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rekrappeter · 4 years

Text

find yourself somewhere, somehow

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader, slight cedric diggory x fem!reader

summary: you and fred are madly in love with one another, but have never expressed your feelings to each other. every one else knows though. what if that one secret ends up ruining the friendship you both have been trying to save?

warnings: mutual pining, inaccurate Harry Potter timeline, swearing, typos

notes: some of this was requested, some not. this is my 3rd time trying to post it, please give it some love, I actually quite like it <3

“I think I’m going to ask Angelina to the Yule Ball,” your lips macked together at your best friend’s words, letting them fall on deaf ears as you narrowed your eyes at the words on the page in front of you. You could feel that the twins’ gazes were on you, and you tried to suppress any form of annoyance or jealousy passing across your face. A heartbeat passed before Fred Weasley spoke up again, “Did you hear what I said?”

You looked up at the red-haired boy sitting in front of you, your attention being pulled away from your study notes that you were carefully highlighting. “You were talking to me?” you asked, feigning confusion.

Fred gave you a puzzled look, his brows creasing together, “Who else would I be talking to?” he said, his voice lowering as Snape strutted by the table you were sat at. You all turned your attention to your parchment quickly, letting him pass before Fred tapped the top of your book to get you to continue the conversation.

“George,” you deadpanned, your eyes flickering to his twin.

“I heard about this all night long,” George said, distaste evident in his voice and he rolled his eyes swiftly. You stiffened a giggle, watching Fred knock his shoulder with his, his own amusement evident in his smirk.

“So, what do you think?” Fred beamed, a twinkle in his eye.

“I-” you paused, glancing down the table at Angelina who was laughing quietly at something her friend said. There was no doubt she was beautiful, no doubt that she was good enough for your best friend and you would be ecstatic for Fred if she did accept his offer. You would be, really, if it wasn’t for the massive crush that you harbored for him since you were twelve years old. You remembered the moment it happened; he was trying to teach you how to play quidditch outside of The Burrow during the winter holidays and something went horribly wrong when you were two meters off the floor - you lost your nerve and tumbled off the broom, but Fred was there underneath it to soften your blow. You remembered staring into his eyes deeply, your mouth parting in shock at the sudden wave of feelings that welcomed you when you were so close to him. He ended up dislocating his elbow that day, but he never blamed you for it.

You felt someone nudge your hand, bringing your gaze from Angelina back to Fred. You plastered on a fake cheerful grin, nodding your head excitedly, “Go for it, you will be great together.”

Fred was waiting for your blessing, and within minutes of you edging him on, he had secured a date to the ball happening in two weeks’ time. For the remainder of the study hall, you had to listen to Fred gush about Angelina and you had to do everything in your power not to groan and lose your cool. You avoided eye contact with George, knowing that he’d give you an unimpressed look. He knew how you felt about his twin, despite you never truly admitting it to him. You’d brush off his question and change the subject, but it wasn’t hard to see the admiration you had for him.

“Do you have a date yet?” George questioned, looking down at you. You were walking through the castle on the way to the great hall, the twins on either side of you. He hadn’t heard you talk about going with anyone or thinking of asking anyone. In truth, you had hoped that both you and Fred would be dateless the day of the ball and ultimately end up going together - but that plan was ruined.

You pursed your lips, keeping your stare forward as you shook your head. “No, I don’t.”

Fred draped his arm around your shoulder, you stumbled slightly at the heavyweight. “Imagine we have dates, and you don’t, who would have thought?” You knew that he was only teasing and sometimes he never uses his brain before he speaks, but that didn’t lessen the irritation that exploded inside of you.

“Shut up,” you snapped, your retort falling in between his rambles of how surprised he was that you didn’t have a date. You pushed yourself away from him and stormed off in the direction of the common room, not feeling hungry anymore. Fred gawked at your figure rushing off, glancing at George to ask what was wrong with you.

“You’re an idiot, that’s what’s wrong with her,” George sighed, shaking his head at his twin. He walked into the Great Hall, Fred trailing behind slowly. “Where are you going?” George turned to face him, placing a hand on his chest.

“To-”

“Don’t be stupid, you upset her so go fix it,” Fred sighed, knowing that he was right. He twisted on his heels and walked the familiar way to the Gryffindor dorms. Exasperating the password, he jumped through the entrance and spotted you sitting down on one of the love-seats. The common room was empty as expected, the light from the fire gleaming across your face. When you looked up at him, he saw the tears streaming down your face just before you wiped them away quickly. He hated the fact that he made you cry, but sometimes he just couldn’t control how he rambled on. He never thought about how his words affected you because often you would join in on his jokes but he didn’t know that this would be a sensitive subject for you.

“What do you want?” you mumbled into the sleeve of your jumper, bringing your legs up to cuddle into your front. Fred sat down beside you, wrapping his arms around you. He ignored the pain in his chest when you pushed him away from you, shuffling down the couch slightly.

“y/n,” Fred whined, “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“The fact that I don’t have a date to a once in a lifetime event? Yeah, it’s not a big deal, Fred.”

“You still have plenty of time to find one,” he said, “It’s not for another two weeks.”

“I don’t want to be someone’s last resort,” you cried, the emotions getting the better of you, “I wanted someone to be excited to go with me.” You looked up at your best friend, your vision slightly blurry from the tears forming and he looked like a lost puppy staring back at you. Fred was never one to be good with comforting you when you got upset, it was usually George who was the twin you’d go to for problems. Fred was great as a distraction, he’d bring you out and do something fun with you. This was new territory for him.

Fred wrapped his arms around you again, and this time you let him. He sighed in relief letting his head fall on top of yours. “I’ll take you, I’ll forget about Angelina.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes with an effort, “That’s not what I want, Fred.”

“You don’t want to go with me?” He said, a teasing taunt in his tone.

Placing your hands on his chest and pushing yourself up to look at him, you ignored the way his eyes followed your hand and trailed up to your face. His lips parted slightly, and he felt the sudden urge to close the gap between your lips but he refrained himself from doing so. Fred wasn’t the most observant person out there, but he knew that kissing you wouldn’t help the situation. “You know I would love to go with you but you asked someone else first,” you tried to play it off as teasing, but the sorrow was evident. Fred sighed, nodding his head, and the long strands dangled over his eyes. Giggling, you brushed them away with your fingers, letting your touch linger. “You need to cut all this.”

“You don’t like it?” Fred pouted, his bottom lip jutting out.

Your eyes scanned his face, the soft look in his own orbs making you wonder if you ever felt the same way about you that you did him. Considering that you’ve been friends for years without anything happening, you came to the conclusion that it was just a one-sided thing. You were the pathetic one head over heels in love with your best friend. “Your hair looks good anyway.”

“Whoever asks you to the ball will be one lucky bitch,” Fred gleamed, jumping up from the couch and pulling you up with him, “I’m starving!”

The next few days passed with little memory of the conversation between you and Fred. Everything went back to normal; the trio that consisted of yourself, Fred and George returned back to being impractical jokers and the comments about not having a date to the Yule Ball became nearly nonexistent. With the Ball drawing in quickly, you tried your best to hide the panic that was looming inside you. It wasn’t a big deal to show up alone, if that’s what it would have to result in but it would be nice to be able to dance with someone while your best friends are dancing with their dates. You started to write up a list of potential candidates but from a discussion in Charms with a Ravenclaw, everyone that you thought you could ask already had a date.

It was like everyone knew that you didn’t have a date to the biggest event to ever happen at Hogwarts. It was the sympathy looks from first-year witches, and snarky chuckles from sixth-year Slytherins that had their dates since the ball was announced. With a simple roll of your eyes, you smile regardless of what they think of you. If it resulted in you having to dance alone or in a group, you didn’t care. The Yule Ball was merely two days away and with a dress picked out, you couldn’t even think about the effort of having to change the colour to match some random guy’s bowtie.

You had excused yourself from the Gryffindor common room where your friends were gathered around to go to the Owlery to send the letters that were piling up in your bedside drawer. “Do you want me to go with you?” Fred hollered as you were dunking out the entrance.

“No, I’ll only be quick.” You called back, and started the short journey. A feverish chill had settled across the castle, people were on edge with the unknown of what the Triwizard Tournament could bring, and yet the bubbling murmur of excitement for the ball still settled over the fear and apprehension. You jumped up the steps, leaping two at a time but what you didn’t expect was the top step to be covered in ice. The moment your foot landed on the step, you knew you were done for. A squeal passed your lips and you were on route of tumbling backwards down the stairs, just as a hand grasped your wrists and pulled you up. Your breathing was heavy, ragged, as your life flashed before your eyes.

“Woah there,” A deep voice interrupted the memory of when you were five years old. You opened your eyes and met the stare of Cedric Diggory, his grey eyes wide. His pink lips curled into a smile of relief, and he helped you steady yourself. “That would have been devastating.”

You shook your head in shock, your eyes falling down the long stairs that you were almost laying at the bottom off, surely acquiring some broken bones on the way. “Th-thank you, Cedric,” you smiled at your saviour, before glancing down at how his fingers were still wrapped around your wrist.

“Oh, sorry,” he mumbled, pulling back and taking a step away from you. “H-how are you? I haven’t seen you since-”

“The World Cup,” you finished, nodding your head at the memory, “I never thought Hogwarts was that big until this year, it’s filled with students now,” you mentioned, taking into consideration the extra students that were welcomed to Hogwarts at the start of the year, “I’ve seen you of course, you’re the big celebrity this year.”

A light blush danced across his cheeks and you weren’t sure if it was the wind or your words having the effect on him. “I wouldn’t call myself a celebrity,” he chuckled, running his fingers through his brown hair.

“You were really great in the first task, I did go looking for you but you were in hospital because…” you trailed off sentence, watching Cedric grimace at the memory of getting burnt by the dragon during the very first task. You slowly started to walk around Cedric to the entrance of the owlery, “I have letters to post, so I better get going… but best of luck for -”

“Do you have a date for the Ball?” Cedric blurted out, the cool composure that you were so used to seeing him dawn on gone. He let out a shaky breath, the cold air creating a cloud in front of him.

You chuckled slightly, “Haven’t you heard? I’m the only sixth year that is completely undateable.”

“Well, not the only sixth year,” Cedric blushed again, he gulped, making his Adam's apple bobble slightly.

“I thought you were going with Cho,” your brows creased in confusion. You remembered the conversation with Hermione and Ginny from nights ago when you were quickly brainstorming the last single men in sixth year that could potentially ask you out but Cedric was linked with Cho Chang, much to your dismay.

“I was…” Cedric sighed, “But she called it off last night, s-she wasn’t comfortable going with me as a champion and have all eyes on her.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that.”

“Would you be my date?”

“Me?” you gawked, looking around for the twins to pawn this off as some sort of joke but your red-haired friends were nowhere in sight.

Cedric nodded, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I would have asked you sooner, but I kind of thought you’d be going with Fred and when I heard that he asked Angelina, I was a bit confused.”

“Myself and Fred are just friends,” you smiled, “B-but I’d love to go with you, Cedric. It’d be a shame for both of us to go alone when we can go together.”

You returned to the Gryffindor common room with a large smile on your face. Your friends were still lingering around the fire, trying to get the warmth into them after having Quidditch practice after their classes. Fred stretched over the couch, looking over it with hooded eyes, he must have been sleeping. “What took you so long?”

You swatted his legs off the empty cushion beside him, and took a seat before his legs draped over your lap and you sighed in content. “Bumped into someone, guess who has a date to the ball?” you teased, a smirk tugging at the side of your lips. That gained the attention of Harry and Hermione who were studying, Hermione’s ears perking in excitement.

“Who?”

“You’ll see,” you teased, giggling at the yells of protest. You glanced over at Fred, who was unnervingly quiet. “You okay?” you mumbled, placing your hands on his legs and pulling at his leg hairs playfully.

Fred didn’t answer straight away, his eyes scanning your face before he nodded, “Who is it?”

“You’ll see,” you repeated, chewing on your bottom lip.

“You’re not even going to tell me, your best friend?”

“Nope,” you popped, a yawn passing your lips. You ignored Fred’s dramatic pout, moving his legs off your lap to lay down on the couch beside him. It was normal for you to do this, but something about doing it now made you tense. You couldn’t pinpoint it but when his hand rested on your hip to make sure you didn’t fall off the edge, you felt dizzy and lightheaded. You closed your eyes tightly, but when you breathed in, all you could smell was Fred’s aftershave. It wasn’t strong but it was enough to make you woo.

Fred watched you softly, how your features became relaxed the moment he placed his hand on your hip and he wondered if he was being foolish not making you his. He constantly ignored his brothers pestering, even Percy had confronted him one christmas. “Are you excited now?” He breathed out, watching your eyes flutter open.

“I was always excited, but now I know I won’t be left alone when you’re off dancing with your date,” you replied. It came out more snappy than you expected and judging from the taken back look in Fred’s eyes, you knew he took it in the way you didn’t want it to be taken.

“Look, I did offer to take you-” Fred pressed but you shook your head, dropping your forehead onto his chest.

“Can we not get into this? It doesn’t matter anymore, we’re friends, Fred. You shouldn’t feel obliged to take me to dances, we’re not kids anymore.” Fred’s face dropped into the crease of your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo and he nodded shortly. You both lingered in each other’s body, ignoring the gaze from your friends. George looked at Ron, giving him a pointed look and Ron shrugged his shoulders in return. It was obvious you were both so in love with each other, and neither of them knew why you were delaying the inevitable.

Fred’s eyes scanned the crowd that were gathered in the Great Hall, that was overly decorated in white fairy lights and drapes that turned the bland gold room into a beautiful, magical event. Despite the gorgeous angel standing next to him, a wide smile on Angelina’s face, he couldn’t stop himself from looking at you but you were nowhere in sight. The worry started to settle over him, his overalls becoming slightly sweaty. “Is that y/n?” Angelina��s voice tore through his thoughts, his eyes following to where she was pointing.

His mouth fell open at the sight of you, a wide smile on your face as your arms linked with Cedric Diggory’s, who was leading you to the dancefloor. His eyes scanned your body, his breathing hitched at how beautiful you looked. He knew Ginny said you were stunning in your dress but he didn’t believe how gorgeous you were until he saw you himself.

“Wow, she’s beautiful,” Angelina whispered, eyes flickering between Fred’s face and your figure.

“Yeah, she is,” Fred breathed out, his grip tightening on her waist.

“Why didn’t you ask her?” Fred’s attention fell from his best friend to his date, confusion sweeping across his face and Angelina rolled her eyes. “Fred, everyone knows that you’re in love with her.”

“Wh-what?” he sputtered out, but he didn’t argue any further. He knew by the pointed look that his date gave him that he wouldn’t be able to charm his way out of this situation. His shoulders deflated and his eyes flickered to your smiling face, his stomach churning at the sight of Cedric’s hand resting on your lower back as he spun you around elegantly.

Angelina stepped towards the dancefloor, following the lead of everyone else, and started to lead Fred in the moves before he took over. His red hair was brushed around his face, and his pout grew with each second passing. “It’s not too late to tell her how you feel.”

“That’s the thing, Ang, it is.”

“Fred, don’t be so naive. She’s in love with you too, it’s so bloody obvious,” Angelina chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. Fred spun her around to the beat of the music, lifting her off the floor like he’s practiced it so many times. Fred was trying to come up with some sort of joke to maneuver the conversation topic from you but his mind was blank - actually, the only thing that filled his mind was you. The way you laughed so loud, the way your eyes twinkled underneath the torches, how you’d devour a cheese burger in half a second, how you were always so keen to participate in their jokes but always the first to flee the scene in fear of getting caught. “I don’t know if I should be offended or-”

“I’m sorry,” Fred cut her off, feeling slightly guilty for using her as a decoy. “Let’s enjoy tonight.” He announced, taking one more look at you for the night, just missing the longing gaze that you were sending his way. There was no one else you’d rather be dancing with than him, despite the Hufflepuff prefect making you feel extra special tonight, his attention solely on you. It just wasn’t the attention you yearned for.

The days following the Yule Ball were a mixture of madness and chaos. They blended into one as you were whisked away to the Burrow for Christmas break with your second family, only minutes after seeing your own family for the first time since the start of the new school year. You always knew how hectic this time of year got but you never minded it much, you always enjoyed being surrounded by the Weasleys and the smell of Molly’s homemade double chocolate chip cookies made it all worthwhile. Except this year was slightly different.

It was always Fred that picked you up from your front porch, but this year it was George. You always shared a room with the twins while you stayed in The Burrow, but this year you were lodging with Hermione and Ginny. Fred was always the first person to run down the stairs and take the seat next to you in the morning for breakfast, but this year the seat was always the last one vacant. It wasn’t only you that noticed this either, Ginny and Harry had been whispering about it all day long, Ron and George pondered what could be going on between the two of you, and it was Hermione that confronted you about the odd behaviour. But you only had one answer, ‘I haven’t a bloody clue what is going on’.

After the vaguest of conversations with Hermione, you trotted up to the twins’ room knowing that George was outside helping Arthur with the chickens he wanted to invest in. Fred was nowhere to be seen, the best bet would be his bedroom. You knocked quietly on the door, peeking your head through the open gap and seeing Fred laying on his stomach in the single bed. The image was laughable, his long legs dangling from the edge of the bed and the quilt a thousand different colours kicked to the floor. His arms were tucked underneath his pillow and his face was pointed away from you.

“Freddie?” you whispered, trying to get his attention. Fred’s eyes squeezed tightly at your voice and he tried desperately to calm his breathing. Maybe if you thought he was asleep, you’d leave him alone. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak to you, it was more so the fear of blabbering out how he truly felt about you and the prospect of ruining years of friendship. He heard his bedroom door click shut after seconds of silence, and he was just about to twist towards it when he heard your sock clad feet shuffle through the room. “Freddie?” you asked again, but he didn’t budge.

You sighed and chewed on your bottom lip nervously, you didn’t want to wake him up. He wasn’t the friendliest person after being bothered while sleeping, but your heart ached for feeling his warmth again. You unconsciously found yourself laying on the smallest bit of bed that was available to you, your arm wrapping around his torso to hold yourself up. His back was to your chest, and he shuffled slightly to let you get comfortable but you didn’t pay much mind to it. You nudge your face into his t-shirt, letting his scent take over all your senses and you place a soft kiss on the material. “I miss you,” you whispered into the silence.

Fred was staring blankly at the wall, his heart hammering against his chest as your fingers grasped his t-shirt with all their might. He reached for your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it softly. Your breath hitched in your throat but you didn’t say anything. You just lay there next to him in peace and quiet, your uneven breaths mixing with his.

“y/n, this letter is for you,” Ron called from across the table, holding an off-white envelope. You looked up from the bacon and scrambled eggs on your plate in shock, you never got letters sent for you to The Burrow. Your parents would usually call to check up on you and all of your close friends were gathered around the table.

“Who’s it from?” Fred wondered as he occupied his usual seat next to you. The previous night where you fell asleep next to him brought everything back to somewhat normal. He was finally acknowledging you in the mornings and spending his time with you. You shrugged, tearing the letter open and your eyes widened at the signature written so beautifully at the bottom. “Cedric Diggory,” Fred scoffed, a roll of his eyes gaining the attention of his brothers around him.

“Cedric Diggory wrote to you?” Ginny gleamed, her eyes widening in delight as a contrast to Fred's displeased look.

“What did he say?” Hermione asked. You were about to stand up from the table, and excuse yourself but from the peering eyes of your friends, you knew you wouldn’t get far without their curiosity minds following you.

“Just read it aloud,” Harry cheered, and he frowned quickly when Hermione shot him a look to be quiet. But Ron soon joined in and it was like a dominios effect, you sighed and gave in, clearing your voice to read the letter for the first time.

“Dear y/n,” you started, interrupted already by Fred’s sigh of annoyance, “I had tried to contact you at your family home but they have directed all my calls to Weasleys’ household. I have tried several times to get in touch with you but seem to be having trouble - I have left messages. I hope this doesn’t come across as desperate or obnoxious but I would thoroughly enjoy it if you were to accompany me to Hogsmede this weekend. I look forward to hearing from you..” you paused, before whispering the last part, “yours, Cedric Diggory.”

There was a deafening silence as you finished the last syllable, the words blurring in front of you on the parchment as you tried to make sense of the letter. Of course you had a great time at the ball with Cedric, but you never had any intention of getting romantically involved with him. Not when your heart was obviously set on someone else. Your mind was brought back to the kitchen of the Weasleys’ when the girls in front of you gasped out loud, squealing as they grasped for the letter to reread it. The boys lost interest the moment you started to speak, except for Fred, who fell back in the chair and began finishing his breakfast.

“What is your secret?” Ginny gawked. “Cedric Diggory wants to go on a date with you!”

“I-It’s not a date,” you mumbled, sitting back down. The tension between you and Fred was back, the hour of normality that you were blessed with vanished. “It’s not a date,” you repeated, but your words were aimed at Fred, who creased his eyebrows in confusion.

“It sounds like a date to me and a bloody good one at that,” he flashed you a smile, but you could see beneath it. Something was different between the two of you, like the aura has shifted and you’ve become one. It didn’t make sense but the way Fred was feeling, you could feel it too. How his heart was hammering and his stomach was infested with annoying butterflies. It’s how you felt when you looked at him.

“We have plans for the weekend,” you reminded him.

“Cancel them, it’s okay.”

“No, Fred, it’s a tradition. I can’t just cancel them.”

Fred sighed, tidying up his plate and standing up from the table. You followed his lead and left the group to analyse the letter, you went to call him but he swiftly turned around. Your chest hit his, his taller figure hovering over you. “I’ll make it easier for you, I’ll cancel them. There, you’re free this weekend.”

“What are you even talking about?” you sighed, frustration getting the better of you. “I never said I wanted to go out with him.”

“Why wouldn’t you not? He’s Cedric freakin’ Diggory!” There was no room for arguing, no matter what you threw at him, he’d have a comeback so you just sighed and gave in. Waving the white flag of surrender for the day and it wasn’t even ten in the morning.

There was a lake not two miles from The Burrow, it was hidden beyond trees taller than churches and you’d have never found it if it weren’t for the adventurous boys that you grew up with. You were supposed to be nestled in the corner of a tavern with the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain, sharing a warm butterbeer and having that first date jitters but instead you found yourself looking over the frozen lake. It was always frozen at this time of the year. You had a large black coat on, fake fur decorating the hood as you breathed out and created your own night time clouds of air. You had your skates by your feet, too cold to change into them.

Every year on the last night before returning back to Hogwarts, it was a tradition with you and Fred to ice-skate across the lake. It was the one time that you were guaranteed to feel free and relieve any stress that has been building up on your shoulders. But it didn’t feel the same alone and you couldn’t bring yourself to put your skates on. You fell back against the grass that was decorated in white snow from the downpour earlier that day, letting out a strangled scream that you’ve been holding in.

“Bloody hell, what was that?” A grin erupted on your face and you sat up, looking over your shoulder to see Fred standing there in a brown tattered coat, his skates dangling from his fingers. He had a yellow bobble hat on his head, his hair tucked beneath it.

“You showed,” you smiled, kicking your shoes off and pulling your skates on with great difficulty. Fred followed your lead, sitting down next to you.

“Of course I did.”

You sighed, strapping the laces, “I wasn’t sure if you would, you’re acting really strange lately.”

Fred gave you a sympathetic glance, a small smile tugging on his lips as he watched you stand up and stretch your gloved hand out to help him up. He took it, using his strength to lift himself up so you didn’t have to use a muscle. You slowly made your way to the iced surface, letting Fred test it out and he skated away in circles. “Freddie,” you called back, pouting slightly.

A raspy laugh left his lips as he shook his head in disbelief and came back to you, letting you grasp onto his arm as you took your first steps onto the ice. “You do know you can skate, right?” Fred asked.

“I just need your help for the first five minutes, you know that,” you chuckled. You both skated around the nature-created rink, silence settling between you. The moon overlooked the two of you skating around, hand in hand - the perfect pair in a state of ignorance. Fred let go of your hand, skating in front of you and you couldn’t help but laugh as he showed off his skills. His lanky legs are quite talented at twisting around one another. Fred looked up at you, your smile beaming at him and that’s when he lost his balance, tripping over his own feet and tumbling to the ice. Your eyes widened but you were going to quick to stop and you fell over his limbs, your chin banging off the ice.

“Fuck, are you okay, y/n?” Fred scrambled over to you, his hand cupping your chin and seeing the blood seeping from the cut. His worry was cut short when you erupted into a fit of unstoppable giggles, ignoring the pain that soared through your face. The image of Fred’s face falling flat on his ass will forever be sketched into your mind now. “Shut up,” Fred huffed, his hand dropping from your face.

You crawled over to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you tried everything in your power to stop from giggling but you couldn’t. It got to the point that your laughter became so contagious that Fred’s chest began rumbling with his own laughter. You sat in the middle of the ice rink, asses soaked and cuts on your face as you laughed for what felt like hours.

“I missed this,” you announced in a heavy sigh, your stomach hurting from laughing so much.

“I’m sorry for acting like an idiot the last few weeks,” Fred said.

“What was the story with that?” you asked, reaching to fix the hat that was crooked on his head. His hands wrapped around your wrist, his gloves fingers maneuvering to hold your hands close. Your eyes connected with his, your breath hitching at the sight of his brown orbs telling you everything before he spoke a word. “Fred..”

Fred sighed, dropping your hands and scrambling to stand up. You followed his movements, skating to where your shoes and belongings were left. His broad shoulders were slouched as he got off his skates and you weren’t sure if he was going to walk away again. “Fred, please don’t shut me out again.”

“I-I-” Fred mumbled, his eyes screwing shut before fluttering open again, “Why didn’t you go out with Cedric tonight?”

The question took you off guard, confusion evident in your expression. “I told you already, we had plans! We do this every year!”

“You cancelled plans with a future boyfriend for me?” Fred asked, trying to clarify the situation.

“What are you talking about, Fred? We’re best friends, I’d always choose you over-”

“Is that all we’ll ever be?” The words made you dizzy, the question heavy with every emotion you’ve ever felt for Fred. You looked up at him, your socks getting soaked as you stood there in shock, your shoes forgotten about. “That… That question came out more forced than I wanted it to, but I just need to know, will we ever be more?”

“That’s not for me to decide…” you whispered, seeing his expression falter, “You’ve never- you’ve never told me how you felt about me.”

“I thought I made it obvious.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, “By taking someone else to the Ball? Or by encouraging me to go on a date? Or when we were thirteen and you told George that you only seen me as a sister-”

“Okay, they weren’t my finest moments, I’ll admit that..” Fred wanted to slap himself for being so stupid and naive, “But do you feel the same way that I feel about you?”

“If you think that I’m the most amazing person in the world, that you can’t live without me, and that you’re sick of spending every moment with me and not being able to kiss me… then yes, I feel the same..” you breathed out the words, your chest beating rapidly. When Fred processed the words, a large grin filled with relief washed over his face. He took a step closer to you, and you took it on yourself to close the gap between your bodies. He dipped his head and connected his lips to yours, his hands placing themselves respectfully on your waist as you wrapped around his shoulders. The kiss wouldn’t have been deemed the most magical - your teeth hitting off one another and your tongues sloppy mixing together, but when he pulled away and laughed, your heart deemed it to be the most magical moment in your life.

#harry potter fanfic #fred weasley #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #weasley twins #hp #harry potter fandom #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #harry potter writing #fanfic

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djarinsbeskar · 3 years

Text

PREQUEL ARC: PART 2 - THE HOUK

A/N: Part 2 is here! First and foremost, can I just say thank you so much for the reception Part 1 received and to those who (gasps!) actually want me to tag them for updates??? I don’t know how to react??? I’m so touched??????? It’s so motivating and has reminded me why I love sharing my scribbles!

There’s a greater focus on world/character building in this chapter so if it feels a bit rambling or description heavy, I do apologise! Like I said, I’m trying to build some context to the reader-insert before we get to the smut, and I hope that I’ve kept her general enough that she doesn’t cross the line too much into OC territory and becomes unrelatable. As always, constructive criticism is welcome! My style of writing leaves much to be desired so I would love to know if something doesn’t make sense so I can improve and fix it. But enough of that, on with the show!

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: Language and slight injury detail.

Plot: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

8 ABY, Mynock, Dandoran.

The second time you met him, he had dislocated his shoulder after a nasty clash with a Houk.

Your dealing with the Mandalorian on Klatooine had moved to the back of your mind and you rarely, if ever, thought about it. It was merely another encounter with a rough character that needed some medical attention. You wouldn’t have been able to hazard a guess at how many similar characters you saw in a week while you worked at the clinic. Even more so when you’d left Klatooine after becoming disillusioned that the New Republic were actually trying to make a difference.

You had heard stories from the Core and Mid Rim planets. Stories of the investment and progress being made to rebuild after the tyranny of the Empire, of the billions of credits being poured into the development of new ship building centers on Corellia and large, extravagant residencies for government members on Coruscant. Things, you were sure, that were not actually urgent necessities as they were desires. Especially given that the funds you received from that same government to sustain the clinic thinned before drying up completely a few months after your encounter with the Mandalorian.

…Hemorrhaging more credits than is justified for the benefits we’re seeing in return.

The busybody politician with a colorful title and even more colorful robes waxed poetically, hiding the sentiment of disinterest in ways only a politician could. Half-heartedly trying to distract you by his explanations with empty praise and gratitude for your service during the Rebellion and your humanitarian work now, a true embodiment of what the New Republic stands for. He crowed like the colorful bird he looked like, dressed as he was with fine feathers lining the lapels of his robes.

You bristle at the memory of the hologram’s eyes flickering to look at anything besides you, running down the time you had spent weeks trying to get.

That was when the memory of the Mandalorian surfaced, surprisingly. How the day after you treated him you arrived at the medical center and saw a familiar pouch of credits sitting innocently behind the check-in desk. When you enquired with the receptionist, she told you it was sitting there once she opened up earlier that morning. The only note left being on one of the datapads behind the desk, the scrawling font reading; to help with your work. You had let out a chuckle to yourself as you checked your schedule, wondering if the brutish male you had treated last night really was as cold as he portrayed himself to be.

The memory had incited a righteous anger that a bounty hunter was more willing to support a voluntary clinic than the government that set it up in the first place was.

I thought the Empire were the ones who put a credit limit on what a life is worth. You had hissed in return, interrupting what you were sure was a well-rehearsed and well used speech, before hanging up. You pressed the heel of your hands into your eyes, taking a shuddering breath as you tried not to be nihilistic in thinking that you had spent nearly half your life thinking you could make a difference, when, you were just serving the Empire in different clothing.

It wasn’t a fair comparison; you knew the New Republic was neither as cruel nor as tyrannical and oppressive as it’s predecessor, but you had been made so dreadfully aware that in places like the Outer Rim, people would always be overlooked by those in power because they simply didn’t offer enough to be worth looking at.

The realization was a raw wound to your soul. You had lost brothers and friends to the fight for liberation, but it didn’t seem as though the grass was much greener on the other side. Maybe elsewhere in the galaxy it was, but where you were needed most, the grass was dehydrated and dying under the relentless sun.

With the clinic penniless, your meagre pension from the Rebellion was not nearly enough to keep it functioning. Add to that the reluctance of the other medics to run the clinic alongside you out of their own pocket and the intergalactic beacon for medical aid that alerted anyone in the parsec of where to go being disengaged, traffic stopped. The native Klatooinians preferred their own healers and very rarely, if ever, sought out medics from the New Republic.

For the first time in your life, your path wasn’t clear. If you even had a path anymore.

That was how you found yourself on Dandoran, flying off a week after the last of the medics left Derelkann to the first planet that was habitable to humans. But by the Maker, it was even rougher than Klatooine. The temperate climate and lush greenery were more comfortable for you, but the city you found yourself in, Mynock, was to say the least, undesirable. Having once been Hutt Space, there were still several illegal operations active that kept the city going and you learned early on what areas to avoid and to always carry a blaster with you. But at least where there was activity, there was work for you.

***

You met Biran Sonter the very day you arrived, asking directions to the nearest medical facility, hoping they could use another medic. He was an elderly Mirialan male with a wealth of history behind him, his facial tattoos creased with deep wrinkles and a kindly smile that reminded you of your grandfather.

You were flabbergasted to learn that during the time of the Galactic Republic, he acted as the royal physician to the palace on Naboo.

As you choked on the tea he had kindly made for you at that revelation, you couldn’t ask him quickly enough how he ended up here? On an Outer Rim backwater skughole of a planet and his tale had been sobering. When the Republic first fell, anyone who did not immediately surrender to the rising Empire was terminated. Biran had, at the time, only heard word of the death of the beloved former Queen Amidala and blamed the Empire vehemently. Escaping on one of the last shuttles from the Mid Rim planet before legions of clones descended, he arrived on Dandoran where no one, not even the Hutts cared enough to notice him. All they knew, was that he was an excellent doctor who charged little for his services and kept to himself. That was good enough for them. While he treated a vast number of criminals ranging from thieves to bounty hunters, he was not wholly merciful. He somehow managed to avoid or talk his way out of treating anyone in the organized crime syndicates or known traffickers and killers. It may have gone against a physician’s code to do ones best to save every life, but he like many, made their own code in the Outer Rim.

You fell into a fast and easy friendship with the Mirialan after that, your similar histories of working in the medical field despite being decades apart giving you plenty to talk about. The practice Biran ran in Mynock was always busy and he was only too grateful when you offered to take the weight off his old shoulders and gradually, his clients began to expect to see you most of the day and Biran for a few hours in the early morning. You were never short on work between cantina brawls, accidents and the downright attacks that took place in Mynock and the next eighteen standard months seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, Klatooine a distant memory, as was the Mandalorian you met there.

The night you saw him again, was no different to any other you spent enjoying a quiet drink before heading back to turn in for the night.

You had been in the process of leaving the cantina, recognizing that the later it grew, the rowdier and aggressive the clientele became. You could handle yourself as well as anyone who made their home in Hutt Space, but you knew better than to be blatantly reckless when you were on your own. It wasn’t like you had the squadron you stayed with throughout the Rebellion for backup as you once did, and your closest ally would probably break in half if you pushed him too hard. So no, you were not staying late with Mynocks newest resident of a Houk warlord and the company he seemed to attract.

The Houk in question was a cruel and belligerent brute, a former local warlord by the name of Gappo Teff. His reputation for inflicting punishment disproportionate to any slight committed against him or the Empire was one of the many echoes of the former imperial rule that was still being felt in the galaxy nearly three years after its collapse.

The stories of the chokehold he held over Sullust would make even a hardened soldier’s stomach churn. How he managed to escape the liberation of the planet without being dragged to the noxious surface of Sullust to suffer for the pain he had caused so many, was a mystery. But there he was, sitting like a king in the cantina you found yourself in, bellowing laughter ricocheting obnoxiously throughout the space, not a care in the world that he was a wanted felon.

It might have been to do with the fact that he was at least seven and a half foot tall, with a mass that could easily fit three of you side by side across him and still not be seen. It might have been to do with the cold, milky blue of his small eyes, sunk into a skull so large it could probably shatter ribs and rupture organs if one were to be headbutted with it. The last thing anyone wanted was those eyes focusing on them. It could have been the heavy artillery modified blaster he kept laying on his lap; the weapon more of a cannon for those of a more regular stature. Whatever the reason, very few bounty hunters and even fewer New Republic guards came to collect him. He was probably one of the most easily found quarries on all Guild registers and New Republic wanted lists and yet, he languished in Mynock as if the Empire had never fallen and his reign was still assured.

Making your way to the entrance, you came up short as someone walked in, your nose coming abruptly close to a reddish-brown durasteel chest-plate. Taking a step back, your eyes did a double take at the familiar unpainted beskar helmet. Subconsciously, you had stepped to the side, the Mandalorian continuing to walk without a word as if you hadn’t nearly walked into him. Mandalorians were a rare sight these days, so you could be forgiven for staring. Though, you were most likely staring for entirely different reasons compared to everyone else in the cantina.

The armor was the same, if not a bit more worn, as was the dark boiled woolen cape and pulse rifle strapped to his back. But it was the gait; how could someone walk both gracefully and arrogantly, almost cocky in his self-assurance that he was in control wherever he went. It explained why he was so determined not to let his injury be known by his walk the last time you saw him. Because you had seen him before, there was no doubt in your mind that this was the same irritable reek of a Mandalorian you met in Derelkann years ago.

He stood in the middle of the cantina, assessing the place as his helmet scanned the area. If you didn’t know any better, you say he was…

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” You muttered to yourself when the helmet stopped on Teff. When you said bounty hunters didn’t bother to come after him, you should have been more specific. Smart bounty hunters didn’t bother hunting Gappo Teff, which explained why the one you knew of was right there looking for him.

A choice lay before you. Leave now and lock your doors until morning… or wait. For what, you couldn’t be sure. But if the Mandalorian wasn’t killed tonight by Teff, he was going to wish he was with the injuries he would probably sustain.

You let your head fall back on your shoulders as you exhaled. Why were you so soft for lost causes and wayward souls?

The Houks bodyguards left much to be desired, crumbling to the ground before they had even drawn their blasters, smoke rising from the blaster wounds inflicted effortlessly by Din.

The bodyguards weren’t what worried Din. Their boss hardly needed protecting, and he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

The groan and screech of the metal table being shoved away by Teff as he stood to his full height made Din grit his teeth, arms open as he boomed, “Ah Mando, I was wondering when you’d try your luck at me. Your reputation is becoming rather infamous throughout the parsec.”

A guttural, wet laugh left the purple skinned quarry as Din remained silent and kept his blaster aimed. Damn, but the piece of bantha crap was big. He quickly scanned his peripheral, but it seemed the residents of Mynock had more self-interest than to trade blaster fire over one warlord, the barkeep casually making his was into the backroom of the bar to keep out of harms way.

“Why don’t you hang up that Guild work and let me make you a better offer.” Teff boomed, taking a swing of his drink, streams of the yellow fluid running down the sides of him mouth as those frosty eyes stayed trained on the bounty hunter.

Din rolled his eyes behind his helmet; negotiations by the quarry were his least favorite reaction to being caught but he knew better than to think he had captured the colossal male yet. Until Teff was either dead or frozen in carbonite, he was a danger. Luckily, the orders were to bring him in dead or alive. Seems the New Republic were fed up with him still breathing. He couldn’t say he blamed them.

“No?” the Houk pushed when Din didn’t respond, “Too bad, you’d have made an excellent addition to my collection.” And with more speed than Din had anticipated from the large male, he charged.

You had the good sense to leave the cantina as soon as the first blaster shot was fired, pulling the hood of your dusty grey jacket over your head while you made your way back to the practice to gather a few things. Things that would be completely obsolete if he died but you wouldn’t think that far. You were a realist, not a pessimist. The Houk might have had the advantage of height and sheer strength, but the Mandalorian was quicker, possibly smarter, and decked with enough firepower to make a starfighter pilot drool.

So, you put the odds about sixty forty in favor of the Mandalorian. Not that you would ever tell him that.

Teff roared in anger as Din rolled out of the way again, shooting his grappling hook to latch onto the Houks shoulder and yanked hard enough to throw the male off balance. Despite his large size however, Teff was able to slide his foot back to catch himself, putting him in direct line with Din.

He was on his feet in no time as the Houk charged at him, lowering his head so that on contact, Din’s left shoulder was thrown back into the wall of the cantina. His breath left him as the impact winded him, a dull but growing pain throbbing from his shoulder before Teff’s vile breath permeated even his helmet and a large hand wrapped around Din’s throat. He could feel his feet leave the floor and the weight of his body pulling downward made the pressure on his windpipe all the heavier.

“Oh well, at least you tried.” Teff gloated, his head leaning closer as if to peer into the visor and that distraction was all Din needed to lift his hand and engage his flamethrower, engulfing the Houk in flames. Din gasped in a breath when he was dropped, the squeals of pain coming from Teff disconcerting as he staggered around the cantina, desperately looking for something to extinguish the inferno his clothing and more vulnerable tissue had become.

Din waited a few more measured breaths before lifting the blaster and shooting the quarry in the vulnerable side of the neck, satisfied with the resounding bang the body made as it fell to the ground, flames still burning bright until he picked up the half-drunk tankard on Teffs table to douse the fire lest he be completely unrecognizable upon delivery.

Din looked around, the cantina was empty; the silence suddenly deafening as he looked back down at the body.

Now, how to get him back to the Razor Crest.

Din sighed.

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

You held up your hands unsurprised when the Mandalorian spun on the ramp of his ship, blaster raised and aimed right at you. He tilted his head slightly, taking you in and you tried not to fidget under the gaze you could feel raking over you despite not being able to see his eyes. What you could see though, was how limp his left arm was hanging to his side.

“The demon medic from Klatooine.” He muttered, finally placing your face and lowering his blaster slowly while you lowered your arms.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You snorted before nodding to his arm, “And you’ll probably be calling me a lot worse when I tell you that that arm needs tending to.”

He shifted slightly, turning his body so you wouldn’t be able to see. You just crossed your arms across your chest and stared at him pointedly. He held your gaze and was still as a statue. You could play the silence game too if that was how he wanted to do this. It was only a matter of time before one of you broke and you weren’t the one with a dislocated shoulder, so you’d say that the odds were in your favor.

It seemed like time dragged on before, without saying anything, the Mandalorian sighed and turned towards the ship.

You bit down on a smile, but you could still feel it creeping upon your lips as you congratulated yourself on winning. Two nil, you tallied in your head, not bad girl.

The ship… well the ship was a fossil and that was being generous. But it was clean and obviously well taken of, if the tidy hull was anything to go by.

Apart from the charred corpse lying in the middle of course, but those were just details. Easily overlooked. The smell however… that was a different story, but you held back any comments. You still couldn’t fathom how he’d managed to drag a fully grown Houk through the town one-handed, but then you knew that the strength and discipline of the Mandalorians was unrivalled. He could have done it through sheer determination and honestly, you were lucky to have found him at all. But people in Mynock liked to talk, so following the rumors' had let you there relatively easy.

A sigh broke your train of thought, “Let’s get this over with.”

The warrior seemed resigned to his fate as he stepped over the corpse and you followed suit, mind instantly running through the correct procedure and treatment.

“We have to get the bone in the upper arm into the correct position before it slips back into joint, otherwise the force will just break your arm.” You explained as you moved to stand in front of the large warrior when he sat back on one of the many crates pushed against the wall of the ship. You could barely hear the short exhales coming from the modulator and you could only guess that he was holding back speaking, whether in pain or frustration that you had strong-armed him into accepting treatment again.

“But hey, look on the bright side.”

His visor tilted slightly to look at you.

“No droids needed.” You shrugged a shoulder and sent him a grin when he said nothing. When he looked away, you focused your attention back on the problem shoulder; it wasn’t immediately clear that it had been dislocated, the pauldron he wore hiding the jutting ball of the joint that was no doubt pressed uncomfortably against his flesh. What you could see was that his left side was hanging just a bit lower than his right, and the inability to move the arm was a dead giveaway.

“Are you just going to stare at it or actually do what you said you would when you barged onto my ship?” The rasp was closer to you as he turned his head, the rumble of his voice decidedly deeper than you remembered last time. Or perhaps it always had been, and you just hadn’t been paying enough attention, more focused on the very real threat of having a dead body on your hands as the poison spread. You rolled your eyes; or it was all the short and biting commands he only seemed to know how to give as opposed to actually speaking that made you forget the voice. The man could be attractive, if he wasn’t so frustrating.

“I can’t see it properly.” You replied, agitated with him again. He got under your skin too easily, and ruined your cool demeanor.

“You dealt with the problem just fine before.” He snapped back, pain making him cranky.

“You didn’t have a bone out of place last time!” You stopped yourself, sucking in a breath before releasing it to prevent yourself from snapping again.

“At least,” you bartered, “let me remove the pauldron. I can feel around the duraweave to get an idea. I won’t see any more of you than I did last time.”

He didn’t say anything again for a time and honestly, he was the slowest person you’d ever met at receiving emergency medical care. Half the men you treated during the Rebellion would yell until you’d taken care of the worst of their injuries before they even considered if it was what they wanted or not.

“Fine.” Was all he responded, making no move to remove the offending piece so you took that as your cue to feel around the curved metal cautiously, feeling where it attached to his duraweave and releasing it into your hands before placing it down on a separate crate.

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” A warning growl echoed in the hull, turning you back to your task with a hum.

It seemed the joint had popped forward, no doubt from caving in as Teff collided with Mando’s shoulder. You leaned forward, your fingers feeling around the area as gently as you could while his breathing came out a little shorter. You sent him an apologetic smile.

“I’m going to have to ask you to stay still, okay? Usually I’d have someone to hold—”

“I can keep myself still, just do it.” He snapped finally, turning to look at you before he looked away again. You said nothing more as you took his gloved hand in yours, turning the forearm over and feeling the hand clench in yours when he hissed.

“Shh, nearly there.” You soothed, moving your hand under his elbow to lift it so it was aligned with Mando’s shoulder. You stood, keeping the arm in place and twisting yourself to stand facing his side.

You were definitely out to get him. There was no other explanation for why he only seemed to be seriously injured in your presence. Din tried to tell himself he was being over-dramatic and irrational, that you hadn’t even been on the same planet when he was injured the first time, but then you opened your mouth and he felt justified in his petulant thoughts.

“On three.” He heard you warn and all he could offer was a single nod; the sooner he got this over with the better.

“One…” You jerked the arm forward and slipped the joint back into place quickly with a sickening crack and searing pain took his breath away before it began to ebb immediately.

“DANK…. FERRICK!” Din yelled as his good arm reached across to grip his left, bending forward as he breathed through the flash of pain. You moved out of his way, waiting for him to look back up at you through the helmet, deep pants making his chest heave. You cocked your head to the side when his eyes found yours, a clear question there.

He groaned as he sat back, leaning his head against the hull, “It… doesn’t hurt as much anymore.” He admitted, thinking that the smile you gave him was somewhat worth the knock to his ego at having to admit such a thing in the first place. And like last time, before he could even worry about the concerning direction that thought had led to, you were fluttering about opening crates and bins as if you owned the place.

“What the hell—” he made to stand indignantly.

“Do you have any spare cloth?” You interrupted, “Your arm needs to be bound for a few days. If you have bacta it might reduce the healing time a bit but honestly, I don’t think dislocations can be rushed despite recent studies. Rushing back to heavily lifting or activity for at least six weeks is a sure way to hurt yourself again.”

You were rambling now as you set a pile of disused yet clean cloth you found on your lap, sitting across from him as he just blinked at this enigma of a woman. Giving him orders in his own ship, were you daft?

Your eyes sharpened and shot to his and he was suddenly glad you couldn’t see behind his mask. His eyes had widened guiltily at the thought that you had read his mind.

“You will do what you’re told, understand Mando?” You warned as your fingers tied a loose sling from strips of cloth you’d pulled apart without even having to look at it, deft fingers looping the material and strengthening it with several more layers woven in for good measure.

“If you insist on getting injured so often, you live with the consequences. And the consequences are doing what you’re fucking told and being happy about it, got it? Sulk if you want, so long as you keep the arm bound and don’t take on any jobs for at least two months.”

He opened his mouth a few times at the audacity, did she have a death wish? He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had spoken to him as if he were no more than a child and it made his blood boil. But just as quickly as the anger arose, it simmered as she muttered while watching her fingers tie off the sling,

“You don’t actually seem like a bad guy, and the galaxy can’t afford to lose anymore… not bad guys.” She seemed unsure of giving out even this level of praise but then again, she only had their first encounter to go by.

He grunted; not sure how to respond. And when Din was uncomfortable, he resorted to silence.

You got to your feet once the sling was suitably strong enough to support the weight of his arm without unravelling or breaking and you indicated to him, “May I?”

He jerked his head up in affirmation and you maneuvered the sling to sit correctly under his elbow and forearm, coaxing him to lift it slightly with a tap before you looped the tied end over his helmet, adjusting the length slightly to fit against him.

“You left Klatooine.” the statement rose from the warrior, his tone quieter than you’d heard him all day. Was he... trying to make conversation? Din told himself that it was merely out of curiosity from seeing you by chance on two totally different planets.

Blinking in surprise, you sat back on the crate in front of him, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back on one of your hands, “New Republic stopped funding the clinic and I realized that they’re all the same when it comes to the Outer Rim.”

He snorted in agreement, honestly, he wasn’t surprised to hear the New Republic had cut their losses on charity. It wasn’t in their nature to funnel money away from the Core planets.

“But it’s not all bad,” you continued, “I work with a doctor here. He’s old now so he should be enjoying his retirement. I’m kept busy and…”

He watched you while he waited for you to finish, surely there was more? But when you just shrugged and sent him a tight smile, he felt an uncomfortable niggle at the back of his neck, a familiarity that made him almost want to smile back even if you couldn’t see it. Almost. But not quite. He was unnerved at the… empathy he had for your situation. He too just… kept busy. It wasn’t towards any end beyond supporting the covert and the foundlings there. But for himself, he just kept working towards some translucent, non-existent goal, one job ended, and another began.

Something in your eyes told him you were doing the exact same thing. It unnerved him to think about.

“Echoy’la…” the word left him without knowing and you blinked,

“Hm?”

He shook his head and stood, grunting a bit at the ache in his shoulder when it jostled a bit, “Nothing. It seems I owe you my thanks again, demon medic.”

“I do have a name you know.” You snorted, letting the previous topic go as it seemed to just make him more awkward and grumpy than he already was. You packed away the medikit and replaced the unused cloth back where you found it.

“Somehow I don’t think it’ll be as fitting.”

“Whatever, sunshine.” You looked over your shoulder at him, the sling looking so out of place as he hooked a thumb in the utility belt he wore. It was amazing that he could still look as intimidating as he did. You gathered your things and started down the ramp leisurely. He followed you silently until he was standing at the entrance to the ship.

“Demon or not… thank you.” He called out as your feet hit the dusty ground of Mynock once again. You looked back over your shoulder and gave a single wave, calling something back to him that did make him smile behind his helmet this time.

As you disappeared into the streets of Mynock, he tested the name you had thrown back to him, rolling the syllables, and testing the vowels as he repeated it to himself.

Pity, he thought. He hated being wrong about anything, but somehow, your name was a much better fit than demon medic.

Not that he would ever admit that to you, of course.

Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel @sarahjkl82-blog

#the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #mando x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #mando #din djarin #din djarin imagine #mando imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fic

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

Text

god- l. laufeyson

pairings: loki laufeyson x reader, mentions of other avengers x reader

warnings: mentions of blood and injuries, veryyy little angst

about: requested! loki gets captured by avengers and healer!reader watches him

a/n: thank you so so much for requesting! i am so sorry it took me this long to finish it, and it came out so much longer than i planned, but i didn’t want loki to be ooc, i hope this was good!!

part two

the words you’ve been reading over and over again are beginning to blur. you can’t find it in yourself to care too much, instead choosing to shut the book and stare at the door. your fingers are tapping on the hard plastic protecting the thin cot underneath you, and you try to concentrate on the noise rather than the worry you can’t seem to shake.

they were supposed to be back by now, you think, teeth finding your bottom lip. you weren’t allowed on this mission. while they said the reason you were staying was because they didn’t need everyone, the blatant absence of every single avenger and extended hero said the opposite. you knew the reality was that the threat you weren’t even informed about was greater than usual, and while you had powers, they weren’t as helpful as others when it came to fighting.

so you were stuck waiting for the teammates you hadn’t heard from for nearly ten hours, only able to stand by until they inevitably came back with cuts and bruises for you to fix. halting the thought of if before you could think more of it, you stood, beginning to set up all the medical equipment you usually use for when they arrive. you’re distracting yourself with pointlessly organizing popsicle sticks that you won’t need when you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the hallway. you immediately look out your open door, expecting to see the avengers, bringing the smell of blood and exhaustion, not… loki.

you can’t seem to stop how your lips part and your eyes follow him as he nears, suddenly catching his eyes through the movement of the agents surrounding him. your face heats when his lips quirk up in a small smile, sending you a flirty wink before he’s passed and you are left staring at the trace of him. you’re in a trance, and as much as you’d like to blame it on the god’s magic, you know it’s simply how attracted you are to him, even when you know you shouldn’t be.

you’ve never had a conversation with the god, barely been in the same vicinity as him, and your mind seems to be flooded with him. the avengers rarely talk about him, and on the occasion they do, it’s never remotely kind. you understand why- you saw the damage he’d caused in new york, but the more you read on him, the more you can somewhat understand why he did it, as inappropriate as it is. you’d asked thor to bring you books from asgard that loki has read and asked him to tell you about loki.

you can’t help it- the god is intriguing; it’s so magnificent how powerful he is that it nears terrifying, and he’s so stunning you’re concerned you’d make a fool of yourself in front of him, or cut your fingers on his cheekbones (although how the hell would your fingers get there? you prefer to not think too much into your impossible fantasies).

you’re not even completely certain that what just happened actually happened- because there is no way loki laufeyson looked at a puny mortal like you and didn’t gag.

a hand dropping on your shoulder is what snaps you out of it, turning around to see sam and bucky, “you good?” sam asks, and you nod, scanning the men for the injuries they came to you for. sam has a large gash along his thigh that you can see through a slash on his uniform, and forming bruises along the rest of his body, tiny cuts scattered on his face. bucky is considerably better, his speed healing is helping. there is dried blood that you’ll clean later on his face, small and slightly more serious cuts all over him but already healing, and a clearly dislocated shoulder that he set.

“alright, sam, you know the drill. bucky, please don’t grab any medical supplies and stitch anything like last time and just let me do my thing,” you request, lowering the stretcher so sam doesn’t stress any of his injuries when he sits. “lay down so i can get to work on that cut on your leg, sam.”

you help him on the bed and let him settle down by himself while you soak gauze in antiseptic for bucky. sam’s shirt is off when you turn back, holding back a wince at the darkening bruise splayed on his abdomen. you cut away his pants, wiping away all the blood surrounding the wound and cleaning it with water. “clean,” you mutter, lightly dragging your fingers along the wound, a warm pink sparkling where your touch had been, disappearing with the slice in his skin.

sam sighs when it’s all healed, looking down at his leg, “i am never getting used to that,” you hum a laugh when you move to some of the smaller cuts on his face, all of them healing with a simple move of your fingers. the yellowing that was beginning to form along his abdomen fades back into his normal skin color when your hands drift past them, and he smiles in satisfaction.

“well no broken bones this time,” you point out, patting his leg proudly. he grins, sitting up, “you proud of me?”

“very,” you respond, pressing a kiss to his cheek that relaxes all of his sore muscles, “you’re a gift to this world,” he thanks. you smile in response, sitting bucky down where sam was. sam picks up the clothing you always leave out, moving into your small bathroom to change while you work on bucky.

“how did it go?” you ask him, cleaning away the blood on his face. “not yours,” you comment on it, “i guess that’s good.”

“it went… as well as fighting a god can go,” he answers, you nod, “you fought a god?” you ask nonchalantly, as if you didn’t just have a strange encounter with said god. bucky nods, “loki. you saw him, y/n.”

your hands move in front of his face, warmth settling into the open wounds and closing them. “i was just making sure you’d tell me the truth. no one told me anything about this mission.” you pat at his arms, random injuries healing with a gentle pink. “no serious ones, right?” you ask, squinting at him as he shakes his head. “all of them healed down into small ones that you just healed.”

“okay, then,” you kiss his forehead, making his tense muscles loosen like sam’s. “do you know how much we appreciate it when you do that?” he asks, and you laugh. “making sure none of you are sore is a small thing, and i like doing it.” besides, thanks to that, you got natasha to warm up to your affection- she is now comfortable receiving hugs, and you consider that a win.

“so where’s loki going now?” you question, not noticing the three avengers behind you until tony answers, steve and natasha behind him. “one of the high security cells, you’re going to take turns babysitting him so he doesn’t try to kill everyone again.”

“i am?” you ask, motioning for the three to sit while sam and bucky leave. “not you, i don’t want anything to happen to you, but everyone else,” tony says, sitting in front of you. you roll your eyes in reply, “i’m not defenseless, tony. i’m an avenger for a reason. and it isn’t only because i can heal people.”

“why would you want to watch over him? rock of ages isn’t very interesting,” tony asks, you hold back the fact you think the opposite, continuing to pat at his cheek with a wet cotton swab. “it’s just sitting around and watching a man with an overgrown ego rant about evil plans,” natasha adds, making you shrug, “more than i usually do. most of the time, i have to sit around doing nothing until you guys come back, since steve won’t put me on missions,” you try to ignore how you’re defending someone who most of the people in this room consider a villain.

“we need to have you safe and intact in case anything happens,” steve defends. you sigh, having heard the same excuse multiple times before. “i know. doesn’t make feeling useless for most of the day any better.”

the topic is switched for the rest of the time they’re with you.

three days later, you haven’t even heard the god’s name. you can tell your conversation with tony ticked him off, and you’re worried he might have an idea of what runs through your mind when you think of loki, which explains the absence of anything loki-related. you’re disappointed, to say the least. the god you’ve been thinking about is in the same building as you, only a few floors below, locked inside a cell you know the code and have complete access to, and you can’t even think about him without the concern that tony might somehow find out. he’s been truthful about the babysitting; so far, each of the avengers have sat in with him, steve twice- you’re sure the second time was supposed to be you, but tony is infuriating and true to his word.

every avenger but you and natasha are gone today, though, and from the looks of the folder nick fury’s holding, walking down to loki’s cell where natasha is, it’ll be down to just you.

a few minutes later, you’re reading “the night manager,” when fury knocks on your door, making you look up. “you busy, l/n?” he asks, you shake your head, “have a mission for me?”

“yes. supervising loki laufeyson for the rest of the day, and preferably the night, too,” he instructs, an eyebrow raising when you haven’t moved from your seat, so you stand immediately, shutting your book with your finger bookmarking your page. “oh- yes, of course, sir. uh, i’ll get down there now, then,” you stammer, awkwardly squeezing past him in the doorway and heading to the elevator, “have a nice day, sir,” you wave, nearly bumping into a plant.

you always embarrass yourself in front of the man, which probably explains your limited interactions.

you try not to think about it during the elevator ride, foot tapping on the floor as the numbers lower until it dings. natasha is standing on the other side when the doors part, eyes meeting yours the moment they do. you smile at her, squeezing her arm when she passes to replace the kiss you’d usually place on her forehead to soothe the tense muscles you’re certain she has. she tells you to be careful in a whisper, unwilling to show anything to the god who is curiously examining you. the elevator hums as it closes, and you sit in the chair before the glass prison. “hello,” you greet with a small smile, slightly bowing your head before opening your book and flipping to the page you left off on.

it’s utterly useless, though. the words on the page are impossible to understand when you can feel his eyes on you, examining you in such a way, you’re sure he already knows more about you than you do about yourself. “it’s the night manager,” you say softly after a few excruciating seconds, setting the book down on your lap as you meet his eyes. “it’s a good book so far.”

your tone is light, and you think it’s part of the reason loki answers, “i have read it before. it’s… not completely terrible.”

“no way, i just got the god seal of approval on one of my books,” you say playfully, smiling at him before going back to reading.

“i have not seen you here before,” loki points out after a silent minute, and you nod in response, “that’s right, i haven’t gone down here since you came.”

there’s a dangerous smirk playing at loki’s lips, walking closer to you, “is it because you’re scared of me?” he asks, and you scoff softly. “you don’t scare me. you are… interesting. dangerous, of course, and i don’t agree with your actions, but i don’t think you lash out for no good reason.”

there’s a heavy quiet that follows your words, your gentle stare combatting loki’s suspicious one. you nearly pick up your book to resume until he speaks again. “you haven’t expressed your hate for me yet,” he observes, and you frown, “is that what they do? that’s not very nice.”

“neither am i, darling.” loki replies smoothly, making you shake your head, cheeks warming against your will at the pet name. “well, i don’t hate you. so i don’t see a reason to do that,” you point out.

loki actually looks… surprised for a split second, before his gaze sets on you, “and why is that?” he questions. you pause; you don’t actually know why. surely, you should- he attempted to take over your planet and hurt your friends, but you can’t bring yourself to hold any ill feeling towards him, not after hearing his brother talk so fondly of him even after all he’s put him through.

“i don’t know. i probably should, but i just don’t,” you respond in finality, trying to leave no room for the argument loki will surely bring. he quirks an eyebrow, watching as you stifle a yawn.

he surprisingly doesn’t elaborate, but you’re sure it was already on his tongue. your mind goes back to one of the previous things he’d said, and your frown returns, examining the god. you only realize it completely looks like you’re checking him out when he smirks, cocking his head, “would you like me to do a turn?” he asks, making you flush. “no, i- i was just-”

you let out a small puff of air, attempting to convert your thoughts into one coherent sentence, “are they feeding you correctly? i know shield is supposed to be humane or whatever, but some of the agents pick and choose, and-”

“do you always ramble like this?” loki cuts you off, and you shake your head, bashful, “not usually. but i’m not usually in the presence of a god.” loki smirks at that, “they haven’t. but as you pointed out, i am a god. thus i need very little food.”

the voice in your head that sounds strangely like tony is yelling at you to not care, because the person in front of you is evil- supposedly- and it would be highly inappropriate of you to care, but, like you usually do with tony, you ignore it, reaching into your pocket to get your phone. you type out that you’re hungry to maria, doubling your usual order of food with no questions from her but full of suspicion, you’re sure.

“what are you doing?” loki asks. “getting food. i’m not exactly sure what gods are supposed to eat, and it’s not like i can order a whole ham or whatever, but i don’t find myself loving the idea of starving prisoners.”

“why?” he asks, eyes slanted and head tilted like he tends to do. contemplating his question, you shrug, “because i can’t see why i shouldn’t.”

loki decides you’re bearable.

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Stalker x Stalker, Part 1

Part 1/13, 51.3k words

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Guys, I'm a whole five layers into procrastinating right now. Procrastinating my schoolwork with Alternate Ending, Alternate Ending with Miraculous TikTok, Miraculous TikTok with house chores, and house chores with this... it's like when you do something long enough in a game and you level up at it except instead of getting really good at jumping I'm extremely productive in the worst ways

Nonetheless have some Timinette

Perma taglist: @nathleigh

When Tim learned that his favorite designer was moving to Gotham, he had been conflicted.

On one hand, she was coming to Gotham! Things he ordered wouldn’t take what felt like years to arrive! There was a chance of actually seeing her in person!

On the other hand, why would anyone even want to move to Gotham? Sure, Tim had never left despite his wealth, but only because he’d gotten Stockholm Syndrome-d into liking the place by the time he was legally able to leave. MDC had no such attachments. If she was moving to America then why not pick Metropo -- ew, actually, no, fuck Metropolis -- somewhere safe?

He tipped his head back against the couch to stare at the ceiling for a moment, mulling over his options in his mind.

He sighed and pulled his laptop to himself. He’d watch her for a bit to make sure she adjusted well to Gotham and that would be the end of it.

Marinette hummed as she fell back on her new bed.

It had been a long few months for her. She’d thought she’d be happy when Hawkmoth was finally defeated but, in the end, she’d just been bored. It turns out that adrenaline and dopamine are hard to get when your brain is wired for only using them in life-or-death situations.

And what better place to experience life-or-death situations than Gotham?

Of course, it wasn’t as consistent as Paris’ one or two akumas a day, but she could make do. One scrap of adrenaline a week was better than none at all.

So far, though, she hadn't had much of a chance to get that adrenaline. She’d spent the first seven days moving in. Obsessing over what color drapes she should use, obsessing even more about the locks she needed to put on her windows…

But now she was done with all that. And she had underestimated the time it would take to get settled in so she wasn’t going to be getting any commissions for the next week or so. Which meant the boredom was back tenfold.

Until, suddenly, it wasn’t. High-pitched screaming started up, growing in intensity until it was practically rocking the foundations.

Marinette ran to the window and her face lit up when she saw a green gas slowly rolling over the city and heading her way. “YES!”

Tikki gave her a disapproving look.

“I mean… oh nooooo those people are so scared I guess I’ll have to help them.”

She smiled ‘innocently’ at her kwami before grabbing her purse and ducking out her door. She looked around and saw all her fellow tenants looking confused.

“It’s just fear gas, right?” One of them asked.

She didn’t know why they were asking her, she was just even less likely to know what was going on than they were, but she answered nonetheless: “You’d think so, but everyone has gas masks, so… there’s probably something else going on.”

Her neighbors exchanged grim looks before disappearing into their houses.

She shrugged to herself and locked her door. They were dealing with it, probably.

She found a dark alley and did a quick glance around -- left, right, right, left -- before mumbling to transform.

(She made sure that every part of her was covered, despite not really liking the look of it, because there was no way she was just going to step into an unknown gas without making sure that it wasn’t going to hurt her.)

Marinette hesitantly walked towards the green cloud despite her instincts and the people around her yelling that it was a very, very bad idea. She couldn’t feel anything, thank the kwamis, but her suit was steaming which was decidedly not good. She stepped further inside, her skin crawling (she had to hope this was unrelated to whatever acid was in the air).

She kept her gaze up determinedly to avoid looking at all the quickly decaying bodies on the ground as she slipped through the cloud in search of the source of the gas.

She came upon Poison Ivy after an hour of searching. She was, predictably, sitting on a giant flower. Less predictably, though, smaller versions of the flower sprouted off of it and released the acidic gas into the world. She considered just trying to sneak up and cut off all the stems, but decided against it. Even if Ivy somehow missed her doing this, she would probably just be able to regrow everything.

“Hey!” Marinette chirped as she dropped from a roof.

Ivy turned to look at her and Marinette saw confusion make its way across her face. “Who’re you?”

She looked down at her suit. Her entire torso was red with black polka-dots, her arms and legs were pure black save for red fingers, her face was blacked out and almost featureless outside of white lenses over her eyes.

“I’ll give you one guess.”

“... I don’t know. Polka-Dot Man’s daughter or something?”

“No! I’m Ladybu -- wait, did you just say Polka-Dot Man? That’s a thing?”

Poison Ivy shrugged. “I mean, he’s dead, but yeah he was a thing. Anyways, are you on my side or not?”

‘No! Obviously not!’ her mind screamed, but outwardly she just shrugged and said, “Depends, why’re you doing this?”

“Humans are killing the earth, so I found a way to kill humans without killing the earth, too!”

No one could see it because of her suit, but Marinette opened and closed her mouth like a fish for a good minute before she brought her brain back enough to choke out her answer:

“Oh. Bold choice. Really interesting. Um. Consider: no?”

Poison Ivy sighed. “Listen, kid. I like ladybugs, they help my plants, so I’m going to give you one chance here: leave.”

Marinette brought her finger to her lips, tapping the fabric over her mouth repeatedly as if thinking, and then tossed her yoyo and cut the flower that Ivy was sitting on.

Ivy gasped in surprise as she fell, but Marinette’s moment of victory lasted approximately half a second before Ivy was lifted off the ground via vine.

Every single plant in the area suddenly perked up and made a beeline for her.

‘Oh. I’m fucked.’

Marinette jumped to avoid the initial attack and summoned a lucky charm. She looked down at the machete in her hand and her nose scrunched. Great.

A vine wrapped around her ankle and yanked her back to the ground and she hissed out a curse as her legs protested the harsh landing. She had bigger problems than probably broken legs, though, because there were other vines heading her way. She looked at the machete in her hand and swung it at the vine attached to her foot.

Well, at least the machete was sharp, she supposed.

She rolled away from the attacking plants and her legs screamed in protest at the fact that she was putting weight on them, but she took a few quick breaths and bit back bile and continued on like everything was a-okay.

She looked at where the flower had been. Ivy had made a throne of sorts out of flowering vines. She laid across the armrests and conducted the vines attacking Marinette with a lazy finger.

Marinette yelped in surprise when something wrapped around her waist and pulled her away from the plants. She hit ground -- or, rather, roof -- and skidded over the concrete for a few feet before she came to a stop.

Black Bat and Signal. Oh, thank the kwamis. Help had finally come.

“Thanks,” she said shortly, slipping out of the grappling wire.

The three of them made a hasty retreat, disappearing inside a place a few buildings down. An office building, she thought as she dropped herself into a desk chair.

“How do you deal with her all the time?”

“Well, usually, she doesn’t do this much,” said Signal with a half-hearted smile. “It’s been a while since she’s been on the whole ‘kill everyone on Earth’ thing.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows behind her mask but then shrugged it off and took a quick look out the window. Ivy’s plant throne was rolling around on the ground as she searched for them.

“She’s got plants releasing something airborne that apparently kills everything but plants. Best option is knocking her out somehow. You got something in your tool belts for that?”

Black Bat shook her head.

Marinette hadn’t really been expecting them to, but her shoulders still sagged a little with disappointment.

“I can distract her pretty well,” said Signal after a few moments. “You two can work at taking her down.”

She hesitated. “It’d probably be more efficient to have two people as bait. I’ll help you.”

“I don’t like the idea of putting you in danger,” said Signal.

She shrugged. “I’ve already got two broken legs... and I think a dislocated ankle but not really sure on that one.”

“You what --?!”

“You heard me. Hurts like hell. It’s fine, though.”

How did she know they were looking at her with wide eyes when she couldn’t see their eyes?

She leaned back in her chair, twirling her machete absently as Signal and Black Bat talked.

(Well, they weren’t exactly ‘talking’. Black Bat and Signal just looked at each other and made vague hand motions every once in a while. She tried to follow along, but apparently her ability to know every language did not cover bat-ese.)

Black Bat, eventually, gave Marinette two thumbs up and apparently that was all she was going to get because Signal and Black Bat were already heading out the window they’d come in through.

Marinette sighed and followed after them.

Was it easier to dodge when there were two people? Not really. Or, maybe, Ivy had somehow gotten stronger in the five-ish minutes they’d been gone.

The two of them stood back to back, slashing and hacking through as many plants as they could, but there were far too many and they were quickly getting overwhelmed. Marinette barely managed to notice the one trying to snake around their legs before it could turn them upside down. Signal had grabbed her by the shoulder once to keep her from getting clobbered by a vine carrying a bat (which, by the way, what the fuck?!).

She yelped when she felt Signal get torn away from her and turned to watch him get thrown into a car. The metal crumpled under the impact, which did not bode well for the not metal person that hit it.

She managed to weave her way over and cut him out of the vines attempting to cocoon him, then wondered how she was supposed to check his pulse when any exposed skin meant touching acid. Thankfully, though, he stirred and his mask tipped up to look at her.

“’m fine,” he slurred.

She was skeptical, but she stepped back a step.

“Three!” Said Signal suddenly, which would have been helpful if her brain was in fight mode and not ‘help partner’ mode. It wasn’t, so a vine attempted to impale her Dean Winchester style.

The vine did not succeed in its murder attempt, but she kinda wished it did when it sent her flying into a nearby telephone pole headfirst. She groaned in pain and slid to the ground, head spinning with what was probably a concussion if the way her stomach turned meant anything.

She didn’t get to throw up, though, as something came up and blocked her throat. She struggled against the vine around her neck, hands fumbling for her machete at her side. How does one close their hand again?

Nope, those are eyes. Open those again, please. Please?

And then, suddenly, she was able to breathe again. She slumped against the wall and took deep breaths to get her lungs back into working condition.

She peeled her eyes open despite the pain and looked around. Black Bat had knocked out Ivy and was now tying her up. Signal was making his way over, using an escrima stick as a kind of cane.

She shook her head as if trying to clear it and then looked at the ground until she found her machete again. She struggled for a moment to get her body to work enough to reach for it and grab it, but she got there eventually so it was fine.

“Miraculous Ladybug,” she murmured, tossing it and watching it dissolve into ladybugs.

She blinked until her brain started working again and looked up to see Signal and Black Bat both leaning over her. She couldn’t read their expressions through their armor, but she was pretty sure they were more tense than they had been since the last time she’d really looked at them. Which was wild, because the last time they’d been surrounded by acidic gas.

“You’re a meta.”

She gave a shrug. “Kinda. You’re welcome, by the way.”

He sighed. “There’s a no meta rule in Gotham.”

“Aren’t you a meta?”

Signal didn’t answer, just offered her a hand up.

She hesitantly allowed him to pull her to her feet and she stretched out her newly fixed body. Kwami, she wouldn’t take being intact for granted ever again (or, at least, not until the next fight).

Signal and Black Bat had another one of those silent conversations and eventually Black Bat went over and collected Poison Ivy.

Marinette raised her eyebrow at the hand still in hers and Signal sighed and moved his grip up to her bicep.

“Can I take you to see Batman?”

“Do I actually get a choice in this?”

Signal winced. “Not really.”

She sighed. “Thought so. Alright. Let’s go.”

Welp. She’d lasted a whole week in Gotham. It had been fun while it lasted, she supposed.

Listen, sometimes you accidentally stumble across someone’s secret identity. It wasn’t like he was trying to figure out who Ladybug was, hell there was no way he could have even known she was going to show up in Gotham at all.

But then a cloud of green gas started rolling towards them while he was… watching over her and he had paled. He didn’t know if it was Joker Gas, Fear Gas, or something of Ivy’s creation, but if there were that many people screaming it probably needed more than just the usual gas mask or respirator.

He hadn’t relaxed until Marinette had ducked out of her apartment and started running away from the gas. Good. Despite her being new, she wasn’t stupid --.

Except then she swerved into an alleyway. Tim’s eyebrows furrowed and he ran across rooftops to where he’d seen her disappear. He saw her look around anxiously, checking for something. She was panicking, he thought -- of course she was, she had no real experience with Gotham’s bullshit.

He prepared himself to drop down, to be all ‘Hello random citizen who I do not know, I’m here to take you to safety’, only for red light to envelop her. He stared in stunned silence as she shifted awkwardly in what seemed to be a knockoff Spiderman costume and then headed out.

Ah. Well, now he understood why she had picked Gotham of all places.

He didn’t get much time to mull it over, though, as the gas started getting closer. He hesitated before calling it in, just in case his family had somehow missed the giant thing slowly taking over the city.

“Hey, so… bad news, guys, there’s apparently something going on downtown. Gas. Seems to work with just skin contact.”

“Black Bat and I are on it,” said Duke.

Tim nodded despite knowing that they couldn’t see it and started working on getting civilians to safety. Most of the bats had some parts of their faces or arms uncovered for reasons to connect with victims, so it was really up to Cass and Duke this time.

He worried his lip anxiously the entire time.

And then the ladybugs washed over the world and he felt his lip tear. Ah. That wasn’t great. Bruce was going to be fucking pissed about the newest illegal meta.

‘Well, guess it’s time to learn how to be a defense attorney in the half hour it takes me to get back to the batcave’, he thought, pulling out his phone…

It took him an hour to get to the batcave, which was both really good and really bad. Good because he’d gotten twice the time to learn defense than he’d thought he would; bad because he was the last one there and Bruce looked like he was about to explode.

Marinette had pulled the top part of her suit down like a hood -- he hadn’t even realized there was a zipper over the face -- and was now sitting on a railing and sipping at a Caprisun beneath a black surgical mask.

She looked up at him briefly when he dismounted Redbird and he watched her eyes narrow just slightly before her gaze returned to the bats on the ceiling.

“Since everyone is here, I suppose we can start,” said Bruce, his voice carefully calm.

Marinette finished off her Caprisun and pushed herself up to stand on the railing. “Hi. Ladybug. French hero. Nice to meet you guys.”

Tim waved at her and she smiled enough under her mask for her eyes to crinkle.

“I know about your no meta rule, but I’m not really a meta. Got magic jewelry.” She pushed some hair behind her ears to show off her earrings. “So I really don’t count myself and you shouldn’t either.”

Bruce shook his head a little. “It doesn’t matter that you’re not a meta on your own, you’re a liability to have in the city.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and wordlessly pointed at Duke, which was a good point.

“We know we can trust him.”

“We can trust her,” Tim cut in. His entire family turned and gave him wide-eyed stares behind their masks and all he could do was shrug. “She’s been doing hero work for four years, if she was going to go bad she probably would have already done so.”

“How do we know she’s the same person?” Asked Bruce.

Tim tipped his head towards Cass.

Cass huffed a little and then looked at Marinette.

Marinette shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. “Um…?”

Cass nodded slightly and then made a motion not much unlike a referee at a baseball game. ‘Safe’.

Everyone in the room visibly relaxed. Marinette, upon seeing this, relaxed herself.

“Seriously, though, don’t you guys want someone that can reverse physical damages on the team, anyways? None of you have powers of any kind except him, it’s probably better to have me for now and risk me turning later than not having me at all.”

Bruce sighed and shook his head exasperatedly. “That’s not the point.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Oh? Can someone tell me what the death count would have been for today if I hadn’t stepped in?”

Silence stretched for a few moments.

“Exactly. I get you’re cautious or whatever, that’s your whole ‘thing’, but kwami you’ve passed cautious and gone all the way to paranoid and stubborn. Relax.” She hopped over the bats and pulled the bottom of her surgical mask up to try and take another sip of her empty Caprisun. “Right, someone get me out of here? I’m tired of being questioned.”

The bats were all quiet for a moment as they considered this.

Tim hesitantly raised his hand. “I can take you home.”

She grinned and pointed at him. “Congrats, you’ve officially won second best bat.”

“Who’s first?” Said Tim, who was not offended.

She pointed at Cass. Cass perked up a little.

Ah. He rescinded his offense -- his not offense, sorry -- because, yeah, fair enough.

Marinette smiled and turned to Duke. “I guess you’re going to blindfold me again?”

“Yeah, sorry,” said Duke, rubbing the back of his neck. “Bats orders.”

Bruce grunted, which was B for ‘Yes, but why would you call me out for it?’

Marinette smiled and rolled her eyes. She turned to Steph. “How do you put up with all these guys? You only have Black Bat and she doesn’t talk -- or, at least, I don’t think she does.”

“Oh, there’s more --.”

“Spoiler,” Bruce warned.

Steph rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Yeah, she’s not the only one but the other two are a little… uptight sometimes. Glad to have you on board.”

Marinette looked a little confused but she nodded. “Fair. I like your mask.”

“Thanks! Yours is cooler, though.”

“They’re… they’re the same…” said Duke with a confused frown.

Marinette and Steph both gave him affronted looks.

“Excuse me?” Said Marinette, and Tim was reminded that she was a fashion designer. He silently said a prayer so Duke could get into heaven. “They are completely different! Look at the stitching, hers has a --.”

Bruce strode away, fingers pressed to his temples despite his cowl being in the way, which amused Marinette enough for her to stop chewing out Duke for not noticing the all-important stitching. She shook her head slightly and turned back to Tim.

“You said you were gonna take me out?”

He nodded slightly. After Steph tied the blindfold on Tim led her to Redbird and Cass helped her get on behind him. He made sure that she was holding on tightly before sending his family a tiny two-finger salute and taking off. She buried her face in his back.

He came to a stop outside a cafe and, when he propped his bike up, she pulled her blindfold from her face. She scrunched up her face at the sudden light and he pretended to fumble with the clasp of his helmet to hide his smile.

“I can walk you the rest of the way home,” he said. “If you’d like.”

She laughed a little. “I’m a hero, too, y’know. I don’t need your protection.”

He crossed his arms. “Oh? Then why were you using me as a shield from the wind earlier?”

“Because you assholes didn’t give me a helmet!” She said, giving him a playful punch on the arm. She hesitated. Her head tipped to the side. “Thanks for coming to my defense earlier, by the way.”

He smiled. “It’s nothing, really. And don't worry about B, he’s just a bit of an ass when people first show up.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks, I was so worried about what the guy that dresses up like a bat to fight crime thought of me,” she said, but her shoulders relaxed all the same. She glanced at the cafe he had pulled up to and smiled. “Do you know if this place is any good?”

“I know it has coffee,” said Tim.

“Ah, the world’s second greatest detective strikes again.”

He grinned. “I assume you're the greatest detective?”

“Of course,” she said. She looked inside and tipped her head slightly, considering. “Everyone in there is hipsters, so it’s either really bad or really good. Either way it’s really overpriced.”

He hummed his agreement.

She sighed and pulled her wallet out of a hidden pocket. If they lived in a cartoon a fly would have flown out of it when she opened it.

“I’ll pay,” he offered.

Her eyes widened and her face lit up for half a second before she schooled it into a teasing smile. “Wow, gonna buy me a drink and I don’t even have to pretend to flirt with you? Score!”

“Do that often?”

She batted her eyelashes. “No. I’m a law abiding citizen who would never use creepy old men to give me drinks while underage because America’s drinking laws are bullshit. I’m a hero and I would never break the law. Obviously.”

For some reason, he didn’t quite believe her.

Nonetheless, he just rolled his eyes and led her inside.

#timinette #timari #shutterbug #timmari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin #stalker x stalker #maribat

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rumblelibrary · 3 years

Note

Back at it again with mysterious anon,

Could I request some Niki angst? You've done one where the reader cheats on James to be with Niki so maybe reader cheats on Niki with James 👀

Muted [Niki Lauda x Reader]

Word count: 2k

Warnings: angst

A/N: This one makes no sense, I just wanted to break my own heart. Little narration, a lot of feelings.

Niki wished to be able to tear his ears off when he heard James sweet talk to you after a pre-season testing. He whispered sweet nothings to you, telling you how he would sweep you off your feet, bring you away to his house in England.

Then things got heated, he started mentioning how he wished to do you this and that. He didn't need to be specific with his words, Niki could easily understand the situation by how y didn't even flinch or tried to deny yourself.

He knew you, he knew you too well.

With him you have always been protective, jealous, proud of your relationship and there was only one way he could imagine you giving in.

You already gave up. He already lost you before that very moment, you slipped through his fingers like water through wood, following every curve and every wrinkle, weakening it from the outside until you got to the inside, opening it up, exposing it.

His jaw clenched, he pulled his cap over his eyes as he marched away.

There was no time to regret, no time to think twice, he had only one thing to do.

Throw the soaked wood away.

You were speechless the moment you came home to find your stuff already dislocated outside the door, your keys completely useless in the brand new locker.

Very Niki: efficient, resolute and without looking back.

You knocked at the door, you waited but there was no answer.

Your eyes darted down onto the simple and effective doormat you brought, or was it already there when you moved in? As you wondered why it had to end like this, you didn't even act surprised, you knew perfectly what you did and you took full responsibility over your actions.

You were no saint in this situation and maybe it was bold of you to just expect confrontation from Niki.

You considered to just leave, even if pained you to go like that, but you were temporary bruiselessp, you knew actions weren’t the most painful weapon in Niki’s arsenal, it was his cut throat way of speaking and in particular when it came to you.

Before you could have the time to realise that it wasn’t a punishment but a chance the door opened. Wild curls and beaming eyes, simple home clothing and steady hands.

He was everything you ever wanted and all you could never achieve.

“Niki” you murmured as you looked at him “Listen”

He looked at you eyebrows up “Oh, no I think I heard enough today between you and Hunt”

“No, no, now you’ll listen”

You paced inside the house quickly to stand in front of him, a visible frown over

your features.

Don’t do it, you ket telling yourself, just leave, just go, don’t confront him, you can’t win.

He was right, you cheated but it was’t pure lust, it wasn’t like you enjoyed to hurt him and hadn’t felt a single beat of guilt, you just wanted him to know that.

“Tell me the truth, were you even serious with me?”

You asked him and the question made him cringe.

“Like what? The doubt made you wish to make sure you will always have a bed to sleep into? We lived together, sounds pretty serious to me, evident if you apply a bit of brain power in it”

You frowned as he was hurt and he was attacking you but he saw you wanted to talk and he smirked shaking his head “What are you doing? Finding a way to put the blame on me?”

“I just want to talk Niki” you groaned but he rolled his eyes

“No, you just want to tell me why you did it”

He was stone cold, maybe you hoped he’d react somehow, maybe a bit, maybe just a bit. And now he was just humiliating you even more. No matter the pain of being cheated on, he wouldn’t let you win that either.

In that moment you realised that your gut feeling was right, you should have just disappeared.

“Go on, how bad can I have been to make you decide it was better to fuck James Hunt?”

“You never cared about me”

It was dry as an answer, you hated yourself forn ot being able to express all you went through now that it was the time, his eyebrows shot up in disbelief and a bit of

sassiness. He was mocking you.

“Didn’t I?”

“No, not when you’re constantly dismissing me, telling me anything I say it is stupid or judging anything I do from your superior being. Anything I did was poorly done, or not the right moment or just not enough for you”

“You’re not stupid, but clearly you need to see everything through your heart shaped eyeglasses, right? You need confirms and words and speeches and big excitement. Well, go play the princess somewhere else, what I offered you will be the only true relationship you’ll ever have, and you know it. I never lied to you, I never cheated on you, I tried to better somebody that liked to stay as she is, that’s my only fault”

“I didn’t want to be somebody else, I just wanted you to care about something, anything that was not your job”

“So fucking around was a better choice to keep your ego up”

“No, but at least somebody would gave a fuck about me”

You snapped back immediately to him, you couldn’t remember the last time

you and Niki had sex, maybe a little shag in the middle of the night but it

felt more like trying to get rid of the tension to fall asleep.

He rolled his eyes like little he cared, his hands opening like you just stated what you had to do:get the fuck out.

That always hurt you: the fact that whenever he seemed driven to you, he would pull you into amazing kisses and heated love sessions but always at his time, his desires. If you ever leaned to kiss his neck or reach for him when he was busy or doing something more important, which was most of the times, he would shrug you off, literally closing the space between his neck and shoulder, stretching his back to get you away.

Not now.

Stop it.

Don't be like this.

You really aren’t good at picking timings, are you?

Those words hunted you day by day, you felt like he didn't need you, like anything you did was wrong, flawed, helplessly meant to annoy him one way or another.

You always seemed to organise dates in the wrong days, to wish to stay lazy at home on the wrong day, to pick the wrong moment, the wrong occasion, the wrong words, the wrong topic.

There were times you even woke up with him, you would sit at the breakfast table with him, not knowing if to engage a conversation or just trying to show him your support. You just wanted to see him even if you didn’t know if he would stay outside for the night or leave for some business meeting or whatnot.

But it was never worth it, it was never enough.

Every time you engaged him for confirms or any kind of formal commitment you always were out of place, out of time.

Your touches denied, no sweet words for your ears. You felt like a shadow beside him, you weren't there for the good and neither fo the bad. You weren't into his thoughts and not even into his hopes.

You grew detached from him, angry, you wished to hurt him even though every time you found yourself staring in his eyes you felt bubbles in your stomach and an happy feeling. A voice in your chest telling you how much you cared, how dear he was to you.

And yet , no fondness was reserved to you, no tender touches or gentle words.

It was just the bare minimum of a relationship.

So it felt natural, terribly natural that when somebody, it was James but you know anyone could have worked it out, gave you the backhand of attention you felt loved and blessed. Did your heart flutter when you saw him? Probably not, but he held your hand, he wanted to spend time with you, he stayed in bed after sex with you, he held you and not just dealt with you. You didn’t feel dumb every second of your day with him.

Because that's how Niki made you feel.

Like you were a burden and you'd gladly relieve him now from that, even if you never wished for it to happen this way.

Not reducing it all to the unstoppable drive of sex, your pain was discarded, once more.

You probably deserved it, you got it in the moment you admitted your weakness to him, the moment you slipped into some other man’s bed instead of facing him.

Or maybe, admit it, maybe you just hoped that he would lose control.

Just once, just one time he would have to put the rest aside and focus only on you.

"Now that you wasted some more of my time" he held the door open and waited.

You felt anger and sadness mixed up, the realisation that even now you couldn't win against him.

You'd never get your point across, you will just be the cheater and he would be right.

The loud slam followed your exit as your eyes dropped onto the couple of luggages belonging to you, all your stuff. You never realised it was so little.

You didn't feel like seeing James, let out friends and family that will give you random hypocritical phrases to cheer you up.

Maybe you'll go to an hotel, maybe you'll just leave.

You wished to change your name, change yourself.

The instinctive thought that crossed your mind made you gag, because for a moment, just a random malicious moment, you imagined how beautiful it could be to start from the beginning with Niki.

And maybe you won't do the same mistakes, maybe you'd be better.

James told you many times that you didn't have a reason to feel less than Niki, but the truth was that after hearing to be wrong, do wrong and act wrong, you begun to believe it.

And as you dragged your stuff t the car and drove off you begun wondering what life could be without Niki and while watching you and your little suitcases he wondered why you have such a small amount of things. He wondered if you have always looked so frail, he wondered if there will ever be an after you.

Or maybe, all hope was leaving with you, you were his Pandora’s box, a box full of all the feelings he prohibited himself to distract him and the hope was leaving with you, hidden tightly in the perfect cage of your chest.

Far from him, safer.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams@charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog

#niki lauda x you #Niki Lauda angst #niki lauda imagine #niki lauda x reader #niki lauda fanfiction #niki lauda fic #niki lauda rush 2013 #daniel bruehl #Daniel bruhl #tw: angst

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primasveraas-writing · 3 years

Text

"Kent v Linebacker" -Ted Lasso

Roy's knee is fucked. This is well known.

His fucking monster child, who he loves, accidentally fucks it up more. Such is life.

Part 2 // Accompanying AU

WORDS: 2631

XXX

Their first son is “built like a linebacker,” according to Ted Lasso. Roy shows his usual disdain at the reference to the wrong type of football, but Keeley wearily agrees- she was, after all, the one who carried then delivered their 10-pound baby.

Most people see their son and suggest rugby instead of football, even as they pile tiny Kent jerseys and footballs onto the new parents. Roy insists he doesn’t give a damn if their child wants to play rugby or football or join the damn chess club, but he also tears up the first time Keeley puts him in a tiny (or maybe just small) Richmond jersey.

Because of the way Roy and Keeley are, they balance each other out. Marriage and parenthood come to them relatively smoothly, save for typical growing pains and bumps in the road. But they figure it out, at least for the most part.

One of the more persistent bumps is Roy’s knee. Because, while he was forced to walk away from playing football, Roy is reluctant to accept other limitations. He’ll run or dance or carry around the baby’s new crib, and then swear and pop his knee back into place as needed. Doctors eventually find this out and inform him that this is, in fact, bad. Roy Kent tells them to fuck off. He doesn’t echo this sentiment when Keeley suggests that they’re right.

Because, as usual, she seems to have a point. It doesn’t always take a miles-long Christmas day walk or a rom-com style sprint to Ted Lasso to fuck up Roy’s knee. Somedays, it’s going down the stairs one too many times. Or standing up long enough to make Keeley a fancy dinner. Or jumping around in the coaches’ box after a Richmond win. So Roy concedes this matter, and anyway, he doesn’t particularly enjoy moving his kneecap around or Phoebe’s and Keeley’s face when he does so.

Roy scales back, reluctantly and unhappily. He does modified yoga with the moms and they suggest stretches to help him. Roy doesn’t push himself nearly as much, and so the pain in his daily life decreases.

Then Roy becomes a father, and then his son becomes a toddler.

Oliver is a fucking ray of sunshine. He’s inherited Keeley’s bubbly personality, something evident from his first dazzling smile and the peals of laughter that soon follow. When he starts to talk, he does so incessantly, and he puts every ounce of his energy into babbling and running literal circles around his parents. Even Keeley- even Ted Lasso, occasional babysitter- struggle to keep up. But Roy and Keeley and the Richmond team do their level best to entertain and supervise him, and it works.

Then, because they’re fucking daft, Roy and Keeley decide they want another fucking monster to turn their lives all upside down.

Oliver is three when they tell him he’s going to be a big brother. He’s overjoyed, then he cries, then he’s comforted, then he’s overjoyed again. Roy is the happiest he’s ever fucking been with his son, and Keeley pregnant, and then life comes along and fucks it all up again.

Father and son are just home from preschool, Oliver restarting his long-winded recap of his day when he sees Keeley. Roy hobbles through the door behind him, grinning at Keeley for half a second. She beams back at him, then returns her attention to their child, brows furrowing as she tries to decipher his somewhat senseless story.

Roy’s standing by Keeley’s side, hand on her shoulder as they listen the best they can. Oliver reaches a part of his tale that’s especially exciting- something about cupcakes and a classmate’s birthday, and he gives a shout, then springs up with his arms spread wide, and-

-forty pounds of force collide with Roy’s bad leg. He hears Keely gasp, which is what registers first, then his vision goes white as pain overtakes him, and he feels himself falling.

He opens his eyes a moment later, and Keeley is crouching at his side awkwardly, the swell of her stomach hindering her. Oliver gives a noise that indicates he’s probably about to cry, and Roy shushes him through a groan.

“Fuck,” Roy says, his voice strained. “I’m okay.”

Keeley purses her lips, which indicates she’s well aware of his lie, but she draws Oliver against her side, rubbing circles into his back as she takes Roy’s hand.

“It hasn’t been this bad before, has it?”

Roy shakes his head. “I think I’m fucked,” he confesses, trying to keep the uncertainty and pain out of his words.

“ER fucked?”

“Fuck no.”

“Can you get up, Roy?” Keeley would sound impatient if not for the way her tone wavers. Roy shifts, babying his leg, and Keeley watches as he winces, cringes, and swears again.

Keeley whispers something to Oliver, and he sniffs loudly before scampering off into the kitchen. His wife stands, unsteady and off-balance, and reaches down to help him. Roy uses only his left leg to rise, trying not to knock Keeley over, and he staggers before grabbing the back of the couch to steady himself. Keeley holds onto his elbow and guides him around so he can sit.

“I’m fucked,” Roy reiterates, and this time, Keeley just nods.

In the end, there’s no ER visit- just a few pulled strings to get Roy into the doctor the next day. Rebecca stops by to deliver crutches and a few bottles of painkillers once Keeley realizes that Roy can’t get to the bathroom- or anywhere else, for that matter- on his own. More reluctantly, Ted is called, and he promises to give Oliver the “best darn sleepover since the movie Sleepover.” Roy isn’t particularly keen on Ted being privy to this particular moment of weakness, but Ted leaves with Oliver quickly enough, and Keeley’s pretty sure that even just a few minutes of exposure to Ted is enough to force some positivity into Roy’s outlook, and for that, she’s grateful.

Roy sleeps on the couch that night, as stairs are out of the question. Even if he could manage to struggle up them, he can only imagine coming back down via a painful fall. He’s alone, too, because, despite Keeley’s protests, he’s not about to let his pregnant wife sleep anywhere but a proper bed.

He lies awake long after kissing and texting Keeley goodnight, and he contemplates the quiet of the house and the apparent severity of the situation. The doctor had wanted Roy to come in today, but she didn’t throw a fit when he insisted he could wait. Instead, he’ll see her tomorrow, first thing, and Ted will take his son to school, and Keeley and Roy will both miss work for Roy’s least-favorite type of doctor’s appointment.

“You dislocated your kneecap again,” Doctor Patel explains, gesturing to an x-ray of a very fucked up knee. “The first time, you twisted it.” She points to a slightly less fucked up x-ray. “But continually dislocating your knee weakened the ligaments. So, when Oliver collided with you, your ACL and meniscus tore completely.”

“That’s why it hurt so damn much.”

Patel nods, then sighs. “You mentioned chronic pain worsening over time- you did everything right, trying to keep it at bay, but this- along with additional trauma- can worsen a knee injury.”

Roy grunts. He expected as much. The first doctor he saw after his final match had warned of this, along with things like arthritis and all sorts of complications. His main worry was that his football career was over, and there was nothing he could do about that, so any accompanying outcomes seemed unimportant.

He was wrong, apparently.

“It’s not unusual for these injuries to get worse over time. Especially when you’re not gentle with yourself. But, your symptoms are indicative of severe tearing. I’m also worried about nerve damage.”

“So what do we do now?”

Keeley is the one who asks, gripping Roy’s hand. He glances at her, then squeezes her hand.

Patel hesitates. Roy likes this doctor- her knowledge and honesty have been extremely comforting to both him and Keeley over the years. She doesn’t take bullshit, not even Roy’s, and he appreciates that about her.

But it’s unusual for her to hesitate.

“I believe our best option is open knee surgery,” she says, and her eyes soften when Roy’s jaw clenches. “There are other routes we can pursue, but we’re at a point where they may not be as effective.

“What are they?”

“We can do more tests and try an arthroscopic surgery or other minimally invasive options, but-”

Roy tunes her out. He’s the last football player of his generation- he’s seen everyone he played with at the beginning of his career retire, and the various injuries that forced this fate upon his fellow footballers. Open knee surgery is a big fucking deal. Especially since he’s not a fucking grandma.

“It’s a long fucking recovery time,” Roy says finally.

A nod.

“We have a baby due in three months.” This time, Keeley squeezes Roy’s hand.

“If all goes well, you’ll be walking unassisted by then. Enough for midnight diaper changes, so long as you don’t sprint into the nursery.”

“And it’ll work best?”

“I can say with reasonable confidence that your case is severe enough to warrant this surgery, and that the other surgeries aren’t typically successful in similar cases.”

“Fuck. Let’s do it.”

They schedule surgery for a few days later, which is a quick turnaround, but it’s enough time for two Richmond matches to take place. The first falls on the day after Roy’s doctor visit, and the second one is the day of the surgery. This gives him pause- Roy’s first and longest love is football, and he’s loath to step away, even for a week. But he thinks of Oliver, hesitant to hug his father when they get home, and Keeley, sneaking glances at him as if expecting him to break when she’s not looking.

Roy trudges- or limps- forward. He stays home for the first Richmond match and tries to ignore Keeley scrolling through Twitter with a worried look on her face. They had debated what would be worse- to miss the match with no explanation, or for Roy to show up on crutches and in obvious pain. In the end, the desire for privacy (and maybe easing Roy’s discomfort) won out, and Keeley and Roy and Oliver watch the match from their living room. Roy and Oliver shout at the TV, and Keeley livetweets, and it’s okay until the post-match conference.

“Coach Lasso! Roy Kent was missing from the coaches’ box tonight. Can you explain why? Has there been a professional change or has something personal occurred?”

Ted holds up a hand, stemming the reporter’s flow of questions. He smiles at her easily, but Roy knows that no matter what Ted says, there’ll be speculation. A nonanswer is still an answer, but they decided as a team to keep the public in the dark as long as possible, to maintain any privacy Roy has.

“Roy and his family are jus’ fine, thank you. As far as I know, Roy hasn’t decided to leave our coaching team, so we’re all good there.” Ted clears his throat, and Roy wonders if his mentor is uncomfortable telling half-truths to the press. “Roy needed some personal time away, but I expect you’ll be seeing him back again shortly. Thanks.”

“Well, that wasn’t complete shit,” Roy muses in near-approval. Keeley hums noncommittally.

“No,” she agrees, pleased. “And I livetweeted the whole thing so nobody thinks one of us is dying.”

“Perfect,” Roy says, satisfied. So long as they don’t get hounded on the way to the hospital. He looks down at his lap, where Oliver is curled against him, fast asleep. Roy moves slightly so that he can wrap his arm around his son, and sighs.

Keeley looks up at them and grins as she takes in the sight. “Look at my boys,” she says softly, and Roy’s heart melts just a little.

Surgery goes well, and Roy leaves the hospital the same day. His memories of the event and the hours after are fuzzy, but Keeley informs him that he watched the Richmond match while the anesthetic wore off, and proceeded to shout an absolutely incomprehensible mix of words and swears at the TV. Richmond lost, but it was hard fought, and it’s days later when Keeley confesses to Roy that he actually cried once the final result was clear. Roy would be less concerned by this if he could remember it at all, but at the same time, he’s reassured that his plan of being totally unaffected by major surgery and attending the match in person didn’t pan out.

Roy quickly decides he’s utterly useless on crutches, instead letting Oliver expend his energy by fetching things like water and painkillers and phone chargers for his dad. There’s plenty for him to do; Oliver thrives with given purpose, and under the extra attention Roy has to spare. He hates being unable to carry his son, but he can still cuddle with him, and draw with him, and even though Keeley is burdened with bathing and chasing after Oliver, Roy can still fucking help here and there. Like telling Oliver to eat his broccoli or clean up his shit, because vegetables are fucking important and his son isn’t a slob.

His return to Richmond is less smooth. He doesn’t want anybody’s fucking pity, least of all from the boys on the team, or from Ted Fucking Lasso, but instead of the fearful reactions Roy’s used to, Roy’s treated with a gentleness he absolutely fucking despises. Nobody wants to push back against his heightened grumpiness (a side effect of knee surgery is that it fucking hurts and this makes Roy very unhappy), and Ted somehow feels obligated to hang back with him as he limps up to the field each day. His fellow coach also launches into several tirades about his and Beard’s and his great uncle Roger’s various injuries over the years, and Roy ends his first week back feeling, unfortunately, closer to all three men, including the one he’s never fucking met in the first place.

Keeley’s made sure to officially announce that he’s had surgery, explaining away his absence and all the speculation that went with it. The press will likely hound him anyways, but Roy already has his response planned (“Fuck off!”).

The crowd cheers him during their next match. He hobbles slowly behind the rest of the coaches, using one crutch even though he really should be using both, swearing under his breath at the soft terrain and his shit balance and fucking kneecaps for being so fragile in the first place. Keeley would say all this support is sweet, and he catches a glimpse of her beaming at him from the stands, Oliver bouncing on her lap, and the agony and humiliation dulls.

Richmond plays a great fucking game. It’s not their best match ever, but they win and celebrate accordingly. Roy makes his excuses earlier than usual; he knows he’s put Keeley through the wringer in the past week, and Oliver keeps rubbing his eyes, and there’s nothing more that Roy wants than to read his son a fairytale then cuddle with his wife in bed.

So they go home, and do exactly that.

Roy’s last thought before he drifts off that night, having tucked Oliver into bed and kissed Keeley quite thoroughly, is of how fucking perfect his life is. And, although he echoes that thought many more times, one of the more poignant occurrences is when his daughter is born, and he holds her in his arms for the first time.

Yeah. Pretty fucking perfect.

#roy kent #roy x keeley #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #keeley jones #roy x keeley fanfic #roy x keeley fanfiction #keeley x roy #ted lasso imagine #roy kent x keeley jones

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dinosaurtsukki · 3 years

Text

being the MSBY Jackals’ physiotherapist

anon: HEY BOO! LISTEN BEING THE BLACK JACKELS PHYSIOTHERAPIST! I can imagine a lot of damage I- bye 😽 I could I please have that as a headcanon 👉👈 thanks! ❤️ (that is a If requests are open..)

they are most definitely open and OH MY GOD THIS IS SUCH AN AMAZING IDEA WHEN I GOT THIS I COULDN’T WAIT TO START. i’ve been watching a lot of vids on what physical therapists do too and i hope you like this it was so fun to write !!

Bokuto Koutarou:

he deadass got you mixed up with the sports psychologist

when he walked into your clinic he was all ‘ah, hey there’ before lying faceup on the cot and just talking about his problems

and at first you were alright cause good to make conversation and everything until you realized.... “this guy thinks i’m the therapist”

bokuto: people always assume that i’m really naive and i kinda am but--

you: bokuto,,,, i’m not the therapist

bokuto: oh 👁👄👁

you: does it, um, hurt anywhere?

bokuto: *points to his heart*

after directing him to therapist’’s office, you finally clear up his misconceptions on what you’re supposed to be

you did hear about bokuto but what you didn’t expect was that he was An Actual Ray of Sunshine

whenever he comes to your office for his weekly check-ups, he always brings some sort of present

he likes to bring a package of cookies and the two of you eat them while you have your session

bokuto still uses the term ‘ouchie’ and it’s adorable

he takes really good of himself and his body so he isn’t prone to serious injuries. as soon as he knows something feels off, he’ll stop himself from working and come to your clinic

except,,, he comes way too often

bokuto: I WAS FLEXING MY FINGER AND THEN IT SUDDENLY MADE A CRACK SOUND WILL IT FALL OFF???

you: you’ve... never popped your fingers before?

bokuto: you can POP your FINGERS???

in interviews, bokuto loves to mention all the people who helped him on his journey and ngl it’s a REALLY LONG LIST but he always, always mentions you as ‘the best physical therapist ever!!’

and it makes you so soft you love your job so much

he actually ends up recommending you to his friend, akaashi keiji, because bokuto knows his shoulders and back hurt

akaashi comes into your office and just goes: “can you crack my back and shake me like a glowstick?”

you: i think you’re looking for a chiropractor

akaashi: ...

you: okay, lie down. i’ll see what i can do

Hinata Shouyo:

he got LOST TRYING TO FIND YOUR CLINIC

like, you were checking your watch wondering where your client was before he burst into your clinic thirty minutes late

also for some reason he was really nervous to see you poor baby he had the misconception that you were there to find what was wrong with him and then after he wouldn’t be able to play again

so he was genuinely surprised after you just made him do a few stretches for him, recommended some ways to move his body to utilize it better, and just sent him off

hinata: just... just like that?

you: yeah, pretty much. unless you feel that something else is wrong

after that he’s not so afraid to visit your clinic. in fact, he enjoys it quite a lot!

hinata really takes note of the advice you gave him (he brings a notepad and everything) and he likes to call you up to let you know that they worked

he actually calls you A LOT, like you’re probably the person he texts and calls the most other than natsu

at one point he was calling you every single day asking about what to eat until you decided to make a whole-ass weekly meal plan for him to just cycle through

he’s actually quite flexible (not as much as sakusa though) and he’s so proud of being able to reach farther than his toes

when you’re not looking though he measures himself against the height chart on your wall and you think it’s absolutely adorable

hinata knows how to take care of his body and TRIES not to overwork himself but sometimes he gets really impatient about wanting to improve so he’ll stay late in the gym, practicing his spikes and serves

BUT since his teammates know hinata listens to you they’ll threaten to tell you when he’s overworking

sakusa: hinata, if you don’t leave the gym right this instant i am calling y/n

hinata: just five more minutes!!

sakusa: *pulls out his phones and presses some random numbers in*

hinata: OKAY OKAY I’M GOING

it’s kind of like the adult version of your parents calling the doctor when you don’t want to eat

also you have no idea that this happens

even though he’s moved on from it, hinata still gets a bit paranoid about playing a major game while being sick

you’re always at their games as part of their medic crew and before it starts, hinata always comes up to you and asks if you can take his temperature

you didn’t know why until atsumu explained everything so now you make sure to always have a temperature on you for hinata’s peace of mind

Atsumu Miya:

someone who actually knows what physical therapists actually do thank god

ngl you’re kinda shookt at how large he is in real life when he walks into your clinic

he also assumes right away that you want an autograph so he gifts you a signed picture of himself which you always have on your desk from now on because come on you are a fan

atsumu’s really nice to talk to, he does flirt quite a bit but he genuinely asks about how you are too or if your family is doing alright

such a sweet boy

atsumu’s the one who visits your office often but for reasons that are actually relevant to your job because this man just overexerts himself too much

and he keeps brushing it off and saying that he’s alright but you know better you’re a physical therapist for god’s sake

atsumu: i’m telling you. it’s just a sprain!

you: *pokes his ankle*

atsumu: aaaAAAAAAHHHH

he’s the one that you have to constantly keep tabs on and thanks to the help of his teammates and a spare key, you’re able to drop by his apartment once in a while

but no matter how much of a pain in the ass he is you still can’t help but want to take care of him. whenever you make yourself dinner you find yourself making seconds for atsumu

before you know it, you’re making dinner for your favorite MSBY boys because you don’t want them to feel left out

you also have to stop atsumu from overdoing on the protein shakes and drinking vitamins

because he’s addicted protein shakes especially the strawberry-flavored one but you’re the only one who knows that so shhhhhh

atsumu: if one vitamin capsule makes me healthy, does that mean drinking more will make me even more healthy ??

you: NO STOP. STOP WHATEVER YOU’RE DOING. RIGHT NOW.

one time you got a call in the middle of the night from atsumu saying that he ate an entire container of gummy vitamins and you had to run to his place in your pajamas

idk you just see him so much because he keeps getting injuries and it’s hilarious

atsumu, walking into your clinic: hey, doc! they sent me here cause my back hurts from carrying the entire team!

you: atsumu, you dislocated your shoulder

Sakusa Kiyoomi:

probably your most normal client among the four of them but that doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy his visits to the clinic

well, actually when he first visited your clinic, everyone else stalked him because they wanted to see his Flexible Wrists in action

you had to chase them out

sakusa is SO HAPPY that you just took one look at his Flexi-Wrists and noted it down without going batshit over it

you always spray the cots and your instruments with alcohol before he comes in and sakusa knows cause he smells it and he appreciates that so much

one thing that you do notice is that sakusa,,, frequently glances at the jar of lollipops you keep on your desk and give out to your kid patients

and after a session he just lingers for a bit before saying good bye and leaving so one day you just take a chance

you: would you,,, like a lollipop?

sakusa: .... yes please

he chooses a cherry flavored one and is about to leave when he sits back down on the chair

sakusa: they’ll never let me hear the end of it if they see me

so you let him stay in your clinic for a bit longer before deciding to also get a lollipop and that’s how the two of you end your sessions

no talking. just lollipop eating

(i know how it looks but pls don’t add sexual connotations i jus want sakusa to enjoy a fricking lollipop)

he actually likes to remember the scientific muscle names and everything just to impress you

also, he doesn’t want to give you a hard time but he also likes visiting your office and talking to you (and eating the lollipops) so he makes up all these excuses to come by your clinic

sakusa: i hit my toe on the table

you: okaay, do you need a bandaid?

sakusa: it was the small toe

sakusa’s quite selective about the people he’s with so he’s kind of attached to you now. like it or not, you’re his personal doctor

prepare to receive texts like ‘y/n, i have a cough. what should i drink?’

you: sakusa, i’m a PHYSICAL THERAPIST

you: also, ginger tea is supposed to be good for you

he’s actually your eyes and ears when it comes to monitoring the team. kind of like the kid who tattles to the teacher in pre-school

sakusa: y/n, atsumu’s overdoing it again

you: is that so?

atsumu, in the background: NOOOOO NOOO I’M NOT !! SAKUSA’S LYING

you have such a soft spot for sakusa. when he had to be confined at home for breaking his ankle, you sent him a whole jar of lollipops

he ate them all in one day

***********************************************

taglist (still open to anyone who wants in!): @montys-chaos @miyumtwins @strawberriimilkshake @pocubo @sugawara-sweetheart @akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan @therainroguefanfiction @atetiffdoesart @stephdaninja @oikaw-ugh @charliefredb @dramaqueenweeb1469 @tremblinghearts @applepienation @doodleniella @haikyuu-my-love @waitforitillwritemywayout @kattykurr @tpwkatsumu

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bratkook · 3 years

Text

one chance. (m) knj. teaser.

pairing. flash!namjoon x reader genre. fluff, angst, smut, superhero!au word count. approx 20k warnings. light hearted, some fighting (not graphic), mentions of character death (also not graphic...or permanent), mutual pining, namjoon is an adorably sweet dork !! smut: tbd as i write! but ofc filthy summary. namjoon knows he only has one chance to go back and make things right, but is he prepared to live with the potential consequences that his actions could cause? note. this was going to be part of a bts super hero collab that fell through (& i hope the author’s involved still post their fics) i’m about halfway through writing it and hope this will give me the motivation to finish it lmao. i might do a tag list if anyone is interested?? lmk muah.

The searing pain is felt before Namjoon even hits the floor, shooting down his fingertips when he attempts to move them, making his shoulder ache with each breath he takes. The plastic drums he had just collided into—an impact at a speed they weren’t designed to withhold—lay tattered in bits and chunks all around him, cold water that would typically be held inside them now spilled out and soaking into his suit.

A hiss escapes his lips as he remains on the wet floor, already hearing the rushing footsteps approaching him. “It’s broken!” he shouts out, wincing when he once again attempts to move his arm. “Why isn’t it healing if it’s broken?”

When you and Hoseok finally reach him, you breathe a sigh of relief. From the absolute chaos his crash had caused, you were expecting to see him a lot more battered and bruised. Instead he lay on his side, hand gently cradling his aching shoulder with a grimace on his face.

“Holy shit, that was awesome.” Hoseok barely spares a glance at Namjoon, overstepping him to assess the damage caused, tapping away at the screen of his tablet as he does so, checking the speed data he had captured.

“You told me these would hold,” Namjoon grumbles, foot kicking a nearby scrap of plastic, another groan leaving him when his shoulder throbs.

“That was just a guess.” Hoseok brushes him off, continuing to type away as he circles the crash scene. He only approaches Namjoon to pluck the Go-pro off his head, pocketing it with a sheepish smile on his face.

With a subtle eye roll, you’re crouching down to meet Namjoon’s body, hands gently reaching out to see what the problem was. He lets his hand fall from it’s protective position, eyes squeezing shut as he waits for the burst of pain to come, jaw clenching when your fingers press along his shoulder, clearly feeling the way it had popped out of place.

“It’s not healing because it’s not broken.” Namjoon finally opens his eyes now, peering up at you and gulping when he realizes just how close you are. He can clearly see the worry in your eyes as you try to see just how bad it is, a crease between your brows that he wants to rub out with the pad of his thumb, small frown on your lips that only makes him feel worse for going against your warning of this being a bad idea.

A small huff spills from your lips once you realize you won’t be able to help him until you’re back at the lab without this suit—a suit that Hoseok calls his pride and joy—covering him up. “It’s dislocated. You probably tore some ligaments and tendons, but those will heal up just fine once we pop it back into place.”

“Wait, is that gonna hurt?” he whines out, huffing out the strands of his brown hair that had fallen over his face and gasping in pain when you purposely prod at the swollen joint with a small glare.

“I’ll make sure it does so you remember to never go against my warnings.”

“Oh god, you’re doing this on purpose!” Namjoon yells, sat on the cold chair, knees pulled up as he braces for the pain.

“I told you I was,” you smirk, extending his arm out, hands placed against his palm with the other on his trap muscle to get a good grip. The loose threads of his suit tickle his skin, a product of you cutting the fabric to double check that the only thing wrong was in fact his dislocated shoulder.

Did you actually have to cut it? No. This was just your childish way of getting back at Hoseok for convincing Namjoon to do this.

The grimace never leaves his face as you stretch the limb out, twisting it slowly to the right angle before pulling back with a slight pop once it settles back into its rightful spot.

He feels the relief instantly, tense muscles relaxing as he sags back into the chair, face no longer contorted in pain when you gently lower his arm. Namjoon swears he’s never felt better, already able to lift his arms as if nothing ever happened, the torn tendons quickly repaired and back to normal thanks to his regenerative ability.

“Good to go. If you pop it out of place again you’re gonna have to do it yourself.”

“Yeah right. I’ll just have Hoseok do it for me.”

Right on cue, a crash sounds out behind you, followed by a shout and an apology as Hoseok picks up whatever gadget he was currently working on.

“You sure about that?” you question with a smug smile, crossing your arms under your chest as you step back. As smart and helpful as Hoseok was, his mind was far too focused on the technology surrounding him. If Namjoon seriously injured himself, the only person who would know what to do, was you.

He knew this, and sometimes he liked that fact, not opposed to the way you’d constantly worry about him—totally choosing to ignore the reason why you did so was because it was your job. That tiny factor in the equation was tucked into the back of his mind. His small crush was innocent, and if looking forward to seeing what color lipstick you’d wear that day helped him deal with getting poked, questioned, and forced to run on a treadmill to document his speed, then that's fine by him.

“I won’t dislocate my shoulder again. I promise.”

Something about the smile on his face does nothing to ease your worry, and as Hoseok emerges from his room with a giddy laugh, you feel the need to pry.

“What the hell were you trying to do anyway?”

“I think we’re close!” Hoseok announces, your question being brushed aside as he thrusts his tablet into Namjoon’s now fully mobile arms. The only thing lighting up the screen is a skew of numbers along with a diagram and some fancy looking animated figure that slightly resembled himself. It meant nothing to Namjoon so he doesn’t bother trying to decipher it, looking back up at Hoseok with a confused expression.

“I don’t think me making those plastic drums explode got us any closer.” A small shiver courses through him as he recalls the pain from his shoulder once more.

“Oh yeah, that was pointless. But I think I figured out another way.” Hoseok grabs the tablet once more, tapping a few more times before another animation fills the screen. Peering over his shoulder you spot what it is, a golden animation of what looks to be a treadmill, swirls flowing on either side of them that you believe to represent wind.

“Another way for what?” You question again, not liking the sly look on Hoseok’s face.

“Time travel.” He says it so casually, not even sparing you a glance as he flips the tablet over to show Namjoon.

That wasn’t what you were expecting. When you had walked in on Hoseok pitching the idea to Namjoon, wanting to document his full speed, push it further to see what more he was capable of, you thought it was just to gather information to help when it came to figuring out a plan of action the next time a meta-human decided to torment the city.

“Time travel?” you repeat, a displeased look on your face that Namjoon spots instantly. The small wrinkle between your brows is back and he can’t even allow himself to find it adorable because the small glare you were giving Hoseok changes course and stares directly at him.

“Yeah,” he quietly admits, pressing his lips together gently. His saving grace comes in the form of his phone ringing loudly, cutting through the tense silence and making him jolt in his seat, hands fumbling for the device.

He has never been more thankful to get a call from work, your scolding being directed at Hoseok now, but Namjoon can hear it through his current conversation. The worried tone in your voice is clear as you question Hoseok’s sanity, stating how dangerous time travel could be in the grand scheme of things. Hoseok can only stumble over his words, flustered at being on the receiving end of your lecture.

Namjoon ends the phone call right on time to hear you shout, “Are you trying to start World War three?!”

“I gotta go…” he whispers, slowly sliding off the chair trying to be as quiet as possible, hoping he wouldn’t be detected. But before he can flash out of there, you’re looking at him again.

“Not so fast.” He freezes instantly, hands lifted up in front of him. “We’re not done talking about this—“

“I know, but I gotta go. I do have an actual job after all.”

Hoseok glares at Namjoon, “So you’re gonna leave me here to get yelled at...alone?”

Namjoon gives him a guilty smile, shrugging and mumbling out a quick apology before bolting out of there—literally. Your hair flows up at the speed, Hoseok’s shirt flapping wildly, and nearby documents scatter around from the gust of air he had caused. The only thing left behind is the red suit draped across the chair he had been sitting on, flashing out of it and into his regular clothes before leaving to work.

“What was the Gopro for?” you question. As much as you didn’t like the idea of time travel, you were slightly curious about the entire situation.

“Just thought it’d be sick to film it. Like imagine if it actually works and we have solid proof?” Hoseok’s eyes glimmer at the prospect of it all, tapping at the screen to replay the footage captured earlier. The two of you have front row seats of Namjoon’s earlier crash, and seeing the chaos along with hearing Namjoon’s grunts of pain a second time makes you glare at Hoseok once again.

You reach forward and grab the discarded red suit from the chair, balling it up and tossing it at Hoseok’s face. “Patch it up. I had to rip the sleeve to properly see his shoulder.”

He whines loudly as he peels the material off of his face, fingers clutching the precious suit and gasping when he spots the torn area. “You monster!”

#namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #namjoon smut #bts fics #new #teaser

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acourtofsnakes · 3 years

Text

Tracinya - Rogue, Chapter 23 | The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader

Summary: Nothing will stop you from rescuing Din. Anyone who stands in your way is merely an obstacle to be removed. But will you be merciful... or listen to that dark call?

Warnings: Injury detail, blood, guns(of the space variety), knives, fighting, swearing, death, watch me make things up about the Force again.

Word Count: 13k+ (I got carried away?)

AN: Well. This ended up a lot longer than I expected it to be. I got rather carried away it seems ((oh well)) Also, I have checked this ((twice)) but its over 13k words and there is going to be something I missed.

Introduction

Rogue| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f) Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @kenoobiwan @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy @goldielocks2004 @seninjakitey @what-iwish-you-knew @queenofthefaceless @rosiefridayrogersunday @greeneyedblondie44 @itsnottilly @welcometothepedroverse @xgoldenjenny @mamacitapascal @heyitsjaybird @amyk-37 @greatcircle79

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @mypedrom @undiscovered-misunderstood @kaylee-krystal

Mando’a Translation: Tracinya - Flame

There was no part of his body that wasn’t screaming in pain.

His right leg was broken, possibly in two places, and his left ankle was fractured.

He had taken the fall on his right side, meaning the impact had dislocated his shoulder and shattered his collarbone, resulted in searing agony whenever he moved his head.

Not only that, but every breath felt like glass and fire, a pain he was familiar enough with to know he also had at least three broken ribs.

Of course, there were bruises – his entire body was probably littered with purple and black smudges – and cuts.

Din didn’t remember hitting the floor. Only remembered saying goodbye and then… nothing. He supposed he should be grateful, because from the state his body was in, the feeling of impact would have been horrendous, his body crushed under the very armour that was made to keep him safe.

He’d been convinced that was it, the lights were turned off and the Maker would come to greet him.

And yet, after an indeterminable amount of darkness… there was suddenly light.

Harsh, blinding light and hands moving over his body, checking for injury and –

They were going to remove his armour.

The thought and realisation sent shockwaves of terror through him, and despite the agony that had threatened to suck him under, survival instinct kicked in and he lashed out. Taking down anyone who came near him, the medics, the guards, Troopers – anyone who threatened to touch his armour. He was like a caged animal, defending his last dying breath even as his head spun and his knees gave way.

He fought for consciousness, long enough to see a pair of immaculate boots walk in, the edge of a long, ebony cloak embroidered with gold.

Through the roaring in his head, he heard a silken voice ordering everyone to stand down, that if anyone removed the amour, they would be removed of their head.

And then he had been sucked back into a fitful abyss

Din wasn’t sure how long ago that had been.

The room – cell – they had put him in contained no windows, no clocks, nothing to give him indication to what time it was. Only a few artificial lights placed on each wall – which he was grateful for, because the dim lighting was a minimal balm to his pulsating head.

Only a thin cot for him to sleep on, pushed into the corner of the room and a tiny area in the corner where he could relieve himself. The ceiling rose far above him, giving the impression of being at the bottom of a very small, very dark pit.

There was no regular pattern to when they pushed a tray of food and water through a tiny hatch in the door either, so he couldn’t even use that.

Not that he could have concentrated anyway, with the agony waging war on his body.

He’d had countless injuries before and danced the line of death so many times he was surprised he kept getting away with it.

And yet this… this was bad.

His vision kept fading in and out, blurriness making his sight hazy before it cleared again, but not without leaving fuzzy auras that floated in his peripheral.

Concussion too then… a bad one.

He just prayed there was no permanent damage.

He could still talk, though his voice was hoarse and ragged when he whispered to himself the names of his loved ones – he could still remember them, thankfully.

The ability to move remained intact – though heavily compromised. He could only manage tiny movements, embarrassingly slow as he tried not to move his neck or shoulder… or head… or back.

An escape probably wasn’t going to be possible for a while.

Din sighed, laying in an awkward position on his cot, one that gave the least pain.

Again, his thoughts returned to his haven.

You.

You were going to kill him when he got out.

Either for being a hypocrite, or for the worry he was causing you.

The worry, no… the heart-wrenching terror he had heard in your voice mere moments before he fell. That cruel fear of the consequences as you laid into him, tried to keep that anger contained but he knew you too well. Knew that this would be tearing you to pieces.

He had felt the exact same way when you were taken – when she died.

You were a rather dysfunctional pair, weren’t you.

That thought had him chuckling – and then groaning as the small movement sent shockwaves from his broken ribs.

Maker, he was battered.

He didn’t even know how it had all gone so wrong.

One minute he was flitting through the sky, dodging blaster fire and the next there was a loud pop and smoke began billowing from his back, from the jet pack.

A very carefully aimed shot, with precision and intent – not to blow him up by shooting at the fuel lines… but perfectly lined up to knock out the thrusters and sent him tumbling to Earth.

There was only one person he knew that could make a shot like that.

Someone he should have foreseen, if he was honest with himself.

Looking back, the townspeople letting slip the information about the base… that had clearly been a trap.

A false trail to lead them right to the doorstep of the very people trying to chase them down.

Din hadn’t just led himself to his death… but his friends too. He had no idea where they were, if they’d escaped – if they were even alive.

He was disgusted with himself, the way he had so easily and thoughtlessly allowed his friends to be brought to such danger. He should have just gone in alone but… he hadn’t been thinking straight.

When he’d heard that there was a whole base dedicated to finding his sweetheart… a whole legion of Stormtroopers trained, and no doubt given weapons specifically made to defend and attack Force users, he’d lost it.

How could he walk away knowing all of that? Knowing they were going to come after you?

He couldn’t. He didn’t.

And now look where he was.

Movement outside his door suddenly broke him from his reverie, a shadow moving past the gap in the food hatch.

Something beeped outside the cell, multiple locks sliding and scraping through the door and then it was pushed open.

Din blinked against the sudden harsh light flooding his cell, his helmet damaged so his visor didn’t adjust to the brightness the way it should have done.

As his eyes cleared, he saw a figure lean and tall, wearing a long cloak – with golden embroidery.

Oh, joy.

Anger sizzled through his reluctant body as Haran prowled into his cell, filling the small room with that unearthly presence. The shadows of the room seemed to cling to him, perhaps recognising that their master had arrived.

Din grunted, ignoring the screaming agony that flooded his senses as he dragged his body to sit up, leaning heavily against where the two walls joined near his bed. If this was his end, he didn’t want to be laying down.

If it was a friendly little chat… well, he could at least give himself a better position to punch the bastard in that overly pretty face.

Haran stopped in the centre of the room, lifting gloved hands to his hood and he pushed it back.

He looked the same as always.

Sharp cheekbones accentuated his face, which was neither old nor young – timeless, for no one knew how long this man had truly been alive.

Amber eyes that dominated his appearance, simmering like molten gold and only highlighting the fact that he wasn’t quite human.

The twin scars across his mouth and eye did nothing to mar the beauty of him – and Din supposed that was all part of the act. A beautiful face, a silken voice and a laugh that could bring entire villages to their knees to worship this fallen dark prince.

Before he slaughtered them all.

Din hated him.

Those golden eyes simmered with amusement as he beheld Din, as if knowing the thoughts going through the Mandalorian’s head… which he probably did.

He cocked his head, a smile lifting his full lips, “Well, fancy seeing you so soon, Lori.”

Din growled, his hands tightening into fists and he wished his blazing glaze would melt through his beskar helmet and sear straight into those lion’s eyes.

That damn lovers laugh rippled through the tiny room, setting Din’s teeth on edge, “Oh, Mando, no need to be so defensive. You had to know what would happen when you decided to infiltrate a base dedicated to hunting your little Jedi.”

“You won’t find her.” Din spat the words, wishing his body wasn’t so battered, wishing his had his strength so he could tear this creature apart.

Haran’s smile widened, revealing a set of pearly white teeth, his scar tugging ever so slightly at the corner of his mouth – a predators grin, “That’s not entirely true, considering I found her so easily last time. But I won’t need to find her.” He examined his cloak, brushing a speck of invisible dust from it.

Dread coiled in Din’s gut, “She doesn’t know where I am. She won’t be able to find me, so you can’t lure her here like a piece of bait. She’s smarter than that.” With every word, he had the sinking feeling that he was saying exactly what the King of Shadows and Death expected him to.

“You see, I would believe you, if not for one tiny little detail.” Now Haran inspected his gloves, tugging the buckles that tightened them around his wrists, a picture of cool, arrogant confidence.

It was an effort for Din to keep his voice steady, “And what is that?”

Please no, please…

Haran looked up at him again, a dark curl falling over his forehead, “I hacked into your comms system, right as you hit the deck. You really should get some better tech, Mando.” He clasped his hands behind his back, “I sent a distress signal to your pretty Jedi, telling her your exact coordinates and even how to get in.”

Din simply made a noise of horror, knowing that nothing in the world would stop you from finding him. You were stubborn, headstrong and determined… all combined with a fierce desire to save the ones you loved.

He just prayed Ahsoka would make you see sense. You would be smart about this… right?

Haran shrugged lightly, “I don’t think even Tano will be able to hold her back.”

Sick bastard, reading his thoughts.

“I guess we’ll see who’s right soon enough, won’t we?” With that, he turned, walking back to the door, where he knocked twice.

The beep and locks sounded again, and Haran looked over his shoulder at Din, who was still struck dumb with dread, “Why, I bet she’s already on her way right now.” He laughed low, and then he was gone with a sweep of his cloak.

~~~

You were beside yourself with panic and terror in the first few hours after the call cut off.

Your scream had woken Ahsoka and the kids, who made it to your tree in time to see you half fall from the branches, stumbling around looking for something, anything to help.

You could barely hear Ahsoka calling your name, until she grabbed you, forcing you to look at her and calm down. You’d told her what happened, before yanking out her grasp and running to the camp.

Nothing was computing in your brain, nothing except a primal instinct to go and save Din right now.

Again, you hadn’t heard her calling your name, mumbling over and over that you needed to go, you needed to get out of here, Din needed you.

Except there was just one problem…

“Slow down. How are we going to get off of the planet? We don’t have a ship…” Ahsoka spoke calmly, but firmly. She was watching you tear through the camp, emotions a wreck and noting you were moments away from a panic attack.

You had turned to her, clutching your belongings in your arms, your breathing coming in sharp pants, “Then - then we’ll just… Um...” Casting your eyes about helplessly, you had felt your throat close up, your heart race and your palms start sweating.

A sob had been about to break from your lips but then – you both heard it.

The tell-tale sound of a twig breaking, of hushed voices.

The pair of you whipped your heads in unison, toward the sound and your panic attack vanished, being replaced with the cool ice of battle. The things in your arms had been placed on the floor and then Ahsoka’s voice had been in your head, “You go left, I’ll go right. We’ll meet in the middle.”

You nodded, reaching for your blade but then Ahsoka had held out a hand to stop you, instead… holding out one of her sabers.

Oh.

Yes, you’d trained with it but… now she was letting you use it for real, in actual combat?

Lifting your eyes to hers, she had seen what you were thinking and simply smiled encouragingly.

That said enough, so you curled your fingers around it and then the pair of you had separated, footsteps lighter than air as you both forged a protective Force field around the kids.

Moving through the trees, marking the intruders... it had all soothed you, soothed the ache and terror in your chest for the time being.

Your power let you know they were close, and you hovered in the darkness for a moment, watching the two cloaked figures and sensing Ahsoka opposite you. Something flowed through the air, like a confirmation and you activated the lightsaber, springing from your hiding space with a burst of glowing late.

“Wait!!! Wait, it’s us!!!” The two cloaked figures turned around, dropping their hoods so their faces would be revealed in the glow from both your sabers.

Cara, and another man you didn’t recognise – bald, with a numerous harness and straps that no doubt held weapons under his cloak.

You made a nose, lowering the saber, “Cara?! I thought… I thought you were with Lori – what are you doing here?” Despite the situation, the anonymous nickname for him came out instantly – protecting his identify even here.

Cara looked from you to Tano, who was still standing in a somewhat defensive position with her saber held out. “We were… We’d split up to take down more of the Troopers. Mando took to the sky to draw fire so we could sweep through them. When we saw him get taken down, we had a choice. Either get captured ourselves, or go and get help.”

You blinked, a frown forming on your face, “Hang on, let me get this right.” Something stirred in your chest, something smouldering, “You saw Din get taken down, saw him fall from the sky, into the clutches of Stormtroopers who are no doubt reporting to Moff Gideon… and you ran away?” The last two words come out in an incredulous tone, your face showing confusion as you looked between Cara and the other man.

He raised his hands, shaking his head, “Hey, I wouldn’t go as far as to call it running away. We didn’t know he’d contacted you; we didn’t know how anyone would find us. If we got captured too, there was no way we could get out. Only Boba and Fennec knew where we were, they wouldn’t have been enough.”

Ahsoka raised her eyebrows, stepping closer – never lowering her lightsaber, “So, he’s there alone? Or wherever else they’ve taken him?”

The man blinked as he looked at her, “Do you mind lowering that thing, lady? I don’t see how we’re the enemies here.”

You snarled at him, mimicking Ahsoka in the closer advance, “I’m not calling you enemies, I’m stunned that you just abandoned him there!!”

Cara held out a hand, trying to diffuse the situation, “Mayfeld, shut up.” She looked at you, “Look, Mando isn’t incapable of taking care of himself. He’s been in situations like this before, he’ll be fine.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, your head spinning, “He’ll be fine?! He could be anywhere, Cara! Who knows where they’ve dragged him, what they’re doing to him! I’m not doubting for a second that he’s been captured before – but not by an army of Troopers, alone, after falling hundreds of feet from the fucking sky! How about I push you out of the open air in a metal tomb and you tell me if you’re up to fighting your way out of an Imperial army.”

Mayfeld squared up to you, tensions running high, “You know, you might want to be a little more understanding. I’m sure if the situation was reversed, Mando would have - ”

Suddenly, you had pulled free your knife and it was held to his throat, “If you dare say he would have done the same, I’ll cut your throat.” You didn’t care that these were Din’s friends. Didn’t care that they were obviously here to help.

You were furious, feeling helpless and well… you had never been the greatest at controlling your temper.

Ahsoka disabled her lightsaber, running forward and gently pushing you all apart. You felt a phantom brush over your skin and realised she had weaved threads of the Force between everyone, “Hey, hey, let’s all just take a moment to breathe, okay? We’re all worried and wound up… Yelling at each other isn’t going to solve anything.”

Mayfeld muttered something you didn’t hear, though you did hear the thump as Cara elbowed him in the ribs. “Enough.”

You powered down the saber and dropped your head into your hands.

The world had flipped on its head, completely and utterly shifted and turned into something unrecognisable. Maybe this wasn’t really happening, maybe you were having some kind of fever dream.

You sighed long and deep, rubbing at your eyes before looking at Mayfeld and Cara, “I’m sorry, for what I said. You did the right thing… We wouldn’t know anything if you hadn’t come back.” You shifted your gaze solely to Mayfeld now, “And I’m sorry for holding a knife to your throat.”

To your surprise, he just chuckled, shaking his head, “Don’t worry. I’ve had worse from your Mandalorian, this was nothing.” He held out a hand, “Migs Mayfeld.”

You found yourself smiling back, sliding your hand into his and shaking it as you told him your name.

Cara looked around, “As much as I’m glad we’re not threatening to kill each other anymore, does anyone want to tell me how we’re going to find Mando?”

As if by coincidence, the comms device on your wrist started to emit a high-pitched beep.

All four of you jumped, then looked at the device which had begun to flash red.

You held it up between you all, and the screen lit up, displaying a string of co-ordinates with that same persistent beep.

It dawned on you instantly, “It’s a distress signal. Lori sent us the co-ordinates of where he is.”

Cara was eyeing it thoughtfully, “Do we want to ask why that suddenly came up, just as I asked where he was? And what if he isn’t there by the time we get there?”

You were already moving back toward the camp to gather your things, “I don’t care. I don’t care if it’s a trap, or if he’s a whole parsec over. It’s the best thing we have, so we’re using it. Get your things.”

That had been a couple of nights ago. You were now travelling on Boba Fett’s ship, a tight squeeze but you didn’t care. Nothing else mattered apart from finding Din.

Boba Fett was an interesting man. He was a clone of the infamous Jango Fett, the Mandalorian of whom you’d grown up hearing about. His armour was older, less sleek than Din’s but still as ruggedly beautiful and had belonged to Jango himself. He was shadowed by another woman, Fennec Shand – an assassin of whom you’d also heard of on your ‘travels’.

He was a straightforward, direct man, greeting you and praising you on the stories he had heard – then asking how everything was going to go ahead. Straight to business.

Two hours later, a plan had already been created.

The distress signal coordinates you had given Boba would take you to the general area you needed to be. Then, once you located the Cruiser, Boba would get you as close as he could, slipping into a disused landing bay.

He would remain with the ship and kids, waiting to get out – and to lead a distraction if it came to it.

The rest of you would infiltrate the Cruiser, splitting up to cover more ground and find Din – Cara and Fennec in one pair, you, Mayfeld and Ahsoka in the other.

You sat a little way away from the others – as far as you could in the ship, letting the sound of their planning wash over you. They were determined the best way to get in and out without being seen, whether it was best to go in all guns blazing – literally – or try and be as discreet as possible with minimal causalities.

You were glad you had excused yourself… because that dark assassin within you was stirring, sensing the oncoming fight – readying a thirst for blood.

Sure, some of the Troopers may have had no choice… but they certainly hadn’t done anything to change their fate. They still chosen to continue following Gideon and Haran – for you knew now it was him that shot down Din, but you had kept that nugget of information to yourself, only telling Ahsoka.

The others didn’t need the added stress of knowing a terrifying legend had truly come to life.

If they wanted to try and preserve life – fine. You certainly didn’t have to agree with them. You didn’t answer rot anyone but yourself.

And you supposed that mindset should worry you, making you concerned that you were slipping back to that cold killer but… you didn’t care. If you had to become her to save Din and get everyone out safely… so be it. You would deal with the consequences later.

Ahsoka crossed your field of vision, and then came to sit down opposite you, her back against the wall and her legs stretched out next to yours. She said nothing, merely watching you with an unreadable expression for a few moments.

You sighed, “If you’ve come to tell me not to go where my thoughts are leading me-“

She shook her head, cutting you off gently, “I’m not going to tell you what you should and shouldn’t do. I’m just going to ask you… Are you prepared for the consequences of what you do, either way? If you choose to go down the path of tearing down anyone in your way… How will you feel afterward?”

How would you feel afterward?

“I don’t know how I would feel… I know what it’s like to be pushed into a life but… There’s always a choice at some point. However small…” You looked up at her, truly valuing her opinions and advice – she was already a trusted friend, one you could speak your mind to.

Of course, you had Din. But to have something sperate from him… it felt good. Healthy. You both had your separate friendships away from each other… for moments like this perhaps.

“I can’t think of anything but saving him. And it’s easy to sit here and ask myself what I’ll do, before we’re even there… but when I’m in there, when I’m walking through that Cruiser to find him...” You shrugged slightly, “I don’t know what I’ll do. And I might not have the time to make that decision when I’m there.”

Ahsoka nodded slowly, listening to what you have to say, “Then whatever happens… We’ll deal with it afterward. Whatever you choose to do... I believe you are strong enough to take it. And if not… then we’ll deal with that too.”

Gratitude warmed the cold feeling in your chest, spreading through you and you looked at her with new appreciation, “Thank you…” Those two words were heartfelt, all the emotion and thankfulness pumped into there. “For this, helping me… and for everything you’ve done.”

She inclined her head slightly, bumping her foot against your thigh, “You needn’t thank me… It’s been an honour, to help you and train you. After everything that’s happened in my life, the mistrust I had for those I once believed in… I never thought I could get over that hole. But you’ve shown me that it’s not all the way I believed. Things are changing… I’m learning that now. So… thank you.”

You were about to answer, but Boba’s deep, gravelly voice came from the cockpit, “Time to gear up guys. We’re about to hit the same co-ordinates from the distress signal.”

~~~~

“Sir?”

Moff Gideon walked over to the young man who had just called for him, seating in front of a holo-screen like the others dotted about the room, “Yes? What is it?”

The man brought up a radar screen, a pulsing red dot just coming into the edge of it, “They’re getting closer. They followed the Hunter’s trap.”

Gideon smiled slowly, watching that little red dot slowly creep closer to the centre of the radar, toward his Cruiser, “Excellent. Tell the troops to be ready. Just because we want them here, doesn’t mean we’ll make this easy for them.”

~~~

Boba Fett’s ship glided through the atmosphere, all of you peering out of the windows for any sign, any hint as to where Din might be.

You’d been in the general location for about twenty-five minutes, travelling right to the edge of each grid square on Fett’s radar.

“I think… we might have missed him.” Cara spoke the words that you had all been reluctant to acknowledge, her voice quiet.

You shook your head fiercely, moving to the other side of the ship, “No. You’re wrong. He’s here. I know he is. I just… know.”

Grogu cooed from behind you, his ears floppy like they had been since you lost contact with Din.

You turned to look at him, heart breaking at the utter sadness in his glossy eyes, “Oh, Gu… I know.” You scooped him up, cradling the little body to your chest and you pressed a kiss between his ears, “We’ll find him… I promise you; we’ll find him.” You pressed your face to his little head, whispering, “Even if we have to do it on our own.”

His little arms reached up to your shoulders, and you took a few moments just to hug him, giving him comfort but also receiving it in return.

You felt his hands tugging at your collar and wondered if he was trying to reach for your hair… but then he grasped something and pulled – your necklace.

The mythosaur necklace that Din had given you.

You looked down at him, watching as he cradled the symbol in his tiny little hands, gurgling at it but for once, you weren’t sure what he was saying. It itched at you, like you could almost understand him.

It turns out, Ahsoka did. She gasped a little, looking at Grogu suddenly and blinking in surprise, “Oh, you’re right. I can’t believe I didn’t even think of that…” She looked at you with wide eyes, “You can find him.”

You blinked at her, raising an eyebrow, “What do you mean?” You felt Grogu’s eyes on you too, and he tugged gently at the mythosaur charm, “The necklace?”

Ahsoka nodded, “Kind of… You have such a strong connection with him, such intense care for each other that if you use your power… you might be able to sense him, where he is.” She walked closer, “It’s hard to explain… it’s an old Jedi trick. They used to use it to track others or find people in hiding. It’s difficult to do, and not all Jedi could do it but… You know him. Better than any of us.” She took Grogu from you gently, “Close your eyes and focus your mind the way we practiced.”

You nodded, not questioning it. There was no time.

You shut your eyes, following the breathing exercises she had taught you and dropping everything away from your mind. The ship, the murmuring of the others – the panic.

All of it fell away until you felt the power flowing through your blood, felt it brush up against every living thing in your vicinity.

Ahsoka’s voice slipped through your mind, “Now, think of him. The memories, the way he makes you feel, the happiness you feel with him. Think about what makes him your Mandalorian.”

Your power flowed through you, out of you, wrapping around the ship and you were already deep in your mind by the time it started shifting the direction you were facing.

What makes him your Mandalorian…

You let that question move through you, thinking of his touch, his voice… the way he softened the harsh edges of your mind and eased your chest.

The way you had truly come alive after meeting him, how you saw the galaxy as you had before – something beautiful and wild and begging to be explored.

You breathed in and out slowly, musing on the way you felt you had also brought light to Din’s life. Not just from the way he told you... but the way he seemed to have mellowed even more since first knowing you.

He laughed more, let himself go a little… His moments of uptight, rigid restraint had melted into something far softer and… goofier.

Ahsoka’s gentle praise whispered through the thoughts and memories, encouraging you. For however long, you didn’t know.

And then you felt it.

Your power brushed over something… someone.

Din.

His essence, his soul, burning like a bright star in your longest night. A sense of comfort, fierce loyalty and determination, all encased in a glittering shell of honour.

Your eyes snapped up, the ship slowing to a stop and then – there it was.

Moff Gideon’s cruiser.

And speeding toward you… about thirty Stormtroopers, ready to attack.

Mayfeld grinned from behind you as Duru leapt from the control panel, “Time to make an entrance.”

~~~

When Din got out of here, he was going to tear Haran into little pieces.

Well.

He would help you tear him into little pieces.

You had probably more rights than anyone to do so, but he had some things that the cocky shit needed to pay for.

Hey, maybe you could tag team.

Din kept thinking of creative ways to take Haran apart, to see if he was as strong inside as the power he oozed on the outside. It would be a fascinating project.

Maybe when you cut him open, he would be a hollow shell, or maybe there would be some kind of malevolent demon inside him.

He supposed these thoughts were rather twisted and dark, and that Haran had undoubtedly been through some awful things in his life… but so had you, and you were worlds apart from each other.

Besides, it was all he could do. Think of Haran’s death and try to avoid thinking of the alternative thing that was screaming at him like a siren.

That you may very well be on your way to rescuing him.

Din could tell himself for hours that you wouldn’t heed it, that you’d know it was a trap but… it just wasn’t you.

You were one of the smartest people he knew, but if anyone you loved was in danger, caution tended to get thrown out the window.

Sometimes, you were both more alike than you realised.

Din sighed, curling his fingers into fists and then releasing them again. A few hours ago – or maybe days? – he’d lost feeling in his arm. He couldn’t pop the dislocated shoulder back into place without removing his armour, so it was stuck there, swollen and pressing against the beskar. It had started with pins and needles, and then a cold feeling like ice in his veins.

It made him feel unsteady, lopsided – though that may have been the broken right leg and twisted left ankle.

Not only that, but every movement of his head made his stomach roil dangerously, and his breathing seemed to be coming laboured… more like sharp pants rather than deep breaths.

You were never going to let him live this down.

He huffed again, but the faintest smile rose to his lips as he imagined you both somewhere safe.

You’d wait long enough for Din to be suitably healed before tearing into him… and no doubt it would creep up for months afterwards. He could almost hear the cocky tone as you bickered about something and you’d whip that out, “Oh, well, I suppose I could always go an attack an Imp base and get shot of the sky. Stars above, can you imagine doing that? What fun.”

The thought made him chuckle, just a bit even though it irritated his ribs again.

Of course, that soft sound seemed like a siren call and seconds later, the door to his cell swung open and the King of Shadows and Death appeared – more like King of Arrogance and a limited wardrobe.

Didn’t he have anything else to wear besides that cloak?

Or was Din just jealous? His own cape was a bit tattered, and he’d always envied the way you wore your own hooded cloak, blending into the darkness and sweeping around corners like some kind of phantom.

Maker, his concussion must be getting worse.

Pushing that thought from his spiralling mind, Din tilted his head back to look up at Haran, “Are you lonely? Is that why you keep coming to see me?” He tilted his head, ignoring the feeling like boulders crashing against the inside of his skull and the bits of light dancing across his vision, “Or are you looking for a bit of nightly entertainment? Because I have to say, I’m hardly in the shape to do so.”

His tongue felt so heavy his mouth.

Haran rolled those unsettling eyes as the door closed behind him and he walked over, leaning against the wall opposite, “Yes, Mando. My days are just so meaningless without your shiny head to light the way.” He put a gloved hand to his chest, gasping, “Why, if we weren’t on an Imperial Cruiser, I might just drop to one knee and beg for your hand in marriage, right now.”

Prick.

Din turned his head away, breathing shallow as his stomach flipped again, “What do you want? If you hadn’t noticed, I’m a rather busy man.”

Haran chose to ignore him, snapping his fingers together and pulling a face like he just remembered something, “Oh, wait. I can’t marry you, can I?” He looked up at Mando, golden eyes burning through the side of his helmet, “Because you already have plans to do that to someone else, don’t you?

Din willed himself not to rise to the challenge, not to take the bait. He instead tried counting his breaths, focusing on anything but Haran’s silken words.

They flowed like water around the small cell, almost irresistible, “Does she know? Does your little princess know that you’ve been carrying that ring around for months now?” He crossed one ankle over the other, “I have to admit, it is a stunner. How much did you have to save for a rock like that?”

Anger hissed through him, but Din closed his eyes.

Many jobs. He had saved the credits from… more jobs than he could remember.

He would bring home most of the credits but would siphon off just a little from the top to add it to the tiny stash he had going. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get a ring with a huge stone like others he’d seen but… he had a feeling that you would love it regardless – at least he hoped. The ring had sat nestled in an inner pocket of his tight underlayer of clothing for a while now, and he could still feel it’s hard press into his skin. Thankfully it hadn’t been crushed in the fall.

It was new to him. Not just the fact he had reached this point in his life, but the fact he was looking for an engagement ring.

Mandalorian’s traditionally gave weapons instead but… you weren’t a Mandalorian. And the pair of you… this was different. And he wanted to do it right.

You had taken on board so much of his traditions and rules… he wanted to do this for you. Do something in a way that you would be familiar with.

Of course, there was one other major thing that was different –

“Have you even revealed your face? How do you know she’ll want to marry you? I mean, she loves you now but… What if you take off your helmet and she can’t stand you?” Haran examined his gloves, his words low and almost childlike but that was the point.

Din gritted his teeth, keeping his body loose – as much as it could be with the pain – “Seriously, are you here for a reason?”

Boom!

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the entire ship.

It echoed down the hall, but Din could calculate it was far away, deep in the belly of the cruiser so most likely a cargo hold.

Red lights began flashing outside of his cell, the sound of many thumping footsteps racing past.

No… no-

Haran’s eyes unfocused and a cold, dark power brushed against Din. Even through the armour, he could feel it. The way it leeched the warmth from him, swallowed what little light was in the room. It had a pull to it, like the silken caress of his voice given life.

Din shuddered, but Haran hadn’t noticed, instead feeling for something… someone…

His pupils dilated, black swallowing the gold and then he grinned, a cruel, delighted grin and his eyes came back into focus. He stood up, laughing, “Oh, Mando. I’m afraid your luck has run out. Your precious princess has just made her entrance.”

Bile rose up in Din’s throat and he shook his head, “No, you’re lying.”

Din knew he wasn’t. Knew it because he felt you. Every cell in his body was crying out to leave the room, to be reunited with you. Hell, he could almost smell your achingly familiar scent.

Haran advanced on him, crouching down and he took off his gloves, revealing a pair of slender hands – absolutely mauled with twisted, marbled scars.

Din couldn’t stop staring at them, at the evidence of some awful injury – fire, by the looks of it, “What are you doing?” He couldn’t move away, the pain too great and the room spinning. Horror flooded his senses – horror and relief.

He felt sick at the relief, because the last thing he wanted was you near any of these people, but at the same time… you were coming to rescue him.

He wasn’t going to die in here –

That power brushed against him again, slipping through the cracks in his armour and seeking out the injuries as Haran said softly, “The game is beginning.”

~~~

So, your idea to enter the ship discreetly… maybe hadn’t gone entirely to plan.

In all honesty though, it wasn’t your fault that you’d been attacked.

And it wasn’t your fault that the only evasive maneuverer that they wouldn’t be expecting was to lead them on a wild goose chase around the ship and then…. Crash into the cargo hold.

Okay, so Boba had been going for a gentle landing, but the situation had required some fast thinking and strategy and so… there you were.

Maybe it hadn’t been what you’d decided upon but… you had to admit, the explosion provided excellent cover for your teams to slip in.

Amongst the chaos, you weaved around the edges of the cargo ship and you were through into a service passageway, watching Cara and Fennec disappear down a hallway opposite.

The cruiser was like a maze.

You had no idea how long you had been navigating the halls, but you knew it was long enough.

Already, you had encountered a few Troopers, but they were silenced before they could raise the alarm – and stuffed into nearby rooms so they would be delayed when they awoke.

Mayfeld kept pace easily with you and Ahsoka, as you sent out waves of power to sweep the area, “They most likely have him in the cells. But if they know we’re coming… They would have moved him.

Somewhere more central, where we have no choice but to be in the open and vulnerable to attack. So, we should head toward the front of the ship, maybe.” He kept his voice hushed and his blaster aimed.

Ahsoka peered over her shoulder at him, raising her eyebrows, “Tell me again where you came from?” She had her other saber in her hand, held in her trademark grip as she moved like a shadow.

Mayfeld chuckled low, “Impressed?”

Seriously?

Ahsoka rolled her eyes, looking ahead again, “Please, don’t flatter yourself.” She shook her head, pausing and raising a hand for you all to stop too.

You pushed your power around the corner as well, combining with hers and you felt it.

A cluster of Stormtroopers gathered near a service room. They were standing between you and the next hallway and would need to be removed.

Focusing, you did a rough tally, “Nine of them. All armed.” You worked it through in your mind. You could take them – but there was still enough time for them to raise the alarm. Especially if they were near service rooms, they’d be able to signal to others and you would soon be ambushed.

Even without power, Mayfeld appeared to have done the same, “We need to draw them away, get them somewhere quiet.” He looked back the way you came, then to the right where there was a dead end.

Ahsoka sighed, shaking her head, “How? Any noise will alert the others. We need to - ” She broke off, having just seen what you were doing. “Where are you going?”

You had moved away from the safety of the wall, drawing the hood of your cloak up over your face. “You and Mayfeld get ahead, see if you can find a map or something in one of those rooms.”

Something dark thrummed in your blood, your palms itching with an intense need to… to make someone hurt.

Mayfeld rose an eyebrow, facing you as he kept his back against the wall, “Are you crazy? They want you as much as you want Mando! You can’t just walk out there like a party gift.”

A party gift that’ll explode in their faces.

Stars above, the very thought almost made you laugh with an unnaturally shadowed delight.

You indeed chuckled, rolling your eyes, “Exactly. What Stormtrooper grunt would pass up the opportunity to deliver Moff Gideon the very thing he’s doing all of this for? They’ll take me straight to him or throw me somewhere to wait. Either way, it gets them away from you.”

Ahsoka was watching you, her eyebrows furrowed slightly. She didn’t agree with this anymore than Mayfield, but she too knew there was no other way. “Okay.” She ignored Mayfeld’s noise of protest, “Be careful. Try not to draw too much attention if you can help it. We’ll find anything we can and if you’re not back out here, then circle back to find you.” She was still watching you with that strange look – like she could sense something off.

You gave her a playful salute before pulling out another knife from your boot, rolling your shoulders and strutting around the corner.

Instantly, the group of Troopers turned around, guns raising as they beheld your cloaked appearance, and the shining lightsaber in your hand, “Hey! Stand down!”

You dropped the hood, grinning wickedly as you purred, “Hello, boys.”

You moved like a flame, tearing through the group of Stormtroopers and spreading your embers of death, ready to turn into a blaze.

The whir of the lightsaber was the conductor of your dance, providing a beat as your separated limb from limb. The deadly energy whipped through the air, severing one of the Troopers hands from his wrist and he went down screaming, clutching at the stub at the end of his arm which was smouldering. You didn’t hesitate, whirling and flinging a sharp, deadly knife from your hand.

There was a muffled, wet noise impact as it lodged itself in his throat, buried in the gap between the chest plates and helmet.

You didn’t know if Ahsoka and Mayfield were close, if they’d found a map – you didn’t care.

These men, these followers were standing between you and Din. Maybe they had been forced into it, but as you had said before. They made the choice to stay.

A yell sounded from behind you and a sharp blow to the middle of your back had you stumbling, the air knocked from your lungs.

You sucked in a sharp breath but before you could turn, the back of a blaster smashed your skull and you tumbled to the floor, fighting through the wave of nausea and the stars in your vision. The lightsaber was flung from your grip, skittering across the floor.

A somewhat altered voice hissed against your ears, a knee pressing to your spine, “You think you can waltz in here and take us all down? I don’t care what the boss says.” The muzzle of his blaster now jammed against the back of your skull, forcing your forehead to press against the icy, metallic floor and you bit your lip with the impact, “You are vermin. A monster. People like you shouldn’t exist.”

The dark creature within you snarled, and you spread your fingers of your free hand, the other caught up underneath you, “Didn’t your boss tell you?”

You heard him cock his head, “Tell me, what?” He dug his blaster in harder, right against the base of your skull.

A wicked grin spread your lips, causing them to split further but quite frankly, you didn’t care. The pain only aided in the focus, the hot blood nothing as it ran down your chin, “Watch the hands.” You lifted it from the floor, wrapping the Force around his throat and you gave him only a second to realise what was happening, before curling your hand into a fist and crushing his windpipe.

He choked, hands flying up to his throat but then he was instantly gone, slumping forward over you in a heavy tangle of limbs.

You groaned, shifting his body off of you, “Get off of me.” You muttered it uselessly, scrambling up and you scooped up the lightsaber, before turning to survey the hallway.

Footsteps resounded from both ends of the hallway, and you lowered into a battle stance, adrenaline still humming through your veins and numbing everything else, everything but the fight and the goal – Din. Along with the cool ice of battle… something heavy and alluring whispered to you, as black as night and hungry for more death.

White armour burst into your left peripheral and you whirled toward it, flinging a hand forward and then back.

The Stormtrooper was dragged off his feet, again trapped with the invisible pressure around his throat as he ground to a halt, legs swinging forward with the remaining force of him flying at you.

He snarled, scrambling at his throat, “You can’t do this. You won’t beat him, no matter what you believe.”

You rolled your eyes, letting your head fall back with a groan, “When they make you, do they implant some kind of need for all the dramatic bullshit? Honestly, whoever the first one of you was, he must have been an incredible bore.”

The Trooper thrashed about uselessly, his weapon falling to the floor and you sensed the glare through the black visor, “At least we have hearts. And maybe we’re all the same, but we’re more human than you are.”

Monster.

Ah, back to this, yet again.

Always back to this.

Your smile was angelic, your appearance anything but.

Long cloak hanging from your shoulders, battle suit fitted and black as coal. Your boots were stained red, the blood looking like ink on the dark leather.

As for your face, you sported a wicked bruise to your cheekbone, a long cut across your forehead and with the blood dripping down your chin, the wild fury in your eyes… You probably looked every bit the monster they said you were.

And you couldn’t care.

“You think I haven’t heard this one before? How I have no humanity, no soul… I’m an abomination that shouldn’t deserve to live, blah blah blah.” You shook your head, something deadly and shadowed twisting through your blood, humming in dark delight at what you were doing, the devastation you were feeding it.

There was a name for it.

You knew what it was, the siren call to step over the line that you were only too pleased to answer.

You’d deal with that later.

The Stormtrooper choked as you tightened the hold on him, obviously about to speak but then his head jerked, focusing over your shoulder.

The other footsteps – a pair. One heavy, one light and nimble.

Mayfeld, and Ahsoka.

You didn’t bother turning around as you heard them skid to a stop, Mayfeld sucking in a breath at the sight around you.

The fallen bodies of the Troopers, broken about and still smouldering, the blood coating the walls and the floor, the edge of your cloak trailing in it. The stench of death and the smell of molten plastic.

Mayfeld whistled low, “Fucking hell…”

You ignored them, focused on your prey, tightening that leash bit by bit.

It was like the very air around you was alive, more frantic than normal. Your power flared, tasting the death in the atmosphere, slipping through the ship like a poison and marking where each target was. Every single obstacle between you and your love.

You could feel their living souls, see them in your mind like glowing stars in the sky. You knew that if you went for them, you could close your eyes and still take them down as quickly and skilfully as if your eyes were open.

Is this how Haran was so good at killing? So skilled at finding people?

Without the distraction of sight and sound, you needn’t worry about the expressions on people’s faces, the noises they made as they died.

With your eyes shut, using this glittering map in your mind… they were merely lights to snuff out.

“If you follow this path… No one will be able to help you. You will have to make the choice whether to stay on it, or to fight your way out.” Ahsoka’s voice was a soft breeze in the night of your mind, softly lit in the same white as her sabers, of which one you held in your hand.

A symbol of strength… which you had used to destroy lives.

Your eyes opened slowly, gazing up at the Stormtrooper ahead of you.

A choice.

Seconds ticked by, seconds you knew were slipping away on the clock of Din’s life as you made up your mind.

The Trooper fell to the bloody floor and your voice was demanding, no room for argument, “Take us to your little master. I except he’ll be waiting.”

~~~

Booted footsteps rang out on the cold metal hallways.

The King of Shadows and Death could move like a whisper on the wind, as if the air itself parted around him and kept him silent.

But this time, he wanted to be heard.

He wanted the Mandalorian to know that his hope had been in vain.

He merely looked at the guards standing either side of the door and they nodded, one scanning the chip that would trigger the heavy locks in the door.

It swung open and Haran crossed the threshold, gazing down at the broken Mandalorian, slumped on his cot. He grinned, cocking his head, “Time’s up, Mando. Your saviour has come to rescue you from the enemy walls. Looks like you don’t know her as well as you thought.”

The Mandalorian growled, dried blood like rust on his beskar, “If you think you’ll walk out of this unharmed, you obviously don’t know her like you think you do.”

The last time Haran came to see him, he had healed his injuries just enough that Mando wasn’t permanently dancing the line between being awake and being unconscious. He did nothing to remove the pain, or the severity of them, but he had prevented infection. He’d also healed his legs to the point where he could walk – barely.

What good was a knight who fell before the Queen could finish the game?

Haran walked over to him, hauling him to his feet. The Mandalorian was the same height as him, so he gauged he was looking right into Mando’s eyes when he whispered, “I think I know her a lot better than you think. I can tell you that she would not have come here peacefully. And she would not have let go the people that stood in her path.”

Mando shook his head, trying to pull away from him but he was unsteady on his feet, the blood rushing from his head, “No. You’re wrong. She won’t listen to that call, to the... Dark Side or whatever it is. She’s walked that line before, and she’ll make the right decision again.”

Haran chuckled low, half dragging the beskar-clad knight out of the door, “Oh, I don’t doubt that she’ll make the right decision. But whether or not it’s right depends on which side you’re standing on.”

The Mandalorian groaned, hating that he couldn’t pull away from Haran, hated the weakness of his body, the unsteady, lurching footsteps of his still fractured legs and the armour that weighed down on his broken bones. “Why are you doing this? Why are you so obsessed with corrupting her? You’ve been living your sick little life for… however long it is now. Surely there’s some other person to terrorize?”

Haran scoffed, rolling his amber eyes, “You really need to get it through that thick skull of yours – I’m not corrupting her. I’m merely bringing back someone she’s tried to bury.” He looked over at Mando, raising his eyebrows, “Has she told you? About the time she had no code of honour, of mercy?”

The man beside him snarled, his leg giving way for a moment as agony rippled up his hip, his bones screaming, “What the fuck are you talking about now?”

It was easy to hold him up, despite the weight of his beskar and they walked down the imposing hallways, three Stormtroopers flanking them – whether it was to stop Mando trying something, or stop Haran having his fun, he didn’t know. Or care.

“There was a time, little hunter, where your precious princess slaughtered anyone who dared stand in her way. She was broken, hungry for vengeance and only to eager to have her fill.”

Mando was quiet for a moment, the heavy scuff-drag of his boots the only sound to be heard – one he probably hated as he moved nearly as silently as Haran did.

Something like triumph flickered over Haran’s face at his silence, “You truly didn’t know? Oh dear… There’s a lot she hasn’t told you, Lori. Things I’ve seen in her head that I doubt even she remembers she did.” He guided them around toward the corner, to where it would all come to a head.

And to where his power was tugging him, whispering to him of the state the next hallway had been left in.

The Mandalorian pushed away from him, summoning some kind of inner reserve of strength. He stopped, the guards pausing behind him and shifting their weapons as a warning. He looked at Haran, the harsh lighting bouncing off his beskar, revealing nothing of the man beneath and Haran wondered if he had revealed his face yet.

“You seem to think telling me these things will bother me or make me look at her differently. Whatever she’s done, whatever terrible things she’s committed… it doesn’t change the fact that I love her.” He stepped forward, ignoring the guards as they moved too, “I’ll tell you something, Shadow man. There is a light that burns within her, a fire that could rival the very stars up there.” He pointed to the ceiling, “And no ounce of darkness, be it her own past or your own twisted powers, will ever snuff it out.”

He moved that finger to jab Haran’s chest. “You tried to dump her at the bottom of a lake, and she came out burning brighter than before. So carry on, tell me all these horror stories to try and scare me away.” He shrugged, the rough baritone of his voice steady, ringing with loyalty and truth – and threat, “All you’re doing is making me love her even more.”

Golden eyes flicked between the visor, assessing. Plotting.

Then Haran smiled, a sinister, deadly smile as he inclined his head, “I don’t doubt for a second everything you said is true.” He brought his hands together behind his back, resuming the walk and he used his power to push the Mandalorian along. “I believe that you’re willing to throw down the gauntlet to protect her honour every single time someone threatens it. But I wonder… All you’ve heard is stories.”

He walked around the corner and stopped yet again, his dark power dragging Mando to his side. “What will you do when faced with the truth first-hand?”

The hallway was carnage.

A bloody battlefield.

Multiple bodies littered the stark floors, bright red blood sprayed all along the walls – even the ceiling. The once white armour of the Troopers was stained with the stuff, their bodies bent at unnatural angles, as if a strong power had taken hold of their limbs and yanked them in all the wrong directions until bones shattered and muscles tore.

The Mandalorian looked upon the scene, the blood coating the tips of his boots.

A dismembered hand lay just a few feet away and the severed wrist, the tendons hanging out of it... all singed. As if cleaved from the body by something white-hot and burning.

A lightsaber.

Which would explain why the hard shell-like armour of the fallen Troopers were marked with black holes and marks, the stench of melting plastic mingling with the reek of burnt bodies and blood.

This was the work of someone with deadly skill, usually so precise… pushed to the edge, to this.

Oh, it wasn’t mindless, not by any means.

It was clearly thought out… maybe even savoured.

Haran breathed in the smell like he was standing in a field of flowers, “Well. I have to say, I’m impressed. This looks like something I’d leave behind.” He walked through the mess of shredded bodies, a phantom wind lifting the edge of his cloak so it didn’t drag in the blood, “These poor soldiers never had the chance.” He crouched down, pushing the helmet of one Trooper – resulting in the head rolling a few inches away from his body.

He looked at the Mandalorian, raising an eyebrow as the fluorescent lighting brought out his scars, “Still singing her praises?”

The Mandalorian was silent, hands clenched at his sides but then he moved, not away from the scene, but toward it.

Through it.

Through the blood and flesh until he was standing right in front of Haran, feet splashing to a stop in the scarlet river, “Always.”

~~~

Moff Gideon was waiting for you as you were escorted into a large, open chamber.

He stood there, hands clasped behind his back, with a young girl at his side – presumably his second in command. There was a sick expression of glee on his face, dark eyes glittering with what he presumed was triumph.

Next to him, stood Haran, clad in black as always, with that embroidered cloak holding –

Din.

Oh, the sight of your Mandalorian threatened to bring you to your knees as you were stopped a few metres away.

You couldn’t see his body – obviously – but you knew simply from the way he held himself, that he was terrible injured.

He seemed to be bearing his weight to one side, slumped over even as he stood, and you could hear is laboured breathing from here.

Oh Din, what happened to you…

You had to admit, a small part of you wondered if there would be anything left of him when you arrived. Not from the possibility of torture, but simply from that terrible fall.

The thought of tumbling all that way down to the ground, encased in a rock-solid metal shell… You couldn’t even fathom it.

And yet, there Din was, still alive after something that should have killed him.

Clearly, the Maker had plans for him.

Gideon cleared his throat, watching the Trooper grunt retreat to the edge of the room, “Well, well. After all my time spent hunting you… Here you are.” He cocked his head, “I thought you’d be taller.”

You rolled your eyes, sighing, “Oh stars above, please tell me this isn’t another villain speech. I hate those.”

Haran’s lips twitched perhaps remembering this exact same conversation from his bunker.

You flickered your eyes to him, before looking back at Moff Gideon, who was looking at you with… a rather bored expression already.

“I was told you were insolent and arrogant, and I can see my sources were correct. They were also correct about how to summon you here.”

He looked over at Haran, “Though it took many years for someone’s ideas to actually bear fruit. Well done.”

Haran bristled slightly, as if taking praise from a mere human man irritated him.

You supposed it did.

Gideon was nothing compared to Haran, power or not.

“Well, I would hate to disappoint you, of course.” You shot him a sweet smile, venom in your eyes, “If you wouldn’t mind, do you think you could tell me what it is you want before I take my Mandalorian here and leave this dump.” You held up your comms watch, “I have a party in Coruscant I’m due to be at and it won’t look very good if I’m late.”

You thought you may have heard muffled chuckles from the line of Stormtroopers assembled behind him, but you paid it no heed.

Gideon bared his teeth at you, eyes blazing, and he brought a hand in front of him to point at Din, “Do you not realise, we have your precious bounty hunter captive? Do you not realise who is holding him?”

You looked over at Haran, shrugging lightly, “A guy who has interesting taste in fashion?”

Did Gideon not know about the bunker or the lake? Had Haran neglected to tell him you’d met before?

Haran revealed nothing in his expression, but there was something in his eyes… something ancient… some of betrayal? Of lies?

Moff Gideon snarled at you, “Insolent creature. You are here because we allowed you to be. In fact, the only reason that happened, is because of the failures of the people I sent after you. Had they done their job, you would have been broken long ago. That disgusting affliction of yours burnt out of you.”

Heat licked down your spine, and the atmosphere in the room shifted as the three Force wielders within it straightened at is words, the ugly discrimination in his words.

Dangerous game to play, Gideon.

You kept your breathing even, feeling the shadows prowl beneath your skin, teeth and claws still dripping with blood from the hallways, wanting more, “Have you ever wondered why you’re stuck here, chasing down women and babies?” You took a step forward, anger and pride for yourself, for Ahsoka, every Force Sensitive person both dead and alive making your voice carry strong over the empty air – even pride for Haran, in some way.

Gideon rose an eyebrow, “Do tell.”

“You’re stuck in the past. You believe that people like us,” You motioned to yourself, “You believe we are abominations. Freaks of nature. The Force is nature. It’s the very thing that binds us all together. There is no fear in it, no monstrosity. I don’t know why it’s so hard for you people to understand.”

The Officer sighed, shaking his head and moving a step closer as well, “Oh, I understand that. I wasn’t referring to the others in this room. I was referring to you. You, my dear, have been sick and twisted from the very moment you were born.”

Din pulled against Haran’s grip, growling in anger, “I’d advise you to stop speaking.”

Haran yanked him hard, “Stay quiet.” He spat the words at Din, but you didn’t fail to notice the murderous look he shot Gideon over Din’s head, his golden eyes livid.

A shaking had taken over your hands, so you clenched them tighter around your weapons, years of abuse playing in your mind.

But you pushed back against it, for you were stronger now. Stronger because of it, not in spite of it.

Gideon continued, looking upon you in disgust but there was a sick fascination here too, “You have been marked for death long before you showed your powers. You think it was coincidence that the hunter was stalking you in your miserable little village? She was there on orders.” He looked over you, “A child responsible for the deaths of her parents. You might as well have pushed the blade in your mothers flesh yourself.”

A roaring took over your head, filling your ears with the sounds of screaming, the stench of blood and the way the light sapped from your life as your parents died.

But… the world was different now.

It was bright again.

Because of Din, your friends… That’s why you were here.

You glared at Gideon, wanting so desperately to tear out his throat with your power, your hands, or even your teeth – but now wasn’t the time. You shook your head, “You don’t win this time, Gideon. I’m afraid your sad little life will be ruled by chasing me for just a little longer.” With that, you flung your hands wide, making your power explode through the room with a battering impact.

You felt another wave at the same time as yours, fuelling it – Ahsoka’s.

You only just managed to keep it free from Din, though Haran had thrown up a hand milliseconds before you, as if sensing what you were going to do – and evidently creating a shield.

Gideon and the Troopers weren’t quite so lucky.

The Force flung him through the air, causing his head to smash harshly against a metal beam and he crumpled to the ground, limp.

Haran spun to look at him, and it occurred to you – he should have protected him too. He was working for Gideon. Or… at least pretending to be.

Who was really calling the shots here?

No time for that now.

You used Haran’s distraction to throw yourself at him, activating the lightsaber and unleashing yourself on him with a strangled cry of rage.

He startled, just a few seconds too late and he pushed Din at you in an attempt to slow you down.

Perfect.

Just as you planned.

You were never really going to engage in battle with him, had never intended to attack him.

But you knew he would use Din as a shield, thinking you were too blidned in your rage – but you proved him wrong.

Din careened into you, stumbling against your body and you both nearly tumbled to the floor, but then Cara was there, helping you support his body as he wrapped an arm around you, “You came…” His voice was hoarse, weak with pain and exhaustion.

The relief and love in his voice nearly brought you to the ground, “Of course I came for you, Din. I will always come for you.” You gave him a watery smile, walking toward the others, keeping one eye behind you as Haran watched.

Why wasn’t he moving… Why wasn’t he attacking?

“I saw what you did.” Haran’s silken voice called out from behind you, making you pause in your retreat. “I know you feel it. The call to the Dark Side. And I know that you answered it.”

That would be why.

You slowed to a stop, forcing Din and Cara to slow too. “How do you know I answered it?” You looked straight ahead, still not turning around.

Haran sounded as though he took a step forward, “I felt it. I felt it when you allowed the Dark to show you how to get here. You saw the lives as glowing lights, a map to saving your Mandalorian. And the mess you left in that hallway…” He trailed off meaningfully, “You needn’t fear it, darling. It’s not evil. It’s merely… a different perspective.” His voice had melted into the same one that had coaxed you into swallowing the poison, into stepping off the edge.

Here you were, yet again. Only you weren’t standing on the precipice of a raging torrent… You were standing on the edge of the Dark Side.

And his words had instantly awoken it, set it pining for a life to be unleashed, untamed.

Slowly, you turned around, cringing when Din’s broken feet tumbled over each other too, so you slowly let go “A different perspective…?” You cocked your head, voice starting to sound unsure as his seductive baritone filtered through your mind, weaving around it.

He smiled, that gorgeous, disarming smile that instantly made you lock focus on him, “Yes. Others may tell you that the dark side is evil… But it isn’t. It’s simply using that power in a different way. Using it to get the things that you deserve.”

You swallowed, feet hanging over that metaphorical edge, “You – You promise? I can’t go back to that place. I can’t be a… monster again.” Your voice trembled over the word; eyes locked on his amber ones.

Din shook his head fiercely from your left, fighting against Cara’s hold as she pulled him away, but he was too weak, “No. Sweetheart, no. Stop listening to him, please… He’s lying to you. You don’t need this. You don’t need that darkness, princess. You’re so good, so strong… please don’t do this.”

And then you made a decision.

You ignored Din.

And walked toward Haran.

Stepping off of that edge.

Haran extended a gloved hand to you, “That’s it, darling. That’s it… Coming here doesn’t make you a monster, it just means you are claiming your birth right. This is where you belong.”

As you reached his presence, a feeling wrapped over you, muffling Din’s voice, the sounds of the others around you. You slid your hand through his, gasping a little as you felt your shadowy beast respond to his own, felt them twine around each other, greet each other.

“I don’t…” Uncertainty still clouded your expression, and you lingered a little, worrying you were making a fatal mistake.

He saw this, gently drawing you closer and into the circle of his arms, “No one will die. Your Mandalorian, your friends… We will help them leave safely and then… Then we can begin.” He guided your head to his neck.

Din’s voice, though muffled, was desperate, clawing at you, “No! Cyar'ika, you can’t. Please, I’m begging you. You don’t need to go to him, you don’t need to do this. I love you. I love you for who you are, for every single thing. I’m not afraid of you, of any single part of you.” He sobbed.

Din sobbed, reaching for you, “Please don’t leave me alone.”

You were glad your head was pressed to Haran’s neck, because the backs of your eyes burned, shame and guilt threatening to choke you.

You had to do this.

You had to do it now before you shattered completely.

You were quiet, and then just… went pliant in his arms. You raised your own to his back, winding around his lean frame and lifted your face from Haran’s neck, nuzzling your nose along his neck, “I believe you.”

“NO!!” Din fell to his knees beside Cara, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sweetheart, please don’t do this. Please-” The way his voice broke tore through your heart, and you nearly backed out right then and there.

But you didn’t because Din… He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why you had to do this…

Haran’s arms tightened around you, one coming up to cradle the back of your head, “Good girl. I always knew you would see the light.” A deliberate, ironic choice of words form the King of Shadows and Death.

Din’s sobs speared though you, each devasted noise threatening the tears building in your own throat.

Raising on tiptoe slightly, you ran a hand down his back, the other splaying wide, ready.

You brushed your lips along the smooth line of his skin, breathing in the smell of wind and midnight, “There’s just… There’s one little thing…”

Haran nodded, his cheek resting against your hair, “Anything. Anything you want, it’s yours.”

His words muffled the soft sound of an object flying into your hand as you let out a breath against the shell of his ear, whispering, “I will never be your Queen.”

The sound of a lightsaber activating, not through air… but through flesh.

Haran’s choke of surprise – and agony.

You held his sagging body to yours, snarling, “That’s for the lake, you twisted asshole.” You stepped back, letting him fall to his knees, yanking free the lightsaber and savouring the gritted howl of agony as you tore back through more flesh and tendon.

Those amber eyes of his blazed like molten gold, deadly and furious, “You don’t know the mistake you’re making. You’re throwing away your life with these fools.”

You bared your teeth at him, raising the saber threateningly to his throat, letting it make the faintest contact, “Come after me again, and I will end you. I don’t care if you’re hundreds of yours old, or the King of Death or whatever else you call yourself. I’m not afraid of you. And I will destroy you before you can do the same to anyone else.”

With that, you quickly turned, bolting toward your family and friends, “Now!!”

Ahsoka flung her hands wide at the same time as you, creating a wide bubble of Force energy that blew through the space.

Every Stormtrooper in the area was knocked flat on their back, instantly out like lights as you threw your arm around Din’s shoulders, trying to get him up as he stared at you.

“What… I don’t…” His voice was bewildered, dazed with pain and he was heavy in your arms.

You whimpered just slightly, desperation and anxiety creeping forward, the edge of battle slowly fading, “I’ll explain everything later, we have to go now, Lori. Please.”

Mayfeld was suddenly there, supporting his other side and then you were all running for the cargo hold, leaving the destruction behind you.

Even as you ran, Cara and Fennec scouting ahead, Ahsoka behind you aiding with the energy bubble and Mayfeld helping you carry Din… You couldn’t quite figure out how you had pulled this off.

You’d done it.

~~~

Haran watched her leave, supporting the Mandalorian and hurrying away with her friends, her power combined with Tano’s to create an impenetrable shield around them all.

Well… He would have gotten through with half a thought – perhaps a whole one – but any of the other fools in this place wouldn’t stand a chance.

Many footsteps rushed into the room and then he felt hands on him, pushing away his own, trying to get to his wound.

He looked down, saw a medic with their pack open by his side, flitting and fiddling.

“Leave it.” His silken voice was hard ice, enough of a bite there to inform the medic what would happen if they didn’t leave.

Despite the medics healing instincts, they knew the tone well, and moments later the kit was packed up and Haran was already turning away from the retreating figure.

Strong.

She had grown stronger far quicker than even he had expected. He knew it was within her, but he had thought the trauma ran deeper, its claws embedded into her very soul and creating a barrier every time she would try to tap into the power.

Tano must have taught her how to master her fear, or how to get past it.

Useful, it saved him a job… but also irritating. If she was already harnessing that trauma, it would mean he could no longer use that aspect.

Haran walked the path she had taken, out to the cargo load, the harsh wind roaring across the space as the tech’s struggled to gain control of the ship again, to remove whatever bug the girl and her friends had slipped in.

No matter. It didn’t upturn his plans… just meant he had to work with a new angle.

And fortunately, he had one, courtesy of the would-be Queen herself.

Haran had come across the bodies in the hallway on his way in here, saw the way they were dumped on the ground with their limbs at unnatural angles, their armour shattered from the inside out.

And if the still smoking scorch marks all over their bodies weren’t indication enough, a sweep of his power had revealed massive internal devastation.

Haran stood with a gloved hand pressed to the bleeding wound as he watched the steadily shrinking shape of a ship. A mere thought had the hole stitching back together as he extended his fingers out slowly.

No one on the clean side of the Force would wreak havoc like that of the hallway, regardless of their love having been kidnapped and beaten.

And that meant simply one thing. And one thing only.

She was being called to the Dark Side.

And she’d heeded that call.

Maybe only temporary, but the Dark Side was like Haran himself. Once you let it in, once you got that first taste… it never truly left. She could deny it all she wanted, trick him with it, think it was merely a reaction from the stress of saving the Mandalorian, but it had already rooted within her.

He could feel it.

Haran tipped his head back and laughed, his ebony curls dancing across his forehead as the wind tugged and pushed at his tall, lean frame. A lone pillar of darkness, hovering at the edge of the world.

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#well this was a journey #the mandalorian x reader #edited because I realised I spelt Mayfeld wrong #the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #the mandalorian #rogue #pedro pascal

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makoodlesarchive · 4 years

Text

learning curve

Yes hello we’re back with another installment of dragon dick kiri lmao sorry if ur getting bored of this but i’m obsessed

word count: 5k

warnings: smut, dragon dick kiri, uhhhh lots of cum?

Tip Jar! || dragon dick kiri masterlist

this takes place in between part one and part two!

»»————-　♡　————-««

Intimacy with Kirishima comes with somewhat of an adjustment period. It shouldn’t be surprising, considering his inexperience with sex in general and your inexperience with sex involving cocks that look as though they’ve been pulled from the pages of an overzealous erotic fantasy novel, but your first time together had gone so well and had been so effortlessly sexy that you had come to the conclusion that every time would be like that.

You were, tragically, wrong.

The second time you two try to have sex (four days after the first time, because you had been walking funny for days afterwards) had been cut short because Kirishima had gotten it into his head that he came too quickly the first time, and he was determined to hold out for as long as possible the second time so he could make you feel good. It was incredibly sweet, in theory, but in practice it resulted in him straining so hard to avoid his oncoming orgasm that he accidentally bit through his lip. The sight of blood had set you panicking, and any sexual action was quickly cut short in favour of scrambling for tissues.

The third time, you had thought that it would be a cute idea to join Kirishima in the shower when he had returned from a long day of work. It had started out innocent enough, but then the inevitable hand-wandering had started and before you knew it Kirishima had hauled you up against the shower wall. What you had expected to be an effortlessly steamy experience turned into the two of you snorting with laughter as you realised that every time you rubbed against each other resulted in the most unsexy squelching noises thanks to your wet skin and the spray of the water. Determined to compromise, you slid to your knees and grinned up at him from your position between his legs. You were probably squinting pretty unattractively so you could see through the shower spray, but Kirishima was so excited that he didn’t seem to notice.

He was, in fact, too excited -- within moments of you wrapping your lips around the head of his dick he shivered hard and swayed a little on his feet, only to slip on the slick wet ceramic tiles in the shower. Having the entirety of your boyfriends vast, heavily muscled body weight come crashing down on you while you were in such a vulnerable position was terrifying, made even worse by the fact that his enormous dick damn near pistol whipped you across the face. You’re not sure who was shrieking the loudest as you both writhed in the perilously enclosed space of the shower, limbs tangled together and blinded by water, but either way the crash from the fall and subsequent screeching was enough to summon Bakugou, who showed his concern by hammering on the bathroom door and roaring at you to shut the hell up.

In the days following that particular incident, a tender bruise blooms across your cheekbone from where Kirishima’s dick had slapped you. It’s pretty sore to touch, but it’s not the biggest deal ever and honestly you find it kind of funny -- plus, it’s not like it’s Kirishima’s fault that he’s got a cock like a lead pipe.

Kirishima, on the other hand, does not find it funny. Every time he catches sight of the bruise on your face his expression twists up into a guilty little grimace and he can’t quite meet your eyes. It doesn’t help that people keep asking about it, and even though you’re able to wave off any questions that come your way with a grin, you notice Kirishima shrinking a little every time. You try to convince him that it’s no big deal and it didn’t even hurt that much (which was a lie, because at the time you seriously thought that it was gonna take an eye out), but he still frets constantly and his new reluctance to touch you is obvious. You can’t lie, it’s disappointing. But as disheartening as your apparent inability to fuck your boyfriend without incurring bodily harm is, you can only imagine that it’s so much worse for Kirishima considering that the amount of times he’s gone all the way with anyone can be counted on one hand, and the amount of times he’s been successful in that can be counted on one finger.

“It’s seriously no big deal, Eiji,” you insist, trying to sound encouraging and positive but instead just sounding wheedling. You can’t be blamed, really, when you’re lying on your boyfriend’s bed in your underwear and desperately hoping he’ll be willing to try again. “Everyone has sex mishaps!”

“I could have knocked you out!” Kirishima shoots back from where he’s standing in front of his closet with his head stuck in a mountain of clothes as he tries to pretend to be busy sorting laundry. You’re not a total idiot though, you can see the little peeks he keeps throwing you over his shoulders.

“Oh please, you could not have knocked me out with a little slap from your dick.” you scoff. You wonder internally if he could, in fact, have knocked you out, and you reluctantly come to the conclusion that he probably could if he hit you in the temples or something. Then again, his dick was insanely sensitive, and you’re pretty sure that the impact of it slapping your face hurt him just as much as it hurt you.

“I gave you a black eye!”

“It was a bruised cheekbone, stop being dramatic!” You sit up so you can look at him properly, but his back is still stubbornly turned towards you. “Hey. Eijirou, come on. Look at me.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you.” His voice is so quiet that you almost miss it, but he finally puts down the socks he was pretending to be preoccupied with and turns to face you. “The first time- it was so, so good, and I don’t want to disappoint you with how… bad I am at all this-”

“Hey, stop.” you slip off the bed, kneeling down beside him in the mound of laundry. “You’re not bad at sex. I mean,” you amend thoughtfully, “You don’t have much experience. No one expects you to be a sex god right off the bat! You’re being too hard on yourself. Plus, I guess with what you’re packing there’s bound to be a learning curve, right?”

Kirishima snorts, and finally turns to look at you. “A learning curve.” He repeats, a grin beginning to play at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah.” you say stubbornly, “We’ve learned lots already. I can’t have your dick in my mouth too long or I’ll dislocate my jaw. You really like it when I suck on the swollen part at the bottom of your dick. Your teeth are really sharp and you should avoid biting at all costs. And shower sex is a no go. Oh, and I should avoid getting clocked in the face by your cock, because that shit hurts.”

That pulls a short little laugh out of him, which is exactly what you had been hoping for. You grin, energised by that particular success, and when he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek you happily wind your hands into his hair. “Thanks for being patient with me.” he murmurs, a little bashful and so, so sweet.

You kiss the tip of his nose in return and wonder if your heart will ever get used to seeing him like this, all soft and smiley and blushy. You hope not; you hope you get to keep these fluttery feelings forever. “Of course,” you say quietly, afraid to break the moment, “We’ve had a few little accidents, but even if I could go back and redo them I wouldn’t. Not every time is gonna be perfect, but who cares? I like you, and I enjoy my time with you. That’s all that matters.”

Kirishima’s eyes blow wide and he clutches at his chest dramatically, lower lip trembling. “Baby… that was so romantic.”

“Oh, shut up.” you pull away, rolling your eyes defensively. Being all earnest and emotionally vulnerable is embarrassing; you have no idea how Kirishima can pull it off like it’s nothing.

“I mean it,” Kirishima insists, following after you, “That was really romantic. And I needed to hear it.”

You smile, pleased. “Good. Now stop being so hard on yourself. We’re in this together, and we will figure out how to master sex with your dick.”

He huffs a laugh even as he scratches at the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Need to get on top of that learning curve, huh?”

“The only way to learn is by doing.” you coo at him and then playfully wiggle your hips. You probably look more ridiculous than seductive, but your primary aim is to get Kirishima feeling comfortable.

It works, and a bright smile begins to work its way over Kirishima’s face. When he reaches for you, you press into his touch eagerly. “Wow, you’re really that eager for another sex disaster with my weird dick?”

“Don’t jinx it,” you insist, snaking your hand down the front of his sweatpants until you reach his dick. He’s gone without his usual jockstrap today since it was just the two of you in his room, so you can feel every ridge and bump through the soft jersey fabric. “Besides, I love your weird dick.”

He laughs at that, but presses his crotch into your hand nonetheless. As usual, his dick is filling out pretty rapidly, and there’s a growing wet patch where the head of his cock is beginning to leak precum. “Bed.” he suggests quietly, helping you to your feet and tugging you over to lie down on the sheets with him. When you’re settled comfortably on the bed he pauses, hovering over you and just smiling.

This is always one of the best parts; the transition from chaste little kisses to heated touches, and the moments in between where Kirishima will look at you with the softest expression of pure reverence. When you reach up and touch his cheek he turns his face into your touch and nuzzles three quick kisses onto your fingers, smiling all the while. You grin back at him, delighted by the relaxed set of his shoulders; you have a good feeling about this. Surely this time will be successful and break the string of bad luck you’ve been having.

Apparently encouraged by your excited smile, Kirishima drops down to give you an open-mouthed kiss. You lean into it, looping your arms around his neck and hiking one of your thighs up over his hip to try and encourage him closer. The soft intimacy of the moment makes your breath catch in your throat just a little; it feels like every square inch of your skin is tingling from the anticipation of waiting for his touch, straining towards him as his fingers skim along your bare thigh so gently that the touch sends goosebumps rippling along your arms. The hand on your thigh adjusts, gripping firmly and pulling your leg further up on his hip so that both of your crotches are pressed together.

The outline of his cock through his sweatpants is hot and heavy, and when he starts up little rocking motions of his hips the hard length of it rubs up against your clit. Even through the fabric of his joggers and your panties the stimulation sends frissons of heat arcing up your spine and leaves you wound up and impatient for more. Luckily, you know you won’t have to wait long -- Kirishima loves winding you up, but his dick is so sensitive that once he gets started he finds it difficult to hold back.

With his free hand, Kirishima reaches up to play with your tits. Rather than waste time trying to unclasp your bra, he just pushes it up so that the bra cups no longer hinder his access to your chest. You try not to laugh as his fingers press into your breasts, because you know that he just likes the feeling of the squish when he squeezes them. He ducks his head and kisses each one, then licks a stripe over your nipple and sucks at it. You’re starting to feel tingly and very sensitive when he pulls back, your tit dropping from his mouth. The air against your wet skin feels too cold in the absence of his mouth, and your nipple is hard and sensitive to the point where it almost feels raw. “Hey,” he says, pulling your attention to his face. His eyes are fever bright, his face practically glowing with anticipation. “I want to eat you out.”

“Yes please.” you say rather stupidly. In all honesty, Kirishima could have asked to do anything at all to you in that moment and you would have been hard-pressed to say no. He looks so cute like this, his expression so open and soft and excited, any lingering unease or nerves being replaced by his desire to please and be pleased. He grins at you as he slides down your body, pressing a kiss to your belly button as he goes. Your panties are removed with one swift tug, but then he pauses just to look at you. “Quit staring!” you complain, clamping your thighs around his head to try and distract him.

“Ow! Hey, I’m just admiring the view!” He laughs, shaking his head free from your legs. “I’m not allowed to admire my beautiful girlfriend?”

“Gawking is not the same as admiring!”

“Gawking?”

“It’s embarrassing!”

“I’m gonna be inside you in a few minutes, but you’re embarrassed by me looking at you?” Kirishima sounds genuinely confused, but shakes it off with a laugh. “Okay, okay, fine. Want me to close my eyes?”

“No,” you laugh, still grinning down at him as he kisses the crease in your thighs, “Of course not. It’s just embarrassing to be stared at.”

“I like looking at your pussy,” he says with a shrug. His tone is conversational, as if he’s chatting over a cup of coffee rather than gazing up at you with his head between your legs, “It’s nice.”

You fold your arms over your face, fighting hard against the wave of self-consciousness that threatens to overtake you. “Right.” you manage to say, “Well. Okay then.” You hear him chuckle, but you stubbornly keep your eyes covered. Even without seeing, you know he’s taking you all in. Your body grows hot with embarrassment as you fight the urge to close your legs; seriously, you can’t figure out why he’s enjoying the view so much. You know there are better pussies out there.

When his fingers trace over your outer lips you jerk, the touch catching you by surprise. The sudden movement causes him to make a rumbling sound in his chest, almost like a warning, and you still. You can feel his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and you shiver just a little when he kisses along your outer lips. It's the anticipation that’s getting to you more than anything, every nerve firing as you wait for his next touch.

You sigh happily when he starts getting into eating you out for real, your hips twitching into his mouth. He’s just so good with his tongue, it makes your breath stutter and rattle in your chest. When he sucks at your clit, you sit up on your elbows so that you can watch him. He meets your gaze and throws you a cheeky wink as he laps at you, and you just know that he felt you physically react to it by the way he laughs a little into your cunt. “Shut up.” you grumble without any heat, grinning helplessly at him.

The smile he shoots back at you is extra shiny thanks to the fact that the lower half of his face is covered in his spit and your own slick, but he looks so dopey and happy that you feel your heart and your pussy clench at the same time. It’s a particularly disquieting sensation, but even through it you recognise the heat of an oncoming orgasm building in your lower belly. When he dives back in face first, he laps and sucks at you so eagerly that you fist your hand in his hair reflexively as you twitch against him. All you can do is hang on for dear life as he devotes everything he has to eating you out.

Some part of you distantly wonders how his tongue hasn’t cramped up yet, but that thought vanishes when you catch sight of the way his hips are moving as he humps the mattress. He’s gone down on you like this countless times long before you found out exactly what he was packing, but this is the first time you’ve ever seen him actually actively engage in seeking his own pleasure while doing so. It’s hotter than you could have expected, and when he grinds down hard and whimpers into you, you very nearly lose it.

“Eijirou,” you gasp, tugging at his hair. You’re trying to pull him off you before you come, but apparently he really likes having his hair pulled because he moans delightedly against you, “Eijirou! Wait, stop, I’m gonna cum-!”

“Stop?” He parrots, pulling back to stare wide-eyed at you. “You don’t want to cum?”

“I do,” you hurry to assure him, struggling to catch your breath. “But I want you to fuck me first.”

Kirishima’s face goes on a journey of expressions before settling on one that’s distinctly delighted. “Yeah. Yes.” he says, “We can do that.”

You settle back against his pillows eagerly as he reaches over to his bedside table for the lube. You’ve been stretching yourself pretty much every day in the hopes that this exact situation would happen, so when Kirishima brings two fingers to your entrance they slip in with ease. He breathes out sharply and adds a third, using his thumb to rub at your clit as he presses his fingers all the way inside you. You take the opportunity to quickly take your bra off and throw it to the side, and then lie back as Kirishima finger fucks you. He hones in on the spongey area at the front of your inner walls like there’s a homing signal there, and your toes curl as he massages at it and your clit at the same time.

“Eijirou-!” you gasp, growing impatient. His fingers feel so good, but they’re not enough.

“Yeah, I got you, baby.” Kirishima murmurs, then sits back on his ankles. For the first time since he started eating you out you manage to actually get a look at him, and the sight has your thighs clenching together as you swear you nearly cream yourself on the spot. The front of his sweatpants are ruined -- he must have been dribbling copious amounts of precum the whole time he was going down on you and humping the bed, and without his usual cup he’s soaked through the grey cotton.

When he notices you looking he flushes, obviously embarrassed, and opens his mouth, but you speak quickly before he gets the chance to apologise or try to put himself down. “That’s so hot. Shit, you’re so hot. Fuck.”

Your words are simple, but it’s impossible not to notice the subtle straightening of his shoulders as he shucks his pants and shuffles over closer to you. “I, um. I really like eating you out.”

“Yeah.” you breathe with a grin, reaching out to stroke his dick. It’s sticky and messy with his own precum, lying impossibly hot and heavy in your hand. The base of it is already flushed and swollen with cum, and the entire length of it strains up towards his belly in a truly awesome display of gravity-defying physics. “I can see that.”

He shudders and presses into your touch as you rub over the raised bumps and the bulbous head. You kiss his shoulder, sweet and fast, then spread your legs to give him some room as he settles in between them. The tip of his cock skims along your pussy lips and prods at your entrance, but doesn’t go any further despite your squirming. “Ready?” Kirishima asks, as though you’re not writhing against the tip of his dick like a cat in heat.

“Yes!”

The chuckle Kirishima gives at that is breathless and excited, and it cuts off as soon as he starts to press into you in favour of a drawn out groan. The stretch and the sheer size of him isn’t as much of a shock as the first time, but you still lose your breath as he pushes inside in increments. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the overwhelming stretch, the subtle curve, the ribbed bumps and swirls rubbing against every part of you. Even when you feel impossibly full he keeps going, and soon he’s over you and around you and inside you and it seems like your whole world has narrowed down to the points of contact where you’re touching.

His fists clench in the bedsheets by your head and his shoulders hunch over you as he visibly fights the urge to just rock into you all at once. “Fuck.” he grunts, biting his lip as he tries to hold back. Hit with immediate flashbacks from the second time you two had tried to have sex and he had bitten through his lip, you quickly reach up and kiss him in a desperate attempt to avert another disaster. When you pull back, he seems to have collected himself somewhat, despite the slightly glassy look in his eye. “You okay?” he asks, the muscles of his abdomen clenched tight as he holds himself back.

Honestly, with his cock splitting you open like this you feel as though you’re about to crack in half. Every couple of moments his cock twitches and flexes inside of you as it dribbles more precum, and you can feel it inside of you. It’s all just on the border of too much, and you’re desperate for so much more. “Yes,” you say at last, throwing your head back and trying to push further down onto his dick, “But baby, please move.”

Kirishima must have been waiting for that, because as soon as you ask it of him he begins rutting into you with a rough pant of “Oh, yeah.”

Every time his hips drive home the tip of his cock presses into your cervix and the subsequent achey jolt that shoots through you borders on pleasure and pain. It feels good, but you just need to- you need-

You shift under him and tilt your hips up, and the next time he ruts into you has you nearly yelping like a kicked dog. The swollen head of his cock hits against the spongey part inside of you, and the ridges rub deliciously along it every time he pulls out. You think your eyes might actually cross from how good it feels.

Kirishima doesn’t even seem to notice, nearly mindless with need. If you’re being honest with yourself, this is your favourite part; feeling him completely lose his mind just from being buried inside of you, watching his eyes lose focus at the heat and tightness of your pussy as he whines and moans even as he rails you into whatever surface you’re lying on. Kirishima whimpers as his cock jack-hammers inside of you, the soft little sound completely at odds with the strength of his thrusts and the way he’s holding your hips in place with his hands as he fucks into you. His movements are frantic, but he still manages to hold his strength in place, never moving hard enough to hurt. “Oh, oh, I love being inside you so much, baby, oh god, you make me feel so good-”

One of his hands comes to rest on your lower belly, and when he presses down you feel like you’re about to break apart. The subtle pressure of his hand makes every thrust so much more intense, as though you can feel him grinding in your belly. Every time he ruts into you it forces the air from your lungs, but you try to reply anyway, pushing the words out even as they almost catch in your throat, “Feels- feels good-!”

“Yeah?” he pants, kissing eagerly at your neck. His hand wanders down from your belly to your clit, and starts rubbing quick circles into your clit. His coordination is totally off but if anything that makes it so much hotter. You can feel how desperate he is with every clumsy jerk of his hand and every frantic snap of his hips.

The combination of his cock rubbing and grinding against the soft spongey part inside of you and the messy stimulation of your clit has your legs trembling and heat growing rapidly in your belly. It feels like you’re being strung tighter and tighter as your orgasm draws closer, and your breath begins coming in rapid pants. The pressure in your abdomen feels a little different than usual, and you take it as a sign that you’re about to come really hard.

You just manage to get out the words “Oh, yes-!” before the pleasure growing in your belly crests and your back bows as you start to cum. It feels like the most cathartic orgasm ever, like all of the pressure that’s been building up in your body is set free with the sweetest release, made all the sweeter by the fact that Kirishima keeps rocking into you the whole way through, the heavy head of his cock grinding hard against your G-spot the whole time.

It feels like an oddly wet orgasm though, and you just have time to wonder disappointedly if you had missed Kirishima cum when he looks up at you, bewildered, and yelps “Are you peeing on me?”

“What?” you sit up so fast that you nearly headbutt him, and moving your body so quickly comes with the unintended side-effect of contracting the muscles inside of you. The abrupt squeeze of your internal muscles proves too much for Kirishima, and he starts to cum even as he pulls out of you, his hips humping furiously into the air as thick ropes of cum begin to splatter your skin.

You’re busy trying to wrap your head around the fact that you apparently just squirted -- it had never happened to you before, and though the surprise of Kirishima’s question had lessened some of the intensity, the aftershocks of the orgasm are still shaking their way through your body -- so it takes a solid moment for your brain to get back with the program. It takes yet another moment to realise that Kirishima is cumming a lot. Like, more than usual, which is saying something.

His face has gone slack and his eyes are unfocused as his cock practically streams cum in jets, the swollen base pulsing as his whole cock twitches. You can’t deny that it’s unbelievably hot seeing him lose himself like this, sweaty and wanton and twitching, but he’s also getting cum everywhere - it spills all over you, all over him, all over the bed.

“Oh, shit” is all you can think to say, trying to catch his cum with your hand in a failed attempt to minimise the mess. It strings stickily down your arms, viscous and thick, and you’re pretty sure that if you hadn’t just had one of the best orgasms ever this would have you creaming yourself. “Holy fuck, babe, stop-!”

Kirishima doesn’t stop. His hips keep jabbing into thin air as his cock flexes with every dribble of cum. You reach out and grab his cock without any real thought, but your touch only seems to drive him wilder because he moans wildly and tries to fuck into your hand. It must be because he had been grinding himself into the bed while he ate you out; you don’t think he’s ever actually worked himself up before, considering how desperate and mindless he gets when he’s about to cum. At a loss for anything else to do, you just try to stroke him through it. Every pull on his cock results in more cum stringing over your wrist, the glide of your hand against the thick length of him wet and slick.

It seems like he cums forever, but at last it tapers off until his cock is twitching fruitlessly and his whole body sags as though he’s gone suddenly boneless. The two of you sit and stare at each other, shell-shocked, covered in various bodily fluids. Even the silence sounds confused.

At last, you blurt the only thing you can think of to say. “I did not pee on you.”

Kirishima’s laugh sounds like it comes from deep within his chest, and then suddenly he’s best over and laughing so hard he goes wheezy. “What-” he gasps in between exhausted and breathless giggles, “the fuck just happened?”

You join in on his laughter, unable to help yourself. The two of you are sticky and damp and sitting in a veritable puddle of cum, but you crawl over the mess and climb into his lap, sighing happily as his arms come to wrap around you. “I’ve never seen so much cum in my life.” you point out stupidly, “You’re gonna have to get new sheets.”

He grins as he flops back limply on the bed, taking you with him. “So, so worth it.” he sighs, raising your knuckles to his face so he can kiss them. His face twists up when he realises that your hand is still covered in cum and that it’s now on his mouth, which makes you erupt into cackles again.

“No injuries, so I’d say that’s a win.” You kiss his chest and stretch out on top of him. You’ll have to move soon, because the cum is starting to dry flakily and feels kind of gross on your skin, but for now you’re happy to ignore it in favour of being close to him.

“Hell yeah,” Kirishima playfully punches the air with one hand as the other strokes your back. “We totally crushed that learning curve, right?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, “Crushed it.”

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha kirishima #bnha x reader #dragon dick kiri #mha kirishima

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plus-size-reader · 3 years

Text

The Only Girl pt.2

Minho x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1951 words

Warnings: Invasion of the reader’s space, but nothing too much

Summary: Minho noticing the other guys making the greenie uncomfortable, and doing his best to help her acclimate to the glade

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Minho could feel his jaw tightening as he walked with you toward the center of the maze.

This was a bad idea.

Maybe it was because he was the first one to meet you when you got up or maybe it was just the kind of guy he was but in any case, Minho knew that someone was going to have to taste his fist today.

You had been so adamant about going right out and meeting the rest of the gladers, and he couldn’t stop you, though it wasn’t for a lack of trying.

He knew these guys, far better than you did, and he could only imagine how bad this would get. They could be horrible to each other, and that was just over little things.

Minho could only imagine how aggressive they would get when it came to you.

“Hey, slow down a little bit” he called, noticing how your pace sped up a little bit at the prospect of meeting new people. The rest of the gladers had just come into view and it was clear that you were excited.

He just wished you would calm down a little. He’d tried to tell you already that they weren’t all like him.

Minho loved all the guys, but that didn’t mean he was blind to the truth. Bringing you into this place was going to cause some issues, and he also knew himself well enough to know he wasn’t going to make it better.

He didn’t have it in him to be calm and casual like Newt did. If they made one wrong move, he knew that he’d knock them on their ass. It was just in his nature.

Normally, it was fine, and gave him the strength he needed to go into the maze every day. However, when it came to stuff like this, it wasn’t his strong suit.

“I’m not afraid of a couple guys” you sighed, stopping to let him catch up to you, a teasing smirk playing at your lips.

By this point, you were pretty comfortable around Minho, more than you could be with anyone else, but you figured he was being dramatic.

He had been good enough to help you when he didn’t have to, and you wanted to believe that the rest of them would be too. Looking at it that way, you didn't get why he was being so dramatic.

“I know, just stay close okay? At least at first” he asked finally, more for himself than anything. In the last couple hours you’d been spending time together, he’d grown kinda fond of you.

The last thing he wanted to have to do was worry about finding you in the crowd of people. He was already going to be worried enough as it was.

“Fine” you sighed, slowing your pace to match his own.

The friendship you’d formed came rather quickly, but considering the circumstances, it wasn’t all that surprising. In a place like this, all you had was each other, and you needed at least one person you could trust.

In helping you, Minho had become that person, whether he meant to or not.

That one word was enough for Minho to calm down a little, but not much, as the two of you approached the crowd of boys. They had just finished dinner and were setting up for the nightly bonfire.

Knowing they were going to be busy should have relaxed him, but in fact, it did the opposite. .The male just felt like he was leading the lamb to slaughter, as dramatic as that was.

It worried him.

Though, he decided that you’d been warned enough already and kept quiet for most of the walk over after that. Silently, he even hoped that he, Newt, and Alby had been wrong.

Maybe they would all be on their best behavior.

“Hey, she’s up” one of them called, having seen the two of you approach from a bit out. It was a single voice in a sea of bodies, so Minho couldn’t pinpoint who it was, but it didn’t really matter.

All that mattered was every face in that crowd of people turned toward you immediately, curious eyes searching for what they had missed out on.

Even Newt looked shocked, though it was more at the fact that no one had come to get him when you got up. Minho hadn’t gotten very much time between finding you and trying to explain himself before now, in his defense.

He’d been busy.

“Alright you shucks, this is Y/N! She’s still trying to get the hang of all this, so be nice” he suggested, calling out to the crowd as casually as he could, though even you caught onto the bit of venom toward the end of his sentence.

That part wasn’t so much a suggestion as it was an order.

You smiled, trying your best not to get overwhelmed at the grooling feat in front of you. When Minho said there were others here like you, he hadn’t exactly mentioned how many others.

There were at least fifty boys in front of you, all looking at you expecting something, though of what you weren’t yet sure.

There was silence for a moment or two as they all tried to process what they were looking at. You were unlike anything they’d ever had the privilege of seeing before, and that left them searching for something.

More than anything, they were searching for what to say.

They’d never seen or talked to a girl before.

“You okay?” he asked, bumping you with his shoulder gingerly. You hadn’t said or done anything since you’d found yourself in front of them, and he was worried.

You hadn’t even known your name when he first approached you, but you’d talked more then than you were right now. Clearly, this wasn’t exactly what you’d been expecting.

Minho told you.

“Yeah” you tried, though you couldn’t even bother to look over at him as you kept your eyes on all the men in front of you. Each had a different expression on their face, as they tried to make out how this was supposed to go.

However, not one of them felt more lost or confused than you were, you knew that without a shadow of a doubt.

“Hey, get back to work. We have a fire to start” Newt yelled finally, noticing that nothing was going to get back on track if he didn’t intervene.

A pack of bloody idiots, the lot of them.

“Minho” Newt greeted, making his way over to the two of you once he was satisfied with the way the others had dispersed at his order. They wanted to keep watching with the jaws slack, but they knew better than to disobey.

There were rules around here for a reason.

“Hey, I found her in the clearing” he explained, but Newt wasn’t upset. He knew that his friend could be trusted, unlike most of these sorry shucks around here.

Of all of them, he trusted Minho most of all to help you get used to this, only followed by Thomas.

“And you must be Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Newt” he tried, offering a hand to you. His voice was gentle as he addressed you, a soft smile on his face.

He had that same energy about him that Minho did, though it was different too. Newt was softer somehow than the other male, with a more stern demeanor about him.

You liked him.

If first impressions were important to begin with, they were even more important when you couldn’t remember much of anything about who you were.

The fact that you felt like you could trust him too was a good sign, and that was only solidified more when you saw how Minho reacted to him. It was clear that he had a lot of love for the man.

It was good enough for you.

“Hi”

Minho smiled slightly at the way you reacted to the other male, yet to warm up to him completely. You had been that way with him too, a few hours ago.

It wouldn’t be long at all before you warmed up to him, and made Newt your best friend, in the same way.

You were just a friendly person, evidently.

However, there were some things that being friendly couldn’t get you out of. For example, a little later as you were all sitting around the fire, a couple of the other guys started getting friendly as well.

They slid in close to you on your log, and asked you all kinds of questions, each more intrusive than the last.

You didn’t know them well enough to comment on it, nor did you really understand their interactions enough to express how strange it was. All you did know was that you didn’t like how close they were to you.

...And what you liked even less was when one of them reached out to touch your skin.

The man in question, Jet, smiled at you as he leaned over into our space and gingerly stroked your cheek with the back of his hand. It was far too close for your liking, and you weren’t alone in that.

At your side in an instant was Minho, who grabbed the man by his arm, twisting it in the opposite direction of where you were sitting.

He wasn’t entirely sure if it was because he was touching you or because of how clearly uncomfortable you were with it, but it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that he got him away from you as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately, Alby had been right. Some of the guys here just couldn’t be trusted with you.

He had hoped they would be better, but evidently not.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” He asked, practically yelling into the man’s face as he held him there, so tightly that by the time he’d finished, Jet was kneeling in the dirt.

His shoulder was surely dislocated but he would have been in for a lot worse than that if Gally hadn’t finally pulled him off the other glader.

Personally, the builder would have happily let Minho pummel him, but Alby had requested that he put an end to this, in the way only he could. If anyone mirrored Minho’s strength, it was Gally.

“We’ll take care of him, trust me” Gally promised, letting Minho go only once he was sure that he’d calm down. If it got too out of hand, the other guys would join in and it would just be a huge mess.

It was better to just let the rules of the glade take care of this. Speaking of, they would now have to revisit the rules for your protection, Newt made a note of that.

Minho held the other man for a moment more, before finally letting him go with huff.

As gladly as he would have broken Jet’s forearm, it wouldn’t have made it any better. He was a creep, and he’d learn his lesson, but Minho had better things to do.

Most notably, he wanted to get you out of here.

When he looked back at you, still sitting on tht log, you looked pretty shaken up.

Minho took a second to collect himself before he looked at Newt across the fire, searching for something, anything, to tell him what to do next. All the other male had to do was nod and Minho got the message.

It was permission to take you back to your room, where they were both sure you’d rather be right now.

He knew this was a bad idea.

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haechanniesunflowers · 4 years

Text

Y/N's reaction to them being ill after the break up

Notes: this is part 2 of the break up series (is it really a series? Idk man all I know is that mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell)

Warning(s): mentions of self-harming behavior, fainting, hospital, sickness, car accident

To read the break up part click here

Bang Chan

He regretted whatever he said but didn't have the heart to approach you first because he did you wrong by forgetting about the dates over and over again and now, you not being a phone call away was getting to him. So he did what he does best, buried himself in his work :') to forget about the break up. However he let things get out of hand, skipping meals and sleep. The boys didn't think much about it since he normally comes and goes when they're asleep or not at the dorms, anyway. Felix sensed something was wrong when Chan didn't respond to his texts, asking him if he wanted to go out for breakfast, lunch or dinner. He went to check up on him at his apartment, where he sometimes stayed when he didn't feel like coming to the dorms, but he wasn't there so he went straight to the studio. He finds Chan collapsed on the floor. "oh my God, hyung? Chan hyung?" he has Chan in his arms and calls their manager. Chan is hospitalized for dehydration, weakness and over-exhaustion. He doesn't gain complete consciousness, and keeps mumbling your name. Felix calls you to ask if everything is okay but to his surprise, you had no idea about what Chan had been upto for the past month. He meets up with you and you tell him what happened, he tells you about Chan's condition, making your already broken heart, break into finer pieces. You agree to see Chan and when you do, he's awake but looks like he's in a haze. You cry and take his hand in yours, he's attentive now and looks at you with wide eyes. "I'm so sorry" he says bitterly as he sobs. You kiss him "let's forget about it Chris, hmm?" you're both crying but happy to be reunited.

Lee Know

As much as he hates to admit it, he misses you so much. It hurts his pride because he put up a tough front but deep down he's longing for your touch. He's so sad about it and really hates himself for being ignorant and rude towards you, he takes it out on himself by dancing. All he does is practice dance routines everyday. His body is sore but he doesn't stop. With all the physical exercion he's doing, a sweet potato, an apple and salad won't make up for what his body demands. But does he listen to it? hell no. He keeps pushing himself to the edge, until one day, his body's like this ain't it bro and gives up on him. He's walking down the stairs with a bottle in his hand, feeling light headed and he collapses, falling down the stairs. Luckily (not really) Jisung hears his bottle fall on the staircase and goes to see if everything is alright. And everything is in fact not alright. He screams for help, the staff present on the floor all gathering around Lee Know's unconscious body. He's rushed to the hospital where their manager is told that he won't be able to walk or even sit up for a couple of weeks, oh and his right hand is dislocated from the fall. You see it on the news, and you can't stop yourself from going to him. He's laying, upset and angry at literally everything. He doesn't want the boys to see him, they completely understand and decide to give him space, telling him that they will always be here if he needs anything. But he needs you and they can't get you for him can they? They don't have to because you're already in his room, angry crying. "Minho I swear to God" he's really surprised, not expecting you to be here knowing that your pride is as big as his. "y/n you came!" "what have you done to yourself?" "it's really nothing, I just danced a bit too hard" "oh really, then explain that cast on your arm and not being able to sit up" "I fell down the stairs" "oh Minho, you're such a dunbass I know for a fact you haven't been taking care of yourself" "sshhhh please, I'm just glad you're here now" there's an awkward silence. You both say something and stop wanting the other to continue first. He starts "y/n I'm really embarrassed for acting the way I did, umm if you could give me another chance, I promise I..." no wait, he's not gonna repeat his mistakes again, making promises he can't keep. "I really really love you y/n, I feel like a fool sometimes when I absentmindedly think about you. I just want you to be around all the time, you make me happy" you blush at his words and squirm a little with your hands clasped "cute" he says and smirks. "I love you too Minho, I'm sorry for lashing out at you, I want us to be together again" he smiles warmly at you but in true Minho fashion, ruins the cute moment by saying "scratch the back of my knee for me please"

Changbin

He wasn't really ill, he just lost interest in things, not music though, that's his lifeline. The boys noticed that the only time he was not in the dorms was when he had a schedule or when he was busy with Chan and Jisung. Other than that he went straight to bed and didn't talk much. He gave up initiating a conversation, and only spoke when spoken to. Chan was growing increasingly concerned and asked him what was on his mind. He never gave a clear answer, always saying that he's tired or is not in the mood. But since he was behaving like this for almost a month now, it was beginning to effect his relationship with his members. Him and Lee Know would clash often, causing unrest among the group. Minho would always say that he was joking or that he wasn't even talking to him but Changbin was being aloof or rude to him and as his dongsaeng, it was wrong of him. One day Chan sat him down, "tell me what's up" "nothing" "this isn't the Changbin we know. Now I don't know if you've noticed or not and at this point I don't think you even care but whatever is going on with you is negatively effecting the team. If you don't want to talk about it then it's your choice but at least don't make things hard for the team. We can't work like this, this is our brotherhood and..." Chan stops talking when he sees tears in Changbin's eyes. "hyung..." he doesn't want to cry but he does, and reluctantly holds onto his arm "I miss y/n so much, I didn't know it would effect me this much God I'm so stupid. Why did I even talk back" he says, in sadness. Chan comforts him and tells him he'll do something about it. In any other situation, Changbin would've dealt with his problems himself but he trusted Chan and let him help. You got a phone call from Chan at work so you didn't pick up. If you trusted anyone in Stray Kids other than Changbin, it was Chan. So you make sure to call him back during your break and agree to meet with him at a small pastry shop. He tells you about Changbin and how it's effecting the team, making you concerned because that's not your Changbin. You call him later that day and he instantly picks up "hello y/n?" "hey uh how are you?" "I'm good" there's a pause. "I really miss you" he finally says. You're silent. "I know I didn't prooritize you enough and forgot about our dates or even spending time with you and asking how you were and how your day went. Fuck I can't believe it but I ignored our relationship for my own personal gains and that was so wrong and you know what I-"" Changbin" "yeah?" "you're rambling, stop, I love you and I want to get back together but you need to apologize to your members too". 'Thank God' he thought to himself.

Hyunjin

Our boy tried contacting you, but you blocked him from everywhere. He loved you dearly and didn't want to give up on you because he knew you were still in love with him too. It was obvious to everyone that something was going on in his life and he was visibly struggling everyday. Every time he made a mistake in the dance, he would scream and slap his head, Seungmin had to step in and bring him back to his senses. After a little buddy to buddy chat, he poured his heart out, crying harder than ever to Seungmin. He offers to talk to you on his behalf but Hyunjin declines saying that Seungmin doesn't have to clean the mess he made and also you won't spare Seungmin a glance anyway, like once you were done, you don't want anything to do with it. Hyunjin himself goes to your apartment to talk to you but you're not home. He waits for you on the stairs, determined to talk to you. 2 hours in it starts raining and it's so cold since the weather is transitioning for autumn to winter, shit he says but it's okay, he'll still wait for you. 3 more hours pass and you finally show up, passing him because you don't recognize the man sitting in the cold cold rain with his head dipped, wearing all black. You open your front door and hear your name "Y/N i-it's me, hi" he's freezing, your eyes soften and you pull him in telling him to change out of his clothes, handing him a towel. After a while you go to check up on him but he's still in his boxers and undershirt with the towel around his neck. He sees you and says "can we talk please" "no" you say "get dried I'll get you your clothes, I was gonna return them anyway" he starts coughing a little and sneezes, your eyes widen. Did he catch a cold?? you think because he had always been the sensitive type. The next thing you know you're sitting next to him, drying his hair. He grabs your wrist and says "I really miss you" and you fear that he's going to read your face now. He knows you so well after all and catches on, he knows you miss him too. Slowly leaning forward, giving you enough time to react, he goes in for a kiss. You sob in his arms for a while. "Hyunjin don't you ever, EVER leave my side again, I missed you so much you have no idea I was hurting" he sushes you. Now changed to dry clothes you're both cuddling in your bed when you realize something "...uh Hyunjin? did you kiss me after you mf sneezed and coughed??" oops "don't ruin the moment y/n let's be sick and in love together".

Han

You're both gloomy and hurting but that doesn't stop you from acting normal. Y'all literally make people laugh lift the mood and cry yourself to sleep at night. So when you're mentioned by Lee Know in front of the boys, asking how you were, Jisung didn't let anyone find out that you guys broke up, and replied casually that you were doing okay but really busy in your life. He tells him he wants to meet you but Jisung brushes it off saying that he just said you're busy. Lee Know is determined to get Jisung to call you at least and by the end of this, he has his answer. "you guys aren't talking to each other, are you?" Lee Know says proudly. Han gives a little nod, running his fingers through his hair. "hyung I need to clear my head, I'm going on a drive" Han says and Lee Know says "okay but be back in time for the third practice, I'm going to show you guys the choreography I made for the new song". 4 hours later everyone is wondering where Han is. Lee Know says that Jisung will be there, he couldn't have forgotten about the practice. Right? When more time passed, the guys continued without him, since he's not answering the phone either (Chan making a mental note to scold him for it). Finally, annoyed and concerned, Lee Know asks around for your phone number from mutual friends and calls you. "I want to talk to Jisung, give him the phone" is the first thing he says "excuse me?" "y/n it's Minho, I need to speak with Jisung, tell him to answer his damn phone and get his ass back to practice room before I whoop it" "...he's not here, I haven't seen him for a month now" Lee Know's eyes widen "then where did he go". The boys go to the dorms, extremely concerned when their manager calls Chan telling him Jisung got into a car accident. Now there's unrest and anxiety in the dorm. Chan and Minho go to the hospital with their manager. Lee Know already texted you about the details. Luckily he's not severely injured, only a neck sprain and a few bruises, nothing a weeks rest and herbal medicine can't fix. Jisung sees three pairs of eyes all filled with anger and concern. You, Chan and Minho scold him on his way back to the dorms, taking turns to tell him how irresponsible he was and what they're going to do to him once he gets home. But once he gets home, Chan and Minho let you at him first. You scold him again and he apologizes. You know what he's apologizing for so you kiss him with Chan trying not to go aww in the back and Minho making a perverted sound. You know Jisung wants reassurance about the relationship so you say "see you tomorrow" before leaving him with Chan and Minho cracking their knuckles behind a smiling Jisung.

Felix

This little baby will be upset all the time. Growing increasingly hard on himself over the month, being more clingy towards Chan. Like when Chan is just sitting there working, Felix would grab a chair next to him and rest his head on his back. And when Chan shifts in the seat, he would even sit on the floor, with his head against Chan's leg, playing games on his phone. As much as Chan loved Felix relying on him and being soft and clingy, he was on to him. Taking him out to eat one day, he'd ask him about it. Felix got embarrassed and tells him he doesn't want to talk about it right now. After dinner, they went for a walk, talking and laughing. Felix feels happy after so long, hugging Chan out of nowhere telling him how much he appreciates him and his brotherly love. Chan rubs his hair and back, not wanting to ask the question again. It's as if Felix read his mind, "y/n and I broke up" that answers everything. Chan listens to Felix patiently and gives him great advice, telling him that he needs to tell you that if the relationship really has no future, he needs closure, and if there's still hope, you two should sit down and talk (not acting on our own advice are we Chan). Felix texts you that he has something important to say and calls you later to say what Chan said. You thought that was very mature of him, clearly knowing Chan and him had a talk. You two meet, Felix fiddling with his fingers anxiously, not knowing where the conversation will go. "I'm very sorry y/n, I know I neglected you and took you for granted but if you give me just one chance, I will change. I promise to treat you better" you smile at this "Felix, let's not make promises right now, because we don't know what will happen in the future and what our circumstances allow, and I forgive you. I really missed you and your cute snuggles" Felix is shy and you hug him.

Seungmin

He was very understanding of how you felt and what you were going through. He felt it was best to give you space to clear your head so you could figure your feelings out. This is how he thought was best to deal with the situation, to give you all the time in the world while he just waits. But this did not prove to be the best for him as he was mostly lost in thought. How you were, did you eat, how was your day, did you have a shoulder to cry on, were you healthy and happy. He needed the answers, it was making him anxious. So it wasn't long that he started forgetting about things. Always being stressed out about your well-being. He started to lose focus on the choreography which made the others upset. Once, twice, thrice, this kept happening. He was bumping into the others or forgetting his cue. Everyone started getting irritated and it was time for a group meeting. Seungmin was more than embarrassed and was even more embarrassed to state the reason. And when he did, everyone else was speechless. He apologized and promised to stay more focused. After practice he went out for a walk alone. Hyunjin followed him and told him he wanted to talk. He convinced Seungmin to go and talk to you but he said you needed space. Hyunjin was like you got space for a month to decide, it's time Seungmin went and asked you, rather than suffering like this. He went with him there. He was scared to knock on your door so while arguing, Hyunjin knocked the door hard and hid behind the wall. Seungmin did the I'll kill you later son hand action and Hyunjin showed a finger heart. You opened the door, not expecting to see him. To his dismay, you looked weak and exhausted. His smile faded and he felt hurt. "y/n you don't look so good" "hi to you too Seungmin" you say sarcastically. "I don't know what to say y/n I'm here to tell you I'm really sorry for being a jerk and I really miss you, like really really miss you. You've been on my mind all the time and I can't stop loving you. Please forgive me, I want to be with you again, please" you've been waiting for him to say this so you tear up and hug him. "I missed you so damn much baby" you say. "tell her how you ruined the choreography too" Hyunjin says from behind the wall.

He shut everyone and everything out. He acted normal but was numb inside. He couldn't believe this was happening to him. He was so happy in his work and with you, what went wrong. The older boys tried talking to offer comfort and help in their own ways. Changbin decided to treat him to Korean BBQ, to cheer him up even for just a little while. They were out, just the 2 of them, eating and enjoying talking about anything and everything. Just as he was drinking coke, his eyes found a familiar face, and with the mental connection you two had, you instantly looked his way. The eye contact you two had was filled with emotions. He could see the stress and hurt in your eyes and you saw the emptiness and longing in his. You got up and so did he, walking towards each other, you both hugged, loving the feeling. You both missed each other so much and the way you hugged each other showed that. He told you he was with Changbin, him waving to you behind Jeongin and you told him you were with your flatmates. Agreeing to meet each other later that night you went back to your tables. Changbin sees the change in IN's aura, he seems happier and less tense. "I'm happy that you're happy IN-ee" IN is all smiles. "listen, if anyone asks, I helped" "ah hyung stop" "okay okay I'm just saying that if someone asks if I helped just say yes" both of them laugh. IN and you keep exchanging happy looks and when you meet at night, you kiss him. "I missed you so much baby" he says to you.

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