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mybullshitsensesaretingling · 3 months

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A Vulcan Smile Part Eight

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven]

A/N: There's some questionable made-up Vulcan lore in this because there's not a whole lot of detail about their telepathic abilities given in the cannon. But, you know what, if the writers of SNW can make up whatever they want about Spock then fuck it so can I. yeehaw, baby

“You’re leaving.” Spock stood in the doorway to your bedroom, arms hanging at his side, shoulders stooped ever so slightly. His tone and expression were carefully crafted to not give any hint that he might be experiencing an emotion. At fourteen he was already well on his way to becoming the man he would grow to be.

You didn’t look up from your packing. “I’m to be on the ship to Earth tomorrow. I am going to stay with the Graysons.”

The Graysons. That’s what you had called them. It took you two years to refer to them as your grandparents.

“You knew I would be leaving,” you said in his mind. You had always preferred the privacy that telepathy provided, even if casual usage wasn’t approved of by the High Council.

“I knew he wanted you to leave,” he said in yours.

Telepathic communication was one of the few of your less desirable behaviors he endulged. You didn’t understand why until you were much older and you realized that you had pushed him away too far and might never have this connection again.

“What do you expect me to do?”

“Fight.”

Finally, you looked up at him. His eyes bore into you. They had such an intensity that anytime he let himself loose even just a little it felt like staring directly into a star.

“You always fight. Why are you not now?”

“There’s nothing to fight. I want this.”

He moved further into you’re room. “You want to leave?”

“I want to be somewhere else. Somewhere I am understood.”

“And you believe that is Earth? Will they not just misunderstand the other half of you?” Spock asked.

You sighed, rubbing a hand across your face. ”I’m tired, Spock. I’m tired of being ostracized for understanding that we were born with more than just a capacity for logic. I am tired of being treated like a failed experiment.”

There was more than that. You were tired of seeing him hurt. You were tired of watching him take the harassment. You were tired of being told just to accept the harassment and constant implications that you were less than. You were tired of being penalized for standing up for yourself and your brother. But you left it unsaid. Unthought, in case he was listening.

“Human society is still young and ignorant. They will not accept you.” His eyes searched your face. “They will not understand you.”

“Maybe not, but at least I’ll be free to be me. I won’t be suffocated under the pressures of being the Ambassador’s hope for a greater relationship between our two races.” You sat down on your bed and stared out the window. “At least I will be told that I am loved.”

A breeze blew through the leaves, partially obscuring your view of the red mountains and the rich orange sky.

“I won’t miss it here,” you said out loud. You needed to hear it. You needed him to believe it.

Now all you saw out the window was darkness and passing stars. You would never see the richness of those orange skies again. A fact the conference was intent on reminding you.

Normally being around that many Vulcans was exhausting because it required you to choose between putting on an act or dealing with the unfettered scorn of the entire group. Neither option was without its downsides. But this event was focused on how to ensure the survival of the people and cultures of Vulcan now that it was gone. Not even Vulcans can fully suppress the level of sorrow that comes with losing a planet and having that many grief-stricken telepaths in one starbase was overwhelming.

The favor you had paid Leonard only worsened your exhaustion. What had been bubbling out of you in aggression was now dripping out in fatigue. Your head felt heavy and cloudy.

You had come to the rooms provided by the Captain with the intention of sleeping, but your mind was bent on replaying memories over and over and not giving you a moment's rest.

Hauling yourself out of bed, you pulled your robes back on. One of the many concessions you had made in order to have your voice heard was to wear a traditional Vulcan dress.

The bottom of your dress and robe swept across the floor as you walked through the corridor. You followed the smell of food and drinks. Even with your nasal numbing agent, it was strong. You hadn’t fully realized how many smells there would be on a ship this size. You didn’t know how Spock dealt with it every day.

The smell led you to what looked like a bar.

You walked a few paces from the door and clasped your hands, trying to figure out if there were replicators you were supposed to use or if there was someone you asked for food.

“You should be resting,” Spock said, coming to stand by you.

“I’m fine,” you answered automatically in his head, something you hadn’t done in years. You were suddenly more willing to fall back on old childhood habits than speak.

He raised a brow at you but responded in kind, “You have not slept in days.”

“I am well within the healthy limit.”

“Not after such a taxing event.”

“But I supposed it wasn’t taxing for you?”

He bristled, realizing that he must think his next words more carefully if he wished to avoid an argument. “It was. However, my mind has always been less open than yours. You take on the suffering of those around you.”

If only he knew just how true that was.

“I’m fine,” you told him again.

“Your mind is cluttered.”

You glanced around the bar. “There’s a lot of people on your ship.”

He looked you over, then spoke out loud, “Come with me.”

You hesitated. You really just wanted to get something to eat and then go back to bed, but reluctantly, you followed him.

The two of you moved quietly through the ship until you were in a smaller room with significantly fewer people.

You exhaled.

When you had denied the Vulcan teachings on emotional control, you had also denied the teachings on telepathy control. They went hand in hand under Serak’s teachings. Telepathy was turned inward to help suppress one's emotions. Without doing this you were left with far more unchecked telepathic power with no one to teach you what to do with it. At least no one you were allowed to talk to as a child.

You had eventually figured it out and learned to control it and use it for good when you could, but you had never built up defenses the way most did. You hadn’t wanted to. Your mother had said that greeting the universe with an open heart and open mind made you more ready to learn. She was a sentimental woman. But she had also told you it would come at a cost. You knew that at least to be true.

The thoughts of those around you were always in your head. Like murmuring from another room. You couldn’t make them out with conscious effort, but they were there. You had learned to tune them out when you were a teenager, but when you were tired and surrounded by others, they started to overtake your own thoughts.

Spock led you to a table and told you to sit. You rested your head on your hand and waited for him to return. When he did, he placed a bowl in front of you. You stared down into the orange broth.

Plomeek soup.

You had despised it as a child. It was so bland and boring and never seemed to satisfy you.

Picking up your head, you lifted a spoonful to your mouth. Your eyes slipped shut as you took in the subtle flavor. It tasted remarkably similar to the one your mother used to make.

Finally, you spoke, “Thank you.”

Spock nodded, watching as you slowly sipped the soup.

“Have you considered meditating?”

You rolled your eyes at the suggestion.

“It has helped Vulcan’s for generations. Why you think it woul-”

“Because I don’t subscribe to the idea that I need to suppress my emotions.” You focused your attention on your meal as you projected your thoughts into his mind.

“A bit of suppression might benefit you.”

“And a bit of expression might benefit you,” you responded in turn.

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes.

“See, don’t you feel better?” You took another sip of soup. “And I did meditate.”

“You could have just said that.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

He rested his hands on the table. “It appears you are also feeling better.”

“I’m starting to.”

“Good.” His head turned as something else in the room caught his attention. “Excuse me. I need to converse with the Captain for a moment. I will be back.”

You gave him a quick nod of recognition. He returned it and walked off. You focused your attention on your soup. The smell, the taste, the feel of it in your mouth. If you focused hard enough, everything else would fade into the background. At least that’s what you hoped would happen.

Instead, a voice cut through your soup thoughts, “There you are.”

You looked up to find Leonard smiling down at you. Glancing around, you saw that he was alone.

“I thought you were giving Jo a tour,” you said. Your voice sounded odd even to your own ears; horst and hallow.

“I was. Just dropped her off to work on homework. When she saw you weren’t there anymore, she made me promise I’d find you and make sure you’re okay.”

You raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Jo’s worried you’re going to be attacked by a salt vampire.”

“I think those safety lectures of yours did more harm than good,” you told him, dropping your chin to look straight ahead.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

You stiffened at the pet name.

“Look worn slap out.” He put a hand on your shoulder.

The images of his thoughts filled your mind, perfectly formed. You jerked away before you had time to process any of them. You couldn’t deal with anyone else in your head today.

“Don’t touch me.”

He didn’t deserve the sharpness in your tone. You knew that, but you couldn’t stop it from being there. Full and biting.

Leonard held his hands up to show you he wasn’t going to touch you again. “I thought we got over you making me the bad guy when I let you into my head the other night.”

“No one’s making you the bad guy.” You rested your forearms on the table so you could lean towards him. “Do you have to react dramatically to everything?”

“I’m not the one who almost bit someone’s head off for putting a hand on your shoulder.”

“Expecting you to respect my boundaries is not biting your head off.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’ve never met a boundary you wouldn’t cross.”

You pulled your chin in and raised your brows. “I beg your unbelievable parton?”

“You brought my twelve-year-old to a starbase!”

You rolled your eyes and leaned back. “I have to hand it to you, Doctor. you can hold on to things for an exceptionally long time.”

He crossed his arms. “You could start an argument with an empty house, you know that?”

“You wouldn’t even need the house.”

“I can’t do this right now. Find me when you’re done yo-yoing me around.” He waved a hand over his shoulder as he started back towards the door.

“Oh come on, Doctor. I already know how good you are at walking away. Show me something new.”

He ignored your harassment and your eyes followed him out into the corridor. Then you dropped your head to your arms with a groan.

“You ‘let yourself into his head’?” Spock repeated the phrase as closely as he could in Vulcan.

Stifling the urge to groan, you lifted your head just enough for you to be able to peak over your arms and stared up at your brother.

“What does that mean?” After spending three days with other Vulcan’s his accent was stronger than it had been. It made you realize in retrospect how much his time in Starfleet had affected it. His consents were tighter. His vowels moved at a different pitch. You wondered if he was aware of how much he had changed.

“Nothing,” your Vulcan words were muffled slightly against your sleeve. “Don’t worry about it.”

Silently, he sat down across from you. He carefully folded his hands on the table and straightened up, watching you.

“Don’t do this,” you grumbled.

“Don’t sit down with you?”

“No, don’t do that silent judgy thing you do right before we get in a fight.”

“I do not have a silent judgy thing.”

“I can feel the angry thoughts churning in your head.”

“Anger is a human emotion.”

You rolled your eyes and dropped your head again. “Just say what you want to say.”

“I have nothing to say.”

You scoffed but didn’t look up.

“You are going to do what you want to regardless of what I say. I don’t know why I ever bothered trying to give you advice.”

“Advice?” Now you lifted your head fully. “You told me to avoid the doctor completely. How am I supposed to do that without offending his family, who are some of my closest friends? I’m his daughter’s third emergency contact. It goes Donna, then Fred, then me, then Leonard. Do you expect me to just leave him out of the loop in the case of an emergency with his own child?”

“Of course not.”

You pulled your shoulders back so he could get the full effect of your ‘so then what’ expression.

“There are many other forms of relationships between avoiding entirely and performing intimate telepathic bonds together.”

“If it’s so intimate-” It was incredibly intimate. You knew that. “-why do you use it on what are essentially criminals.”

“Sometimes it is necessary to cross that boundary for the good of the many.”

“And sometimes it’s necessary for the good of the one.”

His brows lowered at your flip of the traditional Vulcan motto.

“He was suffering. I wasn’t just going to sit there when I could help.” You leaned back in your seat. “I thought you wanted me to avoid him because you feared I would pick a fight. I thought you would be pleased that we’re are… getting along.”

“You appear to be managing to do both.”

“Why does this bother you so much?”

“You have a tendency to,” he hesitated as he searched for the right words, “become emotionally invested. Were that to happen with a member of this crew who is less than understanding of many of your Vulcan traits it could become difficult for that person to continue working with me.”

“You’re professional relationship is so fragile that my forming a friendship with him would create difficulties?”

“Not for me alone. Your brash, unregulated emotions have gotten you into trouble before. Combining them with the doctor’s could create complications.”

“I am not combining emotions with the doctor.” You stood up. “But if I was, it wouldn’t be any of your business. I can combine whatever I want with whomever I want.”

“Where are you going?”

“Well, I was going to go get some tea, unless you’re worried that I’ll run into the head engineer on the way to the replicators and become emotionally invested.” You didn’t wait for a response before walking away.

The light from the replicator stung your over tired eyes but you didn’t look away. It seemed the easiest place to look.

“Brothers, huh?” a nearby voice asked.

You turned to see Jim still sitting at the table, a PADD in one hand and a mug in the other.

“Brothers,” you agreed, grabbing your tea from the machine.

“Always disappointed about something. I swear I don’t know why mine’s mad at me half the time,” he joked.

“That must be nice.”

He chuckled. “I’m my experience with Spock he usually has a good, logical reason for everything he does and says.”

“And in your experience with brothers?” you asked.

“They usually mean well.” He gave you a sympathetic smile. “Even if they’re doing the wrong thing.”

“Are you speaking as someone with a brother or someone who is a brother?” you asked.

“Both.” He set his PADD down. “But mostly someone with a brother. I’m a great brother.”

You smiled at his playful cockiness.

“Can I ask you another question?”

“Of course.”

“What’s a yo-yo?”

#star trek imagine #star trek imagines #leonard mccoy imagine #leonard mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy imagines #bones x reader #bones imagines #bones imagine #spock imagines #spock imagine

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nalgenewhore · 2 years

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need to know

elide x lorcan, modern au + secret relationship, word count: 4729

“Don’t go,” she whispered. She pressed her lips against his jaw while her legs wound around his waist. Her fingers slid over the back of his neck, enticing him.

Lorcan silently cursed his job and his boss. He dug his fingers into Elide’s soft thighs – she knew exactly how to work him. “I have to,” he told her, now cursing himself too.

It was a small miracle in itself that they had been able to spend the entire weekend together, holed up in her apartment. No one knew they were together yet, and both Elide and Lorcan intended to keep it like that for at least a while more. Evidently, the downside to no one knowing meant they had to take extra, extra precautions.

Elide pouted at him. “Why? For work?” She arched her back to purposefully press her chest into his. Lorcan raised a brow at her obvious tactics. She grinned and laughed, “C’mon, call out. I’ll do it too, and then we can spend all day right here.”

The offer was enticing, he had to admit. He smiled, then dipped his head to kiss her gently. “Sorry, sweetheart, I can’t. I got that presentation, and aren’t you having lunch with Aelin?”

Sighing, Elide pulled back. “Yeah… you can go, then.”

“Wow, that’s mighty gracious of you.”

“Mmm, I’m known to have my moments.”

✵✵✵✵✵

Fifteen minutes later, Elide was standing at her apartment door to send him on his way. She kissed him slowly, her hands resting on his stomach. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of his pants. “You’re sure I can’t convince you to stay?” Elide whispered.

Lorcan hummed against her lips. There were probably many things and ways to make him stay, but he couldn’t risk it. He smoothed his hands down the sides of her neck from where they’d been tangled in her hair. “Nah, I know ya could,” he answered truthfully. He pulled back, and Elide grinned ruefully.

“But you have to go.”

“But I have to go.”

Elide gave him one last kiss before he finally left. She closed her door and leaned against it. Gods, she couldn’t believe how- how smitten she was. She’d certainly never felt like this about anyone she dated.

She shook her head, resolving to just get on with her day though her mind was filled with memories of their weekend.

✵✵✵✵✵

After being at work for a few hours and wrapping up her second useless meeting of the day, Elide grabbed her things to head out for lunch. Her phone chirped, and there was a message from Aelin saying that she was waiting in the lobby. Elide typed out a quick response to say that she would only be a couple minutes.

While waiting for the elevator, Elide chatted pleasantly with a couple of her colleagues. One of them, a man named Ress, had gotten engaged to his long-term girlfriend over the weekend and was all smiles. The other, Kaltain, bemoaned her perpetual single status good-naturedly.

“C’mon, Elide,” Kaltain nudged her. “It’s not fun for us single ladies, is it?”

Elide pasted on a mild smile as they stepped onto the elevator. “I guess not.”

Kaltain clicked her tongue at Elide’s reticence and turned to Ress, asking him for the story of how he’d proposed.

Once they got to the lobby, Elide said a quick good-bye to her coworkers. She spotted her friend’s blonde hair and walked over to her. “Aelin, hi, babe.”

“Hey, El,” her friend stood to hug her, squeezing tight and rocking side to side. “Gods, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Elide smiled, “I know, I’ve just been so busy with work and with—stuff.” She hoped Aelin didn’t notice her pause.

Aelin was the last Elide would want to tell about her and Lorcan. At the moment, Aelin only considered him her boyfriend’s best friend, and that was all she needed to know. They were antagonistic on their best days. Elide knew the moment everything was out in the open, her boyfriend and best friend would start a vicious turf war over her – Elide wasn’t ready to play referee.

She pulled back, smiling brightly at Aelin. “So, where are you taking me?”

“I thought we’d go to that new French bistro on 11th,” Aelin told her while looping her arm through Elide’s elbow. They walked towards the doors together. “I haven’t been, but Lysandra said that when she and Nesryn went, it was to die for.”

“That sounds amazing.”

“I parked over there,” Aelin pointed out her cute sports car parked in the middle of the block.

Elide shook her head with a grin. “How’d you find parking at this hour?”

Aelin shimmied her shoulders. “I have my ways.” She pulled her keys out of her purse and clicked the fob a couple times to unlock her car.

Elide got in the passenger side while her friend slid in behind the wheel. After Aelin picked the right music, she turned the engine on and pulled smoothly out onto the street. They chatted idly, catching each other up on mundane, everyday news.

They had just gotten to the restaurant when Aelin’s phone started ringing. She sighed, pulling it from a pocket in her purse. “I swear, if this is work…” She turned it over, and they both saw her boyfriend’s face flashing across the screen. Aelin gave Elide an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, it’ll just take a minute.” She swiped her thumb over the screen and held her phone to her ear. “Hey, Ro. Listen, I can’t talk much, I—” her face paled quickly, too quickly. “You’re what?”

Worried, Elide sat back down. Her friend reached for her hand and squeezed tightly.

“You’re at the hospital? Which one? Are you hurt?” Aelin snapped. All was quiet for a moment, and then she sighed in relief. “Mala above, Rowan Whitethorn, do not scare me like that… Yes, I still have your wallet, I know you forgot it, I was just going to drop it off after lunch.” She paused and rolled her eyes. “Seriously? I have to come now? Can’t he wait, I mean I’m having lunch with Elide, and it’s not like they’ll kick him— fine. Fine! But you tell that bastard he owes me and Elide lunch.” She said good-bye and hung up, though she muttered obscenities under her breath.

Elide stared at her expectantly. “Aelin?”

“Oh, El, I’m sorry – I have to bring Rowan’s ID down to the hospital, some emergency contact verification thing for Lorcan.”

“Lorcan?”

Aelin rolled her eyes again. “He’s gotten himself into some accident, I don’t know exactly what it is.”

Elide’s heart dropped into her stomach. Her hands started to shake, and she breathed in choppily. “Is- um, is he ok?” Tears pricked her eyes.

“He’s fine, I think. Probably just a scratch, he’s so dramatic. So, should I drop you back at work?”

“N-no, I want to come with you,” Elide told her. She ignored her friend’s next irreverent quip and opted to look out the window instead with glassy eyes. All she could think was He’d better be alive, or I’ll kill him dead.

✵✵✵✵✵

Rowan stepped back into Lorcan’s room. “Aelin’s on her way.”

Lorcan sneered, “Why’d you call her?”

“‘Cause she has my ID, and you can’t leave until I sign. Which I need my ID for.”

He glared at his friend. “I can’t leave, dumbass. I have a concussion.” Rowan made a face like oh, yeah, and Lorcan nodded mockingly. “Do I have to see her?”

“Don’t worry, she’s not happy about it either,” Rowan said. “Aelin says you owe her and Elide lunch for the disruption.” He retook his seat at the bedside.

Lorcan tried not to seem too interested. “Elide’s with her?”

Rowan nodded, “Yeah, she’ll probably drop Elide back off at work before she comes though.”

Humming, Lorcan didn’t say another word and reclined back against the flat hospital pillows. It wasn’t comfortable. No matter how he situated himself, his battered body still protested. He’d been driving through the intersection when some jackass douche in a Ford F150 – seriously, who needed a pickup truck in the city – had run the red light and knocked Lorcan off his bike.

He knew he was lucky to make it out with just bad bruising and a mild concussion, but he hated being in the hospital. On the brighter side, at least in the hospital he could get some peace and quiet.

That peace and quiet was shattered after another fifteen minutes by the fire-breathing bitch queen in human form – Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. “Salvaterre,” she drawled. “How nice to see that you’ve survived your brush with death.”

He didn’t bother opening his eyes. “It’s a miracle, no?”

Another set of footsteps came in after Aelin. “Lorcan?”

His eyes snapped open at the sound of his girlfriend’s tremulous voice. Before Lorcan could even say a word, Elide was rushing to his side and practically throwing herself against him. Lorcan groaned at the impact, but he still looped his arms around her. “Ribs, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” Elied sniffled, pulling back with concern. Her hands slid to his shoulders while her eyes traced his body. “They’re broken?”

“Nah. Bruised.”

She hugged him again, albeit with more care. One of her hands slid to the back of his neck as she whispered in his ear. “Lor?”

“Yeah?”

“If you ever end up in the hospital again, and you do not call me, I’ll take you out myself,” Elide warned. “Got it?”

Lorcan laughed, then immediately regretted the motion that moved his ribs. “Loud and clear,” he answered in a strained voice.

“What on god’s green earth am I looking at?”

The mildly happy bubble they were in instantly popped. For a moment, Elide truly considered ignoring her friend, but that would be a horrible decision. Reluctantly, she and Lorcan let their arms fall away. She turned to face Aelin and Rowan, glancing once more at her boyfriend. “What do you think you’re looking at?” Elide asked Aelin.

“I think I'm looking my best friend hug my nemesis, and I’m pretty sure that asshole just called you ‘sweetheart’,” Aelin snapped, her voice rising by the word. “Elide, what is this?”

Elide shrugged, wordlessly entwining her fingers with Lorcan’s. “I think you have your answer,” she said. “He’s my boyfriend.” She stared defiantly at Aelin, chin cocked.

In her periphery, she saw Lorcan turn his head towards her. She’d never said that to anyone but him.

“No, no, he isn’t,” Aelin denied, but she sounded too shocked to be angry. “This is a joke, right?”

“Do you see either of us laughing?” Lorcan asked, finally speaking up. He glared at Rowan, wondering for the umpteenth time why his friend had to be her. They couldn’t help but be rude and belligerent to each other.

Rowan returned the glare. He looped his arm around Aelin’s waist like he was stopping her from attacking Lorcan in his hospital bed. “Why don’t we step outside, give them a little time?”

“What?! You want to leave, now? We can’t,” Aelin argued, gesturing wildly at the pair. “Rowan!”

“Now, Aelin,” he told her. He pulled her out when she started to tense in rage. They left quickly, and he shut the door behind him, yet not before giving Lorcan one last look.

Elide sighed and rested her head on Lorcan’s shoulder. “Don’t antagonise her.”

“Fuck are you talking about? I said two things to her,” Lorcan responded. “I didn’t do anything.” He rubbed his thumb over Elide’s knuckles. “Aelin’s unbalanced. She needs to be medicated.”

“Funny,” Elide deadpanned. “Y’know, she says that same exact thing about you.” She sat up to face him and sighed shakily. “Are you really alright?”

Lorcan lifted his hand to her face to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Really really. They’re only keeping me here ‘cause of my concussion. My ribs are kinda bruised, though.”

She narrowed her eyes at his nonchalance. “Oh, yeah? And what does ‘kinda bruised’ mean, huh?” His gaze slid away from hers, and he mumbled something indistinct. Elide grabbed the edge of his hospital gown.

He grimaced as she yanked it out of the way. She gawked at what she found.

From his hip to his shoulder, wrapping around his entire side, his brown skin was completely covered by red and purple bruising. In some places, the contusions were so dark they partially concealed his tattoo. “Lor…” Elide traced the edge of the brutal discolouration with the tip of her finger, her eyes brimming with tears.

Lorcan inhaled sharply at the contact. Unwillingly, he twisted away from it and groaned in pain at the pain that movement caused. He panted slightly, “‘kay. Maybe more than kinda.”

“What did they do to you?”

“Fender bender.”

Elide cut him a hard look.

He winced, slowly losing the battle against a growing urge to lie down. “I was–in the intersection, and some douche in his fucking truck ran a red light, knocked me over. Bet he fucked up my bike too,” Lorcan told her with a clenched jaw. His motorcycle was the apple of his eye, his pride and joy.

“Lorcan.”

With his head tilted to the side, Lorcan sighed, “I’ll be fine in a few weeks, ‘lide, it’s fine.”

“It is not fine,” she replied, her eyes drifting back down to his side. “It’s not fine that someone ran into you and sent you to the hospital. It’s not fine that I had to hear about it from Aelin, of all people.” The more she spoke, the more incensed she became. “You’re my boyfriend, and I couldn’t even call you that, and you could not even call me to tell me you were hurt because our friends are ridiculous and childish!”

“Aelin isn’t my friend.”

Elide glared at him. “It’s not just her and you know it.” She got up and walked around to his uninjured side. “They’re all like that.”

Lorcan moved to make space for her. She curled into his side with as much care as she could bear. He kissed her head and wrapped an arm around her. “Eh, I think we can take whatever they got.”

She sniffled, smiling against his chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Y’know, you’re scary when you want to be.”

Elide cackled, “I know.”

“Of course you do.”

✵✵✵✵✵

Elide only left after another hour. She’d told Lorcan that she would get him some clothes and proper food while he napped.

She almost stopped short when she saw Aelin sitting by the nurses station. Elide continued down the hall towards the elevators.

The moment Aelin saw her, she was on her feet and stalking towards Elide.

The look on her face made Elide grit her teeth. She knew that expression well, and if Aelin wanted a fight, then she was going to get one. “Aelin,” Elide stated. “You’re still here.” A quick glance told her that Rowan had left.

“Yeah, well, you’ve got some explaining to do,” Aelin retorted.

Elide scoffed and rolled her eyes. She brushed past her friend to reach the elevators. “I think you’ll find it surprising, but I don’t owe you any explanations for my relationships when they’re none of your concern and have nothing to do with you.” Her dark eyes cut to Aelin, hardened, and she jabbed the down button.

Aelin made a frustrated noise. “Ellie.”

Elide frowned. She hated when Aelin – or anyone else for that matter – called her ‘Ellie’. It made her feel like some helpless six-year old who needed everyone else to take care of her. “Don’t ‘Ellie’ me.”

The elevator dinged as it arrived, and the doors slid open. Elide slipped inside, crossing her arms after she pressed the button for the lobby. She pursed her lips when Aelin joined her.

“Where are you going?”

“I am going to get my boyfriend some clothes and better food.”

Aelin frowned at the floor. “Can I give you a ride?”

Elide just laughed.

“Ellie– Elide,” Aelin corrected herself. “Please? I just- I want to understand, I wanna talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

She put her hand on Elide’s shoulder, bidding her to look. “It’s not about him. You’ve- you’ve been in a relationship that’s clearly important to you, and I didn’t know anything about it.”

Elide gave her a look like can you blame me?

Aelin nodded, conceding. “Alright, I know we don’t get along, but still. You're my best friend, you should be able to talk to me about anything." She paused, an expression of mild desperation marring her face. "Please, can I give you a ride?”

The smaller woman stared at her dear friend. She knew what Aelin was like when she was truly apologetic. “A ride would be nice.”

The air between them was filled with tension, even after their concessions. Neither one of them spoke a word until they were behind the dashboard of Aelin’s car.

Even then, they didn’t say anything until Aelin had pulled onto the street.

“So?”

Elide glanced to the side. “So?”

“C’mon, you told me you’d tell me.”

“Ah, I said ‘a ride would be nice’, I never said—”

“Elide…”

She huffed a laugh. A wicked thought crossed her mind, and Elide smirked to herself. “Well, if you really want to know…”

Aelin tapped her hands on the wheel. “Elide, you’re killing me here!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll tell you,” Elide laughed. “He’s very, um, talented. Gods, I don’t know what it is, but Lor does this thing with his tongue, and it makes me—”

“Elide,” Aelin screeched. “Ew, that is so not what I want to know!”

“Alright, well, his dick is definitely bigger than Rowan’s, like, maybe not length, but definitely gir—”

“ELIDE LOCHAN,” she shouted, “I will crash this car right now, I swear.”

Elide cackled. She took mercy on her friend, “Ok, what do you want to know?”

“When did this start?”

Her brows creased as she thought back. “Um… three months, I think? We’ve been exclusive for three months.”

“Three months?! Elide,” Aelin gasped. “You… saucy little secretess!”

Elide laughed again, “‘Secretess’? Is that even a word?”

Aelin waved her hand flippantly. “It is if I want it to be. Now, c’mon, is that even what’s important here?”

Elide told her to ask another question.

“How did it start?”

She smiled softly, thinking back to the night of Rowan’s birthday party. “Um, y’know, I was interested before, but Lorcan’s kinda… I didn’t know he even knew I existed. We hadn’t talked much.” She looked down at her hands, trying to conceal her pink cheeks. “He gave me a ride home after Rowan’s birthday, and he was so… shy and nice. He was asking me about my day, my job, even the book I was reading.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Elide grinned again. “Lor walked me up to my apartment, and I invited him in for a drink, and we spent, like, two hours talking about everything.” She shrugged, “He asked me out the next morning, and the rest is history, I guess.”

Aelin whistled, “The next morning? Damn, you work fast.”

Elide shoved her friend’s shoulder. “Gods, you bitch. Lorcan texted me the next morning. He left when we finished our drinks.”

“Hey, there’s no shame,” Aelin said, laughing.

“Yeah, yeah. Any more questions?”

“Do you love him?”

“I, um, I- I,” she stammered. “Gods, Aelin!” Elide flushed down to her chest. “It’s still early, I don’t know.”

The blonde glanced at her and smiled. She turned the corner onto Lorcan’s street, finding a spot halfway down the block. Aelin recognised it. Elide’s affection for Lorcan was painfully obvious in the way she spoke about him. Hell, it was obvious in that hospital room, too, and in her fierceness to defend Lorcan – Elide didn’t do that for people she didn’t love. Still, Aelin also recognised that her friend wasn’t ready to be teased about it, so she wouldn’t push it. Yet.

Elide and Aelin got out of the car. The brunette stepped onto the sidewalk, but before she could walk any further, Aelin stopped her with a hand on her elbow. “Ok, just one last thing.”

“Shoot.”

“It’s pretty clear, but does he make you happy?”

She beamed and nodded, “I’ve never been happier.”

Aelin smiled, then hugged Elide tightly. “That’s all that matters then.”

✵✵✵✵✵

Someone gently woke him up by brushing their hand down his cheek. “Lorcan, baby.”

His mouth pulled into a small smile before he opened his eyes. Elide stood above him, clad in different clothes – she must have changed while she was gone. “Hey,” he said with a voice raspy from disuse. He tilted his chin up, and Elide grinned before she leaned down to gently kiss him. Lorcan caught her bottom lip between his teeth exactly how she liked it.

He was rewarded with her soft moan. Before he could go further, somebody else cleared their throat rather loudly. Lorcan frowned at the interruption, idly glancing at the doorway. When he saw Aelin, he jerked away from his girlfriend and was punished for the sudden motion by the pain in his side. He grit his teeth against the discomfort.

Aelin smirked as she stepped in. “Hope I’m not interrupting,” she lied through her shark’s smile. “You two look cosy.”

Lorcan eyed her warily and shifted, finding Elide’s hand. She perched herself next to him. “I, uh… didn’t know you were here.” He frowned. “Why are you here?”

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you.” Aelin held up a paper take-out bag. “I brought food.” She pulled out the table attached to the wall behind him and placed the bag on it.

He looked at it suspiciously, not making any move.

“C’mon, it’s just food. How could I harm you?”

“Poison,” Lorcan said bluntly.

Elide nudged him with her elbow. Her eyes said play nice.

Lorcan conceded, muttering a ‘thank-you’.

They’d gone to the Thai place he liked and gotten him his favourites, enough for all three of them.

After they’d been eating for a bit, Elide excused herself, claiming she had to use the bathroom and confer with the nurses.

Lorcan was shovelling noodles into his mouth when Aelin started speaking.

“So, Lorcan. Tell me – what are your intentions with Elide?”

He chewed and swallowed. “Y’know, when you say that you sound like a dad from a sitcom. A bad one.”

Aelin levelled him with a deadened stare. “Answer the question.”

Lorcan resisted the urge to roll his eyes and put the carton of pad see ew down. “I guess… I intend to be around ‘til she doesn’t want that anymore. I want to give her everything she wants. I intend to make her as happy as I can and love her in every way I can.”

Aelin’s perfectly manicured brows rose on her forehead. She cocked her head to the side. “Love? You love her?”

His eyes widened as he realised his misstep. “Um, well, I—” Lorcan stopped himself. He had no idea why he was denying it. He nodded. “Yeah, I love her. I haven’t told her yet.”

She smiled, shrugging as she expertly twirled noodles around her chopsticks. “Maybe you should.”

Lorcan studied her shrewdly and picked his noodles up again. “Alright. Maybe I will.”

They silently returned to their meals.

Just as Lorcan was thinking that it was the first pleasant conversation they’d had, Aelin spoke again.

“Lorcan?”

“Mmm?” He looked up at her.

Her eyes were steely, the golden centres like molten lava. “If you ever hurt Elide in any way, I will make you regret it.”

Lorcan nodded perfunctorily. “Got it.”

“Great,” Aelin chirped, smiling brightly once more.

He went back to his food, but he wasn’t too hungry anymore. Lorcan looked at the door and hoped that Elide returned quickly. Her friend was unsettling.

Like he had manifested it, she appeared, an angel from the heavens. Elide smiled at him as she returned to his side and laid her hand on his shoulder. She glanced between her boyfriend and best friend. “Everything ok?”

“Yep!” “She interrogated me.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes at him. “Snitch.”

“Aelin,” Elide admonished. “You interrogated him?”

Her friend flipped her hair over her shoulder and sighed dramatically. “What’s the big deal? So what, I asked him a couple questions; that was not an interrogation.” Aelin stabbed her chopsticks into her food. “And even if it was an interrogation, he passed. With flying colours, I might add.”

“Really?” Elide and Lorcan asked in unison.

“Yes. Don’t look so surprised, you two,” Aelin tutted her tongue. “I’m a very reasonable person, and I happen to think you’ve found yourself a lovely beau, Elide.”

Lorcan shifted uncomfortably. “Stop saying so many nice things, you’re freaking me out.”

Elide hit him with the back of her hand. “Lor, don’t be a brute.”

“What? She usually hates me.”

Aelin shrugged, “I guess now that you’re dating my best friend, I should be nice to you.”

Lorcan fired back, “It didn’t stop you when I was just your boyfriend’s best friend.”

She narrowed her eyes and jabbed her finger into his chest, “Y’know, I don’t remember you being this gracious when I was just dating your best friend, so maybe you shouldn’t be so—”

“Alright, alright,” Elide interrupted before fists started flying. She sighed, muttering, “That was nice while it lasted.” She arched an eyebrow at Lorcan.

He looked down at his lap and mumbled. “Sorry, Aelin. You’re right.”

“I know. Was that so hard?”

Elide said through gritted teeth: “Well. Thank you for dropping by. We both appreciate it.”

Aelin laughed, “It’s my pleasure, babe. I’ll see you both later– oh! How about dinner, a double date with you two and me and Rowan? That’d be fun, I think.” She collected her things as she got ready to leave. She walked to the door with Elide.

“A double date sounds great, hon. We can set it up later, alright?”

“I’ll text you.” Aelin waved her fingers at Lorcan, “Bye, Lorcan! Feel better.”

He raised two fingers to his brow in a mock salute. “See ya. Thanks for the food.”

The hurricane in human finally left, and Elide came back.

“Please don’t tell me we’re actually doing that double date.”

She laughed and patted his chest. “Oh, I wish, but Aelin will not be denied.” Elide kissed his cheek. “Don’t pout, baby. I’ll be there, and so will Rowan. You like him!”

“Yeah… I guess so."

Elide laughed again. She picked up the empty cartons to discard them. As she turned away, Lorcan gently grabbed her arm to stop her. Elide faced him, a question on her face.

Lorcan cupped the side of her neck, skating his thumb down her jaw. “Elide.”

“Lorcan.”

“I love you.” Elide’s mouth immediately popped open, and she just… gawked at him. Lorcan’s gut churned. He forced an uneasy laugh, dropping his hand from her face. “You, um, don’t have to say it back. Or say anything, I just- I wanted you to know.”

“No, Lor,” Elide said. She laughed softly, putting her hand over her mouth. Her eyes welled with tears – it seemed like the only thing he could do today was make her cry. “Lorcan, I love you too.”

His eyes widened, and Lorcan smiled slowly. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “Yeah.” She let him tug her forward with his thumb and forefinger on her chin. He claimed her lips in a slow, sensuous embrace, savouring it. Elide’s eyes fell shut; her hands lifted to hold his forearms. She only pulled away after his tongue mapped the seam of her lips. “As much as I’d like to,” she said, resting her brow on his. “I don’t think that you or the nurses would appreciate it.”

Lorcan opened his mouth to protest, but every little movement caused him pain, and he figured Elide was probably right. Like she usually was. “Probably not.”

A wide smile appeared on Elide’s face, and she hugged him instead of kissing him again, her chin tucked against the crook of his shoulder. “I love you so much.”

Lorcan hugged her back fiercely. He didn’t care about his battered body, not now. He smiled into her hair. “I love you so much, ‘lide.”

And to think, it was all thanks to Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. She’d never let them live it down, that Lorcan knew for certain.

✵✵✵✵✵

an: i am on a ROLL omgggggg posting twice in one week ?? WILD.

(restarting my taglist lmk if u want 2 b added xx)

@sassyhobbits @empress-ofbloodshed @the-regal-warrior @gwynethhberdara @icecream52

#elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #nalgenewhore #isa writes

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nootqueen404 · 5 months

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Sooo uh hi?

I’m alive, but I gotta be honest I’ve been STRUGGLING the last few months. The last job I got ended up going belly up really fast, and a lot of stuff came forward about the place and owner that has now resulted in me hiring an attorney. I can’t go into too much detail, some of my friends on here know what happened and I’ll ask if they can keep that to themselves and out of the spotlight. The most I can say is that the people in question violated a bunch of state and federal laws to cut corners and has tried to tarnish my reputation and career to keep me silent.

Then I got a new job - which I love and I’ve now been at for almost 3 months. But adjusting has been hard since it’s a lot more physically demanding than initially thought. Imagine walking 3-5 miles a day in an itty bitty work space. But that’s life as an esthetician. Then there is the holidays, which I’ve always struggled with since it brings up bad memories for me. Mostly family drama that will probably never get resolved thanks to Father Time.

But thankfully I have some good news - I’m FINALLY moving out!

I’ll be moving with Tom (my boyfriend of almost 7 years) at his condo. It’s right around the corner from a major highway, the people in the complex are all really nice, and I’ll be able to access public transportation. Plus, Tom works from home and is able to drive me to and from work when needed. This will cut the travel to and from work from 45 minutes…to 15-17 minutes. So yay for not wasting gas and time!

I’m beyond excited to finally start this new chapter of my life. The one downside is that I have to wait until after Christmas to start the moving process. But because of all of this I’ve had next to no free time to write and all of my creative energy has been zapped from my body. I know I had someone a while back ask me to write an Eddie x chronically ill!Reader fic - and I REALLY want to write it - but I just don’t have the time right now. Plus I can’t cerise what path to go with it. I’ll probably shoot them a DM and let them know that

1. I’m still interested

And

2. For forgiveness because OH GOD I’m so sorry for being a flake.

But yeah; the bottom line is that I’m going on a hiatus.

I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I want to at least get settled in with my living arrangements and with my job. Obviously the legal shit will stay off of here unless I get the okay to spill the tea. But for now I need time and space to get my life back in order.

I love you all and I’ll do my best to keep in touch with all of my besties on here.

Sarah Jane

(Tagging said besties to let them know that I’m not dead @reddeadgirl666 @ali-r3n @maladaptive-day-dreams @chrrymunson @lovinvane @woahlifehitsyahuh @mothymunson @kurtsroo )

#oh shit it’s Sarah Jane #life update #Jesus Christ Sarah why are you like this #but that’s life #now I threw him off his rhythm #sorry I couldn’t help myself there gotta do it for the but

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plusreaderswhenever · 5 months

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Hello again!

Could I trouble you for a Bandana Dee + Reader ficlet? (Same as last time, if you already did it, can you point me towards it?)

Thank you so much in advance! (I still love the Magolor fic you wrote!)

Signed, I need more Bandee fluff

I'm sorry for the wait, I lost my phone right after I wrote most of the fic! I just got it back and finished it, here you go!

Off to Castle Dedede you rushed, an important bag slung over your shoulder. The dark clouds overhead and feeling in the air could only mean one thing- soon it was going to rain and drench all the mail you were carrying! When you took the job to become a mail carrier, you didn’t imagine it would be this perilous.

You sped in through the castle door and it was a good thing you didn’t slow down once since the first signs of rain, because it started pouring instantly once you got in. On the downside, you were exhausted from running at top speed for so long.

You set down your bag to catch your breath and laid on your back next to it. Breathing heavily, you let your muscles relax for now.

It must have been a few minutes, because a certain bandana-wearer carefully crept up to you. “Are you okay?” He asked with concern, standing next to your head so that you could turn your face to him and look him in the eyes because he was a tiny boy. To a human at least.

“Yeah,” you didn’t move from your spot on the floor. “Just needed to rest for a bit. I had to run a lot to get here before the rain.”

He nodded sympathetically, then saw the sack next to you. “Is that a mail bag? I didn’t know you were a mail carrier!”

“Yup! Got the job pretty recently, so it’s no wonder you didn’t know.”

“Oh that makes sense!” He waited for a bit. “Why aren’t you getting up?”

Poor guy looked and sounded so worried, you had to respond as quickly as possible! “Oh- uh- don’t worry! I just, uh… didn’t want to get up.” You got up. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay!”

You concentrated for a second on remembering something you forgot. Oh yeah!

“I’ve still gotta deliver this mail. Where do I put it? I don’t know where the Castle Dedede mailbox is.”

“Well… the mailbox is outside in the rainstorm… so I’ll just take whatever’s for this place and deliver it myself to everyone here who needs it!” You looked outside at said rainstorm. “Well, I can’t let the rest of the mail get wet, so I’ll have to stay here until it passes. I’ll help you do that, then.” Bandee smiled with his eyes. “Thank you for helping! This way!” You picked up your bag and followed him down the halls.

You were very fast without even trying, is what most people of this universe would say. He was pretty slow to you due to being so small and not having legs, but you had patience. For a while at least. After the first few deliveries, you offered to pick him up and carry him.

He seemed a little surprised at the thought, and you wondered if you had made him uncomfortable. It turns out, he was just excited about being held by you. You lifted him up and held him in one arm. He was impressed by your strength, but though it was true that big things are generally better at lifting than the smaller things that were abundant here on popstar, he was stronger to be honest.

Not enough to pick YOU up, but enough to lift things that you couldn’t. It was a bit freakish to you considering he was only a little above eight inches tall. (9 or 10 inches maybe? Taller than Kirby) The people of this world had proved to you before that their weight did not correlate with their strength in the same way humans worked. You picked up King Dedede’s hammer once, and were shocked by how you could barely get it off the floor! King dedede also picked you up (with some difficulty) to show off once, but you could raise Dedede about as high as you wanted! He weighed about as much as a cat though, which is the most heavy anyone here has ever been to you other than Adeline. Most of them were like plushies, such as the dee you held now, but Kirby was light as the spring breeze! It was a wonder he didn’t blow away all the time, but you had learned most things didn’t follow the logic you were used to. Such as how that same Kirby could hold you over his head with zero effort. Apparently his power was infinite in all categories. Most people here couldn’t lift you no matter how hard they tried, though.

You were a little bit wimpy for a human to be honest, but you could still easily hold a lot of little guys, so you were happy with the strength you had.

You carried him through the rest of the deliveries for the castle and went back to the room you ran into when you first got indoors, but it was still pouring hard as ever. You wouldn’t be able to leave and deliver anywhere else anytime soon.

You looked down at the brave warrior nestled adorably in your arms. He looked back, knowing the same thing you just realized. You just stood there in silence for a good second, then asked, “Is there anything I can do?”

Bandee thought for a second. “Well, we can race raindrops on the windows.”

“Good idea.” You went to the nearest window with him in your arms and set down your heavy bag of mail, then sat down facing it, holding Bandee so he could see the window and the water on it as well as you could.

“I pick this one!” He exclaimed, putting his paw/nub/fingerless flap for an arm on the window pointing to a raindrop he liked. “That one.” You smiled, putting a finger on the window pointing to another drop that looked promising to you personally.

His drop was bigger than yours at first, but yours absorbed a lot of other droplets and won! You raised your fist into the air. “Woo!” Bandee took the loss like a champ. “Congrats!”

You continued to race raindrops until you saw the rain stop through the glass and you had to continue on your mail route. You said goodbye to Bandee, promised to meet him again sometime, and gave him one last hug before you went. He waved as you left until you were out of sight. A good day!

#bandana dee #bandana waddle dee #fanfiction by me #Bandee + reader #Bandee

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khalixascorner · 1 year

Text

Say it Loud(er) Pt5

Summary: When Tony goes before the Senate to protest an inhumane amendment to the Superhero Accountability Act, he doesn't mean to admit he loves Spider-Man on live CSPAN. Rather than recant his statement, Tony rolls with the punches and declares them married too. Now he just has to let Peter know before the press gets their hands on him.

Tags: Accidental Marriage, Public Confessions, no literally, it's mostly fluff with a little bit of spice right at the end.

Fill for Marvel Trumps Hate 2022

Read on AO3 Here Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

They hadn’t had time to change before the press conference, so Peter found himself standing in front of Tony as the man tugged at his suit and redid his tie before declaring him presentable.

“Now remember, just keep it simple, and if a question gets directed to you but makes you uncomfortable, just let me handle it,” Tony said, his warm hand on Peter’s back as they quickly walked through the halls.

Pepper was already buying them some time by laying down ground rules under the excuse that Spider-Man had heightened senses. The downside was that they wouldn’t have long to collect themselves before walking on stage.

“Alright, you ready?” Tony asked.

“Honestly?” Peter asked, and Tony nodded seriously. “I feel like I’m about to puke, but it’ll be fine. And if I do puke, I’ll aim away from you.”

“Pep always puts the most annoying journalists toward the wings in the front if you need a target,” Tony teased and Peter smiled.

For as nervous as he was, he was equally sure that everything would be ok because Tony was there.

“Ok, kid, let’s do this,” Tony said, sliding his arm back around Peter and gently guiding him out. “Try to smile, or at least, don’t Morse code SOS with your eyes.”

Peter snorted then tried to contain it to just a smile as cameras started clicking away. Tony was waving so Peter followed his example, pretending that he had Tony’s confidence.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Tony said as they reached the podium. “Of course, who would want to miss anything I had to say, right?”

Peter huffed and rolled his eyes good naturedly as Tony continued, working the crowd as he always did. He tuned it out, eyes flitting across the crowd as Tony gave their joint statement confirming their marriage. He didn’t give details, leaving those for the reporters to waste their questions on in hopes that it would shield them from any more probing ones.

To Peter’s surprise, it worked. As Tony opened the floor up, the first questions were exclusively how did they meet, when did they marry, and all of those things. A few were directed toward Peter, but they were all easily answered using the story they had come up with.

And then, someone asked Peter about the amendment.

“Mr. Stark- Peter Stark, that is, why wasn’t Spider-Man more involved fighting the SAA amendment?”

Peter glanced at Tony, who just nodded for Peter to go ahead, so Peter took a deep breath and stepped up to the podium properly.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t learned all of your names yet like Tony has,” Peter started, giving an easy smile. “Just Peter is fine, otherwise, we’ll always be getting confused. As to your question though, there were a lot of factors that went into my decision to initially stay out of the fray.”

Peter paused here, his eyes looking over the crowd before returning to the asker.

“I have spent the last 8 or so years as Spider-Man, and in all of that time, only a handful of people have known my identity,” Peter said solemnly. “Even after fighting Thanos side by side with the Avengers, I preferred to stay close to the ground. Spider-man looks out for the little guy, and there was definitely a bit of fear that trying to get involved on the national stage like that would force me into revealing myself. I’m also still a college student, so scheduling speeches in front of committees is a bit hard to manage around lectures.”

That got a laugh as he paused again, his eyes flicking over to Tony as he took a deep breath and continued.

“But honestly? The biggest reason? Tony said he would handle it. And when Tony Stark tells you that he’s got it, and everything’s going to be fine, well, you believe him,” Peter said, unable to keep the warmth from his voice. “I mean, how can you not? He’s saved the literal world, and sure, he accidentally smears grease all over his face when he’s working on big projects and can’t remember not to drink Dum-E’s coffee but he’s always there when it counts.”

“Peter, has being exposed as Spider-Man caused tension in your marriage?” Another report asked. Peter frowned at that one.

“Why would it?” Peter asked, confused. “It was bound to come out at some point and now, I get to tease Tony that he chose literally the most dramatic way to confess his love and announce our marriage in the history of mankind.”

Despite his attempt to lighten the mood, the next question had him frowning again.

“You said earlier that Spider Man was a hero that looked out for the little guy. How do you handle the conflicts of interest that come from being married to Mr. Stark? In other words, how do you reconcile being married to a billionaire, who once had the moniker Merchant of Death, with being “the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-man?”

Peter’s hands clenched on the podium, and Tony started to step forward, only for Peter to wave him off. He was shaking, true, but it was from anger, not anything else.

“I think there’s a bit of a misunderstanding here,” Peter said, his voice hard as he spoke. “All of you seem to be operating under the opinion that Tony is a less than ideal husband. That his history and behavior are something to be avoided or tolerated, and that he’s not a person capable of change.”

Peter took a deep breath and looked around the room, his face dead serious as he continued.

“I have known Tony for years now and in all of that time, he has done his very best. From saving the Earth many times over to just being there when his friends need him, Tony Stark is a man who gives his time, energy, and resources freely to people and causes, because he wants to help,” Peter said, his voice firm and confident. “He has saved my life more times than I can count and helped me to become the best version of myself. Spider Man would not be here today without Tony’s direct care and protection either, because when I was just starting out, it was Tony, not anyone else, who gave me gear, training, and guidance.”

Peter paused again, feeling out of breath and out of control of his mouth, but he refused to let these people talk poorly of Tony using him as the so called reason. His spider sense was starting to tingle and his senses were sharpening in response to the adrenaline coursing through him.

“You’re probably thinking Tony married a fanboy, a yes man, and you wouldn’t be entirely wrong,” Peter said with a harsh laugh. A few of the reporters nodded tentatively, then seemed to catch themselves as Peter continued. “I’ve looked up to Tony for a long time, first as an inventor and then as a hero. And if he said we’re hopping on an alien spaceship to go fight a big baddy, I’d follow him. I did follow him, though technically he told me not to. The point is, I’d follow him anywhere because I believe in him, and I trust him more than anyone else in this universe. And sure, he’s made mistakes. He’s a human, and we do that. I know I’ve made plenty too but you’re not standing here asking him if marrying someone so beneath his status like Spider Man has influenced his work as Iron Man.”

Tony started to object to that but Peter waved him away again. He knew if he let Tony stop him, he wouldn’t say the part that was most important.

“No, I’m not done, and I know, I know you don’t consider me less but clearly, they have opinions about the balance of things in this relationship,” Peter said, turning back to the reporters. “Let me be blunt. Tony Stark is the best man I know. He makes me a better person and I won’t have you using my love for him as a weapon against either one of us, because everyone deserves to be loved and accepted for who they are. And if all of you are too blind to see beyond his mistakes and his past, then it’s your loss. I love this man, with every molecule of my being.”

Peter’s chest ached and he could hear every heartbeat in the room but as always, he immediately fixed himself on the one that mattered most. It grounded him and allowed him to take another breath.

“They say we’re made from stars and the romantic in me would tell you that we're from the same star, destined to find each other again and uniquely suited to each other,” Peter said softly, finally turning to look at Tony and hoping the man could read the truth on his face. “The realist says that finding Tony, and having him in my life, was the only lucky thing I’ve had after a lifetime of tragedy. Either way, I intend to treasure him for however long I am fortunate enough to have him for.”

Tony looked dumbstruck for a moment, and then Peter was being ushered off stage, the strong warm hand on his back, and Tony’s heartbeat thrumming through him.

#khalixa writes #starker #tony stark x peter parker #tony stark/peter parker #tony stark #peter parker #marvel trumps hate

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alwaysmarveling · 3 years

Text

To Be Seen

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader

Warnings: Hints at neglect

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: All superpowers seem to have a downside to them. Invisibility is no exception.

You got your first pair of glasses when you turned seven. The black frames were a birthday present of sorts. You had your eye set on a transparent blue pair, or honestly any of the many colorful options that lined the shelves, but your mother had grabbed the black ones without a word to you and placed them on the counter. Then the two of you went home, back to the always busy house, buzzing with the sounds of your siblings’ chatter and the television that entertained your constantly preoccupied father. There was no cake, no other presents, not even a “congratulations” or a “happy birthday,” but that was okay. That was okay because you had already gotten the gift of sight.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself that night, your younger sister already sound asleep beside you while you looked up at the glow-in-the-dark shapes taped to the ceiling. The glasses turned the green fuzzy blobs into actual stars, their points clear and easily counted as you drifted off to sleep with the lenses still on. “You can see now.”

---

You found out you could make yourself invisible on the day you hit ten years old. When you woke up, the first thing you did was look at yourself in the mirror, trying to see if you looked any different from the day before, when you were nine. Double digits should mean double the change, right? But there was no change from when you weren’t in the mirror to when you were.

At first, you thought it must’ve been a prank from your older brother, but one look in the bathroom mirror told you that this was something else. It took you about half an hour before you somehow managed to become visible again, but when you did, you walked into the kitchen to find everything the same as it was the night before. No one hung streamers around the house or left a card on the counter, but that was okay. That was okay because you had a gift.

---

On your twenty-seventh birthday, you were recruited to be an Avenger. Three years ago on that exact day, you had quit your office job and joined SHIELD, only as a trainee, but you made your way through the ranks. You had the advantage of a mastered superpower—turning invisible came useful on the countless days you wished the world would just swallow you whole—but you still had to learn to use it like an agent. You were never remarkable, never being praised as the top of your class nor critiqued as one of the worst. You were always in the middle. Always just… there.

But Fury had seen something in you, and now here you were, packing your things to move into the Avengers Tower. You honestly weren’t sure what he saw in you; no one did. There were other SHIELD agents with far more useful powers and much better combat skills, yet he had picked you and no one else, making you the third SHIELD agent to join the Avengers since Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.

You looked around the empty apartment, scanning for something you and your imperfect vision might have missed, but saw nothing. Was that what others saw when they looked at you, thinking they had packed the whole room while you were standing right in front of them, arms waving in their face and voice begging for them to acknowledge you? No matter. Fury had told you Natasha would be picking you up at 2, meaning you had just over thirty minutes before she got here. Life moved on, and so would you.

Just like in years prior, there were no claps on the back, shiny bows, or patterned gift wrapping, but that was okay. That was okay because you had gotten the gift to protect and serve others.

---

You laid into the punching bag, twenty-eight non-stop uppercuts for your new age as of today. You brushed one hand across your forehead to interrupt the sweat droplets that ran from your hair, Bruce doing his best to praise you in the meantime.

“Good work, Y/N, yeah. Um, stronger than the ones you’ve been doing in the past. Better form too. I think.” You were sure you weren’t meant to hear his last sentence, but a roll of Natasha’s eyes next to you was enough to make you laugh it off. It wasn’t like you could blame him. Training others wasn’t his forte. You weren’t even sure if he trained himself.

Fury’s interest in you had been short-lived, it seemed. To be fair, you were lucky he recruited you in the first place and even luckier that he let you stay on the team. Still, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed in how you turned out to just be a new puppy to him. With your novelty now wearing off, you became the responsibility of people like Bruce, who never quite wanted you in the first place.

You had nothing against the gentle and kindhearted scientist, but Steve, Nat, or even Clint would’ve been much more obvious choices. Yet somehow the scientist was who Fury appointed. Maybe he was just the only one who accepted the task, the only one not bold enough to deny Fury’s orders outright. Strangely enough, Nat always showed up, but you weren’t entirely sure why, seeing as she usually sat there silently for most of it. She’d occasionally lean in to whisper something to Bruce, but she rarely said anything to you.

Much to Bruce’s—and maybe Natasha’s—relief, Tony strutted into the gym, his charisma already filling in the awkward gaps between you guys that never seemed to disappear, no matter how much time passed.

“Bruce, Nat, just the people I was looking for! It was great to see you guys at the party last night.” You pushed your glasses back up the bridge of your nose before going back to the punching bag; obviously, he was not here to speak with you. As you beat into the bag, getting lost in the rattling of the chain and the rhythm of the combinations, you thought back to last night, when you heard the Avengers’ laughter as they prepared for the gala.

You sat in the living room watching a movie with the tiniest but fiercest hope that someone might see you and ask you to come along. This was a party for the Avengers, after all, to celebrate the success of a mission that you had been part of. It had been up to you to cut the power and incapacitate the leader. Somehow the credit had gone to Clint, all the news stations celebrating the archer and his amazing feat. It was fine, whatever, just another chip to brush off of your shoulder—a teeny, tiny chip, really, honestly probably more of a scratch—but you thought you would’ve at least been invited to the party. Yet there you were, your posture slowly drooping as you sank into the leather sofa while your teammates gathered in the elevator to head up to the party. You had taken your phone out and opened the camera app, checking to make sure you hadn’t somehow triggered your invisibility, but, nope, you were very much there. The tears that fell were very much there.

“Alright, Tony, I’ll be there for Movie Night tonight, but you gotta go. I need to get back to my training duties.” It was then that Tony finally seemed to realize your presence, turning around with a surprised look on his face.

“Oh, hey, Y/N. You, um, you should come tonight too.” All of his charm was gone, the relaxed smile only hanging on by the tiniest lift of the corner of his mouth. So you did your best to reassure him with a small nod. The smile came back immediately. All was well; Tony Stark does indeed have a heart.

Later that night, as you sat alone on the three-person couch, you drew the blankets closer to you. The same movie you had watched last night was playing on the TV. The original plan had been to watch Jaws, but Sam was delighted to find the DVD box to Space Jam on the coffee table, insisting that he’d been wanting to watch it again and how it was such a coincidence it was already out. He wasn’t saying that last night when you asked if anyone wanted to watch it with you, but at least you weren’t watching it alone this time. You looked around at the small groups the Avengers had formed on the other couches, some of them even sitting on the floor—there wasn’t enough space, you guessed—before letting out a sigh. There were no party hats or festive noisemakers, but that was okay. That was okay because… A tap on your knee brought you back to the present moment. You looked down to find the outstretched arm of a familiar redhead, a bowl of popcorn in her hand.

There was no time for wallowing in self-pity. That was okay. You were okay.

---

The harsh sunlight woke you up in time for your thirtieth birthday. Or maybe it was the stiff and lumpy mattress that did it. Either way, you were hoping you’d be able to sleep through it. The rational side of you knew that wasn’t possible—what with being on the run from the US government and all—but one can always hope, right?

You’d stuck with Natasha during the Avengers’ split, pushing for the team to stay together even though you’d never really been part of the team. It wasn’t about you though; you’d seen the amazing things the Avengers could do when they were together. The world needed them.

Well, that line of thinking got you here, in a small cabin in the woods with all the Avengers who had followed Steve, Natasha joining the group later. Happy birthday to you. Although to be fair, it wasn’t like any of your past birthdays had been much better. Once your childish naivety had faded away (which probably took much longer than it should have), the day became something you dreaded, something you hoped each year you would forget about but never quite could. This time, though, you had a small plan. It was going to be different this year.

Your knees cracked as you stood, announcing to no one in particular that you were heading off to bed. Rather than heading straight down the hall to your room, though, you cut through the kitchen and grabbed a few things.

Your shoulders dropped slightly as you closed the door, and you allowed yourself to study the contents of your hands: a lighter, candle, and one of the leftover store-bought cupcakes from Steve’s birthday. The cupcakes weren’t great, but no one had the time, energy, or ingredients to make a cake, and, let’s be honest, most of the people here couldn’t bake anyways. Plus, this one had frosting in your favorite color, so you couldn’t complain, especially since it was more than you’d had for your birthday since you could remember.

The wooden bed frame creaked as you shifted to place the candle in the frosting and light it. For the first time that day, you were grateful the windows had no curtains, as they allowed you to see the stars that dotted the sky.

“Happy birthday,” you murmured to yourself, your eyes never leaving the constellations, instead darting around to watch in awe as more and more of the twinkling lights showed up the longer you cared to look.

Just as you tore your eyes away to blow out the candle, a knock rang out against the door. Were you guys spotted? Did you have to leave? You immediately ran to open the door, running through a list of things you’d have to pack the second you heard the order. You weren’t exactly surprised to see Nat standing outside your door, but you were surprised to see her holding a small rectangular box and a bottle of champagne.

“Hey, um, sorry to interrupt.” Your cheeks immediately heated up when you noticed her eyes dart to the cupcake still in your hand. You must’ve forgotten to put it down in your rush to open the door. At least the candle’s flame had gone out. “I get it if you don’t want to celebrate with anyone, but I figured you still deserve a treat on your special day.”

Natasha’s brows furrowed as your head tilted slightly.

“What special day?”

“Um, well, isn’t it your birthday?” You nodded, still not quite understanding what she was asking. Not to mention, the spy’s continued use of filler words surprised you. Sure, the two of you hadn’t interacted with each other much, but a lack of familiarity didn’t usually make her this uneasy. Were you really that invisible that she felt uncomfortable around you despite having known you for three years? But you couldn’t dwell on it with Nat speaking again, her voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “And, um, I noticed the only alcohol you drink is champagne, so… this is for you.”

You stepped back slightly as she nudged the objects towards you, but the spy misunderstood you, taking your surprise as an invitation to enter the room. Before you knew it, you were asking her to sit next to you on the mattress. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice, though; keeping her standing would be rude, and there were no chairs in your room. The two of you sat at least a foot apart, both of your spines straight and neither of you quite meeting the eyes of the other.

“So, um, do you want to open the present first or have your cupcake? Or we can open the champagne if you want.”

“This is a present?” You eyed the brown box she held in her hand. You weren’t sure what it could be. Based on its size, maybe a watch or a pocket knife? But Natasha laughed, simply pushing the box towards you.

“Of course it’s a present. Open it!” So you set the cupcake down on the unstable bedside table, making sure the dessert wouldn’t fall due to the furniture having one leg shorter than the rest. You cast one last glance at Natasha, who gave you a reassuring yet pointed nod, and with that, you lifted the cover.

It took everything in you to prevent the tears springing in your eyes from overflowing. You lifted the goggles with shaking hands. You had to touch them to make sure they were real, to make sure this wasn’t some sick and twisted dream your brain had forced on you to make you remember how disappointing your past birthdays had been.

“Do you like it?” The blonde asked you softly, her lower lip caught in between her teeth. Had you been thinking clearly, you would’ve been surprised at how apprehensive she sounded, how unsure she was. “I thought it could be something you might want to wear on missions. I noticed your other ones kept slipping down or breaking, and um…” Both of you became antsier as Natasha rambled on, you at how she was being more intimate with you than anyone ever had, and she at how she just couldn’t seem to stop talking despite the fact that, in her opinion, she was digging herself into an increasingly deeper hole. “It’s a lot more sturdy, and there are some other features that I think you’ll appreciate. I had Tony and Bruce make it for you… before, you know, this whole thing happened. And I brought it with me when I left.”

The frames reminded you much of the glasses you had first wanted as a kid, the ones your mother had looked past in favor of the plain black ones. They matched your combat suit, though, even having a small carving of your symbol on the side. You nodded as you choked down a sob, forcing yourself to meet the former assassin’s gaze to try to thank her properly.

“I love it, Natasha. Thank you so much. I- it’s… it’s amazing.” Nat dipped her head as if to nod, but you didn’t miss the way her cheeks flushed red or how a hint of her characteristic smirk appeared.

“Of course. It’s the least I could do.” Your eyes returned to the glasses in your hand. You’d try them out the second Natasha left. “So, cake now?”

“Yes, right, of course,” you nodded immediately, shaking your head at how you had managed to forget about the one thing you had planned to do for your birthday. Before you could reach for the frosted dessert, Natasha relit the candle and handed the cupcake to you as she began to sing “Happy Birthday.” When she reached the last note, you could hold it in no longer, and all the tears immediately began to flow.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I’m so sorry. Is my singing really that bad?” The redhead wasn’t sure whether to pull you closer or move away as she ran a hand through her hair, but she felt slightly comforted when she noticed you shaking your head.

“No, no, it’s just…” Natasha hesitantly began to rub your back in an effort to calm your sobs, “No one’s ever sang that for me before.”

“Ever?” She winced slightly at how her voice cracked, betraying her emotions to you despite her attempts to remain composed.

“Well, there used to be a video of it from my third birthday, but… I was three. So I don’t really remember it.” Natasha thought back to the many birthday celebrations the team had held, none of them being for you. The door to your room was always closed on your birthday. She’d always thought you had just gone out with friends and family, people outside of the Avengers, and who was she to get in the way of you and those you loved? But it had been the opposite. You had been hiding away in your room, and she hadn’t helped matters at all by waiting for three years to do anything. If only she’d gained the courage earlier, she could’ve helped ease your pain much sooner.

But all you saw through your tears was the way her head was cocked to the side, her spy training paying off as you couldn’t even begin to predict what she might be thinking. Your confusion slowed your tears somewhat, but that didn’t last for long as your mind shifted gears. You were ever the fool for sharing something so vulnerable with someone you barely knew.

So it was much to your surprise when Natasha finally reached her hand toward you, using her thumb to brush off the last few tears that made their way down your cheeks.

“You’ve never been invisible to me, Y/N. I see you. Always.” And with that, without responding, you turned away from her with a sniff to blow out the candle. “What’d you wish for?” the spy asked lightly, hoping the joke would help lift your mood.

“Nothing. This was more than I could’ve ever asked for.” Nat nodded slowly, keeping her eyes on you as she reached to take out the candle. Your eyes remained on the cupcake as if it would be ripped away from you if you turned away for a second. With her hand returned to your back, you began to dig into the cupcake, your eyes closing as you savored the taste. A cupcake just for you, on your birthday. Sure, it was a leftover cupcake, the frosting a bit too sweet and the cake itself dry and somewhat stale, but that didn’t matter. It was still the first in thirty years.

That night, you lay in bed with the stars overhead, a smile on your face as you thought about the day’s events, your best birthday ever.

And maybe it was naive of you to believe what Natasha had told you earlier that day—it wasn’t like the thought hadn’t crossed your mind several times in the few hours since she told you that—but then you thought about the champagne and the glasses she’d given you. You thought about the way she’d examined your apartment with you one last time before she brought you to the Avengers Tower, about the way she gave you an encouraging smile during training when you became exhausted with Bruce’s cluelessness, about the way she’d shared her popcorn on movie nights with you and only you.

And in the room next to you, Natasha thought about your confusion, your tears, and the way desperation, hope, and amazement filled your face when you looked at her right before you blew out the candle. It was then that she made a vow to herself, to show you that you’d never be invisible, especially not to her.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” she whispered, “You are seen.”

-----

🏷 : @vancityfire13 @007giu

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x gn!reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #avengers x reader #marvel #mcu #I wrote something #alwaysmarveling

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ahundredtimesover · 3 years

Text

Fight for You (02) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: bodyguard!jk x heiress!reader; angst, smut (18+)

Chapter Warnings (series warnings in the masterlist!): alcohol consumption, getting passed out drunk; toxic parents

Chapter Word count: 8k

Series Summary: Working at a private security agency has its perks. The downside? Being the personal bodyguard of spoiled, rich heiresses like you. But there are things that Jungkook didn’t expect, like rejecting you, falling for you, and realizing what he’d been missing all along.

A/N: Thank you for your interest in this story. I’m always amazed by the love you give to what I put out. I’ll be on a little break but chapters will be posted as scheduled. 😊 And do let me know if I missed you in the taglist. Just comment if I did or if you want to be included. And huge thank you to Ash @jimilter for this wonderful banner! 💞

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After the dinner party, Jungkook half-expected you to just stay at home the next day and by default, give him a free day so he could get another workout in, which - unfortunately - didn’t happen.

But he also half-expected you’d do something to cheer yourself up and well, here he is, both arms filled with shopping bags of your newly-purchased items because you “felt like it.” And you don’t seem to be halfway done.

He follows you as you go from one luxury store to another. You look at jewelry then immediately check out the first thing that catches your eye. You try on coats then buy all of them without a second thought. You ask him to choose between bags - which is really the one he looks at the longest - that you purchase right away.

It’s exhausting, much more to carry all of your bags, but at least you’re barely talking or laughing. He might’ve been more exhausted if you were, but he also has a feeling he knows why.

You’re wearing dark sunglasses that you don’t remove. You have your airpods on when you’re in the car, music on full blast as you look out the window. He doesn’t have the heart to ask if you’re okay; that’s being a friend and he doesn’t want to be one. But he hears you turn down an invitation to a party tonight, faking a cough and saying you’re sick, and that’s how he knows you’re not really fine.

The car pulls up in your driveway and your security guard proceeds to unload your dozen shopping bags from the trunk.

“I left a bag at the back, Mr. Sim. Please give it to your wife and greet her an advanced happy birthday for me,” you smile for the first time.

“And thank you, Jeon,” you turn to him. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

Jungkook feels as though he’d imagined that night, as Monday comes and you return to being your usual self, one that remains for the next few weeks until the New Year celebrations have come and gone - with your high pitched voice when you talk on the phone, and your higher pitched voice when you talk to him. You have that wide smile again, the one that’s friendly when it comes to others but flirty when it comes to him.

You’re back to glancing at him from the backseat of the car and from your table during your lunches and dinners out. You ask him about his day everyday, as if there’s anything else to share other than doing his job of protecting you.

You ask about his life, too - if he has siblings, what his favorite food is, what he likes to do during his spare time. You ask him if he believes in the existence of mermaids, what he thinks he was in his previous life, or if he’d rather have aliens or robots rule the earth.

It’s all silly, superficial things you ask that he mentally rolls his eyes at. He’s not keen on sharing about himself, especially to you, one who’s worlds away from him and would never understand anything he went through.

But you try, everyday - over the coffee you get him every morning, over the car ride that has you constantly engaging him and Mr. Sim, and over the walk to your office when you’re dropped off. And it’s pretty tiring for him.

“You’re so serious, Jeon. It’s okay to smile,” you’d tell him, poking his arms to get him to look your way and do as you ask.

“Please let me do my job, Ms. Lee,” he’d answer, earning him a pout at the formality and the way he backs away, his gaze focusing on something that isn’t you.

His favorite part of the day is always going home - spending a few hours at the gym, eating instant ramen over basketball game replays, and imagining a life other than this, one that doesn’t require him to lock parts of himself so he can do his job and earn as he’d planned.

You’re not a difficult client, just an intimidatingly happy and annoying one, where laughter comes easy and there’s freedom to do whatever you want, wherever you want. You’re surrounded by people constantly, you’re well taken care of, and you have those who listen to you and trust in your capabilities.

He’s never been reminded so much of what he doesn’t have, of what he isn’t.

He never wished for a grand life, but Jungkook can think of so many ways it can be better, if he just didn’t have the bad start that he did.

He’d kept his distance from his previous clients, the way they had. But you don’t, seemingly wanting nothing more than to penetrate his built up walls of steel that’s been up since he could remember.

It makes him feel uneasy because no one has tried - to ask what food or drink he prefers, what his hobbies are, what thoughts make him happy, or how his day went. He doesn’t know what you’re up to, but he knows that no one’s ever really shown this to him, shown him like they care.

You eye the dishes in front of you, trying to determine which one of them doesn’t have garlic, or at least, very little. You think in your 25 years of living, your parents would remember by now that you’re allergic to it, but apparently they don’t.

You look at the vegetables and steamed fish, thinking those would be enough to get you through dinner with your parents, as they’ll be away on a business trip and have some instructions to leave you with.

Jungkook stands by the wall, internally salivating at the food. He notices you carefully checking each dish, wondering how your parents are unaware of your allergy, one he picked up after the time you had red marks on your neck when you failed to tell the server about it. Jungkook had been the one to panic then, worried about how bad it could be, but you’d stopped him and said it was okay, nothing that medicine can’t cure.

He’s told to standby to listen in on your father’s instructions while he’s away, and Jungkook mentally takes note of the out-of-city business meetings and events you have to attend.

“Have you found a date for the Kims’ gala next weekend, ___?” Your mother asks.

“I plan to go alone,” you shrug.

“Why don’t you go with Do-hun? He seemed to enjoy your company the last time you went together,” your father suggests.

Your face drops at the memory. “I don’t want to take him. He wasn’t very nice.”

“That’s the same thing you said about Han-jae and he’s a very upstanding young man. It seems like your standards for being nice are quite high, hmm?” Your mother laughs. “Try lowering it a bit, maybe your boyfriends would stay.”

“Maybe,” you hum, picking on your food.

And for the first time that Jungkook meets your gaze, you turn away.

“I’ll ask Jimin to go with you,” your father says, referring to a family friend he often asks to accompany you as a last resort, and you nod in agreement.

“Good, I’ll tell him then. It’s better than you being alone again,” he continues. “Now that’s settled, I need you to meet with Mrs. Wong in Jeju the week after that. She’s still wary of the contract we worked on and wanted to discuss the terms but all the executives can’t make it so just stand in for us first.”

Your eyes widen in anticipation. “What if she agrees?”

“Well, uhm, then that’s great. You can bring the documents just in case,” he says then turns to your bodyguard. “Jungkook, it will be your first time to accompany my daughter there so make sure you get briefed before you leave. The Wongs tend to attract unwanted attention so be on high alert.”

“Yes, Sir, understood,” Jungkook replies, and for the first time during that evening, he sees you smile.

Jungkook stands by the entrance of the music store, peeking in every once in a while to make sure you’re still there. He wondered when you asked Mr. Sim to drop you off here right after dinner at your parents’ if you had something to pick up, only to find the ‘Closed’ sign on the door.

It opened, however, to reveal two young men he's seen you have lunch and dinner with a few times the past weeks, although in ‘ordinary people restaurants,’ as he’d termed the places that didn’t reek of luxury and privilege.

The smaller man with blond hair has a resting unamused face, while the taller man with burgundy hair matches your jolliness and high pitched laugh.

They were unfamiliar faces, prompting Jungkook to research them then but nothing came up. Mr. Sim had affirmed to him that it was okay, that they’re childhood friends of yours that Jungkook need not worry about, confusing him further, as both men don’t seem to be of the same social standing as you.

He meets your gaze from outside and sees you giggle and whisper to the burgundy-haired man next to you, whose arm yours is entangled with. Jungkook turns away only to have you call his phone.

“Come inside,” you say on the other end.

“I can better protect you from here, ___.”

“There’s no threat here, it’s a safe neighborhood. Or would you rather I say that I’m in danger here, inside?”

“Don’t joke about those things.”

“I’m not. God, you’re such a party pooper. It’ll be quick, Jeon. Five minutes won’t hurt.”

He grumbles on the phone and enters, noting the instruments lined on the walls and in the center of the room. To the left is a common space where you are, seated on the floor with bowls of fish cake soup and chips. He stands nearby with his hands behind his back.

“Yes, Ms. Lee?” He says.

“I thought he wasn’t formal with you?” The man next to you comments.

“Oh he isn’t, he’s just like that when we get into a little disagreement, but we always make up. Don’t we, Jeon?” You bat your eyelashes at him.

You’re met with a clenched jaw and piercing eyes.

“May I know why you asked for me, Ms. Lee?”

“Drop the formalities, Jeon. You’re no fun,” you laugh. “I was just gonna introduce my friends to you so you’d stop eyeing them up and down and researching about them to see if they’re threats,” you roll your eyes. “There’s nothing you’d find out about them other than the music store’s social media page.”

“Which she worked on, by the way,” the man next to you says, arms wrapped around you.

“Is he why you wanted to go alone to next week’s gala?” Jungkook asks, immediately regretting it.

“Curious if I have a boyfriend, hmm?” Your eyes twinkle at him.

“Just keeping tabs of the people around you, as instructed by your father.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Your smile drops a little. “This is Hoseok and that’s Yoongi. I met them at the piano class I begged my parents to enrol me in when I was 7,” you explain. “Hoseok’s mom was the teacher and Yoongi was a student. We’ve been friends ever since.”

“In short, you have nothing to worry about,” the blond-haired man says. “We’re not latching off her riches or selling her information to maniacs. We’re perfectly harmless.”

“Just making sure. They’re not part of the group of friends that you always go out with,” Jungkook says.

“Of course they’re not. Hoseok and Yoongi are my only friends.”

The week flies by painfully slow, as it’s filled with meetings that you have to attend with your parents away. While the other directors and executives are present, your father insists on having you there all the time to ensure that the interests of your family are protected, as the executives wouldn’t make decisions that would jeopardize your family with you around.

You’re glad that your father at least trusts you with that responsibility, despite his requirement to report everything before and after each engagement. It’s really the only time he calls you to check in, but that’s better than nothing.

The gala goes by with barely any hiccups, with Jimin being good company as always to make such an event bearable.

It’s always the same with these things; it’s really just a way for people to flaunt their riches and judge others. You’d been one of them, showing up in your custom-made gowns and narrating how your Mediterranean Cruise or week at an English castle went to the other rich kids.

Perhaps that’s what happens when you spend everyday with your mother who only really cared about such things, but that was 10 years ago and you’re glad you outgrew that mindset. It took a strained relationship with Hoseok and Yoongi to make you realize that you were becoming what everybody expected of you and which you tried not to be - spoiled, superficial, and ignorant.

“Nothing wrong with having nice things and going to pretty places,” Yoongi told 20-year old you while you sat on the music store floor then, crying because you missed them and you hated what you’d become. “You’re wealthy and able, we don’t blame you for that. But don’t let it be the only things that matter.”

He pulled you to the couch and wiped your tears while Hoseok hugged you from behind. “We’ve always known you’re not that kind of person; you wouldn’t have befriended us otherwise. You just can't let yourself be consumed by all the ideas of what and who you’re supposed to be.”

“You’re more than what you own and what you’ll inherit, you know that right?” Hoseok had said.

“I guess I forgot,” you’d replied.

“Well, we’re always here to remind you,” he’d affirmed. “You’re our precious little warrior princess, okay? Don’t ever forget that.”

That was 5 years ago, and you cry every time you think about almost losing the only friends you have, the ones who never minded the brand of clothes you wear or the monetary value attached to your name.

They’ve been the only ones who cared enough to tell you when you were losing sight of your true self - the caring and joyful parts, the bits of you that enjoyed being around people for their company, not for what you can get out of them. People do that already with you - and they still do - but you’re self-aware enough about that and you don’t want to be like them - using others to gain something and to get ahead.

You’re sitting at the window seat on the plane the day after as you recall all this, smiling to yourself as you think of how far you’ve come. You’ve been better since then, graduating with honors and qualifying for your graduate studies in London without the need to use your family’s connections; that had been one of your proudest moments.

You graduated with awards then, too, and that was enough to convince your parents that you're at least capable of running a department, backed by years of working at the company since you interned at age 18. You know it’s still a long way to go but you feel like you constantly prove them wrong as you surprise them by meeting every low expectation they’ve set for you.

And now, you’re on the plane to meet Mrs. Wong in her vacation home in Jeju, who’d asked to discuss some terms of the contract for one of the many deals your father initiated. He briefed you multiple times for this but you know what to do to eventually get her to agree.

She’s a feisty woman who had to battle her own incompetent but favored brothers for the top position, so you just need to match her energy and charm her with your intelligence.

“___, let’s go,” your bodyguard calls out.

He’s another reason why you’re smiling. You’ve been enjoying the past few weeks of Jungkook’s presence, reveling in his beauty that you’ve come to appreciate even more.

He keeps his hair short and parted in the middle on normal days. During formal events, he styles it to the side and you have to stop yourself from staring because of how good he looks then. You’ve noted his beauty marks under his lip, on his nose, and on his neck, which make him even more handsome.

There’s a scar on his cheek and you wonder where he got it, but you know he’d never tell you. His lips are chapped but they look soft, and you lie to yourself about how much you think about kissing them.

It’s kind of crazy, thinking about your bodyguard this way. Lia always raves about how handsome and built he is, saying it’s such a shame he’s only a bodyguard, and you always have to stop yourself from answering back. For her, wealth makes a person attractive. But you don’t mind, you never did.

Jungkook is a beautiful man, even if he never smiles. Even if he usually has a clenched jaw and intimidating stare when he’s around you. Even if he barely looks at you. Even if he doesn’t respond to your questions about his day or what his favorite food is or if he believes that mermaids exist. He’s beautiful even if you know he thinks you’re a brat, a privileged and ignorant rich kid who’s superficial and doesn’t know much about this world.

And you let him. Much as you want to change his mind, you really don’t know how to.

You watch him load the luggage in the car and open the door for you. He sits in the passenger seat and radios that you’re secured in the car and are on the way to the hotel for lunch with your uncle, the one you visit every time you’re here.

It’s a quick affair, as you don’t usually have much to talk about with him, and you proceed to your family’s vacation home, which sits on a cliff overlooking the water. It’s your favorite out of all the vacation homes you have for its privacy, as your father bought the whole land to ensure there wouldn’t be neighbors around.

The caretaker welcomes you and you proceed to your room, with Jungkook on your tail as he brings the luggage with him.

“You’ll be sleeping in the guest room next to me?” You ask, biting your lip at the thought of him being so close.

“Yes, I will be,” he replies plainly. “Will you be going out soon?”

“No, I’ll just take a swim then prepare for tomorrow’s meeting. Care to join me?”

Jungkook scowls and shakes his head. “Your father asked me to retrieve some files and items from his office. I’ll get to that so stay put in the house.”

You sigh. “Fine. I’ll just be here, Jeon. In the pool, if you need me,” you wink at him then close the door.

You like being in the pool during this time of the year - despite the cold, it turns into a large hot tub that’s enough to warm and calm you down.

You enjoy your time alone here, as it’s the place where you feel free, with the waves crashing and the scent of the sea relaxing your mind, making you feel as if for this moment, everything is as it should be.

Sometimes you look out into the water, amusing yourself that mermaids are swimming about and waiting for you to join them. It’s a thought you always have every time you’re out there for a dip; it’s one that makes you happy, thinking to yourself that at least in your imagination, you’re independent and headstrong.

You hear shuffling in the living room not far from where you are and you turn around to see Jungkook, standing by the sliding doors, with his usual stance, looking out to the water.

You take him in, in his black sweatshirt and jeans, as you asked him to forego the formal outfits for this trip. He’s not looking at you, as expected, even when you glide and float around. He just stands there, eyes fixated on something that isn’t you.

You’re rarely shameless, but something about being here alone with Jungkook and with him looking as handsome as he does right now, makes you want to be. You leisurely step out of the pool in your black swimsuit and stand a few feet away from where he is, taking your towel and wiping your whole body, slow and sensual enough to catch his attention.

But he doesn’t look at you; he doesn’t even move.

You sigh at the lack of attention and wrap yourself with your robe and proceed to the living room, with Jungkook barely turning towards you.

“Your dinner should be ready by 6:30,” he says.

“Will you be joining me?” You look at him eagerly.

“No, ___,” he says, briefly meeting your gaze.

“Then have it brought to my room, then,” you instruct, turning on your heel and heading up the stairs.

A few hours later, bath and dinner all done, you’re sitting on your desk in your room, comfortable in your silk top and pajama shorts, reviewing files and preparing for tomorrow.

There’s a knock on the door and you put on your robe and open it.

Jungkook briefly looks at you then turns away. “We leave at 9 in the morning.”

“Okay,” you smile. “Anything else?”

“Call me if you feel like you’re in danger.”

You stifle a giggle and hum. “Only when I’m in danger?”

“Yes, nothing more.”

“Fine,” you pout. “Goodnight, Jeon.”

He walks away with no reply.

Jungkook’s eyes flit from you to his surroundings, mapping out the floor plan of Mrs. Wong’s mansion just in case, as he stands guard by the wall in the living room. Across from him, her own bodyguards focus their eyes on him.

He can hear your laughter echo in the big space, the high-pitched one that rings in his head even when you’re not around, as if mocking him for the amount of time he spends with you. Which is a lot, given how most of your meetings the past week were done outside of the office.

The meeting takes longer than he had hoped, as he eyes you cross-legged in your navy blue trousers and white polo, looking every bit the wealthy daughter of a CEO that you are, with your jewelry dangling with every movement that you make.

It’s 2 hours and 33 minutes later when you’re finally handing the documents to Mrs. Wong, which she gleefully signs, followed by a hug that you didn’t share earlier. The older woman looks at you fondly as she guides you to the front door for a final goodbye.

“That’s more than 30 minutes over the time you said the meeting would go. You’ll be a few minutes late for your lunch,” Jungkook tells you as he settles in the passenger seat.

“It’s okay, it was a success; my uncle will understand,” you say.

“I saw her sign the contract.”

“She actually agreed 30 minutes in. The next 2 hours was spent convincing her to consider another deal,” you say, and he can feel you beaming.

He fights the small smile that forms on his face, as he’d overheard your father guide you on how to convince Mrs. Wong to sign on your terms, as if you’re a child who needs step-by-step instructions on how to tie her shoelace.

Jungkook almost felt bad for how it seemed like your own father didn’t think you’d get it done, treating you like a distraction or merely a stand-in for him. Jungkook had seen how you smile through those briefings with your father, asking questions and taking in everything he says. Despite Jungkook not being too fond of you, he admits it’s nice to see you with this win, as he’d seen you pore over files to pull this through.

The lunch with your uncle takes place rather quickly, and you instruct the chauffeur to drop by the beach before heading to the airport.

Jungkook watches as you sit on the shore, arms supporting your body as you spread your legs and look out into the water. In your 2 days here, he’s seen you do that all the time, your eyes gravitating towards the sea whenever it comes into view. He’d seen your smile widen on the plane, too.

He looks up at the gloomy sky and senses it’s about to rain, prompting him to grab the umbrella and walk towards you. It’s when he feels the first few droplets on his face that he goes closer and places the umbrella over your head.

“No need for that, Jeon. I like the rain,” you say, eyes still out on the water.

“You catch a cold easily, ___,” he says with a low voice.

“Aww, Jeon. You know that about me?” You turn to him with another one of your flirty smiles.

“I’m required to, ___. It’s part of my job.”

Your smile fades and you turn back to the sea, letting the silence be drowned out by the pitter-patter of the rain that's now getting stronger. You don’t move from your spot and Jungkook sees your trousers now getting wet.

“Come on, ___. You have that fashion show to attend tomorrow and a product launch the day after that,” he grumbles. “You can’t get sick.”

You look at him and lift your arm, silently asking him to pull you up. It’s something you do often when you exit the car, as you say that your gown is too heavy for you to manage. He just rolls his eyes, not missing the way your smile turns flirty whenever he takes your hand.

He helps you stand up and you come face to face with him.

“I have my birthday party on Saturday, too,” you say excitedly.

“Yes, I received the building’s floor plans already.”

“Is that necessary?” You playfully roll your eyes.

“Yes, it is.”

“Fine,” you say, as you enter the car. “But remember to dress to impress!”

“I’m your bodyguard. I have no one to impress.”

“Indulge me, Jeon. It’s my birthday! Plus, you need to look the part in case you need to pretend you’re my boyfriend.”

Jungkook chokes on his spit. “Why the hell would I do that?” And he doesn’t miss the way the chauffeur widens his eyes in shock with the way Jungkook spoke to you.

“Because Hoseok has a work event that he can’t get out of and Yoongi had to go home to Daegu and they’re usually my fake boyfriends when uh… I need them to be.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer, thoughts torn between acting like your fake boyfriend and why you need one.

You take his silence as his agreement. “Great! I actually already ordered your suit,” you giggle. “It’ll be ready by Thursday.”

Jungkook stares out at the road with a displeased look on his face. He already can’t wait for this week to be over.

Jungkook glares at himself in the mirror, mentally smacking himself for indulging in your wishes to accept the suit you’d purchased for him so he could “look the part,” if needed. But he has to admit, it’s a very nice suit, probably the nicest one he’s ever received. It fits him perfectly, unlike the ones from his past clients that were usually too big on the shoulders or too loose on the waist; those he had to have altered so he could properly move in them.

He accompanied you to the store where you ordered it from, and even you looked surprised that no alterations were needed.

“How did you know my size?” He’d asked.

You merely shrugged, mumbling about your ex-boyfriend being the same build as him, and he scowled when you said that you “have a type,” earning him a laugh from you, as you’ve already gotten used to his reactions when it comes to your flirting attempts.

Jungkook bitterly laughs at the memory from two days ago, as he exits his apartment and heads to you.

He tails you from behind as you enter the lavish nightclub of a 5-star hotel that you rented for your 26th birthday party. You had it designed for the occasion - vintage with a touch of elegance - you’d told him, as you both toured the venue a few days prior at Jungkook’s request, so he can make sure that everything is in order. He’d met the staff who’d be on duty during your party as well, prompting you to laugh and be impressed at the same time at how detail-oriented he is when it comes to his job.

It’s now packed with people and everybody cheers as the DJ calls out your name. You proceed to the podium and briefly thank everybody for coming and tell them to have fun, as the drinks are free-flowing and the music will last until the wee hours of the morning.

Jungkook watches from the bar, as you’d instructed him to not act like your bodyguard but instead to blend in, so he follows, ordering a can of soda and subtly keeping an eye out for you.

He feels a little awkward dressed in his blue suit, with his arm propped by the bar and lifting his glass in acknowledgement of the women who approach him and ask for his name. He’s used to standing upright against the wall, eyes assessing every corner of the room - not smiling and nodding at strangers, although he admits being good at feigning interest.

This isn’t his crowd, this isn’t his people. He already knows he doesn’t like them because well, they’re your friends, and you’re not exactly his favorite person. But he powers through as he’s supposed to. He keeps in mind what Mr. Han had told him over the phone on the way here, to always keep his eyes on you and be mindful of those who aim to take advantage of your vulnerable state.

He lies about the drink to anyone who approaches, and goes on his second can as he moves positions. You’re quite the social butterfly, as you go from one group to another, and he’s mindful of the unfamiliar faces who stay too close or have their hands too low.

Lia, your friend whom he’s most familiar with, stays by your side, and he’s at least comforted that someone has your back in case he loses you in the crowd.

He sees you enjoy yourself though, taking drinks from whoever offers and laughing your way to the next set of people. There are at least two men he’s noted who linger - one was grinding with you on the dance floor and the other one had you pinned against the wall, his head trailing down your neck as you drunkenly looked up. You’d pushed the man away before Jungkook could get to you from across the club and you proceeded to the bar for another drink.

The night goes on like this, with Jungkook’s heart rate beating irregularly, increasing when he thinks you’re in danger, and steadying when he sees you stand on your two feet.

It’s after Jungkook’s third glass of soda that he decides he really needs to go to the washroom, and he spots Lia, who’s no longer at your side.

“Oh, hi Jungkook!” She squeals. “I’m just a tiny bit drunk but god, you’re so handsome,” she drags her words. “I would totally fuck you but I’m trying to get Jaemin back and you know, he’s rich and well… you’re not.”

“Glad I’m not rich then,” Jungkook chides. “But I have to go to the washroom so look out for ___ for me, please. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Sure, handsome,” Lia winks.

Jungkook swears it’s only been four minutes since the last time he had his eyes on you, but as he returns to the dance floor, you’re nowhere to be found. He spots Lia who’s happily chatting with some people, answering that she hasn’t seen you since the last time they spoke.

“Really, Lia?”

She merely shrugs. “I’ve got my business to take care of,” she motions her head to the guy next to him.

Jungkook huffs in frustration, regretting that last glass of soda he had as he walks around the nightclub, asking everybody if they’d seen you but all of them answer that they have not. He searches around some more, desperate to find the sparkly dressed woman, and he tries his best not to panic and think of the multiple bad scenarios he’s conjuring in his mind.

He goes for the bartender whom he hopes got a glimpse of you somehow.

“Check outside. She was mumbling earlier about needing some air,” the man says.

“Was she alone?”

The bartender nods.

“Did you see anyone follow her?”

“Nah. Between us, I don’t think anyone seemed to notice.”

Jungkook doesn’t know why there’s a sudden tightness in his chest at the words, but he dismisses it and heads out the door, leading him to a reception-like area with couches and cocktail tables.

There are a few people around, drinking and conversing, chuckling about the “birthday girl passing out.” He follows their gaze and there he finds you - body lying limp on the couch, head buried underneath your arms, your sequined dress scrunched dangerously high.

And the “friends” you’d been getting drinks from earlier and whom you invited to this party, either nonchalantly pass by or watch you from afar, doing nothing.

Jungkook kneels right next to you. He takes your hair from your neck and checks your pulse, sighing at your drowsy form. There’s no available water around and he gets the attention of one of your “friends” to ask the server for water.

The woman looks strangely at him.

“She paid for everything you’re drinking; the least you could do is get her water since you clearly don’t intend to help her,” he says, voice low.

It’s not like he can leave you again to get it for you, and he’s really annoyed how all these people don’t seem to care.

The woman scoffs then storms inside the club, and Jungkook turns back to you, knowing he’s done this before and felt he was bound to do it with you at some point.

Your breathing has steadied but it just means that you’ve fallen asleep and he’d have to carry your dead weight out of this place. And there’s no way he could be subtle.

It’s not long after when a server comes with a glass of water. Jungkook has one hand under your head as he lifts you to sit upright, your head rolling onto the backrest, which he holds steady to keep you from injuring yourself.

“Hey, ___. Drink up,” he says, glass by your mouth. “Have some water then we can go home.”

You respond with heavy breathing and mumbled words he can’t decipher, and he waits, letting the water touch your lips until such time you open them wide enough for you to get a drink in.

It’s the first time Jungkook looks at you, really looks at you, with your still bright red lipstick, gold-dusted eyes underneath perfectly shaped eyebrows, and blush-tainted cheeks. Even in your sleep-drunken state, you look peaceful and delicate, and he decides then that he agrees with Jin - you are more than okay; really beautiful, actually.

He lets a smile slip, as you’re not awake to see it, and he knows he won’t hear the end of it if you ever catch him. The knot in his chest hasn’t disappeared though, at the thought of you drunkenly walking here on your own, passing out on the couch, with none of the attendees even bothering to check on you.

He’s at least thankful that no one took advantage of you; that’s a thought he forces out of his mind, and he knows he wouldn’t forgive himself for doing a terrible job at being your bodyguard.

Jungkook tries a few more times with the water and in between, calls Mr. Sim about the situation, who instructs him to bring you down at the basement parking instead.

You finally get in half a mouthful of water and Jungkook shifts you to move, whispering that you both have to go. You nod but your head falls on his shoulder, and he grunts at the thought that he’d really have to do this the hard way.

He carefully removes his jacket and wraps you with it. With one arm over your shoulders and another under your knees, he lifts you and holds you close, making sure that your thighs are covered and your head is buried in his chest, a feeble attempt at masking your identity, as he walks towards the elevator and internally sighs when a few guests enter, eyeing you both.

Their faces register as some of those you took shots with, frustration bubbling within him. It shouldn’t be a surprise that people only acted like your friends when they could benefit, but would be the first ones to turn away when you’re in need.

It clicks, what you’d said some time ago, about Yoongi and Hoseok being your only friends. The people who attended tonight definitely aren’t.

It’s a long way down to the basement but you both get there, with Jungkook’s strength enough to have his hold on you not falter.

The car is stalled right outside and Mr. Sim opens the door. Jungkook makes the decision to get in the back with you still in his arms, careful not to wake you.

Mr. Sim doesn’t say much, only stealing glances through the rear view mirror, and Jungkook doesn’t miss the small smile on the older man’s face.

Jungkook holds you steady as you shift, smelling the alcohol through your bated breaths. He’s prepared for this, he tells himself, as he recalls all the times he’d done this for his past clients.

He’s also been so frustrated with himself since losing you at the club, the worry of what could’ve happened constantly playing in his mind. But something about your sleeping form in his arms, your fingers laying gingerly on his chest, and your soft snores blending with the mellow music, that somehow calms him down.

The car enters the gate and stops in front of your house, with Mrs. Hwang opening the door and letting him in.

“Up to her room and in the bathtub, quickly,” she says, guiding Jungkook up the flight of stairs.

“Not on her bed?” He questions. “She’s knocked out.”

“Oh, darling. She’ll throw a fit if she wakes up in the morning still in this dress,” she chuckles. “The shower will wake her but she’ll fall right back to sleep.”

Jungkook does as instructed, gently placing you in the tub and exiting the room, leaving Mrs. Hwang to give you a bath, as she's apparently done your whole life. He’s met with Mr. Sim outside, convincing him to have tea with the older man in the kitchen.

“Thank you, Jungkook, for taking care of her tonight. I know you’ll say it’s part of your job but you were still so gentle with her, so thank you.”

“Oh, uhm. I lost her for a bit. I shouldn’t have trusted the people she was with; maybe it wouldn’t have been this bad,” Jungkook laments.

“It happens,” the older man sighs. “There’s really only a handful that we can truly trust in caring for her, and they weren’t around tonight.”

“She seemed like she was enjoying at the start, though. I mean, she was going around and taking shots with everyone. Then she passes out and suddenly, it’s like they didn’t know her.”

“It’s a tragedy isn’t it, to be so alone in a sea of people?”

Jungkook hums, choosing to let the silence envelope them both.

He knows what loneliness is like. It’s what he’d chosen when he left home and the woman he loves to search for a better life in the big city. He knew he’d be giving up a lot so he could achieve more, and he knew that going through all this on his own was a choice he made for himself because it was better that way.

Though he has Jin, perhaps the only friend he’s ever made since he got here, it’s different. Jungkook still goes home to an empty apartment, he doesn’t have anyone to check up on him nor visit him; there’s no one who worries and makes sure he’s home safely and comfortably in bed. But he chose all that.

But you - in a sea of people, you only have a handful. He doubts you chose that.

The tender voice of Mrs. Hwang cuts through his thoughts, thanking him as well for taking care of you.

“She made it to her bed alright?” Jungkook asks.

“Yes, it was a fairly easy bath,” she giggles. “But she’s sleeping soundly now; didn’t even mind me when I greeted her a happy birthday.”

Jungkook grins but thinks it’s his cue to leave. “That’s good, then. I should get going.”

“Oh, darling. You should stay the night,” Mrs. Hwang offers. “It’s too late and I’m sure you’re tired. There’s a spare bedroom on the left, you can take that.”

Jungkook thinks about this. He’s had clients whose residence he’s lived in, albeit in a separate area. It’s a little uncomfortable but he’s incredibly tired, the party draining the life out of him tonight. He also knows it’s gonna be a long trip home and Mr. Sim will feel the need to drive him there.

“Okay, as long as it’s not a bother,” he shyly smiles.

“Definitely not,” she assures. “I’m sure Mr. Sim here can find clothes that’ll fit you. I’ll just prepare your room.”

It’s shortly after when Jungkook is led there, with fresh towels on the bed and a bathtub ready for him to use. There’s something about tonight - perhaps it’s the hot bath that eased his sore muscles, or maybe it’s the comfortable bed and soft linens. Maybe it’s something else entirely. Whatever it is, he savors it, and it’s the pitter-patter of the rain that lulls him softly to sleep.

The clanking of pans and the delicious aroma of stew penetrating the walls wake Jungkook up. He quickly cleans up and walks towards the kitchen, ready to provide help if needed.

“I’m sorry, darling, did I wake you?” Mrs. Hwang, with her gentle and motherly smile, greets him.

“Oh, no you didn’t. It was the delicious scent of whatever it is you’re cooking,” he grins.

“Ah, well I’m glad then. Spicy beef and vegetable stew - ___’s favorite.”

Jungkook spots more pots and pans on the stove, rice cooking, side dishes already spread out on the dining table, and rice cakes ready for plating.

“Do you need any help? Although I can only make instant ramen but I learn fast,” he offers, scratching the back of his neck.

The woman giggles. “I’m alright, darling. Please, you’re a guest here. You can just call Mr. Sim. I think he’s doing his exercise by the pool.”

Jungkook smiles and does as instructed, joining the older man with some mid-morning stretching, enjoying the post-rain scent in the garden. Both of them go back inside after a while, and it’s right then when you come running down the stairs, excitedly running towards Mrs. Hwang and engulfing her in a hug from behind.

“I could smell it from upstairs and it smells delicious! I can’t wait,” you squeal.

“Oh, sweetie. Happy birthday,” she turns around to hug you, something that you return so tenderly. You kiss her on the forehead and engage in a fit of laughter as you try to steal some rice cakes.

Jungkook’s seen you plenty of times with your parents and you’re never this affectionate, this comfortable, this happy. They’ve also never looked at you with stars in their eyes and bright smiles the way Mrs. Hwang is right now.

“Oh, by the way. Jungkook carried you all the way home last night because someone was too drunk to walk on her own,” she says, flicking your forehead. “He looked so tired so I asked him to stay the night.”

“Wha— what? He’s here? Right now?” You stammer, horrified.

“I can leave if you want,” Jungkook says, prompting you to turn to him like you’re a deer caught in headlights.

“No, you can stay!” You shout. “I just need to uh—“ You turn, ready to run up the stairs to change, but Mrs. Hwang pulls you and orders you to set the table instead. You sigh and follow her order, now unable to look Jungkook in the eyes.

He takes in your form clad in pajama shorts and an oversized Little Mermaid cotton shirt that’s seen better days, your hair messily tied in a bun and your bare, morning face a rare sight for him. He sees you look frazzled, constantly fixing your hair and covering your face when he looks your way.

“Hey,” Jungkook walks towards you. “I really can leave if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that,” you scrunch your eyebrows. “I just… Don’t look my best in the morning.”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow. “You were passed-out drunk in my arms last night, ___, snoring as you slept.”

This causes you to further widen your eyes then cover your face again. Soft curses escape your lips and you want the ground to swallow you whole.

“It wasn’t that loud. And at least you’re standing on your own two feet right now.”

You pout at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so irresponsible.”

“It was your party, it’s okay,” he comforts, choosing not to mention the other things from last night. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

You feel your cheeks warm and you wish that there’s no physical manifestation of it, as you look back at Jungkook in black pajama pants and a white sweatshirt that you know is Mr. Sim’s.

“Thank you, Jeon,” you mutter, your signature flirty smile now replaced with a shy one.

You do get to change to less embarrassing clothes after setting up the table, now dressed in denim shorts and a blush sweatshirt. You’re seated in between Yoongi and Hoseok at the dining table who both arrived not long ago, apologetic about missing your party but you assure them for the hundredth time that it’s okay, as it was one that your mother insisted you throw.

“I thought you planned the party,” Jungkook says from across from you. “You looked really excited about it.”

“I’m good at looking excited about a lot of things,” you shrug. “Mother wanted me to have one because she thinks it makes me relevant. But whatever, I’m here with the only people I really need,” you smile, leaning into Hoseok for a hug while you hold Yoongi’s hand, who lets you, even if his face still doesn’t seem that amused.

It’s not an answer Jungkook was expecting but he shouldn’t be surprised anymore by this point. He’s stood in enough dinners with your parents to get a gauge of how they are when it comes to you.

There’s distance and lack of affection; it’s not so much resentment but the kind of detachment that was intentional and in some ways, perhaps permanent. The fact that you’re not celebrating it with them is telling, given that they’re still abroad for a work trip.

You don’t seem to mind, though, as you enjoy laughing with your friends, your caretaker, and your chauffeur. It’s an odd bunch but he can’t help but think that this is your family, minus him of course.

He feels like he’s intruding, like he shouldn’t be here. And that’s exactly why right after the meal, he helps clean up then quickly excuses himself to leave.

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no-droids · 4 years

Text

Kar’taylir

gif credit @sersi

Part Thirteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.8K

Warnings: language, angst and fluff, descriptions of a dead body, no real smut in this one but there is some nudity and touching, uhhh i think thats it tbh

A/N: Omg hi hi hello this was written in a week and a half so please be gentle, also I’m back on my linguistics bullshit and I can absolutely guarantee a vast majority of it is inaccurate

***

Everybody is asleep and you’re just a complete mess.

Truly. And it fucking sucks, because this should be enjoyable. This is home. You’re in hyperspace, the hull is pitch black, the baby is asleep, and Din’s breathing is slow and quiet through the darkness. Your cheek presses to his chest as it rises and falls hypnotically, you’re comfortable and safe and this would normally be a dream. But your eyes are wide open right now and you are just going through it. Spiraling in the midst of the most stable surroundings you could possibly conceive.

You suppose that this is partially your fault. You don’t know why literally any part of you expected Din would explain himself without prompting from you, but you still couldn’t work up nearly the nerve necessary to ask. Every potential question you came up with contradicted your intent, every way you tried to mentally phrase it gave off the wrong impression. How do you ask somebody if they were being serious about something without revealing anything about your own intentions? You can’t—that’s a downside of staying silent.

Din hasn’t said a single word since he urged you to leave the shooting range earlier, and he didn’t really seem like the quiet didn’t suit him, if that makes sense. Yours was awkward, it fit you wrong. You struggled for words while he easily ignored their existence altogether, able to navigate the Crest into hyperspace and exist comfortably around you without ever addressing the giant bantha in the room. Maybe that’s part of the reason you floundered so hard—he didn’t avoid you, he held the kid while you took a shower in the small fresher, and even though he was quieter around you than he’d been in awhile, he gave no indication that anything was wrong at all.

You spent that time getting clean but also formulating some sort of plan. As you bathed in actual water for the first time in a week and scrubbed your body clean, you tried to figure out at least why you were having so much trouble coming up with something to say, but even then, words evaded you. You spent the entire time staring blankly at the metal wall, at a complete fucking loss.

When you came out of the fresher with wet hair and comfortable clothing to sleep in, Din was armorless and resting in your makeshift bed on the floor, the baby tucked soundly in his crib next to him. You turned off the lights and carefully found your way under the blankets next to him in the pitch blackness, feeling him lazily reach around you and pull you to rest against his chest. His fingers gently drew circles along your arm for maybe the first few minutes while you worked up the nerve to speak. You needed to say something, this was your chance—

But then his hand soon fell to rest in one place on your shoulder and he passed out. Helmet on, not even a few minutes of your quiet breathing next to him.

So now, you’re here, just… a little ball of stress in the middle of paradise. Hours have passed, you need sleep after such a physically exhausting week but it’s like you haven’t even processed the fucking proposition he presented to you yet. You’re having trouble even thinking the words, that’s how much he’s got you fucked up.

He said… hit the target and I’ll ma…. hit the target and I’ll marrrrr…

Fuck. You stay on that loop for ages until your eyes begin to grow heavy, until you just settle on thinking about it with them closed. Slow breaths from Din under one ear, the silence of hyperspace all around you—how are you supposed to contemplate when his body is so warm? No, you can ask tomorrow, you’ll ask him tomorrow.

Eventually, you’re able to drift off into a troubled slumber, dreaming of bells made of beskar that deafen anyone who rings them.

***

You wake up what feels like two minutes later.

It’s not, but you don’t know that. You’re so warm and the second your eyes open, they start stinging and burning and tearing up like your body just wants to cry for even being awake right now. You finally got to sleep—you moan pitifully and start to turn your head further into the warm blankets, but then a gloved hand smooths your hair back and a voice whispers quiet through the darkness.

“I have to go.”

And oh, his touch is just the gentlest thing, but what he says makes your already fragile mental state want to shatter. The first words he gives you in hours and they’re the ones you loathe to hear the most.

“W-Wha? No,” you whimper and automatically reach for him, your throat starting to close up. Maker, you’re so tired, you’re so tired, you feel so fucking emotional and vulnerable right now and you’re not even awake enough to realize it. “Why?”

Din just catches your hands and brings both of them together in front of him, slowly pressing your knuckles to the cold beskar on the face of his helmet.

“I meet with Karga in three days,” he murmurs back, voice pillow-soft and barely loud enough to come through the steel under your fingers. It’s gentle and lulling and it makes you want to sleep again, but you can’t and you feel like you could burst into tears for that reason alone. “He gave me four pucks, I need four bodies.”

You can’t argue with it, the logic is perfectly sound. But you still want to, and everything inside you revolts at the thought of allowing him leave like this without fighting for more. Which means you have absolutely nothing reasonable or compelling to say to appeal to him; all you’re left with the glaring truth.

“But I don’t want you to leave,” you whisper, tightening your fingers.

And, perhaps if you were even half-conscious, you’d wince. You’d cringe at the shake in your voice, you’d remind yourself that he has to make a living, he’s said it over and over again. If you were completely awake, you’d scold yourself for being such a needy mess, but right now, all you can think about is how much you want him to stay, just this once.

After a moment, you feel the gloves carefully collect both of your hands into just one of his, and then he slowly reaches out with his free hand to cradle your jaw.

“I won’t be gone long,” Din murmurs. “I can’t be.”

Your head turns slowly in his palm, and you’re just so, so sleepy. Your voice is small and your words slur. “Stay with me.”

Quiet, and though you can’t see him, the leather continues to press so warm to your cheek. Your eyes slowly drift shut, needing him to stay exactly like this, stay right here just like this. Karga can wait, the quarry can wait, the galaxy can wait—everything else can wait when things are like this, when he’s looking down at you breathing slow into his palm.

You’re almost asleep again when you hear him say something.

But… you have no idea what he says. You hear it. You hear his voice come through the pitch black, quiet enough to sit just on top of the silence and let the mysterious words simply become a part of it, but it’s strange. Like his cadence lilts in a different way, the vowels are longer than what you’re used to, and your comprehension abruptly falters like it would if he was speaking another language altogether.

Maybe it’s just because it’s the first thing to pull you back from the edges of sleep, that has to be right. It doesn’t sound like Basic because your mind is stupid and slow right now. You need to ask him to repeat himself, but all that you can muster is the soft sound of confusion, not even able to open your eyes anymore.

His hands pull away from you and once again, you suddenly can’t decide between sleep and crying, quickly lifting and trying to reach out for him in the darkness. You can’t feel anything, it’s like he’s completely disappeared from where you assumed he’d be, except then something tiny is placed into your hands instead and it makes an unhappy little sound at being disturbed. You automatically hold the baby close to your chest and strong hands touch your shoulders, urging you to lay back down again.

“Leave the engine running, you’ll freeze if you don’t,” he mutters, quickly tucking the blankets up under your body while you close your eyes and feel the tears wet your lashes. Fuck, you’re so exhausted, you just need to sleep. “If I’m not back in sixteen hours, I’ll use my e-comm and you’ll have to fly out to me.”

He steps away from you, walks quickly and with purpose to the side of the hull, and a blast of frigid air fills the room before the door is slammed shut behind him.

***

Your head hurts.

Sparks and wires give your fingers mean, zapping reminders to pay attention every time your focus slips, but you still feel like you’re in a daze.

“Come on,” you drone, trying to use your voice to snap yourself back into the present, but the sound of it isn’t even interesting enough to pull you away. “Come on.”

Maker, you’re going fucking crazy. Is this just all an elaborate scheme to make you experience the same kind of insanity he told you he struggles with in your absence? Because you don’t like this—you hate feeling like this, you can’t concentrate on anything and even if he hadn’t instructed you to do so, you’d likely still be counting the hours of his absence.

Fourteen have passed so far, not the sixteen you’re waiting for but getting close. It’s one thing you’ve been able to accomplish. Counting. You can still count right now, so at least there’s that.

Oh, and another hoop you’ve jumped through. Understanding words. You can listen and repeat, even if you still can’t fully comprehend, but you’re getting there.

Din said… hit the target and I’ll marry you.

He said that. Yep. You’ve accepted it, you’ve accepted the words that were said. Indeed.

Okay, but now… like…

What did he mean by that? Why did he say that?

No matter how much you tell yourself he was just messing around—no matter how many times you offer up that perfectly logical answer to the burning question you’ve been sitting on, you still aren’t satisfied with it. Something keeps tugging your mind back to it, a tether constantly pulling you away from the work that’s designed to be your distraction.

You frown down at the box of machinery. Whelp, if he was serious, he’d probably immediately take the offer back after witnessing your behavior this morning. You embarrassed yourself terribly, you acted like a clingy baby in the looming shadow of unconsciousness and what’s worse, you can’t even remember what he said after you begged him to stay. It could’ve been a quiet, “Stars, pull yourself together,” for all you know.

And honestly, just… fuck these electronics. You’re at the point where you’d probably cheer on whatever brutal impact damaged them so atrociously if you weren’t also well aware that this box was very likely attached to Din’s chest when it was crushed. The magnetics are a complete mess, and you’re mostly just attempting to see how the individual components of each piece are supposed to communicate. Turning the switch on doesn’t do much at all besides make the capacitors put out heat. Not enough to shut it down or be a hazard to the housing when you close it, but enough to know that it’s going to present a problem for you at some point.

What’s more, you’re so lost in your own thoughts and busywork that you don’t see two green ears poking out over the top of the pile of armor on your temporary workstation (literally just the floor) until one of the thigh braces comes clattering down and the whole thing collapses with a ruckus.

You suddenly shove the metal box away from you in frustration and you reach for the little troublemaker with a sigh, scooping him up and getting to your feet.

“This isn’t going to work,” you grunt to him, hearing your words better for some reason when you direct them at the baby instead of talking to yourself, and his eh? allows the thoughts to come clearer and easier. No, you can’t be distracted when your distraction is just another part of your status quo, you can’t use fixing mechanics to occupy yourself because it’s what you’ve done to occupy yourself your entire life, it’s worn off at this point. You need something newer. Something that takes your entire focus to do.

Eventually, your eyes drift over to the one metal panel on the wall that you’ve rarely ever opened. One that takes up a comparatively enormous amount of space in the hull considering what you know it holds. You eye the kid in your arm, who suddenly has sneaky painted all over his expression. “You thinking what I’m thinking, demon?”

He squeaks his affirmative and you move over to the armory, pressing a few buttons before the doors slide open by themselves. Because of course Mando invested in hydraulics for the gun closet but not for the hidden cot he used to sleep on, of course.

“Maker above,” you groan as the metal slides open, needing to lift your chin to eye the enormous collection. How many fucking…? All this for just one person? What does that big one in the middle do that the others stacked strategically around it don’t? They all kill whatever you point and shoot at, you’re assuming? Are you missing something?

The baby makes a tiny sound of awe as you carefully look over your choices, not expecting nearly this many to be offered, before settling on one that looks the simplest. A sleek silver one that’s still too big for your hand but smaller than anything else on the rack.

Grabby fingers reach out for the shiny metal as soon as you remove it from the shelf and you very purposefully set it down out of his pitiful wingspan. “Nope. Now come on, gotta bundle up.”

You make your way back over to the bed and pull one of the thickest blankets up, settling it over the open shield and then situating your partner in crime in his usual spot inside. You strategically stuff and stack the fabric around him to make sure he’ll be warm enough in what you know has to be far below freezing temperatures, lifting it up over his ears and wrapping it around his neck in a loose hood. He blinks up at you with gigantic eyes and an open mouth, clearly thrilled about your willingness to go on an adventure with him this time instead of being the tall nuisance that consistently holds him back from one, and you scoff down at him as you partially close the lid on his levitating nest of blankets for extra protection. He should be warm enough, you’re not going to be outside long.

And then you pull out nearly half the amount of clothes you own and suit up in what feels like ten layers before grabbing the blaster. The swirling wind nearly shoves the heavy hull door into you as soon as you open it and—Maker.

You look back at the kid behind you for a second, wondering if it’s too late to change your mind. His expression narrows and he makes a triumphant ha! while pointing three fingers at the grey blizzard through the small open space in his crib. Try as you might, you can’t ignore a call to arms when delivered with such ferocity.

Both of you step outside and take in the view after you wrestle with the door to haul it shut. You don’t know the name of this planet but from what you can see, it’s one giant ice ball, mountainous and cold as fuck. Though, to be honest, your only indication that it’s truly cold as fuck is the continuously accumulating snow blanketing the landscape and the flurries dancing in the whipping wind. You’re too warm-blooded for climates like these—anything below room temperature and you’re freezing, you have absolutely no tolerance for cold whatsoever.

Keeping that in mind, you don’t travel far at all. Just a few steps beyond the entrance to your shelter before eyeing what appears to be a large white boulder in the distance. There’s a solid target, you figure—you’ll be able to see chunks splintering off when you hit it and the ice isn’t strong enough to bounce plasma back, you won’t have any ricochets.

Okay. Okay—safety, where’s the safety on this one? Ah, yes, okay—safety, off. Stance, find your stance. There it is. Alright, now lift. Lift, get that stupid frozen ball right in your sights, line it up. Hold. Hold. Hold.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale—

Fire.

You watch with bated breath as the bright red bolt launches from the end of the barrel and travels across the distance before melting a hole in the snow just to the right of your target.

“Mother fucker!” You yell into the frigid landscape without warning, suddenly infuriated. What’s the point of even having a sight if every gun is just gonna say fuck you no matter what? Could there be some sort of mathematical reason why you seem to be fucking atrocious at this, you wonder? Are you fucking up the angle somehow while trying to read the scope? Should you just ignore it and try to aim without thinking too hard?

Admittedly, you spend the next five minutes shooting at that stupid fucking thing, not making a single shot. It’s not been long at all, but your entire body is already trembling uncontrollably and it is just too fucking cold out here. Freezing your fucking ass off isn’t going to help your aim of course, but it’s almost just tragic at this point. Either you’ve got to accept that you’re just absolutely hopeless at this, or you’ve got to… blame the little womprat behind you for messing up your shots, yeah. It wouldn't surprise you.

As a last ditch effort, you consider trying something a bit ridiculous to see if he really is fucking with you.

“I’m firing one last shot,” you call out loudly over the sound of the bristling wind and flurries, making sure he can hear your narration from his little blanket cave behind you. “If I hit the target… I will present our demon overlord with a chunk of raw meat later for dinner.”

You give the offer a moment to sink in before raising the blaster, and then you jerk it up at the very last second while pulling the trigger. The arc of plasma quickly disappears into the gloomy skies over the top of the ice boulder, completely straight.

You switch the safety on and turn around to say something smart to him, but… well. Uh. That’s an empty crib.

Sudden panic rips through you at the sight of the wide open shield, the blanket left abandoned inside. Your head whips around in horror, wondering where the fuck he could’ve gone—but then you’re able to spot tiny footprints in the snow. Your eyes quickly follow them up and see the baby wading his way up a large hill, slow against the terrain and trying in vain to get to something at the very top.

You drop the blaster and bolt through the blizzard to get to him while calling out through the freezing air and wishing, not for the first time, that you had a name to roar and strike fear into his tiny little heart. In this case, you prefer a middle name as well.

Finally reaching him and yanking him up from the snow, you tuck him under the warmest part of your arm and open your mouth to start venting the terror from your body, but he makes a distressed noise and starts climbing. You fumble with him on your way back down, not expecting that response, but he’s so distraught and preoccupied that he’s unable to stay still, trying to find different ways of escaping your grasp and making more and more sounds to indicate something is wrong.

“What the fuck are you—” you stuff him into the shield and at least get the blankets wrapped around him before looking back and trying to spot whatever he’s still wiggling and attempting to get to. Frustrated cries start filling the icy air and… okay. “Okay,” you tell him, your breath puffing like smoke in front of you, “okay okay, we can go look, but you need to stay warm.”

You clutch the edge of his metal shield and urge it to follow you back up the snowy hill, feeling the crunch of your feet disappear further and further into it as you climb. Your outer two layers are probably soaked by now—stars, it’s so fucking cold. You know you’re not exactly the best judge, but you’ve been outside less than five minutes and you’re already worried about getting sick or frostbite, already jumpy and wanting to go back to the warmth of the hull.

But as you reach the top and look out in the distance, you can just barely make out a familiar metallic glint on the horizon.

Your heart picks up, but the baby makes another distressed sound. Not… happy, not thrilled that his dad is coming back. Some strange sort of dread begins to fill you, carefully holding the kid in his shield with one hand and looking at the bright reflection of light a little ways away just to make sure it’s…

No, it’s not moving. Not disappearing and reappearing, not catching the sunlight differently. Completely stationary in this absolutely horrendous weather.

You immediately make your way in that direction, your body deciding to outright abandon its trembling in the wake of this newfound worry. You’re suddenly sweating, way too warm. That’s Din, you recognize the glint of his armor anywhere, but why isn’t he moving?

The closer you get, the faster you move and the more you’re able to see. He’s laying facedown in the snow. There’s quite a bit of it covering the back of his cape, maybe a few inches, and… there’s also someone laying equally as lifeless behind him. Your heart is slamming now, you’re doing your best to run in the unforgiving terrain, and you finally see that it’s… a corpse, a frozen corpse is behind him with a rope tied around its ankles, clutched tight in Din’s unmoving fist as it lays against the pure white backdrop.

“Mando?” You call out, dropping to your knees as soon as you reach him. “Hey—hey, can you hear me?”

The beskar strapped to him is frozen over and feels colder than ice when you try to shake him. He doesn’t respond. He’s dead weight; you do your best to turn him over on his back, but you still get nothing from him. You shove your trembling fingers up under the helmet, and the only reassurance you have that he’s even alive comes from the petrifyingly slow pulse beating underneath. His skin is ice cold.

Shit, he’s still breathing but he’s hypothermic, you have to get him back to the Crest right fucking now.

You fumble to get in position above his head while hooking both your arms under his, before leaning everything you have into it—but fuck, he’s so heavy. You can barely lift him even just a few inches off the ground—the snow is deep, his armor makes him weigh a ton and the fabric wrapped around him is sopping wet. You try again, making a tight sound in your throat while you haul, but it’s no use.

“Fuck,” you curse, starting to panic even fucking harder. You’re gasping and breathless and getting dizzy and scared, continuing to try and find different angles to heave—

—until suddenly the burden is lifted.

You nearly fall backwards on your ass at the abrupt removal of tension, playing tug-of-war with a team that decided to give up with no warning. But it’s like it almost doesn’t even phase you; you don’t even look behind you to see the baby’s eyes closed tight in concentration, you just recover and pull with both arms, feeling Din’s body gliding easily along the snow now and leading him all the way back down the hill.

Once you get inside the Crest and shut the door to the raging blizzard behind the three of you, there’s an extended moment where you just… you don’t know what to do. You know all about how to deal with heatstroke, but this is the opposite—he either spent too long in the cold, or he exhausted himself trying to get back too quickly and then spent too long in the cold. He said he’d use his e-comm if he wasn’t back in sixteen hours—was that the cutoff? The point where the temperature outside would shut his body down and he’d need you to come get him?

Regardless, you need to warm him up. Yes, that’s your priority, and you figure the quickest and safest way to accomplish it has to be the shower in slow increments. The kid helps you move Din into the tiny fresher in the hull and then you sit on the floor with him, holding his limp body to your chest while reaching up to turn the faucet on.

Cold water sprays down and then suddenly—oof, he’s heavier than fuck again. Air leaves your lungs and your neck cranes back under the unexpected increase in pressure on top of you to see the kid climbing down from his shield, no longer focused on mentally bearing most of his father’s weight or directing his own hovering form of transportation along behind you. The baby disappears out of sight and you huff, completely trapped under Din as freezing water rains down on you.

Fuck, it’s so cold. It’s way too fucking cold for you, but your core body temperature is also mostly normal right now. Din’s isn’t, you’ll probably shock his system if you try to warm him up too quickly. So you reach up and twist the knob, keeping it at a temperature he’d probably find just the slightest bit warm while inspiring violent shudders from you.

“H-Hey, I’m gonna t-t-take this off, o-okay—” you stutter down at him, knowing damn well he isn’t conscious to hear you but giving him that reassurance on the small chance he is, and then reach with trembling fingers to work at his armor. You worry that the beskar is keeping the cold trapped the same way his clothes are, like having solid pieces of ice strapped to his body and nothing to protect him besides a few layers of soaking wet fabric.

The chestpiece comes off and you throw it blindly over your shoulder into the hull with a clang—admittedly, without thinking about where the baby is at all anymore. The pauldrons come off next, but not before you reach up and turn the heat up just the slightest bit. Your jerky limbs just want to blast it and remove the rest of his clothes in steamy hot water, but you can’t. Even though your mind is hurtling at a thousand lightyears an hour, whatever reason you have left reminds you that you have to be patient or risk losing him entirely.

Eventually you’re able to get all the armor off but you hate the way he’s breathing right now. Slow and shallow, like he just doesn’t really need the air at all but his body is still fighting for it on instinct. His chest barely moves with it even when it’s got nothing weighing it down.

“You’ll b-be okay,” you say aloud, talking to the both of you even though only one is capable of responding. “Y-Y-You’ll be o-okay—”

You reach up to inch the temperature a little higher, shivering terribly now. His body feels slightly warmer under the shower than it did with the beskar, but you know you need to keep going and take the fabric off now. Maker, it’s nearly impossible—the black clothing clings to his skin and its such a small space to maneuver, but it gives your mind and hands a clear goal to focus on while the water incrementally heats up.

Strangely, your adrenaline has been rocketing for so long that you almost lose track of time. You just keep deadly focused on your task of undressing him and slowly heating the shower, trying not to think, trying not to get in your head and bring about disaster in such a crucial set of moments.

At some point, the water is warm. Comfortably warm, and Din’s body isn’t ice cold anymore. It’s warm, too, laying back into your chest and naked besides the helmet, but he’s still not moving. No response, no matter how much mindless drabble you supply, no matter how steamy and hot the shower has become, no matter how much your own body has heated up. Your fingers have found their home under his jaw, pressed right to his pulse point and feeling it continue to beat slow and faint, but you’re starting to feel the terror set in. Real terror, the kind that makes you stupid and emotional, the kind that turns you back into a child again.

“I don’t know if it’s working,” you suddenly choke out, close to tears. He’s warm, what else can you do for him? Why is he not waking up? “I-I don’t know what to do, Din, I…”

No—no, you cannot lose your shit, not yet. You will exhaust every fucking option before you let that fear set in. He’s not waking up because he needs to recover, his body needs time to work things out in a warm, comfortable environment. He’s breathing, his heart is beating, he’s warm, and he’s still with you, so… you need to still be with him.

You turn the water off and clumsily get up, grabbing him under the arms and hauling him back into the hull. He’s still heavy but it’s so much easier than before to move him; there’s no armor weighing him down anymore besides the helmet, no cape or snow or friction to catch him, no cold to lock your muscles up. It’s slow going but you’re finally able to settle him in the warmth of your shared bed and then cover his body in the collection of blankets you’ve amassed. You stand up and peel off all your wet layers of clothing, letting them plop to the metal floor while glancing around for the kid—

—who is currently swinging from the ladder to the cockpit with one hand.

It startles you for just a moment, just long enough for you to wonder what the fuck he thinks he’s doing up there, but then you figure that if he found some way to get up there then he can surely find his way back down again.

As you quickly drop to the bed and scoot up next to Din’s limp body under the blankets, the Crest’s engine suddenly gives a low rumble below the floor and heat starts blowing through the hull vents. Again, you’re too preoccupied to even notice the gift much. You’re tugging and tucking blankets around him and up under the metallic edge of his helmet when...

Maker, you need to take this off. If the inside is wet, it’s probably keeping his head cold while the rest of him is warm from the shower. You know it’s not a light thing—you know… you know at least a fraction of what this means. You won’t look, you won’t look unless something absolutely drastic happens and it’s completely unavoidable, but you need to take his helmet off.

You catch the shoulder furthest from you and tug at his heavy body until he’s on his side, facing you on the bed.

“Din, I have to take your helmet off,” you warn him, saying it slowly and clearly. Again, just in case. “I’m not gonna look. Nobody is gonna look—” your gaze flicks behind him to eye the baby, who is now somehow on the metal ground and waddling up to you both. He blinks enormous black eyes at you, looking between you and his father huddled together under the blankets.

“Close your eyes,” you tell him very seriously, no room for negotiating. “I know you understand me.”

It takes just a few seconds before he lifts his hands up and does exactly what you say, placing his fingers over his closed eyelids and then even so much as toddling around to face the wall. You gasp in relief, clenching your eyes firmly shut and then pulling the helmet up, making sure you catch his head before it falls with one hand while tossing the beskar somewhere in the hull with the other.

Cold. His hair is soaking wet and so cold, and his head rolls slightly as you guide it to rest in the warmest part of your neck. Your hand stays attached to the back of it, wanting to transfer every single bit of warmth from your palm to him, and your eyes open to the kid’s back as your other arm wraps around Din’s bare spine.

And then all at once, you just feel… helpless. He’s in your arms but Maker, you don’t know what else you can do. The heat is blasting, you’re warm and pressed against him under multiple blankets, the engine is slowly heating the metal floor, but his breathing. Slow. Shallow. Barely able to be felt against your neck. He’s here but he’s not. And you have no way of knowing if he’s getting closer or further away from you.

Tears start coming before you even realize. But you have nothing to say. After spending the entire time talking out loud, providing reassurances, narrating, distracting yourself—you don’t have anything anymore. The silence twists you tighter, the nothing becomes inescapable, and the sudden sob that leaves you echoes hauntingly throughout the hull. You pull his limp body as close to you as possible for comfort. Wake up. Wake up.

Your vision is watery—you don’t see it. You don’t see the kid slowly turn around and take a few steps forward. You only notice he’s there when green catches in the abstract blur, but you sniff and blink quickly to clear it. It only takes a second to see the baby’s hand, extending and pressing against the blanket covering Din’s back, and you watch with wide eyes as he closes his.

And then there’s a second. A second where you dare to hope. Where you wonder if it’s even something that can be done.

The kid lowers his hand just a moment later and stumbles back a few steps, before plopping down on the ground and slowly falling backwards. You have just enough time to see his little body inhale and exhale a few times as he sleeps, and then—

—and then Din suddenly jolts in your arms, bursting with too much life after spending too many heart wrenching moments without it.

“Shhh,” you breathe, instantly tightening your grip on the back of his head so he doesn’t pull away from you in a panic and keeping it tucked into the warmest part of your neck, right where your pulse thrums fast and present. Your eyes clench tightly shut just in case and your heart bursts with pure, blinding, heavenly relief. “Shhh sh sh, stay right here, just stay right here…”

As soon as he seems to recognize your voice and figure out that he’s not dead, his body immediately starts wreaking with shivers. You squeeze him tight to you, feeling his large, quaking frame curl inwards into you for warmth, burying his own face into your neck even further and breathing shallow but quickly now, like his body actually wants the air again. You do your best to will your blood to pump faster and provide him that relief, stretching and opening your body as much as possible to give him warmth.

And then you spend the next few hours like that. Holding him, murmuring gently to him, providing him with your body heat and stars, he fucking clings to you. He presses tight to you and trembles, and you don’t even know if he’s listening, but you keep talking. Finding words for hours, and while some of them are just different ways of saying the same thing, you say them anyway.

He’s okay. The kid is okay. Everyone is okay.

Eventually, the shivering dies down until it stops altogether. Din stays in one place and goes completely limp again, but this time he continues to breathe you in, slow and deep into the crook of your neck. Fast asleep in your arms, and you thank the good fucking Maker above for the little angel passed out on the floor behind him.

***

He has to meet with Karga in two days.

After a few more hours of holding him and making absolutely sure he’s going to be alright, that’s all you can stupidly think about.

A deadline. A very quickly approaching one.

You don’t know why. But it might have something to do with the fact that you want nothing more than to climb up into the cockpit and navigate the ship off this horrid planet, and you can’t. You’re confident that the hull and blankets are warm enough by themselves to keep Din comfortable as he recovers, and you’ve also had quite a while to regroup and get your mind thinking logically again, so you’re not worried about getting up and leaving him right now, no. That’s not the problem.

The problem is that there’s a corpse outside. You know this. You know it’s there, and you know he needs it. Nobody’s gonna take his word for just saying they’re dead, much less pay him for his services; no body, no bounty. You also know it’s probably being covered with fresh snow right now, or maybe some sort of wild animal has already gotten their teeth into it, if anything can even survive out there. And you’re the only one awake. The only one capable of going to get it.

You’ve been arguing with yourself. For about an hour, you’ve been struggling with the thought. Din is soft and warm and every breath makes you focus less on the terrifying moments that occurred and more on the need to step up once again.

In the end, it’s the kid who gives you the final push. You’re not going to leave him laying on the floor like that for any longer. Not after what he did.

You take a second, grabbing the blanket and pulling it up all the way over Din’s head as it rests warm and comfortable in your neck. You’re incredibly careful to cover his face, and even while climbing out of the warm cocoon of the bed, you keep your eyes firmly shut and continue to pull the fabric even higher, making absolutely sure you’re not going to see his face on accident. You shouldn’t, you don’t think, as long as he doesn’t jerk awake and pull it down himself, but you want to take extra precaution regardless.

After quickly yanking on some clothes, you immediately make your way over to the kid and pick him up, seeing his little mouth open as he snores—and oh, you just have to. You pull him to your chest and give him the most heartfelt, thankful embrace you can while not squishing him, before setting him down in his much more comfortable hovering blanket palace and closing the lid on it.

You know you have a very clear task now, but for just a few moments longer, you do your best to stall despite the ticking clock. You start to pick up the mess in the hull—you close the fresher door, pick up Din’s discarded armor and set it in a neat pile close to the bed, place the helmet under the vent to encourage the padding inside to dry faster, and then you collect his old armor and stuff it back into one of the storage cubbies with your toolbox.

Only, an idea suddenly occurs to you as you’re putting away the chestpiece. When you open the door to the hull, you know that a blast of cold air is going to flood the ship. The engine is still heating everything inside and making sure you don’t get trapped in the snow by continuously melting it on the outside, but you don’t want Din to start shivering again.

So you grab the dented piece of electronics you were working on and flip the power switch, feeling the capacitors slowly start to heat up inside the housing. You go back over and lift the blanket near his feet just enough to tuck the metal under it, close enough to Din that he’ll feel the same amount of warmth your body was providing him but not enough to overheat.

And then you make your way over to your bag and pull on the rest of your clothes, now exhausting almost every single clean thing you own just to make another trek through the snow. You’re in the middle of pulling on your fifth pair of pants when the thought truly sinks in.

A corpse. A dead body. That you’re actually considering going out into the worst fucking weather in the galaxy to search for, haul back to the ship, and put into carbonite. Because of a fucking deadline for an occupation very much not your own, very much not chosen by you.

You quickly walk over and leave through the door on the side of the hull before you can change your mind, slamming it shut behind you.

***

Well, it’s… It’s not too terrible, you guess.

It’s been frozen out here for hours, that’s why. It’s not bloody, not gory, not demented or malformed in any way. Tranquil almost, like the creature died in its sleep in this nightmarish landscape, perfectly at peace.

You still don’t want to get anywhere close to it, but you have to. You pull a face and slowly reach out, absolutely not thinking about the literal impossibility of it playing dead and just waiting for the moment to strike, but even still… Even if there was nothing more sinister hiding underneath the surface of this scene, it’s still… existentially fucked up. The last time you were confronted with a dead body, Din had to be the one to dispose of it—you couldn’t even think about it without threatening another wave of shock to your system.

And now you’re voluntarily grabbing the rope around one’s ankles and dragging it back down the pure white slope to the Razor Crest.

It doesn’t weigh that much and its icy exterior seems to work in your favor; it slides easily along the snow as soon as you get it moving. As the ship comes back into view, you hurry to the door and you’re just about to open it when you suddenly get the feeling that you’re forgetting something…

Oh—

It takes a few moments of searching around in the freshly fallen snow, but eventually your fingers brush metal underneath and you stand, reaching behind you to tuck the blaster into your waistband. When you’re positive you’re not going to accidentally shoot a chunk of your ass off on accident, you shove open the door and pull the body inside, before locking it tight behind you and keeping the frigid winter from touching this warm, quiet safe-haven.

There. Halfway done. You almost don’t want to look in case he wakes up unexpectedly, but then you find yourself peeking over your shoulder at the silhouette of Din’s body still passed out under the blankets and you’re thankful the squeaks and slams didn’t disturb him.

And then you take just a second to wonder if this is what it must be like for him. Minus your obvious discomfort and ickiness at beginning to haul the corpse over to the carbonite chamber, it seems like it’d be reminiscent of any other time he’s brought back a dead quarry while you and the baby slept soundly. Trying to be quiet, wanting it done and over with just to get back in bed that much faster, doing everything you can to prevent anything out there from so much as breathing on anything in here.

You do your best to hold on to the loveliness of the thought, because this part is the part you’re most anxious about.

The body needs to go into this slanted upright space so you can freeze it in carbonite. And in order to do that, you have to grab it and put it there. With your hands, you have to grab it. With your hands.

You look down at its face, calm and at peace, frozen and forever etched into that expression, and something twists in your heart. If it weren’t for the kid, that could’ve been Din. If it weren’t for the kid walking barefoot through snow, fighting an uphill battle to make sure you get to him, helping you drag him back here and then overexerting himself to make sure he’d be okay, that could’ve been Din. He drives you crazy on a consistent basis, but he came through today.

Know what? If that little squirt can save a grown man’s life twice in a few hours, then the least you can do is finish this job for all three of you and fly your asses out of here.

Weirdly enough, being frozen solid allows for way better handling than the alternative. It means you don’t actually have to touch it too much; you don’t have to deal with the limpness of death, it doesn’t seem as much like a person as it does a rigid board you’re simply moving from one place to another. You can just grab the shoulders and yank and the entire fucking thing goes with it, solid and upright, naturally wanting to lean back into the chamber so you don’t even have to hold it in place. The perfect quarry for you basically, day one stuff, as easy as it could get.

Almost done, almost done—you study the key panel on the upper-right frame before eventually pressing a few buttons, and then you step back as gas freezes and solidifies the corpse in its carbonite prison.

Yes. You’re done. You already want to take another shower just from touching it for a few seconds, but that can wait. Quickly making your way up the ladder and into the cockpit, you fire up the thrusters and then navigate the ship through and beyond the swirling white atmosphere of this dreadful fucking planet, before punching in familiar coordinates to Nevarro.

***

“Din,” you murmur, making sure you have your eyes completely covered with one hand before gently easing the blanket down from his face with the other. “Din, I want you to drink some wat—”

He jerks awake so suddenly that you hear the metal canteen fall over on the floor next to you, thank the Maker its lid is on tight. You automatically reach out to steady him, pressing your free hand to his bare chest and continuing to speak calmly and gently to reassure him, but he still scrambles to take in his surroundings after sleeping longer than he probably has in weeks.

You know what he’s seeing, even though you’re blind right now. You took time to make sure everything was settled before waking him. The hull is clean with only a single light to illuminate it, the baby is still snoozing in his closed crib, his armor is stacked in a neat pile, the blaster is put away, and you retired your makeshift blanket heater box so the only thing left is you. Freshly showered, hair dripping, offering him water, and dressed in just a thin shirt with nothing else (you ran out of things to wear).

“Wh-Where’s my h-h-helmet—” is the first thing he asks, voice broken and raspy. Stars, he needs water.

“The padding inside is wet,” you quickly supply, keeping your hand tight over the bridge of your eyes to make sure his freshly conscious mind immediately understands that you have no bad intentions. “I swear I didn’t look, and I made sure the kid didn’t either. He’s sleeping now, it’s just me—I swear nobody looked, I swear.”

You might just be saying the exact same thing over and over again and admittedly, that might be putting some weird kind of suspicion on you, but you just want to make sure he knows. Beyond a shadow of a doubt. It’s important that he knows he’s safe and that everything is okay now, even if he collapsed and spent an unknown amount of time in a purgatory where nothing was.

His body trembles under your palm, waves of shudders attacking him even after hours of keeping him as warm as possible. “Are—Are we st-still on H-Ho—H-Hoth—”

“No,” you answer. “We’re in hyperspace. Everything’s okay now, I took care of it. We’ll get to Nevarro on time.”

It’s like he takes just a few extra moments, as if he’s trying extra hard to remember before responding. “But—I d-didn’t—”

“You have four bodies for Karga,” you tell him, not letting him get too lost trying to recall something that no longer poses an issue. “I took care of it. You need rest, I only woke you up to make sure you drink some water, so please—” you blindly reach your hand out for the canteen you know has to be around here somewhere, but all you feel is…

His. Catching yours.

“Y-You took c-c-care of…” His hands are trembling harder than his voice. “Sh-shit, I’m freezing, I—”

“Drink some water,” you tell him, squeezing his fingers. “I’ll go turn off the light so you can sleep more, but you need water.”

His hand feels like it doesn’t quite want to let go of yours yet, but eventually it does and you hear the sloshing of water as the metal flask is picked up with an unsteady grip. Purposefully turning your back to him and making sure he’s not in your line of sight whatsoever, you finally let your hand drop and blink your eyes open at the wall across the hull. You hear Din shakily unscrew the lid while you stand up and find the light switch, before turning around in the pitch blackness and using his loud gulps as your guide back.

Your hands and knees are barely on the blanket when you hear him toss the empty canteen to the side and grab you, pulling you down to him.

Fuck, you’re not expecting it. You fumble in the dark but he doesn’t really give your clumsiness much of a choice—Din pulls you under the blankets like he needs you, his body craving that warmth even though his skin doesn’t feel cold at all. He hooks a strong forearm around your tummy, keeping your back pressed tight to his chest while the rest of him curls to fit every part of you, and you have to adjust the blankets yourself.

It’s not even a few seconds after you settle into position when his trembling hands jerk down to grab your shirt and yank it up. You quickly scramble to help him get you as naked as he is, feeling his palms drag greedily across the heat of your tummy and breasts before you’ve even finished wiggling the fabric over your head. The shirt lands somewhere in the darkness and you’re squeezed back against him, your hands landing on his forearms as they wrap around your waist and he clings shamelessly to you.

“You…” Din’s body still shivers every once in a while but the heat and closeness allows his voice to even out just a bit. He clears his throat and swallows, tucking his head and burying his face in your hair before trying again. “You brought back the qu-quarry?”

“Yes,” you confirm, confident in your reassurance but gentle at the same time. “It’s in carbonite.”

All you can feel or hear in response is his breathing. His heart beating steady and strong against your back.

And then Din’s arms suddenly squeeze you tight—tight. He lets out a low shaky exhale against the back of your shoulder and presses his lips to your skin. “Sweet girl.”

And he says just… so much with those two words. Slow and purposeful, the steadiest thing you’ve heard from him in hours. But the two biggest competing emotions you hear tugging at his vocal cords are gratitude and apprehension. Like he already knows that it couldn’t have been easy for you. Like he’s not taking it lightly.

You don’t want to talk about it. You don’t want to talk about anything that happened in the past few hours, not right now. “It’s okay. Please.”

This time his silence seems to be on the brink, as if he wants to say more but the extra plea you put on the end makes him hold onto his words, at least for now.

“How d-did you find me?” He asks instead, scooting his legs up enough that yours actually go with him. Cradled in his naked body, radiating heat so he can recover, pressed so close to him that you feel like gravity itself would be pushing you into his lap if the world weren’t sideways.

“The kid,” you tell him. “We were goofing around outside and he dragged me ov—”

It’s like he’s still so cold that even just the surprise of hearing you say that makes his whole body lock down and convulse a few times against your back. “You were wh-what?”

“I was practicing,” you openly admit to him, feeling like the earlier events already occurred a lifetime ago and you have no reason for being shy about it anymore. In fact, you’re glad you were there, being terrible at shooting. The alternative is unthinkable. Though, something tells you also improbable, having a little supernatural sidekick who cares so deeply for him. “I raided your armory. We weren’t outside for more than five minutes before I wanted to go back in, but then he found you.”

And you think he’s going to get after you, for some reason. Seems about on par, you figure—going outside for even just a few minutes on a planet whose name you now remember is colloquial slang for hell, even if it’s the only reason he’s not an icicle right now.

But he’s just quiet. Breathing. So you just relax into him, thinking that’s the end of it. You take a few deep breaths in through your nose and just… rest. In the near perfect silence of hyperspace you used to find haunting, but now only find comfort in. It reminds you of him.

“Did you hit the target?” He asks you quietly, and at first you scoff, about to ask if he’s kidding. No, of course you didn’t hit the…

Only, after a remarkable delay, hearing him phrase it that way suddenly makes your stomach decide to drop and do a fucking somersault on the ground out of absolutely nowhere.

Everything comes flooding back. The conflict you used to think was the most pressing thing, the one that kept you awake and your thoughts scrambled for hours. It feels like it was ages ago. An entire lifetime has passed since that happened, you might’ve forgotten it altogether if he didn’t decide to ask that very simple question in a very specific way.

“I…” you mumble in response, your heart suddenly pounding. “Not… not yet.”

Okay, that’s a good answer. It’s the truth and you’re giving nothing away by saying that. So now what is he going to say? What is he going to say? You spoke your piece, it’s his turn now, that’s how conversations work. Well typically, that’s how conversations work—but with Din… you probably should’ve known.

He falls back into silence almost immediately, appearing to accept your answer just the way it is without anything else to add. You feel his heart continue to beat strong against your back, but there’s something too tense about his stillness that doesn’t imply he’s relaxing anymore. His body goes slightly taut, but not from the lingering chill in his bones.

He’s going to make you ask him, you realize. He’s waiting until you confront him about his choice in words at the shooting range. Which means he wasn’t just joking around. He wasn’t just messing with you.

“Din…” you whisper uncertainly, and his face suddenly finds its way into the crook of your neck as soon as the word leaves your mouth, arms tightening up around you. You spent forever trying to find the words to even bring this up, and here he is, already knowing exactly what you’re asking just by the tone of your voice. Still, you ask anyway, sounding small and so unsure of yourself in the darkness. “Why did you say that? On Tatooine, why did you…”

Din’s chest expands against your back with a long, slow breath, and then he lets it out against your neck, hot enough to raise goosebumps all over your body.

“I… don’t know,” he admits, voice muffled and quiet, but it’s not… casual. Not like he’s brushing you off or indicating he doesn’t want to talk about it, but like it’s actually a complete fucking mystery to him, just as much as it is to you. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know…” you repeat slowly.

“You had said something,” he mutters, shifting just a bit behind you. His palm slides up your bare tummy, stopping in the warm spot just under the swell of your breast. “Earlier that day. I thought about it, and then I just… s-said it.”

You? Said something that made him ask that?

“What?” You blurt out, genuinely startled and having no fucking clue. “What did I say?”

“Something about…” He gives the smallest shudder from behind you, and you don’t actually know if this one is from the cold. “Not wanting anyone else to know me the way you do.”

Your heart rapidly kicks up and you flush, hating how unbelievably possessive your own words sound coming out of his mouth. “Oh shit, I… I didn’t mean for that to be… that sounds so bad, Din, I swear I didn’t mean for it to—”

He cuts you off by clutching you tighter, burying his face deeper into your neck and breathing out shakily. “Tell me you meant every word.”

You blink a couple of times in the pitch black before sighing, letting go of any charade or front you think about putting up for him to save some dignity. “I meant it.”

Because it’s the truth. You said it when you were caught off guard, throwing it out to him along with other mindless drabble that came from a place that was very real. You don’t like the way you phrased it, but you meant it. You do mean it. Every word.

If there weren't so many things still left unsaid right now, you might actually worry he fell asleep on you. Din loosens up considerably after you admit it, letting go of more tightness you didn’t even know was inside him. His head slowly drops from the crook of your neck to the back of it and he breathes hot air on your nape, quiet for a long time.

And, you suppose you’d actually be okay with it if that was the end of the conversation. There are, of course, millions of things left to ask. But he doesn’t know the answers, just as much as you’re left clueless about the questions. You’re not expecting him to elaborate anymore, and if he’s waiting for you to ask, he’ll be waiting a long time. Soon your eyes close and you almost feel yourself beginning to drift. It’s been such a rough day today and to just be here in his arms, it’s more than enough for you.

But then his low baritone comes through the darkness.

“In Mando’a,” Din’s voice suddenly whispers against your skin, “the verb, kar’taylir… it means to know. Su kar’tayli, you know, kaysh kar’tayli, they know. Ni ke kar’tayl nu… I don’t know.”

Your eyes pop open and you immediately forget all about sleep, wide awake and suddenly hanging onto every word as it rolls so gently off his tongue. You’ve never heard the language spoken aloud, you’ve never heard anything about the Mandalorians directly from one before. All of the stories seem sensationalized, passed down by word of mouth and chipping away at the kernel of truth until it disappears completely.

“The language is dying,” Din continues, murmuring soft and gentle along your nape. “By the time I learned it, too many words had been lost. The ones left were the ones that were needed.”

“What do you mean?” You whisper, almost afraid of breaking the quiet. Not wanting him to feel distracted or pressed, but needing to express your curiosity lest you somehow overflow with it.

“There are only three pronouns,” he answers slowly, and you’re already fucking fascinated. “Ni, for I or we. Su is you or you all, and kaysh is third person. Subjective, objective, possessive, singular, plural—doesn’t matter. Three words, for every individual or collective in the entire galaxy.”

You blink in the darkness, your logic telling you that it sounds so simple it’d become confusing and then your logic also telling you that doesn’t actually make any fucking sense at all. If that’s true, it’s unbelievable. How do they differentiate? Just context?

“How do you distinguish?” You ask him. Admittedly, you don’t know much about linguistics—not anywhere near the extent he does, but it seems so counterintuitive. I can’t be the same word for we, the amount of misunderstandings would be a nightmare.

“We… don’t need to,” he explains to you, slowly, like nobody has ever asked him these things before and so he’s unsure how to phrase it. “Individuality isn’t valued, it’s not a concept.”

And… you almost can’t wrap your head around it. “What do you mean?” You ask again, knowing you’re sounding like a broken record without specifying more, but trying with your whole heart to understand.

“I mean… we swear oaths to never reveal our faces,” Din tells you, something you shouldn’t need to be reminded of. “We abandon our names. We become… whispers, of the same voice. There’s not many words in Mando’a with a unique meaning, almost all of them are homonyms. Interchangeable. Transient.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, suddenly blown away by the implication. Almost all of them are homonyms? How in Maker’s name are you even supposed to communicate at that point? That’s… unthinkable.

“Most words have two meanings?” You clarify, wanting to be absolutely sure you’re getting it right.

“Most have five or six,” he returns, and you’re downright shocked now. “Everything just depends.”

“Stars…” You breathe, moving a palm up the length of his forearm and holding the back of his hand with it. Fuck, you hope this is the direction he’s intending instead of veering him off course, but you’re incredibly invested. “What else does, uh… kay—er, kar… kar’taylir mean?”

Din lets out a slow breath from behind you, and you can… you can feel his own heart beating faster when it presses up against your spine at the apex of his inhale. “It’s… a rare word, it only has two meanings.”

You bite your lip and start to feel butterflies in your stomach for some reason. Slowly, his hand begins to travel up your breast and then to your sternum before heading just the slightest bit left, and your own hand moves with him.

“To know,” Din says quietly, “but also… to care very deeply for.” He doesn’t stop until his palm presses right above the rapidly pounding organ in your chest. “To hold in the heart.”

“To know,” you swallow thickly, curling your fingers around his hand and praying he’s saying what you think he is, “or… to love?”

“When Mandalorian’s take vows, there’s no ceremony,” he whispers into the back of your neck. “No witnesses, no celebrations. We just take our helmets off in front of the other and look. It doesn’t sound like much, but… our secrecy is our survival. Letting someone see our face and swearing lifelong devotion to them, it’s the same thing. To know is to love.”

Your eyes close tight and your lungs empty themselves, too full of emotion to even fit oxygen inside you anymore. Din’s lips press feather soft behind your neck, and now you’re the one shivering uncontrollably. The move up and trail along your neck in the darkness.

“Ni kar'tayl su,” he murmurs, shifting back just slightly and pulling at your shoulder. “I know you.”

You go with him, facing the ceiling as he fits his head under your throat and places slow, open mouth kisses down the curve of it.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” he goes on quietly, his voice starting to sound raspy again, dragging his hand down your torso while his lips brush your collarbone. “For an eternity, I’ll know you.”

Water wets the corners of your lashes and you inhale three or four times before exhaling, shallow hiccups and desperate for air.

“Ni ke vaabi nu kaysh ke kar’taylir su te ni kar’tayl su.” Din says, slowly moving his mouth back up when your fingers tangle in his hair and beg him to come that way. The words dance along your skin as he whispers them, forever searing themselves into your memory. You can’t see them, you’ll never have a visual to reminisce upon, but you’ll know how they felt. Right under your ear, brimming with quiet devotion. “I don’t want anyone else to know you… the way I know you.”

Your face goes blazing hot at the sound of him translating your own rushed and half-assed sentence into something gorgeous and flowing, something that sounds so much more beautiful than when you blurted it out earlier. You told him you loved him in that hangar, right to his face. Unashamed and stupid about it, but meaning it with every part of your body.

“I knew you’d say no,” he finally admits, staying in this one spot. Unmoving. Telling you the truth, allowing you to know it. “I just wanted to… say it.”

That… that makes sense to you. The last part does, at least, it makes so much sense to you. The first time you said you loved him, you said it just to say it. You wanted to feel the words, sound them out even if neither one of you could hear them. It felt freeing, like coming to accept a universal truth.

The first part, though. You’re still behind. “You knew I’d say no?” You ask him, feeling him ease back just slightly. Staring down at you through the pitch black, even if he can’t see either. Keeping his palm over your heart as the ship hurdles through nowhere and everywhere at once.

“You wouldn’t take my first name without convincing,” he reasons quietly, and then moves back to lay in the blankets once more, leaving the rest unspoken.

But he’s… oh stars, he’s so right. If he’s going to take his helmet off and let you see his face—if he’s going to commit to you that way, it is not going to be because you shoot a blaster correctly. Not after today, not after what he’s told you.

So you move up to your elbow and turn to face him, trying to let him know why even if he’s already guessed the what correctly.

“I want it to mean something,” you say after a moment. “I want it to… have the meaning it’s supposed to have.”

Your palm finds its way to his chest in the silence following. Right over the beating of his heart, feeling it thrum hard and rhythmic while he considers his response.

“This is The Way,” Din finally murmurs, settling his hand over yours, and you repeat the words back to him. Respecting them. Feeling like, for the very first time, they now apply to you in some way instead of belonging to some mysterious creed you’ll never know anything about.

But when a shudder subtly rockets up and down his body, you realize the blankets have been pulled down with the changing positions and his whole torso is bare and exposed to the hull. So you pull them up until you’re both covered again, before you lean down and press a soft kiss to his shoulder.

Din shudders again when your mouth opens and the hot glide of your tongue catches his skin, but you know it’s not from the cold this time. His breathing deepens while you slowly move over him. You ease him further on his back and let him keep feeling the warmth of your mouth on his body, alleviate the lingering chill by sucking gentle hickeys into his skin and feeling the goosebumps raise under your tongue. He moves with you; he stretches his neck when you want to nibble his collarbone, arches when you mouth down his chest, shifts his elbow to let you drag your tongue along his ribcage.

And… and it’s as if all the stars and systems hold even more still for you than the relative physics of faster-than-light travel can explain away by themselves. You’ve always felt timeless in here, living from one fleeting eternity to the next, suspended in perpetuity while the rest of the galaxy ages without you. But when you’re with him and it’s pitch black and there’s no light to streak across your vision, no evidence that time and space have all but disconnected from each other just to let your insignificant little bodies through… it’s like you’re meant to be here. In some strange, unexplainable way, you feel like you could’ve died out there with him in the frozen wasteland today and this is exactly where you’d still end up, no matter what.

To know is to love.

“Do you have brown eyes?” You hear yourself whisper under his jaw, and you feel Din’s fingers thread in your hair and ease you up enough to brush his lips against your chin.

“Yes,” he whispers back, and then his mouth is on yours.

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

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purplelupins · 2 years

Text

@monster-energies Here is your request!! I LOVED this one. I truly hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Much love!!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Nothings Going to Hurt You.

It had been far too long since y/n had visited Diagon Alley. A few years at least- probably her last year at Hogwarts when she collected her school supplies. The busyness always turned her off from going there in the school time. The off season in the winter was nicer; less people and more relaxed merchants. The only downside was that today, apparently everyone decided to be there. It was packed to the brim with witches and wizards alike.

Y/n clutched to the sleeve of the man guiding her through the crowd. With him, the people parted like the sea. Partly because of his height and demeanour, mostly because his reputation preceded him. Professor Severus Snape. The Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Some gasped when they saw the couple walking so intimately- mostly current and ex-students that couldn’t believe the cold potions professor had a partner as stellar and radiant as y/n l/n.

Since the day y/n laid eyes on him, she fell under a spell. Was he intimidating? Yes. Was he cruel? Yes. But did he have a dry sense of humour and a calmness that made her sigh? Yes and yes. The point is, by the time y/n had graduated, she was smitten with the one and only Severus Snape.

“Are you doing alright, my darling?”

Y/n snapped out of her thoughts and looked up at handsome man she loved. He was still walking through the crowd, but he turned back to her, just to make sure she was fairing alright with the mass of people. So far she was fine, but she kept close to Severus, clutching at his long black cloak. It made him grin when he felt her little hands holding onto him. She was always safe with him.

“I’m okay, Severus! Are we almost there?” Came her reply. He had an errand to run for the school year, a batch of Acromantula venom had come in to the Apothecary shop and Severus had placed an order. He had been terribly excited that he was practically dragging y/n out the door of their house that morning.

“We’re here.” He announced. Y/n hated this particular shop- it was old and creepy inside. Cobwebs everywhere, and specimens that looked about 50 years past their due dates. “That’s what makes them perfect for potions.” Severus would tell her. The last time she came in with him, however, the shop keeper joked that he would sell her. Severus did not like that. Since then, she would wait for him outside.

Severus turned around and placed his warm hand on y/n’s cheek, “I’ll be back as soon as I can, my love. Stay close.” He murmured to her. Y/n gave him a small smile and nodded. Severus knew she hated crowds, he hated leaving her but it was either that or possibly cutting out the tongue of that shopkeeper. Damn him for having the best ingredients.

He disappeared into the dark shop, y/n let out a sigh and tried to stay as close to the door as she could. The vast amount of people bustling around her made it very difficult. People kept stepping on her feet and bumping into her like she was invisible. Of course the Apothecary had to be in one of the tightest spots of Diagon Alley. Y/n decided to try and get to Flourish and Bolts; it was a familiar spot where y/n felt safer, and it wasn’t terribly far. It was next on their list to visit anyway so Severus would likely go there to find her.

Y/n took a deep breath a started to push through the sea of people. The roar of chatter and footsteps rang in her ears- it was deafening. The further she went, the tighter her chest felt, her breathing became laboured and her vision began to darken at the edges. Every breath was horribly difficult to catch. Face after face, y/n was knocked off course. She started to panic.

Flourish and Bolts was right in front of her; she sat down on the bench just outside, her chest heaving. People started to stop and ask her if she was okay. Y/n couldn’t talk. The voices around her started to cloud together. Her mind was blank. All there was, was a high-pitched ringing in her ears.

She was dizzy.

Her heart drummed in her head.

“OUT OF MY WAY. MOVE.”

“Y/n? Y/n look at me- for the love of Merlin, stand BACK!”

Y/n felt large hands on her cheeks, brushing her hair away. She knew those hands. They were gentle and calloused.

“Breathe, y/n, breathe. You’re safe.”

The ringing slowly faded.

Y/n blinked and unclenched her jaw.

She look up from her hands, and met with the eyes that bewitched her daily.

“S-Severus?” She managed, voice still shaking.

“That’s it, darling, focus on my voice. I’ve got you.” He took her hands and rubbed his thumbs slowly across her knuckles.

Y/n felt her breathing return to normal, her chest hurt.

“How are you, my dear?” Severus was crouched in front of her, gazing at her. He was worried but did his best to hide it for her. All he needed at that moment was for her to be alright.

She took a deep breath.

“ I’m…I’m alright now.” She looked down, timid. She felt awful for worrying him, “ I’m so sorry Severus, I just wanted to get away from the people but it was so busy and I got turned around and I-I-“ Her chest started heaving.

“Shhh, it’s alright. You don’t have to explain what happened, little one. Can you walk?” He slipped his finger under her chin and tilted it up for her to face him.

“Yes, yes I can walk.”

The potions master took her small hands in his and guided her to stand. She was still uneasy so he wrapped one arm around her shoulders and held her other hand in his opposite. She was his most precious possession and he wouldn’t dare let her fall.

As they started to leave, Severus leaned down to her ear and whispered, “How about we visit Obscurus Books then get you to Flourean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor, hmm?”

A shiver went down y/n’s spine at his deep timbered voice, only half registering what he had said. It was an old ritual of theirs to visit the two shops.

Y/n’s chest grew warm with happiness, her nerves disappearing with every step they took. Severus towered over the crowd so they almost never had to excuse themselves.

He always new how to distract her from the aftermath of her panic attacks. Something in his voice called to her like a siren in the fog when she couldn’t focus on anything. Severus was always there for her.

“I could never say no to that, Sev.” She smiled.

It had been awhile that she wanted to visit Obscurus- they had just got in a most beautiful, ornate limited edition copy of “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.”, and y/n had been pining for it for months.

“Then hold tight,little one.” He tightened his grip on her, almost shielding her from anyone even touching her. He was like her guardian angel. The thought made her smile.

The door to the book shop was always open and felt so welcoming. It was definitely their favourite spot- Flourish and Bolts was always so packed with students that you couldn’t even enjoy the experience. Here, it was quiet and you could spend hours with no one bothering you. Severus knew exactly where his darling girl was headed once they entered, so he followed her silently, a smirk pulling at his lips as she found the copy of her book. A little squeal of excitement came from her as she held it with her own hands. It was beautiful. Hardback cover, and the gold illustrations on the front were charmed to move and wander around the cover. It glowed. It was beyond what y/n had thought.

She turned around, smiling ear to ear, and looked up at Severus. He looked at it with interest. It wasn’t his first choice but this edition was truly mesmerizing. He grinned at her.

“I trust you like it, my dear?” He murmured.

“It’s so beautiful, Severus.” She said in awe. She had saved up to get it as it cost an arm and a leg.

“Let’s go, then.” He placed his hand on the small of y/n’s back, guiding her to the shop counter. She handed it over happily and waited for the shop keeper to wrap it up. Before y/n could put her coins on the counter, Severus beat her to it.

“Put those away, y/n.” He said simply.

Y/n gawked at him, “No Severus, what are-“

“Nonsense. Yes that’s all, thank you.” Severus kept facing the shopkeeper, then glanced at y/n out of the corner of his eye and smirked.

Y/n gathered her parcel like a child in a candy store. She practically bounced outside and all the way to the ice cream shop. It was cold outside already but she never cared, especially not now. Severus watched his darling, enjoying her spirit.

What an exquisite little thing she is.

The cold treat barely lasted y/n five minutes, she devoured it quickly.

“Did you even taste that?” Severus laughed a little at her face. Some cream was on her nose and it took all his self control to not lick it off.

“I did and it was delicious!” She grinned happily.

He shook his head.

Beautiful girl.

Their day had extended into the evening, and their arms were full. Y/n insisted they visit as many shops as they could; new robes for Severus, some new equipment too. Then some books and sweets for the house.

At home, y/n laid everything out on the living room table as they sat on the couch.

“-and this one is going to look so handsome on you- it’s some wool mix…cashmere I think. It’s nice a light so you’ll still be able to march around the halls and terrify the new students,” Y/n laughed, Severus grinned, not really paying attention to her words, “Oh I want to try these, I think they’re some kind of chocolate truffle or…no that was these ones over here. Wait.” Scratched her head, staring down at four chocolate boxes.

All Severus Snape could pay attention to was the young woman by his side. She had one leg hooked over his and her sweet smell was all he could breathe in. He was dizzy on her.

“Sev do you want to go through what you got?” She turned to him.

A soft grin pulled up his lips.

“Why don’t you do it for me, my dear?” He whispered to her. She nodded happily.

Y/n continued listing everything and trying to sort it into some unknown categories. She was bewitching to watch. The glow in her face, the glitter in her eyes in the light of the fireplace.

His gorgeous darling.

His kind sweetheart.

His everything.

His.

#severus snape x reader #professor severus snape #severus snape #harry potter imagine #reader insert #fluff #Severus is an angel #anxiety

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bobateastay · 3 years

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kiss it better - jeong yunho

jeong yunho x gender neutral!reader

cw - sickfic, fluff, lots of comfort, established relationship, crying, puke, reader has food poisoning, other members make an appearance

word count: 2.1k

taglist: @pikacuuuuuuu @lovely-ateez @sunsethw4 @xirenex @seonghwanotes

You didn’t get sick often which, of course, was a good thing because who liked being sick? It was a pain and meant that you had to stay home from work and since you lived alone that wasn’t something you were ever excited for. But, as you came to learn upon waking up with a fuzzy head and cramping stomach, there were downsides to having a near-perfect immune system too. Mainly being that you had no supplies for being sick at all. As if that wasn’t bad enough there was no frozen or easy-to-cook food in your small apartment either, meaning you had no choice but to leave the apartment at some point.

After a while of deliberation (which was mostly you struggling to keep your eyes open and form a coherent thought) you slumped down in a chair at the kitchen table and promptly fell asleep. When you woke up it was a few hours later and you were feeling at least a hundred times worse. You were still swaddled in pyjamas and a blanket, meaning your body was sticky all over with sweat and as though the pain in your stomach earlier hadn’t been bad enough, there was now an awful pounding in your head that made it hard to sit up straight.

Despite your mind being jumbled as you clumsily stripped yourself of your sweat-soaked clothes, you managed to get to the bathroom before you started to puke, dropping to your knees with a thud that made you whimper. Once you’d managed to get up enough watery bile to settle the discomfort in your stomach, you made quick work of brushing your teeth and getting dressed, desperate to get to somewhere with food and medication as quickly as you possibly could.

You made it about half of the way there before you realised you were dragging yourself to your boyfriend’s dorm, your eyes welling with tears when you did realise it. You sniffled softly as you wiped at your face with clammy, shaking hands, trying not to attract too much attention from the other people on the bus. You were trying to get to the pharmacy weren’t you? When did you change plans to go to the dorm? A hiccup left you at the same time as a rather loud sob but you were feeling too feverish to be embarrassed, stumbling off of the bus and finally pressing the buzzer to your boyfriend’s dorm.

“Hello?” Hongjoong’s voice answered. You drew in a deep breath to steady your voice before you spoke.

“Hongjoong it’s- it’s me, I’m sick and I didn’t have any food at home,” you managed to get out in a rush before a sob broke you off. “Please can I come up?”

“Yeah of course,” he answered, his voice soft with sympathy. “I’ll send Seonghwa down.”

The sight of Seonghwa as he opened the door sent a fresh wave of desperation over you, thick tears rolling down your cheeks as he pulled you inside, his arm wrapping around your waist to keep you walking.

“What hurts? Is it a cold? Did you throw up?” he asked, all of his questions coming out at once as he pulled you into the elevator. You shuddered, trying to thank him for how gentle he was as you leaned into his hand lightly petting the top of your head, but only managed to whimper quietly. It was only when Seonghwa opened the front door to their apartment that the full weight of your nausea and fever hit you. You leaned your body against one of the walls as you felt Seonghwa help you take your shoes off, Hongjoong appearing with a worried look in his eyes. “Yunho’s not here right now but he’ll be back soon.”

“He’s not here?” you asked softly, voice trembling. You hadn’t even come here to see him, had you? It had just been instinct, right? The way your chest grew tight and more sobs bubbled up from your throat proved that okay, maybe you hadn’t come here on purpose but you had definitely come here to see Yunho. Seonghwa sighed quietly, pulling you into a gentle hug before guiding you into their living room, letting you settle down on their sofa.

“Did you throw up?” he asked once again once your crying had settled down into occasional sniffles. You nodded and he sighed softly, letting the back of his hand rest against your forehead for a moment, all the while chewing on his bottom lip. “Hongie do we have anything for fevers?”

Hongjoong hummed from the kitchen, quiet for a moment as he opened a couple of cupboards.

“Yeah, we have ibuprofen,” Hongjoong called back. “Should we make soup?”

“Have you eaten?” Seonghwa asked, smiling a little when you shook your head. “We’ll make you some food and then you can take some medicine, okay?”

You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut as a pang of pain shot through your head.

“Yunho?” you asked, voice so quiet that Seonghwa almost missed it.

“Yunho will be here soon,” he reassured you, patting your forehead gently before leaving you to go about making you something to eat.

With that, the rest of the day into the late afternoon passed by smoothly. Seonghwa sat with you while you ate soup after Hongjoong left to work at his studio, explaining that (luckily for you) most of them had the day off today but that the others had headed over to the company building to practise anyway. He sat himself at the kitchen table after you fell asleep on the sofa, giving the medication some time to work and hoping that your stomach would settle enough that you wouldn’t throw up any time soon. The peaceful silence that had settled over the apartment lasted a little over two hours before the front door opened and the apartment was instantly filled with the loud chattering and laughter of people coming home.

“Seonghwa,” Wooyoung called out in his usual sing-song voice, startled when the eldest appeared in front of them almost instantly. “Awe, did you miss us?”

“Please be quiet,” he said, trying to keep his voice firm without raising it too much. He looked over them - it was only Yunho, Mingi and Wooyoung (how on earth could just three people make so much noise?).

“Why are you speaking so quietly?” Mingi asked, the three of them making their way forward into the apartment. “Is someone sleeping here?”

Their conversation was interrupted by a soft whine from the sofa, your head peeking up over the back of it. Yunho’s eyes widened at the sight of you, taking in the layer of sweat on your face and the way your hair was sticking to your forehead slightly.

“Baby?” he called out, making his way over to you. He kneeled down beside the sofa, his brow creased with worry as he rested a hand on your cheek. “What’s wrong, are you sick?”

You opened your mouth to speak but only managed to inhale a small breath before you were clambering off of the sofa and over Yunho in a rush to get to the bathroom. You didn’t hear Yunho come into the bathroom after you, the sound of your gagging too loud for your already aching head, but you felt one of his hands rubbing circles into your back while the other rested on your forehead. His voice was gentle beside you and although you could barely decipher what he was saying, it was comforting nonetheless.

When you leaned back from the toilet, once again too exhausted to be embarrassed by the situation, Yunho flushed it and carefully pulled you up from the floor. His lips met your forehead in a gentle kiss and when you opened your eyes there was a small frown on his face.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked, at the sound of which you leaned forward into him, hugging him as tightly as you could with your muscles being so sore.

“I didn’t mean to come here, I just ended up here,” you explained, shutting your eyes at the feeling of his hand rubbing your back. “I wasn’t feeling well when I got here so I waited for you.”

You couldn’t see it from where your face was squashed against his shoulder but Yunho’s eyes were practically sparkling, a fond smile on his lips.

“I’m here now. You can call me doctor Jeong Yunho, I’ll kiss it all better,” he teased, his smile growing into a grin when you snorted. “And right now doctor Jeong Yunho is prescribing you with a bath because you’re just a little bit stinky.”

A long whine left you but Yunho quickly shushed you, patting your butt the same way he knew people did with crying babies. It seemed to work because your whine quickly trailed off into silence.

“You left some clothes behind last time you were here so just undress and I’ll come help you, yeah?”

You nodded, grabbing his sleeve before he opened the door to leave. He looked at you with questioning eyes, grinning when you pointed at your forehead. He pressed a kiss to where you’d pointed before leaving to get your clothes and a clean towel. When he came back you were already sitting in the bathtub, shivering and sweaty as you waited for Yunho to start the water.

The two of you had showered together before but you’d never bathed each other, so the experience of having Yunho kneel outside of the tub and carefully soap and wash your body was a new but not unpleasant one. He was careful while washing your hair, washing the shampoo out of your eyes so that it wouldn’t sting and he took the time to squeeze your tired muscles, a look of concentration on his face that you usually only saw when he was gaming or at work.

Some of the water did slosh over the side of the tub though (not too much thankfully, otherwise Yunho would’ve been soaked) and he let you put a pile of soapy bubbles onto the top of his head. The sleepy grin that spread over your lips as you did so made Yunho’s heart almost ache with love. He drained the tub and wrapped you up in the fluffy clean towel, drying your hair the best he could while you remained seated on the toilet, your head occasionally dropping forward as you fell asleep.

“Wake up,” he murmured in your ear, kissing your cheek when you started to stir awake. “Doctor Yunho’s gonna dress you now.”

“Is this some weird kink you never told me about?” you mumbled in your half-asleep state, making Yunho both blush and giggle.

“We can find out when you’re not borderline dying,” he joked, helping you get into the spare clothes he’d found for you. Once you were dressed it was just a matter of helping you brush your teeth before he led you off to his room, letting you stop to greet the others on the way there.

“Is everything okay?” Seonghwa asked with a small pout. Yunho smiled at how you’d managed to worm your way into his members’ hearts.

“Yeah, nothing that some sleep and medicine won’t fix,” Yunho called back before finally getting you into his room. He was thankful then that he had a bottom bunk and didn’t have to worry about lifting you up to the top one. As you settled down in his bed Yunho poked through the assortment of stuffed animals on San’s bed, picking out a particularly soft one and handing it to you. “You can borrow this from Sannie.”

“He won’t be mad?” you asked, even though you’d already tucked the plushie away underneath your arm. Yunho grinned and lay down beside you, pulling you closer to him.

“You don’t trust my skills in protecting you from San?” he joked, running his fingertips over your cheeks and forehead, clicking his tongue when he noticed that you were still too warm. “You should’ve called me straight away instead of coming all the way here alone.”

You nodded in agreement, face pulled into a slight grimace at the discomfort that was still aching in your entire body.

“I have you now though,” you murmured with a satisfied sigh. Yunho couldn’t help but smile, nudging you to turn onto your other side so that he could hug you from behind, your back flush against his chest as his legs tangled with yours. This time a satisfied sigh left both of you simultaneously, Yunho’s lips finding the back of your neck.

“Sleep baby,” he murmured, lips turning upward when one of your hands rested over his own.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you too,” he replied with another soft kiss to your neck before shutting his eyes.

#ateez x reader #jeong yunho x reader #ateez fluff #jeong yunho fluff #ateez fanfic #jeong yunho fanfic #ateez fic #jeong yunho fic #ateez imagines #jeong yunho imagines #ateez scenarios #jeong yunho scenarios #fluff

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itsdanii · 3 years

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Hello. I loved the rejecting then regretting it scenario with Sakusa and Tsukki. 💞💞 Would you be open to doing one with Inarizaki boys as well? If it's too much, Atsumu would do because I think he is the one most likely to have this happen. Angst to fluff, please. 👉👈 Thank you!

Rejecting you and Regretting it pt. 2

a/n: hey, bub. as much as i wanted to input all inarizaki boys, i only take 1-2 characters per request. the reason for this is for me to avoid being repetitive with the scenes. i hope you understand. that being said, here's your request for the part 2 with atsumu. this was supposed to be short but i kind of got carried away with this, 'm sorry😭

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: cursing, rude behavior (resolved), please do remind me if i missed anything else

ft. atsumu miya

Atsumu Miya

You met Atsumu during your first year

It was exactly the first day when you bumped into him on the hallways and ended up being in the same class

From there on, the both of you formed a good friendship since you have the same tastes in things

Along the way, you managed to fall for him

It wasn't impossible to fall for him after all

He was fun to be with, that it felt as if there were no dull moments when you're with him

But you were afraid of confessing to him because you didn't want to ruin your friendship

However, that all changed when somebody entered the picture

"Another one?" you asked Atsumu as he sat on your usual table at the school's cafeteria.

Looking at the two boxes of chocolates given to him by a fangirl, Atsumu nodded. "Mhmm. They just keep on coming every single day."

You can't help but laugh at what he said. You took one of the boxes and stared at the familiar name written on it. "Yuki again? Isn't she that girl from the other section? The one who kept on giving you stuff every day?" you asked and the smile you had awhile ago completely disappeared from your face.

"The one and only. She's kind of cute though," he said as if it wasn't a big deal.

Maybe for him, it wasn't, but it's a different case for you. You were aware of what you're getting into the moment you realized that you have feelings for Atsumu. At first, his fangirls didn't bother you since you knew that he doesn't really pay attention to them but hearing what Atsumu said just now sparked a feeling of jealousy inside of you.

You knew that what you're feeling right now is selfish. He isn't your boyfriend. Sure, you might've been in love with him for 2 years now but that doesn't mean that you have the right to tell him who he should and shouldn't date, right? After all, you're just his friend.

In fact, you've thought of confessing several times already but fear always overtook you. Afraid of ruining the bond the two of you have, you disregarded the idea and settled on keeping your feelings a secret.

But that might change today. Seeing Atsumu smiling at the chocolates right now made you think that if you don't do something about it now, you might just lose him to another girl.

And you'd rather lose him by getting rejected than lose him to another girl, knowing that you didn't do something.

"You think she's cute?"

Atsumu nodded as he swallowed the whole onigiri Osamu packed for him. "Mhmm. Kind of my type actually."

You tilted your head a bit to the side and rested your cheek on your palm with your elbows placed on top of the table. "So cute girls are your type of girls... What about me, 'Tsumu? Do you think I'm cute?"

Atsumu placed his chopsticks down and stared at you intently, a small grin now forming on his lips. "Of course."

"Cute enough to be your type?"

You knew that you were playing a dangerous game but it was now or never. This time you wouldn't let fear win over you, now that Atsumu mentioned that his attention was caught by someone.

You know Yuki. She's pretty and kind of popular for being a member of the cheerleading team, and the more you thought about it, the more your confidence wavered.

A volleyball player and a cheerleader? What a good match.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Atsumu laughing. "What are ya saying, y/n? Did ya hit yer head or something?"

Crossing your arms over your chest to fake confidence, you frowned at him. "Just answer the question, Miya."

"Of course yer cute but to be my type?" He shook his head and scratched the back of his head. "Sorry, angel, but I don't date my friends, let alone someone whom I consider my best friend."

You took a deep breath before finally letting the words out. Your heart was beating erratically as cold sweat started forming on your nape out of nervousness.

"I like you, Atsumu. I tried to hold myself back because I didn't want to ruin our friendship but hearing you talk about how someone finally managed to catch your attention just..." You sighed and looked down at your lap. "I don't think I can hide it anymore knowing that I could lose you anytime."

Silence enveloped the two of you and the anticipation made you more anxious than you already was.

"Was this yer plan all along?"

You turned your gaze towards him upon hearing his words. "What do you mean? I don't know what you're talking about.."

You felt yourself freeze when Atsumu chuckled before answering. "Ya really think I'd fall for the same trick? C'mon y/n. I'm not as stupid as what people say."

"I don't understand-"

"Did'ya think that two years of friendship will let ya accomplish yer goal? I didn't expect ya to be like the other girls. Ya don't like me. Ya just like the idea of dating me for my popularity."

Your lips parted at his words. You wanted to reason out and defend yourself but the way he was looking at you made you almost cower in fear.

He's looking at you the way he looks at his fangirls when they shout during his services.

"Tsumu, that's not true. I really like you." You gave him a pleading look, hoping that he'd see your sincerity but he only glared at you.

"Pathetic. Get out of my sight," he said without any sympathy.

"You could've just rejected me like a normal person would, instead of insulting me." You wiped your tears with the back of your hand as you stood up but before you left, you looked at him straight in the eyes once more. "You know what? Out of the two of us, I'm not the one who's pathetic. It's you. Goodluck on your game tomorrow, Atsumu."

You walked away without turning back, knowing that once you spared him another glance, you'd go back and fight for your feelings.

But what's the point of fighting when you're the only one who's willing to fight?

A week later, you were back to your usual attitude or at least that's what you wanted yourself to believe. At least you're trying, right?

There were times that your eyes would drift towards Atsumu's direction but you kept on reminding yourself that you won't be able to move on unless you really put effort on throwing away your feelings.

When classes ended, you were left alone in your classroom due to cleaning duties. While you were sweeping the part near the door, you managed to catch Atsumu's back and saw that he was talking to someone - it was Yuki.

You stared at his back longingly and let out a sigh because you knew that despite how much you're trying to disregard your feelings, you miss the feeling of being beside him.

You missed his voice, his goofiness, everything.

"Bestfriends, huh?" you whispered to yourself and chuckled at how pathetic you must've been, pining over someone you knew who'd never look at you.

After doing your cleaning duties, you exit the room and decided to walk on the opposite direction since Atsumu and Yuki were still talking on the direction where the exit was supposed to be.

Who would want to hear their crush talking to their girlfriend anyway? Certainly not you.

The only downside of going in the direction you chose was that you weren't familiar with it. Even though you've been studying here for three years now, there were still places you weren't familiar of.

It was now getting dark and you brought out your phone to use the flashlight. You noticed that you're already out of the building, however, the surroundings weren't familiar to you.

You decided to continue walking, realizing that you somehow made it to the back of the school. Trees surrounded you and only a few lights were there to guide your way.

"Shit," you whispered to yourself as you realized that you were getting nowhere.

You decided to go back to the direction you came from but you only seemed to confuse yourself even more. Tears were now starting to well up in your eyes as you nervously tried to find your way back.

You sqealed as something rustled behind you. You immediately ran out of panic and fumbled with your phone, dialing the first number you could click.

"Y/n?"

It's him.

"'Tsumu, I-" you paused for a moment to catch your breath and sat down on the ground, your back resting against a tree. "Help me."

You hear some shouting and some wooshing sounds from the other side of the phone before Atsumu's voice filled your ears. "Where are you, angel?" he asked with concern lacing his voice.

"I don't know. I was just looking for the exit and the next thing I know I'm surrounded with trees and there's this sound of rustling so I ran away," you said without pausing. "Tsumu, I'm scared."

"I'll go find ya, okay? But first calm down. Can ya do that for me? Just breathe and tell me the directions ya can remember."

After explaining all the things you could remember, Atsumu didn't drop the call. Instead, he stayed on the line and comforted you with his words.

It wasn't long then when Atsumu appeared on your line of vision and the first thing you did was wrap your arms around him. You were quickly enveloped in his warmth as he rubbed your back soothingly.

"It's okay now, y/n. I'm here," he whispered as he kept on rubbing your back.

After having a few moments to calm you down, Atsumu instructed you to climb on his back. You wanted to decline but due to how tired your legs felt because of running, you had no choice but to agree.

"I'm sorry for calling you. You must've been busy," you mumbled while resting your head on his shoulder.

"I was actually still around school when ya called. I saw ya cleaning and decided to wait for ya but Yuki wanted to talk to me. The next moment I know, ya were gone but I still waited because I knew that if ya went home already, you would've passed by but ya didn't," Atsumu explained, his grip on your thighs tightening as he spoke.

"I guess Yuki and you are now-"

"I spoke to her to tell her to stop giving me random stuff." Atsumu licked his lips nervously before continuing, "When you left, I realized how much I messed up. I spouted some offensive words to ya and rejected ya without thinking of the consequences."

"Tsumu..."

"Let me finish, okay? This is the only chance I'm getting and there's no way I'm going to waste it. I already wasted a lot of time."

You gave a small nod as the memories of what happened all came flooding back to you. You fisted your hands and bit your lower lip to stop yourself from crying.

"I was scared. Ya were the only one who was genuine to me. Everytime I'm around you, I'm just me. I'm just Atsumu. Not the setter of the volleyball team nor the noisy twin of 'Samu," he said, followed be a chuckle.

"I was used to girl fawning over me. I have this mentality that girls are just after my reputation and when ya confessed to me, the first thing that entered my mind was that you were the same as them, that you were only going to use me. In the end, I didn't only lost my bestfriend but also the person I love. I'm sorry for hurting for you, angel."

Atsumu placed you down once you both made it infront of the school gate. He was looking you intensely and you didn't fail to notice that his eyes were glossed with tears as well. "I like you, and if this time, ya realized that yer feelings for me are no longer there, I'd respect it."

He took your hands in his and squeezed them tightly, not enough to hurt you but just enough to let you know that he was afraid to let you go.

"It's always been here. My feelings for you never faded despite how much I wanted them to disappear," you said as you stared at him lovingly, tears of happiness now flowing freely down your cheeks. "I still like you, 'Tsumu."

"Fuck. You don't know how much hearing ya say that makes me happy right now." Atsumu let go of your hand and wrapped his arms around you. His scent filled your nose and you couldn't stop yourself from burrying your face to the side of his neck.

"I love ya."

"And I love you too, 'Tsumu."

likes and reblogs are appreciated ♥️

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patt-writes-stuff · 3 years

Text

Beach Days with The Genshin Characters!

Wc: 1.7k+

Type: Headcanons

CW: umm nothing except mentions of alcohol and maybe people being creeps? (None of the chars or you tho it’s very brief)

A/N: HI IM BACK FROM THE DEAD! These were supposed to be a lot shorter but I got too excited. If you by any chance wanna see some for your fav character lmk! I know it says request are closed in my bio but since it’s just hcs it’s a lot less (and I really enjoyed writing these so ajdhdhdk)

🔥Diluc:

This man cannot swim. Tell me otherwise, I dare you.

Kaeya tried to jokingly push him off a lil diving cliff area when they were kids.

He almost drowned. Kaeya was in a lot of trouble.

So, good luck getting this man to actually get in the water. The most he’ll do is sit on the shore where it’s very shallow.

He usually prefers to just stay under an umbrella on the sand and keep an eye on you.

Calls you every two hours in advance and helps you reapply sunscreen.

He’s very pale so I feel like he burns pretty easily, meaning he needs to reapply super frequently otherwise he will become a tomato. He brings like three bottles of the good shit. Tch, rich boy.

If you ask him to build a sandcastle, he will pretend to be annoyed but do it anyways. Ends up finding it kind of enjoyable.

He has the maids prepare a nice picnic basket for the two of you!! It’s got all your favorite foods plus grape juice cuz y’know.

If any creepy peeps approach you, don’t worry. He brought his vision and his claymore.

Of course, he won’t have to resort to such violent lengths. Everyone in Mondstadt knows who Diluc is and they probably know you’re his s/o, so they’re usually smart enough to mind their own business.

If they don’t, don’t worry. Diluc’s glare is more than enough to scare them away.

All in all I definitely recommend a beach day with him! I’ll give it a solid 8/10 (-2 for not wearing floaties and getting in the water with you or letting you teach him how to swim.

🖌Albedo:

You guys definitely 100% take Klee out with you on a beach day.

You guys bring snacks, beach toys like buckets and shovels for optimal sandcastle building, a picnic blanket, etc.

Jean definitely packs a lot more stuff for you guys to take with you than you actually need.

It’s only cuz she’s worried for Klee and is nervous about not being able to go with you guys though! It’s very sweet really.

Klee tries to bomb the fish and cause havoc at the beach 😭

I think Albedo is a good swimmer and gets in with you and Klee so that he can help her (which is very cute omfg)

He’s set total workaholic, as we know, so it took a lot of convincing to get him to put down his experiments and accompany you to the beach (however, he’s particularly weak to yours and klee’s puppy dog eyes so he caved eventually)

Though, looking at you and Klee happily building sandcastles and decorating them with pretty seashells of all shapes and colors, he can’t really find it in himself to complain.

He, of course, takes this opportunity to take out his sketchbook and draw the waves, seagulls, you… Of course he won’t let you see the sketch book no sir. He’s a bit embarrassed to be honest, but an artist such as himself recognizes beauty when he sees it so he simply had to draw you. (God I love him so much)

If a creepy person approaches you,- well don’t worry. The sight of a small arsonist child blowing up fish is enough to scare them away 🥰

At the end of the day, all three of you are all ticketed out. Albedo has to carry Klee back to Mondstadt because the poor baby fell asleep the moment you started drying her hair with the beach towel. You’re, of course, carrying back Dodoco and your bags. (You also manage to sneak a peak at Albedo’s sketchbook and find some very pretty drawings of you and Klee with your sandcastle)

At the end of the day, you guys tuck Klee in and read her a bedtime story (she woke up and insisted). Afterwards Albedo takes you back home and thanks you for coming with you and Klee (which you ofc say wasn’t a problem because how could you not???)

All in all? I’ll give it a solid 10/10. You’ve got tasty food, fun times, your boyfriend and his cute kid adoptive sister (yes I am very biased idc)

🦋Xiao:

I think it would take a lot of convincing to get Xiao to go out on a beach date with you.

He’ll probably see it as a distraction getting in the way of his slaying of monsters and demons.

However, he also worships the grounds you walk on (hehe, simp XD), so I don’t think it’ll take that much convincing on your part (especially because it’s is self appointed duty to keep you safe so if you insist on going with or without him, he supposes he’ll have to go)

Is definitely a bit tense at first. He doesn’t know how to let loose and chill so while you’re sun tanning on a beach chair he’s like 🧍‍♂️ahdgshjsjd

Eventually calms down a bit though! You get him to relax and eat some almond tofu you brought along with you. It definitely gets him to perk up.

I don’t think he would mind getting into the water but I do think he’d rather walk along the shore and collect pretty seashells and sea glass.

He later gives the ones he deems pretties to you (he hands them over to you with a blush on his face and pretends it’s not a big deal and he definitely gets all pouty and grouchy when you coo at how adorable he is)

As for creeps, Xiao is both intimidating and well known in Liyue. No one is brave enough (or, let’s be honest, dumb enough) to approach you with any bad intentions.

Sure, Xiao has sworn never to harm a human/citizen of Liyue but that doesn’t mean he can’t scare the absolute shit out of them.

I think Xiao would definitely enjoy a beach day 🥺🥺. He’d find it very relaxing to go out with you and just hear the sound of waves and feel the sand under his feet.

He’d definitely hint at wanting to do it again later. Of course, he won’t tell you. No, that’s a foolish mortal activity and he has much better things to do.

Wait no, don't turn around, yes he will go with you next month.

All in all, I give Xiao a 9/10. It’s a very relaxing day (which he deserves 😤). And you get to see a whole new side of him.

💎Ningguang:

OK SO ORIGINALLY I WASN'T GONNA WRITE ONE FOR HER (at least not in this post) BUT THEN I THOUGHT OF LADY NINGGUANG TAKING YOU TO A WHOLE ASS PRIVATE BEACH

She knows you don’t care about how exclusive the beach you go to is (in fact, the fact that you don’t care about where you are or what you do is one of the things that make her fall more and more madly in love with you) but you deserve the best so she’s gonna go all out.

She’s a busy lady so days like this where the two of you get to go somewhere and be together are few and far between.

She knows it’s hard to be in a relationship with someone who is busy 24/7, so she appreciates how you remain by her side despite all hardships. (Y’all are a whole ass power couple istg)

The two of you spend your day relaxing. Sun bathing, drinking piña coladas, maybe taking a dip in the ocean. It’s all very pleasant!

Ningguang doesn’t quite feel like the type of person who would sit in the sand and make sandcastle, however you’re more than welcome to make some yourself. She finds it endearing <3

If you insist on her helping, she’ll eventually comply. She loves you too much to say no. I feel like she’ll either be terrible at it or like a total architect.

Sand is technically like tiny rocks right? So maybe she can use her vision to help her? If that’s the case, she’s making a replica of the Jade chamber out of sand.

If any creepy person comes up to you don’t worry. Ningguang will buy the whole beach and then use her right of admission as owner to permanently ban them from the beach you’re at.

The only downside to a day at the beach with Ningguang might be that there’s a big chance she’ll be called to tend urgent matters, seeing as she is the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing and all.

If that does happen, she’ll be sure to make it up to you somehow, whether it be rescheduling or taking care of the matter as soon as possible so that the two of you can get back to your day of relaxation and fun.

All in all?? Lady Ningguang will treat you like total royalty and the two of you will have an amazing time! I give her an 11/10 (she would literally buy a whole beach for you to be comfortable I mean c’mon)

🍃Venti:

BEACH DAYS WITH HIM ARE SO FUN!!

Swimming? Yeah, he’d love to! Sunbathing? Sure! He’ll ever conjure up a light breeze for the two of you. Sandcastle building? WELL OF COURSE WHY DO YOU THING HE BROUGHT ALL THESE BUCKETS AND SHOVELS?

No but seriously, he might be the best person out of everyone here to go to the beach with. He’s fun, free spirited, and he’s a traveling bard who’s been alive long enough to know where all the best beaches in Teyvat are. (He also knows a guy- er, well, dragon I suppose- who is willing to fly them to any place).

He’ll play some soft tunes while you doze under the sun.

HE PICKS PRETTY SHELLS AND GIFTS THEM TO YOU!!!

He will bring booze. I’m pretty sure this is a necessity. If you’re a little upset about it, he’ll probably “eheh~” his way out of it. That slick bastard.

If you really insist on him not drinking, he won’t consume much alcohol.

If some creepy person approaches you and tries to ruin you your day of beach time fun, all of their stuff will suddenly be blown away, causing them to scramble back to their spot and (almost embarrassingly) flail around trying to catch everything. What a shame…

At the end of the day, he’d be a little sad to leave. Definitely makes plans about tbe two of you going back soon.

I gotta give him a 10/10 he’s just so fun omg.

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forsakenmis · 3 years

Text

After the snap

Summary: Wanda was snapped away. You, on the other hand, remained and had moved on. You moved out of the country, started a new job, and had even gone on a few dates. Then everyone came back and suddenly a familiar witch was knocking on your workplace door.

Pairings: Top!Wanda x Reader

Warnings: dark!wanda, oral (r receiving), strap, public sex, posessive wanda, mummy kink

You’d long put away the shield (so to speak) and were at a point that going back to everyone just seemed so jarring. Maybe you didn’t want to believe it wasn’t true. After five years of grieving, of building a new life, and suddenly everyone’s just….back.

Wanda was back.

You knew it was wrong to have not contacted her. For her, it must seem like yesterday that you were whispering your plans about eloping, but that was five years ago. You moved on. Found someone else. She was nice, sweet, normal. She worked as a custom officer but she could spend hours and hours talking about all these topics that fascinated you.

She also was very predictable and normal.

Admittedly, your relationship hadn’t quite been defined. You suspected she was seeing other people, keeping her options open, and you weren’t sure how long you two were going to last but you were enjoying the time that you had together.

On top of that, you had a job at a bookstore that paid your rent. Sure, it wasn’t as flashy as it was back then but you liked being surrounded by all the books, some new and some falling apart. You spent a lot of pride restoring the latter in the back. You never had much of a chance to read before everything happened, your life was mostly spent trying to make sure everyone didn’t die.

Your abilities were healing based and that was more useful than you had initially thought when you first met them all. In fact, you thought you were awfully inadequate compared to people like Steve Rogers, Thor and Wanda Maximoff. But your time was kept filled to the brim.

Your only time to relax was your time with Wanda.

It had started off innocent enough. She used to stay with you after you finished up in the medic bay. She’d have dinner with you. Admittedly, you were pretty sure she didn’t have many other friends in the complex. Then it grew until she was fucking you every chance she could get. How else would either of you relax?

But that was a long time ago. You were done with that life. You weren’t the same person anymore. You ran and started a new life and not even the idea of Wanda could make you go back and maybe she was just that–an idea.

You were confident none of them would find you. Natasha couldn’t. You knew she had been trying to track you down like she had for Clint but no one came knocking on your door. So if they couldn’t, you were pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to find you either.

You’d just closed shop, the sunset streaming through the shutters covering the windows, and were taking stock. It had been a quiet day, but it was always quiet on a Tuesday so you had easily reached the predicted quota. The one downside was your boss, but he was only around once a week.

He was the kid of some millionaire who was trying to be hip and all that. So he opened some urban bookstore but he was too busy partying to actually stay on top of the business. Which is fine-you liked that arrangement. You’ll keep the shop running and he’ll never be up in your business. It worked without a bump in the road.

You were nearly done for the day, all you had to do after was–

The bell attached to the door trinkled. Someone had walked in. It was nearly half past, well past closing, so surely your boss would understand if you told whoever it is to leave. You were behind the shelves, you couldn’t see who had walked in. They weren’t making a lot of noise. Some people just had that soft touch, usually women.

Coming out to the front, your mouth already opening to ask them to leave, your words died in your throat.

Wanda.

Your eyes were frozen on her face, her eyes, those big doe eyes that always drew you in. She was smiling, an expression full of relief, and she was taking you in, grazing your body, before she moved forward to close the distance.

You stepped back.

Frozen with the air changing. Heavier, like you could feel the gravity pulling you down. Her light, happy, expression melted off and confusion replaced it.

“Wanda,” you said, wanting to cut her off, you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t listen to her. She’d want you to come back. Five years for you, a few days for her. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You may as well have slapped her.

“Shouldn’t be here?” Wanda repeated and you closed your eyes. For the first time in years, you heard her voice. That voice that whispered to you in your dreams. A voice you thought you could hear every time you were alone. “I think I’m exactly where I need to be.”

When you opened your eyes again, you jumped, she was right there. You didn’t even hear her footsteps. “Wan–” you began but then her lips were on yours, her tongue sliding into your open mouth and you grunted in shock. You didn’t kiss back but you didn’t push her off either. You froze. You let her tongue be pushed down your throat as her hands slid onto your cheeks.

Her thumbs beginning to rub small circles into your skin pushed you back into action, your hands going to hips to shove her off you hard enough that she stumbled back a few steps.

“Wanda, I can’t,” you hissed out. “It’s been five years. I…”

“Why aren’t you happy then?” Wanda asked, bewilderment splashed across her face and almost instantly did guilt wash through you. Like you were betraying her somehow. “I was gone for five years, and now I’m back. Why didn’t you come back? Surely, you didn’t move on that easily?”

With that, the guilt was gone.

“Easily?” You hissed out, your hands balling into fists, “don’t come into my shop and–”

You stopped. It was no use getting angry. Your sentences always fumbled into one elongated word that no one could ever understand. “You have no idea what the five years have been like,” you snapped and she tilted her head, just slightly, but enough that a cold chill went down your spine. “You shouldn’t have looked for me. I’m not interested in going back to the avengers. I moved on.”

With that, you turned on your heel to go behind the desk, tapping away at the register. Maybe if you ignored her, she’d get the hint and leave.

“So you developed an attitude?” Wanda remarked and slid her hands into the woollen cardigan that...you knitted her. You frowned when you made the connection. You spent hours labouring away at it. It wasn’t that good, the colours were awful, but she rarely took it off. “Seems we have to start at square one again.”

You frowned. You seem to be doing that a lot. You could already see the wrinkles beginning to form on your forehead. Why wasn’t she listening to you? “I’m seeing someone,” you blurted out as the cash register popped open loudly and Wanda’s face went blank as she registered what you just said. “A girl. She’s nice.”

You weren’t sure if you just signed this girl’s death certificate.

You kept eye contact with the Sokovian and even when her face morphed into a cold fury you hadn’t seen since the civil war. Her expression was tight and it almost looked like she was trying to hold herself back.

“I see.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered after a moment, “I...I know this can’t be easy for you either. I know it must seem like last week that...well. You know. I just...that life is over, for me at least. I hope you can understand.”

Wanda was silent. She was being too silent. She didn’t say anything, she stood there watching you, and you were too nervous to say anything else or make the next move. Maybe, hopefully, Wanda wouldn’t even say anything else, just walk out. Resent you for the rest of her life. It was better that way.

Instead she walked around the register and your heart dropped to your stomach.

“Wanda-”

“Shut up,” she hissed, her hand whipping up to grab your jaw. Your hands shot up to her wrists and she dragged you forward, closer to her face. “Do you really think I’d let you give up on us this easily? That I’d let you whore yourself out to some girl off the street?”

You didn’t say anything but your glare said enough.

“I trained you so well. I spent years breaking you in, years loving you, and you treat me like this? Like I’m just some common bitch you can throw onto the street?” Wanda’s tone didn’t match her words. Her tone was soft, almost a coo, sounding more disappointed than angry. You almost wished she was more angry than disappointed.

Her lips were on yours again and her hand moved to the back of your head, her teeth biting down into your lips and you groaned at the sharp pain, giving her entrance back into your mouth.

A hand went down between your legs, rubbing, and you instinctively opened your legs. Your body remembered her. Remembered her scent. Everything.

Wanda hummed in approval and soon you were being pushed onto the counter. She broke the kiss, pulling back to look down at you, her hands beginning to rub the inside of your thighs. “Just one night,” she whispered, her expression already having smoothed out, as if that kiss, your touch, was all she needed. “One night with me and if you still want me to leave by the end of the night...well, I’ll leave you alone. Forever. Even if you change your mind. Even if you come crawling back, begging.”

You doubted her. Something in the back of your mind didn’t believe her. On anything. You were pretty sure she wanted you to beg. Your hands were shaking and you gulped. Everything about this reminded you of when you were last happy. Like you were back in the avengers tower where nothing was going wrong.

Her lips were on yours again and her hands soon began to pull at your skirt, ripping them off you with ease, to find nothing but your bare cunt for anyone to see. You jerked up when her hand slammed against it, slapping it. Once, twice, three times, four. “You dirty little whore,” she whispered, “you let anyone and everyone see this, didn’t you?” She slid a finger into your folds and your bottom lip trembled.

“Wanda…” you whispered, feeling your own walls beginning to crumble. Maybe one night wasn’t so bad. One night. One indulgence.

“It’s mine tonight,” Wanda confirmed before suddenly her hands were on your waist and flipped you around and your stomach slapped onto the desk, taking away your breath, leaving you gasping. “You said I didn’t know what happened. In the past five years. You’re right, I don’t, but you’re going to tell me. Tell me everything I missed. If you leave anything out, and I know when you do sweetheart, I’ll stop. Understand me?”

“Yes,” you breathed out as you felt her mouth in between your legs, her tongue lapping at your clit and your back arched as you tried to push more of yourself into her. Soon, it started spilling out. What you did the first few months, how you struggled to get out of bed, how you travelled the world. Therapy. Everything. Her tongue didn’t stop, in fact the more you spilt, her tongue sped up, making you wetter and wetter by the second. “I couldn’t get you out of my head,” you mumbled by the end of it, “I found her. She was everything you weren’t. Mundane. Boring.”

Your stomach was tightening, that tempting release building and building, so expertly brought on by the way Wanda devoured you, the way she breathed onto your throbbing clit, the way her tongue teased your gaping entrance. When you stopped, she pulled away and you bit down onto your bottom lip to stop yourself from cursing.

“Such a good little whore for me,” Wanda purred, her hand falling in between your slit to rub your clit and the moan that left your mouth sacrificed any and all self respect that you might have been clinging onto. “This is where you belong isn’t it? Bent over for mummy. I treat you so well, don’t I?”

Two fingers dipped into your already gaping entrance pushing them in and out. “I think you deserve a little reward,” Wanda hummed out, “for being so honest with mummy.”

You didn’t have much long to prepare before you felt a strap push into your entrance and you gasped in a sharp breath, your eyes bulging and your body pressed forward. Wanda didn’t push into you completely, only pushed the tip in and out, focussing on the one area.

In truth, that was worse than if she shoved into you completely. You were forced to focus on that one area, not get that relief if she were to push in deeper, and it was as if she was grabbing at every inch of your mind, forcing you to feel nothing but that tip dipping in and out of your body.

“Tell me…” she whispered, her hands coming onto your waist to grip them, nails digging into your skin, “tell me where you belong, baby girl. Who you belong to. Look at you, five years without me and you still get so wet for me. I go in so easily. Don’t worry, baby, I’m not going to leave you again.”

“W-w-” you choked out and you took in a breath, trying to contain the moans slipping out of your mouth, “you said one–”

Her hand slammed down onto your bare ass and you jerked forward. Still, she didn’t go deeper, didn’t give you what you wanted. Still, you didn’t verbalise this. Your skin was stinging and your fingers reached up to hang onto the edge of the desk.

“Answer my question, don’t make me treat you like a common whore,” Wanda hissed, pulling out completely just to thrust back in, shoving more of the shaft inside of you, ripping your walls open, but then she pulled back to just the tip again.

Then the doorbell rang again and it was as if someone poured a bucket of ice cold water all over your body. Your vision was already blurring by this point but you could see her outline, the blonde hair, standing at the door.

Wanda slammed into you, bottoming out, and a scream shot out of your lips, whilst her hands were in your hair, pulling your head back until your neck was straining. She could see your face, see every expression you pulled as Wanda began to fuck you without restraint.

“If I were you,” Wanda’s voice broke through your moans and screams, icy cold and calm despite the way she was beginning to thrust inside of you, “I’d leave and never come back. If you knew what was good for you, you’d wipe my girl from everything. Phone, address, memories.”

You couldn’t hear what she said, you could hear her voice, but unlike Wanda, it was all a garbled mess. Even in this state, Wanda’s words were in absolute clarity. You watched her leave. The door clicked shut and you swore you could see red mist at the door, locking it.

Wanda bent over you, pressing down onto your back, lips pressing against your neck, sucking and nipping, her hips still pushing inside of you, pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm that was tightening at the base of your stomach.

Then her movements slowed until she was completely still, her strap still inside of you, your walls wrapped around it, clinging to it.

“Much better, just us,” Wanda whispered as she nipped at your earlobe and you moaned. “You take my cock so well, don’t you? No, I couldn’t dream of letting you go, not when you’re such a good girl for me. I’ll take you with me and I’ll give you the life you want. A normal life, where no one will ever hurt you. You can read all you want. Forget the world outside. Just us two, together.”

“Mummy,” you whispered and you could feel her body vibrate as she hummed in approval. “Mummy, please.”

“Tell me where you belong,” she whispered back as she began to move her hips again.

“With you, mummy, under you. I missed you so much,” you whispered, “I belong to you. I always have.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know you did,” Wanda whispered before she stretched up and her hands went to your elbows, pulling you up from the table before she began to rail you. Sharp thrusts, slamming into you again and again, and tears began to burn the back of your eyes as pleasure began to roll through you. “You're going to cum for me like a good girl. Then you’re going to lie on this table to wait as I go pack your bags. You live above this, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, mummy,” you choked out as your orgasm was already threatening to flow through you. You could feel your own juices dripping down your thighs and you knew that your boss would be walking in to find an absolute mess.

“And then we’ll leave. Together.”

“Together.”

It wasn’t long until you felt like you were choking on your breath, your stomach twisting and churning, your legs trembling, and it was Wanda keeping you up. Otherwise, you would have collapsed onto the table, even the ground.

Soon, you felt it. Felt that blissful euphoria that often put you to sleep wash over you in intense waves that made your toes curl. Wanda was laughing, quietly, as she felt you come undone around her strap. “That’s it, baby girl, let it all go. Good little whore.”

She slid out of you with a pop and you groaned, the disappearing sensation already sorely missed. “Mummy, please, I still need you…” you mumbled, your words drowsy and reality was folding inwards around you as you felt your body hit the table again.

“I’ll be back, in just a moment,” Wanda whispered into your ear before her warmth disappeared and you could hear her moving through the store and up the creaky stairwell. Then your eyes slid open and you took in a deep breath as you began to move. Pushed off the desk, your legs sore and shaky but stable, and you looked for the skirt, long discarded. You knew you only had a small amount of time before she realised or, god forbid, heard you. Pulling the skirt up you grabbed only your wallet, didn’t even dare grab your phone and risk being tracked. You can get a burner if need be. You knew it’d be difficult, if she found you here, then she’d be able to find you wherever you went but...maybe she’ll give up.

You didn’t go through the front door, not with the bell, but there was a small door leading out to the back. Your footsteps were silent as could be, and your heart was beating in your chest. One wrong step and she could hear you. You could hear the banging doors, even her humming, but she didn’t stop.

Soon, you were in the back alley, with nothing but overflowing bins and a motorbike there. Yours. The only thing you kept from Stark. Faster than anything you could buy in a store. You hated riding with a skirt, let alone with these shoes, but what choice did you have?

You only had so much time to run.

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