted a good sleep for his surgery. Of course she knew why he was different, but it was still strange to see. He’d been so psyched for the surgery to the point he’d even told his fuck buddy about it. Particularly when the story didn’t seem to add up and he was keeping pretty shtum about it all.

Suki just couldn’t help it – she was nosy.

—-

It wasn’t until about a week and a half later that Suki finally saw Bryce, or interacted at all with him. He’d texted a rather blunt ‘👃’ to which she’d read off and headed over to his apartment.

Almost as soon as Bryce opened the door to her his lips were on hers, not even giving her time for a greeting. He seemed on a mission. It was forceful, intentioned. Bryce heaved her up so that her legs wrapped around his waist with ease. Suki was surprised, but didn’t let on.

Pleasantries abandoned, they stumbled to the bedroom as one, continuing to kiss and touch their way out of most of their clothes – which were now strewn in a trail from the front door to Bryce’s bed.

He threw her down on to the mattress as though she was a pillow. Once Bryce had Suki’s hands pinned either side of her on the bed and was giving all his attention to her neck; she decided to ask him. It did seem to have affected how he was that night, after all.

“How are you feeling? You know about the surgery?”

“Fine,” he muttered through a tirade of kisses to Suki’s neck, much more focused on that than the conversation.

“So, like, the other day… where did you disappear to?”

He sighed and removed his lips from her neck, not lifting his face to meet hers, but muttered into the crook of her neck:

“It doesn’t matter right now.” He smoothed his hands down her bare stomach.

“Okay…” she threaded her fingers through his hair as he started moving again. But she couldn’t just drop it. He’d been so weird and then left without a word? He was being weird then. Her curiosity was getting the better of her.

“Have you spoken to Dr. Emery since?”

Bryce let out what sounded like a half-grunt, half-sigh, and rolled away from her, staring at the ceiling.

“Can we just- not talk about it? Please?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” He laid there for a few seconds, seeming to compose himself. Then he turned so that he was on his side, “come here.”

So, it didn’t seem Suki was getting a confession out of him any time soon. He wasn’t his usual cocky, playful self that day, but rather blunt and straightforward, and really focused.

And sure, Suki was only there for sex – it wasn’t like she was his therapist or anything – but she was still a little peeved off that her attempts to help him had been brushed off to the point where he just left her. But, she supposed it wasn’t her business, and she should stop being so nosy.

She relented and leaned into him, letting his kisses absolve her of thought.

Which – although unknown to Suki – was exactly what Bryce was doing, too.

—-

But the next time she saw him – in a group setting at their apartment – he was back to his usual self. He was absolutely giving her whiplash, and Suki wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

They all lounged around in the living area, TV playing in the background. It was their first day off in what felt like far too long. Bryce was bickering with Jackie over something trivial while Suki lay beside him with her head on Aurora’s shoulder, the weeks’ work catching up with her. Elijah and Sienna were watching funny videos on Sienna’s phone.

“Nope. Absolutely not,” Jackie said. “Tomato Ketchup belongs in the cupboard.”

“You have to be crazy! It goes in the fridge, it even says so on the bottle!”

“But why would you want cold ketchup with hot fries?”

“Because of the temperature sensation!”

Suki sighed, zoning out of the ridiculous bickering, but smiling to herself all the same. Aurora was breathing quietly, relaxing Suki’s heartbeat.

After a little while, the conversation seemed to have changed to Donohue’s the other week.

“Oh come on, you brought your own shades!”

“I know, it’s because I’m just that cool.”

“Pfft,” Jackie snorted.

“I wish someone had caught that on film, we were epic,” Bryce grinned.

“Oh, of course I filmed it!” Sienna interrupted, her attention pulled away from the video she was showing Elijah.

“Really?”

“Here-“ Sienna handed him the phone, and Suki could hear the muffled recording of her and Bryce at karaoke.

Truthfully, she’d already watched it a fair few times. Just to check she didn’t do anything embarrassing. But she had found herself picking at every little thing she’d done. And marvelling over how effortless and comfortable Bryce had looked. Watching the way he moved and grinned as he sang, looking silly but like you’re laughing with him, not at him. The way they’d bounced off each other up there.

She could hear the laughed ‘you’re the one that I want’, and lifted her head from Aurora’s shoulder to look over for Bryce’s reaction. He seemed a lot closer now that her head was straight. Bryce was smiling, corners of his eyes crinkled and the ghost of a dimple on his right cheek. The song came to an end and Suki could hear Sienna’s screaming in the phone at quite the volume.

“Send me this, Si?” He asked.

“Yeah! I’ll airdrop it right now,” she grinned, taking back her phone and getting to it.

“Why would you want video evidence of you looking and sounding like that?” Teased Jackie.

“I obviously want it so I can admire Suki’s amazing karaoke.”

“You heard me right? I can’t sing for the life of me,” Suki scoffed.

Bryce just winked, pulling out his own phone to save the video.

“I actually love when people film me doing random shit,” she smiled, “it’s like I get to take a peek at myself through someone else’s eyes. Who I am when I’m not performing for the mirror or my own camera, you know?” She said it more to herself than anyone else.

“Yeah. I know completely,” Bryce smiled back, his shoulder almost grazing hers. There was a moment they just looked at each other in complete understanding.

“Ugh. I hate when people film me,” Jackie groaned, breaking their reverie.

Bryce broke his gaze with Suki and laughed at Jackie, setting off another silly bickering fest between them.

Suki felt so insanely comfortable with everyone there at that point that she couldn’t believe she’d ever felt awkward about it.

—-

“Yeah, so, I’ll see you guys later.” Bryce smiled on his way out. Everyone was getting ready for bed.

“Yep! See you dumbass,” said Jackie affectionally as she patted him on the back.

Everyone said their goodbyes, and Bryce slipped out of the door. One by one they all retreated to their own rooms, saying goodnight to one another. Once she was sure they were all gone, Suki snuck back over to the door, and opened it up to a grinning Bryce leaning on the wall.

She put her finger to his lips, earning a humoured nod. Bryce stepped inside and Suki shut the door as quietly as she could and the two tip-toed over to her bedroom. He’d given her the signal earlier, and she’d texted this plan. After all, they really didn’t need everyone on their backs about it. She didn’t ask about the surgery again.

—-

Towards the end of November, Suki was just returning from picking up a few bits from the convenience store and moving back from the chill air into the warm hall of their apartment building. She was prepped with chips and candy for her first day off in ages.

As she climbed the flights of stairs (she wanted to keep fit so avoided the elevator), she could hear voices coming from her floor. An exhausted looking mother who Suki recognised as Gia, the woman across the hall from them, was holding her son’s hand and seemed restless on the phone. She smiled warmly as she saw Suki, although they hadn’t interacted much they’d become friendly.

“No, like right now,” she said into the phone. She scrunched up her face at whatever the receiving end said to her. The little boy, Tommy, pulled on her sleeve.

Suki came closer and placed her bag down. Then she crouched and placed a finger to her lips, beckoning Tommy over to her.

“Hi!” She whispered when Tommy approached. He was about 3, so his conversation wasn’t that wide yet. He just smiled at her, deep dimples and curls on his head. So cute!

They messed around a little before Gia hung up, and looked even more stressed than she had before.

“You okay?” Suki asked.

Gia appeared to think for a moment on whether she’d share with Suki.

“No. Work needs me and honestly, I need the hours. I can’t take him to work, he’s too young and he’ll just run around the store and I can’t keep an eye on him. But Tommy’s dad is busy and I can’t find a sitter…” she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I’ll watch him. If you’re okay with that, of course, I’d be more than happy to help.”

“Really? You honestly wouldn’t mind?”

“Hey, I’m happy to look after him a little while.”

“Oh Suki! You’re a lifesaver.”

Gia scrambled out many more thanks’, told Suki she’d be gone for about four hours (are you sure it’s okay? Really, no pressure) rushed out her number to Suki so she could check up on them once Suki assured her for the umpteenth time that she didn’t mind, and hurried down the stairs.

For the first hour or so, Suki and Tommy were having a great time. They played peek-a-boo, Suki drew some animals for him to colour in, and even made a little fort on the sofa.

Eventually, Suki needed the bathroom. She was a little apprehensive to leave Tommy even for only two minutes, but it had to be done. So she went as quick as she could and then they continued on with their play. Suki even supplied a snack of banana and peanut butter toast.

What must have been a half hour after Suki went to the toilet, the doorbell rang.

“Ding dong!” Imitated Tommy.

“Yes! Now you sit on the couch while I check who it is.”

Tommy jumped on the sofa and crossed his legs exaggeratedly, wanting to impress her. She gave him an encouraging thumbs up.

As Suki put her hand to the doorknob she was struck with a little confusion, had someone forgotten something they needed for work?

Opening the door however, revealed otherwise. Bryce was stood in the doorway once more, leaning casually on the frame.

“Hey hot stuff.”

“Bryce! What the f- uhh heck are you doing?”

Bryce looked confused when Suki seemed to not expect him, or go in for a kiss. And he was more confused when she opened the door wider to reveal Tommy behind her.

“Um… you… you sent me the nose,” he whispered behind a hand.

“I- what?” She asked, shocked. Her eyes fell on the shape on the sofa. “Sh- It must’ve been the kid.”

“Ah.” Bryce pulled his lips into his mouth like he was about to laugh. Suki beckoned Bryce in and shut the door so that Tommy couldn’t escape. She crossed over to the sofa and picked up her phone. Sure enough, her last sent texts were way too many nose emojis.

Santa Fe: 👃👃👃👃👃

Scalpel Jockey: i’ll be at yours ASAP?

Santa Fe: 👃👃👃👃👃👃👃👃👃(£&&£?

Scalpel Jockey: lol hold ur horses

He must’ve struck when she’d gone to the bathroom, and she had forgotten to lock her phone. She wondered how Tommy had gotten ahold of her text messages and the nose emoji in particular, but of course…

“God it’s- it’s in my recents,” she blushed.

Bryce gave her a shit-eating grin. “Yeah it is.”

She wanted to hit him, but it probably wouldn’t be good manners in front of a child so she just gave him a death glare.

“Who’s this?” Tommy asked, still sitting nicely on the sofa.

“This is my… this is Bryce!”

“Hey little guy.” Bryce crouched down in front of him and shook his hand gently. Tommy seemed very pleased at this.

“So… what’s the deal?” Bryce asked Suki in a hushed tone as he settled in next to Tommy on the couch. She told him the story.

“Everyone’s at work,” she finished, “my plans were originally chips, candy and Netflix but, I think they changed for the better, right, Tommy?” She grinned at the little guy, earning a giggle from him.

“Uh so you had the day off and the place to yourself and you weren’t even going to invite me over?” Bryce mocked offence.

“Yep. My life doesn’t revolve around your d- uhh nose.”

Bryce howled a laugh, enough to make Tommy join in.

It took him a while to recover, at which point he just tapped the side of his nose like they’d shared a secret, but of course, the secret was his no- uhh dick.

“So, uh, sorry you came all the way here but, as you can see, I’m a little busy.”

Bryce nodded, still grinning from the laughing. “Eh, whatever. I had a nice walk over here. And I think that nose quip made it worth it.”

And then, in yet another divine intervention, just as she was about to usher Bryce out Suki’s pager beeped.

“Can this day get any more hectic...” she muttered, more to herself than to Bryce as she stood from the sofa and patted herself down to find her pager. She began rushing around to grab her coat. “I’m going to have to take him with me or- or… or something.” She was bustling around the apartment at speed, frantically collecting her things.

Bryce cleared his throat, causing Suki to look at him as though she’d momentarily forgotten he was there.

“I’ll watch him.”

“What?”

“The kid, I’ll watch him while you’re at work.”

“Bryce he’s not even mine, I don’t know if Gia would be comfortable with this. I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Obviously he’s not yours, I think I would’ve known by now. I’ve met Gia, she loves me. Right, Tommy? Your mommy thinks I’m so cool.”

“When?! Actually, don’t answer that,” Suki said, realising he must’ve met her from one of the many times he’d been round. “Call her for me.” Suki threw her phone at Bryce, who caught it expertly, before she rushed to her bedroom to freshen up a little.

She splashed water on her face and made sure she had everything she needed before hurrying back to the living area.

“She’s okay with it. Something about Doctors being trustworthy,” Bryce smirked form the sofa, where he had Tommy on his knees and was swaying him from side to side as though playing aeroplane.

Suki raised an eyebrow, some Doctors were trustworthy. “Are you sure? I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“I’m sure, now go.”

He gave her a confident smile as she closed the door behind her.

—-

The page was because one of Suki’s patients was becoming critical, and all hands on deck were needed. There wasn’t a lot she could do once she was there except help to stabilise him, make him comfortable, and wait to see if he improved. It was physically and emotionally taxing but soon enough she was headed back home, and was honestly looking forward to seeing that sweet little kid and Bryce being an idiot as usual.

When Suki snuck into the apartment, there was no noise. She looked over to see Bryce asleep on the sofa, a snoring Tommy in his arms. He looked so at peace, so gentle, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks and his lips slightly parted. Given most situations she’d been looking at his lips, this was an odd contrast. But it suited him. God, she hadn’t forgotten, but it was certainly a reminder of just how pretty he was. His strong arms looked delicate as they lay protectively around Tommy’s small figure. Tommy was curled into his chest like a little koala.

Seeing that, all her anxieties were quelled for a moment. It was like a ‘hey, there’s still good in the world’ nudge. Odd that that good was from Bryce but, also not so odd. He had managed to talk her down after she’d had that difficult day, after all.

Suki moved over to the sofa quietly and perched on the coffee table. She just sat, looking, for a moment. Finally Bryce wasn’t running his mouth off about something. His quiet breaths were masked by Tommy’s purr-like snores, but she could just about hear them, like a live, ASMR metronome. She found herself breathing in sync with him.

Eventually she reached out a hand to gently shake Bryce’s shoulder.

“Hey,” she said softly.

Bryce’s eyes blinked open slowly, confusion shifting to a bemusing sort of tenderness as soon as they spotted Suki. Suddenly he didn’t seem worried about where he was.

“Hey,” he whispered, voice slightly croaky. Careful not to move too much for Tommy’s sake, Bryce brought a hand up to clear the sleep from his eyes. He watched Suki, noticing she looked significantly more worn than she had before she’d left.

They sat like that for a while, mostly silence to let Tommy continue resting, but it felt okay. Suki ‘life embarrasses me’ Moore felt completely fine sitting in silence, somehow. Maybe it was the fact that she herself was getting sleepy and her eyes kept closing until she remembered she was sat on a coffee table and couldn’t sleep there. Maybe it was left over sensitivity from today’s chapter of Existentialism: Doctor’s Edition. Maybe she just wasn’t worried about what other people thought because the only other people were a sleeping toddler and someone who she was simply sleeping with. Maybe.

Not so long after Suki returned there was a knock at the door, revealing Gia.

“Hi! I’m so sorry I took so long, I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you both for looking after him. Hey, little guy!” She greeted Tommy as scooped him up in her arms as he waddled over to her.

“It’s okay. It was all Bryce, really.”

“He’s a pleasure. You had him a while before I popped in though - I can’t take all the credit,” Bryce grinned, all charm.

“Well, both of you. Be sure to cash in a favour whenever you need one.”

And with that Gia and Tommy left, all thankful smiles.

“So…” Bryce turned to Suki, eyebrows raised in humour. Then he flicked a thumb in the direction of her bedroom. She pulled up one side of her mouth in a smile, reached down to grab one of his hands and pulled him into her bedroom.

—-

After the fact, and way later than either of them expected, the duo were beginning to get a little sleepy. The clock on Suki’s bedside table read 01:14am. Bryce sat up in the bed, rubbing his eyes and looking for his clothes. He noticed Suki looking a little distant.

“Was I that bad?”

She laughed gently, no real humour behind it. “I would’ve kicked you out if you were bad.”

“What’s wrong?” The concern laced in his voice brought Suki back to that time he’d found her in the supply closet, and she knew at that moment she could tell him.

“My patient, the one I was paged for, he’s not doing so well. It’s part of the job and all but, it still hurts every time.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. You’ll do your best, I know you will.”

“Thanks.”

There was a moment where Bryce hesitated, considering giving her a comforting pat but decided against it. He continued looking around for his clothes, but was clearly very tired and moving slow where he sat up in the bed. Suki sighed. I’m so going to regret this. Oh well.

“It’s late, stay. Just make sure you’re gone by the time I wake up.”

“What about your roommates?”

“You’ll just have to be more careful this time.”

“If you’re sure.”

Suki just nodded. She turned away to face the wall, shutting her eyes and waiting for sleep.

“Thank you,” she heard Bryce mutter behind her. Really it was him she should be thanking, for looking after Tommy, but she was afraid to breach the silence again.

Moreover, she was doing it for herself more than for his sake. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone as she entered unconsciousness that night.

Soon enough Suki drifted off into a peaceful and primarily uninterrupted sleep.

Because she definitely hadn’t awoken when she felt Bryce stir beside her. He seemed to sit up and stay there a while. But not wanting to give herself away, Suki stayed stock still. And then it felt like his lips brushed her shoulder, and his hand brushed her hair, but the next thing she knew she was falling back into unconsciousness, so maybe it was a dream…

—-

When Suki awoke Bryce was gone, as he said he would be. The spot on the bed beside her was cold. Stretching out her muscles, Suki realised she’d slept much sounder than she’d anticipated after the rush into the hospital. She didn’t want to attribute that to Bryce’s presence, but perhaps just knowing someone was there was all she needed.

Feeling energised for the day Suki slipped out of bed and began to bustle about her morning routine: a quick shower, minimal face care, a large mug of coffee with oat milk (it added a nice sweetness without the need for sugar), brushing her teeth, picking something warm and cosy to wear in, and then rushing out to hop on the T.

When she finally reached Edenbrook Suki was in high spirits, bouncing along to the changing rooms. She actually felt hopeful about her patient, too. Perhaps a good nights sleep was all she needed to treat him properly, and all he needed to recover.

Getting a little ahead of herself, it wasn’t until a few moments passed that Suki realised she was standing outside of the changing rooms, hand hovering over the doorknob. She could hear voices.

“Nah, I’m just feeling good is all,” ther first voice said. Of course, the voice was very familiar to Suki as it was Bryce’s voice.

“Oh yeah? Got some cool medical stuff going on?” The second voice joked.

“Pfft. Not after the surgery disaster.” Hm. Okay. Suki couldn’t help but feel a little miffed that Bryce was talking about the surgery with whoever this was, but that he hadn’t shared with her. Again, she felt bad for feeling that way since she wasn’t in a position to earn the information, but all the same – it felt a bit shitty.

She realised then that she’d subconsciously decided to eavesdrop on this conversation, but she wasn’t quite sure why. It wasn’t like they would stop if she walked in.

The second voice laughed, and there was a clang of a locker. “Okay, so you’re just in a good mood for no particular reason?”

“That’s right.”

Then there was a scuffle and a couple of grunts, like someone had rushed the other.

“Oooh! You’re sleeping with someone!” The second voice exclaimed, obviously having found some information.

It was at this point Suki knew she shouldn’t have kept listening. But, she did.

“Give it back.”

“You are, right?”

“Maybe,” he said. Although Suki couldn’t see him, she could hear his bragging smile. There was a pause, and Suki wished she could see the expressions on their faces to gauge what was going on. Or even see what on earth the second voice had found.

“You like her.”

There was a poignant pause.

“I like her body.”

Oh.

Suki stepped away abruptly, she didn’t need to hear anymore. For some reason hearing that brought on a stabbing pain in her chest and a flip in her stomach. Perhaps it was that the last couple of weeks had been so easy and comfortable between them had made Suki forget that he wasn’t obliged to be her friend. Or even was her friend. Obviously the only thing he was interested in was her body, and she was stupid to think otherwise. She should’ve never let herself feel safe when their arrangement had been so clear: keep it casual.

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venusandromedadjarin · 3 years

Text

Fresh Meat

Ch 3, Mi Cielo

18+, smoking, language, canon timeline, TW: mild violence, 2k words

Inside, Connie waves you over to a table and you drop Javi’s hand, weaving your way through the swaying crowd as he joins Steve at the bar. You slide into a chair next to her, preparing yourself for the inevitable question she’s about to ask. She eyes you, “So you and Javi, huh?”

You shake your head, your dark hair bouncing with the movement, “We worked together back in Texas. It’s a long story…”

“One you can share when we unpack together, maybe tomorrow after work” she offers a smile before adding, “if you want.” You nod and smile back, grateful for the offer of friendship from this stranger. The guys join you and Steve hands a beer to his wife while Javi sets a glass in front of you. You blush at the thought that he still remembers your drink of choice.

“Whiskey on the rocks,” he holds his own glass up, waiting for you to clink his. “To new partners, even if one of them is gringo.” Connie laughs and Steve shakes his head as you all toast, Javi winking at you slyly.

The upbeat Latin music pulses through the club as you all drink and chat. Eventually, Connie begs Steve to dance with her. After a show of fake annoyance, he gives in and follows her to the dance floor. Connie sways her hips to the beat, a surprise to you as you raise a brow, smiling at her, but Steve looks like a fish out of water as he tries to sway along. Javi takes a drag from his cigarette before holding it out to you, which you take and do the same. “If he keeps that up, we’re going to get targeted just for his shitty dancing.”

He chuckles, glancing toward the man and grimacing, “Fuck, maybe we should put a stop to it.”

“We could just show him how it’s actually done,” you say around the cigarette dangling from your lips before handing it back to him and downing the rest of the whiskey and hissing at the way it burns your throat.

“I’m not drunk enough for that, but I could maybe be talked into it…” He trails off, looking up at you as you stand, at the way your tight dress is bunched around your thighs before you pull it down.

Bending down, you whisper in his ear, “Like the way you talked that woman who left your apartment into giving you information?” He gapes at you when you pull back and walk towards the bar, simultaneously breathing heavy from being called out and from the way your ass sways as you walk away. You mentally pat yourself on the back for messing with him. He might remember your drink order, but you remember his tactics for information. If the moaning you heard earlier was any hint, you’re sure you’d hear about it tomorrow.

The bartender flirts with you a bit, her curly black hair bouncing as she laughs at something you say. You play with her a bit before ordering two more drinks, biting your lip when she notices the brooding guy you point towards. He glowers back at the both of you as you pat her hand and blow her a kiss, grabbing the drinks. Her blush is not lost on you, but you ignore it anyways.

“You heard?” You set his drink down in front of him when you join him back at the table.

“Did you think we wouldn’t? You’re not a quiet person Peña.”

He rubs his face, pursing his lips before grabbing your hand and leaning towards you, “And you still flirt with bartenders so obviously neither of us have changed.”

You stare at him for a second, the walls crumbling around your facade, “You know we both have, Javi.” He nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. You stand, pulling him with you, “Let’s go dance. They’re making fools out of themselves.”

“Hey! Connie isn’t,” you raise a brow at him, feigning surprise. “Anyway, I don’t dance hermosa.”

“Liar,” he allows you to pull him to the floor, far enough from your other partner to let his hands roam on you, but close enough to not seem suspicious as you sway against him. The music seems to pulse around you and you both fall into a familiar rhythm. Moving your ass against his hips, you can’t help but remember times like this back in Texas. His hands slide up and down your sides, before one comes to rest on your hip and guides your movements. His other hand comes up to lightly cup your throat as he whispers into your ear. “Looks like I’m not the only one remembering, Javier.”

————————————-

The hillsides of Medellín roll beneath the helicopter as Steve and Javi fill you in over the headsets. Pablo’s city, for all intents and purposes, is not only huge but a drab color of tan that sticks out like a sore thumb against the green hillsides. “We’ll be stopping at the Carlos Holquín School. It’s where Carillo runs his ops from,” Javi’s voice crackles through the headsets. He points to some brick buildings below as the helicopter makes its descent in the opposite direction. “We’ll pick up a jeep and head over there.”

Twenty minutes later, the jeep rumbles to a stop in an area surrounded by men in uniforms. You quickly slide your jacket on and tighten your ponytail as you step out of the vehicle. Javi greets a handsome man, one you can assume is Major Carillo, as Steve just looks lost. You elbow him, “I’ll help with your Spanish if you want, but you’ve got to learn fast if you’re going to survive around this shit.” He nods down at you as Carillo tells Javi about intel while you both make your way to their side.

“I want you to meet our new DEAs, Steve Murphy and y/n Lucio.”

Carillo nods towards you before staring at Steve, “Carne fresca.” Javi just sighs and you bite back a smile at the man’s bluntness. As soon as the two are out of ear shot, not bothering to see if you follow, Steve is asking what was said. He doesn’t find it funny when you tell him. Carillo leads the three of you around the base, showing you different points of operation before circling back to the jeep and climbing in the front with Javi. Steve quietly climbs in the back, obviously annoyed at the constant chatter in Spanish. You offer him a smoke as Javi drives towards Hotel Las Margaritas.

Inside a room looking out onto the valet area, Steve snaps pictures from behind the curtain as you and Carillo talk. He questions you about how and why you ended up in the DEA, and then fills you in on the ground information about Pablo Escobar. Things, he says, won’t be in any file. You’re a bit taken aback, even though you were prepared that things would be done differently here. Javi watches you, trying to gauge your reactions. You know he can tell you’re nervous, but you try not to make it obvious to anyone else. Steve motions for everyone to come towards the window.

“Is that Gacha?”

Carillo nods towards Javi, “I’ve never seen him with other traffickers.” The man in question is a short, heavy guy with a fedora. He looks vaguely like most middle aged men in the country, but you recognize him from the intel reports you were able to look over. Finally, a tan convertible Mercedes-Benz pulls up with two men and you push to get a better look. Carillo and Javi aren’t extremely tall, but you’re short so they block your view significantly. Moving back to let you see, Carillo turns to Steve, “Get pictures of that fucker.” It confirms who you thought it was: Pablo Escobar. He’s not what you expected, even after seeing him on TV and in papers. He almost looks harmless, but you know better and you glance at Javi. He tenses as the man steps out of the car, but doesn’t say anything. The amount of men under this roof would’ve gone undocumented if it wasn’t for Javi, and that fact is not lost on any of you.

An hour later, a van full of hookers show up and you hear Javi inhale when one in particular steps out, “That’s Helena.”

The guys both look at him nodding. Carillo radios downstairs to one of his guys, asking to check if the coast is clear to leave. Once the okay is given, the four of you make your way downstairs and drive back to the base.

A couple hours later, the military jeep is parked in front of a church and Javi is pacing in front of it. You glance at Carillo, who watches him with crossed arms. Steve is bent over the map on the hood and you’re leaning against the front, picking at a string on your jacket.

“She should be here by now,” Javi looks between the three of you, scratching at a callus on his hand.

Steve looks at you and you shrug. “You think she slipped?”

“Nah, she’s no dummy.”

“Javi, maybe she’s just late,” you offer.

Carillo looks annoyed, “Maybe she’s getting pretty for you.” You shoot the man a dirty look and he ignores it.

Javi just continues pacing, ignoring all of you again. You honestly aren’t sure how much time has passed before Carillo speaks again, “They’re telling me the girl left a long time ago. She’s already dead.”

“No, they wouldn’t kill her at the hotel,” Javi rubs at his shoulders, the point where he carries all of his stress and you wish you could help him. You’re quiet as the guys argue about what to do and now you’re the one watching with crossed arms. Steve glares at you when the guys start speaking Spanish again, and you shake your head. Javi looks at you and says something and you nod towards him before turning to Steve.

“Stay here and see if she shows.”

“You��re leaving? Where the hell are you guys going?”

You plead with the man in front of you, giving him a pat on the shoulder, “We’re going to look for her. Stay here.” The three of you jog to another car and hop in, but not before you hear Steve curse behind you and hit the hood of the vehicle. Part of you feels bad for the guy, but it’s obvious he’s green and the shit you know Carillo is about to pull isn’t something he needs to see on his second day. Miami had its issues, but Javi and you had seen enough to know it was worse in Texas.

Twenty minutes later, you were right and you stand over a sicario getting a bag held over his head. Javi stands next to you, unflinching, as you smoke another cigarette. Carillo does the heavy lifting and questions the fucker before having him choked again. You finally pull Javi aside, leaving the balcony with a glance towards Carillo.

“Hey, look at me,” his brown eyes finally find yours and you hand him the cigarette. He takes a shaky drag. “We’ll find her.” You wave him off when he tries to hand it back and lean against the railing on the stairs, crossing your arms and looking out over the street.

“What the hell do you care, y/n? She’s just an informant.”

You glower at him. “Obviously one you care about.”

He sighs, “It’s not like that.”

“Claro.” Without another word, you head back up the steps towards the sound of Carillo kicking something, probably ribs. “Anything?”

“Let’s go,” he grabs Javi on the way, leading you both back to the car. A gunshot echoes behind the three of you, making you jump. Javi’s hand finds yours, giving you a squeeze before you all climb in the vehicle. “She’s at an apartment building not far from here. We don’t have vests in here,” Carillo makes eye contact with you through the rear view mirror, “understood?”

“Yeah, don’t get shot.”

#narcos #narcos fanfic #javier pena x reader #javi x reader insert #steve murphy

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