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#i change hair color every three month but wear the same clothes for years.........maybe i am insane after all
no-droids · 3 years
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gif credit: @javier-pena
Part Eighteen of the Rough Day Series
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 19.5K
Warnings: SMUT, religion kink (maybe?), squirting, consensual stalking/pursuing, canon-typical violence, mention of underage drinking, uhh I believe that’s it but as always, let me know if I’ve forgotten anything please!
A/N: Hey yall!!!  So I know this chapter has been a long time coming and though I’m not completely satisfied with it, I hope it brings a little happiness to you for an hour or two while you read!  School has been kicking my ass and I’ve been in a bit of an emotional slump recently, but I pulled a few all-nighters to post this on time and it’s finally finished!  Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me and sent me encouraging words over the past month or so, I hope you enjoy the end of the Sanctuary arc💕
Also like last time, part 2 of my collaboration with @followwhereshegoes will be posted after the chapter!!  As a reminder, sweet girl is a reader insert and every imagining of her will be different—this is Lisa’s interpretation of her and her artwork is absolutely gorgeous, so please go give her a follow!
Day 5–11:13am:
You zone out again in the early morning, but that happens a lot.  Din always keeps you up so late, all the time, and without any caf here, the rising sun just makes your eyes droop instead of flutter brighter and wider.  You helped a bunch of younglings find their way into their robes when it was still dark out, tying sashes and fitting masks while holding back your yawns.  The walk into Nariss is close to three hours, probably more with all these tiny little legs, and you almost forget to change into your new digs before everyone grabs breakfast.
Even though your ragtag entourage leaves for Nariss just as soon as everyone finishes eating, you don’t reach the city until nearly lunchtime.  Mostly because the kids walk about as fast as the elderly holy women chaperoning the trip.  You and Naydee lag behind the group, forcing yourself to meander slow as fuck when you nearly sprinted this same exact path just a few days ago.  On the way there, you listen to children of all sorts sing happily as they walk, chatter about their excitement for the parade, complain about wearing the fabric mask they made themselves, and more than once, somebody takes a tumble onto the ground and is left in teary sniffles and dirt stained clothes.  Likely for this reason, the robes are designed to be two pieces—a long tunic with a hood and a separate pants portion to prevent tripping instead of a draping skirt, but the smallest ones are clumsy and find a way to fall anyways.
It’s a colorful bunch—a chaotic rainbow of babies running around, and you share easy conversation with your new friend about the plans for the day until she asks something that makes you nearly trip and join the dirty robe club.
“Sister Drya said your family is meeting you in the city,” she tells you, ignoring your immediate subtle toe stub and the awkward shuffle you have to do to make up for it.  “There’s going to be lots of people downtown, I’m worried it might be hard for them to find you.”
Your heart thuds in your chest and you feel a bit short of breath at being abruptly confronted with the need to lie, but at the same time, you kind of love it.  Having a secret, hiding the truth from others, and just the reminder that you’re almost guaranteed to see Din and the baby before midnight pours warmth and tingles through your tummy.  Everything together is a hit of spice, filling you with a kind of excitement that used to be foreign to you.  Having fun, experiencing new things isn’t quite over yet, but home is calling and you miss it with every fiber of your being.
“I don’t think so,” you eventually respond, hoping she can see your kind smile and the sentiment it carries even as light, shimmery fabric wraps right around your mouth.  “If I disappear, you’ll know why.”
Naydee’s eyes crinkle in the corners to match yours.  “Hopefully you’ll be able to see the fireworks first,” she nudges you, her skin glowing against the pale cream fabric she has wrapped around her own mouth and the hood laying delicately over her braids.  “They start at eight.”
The fireworks, you almost forgot.  You know what?  Today is a good day.  You hear yourself think the full sentence multiple times, and the words put a spring in your step after every single one.  The road gradually becomes wider and filled with more travelers, and you feel safe in the back.  Like some kind of sheepdog bringing up the rear of this migrating cluster of children, making sure none of them drift off by themselves and start eating grass or something.
Surprisingly, the kids manage to be relatively patient and well-behaved once they’re in line at the gates.  The Sisters shuffle them along one by one as everyone moves up slowly, taking even longer to get into the city than it did a few days ago.  The entrance is packed already—so many people visiting for the festival, and they’re all dressed in costumes or robes of sorts, or at least a mask.  Most are beautifully crafted, but some manage to look slightly scary even with the soft springtime color schemes.  It’s a completely different world, a different life for each person as you pass them by.  Your stomach is starting to growl by the time you finally make it to the front, and luckily the guards just let the kids through without any ceremony.  Just you and the rest of the caretakers in light robes need to hold still for the retinal scan, matching each other perfectly except for differing shades of fabric, skin, and eye color.  Once the gates open for you and you step through, though… it’s… Maker.
Extravagant, magnificent are both words.  Floral is another.
It’s like they hung up bouquets wherever they could think to fit them, and this is just the edge of the city.  As the group moves through the streets and closer to downtown, it becomes more and more overwhelming.  The air itself is a warm fragrance wafting all around you, sunshiney and breezy and perfect, flowers of all kinds lining the modern buildings and archways like they were planted there from the very beginning and it just took this long to bloom between the cracks in the concrete.  You wish you had names for all of them so you could list them—the only thing you can offer is the color and vague descriptions of the ones that stick out to you.  Tiny yellow ones that are so small, they need to be bunched all together in massive quantities to even resemble normal flowers.  Up overhead, elaborate arrangements of enormous blue and purple and pink ones, wrapping around each other and hanging down from rooftops.  Some don’t even have petals, it’s like they’re big green cups that are big enough to hold things inside them.  You’re fascinated by every single one, wanting to stop and smell them all individually but needing to keep up with the large group and not allow any stragglers to be left behind, including yourself.
About an hour later, when you’re almost in the middle of the city and there are people everywhere, it’s time to eat lunch.  There isn’t much to it because of how expensive it is, and you’d normally feel bad for accepting the small meal each one of the children gets, but you donated all of your credits to the Keja and left absolutely zero for yourself.  Good intentions, terrible idea.  Still, you pull your mask down and snack on some deliciously fried food, trying not to eye anyone else’s platter after you finish yours.  It’s so good and it’s gone in an instant; you couldn’t even say what exactly it was besides which stall you got it at.  Whether it’s just the brilliant atmosphere or if the food on this moon is really just that good, you’re not really sure, but you’re still slightly hungry afterwards with no extra money to sneak a snack.
Soon after, the kids all line up to get their faces painted, or whatever portion of their face is visible behind the cloth masks and hoods they’ve got on, and music blares from at least four different directions and none of the songs are even in the same language.  Depending on the part of town, it seems like the celebrations are all different.  It makes sense, considering most if not all of these individuals were victims of the Empire’s wrath, spread far and wide across the galaxy.  Here, they’re free, and they want everyone to know it.  Spring festivals of some sort are likely common for most cultures, at least those from planets with seasons, not like Arvala-7 where it was arid and hot year-round, and you’re assuming there are multiple things being celebrated today depending on which street you live on.  There’s chanting in different tongues, dancing and drums, outfits and masks from different cultures every single time you look.
At some point, the children spot a crowded street with flowery rails set up all along them, and you stand behind the tiny heads while everyone waits for the parade to begin.  You think your heart has just been beating slightly faster than normal all day today, but when you finally hear the sound of sirens blaring in the distance and cheers begin to pour out from the gathered crowd, it kicks up and you feel like you’re just as wide eyed at the spectacle as the waist-high babies all huddled together up against the railing.
A flurry of people and things pass in slow succession.  First, New Republic officers with their blaring holobikes, bright orange as always.  Then come large groups of people walking behind banners in languages you can’t read, some of them waving, some of them making different sounds and songs.  Bands marching in formation, dancers in dresses and masks and gorgeous flowers in their hair like crowns, and then brilliant hovering vehicles decorated in bright colors and festive depictions.  The craftsmanship and cultural significance is stunning to witness, it’s so insanely loud, there’s so much going on, and yet…
Through it all, you think of Din.  No matter the faces, the sights you see.  There’s someone juggling.  There’s either a very tall man and woman walking together or they’re both on stilts.  There are enormous balloons being led through the air, people are riding atop an assortment of animals you’ve never seen before, there are traditional costumes and spectacular stunts being performed.  Stalls with games and prizes line the stretches of concrete on the cross streets, people are laughing and celebrating and drinking in equal parts, everything is so lively and festive and fun, and yet, though it all, you think of Din.  Him and the baby, they’re always in the forefront of your mind, occupying your thoughts and making your tummy stir more and more as the time passes like the parade in front of you.  You don’t think this environment would ever be his favorite, and in some far away galaxy, perhaps if you lived other lives together and called a beautiful moon exactly like this home, then you might have to drag him out to see all the with you and the kid every year.  You’d have to bat your eyelashes and kiss his cheek and snuggle up to him all nice and pretty like, and he’d probably grumble and complain about it while wrapping his arms around you—all the people and the noise, sweet girl—but he’d go.  For you, he’d go.
Your thoughts suddenly stop short and you blink for a second.  Why… Why was that scene so vivid?  So wistful?  You used to preoccupy yourself with fantasies about Din all the time, back before you even knew him as Din.  But in every single one, it was sexual and likely came from a place of boredom, a lack of external stimulation.  Here you are amidst bustling surroundings, and you’re daydreaming about domesticity with him.  Why?  You want to travel the galaxy, right?  You want to see things you’ve never seen before, right?
For some reason, you think of the floor, and you miss it.
***
Day 5—5:04pm:
It’s late afternoon at this point and nobody can find the teens.
More people have made their way into the city and it’s starting to get extremely fucking crowded, especially where you are downtown, and the handful of them must’ve slipped away with all the excitement happening and how difficult it is to keep the young ones together now that the parade is over.  You don’t know how long they’ve been gone—one second they were walking around just slightly detached from the rest of you, you assumed because the boisterous younglings fucked with their cool vibe, and then the next Naydee is gasping out to you that they’re gone.
“Sister Drya is going to kill me,” she hisses, her dark eyebrows furrowed in self-admonishment and stress.  So many fucking people here, you know her pain.  “I was supposed to be chaperoning them, they were just here—”
She shakes her head under the loose, cream-colored hood, groaning and then speeding up her gait to catch up with the woman in charge, but you decide to grab her wrist before she can relay the bad news.  
“I can go find them,” you offer, speaking as low as you can with the blaring noise surrounding you.  “Before anyone knows they’re missing.  Is there a way to convince everybody to stay in one spot for a little while?  You won’t get in trouble, but I need to know how to find you again.”
Naydee’s eyes widen in surprise, and even though it’s likely a bit out of character for you, you have a feeling it’ll be a deceptively easy task.  Even with the masses right now and how atrociously big this city is, you already have a general idea of where they’re likely to be.  Besides, you’re not even sure your absence will be noticed if Naydee is the only one who figured out the teens were gone—the other Sisters can thrive without you while missing anyone else would be noticeable, and you owe your new friend a thousand favors for helping you out these past few days.  The least you can do is save her from the scolding of one of the scariest old ladies you've ever met.
“Be as quick as you can,” she finally agrees.  It’s a lot of trust to put into you, but you’ve had experience in reading the most unreadable man in the entire galaxy, some teenagers shouldn’t pose too much of a problem.  “If you’re not back in thirty minutes or somebody notices, I’ll have to say something.”
You nod, silently breaking away from the group without another word.  You think you can hear her announce to everyone that it might be best to eat dinner now to skip any long lines later—smart—but you’re out of their hearing range and line of sight almost immediately.
***
Day 5–5:17pm:
“Really?”  You raise an eyebrow since they won’t be able to see the way your mouth is twisted up underneath your mask, crossing your arms and tapping your foot against the ground to further illustrate just how not fucking impressed you are.
Seven teenagers freeze, and slowly—depending on how much bravery they can individually muster—they turn around on their stools to face you.  The atmosphere in the tavern is bustling and cheery, booze being passed around a large crowd that laughs and mingles, but your vibe is stone cold and quiet.  The contrast doesn’t feel wrong on you like it normally would; the negative and disapproving energy you’re emitting makes you feel powerful, untouchable, armored and strong.
“How did you find us so fast?”  One of the twin boys squeaks out behind a light blue robe, sounding worried.
“Had a hunch,” you grumble, glaring sternly at each of them in turn.  Your tone is dry, your voice sits lower in your throat when you’re pissed off.  All you had to do was look for the closest bar that doesn’t have any orange jumpsuits poking around waiting to card underage younglings, it wasn’t that difficult.  “You’re not exactly unpredictable.”
“Are you gonna rat us out?”  The other twin asks you, in a voice that’s oddly deep compared to his brother.
“I should,” you snap, quickly reaching out to push their drinks away.  “I should let Sister Drya rain down her holy fury on your asses, got good people all twisted up over you for nothing and I’m missing dinn—”
You don’t know why, but you suddenly cut yourself off and jerk upright, spinning around.
The sounds of glasses clinking and boisterous voices fill the bar, but they seem to fade out for a second.  Your eyes fly around the crowded space, your heart lodged in your throat and looking for anything reflective.  Every flash you see is a false alarm—belt buckle, wristwatch, cocktail shaker—
He’s here… isn’t he?
Only, there’s nothing.  Nothing is out of place, nothing jumps out at you the way you’re assuming it will.  You’re braced taut and ready to bolt at the first sign of a chase, but it never comes.
It’s so… unexpected, this feeling.  It’s not like you’re being hunted anymore, but instead, you’re the hunter.  You’re feeling the weight of him from this far away and it’s like he’s calling for you to come find him, teasing the wild adrenaline rush you get from just feeling his presence, as if he absolutely knows it happens.  Whispering soft in your ear and then vanishing the second you’re able to turn around, like he’s here but he’s not.  Playing with you from so far away.
This… this is a taunt.  
The whole thing at the inn was leagues below this, that was rudimentary.  Teasing, getting even, having fun with each other, whatever you want to call that, that’s what it was.  This is scarily sophisticated.  Fluid and practiced and the best kind of frightening, stark and dangerous compared to the carefree and upbeat setting surrounding you.  You’re not making it up, it’s not just you being paranoid.  You know him with your eyes closed.  You know he’s here somewhere watching you, just like you know the starlight that streaks across the pitch black horizon of hyperspace.  Not because you can see it, not really, not directly.  But because by it, even in the vastest and darkest and emptiest of voids, you’re suddenly able to see everything else.
“You okay, Nerida?”
The volume gradually comes back up and you blink, suddenly remembering where you are, who else is with you.  The chatter becomes slightly louder than it seemed before.
“Yeah,” you eventually say, slightly airy while continuing to stare emptily at the crowded room.  He’s not here, you don’t think, not anymore at least.  But you’re not stupid, you know what this means.  You’re already caught, there’s nothing you can conceivably do that will delay the reunion for the next—you look down and pull the loose sleeve up to check your communicator—seven fucking hours, there’s no way.  He’ll pull back and follow you, keep up with you from a distance and then snatch you away right when you let your guard down.  You at least need to get the kids back to their guardians before that can happen, though.
“Let’s go,” you quietly tell the group of foundlings, grabbing elbows and hauling them out of their stools.  “Naydee was the only one who knew that you were gone when I left.  Here’s to hoping she managed to keep it that way.”
***
Day 5–5:32pm:
Against all odds, you’re able to rally the wayward teens and successfully lead them through shoulders that are beginning to move closer together as the crowd grows and grows.  You stay towards the back and don’t look behind you once—not only do you not want to give the younglings an unnecessary reason to become paranoid or to question your actions, but you can still feel Din lingering.  Moving like a shadow, probably fitting in perfectly with the masked festival-goers, nothing drawing any attention to him with all the spectacular sights and noise occurring.
Soon you return to the same spot from before, and you and the teenagers seamlessly integrate yourselves back into the rest of the group without anyone noticing a thing is out of place.  When you move to stand beside her, Naydee’s bone-deep sigh of relief is palpable even behind the concealing fabric; she squeezes your hand incredibly tight in a silent gesture of thanks, and then pulls something from the deep pockets of her robe and passes it to you sneakily.  A purple fruit.  She must’ve saved it for you.
Maker, fuck yes.  It’s not much but it’s more dinner than any of the seven troublemakers get, but Naydee quietly assures you they’ll be able to eat something once they return to the Keja around midnight, just not the tasty expensive treats they’re selling at the vendors.  As the sun goes down, you try not to stain your pretty fabric a deep maroon as you chomp and feel your lips start to curl upwards.  It sounds so fucking stupid when you put it like this, but you keep going back to Din and revelling in knowing that he’s so close, like you’re just mentally checking in on him.  You don’t get the sensation by thinking, though—more like you just focus really hard on your heart and feel him there just a second afterwards.
Is that how pure, stupid, shameless love feels when you’re completely entrenched in it?  It’s not like it’s surrounding you, it’s not suffocating you or making you float.  It’s just a thing.  Like… a thing inside your chest, a physical thing you can search for and find, something you can point to on your body and say it’s right here, this is where my love for him lives.  Right at the bottom of your heart, right where it curves and beats strong when other hearts meet flat at sharp angles.  You do it over and over again, reconfirming its existence every single time.  You don’t know what else you’d call it.  Love is the only word.  To love, to know.  To hold in the heart.
Soon, you start to notice that people are slowly moving around your stationary group.  You look up and watch the crowd begin to walk, some of them giving soft smiles to the cute children as they pass by, but all of them following the same unspoken direction.
“Where is everyone going?”  You ask Naydee, standing on your tiptoes to watch the crowd migrate like a giant system, an organism or mechanism of thousands (or tens of thousands?) of smaller moving parts all traveling in tandem.  It’s fascinating—you’ve been to crowded places, you know what it looks like when a lot of people are packed into one area, but you’ve never seen what it looks like when they all move together.  They would normally be bumping into each other, slipping in between, fighting and never really getting anywhere, interacting individually and thinking separately.  Now they’re progressing in one single direction, so many with the same mindset and understanding of what comes next.  A second parade, almost, with New Republic officers directing the flow of pedestrians as they pass.
“The eastern part of the city!”  Naydee yells over the noise and points, and beyond her extended finger, you can barely see the light of a dusky body of water in the distance beyond the buildings.  “The fireworks are going to go off over the bay, but it takes awhile to get there!”
“Is…”  You blink for a second, suddenly caught off guard, trying to think back to the holomap the concierge pulled up at the front desk of the inn.  Surely you would’ve noticed it, but your sudden childlike hope makes you ask anyway.  “Is it part of an ocean?”
Naydee shakes her head.  “A really big lake!”
Your shoulders drop just the slightest bit in disappointment but still, you ache to see it.  You can’t even imagine—the fireworks are likely going to reflect across the water, giving everyone double the view.  And luckily, after all the children and caretakers are individually accounted for, you start to behind the slow-moving crowd towards the docks you know lie beyond.  
Naydee scurries ahead to keep the kids together, ushering them forward and preventing any drunk passer-bys from accidentally stepping on them, and you quietly bring up the very rear of the entourage.  You take the time to observe more than anything, walk in the back and experience instead of trailblaze.  So many people, so many stories to be told, so many differences and diversity around you.  Your face is partially concealed and you don’t move your head too much, just your eyes.  They flick around to take in everything, the crowd thinning little by little as you make it out of the confined space downtown.  You’re able to make out full bodies and outfits again instead of just heads and shoulders, allowing you to breathe just a bit easier under your mask.
And then at one point—and it’s almost a little startling because it happens all at once—the organizers must decide that the sun has officially gone down, because the lights come on.  All of a sudden, paper lanterns and bulbs flicker into existence all around you and the world decides it wants to glow, glint and twinkle from the inside out.  They’re everywhere, draping across rooftops and tangled around street signs and stuffed into the flower bouquets overhead, raining soft colors down on everything.  You’re in complete awe, trying to keep walking but also needing to look at as much as fucking possible in the suddenly luminescent city.  It’s so colorful, so vernal and warm and you feel like you’re… Like when you took a shower on the Crest for the first time and spent a few happy moments just playing with the water and soap for your own enjoyment, it’s as if all the brilliant rainbow of colors the bubbles would make under the fluorescent light decided to surround you at the same time.  You’re inside stained glass, blinking at the flowers and wondering if Din can even smell the air or if it’s filtered, processed and reduced to nothing under the helmet.
And that’s when you see him.
But with the way your chest rapidly constricts and you can count your heart beats as they pound, blaring white noise through your ears and adrenaline through your veins, it’s like he's just allowing it to happen.  You immediately understand that you don’t have fucking anything the second your eyes land on him; this isn’t a heads up that you caught wind of early, it’s not a gift or an advantage you’ve incidentally gained over him that you should be thankful for.  Being able to see him directly like this, being able to make out all these fucking details from this far away…  This just feels like you’re being informed of the endgame right before it comes.  If you were anyone else, if you were a real bounty and this was a real hunt, his armor glinting and reflecting the lanterns overhead would feel like a knife you're about to be on the wrong side of.
You have a decision to make, very quickly.  Either keep in this same direction, head straight towards him and just pretend like you are who you’re dressed as, a random caretaker for a bunch of rowdy foundlings during a spring festival on Nariss, or disappear.  Drop back, move through the crowd and use the distance you have between you right now as your only hope of getting away in time.  Neither one gives you a particular advantage—your chances of being caught have already skyrocketed exponentially just being able to see the reflection in his armor, the hovering shield at his side with big black eyes… staring directly at you.
You almost trip over your pantlegs, gasping.  Baby.  He beams at you and you think he calls out through the passing crowd, his tiny arms extending out, and your chest feels like you’re pulling organs as if they were muscles, cramping up and seizing with emotion.  You want to run to them even though you’re meant to be running from them, call out over the noise and wave even though you’re not supposed to.  You want to hold the kid again, squish his little forehead with kisses, walk around with Din’s hand pressed against your lower back and see the fireworks with him.
Your hands clutch at the draping fabric covering your chest, pulling and twisting it uncertainly.  What do you do, what do you do?
No matter what, you know it’s over.  Keep your head down and try to move past him, or break away from your group and try to escape—both are different paths that lead to the same result.  What’s the point of running when he’s the one chasing you?  The heart-pounding thrill is the only reason you’re even considering it, but his body stands so tall amongst the crowd, not moving while people ebb and flow like a river passing around him.
Except then you can hear his voice repeat the last thing he said to you in person as if he says it directly into the comm in your ear.  When you do see me… try to outrun.
You should run—run, it’s better than just hoping he doesn’t see you when you already know he does.
Unless…
Out of a trillion different possibilities, you soon realize that there is exactly one situation in which this could turn out in your favor.  You can immediately picture the scenario in your mind, but there’s just too many variables to conceivably rely on getting them all right.  This maybe has a… two percent chance of working?  Maybe?  Everything would have to go perfectly, just fucking flawlessly, but what other choice do you have?  Two percent is better than whatever odds you’re dealing with now.
You walk silently behind the group of foundlings as you approach closer and closer, keeping your head purposefully down as they skip and giggle and dance ahead.  He knows you’re here—he has to know, you’re counting on him knowing.  Walk right in front of him, pretend like you don’t see, make sure you keep left.  Keep left, keep left, keep your head down, keep your head down—
A leather glove suddenly catches hold of your wrist hard enough to tug you backwards.
Your gasp is audible over the sound of the crowd and you spin around, jerking your head up to look at him in fear.  Your heart slams as the beskar reflects your mask and hood back at you—you’re terrified and it shows, you can see it in your eyes.
You quickly try to yank your hand away, even as your index finger stretches up towards the communicator around his wrist.
“Miss Nerida?”  A child’s voice cries, and then small hands grab at you from behind as you bury the urge to actually fight him.  Your instincts are demanding you attack when his grip is this strong, but you just whine and struggle, slapping weakly at him with your free hand and feeling more of the younglings begin to pull at you, their high pitched voices calling more and more attention to the scene.
Your gaze flicks to the side, suddenly landing on a pair of New Republic officers helping direct the thousands of moving bodies from the closest street corner.  They’re looking at you, pointing and beginning to speak into their own comm units.  Din’s helmet snaps sideways to follow your gaze, and then he’s immediately dropping your wrist and stepping back, retreating as quickly as he caught you.  Though you don’t want to—though you don’t want to give yourself away even more, you want to pretend fully that he was a complete stranger and the children were right to try to help you get away—your eyes fall to your son in the hovering crib by his side and you feel yourself crumble just a bit.
Just a few more hours, kid.  A few more hours.
Children pull you away while your pursuers both disappear into the crowd, and you quickly turn to soothe the tiny babies instead of chasing after the one you miss so terribly.
“I’m alright,” you tell them, scooting them up and encouraging them to continue walking.  Blend in, blend in, don’t let anybody think anything is wrong.  “Come on, we’re fine, come on, we have to catch up.”
They take your lead as soon as one of the caretakers turns around and sees the small group crowding around you.  You think she asks what happened, but you just tell her a man mistook you for someone else and nothing more comes of it.  She’s able to settle the chaos better than you are, and by the time you’re continuing to travel forwards once more like nothing happened, the communicator suddenly flicks on in your ear.
“What did you do?”  He breathes out, his footsteps moving fast through his voice.  He’s traveling much quicker than you expected—is he still being followed?  The officers are gone from your sight, they might be going after him right now, weaving between bodies and calling out to the perpetually vanishing glint of armor as he navigates his way out of danger.
You look down at the comm on your wrist and your heart nearly soars with victory.  It worked.  It worked.  You just have to outlast a bit longer, don’t draw any extra attention to it—he’s preoccupied and he certainly doesn’t sound happy, but you hope that’ll be enough to make him slip.  Use his frustration to your advantage, let him think the only thing you were successful at was momentarily escaping him.
“The cops weren’t part of the plan,” you admit quietly, keeping your head down as your loose hood billows in the twilight breeze.  “Don’t get caught.”
There’s a few moments of just his breathing, his footsteps, and the noise floor humming through the comm, before he finally responds.  “You look beautiful.”
You stare unseeingly down at the concrete under your feet, still feeling your hand tingle from where he caught you.  The line abruptly mutes on his end and you just keep moving forward, onward, wanting to look back but knowing he’s already long gone.
***
Day 5–5:24pm:
Din is fucking furious.
He had you.  You were right there, right in front of him, and even if he hadn’t been subtly trailing you all day, seeing the red footsteps get covered and flicker out of existence just a few moments after you make them, he would’ve recognized you anywhere.  In black and white, in the fading light, with your face covered, children calling you by a different name and attaching themselves to you like they’ve known you forever—doesn’t matter, he would’ve known you.  Your eyes have always given you away, always so expressive and starry and soft, but able to see right through solid steel whenever you look at him.
But then you slipped from his grasp, and then more guards pushed him further and further away from you.  They must all be in constant communication, because every single jumpsuit he sees immediately spots him and starts following.  It’s fucking exhausting, and he thinks of you the whole time.
He waits in a dark alley with the kid and taps the side of the helmet a few times to bring up the time on his comm, but then relaxes just slightly when he sees the hour.  It’s earlier than he thought it was, he’ll be able to find you again.
Though, something tugs at him while he’s looking at the clock ticking away in front of his eyes, counting down each second that passes.  There was… a moment.  Back in the square, when he was holding onto you again, when you were looking directly into his once more—everything in his helmet— 
No, he shakes his head while the kid looks up at him curiously, it can’t be.  It was just a split second, it was gone so fast.
But he can’t get rid of it.  Though there’s no explanation, he thinks the display screen flickered.  The sky behind you looked different for a single frame, your footsteps weren’t bright red and visible anymore, your eyes weren’t grey and he stopped wondering what shade of fabric you and your friend decided to choose for you to wear.  It was silvery, he’s almost certain.  Like his armor, it only reflected the color of everything around it.
Color.  Everywhere.  Bursting for a blink of an eye, and then gone just as quick, before he could actually figure out what it really meant.
***
Day 5–6:59pm:
This water is quiet here, but it sparkles.
It doesn’t ever really get truly dark thanks to the enormous hanging moon and ringed gas giant dancing with Sanctuary II, constantly reflecting light back onto the surface and reacting with some of the trace chemicals up above the atmosphere, and you think the sky just might be the prettiest you’ve ever seen it.  Must have something to do with the equinox, the glimmering angles of light being played with by celestial bodies in this stunning system, but it’s a dream.  The Maker apparently couldn’t decide which colors he wanted tonight so he just splashed all of them together all at once, let them run and blend like ink in the gentle water below, like the various people who call this moon home.
That view in front of you, coupled with all the flowers and lanterns lining the streets behind you, and you’ve lost track of time the exact same way you hoped Din would.  You think you’ve stood for about an hour or so in this one spot, half-listening to excited chatter from the babies, mostly just gazing across the stretch of water and being able to just barely spot the docks in the distance, but it feels like it’s only been minutes.
You check your watch—the fireworks should be starting any second now.  You don’t know what to expect, just that in your experience, explosions tend to be loud.  You've decided you’re not going to plug your ears, though.  Tummy twisting with nerves and another inexplicable feeling you can’t quite put your finger on, you resolve to experience the unknown exactly the way it’s meant to be.  Fully, without worry or fear.
Then, lacking any warning or ceremony whatsoever, a single flare launches silent and high from one of the small boats skimming the bay, and the crowd seems to hold its collective breath as the dim light disappears into thin air for a split second, before—
It’s… quite possibly the most dazzling thing you think you’ve ever seen.  So shamelessly decorative just for the sake of it, not serving any other practical purpose besides celebration and visual spectacle, and you’ll probably never know another extravagance like it.  You grew up with dust pelting against tired eyes, you never thought they’d get to reflect such gorgeous bursts of color back up at the sky, glassy and childlike amongst a group of equally wide-eyed children.
As expected, a deafening boom follows closely behind the singular display, but just witnessing it is incredible enough to make you forget to brace yourself for the sound and you jump almost violently in response.  There comes a loud cheer from the people standing around you, a few delighted gasps and children who decide now is the best time to start crying, but then more flares begin to launch from the boats and the subsequent show will sear itself into your memory to replay over and over again.
Still, you think the endless sky and dark water below would have to light on fire to stop him from coming to mind.
Din.
You click the comm on, continuing to stare in stunned awe but wanting nothing more than to hear his voice right now, feel his hand rest on your lower back and the kid’s three fingers squeezing one of yours while the stars rain down from above.  You’re only continuing to run from him because it’s expected of you, that’s the reason you’re here, but it’s becoming harder and harder to argue with yourself.  “Do you always see in black and white?”
It takes him just a few seconds to respond, but he always does.  “Only when I’m tracking someone.”
The loud booms can be heard over the earpiece, happening maybe a second after they crack and sparkle above you.  You can’t tell if the latency is due to the electronics or if he’s just that far away from the source of the sound itself, but… you don’t think he is.  He feels close again, like he could just walk up right next to you any second, or maybe that’s just how he always feels now.
“Does that mean you haven’t seen the sky here?”  You ask after a moment.  This whole time, everything has been grey for him?
“I saw it,” Din murmurs, and even though it’s quiet and explosions are thundering loud enough to deafen more sensitive ears, his quiet voice somehow breaks through it all.  “When you left the Crest, I saw it behind you.”
For some reason, you suddenly feel like crying.  Whether it’s the way he phrases it or the sentiment in the words, you’re close to tears without even knowing why, looking up at the sky illuminating spectacularly.  He says it like he wasn’t the one who parked on this moon and told you to go on without him.  “Can you… turn it off for just a second?”
He takes a second, before clarifying for you.  “I turn it off and I lose your footprints.”
So that was the ultimatum.  He doesn’t want to turn it off until you’re back with him again.  Does he not understand?  Does he not know what you know?  Maybe you just happened to feel it first, this overwhelming physical sensation inside you whenever you think about him.  It’s like the exact opposite of a hole in your chest.  And it’s so odd, so counterintuitive.  Being comforted in his absence, feeling him with you when he isn’t.  Falling in love in the dark, knowing him without ever seeing him.
“You never needed them,” you say, reaching up to pull your mask down under your jaw and chin for a moment, wanting to freely breathe the freshwater and flowers while stars explode and fracture across the sky.  It’s a truth you’re acknowledging, something you’ll carry with you, something you fundamentally own at this point.  “You’d find me without the helmet.  And I’d find you.”
The fireworks continue to bleed into the water beneath them, multicolor splashes rippling into existence and disappearing just as quick.  You could’ve never imagined a more colorful, magnificent landscape—besides your waterfall on Naboo, of course.  That was a pure product of nature though, a place hidden away and untouched by people, completely sacred.  Light refracting against mist, natural glass that would shatter under your weight.  This is a celebration of life and family.  Loud in a different way, affecting you in a different way, but just as wonderful and touching.  A cultivated paradise, designed to be beautiful and safe only because they wanted it to be.
“Think so?”  He asks softly.  He sounds so deep and warm, but… a little distant.  You’re able to hear it in his words.  You don’t know why, though.  Doesn’t he believe you?  Perhaps… perhaps this isn’t The Way.  Perhaps this is part of a completely different oath, one where knowing and loving somebody isn’t the same thing as looking at their face, not at all.  Where you can have them exist entirely separate from each other, because this is love.  This is real, enduring, bone-deep love, and you haven’t ever seen his face, so how would he explain that?  How would the Mandalorians reconcile that?  You bear the mark of the mudhorn, you’ve moved through time and space with him, you’re a mother to his son, and you’ve never seen his face.  It defies both the Mandalorian oath and traditional understandings of love, or it meets them right in the middle, depending on how you look at it.
“I know so.”  For the first time, you think you might sound more confident and certain than he does.  Maybe he doesn’t fully get it yet, but then you suppose he’ll just have to trust you.  “Will you look at the sky?”
“I see it,” Din tells you, but you know he doesn’t.  Not the way you want him to.  And stars, you just want so many things for him, don’t you?  The sky, fresh air, water, light, food, rest.  You want him to see the galaxy the way you do—have a new appreciation for the gifts that are given just because you’re alive to experience them.  All the physics and mathematics aligned perfectly for it to happen—all the chemistry, the systems, the dynamics that dictate the universe, they all got together and crafted a world where you, him, and the kid all exist together at the same time.  You want him to know the significance of that.
“With color?”  You ask, knowing his answer before he seems to.
“I…”  Din wants to argue, or at least say it again.  He can’t or he’ll lose you, he already told you he doesn’t want to turn the setting off.  It’s such an unnecessary conflict, but you want to respect it so much that you’re willing to give up things of your own to make it happen.
“How do I fix it then?”  You whisper, so desperately wanting this one thing for him, this one grandeur to behold.  How do you fix this problem?  How do you convince him to look with you?  You’d offer to just go and find him instead of continuing to run away for the next few hours, but you know the show will be over soon and you don’t have much time left.  “Do you want me to come look for you?  It’ll be too late by then, you’re too far away.  Look at the sky.”
It’s silent for a moment—truly silent, even though colorful bombs are going off above the bay.  You don’t know why you’ve attached yourself to this so strongly, but it’s almost devastating when you don’t get a response.  You look away from the spectacle for the first time in an eternity, gazing unseeingly into the crowd of onlookers with a sudden sadness taking hold of you.  He won’t look, he’s too stubborn, he holds onto things too tightly.
But then, a flurry of flares start launching in rapid succession from the distant boats, screaming and crying on their way up and then igniting into showers of light, and the abrupt increase in activity manages to catch your attention once again.  This must be the end, they saved the best for last.  Every corner of the horizon flashes and sparks, and you’re mesmerized at how bright it is, how many colors they’ve managed to fit into one single frame.
“It’s beautiful,” comes his voice, and the smile that you break into feels just right for the brilliance of the view above you.  Maker, it is, isn’t it?  Now you can hear it—he sounds like he’s looking at it too, with color, in all its breathtaking glory, and you feel like you’re flying.  Like he picked you up and let you watch up close, like you can feel his armor under your fingers right now as he carries you through the sky.
It swells up inside you, a rising wave similar to the ones you can see in the distance, and you know you probably shouldn’t say it because it’s not in your best interest to say it right now, but you have to say it anyways.  It’s an unknowable compulsion, a need to connect and communicate directly with him but for your sake, not presently, not at this exact moment in time.
Luckily, you mute your comm just in time and simply give the words to him from very far away.
“Hurry up,” you say, sending the sentiment into the sky with all your love, and the conflicting hope that he won’t take the advice until a bit later on.  “Come and find me.”
***
Day 5–7:37pm:
After the fireworks are over, people start to drift off in separate directions, clearing the traffic and congestion from the streets around you.  Someone puts their hand on your shoulder and you blink a few times, spinning around and almost stepping on a bunch of tiny little feet by accident.
Stars, that’s a lot of children.  They’re all crowded around Naydee, who pats a few heads and almost buckles under the younglings clinging to her leg.
“Figured you would be long gone by now,” she grins at you from behind her mask, and you’re reminded to pull yours up over your face just from looking at her.  “It’s late—we’re going back to the Keja.”
“Oh, shit,” you breathe in surprise, but the noise of the gradually dispersing crowd manages to cover it up.  At least from younger, more easily distracted ears, but you think Naydee hears you.  Her dark eyes roll good-naturedly, looking happy but exhausted from the long day.  You’re going to have to say goodbye now.
“What happened to your family?”  She asks after a moment, and you think she’s being careful with the way she says it, likely because family is a difficult topic to navigate in general around some of the children hanging on her and begging for her attention.  “Have you been in touch with them?  If not, I’m sure you can come back with us.  It’ll be late by the time we get there, but at least you’ll be safe.”
You open your mouth to automatically decline her offer, knowing Din is still in the crowded city looking for you and wanting to stay where there’s lots of people.
But then… well, he would expect you to do that, wouldn’t he?
There’s more people here.  More danger, but better places to hide.  It’s the obvious choice, it’s the one that makes the most logical sense.  But you’d also be completely alone and you’re assuming the only reason he hasn’t snatched you up yet—which you know he could’ve done multiple times by now, is likely because you’re with a group of innocent foundlings, moody teenagers, and very stern older women.  He probably doesn’t realize you’ve told them about him and the kid, though you were slightly vague on the details.
It’s also a little over three hours to get back, but you’re banking on it being closer to four with how whiney and tired some of the small voices sound, others sounding like they’re an enormous sugar rush contained into a tiny little capsule.  Would he have the gall to try and get you right from under their noses?  Will he even know you left the city, or will he assume you made the smartest decision possible and simply account for it ahead of time?  No, you're overthinking it, just make a decision and stick with it.
“There’s also free food,” Naydee shrugs while you’re still considering, but… well, that settles that.  Almost three days of friendship and she already knows exactly how to win you over in the end.  Sustenance for your empty tummy, an escort the entire way there, and heavily guarded walls beyond.  Din will have to get creative in response—you flaunted your imagination for days, coming up with dozens of evasion tactics to outlast him, but this one just seems… incredibly practical.  Exploiting a weakness of his—isolating it, having it be reinforced by precedent, and then taking advantage of it.  You bet he’ll catch on, but still, it’ll make it more difficult for him, and you’re grasping at straws to hang on just a little longer.
“I…”  Quick, come up with something.  You clear your throat.  “The city is too crowded, I haven’t been able to find them.  I could just… tell them where I’m headed and see if they can find me along the way?”
Naydee smiles and nods.  “Sounds perfect.”
Yet, the entire walk back… you keep thinking you’re going to feel Din trailing behind you, waiting to feel the nerves twist in your tummy and your palms to sweat, but you don’t.  You keep glancing over your shoulder and then down at your wrist, needing to talk yourself out of addressing him through the comm to let him know exactly what the plan is.  You like maintaining a sense of secrecy from the new characters you’ve met on your adventures—Naydee, Karga, Peli—almost everyone you’ve been introduced to, you found a way to find a subtle enjoyment in hiding certain things from them.  But with Din, you don’t have any walls.  They crumbled nearly a full year ago when he silently pushed a cauterizer in your hand and took his armor off for you, and you’ve felt the inexplicable need to bare yourself to him in return ever since.  It would be to your extreme detriment to do it now, but you still have to fight the urge.
Even if you don’t feel him following, you still find yourself acting like he is.  Constantly turning back to double check the road behind you, drifting off in the middle of shallow, distant conversations with tiny foundlings who can’t tell the difference, keeping towards the middle of the pack this time to avoid being picked off towards the back.  The belltower at the orphanage is loud and will ring for quite a distance, so your timing has to be utterly pristine for this to all work out.  You eye your comm the entire way there, trying to stall just the right amount to avoid any realizations or fall into any traps he may be setting for you.
You eventually leave the city walls far behind you, and now you have no clue where he is.  You lost him, and maybe that’s why you feel your heart beat insanely fast the whole time.  He could be anywhere now.  Behind you, adjacent, parallel—you can’t decide where to look, but it keeps you wide awake and focused while the group tiredly travels back to the temple.
***
Day 5–11:32pm:
You can see it in the distance, the brick buildings slowly coming into view.  One might think your stress would have worked itself out by now, been brought back to a manageable level after four hours of walking, but you’ve been on red alert for the past hour or so.  Any movement or rustle that doesn’t come from the sleepy children or exhausted caretakers, you’re on top of it, snapping your attention to the offending tree or animal and not being able to relax even after affirming it’s just nature, it’s not shiny metal bounding after you in the darkness, ready to take you down.
The infants are all likely snoozing away in the nursery, and the Sister who volunteered to stay behind and look after them comes to greet the group at the gate as you approach.  Like always, two Brothers open the iron bars to allow you inside, and you feel the anxiety dig its claws into your tummy.  If Din is going to get you, this is the very last moment to do it.  These walls are guarded and you’re nervous for him, you’re nervous for yourself—you’re just fucking nervous.  Jumpy and worried, not being able to pinpoint him anymore and feeling all the more anxious because of it.
It doesn’t feel right.  Nothing feels right about this, but you can’t figure out specifically what’s wrong.  This was the exact plan, this was a way for you to just survive these last few hours and yet, it doesn’t feel right that you actually succeeded in doing so.  It doesn’t make sense that he’d allow you to return all the way here, especially when he was close enough to touch you earlier.  Din has had so much time to snatch you up, so many opportunities to lure you away, confront you—anything to catch you, and he hasn’t done it yet.  Why?  Either you truly did escape and he has no idea where you are, which doesn’t feel right, or he’s choosing not to get you for whatever reason, which also doesn’t feel right.  What’s he waiting for?  You can’t have won.  It was all too fucking easy, you’re expecting to see him around every single corner because he should be there, he shouldn’t have allowed this to happen.
When someone gently touches your elbow, you’re so on edge that you nearly whip around in surprise.
“Sorry!”  Naydee immediately apologizes, taking her hand back to lift her hood and remove the mask covering her face.  “Didn’t mean to scare you!  I was just going to say that the commissary is still open,” she offers, and you watch the small group of hungry teenagers break off from the group to make their way there.  “It’s going to take awhile to get the children ready for bed, so we’ll be in the dormitories if you need to sleep.  Otherwise, I’m not sure I’ll see you again.”
You stare at her and blink a few times, trying to readjust your focus.  She’s your new friend, she just said this was likely the last time you’ll see each other, but you can’t stop thinking about Din.  Imagine he’s hours away in the city right now, still looking for you.  You’re trying to evaluate your priorities here, but you truthfully never expected to get this far.  Inside the gates, surrounded by brick buildings and silent guards.  You know your way around here, you know hiding spots, you know how to outlast—it’s incredibly advantageous for you to be inside these walls.  What is he doing?
Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you give Naydee a quick hug and she happily accepts it.  “I’m sure we’ll meet again at some point.”
She smiles and nods, pulling back and letting a couple grumpy foundlings catch her robes and yank on them impatiently.  The loud group eventually disappears into the dorms, and the door shutting behind them cuts off the tired crying and chatty voices determined to stay awake, leaving you in silence that feels slightly unfamiliar after going without it for so long.
Fuck, you just need to breathe.  As soon as the dead quiet grips the air around you, you realize you need to relax.  You’re way too fucking wound up; you want to bolt at the smallest thing and the sudden silence of being alone multiplies it to the point where you have to remind yourself of its importance.  Breathe.  Focus.  There’s about fifteen minutes before the bells ring, fifteen more minutes and the chase will be all over.
Can you eat?  You thought you’d want to, but you think you’re too fucking antsy.  You can’t stay here alone, that’s for sure, but you also don’t want to be around all the children right now.  The commissary will have a handful of people wandering around, teens snacking and maybe a Brother or two standing guard.  It’s the best place to wait the clock out, so you make your way there.  The gentle breeze billows around your loose robes, your pantlegs swishing as you walk.
A few minutes later, you’ve got a plate of food in front of you but your mask is still up, and you’re just sitting there.  Towards the back of the large room, sitting by yourself at one of the tables and staring down at your communicator.  Five minutes.  You have five fucking minutes left before he finds you.  Can you feel him?  Is he closing in?
You sit up a bit straighter, taking a deep breath.  Focus on that feeling from earlier.  The presence in your chest, the weight that didn’t used to be there months ago—focus on that feeling and branch it outwards.  Can you feel him?
Something catches your eye.
Or no… it doesn’t, does it?  Nothing is out of place here, nothing is visibly wrong or amiss.  The only thing that’s changed from all the times before is how dark it is through the windows, and how there are only a few kids in here grabbing a midnight snack instead of being packed like usual.  Nothing else.
But there’s… there’s an acolyte in the far corner, standing guard with his back to the wall.  It’s not his presence that gives you pause—you expected him to be here, there’s always been at least one present whenever you’ve sat down to eat.  He doesn’t look any different from the rest of the Brothers you’ve passed by this evening or the days before—tall, silent, dark brown robes, hooded and mysterious—so why do you suddenly feel yourself break out into a cold sweat as soon as your eyes land on him?
Bubbling laughter and chatter echoes through the large room from one of the tables near the entrance—seven teenagers stuffing their faces with food and sharing animated conversation with each other now that it’s late and they’re alone—but your stomach twists and your fingers start to tremble as you slowly rise from your seat in the back.  You want to keep your head down and be casual but it’s impossible, you desperately need to keep looking at that silent guard in particular and your heart kicks up in your chest—
—and then it wrenches sideways when you’re carefully backing away from the table and the offending acolyte takes a single step forwards.
Run.  Everything in you screams for you to run, and it’s rarely done that before, but you can’t.  Not yet, you don’t want to draw attention, and the logical part of your mind rages against your gut instinct to haul ass.  He’s here—of course he is, the thought screams through your veins as you try to weave quickly in between tables, feeling light on your toes and readying yourself to run as soon as you can.  The dark figure seems to find a careful pace behind you, staying just far enough behind and walking in perfect silence, and you have so many fucking questions but you can’t even think a single thing beyond run away, run away.  Where’s the kid?  How did he get those robes?  Did he actually take his helmet off just to get to you in a room where anyone could confront him?
Your feet propel you forward as soon as you make it out of the door, you break out into a sprint—just flat out bolting because you know how fucking fast he is and you need as big a headstart as you can get.
You race down the stairs and through the courtyard, the beautiful surroundings contrasting drastically with the way you’re running for your fucking life through them.  It’s not beautiful to you right now; you feel clumsy and physically unable to move fast enough no matter how quick you go, your eyes are wide and every nerve is on fire and you can’t even tell if he’s behind you anymore with how silently he moves, but you just trust that he is and keep barreling forward.  Your breath puffs against the clinging fabric of your mask as you keep sprinting, willing your legs to pump faster.  Get to the belltower at least, get to where you have the smallest chance of being caught by the people who guard this place.
As soon as you allow yourself to even conceive the possibility, two Brothers in dark hooded robes suddenly turn the corner a little ways in front of you and your reaction time is perfect—you jerk to a halt and take a single step forward as soon as they spot you.  Since your momentum already committed you to it, you just have to walk, keep your head down, move directly past them and hope Din disappeared from behind you in time.
Step, step, step—keep going, control your breathing, you’re okay, you’re allowed to be up late tonight and they shouldn’t stop you.  Walk right by…  Stars, you feel their silent stares as you casually pass, and it just feels so cold and analytical compared to the kind of danger Din is gives off when dressed in the exact same clothing.  He’s hard and tangible and an unrelenting force, where they just feel like ghosts that haunt this place.  The threat they present is impersonal and detached, but the terror currently chasing after you is so real that he can read your mind.
You wipe the sweat from your brow as soon as you turn the corner, and your feet are already starting to speed up on their own knowing you’re out of their sight.  Run, get to the belltower before Din does, you can see it standing tall about a hundred feet away.  The stairs leading to the door come closer and closer, but you hear something behind you and it propels you faster.  It’s like you can feel him right at your heels even though you haven’t seen him, snapping at your ankles even though your footsteps are the only ones you can hear anymore.
You scramble up the stairs and close the door behind you, spinning around and facing it even as you slowly retreat backwards into the moonlit tower, trying to stay quiet.  Breathing through your nose, eyes shifting around the enclosed space, continuing to back up and away from the door.  Where is he?  There are so many windows that allow you to look outside, but why can’t you spot his movement through them?  Wasn’t he right behind you?
Behind you.
There’s no reason or logic at all to it; you just react.  Spinning around and throwing a mean punch.
Din jerks back just in time to miss it, twisting and dodging at the very last second to avoid your next few hits—but… things seem to slow down, even if they’re happening so fast.  The moonlight cascades through the dozens of windows lining the circular walls and it shines just enough to reveal small glimpses of him.  With every aggressive strike from you, you see something else—you see a flash of his chin when you try to uppercut, you aim for his chest and you see a bit of his jaw.  When you go for his jaw, he steps sideways and catches your wrist, and you see the bend of his nose catch the light this time.
But then it’s like he finally figures out that you’re actually fighting him, and now he’s coming for you.  Trained and ruthless, not weighed down by any armor and lightning quick, launching perfectly aimed attacks that you’re only able to avoid from reaction and muscle memory alone.  You block or move whenever he strikes, you attack whenever you see an opening, you sidestep at the same time he does—
Until you land a spin kick directly to the center of his chest and snap your leg to shove him back, your heel smashing into that soft spot right above his stomach with dead precision and brute force.  He exhales sharply and takes a few more steps back to steady himself while you pause to catch your breath.
Din abruptly comes back and you fall into it with him again, keeping a sharp rhythm with each other that’s faster, harder, and way more real than any sparring match you’ve ever shared.  The hours and days in hyperspace you spent practicing with him are but a fraction of what he’s throwing at you right now, the combinations so rapid and blurred that you just have to trust your knowledge of him and his movement through the dark.
But then, your downfall.  Bells begin ringing an earsplittingly familiar melody above you, and it shatters your concentration—you falter just as he grabs you and sweeps your feet out, and though you know how to get out of that, you’re not quick enough on the jump nor counterswing to prevent it.  He takes you to the ground, hard, and then your wrists are being pinned together above your head and your mask is being tugged down.
Din’s mouth on yours makes you want to cry.
The whole thing is like coming home.  You spent a week surrounded by strangers and having them call you by a name not given to you, fending for yourself, and now here he is.  Someone who knows who you really are, someone that wants to care for you.  Tears come to your eyes even as they're pressed tightly shut, and Din kisses you like he’s never known anything else.  His mouth fits to yours as if the Maker made your lips before ever considering the rest of you, his bare hand clutching your jaw and forcing you to open for him, letting him lick deep inside after going so many days without it.  It might feel dominant and overwhelming if it happened to any other person, but through it, you can also taste his desperation and weakness, how soft he is even when he’s squeezing your jaw and squishing your wrists together too tightly.
Rigid steel that bends only for your touch.
He pulls back and your heart throbs at how moonlight continues to bathe just the smallest glimpses of him under the hood—never the full thing, never the whole face, but enough.  The quiet light that brushes the arch of his nose, how it bathes the hard line of his jaw so that you can barely see his scruff when he turns his head the right way.  His eyes are hidden in near darkness but there’s the faintest glimmer where they should be, and it’s the closest you’ve ever been to looking at him without the helmet.  You can see him, you can see shadows of his chin, his neck—dear stars, his fucking neck.  You’re pinned and paralyzed under him and the ringing bells, yet you feel like you just might float if he wasn’t holding you so tight to the floor.
“Where’s the baby?”  You finally lift your chin and ask, needing to raise your voice over the melody clanging loud throughout the tower.
“Making friends,” Din pants back down at you, and… stars, then you just start giggling.  Adrenaline turning into pure joy, imagining the kid wreaking havoc with all the other babies in the nursery right now.  It feels more light and airy than anything your body should know.
“What are you so happy about?” He asks, swallowing and then continuing on with the same quick gasps.  “You lost, I caught you in time.”
“Did you?”  You drop your head to the brick floor and ask, biting your lip as he stares back down at you.  Suddenly—
—Bong—
Din holds utterly still over you while you take a quick breath and wait for the next eleven bells… 
…but then break into a slow grin up at him when nothing but utter silence follows.
There’s a moment.  Just a single moment where the cogs turn rapidly under that shadowy hood, one where the faint reflection of light in his eyes flickers down to the communicator on your wrist that says midnight and back to you, one that solidifies the longer it takes for another bell to ring.  It’s not going to.
One o’clock.
You think he puts it together.  The one moment he was never able to figure you out—when you tried reprogramming the comms just a few days ago.  The one trick up your sleeve that you resigned to throw away and almost forget about because the circumstances for pulling it off were never realistic.  Fuck with the electronics and set the clock back just one hour—all you’d need to do is reset his communicator, the timecode is synced together.  He told you before that it’s connected to his helmet, but all the buttons still work.  Rapid, panicky thinking and a wild surge of bravery in the face of certain downfall is the only reason you were able to pull it off, and you’re perfectly willing to admit you just got lucky… especially when he’s still holding dead still over you.
But then Din moves so suddenly.  You can’t account for it because there’s no build-up whatsoever—it’s so fast, you yelp while he grabs your knees and throws them both to one side.  You flop over sideways and large hands reach up under the draping length of your tunic to yank your pants down over the curve of your ass, before he’s fitting his palm up between your legs and pushing two thick fingers inside you.
Your head thunks back against brick with how unexpected and merciless it is, but his other hand is grabbing your jaw and twisting, forcing you to look up, stare right into the dark shadow under the loose cowl.  The whole thing is too overwhelming—you’re trying to keep quiet but your breathing feels like thunder crashing inside this tall, echoing chamber.  He’s touched you so many times, he knows exactly how to do it by now, but it feels like so much more than that.  Probably because you can see the way Din’s mouth silently falls open as he feels you, stretching his fingers up and hooking them tight inside.  You can tell when he closes his eyes, the smallest glint slowly disappearing into nothingness while the hand around your jaw blindly moves up.  It catches your chin and lips, and then two fingers push over the bottom edge of your teeth to slip into your mouth.
Your entire leg twitches and jerks while you lay sideways on the ground and open up for him, your neck twisted at a sharp angle to keep your eyes on him and his fingers in your mouth, giving you something to bite to stop making noise.  Din makes room for himself inside you two different ways, and you just choke on his fingers and try to stay quiet, praying he’ll go deeper.
But then you’re not expecting his whole fucking arm to start moving the way it does—oh fuck, what is that?  First you just feel jostled and displaced, but then suddenly a wicked, deep, burning pleasure starts to roar through you, radiating outwards from the rapid motion of just two fingers inside you.  It’s not in and out, it’s up and down so hard and quick against your g-spot that your eyes cross and your hands go numb.
You think you grab at him, clutch onto his arm or chest and open your mouth to moan at the new and overwhelming sensation, but his hand pushes up against your chin and closes it for you, the bend of his fingers caught hard between your teeth but you don’t think he cares.
“Quiet,” Din hisses the word down at you while his arm continues to work, your toes starting to curl as the feeling overwhelms you.  Fuck, what is happening, what is happening?  It’s like he’s just shoving unfamiliar sensation at you so forcefully that you can’t even think straight anymore, not even ten seconds in.  You can only feel the pleasure, fire blurring hot and shapeless through your entire body as your eyes clamp shut, his fingers isolating that perfect spot and stimulating it directly, relentlessly.
Something dull and white hot presses up tight against all the muscles you have down there and you’re almost afraid of how strong it is.  You gasp and choke and he has to take his fingers out of your mouth and just clamp down around your entire jaw, sealing the whole thing shut with his large hand.  And then Din’s fingers leave your pussy too—and stars, you should be embarrassed by how desperately it clamps around nothing for as long as it does.  He’s not even inside you anymore but your body is on such a delay from the hot, twisting pleasure, and he doesn’t put them back in until your muscles are finished spasming.
Everything comes back full force as soon as he starts moving again.  Noise starts to come from your throat, humming in your vocal cords to deal with the arcing, swirling build, and so Din just moves his hand there instead.  He finds where it’s vibrating from your neck and he pushes up against it, trapping the sound right at the source.  He’s fucking perfect at it for some reason… how many times must he have done this to know how to cut noise out without stopping airflow?  You clutch at his wrist and silently mouth his name, feeling his arm work between your legs—faster, faster, harder, pushing you higher, higher—
Din pulls his fingers out again and this time, one of your thighs suddenly feels warm and wet while you spasm and you hear him growl out a ragged, “Fuck yes.”  Everything is sparks zapping through you long after his touch is gone, you cry out but it’s all trapped under Din’s expert grip.  His fingers soon push back inside you and you dig your nails into his forearm, your sounds muffled and quiet enough to hear his raspy groan.  
“Let me see it again,” Din breathes, his arm starting to work up and down once more, and you don’t even know what he’s talking about anymore.  What does he want to see?  You losing your mind again?  Being reduced to an utter mess in front of his shadowy but unobstructed gaze just because you managed to pull one over on him?
Fucking… apparently.  It’s what happens, after all.  You’ve never seen him like this before; whenever he’s worked up and taking it out on you, there was always something in it for him, too.  He’d hammer into you and rock your world until his eventually shattered, and then you’d both lay exhausted afterwards, equally affected and satisfied.  This isn’t like that—this is just cruel, targeted retribution on his behalf, coaxing the molten pleasure out of you with his fingers and keeping his other hand locked around your throat.  You blink helplessly up at him, your vision starting to blur by the time he leans down to whisper to you.
“I missed you, sweet girl.  Did you miss me?”  It’s so soft and quiet compared to the strength and relentlessness of his movements.  You can’t speak even if you wanted to, but when he finally pulls away to yank his hand out and you feel all your muscles automatically flex outwards and push against the sudden emptiness inside you, his voice groans long and satisfied while your thighs get wet again  “Yeah you did,” he breathes, pushing your shaky legs to the brick with his hand and watching you struggle through the aftershocks.
Did you just cum?  You don’t even know, that’s how fucked up you are right now.  The whole thing felt like an orgasm from the very beginning, just a boiling hot tornado ripping through every single cell in your body, never really having a peak.  If you didn’t cum, then why do you feel so weak?  You feel heavy, your limbs don’t work properly, and you barely even register Din pulling at the fabric of his own robes until he fits himself up against your entrance.
When you do realize it, though… your body burns with it, wrecked already but wanting him to take what he wants from you.
“Oh, plea—” you gasp but you don’t even have enough time to get the full sentence out.  He’s already pushing his hips forward, pressing you tight into the ground and opening you up after what feels like a fucking eternity without him.  It’s the hottest, slickest welcome you could give him, you hear it in the whispered curse his lips brush up under your ear, the wet noises your body makes that get louder the longer you hold the moan in your throat and bury your head into his shoulder.  He throbs thick and perfect inside your tight, spasming cunt, stretching you and smacking the rough ground near your head with how fucking good it is to be back, finally, finally—
Your hands grab uselessly at his chest while you try to acclimate, try to breathe while you’re blind with sensation.  It’s so fitting for him, isn’t it?  That your reunion should be just as physically debilitating as it is mentally.  Din’s voice scrapes on a groan like he’s dragging it across the brick ground as quiet as he can, catching when you clamp down on him and shuddering when you clamp down harder.  That’s just it—you don’t ever loosen, you just keep tightening and tightening around him, threatening to break and cum again.
This feels different from before, though.  It’s deep, purposefully so.  His hand reaches up to push the fabric of your hood back, lifting himself up over your body and wanting to start as deep as he can.  You feel him in a place you’d never be able to reach and that’s just the beginning—that’s before he starts thrusting into you, hitting a dull sensation at the apex of each movement so hard that it becomes sharp.  His hips don’t make practically any sound smacking into you because they don’t really smack, they just rock downwards and fuck you into the floor without needing to pull out really at all.  You know he’s just trying to keep it as quiet as possible, but what he lacks in speed and agility he makes up in power.
You don’t even realize you’re making too much noise until a palm wraps tight around your mouth and the room gets a little emptier.  Din keeps you all to himself on the floor, silencing as much as he’s working you up, smothering as much as he’s freeing you.  There’s no easing up, no dragging it out, no gradual build or climb—it’s just there all of a sudden, pleasure and pain pummeling you all at once, engulfing you in flames.
You reach up to grab at the loose fabric of the hood over his face, catching a fistful of it before his hand suddenly snatches your shaky wrist and pins it back to the ground.
Maker, you forgot—oh, you completely forgot about how many people could find you right now if they ever decided to look in the right place.  You’re not in hyperspace; your body is rocking against rough brick, you’re probably going to have a lump on the back of your head from how terrible you are at trying to map out heaven while holding still.  He’s pinned down what he can with one hand; your fingers are the only things that can move besides how tight you can curl your toes, but you feel your moans turn into words against his palm.  They garble indistinctly and you’re not really even sure what you’re saying, but Din decides it’s worth hearing.
“Shh,” he whispers, slowly lifting his hand from your mouth.  “Shh, tell me—”
“W-wanna look,” you hear yourself whimper, trying your best to keep quiet but wanting to scream it while he fucks you hard and slow on the ground, “—I wanna see, I wanna look at you—”
“Fuck,” Din gasps, and though his grip tightens on your wrist and you know he can’t do it right this second, the words seem like they shatter something inside him, “Keep—oh fuck, please, k-keep saying…”
“I want to marry you,” you nearly whine for him, feeling his hips kick up rapidly and start hammering in and out, in and out, in and—“I want to see your face, I wanna be yours, I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I-I—”
You think he drops his head into your neck to muffle his own sounds.  Though they start out rough and quiet and indiscernible, but they gradually become louder as he repeats himself over and over again, growling and fucking you rough.  You only catch it on the peak, when he pulls his mouth away from your skin and gasps them raggedly one last time.
“—ve you—I l-love y—”
He kisses you to stop himself.  But it’s not really a kiss, it’s more desperate than that.  Though it’s beautiful, it’s beautiful in a different light.  It’s not rejoicing at having you back with him once again; it’s a last prayer begging you to stay by his side forever.  He loves you.  He gives it everything—it feels even more concrete and simple than taking the hood off him and revealing his face would.  You told you that you'd know him without ever seeing him, and you did.  You picked him out and found him when absolutely nothing was giving him away, and this feels like a manifestation of that.  Even if you’re not in a place where he can show you his face, his beautiful brown eyes, something still feels like it changes.  He loves you.  You gasp into his mouth and his tongue sinks deep into yours, tenacious and brave and unyielding.  
When you finally cum, you almost bite him on accident.  
Everything surges hot and molten while he pulls back and keeps fucking you through it, and you can’t tell where you’re touching him anymore, just that his skin is blazing hot under your hand and he feels like everything the armor isn’t.  He loves you.  You’re looking into his eyes right now.  You can’t see any of the details, not really, but the moonlight flickers like silent stars moving through dark depths, staring right back at you and giving you an anchor for the euphoria rocketing through you.  He loves you.  Your nails dig in sharp and slowly drag downwards, scratching hard red lines into whatever thick muscle that is—
The back of his neck, making his hips stutter and when he cums for you, he does bite.
You lift your head just in time to feel his teeth catch your chin instead of your mouth, and his entire body shakes while you keep dragging your nails down the side of his neck and his throat.  Din fucking lives for it, he releases you and arches into the pain and owns your marks like he wishes you made them deeper, stretching his neck and lifting his chin into the moonlight and—
Maker.  You can see it, with direct light, you can see more of it than ever before.  You can see his soft lips and white teeth gritting the sound of your name as quietly as he can, the dark facial hair dusting across the lower half of his face.  A fucking gorgeous jawline and throat extended long over you, flexing hard with his cock pulsing inside you.  You can just barely see the bottom of his nose from under the brown hood, the dark curls brushing up under his ears.
Stars, you still never see his eyes, the fabric of his hood acts like a blindfold draped over them, but you think you cum again.  Even if it’s on accident, it’s mean—Din tries to keep from squishing you and his hand pushes down hard against your lower tummy while he shoves his hips deep one last time, and you cum while staring at half of his face in the moonlight.  Completely lovestruck.
How can he be this beautiful when you’ve only seen fractions of him?  You have everything but the eyes now, everything but the most mysterious thing about him, the reflection into his deepest self, but you feel like you’re hypnotized by every single feature you do see.  His tongue coming out to wet his lips, the vein pulling under his sharp jaw—he’s gorgeous, he’s gorgeous, and your body agrees.  It shakes and shudders under him and eventually, Din finishes and you keep looking as his chin slowly lowers, face disappearing into the shadow once more.
Stars.  He’s so handsome and no one has ever told him, fucking dreamy and the biggest grump you’ve ever met.  Without being able to see him, you already want to reach your hands out and touch him, drag your nails through his scruff and force him to extend outwards into the moonlight again for you.  Whenever he does end up showing you his face, you know right fucking now that you’ll never be able to look away.  For the rest of your life, you’ll be staring at him, apologizing blankly for your rudeness but not feeling sorry at all.
Din leans down and gives you a slow, gentle kiss, finally relaxing into a slouch and breathing hard with the effort it took to shatter you with pleasure.
“The kid is with the other foundlings,” he whispers against your lips.  “You… you’ll have to go get him, I need to grab my armor.”
You squeeze around his cock, pulling at the fabric of his robes and ignoring him for just a second.  He fucked you in robes belonging to one of the guards and nobody has mentioned it, you need to say something.  “Where did you get this?”
“I found it,” he tells you after a moment, kissing up under your jaw.  Oh fucking Maker, he feels so good and perfect inside you, shoulders so broad and crowding you on the floor, and his lips are plush and hot, brushing and fitting your skin like it’s just an extension of his own.  “Some guy was wearing it.”
It takes you a second.
“Mando,” you suddenly gasp in quiet horror, pushing at his chest and trying your best to detach his mouth from your throat.  It’s so much more difficult than it needs to be, but you eventually succeed.  “What did you do to him?  Where is he?”
He lifts his neck up just the tiniest bit, turning his face towards yours under the hood and holding still for way too fucking long.  He’s too close to see the expression he’s making, but you know the tone of his silence.  He’s in trouble and he knows it before you do.
“Ma—”
“They’re in a closet,” he admits at the very same time, completely monotone.
You don’t know which word to emphasize.  A fucking closet?  They’re?  Plural?  Instead of stressing any particular word, you decide not to do it at all and it ends up just coming out in the same exact blank tone as him.  “They're in a closet.”
“Inside the Temple,” Din continues on when you lay still as a statue underneath him.  His head slowly dips down once more, pushing his hips against you just the slightest bit to make you remember the cock still inside you instead.  Your eyelashes flutter with it—fuck, focus—“I didn’t know there’d be more than two.”  He kisses your neck so gently.  “It was an accident.”
You don’t say anything at all, your mouth pinching down at the corners because it should but your heartbeat galloping with how… fucking sexy he is.  You shouldn’t encourage this, this horrible behavior just to get close enough to catch you, but your curiosity overtakes you and you ask a question you’ve asked yourself before.  “Did they put up a fight?”
“Mm,” he whispers noncommittally, rocking his hips down once more.  “You did.”  Your nails dig into his chest, making him falter just slightly before slowly kissing your neck again.  “Did so good.  Fought hard, outsmarted me.  Pretty fucking girl.”
And then your eyes pop open as you feel it.  His cock suddenly beginning to harden once again inside you, twitching and gradually gaining a thicker shape, and for a moment, you actually fucking consider it.  He’s the only one in this galaxy that could not only ruin you on these sacred grounds, but then coax you into doing it more than once—stars, are you actually considering it?
“We can’t,” you automatically tell him, but it’s fucking pitiful.  Zero effort, absolutely no umph behind it, leaving it entirely up to him and how much he wants it.  Your logic reminds you that the kid is probably wreaking havoc in the nursery and there are tied up guards in the fucking temple that could be discovered any second.  You shouldn’t have even let him fuck you here in the first place, but…  “Mando, we can’t—”
His mouth opens against the crook of your neck and his tongue brushes velvet hot on your skin, tasting the glistening sweat there and not moving his broad figure a single inch over you besides getting closer, deeper.  Your nails dig into his collarbone, aiming for reason one last time.  It’s apparent that you’d be better off rephrasing, knowing the challenging streak in him and how much telling him what to do doesn't help.
“It’s not a good idea,” you attempt instead, breathless and trying not to move under his mouth and lazy hips.  “Not smart.  Bad idea to fuck again.”
Din’s body stops moving, even though he keeps getting harder.  His jaw opens and then his teeth scrape softly against your flesh, making you tilt your neck back and gasp.
“Later,” he lifts his head to state aloud, committing it to truth now that it’s been spoken and heard by another person.  “Later, I’ll fuck you on the ship, in our bed, when I can get you naked and have your taste in my mouth.”
Tingles rock through your body and you squeeze around his cock just as he pulls it out and tucks it back into his pants.  Your lungs quiver when you inhale—it’s shaky, but it reminds you of how long it’s been since you’ve been able to breathe correctly.
“Later,” you finally agree, combing your fingers through your hair and glad you have this hood to cover your freshly fucked dishevelment.  He came inside you and you don’t want to be leaking and getting your nice pretty robes all wet and stained, but then of course, without any prompting, Din quickly scoots back on his knees and drops his head down to take care of it for you.
***
Commotion.
After Din helped you clean up the way he sometimes likes and then disappeared to change back into his armor, you put your mask and hood back on and tried to look as casual as possible walking to the nursery.  Your knees wobbled slightly and you couldn’t stop smiling under the mask the entire walk there, but when you arrived, you just saw a dim room with sleeping infants—not what you were expecting.  Soon, however, you hear it: down the hall, distant and coming from the dormitories, you hear a loud commotion.
Fuck, you’re nearly wincing with every step you take now, and not because you’re sore.  Well, you… are, a little bit, but in a great way.  No, you’re just dreading the ridiculous shinanigans you already know are well underway, wondering if Din actually dropped the kid off in the dorms from the beginning or if he somehow migrated his way there to cause trouble.
When you walk inside, the first thing you see is a handful of crying and shouting toddlers, and while you can’t immediately spot your favorite floppy-eared monster, you don’t have to see him to know he’s probably standing tiny directly in the middle of this tense showdown.  Automatically, you’re taking a few steps forward to rescue him, but then you stop as soon as you see what the other babies are so mad about.  A large piece of chocolate leftover from the festival levitating just beyond their pitiful little reaches.
Hm.  Who could possibly be responsible for using demon powers to steal snacks and hold them hostage from a sizeable group of hostile children.  A mystery that may never be solved.
It makes you take a second.  The sheer… the… stars, you can’t even think straight—how fucking typical it is just hits you right in the chest, sends your heart into orbit.  Of course.  Of course this is what he’s gotten himself into without immediate supervision, of course this is the shipwreck you’d walk into, and you’re holding back a chuckle before making a single move to intervene.  In the midst of everything, you can hear adults approaching distantly from behind you.
“—don’t know where it came from, I was helping the younglings into bed when I heard the ruckus and I—”
The voices gradually grow louder, and you snatch the floating piece of candy out of thin air and whip around right before Sister Drya and Naydee walk in.  Their hushed, concerned conversation is cut to an abrupt end, and you clear your throat as they take you in, standing in front of chaos central continuing to go off behind you.  Do you… look as freshly disheveled as you are?  You’re not supposed to be here, you know, but hopefully the only strange thing is your presence itself and not anything concerning your appearance.
“Nerida,” the older lady suddenly announces, the name alone holding so much expectation, and the younglings missing their candy have now turned their ire towards you and the crinkly food wrapper hidden in your fist.  “What is the meaning of this?”
“Ah, yeah,” you stand up a little straighter, letting the chocolate casually fall out of your grip behind you, and a stampede of feet suddenly kick up to recover it.  It’s fine, nobody will know, it’s fine.  “It’s just…”  Your head tips behind you to the cause of the uproar, feeling a bit sheepish yet so incredibly fond.  “My… kid.”
Sister Drya stares at you for a few seconds, before tipping sideways and staring at the culprit.  “That is your child?”
You turn around just in time to see him, now abandoned by the angry mob of children, finally notice you.  All of a sudden, his pitch black eyes light up something bright and sunshiney, and you just start beaming in return.  What an adorable little creature, apple of your eye and pain of your ass.
“Yep,” you sigh, dropping into a squat and watching him barrel towards you, catching him right before he can trip over his brown potato sack and scooping him up into your arms.  “Hiya, bug,” you murmur with a grin, lifting back up and plopping him in his favorite spot in the universe—your left hip.  “You making friends?”
He giggles and it’s like sparkles and bubbles fill the room instead, wrapping tiny arms around the largest surface area he can get and clinging.  He laughs with a tiny open mouth, bless him, clearly not understanding the sarcasm, and suddenly your eyes feel just the slightest bit wet.  No, you’re not crying, don’t be fucking ridiculous, but you missed him like hell and he’s just the cutest fucking thing—why do you feel like crying?
“Sorry about that,” you apologize to the two women while slowly turning around, brushing your thumb over one of his cheeks and smiling as it squishes.  “He’s… uh.  Not great at sharing.  We’ll work on it.”
Takes after his dad, you purposefully leave out, just a different kind of sharing.  Din hasn’t shown you his full face yet and the kid performs magic tricks to taunt a roomful of children a fraction of his age for a single piece of chocolate, completely different kind of sharing.
Sister Drya says something in response, but when you look up to address her, all you see is Din standing silently behind her and Naydee, slowly dropping his hand from his helmet to his side.  They don’t seem to notice he’s there and you automatically try your best to pay attention to the Sister speaking to you, but your eyes get caught on the silver reflecting in the dim light beyond.  Fuck, he’s a presence.  An immediate distraction, taking all your focus with a single glimpse.  Seeing him fully armored again, staring at you from the silent shadows behind everything… you melt a little bit, knowing that you’ve seen more of what’s underneath than anyone.  Your shoulders settle and your entire body burns warm, wobbly like the air around a fire, and one of the kid’s hands leaves you to reach out towards his dad.
You watch the metallic helmet tilt sideways after a moment, saying everything without saying anything.  Come on, make up an excuse, let’s get out of here.
Looking at him in the quiet shadows, you’re reminded once again about how much you love him, how much softness you have inside you for a man so hard, so guarded.  And, for the first time, a voice in your head finishes a poem you didn’t realize you were writing, adding its own verse and bringing everything back around to the beginning.  He loves you, too.  How much he lets his guard down for you, the way he’s revealed more of his face to you than not.  You love each other.  You’re family.
So, all at once, you decide to mess with him, because that’s what family does best.
“Don’t be shy, come say hello,” you suddenly urge his silent figure, taking a step forward and speaking directly to him.  “Sister Drya, Naydee, I’d like to introduce you to my—”
It’s remarkable, you see it happen in front of you.  Like he has powers of his own, Din just literally fucking disappears.  Like magic, he’s nowhere to be found within a blink of an eye.  You know he’s capable of it; he’s done it plenty of times during the chase just to fuck with your head, but you’re staring straight at him when it happens this time and it might just be the funniest fucking thing you’ve ever seen him do.
Sister Drya and Naydee both turn around to an empty hallway bathed in shadows and you laugh.  A deep, shameless, loud belly laugh.  Where the fuck did he go so quick?  You were staring straight at him and you have no fucking clue.  He’s just out, and you’re left alone with his child and the unspoken understanding that he’ll just catch up with you later.
You’re giggling even as you shake your head and give the women your genuine thanks for keeping you and feeding you these past few days, grabbing your backpack with all your belongings and eventually using three green fingers to wave goodbye to them.  The very first thing Din says when he seamlessly joins you outside the Keja later is, “That wasn’t funny,” which just makes you laugh harder.
***
About a half hour has passed, and you’re walking along a dirt road, cradling a very happy baby in your arms and giving the grown man next to you an incredibly hard time.
“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, your back twinging slightly at the way you’re leaning about as sideways as you can get without falling over.  You think you’re basically just the hypotenuse between the ground and Din, who easily supports almost your entire weight with your backpack slung around his far shoulder and readily allows you to rest against him.
“They’re fine,” he grumbles in response, squeezing you tight to his side.  You just have to focus on moving your feet; it’s like he’s practically carrying your upper-half anyways.  “I gave them the night off.”
“You stuffed them in a closet,” you hiss, feeling his shoulder shrug under your cheek.
“I gave them the robe back,” he says, not really defending himself and more just throwing it out there to see if it helps any.  “I’m sure someone’s found them by now, they’re fine.”
Your eyes suddenly go wide, absolutely mortified at the thought.  “Wait.  What do you mean you gave the robe back?”
He shrugs once more, apparently not seeing the problem yet.  “I borrowed it, so I gave it back after I put my armor back on.”
If you could plant your feet on the dirt road and screech to a halt, you would, but all your weight is already resting on him and you’re working solely off his forward movement.  You just hope your tone holds the same amount of shocked disapproval your body language would’ve conveyed if you weren’t so completely attached to his hip like a parasite he adores.
“You fucked me wearing it, though.”  Your voice is strangely flat, so fucking confused and horrified by the mental image of him just tossing the soiled garments haphazardly somewhere in the temple behind you, or even worse, leaving them somewhere respectful, and Din soon stops in the middle of the deserted road.
“Oh,” is all he says, emotionless and blank through the modulator.  Did he not even consider this?
“I had to promise them I was a virgin just to sleep there, you know,” you admit, and you can tell that’s brand new information to him with how still he goes as you continue to lean against him.  You’re getting the feeling that he probably knows a lot more about your experiences on this moon than you think he does, but can tell that this is brand new information to him.  “And you locked three of their holy men in a closet, chased me across the temple grounds, fucked me in one of their robes, and then.  You gave it.  Back.”
Din stays perfectly silent for quite some time.  You can never go back to that place, you know this for a fact.  You’re banned forever now, it’s what you deserve.
Never one to be outdone but not actually having anything to say for himself, Din suddenly decides to just scoop you into his arms and boost up into the sky without a single word like an actual fucking maniac.
You squeal and damn near drop the baby because of it, but he cinches you tight to his chest and refuses to loosen with your struggle.  Eventually, after you realize he’s completely locked you in and you won’t fall to your death with this poor innocent child in your arms, you glance over the shiny pauldron on his shoulder and watch the kid’s crib disappear by the abandoned road as Din takes you higher and higher.
The crib—he forgot the crib—
“D-Din,” you stammer out through the whistling air, stiff as a board.  Stars, you have such a different sense of adventure than him; an explorer and a daredevil, one who gets a thrill from discovering the existence of the edge of a cliff and one who’ll take a running dive off of it without thinking twice.  He’s hit with blaster fire some days, he faces down death completely fearless like it owes him one every single time, and you’re stiff as a fucking board while he carries you through the sky.  It’s stunning up here, it’s exciting and wonderful, but you’re so scared that you can barely even look.  He’s giving you the most fantastical view, everything your budding adventurous streak could ever ask for, and your terror is crushing.  It would be different if you could hold on, but you’re responsible for not letting the baby slip through your arms and you just have to trust that he won’t let you slip through his.
You raise your voice.  “Din?!”
“I won’t drop you,” he automatically reassures, and well you sure as fuck hope not, but there’s something else.
“What about the crib?”  You call out over the wind whipping, tucking the baby tight to your chest and settling your hands over his ears to avoid them flapping and whacking you repeatedly in the chin.
“We’ll come back for it,” he responds, just as easily.  Maker, you wish decision-making came that easy to you, that commitment and choice should be so simple as to just fly away from things on the ground and promise out loud to come back for them.  You know he will, but still, his spontaneity shocks you after spending the past week thinking every decision through meticulously, and you’re taken aback by the casualness of it all while soaring through the sky, committing such spectacular feats without a single thought beyond it.
Soon—incredibly soon, which honestly kind of blows your mind—you spot Nariss glowing in the distance and then you’re flying overtop of the city, slowly dropping altitude in the middle of a quiet little side street.
Din carefully allows your feet to settle on the ground before letting go, but you still stumble a bit stupidly after flying so high without any sort of safety measure besides him, prioritizing the steadiness of the baby in your arms instead of your feet underneath you.  His gloves catch at your clumsy body and pull you along with him without another word, leading you out of the quiet alley and into the middle of a beautiful, luminescent street.
What’s he doing?  He seems slightly hurried, and you’re clueless but you go with it, clamoring along behind him to wherever he’s leading you.
Though, you suddenly remember one of the very last things you told him last night right before he steps up in front of a vendor.
“Caf,” Din grunts, sliding a few credits towards the man standing behind the counter. “The… biggest one you have.”
Okay, well.  You could just about fucking cry.
“Y’sure?” The vendor asks skeptically, jerking his head at the large thermos behind him.  He’s balding, wearing a white outfit with his eyes scrunched up and forehead sweaty, likely working all day.  “It ain’t fresh.  Closin’ up soon, was just about to trash it and go home.”
The helmet turns to gauge your response to the news, the sharp angles and contours looking so sleek and dangerous as they reflect the colorful lamplights, but just filling you with comfort beyond anything in the entire galaxy.  He’ll take that armor off for you tonight and you’ll sleep next to him.  He’ll call you by your given name, or the fond name he’s given you, and you’ll cuddle your baby on a metal floor in hyperspace with him, and all will be well.  Even if he needs to leave again soon—even if you don’t get to go with him, you’ll always have these small eternities with each other, and that’s more enough for you now.
You’re completely zoned out while staring at him, and Din turns back to the vendor before you can even remember the conflict he was attempting to defer to you.
“Yeah, just empty the whole thing in there for her,” he mutters, and you want to marry him.  It’s been a long week, and in your haze and delight of being with him in this gorgeous setting, your brain turns to cavewoman mush.  Big man, makes me happy.  Strong man, loves me, knows me.  Provider, makes me feel good, protector, loves me.
Din hands you the large cup of steaming caffeine, clueless to your grunted inner monologue but knowing better than to reach out and grab the kid from your other arm.  You’re just fine like this, hands full, the little frog snuggled up against your side and blinking up at your face instead of any of the shiny or glowing things around you.  When you look down at him, you can see the world through his eyes—quite literally, they’re reflective and gigantic—and his father’s hand quickly finds its preferred spot on your lower back.
“Try to drink it quick,” Din advises you gruffly, pulling you snug into his side and sloshing the big cupful of piping hot liquid in your hand.
“It’s a thousand degrees,” you protest, trying to balance your three favorite things in the universe all begging for your direct attention at once.  “It has to cool down.”
He gives a dismissive hm in response, and you frown even as your heart soars with how tightly he’s gripping you, how little leeway you have to even move without him.  Part of you is so thrilled at being reunited with him that you consider snarking something back at him, excitement making you brave.  He could probably chug boiling hot liquid in thirty seconds and doesn’t see the point in letting it sit any longer, and you could make some stupid joke about filtering it through his helmet or having a built in bendy straw but you decide to keep it to yourself.
So then you just stand there together, under stringed lights and flowers everywhere, and he waits.  Holding you glued to his side, completely silent and clearly just waiting for your caf to stop steaming so threateningly in your hand so you can drink it.  For some reason, the fact that he’s wanted by the New Republic doesn’t really register at this second—you’re not looking for cops, though he may be.  You’re just lost in this beautiful, fancy city that’s on the edge of finally quieting down after a long day, and you’d like to see more of it with him next to you.
“Well, do you wanna just…”  You ask, tilting your head around at all the vendors.  “Shop around for a bit?”
“Shop… around,” Din repeats slowly, sounding the words out like they’re not common Basic.  Admittedly, they do sit a bit awkward in his voice when put together like that, describing a phenomena he’s likely never even considered a thing before, but it’s so fucking pretty here and you’d like to show him something this time instead of the other way around.
“Yeah, like,” you shrug a shoulder, tipping your head in a random direction.  Anywhere, you’ll go literally anywhere with him, the three of you can go explore.  “Just wander around, and look at all the pretty things.”
From where you’re standing right now, you can already see glittering crystals and jewels being sold at the tent across the street, there’s a booth dedicated entirely to floral arrangements and crowns next to it, you can hear a distant quartet playing melodically in the distance and a couple is being painted by an artist on the corner.  Bars are in full swing at this point, as if they weren’t all day, and even though the merchandise is all different, the multicolored tents look slightly similar when they’re underlit with multicolored lights.  It’s less slightly lively than it was in the daytime, but also… more beautiful, in a sense.  Muted, softer, more romantic.
“I don’t have any more credits,” Din admits casually, finally turning to look around at everything.  You get the feeling that he’s just now seeing it, even after spending the entire day here.  “That stale caf was the last of it.”
Money well fucking spent, you can assure him of that.
“It’s okay,” you tell him automatically, gently bumping your hip into his.  “We don’t need credits, we can just look.”
So that’s what you do.  Even though it’s completely not his fucking style, for the next hour or so, you just walk around downtown with him and sip your caf, looking at anything and everything new and experiencing it with him.  At first, you think he’s just entertaining you, following you while you discover new streets and attractions, but then he points out different things and you know he's looking, too.  There are large animals harnessed up and pulling carts for people to ride, there's an enormous spinning wheel set up in the distance, its colorful lights flickering out as soon as you ask what the fuck that is and why anyone would ever get inside one.
You eventually end up finishing your caf around the time he’s leading you back through a quiet, abandoned alleyway, and you hand him the empty cup to throw away in one of the trash cans on the corner.  The conversation has faded to a comfortable quiet and you don’t really need to ask—you go willingly, not requiring anything beyond his hands on you and the baby dozing in your arms.
“Come on, sweet girl,” he murmurs, gently sweeping you up into his.  You sigh, glad he’s giving you a moment to prepare yourself this time, holding the sleeping kid securely to your chest and resting your head on his shoulder.  “Let’s go home.”
After you’re comfortable, Din rockets up from the ground and climbs high up into the canvas sky.  He disappears with you and the baby into the pastel clouds above, making it back to the Razor Crest in probably about an hour, maybe less.  You and the baby do nothing more than climb into the comfy floor blankets while Din starts up the engines, and you think you’re dozing off together by the time he makes the pit stop to collect the crib and the jump into hyperspace.
You think he might shower?  You’re not sure—you just know he moves up behind you in bed at one point without any armor, burying his face in your hair while you cuddle the sleepy kid to your chest.  It’s dark in the hull, Din’s palms are bare and warm as they slide around the front of your body and he breathes you in, and there isn’t a single place that can touch you here, not a single place you’d rather be.
Home.
***
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@followwhereshegoes​ Thank you for the stunning artwork! 💕To anyone interested in possibly doing an art collab in the future, please message me!!
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bitch-for-bo · 3 years
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Jealousy (Miya Atsumu x chubby reader)
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POST TIME SKIP
Bokuto and his childhood best friend have gotten awfully close lately, a little too close for Atsumu's liking. He's mad about how much attention you give to Bokuto after a game, when you confront him about his attitude, things quickly get out of control.
ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 
Atsumu’d had enough. He’d been watching you shamelessly ogle over and compliment Bokuto for the last five minutes, and you’d failed to notice him or congratulate him once. All he’d gotten so far was a quick kiss along with a ‘good game’ before you’d ran over to Bokuto to hype the hitter up.
He didn’t care that you were just having a light good-natured conversation with your childhood friend. All he could focus on was the way that your bodies were unconsciously tilted towards each other or how Bokuto’s hands were lingering a little too much as he wrapped them around you for a hug.
It wasn’t just today either. All it had been with you for the last week at least, was how awesome and strong Bokuto was. Not to mention how built he was. God, you went to the gym with Bokuto once, and now you wouldn’t stop rambling about how surprisingly ripped the spiker was beneath his jersey.
All it was was,
“Oh my god, did you know that Bokuto can hip thrust almost 600 pounds! God! He could crush me with those thighs!”
Or
“We were goofing off and Bokuto actually picked me up and squatted me!”
All of these things were said in front of the whole MSMBY team, causing Bokuto to puff up with pride, Hinata to marvel at his awesomeness, Sakusa not to care, and Atsumu to go off and seeth to himself.
Of course, you didn’t know the effect that you had on Atsumu. You couldn’t tell that every time you playfully flirted with Bokuto, telling him how handsome and strong he was, that Atsumu was filled with the urge to rip you away and fuck you right in front of the whole team, letting them know just who you belonged to.
You didn’t know this because, while Atsumu was incredible at communicating with his teammates, he was shit at expressing his feelings when it came to you. This led to him bottling up all of his feelings until they became too much for him. At which time he would go and rant to a very jaded and very annoyed Kiyoomi.
“Yeah, but did you see that one hit in the second set Y/N! Wasn’t it awesome!” Bokuto asked excitedly, bouncing back and forth on the pads of his feet as the two of you had a very animated conversation about the game he just played.
“Of course I did Bo! It was so cool!” You exclaimed back, matching his exuberant energy with your own.
You were incredibly proud of your childhood best friend, and you were super thankful that he just happened to be on the same team as your boyfriend. It made it to where you were always able to cheer both of them on without them being on opposite sides of the court. In your eyes, it was a win-win.
“Yeah well, maybe it was ‘cause someone gave you an awesome set,” Atsumu grumbled just loud enough for you and Bokuto to hear as he stood a couple of feet away from you with his arms crossed and a childish scowl on his face.
“Oh, don’t be like that Tsumu. Bo’s spike was fantastic!” You lightly scolded the blonde to which he just made a ‘hmph’ sound before turning and sulking away.
You had no clue why Tsumu got like this when you congratulated Bokuto. It wasn’t like you didn’t congratulate him as well. You always made sure that the blonde was the first and the last to receive cheers from you. So you had no idea why he was being so fussy lately.
As Atsumu walked away Bokuto could practically see the waves of anger radiating off of his back, and he guiltily ignored them. He knew why Atsumu acted like that when Y/N congratulated his spikes. He knew why Atsumu hated the idea of his girlfriend going to the gym and hanging out with one of his teammates.
He knew that the way that he interacted with Y/N made Atsumu angry, but he ashamedly did it regardless.
He couldn’t help it. The two of you had been so close as children, you grew up together, he knew everything about you. He knew your favorite color, all of your fears, your dreams, and when the two of you had decided to attend different high schools and got out of touch it had really hurt him.
That was why he was so happy when he joined the Jackals, that you just happened to be the girlfriend of one of his new teammates. Over the last couple of months, the two of you had re-ignited your old friendship and things were just like old times.
Well, they were just like old times until Bokuto realized that you weren’t the kid he used to know. Your personality was fundamentally the same, but drastically different at the same time.
He remembered back in primary school just how shy and insecure of a girl you were. He remembered defending you against the people who would bully you for your size, and comforting you when you cried about the mean things they would say.
Bokuto had always despised those people that had made you hate yourself. So every chance he got he would try to cheer you up and let you know just how great you really were.
Over the years, that insecure part of you really changed. It changed so much that at first Bokuto wasn’t sure if it was really you. No longer did you walk with your gaze on the floor, covering your body with too-baggy clothing. No longer did you apologize unnecessarily or hold your tongue in conversations.
The moment that he’d seen you with Atsumu, he was completely taken back. You had been wearing a corset top and jeans that perfectly hugged your plush frame as well as a pair of black heels.
You had always been afraid of showing your body like that in the past. You didn’t like the way that your stomach wasn’t flat or the way that your thighs rubbed together and shook when you walked. He’d also never seen you in a pair of heels before, you were always afraid of being taller than the guys seeing as you were already pretty tall without heels on.
Much to Bokuto’s surprise and delight, you finally seemed comfortable in your body, confident even. And for good reason too because, in Bokuto’s opinion, your body had developed into one of the best bodies he’d ever seen. He would discreetly stare at you when you were with the team, his eyes fixating on the way that you jiggled and bounced every time you moved. He couldn’t help but develop a bit of jealousy towards Atsumu. After all, you were the blonde’s and not his, and sometimes, he would let his mind stray and wonder if he’d be in Atsumu’s place if the two of you had never lost touch.
“Anyways,” you said, pulling Bokuto out of his small daydream, “Are you guys gonna go out and celebrate tonight?”
You made sure to ask loud enough to where all of the Jackal’s heard. The players you didn’t speak to much just ignored you, including the captain who muttered something about being way too beat to go clubbing.
Hinata said he was going to go and hang out with Kageyama.
Sakusa said he wanted to go shower and rest.
And Atsumu was still fuming to himself, refusing to acknowledge your question.
“Hmm, I guess not,” Bokuto said, his hair slightly deflating. He was thinking about how it would be fun to go out when his body suddenly reminded him of the hard game that he just played. “To tell the truth Y/N, I’m pretty exhausted. I think I’ll follow Kiyoomi’s lead and just rest up.”
You frowned, yet nodded in understanding. They just played a really strenuous match so you couldn’t blame any of them for not feeling up to going out.
“I get it, make sure you all recover well!” you offered, your bright signature smile coming across your face and managing to increase the atmosphere’s energy a bit.
Bokuto waved as he and Hinata left the gym to head back to the hotel they were staying at for the night, each of them recapping their best plays of the night like feuding children.
You waved back before turning to your boyfriend, your frown returning when you saw that he was still sulking.
Atsumu didn’t even acknowledge you as he walked right past you and stomped out of the gym. Your frown only deepened at your boyfriend’s behavior, was he really opposed to you congratulating his teammates?
“Hey!” you called after Atsumu, trying to jog to catch up to him. “Hey!” you restated, you could tell that he was taking a little longer strides than usual, knowing that your chubby legs wouldn’t be able to keep up unless you shifted from a walk to a jog.
After he still didn’t reply, you decided to hold your tongue until you got to his hotel room, you didn’t want everyone in the building hearing your relationship squabbles and you definitely didn’t want to attract the attention of any paparazzi.
The walk to the hotel was dead silent. Atsumu was making no attempt to talk to you, and you decided that if he didn’t want to talk to you, you didn’t want to talk to him. And even if you did want to talk to him, you’d have to jog as you did it seeing as the asshole was still walking just fast enough to stay two or three strides ahead of you.
Once you made it to the hotel and after a very awkward elevator ride, the two of you arrived at the door to his room. He turned to look at you.
“You’re not planning on staying are you?” He asked coldly, looking down his nose at you as your mouth popped open in surprise.
While Atsumu was normally a great boyfriend, he really knew exactly what to say to hurt you. After a couple of months of dating, you had opened up to him about your past traumas and admitted to him that you used to only feel like a nuisance to people. He’d assured you that you were never a nuisance to him, that he could never grow tired of you. And him saying that made you feel a little bit better about that particular insecurity. So when he said that, your heart dropped.
“Oh,” you said quietly.
As soon as your gaze dropped to the floor, Atsumu knew that he’d really fucked up and guilt automatically began eating at his stomach. He felt incredibly bad and yet his mouth wouldn’t open to apologize.
“ok,” you continued, you could feel yourself wanting to cry but stopped yourself in fear of your tears only fueling Atsumu’s annoyance with you.
No one liked a clingy crybaby, you told yourself as you bit your lip to hold back the emotions.
“I guess I’ll just go back home, maybe I’ll see if Bo wants to go get some food,” you mumbled, turning to leave the setter.
“Of fucking course…” you heard Atsumu muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.
You turned back around, slightly angry at Atsumu’s attitude. You had tried to be sensible and walk away, giving him space, but if the asshole wanted to talk under his breath at you, you had every right to get angry. If he thought something was wrong he needed to man up and let it out.
“What’d you say?” You asked, your hands starting to fist at your sides.
“You heard me.” Atsumu sneered back, crossing his arms across his chest but not retreating into his hotel room. If anything the actions only caused your frustration to grow. Why the fuck was he being like this? He’s acting like a literal child.
You took a few quick steps towards the blonde, jabbing your finger into his chest as you glared up at him.
“Listen,” you hissed, “I have no fucking clue why you’re acting like this, but it’s not cute and it’s hurting my feelings. I’m not a mind-reader, if you have something bothering you, you have to tell me.”
“What?” Atsumu growled. He couldn’t believe that you really didn’t know what was bothering him. There was no way someone could be that fucking naive.
“You heard me.” you snipped back, your arms coming up to cross your body in a stance mirroring his.
Before you could tell what was happening, Atusmu had grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you inside of his room, the door slamming behind the two of you as he automatically trapped your body against it.
While you were still stunned by the extreme progression of events, Atsumu had unlooped your belt and fastened it around your wrists, securing them firmly behind your back.
“Hey! What the fuck Atsumu!” You seethed, your arms straining against the leather as the position forced your chest out against Atsumu’s.
“You really wanna know what’s bothering me?” he asked, the anger visible on his face.
“Yes!” You exclaimed in frustration, “that’s what I’ve been wanting to know for the last 15 goddamn minutes!”
As soon as you’d finished your sentence, Atsumu’s face got eerily calm. Instead of the scowl that’d been on his face a second ago, there was his usual smirk. A chill ran down your spine.
His hands left their place on your confined wrists to tightly grip your hips, almost hard enough to leave bruises.
“What a dirty mouth for such a pretty little thing.” He drawled, leaning closer to you until you could almost taste the sweat that had dried onto his temples.
“What ar-”
“ Shhh …” he cut you off, one hand coming up to press a finger against your mouth before going back down and curling lightly around your throat. “You wanna know what’s bothering me, Princess?”
His lips were against your jaw, his teeth scraping against the skin as he mumbled.
“Maybe…..” he continued, the hand that was on your hip tracing across your stomach until it came to the button of your jeans. He popped them open, eliciting another protest from you which he silenced with a slightly harder squeeze to your throat.
Your body was betraying you with every touch he left against your skin. You really didn’t want to give him the reactions that he so clearly craved, but you just couldn’t help the way your body responded to him.
“Maybe it’s because you dress like such a little slut at my games…. Are you trying to distract me, Princess?” He asked, his teeth disconnecting from your jaw as he pulled your jeans down and off of your body before reconnecting even rougher than before.
All you’d been wearing to the match was a pair of high waisted denims along with a simple black cropped tank top, you’d have worn one of Atsumu’s jerseys but they were all dirty at the moment. It was a simple outfit, it wasn’t anything to get pissed over, definitely not this pissed.
“No” you mumbled, still not wanting to let Atsumu know that his touch was affecting you as much as it was.
“Or were you trying to distract other guys, Princess? Were ya trying to show off yer pretty body to them like a little whore?”
Atsumu had worked your jeans completely off and was hooking his fingers around the band of your panties, obviously planning to tear them off of you as well.
Atsumu had never called you such mean things before and part of you hated the idea of him trying to tear your confidence down with the terms, but at the same time, there was no denying the terrible effect it was having on your body. You felt yourself getting wetter and wetter at the condescending words of your boyfriend and your resolve was quickly dissipating into the want to obey and submit to him with every fiber of your being.
“N-No!” you stuttered as you squealed at the feeling of Atusumu practically ripping your panties off of your body.
“ Liar.” he spat before taking your soaked panties and stuffing them into your mouth, effectively shutting you up as you moaned around the cloth at the lewd actions.
“You wanted all those guys to stare at yer ass didn’t you?” he asked, punctuating the question with a sharp slap to your ass, making you cry out and fall against his chest as he pulled you into him, one hand gripping your throat still as the other began to roam your plush silhouette.
“Or did you want them looking at your pretty tits?” he continued, taking your tank top between his fingers and pulling it down to expose your heaving chest, discovering that you’d been wearing one of those tops with a built-in bra.
“ A-aa ” you tried to moan out his name around the gag as his graceful setter fingers began to play with your already hard nipples.
“No bra? You really are my little slut aren’t ya? ” One of his hands continued to play with your breasts as the other slowly dragged down your waist, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
You keened against his body as his middle finger roughly slipped across your slit, drawing delicious circles around your clit. The fight in you was almost completely gone. You hadn’t forgiven your asshole boyfriend, it just felt so good to have him pressed up against you like this, touching you, controlling you.
“ Shit... “ he grunted, his finger sliding easily against you due to how incredibly wet you were for him.
His cock was straining against his shorts, but he knew that he didn’t want to give you his cock just yet, he needed to punish you first for how you’d been acting. Acting so naughty, such a little tease. You deserved to be taught a lesson.
“Does watching me play make you horny Princess, do you stand there and imagine getting to sit on my cock?” He asked, his fingers playing with your pussy as he started to walk you into the bathroom, his fingers never leaving your cunt.
“Mhmm.” You moaned in compliance.
Your body was hot with the need for his cock inside of you as the memory of the game played in your head. The way that he moved on the court never failed to soak your panties as you stood and cheered him on in the audience. Every single game you would watch his serves, just thinking about how he was just as powerful off the court as he was on. You couldn’t help but get wet just thinking about the possibility of fucking him after the game.
You thought that, with how Atsumu was acting, you weren’t going to get any victory dick today, turns out that you were obviously wrong. Not only were you getting dick, you were getting it like you’d never gotten it before. You could still feel the anger seeping out of Atsumu as his cruel fingers continued to torture you.
“Well, only good girls get their pussies stuffed.” he breathed against your neck, a pitiful whine leaving your lips as he slowly pushed a finger into your pussy.
“ Are you gonna be a good girl for me? ” He asked, mentally groaning at the way your soft walls clenched around the thick digit.
With the way that your tight wet cunt fluttered around his fingers, he almost forgot why he was mad. It was incredible the way that you could make him forget things like that, the way that you had him wrapped around your cute stubby fingers.
“Mhm!” you nodded frantically. Your hands were still bound and your mouth still gagged, so all you could do to convey your desperate message was moan and rub yourself against Atsumu like a bitch in heat, your hips pathetically trying to fuck yourself down onto his finger.
“What’s that?” he snickered, a second finger pressing into your cunt as the first found your g-spot, stroking up into the spongy texture without mercy.
You cried out, you could feel yourself starting to lose it. Usually, you could last much longer than this, but something about the way that Atsumu was manhandling you this time, made it so much harder to keep cool.
It felt like the setter had taken over all of your senses as he continued to finger fuck you into the wall of the bathroom. One hand was fucking your pussy and massaging your clit while the other was kneading your tits, pinching your nipples. At the same time, his mouth was latched onto your neck, sucking deep bruises into the skin, branding you for his whole team to see.
“That’s right Princess..” he groaned, he could feel you clenching harder around his fingers and he knew that you were getting close. “Imma mark you up so good everyone’s gonna know who you belong to.”
You knew that Atsumu was the jealous, possessive type, but nothing could’ve prepared you for just how extreme the problem was. You still didn’t know what sparked this little tantrum and you had the feeling that you wouldn't be able to pull the reason out of the setter until you let him have his way. Hopefully, you’d be able to walk after.
You could feel your end rising, the familiar feeling of a rubber band in your lower belly getting ready to snap. You threw your head back against the wall, trying to keep yourself from crying with the delicious pressure building up inside of you.
Atsumu must’ve known you were close, he used his free hand to help you rotate your arms over your head, twisting the belt around to allow the movement but not to allow you freedom.
“Hold your cunt open for me baby,” he demanded, guiding your hand down to your pussy and directing your arms to press against your stomach and your fingers to hold yourself open to where he could see his fingers fucking into you.
You were a mess, moaning and drooling around the gag as Atsumu’s gaze focused on the way that you continued to suck him back in with every pump of his wrist. He spat on his other hand before giving your clit a light spank, making you jerk against his hold, all of the air completely leaving your lungs as you clenched around his fingers.
“ Yeah …” he growled, his palm beginning to rub against your clit, the quick wet movements making you start crying with pleasure.
“W-nmnmwn” you begged around the gag, trying to warm Atsumu that you were about to cum. He liked it when you asked permission, so you always did and now your body was conditioned to where you almost couldn’t cum without him saying you could.
“What was that Princess?” he asked smugly, he knew exactly what you were trying to say. He knew that while you were acting like a little whore towards Bokuto lately, he was the one that owned your body, he knew that his baby wouldn’t disobey him and cum without permission.
You continued to beg around the gag, your hips and legs burning with the exertion of searching for your high against his hand. You were getting desperate. You looked up at your boyfriend.
Atsumu almost came at the sight of you looking up at him.
You looked so pretty for him, drool on your chin, tears in your eyes, he swore that before he was done with you, those tears would be running down your face, that he would make you cry and beg for his cock, make you admit that only he could fuck you this good. Not Bokuto, not anyone, just him.
“Do you wanna cum for me, Princess?” He asked.
You nodded.
“Okay then… cum for me Princess …” he demanded, leaning in, pulling down your gag, and taking your lips in a punishing kiss.
You cried out into his mouth, your orgasm finally washing over your body, causing it to spasm and jerk in Atsumu’s grip as he held you to his body, his fingers brutally fucking you through your high.
As soon as you’d stopped shaking, Atsumu slipped his fingers out of you and flipped you around, pressing his cock against your ass as your front was pressed into the bathroom counter. You rested your head down against the mirror, your eyes closing as your body still reeled from your orgasm.
You needed a little breather, but that wasn’t in Atsumu’s plan. His hand came down across your ass, making you squeak and lurch forward, your tits pressing down against the counter and your ass popping up into the air.
“Now come on Princess,” he drawled, pulling his cock out of his pants and thrusting it into you without warning, ripping a cry from your chest, “yer not tired yet are ya? We’re just getting started!”
“Nooo please ‘Tsumu...” you gasped, pushing yourself further into the counter, trying and failing to evade his touch.
His cock was hot and heavy inside of your still spasming pussy. You could feel every vein in him as you continued to pulse around him, he almost felt like his dick was suffocating in your soft puffy walls.
Atsumu groaned as he started to slowly fuck into you. He knew that if he started out going as fast as he’d like to, he’d be finished way too soon for his liking so he decided to slow his hips, his cock languidly dragging against your warm insides.
Atsumu couldn’t help these feelings of jealousy. After all, Bokuto was bigger and stronger than him. Deep down, he knew that the reason he was so bitter about you and the hitter’s friendship was that he was afraid of you leaving him for the owl-like spiker.
That’s why Atsumu chose to fuck you in the bathroom. He knew that the wall in the bathroom was the closest wall to Bokuto’s room. He knew that if he fucked you hard enough, he could make you scream his name loud enough to where his teammate would hear you. Then Bokuto would know just who you wanted stuffing your pretty little pussy.
“Come on Princess.” he teased, his hips grinding against your ass with a particularly hard thrust that had your mouth popping open and your lungs gasping for air.
“ You know you love this cock ……” he grunted when your pussy flared around him, clenching against his cock at the words, he grinned, he never knew that you liked getting fucked like a little slut, but now that he knew he swore that he’d never be able to return to fucking you like he had before. Not with the way that you were leaking for him as his degrading words cut through you like a hot knife.
You’d already adjusted to having him inside of you, the heat of him inside of you only being soothed by the cool countertop against your tits. You moaned with every thrust, you could already feel your mind beginning to fog over as Atsumu thrust behind you, plotting to fuck you dumb.
He suddenly stilled his hips, making you whine, trying to push yourself back onto him.
“‘Tsumu…” you whined, your eyes meeting his in the bathroom mirror, “move…”
He smirked, clicking his tongue at his messed up little baby.
“Tell me how much you love my cock, Princess.” He said, taking his dick completely out of you to rub it against your pussy lips, “tell me how much you love it and maybe I’ll fuck you again.”
Your face burned with humiliation. Atsumu had never acted this way before. Sure he was an asshole, but never this much of an asshole. That being said, there was no denying the impact that this side of Tsumu had on your body. You felt like you’d been enveloped in fire, every part of it burning up with need.
“ Please ‘Tsumu… .” you begged, “ I love your big cock so much….please fuck me …”
Atsumu groaned, his dick twitching against your slit. He loved hearing you like this, your voice broken as you begged for him to fill you. He could see the tears beginning to fall down your cheeks. So pretty.
“Since you asked so nicely Princess-” he cooed before harshly pumping his cock back into you, starting to fuck into you at a pace that had you crying and bucking back against him.
“Fuck!” you cried, “ Fuck- Tsumu…. Harder…. Fuck me harder ” you begged, you let your forehead fall forward against the mirror, your eyes drifting close.
“Shit” Tsumu growled through gritted teeth, you were so tight around him. He looked up to see your eyes closed.
‘Now that won’t do..’ he thought before threading a hand through your hair and pulling your head back off of the mirror, making a moan spill from your mouth and your eyes spring open.
“Come on Princess,” he panted, “ I wanna see your pretty tears while I fuck you. ”
***************
This was Atsumu’s favorite way to fuck you until you were crying and shaking around his cock. You looked so pretty with that dumb little look on your face, your eyes and lips puffy as you begged him to make you cum, telling him that all of it was too much for your poor little pussy.
He knew that you were reaching your limits, your pussy was fucked raw after 4 orgasms. You weren’t even able to form full sentences anymore, the only words coming out of your mouth were ‘more’ and ‘please’ along with all of your pretty pathetic little cries.
“‘Tsumu….” you cried, you could feel your fifth orgasm coming up inside of you. You didn’t know how much longer you could do this. Your clit was almost numb with how abused it’d been. Your nipples and tits were sore, and while you couldn’t see it, you knew that your whole body would be covered in bruises and marks tomorrow.
“ Please….hurts… ”
“Come on Princess….” he murmured as his fingers came down against your clit, “ just one more…”
You just whined in response, your hips jerking slowly against his pace. Your body was almost finished, but you knew that you had to give him just one more...one more and he’d finally let you rest.
“.... ..gonna….. gonna …” you panted.
Atsumu grinned down at you, your body was wrecked, your head was lolled to the side with your tongue hanging out as he fucked you hard enough for your tits and stomach to bounce with each thrust.
God, you looked so perfect for him. The way that your curves pressed against his body, the way that your pussy squelched with each thrust due to all of his cum that he’d dumped inside of you, all of it- all of you, was perfect… you were fucking built just for him.
“Me too baby…” he moaned, tossing his head back as he felt his third and probably finally orgasm approaching.
His fingers started playing with your puffy clit even faster making you choke on your tears, a new feeling entirely rising up.
You’d never felt this before, a look of horror suddenly came over your face as you began to feel like you were gonna piss.
“no… ’Tsumu!” you cried out, his pace not stopping at all as he began to feel your walls growing stiff.
He’d read about this before on the internet, seen it in porn, but never did he think that he’d actually be blessed enough to witness it.
“Fuck…” he moaned, his voice breaking as he sped up against your pussy.
“No… ” you gripped his forearms in fear, if you accidentally pissed on your boyfriend, you’d be left with no choice but to break up with him out of pure humiliation.
“ Please stop ‘Tsumu…’m gonna make a mess .”
He groaned at the fat tears rolling down your face. He knew what you were thinking, you’d probably never squirted for anyone before, you were probably surprised and scared. He knew he should reaffirm you, tell you it was okay. But he couldn't help but love the panic mixed with pleasure on your face as you begged him to stop.
“Come on Princess.” he panted, “ come on ….”
His hips were snapping into your at an inhuman speed now, each time his cock head bumped up against your g-spot.
“ You can do it Princess …” he promised, his fingers urging you to let you.
You shook your head, the tears of embarrassment running down your chin as you desperately tried to keep it in. You cried out, you could feel yourself starting to slip.
“ No- Fuck! ‘Tsumu!” you screamed, your body starting to convulse as liquid gushed out of your pussy, soaking Atsumu’s cock as he cummed into you, his eyes almost going crossed as you squirted all over his hips, the clear liquid running down his balls and dripping onto the bathroom floor.
“Fuck….yeah… squirt for me Babe. .” he groaned, riding out his high as you cried and gasped out his name.
He finally slowed his hips, your body completely limp with humiliation beneath him.
“Such a good girl….” he soothed, pushing the sweat-soaked hair out of your face as you continued to bawl.
“ ‘M sorry ‘Tsumu… ” you sobbed, still thinking you pissed all over your boyfriend’s cock.
“Don’t be sorry Princess, you did so good…you squirted so good for me Baby..you made such a good mess for me.”
For some reason, at Atsumu’s soft words, you began to cry even harder. Even as he assured you that you didn’t piss on him, you couldn’t help the tears of exhaustion that kept spilling over your cheeks.
“Are you okay baby?” he asked, guilt eating at his stomach as your crying didn’t cease.
Did he go too hard? Was it too much? Fuck! He couldn’t lose you, what if you didn’t like it? What if you left him?”
“F-felt so good ‘Tsumu….” you cried, finally returning his embrace as you wiped your tears against his defined chest, your soft body squishing against his athletic one as the hand rubbing your back stilled.
“Why are you crying then baby?” he asked gently, his fingers hooking under your chin as you sniffled.
“I dunno…” you whimpered, your eyes glossily staring back up at your boyfriend. Your body was completely blissed out, you could nothing but cry.
“Ok Baby… let’s get you cleaned up,” Atsumu whispered, gently lifting you off of the counter and guiding you to the shower so he could clean you up.
As he washed your plush body, he couldn’t help but admire his work. Every part of you looked absolutely fucked out and he quickly decided that he would die for you as you yawned, leaning yourself against him.
He kept whispering to you about how good you felt, how good you were for him, how he didn’t deserve you. Your body glowed with the soft compliments, a complete opposite of how he’d acted as he fucked you past over-stimulation.
After he finished washing you, he kissed you deeply, his strong arms wrapping around your body.
“Can you walk Baby?” he asked, softly wrapping a fluffy towel around your naked body.
You shook your head, sticking your bottom lip out in a pout.
“That’s okay..” he chuckled, his thumb running over your cheeks as he stared at you lovingly. “I’ll carry you wherever you want to go okay?”
You nodded, willing yourself not to start crying again at his soft words. You wrapped your arms around his neck, jumping a little to help him hoist you as you wrapped your legs around his waist.
He walked you into the room, resting you in the bed and pulling the comforter up around you before snuggling into the other side, his body automatically coming up to spoon yours.
“I love you, Princess,” he whispered adoringly, his fingers brushing against your bruised skin.
“Mmmm…love you too..” you hummed, your body so exhausted that you quickly started snoring, making Atsumu grin.
He thought about how lucky he was to have you. He could safely say that he was completely satisfied with how loud you’d been for him, with how nicely you’d let him claim you.
*************
“Fuck…” Bokuto whispered, his back was still pressed against the shower wall. His hand was still wrapped around his softening cock as he stared at the cum washing down the drain.
All he’d wanted to do was grab a quick shower. He never expected what had happened.
His eyes closed as he willed himself not to get hard again as he recalled how your moans sounded through the wall as you cried for Atsumu’s cock.
He felt ashamed for the reaction he’d had to it. Felt ashamed of how hard his cock had gotten. Most of all, he was ashamed that he’d stood there and fucked his fist to the sound of you screaming for your boyfriend.
He sighed, getting out of the shower and toweling off, trying desperately to push the memories of those noises out of his head.
Suddenly his phone buzzed.
‘Hope you liked the show ;)’ - Miya Atsumu
He scowled down at his phone before throwing it back onto the floor. He flopped down into his bed.
He could still hear your voice,
‘Fuck ‘Tsumu! M cumming!.....fuuucckk….’
Yep. He was going to be hard for the next year.
How was he ever going to look you in the face again?
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meph1stophelian · 3 years
Text
Shocking Discovery/ F.W.
Fred Weasley X Reader
Word Count: 3500
Summary: Fred Weasley’s girlfriend, Y/N ends up in detention for three weeks with Umbridge, which turns into nightmare ending fatally in the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey comes to a shocking Discovery.
Warnings: Umbridge, cursing, blood, torture, injuries, vomiting, mentions of sex, pregnancy.
Permanent Taglist: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​, @rogue-barnes-durin--mainblog​
Requested By: @faithie-brock-gillespie01​
A/N: My genuine apologies to the person that requested this, I know you told me you’ll be patient but I am still so sorry it took me a week to write this one. I really hope I managed to write something you were expecting and hope you’ll enjoy. ALSO My requests are open as always, please feel free to request as much as you’d like because writing gives me so much motivation on life.
GIF: Not Mine
Masterlist  Prompt List
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“This is overly stupid” you said as you pointed up to one of the Umbridge’s rules that hung on the wall.
Before your boyfriend could respond you heard a high pitched cough, making you turn around.
“Is there something you’d like to say, dear?” Umbridge asked, Fred tugging at your sleeve, begging you not to respond with the look he gave you.
“Actually, yes!” You started leaving your boyfriend behind as you stepped closer to the pink monster. “Most of these rules.. No let me correct myself, All of these rules are pathetic and ridiculous as well as yourself!” you finished, earning a giggle from Umbridge.
“Follow me, Miss Y/L/N”
You followed the pink toad without a word, not even glancing back at your worried boyfriend, who started pacing around.
“You, my dear earned yourself a detention” she said pouring herself some tea. “Now sit down and write down the lines, with my special quill” 
You rolled your eyes and sat down, waiting for further commands.
“I will not disrespect the headmaster” she said in a squeaky voice as she took a sip of her tea.
You started writing the sentence down, soon feeling the stinging pain on the back of your hand, though you decided not to pay attention, but as you were finished with the sentence the pain in your hand became hard to ignore.
You looked down at your hand and saw blood streaming down the same sentence that was now curved on the back of your hand.
“I think it’s enough for today” Umbridge smiled with her devilish smile and giggled once more “Have you learnt your lesson miss?” she asked taking another sip of her tea.
You looked up tears daring to fall, yet you swallowed them not wanting to give her the satisfaction. “The only thing that I have learnt is that devil wears pink” you smirked satisfied with your answer as you saw her facial expression change.
“Maybe a week of detention can teach you how to respect a headmaster” she said tapping her finger on the pink cup she was holding.
“I will respect a headmaster, when the headmaster earns my respect” you answered leaning back in your chair, seeing Umbridge’s face turning the color of her clothes.
“Three weeks of detention will fix your attitude” she said turning her back to you.
“My attitude-” you started but your heard the pink cup breaking into pieces as a result of Umbridge’s tight grip.
“Enough!” she said with a warning in her tone. “I shall see you tomorrow” she said and you left her office, only to be met with your worried boyfriend that was sat next to his twin brother.
You quickly covered your hand, not wanting Fred to worry. You knew how reckless he was, he would get himself expelled, when you were just few months away from graduating.
“So?” he asked eyebrows furrowed
“Duh, she lectured me about some rules and you know how teachers are” you said shrugging and faking a laugh.
Fred knew something was odd about your laugh but he didn’t want to push so he just let the subject slip as he and his twin leaded you to the great hall.
“Oi! I forgot something in my dorm” you said, the pain in your hand reminding you of itself. “You two go on, I’ll be right back” you finished and headed to the dorm as twins entered the great hall.
You entered your room, taking the emergency kit from under your bed. You always wanted to become a healer and took special classes, sometimes even visiting Madam Pomfrey for advice, but this time you didn’t want any attention dragged to your condition.
You cleared the wounds carefully, hissing at the pain as you wrapped the bandage carefully around your left hand and sighed when you felt pain leaving your body.
As you re-entered the great hall for dinner, you decided to sit next to your friends, instead of taking your usual seat between the Weasley twins, trying to avoid the dialogue of what happened to your hand.
The day passed calmly as you avoided your boyfriend at all costs and went straight to bed, mentally preparing yourself for another day of torture.
The next day you sneaked to Umbridge’s office on the same time as the previous day. You wrote the same sentence, familiar feeling of tickling followed by pain appearing on the back of your hand. 
As you were finished with a sentence you were about to leave, but Umbridge stopped you in your tracks with a high pitched cough.
“Yes?” you asked annoyed.
“One more time” she said sipping her tea. “Write down the sentence one more time” she said smiling and you obeyed with a sigh. Now there were three scratched sentences on your hand, two of them bleeding nonstop.
You went to your dorm, wrapping your hand once more, before heading to the great hall, once more sitting far from your boyfriend,  turning your behavior into a routine.
Days passed and you attended all your classes, minimal interaction with your boyfriend. Then heading to detention day by day amount of sentences growing.
On the third day, she made you write the exact same sentence but as you wrote it twice she added one more.
At the end of first week you were serving your detention and Umbridge asked you to write the same sentence seven times in a row and as there was no free space on the back of your hand sentences started to appear on your forearm. 
That day you couldn’t even bring yourself to attend dinner, you went to your dorm and straight to sleep not being capable to handle anything, after cleaning the wounds.
The second week of detention started.
You were headed to the great hall for breakfast, eyelids heavy from all the lack of energy. You were about to sit somewhere isolated but your boyfriend noticed you entering the hall and waved you to sit with him. 
You couldn’t avoid him forever, could you?
You sat between your boyfriend and his twin, Hermione on the opposite side of the table, who eyed you suspiciously.
“Haven’t spend a lot of time with me last week, have you?” Fred asked as he gave your head a kiss, before pouring you some pumpkin juice.
“Yeah, I was a little busy” You swallowed your own saliva hardly and continued “With all the homework”
“You’re such a bookworm” he mocked ruffling your hair as you leaned your head on his shoulder, barely being capable to hold yourself up. 
He tried to take a hold of your hand, while you closed your eyes for a moment.
“What’s that?” he asked as he saw your hand wrapped in a bandage.
“Oh, it’s nothing” you snatched your hand away, panic rising up in your body. “I accidentally cut my hand while I tried to make some healing potion in the class” you said with a nervous laugh as you showed some toast in your mouth.
“Oh, be more careful next time” Fred believed your word as he continued his dialogue with his little brother, not even thinking you could’ve lied to him in the 5 year length relationship full of trust and honesty, along with love.
Even though your boyfriend believed your words, someone at the same table did not. Hermione kept eyeing you worriedly, noticing how pale you looked, eyelids becoming darker day by day, so the next day she decided to stalk you.
She followed your every step and as it came up to your detention she waited outside the Umbridge’s office.
“Care to explain?” you heard familiar voice from the dark corner as you exited the office, your arm bleeding uncontrollably as you had to write down the same sentence nine times. Your arm was now covered in scratches as your wounds refused to heal anymore. “Oh my, you’re bleeding” Hermione exhaled as she hurried your way trying to help you.
“It’s nothing, really” you tried to sound brave and unbothered, yet pain was visible in your teary eyes. “Don’t tell Fred, please” you begged as she took a hold of your uninjured hand and guided you to her dorm.
She took care of your wounds way much better than you were capable of. Advanced student as her, Hermione took a higher classes especially trying her best to learn more about healers profession. 
“We need to take you to Madam Pomfrey, I don’t like the way those injuries look” She said as she wrapped another bandage around your arm.
“No! You can’t tell anyone” you said strictly “The detentions soon will be over and my hand will heal fully” you said trying to convince either her or yourself.
She agreed only if you let her check your hand daily and you nodded before heading back to your dorm.
Days passed and you stopped interacting with anyone except Hermione as you felt more and more sick. The wounds had no time to heal as you were adding more and more sentences over them. Soon you lost your appetite along with a lot of blood and energy.
You become pale as a ghost, lips started to turn blue, eyebags darkening under your eyes. You always were tired, you started missing your classes as you were barely capable to walk, not to mention sudden feelings of sickness.
Every morning you would wake up to the horrible feeling in your guts, you’d rush to the bathroom, vomiting the left overs of the previous nights dinner either Hermione or your roommate brought you.
Sudden headaches started and mostly as you stood up, you would see black and almost collapse, but it was nothing compared to the end of the second week.
Your boyfriend started visiting you in your dorm, thinking you were buried in books as you pretended to study in front of him, not wanting to worry him.
“Do you want to break up?” he asked once he sat on your bed, in front of you.
“What?” your head snapped up too quick, making the room around you to spin “What makes you think so?” you asked, your voice barely higher than a whisper, as you held tears of confusion and pain of 14 new wounds on your arm.
“You barely spend time with me, maybe you got bored of me?” he started concern visible in his voice. “Or is it because we..?” he trailed off, so you nodded for him to continue “You know..  did it a month or so ago? had sex. Is it because of that?” he asked his eyes suddenly finding your bedroom walls interesting.
“No, love.” You started chuckling a little. “Don’t be stupid. None of the reasons above” you said your uninjured hand caressing his cheek as you made him look you in the eyes. “I love you regardless and I would never want to break up with you” 
You stared in his beautiful eyes as he leaned in your touch and you couldn’t hold yourself back as you leaned forward, capturing his lips in a soft kiss, which turned into less innocent one as Fred slid his tongued across your lower lip.
Fred laid you down on your bed, as he crawled on top of you, his tongue finally slipping in your mouth. You realized you’ve missed his gentle touch as your tongues fought for dominance, yet another gag reflex started to bottle up in your throat as you pulled away guiding his lips down your neck. 
He kissed and sucked on your neck gently, satisfaction being overwhelming as his hear was all over your voice, familiar scent of gunpowder, cinnamon and burned sugar hitting your nasal cavity. You tried not to pay attention, but the scent you loved so much became disturbing.
“Freddie” you pushed him away “I really need to study” you lied hoping he will move away and of course he did.
“Fine” he said with a pout “But you will hang out with us at the lake, tomorrow” he said standing up.
“Okay” you rolled your eyes as he stuck his pinky.
“Promise?” he asked with a pouty face and left after you locked your own pinky with his, promising to give him more attention.
As soon as he closed the door, you headed to the bathroom, vomiting once more, nearly passing out as you rushed to the bathroom, too weak to even walk.
On 15th day of your detention, you decided to hang out with your friends and beloved boyfriend at the lake, before attending daily torture with Umbridge.
You made your way to the lake, leaning on your boyfriend, while your friends where already waiting at the lake. It was a warm weather, yet you were still freezing.
“Guys! Look who decided to join us!” Fred squealed as you reached the group of your friends seated in front of the lake.
“Y/N!” George yelled, happy to finally see you. “Long time no interaction, huh?” he patted your back lightly, though you lost your balance and fell down on your knees. 
“Woah, you okay?” Fred asked, glaring at his brother who just shrugged with a confused face,
“I’m fine” you attempted to giggle to ease the tension.
Few moments later everyone was caught up in the conversation as you felt the urge to vomit all over again, Hermione noticing your face turning green. You stood up quickly trying to go to the direction of Hogwarts, yet failing as you froze in place, everything in front of you suddenly loosing colors.
“Love?” Fred started as he got up himself “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice echoing in your ears as if he was far away. You turned your tongue in your mouth trying to answer but you couldn’t formulate a sentence as everything in front of you turned black.
Fred started to get worried as you didn’t answer and held his hand, but before he could touch you, you felt dizzy and passed out, collapsing right in his arms.
“Oh, Godric” Hermione breathed out as everyone got up in shock.
“What is happening?” Fred looked up from your cold body up to everyone, eyes roaming around. First they landed on his twin as panic rose inside him, then he looked over at Hermione who started pacing around and mumbling. 
“Granger!” he yelled making Hermione jump in fear.
She stopped mumbling, as Fred took you in bridal style. “Madam Pomfrey, now!” Hermione managed to choke out the words and they all rushed you to the hospital wing, Hermione explaining the situation on their way.
“Help!” Fred yelled as he entered the hospital wing, pale body of yours in his hands.  Madam Pomfrey rushed out, shock taking over her face though she reacted quick.
Hermione explained everything once more to Madam Pomfrey who revealed your hand to everyone. Your whole arm was covered in scratches and sentences, as it was turning purple, only colorful place on your pale body.
She made everyone leave, while she cleaned your wounds properly, wrapping them in bandage all over, after casting a healing spell. Than she pumped some blood through your vein, while running few more tests and finding a shocking discovery.
While Madam Pomfrey took care of you, Fred was pacing outside, head buried in his hands as he swore and planned the torture for Umbridge.
“Freddie, calm down.” George tried by placing his hands on Fred’s shoulder. “She’ll be fine”
“Fine?!” Fred yelled, tears of anger and fear glistening in his eyes. “How do you know she’ll be fine? Were you the one holding her cold and pale body?” he yelled at his brother making everyone jump in fear at the sudden outburst.
“Madam Pomfrey will take proper care of her” Hermione said carefully.
“You have no word in it!” Fred yelled taking few steps towards Hermione “You knew it all along!” Few more steps forward making Hermione step backward in Ron’s arms. “Two fucking weeks! and you said nothing! WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME! YOU SAID NOTHING” Fred yelled, making Hermione flinch a little. 
“You can come in” Madam Pomfrey stepped out of the hospital wing leading everyone to your still unconscious body.
Fred ran towards you, taking your cold hand in his own as his other hand caressed your forehead, moving some hair back. “How is she?” he asked with a shaky voice.
“She’ll be fine.” Madam Pomfrey started. “She has lost a lot of blood, so much that I’m surprised she was able to walk in her condition” she said wiping her hands on her dress.
“Condition?” Fred and George asked together, finally moving their gaze to Madam Pomfrey.
“Yes. Losing so much blood is very dangerous, but it’s even more alarming when you’re pregnant” she said putting her hands behind her back.
“Pregnant?” Fred’s jaw dropped as he turned even paler than you, as if now it was his turn to faint.
“Yes, my dear and I’m very worried about her and the baby as well, but I’m sure she’ll be fine, I’ll do my best. Now I shall leave you alone with your loved one.” she said before excusing herself.
Fred’s eyes were fixated on your face as tears started to stream down his cheeks, while he kissed the back of your uninjured hand. “You knew?” he asked not even looking back, but everyone knew who the question was addressed to.
“No” Hermione sighed “If I knew I would’ve dragged her to the hospital wing myself” Fred just nodded, still not looking away from you.
“So..” George started trying to ease the tension “Am I going to be an uncle?” he smirked, Fred finally giggling through his savor tears.
“And me too?” Ron asked eyes big like baseball balls. “I’m too young for this” he said in a dramatic voice.
“We’ll see, whatever she decides” Fred smiled, eyes trailing to your stomach.
Fred stayed for the night, waiting for you to wake up and falling asleep in the chair, head put on your stomach as he pretended to listen to the heartbeat of his baby.
The next morning, you opened your eyes heavily, feeling the grip on your hand. Your eyes adjusted to the light and soon you realized where were you and what happened.
You tried to sit up, but the weight on your stomach was stopping you. You looked down to your redhead boyfriend and smiled to yourself. You were alive and with him. You ran your free fingers in his hair as he started to open his eyes to your touch.
“Good morning” you smiled down at him, voice raspy.
“Oh god” he jumped at your voice and you sat up in your place, but before you could adjust he wrapped you in his arms, hugging you tightly yet gently as if you were the most fragile thing ever existing. “Don’t  you ever do that again” he breathed out, face buried in your neck.
You giggled as the air hit your neck, feeling a little ticklish. “I am sorry” you said with a sad smile as you both pulled away “I thought I had it under control” 
“So you weren’t planning to tell me?” he rolled his eyes, before placing plenty of soft kisses all over your face.
You shook your head with a giggle.
“Any other things you weren’t going to tell me?” he asked carefully
“No?” you said confused, but it came more like a question.
“No?” he mirrored your facial expression in a mocking way “So you were going to graduate and run away with our baby?” he asked and your heart skipped a beat.
He nodded with a warm smile, placing one of his hands on your stomach. “Yes, love. You’re pregnant, I hope with my baby” he joked.
“Idiot!” you laughed and smacked his chest. “Who else’s?” you asked with an eyeroll still shocked with the information.
“You scared me” he said softly, bringing his face closer to yours. Information of your pregnancy started to sync in as you connected all the dots and when you realized how much blood you have lost, panic rose in your eyes, Fred immediately noticing.
“Madam Pomfrey said you both will be fine” Fred calmed you down with his warm smile.
“Fred?”
“Yes, love?” he responded staring into your eyes.
“We’re pregnant” you exhaled 
“Yes, love” his breath now was hitting your face, noses touching.
“What are we going to do?” you whispered, fear overcoming your body.
“Whatever you decide” he whispered back “I’ll always support you, no matter what” he ran his thumb over your lips.
“And what if I decide to give birth?” you asked gaze turning downwards.
He took your chin and made you look up in his eyes “Then we’ll figure it out, together” he whispered and finally kissed your lips with passion, love and adoration making you realize he meant every word he said.
“Together” you whispered as he pulled away and pressed his forehead to yours.
“Yes! I’m going to be an uncle!”  you heard George’s voice as he jumped out from behind the privacy screen.
“Shut up!” Ron said a little annoyed and you giggled, already feeling like a family member.
You turned back to your boyfriend and pulled him by the collar of his shirt, kissing him once more roughly and deeply as you heard the cheers of your audience.
417 notes · View notes
1bakubabe · 3 years
Text
Ordinary People
Bakugou x Female!Singer | Word Count : 1734 | Published 9/17/21
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 
It was another fight. The third one in a week. Your boyfriend of three years Bakugou Katsuki had come home late again leaving you to stay up worried.
“Katsuki, this is the same bullshit over and over again!” You screamed at the top of your lungs while pointing a finger at his chest.
“Jesus Christ, can you leave it alone tonight? I had a rough night and I just want to sleep without your bitching.” He said, pushing right past you, and ignoring what you had just said.
“No we have to talk about it. Every time I try to talk about it you just brush me off, we need to communicate!” You said, turning back to follow him.
“No what I need is for you to stop fucking nagging me! I have work! In case you forgot I’m the number two hero! I literally save people for a living.” He said crossing his arms staring down at you. He had a scowl on his face, crimson eyes set ablaze.
You frown slightly. “Of course your job is important Katsu, I never said it wasn’t. But you have to understand that I can’t just wait up for you every night. You know I have a gig tomorrow morning” You said, reaching forward to touch his arms.
“No one said you had to. If this interferes with your job, then don’t.” Katsuki said with icy eyes and a condescending tone.
“The fuck do you mean by that?” You said with a scowl and stepping closer to him.
Sure you were just a free-lance singer, but singing was your passion. You couldn’t constantly cancel your gigs because you stayed up waiting for him, or he needed you for an emergency. Katsuki had made this a recurring habit - having you drop everything you were doing to do something for him. You often wondered what the fuck was the point of him having a secretary.
“Listen Y/N, I’m risking my life almost everyday and you put on a performance, I don’t mean to compare but you’re basically ordinary.” He said looking down at the floor.
You gasped, and took a couple steps back from him. How dare he. “Ordinary?” You said, choking up on words.
“Y/N -” He reached to touch you, a look of regret filling his eyes.
“Get the fuck out.” You said mouth clenched. “Now.”
And that was the last time time you were in contact with your ex until a week ago.
It was a simple gig at a swanky night lounge. Their original singer had caught the flu the day before and the manager contacted you. You had played at a couple of clubs before so you kind of knew the drill - what to wear, how to style your hair, how to interact with the band and customers. Hanako, the manager of the night lounge had emailed you the set list so you were prepared but it was easy for you to learn the rest of the songs you didn’t know. 
The gig was at 8:00 p.m. and ended at 1:00 a.m. For tonight you chose a strapless, sparkly, deep purple, skin-tight dress that had a thigh high slit. You added some nude colored tights that matched well with your s/c smooth skin. Lastly, your black pumps and simple silver necklace completed your look. You went for a sultry look for your makeup and did your hair in your favorite style. Feeling satisfied you left your apartment and headed to the lounge.
When you got there Hanako rushed you backstage and you ran a quick sound check before you started your act.
It wasn’t until you were mid-way through your gig when you spotted his distinct blonde hair and locked your e/c eyes with his crimson ones.
You were taken aback but regained your composure as the song was now being started.
You stepped up to the mic as the lights shifted to a delicate purple to match the tone.
“This ain't a movie, no
No fairytale conclusion y'all
It gets more confusing every day, oh”
You started, letting your emotions control the flow of the lyrics. You tried your best to avoid his face in the crowd and started swaying your body slowly.
“Sometimes it's Heaven sent
Then we head back to hell again
We kiss then we make up on the way”
Your heart pained slightly at the lyrics, since when was this song so heartbreaking? It felt like you were re-living your painful past with Katsuki again.
You started to take strides next to the piano player and sidle up to him as you sang those words.
You took a low breath and started on the next verse.
“Maybe we'll live and learn
Maybe we'll crash and burn
Maybe you stay, maybe you leave, maybe you return
Maybe in another fight, maybe we won't survive
Maybe we'll grow we never know
Baby, you and I”
You grew louder as you sang those next words with emotion pouring out. It was almost like these lyrics were everything you had wanted to say to your ex-boyfriend when you had that stupid fight. You found yourself walking back to the middle of the stage, where the microphone was and held on tight to belt the chorus.
“We're just ordinary people
We don't know which way to go, yeah
'Cause we're just ordinary people
Maybe we should take it slow
We're just ordinary people
We don't know which way to go
'Cause we're just ordinary people
Maybe we should take it slow”
You poured everything you had into those lines and before you knew it you looked at his face for a fleeting moment and started to tear up. You continued on looking away towards an eldery couple in the front.
“Take it slow
This time we'll take it slow
Take it slow
This time we'll take it slow
Take it slow, slow
This time we'll take it slow
Take it slow
This time we'll take it slow”
You whispered those last lyrics into the mic and sat down on top of the piano as the lights faded into black.
You were a bit rattled but you calmed yourself down and continued to finish your remaining set. Once it hit 1:00 am you were done and helped the band pack up the stage. You changed into your more comfortable clothes and drove back home.
You took a shower to freshen up and changed into your PJs to sit on your bed. You were about to go to sleep when you got a text -
K - Can we please talk?
You hesitated and decided to respond back,
Y/N - Ok. Meet me tomorrow at the bakery on Heel Street at 10. 
And with that answer you fell asleep feeling a bit better.
Katsuki’s POV :
This was not his fucking idea. In fact, Katsuki doesn’t even go to night lounges. Shittyhair, Tapeface, Dunceface, and Pinkhair had forced him to go out with them. They had gone to a club at first but that got shut down. The closest thing to a club they could find was this place which worked out decently in the beginning because they were all fucking starved.
“Phew.” Kirishima whistled lowly. “This is a nice place.” He added.
Mina shook her head wildly, “Yeah this is the type of place you go to get engaged.” She laughed before meeting Katsuki’s eyes and stopped.
Well this was now awkward. He just grunted and chose a table in the mid-section. While the rest of those fuckers ordered some food, he went on his phone to pass the time. Apparently the singer was mid-sets and was preparing to start up soon. As he went through various apps, including his camera roll, his breath hitched when he saw a familiar picture. It was the two of you mid-laughter staring at each other. You had a chocolate stain near your mouth and Katsuki had a red cause on the side of his cheek. This was the infamous ice cream fight picture Kaminari had taken of you too a couple of months back. 
God you looked so happy. Your smile was upturned and your eyes shone while you looked at him, the same eyes he missed. The same eyes that looked at him like he was the only person in the world. He knew he had fucked up, but his pride was in his way. He felt like a coward for letting himself leave and not fight for the too of you, but mostly he felt like a dick for belittling you. But that was in the past now, and he just had to deal with it.
Suddenly the lights flicked a couple of times signaling the start of the new set and he looked back up. You then appeared, looking so gorgeous. Your dress hugged your body in the right ways and you looked stunning. He could hear Sero and Mina’s gasps when they saw you and could practically see Kaminari’s drool. He wanted to blast that fucker in the face for staring at you like that but remained his composure. 
You started your song and he was entranced. He could see how much emotion you lead with and couldn’t believe his ears or eyes. You were extremely talented. His chest filled with pride and pain, he was happy for you but hurt when he heard the lyrics. As your eyes locked he saw you tear up and looked away. The next thing he knew he was out of his seat and heading towards the door.
When Katsuki got home he was drunk. Very drunk. He had been crying too, his eyes were puffy and his head was dizzy. He missed you. He missed your hair, your smell, your smile, the way you used to tease him and god how he missed your body. Next thing he knew he was messaging you. He had a sinking feeling after he texted you though. You probably blocked him and he contemplated deleting it until he saw your response - Ok.
He practically hugged his phone and swung his back hitting the softness of the couch. You weren’t that cordial but you weren’t icing him out, and for that Katsuki was grateful. That night he slept the best he had ever slept in the last five months, awaiting for the day tomorrow would come.
80 notes · View notes
doublekrecs · 4 years
Text
Going Live
Spencer Reid x Reader
Synopsis: You're an intern for the FBI but double as a camgirl in your spare time. You thought you kept things pretty well under wraps but who knew one of your mentors watched you all along. 
Warnings: smut, unprotected p in v action (remember to wrap it), face fucking, use of sex toys, tiny bit of degrading
a/n: writing this in the setting of season 10/11 because spencer looks so damn good and i wanted to include my girl tara
also part 2 of more than physics should be up later today! hope you enjoy -🧞‍♀️
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You had been a paid intern for the FBI for about a year, paid being said lightly. But the job was definitely worth it. While being under the wing of the BAU you had not only learned so much about your hopefully future profession, but you had made a family with the team. Especially under the wing of Tara Lewis, she had been there for a little while but you looked up to her work and she was more than happy to offer advice and a good wine night.
The team knew you had a second job on the side but weren’t exactly sure what it was, just that you worked from home. They respected your personal life enough to stay out of it, however that didn’t stop Rossi from offering you a little extra because “that's what uncles are supposed to do”. You would always wave him off and say you could handle yourself, because you could. 
You thoroughly enjoyed working. The money and gifts were obviously a big reward but there was always something so exciting about being on camera. Maybe it was how risque it was, being exposed for thousands to see. Or the fact that many were pleasuring themselves to the sight of you.
It was Friday night and you were getting your setup ready. You already had your outfit and glam on. Someone had sent you a set from your wishlist, lilac lace hugged your body in all the right places, accentuating all your assets and boosting your confidence. In your hair were the same color streaks you did with a tinting spray. You set the camera and laptop up in front of your bed. Silk sheets and plush pillows behind you where you could rest comfortably before your show started. 
Little did you know across town Spencer Reid was getting ready to tune in to said show. He was never one for tech, having Garcia still hand him paper files and would refuse to upgrade his phone. He had gotten a computer just so he could video chat with doctors quickly about new medicine for his mother. However he quickly found out there was so much more the internet had to offer.
_
He had stumbled across your show one lonely night. Spencer couldn’t see himself going out to find a one night stand so the pleasure of his hand it was. He was looking through videos when he saw the thumbnail with a girl wearing glasses similar to the ones you wear when you forget contacts. His curiosity got the best of him and if he was a cat he’d be one life down. He couldn’t believe the sight on the screen in his lap. 
There you were the bubbly intern, body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you from the pink wand you held over your clit. He was delightfully flustered and the moans spilling from the computer’s speakers weren’t doing much to help.
He was entranced by you writhing in pleasure but was knocked back into reality after hearing you giggle. God he loved when you made that noise in the office, usually after fake flirting with Hotch or hearing about JJ’s boys. But this situation was totally different and if he was honest with himself he was very into it. 
You reached over to grab a large pink dildo. Taking it in your mouth before swiping it through your folds. It easily slipped in and you started rapidly pumping it into you chasing your orgasm. 
Spencer was too enthralled to even think about touching himself. He was using the gift which was his eidetic memory to the best of his ability to make this something he’d never forget. 
You came with a loud moan, hips lifting and grinding against the toy to chase the friction. Quickly you turned off the wand and took the toy out. You sat up and looked into the camera before sucking it off. Spencer's eyes widened as he let out a groan shifting on his bed. 
“Alright guys that was fun for tonight,” you said as you sat criss cross on the bed. “I didn’t think I’d be able to get to five.”
FIVE?? He thought in his head. He felt like he was gonna explode just watching those last few minutes. How was he supposed to last watching you make yourself cum five times. 
“Thank you so much for all the tips and support! My links are all in the description and I’ll see you angels next Friday! Muahh” you signed off blowing the camera a kiss. 
Spencer knew it was wrong of him to view a coworker in such an exposed light but he couldn’t help himself. So he spent the night viewing some of your old videos which brought him to what he swears to be the best orgasm of his life. Of course he sent gracious tips and made sure to buy little items off the wishlist, mentally noting to return every Friday night. Even if it meant hiding in the bathroom from Morgan in their shared hotel room on cases. That was two months ago. 
_
Just as you finished your session the phone rang signaling a case. Quickly you got in the shower and put on comfy business clothes since you usually stayed with Garcia doing extra research and taking notes. You quickly grabbed your bag and keys, making your way straight to the office. 
In the elevator you heard someone calling to keep it open. Spencer made his way in, buttoning his cardigan and adjusting his bag, quickly saying thank you. You pressed the button to the floor as you felt a pair of eyes on you. Looking over Spencer was eyeing you with a confused look on his face. You were about to question him when he spoke up first. 
“I thought you had streaks in your hair”
“I did… Earlier tonight but they washed out.” He looked even more confused, then his brain put two and two together. He just realized what he had said. For a genius this wasn’t one of his brightest moments. 
You looked at him amused as a deep blush spread from his neck to the tips of his ears. There was only one way someone would know about your quick hair change: by watching your show. The door to the elevator opened and you walked out giggling as he started sputtering apologies behind you. You quickly cut him off. 
“Spence, it's alright. If you want we can talk about this later because right now you have a bad guy to catch. But may I suggest making your name something less obvious, not that I don’t love ‘magiclover187’.” He stood there mouth gaping as you patted his shoulder and walked up to the conference room to meet the rest of the team. 
_
The case was one of the easier ones. Very minimal killing and the team was back by Tuesday morning, ready for a week of paperwork. Spencer had been dancing around you the whole time, he could barely keep eye contact with you and would rush to leave the room if you walked in. If he was this flushed around you with clothes on you could just imagine how much of a mess he would be when he watched you perform. Which brought an idea to your head. 
Friday rolled around and you walked over to his desk where he was nose deep in one of his Russian books. You put your hand in it to bring it down. Once he noticed it was you he was about to start with another ramble of apologies when you stopped him.
“Alright I’m tired of the awkwardness and I want my friend back,” you said with a soft smile. “Why don’t you come over tonight and we can have that talk. I’ll even order a pizza and we can watch Doctor Who.”
“Y/n are you sure? I-I mean it is um uh Friday.. And ya know you usually film,” he said as he played with his tie. 
You giggled at how nervous he was. Poor little genius didn’t know he was the only one with tricks up their sleeve. 
“It’s fine I promise. Just a night with my favorite customer,” you said winking at him. He choked and looked around to see if anyone was looking at his outburst.
“I’m kidding.. Sort of,” you trailed off. “But I mean it about you coming over. I’m going home now but I expect you there in an hour with drinks.”
With that you turned around and walked off, adding a little extra sway to your hips. Obviously that did the trick as you heard a small groan behind you. Spencer dropped his head back as he started wracking his brain to figure out how to live through the night without making a bigger fool of himself or cuming in his pants. 
_
You know maybe you were evil, you thought to yourself as you put on the finishing touches to your outfit for the night. Once you got home you sped into the shower to freshen up for him to come over and get your setup ready. You were wearing a cream colored strappy bodysuit. Over it was a large cardigan, almost resembling the maroon one he owned, strange. To top it off you were wearing your glasses and your legs were adorned with your favorite thigh high socks. 
The three knocks on the door instantly made a smirk appear on your face. This might just be one of your best schemes yet. Looking through the peephole you saw Spencer gnawing on his bottom lip holding a few bottles of soda. Taking a deep breath you opened the door greeting him with all the casualty in the world. 
“Hey! I’m glad you came, come in.”
He followed you in and tried to keep his eyes above your neck, trying to act like he wasn’t getting completely hard by just your outfit.  You sat down on your couch and patted it for him to sit next to you. He took the seat and gulped not really sure what you had planned. 
“Um how long for the pizza to get here?” 
“The pizza’s not coming Spence,” you said shaking your head. “But you are.”
You leaned forward to place your hand on his on the couch. “I want you to fuck me on camera Spencer,” you said with sweet confidence, fluttering your lashes. His eyes kept flashing between your cleavage showing through the cardigan and your lips before finally landing on your eyes. He didn’t see a single hint of humor in them, nothing transparent but lust. 
He pulled his hand from under yours to place in your hair, pulling you into a heated kiss. You pushed back on his chest a bit to try and get some air. 
“Save that magic for the show,” you said as you pulled him up to lead to your bedroom. 
The camera was set at a little bit of a lower angle. The audience would just be able to see you and at most Spencer’s chest. You had made sure it was fine and even turned it on as a test so he could see what he looked like. After you got everything out of the way you hit the button to go live and instantly people started flooding in. If the bulge in his pants told you anything, it was that he was excited to be on the other side of the screen this time. 
“Hello my angels!” you said into the camera, Spencer was taken back at what was going on. After months of lusting over the young intern he was finally seeing the show in person. 
“Today I have a special guest with me. My very good friend, the Doctor,” you took his hand to pull him into frame. “He’s very excited to be here,” you said, hand moving down to palm him through his pants. 
His hand reached out and wrapped around your throat, making you look up at him. Huh. This was a new Spencer you wouldn’t mind seeing more often.
“Let's not play games princess. Or else the only thing making you cum tonight are your pathetic little fingers. Am I clear?”
You shivered at the intensity of his voice instantly trying to nod the best you could within his grip. He let go and you went back to task at hand, undoing his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers. He was long and pink. Precum already spilling out of the pretty tip, you couldn’t wait to have him in your mouth, among other places. You wasted no time in licking a broad stripe along a vein under it. His hand went to grab a handful of your hair giving it a testing tug as a warning to stop teasing. 
Your hand went to grip what couldn’t fit in your mouth but you tried your best to take him all in. You could hear the pings of tips and comments being said. Spencer could too and leaned over slightly to read them. 
“Face fuck her,” he murmured. He pulled you off of his cock and looked down into your eyes, “Is that what you want princess? Hm.” His thumb went to clean up the spit dripping down your chin before rubbing your lips. “You want me to fuck your face?”, he said in a condescendingly sweet voice. 
“Yes Doctor please! Fuck my throat.” 
“Good girl.”
Both his hands made their place nested in your hair, guiding you to his cock. He wasted no time in being brutal. Tears were leaking down your cheeks as he kept on hitting the back of your throat. Spencer was enjoying himself to the fullest letting out curses and praises at how good your mouth felt. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer and you could feel it too as he started to throb in your mouth. He then pulled you off, a trail of spit connected from your lips and his cock. 
“Such a dirty whore for me. Show everyone how messy I make you,” he took your head and made you turn to look in the camera. Comments pinged talking about how pretty you looked with mascara running and smudged lipstick. 
“Thank them and ask if you deserve to cum on my cock,” Who knew Spencer had this in him. But you were loving every second of it and put on your best pair of puppy dog eyes to beg the camera for Spencer to split you in half. And you had no shame in doing so. 
“Please let the Doctor fuck me. I’ve been such a good girl for you guys,” you pleaded into the camera. The audience was pleased with your begging as they said you deserved it for being so good. 
Spencer took his time in unbuttoning the cardigan you had on, teasingly rubbing your arms as he slipped it off. His hands then went to the bodice of it, groping your breasts and teasing your nipples through the fabric. 
“Ah shit doctor, please fuck me already.”
Who was he to deny you of such a thing when you asked so nicely. He pushed you back down on the silk sheets. Pulling you by your thighs to the end of the bed where he moved the thong of the bodysuit to the side and slid his cock up your folds. Lubricating it in your juices before slipping right in. You both gasped at the intrusion, his hands grabbing your hips with a force sure to leave bruises. He used the leverage to set a brutal pace, ramming his cock into you. 
Your ears were ringing from the pleasure but you could hear the constant pings of your tip box and comment section flooding. 
“Shit baby you’re so tight. Perfect little pussy squeezing me so good.” You babled off thank yous and whimpers from being so close to your climax.
 You felt Spencer stop for a second and reach over to grab something. Then you felt it. Your wand set to the highest setting placed on your clit as he started to thrust into you again. Sounds of your moans and skin slapping together filled the room along with the buzzing of the vibrator. You were sure there was going to be a noise complaint notice on your door in the morning. 
You were so close to having the bubble in your stomach burst and so was he. 
“I'm gonna cum Doctor,” you practically yelled. “Please cum inside me!”
“Cmon princess. Let me feel you let go.”
With that the knot broke and you swore you died and went to heaven. Your walls squeezing Spencer led him to his end a little after you. Thrusts faltering and groaning at the feeling of pleasure washing over him. He turned off the wand and put it to the side before slipping out of you. 
Looking into the camera you gasped at your appearance. Hair disheveled and face messy from crying in pleasure multiple times that night. Your mixed release leaking down your thigh and onto the sheets. 
There were non stop pings of people calling Spencer a lucky bastard and asking for him to come back next Friday. Spencer nodded his head over to your bathroom to get you guys something to clean up with and let you do your closing. 
“Thanks for the love tonight angels,” you said with a smile on your face, entirely blissed out. “As always the links are in the description and I’ll see you guys next Friday. Maybe I’ll talk to the Doctor about future appearances. Bye!” 
With that you fell back on your bed and closed your eyes. Your body jolted at a sudden coldness between your thighs. 
“Right sorry,” Spencer whispered.
“So where did that come from?” you looked at him with an eyebrow raised. 
“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he stated seriously. 
You giggled and took his hand, “Thanks for doing this with me.”
“Of course. Now why don’t you shower while I get us a pizza. For real this time.”
“Or we can shower together then call the pizza.”
He contemplated it before smiling at you, “You always have the best ideas.” 
“Don’t I know it.. Doctor.”
2K notes · View notes
exosmutfactory · 3 years
Text
Six Phases FINALE Pt 1
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Originally posted by sefuns
Who knew it nearly took 6 months to win your heart, and 6 phases for Baekhyun to lose his mind.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 P(1)  P(2) —– P(3)  P(4) —– P(5)  P(6) ||| ♬♩♪♩ FINALE P(1)✓  P(2) (also on AFF)
networks — @supermwritersnet​ @/bbh-net
pairing — Baekhyun x Riley (OC)
word count — 28k+ (Finale part 1 - [19k] & 2 - [9k])
genre  — ceo! baekhyun, playboy! baekhyun, strangers to lovers, hurt & comfort (heaven knows they need that comfort), slow burn! kinda
[ contains: angst, fluff, smut ]
A/N: Buckle up, loves. Here comes a long one. ♡ Let’s go! (^-^)
•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •
⏰🌹Six Phases Tag List: 🌹⏰
@to-all-the-stories-i-love @insta1010 @sorrowinblood @bellamendoza @bbhflrt @weirdoome​
I was unable to tag one of you so I’ll DM you from @candyfizzbyun 💗💗💗
•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •
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July is upon us before we know it, bringing forth more of the summer's blazing sunlight and smothering heat. Jenny's birthday is right around the corner, merely 3 days into the hottest month of the year. There's no wonder why she's throwing a party in a venue that has both a beautiful indoors and outdoors setting. The breezy summer-style dress code for the event is a given—and I plan to crash it with my wintry flare.
It's July 3rd, 90 degrees, and I'm strutting down the stone path leading up to the venue in a two piece velvet outfit. The wine color compliments my skin, hugging my body in all the right places. Between the bra-shaped, crop top that ties in the back and my waist-high pants with high slits to reveal my nude colored heels underneath, I feel like the baddest and sexiest woman up in this bitch.
"Riley!" Jenny beams the moment I step through the door, looking stunning in her light blue dress. It's a plain form-fitting dress, but nothing is simple about her wearing it. The light blue material goes well with the ocean hue of her eyes. The sleeveless, spaghetti-strapped fabric that wraps around her beautifully is the shortest dress I've ever seen on her—and Jongdae should feel like the luckiest man alive to see her like this all the time.
Her makeup is done perfectly, highlighting the softness of her round face and sharpening the gaze in her oval eyes. She nearly runs someone over when she comes barreling my way in her black heels with a drink in her hand.
I laugh at her excitement, accepting her hug without hesitation. "Hey, Jen."
"Hey," She smiles, pulling back a little to look at me. "You're early."
A little grin forms on my face; if only she knew. "I didn't want to risk any traffic jams," I explain, smiling more. She's practically buzzing with happiness.
"Ah," She nods, pursing her lips. "Maybe I should have chose a different time-"
"Hey," I place my hand on her shoulder, giving her a look. "Relax. Everything will be fine."
She sighs but nods, her owl-shaped, dangling-earrings sparkling prettily under the warm lights. "I hope no one else gets stuck."
"They won't," I shake my head, adding cheekily, "Especially Chanyeol, he drives like a madman."
"That big oaf," She mutters, a smile back on her face. Her blue eyes meet mine before she takes my hands between hers. "Come, I want to introduce you to someone."
"Oh?" I inquire, raising a brow as she leads me further into the venue. "This isn't one of those matchmaking situations is it?"
"No. Fuck men." She immediately rebukes, fire burning in her eyes. "I'm not dealing with anyone's bullshit. Not on my day."
"Damn straight," I mumble, amused at the disgruntled expression on her face. Jenny and Jongdae are back together—if you can call their last fight a breakup. Witnessing him show up on their doorstep with her favorite chocolate and a new plant to add to their home was a sight to see. He must have done something else for her to react this way though. I can't help but chuckle. Half a year later and he is still tiptoeing around her. That Haneul must be someone significant. My lips downturn at the thought.
"Eunjung! Eunjung!" Jenny's loud voice brings me back to the present. "Ugh, where is that woman?" She grumbles, searching the extravagant room. More partygoers are starting to stream in, filling up the building with every shade of the rainbow and then some. My eyes drift over to the fruit buffet on the long tables in the back when Jenny's eyes widen. "There she is!" She smiles, leading me over to the mini bar on the other side of the room.
I follow her line of sight, my heart dropping in the blink of an eye. It's the same woman I've been seeing around Baekhyun since May. Her once long black hair is now a short brown mohawk, the curly ends perfectly framing her oval shaped face.
"Eunjung, this is Riley." Jenny smiles, gesturing to me. "The wild child I've told you about," She jokes.
"Hello," Eunjung greets in a low voice, smiling warmly. She holds out her hand to me. "I've heard so much about you."
I can only shake her hand and smile back, glaring at Jenny out of the corner of my eye when Eunjung is distracted by the bartender bringing her a drink. "Nice to meet you."
Jenny takes a seat while I survey the room, making sure there aren't any heads of silver hair around. Jongin won't be coming tonight, he's busy preparing dance classes for the elementary students that he'll teach for the upcoming school year, so I keep my head on a swivel. As much as I consider Jenny one of my best friends, her ties with a certain someone cannot be ignored after what happened the last time we went to a party. 
"How's Miss Eunae?" Jenny's question catches my attention, pulling me back into their conversation.
"She won second place in a dance competition last month." 
"Really?!" Jenny gasps and I stiffen.
"Yeah, I couldn't make it." Eunjung smiles sadly, swirling the melting ice in her drink. "Thankfully her girlfriend could. And Baekhyun too."
"Wait," I interrupt, feeling wary when both their eyes focus on me. "You have a twin?"
"Yes. About my height, long black hair." Eunjung sets down her empty glass on the counter. "You might have seen her around before, that woman can't sit still to save her life."
"She has a girlfriend?"
Eunjung and Jenny share a brief, knowing glance before turning back to me. "Yes." Eunjung smiles.
I clear my throat, avoiding their dancing eyes. "Good for her."
"They've been together since high school." Jenny nudges me, a shit eating grin on her face.
"I'll be surprised if they marry before you and Jongdae though," Eunjung raises her hand to get the bartender's attention again. "Chaeyoung is always working overseas."
My chest vibrates. I pull my phone out of my secret breast pocket, tuning out the rest of their conversation.
*
Sat, 07/03 - 7:30pm
Heartbreaker 😑💔😄
Y'all ready?
//
Earth shaker 😝💞😊
Ready as I'll ever be!
//
Heartbreaker 😑💔😄
Kyungsoo?
//
Cake master 🤗🍰🙏🏼
You owe me for this shit
//
♡ ♡ ♡ R ♡ ♡ ♡
I promise to help you bake in his place
\\
\\
As long as Dae and Yeol pick up the groceries :')
\\
Cake master 🤗🍰🙏🏼
Chanyeol delivers and Jongdae unpacks
//
I don't trust his clumsy ass anywhere near my produce
//
♡ ♡ ♡ R ♡ ♡ ♡
🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
\\
Heartbreaker 😑💔😄
😂
//
Earth shaker 😝💞😊
Hey!
//
♡ ♡ ♡ R ♡ ♡ ♡
Ready guys?
\\
Cake master 🤗🍰🙏🏼
Yes
//
Heartbreaker 😑💔😄
Yeah
//
Earth shaker 😝💞😊
Mmhm >:(
//
♡ ♡ ♡ R ♡ ♡ ♡
Let's go 🤫🎂🚚💨✨🥰
\\
*
I can't help but chuckle, pocketing my phone. When I look up, Jenny is the only one sitting at the counter. "Hey," I frown, noticing the sad look on her face. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," She mumbles.
"Come on," I rest my hand on her arm, trying to catch her eye. "I can't let the birthday girl mope. You can tell me."
A smile quirks at her lips. "I just…" She sighs, turning to me. "I can't believe Jongdae is busy with work today."
"Awe," mimicking her poked out bottom lip, I nudge her softly. "Well, I guess you're just stuck with me—Deal with it."
"Riley!"
I burst out into laughter, back hugging her when she playfully pushes me away. "Hey, don't lose hope, yeah? He might surprise you."
"No he won't," She mumbles, full on pouting now. "He never surprises me."
"Well," Making eye contact with a certain mischievous brunette on the other side of the room, I tap her shoulder. "Maybe that will change today."
Jenny turns her head and gasps, leaping off of her bar stool. "Chanyeol? Kyungsoo? Jongdae?!?!?!?!"
Everyone in the room watches on with smiles on their faces, but Jongdae's is the brightest of all. "Hey, babe," He beams, opening his arms.
Jenny sprints over to him, colliding so hard with his body that she almost sends them both to the floor. But Jongdae takes it all in stride, holding her close while bellowing that signature laugh of his.
Smiling at them, I quickly walk over to help Kyungsoo and Chanyeol roll in the food cart. "Hey guys, everything okay?"
"We made it all in one piece," Kyungsoo mutters, glancing at the tall dome plate cover. "The cake too."
"Three different chocolates?"
"Mmhm."
"Perfectly symmetrical?"
"Yep," Yeol chimes in.
I grin, "She's going to love it."
"She's going to love you, you mean." Chanyeol sets his shining eyes on me. "How did you even know all this?"
I give him a small, secretive smile, "I have my resources." His grin only widens. "Did the gifts come in today?"
Kyungsoo nods, "Right on time."
"The delivery man showed up just as we were packing the cake into the back of the truck," Chanyeol chuckles, nearly tripping over the edge of a carpet. Kyungsoo and I look at him with our respective wide and narrowed eyes.
"Huh," I purse my lips, nodding in approval. "Now that is some high class two-day shipping." They both hum in agreement, Kyungsoo straightening out the table cloth before they begin to set the cake onto the round table.
"You guys good?" I look between them when they succeed in placing it down. Thank god for that; if that cake falls to the floor that's all our necks.
Kyungsoo nods, "Go on." He gives me a look that's hard to identify. "He's coming too."
"Oh," My heart leaps at the thought. Oh. Shit. He's coming. I should have expected as much, but to actually hear it makes it ten times more real... Shit. "I-Imma just…" I point behind me to the backdoor, slowly walking backward. "You know."
They nod, Chanyeol's eyes holding a hint of sadness. "It's okay. We got everything covered."
"Thank you," I breathe, smiling apologetically. Spinning on my heel, I hurry as fast as my high heels allow to the door. With one last glance back to make sure Jenny is okay, I slip out into the summer night.
Music from within the venue spreads out into the backyard, but it's much quieter out here. I survey the area, making sure no one else is around. Not that I am against anyone being outside, I've just had enough social interaction for one evening… and the night has barely begun.
Sighing to myself, I walk further out onto the patio, my lips quirking up at the light blue cushions on the chairs. Jenny planned this event to the Tee, huh? I chuckle, sighing softly.
The deck is a nice light gray shade, contrasting against the black base of the table and lounge chairs. Running my eyes over them, I hum, choosing to lean against the table instead.
Pain buds in my chest when my thoughts wander. I shouldn't care—I really shouldn't but… Even after everything. Even after all this time, it hurts to think of him with anyone else. The thought of him holding someone in his arms, in his home, in his heart… It crushes me to the core. It eats me up on the inside. It keeps me up at night.
I shouldn't care, yet every time I hear his name, every time I see his face... I go back to that January night, and I regret it every single time.
No matter how hard I try, my head is constantly full of 'what ifs.' What if I stayed? What if he was willing to change? What would we be right now if I hadn't walked away? 
I love—I loved Baekhyun with all my heart…
Can I really move on from this? Will I ever wake up one day and not imagine his sleeping face next to mine?
He could still have someone already for all I know, but for tonight… I rather tell myself that he is alone.
Leaning my elbows on the patio table, I watch the sunset, admiring the pink and orange hues streaking across the blue sky.
"You're staring."
"I love admiring art."
"So I'm an object now?"
The unmistakable love in his sparkly brown eyes… "You are the source," He pauses, holding my heart in his warm smile, "Of my love and affection."
My heart squeezes in earnest. God… why does this hurt so much? Why do his words linger in my mind and actions take hold of my heart? When will it end? When will it fucking end—
"Miss?" A low, raspy voice startles me.
I spin around, staring at the culprit with narrowed eyes. They widen as I take in the man in front of me.
The first thing I notice is his sharp jawline, leading up to his thin lips that curl up at the ends, reminding me a little of Jongdae. My eyes trail up further, taking in his tall nose with a rounded tip, his prominent cheekbones and narrow eyebrows. His slicked back, brown hair shows his broad forehead, and then—
His eyes…
They are the darkest shade of brown that I've ever seen, their almond shape perfectly suiting the rest of his face. They appear black in the dim light of the setting sun. Looking into them has me feeling many things, wondering what story those dark pools of molten hot coffee hold. 
"Are you alright?" He asks, his low voice in a husky tone that I'm slowly getting used to hearing… until I feel the drop that lands on my cheek.
"Oh—yeah!" I inwardly curse, hastily rubbing the tear from my cheek. "I-It's just, you know... allergies."
He nods and I cringe on the inside because I know he can tell that I'm completely bullshitting him right now. "What are you doing out here?" He inquires, tilting his head. His tone of voice isn't judging or hostile, it's more… caring. And sweet. I wish I could read his eyes though...
"Needed a breather," I shrug, repositioning myself in a more attractive manner. I am not about to let some stranger see me hanging out back here like a socially awkward potato on top of everything else—I refuse. "You?"
"Business call," He murmurs distractedly, repocketing his vibrating phone.
"Oh," I inwardly roll my eyes. Right. As if I don't have enough business men in my life.
"The Tech team found a corrupted file," He sighs, checking his expensive gold watch. "They don't know how bad it is yet… The film might have to be delayed."
Film? I perk up at that. "You help film movies?"
He smiles, glancing up at me, a lock of hair falling over his eye. "I'm the director."
A very casual one at that; I note, taking in his outfit. He's decked out in a light blue denim jacket and a white t-shirt, but I know those aren't cheap. Nope, I've seen enough of Baekhyun's cotton shirts to—
"What's the theme?" I blurt out, curling my hand into a fist as I lean further back on the table. "Classified information?" I raise a brow, smirking at his speechless face.
"Aish…" He closes his mouth, smiling a little. "Something like that."
"Eh," I shrug, smiling softly. "I can respect that."
The temperature suddenly starts to drop. A chilly wind blows, ruffling the ends of his hair. The scent of something I haven't encountered before reaches my nose. Bourbon and vanilla; citrus and peach... It's hard to describe, but it creates an aroma that catches my attention.
"What's your name?" I tilt my head, my eyes widening at the sparkle that reflects in his dark eyes from the last rays of the setting sun.
His eyes widen before he points to himself. "Me?"
"Who else, silly?" I laugh, holding back a snort, a smile tugging at my lips at the sheepish look on his face. He's pretty cute, I'll give him that.
He clears his throat, looking away. "Jackson."
I fight back my smile seeing how flustered he is. "I'm Riley." A thought occurs to me for a moment… What is a business man—director doing here? This is an invitation-only event, and I helped Jenny painstakingly arrange the guest list... "How do you know Jenny?"
"Hmm?" Jackson blinks, flickering his eyes back to mine. "Oh!" He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. "She's an old friend."
"Oh," My eyes narrow in the last rays of sunlight.
"We kept in contact after her and Yugyeom split," He explains, and the apologetic expression on his face has my eyes widening again. Did he just see through me? Uh—Wait.
"Oh my god, Yugyeom?—Kim Yugyeom?"
"Yes…" He trails off, looking me over carefully. "Do you know him?"
Do I know him? My reddening cheeks are enough of an explanation. "Not really," I laugh awkwardly, standing up fully. Alright, I've had enough human interaction for today. Between him, the discovery of Eunjung's twin not seeing Baekhyun, meeting someone who is friends with that tall guy I was drooling over months ago, and having to keep Jenny's birthday surprise a secret all week, I'm drained. Time to go—
A crack of thunder echoes across the sky, and then the bottom drops, rain drenching us in seconds.
Well shit… Did none of us check the weather for today? I rack my brain for answers, trying to remember—oh... Oh. Jenny… likes… thunderstorms…
The rain continues to pour, soaking my velvet outfit and flattening my hair without remorse. It won't melt me, but the venue is a city away from Seoul and if I don't hurry home now...
"Well!" I turn away to hide the bitter smile on my face, pushing off of the slippery table. "Time for me to go. Nice meeting you, Jackson."
"Wait-"
I puff up my cheeks, blowing the air out as my hair sticks messily to my forehead. Fighting the urge to brush it back is difficult, but if there's one thing I know about my hair when it's wet, it's the agony that comes with ruffling it up. I rather not cry while detangling it when it's air dried later—
A yank on my arm makes me yelp, my head slamming into something hard when thunder cracks across the sky again, followed by the horrifying crackle of lightning. My head snaps up, eyes squinting against the onslaught of rain. I can barely make out Jackson's face, his features twisted in concern with his hair mattered to his forehead like a mop. The sheer amount of fear in his wide eyes has me more than confused. I take a look around, my heart stopping right in its tracks.
The doorknob of the back door sizzles, steam floating from it in a cloud of smoke. The crack from a lightning bolt visible as the rain washes the spark away.
My face pales when I look back up at the man in front of me.
Jackson steps back, steading me with his hands on my arms when my knees buckle. "Sorry," He clears his throat. "I tried to warn you but-"
"Thank you," I mumble, moving away when I find my balance again. "That could have been…" My head spins at the thought, "Bad."
He nods with a concerned frown, worry written all over his handsome features.
"...Well!" I clear my throat, giving him a small smile. "Thanks again for saving me, stranger." I joke, my eyes shooting down when I feel something rough shielding my shoulders from the rain. "Oh-" They snap back up to meet his, "You don't have to-"
"Keep it." He shakes his head, placing his denim jacket fully on my shoulders. "You're shivering."
"I…" My face is so hot the rain does nothing to cool me down. "Thank you."
Jackson smiles, shoving his hands into his pockets. "No problem." He starts walking backwards, glancing up at the sky before propping open the back door with his leather boot.
"Wait!" I blurt, blushing all the way up to my ears when he looks back at me, having to raise my voice over the unmerciful wind. "H-How will I return it without your number?"
A shy yet boyish grin forms on his face. "Not here."
"Huh?" I blink.
Jackson smiles even more, holding the door open before giving a little bow and outstretching his hand to me. "Ladies first."
A dozen thoughts race through my head while looking at his waiting hand, the action so familiar my heart tugs painfully in my chest. Smiling my prettiest smile, I place my palm in his.
•••
I forgot how refreshing it is to talk to someone new. Stepping out of my comfort zone to get to know a person outside of my friend group—an attractive person at that.
Texting Jackson is a treat. He's a man of high intellect, giving me great advice with years of director experience under his belt. The most shocking thing is that he is only 24—24! Two years older than me. He breaks my dating rule of pursuing anyone less than 4 years older than me, but his maturity makes up for it. Age doesn't define maturity as I have come to realize after a certain someone.
He's super sweet too. We haven't been able to see each other in person since Jenny's party last month, but a day hasn't gone by where we haven't texted. And boy does he text—the most flustering things that is. Jackson has a way with words that makes my heart squeeze in giddiness and me hide behind my hand while peeking at my screen.
He laughs at all of my jokes; he sends good morning and goodnight texts without fail. If nothing else, he is a great conversationalist who would make an even better companion, and I can't wait to see him again. I have a denim jacket hanging up in my closet to return, after all.
A knock on my office door brings me back to the present. I blink a few times, carefully reading over the email I've been working on for the past 20 minutes. "Come in," I permit, glancing at the time. The sight that greets me on the other side of the door when it opens stops my typing in its tracks.
Ms. Kim Eun, the newly appointed book editor, steps into the room, setting off my internal warning signals. Her outfit matches the company dress code, that isn't the problem here. No, it's the sheer amount of dread, sorrow, and fear coming off of her shuffling body in waves. "You asked to see me, Ma'am?" She inquires in the most broken of tones. A fragility I know very well.
"Yes." Saving my progress on the computer, I beckon her over with a reassuring smile. "Please, have a seat."
She slowly walks further into the room, sitting down in one of the leather chairs.
"Ms. Kim," I start as tentatively and professionally as possible, lacing my fingers together on top of my desk. "It has come to my attention that you have been behind on editing the book."
"Oh..." She mumbles, fidgeting with the purse in her lap. "I-I'm sorry, I-"
"I understand you might have other obligations and factors outside of work," I continue, reading her steadily panicking face like a book, "But we don't have a lot of time to get this novel done. We're on a tight schedule here."
"C-Can…" Her eyes lift from the purse in her hands, still holding onto it for dear life. "Can you do it for me?" She whispers.
I let out a short laugh. "No." Her eyes shake as my face hardens. "You were appointed as editor 3 weeks ago, correct?"
She nods, fear glimmering in her wide eyes.
"Your job is to edit the book," I remind her, my lips pressed into a thin line. "That's what you get paid for, that's your responsibility."
"But-"
"If I could do it myself, I wouldn't need to hire you." Her bottom lip starts to tremble; she's about to break. "If you can't do the job, I'm going to need you to put in your 2 weeks," I slide the slip of paper across the desk, "In early. Unless you can get half of the book done by Friday."
"T-That's only 3 days," She gasps, her voice wavering. "I can't-"
"You've had nearly a month in advance to work on it as an Intern." My voice lowers, "I'm sure you have plenty of time to catch up in-"
"I can't!" She wails loudly, hiding her face in her hands. "I-I'm not qualified for this position. I'm just a high school graduate with inside connections." She sobs, the dam of her built up emotions spilling over. "I didn't even finish English 12 with an A."
My clenched jaw ticks. I know she isn't faking it; she's been off for the past two weeks. It's her lack of sharing this important information that is getting to me. If she isn't qualified to take over the editing position, why the hell is she—my eyes widen and then narrow. Mrs. Park.
Looking at Eun, I finally understand. Her bowed head, slouched shoulders, and quiet hiccups dawning on me as clear as day.
"My boyfriend c-cheated on me with my best friend." She croaks sorrowfully. "He said that I deserved it, t-that I made him do it from working late all the time." She runs a hand through her hair, laughing brokenly, her tears leaving a trail of inky black mascara in their wake. "My editing isn't good anyway."
Reaching across the desk, I offer her my box of tissues. "I know how you feel," I mutter, keeping my voice even. "You feel lost, broken and tossed aside as if a part of you is gone." She nods, sniffling while smearing the makeup under her eye. "You ask yourself how you will ever move on from it." Leaving the box on the edge of the desk, I meet her eyes again. "But you will move on." The conversation I had with Jongin in the studio that day comes to mind, quirking a small smile on my lips. "You will wake up one day and not think of them. As long as you want to. You shouldn't stay stuck on someone who has hurt you." 
Tucking the resignation document into a drawer, I turn my sleeping computer back on. "You are worth more than how they've treated you, but you have to decide that for yourself."
"O-Okay," Eun sniffles, wiping her face. A couple tissues fall out of her hand, but her tears have stopped.
"Good." I lean back into my rollable leather chair with a stretch, smiling softly. "Let's settle this. Make me a list of your strengths and weaknesses."
Her wide eyes snap back up to mine. "I-"
"Now."
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"Damn, Kyungsoo, how many of these cakes do you need in a day?" I sigh, my hands cramping up. We've been at it for hours, baking desserts at his restaurant because today is a national holiday. Funny how he let all his workers take the day off and here I am handling enough flour to make me sneeze in Jongdae's place.
Kyungsoo doesn't even look up at me, continuing to knead the dough in his hands. "I'd give an estimate but I don't want to overwhelm you."
I'd dramatically flop down into a chair if I wasn't molding a ball of my own dough, so I just groan instead. "You're killing me over here."
"Who offered to help me bake in Jongdae's place?" He raises a brow, shaping the churro in his hands with precession.
"It was all for the good of Jenny's last minute birthday cake!" I whine, starting to place a hand over my heart until I remember the torment I went through last time I got cake batter on this floral shirt. "Have you no heart?" I pout, giving him puppy eyes.
Kyungsoo slowly raises his head and I quickly get back to shaping the fancy doughnut in my hands without a word.
"So," I clear my throat, smiling sheepishly. "Did Dae and Yeol deliver everything okay?"
"They were late." Kyungsoo neatly arranges his perfectly shaped churros onto a tray, sliding them into the preheated oven. "Any later and the milk would have gone bad."
"Yikes," I wince, reaching to rub the back of my head only to pause mid-way, stopped by the wet flour sticking to my hand. "I should have helped more."
"Chanyeol would have slowed down to not give you motion sickness and then the cheese would have gone bad too." He points out.
"You sound a bit grumpy today," I note softly, glancing over at him again. "Did Chanyeol do something?" Kyungsoo starts another row of churros, staring blankly at me as he almost crushes the long sticks in his hands. "Okay, okay! I'll drop it, no need for the third degree. Spare the churro's life, please..."
"I'm going to ban him from my restaurant, I swear." He grumbles under his breath.
"At least he offered to help," I mumble, setting the last doughnut onto the non-stick pan. "How many more you got for me?" I ask, dusting off my hands.
Kyungsoo comes over to take the tray off of the counter. "None."
I raise a brow. "That's it?"
"No," He slides it in with the baking churros. "I'm sending you home."
I frown, "Why?"
"You're loud, chatty and keep dripping flour all over my floor." He deadpans. "And you're falling asleep."
Gawking at him for a few moments all I can do is huff. "I am not-"
"You're gonna get cake batter in your hair."
I flinch, putting my hand down at once. "Are you really kicking me out right now?" I mumble, blowing annoying strands of hair out of my eyes. 
"You're fired." He wipes his clean hands with a towel and walks back over to turn on the sink for me. "Now go home and sleep."
"I don't even work here!"
He gives me a look.
"Alright, alright," I mutter, scrubbing flour from under my nails. "Fine. I'll be out of your hair-"
The chime on the door of the restaurant rings, capturing my attention. I crane my neck around to see who the hell is coming in here when there's obviously a "CLOSED" sign out front and it's freaking 9pm. My face pales at the black baseball cap and leather jacket figure stumbling through the door. I tug on the sleeve of the busy man next to me. Um, Kyungsoo-
They pull their hat off before they reach the middle of the restaurant, revealing a familiar flushed face and unmistakable silver hair.
Oh fuck no.
"I'm sorry I'm late, Kyungsoo," He mumbles, his head down while approaching the counter. "I got held up at the office and the traffic was-" His head snaps up just as I contemplate ducking out of view. "R-Riley…?" He whispers, his face paling. He looks like he's seen a ghost and I can't imagine I'm doing any better.
"You're late." Kyungsoo deadpans, busying himself with washing the used baking trays and utensils in the sink.
"I…" Baekhyun steps closer and I feel like I'm going to throw up. My heart isn't in my throat at this point, it's somewhere lost between my nose and my gag reflex.
"Have you been drinking?" Kyungsoo finally looks up from the spatula in his hands, his eyes narrowing at the lack of response.
Baekhyun's red face glows brighter under the harsh kitchen lights. He purses his lips, "No-"
"Where's your car?" Kyungsoo demands. "I'm not letting you drive."
"Kyungsoo, I'm fine," He rolls back on the heels of his feet, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "You have an important client coming in tomorrow-"
"I don't care who the hell is coming tomorrow." Kyungsoo cuts him off, full-on glaring at him now. His normally calm voice growing deeper with anger by the second. "I'm not letting you drive-"
"I'll take him home," I mumble, shrinking in on myself when both their eyes snap over to me.
Kyungsoo frowns, "Riley-"
"I'm taking him home, Kyungsoo." I cross my arms, shaking my head at the disapproving expression on his stern face. "You have a huge event tomorrow, you sent your staff home, and your kitchen is covered in cake batter," I list off of my fingers, daring him to say another word. "His apartment is on the whole other side of town. I think we both know what's the best course of action here."
Kyungsoo stands there silently for a long moment, but I don't back down, merely arching a brow. "Are you sure you'll be alright?" He softens, not even acknowledging the other man in the room.
"Yeah." I smile, uncrossing my arms. "I know I'm a disaster with a knife but I know how to drive, Kyungsoo. You got to give me some credit here."
"Alright," He chuckles, smiling a little before shifting his eyes back to the man on the other side of the counter. "Don't cause her any trouble, you hear me?"
Baekhyun's dazed eyes widen, "I-"
"If you mess with a single hair on her head," Kyungsoo continues, lifting the butcher knife in his hands. "Say goodbye to your kids."
"I-I won't fucking!" Baekhyun tangles a hand in his messy hair, sucking in a deep breath. "I'm walking home."
"Oh no you aren't," I rebuke, rounding the counter.
He grits his teeth, spinning around on his heel, "I'm-"
"Yah, Baekhyun." Kyungsoo's deep voice cuts through the air.
Baekhyun freezes up, looking over his shoulder with wide eyes. "Y-Yes?-"
"Take this." Kyungsoo starts, slamming a couple bags full of food to his chest. "Shut the fuck up and let Riley take you home."
"I-" Baekhyun shakes his head, "I can still catch the bus. There's no need-" His face drains of color when he meets Kyungsoo's eyes again. If looks could kill, he'd be 6 feet under.
Kyungsoo turns back to me then, "If he gives you a hard time, call me, okay?"
"Yes, Kyungsoo," I immediately agree, fearful of his sour mood as well. Note to self: angry Kyungsoo is scarier than angry Jongin.
"Good," He grumbles but smiles, patting my arm before walking back to the kitchen. "I'll save some of the churros for you."
"Thank you!" I beam at him, waving until he walks into the backroom. My smile doesn't fade, my cheeks starting to hurt until I feel a certain someone's stare on the back of my head. Oh shit.
Slowly turning around, I drag my eyes up to look into the most beautiful puppy eyes in the world, my heart going into overdrive.
"Hey," Baekhyun whispers.
A sad smile quirks on my lips, "Hi." Sighing a little, I take a look around, hanging up my apron and retrieving my hidden purse from the back of a chair at one of the extravagant dining tables. "Let's go."
Baekhyun nods, following me out of the restaurant. I open the door and hold it for him until he reaches the doorstep. We may not be on good terms, but that doesn't mean I'll just let a door slam in his face.
I most definitely should have let that door slam in his face.
Shaking off my aggressive thoughts, I take a deep breath and power walk to my car, shivering in the cold wind. It's the middle of July and a tropical storm has blown in, bringing its cold rains and chilling nights with it. Trust Seoul to have these extreme temperature changes, I should have kept my ass back in the South.
Baekhyun doesn't say a word as we make it to my red Porsche. I unlock the car when we are a few feet away, rolling my keys around my fingers. "Hop in, Byun."
He climbs into the passenger seat and by now the silence is killing me, but I shove it down. I'm here to drive him home and that's it. No more, no less.
Sighing inwardly, I settle into the driver's seat. "Buckle up," I mutter, looking at him out of the corner of my eye. "You may be more likely to survive a car crash in your drunken stupor but I sure as hell am not getting a fine for your ass."
I swear I hear him mutter, "of course," under his breath.
"What was that?" I pointedly widen my eyes, looking directly at him.
"Nothing." He grumbles, keeping his eyes facing forward.
"I thought so," Making sure he's strapped securely and checking my rearview mirror, I stick the key into the ignition and pull out of the parking lot.
Driving to Baekhyun's apartment feels so surreal, for many reasons. Never in our relation—our previous relationship have I driven him anywhere. I never dared to get behind the wheel of his Audi, that car is too expensive. If I had wrecked it and looked at the cost to fix or replace it, combined with the look of pure rage that would be on his face from me crashing his baby, I would die. Bad blood or not, I rather not be on Baekhyun's bad side.
My heartbeat picks up the longer the car ride goes on. Fuck, it's getting harder to breathe. I literally have the biggest problem to ever walk into my life right next to me months after I swore to never speak to him again. Why did I agree to this? What was I thinking? 
No. No time for that, I'm going to drop him off at his apartment and continue moving on with my life. That's why I left him in the first place.
"...Riley?" He speaks up a few streets away from his house, his voice the softest I've heard in a while.
Nope. Don't engage. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel.
"Can… Can we talk?" He continues, sounding sadder by the minute. "Please?"
"We're ten minutes away, Baekhyun."
"I…" The bags rustle in his lap as he sighs. "I knew this would happen."
"What?" I glance sharply at him at the next red light.
Baekhyun looks down at his hands with the most pitiful expression on his face, tears building in the corners of his eyes under the bright city lights. "I knew you would hate me."
Oh my fucking—My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. I want to roll my eyes and launch myself out of the car window at the same time. "Stop bringing it up, Byun." I mutter, focusing back on the road. "It's a thing of the past. Let it die there."
"Yeah," He laughs, his voice raw with emotion. "Like my heart the night you left me."
I clench my jaw, taking a deep breath, inwardly cursing the hectic late night traffic. Come on, fuckers, I need this man out of my car asap.
"You don't even want to talk to me about it." He continues, growing more frustrated and louder by the minute. "You don't even want to see me-"
"Of course I don't, Baekhyun!" I snap, whipping my head around to face him. "After all the shit you've done I have every right to not speak to your smug fucking face again."
"Smug?" He laughs weakly. "You think I enjoyed what happened to us?"
"Yep," I chirp, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn pale. "There's no other explanation for why you are in my car right now."
"You insisted for me to be here." He fires right back. "You break up with me, hang out with all my friends, then act like a cold hearted bitch every time you see me."
"It takes one to know one, Baekhyun." I jab right back, curling my upper lip in a cruel smile.
"Yeah," He scoffs, crossing his arms and facing the window. "I'm sure you know that very well."
"If you're going to be a whiny little bitch," I start, smiling widely at him, "I will put you out on your ass, Baekhyun."
"Wouldn't you love that," He laughs, anger coming off of him in waves. "You were always obsessed with my ass."
That's it.
Baekhyun yelps when I slam on the breaks, bracing his hands on the dashboard. "Riley, what the hell?!"
"You wanted to talk?" I make sure the curb of the street I pulled onto is clear before facing him with a grin. "Huh? You want to talk now?" Baekhyun shrinks further into the passenger seat when I lean over him. "Fucking say it to my face then, you bastard." I snarl. "Go on. Give your little practiced speech."
Baekhyun parts his lips a few times, making my rage raise even more—"I miss you." He mumbles sadly.
I blink, staring at him. "...What?" I chuckle, growing wary as he keeps giving me those kicked puppy dog eyes. "What the fuck are you on about, Baekhyun-"
"I miss you." He repeats. "I miss your voice, I miss your eyes, I miss waking up to your sleeping face next to mine." He takes a shaky breath, tears filling his eyes. "I miss your strawberry scent on our pillows. I miss your loving words. I miss you complaining about my random ramblings and shutting me up with a kiss… I miss everything about you." He drags his eyes back up to mine then. "I miss you so much I wake up every day and fall apart when I remember that you aren't there."
Sucking in a breath, I look away from him, my anger long forgotten. I… I don't know what to say. "You…" A lump forms in my throat. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to restrain my wobbling chin.
Baekhyun keeps his eyes on me, pleading with me with their sad, brown depths. He doesn't expect the slap I land on his pretty face.
"You fucking bastard," I mutter lowly, shaking in anger, the last of my sanity flying out of the window. "You don't get to come in here and say all this fucking bullshit when you couldn't even tell your fucking mother that you were dating me!" I scream, my vocal chords pulling harder than my heart strings. "You were dating me, living with me, loving me, fucking me-" I laugh, throwing my hand out to show off the car. "For a whole year. Then you come here with your pretty, pitiful little empty words and expect me to forgive you? Really? You really think so little of me?"
"Ri-"
"Did you not get it the first time?" I ask in the sweetest of tones, my Southern accent out on full display. "Huh? You told your dear mother about us then suddenly come running back after me? Did having her approval feel that good little puppy?"
Baekhyun's face burns a dozen different shades of red, but I'm not fucking done yet.
"Here comes the man who was so overcome with jealousy over my best friend that he pretended to fuck another whore at his party," I list off on my fingers, my voice growing louder with every word I fire at him."Here goes the man who accused me of fucking Jongin because I wanted to be left alone at a mother fucking party. Here sits the man—who had the audacity to cheat on me not once, but twice!" My lips curl up into the ugliest sneer, glaring at Baekhyun hard enough to kill. "And here lies the cowardly man who will lie like a pig in mud for the rest of eternity as far as I am concerned."
I'm huffing and puffing by the time I'm done, not even waiting for him to say anything before starting back up again. "You know I never and would never have cheated on you, right?" I ask, lowering the volume of my voice. "If I didn't want to be faithful to you, Baekhyun, I would have been with someone else. I don't pull stunts to be petty and shit. If you didn't know that about me now, you're a fucking idiot, and if you don't believe me, then I don't know what to tell you." I shrug, leaning back tiredly into my seat and keeping my eyes forward on the empty road ahead.
"I get that," He says quietly.
A chuckle bubbles in my aching chest. "Do you?" I raise a brow, trying to calm down. "Do you understand how stupid it is to cheat on someone just because you're feeling petty or uncomfortable in a situation-"
"I never cheated on you."
"Ha!" I bark out a laugh. "And I don't have 4C hair." Rolling my eyes, I throw my hands up. "What? So that model at the photoshoot and the lipstick stain on the collar of your shirt wasn't you cheating? Are you serious?"
"Yes."
"Really? You really are going to deny-"
"Melody tripped over a sewage drain and that model forced herself onto me." He states firmly. "Neither was consensual or intentional."
Both my brows raise. "Huh. You know, it's real funny how you have an explanation for that now." I roll down my window to cool off, leaning my elbow onto the window seal and my chin in my palm before turning to him again. "Where was this energy months ago?" 
Baekhyun nods. "You're right. I am a coward," He admits, stopping me dead in my tracks. "Dumb enough to not say anything and dumb enough to think that you'd figure it out because I…" He trails off, biting his lips before those teary brown eyes lock onto mine again. Taking my breath away with the endless storm of emotions swirling within them. "With you, I'm like an open book. You always saw right through me, so I thought… I thought I didn't have to say anything," His head drops, looking down at the neat bags sitting at his feet. "And when I did, it was too late."
My eyes narrow. "How do I know you aren't bullshtting me?"
"I have nothing left to lose," He shrugs, smiling sadly.
Anger flares up in me again. "What is that supposed to mean-"
"I already lost you."
My mouth snaps shut, a feeling I haven't felt in months squeezing my heart in earnest.
"Everything you said was true," He mumbles. "All of it. The secrets, the lies-"
"And what makes you say that?"
His ears burn brighter than the red handprint on his cheek. "I'm seeing a therapist."
"Oh—Shit..." A wave of white hot shame falls over me. "Baekhyun, I-I'm sorry-"
"No." He shakes his head before bending down, the paper bags rustling in his grasp. "Don't. You said nothing but the truth."
"That still doesn't make it okay…" I rub the back of my neck, cursing myself inwardly for my anger. I hadn't meant to go off on him, that wasn't my intention—
"It's only fair," He mutters, shrugging weakly. "I've said worse to you."
"I…" I can't help but sigh, at a loss for words. "...I'm proud of you, seeing a therapist takes a lot of courage and self awareness."
"Thank you."
"I'm glad you're doing okay," I mumble.
Baekhyun stiffens up. Suddenly the atmosphere in the car shifts into something more melancholic.
"B-Baek?"
He lifts up his head, revealing his tear-stained face to me. "You think so?"
My heart clenches in anguish. "Baekhyun-"
"After everything you…" His voice breaks. "You think I'm fine? You think I'm okay?" Tears dampen the long strands of silver hair dangling in his eyes. "I haven't slept. I haven't eaten. I haven't breathed—I haven't lived since the day you left." He croaks, sucking in a breath. "So if you think that I am okay, I am not."
I have nothing else to say after that. What can I even say...?
Feeling tears form in my own eyes, I turn the car back on. My mom always taught me that if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say nothing at all. And after I slapped him and said all of those things…
I pull off of the curb, hiding my tears away from him. There's nothing I can do but take him home and hope that in the distant future… In a brand new life… He can forgive me for everything I've done to him and move on too.
The rest of the ride is spent in silence. No radio. No cars zooming past. The only thing I hear is his quiet sniffles and the cry of my wheezing heart.
"Thanks for taking me home," He mumbles in the softest of tones, mumbling more to his scuffed up sneakers than to me.
"No problem," I say softly, reaching out to place my hand on his shoulder only to pause, gripping the steering wheel again. "Make sure to take some Advil from the third cabinet on the right, okay?"
Baekhyun nods, hiding under the strands of his messy hair. He scares the hell out of me when his head suddenly shoots up again.
"Baek…?" I whisper, not sure what to do as he starts leaning in. He reveals his face to me up close for the first time in months. Heart-wrenching features that I know so well. The droopy shape of his brown eyes, the soft slope of his button nose, the cute little mole on top of his soft pink, thin lips that are pursed in concentration. For what? I have no idea. "Baekhyun-"
He slams his hand down on the dashboard, making me flinch. "Spider," He mutters, opening his hand to reveal its creepy squished body. I shiver at the sight. "I don't want you getting into a wreck. I know how you hate-" He sighs loudly, shaking his head. "Never mind…"
Yeah… I gulp, forcing a smile. Never mind.
"Travel safely, okay?" He takes his bags of food and steps out of the car, moving to close the door only to pause, meeting my eyes from under the bright city lights. "Goodnight, Riley."
It takes everything in me not to break down right there and then. "Good-" My lips wobble. I clear my throat, brushing my hair back before daring to look into his dull brown eyes again. "Goodnight, Baekhyun."
He smiles so small and sadly, making my heart weep when he closes the door and walks off to enter his apartment building.
I sit there for a few moments, staring out at the busy street ahead. It's so funny… This empty feeling in my chest. It's… It's like I never left…
•••
It's unfair… how much your heart hurts when you're stuck on someone. Realizing that no matter how many times they've hurt you, your broken heart still beats for them… and only them.
No matter how hard I try to deny it, the heart doesn't lie…
Baekhyun… is still a part of me. His scent may have faded, his t-shirts and hoodies are cleared out from my room… but the memory of him lives on in my heart. And I can't get rid of him without breaking myself completely and reforming a "perfect mold" to fit myself in.
Ha… funny how that works. 7 months of moving on has led up to this. Nothing. 7 months, 12 months, or 30 years, Baekhyun's scent can wash off of my skin, but the rest of the world won't let me break the two of us apart. If I am my brain, he is my heart. And you can't live without that muscle pumping steadily in your aching chest.
It's so unfair… because I'm trying my hardest to move on with someone else.
It takes me forever to get ready for my date tonight, and when I do… Something tells me to cancel it. But I can't. Jackson will be busy for the next month and a half. This is the only time in his schedule where he can take me out on the "proper date" as he likes to call it. Which he doesn't have to, I'm not that hard to please. I mean for fuck sake, I haven't had an official date until I was 20. 
I'm not picky about these things, but I ended up agreeing in the end anyway. The sad puppy look on Jackson's face when I tried to decline going to a restaurant to just stay in and watch movies instead still haunts me. Those almond shaped, dark brown puppy eyes… Damn him.
Sighing softly, I carefully apply my eyeliner in my vanity mirror, checking over my appearance one last time and smiling at the result. My lips are the richest shade of red, dark brown, waist-length hair curled to perfection, and the crystal earrings I haven't worn in ages sparkle every time they catch the light. Perfect for my chosen dress for the night.
It's a little something that I've bought recently. A spaghetti strapped, black velvet piece with a cowl shaped neck that shows off a bit of my cleavage, form-fitting all the way down to the V shaped end of the dress. It ends high on my thigh, but I have no plans to go dancing tonight, (for Jackson's sake). It's just enough to make him a little hot under his expensive collar. Especially with the lace strings crisscrossed in the back that are the only thing holding the dress up.
A low buzz makes me jump, startling me out of my thoughts. I fish for my phone in the vibrating purse in my lap. I haven't taken it out since last night… The weight of Baekhyun's unblocked number in my phone is a heavy load... and I only have myself to blame.
My eyes widen at the caller ID on the screen: Him. And I know exactly who he is.
Biting my nails, I weigh my options: answer now and end up canceling my plans or call him back tomorrow... 
Would it really be that bad to cancel? No—I can't. Jackson thinks I'm a punctual woman and…
"Always so sweet for me," He murmurs lowly, painting my skin with the shape of his lips.
My breath hitches, mouth going dry as more memories dance in my mind. Skin on skin, hushed whispers, champagne painted breaths...
"Mmm you're so wet," He groans, grazing my clit with his teeth. "Making a mess all over me."
A knock on my door makes me pause, staring down at the buzzing phone in my hand.
7 months without Baekhyun… and it has resorted to this.
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—Fuck!
I power down the phone, toss it back into my bag, pull it onto my shoulder and launch myself out of my chair to open the door before I lose my nerve. The sight that greets me on the other side of the door makes my heart flutter, but…
"Hey," Jackson smiles softly, his dark brown eyes sparkling under the bright lights.
It doesn't take my breath away.
"Hi," I manage a smile, tucking my hair behind my ear.
"You look beautiful," He compliments, his eyes sparkling even more as he looks over my dress before meeting my eyes again.
My smile grows, warmth spreading over my cheeks. "Thank you," I mutter softly, laughing a little. "You're not too bad yourself."
He smiles again, gesturing to me, the shine of his thin gold bracelet reflecting the hallway lights. "May I?"
"Hmm?—Oh!" I gasp, noticing the red and black corsage in his hands. "Y-Yes," I smile shyly, my heart pounding when he holds out his hand to me.
Jackson gently takes my hand, carefully slipping the corsage around my wrist. The caress of his rough fingertips makes a shiver go down my spine, goosebumps left on my skin when he pulls away.
His outfit catches my attention. Normally I'd feel a little shameless for looking at him from head to toe, but after what happened earlier… I can use a distraction.
He's wearing a black blazer with a matching lace turtleneck shirt underneath that gives me a glimpse of his toned skin, making my breath hitch. A golden necklace with a pendant rests in the middle of his chest, making him look so attractive when it twinkles under the lights. And with the way his shirt is tucked into his stylish black jeans… Fuck me ten times over.
My eyes trail further down his body. He has on that expensive gold watch I saw the first time we met and elegant rings on his veiny hands. I forget to breathe remembering how it felt to be held in his strong arms...
Snapping out of my daze, my wide eyes dart back up to his, finding the sweetest of shy smiles on his lips and a pink hue to his cheeks. He just caught me checking him out and he's blushing. Adorable. Clearing my throat, I smile, feeling my own face heat up under his admiring gaze. "Not bad at all."
His soft chuckle makes me feel less embarrassed. Maybe he can tell that I'm nervous… but not what has me so nervous.
Baekhyun's tear-stained face has been haunting me all day and I barely managed to get any sleep last night. His small voice replays in my head and soft spoken words cover my skin. My face heats up and pales at the same time at the reminder of what I was thinking about not even 10 minutes ago. I had a memory of him going down on me for Christ sake! Looking up at Jackson's handsome face, I feel another wave of hot shame. Can the ground please open up and swallow me whole?
"Shall we?" Jackson asks, bring my attention back to him. He offers his elbow to me, waiting for me to lock my arm with his. Another smile forms on my face; I have to suppress a giggle bubbling in my chest. He's so sweet and gentle compared to all the other men in my life. Ugh, my poor heart is racing like crazy.
I lock the door behind me and wrap my arm around his, appreciating the firmness of his bicep as he leads us down the hallway. The taps of our respective shoes echo around the quiet hall while we wait a few minutes for the elevator to arrive. "I'm not taking too much of your time, am I?" I mumble, watching the floor numbers rise to avoid his gaze.
"Hmm?" Jackson hums, his alluring cologne hitting me when he turns his head to look at me.
"Your schedule," I elaborate, glancing at him from under my eyelashes. "I'm not infringing on your work time, am I?"
"No," He shakes his head, holding the metal doors open for me while I walk into the elevator.
"But you said you are in the middle of the most important part of filming and-" I stop, my eyes widening at the warmth on my cheeks.
"Riley." Jackson looks right into my eyes, his rough palms cradling my face. "You are not 'taking too much' of my time, alright?" He mumbles, brown eyes drifting over my features while his thumb swipes over the top of my cheek, leaving a blaze of gentle heat in its wake. "This night is for us."
My heart practically leaps out of my chest the longer I stare into his warm eyes. I break eye contact. "O-Okay," I whisper, smiling shyly.
Jackson smiles, taking my hand when the elevator doors open onto the ground floor. As we walk past the security guard in the lobby, I wonder how I look next to him… He's the same height as Baekhyun, more toned where the latter has softer edges. They both have sharp jawlines, but Jackson's cheeks are more chiseled than squishy like Baekhyun's sweet face—
"Ladies first," His low voice muses.
Lifting my head from my white high heels, I look into Jackson's eyes, realizing that his dark brown eyes don't hold the same tension Baekhyun's does when I am taller than him like this. My shyness aside, with my almost average height and tall heels, I'm a few centimeters taller than Jackson. But instead of finding that spark of insecurity I'm used to seeing in Baekhyun's eyes, Jackson looks at me as if I am the goddess who put the moon in the sky.
Stepping out into the quiet night, I look up at the stars, having to blink a few times when I see a pair of droopy brown eyes staring down at me. No. I shake my head, sighing in frustration. God, why do I see him everywhere I go?
We make our way to the parking lot on the side of the apartment complex. The silence between us isn't striffling like the one I've come to grow wary of over the past year. That piercing void full of held back frustration and heated glares...
A car unlocks in the distance, drawing my attention to a sleek black vehicle when it lights up. A Jaguar, stunning with it's cat-eye headlights and the way the engine purrs to life. The car is honestly mesmerizing, and it suits Jackson well, but my heart tugs painfully in my chest when he opens the passenger door for me and I don't see any red accessory detailing on the inside...
"You look stunning in that dress." He says when he climbs into the driver's seat, his low voice making me feel something deep in my stomach.
"T-Thank you," I blush scarlet, shifting towards the passenger window to hide my red face. It's been a long time since someone has complimented me so genuinely. I haven't felt like this since—
"Are you really that insecure?"
The memory hits me like a punch to the gut.
"You okay?" Jackson asks, his eyes shining with concern.
"Y-Yeah," I whisper, clutching onto my purse. My face hasn't cooled down since I left my apartment and I doubt it will at this rate. Between Jackson's sweet eyes and Baekhyun's teary ones that haven't left my mind, I'm royally screwed. "How's work?" 
Jackson hums. "It's good." He keeps his eyes on the road, pulling out of the parking lot. "The movie is coming along nicely."
Taking a few discrete and deep breaths, I rest my head on my arm, focusing on the low timbre of his raspy voice. "Did the tech team find any more of those files?"
"No." He shakes his head, making a left turn. "Thankfully those were the only ones," He smiles, glancing over at me; the twinkles of excitement and affection in his eyes is hard to ignore. "Now the editing team can take over."
I fight the urge to rest a hand over my heart. "The movie won't be delayed?"
"The movie won't be delayed," He confirms warmly, focusing fully on me at the next red light. His brown hair falls attractively over his forehead, casting a shadow over his dark and expressive eyes. "We'll be ahead of schedule. Everyone worked in advance while waiting for the tech team to sort through the files."
"That's good," I smile, turning my attention to our surroundings streaming past the window.
Jackson navigates us down the long Seoul streets, the city lights reflecting in his dark eyes while he steers the wheel with both hands. He looks handsome under the favor of the moonlight, the headlights of passing cars sparkling across his thin necklace. For a moment I imagine a future—an us. How it would feel to hold his calloused hands and gaze into his adoring eyes. What it would be like to wake up to his face in the mornings. That deep, raspy voice… I shiver at the thought, praying the traffic lights don't show the red hue I feel on my cheeks.
Soft and slow R&B floats from the quiet car radio, caressing my ears with its gentle melodies while Jackson turns his blinkers on. I hum, tapping along to the beat, a smile curling at my lips. It's a perfect song for a summer night like this, adding a calming atmosphere to the intimate space of Jackson's car—
"I love this song."
Baekhyun raises a brow, his eyes focused on the road as he turns up the radio with a smile. "Really?"
"Yeah." He has such a stunning side profile, I could gaze at him for hours. "I listened to a lot of their songs growing up."
"Your parents have great taste."
"Mm." The sunlight reflecting in his brown eyes has nothing on the sparkles of happiness in his shining orbs. "I guess you do too."
I sigh through my nose, shoving down the emotions budding in my chest. No matter how hard I try, memories of him continue to play in my mind. All our romantic mid-day drives and late night talks of a future we thought we had in store… Our shared hopes and dreams that went up in flames before our very eyes.
Next thing I know, Jackson is putting the car into park, the purr of the engine cutting off in exchange for the summer heat seeping in through the pause of the air conditioner.
"You ready?" He looks over at me, the urge to brush his hair out of his eyes hitting me full force.
"Yeah," I smile, curling my hand around the strap of my purse. The giddy smile he gives me in return is so damn sweet I want to cry.
Jackson steps out of the Jaguar and it doesn't take him long to round the car. He opens the passenger door for me before I realize that we've reached the restaurant.
"Thank you," I giggle in embarrassment, placing my hand in the one he offers me with another one of those adorable smiles of his. My heart skips a beat when he presses a kiss to the back of my hand while I step out onto the asphalt. If he keeps this up I'm going to have a heart attack over this softness. What the hell, why aren't there more guys like Jackson in the world? And how the hell has he been single this whole time with him out here sweeping me off my feet like this?
His widened smile and the way his eyes drift over my features has a comforting warmth settling over my beating heart. He leads the way to the restaurant, opening the door for me like the heart-fluttering gentleman he is. He's going all out on winning me over tonight and I'm loving every minute of it.
The smell of freshly baked lasagna and garlic bread has my mouth watering as we make our way up to the counter. I catch a peek at the beautifully arranged, round wooden tables under a romantic lighting in the next room.
"Reservations for Wang." Jackson's voice sounds more firm when he addresses the lady at the counter, a flicker of his director persona flashing across his face. If nothing else, one look at him and you can tell that he's about business—even for a little date like this. A first date too. It's hard fighting my adoring smile.
The receptionist checks on the computer in front of her and looks down at her clipboard, nodding with a polite smile. "Right this way," She gestures to the next room. Her black suit, matching bow tie, and crisp clean, white dress shirt add onto the expensive air of the restaurant. The food is fresh, the atmosphere is dreamy, and every surface shines brightly under the dim candle-lit lights.
The further we walk into the restaurant, the more I have to be sure not to let my jaw drop in awe. Everything about this place is magical, from the happily conversing customers to the beautiful chandeliers in the hallway. The receptionist leads us to a table in a more secluded area, the muffled chatter of the rest of the patrons coming through the velvet walls. "Your water will be out shortly," She sets the menus on the table before taking her leave with a bow.
"Allow me," Jackson murmurs, his words caressing my ear. His cologne washes over me when he walks over to the table, pulling out a chair and waiting for me with the most charming smile on his face. I can't hold my own back even if I tried.
"Thank you," I say warmly, humored and flattered beyond belief. The proximity of his hand to my bare shoulders has a pleasant shiver going down my spine. A flush forms on my face. The man has done nothing but be a gentleman and I'm over here yearning for his touch like a giddy teenager.
Jackson's scent hits me once again when he moves to take his seat. The minty smell of aftershave and a hint of his own unique manly scent has me damn near drooling and we haven't even had appetizers yet. My stomach is building tension and I doubt it has anything to do with the menu.
"How was your day?" He inquires.
I startle out of my horny musings like a cat doused in cold water. Oh shit. "It was alright," I laugh nervously, trying to keep my voice from wavering into that annoying raspy tone it gets when I'm not careful enough. "I turned in my final assignments and am awaiting my test results for the semester." 
A waiter comes to take our order, sparing me a few minutes from having to explain myself. I'm struggling to find words here. What am I supposed to say? "Oh yeah, I spent all day daydreaming about my heartbroken ex and the steamy sex we used to have." I'd die of embarrassment so damn fast. I'm appalled at myself.
"What are you studying?" His dark brown eyes are back on me when the waiter walks away. A flutter stutters in my chest under his attentive gaze.
"Business," I resist the urge to rest my chin on my palm, choosing to swirl my fork around my salad instead. "I'm working on my bachelor's degree. I want to improve my performance at work."
His eyes widen, curiosity painting on his handsome features. "What do you do?"
I smile softly. He's adorable. "I'm the Director at Park's Publishing."
"You work in a publishing house?"
"I manage the 5th floor," I share, a smirk quirking at my lips. The last thing I did this morning before going home around lunch was inform everyone about our busy schedule at the end of the month. "I miss my editing days, not gonna lie." I laugh, poking an olive. "Sorry, work kind of stresses me out."
"No," Jackson shakes his head, smiling softly, "I get it. Taking a group of people under your wing is a big responsibility."
"It's sooo difficult." Sighing, I cross my legs, the back of my heel clicking against the leg of my chair. "Since I'm not directly in charge of editing, I have to guide others and keep reminding myself that I can't do the work for them. They have to learn on their own."
"Same," He nods, swallowing a bite of Italian seasoning drenched tomato and lettuce. "I have to fight the urge to take things over that the marketing and editing teams are supposed to handle." A flicker of annoyance crosses his face, making me smile in understanding. "Good thing I'm not Ceo," He jokes. 
I laugh, thinking to myself: Yeah, thank fuck you aren't one.
When the waiter brings our food, the reminder that I haven't eaten all day stirs in my hungry stomach. I take a bite of my chicken alfredo before it can growl, closing my eyes to hide how they roll back when the gooey goodness of cheese and perfectly boiled noodle hits my tongue. Holy fuck. This food right here is the shit. If I had a meal like this more often, I'd never complain again in my life.
I find myself observing Jackson while he enjoys his own meal. He chews with his mouth closed, neatly cutting his chicken with a fork and knife. The room is quiet with only the soft music playing overhead and the sound of our silverware clicking against the pristine plates.
"I want to wake up every morning to your sleeping face curled up by my side," Baekhyun murmurs, smiling shyly.The red hue of his cheeks endearing under the dim lights. "Your hair products cluttering our dresser and your toothbrush next to mine."
"You really like cucumbers, huh?" Jackson muses.
I jolt out of my thoughts, realizing to my horror that I've been leaning over the table, picking the cucumbers from his salad. "Oh! Y-Yeah," I chuckle, my face burning scarlet. From humor or embarrassment, I have no idea. Probably both at this rate. "You could say that..."
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Originally posted by sefuns
August fades seamlessly into September, urging the leaves on trees to change into red, orange, and pretty yellow hues. Gone are the dog days of summer smitting everyone from above. Now the best season of all is coming out to play, and I am all for it.
Skipping down the street in my newest yellow skater dress and nude sandals, I check the GPS on my phone to search for the street that I'm on. Today I decided that walking around aimlessly for hours was the best course of action to clear my mind, and now I've found myself in a part of Seoul that I've never been to before.
The architecture of the landscape around me is something to behold. The windows are cut out squares that only allow light to be seen from within the rooms as the sun goes down, and the buildings are curved this way and that in the most intricate of ways. It surely is a view I wouldn't mind venutring over here to see again sometime. The lively chatter of pedestrians on the sidewalk is refreshing too.
Smiling to myself, my eyes catch sight of a particular building in the distance. I quickly cross the street for a closer look. It's a giant library that looks to be 4 stories tall, showcasing a huge bookshelf on the back wall from the view of the front windows. Highly intrigued, and lowkey smitten, I step inside for a closer look.
The smell of books hits me in an instant, the young and old novels arranged neatly in little bookshelves compared to that mountain of literature on the farthest wall. There's a small cafe serving up delicious muffins to my right and a huge sitting area full of the perfect lounge chairs on my left. Crowds of people make their way to and fro between the aisles without hiccup. There's so much to do that I don't even know where to start.
Walking over to the Romance section, I skim my fingertips along the book covers, aimlessly striding down the aisle until a thin, blue book catches my eye. Curious, I move to pull it out only for another hand to beat me to it. A familiar, slender hand.
I yank my hand back at once. "Dude!" Lowering my voice, I glare at the man in front of me. "Why the hell are you always everywhere? Are you following me around or what?"
"W-What?" Baekhyun's wide brown eyes stare back at me.
"I never thought you'd resort to stalking, Baekhyun." I shake my head, brushing past him, the silver buttons of his waist-length jacket cold against my sun-kissed skin.
"I'm not fucking!" He slaps a hand over his face, exhaling deeply. "I'm not following you around."
"Then why are you here, huh?" I keep my eyes forward, marching into the next aisle.
"Because—will you stop walking away from me?!?!?!"
I freeze, the sheer desperation in his voice roots my feet to the floor. "Why are you here, Baekhyun?" I cross my arms, shivering under the air conditioner overhead.
"Hannam-dong library extraordinaire," He utters, his shadow moving closer as I tense up. "You put it on the bucket list. The one we made together." Hope pours out from his every word, his painfully slow footsteps seeming to stem from the faint memories crowding his mind. "You listed every place you wanted to go and w-we, we never…" He stops when his voice cracks, clearing his throat. "You made a copy by hand so we'd always have it," He mumbles sadly. "I guess it's meaningless now."
Emotions grip at my throat and tears threaten to fill my eyes. I slowly turn around, snatching the book out of his hands. "Give me that." Flickering my eyes up to his hurt-filled eyes, I gesture to the sitting area with my chin. "Follow me."
Baekhyun follows behind me without a word, shuffling his boots noisily on the carpeted floor. I have half the mind to tell him about it until I remember where we are—in a library and in life. Biting my tongue, I plop down into the longest couch available, staring at his nervous figure when he doesn't join me. "Come on!" I snap, throwing a pillow at him that he's quick to catch. "Sit your ass down, I don't got all day." I grumble, opening the blue book. "I came here to read and I plan to do so."
A few moments go by, nothing but the quiet chatter of visitors and the coffee pot whistling on the other side of the room fills the air. Just when my heart drops at the thought of him being gone, a weight sinks down into the couch next to me. I look to see Baekhyun in a grey sweater, his jacket left on the back of the chair. His eyes are closed and neck is bare while resting his head on the back of the couch. Silver locks of hair messily dangle on his forehead, long eyelashes caressing the tops of his cheeks. I frown at the lack of fluff I find there, his mother's words a distant whisper in my ear.
Baekhyun makes me jump when he peeks an eye open, opening the other before blinking slowly at me. "I'm listening," He murmurs softly, keeping those expressive brown eyes on me.
My heart skips a beat. Smiling to myself, I focus back on the book in my hands, flipping to the first page and beginning to read aloud.
•••
Weeks fly by once mid September hits, endless clusters of colored leaves blowing away in its wind. The sun rises later in the day and sets at a different angle at night, casting warm shadows over my bedroom window that never fail to bring a smile to my face. Everything about this time of year puts me in high spirits. The weather is perfect for my velvety outfits and the annoying ass bugs are finally starting to go away. It's a calm, homey fairytale land full of sweet breezes and mid autumn adventures.
I lean over my vanity while painstakingly applying my red lipstick in the mirror, smoothing it out with care. My makeup for tonight goes well with my newest party dress, a burgundy velvet, off the shoulder piece with a deep v neck. It has long puffed sleeves with fitted cuffs that wrap comfortably around my wrists and a matching belt to emphasize the hourglass shape of my waist. The thick material is perfect for early October, the nights beginning to get just the littlest bit colder.
Humming to myself, I carefully put on my gold dangling earrings, smiling at the reflection of my wavy hair. Just letting it air dry with curling irons in it for a few minutes ended up with the subtle result. I'm attending one of Jackson's infamous parties tonight as his date, not his seducer. Although, I don't need to get all dolled up to impress him anyway. Batting my eyelashes and looking intensely into his deep, dark brown eyes is enough.
This time around, I'm prepared for the knock on my door. Two months of various dates has sunk a certain time into my core. 10pm on the dot. Punctual as always. My red painted lips quirk up at the thought. With one last glance into my vanity mirror, I spin around on my one-inch, open-toed black heels, strutting over to open the door and whistling at the sight.
Jackson smiles, looking hot as hell in his black blazer and thin gold chain with no shirt underneath. His muscular thighs look amazing in his tight jeans, and with his brown hair brushed back with a few strands of hair attractively left on his forehead…
"You look gorgeous," He murmurs, planting a kiss on my forehead while I'm distracted by his two sets of gold earrings.
I smile coyly, tucking my finger in his necklace and tugging on it lightly. "You're not so bad yourself."
Conversations between us flow more easily over the past few months. I show him my sass and he throws it right back, making me laugh every time. His attractive mind comes up with the most astounding ideas and points of view. There are many different sides to him as well. His confident, professional way of handling business to how he likes to roll over on my couch to rest his head in my lap and look up at me with those dark brown puppy eyes. 
Things are easy—that's just how it is with Jackson. It's a nice change from the complicated men in my life. He's adorable and sexy all in one.
The clicks of my heels echo across the sidewalk as we walk up to the frat house, my hand wrapped around his bicep. The party is just starting to pick up it seems; a fair amount of party goers are streaming in the front double doors.
"I want to introduce you to someone," Jackson perks up the moment we reach the entrance.
"Really?" I bat my eyes at him, stepping closer when someone brushes past us in a hurry. "Well, I'm down for that."
He smiles, holding the door open for me. I softly squeeze his bicep before letting him go, walking into his alumni house for the first time in almost a year. Last December I was crossing this same threshold with Jenny by my side, can you believe that? A lot can happen in 10 months, and I can't wait for what's in store for me.
"Jackson!" A deep voice reaches us over the loud music and growing crowd. I can barely make out a figure under all the neon lights, beckoning us over. Jackson's cologne washes over me before I feel his arm brush against my back.
"Let's go," He takes my hand in his, a smile audible in his raspy voice. I follow his lead, swiveling my head around to take in the view of the house. Just as I thought, everything is impeccably arranged. From the mini bar in the back corner to the DJ booth, it screams Jackson. Charming. Intelligent. And expensive. Even with the clumsy party attendees stumbling around.
He turns the corner on the right side of the hallway, following the medium-build figure walking down to a slightly ajar door at the end of the hall. The chatter from within the small room comes to a halt when the stranger pushes open the door.
"Took you long enough, Tuan!" A high-pitched, bubbly voice laughs, their plump lips smiling in amusement.
The man we've been following turns around, smiling while 5 other pairs of eyes land on us. "Hey, man."
"Mark," Jackson steps forward for a bro hug, clapping a hand over the raven's back. He goes around to do the same and fist bumps the other men in the room before standing next to me again. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."
All of them smile, curiosity and friendliness coming off of them in waves—except for one.
Yugyeom sits with his legs crossed in the far corner of the room, smirking while leaning his head in his hand. I make a point to ignore him, shaking everyone's hand with my most polite smile. Their compliments of my dress has me blushing all the way up to my ears. Thankfully the dim lights hide it from view.
Jackson and I take a spot on the only available couch in the cozy room, sitting between Mark and another man with sharp cat-like eyes and a barbell piercing.
"Is this your first party?" The latter asks, swirling the brown alcohol in his glass.
"No," I smile, way too aware of Yugyeom's stare burning into the side of my head. I carefully open a can of beer that Jackson hands to me, taking a long sip.
"Huh," He takes a swing of his drink while I lean my head onto Jackson's shoulder. "Why haven't I seen you around before?"
"I have," Yugyeom joins in, smirking and wiggling his eyebrows at me from over the rim of his glass. My eye twitches. Yeah, I see why this little shit and Jenny broke up.
I quietly observe everyone while the night carries on, the faint bass from the music down the hallway vibrating through the floor. Jackson catches up with his "brothers," in the meantime, updating them on the progress of his film. My eyes lazily sweep over the well-furnished room, the edges of my vision turning blurry. I make sure that the next two cans of beer that I drink aren't open when they are handed to me.
Sometime around midnight, I loosen up, the buzz of alcohol rushing through my veins prompting me to lose my filter. Between BamBam with the plush lips playful banter and the juicy tales of Jaebum's romantic conquests, I'm positively beaming, chatting without a care with my legs draped over Jackson's lap.
Mark cracks a joke that sends me reeling, nearly falling off of the couch if it wasn't for the man next to me, wrapping a strong arm around my waist. I hide my face in the crook of his neck, taking in his vanilla scent. The hint of citrus on his honey-toned skin has warmth spreading over my chest, the image of his sweet, brown puppy eyes printed behind my eyelids.
I laugh until I realize how dead silent the room has gotten. Lifting my head, I look around before tugging lightly on Jackson's sleeve. "Hey..." I murmur with difficulty, growing unnerved under their piercing stares. "What's-"
"Let's call it a night," He mutters, not meeting my eye.
Snapping my mouth shut, I nod, wondering what I did wrong while he bids everyone goodnight. I stand up with the help of his hand on my arm, guiding me over to the doorway that seems to be tilting to the side.
"Hey…" I try again, focusing hard on putting one foot in front of the other. What happened…? Did I laugh too hard? React too dramatically? Is there a piece of fruit stuck between my teeth? I knew I shouldn't have had that parfait before—
Jackson pulls aside me to an empty corner shielded by large plants in the hallway. His lips part a few times before he presses them into a thin line. "You just called me Baekhyun," He mutters, clenching his jaw.
Oh. I sober up in a heartbeat. "S-Shit, I-" The color drains from my face the longer I gaze into his disappointed dark brown eyes. I can feel tears filling my own. "I'm so sorry-"
"It's fine." His stiff posture says otherwise and I've never seen such a hard expression on his features before. "I'll drive you home."
"Wait…" Resting my hand on his arm, I brace myself with a racing heart for the backlash I'll get for what I'm about to ask. "C-Can you drop me off somewhere instead?"
•••
The car ride into the heart of Seoul is stifling. I can't recall us ever being like this… let alone having Jackson angry with me. His grip on the steering wheel has his knuckles turning white, the clench of his jaw concerning me as well. I can only blame myself, swearing inwardly for coming out tonight. 
This wasn't supposed to happen… None of this was. The Baekhyun; the shy smiles; the longing. The Yugyeom; the drinking; the nerves... If I could go back in time, I never would have gone to that frat party last year. I would have stayed at Jenny's apartment, bonding over skincare routines and shitty tv shows. But no... I had to go out that December night, and now I am facing the consequences.
It's taking everything in me just to hold back my tears.
"We're here." Jackson speaks up after an hour of silence, nothing but the zooming cars and lively nightlife filling up the empty space from beyond the tinted windows. It does little to ease the tension in the car—it only seems to build when he pulls up to the curb, leaving the engine running.
A lump forms in my throat, making it hard to breathe. I can't even face him right now. By the cold look in his eyes, I know there is no use trying to talk to him. I can't even defend myself. There's only one explanation for what happened earlier, and it's the most shitty one of all... 
Baekhyun.
On my mind; in my thoughts; in my heart. The way his long eyelashes brush the top of his glowy cheeks and the world swirling in his sparkly brown eyes when he looks at me. Everywhere I go, I see him, feel him, and wish he was there… From the darkest crevices of my anxious mind to the deepest depths of my beating heart.
No matter where I turn. No matter how much I try. There is only one man in the world for me in this lifetime. There is only one name my soul cries out for… and it isn't the one next to me.
I swallow hard, my heart aching for Jackson. The telling shine of tears reflected in his brown eyes can't be hidden when a truck drives past, revealing the vulnerability in his dark eyes. I hate that things are ending this way. The pounding of my head and sour taste on the back of my tongue are only reminders of how much I've messed up tonight.
Working up my nerve, I step out of his Jaguar, ducking my head back inside with a tight grip on the door.
"Thank you," I whisper over the loud crickets and crying tree frogs, "For everything." Sighing shakily, I crack one last smile as a tear rolls down my cheek. "Thank you for showing me how wonderful life can be."
Jackson turns his head, regarding me with teary, fire-filled eyes. His throat bobs and he manages a small smile in return, nodding slowly. "The pleasure is all mine, Riley."
With a pounding heart, I close the car door with care, walking onto the curb. I look back over my shoulder one more time when I reach the doors of the apartment complex, watching him drive off with a sad smile. The quiet night wraps around me, bringing me little comfort against the bitter cold that I feel inside of my heart. What if I'm making a mistake? I just walked away from the only man who treated me the way I deserve… A stable, well off man for a broken, world shattering one.
A million thoughts race through my mind while climbing the stairs to his apartment, my hand clutching onto the railing for dear life. What if he's not home? What if I'm too late? What if he's finally moved on and I'm the only one still stuck in the past? Still stuck on us?
Tears spring to my eyes, making it hard to see the wobbly steps with my blurred vision, but I carry on, one step at a time. Something tugs deep in my chest—a gut feeling. One that has me pausing from the sheer force behind it.
Baekhyun is my home, and he is waiting for me.
I break out into a run, nearly slipping on the last step before I reach the landing of the fourth floor, swinging the stairway door open so hard it collides with the wall. My heels pound against the marble floor until I trip over something, slamming my head on his door. The resounding thud echoes across the silent walls and the door is yanked open within seconds.
His wide, shock-filled brown eyes stare at me from the doorway, with his messy silver hair and a white wrinkled t-shirt.
I all but throw myself at him.
Baekhyun gasps, catching me before I fall. "Riley, I-"
"No." I shake my head, hugging him tighter, my voice wavering. "You listen to me." Looking up into his brown eyes, I cup his warm cheeks in my cold hands. "I don't care how long it takes, I don't care how much my heart breaks." My chin wobbles, salty tears streaming like a waterfall down my face, but nothing else matters. Nothing can hurt me when I'm in his comforting embrace.
"If it's not with you, I don't want it," I breathe, staring deep into his glimmering eyes. "Do you hear me? You can break my heart a million times, and I can do the same." Swiping a tear from under his eye, I cradle his face in my palm, painting his vulnerable expression into memory. "As long as we mend it back together, we will be okay." I nod, looking between his wide eyes. "We will get through this." I state firmly, melting against him when he tightens his hold on my waist. "We are in this together. Okay?" His silence is worrying me… "B?"
"Are you…" He slowly reaches up, cupping my cold cheek in his warm hand, his frantic brown eyes searching mine for answers. "Are you really here?" He whispers.
"Yes." I watch the light begin to return to his tired eyes. "I'm here, Baekhyun." I pull him closer, squeezing him in my arms, his racing heart beating in sync with mine. "I'm here." My heart drops when he pulls away.
Baekhyun shakes his head, moving his hand from my cheek to take mine into his. "I'm stubborn, insecure, and possessive." He mutters, gazing right into my eyes, determination written all over his face. "I'm… I'm annoying, overbearing, and a workaholic."
I give him my softest, loving smile. "Well, me too." Slowly reaching for him again, I paint my name on his honey-toned skin with my fingertips. "Let's be fucked up together, hmm?"
"I…" He sighs, resting his forehead on mine, staring lovingly and worriedly into my eyes. "I don't want you to regret this."
"I won't," I murmur, tracing three little words across his collarbones. "If I do, we'll fight and then have makeup sex."
Baekhyun chokes. "You're terrible." He coughs, patting his chest, the red hue on his cheeks more endearing than ever before.
I shrug, smiling at him. "When it comes to you?" Sliding my hand up his chest, I tangle my fingers in his messy hair, hovering my lips over his, "I am many things."
•••
It's funny; how easy it is to fall back into him. His loving arms and secure embrace. Every day spent with him slowly mends the cracks in my fragile heart, filling them with the most everlasting remedy of all. Love.
Time is endless when I am with him. Moments become weeks. Seconds turn into hours. Being with Baekhyun makes any taxing and mundane task into a precious activity that I'd love to do again—just because it's him.
Our dynamic has changed, even the air around us is new. We talk about everything. We face problems head on. A few arguments break out sometimes because we are two stubborn individuals, but those aren't a problem now. No big fights. No tearing into each other. I may call him an asshole and he'll rebuke with that I'm being a bitch, (which I am more often than not,) but at the end of the day. When the tension is gone and our sad eyes lock from across the room. We work things out and fall more in love with each other, no matter the struggle we've been through.
—Like right now.
"Perfect," I laugh bitterly, taking out my earrings while storming into the living room. "Fucking perfect."
"Riley," Baekhyun sighs, closing the door.
"No. Fuck this." I spit heatedly, throwing my hands up. "You always do this bullshit. Every time I go out you have something to say. What is it, huh? Why you always got to be up in my shit-"
Turning to him, I'm met by tired brown eyes, his hands falling limply to his sides. "Can we talk this out?" He asks softly, eyes pleading. "I rather hold you than fight."
Still huffing and puffing, I stare into his puppy eyes and sad pout. Without a word, I march over to him, tucking myself under his chin and wrapping my arms around his waist.
"I get it, okay? I have no problems with you going out with your friends." He mumbles into my hair, kissing my head. "I just want to make sure you are safe. Call me, text me, send me a pic to let me know that you're alright." He pulls back a little to cup my face in his hands, staring deep into my eyes. "You're my baby," He whispers, brushing frustrated tears from my cheeks. "If something ever happened to you I wouldn't be able to live with myself. Please understand where I'm coming from."
"Okay." I mumble against his shoulder, hiding more in his vanilla scent. "...I'm sorry for going off on you."
"Shh," Baekhyun hugs me tighter, surrounding me in his warmth and tangling his fingers in my hair. "I trust you, okay?" He nuzzles in my hair, sighing softly. "It's the rest of the world that I don't."
I love him. I love him with every part of me. If I had the chance to go back in time, I'd choose to meet him every time. Even on days where I have to walk out of his apartment to catch a breather. Those cold nights where I stubbornly shiver on his balcony until he comes out to place his jacket on my shoulders. And the times I ask myself why the hell I'm fighting with him over which color we should switch his window curtains into again. Despite all the good and the bad. The happiness and earth shattering agony. I wouldn't change it for the world.
"Are you cold?" Baekhyun mumbles, bringing the back of my hand to his cheek.
"I'm fine, B," I reassure, ignoring the goosebumps that erupt on my skin. From his loving touch or the cold bite of the November air, I have no idea. Most likely both.
"You're shivering." He points out, already struggling off his jacket before I can respond. "I told you it would be cold today."
"I wanted to take the risk, okay?" I sigh, smiling into the cinnamon scented fabric he places on my shoulders.
"It's the middle of November," He murmurs with a shake of his head, tucking our joined hands into the pocket of his jeans.
"Maybe," I mumble in amusement, beaming at him and batting my eyelashes. "But you love this dress on me. Admit it." Today I'm wearing a royal blue summer dress. The weather may be shifting from windy fall to bitter winter, but that won't stop me from rocking this sleeveless, v neck, shirt dress with a tie around my waist.
Baekhyun's eyes shift away from the red crosswalk light ahead to look me over, taking his time with a little cheeky smile on his face. "Well," He murmurs, mischief shining in his sparkly brown eyes. "I can't deny that."
I giggle, ignoring the warmth on my cheeks when he softly squeezes my hand, leading the way as we cross the street. I've missed this feeling: walking hand and hand—our fingers interwtined and young hearts racing as one. Not even the chilly wind can ruin the mood I'm in—I just tuck myself closer to his side.
Baekhyun hums, wrapping his arm around me, pulling me closer when a group of children come running down the sidewalk. The shrill voice of their scolding mother has us sharing a knowing look, smiling shyly. Yeah, nothing quite gets better than this.
"Riley?"
I stiffen, that low, raspy voice shakes me to my very core.
Baekhyun's brown eyes shoot to mine in an instant. "Baby?" He murmurs, a worried frown on his face as he leans to my ear. "Do you know him?"
"Um-" I avoid his eyes, holding onto the hem of his shirt for dear life. "I- Uh-"
A shadow falls over us before a figure walks around to face us, and those dark brown puppy eyes have never looked so solemn. Fuck.
"Jackson Wang?" Baekhyun blinks, sending me into an internal panic. "Hey, man," He smiles, going in for a handshake. "Long time no see. How's the movie?"
Jackson's brown eyes stare into mine before he looks down at Baekhyun's hand. "Good."
Baekhyun frowns, retracting his hand, confusion written all over his face.
"Hey, fancy seeing you here," I manage a small, polite smile, my heart racing nervously when Jackson pulls the towel from around his neck, his dark brown eyes landing back on me. "What you up to?" I tilt my head, resting a hand on Baekhyun's back.
"Out for a jog," Jackson shrugs, the fabric of his black t-shirt sticking to his damp skin. His eyes track how Baekhyun reaches back to take my hand into his. "I was supposed to play basketball with the guys," He continues sourly, "But they blew me off."
"Ah…" I purse my lips, straining another smile. "I hope you all can meet up soon."
He nods, the clench of his jaw and unreadable look in his eyes telling me all that I need to know.
"Well!" Resting my hand on Baekhyun's bicep, I risk a glance at him, unnerved at the equally hard to read expression on his features. "Baekhyun and I will be heading out now. We have reservations to make."
Jackson merely nods, his eyes burning into the back of my head as I lead Baekhyun around him. "See you around, Riley."
Cursing under my breath, I shoot him one last smile over my shoulder, urging Baekyun to walk faster. I hold my breath until we turn the corner onto the next street. "Geez what a mess," I mutter, loosening my death grip on his hand.
Baekhyun continues to securely hold onto my hand and his calm, quiet reaction has me more anxious than all the fights we've had combined. "B-Baekhyun?" I ask tentatively, trying to read his side profile. "Are you okay?" The way his silence stretches out is killing me. "B?"
"Well," He mumbles, nudging a stray rock on the ground. "Jackson is nice. He seems cool."
Uh oh. "Baekhyun-"
"No no, it's fine." He shakes his head. "I see the appeal, you know?" He looks over at me, smiling sadly. "Sharp jawline, muscular, more manly than I'll ever-"
I pull him into the nearest alleyway for privacy before facing him head on, resting my hands on his chest. "You know I only want you, right B?"
"I-I do, I just-" If the kicked puppy expression on his face was for anything else, I'd find it endearing. "He's so well put together and-"
I promptly press my lips to his, pulling back after a few moments with a raised brow. "Better?"
Baekhyun's lips part a few times, the open expression on his face cute as hell. He makes a small noise and hugs me close, sealing my lips in another kiss.
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After that day, the ice has broken between us—the last wall I had built up came crumbling down. Hiding from Baekhyun isn't needed anymore. The reassurance that we can actually talk about things instead of letting tension build is all I could ask for, alongside his love and time of course. If only I could be with him tonight.
Mrs. Park wanted me to attend a press conference or whatever with her out of the blue, saying something about it being "a big deal" and "very important" that I be there. So here I am, accessing my options for the night.
Three different outfits cover the entirety of my bed, each bringing forth a slightly different mood from the last. The first one is my trusty go-to, below the knee length dress. A simple black piece of material that's flattering for my figure without exposing my wild side. The second outfit is a basic black blazer, white dress shirt, and black dress pants—the bore of all boring clothing. Nothing wrong with it, but I'm not feeling really "plain and dull" tonight.
Now, the third option is one to behold.
A dress that is a combination between the two: a long sleeved, low cut, black dress with pretty lace for the left sleeve and solid material on the right that wraps over more lace underneath. The perfect mix of femininity and authority. I think I know which outfit is the one for me. 
Slipping into the warm material with ease, I grab my car keys and head out to meet Mrs. Park at the venue. The thought of sending Baekhyun a text crosses my mind while taking the elevator. Now that I think about it, I haven't heard from him all day. Where he at?? Is he still working late or did my comment about him never cooking a meal in his life hurt his feelings last night? If I wasn't piled up to my ears with paperwork all day I would have stopped by his office to have lunch…
Frowning to myself, I keep both my hands on the steering wheel, leaving my phone untouched in my purse on the passenger floor. Worried or not, I'm not even going to pull out my phone at the next red light. In a big city like Seoul, it's best not to take any chances, if any for that matter.
I navigate down the bright streets with ease, thankful that my GPS is cooperating with me today. Within an hour of traffic jams and watching out for jaywalkers on the street, I'm pulling into the parking lot of the venue. And with Mrs. Park leaning against the hood of her car, she isn't hard to find.
Making a three point turn, I back up into the parking space next to hers, not up for the hassle of dealing with gold digger assholes who will want me to hit them with my car later. Seoul or the South, the bullshitty ways of the road aren't that different.
"Hey," Mrs. Park smiles when I step out of my Porshe, dressed to the nines in her black pantsuit. She tilts her head towards the venue, the twinkle of her diamond earrings catching in the bright streetlights. "You ready to go?"
I walk around to her side to retrieve my purse from my car, tucking my hair behind my ear. "Yes, ma'am."
She smirks, a knowing look in her eye before locking her car. "Let's go."
Eyeing her warily, I follow her to the grand building, the clicks of our heels echoing across the pavement. For a moment the silence around us has me worrying if we are late until I see a red carpet surrounded by paparazzi in the far distance. What the hell?
"What exactly are we attending?" I ask carefully.
"A press conference," She doesn't miss a beat, glancing over at me. "Don't look so scared."
"I-"
"Smile," She continues, smiling reassuringly, "Just be yourself."
Sighing softly, I nod, preparing myself for anything. I trust Mrs. Park a lot, but if her cheeky son is anything to go by, I might be walking into something right now. And I have no idea what is awaiting me.
The clicks of the flashing cameras become more audible as we approach, a dozen cameramen throwing questions at us at once. I just smile, making sure all my sides are my best side while walking down the red carpet. Mrs. Park dodges their questions with ease, falling into step with me. We enter the open double doors of the venue without a hitch and the sight on the inside takes my breath away.
Floor to ceiling windows occupy the spacious hall with rows upon rows of velvet covered seats and a chandelier sparkling overhead. The stage at the far back has the first set of burgundy curtains drawn, showing a microphone stand. What kind of press conference is this? The amount of seating astounds me, let alone when Mrs. Park walks us right up to the front row.
I have so many questions to ask, but I just sit down in the seat at the end of the row, on the left side closest to the stairs leading up to the stage.
"Are we early?" I crane my neck around, watching other sharply dressed businessmen and women slowly fill up the venue.
"No." Mrs Park shakes her head as the lights dim down, smiling knowingly. "We're right on time."
Before I can reply, something shiny catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head to face the stage, my eyes widening at the silver haired man walking out onto the stage.
"Good evening, everyone." Baekhyun's honey-smooth voice echoes around the hall. He struts over to the mic stand with a white microphone in hand, his Ceo aura and chosen outfit for the night taking my breath away.
He's wearing a sparkly black blazer with a black button-down shirt underneath, the first few buttons undone. The sleeves of his jacket have a glittery gold embroidery design shaped like a crown and there's a matching necklace resting around his shoulders, twinkling alluringly under the dim lights. His snug black jeans and heeled boots nearly have me on the floor. Pardon my French but—step on me please? 
I gulp, sitting back in my seat while Baekhyun commands the stage. He has the whole crowd wrapped around his finger with every charming smile and deep chuckle he sends our way. I graciously accept a glass of wine from a waiter and cross my legs, too busy admiring him to listen to a word he says. It's been a while since I've had the pleasure to see this kind of view.
Baekhyun continues to speak to the crowd, coaxing adoring 'ah's' and the occasional applause. I lose my sense of time the longer he gives his speech, idly swirling my drink around my glass. I've barely drank half of it by the time the event starts coming to an end.
"Everyone." Baekhyun's voice rings over the murmuring crowd, clasping his hands together over the microphone, a soft smile playing at his lips. "If I can have a moment of your time, I'd like to say a few things before we wrap up."
My eyes widen to the size of saucers when he says my name, holding a hand out for me to take. I look around, narrowing my eyes at Mrs. Park's smiling figure. The wink she sends my way tells me everything that I need to know.
Everyone else in the crowd starts looking around, some of them settling their eyes onto me. I take a final sip of my wine and slowly set my glass down in the cup holder next to me. With one last breath and a weary glance, I approach the stage, the clicks of my heels echoing around the room.
The closer I get to Baekhyun's beaming face, the more my heart pounds, butterflies erupting in my stomach. But the moment my cold hand is securely in his, all of it fades away. With Baekhyun, I know I am safe.
He smiles, looking me over with affection shining in his eyes. "Everyone, meet my girlfriend." He announces into the microphone, softly squeezing my hand and facing the crowd again. "She didn't expect to be here tonight..." He trails off, smiling sheepishly. "I'll probably be getting an earful later." He chuckles, joining everyone in their brief laughter while I shoot him a look that screams 'you're damn right.' "But for now," He continues, settling his sparkly brown eyes back onto me, "I have something important to say."
Baekhyun takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. "If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be standing here today." He squeezes my hand again, flickering his eyes back open to stare into mine. The warmth and undeniable love swirling within them sends my heart into overdrive. "If it wasn't for her patience, care and timeless, endless bounds of love." He sighs softly, smiling so sweetly while wrapping an arm around my waist before turning us both to the second set of curtains. "I wouldn't be here to present the newest clothing line."
The curtains go up and my jaw drops at the sight.
A huge glass container stands in the middle of the stage, showcasing mannequins wearing various articles of clothing. Soft looking blue sweaters, comfy jogging pants, black leggings with white embroidery flowers on the ends, and short jean shorts. There are over a dozen different clothes on display with the letter 'R' scripted on the front in beautiful cursive, but what really captures my attention is the red dress. Front and center. 
The backless, sleeveless burgundy mermaid dress covered in sparkly jewels from start to finish, twinkling prettily under the dim lights while spun around on its high-rise platform.
"This goes out to Riley." Baekhyun hugs me close, making me grateful that I'm facing away from the crowd when tears spring to my eyes. He smiles shyly while gazing at me with those warm brown eyes. "The woman of my dreams and love of my life."
I stare right back into those deep brown pools of love, biting the inside of my cheek to keep my chin from wobbling. Not able to take it anymore, I cup his glowy cheeks in my hands, pressing my lips to his.
•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 P(1)  P(2) —– P(3)  P(4) —– P(5)  P(6) | ♬♩♪♩ FINALE P(1)✓  P(2)
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A/N: This was a mouthful, don’t mind me, I’m formatting the other 9k 😭💗
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Text
Skirts and Dresses Part 2
Part 2 is here. I hope you will like it! Part 1, Part 3, Part 4  and Part 5 To my Powerpuff Girls ! I love you all <3 Many Thanks to Gypsywoman13 for beta-readig!
@mayucerise @starkeraddictbaby
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Iron Dad Tony
Since the Widow had learned his secret and been so understanding, Peter became a bit less careful. While he used to only wear his old skirt when he was alone in the compound, now he would wear his new clothes when only one or two people were present or if Natasha decided they needed special training nights, which were girls nights where they would train and then watch action movies while making fun of the bad scripts and stunts. They would also paint each other's nails and do each other's hair. It was awesome.
As promised, Natasha burned his old skirt to ashes, but with his consent. Three days later, she gifted Peter a frame with a small piece of the skirt inside and it made Peter’s heart swell with love.
He could now say that his old skirt had been awful; it had too many colors and some nasty stains, but it still had been his first, so he had put the small memorabilia on his shelf.
--
Today, Peter, Mr. Stark, and Dr. Banner were the only ones present at the compound, so Peter put on a nice skirt that was full of colors, and that kind of looked like silk. It was one of Peter’s new favorites because it would swirl and flare when he walked.
After dancing around for a bit, and watching the effect in the mirror of his bedroom at the compound, Peter decided it was time to work on his assignment for next week.
Peter was fully engrossed in his work when his phone buzzed loudly.
>> Kid, I know you’re busy with your assignment, but I have an emergency here. Could you come by? - TS
Without even thinking about it, Peter rapidly answered
<< Sure Mr. Stark. Omw
With that sent Peter left his bedroom, not remembering in his rush that he was still wearing his new skirt.
--
When Peter entered the workshop of Mr. Stark, the billionaire briefly took his eyes away from the armor he was working on.
“Kid, you may want to change before coming closer. Motor oil is a bitch to take out of silk.” The comment was said offhandedly, as if Mr. Stark wasn’t talking to his mentee wearing a fucking skirt.
Peter felt his cheeks redden, realizing he had left his room in such a hurry that he hadn’t thought to change. He was startled when Mr. Stark started to talk again.
“Pete, it’s kind of an emergency here. Can you change and move on, please?” The urgency in his mentor’s voice got Peter to move, but not to change. “Pete, you’re going to stain the skirt, come on.” But Peter didn’t listen.
“What do you need me for, Mr. Stark?”
The older man sighed but started to explain.
For three hours the two men worked seamlessly like they always do. When the part of the armor they were working on was done, Mr. Stark silently led Peter to the sofa in the lab. He made Peter spin once, to look over the skirt before he let Peter sit on the couch next to him.
“So, Petey Pie. When did you start to wear skirts, and why did you never tell me?” Mr. Stark sounded calm and not disgusted; Peter did not really know what to think about it. “And this isn’t silk. What for the love of Tesla is that thing?”
Peter sighed. Were they all going to criticize the type of skirts he was wearing and not the fact he was wearing them?
“I-I started to wear one, uh, 4 years ago?” Peter felt his cheeks redden again and bowed his head to look at his hands, avoiding Mr. Stark’s gaze. “I found it--well... it was truly horrid, Natasha burned i-” Before he could finish his sentence, Mr. Stark cut him off with a frown.
“Wait, hold on, Underoos. Natasha knew before me?” The billionaire puts a hand on his chest; always one for dramatics. “Why? Wait, no, she’s a superspy. Did she guess?”
“She walked in on me,” Peter admitted. He felt rough fingers against his chin to lift his head up and force his eyes to meet his mentor.
“You know, when I was your age - a little younger maybe - I had a... well, Dad and--Dad called it a phase.” Peter knew his mentor had meant Dad and Obadiah Stane. It made Peter want to punch the guy. “For an entire month, I wore nothing but very short skirts.” Peter’s breath hitched at the confession, making Mr. Stark smirk. “To be honest, I only wore them to make my dad angry, but I still liked it, and those skirts made my ass look like sin. Well, everything makes my ass look like sin, but the skirts...they were really nice.”
“But, then, why did you stop? And why does no one know about that?” Peter asked with a small voice, still looking at his mentor even if the man had let go of his chin sometime before.
“I--They made me. If I am being honest, they paid a lot of people a lot of money to bury every piece of evidence from that month.” Mr. Stark frowned suddenly. “FRI, baby girl?”
“Yes, boss?” The AI answered.
“Do we still have pictures of that time?” There was a short silence before the AI starts to talk again.
“Yes boss, we do,” the mechanical voice sounded, amused.
“We should leak those one day.” Peter choked on nothing, making the older man wink at him. “Oh, and before I forget, FRI, call Thomas and tell him to bring skirts and dresses for my protegé.” FRIDAY didn’t answer, but Peter supposed she already was calling whoever Thomas was.
Mr. Stark stood, making a gesture at Peter to stay put, and went to a little room where he kept a small desk to do things that didn’t warrant going to his main office. He came back with a kraft envelope and sat back while he simply gave the envelope to Peter.
“I was supposed to give this to you on your Birthday, but I think there will be no better occasion than this one.” Peter watched the envelope dumbly, asking himself what was inside. “Open it up, kid.”
However, before Peter could move, FRIDAY started to talk again.
“Sir, Mr. Watson refuses to ‘clothe a man with a dress’.”
Tony lifted an eyebrow. “Fire him.” Peter opened his mouth to argue that there was no need to fire someone over him, but Mr. Stark continued. “Wait, was he insulting?”
“Yes, sir.” If she hadn’t been only code, Peter would have said FRIDAY was angry, but Peter was probably projecting.
“Ok, sue him and then fire him or the other way around. Let Legal take care of that. Shit, Pepper is going to kill me,” Mr. Stark muttered, standing up to start to pace.
“Mrs. Potts has not been using Mr. Watson’s services for some years, boss. Not after they had an argument about the place of women.” Peter saw his mentor getting angry at hearing that. “She has another tailor. His name is Richard Bernard and he comes highly recommended by Mrs. Potts. Should I call him?”
Mr. Stark huffed. “Yes, you do that. And FRIDAY? Next time someone treats my wife badly, tell me. While she can take care of herself, I refuse to continue to employ assholes. Tell her that.” Peter smiled softly at the ardor in his mentor’s demeanor. Mr. Stark breathed deeply and turned to Peter. “Now, kid, open the thing.” Mr. Stark made a wide gesture to the kraft envelope still on Peter’s lap.
Peter carefully pulled the tab and opened the envelope, taking the papers before looking up at Mr. Stark to make sure he could read them. Mr.Stark nodded, encouragingly, so Peter started to read and was startled at the content on the first paper. Peter frantically began to go through all of the papers, but they all said the same thing: Adoption.
When Peter looked up from the papers on his knees, it was to see Mr. Stark kneeling in front of him, watching Peter with a smile, and taking one of Peter’s hands inside his.
“We have known each other for years, and I would never hope for a better son than you, and for someone better to inherit Stark Industries when my time comes, Peter Parker.” Peter wanted to interrupt; wanted to tell the man that while Peter saw him as a dad too...that Peter would love nothing more on this earth than to be his son, but he was not worth it. He was only Peter, after all.
But Tony Stark knew him too well and just continued to talk, gently squeezing Peter’s hand. “You are smart, kind, and brave. I once told you that I wanted you to be better, and the truth is, you always were better. No, Peter, I may have changed the last decade or so, but at your age, I was nowhere as good as you. I would never have been a hero if I had received your powers. I am so proud of the man you have become, and I want to officially call you a son.”
“But--I know nothing about business,” Peter said lamely. It made Tony smile.
“Well, it’s not knowledge I was born with, you know. There are some classes you can take, and Pepper and I are ready to teach you everything we know. We would have done this sooner, but we wanted to give you until your 21st Birthday to be a normal kid.” Tony gently stroked Peter’s hand. “And before you ask, no, I do not care that you wear skirts or that you are bisexual. Yes, I know about that, I’ve seen how you watch the Soldier.” Peter wanted to deny it, but he really couldn’t because he currently had a very big and hopeless crush on one James Buchanan Barnes. “There is nothing--except going to work for Hammer Tech, and maybe SHIELD--that will change the way I see you. You are my kid, Peter Parker. Will you agree to be my son?”
And what could Peter say? He loved the man like a father and looked up to him. He even loved the horrible dad jokes Mr. Stark started to tell every now and then.
“It-it would be my honor, d-dad.” And Peter couldn’t take it anymore as he jumped into his mentor’s...no, his father’s arms.
And if both of them cried while hugging the other for a long time, it was no one’s business.
--
Richard Bernard made Peter the most awesome clothes, but Peter had to admit that while he loved them, (silk was such a pleasure on his sensitive skin) the ones he bought with Natasha were still his favorites.
Natasha looked at him like he was a moron, but did not comment. Peter was emotional, so sue him.
Pepper gifted Peter with some make-up, and with Natasha’s help, they taught him how to use it.
Now that Peter had more freedom to put on his dresses, skirts, lace, and silk, he discovered that he did not crave it as much as before. He even started to have fun with his other clothes, especially since Tony gifted him a great collection of graphic tees with all the best science puns.
It’s not as if he didn’t want to be pretty anymore, Peter did, but it’s not a desperate need anymore. Some days he wanted to look cute, and others, he wanted jeans and t-shirts.
Peter was very lucky.
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beskarhearts · 3 years
Note
re: you wanting one shot/blurb ideas: *chanting softly* domestic din, domestic din, domestic-
HOME (DIN DJARIN X READER)
Pairing: Din Djarin x AFAB!reader
Word count: over 1.9K
Warnings: very brief allusion to sexy time (I think that is it but let me know)
Summary: Sometimes home was a person, not just a place.
Notes: Just so you know, I completely ignored events of season 2 because I just wanted these 2 to be happy and we all deserve domestic Din. I hope you enjoyed it and let me know what you think!!
_____________________________
Home had seemed like such a foreign concept to both you and Din for so long. You were aware of its existence but it may as well had been the Force with how confusing of a thought it was to you two. The galaxy was a hard and tough place, one that seemed like you had to fight to get through each day. Din certainly had been handed the short end of the stick as well, having gone through more struggles and travesties than you could count on one hand. In a world that was so brutal and could sometimes be so cruel, how the hell were you to find a home in the midst of it?
But then for some reason, the universe aligned and you had met Din on a fateful day that changed the rest of the course of your life. It took awhile because of the walls you both had up and the lack of trust you had in humanity, but eventually you came to realize something. Sometimes home was a person, not just a place.
So for years you were content with Din, even if that meant living in the Crest with Grogu and traveling from place to place. You had him by your side and that was enough for you - enough for the rest of your life. You wouldn’t mind hopping from planet to planet as long as at the end of the day you could slip into a cot with Din, no matter how tiny or uncomfortable it may had been. And Din the same. Sure the Crest had been a sort of home to him considering how long he had it but it had never felt quite as bright until you were in it. Never had Din felt so settled and content until he felt the warm brush of your fingers against his hair and felt the wave you seemed to mold into his touch, like you were becoming one person. That was also when Din realized home could be a person.
That still didn’t stop you two from hoping though. You couldn’t bare to say it during the day but at night, when you two whispered sweet nothings to each other, you would also make grand plans of a home. Talk about how one day you two would settle down on a sparsely populated planet somewhere with Grogu. Find a small little house and take care of each other for the rest of your days until you were old. Maybe have a couple kids to fill the empty rooms with noise and happiness. You would talk of having a kitchen where you could make meals and teach Din how to cook, both of you eating something other than ration packs or broth on a daily basis. Find a place with some land so Din could step outside without his helmet with no fear and breath in some fresh air, while the child you had both come to love roamed around the tall grass. Din would speak of a bed - a proper bed - where you both could spread out as wide as you wanted (even though you both knew each night would end with you in each other’s arms, trying to get as close as heavenly possible). A place that could properly be decorated for holidays and special occasions, maybe even a big tree for a Life Day.
But all of those had seemed like simple dreams best to be spoken of in the warm confines of each other’s arms. Because things like that didn’t happen for people like you two.
Until they somehow did. Until somehow everything fell in line and you realized it was no longer a dream, but close enough to touch and grasp if you really wanted it. And hell, you both wanted it so badly. So when Din landed the Crest on a planet with warm air and fresh grass and flowers, he knew you would love it. It was meant to just be another pit stop until Din found an abandoned little house in the middle of this field and suddenly he realized everything he wanted was right in front of him. He could let you and the child settle down. You and him could relax and finally make the family you had discussed. It was sitting there right in front of him, like all the beautiful magical intricacies of the galaxy came together to form this perfect little sanctuary for you both.
Din had been so excited to show you that he quite literally ran to you, dragging you and the child with him in the most chipper mood you had ever seen the man. You had playfully teased him for his childlike behavior until your eyes landed on the small house and your heart melted. The look you have Din was not one you needed to explain because he had the same exact one. No words were spoken, no confirmation of what he wanted that place to be for you. You both knew and all you had to do was grab Din’s hand and walk him into the home for him to instantly decide to retire from his life and spend the rest of his days with you on a planet whose name he could barely remember.
The place had not been in the greatest shape. It was old and had clearly been abandoned for long enough that the place fell into a little disarray. But you and Din had certainly faced much worse so you didn’t allow it to scare you away. Instead Din worked on building furniture and fixing holes in the wall, a big smile on his face the whole time because he was constantly being hit with the realization of ‘this is what normal people do’. You had painted the walls with flowers like you could see outside the windows, filling it with more color than Din had ever seen in his life. And once the home was finally finished, equip with a functioning kitchen and the largest bed you had laid your eyes on, you and Din got married.
You could of traveled into the closest town and maybe found someone to officiate it for you, but that felt so conventional and unnecessary. You didn’t need another person to declare your love for each other and make it official. You had only ever needed each other so you both had as traditional of a Mandalorian wedding as you could, a bit difficult due to it being only you two and the very dapper flower boy that had been Grogu (who had managed to eat all the flowers and not throw a single one). Din wore his armor and you wore a small white dress you had made from a set of curtains but you both swore it was the most beautiful the other one had ever looked.
Shortly after you had gotten married, Din had begun to not-so-subtly, in fact very obviously, started dropping hints about kids. There would be times you were sitting on the couch and Din would look around before saying something like, "This house is a little big for just the three of us, don't you think?" Just the other day, Din had gone into the closest town for some supplies and came back not only with food and stuff you needed, but with a plethora of baby clothes that he all claimed were for Grogu (even though they were all obviously way too small for him).
You knew what Din was doing because it was the clearest thing in the world and you were on board. But watching Din drop the most obvious hints and slowly become more flustered the longer you pretended to be oblivious was hilarious to you. But eventually a dam broke and Din just grabbed you and marched towards the bedroom, very loudly stating that it was time to make some babies ASAP to which you responded with a fit of giggles.
And that led you to where you were now. Stood in the middle of your kitchen in your home, looking out the window where you admired the way the sun illuminated the flowers and trees. A warm cup of caf was clutched between your hands, the wonderful scent filling your nostrils as you held it close to your mouth. The home was silent, the child still asleep in his room and you had left Din to sleep in the bed while you snuck out.
The moment you felt a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist and pull you into a broad expanse of warmth, you let out a small content hum. Din's head nuzzled into your neck, his ruffled hair tickling your chin. "Mornin', cyar'ika." Din grumbled, his voice still laced with a type of sleep-drunk tone you adored. His voice in the morning was always your favorite - it seemed to amplify the gruffness and deepness his voice he usually had.
"Morning." you whispered back, feeling your heart flutter when a light kiss was pressed into your neck before he pulled away, grabbing a mug a caf for himself.
You admired his figure, eyes raking up and down in pure adoration. His hair was ruffled and messy from sleep, going in every which way. His eyes were still a little droopy and his whole body still sagged a little. He was wearing a shirt you had given him months ago, one that you were certain he found ridiculously ugly yet he claimed was his favorite because you chose it for him specifically. "Why are you up so early?"
"Wanted to watch the sunrise." you responded, your smile growing as he padded back over to you and planted a kiss on your forehead.
"You look beautiful."
You snorted, giving him a small lopsided smile. "I haven't even brushed my hair yet or washed my face. I am still crusty."
Din smiled, looking down at you with the warm brown eyes you had learned to love. "Well your crust is very sexy."
You threw your head back in laughter that time, shaking your head as he joined in with a slight chuckle. "Din, you are a horrible liar."
"I'm not lying. I love the morning crust. It's cute." he responded back, no hint of sarcasm in his voice but a slight twinkle in his eye.
"Shut up." you huffed, rolling your eyes playfully.
"Y'know, it is actually so sexy that we should probably-"
Din was cut off when the sound of cries began to fill the house, the noise coming straight from Grogu's room. You chuckled when an exasperated expression grew on his face and he placed his cup in your hand. "What were you saying, handsome?"
Din rolled his eyes as your sarcastic remark but you could still see the small quirk on the corner of his lip. "I'll go get him."
"You sure?" you asked.
"Yeah." Din mumbled, heading towards the door to Grogu's room slowly. He turned back to you once last time before opening the door. "Cyar'ika?"
"Yes?"
"I love you."
You softly smiled. "I love you too."
Din smiled before opening the door to Grogu's room, slipping inside. Within a couple minutes, the crying died down and was replaced with soft cooing that filled your heart with warmth, accompanied by the sound of Din's soft voice as he spoke to the child. You placed the cups of caf on the counter and then made your way towards the room, thinking how this is exactly what home was supposed to feel like.
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thefanbasewhore · 3 years
Text
“Are you drunk?”
Summary: [Number 50 from the prompt list: “Are you drunk?” “Not nearly enough.”] Contains season 2 spoilers. Din is having a hard time letting go of Grogu but reader is always there to help him. Din realizes just how much he needs a hug.
Warning/Content: Alcohol consumption, fluff, angst, drunk Din. Din is uncharacteristic and soft in this. Unestablished relationship but there are feelings there.
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It’s been days since the child had been returned to the Jedi and Din has been gone for close to the same amount of time. While he vowed he’d be back, that he would never be able to part with you as well.. it was doubtful, every minute felt like an hour, with no communication it’s amazing you lasted this long already. It’s hard to blame the man for wanting to be alone, the first person he’s cared about in years is gone, and it weighs heavy but then again before you and Grogu all he knew was the lingering silence that came with it, so being alone wasn’t that bad.
Just the way he walked that day was different, feet move heavily not steady and silent, the helmet never goes back on, he feels restricted enough, Boba’s ship was filled with a silence that made everyone tense, no one dared speak. 
It hurts though, the Mandalorian has always been at your finger tips, so close but so far. It’s back and forth, while he would love nothing more then to admit he can’t live without you. Grogu has always been the first priority, there was never time to fully act on such feelings. There were shaky moments of meaningful touches, almost kisses but something seemed to always get in the way and now it seemed like your biggest regret. Fearing the worst that something had happened, you’d never feel those lips against your own or worse..
Your eyes never seem to leave the beskar staff as it still leans against the unused chair of the kitchen table… He wouldn’t leave it right? Like forever and leave you here without a word? 
His blaster which was thrown almost as simultaneously as he walked through the door mumbling he would be back still in the same spot. That was almost three days ago and now you felt your lip quiver, seriously doubting his return. But then again the Mandalorian has no promise to you, while he had admitted the harboring admiration he holds, it was never talked about, it’s too touchy, there’s always more important things to do. The Mandalorian didn’t do feelings, actually avoided them at all costs. 
The planet Boba had brought you to per Din’s request is peaceful, it’s beautiful and filled with deep forest and clear waters but it’s loud, parties parade the streets every night, drinking, laughing, bright lights that make it almost impossible to sleep as they move to the beat of the music. It’s the total opposite of what Din is, he’s quiet, calculating, hates big crowds but maybe it’s the change he was looking for, somewhere in all this chaos would hold the answers to all his questions. Somehow he felt safe enough here to keep you in the Inn by yourself for days, leaving more than enough credits for food and pretty much anything your heart would desire.
During the first day of his disappearance you decided to go shopping, there’s a small marketplace during the day when the town is peaceful, so lovely it’s almost impossible to believe that it turns into one giant rave at night. The beautiful satin dresses that lined with varies of shapes and lines, and bright strange colors that match the planet so well.
You’re wearing one now, it’s a little uncharacteristic of you. Not typically a fan of them mostly because they’re not very practical when it comes from hiding a baby from the empire especially with all the running and blaster fights but this one fits well. It’s dips into your chest, the tops of breast swells pressed against the tight fabric, thin straps across your collar bones reveal the smooth, sun-kissed skin (the beautiful land irritates your skin just a little but it’s a good sting), it shapes your curves in all the right ways, the dress ends mid thigh but the right leg has a small slit that just goes a little more further giving the illusion of beautiful, endless legs. Truthfully, you probably were never going to wear it but found yourself running out of clothes, everything you ever owned was destroyed along with the crest. 
The ending of the dress is nice though, just enough fabric for your fingers to reach and fiddle nervously while you try and read the pages of the book in front of you but you just can’t seem to concentrate, looking from words to the door with hopes today will be the day he finally makes his return. The chair is uncomfortable, unforgiving as it digs into the center of your back but it gives the perfect sight of the door, you can’t find it in your heart to move.. just in case. 
It seems as if the Maker himself has heard you as the clicking of the door lock makes you stiffen, fingers tightening around the binding of the book as you hear pounds inside your ears. The Mandalorian stumbles through the door way, movements slow and shaky as his fingers yank the helmet from his head to release his untamed, greasy hair, eye blotched with dark circles clearly exhausted but it’s the lost look as he looks at the floor confused as he really, really concentrates on walking straight, one foot in front of the other flat hands reach out to steady himself but still manages to still trip but then there’s a giggle, a small, joyful sound that makes your jaw almost drop. Never in all the months spend in the closed, tight quarters have you heard that sound.
“Are you drunk?” The words leave your lips immediately, shock written all over your features. While you never heard a giggle, there were moments close to it but never, ever did you think the Mandalorian would drink… It’s normal for anyone else but him. The small divests that form at the end of his smile, sinking in his cheeks makes it hard to breath, so handsome and he doesn’t even know it.
“Not nearly enough.” The dimpled smile points towards the floor trying to concentrate on his next step as you can’t help but think how he managed to come back to you like this. He’s distracted, hasn’t even had a few extra moments to steal a glance in your direction but when he does he almost doesn’t notice at first, looking back down but his head almost snaps back at you, eyes soften almost immediately.
He stands only a few feet away now, not hiding the way eyes shift from the softness of your thighs, up the fabric that just fits so nicely against unrevealed skin as the skirt of the dress hikes higher and higher up soft skin until it reaches the perkiness of breasts. The imagine alone is now going to be forever stained to his brain, mouth drying as you blush under his lingering gaze. “Mesh'la.”
Even through his own drunk haze he can see the confusion against the soft curve of your face as fingers reach out to your flexed knee, limp against the chair as fingers grasp it. His fingers tingle with the feeling of the smooth skin up until they reach to cup the outside of your thigh right where the dress ends, fiddling the silk of the fabric with gentle tugs.  The messy curls are now inches from your face, swollen lips from being wrapped around the rim of an open bottle for days, you try to hide the way the close proximity makes your nose wrinkle from smell of booze. Eyes lower as you mutter, “Are you alright Din?”
He chooses to ignore the words only now sinking to his knees in front of you, using his body weight to spread legs for he can fit inside them, rest his head against your lap, unsure eyes meet your own, nerves coat his throat. Lips move under your knee, a small kiss that makes your chest stop momentarily breathing, he’s never done that before.. kiss you. “It means beautiful.. I love this dress, you look pretty.”
It catches you off guard, freezes any movements except rubbing his chin against the fat of your inner thigh. It’s not sexual, anything but he’s looking for comfort,  seeking it in the warmth of your skin that molds so perfectly against his own. “Pretty girl, you always look so, so  pretty.”
The words send your skin into an absolute fit of heat but you don’t get much time to think about it before he’s turning from you, still between the warmth of your legs but now his back touches the chair as fingers nimbly pull at the chest plate of beskar letting it fall to the ground with a clatter but he doesn’t seem to care to much as he’s pulling at the laces of his boots but failing with an audible groan of annoyance. “Do you need help Din?”
“Yes pretty girl.” The nickname sticks, makes it almost impossible to meet his eyes due to the shyness that hazes over you. Standing up to move sends him back into the chair with small thump but grumbles as he sits up to watch you sit in front of him, pulling the string of the laces loosely. Skin feels hot under his gaze, never leaving the soft curve of your nose, frustration that wrinkles your forehead, the corner of his lips turning expanding across his cheeks at how cute you are?
Even though It’s been almost a week since he’s broke the creed and a long ride to take in the hard brown eyes, the cute bump on the bridge of his nose that slightly wrinkles when he smiles, like the one that touches his cheeks now. “You need to sober up Din.” 
“Mmmmmm.” He presses a finger against his temple like his brain is working extra hard to think as a goofy grin meets your gaze. “No.”
You can’t help but feel the small grin tug at your lips, eyes peering up to meet his. It hangs in the air, the lingering unspoken situation that has your own chest feeling heavy, the only reason he’s so intoxicated. Yours is heavy but his feels absolutely crushing, makes it hard to breath, to feel anything but deep numbing pain that makes his lips quiver, eyes welt with tears. Emotions were..difficult for Din, almost every day was a fighting battle to keep them at fingertips length but the quiet moments in between soft glances from you throughout the whole ride to this planet filled the gaps, snapping something inside him, suddenly he felt everything.
The loss of his son had hit him like a ton of bricks but only opened how he felt for you, it all hit him so suddenly he could barely breath, think straight, he had to get away to clear his head but his heart just hurt too much. 
“You know you can talk to me? I’m always here for you.” The words stop him for a second as he takes in the sights of you, pulling at his boots to free his aching feet. He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to remember the pain the alcohol numbs, he just wanted you. Despite how much his finger twitch to touch your cheeks, pull you close against his body he’s confused, frustrated maybe? 
It makes him embarrassed, cheeks tingle pink at the thought of touching you but his hands were stained red it would taint your innocence to press them to the soft skin of your collarbones, run them over the smooth bony prominence, touch your cheeks no matter how much he wanted to. 
Sighing you lean forward, closer to his face at his silence. The internal fight is not hidden from his features, his brows creasing with thought, lip tucking into his bottom lip while unsure eyes meet his trembling hands. It’s instant, not giving yourself a second to think about it as you lean over, warmth spreads throughout his whole body as you sit on his lap, arms wrapping around his trunk until they lace together against his back, forehead resting against his neck with a sigh. “I’m here Din.”
With those three words he feels his eyes sting, chest moving faster and faster as nerves pinch his face but there’s a sudden warmth that fills his chest, makes his heart thump extra loud against ears. The crushing feeling temporarily lifted as finds himself leaning closer and closer to you until his cheek presses against your hair. Long arms closing any distance between the pair, trapping you between strong arms. It’s a soft cry one that makes you want look up to tell him everything is going to be okay but decide it’s probably best to press a small kiss against the thick tunic, right over his heart. Din Djarin has never hugged another person since he was a child but with you, all his problems seems to disappear, your smell calming nerves, your hair against his face reminding him that you’ve always been here, will never leave no matter how hard he tries to push you away. Din never realized how much he missed hugs until now. 
Soft tears drip off pink cheeks, forming in the small dips of where your clavicle and shoulder meet, the chest underneath you stutters and heaves but you can’t miss the words as they move so freely past his lips. “I haven’t hugged someone since I was a child, I’m glad it’s you pretty girl. Thank you..”
Tag list: (on my masterlist as pinned post if you would like to join) @victias​@altarsw, @coonflix​ @mudhornchronicles​ @buckysalefty​ @capsheadquarters @godohammers​ @ilikemymendarkandfictional​ @rogertaylorsfalsetogivesmehives @maileecabudol​ @fangirlmendes @mermaidbrina​ @nikkixostan​ @moonlightnumbsthepainifeel
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peaches-writes · 3 years
Text
tumbles and turns
description: a month in the life of you and your college roommate, minho—except you’re from rival universities preparing for an intercollegiate cheerdance competition member: minho / lee know genre: fluff, sports au (off-season universe), college au, roommates au, slice of life, friends to lovers au word count: 7.9k warning: explicit language, mentions of food, injuries, & harassment; a very jealous and protective minho notes: ah yes another sports au about a sport i’m not well-versed in that ended up not making sense + anw whatever danceracha pep squad agenda 💅
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week 1 of 4
Minho finally releases the laugh he’s been holding for the past ten minutes, shaking his head in disbelief before hopping off of the edge of the sink where he’s been quietly judging you. “Seriously,” He smirks teasingly, expertly dodging your disapproving frown and your attempt at smacking his arm as he stands between you and the mirror then takes the comb from your hands. “You look fine—kind of wonky, actually, but you’ll live.”
“Ya!” You huff with a light stomp of your foot on the bathroom tiles, reaching up for the blue comb to no avail for he immediately lifts it high above his head. “Give me the comb!”
“Why don’t you dry your hair first before worrying about how you look?” He suggests with another laugh, leaning back on the sink when you start jumping over him for the comb. “It looks weirder when you try combing it down while it’s still wet.”
You groan when he starts taunting you by waving the comb in his hands, eventually giving up to stand back and cross your arms in annoyance. “I’m so—I just feel so iffy about this haircut, that’s all!”
“Well, that’s pep squad for you—but you already know that.” He shrugs, finally putting the comb down behind him in exchange for the orange towel you abandoned a while back to obsessively comb down your bangs. “Anyway, the bangs are the least of your worries. Aren’t you guys dyeing your hair on Friday?”
“Yeah,” You sigh in frustration, lifting a hand up to rub your temple. “Our costumes department is insane, I’m telling you.”
“Try our costumes department.” Minho retorts, throwing the towel over your damp hair after. “Though we’re doing a Michael Jackson-inspired routine, the costumes still need to have our school colors. Imagine all the black and gold and the make-up we’ll have to do for one part—“
You manage to crack a smile at this as you now busy yourself with drying your hair, making Minho chuckle in front of you as well. “Ah, right. Isn’t Felix volunteering for your costumes this year, though? Why don’t you approach him if you’re so bothered?”
“Then you’ll have to see Jeongin for your hair.” He points out.
“Jeongin? Right, nevermind, then. The kid’s scary when he’s in his element.” You huff, your hand on your temple then going up to your bangs. “I’ll just have to live with this for the next 1.5 years at most, I guess.”
“Then that’s settled.” Minho shrugs for the second time, tsking after once he notices your slow pace. Taking a step forward, you then catch a glimpse of Minho picking up your hair dryer from the other side of the sink counter from the corner of your eye before plugging it on the nearest wall socket. “You’re so slow! We’re watching a movie, remember? I don’t want water dripping on the couch.”
Swiftly, you elbow his stomach when he moves to your side. “Well, I’ll have to let you know that hair doesn’t dry that quickly when you’ve bleached it twice.”
“You could’ve been a little quicker about it if you weren’t so focused on your bangs.” He scolds, carding his fingers through your hair before pointing the noisy hairdryer on you and starting with your newly-cut bangs. “What even is the reason behind the red hair, anyway?”
“It’s our school colors, dumbass.” You remind him with a scoff, removing the towel on top of your head and moving it to the opposite side of where Minho is currently working. “Naeun actually managed to find a supplier with the exact same shade of red our school uses, it’s kind of cool.”
“Not like anyone would recognize it on compet.” Minho pouts. “Green would’ve been funnier. Isn’t that your other school color?”
“Excuse you, we have one of the biggest crowds every year? Plus, green would look too wacky. It could be distracting with our theme.”
“As if people from your school go around recognizing that specific shade of red.”
“I’m going to fucking hit you with this towel.” You glower, only making him laugh as he nonchalantly guides you by your shoulders to move closer to the hairdryer’s socket. “Let’s just see who’s going to be laughing when I see you in costume on compet.”
“Please, I’ll rock the outfit so much you’ll forget you even said that.” Your roommate rolls his eyes, turning you around so he can work on the back of your head. “What will you be wearing, by the way?”
Minho steals a glance at you from the mirror, raising his eyebrows slightly, and you answer, “Still the same but in black and a new design.”
“So...top and tights?” He asks and you nod eagerly, your hair almost slipping right through his fingertips.
“You’ll love the designs.” You muse, picking up the blue comb once again to use on the dried parts of your head. ”Naeun designed them really well!” 
“A bit of a basic choice for your second to last college competition, don’t you think?” He teases, making you reach up behind you to smack his arm. “Didn’t you guys do the same thing but in navy last year?”
“Call it basic again when I take it home, I dare you.” You retort before chuckling along with him. “Are you done?”
“Almost there.” He answers automatically, slowly inching along to your other side while gently moving you closer to the wall socket and turning you around to face the opposite wall by your shoulders. “Your hair’s so hard to dry.”
“I didn’t even ask for your help.” You point out. “You just barged in here to clown my bangs.”
“Yeah, then I realized that that’s what’s taking you so long that we can’t watch our Sunday movie.” Minho huffs, finally reaching your other side to dry the last strands of your hair. “I’m being a good Samaritan for once, you should at least say thank you.”
You giggle, nodding teasingly. “Right, right. Thank you, Minhooo!” You tease, knowing very well in your almost 5 years of living with him how rare these moments indeed are. “So...done?”
After a long pause, Minho turns the hairdryer off and takes out the plug from the wall socket behind you before taking a step back away from you. “Yup, done.” He affirms, running his index finger through your bangs horizontally once with a giggle. “Your bangs are so funny.”
You frown at him, smacking his arm for the third time tonight before turning around to tidy up everything you’ve used. “I hate you.”
But your roommate only pats your head in response before taking another step back and heading to the bathroom door. “I’ll set up the movie now!” He says as he walks away, glancing back at you with a smile before crossing the other side of the open door. “Hurry up, okay?!”
-
“Take the hoodie down! Take the hoodie down!” Jisung and Minho mischievously chant by your shoe racks at the entrance once you arrive home from training at the end of the week. The two hold Soonie and Doongie respectively in front of them for emphasis, lifting the cats up and down as if they were holding banners to a sports game. “Take the hoodie down! Take the hoodie down!” 
You only roll your eyes at the two as you discard your shoes properly next to them, patting Soonie and Doongie’s heads affectionately then smacking the side of Minho’s head. “Move out of the way, losers.” You command instead with a wave of your hand and a tired giggle, the two laughing along and obligingly stepping aside for you to hang your gym bag up on the metal hooks right behind them. “And Jisung, why are you still here? It’s 9 PM.” 
“We’re finishing our game tonight and I wanted to see your new hair!” He answers in his defense, putting Soonie down when Minho does with Doongie. “Now, take the hoodie down! Take the hoodie down!” 
Taking out your plastic bag of used clothes and empty tumbler out of your gym bag after, you sigh in defeat and remove your hoodie. “Fine, fine, fine, there.”
Your roommate and his best friend both erupt in whistles and cheers at your bright red hair in response. 
“Oh damn!” Jisung exclaims more dramatically and pats your shoulders in approval, ruffling your hair after. By your socked feet, Soonie meows enthusiastically as he tries climbing up your leg.  “Look, even Soonie likes it!” 
A small step behind the younger boy, you see your roommate with a much cooler reaction, smirking at you and mouthing, “Pretty,” with a wink before vocally adding, “It’s not so bad,” when Jisung then turns to him and asks him what he thinks. “Y/N’s had far worse hairstyles before.” 
“I’m going to shove my clothes down your throat.” You threaten him with a chuckle, holding your bundle of used clothes higher as if you were going to throw it towards him. “Anyway, you’ve seen my hair now so let me through, I still have to sort these out and wash up.”
"You have dinner on the table, too, so eat before you go to bed.” Minho adds, pointing to the open doorway down the hall leading to your kitchen. 
“Did you cook?” 
“Take-out.” Minho answers plainly before gesturing for the three of you to move to the living room. You and Jisung follow him down the hallway. “Pizza and wings.”
Meanwhile, Jisung pouts at you as he links his arms with yours. “Ya, Y/N, you’re not going to watch our stream?” 
“Maybe some other time.” You frown, your tiredness slowly coming back now that your friends have naturally stopped joking around. “I’m really sleepy.” 
“Practice was that harsh?” Jisung asks next, stopping you right in the middle of the living room before you could proceed further to the left of the hallway to your room. Minho, on the other hand, walks ahead of you and proceeds to plop down on the sofa to set up their game once again. “Jeongin told me you’re changing the choreography a bit.” 
“Seungkwan injured his foot really bad so we’re adjusting for alternatives in case he doesn’t recover in time.” You nod sadly, scratching your head in frustration. “And he’s my one of my bases for most stunts, including the exhibition, so I’m making the most adjustments.”
“Oh,” Jisung muses in realization, pausing a bit before another smile graces his features as he then lifts your hoodie back up to your head. “we should play quietly, then, right Minho?” 
Minho only nods at this without even sparing a glance back at you. 
“Yup, we’ll try to be quiet!” Jisung promises again, his grin growing bigger. “Sleep well, then, Y/N!” 
“Hm, thanks, goodnight to you, I guess.” You greet him back, looking over his shoulder to see Minho glancing back up at you. “Goodnight Minho.” 
Your roommate sweetly waves goodnight to you before turning mischievous by snickering and pointing at your red hair again. You roll your eyes and quietly threaten him with your clothes again in response before bidding him and Jisung another goodnight, proceeding to your room after. 
Surprisingly, the two rowdy boys kept to their word after you’ve finished dinner and mostly whispered yelled through the walls of the living room for the rest of the night, mostly Minho scolding Jisung for cursing at their game and reminding him to quiet down for you. 
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week 2 of 4
You come home from Thursday practice two hours later than usual and completely drained, trudging down the entrance hallway of your shared apartment to the rustling of your used clothes and the obnoxious empty noises of your tumbler that quickly alerts Minho and his three cats of your presence. Excitedly greeting you from the kitchen area, Minho looks up at you from feeding Soonie, Doongie, and Dori under your dining table and waves at you, his smile immediately faltering into a confused one when he sees your frown. “Hey. Are you okay? Why are you late?” He points out with a nervous chuckle. “You could’ve just called me to pick you up.” 
You don’t answer, opting instead to tiredly settle on the seat nearest to his side and resting your arms and head down on the table, missing the dinner set Minho prepared for you by a hair as you do so. “I missed the first bus home because I was distracted from being so pissed off at this newbie being a creep during practice.” You scoff as nonchalantly as you can. “It’s okay now, tho—”
“What?!” Before you could even finish your sentence, however, Minho surprisingly leaves his cats’ side, moving over to sit next to you to the side where your head is limply tilted. “Who’s this guy? What did they do?”
You shift uncomfortably in your seat at the sudden rise in Minho’s tone and then see him instinctively scooting away in response, an attempt to give you space in case you’re uncomfortable. “Do you remember Park Joon? The guy I’ve told you before who’s been hitting on me and some of my teammates since he got in the team?” You start off after and you see your roommate following you along again, this time propping an elbow up on the table and nodding along. You also see him open his mouth to speak before closing it again, gesturing for you to continue. “Coach picked him to be Seungkwan’s replacement for the stunts and we practiced our choreography for exhibition today after team practice.
“It was fine, at first, he adjusted quickly to filling in for Seungkwan and all—until in one of our final stunts, he started groping me inappropriately that my other teammates had to stop immediately once they noticed and told our coach about it.”  
"What?! What the fuck?!” Minho reacts with furrowed eyebrows and a scowl on his face. Sitting up properly now, he then worriedly asks, “W-What did—what did Coach Im do?” 
You sigh, lifting up your head up after as you tiredly prop your own elbow up to mirror him. “Coach was furious that she immediately had him kicked out of practice without even hearing his side.“ You answer shakily, carding your fingers through your hair. “She also said that she’ll report him to admin after so we won’t be hearing about the guy until graduation...” 
In front of you, Minho releases a breath you didn’t even notice he’s been holding as you speak, cautiously moving his chair towards you again and patting your back comfortingly. “That’s...fuck, I’m sorry you had to go through that...I’m glad Coach Im kicked him out after. Fuck...” He mirrors your frown, albeit sadder than your frustrated one. “Are you—I mean, do you want me to get you something? Do you need anything? I—”
“I’m fine, Minho, just annoyed now that we have to adjust everything again.” You huff, your voice shaking just slightly that Minho almost misses it. 
“The choreography’s the least of your worries now, that fucking creep just harassed you.” Minho points out softly and cautiously, meeting your eyes before hesitantly stroking your hair. “I swear, if I was there, I would’ve—”
You shake your head immediately, cutting him off with what you could muster up as an assuring smile. “Seriously...it’s fine. I’m fine—still a bit shaken but I’m kind of comforted that he got kicked out for it and that Jeongin and the others stood up for me.” You add with more conviction now because of Minho’s words. “Please don’t do anything stupid about this for me. I’m so over it right now, trust me.”
“Really? You promise?” He asks you to which you nod back in response. “Well, if you say so but—do you need anything else right now or later? I can commute with you again if you want me to or something...”
You shake your head at his last offer. “No, no, that’s really too much of a hassle for you. It’s fine. To be honest, I just want to sleep and not think about it anymore right now.” You pout after, scooting your chair closer to the meal you’ve accidentally forgotten throughout this whole conversation. “Thank you for listening and worrying, though, Minho. I really appreciate it.” 
Your roommate opens his mouth again to retort but is suddenly interrupted by Dori brushing up against your legs and purring at you. “What’s that Dori?” Your roommate asks the cat in his usual pouting tone instead, lifting the cat up and placing it on his lap. Dori, however, only fixes his gaze on you and purrs again. “Hm? You want to go to Y/N and make them feel better? Okay, okay.”
He then carefully sets the cat on your lap, standing up after to affectionately stroke your hair again. “If that’s all then eat first before you wash up and go to bed.” He then returns to his original thought before going back to the other two cats. “And do tell me if you need anything, okay?” 
“I will.” You muster up another smile to which Minho returns with a smile of his own. “Thanks again, Minho.” 
He only hums, briefly leaning forward as if to encase you in a hug before hesitating last minute and turning his attention back to his cats. “Eat your food.” 
The next day, Minho surprises you by waking up earlier and following you all the way to the bus stop with his own gym bag and backpack. 
“It’s Friday.” You point out as your bus approaches. 
He nods nonchalantly, turning to you with a smile. “Yeah, I can tell. The cafe across the street’s selling mint frappe until 10 AM.”
“No, I mean,” You shake your head. “isn’t your first class at 2 PM today?”
“Yeah?” He answers in a tone that pretends to be oblivious of where you’re taking this conversation.
“Then why are you all dressed up with your things?” At this the bus approaches, opening right in front of you and Minho. Before you could even step in the public vehicle, Minho beats you to it and takes your hand in his, pulling you along. 
“I’m meeting up with Jisung to study.” He answers belatedly to you as he swipes his bus card, stepping aside after for you to follow. 
“Bullshit.” You mumble under your breath, mirroring his actions anyway and following him to the seats right behind the driver as the bus roars back to life. “You’re in different programs, Minho.”
“You could just say ‘thank you’ and get it over with“ He teases, nudging your shoulder with his before smoothly slinging an arm over you. “And I really am meeting up with Jisung today, just after his 10 AM. He’s taking a science elective this semester and he needs help with it.”
You tilt your head towards him, seeing his anticipating expression. With an amused chuckle, you give him a side hug instead, burying your face in the material of his black hoodie and catching him off-guard. “Thank you.” 
He hugs you back with a laugh. 
-
“I know what will make you feel better!” Your roommate announces as he barges in your room unannounced the following Saturday afternoon, plopping down at the foot of your bed as you work on your term papers on the other side. “Well, at least, Chan does since he was technically the one who suggested it.”
“I feel fine, though? What are you talking about?” You raise an eyebrow at him, stealing glances over to him as you continue working.
Minho comically rolls closer to you, propping an elbow up on the mattress to stop and showing you his phone displaying his chat history with Chan. “Are you sure? Like well enough that you won’t even be bothered that Chan got us tickets to see the Hyunjin’s final game next Sunday?” He wiggles his eyebrows teasingly, snickering when your eyes widen. 
Immediately, your fingers stop typing away on your keyboard and you look up at him in purse shock. “What?!” You exclaim in disbelief, leaning closer to his phone screen and squinting your eyes at the chain of messages exchanged between your two friends. “Seriously? Didn’t this game get sold out weeks ago?”
“Yeah but, you know, Chan has his socializing ways.” Your roommate shrugs, taking his phone back to his side to clasp his hands together. “So? What do we think?”
“Um, yeah, of course, let’s go!” You answer matter-of-factly, taking his phone and typing in your reply for emphasis. “I mean, you are taking me, right? This isn’t a joke?”
“Only if I can take the other ticket.” He winks, lifting his upper body higher from the mattress to rest his chin on top of your laptop screen. “So, yes?” 
You nod enthusiastically with a giggle, making Minho jump up into a sit in joy. 
“Clear your schedule for next Sunday, Y/N! We’re watching the finals!” 
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week 3 of 4
Coach Im distributes your finished costumes on your first practice of the week after her final reminders and announcements and you make sure to contain your excitement as best as you can on your commute home until after you’ve finished dinner in order to open it with an equally excited Minho. 
Eagerly, your roommate now peers over your shoulder on the sofa after having hurriedly washed the dishes, holding Dori up to his chest as he does so.
“See? It’s so pretty!” You exclaim once you’ve taken everything out of the plastic wrapping, holding up your black fitted cropped top, lined with a complex geometric pattern in colors inspired by the pride flag, for your roommate and all of his three cats to see. “It came out really well!”
Minho nods in approval at the black spandex while Dori unconsciously mirrors him when you turn to the two. “The printing didn’t fuck up Naeun’s design on the first print for once.” He muses, making you chuckle. “It looks cool.” 
“They took it to a different printing shop this time.” You clarify, laying down the top right next to a sleeping Doongie on the nearby coffee table before taking out the bottoms. “This material’s really nice, too. I tried it on with everyone a while back and the stretch is really nice.”
“I take that as I’ll see this costume being used in the gym after, then?” Minho jokes, earning him a jab on the elbow when he puts Dori down after. “What? So, pajamas?”
“You didn’t have to call me out like that!” You protest, leaning back on the couch and placing a passing Soonie on your lap. “I really like this costume.”
“Because you say that with all of your costumes!” Minho retorts, hovering Dori over your costume when the cat starts purring and tilting its head towards it.
“I happen to love everything my friends design.” You correct, chuckling at Dori who’s now escaped Minho’s grasp to sniff and snuggle into your clothes. “Now, when is that black and red vest coming in again?”
“It came today too but I won’t show it to you.” Your roommate sticks his tongue out at you, earning him a string of protests from you. “You’ll just have to see on compet day!” 
“What? No! Unfair!” You pout. 
“You’ll just have to see next week!” He insists anyway, laughing at your furrowed eyebrows and scowl. “I don’t want you getting too distracted with me when you should be focusing on memorizing your choreography, you scatterbrain.” 
“Ya! Ugh, you’re so full of yourself!” 
You find his vest in the laundry the following day, anyways, when you needed to retrieve one of your shirts from your laundry area. You make sure to tease him about it with a photo of you holding up his vest after and sending it to him through private chat. 
“Ah, so mean!” He replies. 
-
“Let’s go Hwang Hyunjin, kick some ass!” You yell as loud as you can in your seat amidst all the cheers for your friend echoing around the arena. Next to you, Minho laughs through his drink at your enthusiasm, your initial awkwardness at sitting on his university’s side of the audience for this volleyball game clearly gone now as you wildly wave your green balloon. “Wooh, go Hyunjin!” 
“God, what would our friends from your uni say when they see you cheering for our team?” He chuckles once you’ve calmed down, adjusting your white hat as you settle back comfortably in your seat once again. 
You roll your eyes at him, picking your Cola up from your respective cup holder and taking a sip. “Shut up, it’s not like I’m alone here.” You retort after, pointing at Changbin who’s with Jisung at the other end of the row. “Even Yeji’s somewhere in the crowd, too, supporting her cousin.” 
“Still, it’s not everyday you’re on this side.” He argues back, scrunching up his face again when you get momentarily distracted by Hyunjin scoring another point for his team. “Ah, you’re so hyped today! How come you never cheer like this for me?” 
“Because we’re in the same sport, Minho.” You laugh this time, catching his fake pout from the corner of your eye. “Besides, I cheer for you, too, just in a different way—woah, did you see that?! Woah, as expected of Choi Bomin!”   
Minho couldn’t say anything else to you after as you easily become occupied by the heated game again, cheering mostly for Hyunjin and occasionally Sanha who’s on the opposing team. He patiently waits for you to turn your attention back to him anyway, which only takes 3 points on his university and 4 points on Sanha’s. “Why? So, I can’t ask you to wear my school’s shirt and things like that if ever?” He asks cheekily once he’s gotten your attention again. 
You scoff against the heat rising up your neck. “W-What? Why? Are you giving them to me as pajamas?” 
He shakes his head, chuckling. “No, I mean, while on compet.” He clarifies before gesturing over to his shirt you borrowed from him today with another pout. “It’s just that you borrowed my shirt to cheer on Hyunjin today. Can’t you do that next week for me too?” 
You glance back at him incredulously, making him chuckle nervously. “If I want Jeongin to chop my head off and Seungmin to call me a traitor until awarding, then I might.” You scoff playfully, deepening his pout and puppy eyes. “Don’t pull that look on me! Where is this even coming from all of a sudden?” 
“I just thought about it.” He shrugs, warming your face even more. “Can’t you really do it? I’ll even wear your shirt if I have to.”
“Ah, just say you think I look cute in your shirt and go.” You roll your eyes jokingly, your seemingly nonchalant disposition slowly crumbling down in front of him anyway. “Minho, your secret crush on me is kind of showing, you might have to watch out for yourself on that, ha.” 
“So? What about it?” He mumbles under his breath, catching you off-guard without him meaning to. 
“What?” Your eyes widen curiously. 
“What?” He repeats, mirroring your expression in feigned innocence before his eyes slowly flit back to the game. “Oh hey, we scored again!” 
“Lee Minho!” 
“What?!” He chuckles, avoiding your gaze now as you suddenly switch roles with him cheering loudly for his university. “Go Hwang Hyunjin!” 
One of your university shirts doesn’t come back to you from the laundry after that. 
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week 4 of 4 
On the Saturday night before the competition, you skip your traditional sleepaway camp and senior send-off with your team to have a sleepover in your apartment living room with your roommate, setting up sleeping bags on the floor next to Soonie, Doongie, and Dori’s beds and queueing up old competition videos on your television. Minho, on the other hand, re-heats all of the remaining leftovers in your refrigerator and buys extra side dishes and drinks from the convenience store on the first floor of your building for dinner. 
“What should we watch first?” You ask once you’ve finished eating and washing the dishes, the TV’s remote on your right hand while the other massages Dori’s head as the grey cat circles your feet. “Hm, Dori? What video do you want to dance to first?” 
Minho then re-emerges from the kitchen, stretching his limbs as he approaches you before snatching the remote and answering for Dori, “I have just the video in mind!” 
“Ya!” You glare at him, reaching up to retrieve the remote again but, as he always does, Minho immediately raises the device above his head as he scrolls down the folder of videos on the TV. “If you’re thinking about that vid, I’m going to—“
But Minho only laughs at you, quickly scrolling down the videos anyway against your attempts of stopping him until he finds your very first cheer dance routine at the bottom of the folder. “Here, found it!” He chuckles in victory after a struggle, throwing the remote on the side and pulling you close to the first part of the paired dance that serves as the choreography’s intro. “Let’s dance!”
“Nooo!” You protest, turning your eyes away from the screen as you see yourself in your Freshman year, dancing to a Jungle-themed routine, while Minho only cackles in your misery, following the steps precisely as he spins and twirls you on time before letting go.
“No, you have to do it with me!” He insists as the choreography now forces him to part with you, his gaze alternating between you and the screen. “Come on, Y/N!”
You groan under his anticipating gaze, following him and the video along after a pause in utter defeat.
“Why are you so embarrassed about this routine? You looked cute here!” He points out as you now do the group jumps, easily finding you in the video since you’re often at the center. “Besides the teased hair and the amount of black eyeshadow on your make-up, of cour—“
“I tripped the most on this routine!” You remind him just as you do trip on the way to being lifted in the video. “See?”
“You were a 1st year then, that’s totally understandable.” He dismisses anyway with a wave of his hand, the two of you stopping to watch the first sequence of lifts. “You remember when I almost fucked up my solo on the same compet because I couldn’t remember the steps towards the end?”
“Yeah but you improvised—“
“And Coach Kim made sure to have me sit out the Nationals after.” Minho rolls his eyes. The two of you then go back to dancing, laughing along to the steps you find silly and scaring your three cats by pretending to lift your hands up as if preparing to do tumbles. “Point is, we’re much better cheer dancers now than before! Look, this routine’s even easier to follow now than when you were practicing this with me 4 years ago.”
“If you put it that way, then, I guess...” You muse out loud until another thought crosses your mind. “We should play that video of yours next, then! That was the exhibition, right?”
“Fine, fine.” He sighs teasingly. “but first let’s finish this! Ah, 6 minutes is so long when it’s so focused so much on dancing!”
You then spend the rest of the night dancing to your shared old competition videos until you eventually felt sleepy (and the old couple living right under your unit started banging on the floor, their ceiling, with an umbrella).
“Kids, whatever canoodling it is you’re doing, you need to stop, it’s 2 AM!” Mr. Lee yells from his window right below yours as you and Minho fall on your sleeping bags tiredly, making the two of you laugh.
“Who even uses the word ‘canoodling’ these days?” You scoff in between uncontrollable fits of giggles, rolling over to your stomach and lazily crawling over to your pillow. “And they think we’re doing something weird again! Mr. and Mrs. Lee are sweet and all but sometimes, their minds...”
Next to you, Minho clutches his stomach as he laughs. “Why?” He smirks playfully, sitting up and scooting over to his own sleeping bag. “They’re just being old people. Does it bother you that much? Do you actually want to do something weird with me?”
You scrunch your nose in disgust up at him hovering over you, pushing him away when he tries tickling your sides. “Ew, Minho! No, get away from me!”
A few hours later, you ended up having to deal with Minho sprawled all over your sleeping area and refusing to wake up at exactly 9 AM to prepare and head out of the apartment.
“Minho.” You call his name firmly, poking his arm draped over your waist. “Come on, you big baby, or the cats are gonna eat you for breakfast.”
“Nooo, 5 more minutes.” He whines tiredly, unconsciously snuggling up to your neck when Doongie and Soonie pass by his face, slapping their tails across his cheeks. “I’m so tired from last night.”
“I told you not to put on that video of yours from last season.” You scold, finally managing to lift his hand and kick his leg away from you. “Whatever, I’m feeding the cats. You get up and cook breakfast, okay?”
“In a bit.” He waves you off, rolling over to his stomach and grabbing the nearest cat, in his case Doongie.
-
Minho was right in that he really works his team’s outfit even when he’s not fully fond of it, you realize six hours later when you meet again at the competition’s venue and see him for the first time in his full gold top, black slacks, and shoes. He winks at you from across the room as you untie the knots of your purple, red, and yellow pom poms, gesturing to his outfit after and mouthing, “Like it?”
You wordlessly flash him a thumbs up in approval before showing him his shirt you’re wearing over your costume as he made you promise over breakfast, making him giggle over the hand fan he holds up to his face before focusing back on his conversation with Chan who’s filming an interview with him and the other captains of the participating teams as a courtside reporter.
Seungmin, preparing for his own pre-competition interview on the side, then takes the latter as his cue to sit next to you on the benches. “Minho scares me.”
“Minho always scares you.” You chuckle, elbowing his side and sparing him a quick glance before going back to your work. “What did you do this time, Minnie? Hit him with your cue cards?”  
But your team’s persistent courtside reporter only shakes his head from the corner of your eye, glancing up ahead of you once again before repeating, “No, seriously, he was glaring at Eunwoo a while ago when you were talking to him and now he’s all smiley and winking at you now that you’re alone. It kind of scares me and I’m not the one being looked at.”
You whip your head over to the same direction, easily spotting Minho again whose eyes immediately soften up at your gaze gaze before smirking and winking again at you. Turning back to Seungmin after, you shrug and say, “He looks fine to me. He‘s always greasy in public by default.”
The younger boy only sighs in defeat, rubbing his temples as he replies, “I don’t know what’s going on in your home life but I’m saying this as a concerned friend and bystander: get a room.” 
“What?!” 
“Do everyone a favor, it’s getting annoying.” He points out, quickly glancing behind you once again before shuddering at Minho’s glare that’s now directed to the other boy he just mentioned. “And we all seriously feel bad for Eunwoo; guy was just asking you for eyeliner.”
“We’re not dating, Minnie, oh my God!” You smack his arm in disbelief, taking a quick scan around the room after to make sure that no one heard your blabbermouth of a friend. Lowering your voice, you then add, “But did he really? Glare at Eunwoo, I mean?”
“Plotted five different murder scenarios and everything.” Seungmin affirms. “Felix and Chan were texting me from across the room while it was all happening and they both said they could see smoke come out of Minho’s ears. Even Yeji was scared and she was just passing by to see Chaeryeong.”
“You guys are delusional.”
“We are tired of this dumb sexual tension.” He defends, gesturing to himself then to Chan and Hyunjin from afar then to Minho and, finally, to your shirt with Minho’s university logo on the print. “Anyway, I also heard from some of the other reporters that he made Jisung and Hyunjin hold something for him today when their team came in. What if it’s for you?”
You raise an eyebrow, shaking your head. “No? He didn’t bring anything weird to the bus stop this morning and I’m pretty sure he went straight to his uni after dropping me off at my stop.” You point out before exhaling another sigh and patting the younger boy’s shoulder. “You know what I think? I think looking after your significant other is taking a toll on you. Are you sure you don’t need anything? A break from courtside reporting maybe?”
Seungmin groans. “Ah, whatever. You two figure this out before someone actually gets an idea to shove you two into an actual room—especially Jisung and Hyunjin!” He concludes before noticing the sudden commotion to your left, eyes widening at realizing that the reporters are being called for their opening spiels now. “Oops, I gotta go, crowd check!”
“You better, you’re starting to talk weird!” You smack his elbow playfully, standing up when he does and bidding him goodbye. “Hype up our crowd and break a leg out there!”
“And you do well on the floor later!” He smiles back, waving goodbye at you before joining Chan and the other reporters to the exit leading to the main floor. “Don’t forget to drink water!”
“Will do, capt.!” And with that, Seungmin runs off to open the program, the empty space next to you quickly getting occupied by Minho after who points at your shirt cheekily.
“You look cute in my shirt.” He comments, adjusting the hat he wears similar to Michael Jackson’s. Fortunately, the lighting backstage is not as bright as the floor’s that his top only glimmers slightly in front of you as he moves.
“You just saw me wear this last Sunday.” You deadpan against another wave of heat rising up to your cheeks, your hands fiddling unconsciously with the hem of your shirt. “It was getting cold just wearing my costume.”
“What did Jeongin and Seungmin say?” He asks, gesturing his head over to the exit where Seungmin just passed through a while back.
“Jeongin just laughed and Seungmin said—ah, nevermind.” You shake your head towards the end, piquing Minho’s interest even further anyway.
“What? What?”
“Nothing! It was nothing.” You bluff with another shake of your head, pushing Minho away with your pom poms when he teases you by leaning his face closer to yours. “Anyway, when will you perform?”
“We’re coming out third for the team and I think our exhibition members are performing fourth. You?”
“First, actually—for the team, I mean.” You frown. “Then we’re last for exhibition.”
“We can watch each other then! I’ll cheer for you from the front seats, the boys have front row seats out there near your uni’s bleachers.”
“Don’t you need to stay back here and, I don’t know, do captain stuff?” You ask next.
“And miss out on your performance? No way! The kids can take care of themselves for 6 minutes.” He shrugs with a dismissive hand. “Why? Don’t you want me to cheer you on? I brought your shirt with me.”
“So you took my shirt!”
“You couldn’t possibly think the neighbors would.” He rolls his eyes playfully, slinging an arm over your shoulder and directing the two of you to the exit along with the others for the opening rites. “So will you come out and watch me too?”
“It’s not like I have another choice. I’m already wearing your shirt to a compet.” You reiterate, making him smile. “As long as you don’t take unflattering photos of me again.”
“Nope, I’ve learned my lesson already.” He grins mischievously, making you smack his arm. “I already have Hyunjin on that job—maybe Changbin too, he brought a tripod and everything to film today.”
“I’m kicking you out of the house when we get home.”
“Ooh, I’m so scared!”
“Shut up.”
Minho cheers you on during your performance, anyway, holding red and green balloons and your shirt, as if a banner, next to Changbin, Jisung, and Hyunjin who all hold different colors of balloons and even more diverse slogans flashing on their phones as well. “Go Y/N!” He yells whenever you have to perform a stunt or dance at the center, jumping up and down his seat and receiving confused looks from the people in their bleachers who aren’t familiar with the two of you.
“Minho’s cheering for you again.” Jeongin snickers quickly as he catches you from a lift, making you discreetly pinch his arm under you.
“Don’t even—“ You sigh, hopping off of your teammates and proceeding to the next formation.
Still, Jeongin bothers you anyway as you perform a series of jumps before kneeling down on the mats. “I just wanted to say it’s cute but pretend that didn’t come from me.” He mumbles against the loud music next to you. “Will you come out and cheer him on too?”
“You already know I will.” You sigh, clasping your hands together once it’s time to stand up again. “Will you come too?”
“I’m sitting with Chan and Seungmin!” He says before parting ways with you. “Sit with us!”
And you do, wearing Minho’s shirt again over your costume once it’s his team’s turn to perform while you hold a black and gold balloon that Chan teaches you quickly how to wave around in the way their university does in every performance. “Go Minho!” You all cheer at the same time from the courtside reporters’ area, making the said pep squad captain turn to your direction as he waits for his cue from behind a prop coffin akin to Michael Jackson’s Thriller.
Minho waves at you shyly in response, prompting the other boys to tease you for the duration of the his solo.
“Get a room!”
“Seungmin!”
-
The cheer dance program lasts for almost 2 hours with the team routine, the exhibition from select members where you participated (and received too much yells from your friends on different sides of the arena), and the awarding where you end up placing 1st runner-up on the team and 1st place on the exhibition while Minho snatches the Champion title for his team among all of the awards they were giving out.
By 8 PM when the program officially ends, your body is already sore from performing twice but you come out to the mats once again, anyway, to take photos with your friends.
“Okay, everyone, say cheese!” Naeun exclaims, pressing the timer on her camera before joining your group, easily climbing up your friend group’s improvised pyramid.
“Cheese!” The camera snaps photos of you and all of your friends from different universities involved in the cheer dance in quick succession, Minho teasing you from below halfway and pretending to drop your foot in his hands.
“There! I think we got it.” Seungmin points out once the camera’s snapping noise stops, standing up from kneeling in front with Chan, Yeeun, and Chaeryeong to check. “Alright, it’s good! Season 103 is done! Finally!”
Your group erupts in cheers as you and the other fliers are carefully caught back and helped back down on the mats while the courtside reporters do a group hug and snap more photos, this time on Yeeun’s phone where they started doing poses resembling their university mascots. You fall smoothly on Minho and Jeongin’s arms, hopping off easily and thanking Jeongin.
“What about me? Hm?” Minho pouts once Jeongin’s dragged away by Felix and Chenle to take more photos, carding his fingers through your bright red hair. “You could at least say thank you.”
You look up at him and snicker, elbowing his side. “Thank you, Minhooo. Happy?”
“Better.” He smirks before twisting his upper body halfway to turn behind you. When you follow his action with your gaze, your then see Changbin and Hyunjin jogging over to you with your trophies and a large bouquet of sunflowers and roses. “I got you something by the way—well, Changbin and Hyunjin bought then I paid them or else they’ll get tissues in their mouths again.”
“Wha—?” You eye the flowers as they approach in pure shock, your eyes widening even more when Changbin and Hyunjin only send you knowing smiles and winks before running away, cheering Minho on as they escape to your other friends. “W-What? W-Why this all of a sudden?”
Minho chuckles at your reaction, passing you your trophy from the exhibition category while he holds his from the team category with the bouquet in one hand. “I just thought that...it’s the end of the season—our last season so what if I—what if I finally asked you out properly?” He explains, growing more sheepish as he explains further while he then transfers the bouquet in his free hand and thrusts the fragile gift towards you. “Felix and Jeongin suggested that I make it more grander with an after-compet performance or something but I know that’s not your type so I got you flowers instead since I know you’ll win something either way.”
“O-Oh.” You muse in your speechlessness, catching a glance of your mutual friends now crowding together from a distance and holding up their phones to record Minho’s confession. Around you, even a few passersby have also momentarily stopped to look, equally as surprised knowing your infamous relationship with your somewhat rival in these competitions. “Y-You’re—you’re asking me out.”
“That’s the plan.” He shrugs with another laugh, grinning even wider when you slowly take the flowers in your own hands to smell the flowers. “If not, then we can totally just pretend I bought you the flowers as congratulations for winning the exhibition catego—hey, woah!”
You shake your head with a smile, having already gathered your thoughts, and pull him into a hug with your free hand, effectively cutting him off and making everyone around you cheer. “Of course, I’d go out with you, dumbass.” You answer his unspoken question, making him smile over your shoulder and hug you back tightly. “Anyway, I’m too lazy to kick you out of the apartment.”
“Ya!”
“I’m just kidding!” You then pull away slightly after, tiptoeing up to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for the flowers—and also maybe for assuming that I’m going to win something.”
“You always win something, anyway—even if it’s not always the team category because you can never beat me to that in this competition.” He teases, earning him another smack on the arm. “You did win my heart.”
“Ugh, Minho, gross!” You scrunch up your nose, feigning disgust and making him laugh as he dips down to kiss you. “Please never say that in front of my face ever again, we still have Nationals at the end of the semester!”
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geniusgub · 3 years
Text
sweatpants//spencer reid
genre: fluff
warnings: nothing really. sad spencer for about two seconds.
word count: 2.7k
i have plenty more one shots on my wattpad so let me know if any of you want to see more of this type of writing :) make sure to reblog and comment :))
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i fell in love with spencer reid the moment i met him. i fell in love with absolutely everything about him. his smile lit up the little bookstore as his glasses drifted further and further down his nose, and his hair hung over his forehead in messy, unbrushed curls. from the first time we locked eyes after he got a book down from the top shelf for me, i envisioned our whole future together.
we saw each other casually after our first meeting despite how badly i wanted more. we quickly realized that we frequented the little bookstore at the same time on saturdays and we just began to "accidentally" run into each other over and over at the same exact day and time. of course, i made sure to be there every saturday for the next three months just for the chance of seeing him.
i finally got the balls to ask him out after the fifth month of these meetups. he seems surprised and he blushed, then tugged on his tie to loosen it around his neck. he accepted quickly and we went bowling the next week. we were both horrible and eventually asked to put the bumpers up because the amount of gutter balls we were throwing were astronomical. but that "first" date was the first time i noticed something very important about spencer reid.
he wears a variation of the same outfit every single day, no matter what he's doing.
sweater vests, button ups, slacks, ties, and converse. sometimes a cardigan. these items get mixed and matched everyday and sometimes don't match, but the chaos of his outfit colors just suits him. and it suits his penchant for wearing mismatched socks. but i continued to realize more and more about his wardrobe as we spent more time together.
if we went out: slacks, button up, tie, converse.
if we had dinner at his apartment: slacks, button up, sweater vest, tie, converse.
if we cuddle on the couch: pajamas.
there's no in-between with him and it took me a while to decide if i loved this or thought it was odd. i landed somewhere in the middle. he would sometimes start to squirm in the middle of dinner and go to change into pajamas to be more comfortable.
i never commented on this because i knew he liked the way he dressed and i didn't want him to think i hated it. he's already an insecure person, despite me loving him with my whole heart and soul, and i'd feel so horrible if i added onto that. so i would sit through the squirming and the tie-tugging and the quick unlacing of shoes after a long day of converse wearing. i grinned and gave him lots of kisses because i love him regardless of his fashion choices. or lack there of.
but spencer continues to grow and thankfully, i grow with him. i start a new job and spencer continues to thrive at the bau. i move into his apartment and he decides that this is the perfect time for a change. a new haircut. super short on the sides and long on the top. i nearly keeled when i saw how utterly handsome he was with his new haircut. i jumped his bones immediately.
but the sweater vests and same brown cardigan didn't quite hit the spot anymore. i would find spencer standing in front of the mirror before work, silently wondering if the black or brown cardigan would look better with his gray sweater vest. still, it was endearing but eventually it becomes too much.
i pass a department store everyday on my way home from work and it started to pique my interest. one day when i got off work early and knew spencer wouldn't be home, i stopped off. the store was huge and had a humongous selection of styles and brands to choose from. i knew i had to bring spencer.
when i told him i wanted to take him shopping, he tilted his head in confusion like an adorable puppy. "what do you need? new sweaters? it is almost winter and i know you got rid of most of your winter clothes when the summer came. did you—"
"no, honey," i laughed, silencing his confused, off-topic rant. "i'm taking you shopping. for you."
another head tilt. "for me? i don't need anything."
"i know you don't need anything," i clarified, running my hands through his freshly cut hair, "but i want to treat you. and besides, i think you've outgrown some of your wardrobe and it's time to get some new items."
so that leaves us now, walking hand in hand into the department store. he's holding me tighter than usual as i lead him to the men's section, but i don't complain. i know he gets nervous in public places and i have no problem with a bit of coddling.
"so, i was thinking," i say as i flip through a rack of undershirts, "you could get some new dress pants. maybe a pair of jeans. maybe some blazers or just suit jackets. that way your style can grow but you can also wear your trusty button ups and ties underneath."
spencer pouts. "i like it better when we shop for you."
i stifle a laugh as i find an appealing gray blazer and search for spencer's size. "and why's that, bub?"
"because then you get to pick out cute clothes and i can watch you try them on."
"well, this time, i'll get to watch you try them on," i wink and hand the blazer over to him. "hold that. please and thank you."
spencer huffs and drops my hand so he can hold the hanger of the blazer. i continue walking through the racks and in my peripherals, i can see spencer glancing around the store and at the racks surrounding us. he follows behind me like a lost puppy, the amount of items in his hands growing as i pass every rack.
"how would you feel about," i pick out a set of matching maroon pants and a maroon blazer, "this color?" i told it up to spencer's chest. he looks down at the garment and scrunches up his nose. "no? that's okay. i think navy's suit you better anyway. no pun intended."
"babe?" he wonders softly as i move over to a rack of ties. "why are you doing this?"
"doing what?" i pick up a tie that is blue with pink flamingoes on it and drape it over his shoulder.
"taking me shopping. wanting to redo my wardrobe or something."
"well," a new tie on his shoulder- a yellow base with blue whales, "you have had the same wardrobe since i met you, and that was many years ago. you've grown up, spencer. maybe some new clothes could reflect that."
i watch a pout come to his face and his shoulders deflate. "you don't like the way i dress?"
i pout right back at him, trying to not seem so mocking in my expression. "i love the way you dress. but i think it might be time to replace that same brown sweater vest you've had since college. that's what i'm talking about. we don't have to do this if you don't want. we can go home."
spencer thinks for a second. he adjusts his hold on the handful of blazers and trousers in his arms and takes another glance at them. "i'll give these a try."
the pride swells in my chest and nearly bursts out. it's no secret that spencer hates change. he would rather his life stays exactly the same all the time. meals, furniture arrangement, train schedule, his wardrobe. clearly, he would rather wear the same clothes for the rest of his life than branch out a bit. so him agreeing to do just that nearly makes me cry right in the middle of the department store.
we push on and spencer continues to trail behind me and hold the clothes i pick. once his knees are practically buckling under the weight of the chosen clothes, i agree to let him start part two. the fitting room.
he disappears into a room and i sit across from the door in a fluffy armchair that probably has more germs on it than a public bathroom. okay, maybe that's just dramatic. but it has enough germs that i'm sure spencer would refuse to sit here, or maybe even get grossed out that i'm sitting on it.
"uh," i hear my boyfriends voice from behind the door, "i think i did it."
i hold in my giggle. "you think?"
"i mean, i put together an outfit. don't know if it's any good. it's definitely not as good as the things you put together."
"just let me see."
the door pops open and my jaw nearly hits the floor. my spencer is standing there in navy slacks, a navy blazer, a vest, button up, and a tie. he looks exactly like i expected him too. my same loving, quiet, genius boyfriend but much older and mature. he looks phenomenal.
but spencer scrunches up his nose and turns on his toes to look in the full length mirror. "i feel like all of this is too busy. there's too much happening."
"no, baby, not at all," i come up behind him and slide my hands across his back and then around his waist. "it's such a good look on you. it's spencer reid but as an adult."
he furrows his eyebrows and looks at me through the mirror. "are you implying i dressed like a child before?"
"no, no, not at all," i nudge his waist and he spins back to me. "it's a perfect outfit. you put it together perfectly. the colors, the different pieces."
spencer's face lights up as he watches me adjust the lapel of his jacket. "really?"
"yes!" i smooth down the shoulders and then tug on the cuff links. "it's perfectly your style. you don't think so?"
"mm," he looks back down at his own body and shakes out his arms a little. "i guess it is. it's just...different."
"it is different but it's a good different. you're still the same old genius who could go on for hours about mushrooms or doctor who or whatever. so you," i pat his shoulder and go up on my toes to kiss his cheek, "get into a new outfit and show me again, okay?"
spencer agrees and closes the fitting room door. we stay at the store for nearly two hours, picking out and trying on potential outfits. spencer even starts picking items on his own, but he comes to me in the cutest way to ask if i like the things he's picked out. i always do. and even if it's not my favorite piece, he obviously likes it so i tell him i love it.
we spend hundreds and split the bill. i insisted i pay because i was the one who brought him here, but he insisted he pay because the clothes are for him. we found a happy medium.
i don't know what i thought was going to happen after we basically replaced his wardrobe. apparently, i didn't think about what the next work day would be like. because i wake up before spencer and go to make breakfast and only listen to him shower and get dressed.
"good morning!" spencer chirps, practically skipping into the kitchen.
"morning!" i say back, putting pancakes on a plate for him. "here's your—" and i absolutely freeze in my spot at the sight of him in a dark tan jacket and slacks, a purple button up, and a matching gray tie. his hair is perfectly swooped across his forehead and he's grinning, practically glowing in his new outfit. "holy shit."
"you like it?" he holds up his arms a bit as if to gesture to his appearance.
i just stand and stare at him for another minute, clutching the plate in my hand so tightly that i fear i might break it. but spencer chuckles, taking it from me and placing it in front of the chair he always has breakfast in.
"i might not let you out of the house looking this good," i finally manage to say. "you'll come home with a new girl on your arm and forget all about me."
spencer pouts. "i'd never do that to you."
i grab onto his cheeks and lay a huge kiss on his lips. "i know you wouldn't. you look amazing, spence. even better than yesterday."
spencer comes home that night and beams about the compliments he got from his coworkers today and thanks me for encouraging him to expand his wardrobe. i don't accept his thanks because i'm just happy to see him feeling more confident in himself than ever.
however, my job is not done yet.
as much as he loves his new clothes, i give him a few weeks to adjust to his new normal. i let him get used to needing a few extra minutes in the morning to arrange an outfit and to the washing process before i spring something new on him. but once i can tell he's completely comfortable with his new wardrobe, i stop at the department store after work again.
"spence?" i call into the apartment as i kick my shoes off, clutching the paper bag in my hand.
"hi!" he calls back, emerging from the study with a book in his hand. "you're late."
i hold up the bag for proof. "i stopped at the store again." spencer follows me into the bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed in anticipation. "well, first, i saw a couple more ties that i liked," i take those out of the bag and throw them over his shoulder. "but i got these!"
i pull out three perfectly folded pairs of sweatpants and four plain colored tee shirts. spencer unravels each item and then looks up with his eyebrows furrowed. "i don't get it."
"okay," i giggle, placing my hands on his shoulders, "when i go to work, i wear my skirts and blouses and heels, right?"
like the puppy he is, he tilts his head to the side in confusion. "right."
"and when i got to sleep, i wear pajamas. but between the blouse and the pajamas, i wear sweats. you, my love," i boop his nose and instantly, an adorable pink hue paints his cheeks, "don't own sweats. you go from suits to pajamas. and again, i'm not saying that i don't love the way you dress. i'm just looking out for your comfort. if you hate them, i'll return them. simple as that."
he runs his hands over the tee shirts and runs it between his fingers. "they are really soft."
"i got the ones that are 100% cotton because i know you like how it feels."
"i'll try it," he concedes, smiling up at me. "thank you. you're too good to me."
"you deserve the world, angel face."
the next day, he gets called away for a case and i don't see him for almost two weeks. we call and text as much as possible, but we both get so busy that it's nearly impossible. so i stick to sending him good morning and goodnight texts and praying that he comes home in one piece.
after nearly two and a half weeks without him, i come home and see his car in the parking garage where it always is. i squeal, running all the way to the apartment and bursting through the door.
spencer is lounging on the couch, thankfully in one piece, and reading a book, dressed in gray sweatpants and a white tee shirt. he looks up and grins when i enter, standing up and pulling me into his arms.
"i can't believe you're sitting here," i mumble into his neck, "and looking so good when i'm not around."
spencer laughs into my shoulder, kissing my small bit of exposed skin. "well, you're here now so you can enjoy it."
"you look so fucking hot," i blurt out, grabbing a handful of his cotton shirt and tugging him towards the bedroom. "let me show you just how hot i think you are."
"god, i love this new wardrobe."
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a-world-in-grey · 3 years
Text
Sola/Calling for Rain
@secret-engima and, months later, the snippet I promised!
.
Karin’s first memories are her mother’s grave and her sister’s sick bed.
She knows more than that of course. She knows how her mother died, forced to use their family’s healing ability until they’d drained her chakra dry. She knows her older sister nearly followed their mother that night, eight years old and already scarred across her arms and shoulders.
But that knowledge isn’t seared into her memory the way her mother’s gravestone is, the bamboo marker plain and unmarked, nothing like the stone markers bearing carved names for the village shinobi. That knowledge doesn’t paint itself across her closed eyelids like Kyoho’s frail form, skin too pale, breaths too shallow, wild hair tumbling across the pillows like a splash of blood.
Karin remembers when Kyoho first opened her eyes, how her sister had looked to find Karin first, and hadn’t settled until she could clearly see Karin was well.
.
Karin doesn’t know how much Kyoho’s near death changed her older sister. She can’t remember what Kyoho was like before, can’t remember a time when Kyoho didn’t braid their hair with little painted beads and thin cords of braided thread. Can’t remember a time when Kyoho didn’t hold her close at night and whisper bedtime stories in words that sound like thunder and rain.
Stories and Songs and meanings just for the two of them. Braids and beads hidden beneath hair and cloth, Clan secrets told in the dead of night in a tongue only they knew. Teaching Karin to dance, to fly.
Teaching Karin to survive. 
Kyoho trains with the determination not to learn, but master every skill she can. Taijutsu, weapons, healing, ninjutsu. She claws her way up the ranks of Kusa’s shinobi, genin at nine, chuunin at eleven, jounin at fifteen.
Kusa’s own little prodigy. A match for Konoha’s Uchiha Itachi or Hatake Kakashi. Or so Kusa likes to think.
There’s a lot Kusa doesn’t know.
They don’t know of the fuuinjutsu, of the basics learned from their mother that Kyoho took and reinvented on her own. The black tattoos spiraling across Kyoho’s skin hidden from sight under dark green clothing. 
They don’t know about the chakra chains Kyoho painstakingly learned to use. Chains Kyoho learned to modify, to shrink to the size of a fine gold chain, to enlarge to the size of the massive chains that once rose from the waves to close Uzushio’s ports.
They don’t know of Kyoho’s sensory abilities, so fine tuned she can pick out a shinobi’s specialization from the feel of their chakra alone. They don’t know of the weapons Kyoho can wield beyond her glaive and curved shortswords.
They don’t know Kyoho’s taught Karin everything she knows. They don’t know Karin isn’t the fumbling, lackluster genin overshadowed by her prodigal sister’s brilliance.
.
“My name is Uzumaki Naruto, and I’m going to kick all of your asses!”
The room goes silent, every genin present turning to stare, and Karin feels her breath freeze in her lungs as the chakra signatures around her spike with anger and disbelief.
Karin buries her own chakra, smothers it down to a spark so small even Kyoho has difficulty detecting, hiding the surprise and recognition and the tangle of emotions she can keep off her face but not out of her chakra. And she knows she shouldn’t focus her attention solely on the loud Konoha genin as his teammates and comrades converge to scold him for his recklessness. There are others in the room far more dangerous than the rookie too dumb not to draw the ire of the rest of the competition before the Exams have even begun. And yet-
Uzumaki.
He doesn’t have the red hair. But that’s the mon on his shoulder, black and purple instead of the black and blue variant Kyoho’s stitched into their clothes, in places easily hidden because there’s Clan Pride but then there’s announcing to all the Elemental Nations that they’re female kekkai genkai bearers.
Karin lessens her hold on her chakra, reaching her senses past the thunderstorm-shadow-river feeling of the three genin standing beside him.
Warmth. Bright encompassing warmth, intense but not painful, the ocean breeze across her skin on a clear sunny day. Swirling reserves deeper than she’s ever sensed, even deeper than Kyoho’s hearth-fire chakra.
Karin suppresses her chakra the moment the blond’s thunderstorm teammate glances her way, glancing away and digging her fingernails into the back of her hand so hard she’s surprised she doesn’t break skin.
She swallows back a sob.
Uzumaki. He’s Clan.
But not Galahdian. Not a child of the Storm-Father, not someone who grew up with the Clan Laws and the certainty in their bones that even if the world fell apart, the Clan would always have your back.
The Uzumaki are a shinobi clan. Karin can’t… how can she know if she can trust this wayward Uzumaki? How can she know if he will hold that same fierce loyalty that blazes in her and Kyoho’s souls?
She shouldn’t. Oh, but by the Storm-Father, Karin wants to. This long lost kinsman who wears Freedom and Protection across his shoulders. Who looks at the world with Protection in his eyes and crowned with Love.
Karin knows the Colors don’t apply to the natural world. To things that are mere happenstance and genetic chance. But-
(‘Sometimes the Gods paint us with specific Colors,’ Karin remembers Kyoho telling her, ‘A message and a warning, for souls so strong the physical has no choice but to reflect it.’
Karin had looked into Blue eyes framed by Red hair, and never asked if Kyoho spoke from experience.)
For the first time in nearly ten years, Karin hopes.
She has to try.
And that means staying in Konoha long enough to get a measure of Uzumaki Naruto.
.
Karin is perfectly happy not knowing how something gets named the ‘Forest of Death.’
Unfortunately, as the location of the Second Exam, Karin’s not going to get a choice.
Kyoho would love it, Karin thinks as she miserably fills out the liability waiver. Kyoho had spoken of many places in her past life, but none so fondly as Galahd, deadly and wild and all the more beautiful for it.  
She lets her ‘teammates’ take the lead as they scout through the forest. Her head’s busy planning her next step. Should she focus on passing the Second Exam? Kyoho told her how the Third Exam was always an exhibition for clients, so she’d have plenty of time during the preparations to track down and try to get to know her kinsman. Perhaps with Kyoho’s help even - surely her mission would be finished by then?
But that assumes Karin and the two idiots she’s assigned to play chakra-battery for can pass at all. They aren’t the weakest team in the forest, even counting Karin’s careful pretense, but there are a lot of teams stronger than they are. Stronger, and all too willing to kill.
Karin could ditch the idiots. She’s kept track of where she last sensed Uzumaki Naruto’s chakra, so she could find him and get to know him in the time before the Second Exam ends. Maybe even steal the Earth scroll and bring it as a good faith gift. 
But she’d be on her own, carrying a high value target, and gambling on her kinsman caring enough about a cousin he didn’t know to trust and protect her.
Karin tugs on the loose ends of her hair in frustration. Why is this so hard?!
Kyoho would know what to do.
Kyoho’s not here, Karin firmly reminds herself. She has to figure this out on her own.
In the end, she chooses to stay with her teammates. There's too many unknowns for her to risk running now.
.
Two days later, staring up at the bear taller than her house, Karin's regretting her decision to stay.
They left me!
Stay and hide, they said. You'll be fine.
If they're still alive when Karin finds them, she's going to throttle them. Hiding her chakra doesn't matter when enemies can find her by her scent! The bear snarls, and Karin gives up any pretense of hiding her abilities. She's out of her depth, anything less than her full skill will only end up with her dead-
("Above all else," Kyoho had whispered the night before Karin left for Konoha, "survive.")
She reaches for her supply of explosive tags (way more than anyone thinks she has, way more than she probably needs, but they're the easiest seal to make and Kyoho always says there's no such thing as overkill) and prepares to turn the bear into a pile of charred meat and fur.
Only, there's movement above her, a blur of black and purple, a flash of silver-
Thunder. Lightning and rain and the howling storm as she huddles by the warmth of hearth, each flash of light in the sky accompanied by the rolling drums that echo in her chest; an invitation, a challenge, to face the storm and laugh in the embrace of the sky.
Uzumaki's dark haired teammate lunges from the trees like one of the jungle cats of Kyoho's stories, dropping down onto the bear with a spinning, flying kick, and Kyoho freezes.
Kyoho knows that kick.
(Karin stares wide-eyed as Kyoho all but flies through the air, leaping and spinning with the grace of a breeze through the prairie grasses. Kyoho's been teaching her how to dance, but those jumps have nothing on the ones Kyoho is doing!
"Will I learn to do that too?" Karin asks. Nerves flit in her gut like butterflies. She's trying to learn everything Kyoho can teach her, but those leaps are so high.
Blue eyes soften as Kyoho ruffles her hair. "You don't have to - it's not part of the Ostium Dance."
Karin blinks. "It's not?"
"It's Ulric, our sister Clan." Kyoho says. Her gaze grows distant. "Clan of Sky and Storm, Coeurl-kin, first of the Storm-Father's children."
Karin's touch on her arm brings her back to the present. "Were you Ulric first, before you were Ostium?"
Kyoho laughs. "I was Furia, Clan of Sea and Horizon, but I learned the Ulric Dance because I was Sky-born instead of Sea-born.")
She can't see a braid, but- Black and purple. A pair of well worn kukri at his back. The aerial combat she's never seen anyone but Kyoho use.
Her fingers tremble around the string of explosive tags as the genin checks to make sure the bear is dead. Then he turns to her with an easy grin. "You're an Uzumaki, right? Do you want to meet your cousin?"
And Karin has been so keyed up over possibly having Clan, over being in hostile territory with no one to watch her back, with desperate hope dogging her heels for the past three days of finding someone she can trust- 
(“You can always trust the Clans. Even the most bitter rivals will protect a Clan child, if they are threatened by Outsiders.”)
"Are you Ulric?" She blurts.
Dark eyes sharpen. "How do you know that name?" But his gaze flits to her temple, to the black braid joiner peeking out from her hair. Karin removes the grey hitai-ate and pulls her hair back to show him her braids. The Ostium Braid and the Mourning Braid for her mother, unlike Kyoho who also wears Marriage, Hero, and Revenge Braids. Braids Karin and Kyoho have never shown anyone but each other.
But the boy's eyes widen in shock and recognition, and pale fingers pull the Ulric Braid threaded with the purple ribbon of a Chief from its hiding place behind his ear.
("And if you get the chance, run. Before Kusa kills you too.")
Karin sobs.
This boy is Clan. He's safe.
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sweeethinny · 3 years
Text
Wildflower - Chapter 1
one more chapter, i'm excited about this story, i hope you like it as much as i do <3
Thank you @startanewdream who read and opined on some things <3
AO3 | FF. NET | PLAYLIST
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| L. E |
The room was quiet, everyone paying attention to what the Professor was saying and presenting on the slides, with all those graphs and statistics that made Lily almost sleep with her eyes open. She loved her course, but calculus class wasn't her favorite, it wasn't even in her top three preferences.
Lily would rather have a full day of Environmental Chemistry with Professor Hagrid than one more with Burbage.
"Aren't you going to write down what she's saying?" Severus muttered beside her, making her nearly jump in her chair in fright, her heart racing at being pulled out of the quiet of her mind. "Hey, calm down."
"I already wrote down the important one." Lily shrugged, seeing her representation of the chart in the notebook and her lazy scribble of what the Professor had said.
"I won't lend you my notebook to study," he whispered, a smirk on his lips. Lily rolled her eyes, resting her head on her hand again, no longer listening to Burbage's voice.
Was it so early, why did she like to make students suffer like that?
"I don't need to, thanks." Severus didn't respond, but he kissed her on the cheek and then turned his attention back to class, much more interested than she was.
She still hadn't forgotten about their fight after the party Saturday, and all the embarrassment he put her through, and Lily was still hurting, even though she didn't understand why it hurt so much. He explained to her that he was trying to protect her, and the next day, he took her for brunch at her favorite restaurant, which was near a flower shop where Severus bought her flowers. Her favorites.
He was sorry, and Lily had to stop mulling things over even days after they had happened.
"Excuse me, Professor?" A female voice woke her, looking toward the door where one of the cheerleaders was standing.
The girl was beautiful, Lily had seen her before in the presentations in between games - the few she went to - and in the hallways of college; she had long brown hair and eyes almost the same color, and Lily knew the line of boys wanting her wasn't short.
“Say it, Miss Fortescue,” Burbage said, not looking overly excited at being interrupted. ‘I have no time to waste.’
“It'll be quick, I swear.” The girl walked into the room, wearing her red college sweatshirt and simple jeans, and even so, she looked stunning. Lily was a little jealous of her.
‘Me, and the Hogwarts Cheerleaders team, are passing by to remind you that applications to join the Team begin today. You need to have a minimal knowledge of ice skating, and be able to train three times a week, and twice a month on Saturdays. In addition to keeping in mind that if chosen, you will have to travel with us when necessary, and participate in our activities off the field.'’ She smiled, looking at everyone there waiting for questions or any interruptions, but when no one raised a hand, she continued;
‘’To apply you just need to talk to me, or any other cheerleader, and fill in the form. The tests will start next week, so you have plenty of time to think about whether you want to or not.” She waited a few more seconds, then smiled at the woman. "Thank you so much, Professor, excuse me." And she left.
Side conversations began, even though Burbage was trying to restrain the students, but Lily didn't care too much, wondering whether or not she should take the test. Of course she didn't have a body like the other girls, their waists looked almost unreal, but she could try, right? It looked so much fun the few times she watched it, and Lily had been balletting as a child until her mid-teens, when she started to put on weight and Petunia kept saying she was getting too fat to dance.
She could at least try. Maybe she couldn't get in, there were probably girls who had trained her entire life for it, Lily knew it was a competitive sport that many took very seriously, but… She could try.
Lily skated really well too, another reason she should try, and-
"You'd think she'd at least be embarrassed to appear in public, but no," Severus whispered, making Lily look at him not quite understanding what he was talking about, having once again become lost in her thoughts. "God, Lily, pay attention!"
‘‘Sorry, I was thinking. Who has to have courage?’’
‘‘Alice. That captain of the cheerleaders. She was seen having sex in the car with one of the players late last year… Such a bitch.” Severus rolled his eyes, looking almost offended by what she had done. ‘‘But what to expect, all are.’’
"I wanted to take the test," Lily whispered, feeling a weight drop in her stomach that made all her courage drain away.
'’Why? Do you want to wear those short skirts and show your ass for a bunch of men to see? And still call it dancing? Christ, Lily, have a little respect for yourself.” He turned forward, not seeming to want to hear her answer, but Lily ignored the movement and continued;
‘But… it looks so cool, and maybe I don't even come in and-’
‘Lils, I'm a man, listen to what I tell you, these girls don't dance because they like it, they dance because they want to have a dick to suck at the end of the day and get something in return; sometimes a higher note, or sometimes just the gratification of having sucked that dick. You're not like them, you don't need that.”
| J . P |
"Look who's here, our Geppetto!" Remus said, a wide grin on his face and the glass of orange juice raised to James, who was now bitterly regretting not having changed after his carpentry practice class.
"Dude, shut up." James chuckled, not even wanting to argue about how old this joke was getting and that they should try harder. "I can't believe we're not joking about the fact that Sirius needs to wear a wig in his class."
"We did, but you were late, mate." Remus seemed indifferent to James' attempt to shift his attention to Sirius, drinking all of his juice before looking at him more closely. "Marlene put makeup on you?"
"Yeah, is there a problem?" He put his hand to his jaw, no longer as purple and sore as it had been on Saturday, but still too disgusting an orange color to show everyone on the first day of his sophomore year. James had a bit of self-esteem even though it kept him from doing that. "It was horrible."
"Yeah, it's not pretty now." Peter pulled James' face to the side, wanting to see more detail, and that made the pain in the back of his neck return. "But it's better than before."
"Peter, my head." James pushed him away, touching where the back of his neck ached and trying to ease some of the pain that was still bothering him. The doctor had said it would hurt for a few more days, but James couldn't take the headaches anymore. "That asshole was lucky I was drunk."
"I still don't understand why he punched you," Sirius said, the pink wig still in his hands, trying to untangle the strands. "The girl said you didn't even touch her."
‘’I didn't touch it. Man, I don't even remember her face, I was trying to stay upright and not pass out right there, there were like ten redheads in front of me.’' He sighed, taking a sip of his own juice and denying it, still not believing he had stopped at the hospital because someone thought he was harassing the girl. "Was he her boyfriend?"
"I think so, but she didn't look too happy about what he'd done to you, so I don't know if they're still together," Remus said.
"Was she beautiful?" James didn't remember much of that night, least of all the details of her face, the only thing he could remember was that she was wearing an all-black outfit and had red hair. Everything else was just a blur in his mind.
"Yeah," Peter smiled. ‘’Was she wearing weird clothes? Yeah. I mean, who wears sweats to a party? But, she was beautiful. Don't you have a class with her?” He glanced at Remus, who looked like he was in another world as he watched a table next to theirs, full of girls chatting and laughing, one in particular standing with her back to them.
‘’Moony, if you keep drooling on Amelia like that, I'll punch you in the face. She kicked your ass, bro, part to another, forget about her.'’
"James, have you ever been in love yet?" James took a deep breath, thinking they would go back to that same subject Remus always brought up every time someone said something about his ex. '’Answer me.'’
"This wasn't love, Moony, it was a trap." James said the same thing every other time, but it was like he spoke to a wall when it came to Remus. It was frustrating. "She betrayed you."
“It was a slip.” He repeated as usual.
‘’Remus, slip was when I mistook James' aunt for his grandmother, and congratulated her on her 90th birthday. That was a slip. What did she do to you,” Sirius dropped his wig and looked at their friend, a tired smile on his face. It was the tenth time they had had that conversation. ‘It was low. She cheated on you the second you quarreled with her, without a second thought. Besides,” He held up a hand, preventing Remus from saying anything. "She never told you, you only knew because her friend felt sorry for you."
"She was going to tell me!"
"Let's not discuss this again." Peter interrupted the fight that was likely to ensue, but even if he hadn't, someone else did for them.
A girl stopped at their table, arms back and cheeks already on fire, she looked like she wanted to get inside a hole instead of being there.
"Hm. I’m sorry..er..." Her low voice was barely heard in the din in the cafeteria, but James was at the end of the table and could hear her speaking. It was the girl from the party, he recognized her sweet voice, her red hair was in a bun and she was wearing a sweatshirt today too, this time it wasn't black but dark blue, and James thought it didn't look comfortable because it wasn't that cold and that fabric seemed to be very thick and warm. ‘I came to apologize.’
"Sorry?" James looked at her, now everyone at the table was silently paying attention to her, and her cheeks got even hotter, which he thought was cute. Her green eyes fell on James, and he hated even more that he was wearing that ridiculous protective clothes.
"For what Sev did," She bit her bottom lip, filling her lungs with air and smiling gently afterwards. "I'm sorry he punched you."
'But…'
"You're not the one who should apologize," Sirius said, sitting at the other end, looking almost as shocked as James. The guy couldn't be such a coward, what did he think they were going to do, punch him up in the middle of the cafeteria?
The girl looked uncomfortable with this, but stayed there, stuffing her hands inside her sweatshirt pocket. ‘‘I know, but… He wasn't coming, but I'm going to feel really bad for not apologizing, because it was my fault, I- ''
"It wasn't your fault," James cut her off, pausing before placing a hand on her arm to soothe whatever was making her nervous. Who knows what her crazy boyfriend would do if he saw James touching her. "It's okay, really."
"You ended up in the hospital." She reminded him, not that James needed it, but he shrugged.
‘’Nothing too serious. And I was drunk, and…” He didn't know what to say, so opting to just smile at her. '’Everything is fine. If it makes you better, apologies accepted.”
"Sorry again, really," The girl said, her hand over her heart and a slightly sad smile on her face, seeming to notice the makeup on his jaw. James nodded, still not quite sure what to say or what to do, and she left.
'’Oh, I knew I knew her boyfriend.’' The four of them looked at the redhead walking back to her table, where three other guys dressed in black were, none of them looking at James' table but the boy next to her didn't look the least bit happy with her attitude, putting an arm around her shoulders in an almost possessive way. "She dates that idiot who tried to fight with Frank."
"Does he fight everyone then?" James continued to stare at her table, a bad feeling burning in his chest. He remembered that she looked so happy when he came to ask about his glasses, but then, now it seemed like there was none of that inside her anymore.
"He doesn't fight, he talks and talks, but when the time comes he runs away." Remus smiled humorlessly, pulling James back to look at him. "Don't want the three of them to come at you, just because one of them is a coward doesn't mean the others are too."
"She looked sad." Peter rambled. "Didn't she look like?"
“Dating a guy like that, who's happy?” James ran a hand through his hair, looking once more at the table the redhead had gone to before giving up and settling down on the bench, putting her image out of his mind and refocusing on Remus, who had turned to face Amelia again.
| L. E |
Lily was nervous, as if she was about to commit a horrible crime, her stomach churning and bile burning in her throat every time she focused her vision on that paper.
It was a mistake, a huge mistake, she shouldn't be there, she didn't even know how she got there. Get out of there Lily! She screamed to herself.
“Need help?” A voice startled her, her heart nearly leapt out of her body, and she ended up dropping the form to the floor, her shaking hands not even good enough to hold the paper. ‘Hey, I’m sorry. Everything is fine?'
"Yes, yes." Lily didn't look at the girl, but she knew who she was; Alice. Severus' voice reverberated in her mind, and she remembered Mulciber - Sev's best friend, who, like Avery, lived with them - saying; "You don't want everyone to think you're a bitch too, do you?" when Lily spoke of her willingness to take the test.
She thought they were wrong, she knew they were wrong, but her mind seemed unable to say anything against it at the time, her body paralyzed, just nodding and going back to eating, even though her hunger was gone.
'’Are you going to sign up?'’ Alice didn't seem to notice that Lily was uncomfortable however, because she went behind the now empty cafeteria table and sat on the bench there, looking at Lily in such a welcoming way that she felt guilty for not looking her in the eye. '’It's fun. We train a lot, but we are a family too, and as some girls are already graduating and leaving, we need new members.’’
"Family?" Lily looked at her, confused, blaming her mind that it was having to deal with the guilt of thinking she was a bitch, and the boys' voices telling her about her having sex in the car.
She's free to do whatever she wants, Lily thought, taking a deep breath.
‘’Yes, we take care of each other and make sure no one feels left out. If you need a house, we have room for you. It's just girls, no boys in there.” Alice took a folder from her purse, it was full of other completed forms, but at the bottom, there was a blank paper. She reached for Lily. "If you want it." She shrugged, and Lily saw it was another form, but this time, to rent a room.
"Oh I don't have to, I live with my boyfriend." Lily felt her cheeks flush, her eyes automatically returning to the team's blank form. Did she want this?
"But if you ever need to, we're always getting a spare room, just in case." Alice smiled. ‘’So having problems with the questions? I know there are many, but we need to know a lot before we call someone in. We've had bad experiences with this.’’
“I'm still wondering whether I'm going to try or not.” Why was she being so kind to her? Alice didn't know what everyone was calling her? Didn't she care?
‘’Do it. The most that can happen is that you won't be accepted.’’
"Yeah…I think it is." Lily nodded, swallowing the ball of nervousness that rose in her throat. "My boyfriend doesn't think I should apply." She didn't know why she'd said that, it just slipped off her tongue without going through her brain first, but as usual, Alice didn't seem to mind.
'’Why not? And you're the one training and dancing, so it's up to you to decide whether you want to or not.” She ran a hand through her brushed hair, and Lily noticed there was a silver ring on her finger. She dated the guy she had sex with in the car? Lily didn't know his name. '’Unless you have labyrinthitis… But, we already had a girl with labyrinthitis on the team, she didn't just participate in the spins, so there's nothing really stopping you from joining us.'’
"Yeah, maybe you're right." Lily took another deep breath, her nervousness lessening a little.
'Sit down.'
"What?" She looked up from her paper, Alice still with that welcoming look from before, but now more attentive.
"Sit down, you've been standing a long time." She did, placing her bag beside her and taking the pen firmly in her hand, signing her name at the top of the sheet, then moving on to the other questions.
Alice was quiet, doing something on her cell phone while Lily concentrated, trying not to show how anxious she was getting at such a silly and simple task. It was like her mind was hazy and the questions started to no longer make sense, Sev's voice telling her that Lily didn't need it because she wasn't like the other girls, making her even more nervous.
"Have you done any dancing yet?" Alice asked, but not taking her eyes off her cell phone.
‘’Ballet. As a child.” Lily glanced at her quickly before turning back to the paper, writing her age and course.
‘’I did artistic gymnastics, but I always wanted to do ballet. It's a very beautiful dance.’’
"Yes, it is." Lily took a deep breath, answering about her schedule and whether she was able to travel out of town during game season.
"I learned to skate when I got to college, Marlene taught me."
"She's also a cheerleader, right?" Alice looked at her, a sweet smile on her lips, then nodded.
"Many say you need to be afraid of her, but that's not true, Marlene is melted butter with the people she likes."
"I hope she likes me." Lily went back to ticking the form, and no, she wasn't using any narcotics or prescription drugs.
"She definitely will," Alive said, and she seemed to speak the truth, winking at Lily and then turning her attention back to her cell phone.
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danny-chase · 3 years
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics), Batgirl (Comics), Batman and the Outsiders (Comics) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain & the Batfam Characters: Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, Dick Grayson (briefly), Barbara Gordon (briefly), Tim Drake (briefly), Bruce Wayne (Mentioned), Jefferson Pierce (mentioned) Additional Tags: Batfamily (DCU) Feels, The timeline is a mess, feelings of discomfort, Feelings of Not Belonging, Crocs, POV Cassandra Cain, late night bathroom girl talks, no beta we die like Cass, dreams of alternate timeline, timeline converging, Confusion, Eventual Fluff, Nightmares Summary:
The one where Cass know something is wrong with her Crocs, and it spirals into more being wrong with her world.
Cassandra never thought much about what she wore, it’s not like it mattered much in the grand scheme of things. What was ‘right’ to wear, ‘wrong’ to wear, she didn’t really know, she just picked what she liked, and that was that. Barbara helped keep her closet in three neat sections: clothes for fancy things – charities or dances, clothes for blending in outside, and clothes for training. It was simple, easy, efficient. She didn’t have to think about it.
But here she was, pacing back and forth in front of her closet. It wasn’t the clothes she was confused about, but a pair of shoes. Light blue, with holes. Duke called them crocs. Crocs. She turned the word over, again and again in her mind. She remembered picking them out, but the memory was blurry, she had this eerie feeling they were wrong somehow.
She’d had this feeling before – that something was wrong with the world, with her. Her costume sometimes felt wrong, like it didn’t quite belong. She shifted, irritated, from side to side. Sometimes, she talked wrong too, thought wrong. Everything, some days, just felt wrong.
And here she was, standing on her hands, glaring at her crocs. Her crocs that were wrong, but they couldn’t be wrong because she’d gotten them with Duke. She remembered – she was sure she remembered.
It had been a cloudy day, her arm stuck in a sling. Bruce had said she was training too hard, she should take it easy, and she had disagreed. But then he brought up Duke. Duke, who had been injured by Karma. Who was so angry and hurt, but she never knew what to say to fix things. And Bruce hadn’t known either. But all the same, they had to try something.
He gave her money and instructions. Take Duke to get food at the mall. It had been easy, fun. He was upset, but took the time to make her laugh, thanked her for spending time with him. They’d spun through racks of clothes, posing with sunglasses, and trying on random things, then swapping. They bought him a short shirt that showed off his belly button. A… crop top, he’d said. And she, skipping through the aisles had stopped in front of the blue crocs.
She’d felt strange then, like the world was wrong, and somehow, she felt drawn to them. Duke had looked at her as though she was crazy when she tried them on but shrugged and told her she had great tastes in fashion (lie). He’d been getting tired, the more they walked, but he smiled all the same, told her she looked great in them (not a lie). And she bought them, now here she was, feeling the same feeling of wrongness.
Sometimes, she felt like a different person.
Sometimes, she felt like Duke shouldn’t be there.
Sometimes, she missed people she met once.
And sometimes, she stared at the blue crocs, with an inkling she’d seen them before she’d ever stepped foot in that store.
 She’d been feeling well this week. Things were going well with her team, things were going well for her. She had almost finished her latest book, when she was struck by the feeling of wrongness once again. She gripped her hair, squeezing her eyes shut, burying her head in the side of her chair.
She was Cassandra Cain. She was herself. She wasn’t wrong. This was her, wasn’t it? This was her life.
But even her name sounded wrong in her head. Cassandra felt right, Cain felt wrong. But if not a Cain, who was she?
She was powerful. Strong. That was right. She’d taken down ten men last week in hardly any time, and it felt so right!
But sitting in a chair reading felt wrong.
It was so confusing. She didn’t understand, why this but not that?
Throwing the offending book across the room, she stamped to her closet. Flinging open the door, she glared at the shoes. The crocs glared back, there little holes mocking her.
The holes.
The holes were wrong.
The color was right.
She was getting somewhere. The holes were wrong, the color was right. But again, why this and not that? Clenching her fists in frustration, she threw her head back, wanting to scream but holding it in. Instead, she grabbed her costume and headed out.
 Cass had dreams, dreams of being in a city she didn’t recognize. Spending time with people she didn’t know. And the people she did know were different. Tim was smaller in her dreams, and Dick was older. Bruce was… he felt more familiar. And Barbara – she didn’t know why, but Barbara was always in a wheelchair. But she hadn’t been there for that, had she?
Every time she saw the bats, they felt wrong. Different. Maybe different was the right word. Was she the only one feeling like this? She couldn’t tell. She told Duke once, and he shrugged saying something about déjà vu. But the word didn’t feel right.
Barbara was worried. “You can talk to me, Cass, what’s wrong?” But how could she explain what was going on? Bruce whispered to Jeff about how she was quieter… withdrawn. He’d said withdrawn. But she wasn’t trying to change, wasn’t trying to… withdraw. The world was just confusing, she couldn’t keep focused with this immense feeling of dread shrouding her.
In the dreams, sometimes a girl gave her tea. In a little shop. In the city she’d never been to. And she woke up screaming because it always faded away into a wasteland.
And for some reason, she kept calling Stephanie Brown when it happened.
Tonight, she’d called again.
“Cass, bad dream? Are you okay?” She felt like she’d known Steph for years.
“Everything’s wrong.” She confessed. Steph hummed. The line was quiet. She should hang up, she usually did. Usually just said yes and hung up. But, Stephanie’s voice was comforting, it was good to know she was safe.
“Wrong like, things are going wrong right now? Or like, things feel… off.” Cass sucked in a deep breath. Maybe, just maybe, someone else understood.
“Off.” She replied.
“Like… things aren’t quite, right?” Exactly.
“Like… people are… different?” She explained.
“Like they didn’t use to be there.” Steph agreed.
“Or were there longer.” Cass breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t wrong. Something was wrong, or well… off. But, whatever it was, it wasn’t in her head. The world was wrong. Not her.
“Do you ever dream about things that never happened, but it feels so real you’re certain it did?” Cass nodded, then realized she was using a phone.
“Yes.” She sat in silence for a moment. “Can I… come over?” Steph felt right, an beacon in the midst of the chaos of the wrong world.
“Please.” Steph sounded just as eager to stick together.
“Coming.” She hung up the phone, and snatched up a bag, flinging open the door of her closet, and grabbing some clothes for tomorrow. The blue crocs leered at her, so she shoved her feet into them. Maybe Steph would know why they were wrong.
 Steph sat on the edge of the toilet, and she sat on the rim of the tub.
“This feels right.” Cass decided. Steph nodded.
“I don’t know why but you’re right.” She plopped her head in her hands, tired and agitated, but excited. “I feel like I know you, but like we only met a few months ago.” She made a thinking face.
Cass thought too. She took in Stephanie’s face, and closed her eyes. The burning town came to mind.
“Were you in…” She trailed off; it was a dumb question. Steph would have died with the girl who gave her tea if she were there.
“Go on.” It was stupid. “I’m not going to judge, throw anything out there, no wrong answers.”
“In my dreams, there’s a city.” She opened her eyes, staring into Steph’s face. “It burns, and I’m there, with you.” Steph tilted her head.
“In my dreams, sometimes I die.” Cass winced.
“Me too.”
“Could it have happened in the city? I don’t know, maybe we had like past lives there or something?” She suggested.
“I’m me when I die.” Cass asserted. She always died fighting, nowhere near the city.
“Me too.” Steph sighed. “It’s so frustrating. I don’t get it.” Cass nodded.
“I feel wrong.” She added.
“Literally, same.” Steph shook her head in frustration and made to leave the bathroom. “Okay, good night’s sleep, we’ll work on it again tomorrow.”
Cass wanted to scream. She wanted to know, to know right now. Wanted to get this figured out.
“Whatever.” Was all she got out, Steph shrugged indifferently.
“Sleep will help your brain work better. It’s a scientific fact.” Cass followed her out into her bedroom.
There were purple crocs inside her closet.
She stepped closer.
“Cass, what are you-” Steph kept talking, but Cass couldn’t hear her anymore.
The holes on the crocs were filled.
Suddenly, she felt herself being pulled out of Steph’s room, her mind whisking her away into a memory she’d somehow forgotten, a memory that didn’t feel wrong - a memory that felt right a memory that-
The purple crocs were in her hands, she was in a small store, a crocodile painted on the wall behind her. Stephanie was laughing at Tim. He was wearing green crocs. Barbara was in the corner, chatting with Dick from her wheelchair. They were smiling fondly at each other. Love painted across everyone’s faces.
And she, was so happy. She was standing still, basking in the afternoon glow of the sun, and the warmth of those around her.
“Thanks for holding those for me, you want a pair too?” Steph bounced in front of her and plucked the crocs out of her hands, giving her a friendly wink.  
“I think you should get bright blue ones.” Dick suggested. Barbara snorted. They both were looking at her fondly.
“If she gets blue ones, you have to get yellow.” She pointed out.
“Yeah, that’s only fair.” Tim agreed. “As long as no one gets the same color we should be good.”
A pair of blue crocs were dropped in her hands. Her heart was expanding in her chest.
“Okay, everyone, she needs charms too, move it people!” Steph cried happily. Everyone dug in the bins surrounding them. Little icons, little… charms. The word sounded right. The blue crocs were right.
The memory faded out, and she found herself quickly falling asleep.
 She woke up before Steph. Silently, she tiptoed downstairs. Her crocs were full of charms.
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keanureevesisbae · 4 years
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Mister Cavill, your dog is kinda fat - Chapter 1
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Summary: Veterinarian Olivia Tran has zero time for bullshit. After becoming a mom at age twenty three, the one thing she wants is a good life for her daughter Vanessa. Her ex didn’t want anything to do with her nor the baby and she decided that man are officially banned out of her life. But then she meets Henry Cavill at her clinic and her ban slowly starts to crumble apart. Henry on the other hand is looking for one thing: a family. And when he meets Olivia Tran, he finds just that.
Henry Cavill x Olivia Tran (ofc)
Warnings: None
Wordcount: 2.4k
A/N: The beginnings of a new fic! It’s kind of a build up, so there isn’t a lot of Henry Cavill inthis chapter, but the next one is from his pov and more than 4.5k. I hope you like this new story 🤗
Masterlist // Next chapter
For fuck’s sake, I can still smell the fluids from those anal glands I have been popping all day. Even when you wear gloves every single time, that penetrating smell will just stay with you.
After a long day at the clinic, I can finally call it a day. Of course, I’m on call tonight, but other than that, I can relax now. Working as a vet has always been a dream of mine and now, at the ripe age of twenty nine, I have managed to become doctor Olivia Tran, one of the loved veterinarians here.
‘See you tomorrow, Belle,’ I yell to my best friend and other veterinarian at this clinic.
‘You on call tonight?’ Belle asks.
‘I am.’
‘If you need to go, I can’t watch Vanessa tonight,’ she tells me, while she is checking the ears of a pug, who seems to have severe breathing problems from the looks of it. ‘I have a date.’
‘No worries,’ I say to her with a smile. ‘I probably don’t need to go anyways. Hasn’t happened in the past months, so I highly doubt that something will change tonight. Please let me know how your date went tomorrow.’
Belle, the gorgeous brunette with legs for days and blue eyes as big as Rapunzel, flashes me a bright smile. ‘Of course, dear. Give Vanessa a big kiss for me, will you?’
‘Will do.’ I walk out of the clinic, give a sweet Jack Russell a scratch behind his ear and check my watch. I have twenty minutes before I have to pick up Vanessa, but it’s a fifteen minute walk if I hurry and if I just stroll around, it’s twenty minutes. Can I manage to buy myself some cookies or should I wait after I picked her up?
I think I would have a very happy six year old if I waited with the cookies after I picked her up from school.
I bury my hands in the pockets of my coat. Yesterday it was official: the summer has passed and autumn is here. I always love it when I see the green leaves slowly turning orange or brown and cover the pavement with a blanket of crunchy leaves. It’s Vanessa’s favorite season as well, but that’s mostly because it’s her birthday on November 12th.
I never planned on becoming a mother at twenty three. I never really gave it a big thought, the idea of having kids. In the far far far future I might’ve become one, but I always thought I had more cool aunt potential.
The day I found out I was pregnant, I was scared, but since I was in a pretty serious relationship with Wesley for almost three years, the man I thought I’d end up marrying, I figured we would make this work. We would marry, have this kid and live happily ever after, maybe even have a few more.
But Wesley broke up with me when I told him about the pregnancy and that I was going to keep the baby. I went to my parents for comfort, thinking that they and my two brothers would be supportive of this. We got through the time that I was partying all night, getting tattoos and smoked some weed out of my window. I mean, we would be able to handle this right?
But my parents kicked me out when I told them I was pregnant and I was going to keep the baby. ‘But what about your degree?’ I can still hear my mother say those words, but what was maybe the worst thing, was seeing my brothers turning their backs to me. Their literal backs towards me. ‘You worked so hard and you just got a job as a vet,’ my mom began to yell.
To be fair, I was their only hope. My brothers dropped out of high school and are now sort of working in construction, but they can hardly finish a job ever. My mother never worked  a day in her life and my father was a lawyer. I told them that I could work something out, with a bit of help of them, but my mother just pushed me out of their house and told me to never bother them again, if I was going to have a kid out of wedlock.
So I had to do it by myself. I had to find a place for me and the baby to stay, but thankfully Belle was already working at the vet and decided that I needed a bit of help. I could stay with her, even after the baby was born. Belle went with me to the ultrasounds and when I went into labor, she was right there with me.
Belle is Vanessa’s one and only aunt and my best friend. When you get pregnant and not only your boyfriend leaves, your family disappears out of your life, you also notice how many people despise you. My friends from college all of the sudden seemed to have fallen off the earth and never checked in with me.
Now I have a happy six year old, a nice home for the two of us and a baby sitter Belle, who is becoming less and less available, since she has discovered the world of Tinder, because she wants a boyfriend.
I hear the bell ring when I step onto the schoolyard. It doesn’t take long before I see my daughter running towards me. Her baby blue coat is hanging open, her backpack in her hand and a rolled paper in the other. She insisted on wearing her boots to school today, but leave it to her to cover them in mud.
Entirely.
I catch her when she jumps in my arms. ‘I missed you, my lovely lady,’ I say to her.
Vanessa peppers my face with kisses, something she always does when I pick her up from school. I brush the hairs out of her face, including the sweet bangs that she insisted on having. Originally she wanted the same haircut as me from when I was the same age as her, but since I have severe traumas of the bowl cut, I had to spare her that and opt for some sweet thin bangs.
‘Mommy,’ she says, ‘I missed you a lot.’
‘Well, you want to go to the store, so we can buy some cookies?’ I ask her. ‘And maybe tonight we can order a pizza.’
‘Yes, yes, yes!’ She gives me a tight hug.
Sometimes I doubt my parenting skills, especially when I look around the schoolyard. I watch those mothers who are housewives, with very handsome husbands and kids that always look formidable and put together and probably only eat fatty snacks on their birthdays. Sometimes I wished I had that: a husband, a man that Vanessa could look up to.
I figured that when my ex Wesley couldn’t provide that, my brothers and father would step in and treat my daughter like they treated me: a princess.
Now I have to do that myself.
It can be tiring, being both the mother and the father for Vanessa, but if I could turn back time, I’d do it all over again.
With Vanessa’s tiny hand in mine, we walk towards the store, to buy some cookies that I desperately craved the entire day I was at work.
Vanessa looks a lot like me. She’s basically my clone. People often stop us, simply to tell us that Vanessa is like a miniature version of me. I always like compliments about my daughter. I mean, she is my world.
When we arrive at home, I help her change into something more comfy. ‘Mommy, can we please have a pajama night?’ Vanessa asks, while I help her out of her dress.
‘It’s four in the afternoon,’ I say, knowing exactly what she wants. ‘You want to wait two hours before you wear your pajamas?’
Vanessa shakes her head. ‘No, I want to wear my pjs now.’ Her bright smile nearly lights up the room. I watch her nose scrunch up as the corners of her mouth curl up, the only trait that she inherited from her biological father. ‘Are you going to wear yours too?’
I don’t have anywhere to go and besides, after all popping all those anal glands today, I desperately want to get out of these clothes. ‘Yes, sweetie, I’m going to wear mine too, but first I’m going to take a shower.’
‘No bath, mommy? Because I like baths.’ Her dark brown eyes start to gleam with enthusiasm. ‘Please, mommy, please.’ She pouts, knowing damn well I can’t say no to that.
≫≫≪≪
The second Vanessa is in bed, I have some time for myself. I love every second we get to spend together, but it’s nice to have a breather every now and then. I stare at my arms, to see how Vanessa has colored in my tattoos. She’s obsessed with them and when she’s in school, she sometimes tries to draw them on her own arms by memory, sometimes even drawing on others when they want to. A few weeks ago, her teacher asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. ‘Well, I want to be two things,’ Vanessa told her. ‘Like my mommy I want to be a vet, because I love animals, but I also want to draw tattoos on people.’
I sit up straight, looking at the drawing she made me today in school. She always makes drawings for me, but they are always the same. She draws a house, with me in it and herself. And outside she draws a dog and a man, with suitcases and moving boxes next to them. ‘Because,’ she explains every single time, ‘one day you meet a nice man who has a dog and he can become my new daddy. A daddy that does want me.’
Belle didn’t agree on me telling Vanessa her real dad didn’t want her, but I figured she needed to know the truth. Her biological father is a low life that disappeared into thin air and didn’t want to be involved in her life.
Vanessa understood, to the extent that was possible, but she really wants a dad, preferably one with a dog. Though she keeps pushing me, I can’t start dating again. Vanessa is the most important person in the world and men simply don’t fit into this—in my head—perfect picture. Vanessa is my life and men are big fat losers, so I don’t need them. I don’t want them, because the chance of them getting tired of maybe me, maybe Vanessa and leaving, is something I can’t risk.
Vanessa already lost her real father, what if a man that becomes really important to her, leaves too?
At around eleven I drag myself to bed, placing my work phone beside me. I hate being on call, but like I told Belle, I didn’t have a call in months, so I think I’m good.
I’m dreaming about Keanu Reeves (the only man on earth that I’d break my no man ban for) and how he takes me out on a lovely date, has Vanessa on his lap and helps her to cut her food, when the phone starts to ring.
‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ I mutter, before I click on my nightlight. It’s three in the fucking morning. I don’t want this. ‘Animal Clinic Westside, doctor Olivia Tran, how may I help you?’ I say when I pick up the phone.
‘Hello, I’m terribly sorry for calling at this hour, but my dog is vomiting and I see some blood in it.’ Oh, poor man, he sounds so panicked. ‘He collapsed and is breathing really heavily and I don’t know what to do.’
I sit up straight in bed and rub my eyes, as I try to be as alert as I can on this early morning. ‘Sir, it’s okay. Did your dog eat anything out of the ordinary today?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘You think it’s possible for you to come to the clinic? I’d like to see the dog.’
‘Of course, of course.’ The man on the other side of the line has such a lovely and deep voice. He could become a voice actor or a narrator like Morgan Freeman. If liquid gold had a voice, it would sound like this.
‘I hope it’s not too much to ask, but could you take some of the vomit with you? Especially the part with some blood. I’d like to check it.’
‘I’ll bring it with me, of course.’
‘What kind of breed is your dog, sir?’ I ask, while writing it all down on a piece of paper.
‘An American Akita. His name is Kal.’
I don’t think he ever went to our clinic, I think to myself.
‘I’ll be at the clinic in about forty minutes, mister…’ I say, hoping that this man will say his name.
‘Cavill,’ he quickly says. ‘And I can be at the clinic in about an hour.’
That name does sound kind of familiar though, but I could’ve sworn that this man isn’t in our database. Maybe I went to college with him or to high school?
After we hang up the phone, I quickly get out of bed. I opt for a pair of tight fitted black leggings and an oversized sweater (after I put on a bra, because who knows mister Cavill is handsome and my nipples don’t want to keep that a secret) and I slip on some white sneakers. I put my hair into a bun. I freeze when I’m moisturizing my face.
I kind of forgot I had a daughter. I don’t like the idea of bringing Vanessa with me, especially since it’s three in the morning and she’s asleep, but then I realize that tomorrow it’s Saturday. Plenty of time for her to catch up on her sleep and plenty of time for me to feel less guilty about dragging her out of her dreams.
‘Sweetie,’ I whisper, when I gently wake her up. ‘Mommy has to go to the clinic, but you can’t stay at aunt Belle tonight, so you’re going with me to work.’
Vanessa was a groggy mess when I nudged her awake, but when she realizes she can go with me to work, her eyes light up. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, someone has a sick doggy, that needs to be taken care of.’
She gets up out of her bed and I help her with her socks, though she is perfectly capable of doing so herself. ‘You’re gonna save a doggy?’ Vanessa asks.
‘I’m going to try.’
I hand her a thick vest and while she puts it on, she says: ‘You’re a hero, mommy.’
With a smile on my face, I softly pinch her cheek. ‘I guess I am.’
Taglist: @thelastsock​ // @flhorah​ // @sausagefest1996​ // @laufeysodinson​ // @xxxkatxo​ // @memoriesat30​ // @henrythickcavill​ // @crimsonrae​ // @henryobsessed // @madbaddic7ed​ // @summersong69​
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thetravelerwrites · 4 years
Text
Geteb (Troll) Lemon
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Rating: Explicit Relationship: Male Troll/Non-Binary Reader Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Troll, Non-Binary Reader, Reader Insert Content Warning: Speech Disorders, Dysarthria, Stuttering Words: 2741
A commission for @mxnsterbabe​​! After getting sick from drinking contaminated water, the reader comes home to find the plumber fixing the water problem. Please reblog and leave feedback!
The Traveler's Masterlist
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Moving to Willowridge hadn’t been your first option, but it was the only one that made financial sense. You were going to school at E.U. for business management, but Coleville was just too expensive, even living in the dorms, so you transferred to the Willowridge campus. There was an apartment complex with plenty of studio apartments for the college kids, and you rented the only ground floor apartment they had left. There was a trade-off, of course. You didn’t have to climb up and down seven flights of stairs every day because the elevator was perpetually broken, but you did hear every argument, party, and session of loud sex your neighbors decided to have.
Well, college life was college life, regardless of where you lived.
The only real problem was that the water was an odd color and tasted funny, and before your first day in your new place was over, you were in the hospital for suspected salmonella poisoning. You were in the hospital for over two days, and when you were released, there was a large stranger in your apartment, looking under your kitchen sink.
“Excuse me,” You said in alarm.
The stranger jumped and hit his head on the cabinet, swearing and dropping a wrench. He stood up, and you could see he was wearing a workman’s jumpsuit. You were suddenly confronted with a solid wall of man, easily seven feet tall, with a broad… everything. He was a troll, you realized, and judging from the dusty, pebbly texture of his skin to the tusks jutting out from his lower jaw to the hair like green moss that curled around his ears, he was a field troll.
Trolls were distantly related to orcs, though they didn’t have the same warrior culture as orcs did, if you recalled correctly. They were typically creatures of nature, keeping to the forests and mountains, often seen as slow or stupid. You weren’t sure if those claims were true or not. You’d met a few before, and they seemed normal to you.
“Sorry,” He said very slowly, his voice deep. “Are you… the one… that… got sick?”
“Yes,” You replied, coming inside the apartment but leaving the door open. “And who are you?”
“Sorry,” He repeated. “I’m Geteb. I’m the… plumber… for the building. I came to… fix the pipes.”
“Oh,” You said. “What was wrong with them?”
“The pipe… that p--pulls water…. from the city… broke… and street water… got in it,” He replied in the same slow cadence. “That’s why you… got sick. Your apartment is… the first in the line. When you… got s--sick, we shut it… off. We only just now… turned it back on.”
“Well, I guess it’s good no one else got sick, then,” You said, trying not to come across as bitter.
“I’m sorry… you did,” He said solemnly, though it was an odd sound, like a puppy whimpering after being scolded. “I… b--brought you… clean water.” He pointed to several jugs of water that were stacked along the wall in the kitchen area.
You nodded numbly. “Oh.”
“Just in case. We’re flushing… the system… now. I was just… checking the water… in the tap… to make sure it’s clean.” He held up a cotton swab that was inside a tube. “It’s a test, see? If it’s blue… then it’s con…” He stopped and struggled with the word. “Co... conta…taminated. But it’s not, see!” He held out the test swab for you to inspect. “So it’s all safe. But you should… drink the jug water… just in case.”
“Okay,” You said tiredly. “Well, if you’re done, I’d like to lie down. I still don’t feel very well.”
“Oh, okay,” He said, picking up his tools. “I hope you… feel better… soon. Call the front office… if anything is wrong… and I’ll come back… and fix it… any time.”
“Sure,” You said, ushering him out of the door.
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You spent the next couple of days in bed, unable to eat. You managed a few sips of tea, but there wasn’t much else that your stomach could tolerate. As suggested, you drank the water from the jugs that Geteb had brought, but mostly because you just didn’t trust the tap water anymore.
Three days afterward, when you were finally starting to feel better, there was a knock at the door. Geteb was standing there in his work clothes with three more jugs of water in each fist.
“I brought you… m--more water,” He said.
“Oh,” You said in surprise. “Okay. Uh, bring them in.”
You stepped aside and let Geteb in, who had to duck to clear the doorframe.
“I’m sorry if I was rude the other day,” You told him. “I didn’t even really thank you.”
“It’s okay! I understand!” He replied. “You felt bad. I’m cranky… when I feel bad… too.”
“I just hope I’m well enough to continue classes next week,” You said.
He chuckled. “School was fun. I remember college. Lots of parties.”
He seemed to be better at speaking short sentences. “You went to college?” You said in surprise.
“Yes,” He said reproachfully, looking hurt. “I know… I’m not that smart… but I’m s--smarter… than people think. Just because… I’m big… and I talk slow… and I have trouble… with big words… it doesn’t mean… I’m stupid.”
Horrified, you said, “Oh, no, I didn’t mean…” But then you stopped. That’s exactly what you meant, and you knew it. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for, and I apologize.”
His frown melted, and he smiled. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.”
“What did you get your degree in?”
“S--struc…tural engin…eering.”
“Oh, wow,” You said. “That’s really impressive.”
He chuckled again. “Lots of people… don’t believe me… when I tell them… I h--have a… Bachelor’s degree.”
“Well, they’re idiots,” You said. “Listen, can I buy you a drink? To thank you and make up for being a rude asshole.”
His face lit up. God, he reminded you of a puppy. “Okay! I’d like to. I should… change clothes, I’m really dirty.”
“Aren’t you still on the clock?” You asked.
He stopped and thought about it. “Oh. Yeah. Later then?”
It was your turn to chuckle. “Later then.”
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He met you after work at a local college pub and you bought him a round. Well, a pitcher for him. He had big hands.
“So, I don’t want to offend you, and I’m trying hard not to be an asshole, but can I ask something?”
“You… want to know… why I… talk so slow?” He asked with a patient smile.
“Yeah,” You replied hesitantly. “I’ve seen other trolls and they don’t talk like you do.”
“I have… dysarthria,” He said. “I had a… really bad ear… infection… when I was… s--seven… and it turned into… men…ingitus… and caused… a stroke. I was… in… a coma for… a while after.”
“Oh, god,” You breathed. “I had no idea you could have a stroke from an ear infection.”
“It’s rare,” He said. “I’m special… like that, I guess.”
You smiled at him. “How long were you in school?”
“The standard… four years,” He replied. “And then another… four years… app…p--prentice for the… plumbing job. T--that’s a long time… for people… to still think… I’m stupid.” He didn’t seem angry about it, just resigned.
“You’re definitely not stupid, Geteb,” You told him.
“It’s not just… the talking,” He said, gesturing at his mouth. “People… look down on… labor jobs. Just because… we work with… our hands… and get d--dirty… doesn’t make it… less… of a skill.”
“You’re absolutely right,” You replied sadly. “And it’s a shame people are like that.”
“You’re not… like that, are you?” He asked you.
“No, Geteb, I’m not,” You told him. “My dad was a carpenter. I know all about how difficult working with your hands can be.”
“That’s good,” He said. “Because… I’d like to… take you out again. My treat… this time.”
Your smile widened. “I’d like that very much.”
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You went on several dates with Geteb. Because he was such a big guy, a lot of them were outdoors or in places that were wide open, like museums or aquariums. He liked looking at things and letting you talk, shy about talking in public or around a group of strangers. He was already unusual, and his speech impairment made him stand out even more.
Despite dating for almost a month, he still hadn’t kissed you yet, and you wondered why. You knew he was shy, but you’d been more than affectionate with him, so he had to know you wanted him to. Maybe you’d just have to do it yourself.
At the end of the next date, you said, “Bend down.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s hard to kiss you when you’re way up there,” You said, laughing.
He didn’t laugh. Instead, he sighed heavily.
“Do you not want to kiss me?” You asked him, teasing.
“It’s not that,” He replied seriously. “I do… v--very much… but if I… kiss you… that means… something to me…”
“It means something to me, too, silly,” You said. “It means I like you.”
“It means… more than that… to me.” He asked. “I’m… never going… to be normal… you know that… don’t you? I can’t… fix this.” He gestured at his mouth and head. “Kissing me… after so many dates… means… you’re commit…ting… to that… reality. Are you sure… you can… do that?”
“It’s not like kissing you means we’re getting married, Geteb,” You said, your brow furrowing. “It doesn’t bother me how you talk.”
“It doesn’t… right now,” He said. “But what… about in a… month? Or five? What about… when your friends… say something… or a stranger says something… that makes you… uncomfortable with… the idea… of being… with me. You may be… able… to tolerate it… now, but you… may not… be able to… forever.”
“Geteb, don’t be silly,” You said, frowning. “If someone has something to say about it, I’ll bite their ears off. And if my friends have something to say about it, I’ll get better friends. It’s that simple.”
“For you,” He said, looking away, and you took his face in your hands.
“Has something like that happened before?” You asked.
He frowned and looked at his feet. “I almost… g--got married once,” He told you. “I bought… the ring and… everything… but b--before… I could ask her… w--we got in a fight… she said… she always ha--hated… how I talked. After we… calmed down… s--she said… she didn’t m--mean it… but that’s all… I could think… about when I… t--talked to her… so I stopped… talking… and we b--broke up…” He sniffled a little. “I still… have the… ring. I couldn’t… bring myself… to return it. I didn’t want p--people… to be sad… for me. I was already… sad enough.”
“I’m so sorry, Geteb,” You said, stroking a thumb down his cheek. “Even if what she said was true, I’m not her. I love the way you talk. I can understand you perfectly fine. All it takes is listening, and I’m more than willing to do that.”
His expression looked so pained. “Are you… sure?”
Instead of answering, you turned the key in the lock of your front door, opened it, and pulled him inside.
“Let me show you,” You said. He gulped and allowed himself to be led.
Inside, you had him sit down on the pull-out couch-bed and sat in his lap. He carefully placed a hand on your lower back, as if testing the waters. You laughed softly and leaned against his body, laying your head on his chest.
“Isn’t this nice?” You asked him.
“Very,” He said, his lips in your hair. Not quite a kiss, was it was contact. “I have missed… holding someone… I have been… lonely… I guess…”
“I’m not surprised,” You said. “That’s kind of what happens when you try to keep people at an arm’s length.”
“I don’t mean to,” He said. “I just don’t… want people… to be hurt… because of me.”
“And you don’t want to get hurt, either,” You said, sitting up and looking at him. “I totally get that, Geteb. That’s a natural reaction when you’ve been hurt. I’ve been hurt too. You think my parents took it well when I told them I was non-binary? Or my boyfriend? Sorry, ex-boyfriend, because he can’t be with someone--excuse me, something--who isn’t a girl, which…” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “I know it’s not the same as having a lifelong, debilitating condition that people don’t understand, I do get that. What I’m saying is that in some ways, I completely understand what you’re going through. And I want to go through it with you.”
“You’re sure?” He asked again.
“Yep,” You said. “You’re stuck with me, pal, like it or not.”
“I like it,” He said, smiling.
“Good,” You said, standing up so that you could be eye level and wrapping your arms around his neck. “I like it, too.” Then you kissed him. It was long and leisurely, not pressing him too hard if he didn’t want to go there yet.
Acceptance is a funny, powerful thing. It gives confidence to the meek, solace to the troubled, and in this instance, it made him very, very aroused. You could feel it the moment you climbed into his lap and straddled him. His hands gripped you more firmly and his kisses deepened. The tip of his large, broad tongue brushed across your lips, and you opened your mouth so that he could slip it inside, tangling with your own.
You kissed down his body, opening the button-up shirt and pulling it out of his pants. His jeans were tented, and you thought it might be painful, so you popped the button and unzipped the sipper, stroking him through his underwear, and he moaned.
“You don’t… have to…” He said between gasps.
“I want to,” You said, kneeling down. You opened the slit in his underwear and freed him, swirling your tongue around him. He grunted and his hips bucked upward involuntarily.
“It’s been… a long time…” He said. “I’m a… little… sensitive…”
“I’ll be gentle,” You said, and pulled him slowly into your mouth. A long groan of satisfaction issued from him, and you figured you were doing alright.
It didn’t take long before he was writhing under your touch, panting and gasping. He was throbbing inside your mouth, but before he came, he lay a hand on your shoulder to stop you.
“Can you… get undressed… please? I want… to look at you,” He asked, heaving in deep breaths. You obliged, making a little bit of a show of it. He watched you hungrily, and when you were fully nude, he reached out for you. You climbed back into his lap, and he caressed your body, kissing your neck and shoulders. You rose up and positioned him at your entrance and slowly, carefully, slid down on him.
You kissed him deeply as he grasped your hips, bouncing you a little. You braced your hands on his chest and came down harder on him, making your bodies slap together. You threw your head back and he kissed your throat, his tusks poking into the skin, his hand in your hair.
“I’m… close…” He wheezed.
“Me too,” You whimpered, speeding up. You felt the rush of pleasure hit your body just as he abruptly pulled you up and came all over your thighs and his jeans.
“Sorry,” He said as you collapsed onto his chest.
“It’s okay,” You panted. He held you close until you got your breath back. “You can use my mini washing machine to clean your clothes. I don’t have a dryer, though, so you’ll have to stay until they dry. It could take a while.”
“I d--don’t mind,” He said. “I can sleep… on the floor… if that’s okay.”
“I’ll make us a nice pillow fort,” You said. “Good thing it’s the weekend. We can just stay in our fort and order out and be naked the whole time.”
“The best weekend… ever.”
“Yes, it does. And we can do it every weekend from now on. What do you think?”
“I think… that sounds like… heaven.”
You stood up and dragged him to his feet. “Shower first.”
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