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#i always intended it to be a series too and then i just wound up keeping it all in one spot
pastafossa · 3 months
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Hi honey! How are you? How’s your mom doing? I hope she’s better now🥺💚
I’ve recently decided to learn how to book bind bc it’s a must to have my fav fanfics as actual books. I’m still learning and it’s probably gonna take a while before I get the results I want but I wanted to ask you if it was okay with you to book bind The Red Thread? Obviously it would be just for me, I would not sell it or make any profits. (And if it turns out how I want to, I would love to gift you one👀)
It’s one of my favourite fanfics of all time, like it’s a masterpiece and I would love to have a physical copy of it<3
And I know it’s not finished yet but it’d probably have to be a few volumes anyways bc it’s a lot so😅
She's doing ok! Progress is slow but it's definitely happening! She's graduated from at-home physical therapy to outpatient, which is a HUGE thing. We've gotten the house pretty well set up too now (chair lift for a section of stairs not covered before, new railing on the front steps), and between me, dad, and sis's various sleep schedules, we're all able to make sure she has someone nearby when she needs help getting around or opening things. I'm still in caretaker mode and trying to balance everything, but she's getting there, so I hold onto that! As for me, I'm doing... ok I think, considering how exhausting and brutal the past few months have been. I'm taking @shouldbestudying41 's advice and just trying to be kind to myself, and I'll admit my brain seriously needed the break. I continue to miss Cato something awful, but I've felt a little more settled since his ashes came home, and I think I'm starting to adjust to sleeping without him next to my pillow. I also got my follow-up today with my cardiologist on my heart issues and their answer was basically a shrug and a, 'we have no idea why your heart's doing this, but it's getting better every time we test you, so keep doing what you're doing!' Which could be worse. So... I'm getting there. Slow and steady!
And oh my gosh, you absolutely, ABSOLUTELY can bookbind TRT, thank you! 😭The idea anyone would love it enough to bookbind makes me SO FUCKING HAPPY! Hell, if I could sell copies at cost I would, but sadly that's a huge no no and all I can do legally is tell people, YES you can bookbind TRT for your shelf! I'm 100% supportive basically (also I would D I E if I got one, like no pressure at all cause D A Y U M it's a long thing to bind, and also just knowing it's out there on someone's shelf is more than I ever expected would happen so I'm delighted even if you just bind for you!).
TRT volumes one to ten maybe??? LOL. I know I had it planned as a series originally before I decided to just kinda keep it in one thing since we were all already there LOL.
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missmatchablossom · 20 days
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acting on every urge to annoy the fuck out of your boyfriend, satoru gojo
a/n: fluff, female reader, slightly suggestive scenes
tags: @kenqki @sad-darksoul
~
Gojo Satoru had an annoyingly nice ass - rounded, perky, enough to fill out all tight-fitting pants he liked to wear. And the perk about being his girlfriend was that you got to admire it all the time, which was exactly what you were doing. Gojo had his back to you as he sauted something on the stove for the dinner he was preparing for the two of you, blissfully unaware of the intrusive thoughts brewing in your head.
He somehow had a 6th sense for whenever you were about to smack his ass, always catching your hand right before it made contact. But you were feeling lucky today.
You launched up from your spot on the couch, running at him full speed as you wound your hand up and smacked it against his ass with more force than what you intended on using. Gojo jerked forward, grunting as the spatula that was in his hand fell to the floor. He snapped his head around to look at you with wide eyes and his jaw dropped in disbelief - but you were too busy laughing your ass off.
“Woman where the hell did that gorilla strength come from,” he said begrudgingly, rubbing his ass with both palms.
“Sorry,” you said, catching your breath in between laughs. “You’re just standing there all caked up, I couldn’t help myself.”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head, laughing along with you.
“When I pay you back though,” he began, stalking towards you. It happened so quickly, the way he bent you over so your hands were braced against the kitchen counter, your ass flush against his front.
“It’ll be in this position,” he said, giving your ass a squeeze before he released you like nothing happened, resuming his cooking.
~
Another blissful benefit of being Gojo’s girlfriend was that he liked to sleep in just his boxers. It was your nightly routine to cuddle up against his bare chest, pressing your cheek against his smooth skin and reveling in his sweet post-shower scent.
You trailed your nose along the skin of his collar like you usually did, squeezing against him as close as possible. He stroked your back absentmindedly as he scrolled through his phone, until the urge to bite him suddenly overtook you. You placed a light kiss over his shoulder before sinking your teeth into him.
Gojo let out a dramatic series of “ow, ow, OW”s as he backed away from you, sliding far into his side of the bed.
“The hell was that for?” he said, brows adorably furrowed in confusion at the grin on your face.
“Just for being cute and smelling so good,” you said, scooching closer to him again. He smiled at the compliment, but his brows remained scrunched up.
“Last time I checked you liked how cute and sexy smelling I was, so why are you punishing me for it,” he asked, so close to the edge of the bed that he’d fall off if he moved any further from you.
“It’s cute aggression. Think of it as love bites,” you said sweetly, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips, trapping him.
“Should I be turned on or scared?” he joked, raising a perfect brow at you. You laughed as you smacked his shoulder.
“Neither. You should be honored. Think of each bite as me saying I love you,” you said, unable to keep a straight face.
Gojo easily freed himself of your grip, flipping so he was laying on top of you with the full weight of his body over yours the way you liked it.
“Kinky. But alright, if thats how you want to be loved then,” he said, before he bent his head down, nipping every inch of exposed skin he could access.
~
You had terrible blood circulation, resulting in a chronic state of frozen fingertips and toes. It was especially worse during the winter - and unfortunately for Gojo, it was an especially cold day.
You unlocked the door to your home, heart warming at the sight of Gojo cozied up in one of your favorite outfits of his: grey sweatpants and a fitted black longsleeve. He looked up from the game he was playing to welcome you home with a smile, beckoning you towards with him with outstretched arms.
You stripped off your outerlayers in record time, practically jumping into his warm embrace. You couldn’t help yourself as you slid your frigid fingers into his shirt, warming your hands against his abs. He hissed as soon as your hands made contact with his skin, tensing up while you sighed in relief at his warmth.
“Ah, so nice and warm,” you said airily, the feeling returning to your fingertips. Gojo mock-glared at you, but made no move to remove your hands.
“You just wanted an excuse to feel my abs huh,” he teased, flexing himself under your fingertips. You rolled your eyes as you laughed, removing your hands from under his shirt.
He reached out towards you, tugging you into his lap as he wrapped both of you in a blanket.
“If your hands are still cold I have something big and warm you can ho-” he began, but he froze as soon as you pressed your frigid toes against the warm skin of his calves.
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atxxzist · 22 days
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sweetest lies | c.s (03)
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prev // series m.list
pairing: choi san x f!reader
word count: 7.7k
warning: none but lmk
you didn't want to go home because you knew that you'd have to face your sister.
look her in the eyes and see those very lips that yunho kissed and those hands that he probably held on more than one occasions, the wound still too fresh that it all still hurts.
but you didn't think you'd run smack into her before you could even pass the entrance, stopping in your steps immediately with surprised eyes similar to hers, the both of you swallowing down the same time as the air turn an awkward one.
you're about to just walk past her, the day from work leaving you tired and not in the mood for another long conversation about the topic, when your sister musters up the courage to let out a soft, "can we please talk?"
the tone aggravating you more than anything; how she can still sound so sweet and worried after what she's put you through.
you huff and merely roll your eyes, absolutely refusing to look at her although you know it's silly and petty--you being the older one but holding a grudge like no other, so much more less mature than her.
"i don't know what else is there to talk about," you respond, trying your very best to sound annoyed.
but she continues to make you feel worse with an even sweeter tone, "i'm sorry. i really am." and you can already picture the pearls in her eyes and pout on her lips despite still facing the other way.
"i know you like yunho. i do. but..." he's too handsome and charming; too sweet and kind that she also can't help but fall for him. she would never intend to steal him from you if he didn't return the sentiment.
"but he likes you too," you finish for her, something shifting in you that makes you finally look her in the eyes. "i get it. what am i gonna do? you're two grown consenting adults so i'll get over it."
you didn't even think such words could ever come out your mouth, but for the first time sounding surprisingly selfless because maybe talking to san did helped out a little.
there's a silence after that you're sure has marked the end of the topic, striving a step forward when her voice stops you again.
"we're planning on telling mom and dad and yunho's parents over dinner..." she says, delivery timid like she's just the slightest scared of your reaction.
you gulp down the knot, mumbling a dry, "good luck with that." and sliding past her.
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you start seeing how truly mundane your life is once the person it used to revolve around is no longer there.
how, it’s a continuous cycle of work and coming home to a big empty house most days and watching reruns of shows until you’re bored out of your mind.
which is how you wind up at a co-worker’s house party, the young woman from the office next to you going by the name of dahyun kindly asking after a conversation with your boss about the paperworks regarding the transfer.
she joined the firm a few months after you but you’ve always known her to be outgoing and a people’s person, recalling the girl’s familiarity with everyone from the floor her second week of work.
it wasn’t like you had anything better to do, so you accepted the invitation and saved the following day for a night of fun, or at least you hoped so.
dahyun had said it’s just gonna be a regular house party; none of that crazy frat bullshit with the chance of someone under 20 attending, so it’s just gonna be chill and relaxing.
fives minutes into your arrival and it’s not too bad but you already find yourself hiding in a corner despite recognizing a few faces from the same working floor.
“if you’re gonna be here, you should at least try and have some fun.”
the familiar sounding voice from behind makes you quirk a brow, barely looking over your shoulder to see, probably the least expected person standing with amusement in his expression.
“seonghwa?” you say in disbelief, your body naturally following your curiosity to stand before him. “the fuck you doing here?”
“attending the party, isn’t that obvious?” he quips, continuing to close the gap before stopping with just enough space.
you scoff and roll your eyes, the sight bringing a smirk onto seonghwa’s lips.
“shut up. you know what i mean.”
“dahyun’s a friend,” he says casually, the answer making you squint.
“seriously? hongjoong and now you?” the complaint rolling off like it’s seonghwa’s fault. you can only cross your arms and sulk.
you can’t even recall the last time you actually saw seonghwa. it must’ve been your graduation or one last coincidental meeting… you don’t remember. it’s been that long.
“yeah, cause you have better things to do?” he pokes fun at the very obvious fact you came alone. “where’s that jeong boy? you know, the one that always got you on a leash.”
between hongjoong and seonghwa, seonghwa’s always been the more calm and level-headed of the two; being the voice of reason when you and hongjoong would lose it.
but on the occasion when he’d just let it go and be snarky, seonghwa could really pull a nerve.
“is that all people associate me with?” you have the audacity to click your tongue in annoyance and scoff like you didn’t do it to yourself.
seonghwa snickers.
“oh i’m sorry. it was just my most recent memory of you,” he says cheekily. voice calm but you know there’s hidden animosity underneath.
he never explicitly said whose side he took, but it was obvious from how he treated you the same as hongjoong did. it only made sense because they’ve known each other before you even came along.
you never fault him, knowing it mostly had to do with your own fuck-ups.
“hmm,” you hum, tone setting into the same sarcastic and dry one he has. “well, it’s nice catching up and all but i don't feel like reminiscing the past, so if you’ll excuse me.”
because you can admit your wrongdoings and also be both embarrassed about it, attempting to brush past him when his speaking voice stops you in track.
“hey, i was just trying to find something to talk about after all these years,” he says, half chuckling and staring at you from the opposite side now that you’ve managed to make it past him.
you snicker lowly.
“what?” you quirk a corner of your lips, continuing with amusement in your voice, “then you’re gonna say sorry? or expect me to?”
he shrugs.
"that's your choice."
but his body language now shifting, that playful look no longer in his eyes or tone, it's almost scary how fast it happened.
the next few seconds is a silent stare off, the only sound is the party music in the background and the slight beating of your heart at the ominous delivery.
"i'm not asking for an apology or whatever. frankly, it wasn't even my problem, but i'm just saying... your life would be a lot easier if you know how to say sorry for once."
seonghwa thinks you have too much pride; the same thing you believe to be keeping you intact is gonna be your ultimate downfall because even when you're clearly wrong or you know you're wrong, you never say it.
you're one to keep it bubbled inside and carry the guilt just because you think you should be unbreakable at all times. it's such an unrealistic standard you've set for yourself.
you raise a brow at that, tilting your head in confusion.
"i know how to say sorry," you tell him sternly, attempting to convince him as much as you are to yourself.
“i’m uhm… i’m sorry,” you utter lowly, sounding and appearing ashamed by the way your fingers fiddle with each other at your front, san almost can’t believe it.
“pardon?”
“i’m sorry, about this morning.”
it's beyond comprehension how san must've been the first person you've genuinely apologized to after going so many years of the word kept to yourself.
it must've been the absolute humiliation and loneliness that day that really got to you, breaking you down until you were so vulnerable with nothing but the choice to fold in front of the one person you felt you could still confide in.
san being that person is also beyond what you can explain.
but seonghwa only merely puffs and crosses his arms.
"i just think it would be great if we could be friends again one day," he says, the ominous dropping and voice turning soft and reminiscing again that it makes your eyes go wide before you see a smile turn up on his lips.
"if you ever want to reach out to me or hongjoong again, you know how to find us."
he leaves his last words of the night opened and vague, disappearing off with one last smile before he's out of your sight, leaving you with much to think about--just exactly as he intended.
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there's only so much excuses to make or places to be after work just because you don't want to be there for dinner, knowing it's the day both yunho and your sister are gonna tell your parents and his the good news.
know that they're all gonna react with surprise and be so happy for them, erupting in cheers and congratulatory words that the two children they've been rooting for the longest time has finally gotten together.
there really isn't a lot, that you just sucked it up and stayed the few extra hours overtime to make up for all the instances you've slacked off, even starting on work saved for the following day, hoping it's long enough to just miss the dinner.
and just enough it is, you return right as the table's just about to be cleared, the chitters and chatters around loud enough to drown the opening and shutting of the front door with yunho the only one catching your presence standing in the hall.
"they were really happy, yeah..." he says awkwardly, standing before you in the cold chilly air of the backyard.
you really didn't want to talk about it anymore, the subject like beating a dead horse at this point. but yunho had approached you so cautiously and calmly, something genuine in his action that you couldn't say no when he asked to talk for one last time.
"hmm," you merely hum, really not made for comforting or encouraging. most of the anger already dissipated although the hurt's still there, you can't bring yourself to not feel even the slightest happy for him, even if the smallest percentage because you saw the biggest smile ever on him back at dinner.
you contemplate on what to say because yes, you're still hurt and feeling betrayed, but it's not like you can hold it over his head forever. he isn't some stranger you can easily avoid.
he's yunho and you're just gonna have to get over it; not just for his sake but also for yours just so you can feel a little more at peace and move on.
"i'm sorry," he suddenly let out, your head snapping from the ground and to his guilt-ridden eyes.
because though he still stands by what he said, not a single word a lie, the few days apart also allowed him to think outside of the box--especially from your perspective.
how selfish he really was from the start, playing along when he was being dishonest the entire time, and how much pain he could've saved everyone if he hadn't been such a coward.
if he hadn't wanted the best of both worlds and knew he would lose you in some way if you found out how he actually feels.
you have to blink a few times, feeling like a lost puppy under yunho's apologetic gaze because you honestly believe that in comparison, you have so much more to be sorry for.
and as if he could read your mind; your expression speaking for itself because you have a certain look of bafflement or aloofness whenever you feel guilty.
you won't ever say outright that you're wrong, but your body language always gave it out.
it was one of the very first traits he picked up from being around you, having seen it for himself at the starting age of twelve when you pushed a much younger san to his injury and cried--not because you got yelled at by your parents but because you felt bad.
and how distracted you were at the movies the entire time after your fight with hongjoong because you confessed to yunho a few days later that you were being a shitty friend.
you have such a way of dealing with your emotions, he wishes for there to be an outlet for you to deal with them in a healthy and accepting manner.
one that doesn't depend on him or anything else for all the wrong reasons.
"i'm sorry," he says again, eyes now softer but still sincere. "i know i already said this last time but i really got carried away and couldn't finish. but i truly am sorry. i should've told you sooner. i should've never given you any sort of false hope, and i should've just been honest from the start."
he's sure he's out of breath when he finishes, just waiting for you to now say something in return because despite all the ups and downs and shortcomings, you're the one who's been with him through most of his lowest points and he's so grateful for that.
he wouldn't want to lose you over this.
you stay quiet for a few seconds more, a mental battle in your head just so you'll be able to form something coherent when you do speak.
"we both just weren't right for each other," you say, pausing briefly, "in that way... at least."
because yunho hid things from you and you were so in your head you were convinced he was in love with you at one point, always looking at everything through a rose-coloured glass but now able to see for yourself once it cracked, just how destined it was to fail from the start.
"sorry," he mumbles, low and head still hanging in shame, you can't help the dry chuckle that falls from your lips.
"you don't have to keep telling me you're sorry. like what i told minjeong: i'll get over it."
he picks his head up from the more cheery tone, the smallest smile forming on your lips that takes him by surprise because of the illusion it gives off; that you were able to come to terms with it so fast, but he knows you and knows it's all just a facade.
nonetheless, he nods, gulping silently to pass a comment.
"i hope you're taking care of yourself."
you smile, turning your back on him and crossing your arms to stare up into the stars in the nightsky who's currently the witness to the end of your 'relationship' with the boy you've loved your whole life.
"i've considered transferring work. it's not set in stone yet, but i did talked to my boss and he said he'd help me look for an opening if i'm interested."
you think it will be good if you can seek your own independence for once, unable to think of a better time than this one.
and though you can't see yunho, you can tell he's intrigued by how his question squeaks slightly when asking.
"where would you be transferring?"
"japan," you answer, once again facing him. "it's different, but close enough where i don't have to feel like i'm halfway across the world. my boss said i have about two months-ish to make up my mind."
plus, japanese is the only other language you're fluent in. the country a similar but new enough experience and the true testimony to how you'll be, away from the grasp of your parents.
"i see," yunho replies, nodding in understanding; so much to say but at the same time unable to say anything. he wouldn't ever want to hear someone he's close to plans on moving away, but he's almost proud of you for taking that next step.
"feel free to call me up any time if you need help," he adds, a soft smile gracing his features that makes the moment so bittersweet. you wish you have the guts to hate yunho, but you really can't after all he's done for you.
you nod lightly, at the same time allowing yourself to enjoy the breeze and calm silence before letting all your guards down.
"yunho..." you call his name almost timidly, the boy responding that immediate second.
"i'm not asking for an apology or whatever. frankly, it wasn't even my problem, but i'm just saying… your life would be a lot easier if you know how to say sorry for once."
"i'm sorry," you finally tell him, to wide and surprised eyes--unsurprisingly.
"i'm sorry for putting so much pressure and baggage on you. i also should've asked about your feelings from the very beginning. i shouldn't have just... assumed."
yunho knows it's the sincerest form of apology without the need to say a lot. from the nervous timbre to the guilt in your eyes, and even the way you start fiddling with your fingers.
he only snickers, much to your initial mixed reaction until you start warming up to it as well, the low but very real giggle leaving you putting a smile on yunho's face.
"apology accepted," he says.
you allow another giggle before cutting it short and looking at him through your blinking lashes.
"if you guys have went to this extent, then i hope you'll treat her right, jeong yunho."
you leave the night at that, a sting in your chest but you know that soon enough, you'll be relieved of it and you won't even think about him anymore.
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it's after sitting down for a few minutes that you get a text from san, the funny coincidence that you were just talking about the transfer with your boss as well.
san: yunho told me
san: it's true you're gonna be leaving for japan?
you honestly can't recall how san even got your number. it must've been something you did drunkenly or he must've asked for it from yunho. but for sure, you did not give it to him willingly.
y/n: he really be snitching, huh
san: so it's true ☹️
you roll your eyes and try preventing even the smallest smirk. you haven't seen the man ever since that day and now is when he decides to reach out again.
y/n: maybe 🤷
san: 😔
san: just when we were starting to get along too
y/n: lol. you'll be fine.
shaking your head, you put your phone down to return to work, thinking to yourself there's no way san's actually serious because you're sure even if you did move halfway across the world, he would barely notice you're gone.
ten minutes of silence from your phone and you're also sure he's given up on the act--when your notification buzzes again.
san: ☹️ thought you weren't gonna run away
y/n: i'm not
y/n: i just want to do something different
san: if you say so
san: you free this evening?
y/n: i get off work in about 3 hours
san: wanna do something? 🙂
y/n: well aren't you a changed man 🙃
san: i thought it was nice the other day and i just figured you might need a distraction
you have to admit the fact you were taken aback a little; in a surprisingly good and touching way that san would care about you so much as to consider the after effect of what have happened.
y/n: if you're up for it 🤷 not like i have anything better after work
san: awesome! i'll see you then 😉
--
it's not everyday that you go waltzing into a guy's place; if at all, actually, because you've ever only graced the presence of the house next door because unlike san, yunho never had the urge to get his own place or be away from the watchful eyes of his parents.
it only takes two knocks in total for the door to come apart with san standing before it, a smile on his face and every body language welcoming.
"that was fast," you comment, walking past him to get inside.
"i was waiting," he says, calm and relaxed. "you took a lot longer than you said you would."
you shrug and plop yourself down on the couch, head snapping his way to reply.
"i had to get out of my work outfit."
he acknowledges it with a nod before seating himself next to you, his phone sitting on the coffee table in front of you gone unnoticed until you see him pick it up.
"what to order?" he scrolls through the delivery app, the same time you quirk a brow.
"stew sounds really good right now," you say.
"soft tofu stew?"
"that's fine. but make it spicy."
you weren't sure what you guys were gonna be doing once you came over, but he had just said to hang out and you thought any form of entertainment was better than none.
"any drinks?" he asks, after placing the order and getting up to walk over to the fridge.
"got any sodas?"
"i got some coke."
"that'll do."
he returns with two bottles, setting it on the table with a smirk stickered on his face, you have to reframe from rolling your eyes.
"what? no alcohol tonight?" he teases, his back falling onto the couch with hands behind his head.
"not in the mood," you reply, straight and simple.
"fair enough," he mumbles.
you let your eyes wander for a few more seconds before asking, "so, what's the plan?"
he gets up to sit straight and look you in the eyes.
"i was thinking a movie, video games, or we can just talk over food."
you hum with straighten lips, nodding and making yourself at home when it's your turn to fall back on the couch.
"anything's fine," you tell him, patting at the material under you and adding, "great couch by the way."
"yeah. it cost a fortune."
"good thing that wasn't a problem," you jab lightheartedly, because you always have wondered what the hell san does all day, besides the very obvious fact that he lives off the wealth of his parents and doesn't have to worry about anything when it comes to money... at least.
"i know what you're thinking," he says, not reactive of any kind.
"no but seriously, what do you do all day?" you ask, genuinely curious and interested this time.
he just quirks his lips, responding in the most lax tone, "enjoying life and doing what anyone in their 20s would?"
you scoff and shake your head.
you really do wish to be as untroubled and carefree as san is. the way he deals with and confronts everything as if there isn't a single thing to lose.
“it definitely bothered me at first, but i didn’t see why i should be losing sleep over it. me and yunho are two very different people after all who does our own things. i’m proud of what he’s achieved so far, and he’s always had my back when needed.”
you almost can't help but to have the tiniest respect for him in that regard.
"good to know." you giggle. "but what's the plan after?"
"working on it. but not really in the hurry to rush it or anything."
you nod courtly at that, another sinking thought about how similar, yet different the two of you really are.
growing up, you've never really paid much attention to san, always writing him off as annoying and obnoxious, but when left with no choice but to face him on a deeper level, you can't help but to notice the stark differences despite relating to him more than yunho.
"and you... are you really moving? like forreal?" he says, tone a soft worried that you almost want to believe he would be sad about you leaving... being this adamant and all.
"yeah," you answer, the disappointment befalling his expression completely flying over your radar. "forreal."
"but why?" he pushes.
you shrug, everything about you relaxed--as opposed to the boy standing across as he tries to digest the very big possibility of you going away, and most likely for a long time.
"i told you i wanted to travel."
"that's moving to a whole different country," he states the obvious, much to a laughter from you as the uneasiness on him only becomes more transparent.
you laugh some more, going on to say, "don't tell me you're actually gonna be sad?" your lips forming a frown after to tease him, and for the very first time, you think san might've blushed a little.
he opens his mouth as you watch curiously, but the moment shortly disrupted by the sound of san's phone going off.
"delivery will be here in 10 minutes," he tells you still holding the device in his hand before he tosses it aside.
"i also just want to try being on my own for a while," you bring the topic back into discussion when it seems like he isn't gonna answer the question.
you add, "if i do get moved, it will be on my own accord and everything will be from my own pockets... not my parents or anyone else. boss said i have about two months and i most likely will have to train the replacement but i think it's all gonna be worth it."
you're unable to read into san's reaction, silence filling the air until he finally speaks again.
"if you want to learn to be on your own, why don't you just get a place first? you know, instead of moving across the country. as someone in the current position, it's pretty nice if i say so myself."
your lips draw into a thin line, not because he's wrong but because you've never actually thought of that. you pretty much did just jumped ship into the next big step.
"i've uh... i didn't think of that," you mumble, the words cracking a smile on san's face before a snicker rolls out.
"jesus, y/n. a bit dramatic aren't you?"
"shut up," you hiss.
as the night goes on, any doubts and worries are long forgotten when the chatters with san would go on even after the food's arrival, both chewing and talking at the same time like you're never gonna run out of topics.
the eating soon turns into a search for something to watch while the two of you squabble about anything and everything, forgetting what the hell you're even fighting him about and being surprised you could even get this worked up without the help of alcohol.
and after you're both finally worn out from the long night; the foods on the coffee table now empty and dry and the tv running for far too long, you help clean the place up when it seems he's fallen asleep and quietly make your way out of the condo shortly after.
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tuesday 4:32 p.m.
san: how about this one? looks really nice and is kind of close to my place 🙂
san: *attachment*
y/n: that looks way too fancy and expensive
y/n: i just want something that's enough for one person
it's impressive; the fact san even entertained the idea of leaving everything you've already got in mind to settle for something else, but even more so that you're even considering it.
getting a place of your own and learning to live on yourself would be a lot more doable than moving across the sea and away from everyone and everything you've grown up with.
you suppose it's not a bad idea. you're just not sure if it's the right one.
san: you're not gonna find anything if you're gonna be this picky 🙄
y/n: i'm just looking
y/n: if i'm really gonna stay, i'd do the search myself
san: 😢
you don't even realize how san starts weaving into your daily life and just integrating himself into it; whether through small, mindless texts, or bigger ones like actually inviting you out or over to his place (more frequently, at least).
wednesday 1:20 p.m.
san: what time do you finish work today
y/n: i always finish at 6
san: wanna come over? i got a game we can play 🙂
y/n: it better not that stupid truth or dare
san: ☹️
san: it's not
san: it's truth or dare spin the bottle
y/n: 🥱
san won't admit how fast he came at the sound of the first knock, and you also won't admit that despite him looking very much the same, there's something different about him lately.
something you can't pinpoint but it's almost as if he's gotten more attractive somehow even though you've never really cared about any of that.
"did you wear that to work?" he comments on your outfit as you make way past him and settling inside.
"yes," you answer dryly, tone soon overturning. "what? you think i was gonna get pretty?" you smirk.
he shrugs, mumbling a "maybe" that you quietly let pass to take off your shoes.
"wanna see a few places i've looked up?" he beams, going over to the laptop that was on the kitchen counter and running over to you on the couch with it.
"why not," you mumble, scooting closer, shoulder bumping into his nonchalantly.
you watch him scroll through the abundance of luxurious condos alike his, opting to raise your brow and turn to him.
"why are they all high-profile and in gangnam?" you question.
"pfft," he scoffs, facing you head on, standing the closest he's ever been to you in a long while and remarking, "it's not like you can't afford it. come on, y/n."
"i can't." you move away from him. "if i even get a place, it's gonna be with my own savings, not my parents. i definitely can't afford a place like these. can we please look at something a little less flashy?"
he shakes his head and eventually changes the area, but an hour into the search and you're still not satisfied. the prices are either not doable or the layouts and amenities aren't to your heart's content.
"let's continue this another day," you sigh out, throwing your head back and groaning as san chuckles.
"fine," he gives in, shutting the laptop and moving it out of sight. "you're so picky."
"well you got to be. i'm sure you didn't pick this place out in a day," you say at the same time you look around.
on your own, there's no way you'd ever be able to get anything like this.
"and you don't think it's nice?"
"are you kidding?" you say in disbelief. "it's amazing. if i had the money, it might as well be my dream place. but it's okay. i can also settle for much less as long as it accommodates all my needs."
san can't help but laugh, because he thinks you're both the snazziest person he's ever met, but also the most tame, it's a bit uncharacteristic of someone who grew up wealthy all her life.
"fair enough," he says, standing up abruptly to go grab at an empty beer bottle also on the counter which you're sure he most likely prepared for, given his next set of words.
"how about spin the bottle but no dares. we can only ask questions and the person has to answer truthfully." he places it on the coffee table.
you snap to him at that with something uneasy in your eyes, prompting a comment from him.
"you scared?" he tease.
"what? no," you blow.
"then what are we waiting for?" san doesn't hesitate with one of his hands already on the bottle but you have to stop him in the process to ask one more question.
"what kind of questions though?"
it takes him maybe a second for a light smirk to crawl out of him and with a shrug, telling you, "any."
you eye the bottle on the table anxiously as it circles and clinks; not afraid of the idea of the game but more so that you're playing with san and he's gonna ask the wildest shit.
fortunately, san shoots himself in the foot.
"oh fuck, it's me."
it's your turn to smirk, letting out an almost sarcastic, "yeah."
"knock yourself out. i'm an open book."
you roll your eyes because you know he is, which is why trying to come up with something that will even faze him is gonna be a challenge.
"most embarrassing thing you have done at a party?"
he scoffs it off in amusement, like he can't believe you're even asking that.
"i thought you could do worse, y/n. but sure."
he hesitates and hums for a few seconds more before answering, "got high as fuck and almost kissed wooyoung."
a dry snicker actually escapes from your lips at the confession.
"yeah i always suspected you guys had a thing for each other."
"please don't," he says in pure disgust. "i love wooyoung forreal but no amount of high can get me to kiss the man."
you laugh, now actually the one to initiate the spin because you think it can turn out fun. you think.
and thankfully, it's not you that have to answer a question, again.
"wow," san only silently curses the double misfortunate.
"how many people have you slept with?" you blurt, bold and straightforward, san even slightly taken aback.
"don't ask questions that will break your heart."
"tsk." you roll your eyes. "you could sleep with the entire population of earth and i wouldn't give a shit."
"not even the tiniest bit?" he plays on in that voice you hate because it's always when he's trying to flirt with you.
"i'd give the tiniest shit about everyone else because poor them."
"sharp," he retracts, the amusement all over his face. "but to answer your question, maybe eight? ten? to be honest, i've lost count."
"good to know," you reply nonchalantly, nodding for him to spin the bottle this time, but you know it's only so long before your luck eventually runs out, and so it does.
"ha," he says in victory, the top of the bottle pointing at you.
"i'll go easy, don't worry just yet," he teases annoyingly, you almost want to knock your foot into his.
"what did you think of me when we first met?"
you quirk your lips and pretend to think although you already know the answer.
"well, i thought you were gonna be sweet, but that was until i got to actually know you. then you were just annoying and a pervert."
he bursts out in genuine laughter and yeah, you think he's cute and endearing like this but 95% of the time, he's getting on your nerves.
the game continues on with a back and forth of innocent enough questions; just laughing and scoffing off the ridiculousness, and you're starting to think he might spare you, until the next one turns your eyes a dark one.
"what is it about yunho that made you like him so much?"
and again, you've already stated so many times why you like him. his kindness. his attitude. the way he presents himself. the way he treats you. but if you have to pick one.
"it just seems as if he accepted me for who i am. i don't know."
the way the atmosphere shifts is scary; both of the smiles on your lips wiped and replaced by unreadable expressions as san quiets without a reply, you have to be the one to speak again.
"and you... w-why are you helping me?" you ask him.
"huh?" he repeats just so there's no mistake.
"we don't even like each other and i pretty much treat you like shit but you still seem rather concerned about my wellbeing for whatever reason."
it has gotten so silent by now, you can hear san swallowing.
"you're the one who always says you don't like me. i never said i don't like you."
it's your turn to swallow, staring back at him with nervous eyes because you're not sure how to take the statement just now or what exactly he really means.
"i just thought the feeling was mutual," you mumble, shrugging lightly.
"no. i think you just didn't care enough to ask me," he says with a dry chuckle because he's right and even you know it. your mind at the time too occupied with his brother instead.
"so like, you really don't want me to leave?" you take the opportunity to tease him, a tone on you almost unrecognizable that you think even made san a bit nervous and shy.
"you could say that," he talks lowly, on the verge of stuttering. "i've known you almost my whole life."
"and if i did?" you ask, voice turning a more serious one as the words make an etch in san's heart. it hurts to even think of the possibility.
"then i would be really upset."
you watch his eyes and lips go soft, something so genuine and sincere in his response that makes you just freeze up before breaking the tension with a forced snicker.
"you still have some time to change my mind," you encourage, because you wish for there to be bigger reasons to stay so you won't regret the could of, even if san has to be that reason.
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some might call it healing, some might call it a rebound if that even applies at all, but san successfully weaves himself into your life like a routine that you're no longer fazed by a morning text or even a goodnight one.
the way he'd just check up on you during work or call during the weekends to ask how you're doing and if you're up for something together.
it's a bit pathetic he's pretty much your only friend (and even that's a reach) at this point, but you genuinely enjoy his company.
he listens well, is fun to be around, and is almost like a life-long friend who's been missing your whole life.
but while those are the ups of being with san, there's also the downs--such as the long list of girls that'd constantly ring his phone or send him a text while the two of you are together, and while that isn't any of your business, that doesn't stop the few doubts that manages to plague your mind.
are you interrupting anything? does it make you a bitch for hanging with him when he has other girls lined up? does all of this even mean anything when you could very much just be one of them?
that maybe even if there's a possibility, you could never fully give and commit yourself to someone like san because it doesn't seem like he's ready to settle for anyone.
he haven't ever had a relationship that lasted more than a few months and you haven't ever known him to have less than two option on the table.
which might be why you were so much more attracted to yunho, because in comparison, yunho seemed like he would give away his heart and soul for just you.
but you know that, though. you knew that's how san is. you shouldn't have expected anything else, but you still can't help but to feel a strange, unfamiliar sense of loathing when he's distracted by another girl.
"i talked to the landlord a few days ago and she said if i wanted to see the apartment for myself, she would be more than happy to show me," you tell san over a late night eat out; the restaurant about to close in an hour but you're sure he's not listening because his head snaps to the text he got just now.
he still attempts to sound like it's the current topic holding his attention, which you have to give him credits for.
"that's good," he shortly says, fingers fast to type something on his phone before pushing it away. "so how many more days left again?"
"about two weeks, give or take," you respond, poking at your fries with the fork.
two weeks before you'll have to make the ultimate choice to leave or stay.
it's been that long, time just flying before your very eyes to the point where yunho's presence lingering around the house for the sole purpose of your sister almost no longer does an effect to you.
"wow. already?"
"yeah."
san offers to pay for the meal and drive you home instead of the usual catching a movie at his place before the actual end of the night and it's not like you're gonna fight him on it.
he's not your boyfriend and he definitely doesn't have any obligations to follow through any routines or whatever, so why are you all of a sudden feeling so tense about it?
tense and bitter about the fact that after he drives you home, there's a likely chance there's gonna be another girl at his place.
you think you're losing it.
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you had let yourself indulge more and more into the possibility of staying, which was how you found the place that you could practically call ideal.
though it's only one bedroom, the modern but warm-toned style of the complex as a whole, as well as the location and pretty much everything else is convenient and accommodates all your needs.
when you had finally set a time and meeting with the landlord, you fell in love even harder in person because the second she opened the door to the place, it was like you knew this is it.
you think it can work out. you think you can see a future in this place; in this city still. and you have been much brighter and happier lately, even telling your boss the following day that there's a big chance you're gonna change your mind about the move given time is creeping up.
you had sent a text to san so excited because you want to tell him in person, every day the chance of you actually staying increasing by the second and he had told you he'd be available tomorrow night.
despite the conflicts swirling in your stomach a week ago, san had made up for it by being attentive as usual and making you feel like he really cares about you that the occasional rings and texts not from you were starting to become bearable.
after all, what does he owe you?
you're content with just having someone to talk and share your day with. you think you can live with that.
but you didn't expect nor think that all it'd take for the doubts to settle in again is to actually face the reality of your situation, making your way to san's place as promised and seeing a familiar face on the way in.
long hair and with a frame you've definitely seen before, it's hard to ignore the sensation she manages to conjure by just merely passing you.
“why don’t you ask the one person that would actually know where he is? or are you too good for that, too?”
you squint, confused, until he nods his head another direction and you follow, landing right into the view of the kitchen and to someone you know all too well just from the back.
his hands on some poor girl’s waist and lips running along with hers as her grip tightened at his disheveled hair, his body pressing her forward onto the counter, the both of them making out like there won’t be a tomorrow.
“no thanks,” you dismiss, managing to reframe from an eyeroll, pushing past hongjoong but not before you catch the smirk on him.
it wasn't the first time you saw her with san, because if it was, your body wouldn't have recognized her so easily as if she's a threat, replacing all the excitement and hope with nothing but old and plain insecurities.
then it's as if everything was a mistake.
choosing to stay because of san and with nothing but the hope that it will all work out... instead of going away on your own for some time and learning to really be independent.
your whole life, you've already been nothing but emotionally dependent on someone else, looking to them as a source of support, and you've realized that this time, it isn't any different.
you've just moved from yunho to san... and you didn't even like san for the longest time.
so how long before it will hit you that staying was a mistake; and especially that choosing to stay because of san was gonna be the biggest one of them all.
you have the tendency to catch feelings way too fast, and even if not romantic which you won't admit in this case (even if it might be), you react strongly to it and the feeling is consuming.
because how long before san will leave you the way yunho did?
everything may seem good for now but they will all meet the same ending. and to think of everything in perspective this way, you know you're not meant to stay.
your parents, yunho and your sister, san...
you don't feel ready for any of them currently, your life stuck at a point where you're not moving. and so you just turn back around and head home.
you think long and hard just to be sure this is what you want; then you think of how to tell your boss tomorrow, and about an hour later, you finally get a text from san.
san: you still coming? you said you have something to tell me
y/n: something came up sorry
y/n: i was just gonna tell you that i've made up my mind and i think i'm gonna go to japan
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a/n: i am truly sorry for having been gone a while only to come back with crumbs, but i hope y'all enjoyed this mess & will anticipate it finally coming to an end the following chapter <3 lmk if i missed anyone on the taglist cuz i have not touched it in 4ever fr
taglist: @freeandrealme @shingene @cookiechristie @softie00 @crimson-mia @hexheathen @lixpixstix @atinytease @turtash @moonseonghwa @kkayfan @curryramyeon @justineasian @sannie-pudding @itsokaytobedumb00 @nerdy-kimchi @fannyxmh @acciocriativity @mel-the-mad-hatter @eastleighsblog @diorwoo @devilsmatches @kyume02 @distvrbia @wonwowzers @endeav0rsb1tch @sannwa @brown88 @sangiluvem @eburneon @hotteokhatyu @yeosangsbiceps @sankatchu @lynnsqueendom @harusoraa @ad0rechuu @interweab @revehosh @byunniebaekhyunnie @nabi-sannie @gugggu6gvai @rockstarsanie @shakalakaboomboo @yeosangsbbg @yawnzshit @avantalem @lelaleleb @mountiiny @arinyyy @svintsandghosts @yoongiworshiper @raineadlr @tunaasan @chickenscoups @nevieatiny
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izvmimi · 8 months
Text
a/n: part of cursed!reader series of drabbles. sfw.
"y'know, it'd be nice to be loved like that," you muse as you follow nanami into the subway station. it's almost 3am, and both of you have sobered up a bit, knowing that satoru and his partner are probably stumbling into one of their apartments' drunk in their own right. you think for a moment that perhaps you should have actually explicitly made sure they made their own way safe, but you're pretty sure even piss drunk gojo can protect him and your friend.
nanami looks tired as usual, but he has a content smile on his face. you wonder if he heard you speak as you sit by him.
"oi, are you even listening to me?"
nanami turns his attention to you, a gentle flush of red on his sharp cheekbones letting you know that he probably is a little more drunk than you expected. it must be nice - you're often careful because you're a chatty drunk, and waking up after blacking out with multiple senses stolen from you is probably not ideal.
"always," he says. you raise an eyebrow. the train doors close and you start moving.
it's a strange answer from him but you allow it.
you sigh, stretching your legs out in front of you. there's just a singular man in the front part of your subway car, and he looks nonthreatening so you lose interest quickly. not much is there to look at, and when you look back at your friend, kento is peering at you through his glasses.
"what part of it do you like?" he asks. he chuckles, and you feel like you're being teased.
"i didn't say i liked it."
"you literally just said 'it would be nice.'"
heat rushes to your cheeks, but then you bite your lip and decide to own it.
"you know what, yes! i'm tired of being single. why would i want to be going halfsies on a tiny apartment with a sourpuss like you when a man should be appreciating my charm and treating me like a queen?"
it's nanami's turn to raise an eyebrow.
"do you think you deserve better?" he asks. you make a show of gasping in shock.
"why i never-"
nanami laughs louder this time and crosses his arms over his chest leaning back into the plastic covered seat. any time he laughs this much you're filled with an odd feeling, dread because he's probably making fun of you, or confusion... perhaps jealousy? you don't think you're that funny, but he doesn't seem to find anyone else as amusing. you hate that.
his hand rests on the top of your head suddenly and you kick him gently in the ankle.
"i deserve it," you remind him. you try to keep your eye contact fierce, making sure he doesn't patronize you; he lets his hand drop back to his side but continues to give you a pretend bemused look.
"perhaps."
breathing out through your nose, you decide you'll get him where it hurts.
"are you gonna pretend you're not bitter that your love life sucks?" you ask. he peers again at you sideways, then grins.
"i try not to think about it too much," he replies, promptly.
his ankles cross, and you consider kicking him again but the second time might actually hurt and you don't actually intend to hurt him. you purse your lips to the side and avert your attention instead. the shadows in the subway station start to hypnotize you the longer you focus on them, then you realize you are kind of sleepy. one of you has to stay awake to make it home safely, so you decide to return to antagonism.
"are you still pining over women who are inaccessible?"
nanami's eyes have closed shut by now but they open again.
"whatever do you mean?" he hasn't turned to look at you yet, and you're looking for the tick in his jaw that suggests annoyance but there's nothing yet.
"i told you to stop falling for lesbians, remember?" you tease him.
nanami gives you a look that lasts a bit too long, and for a moment you wonder if you've actually wounded him. you breathe in sharply and you're preparing to say the words, "sorry" but then he interrupts you quickly with the following,
"are you a lesbian?"
the question catches you off guard in the slight inebriation of hours after karaoke, where trot and enka play on loop and the taste of overpriced sushi swallowed not on your dime still ghosts on your tongue.
you would ask, "what's that supposed to mean?" but it's clear. kento's leaned into you and the train is slowing to a stop. you think your heart might slow to a stop too. he must be joking with you.
"i think you're too drunk, you're not making any sense." you finally say through your teeth, but the fact that you're suddenly flustered is apparent in the waver in your voice. kento snorts but it's soft and accommodating, not petulant.
the overhead PA tells you to unboard and kento moves first, getting to his feet but looks back at you and catches you as you stumble on heels too high for just karaoke and meeting with your closest friends.
your hand is in his and he lets go once you're steady.
you thank him but he can't steady your heart too.
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obsessivevoidkitten · 2 years
Text
Mojave, Mo Problems
Yandere Male Deathclaw x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Non-con, painful sex, breeding, oviposition, dacryphilia, overstimulation,  knotting, sex with a deathclaw, bullying, minor character death, reader abused (by raiders), raiders treating deathclaw badly, cock warming, general yandere behavior)  Word Count: 2.2k (Okay the sex in this one is pretty extreme and there is some violence. The deathclaw is not mean, but the sex with such a large and primal monster is not gentle. This is the first fanfiction I have ever written based on one of my favorite games, Fallout: New Vegas, though albino deathclaws are not in that particular game I went with it anyway. I also took liberties and added oviposition. I hope some people can enjoy this.)     You had been a simple farmer, living alone and not bothering anyone. You had just kept to yourself as you cultivated what passed for fruits and vegetables these days. And sometimes you hunted geckos and other creatures to supplement your diet.   Your dwelling was what had once been a warehouse and series of small storage units near an oasis in the Mojave Wasteland.   It was a lot of hard work, but it had not been the worst life considering the hard times the world had fallen into. Something you now knew first hand.   A little over a year ago everything changed, a small group of raiders had stumbled upon your secluded home. They wasted no time in putting you in your place and forcing you to serve as what was basically their slave.   You did most of the farming work, the cooking, and all of the cleaning. You supposed that you were lucky to be alive, but what a miserable life it was. Long gone were your days of freedom replaced only with thankless labor and beatings at the slightest provocation.   It was truly awful, you were exhausted every single day and always sore from a torturous combination of grueling work and of bruises that always littered your body to some degree.   Almost 2 months ago your life became even more difficult. The raiders had trapped an even larger than normal albino deathclaw in a huge cage they had set up near the storage unit buildings. Guess who was in charge of feeding it?   It had been scary at first but you had gotten used to it, and it no longer growled or roared at your approach, it seemed to have learned that you were the human that gave it food. Even though the beast, dubbed Skarr, by the raiders for the scar on its face, scared the hell out of you you could not help but feel sorry for it. Even if he did stare at you a lot in an unsettling manner.   It was just as much a prisoner as you were. That was what really made things difficult about it being here, seeing slowly waste away in a cage that was too small for such a giant beast, seeing it get harassed by the raiders who threw things at it and poked at it with makeshift spears just for their own entertainment.   You wished that you could just set it free, but you had no access to the key and you were sure it would not be happy with any humans in its vicinity.   Recently, you had been sweeping the area near the cage when the deathclaw looked at you and whimpered. It moved its tail so that it stuck out of the cage and you saw a nasty gash left by one of your mutually shared abusers. You were scared to do so but you approached cautiously, fully aware that you were within reach of the deadly claws for which deathclaws are named, and took a closer look at his tail.   But Skarr knew you were the only nice human and that they mistreated you, so he made no aggressive sounds or movements and let you examine him.   You rummaged through your pockets and pulled out a stimpak you had been saving in case the raiders ever got too rough and hurt you more than they had intended. You were not entirely sure that it would work on a deathclaw, but you could tell by the seriousness of the wound combined with the poor conditions that Skarr was kept in that this would almost certainly get infected, so you carefully applied the stimpak before bandaging the wound with a piece of your pants that you had torn off.   Suddenly Skarr turned and licked your cheek gently, you flinched thinking he might hurt you but that was all he did. After administering the stimpak he already looked a bit better than he had looked in days. You wanted to go get him some extra rations, but it would have to wait until night time, you had to go harvest crops before night fall so you could make breakfast tomorrow.   Skarr wished you could stay. He wished a lot of things. He was the bigger and stronger of the two of you so in his mind he should be taking care of you, you were clearly supposed to be his mate. How else would you explain how nice you were to him?? You fed him and took care of his wounds and even without weapons you approached him. So that settled it, you were his soft-mate.   Skarr watched you, something he frequently enjoyed doing to pass the time, as you grabbed a basket and headed to the field across from his cage and began picking ripe produce.   Suddenly Frack, the raider leader, passed by you and decided to punch you just to see you topple over in pain. You fell over and he kicked once before chucking and walking away.   Skarr was livid. His soft-mate (Y/N) had been assaulted and needed him! He was enraged. His anger in conjunction with that medicine that energized him earlier made him go berserk. He suddenly had the power to rend his cage asunder and he roared LOUDLY as he did so.   Frack looked over to see what the commotion was and did not have time to piss himself before Skarr closed the distance between them and removed the burden of Frack’s head from Frack’s neck.   The large deathclaw sniffed at you, now covered in Frack’s blood, and licked you tentatively to make sure you were okay. You were still and did not even dare to breath until Skarr vanished after sniffing the air.   The giant monster ran off and you could hear a number of screams that were cut very short. And the sickening ripping of flesh and snapping of oh so fragile human bone.   You decided that now would probably be a good time to leave, Skarr had not harmed you yet but he was a deathclaw and he was a raging deathclaw at that and there was simply no predicting his behavior.
    You ran to get some supplies but Skarr was upon you before you even had them all gathered. He was so thrilled, he could finally be with his soft-mate. He could finally take care of you now. He scooped you up easily, but carefully into his large claws and licked your neck and cheeks happily, over and over, with a blood stained tongue.   You recoiled at the sensation of the tongue and scent of blood and viscera that clung to Skarr and specifically clung to his breath, he had clearly taken a moment to catch up on lost meals.   The creature noticed how you flinched away and started to cry in fear, but he was not too worried, you were tiny and just scared from all the excitement, he would show you that he was just keeping you safe and only intended to take care of you and give you his eggs to incubate.   And what better time than to show you now after he had just rescued you and defeated your mutual enemies? It would be a glorious celebration of your victory!   He easily cut off your pants and underwear with one of his digits and tossed them aside, he sat down as he sniffed your entrance. Hmm, a bit too tight to get an egg in there. But no worries, he would not deprive you of the opportunity to be a mate for someone so strong. He decided to lick at your hole with his long tongue until you were loose enough to slide into.   You flailed pathetically as you felt something warm and slimy ghost against your hole. But deathclaws were not really beings focused on foreplay, so that was the only warning you received before his tongue plunged roughly into you. “Sk-Skarr stop!”, you squealed at the sudden intrusion. But he took little notice of your protests. The only thing he even understood from what you had said was the moniker that you humans called him. If anything you squealing his name just encouraged him.   Skarr was eager to learn what it would feel like to knot such a tight little soft-mate. After prodding your depths tentatively with his tongue he began redoubling his efforts to loosen you up, you squirmed in pleasure and discomfort as you felt it twisting and writhing inside you.   You would have struggled harder, but you were ever wary of accidentally hurting yourself on his large claws, and you did not exactly want to anger him either after seeing what he had done so easily to Frack. You decided that for your own safety you would submit.   When you stopped your silly struggles your deathclaw lover felt your hole relax enough to hopefully take his length. He slid his tongue out and turned you to face him as he lowered you towards his throbbing erection. You saw it ominously below you, it was slick, slimy, and an angry red color, with many ridges. It bobbed slightly, eager to feel you around it.   You blanched at the sight, it was easily the size of your arm in both length and thickness, how was THAT supposed to fit inside of YOU?   He lined it up with your hole that had been so well lubed with thick deathclaw saliva (and traces of blood that had  been on his tongue) and slammed you down on it fully.   You fought back the urge to scream as tears streamed down your face. Despite being much looser from his previous oral ministrations than you would have been otherwise it was still an insanely titanic thing to be impaled upon, especially so unceremoniously.   Skarr was not an idiot, he knew you were in pain, but it was for the best. He knew you would love it once you had a nice strong egg inside of you and you would get used to him breeding you over time. Besides, he was being much gentler with you, his soft-mate, than he would be with another deathclaw.   He thrust himself into you slowly and licked up from your neck to your tear covered cheeks in an effort to comfort you as best he could. Skarr had no desire for you to be in pain, but he could not deny that the sight of you crying and the sound of your little whimpers were not the most wondrous things to ever grace his senses. Except, of course, for the feeling of being so tightly inside of your most intimate depths.   As he continued to breed you suddenly the feeling of fullness increased even more, a part of his cock was somehow swelling inside of you like some kind of canine. The pain that had actually just started to diminish was now back and worse than it was previously.   You gasped and groaned, your breaths ragged and pained. Mercifully Skarr slowed down the pace considerably, letting you adjust to his knot tying you to him. Fast fucking was not required for sex with a deathclaw, he was perfectly content slowly humping into you and just enjoying the friction on his cock, and most importantly, his knot.   You clung to him desperately, limply leaning on his strong chest for support. The pain finally subsided and the slightest modicum of pleasure was allowed to surface as the ridges and knot of his cock brushed slowly against every inch of your inner folds.   You tried to just focus on the pleasure and ignore everything else about your situation, but it was hard given how over stimulated you were. Skarr had started licking and very carefully mock-biting your neck. Ghosting his powerful teeth against your tender human flesh.   Your large mate kept up the slow pace, allowing you to enjoy it to the extent that you were able until finally you came harder than you ever had in your life. Feeling your entire body shudder around his cock was just the push Skarr needed to take him over the edge and start pumping you full of viscous deathclaw cum.   Though unknown to you this was really to lube you up and prep you for the main event.   You shrieked.   Suddenly you felt something massive and hard deposited into you through his cock. You noticed your belly actually bulged out a bit now. He held you close to him and licked your tears away again as you sobbed.   His knot did not deflate in the least, you were stuck crying pitifully as his dick was firmly entrenched within you. Skarr enjoyed the intimacy of you being his little cock sleeve though. He felt so close to you.   Eventually, after a few hours, when his cock decided it was time to slide out of you, he would take you back to his den where he lead a large deathclaw pack and you would be perfectly protected from all the cruel horrors of the Mojave Wasteland.   Except the horror between Skarr’s legs, but you would get used to that one eventually.   
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luckbealincoln · 11 months
Text
Best Kept Secret
chapter eleven : he loves me not
THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!
pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader
rating : 18+ mdni
word count : 4.6k
summary : something has changed in your relationship with the mandalorian
warnings, etc. : language, angst
Something is wrong. 
All day it’s been wrong. 
He’s different. Distant. 
You can’t help but wonder if you went too far last night, he had seemed skeptical at best when you had presented him with the idea, and then the sex.
Sex had always been special with him, no man has ever given you the rush of fire in your veins like Mando. But last night was… somehow even more intense than ever before. Like he had wanted to burn himself into you, permanently. 
A small part of you wonders if he did. 
But it doesn’t matter because you can’t ask him about it. He won’t even look at you. His helmet faces you but you’ve learned how to tell if he’s really looking at you. There’s a certain chill that runs down your spine, it isn’t there now and you know deep down that he’s looking right past you. 
The real giveaway that something is amiss is his voice. There is none of that familiar fondness that you had grown accustomed to. His greeting is short and he makes no attempt to speak to you in the library, so you read. Maybe he just needs space.
At least that’s what you tell yourself as you close your book, not even realizing you’d finished it until you peer out the window, the sun is setting and you realize you’ve spent the entire day in silence. He didn’t read today, he just sat across from the nook like he used to do. 
“Is everything okay?” Your voice almost sounds hoarse from not using it all day. 
He doesn’t even offer up a verbal response. Just a nod. 
Okay so you fucked up. The birthday thing might have been too far, too… personal. That’s fine, you can fix this.
Except you can’t, because when he walks you back to your chambers you lean against the doorway and give him a small smile.
“Hey, you know you seemed pretty stressed today. Maybe I could help with that?” You brought your hand up to his arm in what you had intended to be a comforting gesture but he flinched away like you had burned him. You immediately drop your hand. 
You can’t pretend that doesn’t sting. 
“Did I do something wrong?” You wish your voice didn’t sound so wounded as you say it. 
“No, not at all. You should get some sleep.” His arm gestures inside and that’s when you know he’s lying. Because the helmet isn’t even facing you now. He isn’t even trying. But you don’t argue. Maybe he just needs space.
Tomorrow will be different.
It isn’t of course. He’s the same. If not worse. 
Today you only get one word out of him.
“Good morning Mando.”
Nod.
“Library?”
Nod.
“You might like this book, the main character reminds me of you.”
That doesn’t even get any sort of reaction. 
“Are you mad at me?”
“No.” 
That’s it?
“Okay.”
Nothing.
“I think I want to turn in early…”
Nod.
“Good night Mando.”
Nothing. 
And now you can’t sleep. 
Because you feel like you’ve done something wrong. Which is stupid, you shouldn’t feel that way, especially regarding your relationship with him. There is no relationship, besides friends. Friends who take care of each other in several ways. 
Are you even that anymore? How are you supposed to keep track of the persistently changing status of your friendship with the Mandalorian when he can’t seem to stop being indecisive. 
Bodyguard, rival, friend, protector, confidant, lover. 
Lover? Is that the right word for what he is? It feels right but at the same time like it shouldn’t be spoken aloud. Something about the intimacy of the word makes it difficult to connect to him. Like you’ve put up barriers to specifically separate him from the word.
Why can’t he just pick one and stick with it? Preferably he would choose to be your friend. 
That’s what this is isn’t it? 
That’s what you want? 
You’ve deliberately been forcing that label on to him, so it has to be true. He is your friend. 
Then why do you feel hollow now that he’s suddenly shut you out? Not sad, not angry, just… hollow. Like something is missing. There aren’t a lot of words that can describe the empty ache in your chest. 
Today he wasn’t your friend. He wasn’t even your rival, he went a step further than that, separated himself from even that shred of connection you two had built your entire bond on.
Today he was just your bodyguard. 
Weeks of slowly built up companionship gone in an instant because what? You threw him a birthday party? Surely that can’t be it. Yet seemingly that is the case. What was it he had said to you that night? 
You shuffle through your blankets before finding the book. You were practically using The Smitten Paladin as a diary at this point. You had bookmarked the page with the necklace, scrawled it above a random chapter title in hopes of remembering it.
ner kar’taylir darasuum
It had been branded in your mind the moment he said it. The moment he had dismissed himself you had written it down, something about the way he had said it had made it stand out to you. Most of the time when he spoke to you in Mando’a it always seemed like he couldn’t help himself. Like the words were forcing their way out of him.
But not this.
This was the first time you truly believed he had intended to say those words. They didn’t fumble out clumsily like he couldn’t form sentences in Galactic Basic fast enough. No, he had said this with a reverence that settled deep in your bones, like you were a priestess and he was confessing his sins.   
Maybe that’s why he was being so cold. You had previously gotten into an argument when he had called you sarad’ika for the first time, maybe this is like that. That still doesn’t make sense though because the only reason why he got so mad was because you had asked what it meant. You assumed you were past this sort of thing though.
Maybe you had done nothing wrong. Maybe he was just angry for the sake of being angry. 
You’ll ask him tomorrow, you’ll put your foot down and make him talk this out. 
You don’t even get a chance to chastise him for his frigid demeanor. 
You’re already in a bad mood when Elain and Lysa come to dress you in the morning, and your mood only gets worse when they bring an electric blue dress out of the closet and you realize what day it is. 
By the time you’re leaving your room you’ve practically got steam coming out of your ears, when you give the Mandalorian a dismissive “good morning” he returns your greeting with an unmistakable sorrow that gives you whiplash. The last two days he had been cold and dismissive at best but this was new.
He sounds miserable. 
Your anger dissipates almost instantly when you notice the distinct tilt of his helmet towards the floor. What if you’d been wrong? What if you’d done nothing to upset him and instead he had just been having a rough couple of days. Shame washes over you at the thought and you shoot him a sympathetic look, your immediate reaction is to comfort him.  
“We don’t have to go to the library, you know. If you want we can do something else.” You don’t make a move to touch him, even though you want to, you say it almost like you’re trying to comfort a wounded animal,  like you don’t want to scare him off.
“I don’t mind the library.” It’s never been easy to read him, not being able to see his face has always put you at a disadvantage with this sort of thing but right now it’s like there isn’t a barrier of steel between you at all. It’s like you can view him clearly, and what you see makes your stomach churn because he’s got the same tone of voice that your parents had the day they told you you were being sent away. Someone who's avoiding delivering bad news. 
“Okay.” You lose all the motivation you had to talk to him, consumed by the uneasy feeling in your gut as you make your familiar trek to the library. You sit in the nook, instead of finding a book you lean against the glass of the window. A subtle sadness settles in you as you watch the grounds, occasionally a servant will walk by, or a critter might scamper out past the edge of the forest for a moment before retreating back to the treeline. You stay like that for hours upon hours, you don’t realize how long you’re staring until you feel yourself almost dozing off as the sun sets, you wake up with a start and decide to busy yourself with a task. Abruptly standing up you start wandering through the shelves. 
The library is vast. It’s easy to forget how big it is since you usually stay in the same spot. It’s a maze of shelves once you get into it. It’s actually surprising to you how little you’ve actually explored considering how much time you spend in here but your nook is only a few shelves back from the entrance and most of the fiction novels that interest you are kept near the front so now that you’re actually exploring further you’re taken aback by the sheer expanse of dark polished wood and literature. 
It probably wouldn’t be noticeable if you weren’t already on edge but he’s standing further back than usual. It’s just a few steps but it pushes him out of your peripheral vision.
All those days you had spent wishing he would just give you some space only for it to finally happen and you can’t even enjoy it. A small part of you misses your steel shadow. 
But that’s not important now. Right now you need to stay focused on the task at hand. Your strides get smaller and smaller as you get into linguistic books.
Perfect. 
Your fingers trace the spines as you turn your head to the side to better read the titles. Someone must dust at night because your finger is spotless when you pull it back. 
One of the few perks of Princess Harand, this library is, for all intents and purposes, completely yours. Kodo certainly doesn’t read, you’ve already discerned that he finds it to be a waste of time, his family seems to share that opinion since you’ve never seen another living soul in here besides you and Mando. That’s why you can’t hold back the look of disbelief when you get to the “M’s” and there is a single empty place where a book should be. 
You don’t have to speculate, you know who took it. You turn to stare at the culprit. 
“Did you take the Mando’a translation book.” It isn’t a question, it’s a statement, as you cross your arms. 
He doesn’t speak for a moment, just staring blankly at the absence of a book. 
“Yes.” It’s strained, he sounds worn out. 
“When?” You want to take a step towards him but resist, opting to lean against the stacks instead. 
“A while ago.” He’s lying. It’s nearly imperceptible but the helmet shifts ever so slightly to the left when he says it, like he’s looking away. 
“What day? Was it the night of your birthday?” You shouldn’t be interrogating him, it feels wrong when he sounds so weary but you need to know. 
“It wasn’t my birthday.” 
“How do you know? You said you didn’t keep track, it very well could have been.” It’s a weak excuse but it’s better than nothing, he doesn’t respond for a beat so you keep going. “Was it? After we had sex did you come here and take this book?” The helmet turns further to the left. “Did you?”
“Stop it.” He’s clenching and unclenching his fist methodically.
“Answer me and I will.” 
“I took it before then.” There’s that familiar electricity in his voice. His fist stays closed this time and you can’t help but feel a fleeting sense of relief that he’s showing the faintest bit of emotion. 
“We agreed we wouldn’t lie to each other.” 
“When?” The helmet finally turns towards you. It’s funny, missing the feeling of cold steel being turned in your direction. 
“When we played the game. We said no lying, so tell me the truth.”
“You want to hold that over my head? Some stupid game?”
The game isn’t stupid to you. 
It’s one of the few things you’ve found enjoyment in these last few weeks. 
But you aren’t here to defend the game, you’re here to get answers. 
“You aren’t denying it.”
It only takes two of his long strides for him to tower over you. 
“It doesn’t matter when I took the book.”
“It matters to me.” You take one small step forward to press your chest against his, scowling into the thin black line on his helmet. He scoffs.
“A lot of things seem to matter to you that shouldn’t.” He turns on his heel and you find yourself missing the heat of his body, but not for long as his words sink in.
“What the hell does that mean?” You can feel your voice going up at the end of the sentence as your fury starts to boil over but he’s already walking away. 
“You’re going to be late for dinner. Come on.” He doesn’t bother turning to see if you're following as you stay hot on his heels.
“Wait a second, we aren’t done with this conversation.” You have to hike up your skirt to keep up with his pace now as he weaves through the shelves, you’re grateful that he remembers the way out though, you can easily see yourself getting lost here. 
“We are.”
“Says who?”
“Me.” You walk briskly in furious silence until reaching the large wooden doors. You don’t have any time to argue further because he’s opening them and continuing his beeline towards the dining hall. You can’t help yourself as you grab his arm and pull him to face you. He does but you know it’s of his own volition and if he wanted to he could just keep going so you need to make these next seconds count before he changes his mind.
“What is going on with you? Everything was fine and out of nowhere you got all… weird. It’s like you’re a ghost these last few days, just walking through walls and observing me.” You whisper yell at him, no one is in the corridor but it’s best not to risk it. 
“Nothing is wrong with me. Now go, you’re going to be late.” He motions at the ornate doors but you stand your ground. 
“Promise me we’ll talk about this tonight.” He doesn’t move, just stares at you as you glare right on back, unwilling to break first until after an eternity he sighs.
“Fine.” The static is low and impatient. 
“Say it.”
“What?”
“Say that you promise. I’m pretty sure your creed has something in it that means you can’t break it.” You have no idea if that’s true but you need to hear him say it. 
“I promise that we will talk tonight.” He sounds almost defeated but you’re satisfied as you enter the dining room. 
The first red flag is that your husband doesn’t immediately greet you. He loves the sound of his own voice, so why is he silent? Kodo raises his glass at you with that unsettling smile plastered on his face as he motions for you to sit. You cautiously take your seat and find comfort in the fact that he doesn’t dismiss Mando this time as he takes his familiar stance behind your chair. 
The second red flag is the realization that he’s drinking water. He hadn’t even been sober during your wedding ceremony yet here he was, as steady as you’ve ever seen. 
The third red flag is that the first thing he says is a question directed at you as a servant brings you a plate of what appears to be some sort of fowl. 
“Did you have a good day my dear wife?” There’s a sickly sweetness to his voice and you can feel the fainest perspiration forming on your skin. 
He doesn’t know. 
“It was perfectly fine. Just another boring day in the library.” You stare at your plate, picking at a tomato slice with your fork, you suddenly have no appetite despite not eating today. 
He simply hums in approval and eats in an eerie silence. It’s the first time in your marriage where you actually wish he would just say something. The only noises in the room as you eat are the scrapes of his knife against his dish and the occasional vulgar chewing noise from him. He always chewed with his mouth open. 
Dinner comes and goes. 
Plates are taken and you sit staring at him expectantly as he loudly sips at the water in his glass. You’re about to stand and dismiss yourself from this hellishly awkward supper but he clears his throat and you're frozen in place.  
“I’ve heard some rumors going around, my sweet wife.” He sets the glass down and stares at you, a glint of something viscous in his eyes. 
He doesn’t know. 
“Oh? Something about your brothers? Or you cousins?”
“There are rumors that I am cruel to you. Am I cruel to you, wife?” 
“No, you are a wonderful husband.” It’s not your most convincing lie. 
He couldn’t possibly know. 
“Then why am I also hearing rumors that you were seen in the markets with another man.”
For the first time ever, it’s freezing cold in this castle. 
“I-I went with Mando, he’s my guard of course he was with me.”
“Arm in arm. I believe this is how it was described.” He finally motions for a servant to bring over a bottle of a sickly brown rum, the thick liquid filling his now empty glass. “He’s the help my dear, sweet wife.” He points at Mando, standing silent as ever behind you, it makes you sick that he talks about him like he isn’t even there. “He is to walk behind you, not next to you. It says things to observers when you allow him to walk beside you.”
“I didn’t mean for it to say things he was just doing his j-”
“People love to talk. And you wouldn’t want people to say that I cannot control what is mine, do you? Of course that can’t be the case because if it was that would mean that I have been humiliated. ” He says the word with a venom you have never heard from a living thing before yet you are certain you will hear it again in your nightmares.  
“That was never my intention I only meant to-”
“Do you know, sweet wife, what the most dangerous thing in the galaxy is?” 
“...No.”
“A humiliated man.”
You don’t have a response as he takes what you assume to be his first sip of alcohol tonight. You’re waiting for him to drop the bomb. To reveal that he knows but he doesn’t and you find yourself releasing a breath that you didn’t realize you’d been holding in.
He doesn’t know.
He doesn’t even suspect.
He’s just threatened. This is an easy fix. Apologize and just be more careful with Mando. 
“I’m sorry my prince.” You put on the most convincing frown you can. “I didn’t realize but I’ll be more careful from now on. The last thing I’d want to do is upset you.” As you wait for his response he downs his entire glass before letting out a satisfied sigh. 
“Of course you will. You’re dismissed.” He waves you off and you immediately stand before rushing out of the room, you’d almost forgotten Mando was with you until you catch a glimpse of him as you make your way out. The last thing you hear is Kodo muttering to a servant to find his brothers so they can go out.
The relief you feel once you're out in the hallway is immense. You don’t get to enjoy the small victory for long because Mando is already marching off towards your room. You don’t say anything until you’re in the safety of your room, he walks in first and once you close the door behind the two of you, you turn to face him, ready to crack a joke about how that was a close call, maybe relieve some of the tension that’s been building between the two of you but he speaks first. 
“I don’t want to do this anymore.” You find no comfort in the familiar crackle of the modulator as he stares just off to the side of where you’re standing.
“What? It sounds like you’re outraged but you genuinely don’t know what he means.
“I don’t want to do this anymore.” He says each word slower. Enunciating every syllable. 
You manage to keep the look of betrayal off your face as you feel something crack deep inside of you.
“Like… be my bodyguard?” You sound like a child. Your voice is small and fragile. 
“No. I’ll still be your bodyguard. I just don’t want to… you know.” He gestures slightly with his hands and something about the way he says it ignites that flame inside you.
“Why won’t you say it? Are you ashamed of what we did?” There’s an edge to your tone. A bite. “Because you seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit.” 
“You know what I’m talking about. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” He’s already leaning towards the door and you can feel a sense of panic filling your stomach. You can’t just let him leave. 
He doesn’t get to do this. Insert himself into your life, make you care about him, fuck you, and then just leave. 
“What is your problem?” You snap at him, you mean for it to sound forceful but it comes out more like a plea.
“I just don’t want to do this anymore.” 
“Yeah, you keep saying that. What happened? We were fine, I would even argue that we were happy and now suddenly-”
“There is no we. ”
Ouch.
He’s right of course. 
“Is this because of the birthday? I told you if you didn’t want to do that we didn’t have to.” You’re starting to sound desperate as you stare at him with wide eyes, wanting an explanation more than anything else. 
“No. You didn’t do anything. I just… I don't want to anymore.” He crosses his arms. He sounds tired. Like he hasn’t been sleeping. You sound the same way. He takes a step towards the door but you immediately take a step in front of him.
“Bull shit. You- you said things, you called me those things. Don’t act like you suddenly changed your mind.” It isn’t fair. You know that you sound like a child throwing a tantrum but he can’t just do this to you. 
“Stop it.” 
“No! You don’t get to do this! To say the things you said and then without warning just decide we aren’t even going to talk to each other anymore.” You shove his chestplate but he doesn’t so much as flinch. “I deserve to know what I did. What made you change your mind?” Tears are pooling in your lash line and you want to scream at yourself for letting him see how worked up you were getting. 
You shouldn’t care this much. You’re the one who wanted this to be casual, you know that. This shouldn’t matter. You’re supposed to be just friends. Yet you can’t just let him leave. 
  “Stop.” You can’t prove it but you’re pretty sure his voice cracks, the modulator seems to catch it. 
“Just tell me! You said we were friends, be my friend right now, tell me what’s going on, for Makers sake, just tell me!” 
“I don’t want you anymore.” His tone is harsh as the visor burns in your direction. 
Oh. 
Any response you might have dies on your tongue. 
That cracking feeling is back. It threatens to tear you apart. 
Just friends. 
You knew you were lying to yourself when you said it. 
You can’t hide from it anymore.
The pain you feel in your chest can’t be ignored, you can’t keep denying it.
He was never just your friend. 
But that doesn’t matter now. Because he doesn’t want you.
You could hear a pin drop in your room. You’re about to say something, you don’t know what but the words are starting to take shape when he speaks again.
“I was… bored. You were entertainment.” There’s no tremor in his voice now. But he won’t look at you anymore. “I just needed something to distract me from how boring the job was and you seemed like the easiest thing.” 
That pulls you from your shock.
“ Easiest? ” You practically snarl the word and he starts stuttering as he tries to backtrack. 
“You know that isn’t what I meant. You were just, I don’t know, available? You were here. And I was bored. But now I’m not.” He sounds like he’s trying to rationalize the insult to soften the blow but it only serves to drive the knife deeper. 
“You’re lying.” You whisper the words at him, the tears are moments from spilling down your face at this point. He lets out an exhausted sigh.
“I don’t want you.” He says it with a finality. “I’ll still be here to protect you, I’m not going anywhere.” Somehow that’s worse than him just leaving entirely. 
“You’re a liar. Why would you stay if you don’t want me?” Your voice is starting to pitch up. It’s pathetic, you wish you could hide behind layers of steel like he does. Impenetrable walls to keep those who mean you harm at bay. 
“The money.” 
That’s really all it takes to convince you. You feel like an idiot. Of course he’d do anything to keep you happy, this was probably the best paying job he’d ever had. He had entertained himself with you and you had let yourself get caught up in a fantasy that it might be more than that. It’s the final nail in the coffin. You blink and the tears finally fall. His voice is cold and unsympathetic when he speaks again. 
“I thought you understood what this was.” 
“I did. We’re just friends.” 
Now you’re the liar.
Even if you don’t let yourself think it, you’ve always known that was a lie. 
“We aren’t. This is my job . We were never friends, I was just trying to keep you satisfied but clearly I went too far. You aren’t my friend. You aren’t my anything.” 
Ouch. 
“I think you should leave.” You wipe your face with the back of your hand as you walk towards the closet, not bothering to watch him leave. As you turn the door handle you hear the faint crackle of the modulator, like he’s going to say something but you close the door behind you before he gets the chance. 
You don’t bother taking your dress off as you collapse in a heap onto the blankets and pillows.
You shouldn’t let yourself hope that he’ll come to you. Apologize, or even just keep you company. Of course he doesn’t. So instead you bury your head into a pillow and cry until there aren’t any tears left. Then you stare at the ceiling in the darkness. Trapped alone with your own thoughts. 
Bodyguard, rival, friend, protector, confidant, lover, nothing. 
You aren’t his friend. 
You aren’t his sarad’ika.
You aren’t his anything.
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lincolndjarin · 9 months
Text
Best Kept Secret
chapter eleven : he loves me not (RE-UPLOAD)
ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧
Tumblr media
pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader
rating : 18+ mdni
word count : 4.6k
summary : something has changed in your relationship with the mandalorian
warnings, etc. : language, angst
A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!
Something is wrong. 
All day it’s been wrong. 
He’s different. Distant. 
You can’t help but wonder if you went too far last night, he had seemed skeptical at best when you had presented him with the idea, and then the sex.
Sex had always been special with him, no man has ever given you the rush of fire in your veins like Mando. But last night was… somehow even more intense than ever before. Like he had wanted to burn himself into you, permanently. 
A small part of you wonders if he did. 
But it doesn’t matter because you can’t ask him about it. He won’t even look at you. His helmet faces you but you’ve learned how to tell if he’s really looking at you. There’s a certain chill that runs down your spine, it isn’t there now and you know deep down that he’s looking right past you. 
The real giveaway that something is amiss is his voice. There is none of that familiar fondness that you had grown accustomed to. His greeting is short and he makes no attempt to speak to you in the library, so you read. Maybe he just needs space.
At least that’s what you tell yourself as you close your book, not even realizing you’d finished it until you peer out the window, the sun is setting and you realize you’ve spent the entire day in silence. He didn’t read today, he just sat across from the nook like he used to do. 
“Is everything okay?” Your voice almost sounds hoarse from not using it all day. 
He doesn’t even offer up a verbal response. Just a nod. 
Okay so you fucked up. The birthday thing might have been too far, too… personal. That’s fine, you can fix this.
Except you can’t, because when he walks you back to your chambers you lean against the doorway and give him a small smile.
“Hey, you know you seemed pretty stressed today. Maybe I could help with that?” You brought your hand up to his arm in what you had intended to be a comforting gesture but he flinched away like you had burned him. You immediately drop your hand. 
You can’t pretend that doesn’t sting. 
“Did I do something wrong?” You wish your voice didn’t sound so wounded as you say it. 
“No, not at all. You should get some sleep.” His arm gestures inside and that’s when you know he’s lying. Because the helmet isn’t even facing you now. He isn’t even trying. But you don’t argue. Maybe he just needs space.
Tomorrow will be different.
It isn’t of course. He’s the same. If not worse. 
Today you only get one word out of him.
“Good morning Mando.”
Nod.
“Library?”
Nod.
“You might like this book, the main character reminds me of you.”
That doesn’t even get any sort of reaction. 
“Are you mad at me?”
“No.” 
That’s it?
“Okay.”
Nothing.
“I think I want to turn in early…”
Nod.
“Good night Mando.”
Nothing. 
And now you can’t sleep. 
Because you feel like you’ve done something wrong. Which is stupid, you shouldn’t feel that way, especially regarding your relationship with him. There is no relationship, besides friends. Friends who take care of each other in several ways. 
Are you even that anymore? How are you supposed to keep track of the persistently changing status of your friendship with the Mandalorian when he can’t seem to stop being indecisive. 
Bodyguard, rival, friend, protector, confidant, lover. 
Lover? Is that the right word for what he is? It feels right but at the same time like it shouldn’t be spoken aloud. Something about the intimacy of the word makes it difficult to connect to him. Like you’ve put up barriers to specifically separate him from the word.
Why can’t he just pick one and stick with it? Preferably he would choose to be your friend. 
That’s what this is isn’t it? 
That’s what you want? 
You’ve deliberately been forcing that label on to him, so it has to be true. He is your friend. 
Then why do you feel hollow now that he’s suddenly shut you out? Not sad, not angry, just… hollow. Like something is missing. There aren’t a lot of words that can describe the empty ache in your chest. 
Today he wasn’t your friend. He wasn’t even your rival, he went a step further than that, separated himself from even that shred of connection you two had built your entire bond on.
Today he was just your bodyguard. 
Weeks of slowly built up companionship gone in an instant because what? You threw him a birthday party? Surely that can’t be it. Yet seemingly that is the case. What was it he had said to you that night? 
You shuffle through your blankets before finding the book. You were practically using The Smitten Paladin as a diary at this point. You had bookmarked the page with the necklace, scrawled it above a random chapter title in hopes of remembering it.
ner kar’taylir darasuum
It had been branded in your mind the moment he said it. The moment he had dismissed himself you had written it down, something about the way he had said it had made it stand out to you. Most of the time when he spoke to you in Mando’a it always seemed like he couldn’t help himself. Like the words were forcing their way out of him.
But not this.
This was the first time you truly believed he had intended to say those words. They didn’t fumble out clumsily like he couldn’t form sentences in Galactic Basic fast enough. No, he had said this with a reverence that settled deep in your bones, like you were a priestess and he was confessing his sins.   
Maybe that’s why he was being so cold. You had previously gotten into an argument when he had called you sarad’ika for the first time, maybe this is like that. That still doesn’t make sense though because the only reason why he got so mad was because you had asked what it meant. You assumed you were past this sort of thing though.
Maybe you had done nothing wrong. Maybe he was just angry for the sake of being angry. 
You’ll ask him tomorrow, you’ll put your foot down and make him talk this out. 
You don’t even get a chance to chastise him for his frigid demeanor. 
You’re already in a bad mood when Elain and Lysa come to dress you in the morning, and your mood only gets worse when they bring an electric blue dress out of the closet and you realize what day it is. 
By the time you’re leaving your room you’ve practically got steam coming out of your ears, when you give the Mandalorian a dismissive “good morning” he returns your greeting with an unmistakable sorrow that gives you whiplash. The last two days he had been cold and dismissive at best but this was new.
He sounds miserable. 
Your anger dissipates almost instantly when you notice the distinct tilt of his helmet towards the floor. What if you’d been wrong? What if you’d done nothing to upset him and instead he had just been having a rough couple of days. Shame washes over you at the thought and you shoot him a sympathetic look, your immediate reaction is to comfort him.  
“We don’t have to go to the library, you know. If you want we can do something else.” You don’t make a move to touch him, even though you want to, you say it almost like you’re trying to comfort a wounded animal,  like you don’t want to scare him off.
“I don’t mind the library.” It’s never been easy to read him, not being able to see his face has always put you at a disadvantage with this sort of thing but right now it’s like there isn’t a barrier of steel between you at all. It’s like you can view him clearly, and what you see makes your stomach churn because he’s got the same tone of voice that your parents had the day they told you you were being sent away. Someone who's avoiding delivering bad news. 
“Okay.” You lose all the motivation you had to talk to him, consumed by the uneasy feeling in your gut as you make your familiar trek to the library. You sit in the nook, instead of finding a book you lean against the glass of the window. A subtle sadness settles in you as you watch the grounds, occasionally a servant will walk by, or a critter might scamper out past the edge of the forest for a moment before retreating back to the treeline. You stay like that for hours upon hours, you don’t realize how long you’re staring until you feel yourself almost dozing off as the sun sets, you wake up with a start and decide to busy yourself with a task. Abruptly standing up you start wandering through the shelves. 
The library is vast. It’s easy to forget how big it is since you usually stay in the same spot. It’s a maze of shelves once you get into it. It’s actually surprising to you how little you’ve actually explored considering how much time you spend in here but your nook is only a few shelves back from the entrance and most of the fiction novels that interest you are kept near the front so now that you’re actually exploring further you’re taken aback by the sheer expanse of dark polished wood and literature. 
It probably wouldn’t be noticeable if you weren’t already on edge but he’s standing further back than usual. It’s just a few steps but it pushes him out of your peripheral vision.
All those days you had spent wishing he would just give you some space only for it to finally happen and you can’t even enjoy it. A small part of you misses your steel shadow. 
But that’s not important now. Right now you need to stay focused on the task at hand. Your strides get smaller and smaller as you get into linguistic books.
Perfect. 
Your fingers trace the spines as you turn your head to the side to better read the titles. Someone must dust at night because your finger is spotless when you pull it back. 
One of the few perks of Princess Harand, this library is, for all intents and purposes, completely yours. Kodo certainly doesn’t read, you’ve already discerned that he finds it to be a waste of time, his family seems to share that opinion since you’ve never seen another living soul in here besides you and Mando. That’s why you can’t hold back the look of disbelief when you get to the “M’s” and there is a single empty place where a book should be. 
You don’t have to speculate, you know who took it. You turn to stare at the culprit. 
“Did you take the Mando’a translation book.” It isn’t a question, it’s a statement, as you cross your arms. 
He doesn’t speak for a moment, just staring blankly at the absence of a book. 
“Yes.” It’s strained, he sounds worn out. 
“When?” You want to take a step towards him but resist, opting to lean against the stacks instead. 
“A while ago.” He’s lying. It’s nearly imperceptible but the helmet shifts ever so slightly to the left when he says it, like he’s looking away. 
“What day? Was it the night of your birthday?” You shouldn’t be interrogating him, it feels wrong when he sounds so weary but you need to know. 
“It wasn’t my birthday.” 
“How do you know? You said you didn’t keep track, it very well could have been.” It’s a weak excuse but it’s better than nothing, he doesn’t respond for a beat so you keep going. “Was it? After we had sex did you come here and take this book?” The helmet turns further to the left. “Did you?”
“Stop it.” He’s clenching and unclenching his fist methodically.
“Answer me and I will.” 
“I took it before then.” There’s that familiar electricity in his voice. His fist stays closed this time and you can’t help but feel a fleeting sense of relief that he’s showing the faintest bit of emotion. 
“We agreed we wouldn’t lie to each other.” 
“When?” The helmet finally turns towards you. It’s funny, missing the feeling of cold steel being turned in your direction. 
“When we played the game. We said no lying, so tell me the truth.”
“You want to hold that over my head? Some stupid game?”
The game isn’t stupid to you. 
It’s one of the few things you’ve found enjoyment in these last few weeks. 
But you aren’t here to defend the game, you’re here to get answers. 
“You aren’t denying it.”
It only takes two of his long strides for him to tower over you. 
“It doesn’t matter when I took the book.”
“It matters to me.” You take one small step forward to press your chest against his, scowling into the thin black line on his helmet. He scoffs.
“A lot of things seem to matter to you that shouldn’t.” He turns on his heel and you find yourself missing the heat of his body, but not for long as his words sink in.
“What the hell does that mean?” You can feel your voice going up at the end of the sentence as your fury starts to boil over but he’s already walking away. 
“You’re going to be late for dinner. Come on.” He doesn’t bother turning to see if you're following as you stay hot on his heels.
“Wait a second, we aren’t done with this conversation.” You have to hike up your skirt to keep up with his pace now as he weaves through the shelves, you’re grateful that he remembers the way out though, you can easily see yourself getting lost here. 
“We are.”
“Says who?”
“Me.” You walk briskly in furious silence until reaching the large wooden doors. You don’t have any time to argue further because he’s opening them and continuing his beeline towards the dining hall. You can’t help yourself as you grab his arm and pull him to face you. He does but you know it’s of his own volition and if he wanted to he could just keep going so you need to make these next seconds count before he changes his mind.
“What is going on with you? Everything was fine and out of nowhere you got all… weird. It’s like you’re a ghost these last few days, just walking through walls and observing me.” You whisper yell at him, no one is in the corridor but it’s best not to risk it. 
“Nothing is wrong with me. Now go, you’re going to be late.” He motions at the ornate doors but you stand your ground. 
“Promise me we’ll talk about this tonight.” He doesn’t move, just stares at you as you glare right on back, unwilling to break first until after an eternity he sighs.
“Fine.” The static is low and impatient. 
“Say it.”
“What?”
“Say that you promise. I’m pretty sure your creed has something in it that means you can’t break it.” You have no idea if that’s true but you need to hear him say it. 
“I promise that we will talk tonight.” He sounds almost defeated but you’re satisfied as you enter the dining room. 
The first red flag is that your husband doesn’t immediately greet you. He loves the sound of his own voice, so why is he silent? Kodo raises his glass at you with that unsettling smile plastered on his face as he motions for you to sit. You cautiously take your seat and find comfort in the fact that he doesn’t dismiss Mando this time as he takes his familiar stance behind your chair. 
The second red flag is the realization that he’s drinking water. He hadn’t even been sober during your wedding ceremony yet here he was, as steady as you’ve ever seen. 
The third red flag is that the first thing he says is a question directed at you as a servant brings you a plate of what appears to be some sort of fowl. 
“Did you have a good day my dear wife?” There’s a sickly sweetness to his voice and you can feel the fainest perspiration forming on your skin. 
He doesn’t know. 
“It was perfectly fine. Just another boring day in the library.” You stare at your plate, picking at a tomato slice with your fork, you suddenly have no appetite despite not eating today. 
He simply hums in approval and eats in an eerie silence. It’s the first time in your marriage where you actually wish he would just say something. The only noises in the room as you eat are the scrapes of his knife against his dish and the occasional vulgar chewing noise from him. He always chewed with his mouth open. 
Dinner comes and goes. 
Plates are taken and you sit staring at him expectantly as he loudly sips at the water in his glass. You’re about to stand and dismiss yourself from this hellishly awkward supper but he clears his throat and you're frozen in place.  
“I’ve heard some rumors going around, my sweet wife.” He sets the glass down and stares at you, a glint of something viscous in his eyes. 
He doesn’t know. 
“Oh? Something about your brothers? Or you cousins?”
“There are rumors that I am cruel to you. Am I cruel to you, wife?” 
“No, you are a wonderful husband.” It’s not your most convincing lie. 
He couldn’t possibly know. 
“Then why am I also hearing rumors that you were seen in the markets with another man.”
For the first time ever, it’s freezing cold in this castle. 
“I-I went with Mando, he’s my guard of course he was with me.”
“Arm in arm. I believe this is how it was described.” He finally motions for a servant to bring over a bottle of a sickly brown rum, the thick liquid filling his now empty glass. “He’s the help my dear, sweet wife.” He points at Mando, standing silent as ever behind you, it makes you sick that he talks about him like he isn’t even there. “He is to walk behind you, not next to you. It says things to observers when you allow him to walk beside you.”
“I didn’t mean for it to say things he was just doing his j-”
“People love to talk. And you wouldn’t want people to say that I cannot control what is mine, do you? Of course that can’t be the case because if it was that would mean that I have been humiliated. ” He says the word with a venom you have never heard from a living thing before yet you are certain you will hear it again in your nightmares.  
“That was never my intention I only meant to-”
“Do you know, sweet wife, what the most dangerous thing in the galaxy is?” 
“...No.”
“A humiliated man.”
You don’t have a response as he takes what you assume to be his first sip of alcohol tonight. You’re waiting for him to drop the bomb. To reveal that he knows but he doesn’t and you find yourself releasing a breath that you didn’t realize you’d been holding in.
He doesn’t know.
He doesn’t even suspect.
He’s just threatened. This is an easy fix. Apologize and just be more careful with Mando. 
“I’m sorry my prince.” You put on the most convincing frown you can. “I didn’t realize but I’ll be more careful from now on. The last thing I’d want to do is upset you.” As you wait for his response he downs his entire glass before letting out a satisfied sigh. 
“Of course you will. You’re dismissed.” He waves you off and you immediately stand before rushing out of the room, you’d almost forgotten Mando was with you until you catch a glimpse of him as you make your way out. The last thing you hear is Kodo muttering to a servant to find his brothers so they can go out.
The relief you feel once you're out in the hallway is immense. You don’t get to enjoy the small victory for long because Mando is already marching off towards your room. You don’t say anything until you’re in the safety of your room, he walks in first and once you close the door behind the two of you, you turn to face him, ready to crack a joke about how that was a close call, maybe relieve some of the tension that’s been building between the two of you but he speaks first. 
“I don’t want to do this anymore.” You find no comfort in the familiar crackle of the modulator as he stares just off to the side of where you’re standing.
“What? It sounds like you’re outraged but you genuinely don’t know what he means.
“I don’t want to do this anymore.” He says each word slower. Enunciating every syllable. 
You manage to keep the look of betrayal off your face as you feel something crack deep inside of you.
“Like… be my bodyguard?” You sound like a child. Your voice is small and fragile. 
“No. I’ll still be your bodyguard. I just don’t want to… you know.” He gestures slightly with his hands and something about the way he says it ignites that flame inside you.
“Why won’t you say it? Are you ashamed of what we did?” There’s an edge to your tone. A bite. “Because you seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit.” 
“You know what I’m talking about. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” He’s already leaning towards the door and you can feel a sense of panic filling your stomach. You can’t just let him leave. 
He doesn’t get to do this. Insert himself into your life, make you care about him, fuck you, and then just leave. 
“What is your problem?” You snap at him, you mean for it to sound forceful but it comes out more like a plea.
“I just don’t want to do this anymore.” 
“Yeah, you keep saying that. What happened? We were fine, I would even argue that we were happy and now suddenly-”
“There is no we. ”
Ouch.
He’s right of course. 
“Is this because of the birthday? I told you if you didn’t want to do that we didn’t have to.” You’re starting to sound desperate as you stare at him with wide eyes, wanting an explanation more than anything else. 
“No. You didn’t do anything. I just… I don't want to anymore.” He crosses his arms. He sounds tired. Like he hasn’t been sleeping. You sound the same way. He takes a step towards the door but you immediately take a step in front of him.
“Bull shit. You- you said things, you called me those things. Don’t act like you suddenly changed your mind.” It isn’t fair. You know that you sound like a child throwing a tantrum but he can’t just do this to you. 
“Stop it.” 
“No! You don’t get to do this! To say the things you said and then without warning just decide we aren’t even going to talk to each other anymore.” You shove his chestplate but he doesn’t so much as flinch. “I deserve to know what I did. What made you change your mind?” Tears are pooling in your lash line and you want to scream at yourself for letting him see how worked up you were getting. 
You shouldn’t care this much. You’re the one who wanted this to be casual, you know that. This shouldn’t matter. You’re supposed to be just friends. Yet you can’t just let him leave. 
  “Stop.” You can’t prove it but you’re pretty sure his voice cracks, the modulator seems to catch it. 
“Just tell me! You said we were friends, be my friend right now, tell me what’s going on, for Makers sake, just tell me!” 
“I don’t want you anymore.” His tone is harsh as the visor burns in your direction. 
Oh. 
Any response you might have dies on your tongue. 
That cracking feeling is back. It threatens to tear you apart. 
Just friends. 
You knew you were lying to yourself when you said it. 
You can’t hide from it anymore.
The pain you feel in your chest can’t be ignored, you can’t keep denying it.
He was never just your friend. 
But that doesn’t matter now. Because he doesn’t want you.
You could hear a pin drop in your room. You’re about to say something, you don’t know what but the words are starting to take shape when he speaks again.
“I was… bored. You were entertainment.” There’s no tremor in his voice now. But he won’t look at you anymore. “I just needed something to distract me from how boring the job was and you seemed like the easiest thing.” 
That pulls you from your shock.
“ Easiest? ” You practically snarl the word and he starts stuttering as he tries to backtrack. 
“You know that isn’t what I meant. You were just, I don’t know, available? You were here. And I was bored. But now I’m not.” He sounds like he’s trying to rationalize the insult to soften the blow but it only serves to drive the knife deeper. 
“You’re lying.” You whisper the words at him, the tears are moments from spilling down your face at this point. He lets out an exhausted sigh.
“I don’t want you.” He says it with a finality. “I’ll still be here to protect you, I’m not going anywhere.” Somehow that’s worse than him just leaving entirely. 
“You’re a liar. Why would you stay if you don’t want me?” Your voice is starting to pitch up. It’s pathetic, you wish you could hide behind layers of steel like he does. Impenetrable walls to keep those who mean you harm at bay. 
“The money.” 
That’s really all it takes to convince you. You feel like an idiot. Of course he’d do anything to keep you happy, this was probably the best paying job he’d ever had. He had entertained himself with you and you had let yourself get caught up in a fantasy that it might be more than that. It’s the final nail in the coffin. You blink and the tears finally fall. His voice is cold and unsympathetic when he speaks again. 
“I thought you understood what this was.” 
“I did. We’re just friends.” 
Now you’re the liar.
Even if you don’t let yourself think it, you’ve always known that was a lie. 
“We aren’t. This is my job . We were never friends, I was just trying to keep you satisfied but clearly I went too far. You aren’t my friend. You aren’t my anything.” 
Ouch. 
“I think you should leave.” You wipe your face with the back of your hand as you walk towards the closet, not bothering to watch him leave. As you turn the door handle you hear the faint crackle of the modulator, like he’s going to say something but you close the door behind you before he gets the chance. 
You don’t bother taking your dress off as you collapse in a heap onto the blankets and pillows.
You shouldn’t let yourself hope that he’ll come to you. Apologize, or even just keep you company. Of course he doesn’t. So instead you bury your head into a pillow and cry until there aren’t any tears left. Then you stare at the ceiling in the darkness. Trapped alone with your own thoughts. 
Bodyguard, rival, friend, protector, confidant, lover, nothing. 
You aren’t his friend. 
You aren’t his sarad’ika.
You aren’t his anything.
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harry-on-broadway · 7 months
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Loving You Always: A Tying You to Me Extra
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Word Count: 5.8K || Series Masterlist || Rating: M
***
It was the countdown Quinn noticed first. One of those widgets you could add to the home screen of your phone. There wasn’t a picture or description, but 34 days were left when she first saw it and she quickly tried to calculate what the date could mean. 
It wasn’t the end of Harry’s tour and the date didn’t correspond to any notable birthdays or anniversaries. Unless it was something new Harry had up his sleeve, she had no clue what it could be. 
“Big plans for the summer?” Quinn tried hard to sound casual when she brought it up later that night. Harry was chopping vegetables for a stir-fry as she heated oil in the pan. He paused, a thoughtful smirk on his face, and Quinn could almost hear the wheels spinning in his head as he thought of a sarcastic retort. 
“Well, I’m just making a quick trip over a castle in a couple of days. Have a few more shows here and there but nothing too exciting.” He looked up from the cutting board and flashed her his trademark grin. 
“Nothing else though. No other shows? No filming or fashion things? Like say in 34 days?” Harry’s eyes were back on the vegetables, and at the mention of the date, his hand slipped, the knife nicking the tip of his finger. 
“Shit.” 
“Oh, Harry.” Quinn spun around behind her grabbing a clean paper towel, doubling it over before pressing it against the small cut. “Hold that there,” she said, turning back to toss some of the cut vegetables into the pan. “Is it still bleeding?”.
“No, it wasn’t too bad. Just startled me more than anything. But that’s what I get for letting you distract me.” 
“I distracted you?”
“Yeah, you’re interrogating me when I’m chopping vegetables,” Harry teased. 
“Your hand slipped. I’m sorry, but how is that my fault???” 
“You’re getting all in my business asking weirdly specific questions that make no sense.” 
Quinn flushed, feeling only slightly guilty that she’d been so nosy. “I’m just trying to…plan some things out.” 
“Oh? Like what?”
“I don’t know, lunch?”
“You want to plan a lunch…34 days from now.”
“Yeah.” Quinn held his gaze, unrelenting. 
“You’re something else woman.” He shook his head, the grin never leaving his face. “Inflicting pain on your poor boyfriend, on his well deserved day off. Keep this up and we’ll see if I get you a rin–” Harry blanched, and then cleared his throat. “But, uh, to answer your question, it’s a work meeting that I can’t miss so I’ll have to pass on lunch that day.”
“With Columbia?” The words came out faster than Quinn intended, as she tried to process the words that had almost come out of Harry’s mouth.
“Yeah.” Harry looked at his finger. “Looks like it’s not a serious wound. I’m going to wash up and then I can chop some more if you need it.”
“That would be great.” Quinn’s voice sounded strange to her own ears. “I think we might need more broccoli and carrots.” She went back to pushing vegetables around the pan, paying careful attention and trying to distract herself from the thoughts currently racing through her mind. 
The countdown was the furthest thing from her mind as she fixated and the single word Harry had almost said – ring.  
Rings had been top of mind since he’d given her that trinket after Christmas. While it mostly lived upstairs in the jewelry tray he’d made for her, Quinn had been known to pick it up and put on her left ring finger when she was alone, savoring the physical and symbolic weight of it and praying that a real one would be coming soon. 
Harry returned to her side, chopping and tossing a few more veggies into the pan before pulling dishes from the cabinet. He made no mention of his earlier remark while they ate and it didn’t come up as they cleaned up the kitchen or watched a film after dinner. In fact, Quinn had nearly forgotten about it by the time they were getting ready for bed, until she saw Harry fidgeting with his phone. 
She almost brought it up again, wanting to investigate further, but thought better of the impulse. Harry didn’t take kindly to prying and, after more than six years, she knew the best way to get him to open up was to let him come to her. When he climbed out of bed to fill his glass of water she snuck one glance at his phone and saw that the countdown had disappeared. 
“Lights out?” Harry asked, standing by the switch. 
“Mmhmm,” Quinn said, flicking on her bedside lamp. She opened up her book and watched Harry over top of the pages. He was nonchalant, shuffling across the room, climbing under the covers, and giving her a kiss before turning onto his side and quickly falling asleep. 
Quinn turned a few pages not retaining any of the words. Maybe Harry’s slip of the tongue earlier meant nothing, but as she turned off her light and curled up next to Harry, thoughts of rings, dresses, and weddings danced through her head. 
***
“Jeff, have you seen my parents?” Quinn asked. She’d been doing laps backstage for the last hour and hadn’t managed to locate them. Seeing as this was only their second time at Wembley, she was slightly concerned. 
“Can’t say I have,” Jeff said. “Tommy, have you seen them?” Tommy shook his head and went back to his ongoing conversation. “Sorry, Quinn, Maybe they went out to their seats?”
“Maybe…” Quinn said, unconvinced. “Thanks.”
She headed towards the exit of the room that served as the main hub backstage, preparing to do another lap when she saw her mom, dad, and brother, Alex, being led towards her, escorted by Harry. 
“Oh my God, where were you guys? I’ve been looking all over for you!” Quinn exclaimed, trying not to sound as concerned as she felt. “Did you get lost?”
“I’ll have you know we knew exactly where we were going,” her mother chided. “Harry was giving us a backstage tour, dear. No need to worry.”
“I could have done that, Mom. Harry’s busy. He’s supposed to be onstage in…” She glanced at her watch. “Like 45 minutes.” 
“It was no problem,” Harry said cheerfully. “Nice way for me to calm the nerves before the show.” 
“If you say so…” Quinn glanced at her father, hoping to get him on her side, but instead saw a weird mix of emotions across his face. “Dad, are you alright?”
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed. You see the stadium on TV and it doesn’t look that big but in person…” He took a deep, shuddering breath. 
Quinn shot Harry a look, silently seeking an answer from him, only getting a shrug in return. 
“As Quinn so kindly reminded me, I should probably head off and start getting ready,” Harry said apologetically. “But make yourself at home and I’ll see you all later.” He planted a pert kiss on Quinn’s temple and made his way to his dressing room. 
Quinn’s father sniffed and blinked rapidly as her mother cheerfully patted his back. Quinn looked over at Alex who, just like Harry, shrugged. 
“Well,” Quinn said. “I guess we can go to the green room and maybe grab some food? I think Anne and some of Harry’s family are already there.” 
Quinn’s parents set off in the direction she pointed and instead of following them, she hung a few steps back, pulling her brother alongside her. 
“What the hell is wrong with Dad?” she whispered. 
“How am I supposed to know? You know how weird he gets when he’s jet-lagged.” 
Quinn stared at Alex. Something was wrong and she hoped it had nothing to do with Harry. He’d met her parents on numerous occasions, joined in on phone calls and Zooms, and even made an appearance at Christmas one year. As great as that was, the unfortunate fact was that it didn’t feel like nearly enough time, and a small part of her wondered if her parents resented that they didn’t get to see her or Harry as often as they should. Her parents had never expressed any reservations, but maybe something had happened. 
Alex continued to walk behind their parents but Quinn grabbed his arm pulling him back. “What went wrong on the tour?”
He pursed his lips and looked thoughtful before shaking his head. “Nothing I can think of.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.” 
Quinn looked defeated. She didn’t know why but she thought her dad’s weird behavior could be connected to whatever weirdness she’d seen on Harry’s phone, but she remained answerless and even more confused. “Well, if something does happen, you’ve got to let me know.” 
Alex nodded and they started walking to catch up to her parents. After a moment, he spoke up. “I’m not sure if I’ve ever told you this, Quinn, but I really like Harry. Like obviously no one is ever going to be good enough for you, but he’s a decent guy. And I’m not just saying that because we got a free trip to London because of him.”
“Oh, well that’s good to know.”
“I’m serious, Quinn. He’s exactly the kind of person you deserve to be with and I hope you see that.” 
Quinn stared blankly. She and her brother were close, but they weren’t close in the share-your-feelings-all-of-the-time way. “Thank you,” she replied cautiously. “Um, I’m pretty fond of Harry myself.”
Alex chuckled. “Funny you say that. Harry said the exact same thing.” 
“What?”
“Yeah, you two are really meant to be.” Her brother quickened his pace leaving Quinn behind, stunned. 
That night as Quinn brushed her teeth she watched Harry in the mirror. He was snuggled beneath the comforter, having showered before they left the venue. His curls were untamed, the clip that usually held them back discarded on the nightstand by his glasses as he squinted at the paperback book in his hand, a sure sign that he was more tired than he was letting on. 
She formulated her plan as she rinsed her mouth. 
“Big day today, huh?”
“Yeah.” Harry sighed thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve fully processed it.” 
“Mmm, yeah.” Quinn rubbed some lotion onto her hands, trying her best to appear nonchalant. “My parents were raving about how amazing you were and how incredible the venue was. Did they mention anything to you when you gave them that tour?”
If she’d have blinked she would have missed it, but Harry stiffened, his relaxed posture vanishing for a split second before he recovered. “No, they didn’t say anything like that. Your dad was just hung up on how everything’s backwards here.”
“Yeah, that does throw him. Nothing else?”
“Nope.” 
Dammit. She’d thought she’d figured it out but was back at square one. 
“Love, not trying to rush but how much longer are you going be? I think I’m ready to head to bed.” 
She met Harry’s sleepy, tired eyes in the mirror and instantly forgot about her hidden agenda. “I’ll be in in a sec, baby.” 
***
The day had finally come. The final show of the tour. 
Quinn wasn’t sure she’d ever see this day. Over the past two years, the concerts had been a permanent fixture of her life and she measured time in relation to them, able to rattle off exactly what she’d been doing if you named a city and date. And now it was all over. 
It was the perfect night. The weather had miraculously cleared up despite a scorching, stormy morning and the crowd was even more energized than usual. She’d had a good idea of what the night had in store, thanks to Harry’s nervous chatter, and when Harry finally emerged onstage for one last time, she’d been able to relax and cut loose, jumping and dancing around the pit with the rest of his family and friends, singing at the top of her lungs. 
The one surprise of the evening was when Harry returned to the stage and sat down at the piano. He started playing a melody that sounded familiar, something she’d heard echoing through the halls of the house when he couldn’t sleep. A version of the melody that she’d heard nearly every morning he was home, seated at the piano coffee in hand, playing as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. She finally had her answer now as to what it was for and she wiped tears from her cheeks as she listened to him play what was clearly a very personal piece for the nearly silent crowd. 
As she made her way backstage, trailing behind the larger group, she felt…weird. Happy but sad, excited but scared. Tomorrow would be the start of her “normal” life with Harry. No tours, no odd work hours, no time zones keeping them from each other. It was everything she’d dreamed of, so why was she so apprehensive? This break was a good thing. Harry had accomplished more than he’d ever imagined, and after a nice, well-deserved break, he’d be onto his next chapter, personally and professionally. 
While they hadn’t explicitly discussed what would happen between them after this leg of the tour had ended, they’d occasionally danced around the subject. Like on those nights in between shows when they’d found themselves tangled with each other in bed and the connection felt next level, when she felt Harry murmuring secrets only he could understand against her skin. Or the unspoken words that passed between them when she’d let go of his hand and his fingers would linger just a little too long before letting her go. 
They were heading towards…something. She just didn’t know what or when or how. But they’d get there. 
Back in the present Quinn gnawed at her lip, trying to fight back the tears. It had been easy to hide them throughout the day as she’d all but avoided Harry, giving him the space he needed to mentally prepare himself for what was about to happen. He’d been emotional all week and she wanted to be a solid support for him at this time, which meant limited tears of her own. Sure that her eyes were dry, she gave three quiet knocks on the door, and waited for Harry’s soft response before turning the knob. 
He was sitting on the sofa, shirtless with his head in his hands. His hair was damp and the air was thick with humidity from the shower he’d just taken. The ends of his hair dripped down the towel draped over his back. He looked up, hearing her footsteps, and ran his hand through his hair sending more droplets down his broad back. He opened his arms, and Quinn slipped onto his lap, looping one arm around his neck and using the other to tilt his chin up. 
“You did it, baby,” Quinn said. They were alone in the dressing room but she still spoke softly. “You did it.” 
“I did,” Harry said simply. “It’s done.” 
“And you should be so proud,” Quinn whispered against his lips, before kissing him.
“Still hasn’t sunk in yet,” Harry said hollowly. “Feels like I’m going to be back on the road tonight heading to the next stop. Feels weird to just…be.”
“I need you to listen to me, H. Two years is a long time and you’ve given so much good to the world in that time. You’ve brought joy and happiness and love and peace to millions of people and you’re going to continue to do that for years to come. But now’s your time to rest, to do something for yourself. You’re allowed to relax.” 
Harry looked up, a fresh set of tears welling in his eyes. “What the hell did I do to deserve you?” he choked out. Quinn tried to wipe the tears from his face, but her vision soon blurred with her own as they sat there crying in each other’s arms. “Thank you for always being there for me and for letting me be exactly who I need to be. I love you in ways I can’t describe. I–” He swallowed and looked like he was about to say something else, but a new sob wracked his body. 
“It’s OK, Harry. I love you too,” Quinn whispered, kissing his cheek and his forehead and his jaw before landing on his lips again. “Do you need a minute by yourself before we join everyone else?”
Harry cleared his throat. “Yeah. Let me pull myself together and throw some clothes on.” Quinn busied herself on her phone as Harry dressed and stowed his towel in the laundry basket. A few moments later, she felt his hand on the small of her back. He raised an eyebrow in a silent question and Quinn nodded. 
He held the door open for her and when he exited behind her. He took one last look around before sighing heavily. “Let’s go,” he said. “I’ve got a bottle of tequila with my name on it.” 
Tequila and spirits of all sorts flowed at the afterparty, a gathering filled with Harry’s family and closest friends who had flown in for the occasion. Everyone was fighting for a moment with him, a chance to say how proud they were, how incredible the night was, all statements that brought out his bashful side. His cheeks growing red and his eyes watery as he sucked in his cheeks and tried to keep the tears from falling. 
Quinn kept a respectful distance, following closely, but not intruding on his space. He’d been unusually clingy since they’d left the show, holding onto her tightly, and not letting go until she’d urged him to catch up with his friends. She could tell he was reluctant and he kept looking over towards her, and with each glance she’d give him a nod of encouragement, letting him know that it was OK to follow his own advice. To rest and have fun. 
As the night wore on, Harry grew more comfortable and compliments were traded for drinks, everyone around him offering him shots or glasses of different colored liquids. Quinn was still hovering, but was caught up in her own reverie celebrating with the group that had become an extension of her family as well over the past two years. 
When the sun began to rise and the party started to end, Quinn felt a pair of hands on her hips. Without turning around, she knew it was Harry, able to recognize him by the feel of his hands after all these years. “I guess we should maybe head out?” he whispered against the shell of her ear. “Head home?”
Home aka their villa they’d be spending the next few weeks in. Anne and the rest of the family had made their way over earlier in the evening, and were planning to stay for a brief, post-tour vacation as well. 
Harry slung his arm around Quinn and they watched the sun come up on the horizon. He let out a shaky breath, and without looking, Quinn knew he was crying again. 
“I wish I could bottle this moment,” he said. “Don’t ever want to forget it.” 
“You won’t. And the best part is that you’ll make many more memories down the road.”
“I mean, this, now with you.”
Quinn looked at him puzzled. “Well, we’re going to have more memories again too. Unless you’re also planning to dump me at the end of this tour.” 
Harry laughed, a short chuckle at first followed by a heartier bellow. “Fuck,” he said when the laughter had abated. “It’s hard to believe that’s what happened the last time a tour ended.” 
“Would you like me to book my ticket back now or later?”
“Hate to break it to you love but you’re stuck with me.” 
“Oooh, really?”
“Yeah, and I’ve got some big plans for us.”
“Is that so?”
“Mmmhmm,” Harry said. “We’re going to take a nap. A nice long one. Maybe a couple a day.”
“Go on…”
“Sex. Can’t forget that.”
“Of course.”
“Some fine dining. My own recipes and some restaurants.”
“Can’t wait.” 
“Pool time, walks by the beach, heading into town to go to the museums. We’re going to do it all.” He planted a kiss on her temple.
“I want to do everything with you, H.” 
“I want to do everything with you, Agent Q.” 
Quinn felt a flutter in her chest. Harry’s use of that first nickname he’d given her had grown less frequent over the years in favor of more romantic or even cheesier ones. But that callback to their start had her filled with love and affection. 
“Car’s here,” Harry said. “After you.” He opened the door and let Quinn slide in, pulling the door shut after him. 
Harry chatted pleasantly with the driver in Italian, and Quinn felt the flutter in her chest travel down her body. Hearing the language flow smoothly off his tongue did things to her she didn’t understand. However, there was little she could do about those feelings as they fell into bed, snoring side-by-side within minutes. Hours later, Quinn awoke, feeling Harry hard against her thigh and when he stirred, he had her pressed against the mattress in minutes, whispering hushed proclamations of love as he rocked into her, before they finished and fell asleep again. 
When they roused in the late hours of the afternoon, they were greeted by Anne who had taken the liberty of preparing dinner and they enjoyed the family meal, Harry smiling from ear to ear the entire time. In exchange, Harry offered to do the dishes, shooing Quinn away when she offered to help. 
From her spot on the couch where she nursed her second – or maybe third – glass of wine, Quinn observed Harry and Anne, and the easy way he chatted with his mother. She couldn’t tell what they were discussing but Anne was focused intently on her son as he talked. Quinn could tell by the way his back moved that Harry was discussing whatever subject passionately as Anne nodded along. Harry was a man of few words – he was always warm but he never used two words when one would do, so his sudden talkativeness was a little strange, but Quinn just attributed it to the emotional week he was coming down from, and when he came into the living room, hands still warm from the soapy water, she cuddled into his solid frame as they settled in to watch a film. 
The rest of the week was equally relaxing. Quinn and Anne took turns doting on Harry, making sure he was comfortable at all times, refilling his drink and getting him whatever he needed. Harry, in turn, organized outings and activities for everyone. Boating around the lake, shopping around town, and a wine tasting at a local vineyard, followed by lengthy dinners until everyone left Italy to head back home one by one, leaving Quinn, Harry, Anne, and a few select family members remaining until it was finally Anne’s turn to leave. 
“I’ve loved having you here, mum. What time do you need to be at the airport?” Harry asked around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. 
“Harry!” 
“What?” He looked at Quinn. “I don’t want her to miss her flight! And she’s probably sick of us by now.”
“You don’t have to rush her out the door. Let her finish her toast!”
“He’s fine, dear,” Anne said, gently, with a teasing glint in her eye. “I know when I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
“See,” Harry said as if her statement proved his point. 
“Anne, don’t listen to your son. You’re perfectly fine to stay a few more days. That’s what we were planning on anyway.” Quinn turned to Harry, who had grown very pale. “Right?”
“Well, yeah, but I just figured we’d enjoy the…privacy.” 
Quinn flushed. The presence of family members in adjacent rooms had never stopped them from “enjoying privacy” in the past. In fact, they’d grown pretty skilled at having a near silent quickie when the need called. What was his problem? “Harry, our calendars are basically empty for the next six months. Your mother is welcome to stay. Anne, please, stay as long as you want.” 
Harry’s eyes bounced between Quinn and his mother. “Well, it’s just–”
“I already booked my flight, sweetheart, so it wouldn’t make much sense to change it now,” Anne said to Quinn. “But I really appreciate you wanting me to stay.” 
“Oh, OK,” Quinn said, defeated. “Maybe next time.” She collected the empty breakfast plates from the table. “Anyone want more coffee?” Both Anne and Harry declined, and as Quinn turned her back to deposit the dishes in the sink, she completely missed the silent look of thanks Harry shot his mother. 
Quinn studied Harry closely in the days following Anne’s departure. All of the weird behavior he’d displayed over the last few months had become non-existent and he was just Harry again. No shutting his phone as Quinn approached. No furtive glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. No hushed phone calls in other rooms. All of that had been replaced by his normal behavior. Grabbing her hand and pulling her closer to him as they walked into the village for coffee and pastries. Pressing a kiss against her neck as he read the page over her shoulder. Kisses good morning and goodnight. Smothered in affection, Quinn forgot about all of the questions she’d been harboring throughout the summer and resolved to just soak up this uninterrupted time with Harry. 
A few days later, Harry suggested they have a night in and try out a new recipe, a tortellini dish he’d apparently been dying to try. Quinn didn’t know what was so special about this pasta, which looked nearly identical to the pasta they’d eaten two nights ago, but she held her tongue after seeing how happy Harry looked standing behind the counter in his apron. 
She had to admit, the pasta was delicious, and having Harry by her side made it even better. When their plates had been emptied, she stood, figuring dish duty was only fair in exchange for Harry having cooked. She dropped the dishes in the soapy water with a splash. 
“Just leave those dishes for now. It’s a beautiful sunset tonight.” 
“Oh-kay…” Quinn dropped the sponge in the sink and dabbed her hands on the dish towel.
“Figured we shouldn’t waste the night. Thought we could enjoy another glass outside?” Harry held a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands. 
“Sure. When in Rome, right?”
“Give or take 100 kilometers.” 
“Since when are you Mr. Mathematics?”
“Since I grew concerned that you don’t know your Italian geography.” 
Quinn playfully smacked Harry’s arm, before leaning into his side. “Well let’s go then! That wine’s not going to drink itself.”
They sat side by side on the garden swing. Quinn kicked her sandals off and pulled her feet under her as Harry poured them two hefty glasses. Quinn turned to look at Harry and raised her glass. “To a successful tour and even more successful celebration of all your hard work.”
“Our hard work,” Harry gently corrected. “You were as much a part of everything as I was.” 
Quinn blushed. “A successful celebration of all of our hard work.” She paused. “Here’s to more amazing moments and just as many simple ones.” 
“I’ll drink to that,” Harry said softly, touching the rim of his glass to Quinn’s. “Cheers.”
They both took a sip of the wine. 
“Wow, that’s good,” Quinn said. “Is this from the vineyard?”
“Not quite,” Harry said slowly. “It’s a Chardonnay. Cellar No. 8.”  
Quinn frowned, trying to figure out why that particular wine was familiar. “Have we had that before.” 
“Just once.” 
“When?”
“Um, it was the night we got dinner at that Italian restaurant near your office. I met you on your dinner break.” His voice had the slightest tremor to it. “It was a couple days after we ran into each other again. I was going to ask if you wanted to give us another try.” 
The memory came to Quinn in a flash. “And instead I asked you to get my boyfriend a ticket to the Met.” She laughed. “Jesus Christ, do I know how to ruin a moment or what?”
Harry laughed and pulled her in for a hug. “It wasn’t ideal, but I wouldn’t say you ruined anything. Everything between us happened at exactly the right time. It’s meant to be. I mean who knows, if we’d gotten back together that night, we might not be sitting here now.”
“That’s very true.” She laid her head against Harry’s chest and closed her eyes. The moment felt perfect. 
“Quinn, I want to marry you,” Harry said, jolting Quinn to attention. 
“What?”
“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to call you my wife. And I guess I want to know if you’d be alright with that…” He trailed off, losing all bravado the more he spoke. Quinn stared at him, truly speechless for the first time in her life. “Please, for the love of God say something, Quinn.” 
“Are you serious?” 
“Umm, yeah,” Harry laughed nervously. “Not really something you joke about.” 
“Are you sure?” 
“Am I sure?” Harry laughed a full belly laugh. 
“I mean, I’m kind of a lot. And not in the best way. I mean, I overthink everything, I always manage to spoil your romantic surprises and ruin the moment…”
“You don’t say?”
“See! Are you sure?”
“Quinn, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. When I think about what I’ll remember 60 years from now, yeah, I’ll remember touring the world, but what will really stand out is you. The way I can hear your laugh in the crowd when I make a terrible joke. The look on your face when I play you a new song. The way you curl up next to me when you’re really tired. The way you’ve trained me to get rid of all the green Skittles. Your determination, your dedication to us. The love you show me every day. That’s what I’ll remember, Quinn.” 
“Yes, Harry.” Quinn cleared her throat. “I want to marry you. I want to be your wife and I want you to be my husband.” 
“Are you sure?” Harry laughed as Quinn shoved him. 
“Yes, I have never been more sure of anything.” 
“Well, alright then.” Harry shifted in his seat, lifting up onto one side to reach into his left pants pocket, producing a velvet box. His hands were shaking ever so slightly, causing Quinn to reach out and steady them gently. “Thank you, love,” Harry said with a sniff.
“That’s what I’m here for,” Quinn said with a small smile. 
Harry slowly opened the box to reveal a diamond ring nestled in the cushion, earning a gasp from Quinn. “Did I pick well?” he asked. 
Quinn tried to think of a joke, something quippy to say to play down the litany of emotions she was feeling in the moment, but for what felt like the first time in her life, the first time in their relationship, she played it straight. “Yes, it’s perfect.” She took his face in her hands and pulled him to kiss him slowly, doing her very best to memorize everything about the two of them at that moment. 
“So I picked really well then…noted,” Harry said with a breathless laugh, running his hand through his hair. He blinked hard and Quinn could see a few tears fall. “Shit,” he said. “Thought I was all cried out but apparently not.” Quinn reached up to wipe the tears away, and as she pulled away, Harry caught her hand and kissed her fingertips, her palms, her wrist, pulling her close, until she was nearly on top of him, looking him straight in the eyes. 
“This is really hard sometimes, but having you next to me makes it so much easier,” he said. 
“Well, good news, I’m not going anywhere,” Quinn managed to get out before another wave of tears overtook her. 
“That’s the best news I’ve gotten all month,” Harry replied, kissing her again.
Quinn looked down at her hand, now resting against Harry’s chest, fully appreciating the sparkling ring on her finger. “How did you manage to plan this?” she asked. 
“I’ve been working on it for a while,” Harry admitted. “Started looking at rings after our stay at Jeff’s. When I finally realized that I was the person I needed to be for you.”
“That was like three years ago. Harry, are you serious?” 
“What can I say, I’m really good at keeping secrets.” He chuckled. “The rest of it slowly came into place after.” He chuckled. “I was terrified you were onto something when you saw that countdown on my phone.”
“What was it for?” Quinn asked. “The day has already passed so it couldn’t be for this.”
“You were counting?”
“Of course,” Quinn exclaimed. “You really think I’d see a mystery countdown and not try to figure out what it was for?” 
“I had to meet the jeweler in between tour stops and didn’t want to forget.” Harry laughed. “But honestly, I don’t even know how I could forget. This is the only thing I’ve been able to think of for months.”  
“Really?”
“Really. I kept coming up with plans and then scrapping them because nothing felt right. A proposal during lockdown didn’t feel right, and after things reopened we were both so busy so I figured I would do something simple. Like I’d ask you on the waterfront or while we went for a walk. Or I’d spell it out in Scrabble tiles or whatever it would take to make it the perfect moment so you could have a great story. I was telling my mum about it and how I wanted to do it while we were here and she just told me to stop worrying and that I’d find the perfect moment. And that’s what happened tonight. We were sitting there, eating dinner and it came to me. Any moment when I’m with you is the perfect moment.” 
“Stop it,” Quinn sniffed. 
“I’m serious.”
“Well then, I’d have to agree. Everything is perfect when we’re together.” 
Harry wrapped his arm around Quinn and they sat next to each other, taking the moment in and enjoying each other's company. Sitting next to Harry, feeling his chest rise and fall, Quinn couldn’t remember the last time they’d been able to be so present with no worry about what was to come tomorrow. Sure, they’d need to call their families and then there’d be a wedding to plan, but for right now it was just her and Harry and everything was as it should be. She closed her eyes, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest. 
“Quinn?” 
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Harry.” 
***
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bullet-prooflove · 4 months
Note
can i request prompt #30: You don't have to run, I know what you've been through with frank castle please? <3
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References to upcoming BlackIce!Series
It’s a few months after the night Lou Beretti sent three men to your home that Frank drops by to check in. You haven’t seen or heard from him since a bouquet of brightly coloured daisies arrived in your hospital room with the message ‘Rest Easy, -F’.
You know it’s him when you hear the light rap of knuckles against the window in the living room. He’s the only one that would dare climb the rusted fire escape. The profile of his face is highlighted by the glow from the streetlamp outside as you unlock the window. He moves with the grace of a large feline, slinking through the gap.
He’s been on patrol tonight, taken a few dings. There’s a cut above his left eyebrow that’s leaking blood down the side of his face.
“Wanted to check in.” He says gruffly as he sits down at your kitchen table. He watches as you remove the medi-kit from under your sink before setting it down. “The arm's looking good, any stiffness?”
They’d broken your left arm that night, a spiral fracture. He knows you rehabbed after; he’s kept an eye on you, he couldn’t help himself. What had happened that night had terrified him; he just couldn’t bring himself to admit it. It’s why he’s stayed away for so long. You make him feel something he hasn’t felt in years, and it scares him.
“It aches when it rains.” You tell him as you lean in close, your attention focused on cleaning up the wound above his eyebrow. “Which feels like it’s all the fucking time since we live in New York.”
He smiles at that, it’s a gravelly chuckle that surprises him. He hasn’t laughed since before Beretti, since the morning you’d shared breakfast in the diner down the block.
It’s when you finish up with the butterfly stitches that it happens. He finds himself looking into your eyes as your fingertips grace his cheek.
“I never said thank you.” You say softly, your forehead coming to rest upon his.
“You don’t ever have to thank me.” He tells you, his voice a little rough as his nose trails down the length of yours.
A world without you frightens him, it’s lonely and barren. You were the first person he connected with after what happened to his family, his first step back to humanity and he cherishes that, he cherishes you.
He doesn’t intend to kiss you, but he has that feeling in his chest, the one he always gets when he’s around you. His lips brush over yours, tender and soft and he gets that rush, it’s like a drug flooding through his system as his thumb chases along the line of your jaw.
This moment, it’s everything to him. It’s the sunshine blessing his skin after a thousand months of rain, the first blush of warmth after a harsh winter. His breathing is ragged when he draws away, his palm coming to rest on the nape of your neck.
You’re the first woman he’s kissed since Maria, and he feels overwrought and overwhelmed. He thinks you must see it in his eyes because you give him that sad smile of yours.
“It’s too much for you isn’t it?” You say quietly and he clears his throat and looks away.
“Ok.” You say as you pull away and he knows that this is your way of protecting yourself. He forgets it’s not just him putting himself out there, it’s you too. He’s not the only one that’s been burned by the world, scarred by it.
His hand cups your chin, guiding your gaze up to meet his and he sees a future in those eyes, the rest of his life stretching ahead of him if he wants it.
“Slow.” He says, his voice raw with emotion. “I need to take it slow.”
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legacygirlingreen · 2 months
Text
Part 4, Chapter 6: Repository II //Sebastian Sallow x Reader
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A/N: hi friends! Next repository chapter is up! I really struggle with action writing so I apologize but I hope you enjoy! I’m really anxious to hear people’s thought on my decisions in this chapter so please let me know what you liked, didn’t see coming, etc!
Also @animasola86 gets credits for Sebastian in the cover art!
The audio version of this chapter can be found here
Masterlist to the full series found here
Warnings: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, descriptions of bodily harm, seriously it’s gross fam…
Word count: 5k
As if the first scream he had to hear wasn’t bad enough a few seconds after he heard a second one. Granted not quite as loud and violent, but still chilling as the next room seemed to continue collapsing. He needed to hurry.
“At least take a wiggenweld mate,” Leander said, holding out a bottle. Normally he’d be skeptical of a potion coming from Garreth or a close friend of the boy, but given the circumstances Sebastian graciously took and downed its contents. The potion didn’t fully heal the injury, but it did slow the bleeding. 
“Mr. Sallow, I really must advise against this. Rushing into danger in general is not wise, certainly not while injured” Professor Fig spoke and he shook his head. 
“You’ve never stopped her before for doing the same. With all due respect sir, she is my priority. And while we sit here arguing, she could be injured. This is just a minor wound, it’ll be fine” he reasoned as he spat out the response. The notion he should sit back and let the girl face her death makes the words turn sour on his tongue. 
“You and I both know this is not what she would want Mr. Sallow” Fig continued to argue with him and Sebastian turned away from the man before hauling himself up so he could mount Highwing once more. 
“Yeah? And what about what I want? I certainly don’t intend on dragging her mangled and lifeless body from this cavern simply because you think she should face ranrok alone” he said. 
“Your uncle” Sharp cut in and he rolled his eyes.
“Precisely. She might as well be alone. In fact, I feel more concerned knowing that man is with her. So now that everyone has addressed their objections, they are duly noted. I’m going” Sebastian said as he lifted off the ground, the hippogriff hovering as he swallowed in a shaky breath. Knowing the entrance to the cavern had been blocked by falling debris, he knew he'd have to find another way around. 
“We can search to the left of the entrance if you’d like to go right” Poppy offered. As Sebastian turned to see that she had helped Imelda onto the back of the beast alongside her. 
“Fine. But please shout if you find a way in” he said.
“We shall stay here and continue to try and slowly dig out the debris” Professor Weasley quietly informed him. In all his years he’d never seen the woman so dejected. The deputy headmistress always being the pinnacle of authority and confidence, yet now she seemed sullen and nervous. 
“Alright. Someone should probably see what happened to Larson after going to find Officer Singer from Hogsmeade to help” he informed them as Everret nodded, “sounds good Sebastian” he said already heading back towards the mouth of the cave to find his housemate and direct the Aurors down to the cavern that no one outside knew of. 
“Be safe Mr. Sallow” Hecat told him. The woman had always had a soft spot for the boy who showed much promise in her classroom, but watching him repeatedly throw himself into danger without fear caused her to swell with pride. Sebastian probably would’ve acknowledged his favorite professor had he not already gotten out of earshot of the group, desperate to find a way in before it was too late. 
Although, who could hardly blame him with how grim the sounds coming from the repository chamber sounded…
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She had hardly been given time to react before the goblin was hurling the corrupted ancient magic in her direction. She had fought his loyalists but had yet to actually be in his line of fire. She had watched him kill Lodgok, his own brother, in a similar manner. She’d be damned if her or Solomon went down in a similar manner. 
It was truly wild how much her mind wandered during the fight. She had faced many opponents with complete concentration on the task at hand, and as she fought this goblin who threatened her world, she couldn’t help but think back on everything that had led up to this moment. She’d crossed paths with him so many times at this point: in the vault, in that alley outside the three broomsticks, in the shadows at rookwood castle, in the mine where Lodgok had died, now. All her hard work in doing the keepers bidding, finding the missing pages with a ghost, the trip to the restricted section - it had all been leading to this moment. 
Yet, she found her mind wandering as she continued to hurl rocks lifted with ancient magic at the goblin. Part of her remembered the poem her father had read to from the papers a few years back, before she even knew of magic.
It matters not how strait the gate, how charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul 
The other part of her kept glancing over and making eye contact with the frozen and terrified ex auror. Until now she had never noticed the way that he had such similar eyes to Sebastian. It was likely due to how often Solomon’s eyes looked angry, but now, seeing the fear in them, she recognized the resemblance. And although in both muggle and wizarding worlds, men showing their emotions so openly was frowned upon, she so deeply loved that her love had continued to be unashamed in showing all of himself to her. The fear, the excitement, the anger, the anxiety, the frustration, the love. His brown eyes had always been such a window into what he was thinking, and after almost a year of knowing him, she could read those eyes so well. Similarly now, the look Solomon was giving her was so reminiscent of the one Sebastian had worn before she left with Poppy. 
And as she tried to shake the thought from her head she could feel the hot and searing feeling against her shoulder as it knocked her to the ground. His corrupted magic stolen from other repositories swirling around her now blood dripping shoulder as she looked in horror,  watching as the goblin shot ahead, striking Bragbor’s container on the walkway in front of them. 
Pushing her now aching limbs she somehow managed to stand, hobbling towards the entrance in an effort to gain backup. There was no way she could fight Ranrok alone now that he had stolen the magic Isadora created.
“Run!” She tried to warn Solomon but it was too late. The goblin had already taken the magic as a bright flash filled the room. The eruption of the repository caused such a blinding light to fill her vision that she took a few moments to regain vision once more, watching in horror as now the transformed goblin swirled in the midst of the red and black magic. 
Rubble began to fall around them as she heard an almost demonic voice yell “Goblin kind shall answer to no one” before he dived at the platform her and Solomon were on. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Solomon’s body safely landing on the dirt ground as he covered his head with his hands. And then she felt it. The strong force of something large smacking into her chest, knocking the wind from her already damaged lungs as the contact was so intense she felt it in her bones. And then,
Air,
Weightlessness,
Falling. 
She was falling, and doing so, fast
And yet, it was almost as if she could perceive it happening in slow motion. She could nearly count the times her body flipped ankles over her head as she passed the cliff she had once been standing upon. Her mind could fully make out the quickly approaching sharp jagged rocks that would ultimately claim her life when she inevitably smashed into them, for in the fall she had dropped the most important thing she owned: her wand. 
“Arresto Momento!” 
Suddenly suspended in the air, a few yards above the ground she looked back up to see Solomon leaning over the platform. Only his head and shoulders were visible as he looked down the massive cliffside at her body hovering several yards above the ground. 
Even from far away she could see his eye still nearly swollen shut from where she had struck him in the infirmary, but his other one stared down at her wide, seemingly relieved he had caught her. He slowly continued to lower her to the ground safely as she closed her eyes and tried to think of how it was going to be best to proceed. Her wand had been lost and she doubted the keeper's wand would work in the same manner as a normal one. Now was certainly not the time to test it out. 
Her body slowly being lowered to the ground halted at the same time she looked up. Before she had time to process what was happening, once again her body was free falling. Only briefly making out the bright red light coming through the man’s chest before her body violently collided with the ground below. As time slowed once more, she laid on the ground as she experienced the scream tearing from her throat as if she was a passerby. Yet, the intense throbbing in her bones reminded her that no, it was indeed her that was screaming, and it was her body that had fallen to the stones below.
And then, she had an up close viewing of Solomon Sallow’s body crashing to the ground next to her with the most sickening thud she had ever experienced to date. Bones snapping viciously in a manner similar to the way she had broken his nose in the infirmary, except this time it was his legs that created the noise, as they came to rest in opposite directions. And this time when the scream tore from her raw throat, it was in terror as she saw the mangled appearance of Sebastian’s guardian as he lay next to her.
His lifeless brown eyes were still open as she continued to scream while the cavern caved in around them both and the last of her remaining strength was used to hold up a forcefield as the rubble encased their bodies.
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Sebastian could remember the first time he’d witnessed ancient magic. It had been in hogsmeade square during the troll attack. The static feeling that charged the air and made the hair on his neck stand up had only relieved itself when she tore lightning from the sky, reducing the troll to ash. His ears had rung for a few seconds as the clap of thunder she conjured had disoriented him while his rapidly blinking eyes had fixated themself on the girl, her newly acquired wand clutched in her hand.
Since then, he’d only seen her use that type of magic on occasion. Usually she tried to learn how to master it in small doses, using restraint as she aimed to learn to use it for productive purposes such as conjuration or healing instead of destructive like the first time he’d seen. Occasionally he’d see things in the room of requirement lifting in mid air as if she had used levioso, but the way she was doing it looked unnatural. Sometimes he’d witness a small flash of light before something like a quill emerge.  But without her abilities it truly was hard to tell what was ancient magic and what was simply spells she had learned during the year. 
And yet, he still had become acclimated to what it felt like to be around such magic, even if he couldn’t physically see it. Ever since christmas he had worn the cufflinks she’d gifted him, and he’d never tell her, but he always felt the slight thumping or hum coming off them every morning when he put them on his dress shirt.  Usually a dull vibration, as if they were alive and full of swarming lacewing flies. But on those rare occasions she did use her magic in his presence they’d warm up, the tingling that lingered on the objects growing more intense, like they were alive and desperately trying to join the stream of magic she was using. 
That had been the real reason he’d grabbed them when he changed in the room of requirement, threading them onto the sleeves of the dark outfit she’d woven for him. And now as he continued to try and find a way to enter the cavern he knew she was fighting that blasted goblin, he could feel them tingling more than he ever had. 
Highwing continued to fly through the cavern as he searched for a possible opening. It dawned on him that the last time he had physically laid eyes on her was when she left with Poppy after class.  And since that moment he’d experienced such a whirlwind. He had went to collect rings in order to secure their future, bought a very dismantled home to share some day and while riding the high of such a wonderful thing his world had collapsed. Arriving into feldcroft amidst a battle only to discover that not only was his whole family gone, but she hadn’t been seen. 
And then when he finally did get back to the school Fig had roped him into dealing with the Keepers as he worried for her safety and Professor Sharp’s ability to save her. Only to return and be locked in with the other students knowing she’d only barely been patched up before going to fight Ranrok and the entire goblin armada. Unfortunately it seemed they had so often almost crossed paths in this entire mess of a situation and yet continued to fight their own battles separately. 
In the chaos he also hadn’t had time to actually process what Poppy had told him. His Uncle. Solomon had known. And Even worse, the man had intended for him to take the curse over Anne. As Highwing continued to fly he really did wonder what his life would be like had he had endured the curse this whole time over his twin. Obviously he’d have struggled being back home with Solomon more than Anne, given their history. He wouldn’t have put it past the man to just leave him at St Mungos to rot alone. 
Surely his love would still have come to Hogwarts and been sorted into Slytherin, but would she have befriended Anne? Would Anne still have brought her to visit a sick brother to cheer him up as he had done? And if she did, would the girl look at him with eyes of love or pity…
Despite the horrific events of the year, and the grim circumstances to which they so often found themselves in, he would not trade a thing in the world to see her tired smile as she finally drifted off to sleep leaving behind the massive weight upon her shoulders. He would not trade the fear of holding her bleeding body to his chest at Christmas if it meant losing the beautiful hands that moved through his dark hair when they were alone. 
Even worse he realized he would rather have seen Anne continue to fight this curse than know the love of his life had died in that ashwinder camp. 
Because if you asked Sebastian back in August what his main priority in life was, he easily would’ve answered finding a cure for his sister. But in the quest to find answers for Anne he discovered something beautiful. A kind of love he had never felt. A kind of love those who experience its warmth would die for. A kind of love that healed the deep wounds pressed upon his soul from the tragedies he’d known as a young boy. A kind of love that made the journey of all of Solomon’s abuse somehow worth it, for without it he might not have met her or held on so tightly. 
Every event in his life seemingly now had a purpose, beyond just bringing him pain and torment. For without them, he never would have been in the right place, at the right time, with the right heart to love her. And more importantly, be loved by her. 
With every crash he heard from the wall that separated them, he felt like that beautiful thing to which he found was slowly slipping away. It’s why despite feeling lightheaded as blood continued to stain the wonderful gift she’d made for him, running down his back as it poured out of his right shoulder, he didn’t hesitate. What man would he be if it didn’t do everything in his power to get to the one he loved? What deep sorrow and regret he would be cursed to anguish in if she died alone?
As he neared a waterfall, Highwing attempted to move away from the water stream and just as he passed its refreshing mist he felt a sharp shooting pain on his wrist. Quickly tried to separate the material of his shirt from his wrist despite the way his limp non dominant hand fell to his side. As Sebastian saw the skin underneath he could make out a small blister forming where the inside latch of his cufflinks had burned into his blood soaked skin and he tugged the hippogriff to turn around. 
Reluctantly the creature flew close to the waterfall again and like before the metal heated to the point he could not stand it, casting glacius onto them in efforts to prevent further burning. As he looked ahead he tried to see through the waterfall but was unable due to its heavy stream. 
“Highwing come on” he begged the creature, attempting to urge the proud beast through the stream and it put up a fight, letting out a noise he could only interpret as annoyance before flying through the stream. As they came through the water, and onto the other side Sebastian realized a cavern was hidden away by the waterfall. Highwing moved forward enough to set him down on the solid ground they’d discovered and he stroked her feathers kindly as he hopped off and walked forward. 
“Lumos” he spoke as it echoed off the cave walls. And suddenly like discovering water in the desert he saw it: the rune symbol. To the right a torch became noticeable from the light his wand put off and he shouted confringo at it, before repeating the action on the other side of the symbol. Unlike the doors leading into Isadora’s workshop or even the map chamber this was simply just a simple hovering over a pile of rocks, as if some muggle attempt had been made to create a secondary entrance to the repository for emergencies. 
“Highwing go find the others!” he shouted. If there was one thing he had learned this year, it was that beasts were so much more intelligent than wizards and witches gave them credit for. Because the hippogriff bowed her head at him before running and jumping through the waterfall’s stream once more as she left him. 
Coming forward he began using simple charms to slowly dig the piled up stones from the entrance. As stones began to move one by one he grew weary, putting his wand away and reaching for the wall. Years of working for Solomon had taught him how to use his brute strength sometimes over magic to get things done quickly. Even this past yule when he’d repaired the stone fences in the yard by hand, he realized that sometimes the muggle way was more effective. 
Groaning as he lifted his injured arm he began pushing stone after stone to the ground, frantically digging through the pileup as his arm continued to bleed and his hands started to sting from the cuts he was getting from the jagged edges cutting his palms. 
Every new injury seemed dull in comparison to the way his heart continued to leap as he pushed aside another rock. He had to get through. He had to reach her. And the more stones pushed to the side the louder and louder things became on the other side of the wall. The blasting and crashing only intensified as he heard a very loud and dark voice call out “your pitiful magic is no match for mine, child”. 
Under normal circumstances such a voice would be bone chilling but to him it felt like a relief. It meant one thing: she was still alive.
For now. 
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As soon as the falling debris stopped she somehow mustered the strength to stand. Luckily having one last healing potion on her she was able to maintain a hold on the force field long enough to push the rubble away before downing the contents. It didn’t do much, nor did it return the air to her lungs, but it dulled the sting, which for now would have to be enough. Trying desperately to avert her eyes from Solomon’s body as ranrok’s newly transformed body flew about the space, she searched the ground for his wand. After moments of searching she stole a quick glance at his hand seeing he was still clutching it tightly. Gently she moved towards him, muttering a quick prayer to some god or entity despite the man’s malicious actions in life, before closing his eyes and ripping the wand from his grasp. 
“Accio wand” she called out, not expecting much. Her wand likely was crushed in the fall, but when suddenly she felt its energy approaching, she was surprised to see it coming straight for her unharmed. Deciding to pocket Solomon’s for safe keeping to return to the Sallows she quickly looked for cover in case Ranrok came back to pick her off.
Rushing forward along the walkway as the space continued to be filled with the swirls of dark ancient magic she came to an opening, finally seeing ranrok in his new form as he perched at the end. 
The anger of today, coming to a head as she pushed forward. How dare he attack the school? How dare he steal this magic? How dare he threaten the ones she loves? 
Hurling ancient magic at him she watched in horror as he laughed, backing up as he taunted, “so much fire… so much spirit… I shall snuff that out” before shooting a large blast towards her without little time to duck for cover. 
She would have to rethink exactly how to fight him this way. Suddenly she saw large force fields erupting nearby that reminisced the way she had fought the large pensive guards during the keeper trials. Hurling the freezing charm at it, she realized that it did in fact react similarly. If she was going to win this battle, she would need to stay moving and focus on those weak points until she could muster enough ancient magic to subdue him. 
And then she remembered a moment in the room of requirement one day with Sebastian. 
“So this corrupted magic, infused with pain, how do you think you can control it?” Sebastian asked her as he continued to take notes in a journal he’d been keeping on her magic. 
“I’m not sure I even can… Isadora certainly couldn’t. That’s why she contacted Bragbor to build containers for it in the first place” she retorted as she continued to go over something she stole from San Bakaar’s tower on a second lap through. Her frustration with the keepers for remaining tight-lipped had her sneaking back into the tower, steering clear of the portrait, to raid his office. In it he found the man’s notes on the magic in the repositories. 
“But isn’t Ranrok wielding it? Along with all the goblins? Surely you could find a way to do so, even if it’s simply a matter of protecting yourself from it” Sebastian countered as he glanced up. He knew that she likely wouldn’t see eye to eye with him on understanding the dark magic. The memories she spoke of being enough to discourage her from attempting to even entangle herself with that magic, but it didn’t stop him from being anxious. If she could control it, then perhaps if she faced the goblins she could turn the magic against them, or at the very least wield it enough to protect herself.
“I suppose in theory there is a way to control it. I am just nervous about what that could look like… Lodgok mentioned that all the goblins had been transformed by their attempts at using it. I am worried that if I allow myself to be influenced by it, that it may start to control me as well. Isadora’s journals end in madness. It’s easy to see she seemed to have been corrupted by it as well” she countered. 
“Hmm…” he said and when she looked up she noticed that his eyes showed how truly far away his mind was. Nervous to ask the reasons why he broached the topic, she pushed that aside in favor of getting answers even if they made her anxious. 
“You want me to heal Anne by wielding it don’t you?” she asked him with a defeated sigh, but when his eyes snapped back to hers and his brow furrowed almost angrily she regretted saying anything.
“What?” he asked in horror, frustration apparent in his tone as he spit the words out, laced with the venom he usually reserved for his uncle and no one else. 
“I just thought… that’s why you were asking… it’s okay if that was your train of thought, I was just curious-” she began rambling, hoping she could take back the insination but it was too late. He was already furious at her. 
“I am asking for you. You already told me what one of the memories showed - how it made a person devoid of emotions. I trust that. I trust you. I wouldn’t want that for my twin, even if it meant she wasn’t in pain. I wanted to know if you could wield it to protect yourself” he grumpily responded as she grew silent. 
“Oh” she spoke quietly as she stared into her lap, eyes glazing over as she felt similarly to a scolding child by the authority in his voice, and the guilt of assuming the worst in him. He must’ve seen the tiny piling of tears in the corner of her eye because he put down his book and came directly in front of where she sat on the sofa, sitting on his knees in front of her and grabbing her hands from her lap. 
“Hey” he spoke calmly and she didn’t respond so he spoke softer, gently squeezing her palms as she finally looked up. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Sebastian spoke. 
“I know. I didn’t mean to upset you either” she responded. 
“I know. I just want to know all our options for keeping you safe. That’s my main priority” he told her as she looked down. 
“What about Anne…?” 
“What about her?” he asked in confusion.
“We only started down this journey to find a cure for her… I thought that was your priority” she explained. 
Watching as his eyes absorbed her words he looked at her, opening his mouth, before closing it again to ponder his response. “It’s okay if that’s still your main goal-” she continued but he cut her off. 
“Months ago, yes, that was my main priority. But now… my world has shifted. My goals have shifted. My loyalty and devotion have shifted” he spoke cooly as her eyebrow raised of its own accord in confusion. 
“But Anne is your sister, your twin-” She went to counter and he shook his head. 
“And you are my everything. Of course I want to heal Anne, but we will find a way to do so safely. The same way we will find a way to keep you safe if somehow Ranrok does get ahold of the last repository… but don’t think for a second that you aren’t important to me. That keeping you safe isn’t my main priority now” he told her. 
Unsure how to respond she simply blinked rapidly. She wasn’t sure when she started crying fully, but when she felt the wetness on her cheeks he was already there, pulling her into his arms. 
“I mean it… I love you… and I swear with all I have that I will do everything to keep you safe when the time comes…” 
Remembering back to that day, she did wonder about his theory. They hadn’t had a chance to actually test it out given only a few days later she left with Poppy… and now she was in this head on. But perhaps Sebastian was correct. Maybe there was a way to control it. Maybe even purify it by removing the pain somehow, so that it would be useless to Ranrok. Unlike the keepers she had isadora’s research. Unlike Isadora she had the keeper's research. She also had such an intelligent man who had working theories. 
Trying to recall the work he’d written out on one of the chalk boards, she tried to remember the way he had theorized perhaps using ancient magic instead of normal magic with a healing spell could cleanse the magic so to speak. Now was as good as any time to try such a theory out. 
Stepping out from behind a rock she’d used for cover she used one of the healing spells on a sliver of the magic swirling around her, watching in awe as it turned blue again, the pain quickly moving towards ranrok as he absorbed purely the pain and yelled out angrily, “your pitiful magic is no match for mine, child!”
Then she found herself lying face down in the stone a few feet away. Her head throbbing at the aggressive contact she’d made when he’d flung her through the air once more. She would be surprised if her skin wasn’t one large bruise at this point. The speed to which he retaliated by blasting her had been too quick to process but as she laid there trying to get up again she smiled as she realized that now she had a decent game plan.  Sebastian Sallow was a genius and if she lived long enough to see him again she would delight in telling him so.
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The Stable Girl: Chapter Seven
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pairing: joel miller x f!reader (Sunshine)
chapter rating: E (birth, brief mention of blood, violence, tense sibling relationship, newborn stuff, a quick handie for daddy joel)
word count: 5k
series masterlist
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“Where is she? Damn it, I told you, Tommy. I should’ve stayed home today. Damn it,” Joel spoke hurriedly, panic written all over his face as he found his brother outside of the town’s singular medical building.
Joel had begrudgingly returned to patrol shifts recently after one of the newer rangers broke their leg. He put up a fight, not only with Tommy who was the person to ask, but also with a very pregnant Sunshine, her due date having already come and passed. She assured him she would be fine since Ellie, Maria, and Tommy were going to be there doting on her hand and foot. So, after succumbing to reason, he decided that he’d agree to take on shorter, early morning shifts, aware that he still had an obligation to the town and not just the woman waddling around his home.
But now, he was an hour late to Sunshine’s arrival at the medical building, having been out at the lookout when Tommy walkied to him. He’d never rode so fast in his life, thanking the universe for the lack of infected and hunters on his way home. He’d almost busted right through the gates in a hurry to get there, the usual glare he’d send to Paul taking a backseat as he hopped off the horse and ran down the dirt road until he was standing in front of his brother, panting and panicked.
“She’s inside, she’s fine, Joel. Her water broke a few hours ago, but she’s fine. She’s taking it like a champ, no medicine.” Tommy assured, his hands resting on Joel’s shoulders to still him. Joel nodded, his eyes glancing at the door behind Tommy, desperate to go inside. “Take a minute to calm down, you don’t need to go in there all wound up. Just gonna make her more scared than she already is.”
“She’s scared?” Joel felt his heart pound with the desire to protect her, to rid her of all of her fear and console her, but found himself flipping back in time to Sarah’s birth. Perhaps he was simply too doting with Jen, his intended comforting making her feel suffocated. Could that be the case if he walked in and tried to do the same thing with Sunshine?
“C’mon, I know you ain’t gonna calm down ‘til you see her—“
“Wait,” Joel rubbed his chin nervously, looking at his brother with an indiscernible request, Tommy furrowing his brows at him to let him know he had no idea what was going on with him. “I’m…anxious.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” Tommy chuckled and pat his brother on the arm. “You’re gonna be fine, Joel. You’ve done this all before.”
“Just…tell me she’s not gonna leave,” Joel demanded softly, his brother’s furrowed stare deepening. “Sometimes I feel like I made her up in my head, you know. She’s just so perfect, I—I just need you to tell me I’m not lookin’ through rose colored glasses again.”
“Joel,” Tommy sighed and shook his head, chuckling at his brothers unnecessary panic—he always did have a knack for worrying when he didn’t need to. “She ain’t Jen. You’re not looking through rose colored glasses. She’s the real deal. And right now she’s in there waitin’ for you to walk through those doors, so I suggest you get it together and go in.”
“You’re right,” Joel took a deep breath, nodding before grabbing the handle and pulling, the old general-store-turned-hospital-room filled with a couple familiar faces. Ellie and Maria stood on either side of Sunshine as she bounced on an inflated ball, her practiced in-and-out breathing filling the room as she faced away from him. Joel’s worry faded when the door closed behind him, announcing his entry and causing Sunshine to look over at him with a wide grin.
“Oh, thank god you’re here,” she stood up and waddled over to him, her hands on her lower back to give her some support. Joel rushed to her, helping her back into the bed and trying to wipe the relieved smirk off his face at the sound of her being so glad to see him. “Give me a kiss, cowboy.”
Joel didn’t make her wait even a second longer, leaning down and kissing her softly much to the dismay of the other three people in the room. He didn’t care, and neither did Sunshine.
“How are you feelin’? Tommy said you refused the meds they offered you?” He asked in a soft voice, keeping his face close to hers in case she needed another kiss, his hand petting her hair out of her face.
“It’s only bad when the contractions hit, but they’re still four minutes apart—“
“Three.” Maria corrected, a stopwatch in her hand. Sunshine gave her a nervous look at the quickly progressing state of her labour before turning back to Joel.
“Baby girl might be coming sooner than I thought.” Joel chuckled and nodded at her, kissing her forehead as the town’s only doctor walked in.
“How are we doing on time?” He asked Maria, getting the same info that Joel just got. “Alright, I’ll come back in a little bit to check in.”
“You scared?” Sunshine asked, Joel turning back to her with a quick shake of his head, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Your hand is shaking, Joel.”
“Oh, that’s just the, uh, the c-coffee,”
“You’re a bad liar.”
“Am not.”
“Yeah, you are.” Ellie chimed in, now sitting in a desk chair with her face buried in a book. Joel gave her a pointed glare before turning back to Sunshine.
“I’m only nervous because I don’t want you to feel any pain, darlin. So why don’t you let them give you some meds?” She shook her head at him, reaching to pinch his chin lovingly.
“No, I wanna know what it feels like so I’m prepared next time.” Joel felt his heart stop right then and there. She wanted another kid with him? He felt lucky she wanted this one. With a chuckle to hide the tears in his eyes, still needing to seem like a strong man in front of all these other eyes in the room, he nodded at her, grinning so hard his dimple came out.
“Alright, sweet girl. You’re braver than me, I’ll tell you that.”
The doors bursting open interrupted the tender moment, Joel whipping his head around to see Matthew and Joana walking in without invitation.
“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Tommy asked on Joel’s behalf, surprising not only Matthew but Joel himself.
“She’s my sister.”
“Your sister that you humiliated in front of the entire town,” Joel reminded with arms crossed over his chest, standing protectively in front of Sunshine to prevent him from getting even a glance at her after what he did.
•••
It all went down six months ago when you and Joel decided to tell everybody about the pregnancy.
Maria had already caught on, though she incorrectly suspected it was conceived the night of Joel’s birthday in the diner bathroom, but no amount of denying it would make her believe otherwise. Tommy was shocked but elated, hugging his brother so tight Joel had to ask him to take it easy. Ellie was also incredibly shocked, but offered the two of you a rare hug before stating that she would not be changing any diapers under any circumstance.
The only person you had to tell on your side of the family was Matthew, your recently estranged older brother who’d adamantly disagreed with the 20-year age gap between you and Joel, and who was also now in a full-on relationship with Joel’s biggest fan, Joana.
You found him at the diner, Joana stuck to his side like glue at the bar. Taking a deep breath, you asked Joel to wait for you by the door knowing that Matthew always seemed to find offense at his presence. You didn’t want this to be a fight, you wanted your child to have his uncle around—for Matthew to be the big brother he used to be before this apocalypse turned him so hardened.
“Matt,” you tapped his shoulder, his eyes turning to you and smile faltering a bit before lowering to the swell of your stomach, now proudly on display underneath the cotton of your long-sleeve. His face went white, smile now long gone as he lifted his eyes back to yours. You gave him a weak, hesitant smile and shrugged. “Surprise.”
“Surprise?” From the moment he opened his mouth you knew this wasn’t going to go well. The one person you wanted to be happy for you was about to lay into you in public. “What the fuck? You’ve known him for how long? And now you’re knocked up? Aren’t you embarrassed?”
Joel approached the three of you as Matthew’s shouts grew louder with each word, his arm wrapping around you waist to keep you close to him. Even Joana tried stepping in to calm him down with her hand on his arm, but he just shrugged her off.
“Why can’t you just be happy for me?” You asked weakly, tears streaming down your face, your hormones causing you to cry when you’d typically just scream back at him in anger. You could feel Joel tensing to keep himself from acting on your behalf.
“Because! I fucking spent my entire fucking life protecting you just for you to come here and end up knocked up a few months later like some whore! That’s all you are anymore, sis!” He chuckled darkly before continuing, Joel’s fist balling up as it rested on your hip. “But hey, at least you finally found something you’re good at. Can’t fight, can’t shoot, can’t even ride a horse anymore, clearly. So maybe this can be your town contribution—the town whore.”
He’d hardly gotten a chance to finish his sentence before Joel was decking him, knocking him to the ground in one hit and kneeling over him ready to strike again. You grabbed Joel’s arm to stop him from hitting him again, Matthew now on the floor holding his cheek and busted, bloody lip. Joel didn’t say a word as he looked around the room, threatening everyone to dare to say something to him as he stood up.
“Joel,” you pleaded through your tears, desperate to just go home and get away from all the nosy eyes. He turned to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, walking you out of the diner and straight home where you cried into his chest for hours.
What was supposed to be your child’s uncle now was just a man—a man you wanted nothing to do with. A man that clearly wanted nothing to do with you.
•••
“Joel,” you touched his arm, forcing him to stop staring down your brother and turn back to you. His scowl softened as he took you in, silently asking you to allow him to kick Matthew out, but your conscience wouldn’t allow that. “It’s fine.”
“Baby—“
“It’s fine,” you repeated, this time earning only a sigh in response, Joel moving out of the way to allow Matthew to see you. “Well?”
“I just…I heard you went into labour and…I just started to think that if anything happened to you, you know…the things I said…I don’t want that to be the last thing you hear from me.” You scoffed at his reasoning, Joel blocking his path as he tried to step closer to you.
“You came to clear your conscience but I haven’t heard an apology,” you felt another contraction start to come on, your face scrunching in pain and your hand coming down to rest on your stomach to attempt to ease the pain. “Hurry up, clear your conscience. I have a baby trying to claw its way out.”
“I…” Your pained eyes turned to him with a confused glare. “I’m not gonna apologize for being disappointed in you, sis. This was fast, and careless, and…lifelong. I’ll apologize for what I said and the way I said it, but I stand by this being a mistake.”
“Joel you have the town’s permission to punch him again,” Tommy piped in, earning a chuckle from you as the contraction began to fade, allowing you to devote more attention to your idiot brother.
“Matthew, you’re an ass,” you finally sighed out, chest heaving as you relished in the lull between contractions. “And you can leave now knowing that I want nothing to do with you anymore. You might be blood but you’re not my family. My family is right here.”
“Damn right.” Joel nodded in agreement, his eyes locked on Matthew. He was as intimidating as you ever saw him, but the sweetness of his confirmation made you smile from ear to ear.
“I think you should go now,” you avoided your brother’s eyes, focusing on your stomach as you rubbed over it. When Matthew didn’t move, Joel and Tommy both stepped forward.
“She said leave,” Joel ordered, no doubt giving him that threatening glare that you’d only ever witnessed when he was protecting you. “Or I can walk you out myself.”
“C’mon, Matt,” Joana tugged on Matthew’s arm until he finally obliged, leaving the room in time for another contraction to start.
“Jesus Christ,” your eyes squeezed closed as you tried to fight through the pain, suddenly wishing you’d taken everyone up on the offer for pain meds.
“That’s two minutes. I’ll go find the doctor.” Maria walked out of the room while Joel turned back to you, stroking your sweaty hair from your forehead and whispering praises.
“You’re doing so good, baby. So proud of you.” He kissed your hand that was holding his as you sobbed out a cry. “I know it hurts baby, but you’re taking it like a champ.”
“Joel,” you spoke through clenched teeth.
“Yeah, baby?” He looked full of concern and fear as you fixed your eyes on him.
“It sounds like you’re talking dirty to me.” He chuckled in surprise, laughing at your ability to remain full of humor even in excruciating pain.
“Want me to stop?” He looked down at you with a tender smile, stroking the side of your face as you shook your head.
“No, just wanted to point that out. Keep going.”
•••
The birth had been a bit complicated, the doctor ordering everyone out of the room that didn’t have medical experience, leaving just him, Maria, and a former Firefly member with nursing experience in the room. Joel sat right outside on the floor, hands clasped over each other and pressed to his mouth as he looked blankly ahead at the tile, contemplating what could be happening on the other side of the door.
“Hey,” Ellie’s voice caused his eyes to break from their mindless stare, turning to look at her as she sat down beside him with a familiar box. “I, uh, was helping put laundry away last week when I stumbled upon this in your closet. Thought…” She took a breath before handing the box over to him, Joel breathing in deeply as he opened it, the broken watch Sarah had given him on his birthday—the night this all started, the night she died—now repaired. “Thought you’d like to have it, you know, so that Sarah can sort of be here to welcome her new sibling. But I saw that it was broken, so I had someone fix it—I hope you’re not mad.”
“Mad?” Joel turned to her with a softness she rarely got to see, his voice just a whisper. “I’m—I’m not mad, kiddo. This…” He took a minute, batting away his tears and taking the watch out, wrapping it around his wrist. “Thank ya, El. This…is very kind.”
“She’s going to be okay, Joel.” Ellie assured, rubbing his shoulder. Before Joel could speak, the door was opening.
“Congratulations,” Maria started with a smile, though she was covered in blood. “You got a healthy baby girl…and baby boy.”
“What?” He felt all the air in his lungs vanish at the sound of the news, his worried frown being replaced with a smile of pure joy. “Twins?”
“Yeah,” she nodded and gestured at the room. “You can come in if you want.”
“Sunshine is okay, right?” He asked, his fingers restless as they fidgeted with his watch.
“Yeah, she’s fine, she took it like a champ.” Joel finally allowed himself to cry, looking up at the heavens to thank whatever entity was up there making his wildest dreams come true. “We just gave her some pain meds, she’s gonna be out soon, so hurry up.”
“Okay,” he nodded and wiped his tears, following her inside.
Joel let out a huff of relief when he saw Sunshine sitting upright in the bed cradling both babies in her arms, his chest pounding with adoration as he walked over to give her a kiss.
“I’m so proud of you, baby. Love you so much.” He gave her another sweet peck before leaning down to greet his two bundles of joy, kissing both of their foreheads over and over until he’d gotten his fill. “Oh, my angels. Daddy loves you both so much, you got no idea.”
“They’ll learn,” Sunshine assured with a smirk, Joel turning his eyes to hers with a chuckle. “Can you believe we’ve got two babies? Thank god, now I never have to go through that again.”
“Yeah, baby,” he laughed and pecked her lips. “I think we did a damn good job.”
“Yeah, we did.” She beamed at him for a moment before looking down to the twins. “You wanna hold one so I can breastfeed?”
“Hand ‘em over,” Joel eagerly accepted his son into his arms, cradling him and gently bouncing him as he watched Sunshine breastfeed for the first time like a pro, having to calm the male part of his brain that immediately lit up at the sight of her exposed breast.
“Oh my god,” she winced and chuckled, her eyes lifting to Joel’s. “This feels so weird.”
“I bet,” Joel laughed and sat down on the edge of the gurney beside her, his eyes turning down to his son to take in his features. “Looks just like you, baby. What are we naming them?”
“Lucas,” she whispered, Joel turning to look at her with a raised eyebrow. “Read somewhere it means bringer of light. Seems fitting.” Joel smiled and nodded his head, stroking her hair back again. “You get to name baby girl.”
“Well, I always liked the name Luna.” Joel suggested shyly, Sunshine smiling wide and nodding. “Don’t know what it means, just think it’s a pretty name.”
“Well, I like it. Lucas and Luna,” she hummed, her smile wide. “Our babies are pretty cute, huh?”
Joel would never get tired of hearing that—our babies. These were their kids, the product of their love. Sunshine had chosen to have a family with him. No one else. Him.
“They get it from you.” He reached to pinch her chin. “You’re so beautiful right now.”
“How?” She chuckled and gestured at her form. She was still in the cotton gown from her delivery, her hair tangled and sweaty, not a trace of makeup on her flushed and drained face. “I look the worst I’ve ever looked right now.”
“Quiet with that,” he scolded her genuinely, confused on how she couldn’t see why he’d be so attracted to her when she just delivered two of his babies during an apocalypse, and was cradling one of them against her chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. She was beautiful in all her raw glory and he wouldn’t allow her to disagree—not this time. “I’ve never seen you so beautiful before. You should see yourself through my eyes, darlin.”
“Here, switch me babies,” she ignored his compliments with a bashful grin, Joel smiling proudly at how flushed his words made her. He handed Lucas over with one last kiss to his forehead before accepting Luna into his arms, cooing at his baby girl as she squirmed in his arms.
“My sweet baby girl,” he tickled her stomach with a smile, gasping softly as she stretched and yawned. “Oh, big stretch.”
“I love watching you like this,” Sunshine was staring at him as Lucas nursed from her, a soft smile on her face. “Talk about beauty.”
“You like me as a dad?” It was his turn to look bashful, turning back to Luna in his arms to watch as she yawned again.
“I love you as a dad.”
“Hey, you two.” Ellie and Tommy walked in, Sunshine tugging her gown up to keep her modesty. Both of them were smiling as they approached the couple and their newborns.
“Thank god they look like their mama,” Tommy teased, earning a fake laugh from his older brother. “Y’all name ‘em?”
“Yeah,” Joel looked to Sunshine, gesturing for her to go ahead.
“Luna and Lucas.”
“Which is which?” Ellie asked, studying the baby in Joel’s arms.
“This is Luna,” he leaned down and kissed her nose. “Sunshine’s got Lucas.”
“They’re so…wrinkly.” The adults in the room laughed at Ellie’s scrunched up face, not seemingly impressed by the miracle of life at sixteen.
“They’ll smooth out eventually,” Joel joked. “Wanna hold her?”
“You sure?” Ellie asked with hesitation, Joel nodding adamantly and gesturing at the chair by the wall. Ellie walked over and sat down in it before Joel was placing the baby girl in her arms, reminding her to keep the neck supported. “Like this?”
“Yeah, you’re doin’ good, kiddo.” He beamed down at his found-daughter figure interacting with his newborn, picturing the future in his head—Ellie all grown up, Luna a teenager, the two of them being as thick as thieves while Lucas drove them up the wall with his Miller boy shenanigans. “What d’ya want ‘em to call you? Aunt? Cousin? Sergeant?”
“Sergeant sounds pretty good, but maybe we’ll go with aunt,” she replied in her dry but amused tone, Joel nodding at her with a soft smile.
“Aunt Ellie.”
“Aunt fucking Ellie. Who woulda called it? Not me.” Joel laughed and looked back at Sunshine talking with Tommy, Lucas being rocked in her arms, no doubt soothed to sleep by the sound of her voice the same way his dad was every night. “I’m proud of you, Joel…for putting yourself out there with her. She’s really your soulmate, and I don’t even believe in that stuff.”
“Neither did I,” he chuckled softly and turned back to the teenager. “But…I guess miracles happen even for grumpy old men.”
•••
Joel did little else that night besides sit and watch his babies sleep for the first time in the cribs he’d built for them, Sunshine fast asleep in bed. He didn’t want her waking for a single thing tonight, knowing just how much the labour took out of her, so he stayed awake ready to tend to the newborns as they cried to be fed or changed every three or so hours. He didn’t mind the lack of sleep, not when it meant he got to spend time with his babies.
“You’re strong, ain’t ya?” He smiled down as Lucas squeezed his finger, his lips puckered in his sleep as Joel rocked him in the wooden rocking chair he handcrafted just for moments like these. “You look just like your mama, Lucas.”
The baby smiled in his sleep, probably just passing gas, but Joel allowed himself to believe the newborn understood him.
“You smile like her too.” He leaned forward and kissed him again before walking him back to his crib and setting him down now that his belly was full and diaper was clean. His shuffling seemed to be enough to wake his daughter, picking up a crying Luna to give her the same treatment he just gave her brother. “Shh, baby girl. Mama needs her rest.”
Joel carried the screaming infant downstairs to the kitchen to warm up a bottle, surprised to find Ellie awake playing guitar at the dining room table.
“You’re up late,” he spoke over Luna’s cries, Ellie nodding.
“Just writing,” she closed her notebook and stood up, walking over to the pair. “Can I hold her again?”
“She’s in a bad mood,” he warned but she shrugged in indifference. Joel handed her over and made sure the baby was in a comfortable position before he left them to fix the bottle, thankful for an extra set of hands. “Ya know, when I had Sarah, Tommy was barely your age, but he was the biggest help out of everybody when her mother left. She was lucky to have him, just like they’re both lucky to have you.”
“Why haven’t…when I brought up the watch to her, she didn’t know anything about it. Why haven’t you told her?” Ellie asked softly, as though Joel would scold her for it.
Truthfully, he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t told Sunshine about the watch or the night Sarah passed.
At the beginning of their relationship, he was still so new to being open and vulnerable, and it just felt like too much too soon. Then, she got pregnant and he didn’t want to ruin her joy of becoming a mother with a tragic story of the way he lost his first child. Now, there was no good reason to hide it away from her anymore.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged and carried the now warm bottle over to the pair, handing it to Ellie and watching as she fed his baby girl. “It’s a hard story to tell, I guess.”
Luna scrunched her nose and attempted to rub her eye as she suckled on her bottle, falling asleep midway through her bottle. Joel’s thumb ran over her cheek, her entire head fitting in the palm of his hand.
“But I’m gonna tell it, just gotta find the right time.” Joel took the baby back into his arms and grabbed the bottle from Ellie’s hand and set it down in the sink. “Go to bed, kiddo.”
“I’ll sleep when you do.” Joel chuckled and shook his head at her command, leaving her to walk back upstairs.
“Joel, baby,” Sunshine’s voice caused his eyes to lift from Luna, a smile finding its way to his lips at the sight of her patting the empty side of the mattress. “Come to bed.”
“Alright, baby.” He walked over to Luna’s crib and set her down before crawling into bed, accepting Sunshine as she snuggled into his chest. He breathed her in, thankful to be smelling her shampoo rather than the smell of breast milk and dirty diapers like he had been all night. “Mm, you’re a better cuddler than the twins.”
“Am I a bad mom for wanting to give you a handjob with our newborns in the room?” She asked, shocking him and pulling a genuine chuckle from his lips as he tipped her head back to look in her eyes.
“You just gave birth, darlin. You should be resting.”
“I don’t wanna rest, I wanna make you feel good,” she pressed her lips to his neck and Joel exhaled at the warmth of her tongue against his pulse, her hand traveling down his stomach to dip into the waistband of his flannel pajama pants. “I love making you feel good, because you make me feel so good.”
“Baby,” he breathed out, eyes hooded as he awaited her touch.
“Mm, I love watching you be a dad,” she purred as she gripped his half-hard length, stroking him beneath the blanket. “You’re so good at it, such a natural.”
He let out a shaky breath as her thumb rubbed his frenulum, his hips bucking into her fist.
“I didn’t even ask you to stay up all night taking care of them, you just did it anyways,” she bit his ear lightly, the contact enough to cover his entire body in goosebumps. “You’re such a good man, Joel.”
“Fuck,” he whispered a strangled moan for only her to hear, his head turning to look her in the eye as his orgasm built at an almost embarrassing speed. “Gonna make me cum, baby.”
“Good, you deserve it. Such a good dad, such a good partner…we’re so lucky to have you.” His orgasm was as emotional as it was physical, her kind words sending him over the edge, making a mess in her fist and on his lap.
For the last 33 years, he went through life always thinking that he was never good enough. He wasn’t good enough to keep Jen around, wasn’t good enough to protect Sarah, wasn’t good enough to deserve this relatively peaceful life in Jackson. And now, here in his bed laid a beautiful woman who had just given him two babies, telling him that she was lucky to have him.
Her? The lucky one? Perhaps if he hadn’t been so blissed out and exhausted he would’ve argued that it was him who was lucky. Instead, he found himself just kissing her, slowly but deeply, hoping that the wordless act conveyed even an ounce of the love he held for her in his heart.
“I love you so much, Sunshine, and that feels like an understatement.” He spoke against her lips, feeling her smile against him and peck him a few more times before he was standing up and walking out of the room to clean himself up in the bathroom before returning, Sunshine waiting with a grin.
“Come get some sleep with me,” she pat the bed again as he snuck a glance at his babies, Joel obliging and leaving them to crawl into bed again, tugging the blankets up to their chins as he pulled her in close, peppering the side of her face with kisses. “I love you, Joel. So excited to have this family with you.”
“Mm,” he hummed against her, feeling sleep start to overtake them both. “Me too, darlin. Me too.”
•••
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prodigal-explorer · 9 months
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how to write speech impediments
(this is part of my series, how to write children in fanfiction! feel free to check it out if you want more info like this! though this guide is mostly directed towards writing children, it is also helpful for writing about speech impediments for people of all ages, since speech impediments don't always go away in childhood.)
there are a lot of different speech impediments out there, but the main one i see represented in children in fanfiction is what's known as an articulation error, mostly in the letters "r" and "l". this leads to the child saying the word "playground" and pronouncing it like "p-way-g-wound". while this is a speech impediment that is common in children, there are other speech impediments that are just as common. here are a few:
1 - stuttering:
now, i see a lot of stuttering that is written incorrectly. most of the time, stuttering is not just repeating the first syllable of the word three or four times. stuttering is a condition in which your muscles twitch or move uncontrollably while you talk. a lot of people interpret stuttering as a nervous tic, but the term for that would be stammering. stuttering is a different ballpark. here are some possible symptoms of stuttering:
repeating sounds or syllables. this is the one i just talked about. while it is commonly the first syllable that is repeated, this isn't always the case, and this is only one symptom. here is a bad and a good example of this symptom in writing: -bad: "w-when will my leg f-feel better, d-daddy?" -good: "wh-when will my leg fe-ee-feel better, d-d-da-daddy?" there are a few subtle differences between the bad and the good example. the first difference is that instead of just the first letter being written in the stutter, it's the entire first syllable that is either being stuttered from the get go, or it is being developed through the stutter. this better illustrates for the reader what the stutter actually sounds like to a listener rather than just showing a reader that it's there. also, in the word "feel", the stutter is placed in the middle of the word rather than the beginning. since stuttering is an unpredictable and uncontrollable muscular movement, it is highly possible for a stutter to show up in the middle of the word versus purely in the beginning. this will make the stutter more accurate. the last difference is that there are more beats in the stutter than just one. not all stutters are the same, and sometimes, it takes longer or shorter for the muscle movements to stop. this also adds accuracy. 
holding or drawing out certain syllables or sounds, or pausing for a long time in between words. this one is a little tricky to write, but it is completely possible. this is when the word gets "stuck", so the word draws out for longer than what's intended, or there's a longer pause than what's considered normal. i'm not totally sure of the scientific reason why this happens since i don't see how a muscle spasm could affect the length of a syllable or pause, but if you want to write about it, i think that would make the stutter more rounded out. in this example, let's try combining the first symptom with this second one: -example: "wh-when will myyyy-...leg feel bet-better, d-d-da-daddy?" i changed the example a little bit, because too much stuttering at once can be overkill in writing. though it is possible in real life for stuttering to be word after word after word, it isn't always the case, and too much stuttering in writing can come across as mockery. anyway, in the word "my", the child draws out the letter "y", as their brain is stuck on it as it is trying to figure out how to create the words that follow it. again, this one is a difficult one to put into writing because it isn't a common stuttering trait, and it's hard to place. but if you want to, it would be an interesting one to try out. 
blocking. blocking is very frequent pauses in between words, whether it's a silent pause, or there's a filler word (such as um, or ah), that takes up the space. from my experience with stutters, when blocking is involved in the stutter, it is usually the primary trait in the stutter and the other possible symptoms are either absent or minimized. this means that if you did include blocking, it would probably replace a lot of the other stuttering symptoms that are in place. here is an example of blocking in writing: -example on its own: "when, uh, when will my leg, um, feel better, daddy?" -example mixed with other traits (not impossible, just less common than the former): "wh-when, uh, when will m-my leg feel, uh, better, d-da-daddy?" a common misconception with blocking is that it only appears in speech when the child is nervous, guilty, or otherwise in an anxious state of mind. though this is sometimes true, since emotions affect some speech impediments, this is definitely not always the case. all symptoms of stuttering, including blocking, can occur at all times, no matter how the child is feeling. also, common filler words vary based on location. for example, in america, the more common filler words are "um" or "like", while in western europe, "ah" and "uh" are a bit more common. 
word switching. this is the last specific symptom i will touch on, but i'm sure there are more. feel free to do your own research! word switching is especially common in children with larger vocabularies because they have more words to choose from. word switching is when the stutterer realizes they are struggling to get a word out due to the spasms, so they try to change the word into a shorter/easier one. here is an example in writing: -example: "it's actually a really c-co-com-com- hard thing to do." in the example, the child was trying to say a longer word, "complicated" or "complex", but the stutter was getting in the way, so the child switched to the word "hard" since it's shorter. something to keep in mind with word switching too is that it doesn't always work. and usually, word switching is a sign of embarrassment about the stutter, or frustration with the stutter, or a general rushing in trying to get the sentence out.

alright! now that we know a lot more about stutter symptoms, we can talk about the other characteristics of it:
-stuttering affects the whole body, not just the mouth. the muscle spasms can occasionally "spill over" to other parts of the body such as the face, neck, shoulders, and arms.
-sometimes, stutterers develop physical habits that they do while stuttering such as excessive blinking, avoiding eye contact, making certain facial expressions, or clenching the fists.
-emotions can affect stuttering. though stuttering doesn't only happen when one feels strong emotions such as fear and stress, such emotions can worsen stuttering, making symptoms more prominent. also, fatigue can affect stuttering. usually, relaxed and well-rested stutterers have less stutter symptoms.
-sometimes, stuttering doesn't occur during certain vocal activities such as singing, reading out loud, or talking to inanimate/non-human subjects.
-stuttering can lead to a lot of insecurity, which can attribute to mental health conditions down the line such as depression and anxiety.
congrats! now you know a lot about stuttering! feel free to do more research, this is just a basic guide to it. let's look at some other speech impediments now!
2 - articulation errors:
articulation errors are the most straightforward and common speech impediment traits. the trick to these, though, is knowing that there is a wide range of different types of them. articulation errors occur when people struggle to form certain speech sounds because they have trouble putting their tongue in the right positions to do so. lisping, for example, is a type of articulation error.
here is a list of different sounds that are common articulation errors:
the letter "l". this can make words like "library" sound more like "why-brary" or "i-brary".
the letter "r". this can make words like "tired" sound like "ti-oh-d".
the syllable "th". this can make words like "earth" sound like "ear-f", or words like "that" sound like "d-at".
the letter "s". this is known as lisping, and it can make words like "sit" sound like "th-it".
these next articulation errors are most common in children just learning to talk, so typically under five years old:
cluster reduction, which simplifies a word that has two or more consonants in a sequence. this can make words like "spoon" sound like "p-oon".
velar fronting, which is a complicated thing to describe, but essentially, it is replacing certain consonant sounds that require a certain tongue placement with other consonant sounds that require less effort to access. this can make words like "go" sound like "d-oe" or words like "cup" sound like "t-up".
final consonant deletion, which is exactly what it sounds like, not pronouncing the final consonant of a word. this can make words like "dad" sound like "da".
palatal fronting, which is essentially taking sounds like "sh" and "ch", and replacing them with a sound that is produced closer to the front of the mouth. this can make words like "sheep" sound like "seep", words like "chair" sound like "tair", and words like "bridge" sound like "brid".
there are more articulation errors than just these, but these are more common ones. now that we know a lot about articulation errors, let me tell you how to write them: don't. while for stuttering, it makes sense to write out the stutter, it's unnecessary and slightly offensive to write it out phonetically every single time a child makes an articulation error. instead, my recommendation is to only write it out occasionally, and to mention at a point in the story (not through speech) that the character has an articulation error. something else you can do is simplify the sound of the speech impediment, making it clear that there is one without writing out the exact phonetic errors. here is one bad and two good examples: -bad example:
"mama, my teef hurt! i don't wanna go to bed, i'm not tiohwd!" -good example #1:
"mama, my teeth hurt! i don't wanna go to bed, i'm not tired!"
four year old roman spoke with indignant sharpness, though he clearly struggled with pronouncing a lot of his syllables, leading to words that took a moment for virgil to decipher as he heard them.
-good example #2:
"mama, my 'teef' hurt! i don't wanna go to bed, i'm not tired!"
the key to articulation errors is subtlety. the issue with the bad example is that it sacrificed contextual clarity, flow, and respect. somebody who struggles with reading phonetics might not be able to understand that strangely written out version of the word "tired", and if somebody reading does struggle with articulation errors, seeing their struggles written out in such a way can come across as very offensive, especially when such articulation errors in the context of the story are seen as valid reason to infantilize or coo at a character for how "adorable and childish" they are. it's also just lazy. if the only sign that indicates that a character is a child is a written out articulation error, then you are not writing with specificity or respect.
the first good example is a lot better than the bad example, firstly because it doesn't sacrifice contextual clarity. anybody reading the story can clearly comprehend what the child is saying, and also has it explicitly spelled out for them that the child has articulation errors, so that part of the child's character is not sacrificed either. the only potential problem with it is that a fast reader could accidentally glaze over the explanation, but that is not the writer's responsibility, and a way to help prevent this issue is to mention the speech impediment periodically throughout the story.
the second good example is a good one as well, especially when combined with the first good example. not every word with errors is spelled differently, but the one word that is spelled differently is put in between apostrophes to symbolize that it is purposefully spelled wrong to imitate the sound of the articulation error. i would still be careful of overly offensive spellings, but for a simple error such as the one i wrote, it's a little less obnoxious, and it is clearly just a way to further express the impediment's existence.
i know it's a little complicated, and there's some gray area when it comes to what is or isn't offensive, but a good rule of thumb is to try and put yourselves in the shoes of someone with articulation errors. would you want to read something like this? does it make fun of or infantilize your impediment? or does it simply acknowledge its existence?
3 - other speech impediments
now, the first two types of speech impediments are the ones i went to the most detail to in this guide because they are the most common ones, and they are the most common ones that are written incorrectly. but there are other types of speech impediments that are less common, but i encourage you to research them anyway. i will be posting links at the bottom of this with all my sources, as well as some additional resources!
now, here are some other speech impediments that can be found in children:
-tongue-tie, aka: ankyloglossia. this is a condition that makes it difficult for children to move their tongues, in which the tongue is stuck to the roof of the mouth. it is a congenital condition (people are born with it), and there are different types of tongue-ties that create different difficulties. it doesn't affect speech as much as it affects the breastfeeding process, but it still affects speech considerably. speech therapy can help with tongue-tie, but sometimes, surgery is necessary.
-developmental verbal dyspraxia or apraxia. these two things are similar, but what makes them different is the severity. the cause of this impediment is unknown, but it is essentially when children know what they want to say, but they are physically unable to form the words. developmental verbal dyspraxia is having partial inability to speak with accuracy, while apraxia is the complete loss of the ability. this condition is quite rare, and it requires very intense therapy compared to other speech impediments.
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if you're still here, thank you for reading all of this and educating yourself about speech impediments! i hope this helps you on your writing journey! i am someone who had a lot of speech impediment issues as a child, and still continues to struggle sometimes with these things, so it means a lot that you plan to do research to make your interpretations of these struggles more respectful and accurate!
sources + additional resources:
speech impediments
stuttering
types of articulation errors
tongue-tie/ankyloglossia
developmental verbal dyspraxia and apraxia
my personal experience with speech impediments
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ariadnes-red-thread · 2 years
Text
In His Sights
Summary: As the Bad Batch’s medic, you’re used to seeing the details so you can pick up on changes in your boys. As the team’s sniper and an enhanced clone, Crosshair’s got the best vision of the batch. Somehow, neither of you can see what’s right in front of your faces.
Pairing: Crosshair x Reader, mentions of past Hunter x Reader
Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI!; Smut, PiV, AFAB Reader, Fingering, Swearing, Jealousy, Brief descriptions of wound and wound care
Word Count: 4823
A/N: My second published fic! I meant to start posting a Fives series that I’ve been working on but I had a dream about Crosshair two nights ago and came up with this in a fever pitch. It ended up being way longer and having far more plot/background than I intended - oops. What can I say? I’m a sucker for sexual tension, Idiots in Love aannd probably more than a little toxicity. Anyways, enjoy! 
Reaction to my first fic was more incredible than I ever anticipated or could ask for (thank you, thank you to everyone who read, loved, reblogged and commented on Promise Me!) but still feeling unsure if anyone will read this or if it even came out alright. It’s definitely the fastest I’ve ever written anything but into the tumblr void, we go! Feedback and comments always welcome :) 
Ao3
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“Stop drooling over Hunter.”
The voice comes from over your left shoulder. You don’t know when he had gotten there or how or even why he was watching you but you know exactly who it is.
“Cross, I promise you that was not what I was doing.” You snort without turning in the copilot’s chair that you’ve been curled up in for the last hour. “It’s been a long time since then.”
“Could have fooled me.” Crosshair sneers.
“Yeah, yeah.” You move on from his half-teasing, still not looking at the sniper as you try to assess your future patient from a distance. Through the viewport, you can see Hunter as he trudges with his three other brothers over sand dunes, trailing just a step behind them. You point to his right leg. “Look at how he’s walking. I think he’s hiding an injury again.”
You finally turn to Crosshair in time to watch him pick up his rifle and peer through his scope. Something in your stomach contracts as you watch the sniper press his eye to the glass and furrow his brow. The look he gets on his face when he’s focused… the furrowed brow, the shifting of the toothpick as his jaw clenches, the concentration in his amber eyes…. It does things to you. No time to think about that now though, even if it was a stone you were willing to unturn.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Crosshair shrugs as he lowers his rifle again. His tone matches his careless words but he’s frowning and you see his eyes still darting over his brother, assessing him for himself even now.
You huff. As the resident medic, the Bad Batch boys make your life difficult. Wrecker was constantly getting concussions or rupturing eardrums, Echo had vehemently rejected the idea of recovering peacefully and was always pulling atrophied muscles that needed more time to heal after his long capture on Skako Minor, Hunter refused to come see you when he was hurt, Tech wouldn’t even realize he was hurt, too absorbed in his projects to notice, and Crosshair… well, Crosshair was a different kind of problem. Medically, Cross was the least of your worries. He was methodical, measured and he knew when he needed a medic’s help. The problem was more on your end than anything else.
You’ve been with the Batch for almost two years now. It wasn’t long after they were sent out on their first mission that the higher-ups in the GAR and the Kaminoans realized that they needed a medic on the team. You were brought in halfway through your GAR civilian medic training. It seemed like ages ago and yesterday at the same time.
You could still remember the first meeting in detail. Wrecker pulled you into a rib-cracking hug immediately. Tech quizzed you, trying to understand why his own extensive medical knowledge wouldn’t suffice. Hunter had some questions as well but only because he wanted to make sure that his brothers were in the best hands. Crosshair had sat to the side while his brothers took turns grilling you and hugging you. When you finally turned to him, he simply nodded.
It wasn’t long after, a training session went wrong (or right, depending on how much regret you have in the moment that you’re reflecting on it) and you and Hunter found yourselves pressed up against each other in a storage closet. The fling continued for a few weeks but you both realized that, while the sex was great, the only feelings between you two were far closer to brother and sister than anything else. Any physical relationship died out pretty quickly after that. Your relationship with Hunter had been awkward for a few weeks as you tried to navigate new territory but it soon grew past the confines of your friends-with-benefits situation. He became your best friend and your closest confidant on the team. To their credit, Tech and Wrecker never mentioned it, both loving you enough that you were a part of the team, no matter what. You imagined Echo knew, likely having been told by one of his new brothers over shots of spotchka but he never let on. The only one who still brought it up was Crosshair. He continued to tease you about it, even years later. You always laughed it off as best you could. It was a stupid, rash decision to get involved with a coworker and, if that was the worst of the repercussions, you knew you should be grateful. Still, it had started to sting more over the last year and not for the reasons you expected.
In the last year, the sniper had begun to warm up to you and, as you’d gotten to know the sarcastic, stoic man better, you had unearthed some dangerous feelings. You found that Crosshair was far more protective than his callous exterior let on, always doing his own assessment of you and his brothers when you finished missions. You watched as he set aside your favorite rations bars and you loved his and Wrecker’s relationship, savoring how the bigger clone pulled a more playful side out of his younger brother. He started helping you with your weekly organization of your med kits, sorting out expired supplies and repacking bags. You were surprised how often you laughed with him, his cool sarcasm a welcome distraction to the dullness of the work.
It wasn’t always that way though. While all these moments had led to growing feelings for the sniper on your end, you still couldn’t tell what he thought of you. It seemed like every time you had a glimpse of the man you were falling in love with, he would withdraw and not speak to you for a day or he would make a comment about Hunter. It was confusing and it often hurt. Though he was not outwardly cold to you anymore, Crosshair had kept you at a distance since that first day when he wouldn’t speak a word to you.
So you push it all aside. You have bigger problems at hand than unrequited love anyways. You look back to the landscape outside the ship but, besides a vast desert terrain, the viewport is empty, meaning that while you were talking to the sniper, the rest of his brothers must have made their way towards the ship. They should be close now.
“Is the mission finished?” You ask Crosshair, who is settling himself into the pilot’s chair beside you.
“We’ll find out.” He folds his arms across his chest and leans back, closing his eyes as if he can finally rest. “I did my part.”
“Crosshair, he’ll never let me help him if there’s still work to be done.”
Crosshair opens one eye and then another. He looks over you before he raises an eyebrow. You realize you’re chewing on your nails, a tell-tale sign of your worry. Quickly, you drop your hand to your lap.
“It’s alright, mesh’la.” He says quietly, shifting his toothpick as he speaks. “We won’t let him hurt himself.”
Then he stands and disappears from the cockpit, as quickly and silently as he entered. You hear the bridge go down and then the voices of the rest of the Batch returning. You stay in your seat, eyes fixed on the sprawling, golden sands, but you listen for sounds of success. Wrecker’s thunderous words seem jubilant but it’s hard to tell with him. Echo and Techo are bickering and under all that, more softly, you hear Crosshair and Hunter exchange hushed words. The crowd disperses and you decide they must have succeeded as the clones seem to turn to their post-mission activities. A pair of footsteps makes their way towards the cockpit.
“Heard I’m being summoned to see the doctor.” A warm voice tickles your ears.
“You came to find me? This is a first,” You turn and smile brightly at your friend.
“Well, nothing like threats of bodily harm from a sniper to motivate me.” Hunter winks as he sits down in the now-empty pilot’s seat.
You notice a wince as he lowers himself. He’s definitely hurt.
“Alright, what happened?” You bring yourself to your knees on the ground in front of the Sergeant and begin to strip his leg of armor, not even thinking twice about it. You’ve stripped armor off of all these boys so often you could do it in your sleep.
“Commando droid.” He groans as he slides himself forward in the chair, giving you better access to his leg.
“How many missions ago?” You frown as you palpate his thigh. You can feel how warm the skin is through the fabric.
“Three.” He says with a grimace at your touch.
Without another word, you glare at him. At least he has the humility to look sheepish. You nod towards his lower half and he takes your signal to lift his hips up and strip his compression suit down to his knees, leaving Hunter in just his underwear.
“Fuck,” You swear at the clone. “It’s infected, you kriffing idiot.”
A vibroblade wound, about three inches long, sits in his groin. The commando droid found the perfect weakness in his armor. If it had been two inches lower, you know you wouldn’t be having this conversation with your friend right now. He would have bled out on the battlefield. You shiver at the thought before refocusing on your assessment. The wound is leaking and the skin around it is darkened and raised.
“Didn’t want to bother you with it.” Hunter grits his teeth as you press against the skin to see how far out the infection has grown.
“Hunter, you absolute moron of a martyr, it’s not a bother, it’s my job.” You sit back on your heels.
“I know, I know!” He throws his hands up in innocent protest, “You just do enough for us already. I don’t want to put more on your plate.”
“Like treating an infected wound that should have been just a few simple stitches?” You cock an eyebrow at him. “Not coming to me when you’re hurt creates more work.”
“Message received, ad’ika.” He sighs finally.
You get to work, opening the med pack that you had ready and waiting beside you, in case a call came for medic help. You usually didn’t go out on missions with the Batch, especially if the Marauder was close by. While you were trained with a blaster, you weren’t exactly a genetically enhanced clone and your presence would only slow down the seamless machine they became in the field. Instead, you would usually wait on the ship for a comm for help or for the team to get back and patch them up when they got there.
Digging through your supplies, you found a swab, saline, gauze, and a bacta patch. Hunter makes a face as you take a sample from his wound but he’s silent. You are gentle, despite the temptation to make sure he never did this again. Then, with a gloved hand, you pack the wound with saline-soaked gauze. It’s deeper than you realized and that makes you frown more. Finally, you cover it with a bacta patch, smoothing its seal over the wound with your gloved palm. You look up at Hunter.
“I’ll scan the sample and make sure we get you on the right antibiotics. As for this dressing, keep it covered when you shower and I’ll change it in two days. Don’t make me hunt you down in the middle of a mission to do it.” You smile at your patient.
“Sir, yes sir.” Hunter smiles back at you as he brings a hand on your shoulder. “Thank you.”
“A familiar position?” A voice sneers from the doorway.
You cringe, realizing the way you’re kneeling between Hunter’s legs and how your hand is still resting on his groin. You know it doesn’t mean anything. Closeness comes easy between you and Hunter and, as a medic, you have to be comfortable with your patients but it all suddenly feels suffocating. You snap your hand back and launch yourself to your feet. Then, fuming at the accusation, you spin your head towards the cockpit’s entrance, knowing who you’ll find there.
“Fuck you, Cross.” You spit the words out.
“Apologize now, Crosshair.” Hunter snaps at his brother, pulling his leg back underneath him.
“I told you to stop drooling.” Crosshair is leaning on the doorway, glaring at you with narrowed eyes. If you didn’t know better, his words sound almost angry.
“Fuck you.” You repeat, at a loss for anything else to say. Your cheeks are burning. “What do you want?”
“New mission in over the comms. We leave tomorrow.” He says to Hunter before he spins and leaves you both seething in silence.
You feel tears starting to well in your eyes. You drop back to the copilot’s chair, fists bunched at your side. You hear Hunter shuffle his body glove back up but you can’t bring yourself to look at him again. It feels stupid to get so upset over Crosshair’s words. Maybe if it were anyone else, you could ignore them but the fact that Crosshair thinks so little of you is a wound that you can’t patch up.
“Don’t worry about him.” You feel Hunter’s hand on your shoulder again as he leans forward in the chair.
“What’s his problem anyway?” You silently choke back the tears. “Every time I think we’re getting on okay, he has to do something like this.”
Hunter lets out a belly laugh, taking you aback. You finally look up at him and he can see your look of hurt and anger, stopping the laugh on his lips.
“Oh Maker, you really don’t know, do you?”
It’s mostly shock on Hunter’s face but you feel like you can detect a flash of glee at your puzzled look. He may be the oldest but he is still a brother, after all. He sighs, clearly trying to push his urge to pick on both you and his fuming younger brother aside. As it almost always does, Hunter’s maturity wins out. You brace yourself for the truth. He hates you. He always has. Any good moments have all been in your head. He couldn’t stand you from the second he met you. You fill in the blanks for him as the seconds tick by.
“He’s in love with you, ad’ika.”
“WHAT?”
It takes at least five minutes for you to calm down and another five for you to stop protesting. Hunter is patient with you through all of it.
You stay in the cockpit deep into the night, watching as the distant stars appear in the night sky, glowing bright as suns in the darkness of the desert. You’ve wrecked yourself going back and forth on what to do about Crosshair. Hunter convinced you that the sniper does have feelings for you and that has given you space to examine your own. You realize you have fallen for the quiet man but it still feels complicated. He pushes you away, playing with you to relieve his own emotional constipation. It burns to realize this and anger simmers in your gut.
There’s nothing to be done about it now though and you finally feel sleep creeping up on you. You stand to head back to your room, wrapping a soft blanket that Hunter had left you with over your shoulders. You stop in your tracks as a silhouette steps into the cockpit. You jump and lose your grip on the blanket. It tumbles to the ground around your feet as your pulse races. Your eyes take heart-thumping seconds to adjust from the bright starlight to the shadows of the ship. When they finally do, you realize the intruder is none other than Crosshair, dressed only in his black compression suit, the republic cog on his chest watching you like the crosshair tattooed on his eye.
“What do you want?” Your greeting is cold.
“I’m sorry.”
His silky voice is made for the shadows, you think, as the quiet apology makes its way to your ears. He sounds genuine but you’ve been thinking about your relationship with him for too long to accept something so simple.
“No.”
“What?” Even through the dark, you see his eyes go wide in surprise.
“Your sorry is bullshit. You always do this. You push me away. I’m tired of chasing after you. I don’t want a sorry.” Your voice cracks as the emotions pour out of you. You need to hear him admit it. “Tell me, Crosshair. Tell me why you’re an asshole to me.”
You can see Crosshair purse his lips, teeth gritted on the toothpick. He never would. You sigh. It’s stupid and hopeless to think that he would see you, see what you wanted. See you as anything more than a game.
“You think you can play with me like this? You think you get to be sweet to me in one moment and a dick in the next?” You start in again, his silent denial making you even madder than before. “I know how you feel about me. About your feelings for me.”
If you thought he was going to deny it, the look that washes over his face instantly wipes away any idea of that. He’s gaping at you as if you slapped him. Then his eyes dart to the floor. He looks more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen him.
“Congratulations, you figured it out.” He finally speaks, his satin voice low and measured even as the edges begin to seep with anger. “Been in love with you since the moment you stepped on Kamino but you were too busy making heart eyes with Hunter to see it. There? You happy now?”
“Crosshair,” You start.
“Don’t.” He’s sneering now, still not looking at you. “I don’t want your pity.”
“You think you get my pity?” Any empathy quickly dissipates and you find yourself seething again. You advance on the sniper. “I’ve been wondering for almost two years if you hate me and now I find out that you’ve been in love with me? Who do you think you are, playing games like this?”
You’re fuming now. You press a finger into his chest and step towards him. His eyes snap to yours as he takes a step backwards.
“Stop it now.” He warns as he strips his toothpick from his mouth and flicks it over your shoulder.
“You stupid, stubborn man.” You keep stepping into him, driving your finger into the cog on his chest with every step. He keeps backing away.
“Stop it.” His voice is lower now as he’s almost backed against the wall.
“All this time, you toy with me while I—”
“STOP”
He grabs your wrist and spins you around. You land against the cool durasteel, your arm pinned to the wall just above you by his hand still gripping your wrist. The suddenness of the movement causes your next words to come out in a breathless whisper.
“— fall in love with you.”
Crosshair freezes. His eyes dart over your form, looking to detect any signs of deceit. You feel your face flush bright, both at his closeness and at your confession. Finally, he speaks in the softest hiss.
“If you mean that, say it again. Otherwise, don’t you dare.”
You don’t hesitate.
“I love you.”
He doesn’t hesitate either. As soon as the last syllable leaves your lips, he’s latching on to them. The kiss is angry and bruising but he lets go of your wrist and you feel one hand grip your hip and another snake its way through your hair. As he gently tugs on your locks, you moan. He enters your mouth at the sound, tongue battling your own as if fighting for the very oxygen you’re breathing. He tastes like wood and spice, warm and sweet and the opposite of anything you’ve ever imagined he would. You want to drink him. He must feel the same way because he presses his body to yours. You keen against him as he tugs your hips up into him. The motion makes him rut and you feel his hardening length press against you. A rush of excitement coarse through you.
Crosshair breaks away from the kiss, pulling back so he can see you. His eyes are a spark in the darkness, a fire burning from within him. Heavy breaths fall from his lips, grazing your face. He lingers close to you, knowing he has something to say but barely able to hold himself back long enough to say it. The hand that had wrapped its way into your hair moves to your jaw. He gently traces along your cheek with his thumb.
“Mesh’la, are you sure?” Crosshair purrs, his thumb trailing its way to your lower lip.
“Been sure.” You reply breathlessly.
He nods and then steps back and turns away from you. Before you can even wonder at the movement, he grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers with his long one, and tugs you behind him. He pulls you to his room, quickly shutting the door behind you both and sweeping you back into his arms.
“Say you’re mine.” His voice is hushed and he looks you over with eyes clouded in lust.
“I’m yours, Crosshair.”
His lips finally find yours again and you sigh in relief. The kiss is every bit as hungry as it was in the cockpit. You need to feel him again, and this time, you need more. You bring your hands down to the hem of his shirt and tug at his top. He understands the signal and gladly sheds his upper layer, breaking the kiss for only a moment before returning to you. You know what he looks like without his shirt on. You’ve seen it a thousand times. But this? To be pressed up against him and savor the warmth of his skin, to be able to run your hands over his lithe muscles and find your way to his broad shoulders, built from years of maneuvering his high-powered rifle? This is heaven.
Crosshair begins trailing kisses down your neck. He slowly bites and nips his way along your jawline, mapping out a route to your ear.
“Mine.” He whispers as he sucks your earlobe between his teeth.
You hear the hissing sound of a zipper and realize that, while you were distracted by his lips, his hands have found the front of your jumpsuit. You smile, biting your own lip in anticipation. He undresses you slowly, one hand methodically tugging at the zipper while the other pushes the clothing away from your shoulder. Crosshair follows along with his lips, kissing and sucking on each new bit of skin that reveals itself to him. You know you will be covered in marks. The idea of looking in the mirror tomorrow and seeing them, seeing his marks on you, sends a wave of excitement to your core. He unzips your jumper totally and steps back long enough for you to step out of your clothing. He holds on to one hand to steady you.
Crosshair stares as you stand before him in only your binder and your underwear, just the one hand held out, still clasped to yours. His stillness has always been an advantage as a sniper. He could perch for hours in one spot and wait without tiring. Now, instead of enemy terrain, he takes in you. Instead of the fury you’ve seen on the battlefield, he looks serene. His brow is soft and without lines. His eyes are wide and lust blown. His chest, built and covered with a light scattering of gray hair over his tan skin, moves up and down in slow rhythmic breaths. He is a man in awe.
Finally he moves, tugging you towards him as he steps backwards. He pulls you to the bed. He lowers himself down to sit on it and pulls you into his lap. Right away, you feel his hard length and you realize how wet you are as you press your damp panties against him. You latch on to his lips as you moan at the sensation. Your brain is starting to short-circuit as his lithe fingers trail up your sides and begin to unwrap you from your binder. More fabric falls to the floor. The delicate skin of your breasts instantly pebbles as the cool night air wraps around you. Crosshair’s deft hands find your sensitive nipples. He twists and pinches, making your nipples round even more and your breath hitch in his mouth. He breaks your kiss to bring his mouth down to your left breast. He takes your nipple in his mouth, drawing circles around it with his tongue and grazing it gently with his teeth.
“Crosshair.”
His name leaves your lips in a whisper and he flashes a small, smug smile up as he turns to dote on the next breast. You begin to move your hips against him, aching for more. He hisses at the friction, bringing a hand to your hair again and tugging you down to meet his lips. His other hand drifts back down your ribs and to the hem of your panties. He dips his fingers below the fabric, grazing along your soaking opening. His kiss becomes hungrier as he feels how wet you are at his touch. It’s sloppy now, teeth and tongues clashing as you try to consume each other. You meet him kiss for kiss until one finger slides up into you. You gasp at the sensation and press your forehead to his. He adds another finger, slowly thrusting up into you. You move against him. His fingers are already a stretch but you are still hungry for more.
It seems Crosshair is too as he pulls his fingers from you. In the next motion, he turns over, pulling you into bed with him. He slides your panties down your legs and discards them somewhere over his shoulder. He strips himself of his lower body glove and underwear.
For a moment, he hovers over you. He pumps himself, your wetness on his fingers mixing with his precum. His length is long, thick, and almost painfully hard. He pauses for a moment, looking down at you with the same concentration with which he stares through his scope.
“I’ve always been yours.” Crosshair whispers as he slots himself against you.
He leans down to capture your lips as he enters you. You moan into him at the stretch. He takes his time, letting you adjust as he slowly pushes in inch by inch. Finally, he’s fully slotted in you, pressed against your cervix. Stillness finds him again and he waits, breathing heavy against your neck. You feel the stretch turn from painful to pleasure and you begin to move your hips against his. He inhales deeply as he pulls himself from you almost fully.
Then Crosshair unleashes himself on you. He begins to thrust mercilessly, pounding deep into you so you can feel every inch of him and he can reach every corner of you. Your hands scramble for purchase on his muscled shoulders, dragging nail marks along them that you have a feeling he will wear proudly tomorrow. You’ve never felt so full in your life and you know, in that moment, that you will never feel complete again without him. His hand finds its way to your clit and you begin to squirm from overstimulation. He holds his thumb there though, pressing small circles into your sensitive numb. Flashes of light begin to explode across your vision as the coil in your stomach tightens. You call out his name as you begin to shake. He holds you to him, wrecking you with his cock as he moves to pull your orgasm from you.
The coil doesn’t snap - it shatters. You stiffen, digging your fingers into his arms as the world goes white for a moment as you cry out, euphoric. Crosshair thrusts one - two - three more times. He groans your name into your ear as his hot cum fills you up.
He collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. Any remaining energy finds his way to his fingers where he grips like you're about to run away. After your breathing has slowed, the coma of bliss has passed and you’ve both cleaned yourself off, you find yourself in bed pressed against Crosshair again. You’re still naked, arms and legs entertwined. His eyes are closed as he holds you with one arm across your back, pressing you to his chest. His other hand runs through your hair. You pepper small kisses along his bronze chest. It feels like a dream. A moment of doubt, lingering from all of your brooding crosses over your mind, like a shadow.
“This is real, right? You aren't going to go cold tomorrow?” You ask Crosshair, tilting your head up towards him.
“No, I've got you in my sights now.” He presses his lips to yours. “Nothing gets away.”
405 notes · View notes
ramzawrites · 2 years
Text
Frustrated - A chat between Reader and Rise!Leo
GN
Pairings: none, can be read as Rise!Leo x Reader but wasn’t intended
Characters included: Leonardo
Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE ROTTMNT MOVIE
Series: No
Summary: Y/N is frustrated after getting wounded during their last mission, so they flee the med-bay to work through that frustration only to be caught by Leonardo.
Words count: 2086
Authors Note: I really got back into TMNT, specifically ROTTMNT and this is my first try at writing something for it, mainly just to test the waters I suppose since I haven’t written anything in so long. I apologize for any typos, I haven’t read it through much since it’s like 1am!
A bandaged fist flies down on a mannequin’s chest. The mannequin was wrapped in soft material so it wouldn’t hurt too much when using one’s fists. Only the face was free from any kind of material since it sported a painted-on face. Furrowed red brows and a scowl to show off that this was supposed to represent an enemy, curtesy by none other than Michelangelo and a Casey Jones. The mannequin was suspended between the floor and ceiling so it would only react slightly to the applied force. This mannequin is primarily used when an instructor teaches others where to hit and where the weakest points are on a humanoid body but right now (Y/N) used it as a punching bag.
They could have gotten out a proper punching bag but the wounds they sustained from the previous fight made it difficult for them to carry heavy things and asking someone else to get one out wouldn’t have worked either because those worrywarts would have just told them to get back into the infirmary.
So, punching the mannequin it was.
(Y/N) got hurt on the last supply run, luckily it wasn’t too bad but the medic who looked over them still thought it was best to assign them some bed rest which meant no missions for them in the meanwhile. Now this, they didn’t like. Ever since the apocalypse doing nothing just felt wrong. Laying around and doing nothing was just a waste of time, there was always something to do! Look over the weapons, check the perimeter, look for a backup safehouse, gather supplies, gather intel, have a look at enemy movements, try to get into contact with more secluded survivor cells, take care of the kids, train, train others and so much more.
So, to lay around and wait until the wounds healed up properly was just frustrating! Especially whenever the others in the hideout would try to basically tie them down on the uncomfortable stretcher in the med bay.
Okay, fair (Y/N) might be a liability on missions outside at the moment but surely, they could help with some maintenance!
Apparently not though. Hence the frustration and hence why (Y/N) was in the training area at the moment, punching a mannequin. Trying to fuel the frustration into the punches in order to clear their head.
The training area, or dojo as some called it, was hidden a way a bit so that when people were training with weapons there was a smaller chance that on lookers might get hurt. This also meant that it’d probably give (Y/N) a few minutes alone punching before anyone noticed that they fled the med-bay once again.
“Are you sure you should be here?”
(Y/N) huffed, well this happened way too early for their liking. They would have preferred to get a few more minutes in, so all they did was ignore the familiar voice and get a few more punches in.
The person chuckled, this time it came from somewhere closer to them but still behind them.
“Should I call doc over because you know if I do, he will tie you down for real this time, (Y/N).”
With a groan (Y/N) dropped their fists to their sides and turned around to finally face Leonardo who just looked at them amused. He had his one arm crossed in front of his chest, his artificial arm was off, probably laying in his private quarter or one of the mechanics was looking over it again.
Raising one eyebrow (Y/N) looked up at the tall turtle mutant and lightly punched his arm “Well do it, I won’t go down without a fight though!”
Leo knew (Y/N) was too hurt and exhausted to really fight them off should he get the doc while (Y/N) knew that Leo could relate to (Y/N) and would rather try to solve the situation differently if possible.
“Oh, really? Even though I am just a concerned friend looking out for his stubborn friend? You’d be that mean?”
(Y/N) didn’t miss a beat, didn’t hesitate when they replied immediately with a dry “Yep.” Making sure to really pop the p at the end of the word.
“You are the worst.” Leo scoffed, his face contorted in a over the top sad expression. His bottom lip jutted out and quivering as if he was about to cry here and there.
But (Y/N) was already way too intimate with this routine and just rolled their eyes.
With this Leo’s expression returned to be more serious again, though his eyebrow was still raised in a silent question “What is up?”
(Y/N) sighed and sat down on the mat they were standing on at the moment. An embarrassed blush appeared on their face when they had to slow down with sitting down when their limbs screamed out in pain at their sudden movement.
They were sure that Leo noticed but he made no comment on it, instead he followed suit and sat cross legged in front of his friend.
“Frustrated?” he asked.
“Oh, so frustrated!” (Y/N) yelled while throwing their arms out in order to reinforce their point. Once again this was a stupid idea since their right shoulder immediately reminded them that yes, they did fall a good few feet right on top of it when they were running away from Krang-Bots.
Leo nodded, once again ignoring how (Y/N) was recoiling in pain “Well, I understand that. I too hate to be bedridden and not doing anything useful.”
“But?”
“You did take multiple falls down a building ending with you landing straight on your nose, if I recall correctly.”
They groaned “This is why I don’t want to go out on errands with you, I can’t lie my way out of this.” A smirk appeared on their face, showing that this was clearly meant to be a joke, so it did surprise them when Leo still had his serious expression on. Not even a twitch to show his amusement.
Oh, he wasn’t their friend right now, he was “fearless leader Leo” right now.
This whole ordeal must have scared Leo more than they initially realized. (Y/N) definitely realized that this whole thing could have ended differently and that they had been damn lucky, they just didn’t take the time to really think about it.
Back when it happened, they had been just in survival mode and pumped full of adrenaline that they managed to get up to run a bit more before they crashed again due to their dizziness and pain. How they didn’t break any bones was still a miracle to them. Guess it did help that they basically fell down a floor, hit the ground, slid off and fell to the next floor which went on for a few more floors.
To that (Y/N) was a master at trying to make everything more lighthearted than it really was. After all the very first thing they said when they woke up in the med-bay again was “I really Tom and Jerry’d that one, huh?”
It was an attempt to make the doctor who looked them over laugh, but it didn’t work. All it earned them was a scowl. Sure, they wore a mask but (Y/N) could tell by the eyes. They are still pretty positive that if Mikey or Leo were in the room they would have laughed.
Then again, seeing how Leo reacted right now they weren’t so sure anymore. Mikey would have though, maybe. Probably.
“Well, it wasn’t… I went through worse, and you know that.”
“(Y/N)-“ Leo began in an exasperated tone only to stop and rub his face tiredly for a second.
This made (Y/N) wince, not expecting the reaction, also not used to people being genuinely worried for them like this. You would think after years of working together to survive you would get the hint at some point that your friends genuinely care for you, but the brain is weird thing, isn’t it?
“Do I have to list off all your injuries right now? Like your concussion! Your spine got hurt pretty bad as well! Honestly, I’m kind of impressed you managed to get up and walk around and even deal with throwing punches but that doesn’t really make it better! Just- Man, we are worried, and we need you and frankly you walking around doing whatever just prolongs this as well for you!”
It sucked when Leo made good points.
(Y/N) bit down on their lip as they listened, nodding to show they understand “I- I know. Just, sitting around feels so unbelievably wrong. There is always so much to do around here and laying around just… It’s difficult. I don’t know when I have nothing to do it feels like I’m forgetting something and my anxiety spikes. In a weird way it feels like I’m getting blind in some regard. Maybe it’s just the fact that I slowly get out of loop whenever I don’t constantly help around in the base. I like to know what is going on around here.”
This time Leo nodded, showing he understood them. After all (Y/N) was kind of the person for everything in the base. Sure, they weren’t amazing with machinery, but they knew where to get certain parts or knew who could get out to get them for example. The heads of the different divisions and even cells started to approach them whenever they couldn’t get ahold of Leo or Mikey. Over time they have kind of become Leo’s right hand and helped organize the survivors. They even took it on their shoulders to teach the young kids a few things since, before the apocalypse, they wanted to become a teacher.
Everyone knew (Y/N) was always busy at all times but still they somehow managed to take time for you if you needed it. It even became a thing people discussed; How does (Y/N) manage to do so much and still find time in between?
The easy answer? Good organizational skills but no, that was too easy for the people. Mikey is still convinced that (Y/N) had a few clones running around. Something that (Y/N) liked to lean into because the thought seemed funny to them. Talking with someone only to run around in the base, come back and act like they haven’t talked to that person yet.
“I get that. Man, you are such a workaholic.”
(Y/N) chuckled at that “Says you? Mister fearless leader?”
Leo sighed “No, but seriously. You gotta rest. If you rest now and do as you are told, then you will be up and about in no time but if you keep getting up and doing whatever then this will take even longer. We were seriously worried about you when we saw you getting tackled and falling down. Scared the ever-living hell out of me. You were so incredibly lucky, did you know that? You could have easily cracked, something or- or everything, really. And I really need your help here. You have skills that I don’t have and I wouldn’t know what to do if you are suddenly out of commission, I’ll be honest.”
“I know. I’ll just… Can I at least rest in my quarters then? There I have my books and so on. Gives me something to do.”
“I’m sure we can arrange that.” Leonardo smiled fondly. He knew very well that (Y/N) had already read through all their books a couple of times.
“Well then, time for bed!”
Leo slapped his hand down on his knee once before he got up. He then stretched his hand out to help (Y/N) who got up really slowly this time, trying not to upset their limbs and dizzy head more than they already had.
“Okay, old-timer.” Leo whispered under his breath as he pulled them along but (Y/N) still heard that.
(Y/N) gasped out with a mock flabbergasted expression, lightly slapping Leo’s shoulder “How dare you good sir! I am younger than you!”
“Yeah, only by a few months though.”
Both snickered for a moment. Things were always dark and dangerous so to have someone you could lightly joke around with was nice to have. If you asked either of them, they would even say it’s necessary.
“How bad is the pain?”
“Manageable”
“I’ll ask doc if they have some painkillers they can give you.”
“That’s appreciated, nurse Leo.”
“You are correct! I’m your nurse now, so you better listen to me when I tell you that you need bedrest, ya dingus.”
“Yeah, yeah. I gotcha.”
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cammslush · 11 months
Note
Plot twist for the venti one-shot: (y/n) always put blood in the sweets because she is just as crazy as him. It was just this time that there was more than intended because of the accident. She can't see him physically but can 'give' a bit of herself every time she makes sweets. It's her way of showing Venti that she is always with him. ;)
(Sorry if this was too much, you can ignore if you like.)
Sorry this took like forever to answer! I was really busy so I hope you didn't think I ignored it
I like this idea a lot, you can imagine it to be canon to the series ✌️
(also there is a cameo of a certain person you might eventually read as in another part of the series but you didn't hear that from me.)
-----
Content warning(s): Yandere themes (unhealthy obsession), mentions of injury, mentions of cannibalism
Let me know if I missed anything.
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"This song is dedicated to my bestest friend who has always supported me and the rest of 6REEZE! I love you!"
Your smile couldn't grow any wider, your heart couldn't stop beating, and your face couldn't cool down, as you watched from the audience. Nobody knows who Venti is talking about, except you.
You couldn't be happier, knowing he said those words.
He…loves you? Of course, it could've just meant the general 'I love you' anyone says to anyone they show appreciation to, but…
You had to suppress the urge to shout out "I love you too!", knowing that you were in a crowd filled with so many 6REEZE fans and devotees, surely you probably would be killed on the spot. You know, getting killed right where you stand — after confessing to your beloved best friend — that seems satisfying enough. At least he would've heard you.
...
It was the intermission, and everyone went off to the concert lobby for a little breather after a long hour of cramped spaces and glowstick waving. You, on the other hand, carried a small plate of sweetly addicting macarons that you just made today, marching towards the VIP breakroom.
You got a bit too carried away while making these ones. The knife cut a bit too deep—
Into the macarons, of course! Definitely not anywhere near your arm. That is definitely not the reason why you can't bake anything until the wounds heal. All of these bandages covering both of your arms…
...Perhaps there's no reason for the truth to be covered up. When you say you put in a lot of blood, sweat and tears into the desserts you make for Venti, you really mean it literally — only the first part, of course.
It's only fair, right? You're only giving him a drop of you every time, because the confines of being an idol don't allow him to spend time with you anymore, and you've been friends since childhood! How dare there be a barrier between the two of you?! You're only this close to convincing Venti to take a permanent hiatus from being an idol.
If that doesn't work, then fine! You could chop off your whole arm and serve it up to him instead, no problem! Anything, for you to be with him. You can't stand the fact that you're only one person in that large crowd, in which many people probably also like Venti too!
Do they send him sweets every day? Do they send lightly perfumed handwritten letters congratulating his successful performance all the time? No they don't.
Even if they did — who's gifts would Venti gladly take, and who's will he coldly reject?
That's right. His heart should only be big enough for you.
"Hello there, miss! You're one of the managing staff for 6REEZE, right?" Near the VIP room, you found another person walking around, as if frantically searching for something. Hey, they almost look like you…
"Um, I'm sorry, but I'm just one of their makeup artists. I-I'm trying to find something so I have no time, maybe ask Jean instead–" the poor makeup artist was only met with a plate of macarons in their face.
"Great! After you find what you're looking for, could you give this plate to Venti? And if you can, could you serve it on the prettiest tray you have? Thanks!"
"I..." The makeup artist seemed reluctant, but by then, you were already on your merry way back to the concert lobby with a big smile on your face.
"Oh…If only that cheeky bastard didn't hide my brush, I wouldn't have had to deal with this…" the makeup artist lamented.
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aoibhinnslater04 · 11 months
Text
Kanej AU
The scene (specifically from the series rather than the books but basically the bathroom scene) where Nina doesn’t interrupt them and Kaz doesn’t decide to sabotage himself
Basically a whole load of Kanej angst!!
Word count: 1697
Requested by @arany-studio
TW: mentions of rape, trauma, injuries
Kaz walked into the small room to find Inej packing her knives. He saw her pause at the sound of his steps, her head tilting slightly towards him, before she resumed sorting her knives. 
"You've been lying low?" he asked, his voice rough. 
"I've been gathering Intel on Pekka's assassin. I've discovered my bladesmith supplies him with bone-cutters and fillet knives," she responded, still not looking at him. 
"Taxidermy tools," Kaz choked out. 
"His name's Mogens. I've got his address,"
"That must have cost you."
Inej cut him off. "A new set of blades." She paused before continuing. "He intends on taking me alive, so he can put me back in the Menagerie."
"I won't let that happen," Kaz said gruffly. 
"And why should I believe you?" Inej asked, sharply, turning to face him at last. "We were ambushed, Kaz. Whatever this is, this blood feud you have with Pekka Rollins, I don't believe it's about some Saints-forsaken club! You are gambling with our lives and I deserve to know the reason! You owe me that much," she spat out, the first time Kaz had truly seen her angry. She always managed to find something positive about every situation, even being taken by slavers, sold to a Menagerie where she was abused and raped nearly every day, because her parents and brother weren’t there with her, they were safe, they were alive. Suddenly a bright red staining her sleeve caught Kaz's eye. 
"Inej, your arm," he whispered, his eyes fixed on the blood spilling out of her. She paused and glanced down, before sighing and rolling her eyes. She seemed to whisper a silent prayer for patience before removing her shirt, leaving her with just a vest on. She checked the bandage, before removing it, wincing.  Kaz looked away, unable to bear it, before finally answering her question. 
"Pekka Rollins killed my brother."
He felt Inej stiffen slightly, and heard her turn to face him. There was a long moment of silence, as she searched his half-hidden face, before finding whatever it was she was looking for. 
"Then we destroy him."
Kaz turned his head quickly up to face her, and saw the openness and anger in her face. She meant it, too. They shared a look, a brief moment where they were both just two people in pain, where they could get comfort from each other, before Inej winced again, and the moment shattered. She glanced once more at her arm, before turning away from Kaz again, reaching for the alcohol to disinfect the wound. She poured some on a piece of linen, and started dabbing at it, twisting her neck to make sure she was reaching every bit of the exposed cut. Kaz, hardly even aware of his own body, moved towards her. She glanced up at him, her beautiful doe eyes searching his face, before she turned to the cut again. Kaz reached out his hand silently, an offer. With her eyes now again on his face, not moving, as if hypnotised, she handed him the cloth. He wasn't able to remove his gloves, not yet, but he hadn't  been so close to another human being since Jordie had died. 
Inej saw his momentary hesitation, and turned away from him, allowing him to move at his own rate. He reached towards her, dabbing at the wound with the cloth. He heard her breathing hitch slightly, and kept dabbing, not wanting to break the spell by speaking. But then Inej spoke, her words soft and hesitant. 
"Is there anyone to protect you?"
You, Inej. You. 
But instead he responded, slightly harsh, "Was there no one to protect you?"
Inej turned to look at him, her face soft and vulnerable. She opened her mouth, but he cut her off before she could say a word. 
"Look for Mogens' tells. Signs of an old injury that point to a weakness or a repeating action that tells you what he's going to do next."
He saw her face turn contemplative, before she asked hesitantly, "Do I have one?"
He turned his head back to her soft brown skin, before responding "you shift your weight onto your back leg before you lunge. "
She turned fully, facing him again. He stepped back slightly, cursing himself inwardly. She whispered, so softly he could barely hear her. "What's yours?"
Kaz paused, before looking her in the eye. "The limp. The cane. No one's ever smart enough to look for the real one."
Inej moved slightly, just an inch towards her. It was as though his senses were heightened. He smelt her gentle jasmine scent, saw her lips slightly parted, heard her soft breathing, felt her gentle touch as she recovered the cloth he forgot he still held, and all he could think about was her nearness. He hadn't so much as removed a single glove, but he felt as vulnerable as though she had stripped him naked. 
Kaz cleared his throat before stepping back, grabbing the fresh roll of bandages off the bench. Inej obediently turned away again, allowing him to take a deep breath. The silence was killing him, and he spoke without thinking. 
“You know, I don’t find this part easy. The cutting, the slicing, causing pain is the easy part. Repairing the damage afterwards is far more difficult.”
He wondered if she knew that he wasn’t talking about her wound, then, not really. He was trying to explain that although he was broken, he was trying to repair himself, trying to fix the cracks to become the sort of man she would be proud of, that Jordie would be proud of. 
Inej let out a deep breath, sending strands of her dark hair fluttering outwards. Kaz reached out automatically, smoothing her hair down against her head. She stiffened, and so did Kaz, that brief moment of automatic affection an oddity to both. But Kaz then again, feeling almost dizzy with desire, allowed himself to gently stroke her hair. His gloves were still on, a barrier that separated them, but as he felt Inej relax at his touch, he allowed himself to want more, to want Inej. Perhaps one day she might want him too.
Inej cleared her throat, bringing back reality. “Once, when I was much younger, the first time that I tried to walk across the tightrope, I fell. Not when I was on the wire, but at the end, can you imagine? I fell, and hadn’t yet learned how to fall properly. My parents ran to me, but I didn’t feel the pain. I think I was in shock.”
Kaz waited, sure she had a point to this story.She hesitated, before continuing.
“I broke my leg in three different places. My mother thought I might never walk again. My leg healed, but some scars still remained. I couldn’t walk on the tightrope for months, fearing what would happen when I reached the end.”
She turned to face him now, causing him to step back.
“Finally I decided enough was enough. I had been afraid for too long. So everyday for three weeks, instead of walking across the tightrope, I would climb the ladder and just stand at the end. I stood there for an hour that first day, until I had calmed enough to climb down. The second day, I stood there for forty five minutes. Finally, I was only standing there for a few seconds. It took a long time, and the end is still my least favourite part, but I fought against my fears and won.”
She stepped closer to him, and this time he didn’t move back.
“You will fight your fears Kaz Brekker, and then one day you will live without the same fear. It might still hurt occasionally, but you are stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
Kaz looked down at her, his face soft, open and vulnerable. Inej looked straight back up at him, her eyes wide and searching, waiting. Kaz bent down slightly towards her, and brushed his lips slightly against her forehead in the gentlest kiss. Her eyes shuttered closed briefly, the softest sound escaping her throat, but she didn’t move. She allowed Kaz to tell her without words what he was capable of, what was too far and yet not enough. She allowed the broken man before her to fix a small, fractured piece of himself, before she stepped back, quivering slightly. She was feeling everything all at once, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her. But she stayed steady, and breathed, like she was at the end of the wire once again. Kaz gazed at her, his expression full of wonder, like a young boy, his future full of possibilities. 
She turned, so he wouldn’t see the tears that had filled her eyes, and grabbed a hairbrush, unpinning her plait to rebraid it. But he held out his hand, and said, softly, gruffly, as if he, too, was fighting back unshed tears, “Let me.”
Inej handed him the brush, and climbed onto the small bench in front of him, and as Kaz began to gently brush her hair, untangling the knots with such care it was as though he thought she might break at the slightest tug. Inej allowed, then, the tears to fall. She didn’t see that Kaz, too, had tears trickling down his cheeks. 
She let out a deep breath, she didn’t realise she had been holding, shuddering slightly, and allowed her eyes to shut for a moment. It had been so long since she had slept, and she had never felt so tired, as if her emotions had drained her more than usual. Her body swayed slightly, but then felt Kaz steady her. He gently laid her back onto the bench, and she felt him move away. She thought he had gone, but then heard his uneven steps return. She felt the softness and warmth of a blanket cover her, and felt him gently lift her head to put a pillow underneath. 
“I thought you had left me,” she whispered, her voice heavy with sleep.
“Never,” he vowed. “I will never leave you.”
And then Inej fell asleep, guarded by the healing man above her, his dark eyes keeping watch, protecting her from anything that meant her harm.
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