#the rational stoic guy breaks down on the inside and you can see it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hhjs · 3 years

Text

love or lack thereof.

pairing — felix x reader

genre / trope — angst, fluff / exes with benefits.

word count — 7.7k

warnings — suggestive, heavy implications, swearing, some making out but no actual r rated stuff but i will say this is suitable for 18 and up audiences.

note — this is unedited, subject to change. spare me lol

There are two sides to every person. The side that you want people to see and the side that you keep to yourself.

You think you've come to discover all those aspects of Lee Felix. Given that he's sweet, unassuming and inexplicably kind to the naked eye but you know, the rising anger in you knows he's only ever been cruel to you.

"Move," you seethe, he moves to let you in but you unintentionally knock your shoulder against his. There's people on the subway, and you hate the way Felix's innocent gaze finds yours for a second and it makes you look like the bad guy.

You feel the disapproving glare of a grandma who has a crumpled catalogue about seasonal pie recipes on her lap, as if she can't believe how much of a cunt you were being to an absolute stranger.

A roll of eyes follows, fishing for your ear phones, if only they knew.

Seeing your ex boyfriend outside of your casual deal hits you with the force of a punch to the gut. But you hid it exceptionally well. Arrogantly jutting your chin upwards. Whilst he cowers beside you, having supposedly caught your sour mood.

To think you had spent an hour with him in a bedroom just formerly...is rather strange. You've been sleeping with him for the past few months now and where it had begun is slightly mysterious to you — was it Chan's birthday party or a clubbing gone wrong one night stand just after Felix had come back to town....? You aren't entirely sure.

Albeit the arrangement is ingrained in your head — what you have with him is a secret strictly kept from your friends who otherwise if even caught air of a mere conversation between you two would invite an influx of queries. This is simple, physical, you don't have time for a relationship, let alone one with him and to mend how utterly lonely you are with someone who hasn't already seen you naked, someone who you couldn't blindly trust, is too much work.

Even though Felix is indubitably affected by your unwavering indifference, something he wasn't used to when you were together because of how giving you were to sate his utterly needy tendencies. Now he feels himself clawing at your hardened exterior in search of just those affections to no actual avail —hurt crossing his eyes when you sneak out of bed without saying goodbye, when days pass and you don't call or text and most importantly, when you're in public and you can't be bothered to spare him as much as a glance. To you, it's nothing more and nothing less. You make it a necessity to keep reminding him.

See you liked to pretend you're a resilient person. That in your heart you really do forgive people and move on.

But he is an exception.

"Did you eat?" He perks up, his voice is small. Careful.

You keep your stoic expression, looking ahead. "No."

Then he blinks, like he usually does when he doesn't understand why you act the way you do. Impolite, communicating only in monosyllables.

Do you really hate him that much?

There's a hoodie pulled over his black hair, longer along the neck,headphones dangling from his neck and his backpack in his hand, he hopes when he holds onto the same railing as you are, that your fingers should brush just a little.

Despite the way you adamantly ignore him, Felix opens his mouth to utter a passing inquiry. Your jaw clenches. And you desperately begin to scan the city map plastered inside to navigate passengers to their destinations.

"Can we...do you want to get something to eat..." He swallows, "together?"

As if he's crazy for even making such a proposition, you look at him once but from the corner of your eye and he thinks that's a lot considering how often you look past him, through him, never at him. You shake your head, giving him a warning stare.

Across from you, his reflection is frowning at your negative response. Still staring at you with a marveling gleam in his eyes, how much you've changed over the past two years just as he has....still takes him by surprise. Suddenly and unexpectedly, his eyes flicker to yours and he finds you staring at his image against the glassed doors. And like a deer caught in headlights, your heart drops to the depths of your stomach.

The announcement above falls deaf to your ears as you exit in a blind rush of sheer panic. Ignoring the biting cold and unfamiliar station. Your stop is still quite far. Maybe you'd have to take the taxi... or walk.

But in the face of all those hassles you sense yourself feeling incredibly relieved...because frankly, you think, you could go to hell and back if gets you away from him.

—

"So you came to tell me you're just gonna give up? Is that it?"

Felix carefully glances at you through his lashes, silently pursing his lips as to convey the answer.

You stare at the speckles of light kissing up his freckled cheeks, his big beaming eyes, a slightly low bridge but rounded tip of his nose paired with a small upturned mouth.

You can't believe you won't see him again.

Whenever he'd catch a break, he'd take the 2 hour bus to town and come see you, meet you and those once in six months meetings alone, to you, compensated for his lengthy absence.

So it couldn't be the distance, you thought, if that were the case he'd have dumped you when he moved to the capital for university.

Felix just doesn't want to be with you anymore.

"You don't get it...." He closes his eyes, as if he doesn't want to see himself saying what he is about to say, you almost don't get the resistance in his tone. The subtle drop of his Adam's apple. "I don't want to hurt you." He starts, "Just think about this rationally... we're so young, what if I find someone else there?"

Someone...else?

Is it that easy to dispose of you? Aren't you enough?

How foolish of you to only ever think of him.

It felt like Felix was kicking you where knew would hurt the most.

Your sardonic laugh is cracked, garbled and it's so fucking embarrassing that you're crying in the middle of a fast food joint, your fries have gone cold. Had you known seeing him this time would be vastly different from usual, you wouldn't have ordered at all. Why didn't he tell you before? Why had he insisted on catching you unawares?

But then again...this isn't about you at all. This is about Lee Felix. This is about him reducing your worth to make room for himself.

Ultimately, you understand, what is worse than not being loved back is being loved by someone who doesn't love you as much as you do them.

"Well I won't stand in your way then,"

You clear your throat,

"Fuck..." you rub your temple, the sadist in you coughing up hysterical laughs. The ache inside your heart at this point has turned into physical pain, cracks fissuring out against its surface and gnawing at the flesh like its being torn apart at the seams.

You should've seen this coming.

Everyone told you and told you you could only drag on an opposites attract sort of relationship for so long before you start to realise how incompatible you are.

Felix has the audacity to reach over and place his fingertips on your knuckles,his eyes are sad, overflowing with pity. It makes you feel small, the way he looks at you, small, sad and abandoned.

What tips you over the edge, however, is how calm he seems, as if he had been precisely planning to dump you for days and months and years while you continue to make a fool out of yourself never have forseen his decision.

There are tears running down your cheeks, abusing your vision with a vicious sting. You bring your sleeve to collect the needless moisture in a sudden rise of temper that is oh so typical of you.

You snatch your hand away from his touch.

"Don't touch me." You say, the simple comment transfers pain to Felix's eyes, mouth parting in silent words. You want to scream at him, you want to shake him by the collar and tell say something, just say anything at all and I will forgive you. Goddamnit.

In a perfect world, you think, a world where things happened exactly the way they should, you wouldn't have said, instead,

"And don't you fucking dare come back here...ever again."

And...in that very perfect world, he would've listened.

—

Felix thinks he could, dare he say, love everything about you. Even though you most certainly deserve someone who hasn't hurt you the way he has.

Now it's funny actually, how the tables have turned...back then, he wasn't sure about you and now you aren't about him.

Felix doesn't really blame you though...because he knows he asked for it.

Your presence in his life has somehow become an absolute necessity to say the least. And ironically enough, while he had so confidently pushed you to let go of him, he realises he had been holding onto you all along.

Now what was he saying...again?

Right. Felix loves everything about you.

But what he loves most...is the way your hand instinctively finds his heart when you're kissing. It's just a simple movement of your fingers splaying against his chest, the warmth of them seeping through the fabric of his shirt. He doesn't even know why it means so much to him.

His hand drops from your ass to the back of your thighs to situate you closer to his chest. He moans into the kiss when your teeth comes to scrape against his bottom lip, your ministrations are typically rough and speedy but he is seemingly far too absorbed by the exhilarating feeling coursing throughout his entire form — it's not just blatant lust, he knows, but a much deeper understanding that he is inexplicably gladdened by the fact that he's touching you and you're touching him.

A shaky breath leaves Felix's parted lips as he cranes his neck to allow your lingering kisses to shift along his angular jaw.

Then without quite meaning to, his vision focuses on the table clock that reads it's well past midnight...you had run late tonight for reasons you neglected to disclose. Now that he really focuses, a strong musky fragrance akin to unfamiliar men's cologne wafts up his nostrils.

It couldn't be....

As Felix's suspicions run deeper, he restlessly begins to search up every aspect of his surroundings as best as he can in the limited provision of light. There is a large coat discarded on his bed, one he hasn't seen you wear before...then again it might not be yours at all...

You notice how he's stopped responding to you, so you pause, leaning back, still on his lap. "Is something the matter?"

Felix swallows, blinking up innocently at you. This deal is simple, isn't it? He knew what he was getting into the first time you got together and the second and the third and so on, so why had the possibility of you getting involved with someone else even bother him then?

Both of you knew why.

And what's worse is that Felix is sensitive by nature, never truly succeeding to hide his emotions, especially intense ones when faced with them. So he is hyper aware of the fact that what he is feeling in the moment is not jealousy, it's neither anger nor resentment but a deep seated insecurity that he will lose you.

Again.

"Were you...with someone?"

As expected, your hands resign from cupping his face, you avoid looking at him.

"What?"

Felix clears his throat, his accent thicker, voice heavy from disuse. He thinks about something being with you in the same way only he has...and it causes a dull ache inside his chest.

He rests his head back against the sofa and shrugs lazily. As if to prove a point, as if to say did he touch you here? his fingers ride up your t shirt, gently cupping your ribs, he tries not to look too satisfied when you quiver under the touch.

Still you lift yourself up and the sudden lack of contact almost makes him whine.

You stand before him. A hand at your hip.

"Why are you acting like this?" You say and he notes you sound more... curious than annoyed. Though what frustrates him is that you hadn't answered his question. "I thought I made myself clear...there are rules we agreed upon."

Oh he knows — no staying over, no personal questions, no jealousy.

Felix purses his lips. The downside of your forwardness, the same utterly admirable trait he finds really fucking hot, the one that conditions you to tell Minho off when he hogs all of Felix's brownies though the latter himself is too much of a pushover to say anything, the same one which had in times of recurring doubtfulness assured him of your strong feelings towards him, is that you say whatever comes to mind without sparing anyone's feelings.

"I'm just asking, [........]," he lies, trying to control the pain from projecting itself onto his voice. It hurts to see the way you jump to defend yourself around him, as though you're scared he'll hurt you again. The lack of faith you have him, after all this time, causes him hurt. "Why are you getting so upset...."

Felix is gentle. Communicating his feelings through his actions rather than words, cooly, slowly. And you are the exact opposite — there is an immediacy in your conveyance, a roughness. You mean what you say and you say what you mean so you think everyone does too. Which is why, he concludes, his present actions are insufficient to remove the seeds of resentment he'd left in the wake of his bitter utterances when you broke up.

But Felix was only 18 then, a kid completely unaware of his overwhelming need to have you in his life....what matters is, he's trying...he really is, to recover from his mistakes......shouldn't that least matter?

Thinking the slight inhibition in his tone is just a figment of your imagination and that he is simply and indifferently inquiring you, you feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you. Then you drop down on the bed, feeling for his remote.

You sniff through your nose and against your better judgement say, "I went out with an acquaintance,"

On weekends Chan usually wasn't home, you could come over. This is the routine, it has been for some time now...so, you've come to know Felix's room more intimately than your own, the walls are a deep blue, like the kind of blue out of a Holly Warburton painting. There's an old Coldplay poster on the back of his door and X-Men action figures from eons ago lined on the edges of his bookshelf.

You know where everything goes when though it's dark. But that doesn't mean anything.

It shouldn't.

"A acquaintance who gave you their coat midwinter...you must be close,"

You ignore his pointed comment, he ignores the way your eyes light up when you talk about this acquaintance.

"He's nice." You say, "He walked me to the station and everything."

A happy hum comes in response.

Because when was the last time you talked to him as freely as you are?

Felix plops down on his stomach beside you, elevating his form on his elbows. His fingers come to brush loose strands out of your eyes. Your gaze meets his for the second time that week. Slower. As if you hadn't minded looking him this time. He feels his heart being tugged at all possible angles.

Then, because he can't stop himself — he leans down and kisses you, tentative and indolent, like he has all the time in the world, like all he wants to do is kiss. Don't get him wrong...you've done downright unspeakable things with him, to him...but nothing mediates his adoration for you without the employment of speech like these little chaste...purposeless movements. His fingers coming to splay against your neck, thumbing along your throat when you gulp, the tip of your nose brushing against his cheekbone, eyes fluttering shut. They're...they're intimate. Utterly special. He knows you feel it too, from the way you look slightly surprised, searching his face, eyes skimming up any fragment of emotion conveyed in his features. But you don't encourage it, slowly shifting to turn your back as you lay quietly against his chest.

"Let me stay here tonight," you say, "I'm tired."

"Okay,"

Felix thinks you've broken not one, but two rules now. He hadn't expected you to answer. He hadn't expected you to get into bed with no intention of departing either.

Though he doesn't hold it against you, this is what he wants, for you to open up to him again...after all. These changes can't be bad changes, even if they are little, it's still progress...right?

—

You wet your fingers, dipping the moistened muscle against the clay mold. All around you is not as eerily quite as it is in your apartment, footsteps thrumming against hardwood floor, kiddish humming from the kitchen, the smell of sugar in the air, you've never worked outside of your home station and well...in class. You thought of yourself as a self sufficient individualist, you liked to believe that you didn't enjoy other people's company like you did your own, with the exception of your roommate. But that's only since you aren't close enough for her to disturb you.

Yet with Soomi moved out for good, the place felt...odd to stay by yourself.

So you found yourself spending more and more time at Felix's. It's nice to have a place to crash in every now and then, the sex is great and when you get hungry after, you don't have to think twice about scouring the fridge.

You don't know why you put off spending time aside from sleeping together at all, more time spent didn't necessarily add to your deal or subtract from it....because the action itself doesn't really mean anything. Everyone gets tired of being alone at some point. That's a universal fact.

Initially, you told yourself your presence was a consequence of Chan catching you two in the shower one night...so now that the cat's out of the bag, you two figured his place could become the only premise you didn't have to play pretend in. You both knew the elder would be more than willing to keep the younger's secret even if he didn't exactly approve of it.

With the increased frequency of your visits, bits and pieces of you remain dispersed all throughout the apartment, your body wash in his bathroom, your underwear in his laundry, the smell of you in his sheets, on his clothes. You had relaxed yourself through the periphery of his life and he had small glimpses of yours, habits and flaws, unknowingly...or knowingly....whatever. — Felix could only thank God that Chan had found out, in spite of the revelation itself putting you both in a compromising position.

With time, he starts to keep a few secrets from you too, here and there, knowing that if you knew you will stop doing it altogether. He can't have that...

You throw a leg around his hip when you're fast asleep, flinging an arm not a second later to cage him in your warm embrace. Felix likes the way your chest rises and falls against his back, how your breath tickles his skin and your mouth parts against his shoulder blade. Sometimes he stays awake and waits for you to do it, then when you do, he grins so hard his face hurts a little. Felix likes being the little spoon.

"Are you listening?"

His vision narrows down to the sight of you holding out your palms in the air, there's wet clay on them, as well on your cheek and legs, between them your pottery wheel is halted to desuetude, there's old newspapers layering the floorboard to prevent staining.

"Sorry...," he smiles sheepishly, "What did you say?"

It's your turn to shift your gaze to your feet. Felix thinks it's highly uncharacteristic, the way you seem almost...shy?

"Can you..." You eye the mug mounted on his study desk, he catches onto your request easily, "I'm thirsty—"

"Yeah yeah hold on... careful," Felix chirps, carefully guiding the rim to your lips to make sure it doesn't spill. He uses the tip of his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth, you flinch first but then whilst the mild shock subsides, simply stare up at him as the pad of his thumb brushes against your skin. "There you go..." he trails, eyes bright with care.

You feel like a child being doted on, the mere emotion plunging you back to when you were 5 and had crushes on boys who shared skittles with you.

"Thanks."

Felix's ears perk up at the courtesy, you were never one to express yourself easily and when you did, every time, he felt inexplicably delighted.

The apples of your cheeks feel hot for some reason, by putting yourselves in in these small situations, you keep confusing him, you know, because you keep confusing yourself too.

You come out again that night but this time Bang Chan is shifting around in the kitchen. He hardly sleeps, you observe, but probably refusing to come out because he wanted to avoid bumping into you.

Chan doesn't seem to like you very much. Probably. You don't blame him. Before you came along, Felix and he spent more time together, now you had become a constant in his life without will.

You have to listen twice to realise he's speaking with you. Not an invisible being behind you.

"What?"

"I said..." His tone dropped dangerously low, he looks annoyed at something. "Listen I don't care what you're doing but don't hurt him." He's wearing a black t shirt and a pair of pajama shorts with cartoon wolves littered all across the baby blue fabric. He's trying to appear intimidating. It's not really working.

You stifle a laugh.

Frankly had you not known how deeply he cared for Felix, you'd not have cared about his advice. Or warning....?

"Fine," you respond, watching as the tension visibly left his body with one bating breath. "I hope this isn't about me stealing your yoghurt though."

"It's a little about stealing my yoghurt," he jokes, you think he's one of those people who'd apologise if you punched them in the face and spat in their drink. It's interesting...

Chan laughs a little. His eyes sparking with amusement for the first time of all the times he's looked at you. Did he trust your word that much?

—

"He talks about you a lot you know,"

You nearly spit out your drink. Seungmin isn't exactly the densest guy you know. Far from it exactly and he isn't discreet either. So your first instinct is to think he knows something.

You watch Felix from a distance, a solo cup in hand, he's laughing at something Hyunjin said, there's a crinkle along the bridge of his nose and his upper lip curls upwards to reveal his teeth. In reality, in everyone's eyes, your lives are separate. They walk on eggshells around you still...you assure yourself there's no way anyone could've guessed.

So you play dumb, glugging the whiskey into your cup. It spills around the edges, landing on the semi-lit neon counter.

"Who?"

Seungmin blinks at you. An unreadable expression on his face.

"Jisung." He says, "Who else?"

You feel yourself getting less excited, the breath you were unconsciously holding passing your entire form. Jisung is the newest addition to your life, a performing arts student who offered to portrait model for a project you'd been given in class. He's cute, forward, which you like a lot. And you notice whilst using him for inspiration, that he looks at you just as attentively as you had at him.

Only for different reasons.

Jisung asks for your number. You say yes. Half-heartedly. Though at the forefront of your mind you keep comparing everyone to the guy you go home to ever so often, you pick out their flaws and their perfections and you think to yourself he isn't like this, he is like this.

"Yeah?" You pose, sipping and wincing. "What did he say?"

"Just the usual stuff...." Seungmin tilts his head, he's not drinking tonight because he has an exam tomorrow. You think it's a little funny that he's carrying around water in a solo cup. "But I can tell he has the hots for you,"

You laugh this time. That's no surprise to you. "Well he's not so bad himself."

Seungmin narrows his eyes, shooting you a suspicious look.

"Of course you'd say that...." He taunts, "Heard you guys hung out...how was that by the way?"

"It was alright. Sort of just...happened. We bumped into each other and he offered to buy me dinner."

"And you...said yes?"

You give him a blank look, sarcasm dripping from your monotonous sentences, how else would you have spent time together?

"No, I didn't, Seungmin,"

The owner of the name rolls his eyes at your satirical comment, "No need to be mean, I'm just a little surprised is all."

"Surprised?"

You raise an eyebrow, Felix is still in your line of sight, it looks like he's stalling, waiting for your conversation to end so you could leave. He glances at you a few times and you quickly text him a 5 more minutes. "Why's that?"

"Cause every time you start to have feelings for someone, you take one step forward and ten steps back," he points out, "Think about it...you haven't been in like an....actual relationship after...well, you know," he postulates.

You glare at Seungmin, your pride somewhat injured.

"Hey! I've....dated."

"No....you slept around with people, that's not the same as dating." He retorts.

You snort.

Wouldn't you know.

Minho changes an upbeat pop song to something mellow. It's in a foreign language...maybe Spanish, you understand nothing but you don't have to to know it's a sad tune, the lyrics coming together in a melancholic harmony. Your eyes drift away, you feel your attention falter.

It was not unknown for you to have absolute control over your life, be it living your days by strict routine or building such a sturdy pretentious armour around yourself so that your organic self remained unscathed underneath. You had learnt the hard way that being yourself in front of other people would only bring you hurt...but if no one really knew you, no one could hurt you.

This game of hide and seek had become such a long standing practise in your life that it disconnected who you are from who you pretended to be. And every time the extent of your actual desires, monsters much beyond your control rose to the surface, they brought you shame, disgust.

You found those pretences withering away, the shell of protection around you falling apart whenever the thought of Felix crossed your mind. — his heavy noise of content against your neck, his fingers curling into your sheets, his open mouthed kiss against the arch of your hipbone, everything and anything...you had again, despite all your abrasions, become madly consumed by him.

And you must admit to yourself that you are becoming quite ridiculous because of it.

In this strange moment, you realise you almost need Felix to harp on about you even though you specifically asked him to keep all that you have a secret. You want his friends to come scurrying to you to start telling you that he cares so much he can't keep his mouth shut, to be so enamoured with you that his innermost feelings become painfully apparent, that it's utterly stupid of you to not see how he feels about you.

That's not how it goes though. Stuff like that only happens in movies.

Felix responds, texting, "Take all the time you need." Surprised, you steal a glimpse of him, but only when Seungmin isn't looking. You didn't know what you expected, something more crude, that would give away that he was jumping on the balls of his feet to only get into your pants, that would remind you that Felix is nothing but your fuck buddy. You find that you always look for reasons to resent him....because if you did, it meant that you didn't have to acknowledge how you're still in love with him.

You knew what you were in for. And hoping, wanting something more....is no more than wishful thinking.

Felix smiles at you, a genial smile, a simple curve along the corner of his lips which conveys patience, but also something deeper, like...understanding.

Again no matter how much you pushed him away he seemed to find his way back to you in some fashion, just to convey that your union is not all as black and white as you told yourself it was.

You down the entire drink in one swig. Seungmin makes a face at you, the kind he makes when you stick your fries in ice cream for shits and giggles,

"Well....we broke up a long time ago," You hiss at the awful taste stinging your throat, sounding slightly angry. You can't believe it matters still, but when you've been clutching onto something for too long, be it a painful emotion or a memory...you start to think it's the locus of your life, an integral part of you. It terrifies you to think who you'd become without it — vulnerable, malleable, sensitive.

You can't do that again.

The last few weeks, regardless of how good they were, didn't change a thing.

It couldn't. You wouldn't let it.

Seungmin is right, you think, you are taking ten steps back. Just not in the context he thought.

"There's no reason I shouldn't start now."

—

Turns out there is a reason.

Jisung asks you out the next day. He's so friendly that you feel overwhelmed. At all times of the day, he dresses like a frat boy out on his morning jog. A nike running shirt and loose fitted trousers, a baseball cap worn the other way around...it's a little silly.

You don't mind it, having the kind of apathy you would have towards someone you don't know very well.

Everything with him feels new, awkward. But also slightly exciting. He talks too much when he's nervous and you notice that he's almost always nervous because of your personality, as though he can't really put a finger on you and doesn't know what to do about it. Besides...he’s not a horrible kisser either, you muse, he just doesn’t know what you want.

Yet whenever you heard yourself thinking those compliments, you couldn't help but feel utterly guilty, a strangely deep seated feeling that you were doing something wrong.

Why did you feel this way....

Felix isn't your boyfriend anymore. You don't owe him any form of loyalty. You knew that. You're someone who sticks to their gut feelings and your gut had decided that something about seeing Jisung didn't feel right and not just because of Felix, but because you're not interested in a relationship just yet. And you're sure he could tell you aren't, he shouldn't quite expect a call back anytime soon.

"I had a nice time," you say, because it's true. He took you out for ice cream and bought you candy floss when you stared at it for too long.

When Jisung doesn't respond for a hot minute, you follow his trail of vision, which instead of focusing on you, has shifted to the semi-lit backdrop of your apartment. He's too obvious.

"Do...you want to come in?"

He flounders a little at your suggestion, embarrassed. "Would that be alright?....if I did...."

"That depends, are you gonna kill me?"

You say with a straight face. No matter much Jisung prodded at your exterior, you wouldn't budge, like you usually hadn't. Unravelling isn't really your thing so....he can't tell if you're kidding or not.

"No...?"

You snort, "Why do you sound so unsure?"

Jisung's face has grown impossibly red, he could feel his ears burning in indescribable shame. You just have this air about you that makes you incredibly hard to read and it's really attractive.

"I....I didn't..."

You keep your voice, steady, calm, "Relax," "I'm just screwing with you," you say, stepping aside for him to enter, "Make yourself at home."

—

You suppose you were born to study the arts.

You never could consider yourself a studious being. When you were in school, you remember falling behind in classes where the arduous process of revising was required, say mathematics or the sciences even.

Though that realisation hadn't come to you naturally.

Your parents wouldn't take kindly to you not taking up a "well paying" profession and you fell victim to the constant barrage of criticisms, of mockery which ultimately conditioned you to think some part of you, a large part just wasn't good enough.

And with Felix gone....

You were at your worst.

The two years you spent without him were the hardest, a set of years that obliged you to protect yourself from all the hurt around you, inside you. And while the security that you provided yourself is undoubtedly necessary for well...anyone, the process itself had its wicked way of rendering you unspeakably lonely.

You agreed to apply as an engineering major to gain your parents' approval and then transferred to the arts department by the time you'd successfully moved out. You haven't spoken to them ever since...and it hurt you more than you would deign to admit.

When your mum drops over for a surprise visit and chances upon your ex-boyfriend loitering about in your kitchen, fixing up midnight munchies, she takes a natural guess that you've gotten back together. (Which you think is far more agreeable than the truth. Knowing your mother, a staunch supporter of your relationship with him, she wouldn't take lightly to your arrangement.) And before you know it, you're all having dinner.

Felix makes an effort to dress up well, discarding his usual hoodies and joggers for a more formal look, you suspect it has something to do with the fact that you haven't attended any casual settings with him since you broke up.

Cutlery clinks against ceramic, coming down with a semi-loud thump as you try to swallow the enormous lump in your throat. Your mum makes a passing jab at you, saying how you had settled for a much "easier" major than say architecture or philosophy, she bitterly mentioned that everything worked out in the end. After all, your choice is a "much fitting" field of study for someone of your caliber, backhandedly insinuating that you're far too stupid to pursue anything else.

What inspires hilarity is how those insults still affected you. In front of Felix, you act like these few years have brought the fighter out in you and here you are trying to blink away the onslaught of tears prickling your vision. It feels like someone stripped you off your skin, off your flesh and picked out all your shortcomings for him to see.

You expect him to stay quiet, you expect him to think of you as the utterly shameful, selfish being you tell yourself you are,

But Felix's fingers find your shaky knuckles under the table where they rest on your knee, he implants the weight of them in a reassuring squeeze. "Well I think it's great," he says instead, smiling cheerfully at your mum. To which she, for the lack of support, sheepishly beams at him, "Not many people have the drive to do what they want to do. Or know what they want to do...take it from me, Missus [.....]" He laughs nonchalantly, the hairs on the back of your neck standing to attention upon hearing the lovely sound. You always liked his laugh, the sound rippling against your naked skin, thick baritone when he'd just woken up and a kiddish falsetto when he's extremely happy.

You wonder when you started paying so much attention.

Felix glances at you, lingering for a long minute."I bet it took a lot of guts."

You feel your chest constrict with a sudden surge of emotion from the mere look, you can't remember if the Felix you knew in the past, or anyone for that matter, had ever beamed at you with such pride.

You wonder what he'd think if he knew about Jisung, why you had neglected to tell him at all....you knew, because this little moment is precious to you and you had no reason to tarnish it. Not when you had time.

You tilt your head, using your free hand to hastily find the back of his neck, drawing closer to him with little strength. The more he realised what you're doing, the more excited he got. See he found your newly introduced public display of affection immensely attractive, though obviously embarassed by the sudden motion...

You can do crazy things sometimes. Really crazy things. In public and he has never opposed to such exhilarating things, be it in restrooms or even in a similar setting when you were dating, there was a certain thrill to it which drove him to the brink of insanity. Felix would silently implode your attention when you were alone and when you were out in the open, in whichever way he was to receive it, the way which insinuated you were his was the best of them all. All that was fine though...because it was just the two of you.

But now...in this indecent time, he wishes he could hear what you're thinking.

Had... had you gone completely mad?! Your mum is looking!

Your face is stoic, Felix's mouth parts, then you reach over and kiss him shamelessly.

Over the years, all the things that have caused you pain were things you had endured on your own, in his absence. This realisation alone invites a heavy conviction inside you.

Because you know it just as well as he does, no matter how sincere he is to you — you don't need Felix. Not really.

But you want him.

—

You do a stupid thing. A stupid endearing thing and Felix's heart beats like it would jump out of his mouth if he opened it.

It was meant to be a secret, what you two have, a matter of uncomplicated lust which didn't require the attention of anyone because it initially or so you put it, wasn't important enough.

Then you charge to him, he supposes it has a little to do with the person who was blatantly flirting him in the middle of Changbin's Halloween party, he doesn't care though.

You don't like embarrassing yourself, so he doesn't actually expect you to wear a black cat hairband matching his white ears and feline tail. Felix wants to think it means something, how despite the coos and the caas, the giant wave of surprise washing over your friends, you interlace your fingers within his and kiss his cheek.

He doesn't what that makes the two of you now... but he would give you all the time in the world to figure that out if it meant you could be his again.

—

You trace your fingers against outline of his face. Splatters of moist moonlight kissing the high rise of his cheeks, dusting along the long fringe of lashes which cast shadows along his skin, his freckles are like dots of bronze dispersed on his skin. He's beautiful like this.

"You're thinking too much," he says with his eyes closed, smiling a little. "Don't think so much."

You laugh. "Or what, huh?"

Felix cracks an eye open, his grin big, kiddish. "I was hoping you'd say that," he rubs the tip of his nose against your collarbone, he snuggles closer to your chest. What you hadn't expected was how he shifted his entire weight onto you, lying entirely atop you as though he were a starfish.

You couldn't stop laughing at the motion, it's so cheesy and gross...you love it.

—

Here's something you don't know — Jisung tells his friends everything, about making out with you and taking you out...everything. News travels fast. Faster than you anticipated. Despite wanting to divulge the matter, you were too taken by the recent shifts in your feelings to confess to your little interaction. You had told yourself again and again — a little later, just a little later and I’ll tell him.

It could be too late now.

The entire campus knew of your little rendezvous, shooting you curious looks... it's not until Minho comes up to verify the floating rumours do you all but sprint to Felix's place. You think of Chan's trusting eyes, of don't hurt him, of laughing in the intimacy of your bedroom and swiping your fingers down his spine like you were trying to commit the undulating design to memory.

You're not sure where it all began.

but you don't want it to end.

Felix doesn't answer your calls or your messages. When he buzzes you up, just from his gait, just from the resigned look in his eyes, you know he knows.

You watch as he listlessly leaves you to enter, walking before you without saying as much as a word.

You grab Felix’s elbow, making him stop in his tracks. He looks at your fingers wrapping around the muscle, shrugging you off easily. It’s just a small gesture but its impact is so large...that you feel your heart break into a million pieces.

You had never seen Felix being so quiet, even when he was down, he found a manner to radiate a form of optimistic energy which baffled you. You can’t believe how much you could have possibly hurt him.

“I can explain.” you gulp, “We went out on one date. It wasn’t because I liked him, I know it’s stupid and...I should’ve told you. I’m sorry, that's not an excuse, but you have to trust me when I say it didn’t...it doesn’t mean anything to me—”

“Did you sleep with him?”

With his back turned away, he still isn’t looking at you, speaking to you with a surprisingly stable tone.

“No.”

Felix takes a shuddering breath, one which expresses the small relief of knowing that Jisung hadn’t seen, touched you, felt you in the way that he only had, but there’s still so much more he wants to know.

“Did he make you laugh?”

It’s a silly question, he realises belatedly but he can’t help it. Some part of him, a large part, thinks he’d be more hurt if you made someone happy and they made you happy than if you fucked them.

You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “He didn’t.”

Your fingers again reach for his, wrapping your index into his thumb. You slowly move your hands to his middle, clutching him close to your chest, chin hooking into his shoulder, suddenly...you feel him melt into the embrace. Felix’s voice falters for the first time, small trembles against you. You’re willing to answer all his queries if it could put his mind at ease. You put your heart on hold for too long.

"Do you hate me...?" He sniffles.

You blink....did you?

Felix had changed, like you, he had matured, the past version of him you had so stubbornly ingrained in your endless inner monologue is not the one you grew all too familiar with...

Familiarity does breed contempt, does it not? Well you think the line between love and contempt is untraceable, melded together as a mysterious whole. After all those years, you were still angry, still filled to the brim with contempt for him and more importantly, yourself because you still love him much more than you'd like to admit. After all you've been through. After all this time. The need to love him ultimately encompassed every other emotion which posed itself as a hindrance.

So the opposite of love, the absence of love, you think, isn't hate, it's indifference. An emotion you never felt towards him.

Felix has wedged himself into every aspect of your life, tainted every portion of your routine in his presence and in his absence.

You don't think you'd have it another way.

"You broke my heart," you explain, "I was angry....but I could never hate you for the sake of hating you."

"I can't..." Felix whispers, twisting his body so he could look at you now, “I can’t promise you that it won’t be hard but I'm not—I’m not going anywhere...you know that right?”

You lean your forehead against his, his eyes shifting to your mouth, hands rising to wrap around your neck. You smile.

“I know.” you say, "Me neither."

“I love you...” He says in a small voice, putting his hand against your knuckles. “Do you love me?”

Your eyes soften, cupping his face like this — carefully collecting a lone tear with your thumb before it could touch his cheek. This time there is not a shred of hesitancy, no pause, no pondering before you say,

“I never stopped.”

—

You enter in a blind rush of panic, thinking you might miss your ride, feet knocking together, elbows hitting elbows, bustling all around you and the sudden overwhelming stench of people hit you, it’s not an ideal setting, not at all actually.

But you couldn’t bother to be displeased a second you spent with him. A teenager rolls her eyes at how disgustingly in love you are, elderly couples tutting under their breath...albeit, you don’t fail to notice their subtle smiles, small shake of their heads which attested to the fact that the joy you both radiate is.. absolutely infectious. You stumble with him behind, Felix is laughing breathlessly, bumping into your chest as the train suddenly starts moving, you place a finger on his cheek and he raises his chin to look at you.

“Did you eat?” he repeats, mocking himself, a dialogue from a time which seems an element of the distant past replaced by a love which compensated for every hitch in your relationship. You still argue, still disagree and still make up the same. Felix was right, it isn’t easy.

But when two people love each other as much as you do,

it’s worth trying. With every fibre of your being.

“No.” You laugh, playing along, “But I could, with you.”

794 notes · View notes

pascalpanic · 3 years

Text

Caffeine Rush: Chapter Five / Double Shot on Ice

W/C: 3.7k

Warnings: physical fighting, mentions of blood/bruises/injuries, pepper spray being used, language ofc, tenderness to the extreme

A/N: hi this is going to be really harsh then very tender, so I hope you like that! I really love this series and I can’t wait for you guys to keep reading :)

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“Javi!” you shriek as Tie Guy gets up, head still spinning but ready to fight. No, you do not want this. Javier defending you was one thing, but you can’t let him be harmed.

Grabbing the man you now consider your boyfriend by the arm, you pull him from the bar, rushing outside into the chilly D.C. night. You wrap your coat tighter around yourself, looking at the man with the most puzzled expression your face can possibly make.

Tie Guy has followed you out. Fuck. The one goddamn night you wear heels, you mentally shame yourself. Even though they aren’t very tall, there’s no way in hell you can run in them. “Let it go, let it go,” you mutter under your breath, begging Javi and silently praying the other man drops it too. It doesn’t work. Tie Guy stalks after you, following you into the parking garage nearby. He’s dead set on Javier. Your plea works until Tie Guy shouts out.

“Hey, you bastard! I’m not finished with you!” he shouts.

Javier spins and drops your arm, handing you his coat and stalking towards the man.

“You wanna be a disrespectful fucking bastard, I’ll keep beating your ass,” Javier threatens.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Tie Guy huffs. “She’s got you so fucking whipped man,” he laughs, pulling Javier right into his trap. “She’s not even-”

Javi steps closer to throw another hit. The man beats him to the punch, quite literally. His fist connects with Javier’s eye, and he stumbles backwards, falling onto his rear end in the gravel. “Yeah, tough guy,” Tie Guy crows, but Javier gets up quickly.

Whitney, your car, is parked right there. You can’t bear to look away, but you know what to do. You run to the car, sliding into the passenger seat and rummaging through your glovebox. While you’re running, you hear another smack: Javier is on the ground, clutching what was his good eye until he got punched in it. Fuck.

Javier is a trained fighter. Tie Guy really doesn’t stand a chance when Javier gets up, rage and adrenaline coursing through his veins from taking two hits to the face. More fists fly, nothing connecting with the proper target. Nails find skin, scratches and scrapes on arms and faces. Javi kicks him in the gut and he falls down but gets up before Javi can keep going,

The timing is perfect. Tie Guy has his back to you, and Javier is a yard or two away from the man. You just need his attention-

In the heat of the moment, you think of the only thing you can throw: you slip off one of your heels and wail it at the man. It connects with the side of his head, which he immediately claps a hand over in the pain. “What the fuck-” Timing is everything, and you have the power. Lifting the lid and releasing the trigger, you pepper spray the man right in the eyes. He wails in agony, falling to his knees and clutching at the excruciating eyeballs.

You nod to your car, and throw the other shoe at the man for good measure. It connects with his balding head, he falls flat on the ground, and you start running towards Whitney in your now bare feet. Javier follows, immediately sliding into the passenger seat.

Now is the time you wish you’d put a little more money into your ride. Whitney sputters to life after a few panicked seconds, and you slam on the gas once your car is shifted in reverse, wasting no time in getting the fuck out of that parking garage. Once you’re on the road, Tie Guy now up on his knees in pain in your rearview mirror, you sigh in relief and shudder as the adrenaline dies down.

Javier’s head is swimming, probably from the intense hit he took to it. He looks over at you, in your disheveled formal gear, and can’t help but laugh. “Damn, abejita. Thought you were just a fluffy little bumblebee. Didn’t know you could sting.”

You giggle from the adrenaline and brake at a stop sign, pulling Javier’s face to yours and kissing him hard. His lip is split, you can taste the blood, but he doesn’t wince in pain so you kiss him harder for a minute, putting all of your energy and gratitude and passion for the man into it.

When he breaks away, he looks down. “You’re driving barefoot.”

“That’s the first fucking thing you have to say to me?” You laugh, though it’s far from offended. You shake your head as the consequences of earlier start to sink in, driving towards Javier’s hotel. “Javi, what the fuck? You didn’t need to throw the first punch, oh my God. He was a douche but you could’ve taken a much different path.”

“It’s the only way he’d learn his lesson,” Javier grumbles, his adrenaline-enhanced state of laughter turning to one of annoyance at being chided. Your expression matches his, wanting to fight back but not wanting to start anything. You just leave it be.

You gasp in realization of something else and go quiet for a moment. You look over at him, the frown breaking, and giggle a little. “Oh fuck. We didn’t pay the tab.”

Javier’s stoic expression breaks and he laughs a little too, the adrenaline still rushing through his system. “We just can’t go back there ever again, I guess.”

“That’s your answer?” You laugh as you look over at him, your heart in your eyes. “God, I love you,” you laugh off-handedly, then a shiver runs through your body, eyes practically bulging from your head. “Oh, fuck,” you murmur, looking over at him with furrowed brows. “I, uh, I didn’t mean to say that.”

Javier just smiles a little, taking one of your hand and tracing your knuckles with his thumb. “It’s okay.”

“I- well, and you don’t have to say it back by the way,” you stumble. “I know I haven’t known you that long, and we’re barely together already, but just everything tonight has me overwhelmed and I’ve never felt that much adrenaline, oh god, I think I meant it but you don’t have to say it back if you don’t want to,” you ramble again and continue, “just… yeah.”

Javier reaches over and presses a kiss to your forehead. “It’s okay,” he repeats and nods, his hand on the back of your head and his fingers softly sinking into your hair in a way that makes you whimper. When he pulls back, he finds your eyes to be round and watering. “What’s wrong?” he asks, brows lowering over those warm eyes.

You gulp, voice quivering when you speak. “That was embarrassing,” you admit with a watery laugh, the tears running down your face. “And that whole thing was so scary, I’ve never even had to use pepper spray, and he beat you up, and-”

“Pull over,” Javier orders and you comply, parking in a nearby spot in front of a store that’s long closed for the night. Your eyes are still slowly dripping and Javier takes both of your hands in his. “You did so good. You did the best possible thing, and I didn’t even have to tell you. Most people wouldn’t have done that.”

You pull one of your hands back and wipe your nose. “That was my favorite pair of shoes.”

It makes Javi crack a smile and a small laugh. “It’s my fault. I’ll buy you a new pair.”

“It’s not your fault,” you backtrack, voice still squeaky from the tears dripping from your eyes. You take in just how rough he looks, arms scratched, lip bleeding, eyes red and bloodshot and likely to bear the brunt of it in the morning. “Javi,” you coo, cupping his face. “Fuck. You’re really beat up.”

He shakes his head. “This is nothing, little bee,” he mumbles and kisses your knuckles. “What matters is that you’re okay. Come on, let’s get to the hotel and get my stuff then I’ll drive the rest of the way.”

With a sniffle, you nod and kiss him one more time. “I think I meant it,” you whisper to him, and he offers you a soft smile before returning back to sitting forward and buckling back into the seat, like you’d insisted he do earlier. He doesn’t ask what you meant. He knows.

On the drive back to Georgetown, Javier holds your hand, and you trace over the scratches and bruises on his knuckles when your eyes aren’t on the road. Traffic out of the city is slow, as nights usually are around this time, everyone flocking in to see the heart of the capital city. Your adrenaline rush is coming down, starting to make you tired and chilly. You look over at Javier and consider that he didn’t say he loved you back. It’s not fair of you, you shake your head and turn back. It’s been a week of knowing each other. He doesn’t have to, especially if he doesn’t feel that way.

The anxiety of Javier never responding to it makes the anxiety swirl through your brain as you drive. From the place you pulled over, it doesn’t take very long for you to arrive at the grand hotel, the warm lights casting a golden glow and radiating warmth. The adrenaline has faded by now, leaving you worn and warm-hearted as the consequences sink in: Javier would fight for you. You’re starting to suspect there aren’t many things he wouldn’t do for you.

You kiss his cheek before he gets out of the car. “I’ll park over here,” you tell him and point to a spot near the door. “That way, when you’re done checking out, you can just dump your stuff in here and we’ll head to my place.

Javier turns your face to his and kisses you softly, his mouth drawn up in a soft smile. “Sounds good, abejita.” He gets out of the car and walks inside, leaving his suit jacket in the car. He loosens his tie as he walks in, the muscles of his back and shoulders visible through his dress shirt. You could get used to that view.

It takes him a little bit; of course it does, you rationalize, since he has to pack up and check out. You rest your head against the window and lock your car, letting your eyes fall shut. You’re not sure if you drift off or not, just that it’s not much longer before there’s a tap at your car window.

You startle as you sit up and open your eyes, finding Javier there, holding his bag and suitcase. You unlock the car and get out, letting him take the driver’s side. He kisses you on the head before putting his things in the backseat. You walk around and get into the passenger side, the ground wet and cold from the December snow melting beneath your bare feet.

The car is cozy and warm compared to the chilly air you just spent a moment in. You gaze over at Javier lovingly as he takes control of the car, backing out of the spot. “You gotta tell me where to go,” he reminds you as he pulls out of the hotel parking lot.

Nuzzling in against the car door, you tell him the directions to your apartment, shivering intermittently. Your eyes slip shut and your arms squeeze around yourself tighter before Javier chuckles. “Here,” he says, reaching into the back and getting his suit jacket, draping it over you. It’s still warm from his body heat, a little muddy on the back from when Tie Guy knocked him down, but it’s the coziest thing you’ve ever had the pleasure of wearing. “Thanks, Hercules,” you tease as you rest your head against the chilled glass.

“Hercules?” He laughs.

“Self-explanatory,” you smile sleepily and shrug beneath his jacket.

When you’re finally at your apartment, you open the door a bit nervously then show him the living room, directly connected to the door. “Voila,” you chuckle and wrap his jacket tighter around yourself, walking inside. “Bathroom and bedroom are to the right, kitchen’s right there,” you inform him, turning to him and shrugging. “Sorry it’s kind of a mess.”

It’s far from a mess, Javier thinks, nothing compared to his place or Steve’s that week he went on a bender. There are houseplants under every window, and the decor is warm and inviting. It’s definitely very you. “It’s not,” he chuckles, setting his briefcase on the couch.

“It is by my standards,” you shrug. “Why don’t we get changed then we’ll ice your eyes?”

“My eyes are fine,” he insists.

“I don’t give a shit if you think they’re fine,” you shrug and pat his cheek lightly, wandering towards your bathroom. Javier follows you in the same direction but goes into your bedroom to change. Inside, you take off your makeup and adjust your hair in the mirror. You change into pajamas and sigh at your exhausted-looking reflection.

When you’re done, you walk into the bedroom to find Javier in sweatpants and shirtless, his back to you. His muscles are defined, moving as he rummages through his bag of belongings. God, he’s strong, and it makes you shiver a little at the sight. You place a hand between his shoulder blades, marveling at the softness and warmth of the skin there.

He jumps at the feeling but melts into your touch, especially as your nimble hands knead his back softly. He sighs at the feeling, cracking his neck and earning a few pops. You press a kiss to the nape of his neck and you can feel his body shiver beneath you.

You swallow hard, wanting to say something but not knowing what. The moment is soft and quiet, and you’re honestly surprised Javier hasn’t made a dry joke yet. That’s how you know he must like you touching him, and it makes you bite your lip to hide a smile. You kiss down his spine until you land between his shoulder blades, then break away and sigh. “I’m going to go get an ice pack for your eyes,” you inform him and give his worn shoulders one last squeeze.

You turn to leave, but Javier catches your waist, turning around himself. He kisses you softly, his hand cupping the side of your face. The heels of his hands are scraped, and you touch your face when he pulls away to find he transferred a little blood there. It doesn’t matter; it was worth it. “And some bandages and rubbing alcohol,” you chuckle, kissing his palm beneath his fingers, making your way to the kitchen.

To access the top shelf, you have to get on your knees on the counter. That’s where Javier finds you a few moments later, grabbing the medical supplies. You turn and sit on the edge, setting the medical supplies to one side while the ice pack sits at the other. You smile as you see him, sighing at the warmth he radiates in his white t-shirt and sweats. “Come here,” you beckon out in a quiet voice, like there’s some soft reverence now that you don’t dare to break.

Javier spreads your legs and stands between them, a hand resting on each thigh. He steals a kiss before you look away to grab the cotton swabs and hydrogen peroxide. You pour a little on the puff and Javier winces at the smell, all too familiar with the sting that’s sure to follow. He lifts his hand without you needing to ask, and you rub the wound softly.

“Fuck,” he grunts, and it’s gone as soon as it started.

“It’s not so bad,” you tease and wipe his other palm, earning a similar reaction. “Do you need me to kiss it better?” you offer sarcastically, raising one eyebrow at him.

“Yes please,” he smirks, and you cup his face as you kiss him, his warm body pressing flush to yours. God, you didn’t realize how cold your apartment was before just now, when the heat Javier seems to endlessly radiate seeps into every ounce of your being.

When you break away, you swallow and look away, desperately avoiding the longing for him you can already feel growing as an ache in your gut. “Bandage time. Give me one,” you say, holding your hand out for his. He rests his palm on yours and you unwrap a thick patch bandage, placing it over the scraped heel. You repeat the motion on the other hand, then kiss his knuckles. “Good as new, right?”

He nods softly, kissing you between your eyebrows. “Thank you, abejita.”

“Any time. Well, no. I don’t want you in any more fights,” you shake your head and laugh, looking down at his thick and worn hands. “Let’s go rest on the couch and ice your face,” you smile, pushing him back and sliding off the counter’s edge.

“I could use you in Colombia with me,” he chuckles, grabbing the ice packs as you set the supplies aside. “You make a much better nurse than the medics we have at the embassy.”

You blow a raspberry into the air, chuckling at the notion. “Just bring me with,” you laugh, leading him to the couch.

Javier takes one of your hands. “I would, but it would be no good for you down there. Too much danger, especially without our protection.”

“And what would that protection entail?” You ask sarcastically, playing into the joke before plopping on the couch.

Javier follows, draping an arm across your shoulder. “I’d have to ask my partner; he’s married, and I’m clearly not so I don’t know. I do know that you would be in harm’s way if I brought you just as my girlfriend. The narcos will fuck around with guys’ girlfriends, their flings, use them as bargaining chips. I’ve seen it happen. But the wives, they get the protection. If a narco fucked with them, they’d be good as dead.”

You nod along, listening. It’s kind of interesting. You have to admit, you don’t know much about what’s going on down there, but it’s fascinating to learn. You’ve always wanted to travel, especially to Latin or South America since you’d studied Spanish all through high school and your time at Georgetown. “Then you’ll have to sign me on as a nurse with the DEA, huh?” You flirt and kiss the tip of his nose.

He doesn’t answer, just laughs, lying back on the couch. “Here,” you say and tell him the ice pack, which he drapes over his eyes.

You snuggle into his side, enjoying the slow and steady heartbeat through his white t-shirt. “You know, we could always just ice it in bed,” you mumble, pressing a kiss to his collarbone innocently, lightly.

He frowns. You can see it. “I’m sleeping on the couch while I’m here.”

“What? You are not sleeping on a couch for a month, Javier,” you insist and sit upright, separating yourself from him.

“I’ve known you for four days. You have your space, and this is it. I’m with you all the damn time anyway. I want to give you some room.” Javier’s words are true, but he really has a deeper meaning. He wants to fuck you. He wants to fucking ravage you until you’re screaming his name, he really does, but the gentleman deep inside tells him he needs to wait. It tells him that he doesn’t want to ruin this, the relationship you’re having. It’s December: almost a new year. He just got a new job. He’s going to be a new Javier. And if he sleeps in the same bed as you, that’s going to make things a hell of a lot more difficult.

The words he speaks are valid. You nod, though you’re only planning to let it slide for one night. “Okay.” You recline back again, against Javier’s chest and into his arms.

Javi knows the couch won’t be comfortable. He’s slept on plenty of them in his day. But if that’s what it will take for the relationship to stay like this, soft and light, he’ll take it. He’d sleep on a couch every night for the rest of his life if it means he gets to have you.

The clock creeps ever closer to midnight as you and Javier lie there, in each other’s arms, his eyes covered by the ice pack. You yawn and Javi realizes the ice pack has turned to slightly chilled water. “I think it’s time for bed, little bee,” he mumbles and sits up, opening his eyes again to find the moonlit apartment, blue with the night’s only light.

You nod and stand, stretching. Javier spots the small strip of skin evident between your top and bottoms, how soft and warm it looks, how much he’d like to kiss and bite it- no. Stop. If he had a squirt bottle, he’d be drenched from how many nos he says in his head.

Javier kisses you softly and follows you to a hall closet, where you grab him extra sheets and blankets, tossing extra pillows into the living room. The two of you make his makeshift bed, a sheet covering the cushions and several fluffy blankets on top of him. “Goodnight, Javi,” you murmur as you squat next to him, seated on the edge, kissing him goodnight.

“Goodnight, abejita,” he murmurs and kisses your forehead.

“Just holler if you need anything, okay?”

“I won’t,” he chuckles. “Go sleep. You need it.

You shake your head and cross your arms, making your way to your bedroom.

When you get in bed, you find yourself the drowsiest you’ve been in quite some time. The sleep you find is good, but you can’t help but think it would be better if Javier was in your bed too. Oh well. That’s a problem for tomorrow night.

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black-dragon1998 · 3 years

Text

Stoic keeper and sick girl chapter 4

Summary: (Y/n) and Lexa tell the team everything and emotions surface.

Also, COVID19 doesn’t exist in this fic!

warnings: Talking about cancer. if this is a trigger don’t read. Everything mentioned is from my own experience as may not apply to everybody.

Talk about past trauma’s and shitty childhood.

part 1 -part 2- part 3

Waking into the dining room you noticed it was still rather empty. The only ones who were already there were Alex, Kelley at one table and Alyssa at another. Alyssa was probably the safer one to sit at. The younger ones would probably want to joke with Kelley and move around a lot, Alyssa most nights stayed at her table and was one of the most rational people on the team.

The blond keeper looked up when you neared with a nervous Lexa. You tried to reassure her with a hand on her shoulder as you let her closer to the table.

“Alyssa I like you to meet Lexa. Lexa this is one of my many good friends, Alyssa Naether. I know she looks scary but she is a big softy inside.” You introduce. Alyssa rolls her eyes at you but introduces herself to the girl. She could see that the girl was relaxed around you.

“it’s nice to meet you, Lexa.” Lexa doesn’t say anything but does give Alyssa a little nod so the keeper took that as a win.

“is it okay if the two of us sit with you? That way she can take off her facemask and eat in peace.” You ask Alyssa, who looks a bit confused at your panicked state. Normally you were far more relaxed with her.

“sure.” She said trying to reassure you with her eyes. If you were freaking out then it has to be pretty serious about what you had to tell or what was going on. The only thing she could do was support you.

“sure.” Alyssa tried to reassure you with her eyes and a kind smile.

“Thanks, Lyss, you’re the best.” You beamed the keeper with your best smile as you put Lexa’s bottle down on the table and lead Lexa toward the food.

“come on Lexa let’s go see if they're in anything you like.” you tried to stay optimistic, you knew how hard it could be to eat when everything you smelled or saw tasted disgusting. Even too today you had days you couldn’t swallow anything and had to fall back on meal replacement shakes.

Throughout the whole buffet, there was nothing Lexa seemed to fancy at the end you sighted, Lexa looked up with a small face.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered under her breath, your heart broke. It wasn’t her fault she wasn’t feeling like eating.

“hey, you don’t have to be sorry about this okay. I will talk with the trainers, normally they have some shakes for me when I don’t feel like eating. I will get you to try one-off those okay. Maybe a cola.” She shakily nods looking down at the floor. Taking her chin between two fingers you make her look up at you.

“say it to me.” Your voice is stern but comforting. You don’t want her to live in the constant fear of disappointing you. You give her an encouraging smile.

“I have nothing to be sorry about.” She told you. Not as confidently as you liked but it was a start. You lead her back to the table and tell her you will be back. Taking her sports bottle with you to fill with some cola.

Alyssa watched as you placed the little girl on the chair in front of her and reassured her that you wouldn’t be gone long. Alyssa had never seen you this tender.

Like the rest of the team, Alyssa had questions, after the end of the game. You had disappeared just after the final whistle had been blown and they had found you thirty minutes in the trainer's locker room with a little kid. When Ali and Christen had tried talking to you, you had given them some very specific orders that the girls couldn’t place. Now seeing the girl in front of her with the face mask and bandana with baseball cap those question only rang louder but they were for later.

“Hey, Lexa.” Alyssa tried to get the girls attention by calling her. Het girl looked up at the keeper with big uncertain eyes.

“Don’t you want anything to eat?” Alyssa asked pointing to her empty plate. All Lexa did was shake her head and look down at the table. Alyssa decided to drop it not wanting until you got back, it was clear you had a connection with the little girl.

The silence in the room was broken when more of the team dripped into the dining room and when more of the younger players it even became rowdy and Lexa flinched at every harsh sound and hoped you would come back fast.

You returned to the dining room with Lexa’s sports bottle filled with cola and one of your shakes. After doing the whole story to Vlatko he had promised to help you with the legal papers and that set up an appointment with your doctor for tomorrow and one for yourself also.

After the whole ordeal, you felled exhausted, all the emotions of the day catching up to you and all you wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep.

Emily spotted you halfway through the room and strode toward you. Like the rest of the team, she had heard about the kid and had seen her with Alyssa. No one of the younger players dared to approach in fear of the older keeper.

“hey (Y/N) how’s the little squirt doing,” Emily asked hoping you would spill something but you weren’t int the mood to talk to anybody.

“buzz off Sonnett.” You growl not being able to contain your frustration and exhaustion. The conversation with Vlatko was a heavy one. Now the stress of getting your blood draw tomorrow was causing extra stress. You had awful veins and you dreaded it.

Emily was taken back by your tone, normally it took you a lot more to rile you up.

“wow, what got your panties in a twist?” Emily tried to lighten your mood.

The conversation between you and Sonnett had drawn the attention of the rest of the team. You could already see Ali and Ash make their way toward you.

Lexa had gotten of her chair and was running toward you, she could see how stressed you were and she wanted to help because you always helped her.

“(Y/N)!” Lexa grabbed your hand tried to give it a reassuring squeeze but because of her weakened state, it wasn’t hard and also tried to give you a reassuring smile. You didn’t know if you should laugh or cry, how could a child that had gone through all she had to be still so compassionate. Sinking through your knees make you almost eye level with her.

This caused all the veterans to immediately come running toward you while the younger players just watched. There was a small panic going around the team, you never showed emotions so openly.so I kind of freaked them out. Even though you hadn’t shed a single tear you looked exhausted.

“I’m okay Lexa. Thank you.” You whisper to the girl, looking at her gave you enough courage to scrape yourself together and lead her back to the table. When she sat down you handed her the coke and shake, which looked at sceptically but opened it when you told her it tasted like strawberries. After the sip, she takes another and another.

When the team decided you have ignored them enough they send Ali and Ash to talk to you. Seeing as they had the best track record with you.

You could feel their eyes burning into your back and it was just a matter of time before they tried to talk to you. For the moment you just watched Lexa enjoy her shake.

“your friends are staring at us,” Lexa commented looking at you from under her cap. She looks cute with one of your caps and hoodie.

“I know. They will come over here any moment to talk. They like to do that. You want to tell them?” you would leave the choice to her, it’s her life and you would support her either way.

“I want to stay with you.” She confesses looking up at you with big eyes. It makes you happy she felled secure with you.

“I know that sweety but that doesn’t mean I am forcing you to tell them. I’m not going to force you to tell them anything you don’t want to.” You assure her.

“But I want to be honest with them.”

“well if you are brave enough maybe I could half as brave and do the same.” You stroke her cheek and smile at her. Krashlyn took that moment to interrupt you.

“What should you tell us?” Ashlyn asked while she and Ali sit down in front of you before you look up you catch Lexa’s eye.

“ready little warrior.” She gives you a simple nod. Turning to the couple and try to give them a reassuring smile.

“Lexa and I have to tell you all something.” Suddenly a lot of voices started talking. Asking what it was and how you met Lexa. You cut through it with a sharp whistle and instruct them all to take a seat and listen. You had never seen them sit down so fast and be shut up, maybe you should try that whistle more.

“you want to tell them first?” Lexa swallowed hard before she looked up at the soccer players.

“okay guy’s this is Lexa I met her today after the game, after talking to her I have decided to become her legal guardian. Vlatko is helping me with the papers.” You pause for the information to sink in but not long enough for chaos to break out.

“wait with the questions and judgment until after Lexa and I have done our story.” You gave Lexa a reassuring smile while glaring at your teammates. Lexa grabs your hand for support.

“I have leukaemia and (Y/N) had promised to stay with me so I don’t have to do the therapy alone. I hate being alone in the hospital and she makes me feel safe.” The weight of the word behind the childlike didn’t go unnoticed by you.

Many of the soccer players in front of you had unshed tears in their eyes. After her story, Lexa buries her face into your shoulder. Hugging her back in return almost seemed like second nature.

“you were so brave, little warrior. I’m so proud of you.” You Lexa while hugging her close. When I was obvious she wouldn’t be say anything more.

“I saw Lexa in the stands alone and could immediately tell what the problem was. A couple of kids were picking on her for it, that is when I decided to step in and take her inside with me, I didn’t know how bad her immune system was so I didn’t want to take any chances. Tomorrow both of us have to go to the hospital for a blood test. Then I can tell how much resistance she is against bacteria.” You explain stroking Lexa’s back soothing her and trying to minimize her stress.

“why would they be picking on her?” Christen asks, not understanding why Lexa would be bullied. You have to chuckle at their childlike innocence, most never had to deal with people looking at them weird or shinning them for being different.

“Because people are A-holes, who mistreat everything that is different and not to normal standards.” You grith out between clenched teeth, memories from your past resurfacing. You still remember the stares and the whispers from when you were in a wheelchair because you were to weak to walk. People were far less subtle than they thought they were.

“yes, they are.” Lexa agrees with you while climbing in your lap to hug you. You figured all the emotions and exhaustion were getting to her, so you drab your arms around her so she can rest a bit.

The whole team looks at you shocked at how soft you are with the little girl. They had never seen you so soft. Some of the veterans were concerned when you told them you were becoming this little girls guardian, to team standards you were still a baby. Only being a couple of months older than Tierna but seeing you like this changed their minds. Also, an unspoken promise was going through the group, they would help you in any way they could.

Taking a deep breath you looked at your team, who were watching you and Lexa with big eyes. Now was as good a time as any to drop your own bomb, hoping that having Lexa with you will lessen the yelling they were going to do.

“There is something I want to tell you guys,” you speak before losing your nerves, freaking out internally. What if they start treating you differently? What if they start looking at you with pity?

Well, you couldn’t go back now.

“There is another reason I stepped out into the crowd today. I saw a lot of myself in Lexa. Because I also had leukaemia as a kid. Twice actually.” Gasp go through the group moments before questions are fired at you.

“(Y/N) sweetheart, why didn’t you tell us?” Ali asks coming closer so she can give you a reassuring smile and doesn’t scare you away.

“This is the only place I feel normal.” You confess not looking up at your team.

“it’s tough being a kid with leukaemia, people treat you different when they know. I was diagnosed for the first time when I was six. You are forced to grow up mentally and emotionally so fast sometimes you forget you are only a kid. I learned to put things into perspective fast, fearing you are not going to going to make it to the next day makes other kids tantrums banal in comparison. This caused me to stick out around my peers and made it hard to make friends. Not that it bothered me that much at that age, I was in the hospital a lot. You take a moment to take a couple of breath before you continue.

“Football is something I love and I didn’t want to be treated differently because of it. That is the big reason I didn’t tell anybody.” A lot of the woman around you are crying or holding each other for comfort. Lexa tightened her hold on you.

The silence in the room is heavy buy familiar. Most people didn’t know what to say after you told them so you decided to let them process everything first before they had to speak to you.

“Alright, that is enough emotions for one day. I’m taking Lexa back to my room so she can rest.” Getting up you grab her sports bottle with you while making your way to the elevator with Lexa in your arms.

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@superbscissorsdeanexpert

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tacticaldiary · 3 years

Note

if you can, could you write a kageyama x f reader, angsttttt to fluff? i am absolutely in love with ur angst to fluff oikawa story and i rlly want more but just with kags lmao. thank you for writing them :)

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

Here you go! @tobiovic

Take Me Seriously

Pairing: Reader x Tobio Kageyama

Genre: Angst to Fluff

He thinks she’s the reason he’ll be ridiculed, but Kageyama soon discovers that he’s okay with that, as long as he gets to be with her.

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

“Thanks again, Y/N!” Yachi smiles. Y/N had seen Yachi struggle to carry a bunch of water bottles in her arms and had offered to help. They were now making their way to the gym, and Y/N was unusually excited.

She would get to see her boyfriend, Tobio, practising for the first time. She had asked him if she could come to watch plenty of times before, but the request had always been shot down quickly, with him insisting that he wouldn’t be able to focus if she was there. She was curious to see him play.

Y/N opens the gym doors with her free hand and steps in, holding the door open for Yachi, who quickly thanks her. She hears thumps of rubber on skin and yells, the moment she steps in. She scans the court and her eyes quickly find Kageyama, who’s arms are above his head, a look of pure concentration on his face as he prepares to set to Tanaka.

She watches, a little impressed by how hard the ball hits the other side of the court. A loud bang behind her causes her to yelp and nearly drop the bottles. The door had shut a little too hard due to the wind, gaining the attention of everyone in the gym.

Suddenly, everyone’s eyes are on her. She goes a little red at the attention and waves awkwardly. Locking eyes with her boyfriend, who has a look of disbelief on his face, her smile fades a little. Was he not happy to see her?

Hinata is the one who breaks the silence. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” he asks cheerfully.

“I was just helping Yachi bring these to you guys.” She nods at the bottles, walking over and placing them on the bench. She shared a few classes with Hinata, being a first year herself.

“Well, you’ve done it. You can leave now.” Kageyama says bluntly, to which she feels a little hurt. Sugawara rolls his eyes and says. “Play nice.” He walks over to Y/N, a sweet smile on his face.

“You’re welcome to stay, of course!” he says, to which she grins and nods.

“Y-yeah! We’d like it if you stayed!” Nishinoya slides next to Y/N, giving her a thumbs up. Something about Nishinoya and Tanaka looking at you like they were, and their close proximity irked Kageyama, so he does the most rational thing he can think of.

Walking over to her, he slings an arm around Y/N and pulls her away from them. She stumbles a little, putting a hand on his chest to steady herself. “Tobio?”

There’s a second of silence, where the others wonder why the setter would grab Y/N like that, then:

“Tobio?” comes Tsukishima's voice. Kageyama can already see that annoying smirk forming on the middle blockers face. “You call him Tobio?”

“I mean. I think it’s fine to call my boyfriend by his first name.” She laughs a little, looking up at him. Again, he looks tense, avoiding her gaze.

The room falls into chaos after her statement. Shouts of, “Boyfriend?”, “You’re his girl?”, “How?” and “When?” fill the room, as the others look between the couple, back and forth, trying to make sense of the new information. Kageyama had a girlfriend? Since when?

“How much did he pay you to say that?” The others stifle a laugh at Tsukishima’s remark. The teasing continues, and Y/N frowns when she feels his grip tighten around her waist. Looking up he sees her avoiding their gaze with a clenched jaw. She can just make out the faint pink creeping up his ears.

It’s only when Daichi raises his voice, telling them to go back to the game, that they snicker and go back to practising. Y/N makes herself comfortable on the bench, talking to the two managers, occasionally catching glimpses of her boyfriend. She admires his form, and the focused look on his face when he’s setting up the ball. The precision he has when handling the ball is impressive, even to Y/N who was the least familiar with volleyball in the room.

Kageyama clenches his jaw in silent frustration when he accidentally sets one of the balls too high. It skims the top of Hinata’s fingers, before bouncing on the ground near Daichi.

“Nervous Y/N’s going to see you screw up?” Tsukishima smirks at him, to which he tells the blonde to shut up.

As Daichi picks up the ball, he checks the time. “That should be enough for today. Let’s start packing up.” There’s little protest as the team starts putting the net away, and going to change. Y/N waits patiently on the bench, grinning and going to Kageyama when he comes out of the changing room.

“I didn’t realise you were this talented at volleyball! I don’t even know much about it, but even I can see that you were awesome!” His face goes a light shade of pink and he mutters a thanks, pushing past her to grab his bag. She doesn’t understand why he’s acting so cold towards her. Sure, Kageyama could be clueless and stoic sometimes, but he was rarely ever this cold towards her. Maybe he was just tired. Yeah, that’s it, she convinces herself, shaking off the uneasy feeling she had. As far as she knew, Y/N hadn't done anything wrong.

The team ends up walking together to the school gates. Y/N is the main star for the day, as everyone wants to talk to her and see how Kageyama Tobio’s girlfriend is like. She laughs good-naturedly at their questions and answers them. Y/N is genuinely having a good time. She doesn’t know why he insisted she not attend his practises. These people were so fun to be around. Kageyama, however, is on the other end. He walks with a slight scowl on his face, next to Y/N.

A few minutes later, Y/N notices his silence and reaches over to loop her arm around his like they usually did when walking.

She’s understandably upset when he pushes her away, giving her an annoyed look.

The others don’t seem to notice the little interaction, opting to talk amongst themselves with their usual banter. Y/N doesn’t talk much the rest of the way.

Eventually the group gets smaller as people break away, going their own ways home.

“Don’t let him push you around, Y/N!” Hinata grins over his shoulder as he parts ways with them. Y/N shakes her head playfully as he walks away with his bike, and then it’s just the two of them. The lively atmosphere from before completely dissipates and is replaced with tension. After a few good minutes of Kageyama saying nothing, Y/N breaks the silence.

“What’s wrong?”

She’s met with silence.

“I haven’t done anything, so I don’t get why you’re mad at me.”

Silence.

“Tobio.”

He doesn’t even glance at her.

“Tobio!” she grabs his arm, halting the both of them to a stop. They’re standing under a street lamp, which illuminated the spot, almost as if shining a spotlight on them. In the light, Y/N can clearly see his annoyed expression, and though she was used to his sulky moods, she didn’t know what had caused this one.

“Tell me what’s wrong. Please.” She frowns.

“I told you not to come to practise.” he finally sighs.

“Why not? I wanted to meet your team anyway. Is it a crime for me to want to see you do something you're passionate about?” she tilts her head questioningly.

“No, no it’s just...they…” he struggles, not being very good at vocalising his feelings. “I don’t like not being treated seriously.” he finally mutters, gaze dropping to the ground.

“Oh. It was the teasing, wasn’t it?”

He nods once.

“Come here.” she mumbles, pulling him to her, wrapping her arms around her. He is a bit stiff at first, but relaxes quickly, burning his face into her hair, taking deep breaths. They stay there in silence for a few seconds, soaking in each other's presence. It wasn’t often he let her show him this level of affection in public.

She finally pulls away and meets his eyes. “They were just joking around. From what I saw on the court, they don’t treat you like you’re inferior, even if you're one of the youngest.” He holds her gaze. “If you really think they don’t treat you seriously when I’m around then...I’ll hold off showing up to your practises.”

“It’s not your fault.” he says. “I play better when you’re around, anyway.” He had noticed during the practise, that his sets had been more accurate than usual, which was saying something. The need to impress Y/N, even though he was iffy about her watching him, was always there.

“I just want to show that I support you.” she smiles softly, to which he melts a little on the inside. Not that he would ever show it.

“Thank you. I’m sorry for upsetting you today.” His apology is genuine as he remembers the hurt look on her face when he yanked his arm out of her grapes earlier.

She shakes her head, assuring him that she was fine, before pulling him along to keep walking. They slip into a much more comfortable silence, and when they reach Y/N’s doorstep, she invites him inside. He hesitates, before accepting.

They end up napping together on the couch, with Kageyama holding her close to him. He admires her sleeping form, and brushes a strand of hair away from her face. As he holds her, he thinks that maybe he could bear the teasing a little while longer.

Requests are Open and Welcome

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madhyanas · 3 years

Text

a place at the table

Pairing: Din Djarin x gender-neutral!Reader

Rating: T/PG-13 [mild]

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Spoilers for s2ep3, Chapter 11! Reader uses they/them pronouns. References to drowning, not explicit. Descriptions of freezing/extreme cold. One reference to Chapter 9 (s2ep1). Din being as self-sacrificing as always. Din’s particular brand of Mandalorian family values. Pining, yearning, affection - just think soft.

A/N: well then. first time posting for din! this has been cooking since ep3 came out, i’m just slow. it’s soft!! and worried!! and din severely procrastinating his own identity crisis!! they’re really fuckin married, guys. lovely stuff. also, if you can’t tell, i adore frog lady. and bo-katan. mwah.

BIG thank you to @justrunamok, @pettyprocrastination and @generaldamneron for beta-reading <33

gif credit: @captrex - from the post here. thanks!

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You thought you knew cold.

Days and nights in the Crest have acquainted you with it. A hollow metal hull in the depths of the galaxy, surrounded on all sides by a vast expanse of nothing. Keeping the heater on burns fuel that you can’t afford, not with three mouths to feed. Space is cold, as cold as it could get.

And then you nearly drowned.

The briny depths of Trask are frigid, you’ve come to realise. Logically, you know it’s nowhere near the freezing vacuum of space. That’s real cold; true, absolute zero. But the thing about water is that it gets everywhere. The searing, ferocious chill of it had slammed all mental processes to a halt, petrifying your rationality before all else. It drenched your clothes, your hair. Snaked into your nose and seeped into your lungs. Rushed you as a swarm; no other sensation was relevant.

At the time — scrabbling at a grate hanging overhead, right there but always just out of reach — it’s what you imagined carbonite to feel like. Conscious but consumed.

Space is cold from a distance. Water freezes from the inside, cracked and jagged and burning.

So you should be grateful for your saviours. Mandalorians, unlike any you’ve ever seen before.

Which is to say, unlike Din.

There’s a lot to think about. So many things have happened in the span of a day that you can barely keep track. And beyond all else, you want to ask how Din’s coping—

“Trask is a black market port. They’re staging weapons that have been bought and sold with the plunders of our planet. We’re seizing those weapons and using them to retake our homeworld.”

—but there are more important things to deal with at the moment.

“Once we’ve done that, we’ll seat a new Mandalore on the throne,” the red-headed woman explains.

Bo-Katan. She speaks regally, like she’s been on that very throne before. More importantly — like she’d earned it. In truth, she scares you. All three of them do, these new Mandalorians who show their faces — they scare you in the way Din did back when he was just a gruff, faceless employer. A tinge of instinct; a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold.

What she’s saying is important, you know that, and you can’t place the onus on Din to handle it after the day he’s had. But you can’t bring yourself to focus either. You’re barely holding it together as it is, taking mild, balmy comfort in his and the baby’s presence on either side.

The three of you, together. Right now, at this table, that’s the only thing keeping you from splintering right down the middle.

Even with a steaming bowl of broth in your hands, your fingers ache with the chill. It hurts, regaining body heat. Hurts as feeling returns to your toes. Hurts to clench your jaw, to stop it from chattering. Hurts the delicate skin of your face, thousands of icy needles jabbing into the nerves. There’s a pounding between your ears and behind your eyes. You’re tired, and you suspect Din is, too.

You really do want to ask how he’s dealing with…this. The Way has been part of his life — and part of yours, in as much of a lifetime as you’ve known him — for many, many years. An oak tree, offering security and strength to the garden. How must he feel, stoic at your side, to see these three fell theirs so easily?

An identity crisis is the last thing Din needs.

What he needs is a break. You need him to want a break.

A coo at your elbow catches your attention. The baby — safe and warm, thank the Maker — seems fascinated with the water dripping from your hair, patting his hands into the small puddles forming on his high chair and giggling at the splashes. It’s as if he was never swallowed whole in the first place; that’s another thing you’re going to recall decidedly later. Nonetheless, he bounces back fast, your child.

You smile, hearing your teeth click, and pet the sensitive spot between his ears. He blinks at you sweetly.

Someone clears their throat.

You look up, startled, to find three pairs of eyes on you. Expecting. None of them saying… anything.

The other woman, the one with braids on her forehead, slurps her slithering noodles without blinking. Unnerving, to say the least.

“Sorry,” you blurt, more on reflex than anything else. “Did I… miss something?” The uncertainty in your voice doesn’t escape anyone’s notice.

Beneath the table, a broad thighs shifts to press against yours. Comforting. You glance at its owner.

“It’s… Mandalorian business.” Bo-Katan tilts her head. Her gaze flits between you and Din, polite and clear. “I’m sure you understand.”

You blink, bemused. “Oh?”

And then you realise.

She’s asking you to leave.

“Oh!” Your brows shoot up. One of her partners smiles ruefully in your periphery, and you are struck with the distinct feeling of being other. “Of course.”

That’s… well. It’s justified, is what it is. She’s right. You aren’t Mandalorian.

You stand quickly, and the chair grates against the floor unpleasantly. You manage not to cringe, somehow.

There’s a free table on the other side of the cantina, you think you saw it as you entered. Should you take the baby? No, Din’s never liked being away from him, even if you’re there. But they’re armed, all three of them, and you don’t know them, even if they did save your life, saved the baby’s, saved Din’s—

There’s a hand at your elbow.

“They stay.”

Din’s voice is unyielding. He hasn’t moved at all besides his grip on your arm, keeping his visor trained on Bo-Katan, who raises a brow.

No one says anything for a long, tense beat. Until—

“They’re not Mandalorian,” Bo-Katan says bluntly. It’s something you don’t have the nerve to state aloud. Something Din is apparently ignoring, however much you’d never believe it.

He stays silent.

“It’s okay,” your murmur, and the silver helmet you know turns to you fractionally. Barely anything, and you know you’re heard. You don’t need to see his face to know he’s still staring Bo-Katan down. “I don’t mind.”

There are three sharp, foreign gazes on you, and your newly-rejuvenated toes curl in your boots. After so many days bundled up in the Crest, you’d forgotten what it felt like to be watched and unwanted. The company inside had never made you feel that way.

“They stay,” he insists, making you jolt. “As is their right.”

Bo-Katan’s half-smile is faintly amused. “And which right is that?” she asks, like she already knows the answer. It seems like they all do, daring Din to state this mysterious ‘right’ that you’re in the dark about.

“It is their right as a member of my clan.”

The gloved fingers on your elbow tighten, leather creaking ever so slightly but just enough to remind you to breathe.

You blink at the silver helm dumbly, forgetting your onlookers for the time being.

He’s— He means that. Din doesn’t say what he doesn’t mean. Every word is measured, deliberate. He chooses his words like he chooses his weapons; they’re specific, well-cared for. Only to be used when necessary. Which suggests that—

Well. Maybe you should sit down.

As you do so, the woman opposite Din releases a slow, steady breath — Maker, you’d almost forgotten she was here — and squares her shoulders.

“Very well,” she says coolly. Her eyes flit to you, appraising, searching, before returning to Din. “As I was saying…”

And then you tune out again, ever so slightly. The information is going in, but you’re not truly registering its significance. Stupid, really, considering Din’s quite literally just fought for your place at the table. But you do.

You stare at the chipped, stained wood as if it holds the answers to questions you don’t know how to phrase. The baby babbles something incoherent, trying to get your attention, so unjustly denied to him, and you offer a finger for him to hold.

Clan. As in, part of. It’s new.

It feels like a small, three-fingered hand, gravelly warmth next to your thigh, and a hand pulling you back to the table.

———

Tracking down the Frog Woman and her husband isn’t too tedious. Trask’s daylight hours are long, for a moon, so even after Din’s aside with Bo-Katan and her people, it’s barely dark as you make your way to the inn.

“It won’t be long,” Din had assured you. “I go with them, assist with their mission, and come back within a day. Routine transport raid.”

Them. Their. It didn’t bode well that his so-called brethren are this… dissimilar.

“Last time you helped someone out, you got swallowed by a desert dragon.”

“That wasn’t last time.”

“Still counts.”

Childish, perhaps. Petulant. But correct.

The problem was, so was he. There was no choice.

Now, Din leads your party of three briskly down the street.

Since his father had manually adjusted the drift range on the crib beforehand, the child has no issue being carted along express-style, making curious noises at the various fishing apparatus he sees scattered around the port.

You don’t have such luxuries as the little womp rat, so you’re left to frantically try and match your Mandalorian’s pace. The lingering shivers wracking your frame are shoved aside for the wheezing burn beginning to creep up your sides.

“Hey, uh, Mando?” you ask, somewhat out of breath. “You think you could slow down? You’re going a little fast—”

Your shoulder clips a passing Quarren roughly, spinning you round with the force of the collision. The point of impact throbs unpleasantly, painful but superficial. Stunned, you can only blink as the tentacled man snaps something unintelligible in your face. An apology sits ready on your tongue and you open your mouth to speak, before a solid wall appears between you.

A breathing, unyielding wall of leather and beskar, glowering at the Quarren silently as you’re turned away, closer into the gentle bend of his hold. Quietly surrounding, protecting. Something else you’re not used to, from when it was just the three of you in the ship. But this feels… good. It feels like it’s yours.

The other man balks, and leaves with a grumble under his breath.

Din glances around above your head, ever aware, ever cautious. “Stay close,” he murmurs and—

You could probably pinpoint the exact moment your body temperature spikes, as a large, gloved hand comes to rest on your lower back. “Oh. Okay.”

The rest of the walk passes you by.

“I wasn’t trying to rush you,” he says tersely, having slowed his pace considerably. There’s an apology in there somewhere; you can hear it. “But you’re soaked, and you’re cold. You need to get warmed up.”

You smile. It’s really not the time, but— “Are you offering?”

A huff from the modulator, and he shakes his head silently. Less rejection, rather than fond exasperation.

“You must be cold, too.” The realisation dawns on you in an instant. Oh, Maker. He’s been freezing for just as long as you, now. If not more, since he hasn’t eaten anything warm.

The next shake of the helmet is more insistent, purposeful. “No. I wear more layers than you do.”

“You dived into the ocean, Din.” His name is hushed, spoken after a quick look to confirm that no one can hear you.

“So did you.”

“I was pushed, that’s not the same thing.”

Din doesn’t respond, and your smile dims. He seems to hesitate for a moment, before pressing a button on his vambrace, and the baby’s crib floats a little closer.

Oh.

He doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the walk. You regret bringing it up.

But his hand doesn’t stray from your back.

——

The building is small, cozy. Barely a couple of stories tall. And, to your delight, it’s warm.

“Thank you for having us,” you tell the Frog Woman gratefully. One of their towels is wrapped around your shoulders; a placeholder until you can find a clean, dry change of clothes. You feel better already. “We’re sorry to impose like this.”

She croaks something vaguely welcoming and you smile, keeping a shrewd, wary eye on the baby — now staring at the egg canister with wondrous intent, reaching his stubby little hands out from his place clutched to your chest. Now there’s something to keep you occupied for the evening.

A hand on your shoulder, warm and light, and you turn around. Din tilts his head towards the door. “I’ll be going,” he says, barely a whisper past the lip of the helmet.

“What? Uh, Mando, hold on!” Halfway out of the chair already, you stare at him incredulously, before turning back to the expecting parents. “Just— Just a second, please. Could you take the baby?”

However disinclined she may be to your carnivorous terror, the Frog Woman takes him into her hands gently. She’s sweet, kind. You hope she understands the depths of your appreciation.

A polite nod from Din to the couple. “I’ll be back for them soon.”

He follows you into the narrow corridor. The door slides shut behind you both.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

You stare at him for a moment, tugging the edge of the towel at your shoulders. Your mouth opens and closes, faltering around words that don’t have the courage to form.

“I…” You deflate. “I just— I wanted to ask you that. Before you left.” It’s a foolish question. What’s wrong, like his entire way of life hasn’t been upended in a heartbeat by a careless show of face. Like the Way hasn’t just crumbled at his feet like wet sand, trodden on by three strange pairs of boots, scorched by familiar jetpack fuel.

He doesn’t say anything. No tilt of the helmet, no sinking shoulders. Nothing. Just keeps looking at you, visor tilted down to your face.

There’s a reasonable distance between you. Not professional by any stretch of the imagination, but enough for him to be comfortable in semi-public. The corridor is empty, and you can’t hear any footsteps.

Except Din’s, when he steps forward.

You feel your features soften in time with the pounding of your heart. “Din, love, please—”

He pulls you into his chest, plucking the wind from your lungs in a surprised, candied puff into the worn fabric of his cowl. His arms snake around you, securing you to his sturdy frame, and by reflex, yours mirror the movement on him. The helm’s hard, flat surface presses against the side of your head tightly; an anchor tugging on the seabed.

You feel him inhale, a ragged, rattling thing that has your stomach sinking. You only hear that sound when he’s injured, stumbling back to you with a bounty and a nasty, jagged stab wound or two. Only when he’s injured but oh, isn’t he?

It’s hard to tell how long you remain like that. Wrapped around and in between each other. Feeling each other breathe in and out, like the push and pull of the tides. It’s worth it, for the fading of tension in Din’s shoulders. Not removal. But an ebb for the flow. You’ll take it.

“There is a lot,” he rasps, modulated into your hairline. “You know that. And I can’t focus on what needs to be done if I think about it.” You feel him sigh, draping into your arms even further. “I can’t afford that.”

You try to keep your voice calm, soothing. To avoid the hot press of tears threatening to clog your throat. “Okay. That’s, that’s— Okay.”

You sound like a fool, parroting your own words. But he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Okay,” Din agrees. There is something shaky in his voice, and you would give anything to wrench it from his chest and throw it into that Maker-forsaken ocean. Let it drown for all you care.

For now, though, this is enough.

You move to step back, just a palm’s breadth away, and his arms unlock to let you do so immediately. His gloved hands slide down to nestle in the dip of your waist.

You look at Din consideringly, wondering if you could push for later. Later, to discuss the revelations he’s been bombarded with. Later, to talk about what you’re doing to do. Later, to finally get him to rest his weary bones.

Urgent, but. You decide to let him be. For now.

There’s something else you’ve been meaning to ask about anyway.

“So.” You smile wanly, treasuring the jewelled glint of beskar through the thinnest film of tears. “As a member of your clan, huh?”

Din sighs. Bracing, grounding. Returning to the present, where you’re just here to see him off. Where you have a baby waiting inside to keep from snacking on your hosts, and he has a hijacking to initiate. His fingers press tighter into your skin.

He appreciates the subject change.

“You already know my name,” he says quietly. Shrugs. “I’d say you know more about me than anyone else.”

You take a second to mull that over. Enjoy the taste of it in your mouth, the weight of it in your heart. He is such a precious thing to know.

Without thinking, the word leaves your lips in a bright gust of affection. “Same.” The helm tilts. “You know more about me than anyone else, too.”

He nods, a small, barely-there movement. More to himself than to you, you suspect.

“Good.”

Elastically, achingly slow, Din leans his head down. You lift yours up. When your warmed forehead meets beskar, a kiss from which you feel deprived, yet glutted, you’re inclined to agree.

“Stay safe,” you whisper. Your heart fogs and clouds on the metal, right above where his lips would be.

His thumb strokes across your waist. And you know he will.

——

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #star wars fic #reader-insert #gn!reader #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian season 2 #the mandalorian chapter 11 #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #the heiress #my writing #sw #bit nervous about this one #we'll see how it goes huh

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Kiss of Death (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: If the Angel of Death came upon you but you had half an hour, what would you do?

BGM: Ateez “Inception” slowed + reverb

Word count: 1,639

Warnings: Character death and preparation

Tags: @rintomoj @yuki-osaki @yamichxn @lonelyfangirl453 @cyanide9602 @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: Really proud of this one, I really like it and I hope you guys do too.

The figure looms over you, its shadowy silhouette casting the room in darkness against the moonlight streaming through your window. At first, you figured it was a thief or murderer breaking in; anyone else would have concluded the same judging from the dark clothes and intimidating demeanor.

That is, until you realize the massive shadow blocking out all the light is due to a pair of overarching, feathery wings.

Your mouth can't help gaping open as you jolt up in bed. There's a supernatural creature visiting you at what you assume is an ungodly hour of the night. The thick grey wings retract into their back, allowing you view of their entire physique as the moonlight rushes back into your room, no longer restricted.

The figure appears human, their white cloak's hood settles over squared shoulders and hips of roughly the same width. Their hair cropped short and the rest of their features remain androgynous. You should be scared of the intruder, but something about their serene expression and inexplicably calm aura dispels any tension in the room.

"My child, forgive me for disturbing you," their airy voice is just as serene as their appearance, a gentle fingers barely ghosting your cheek, "But I'm afraid your time has come."

Your eyes widen. "M-My time? As in..."

They nod slowly, the hand cool hand trailing down to gingerly take your hand. "It is sudden, but to compensate, you are allowed half an hour to do as you please."

It's expected that being told you're going to die would send cold down your spine and threaten your entire being, your body shivering as your mind tries to comprehend what exactly it means to cease to exist. While it does happen, you're calm and collected, smiling at the messenger. "I'm thankful for the warning. At least I won't have to leave without preparations."

Your mind is surprisingly rational in the face of an earth-shattering reality, you're unsure if it's because of the influence of the angel or your complete blind acceptance of fate - you hope it's the latter.

You begin your preparations. The first thing you do is gather as many letters and envelopes as you have in your room. Each one is addressed to those dear to you: to your closest friend and loving family members. Pouring your most genuine feelings out into each of these makes your only slightly regretful that you might not have showered them with enough love in your life this far, but at this point you can only hope your affections shine through in your last moments, and that the thought of you writing your last words to them in your dying breaths will hold more weight.

Next, you pull out your bank card and all the money you have stashed in an extraneous corner of your sweater drawer. Dividing it into two even piles; one goes into the envelope for your parents and the other for your closest friend. In the envelope for your parents, you also include your bank card and the PIN, along with the trust that they'll know how to divide the money in the bank - though you very strongly suggest the idea of them taking much needed vacation for themselves. To your friend, you also include a list of all your social media and email accounts connected to friends you can only talk to and not meet face to face, mandate that they split this money between the other friends who need it most, that you trust their judgment, and also to spare some for themselves.

Finishing all the writing, the weight on your shoulders slowly lifts, as if releasing all your affections on paper is a much needed therapy. You try not to think of the possibility that it might just be your soul slowly disconnecting from your body.

"What will they think I died from?" you ask curiously, placing the envelopes face up on your desk.

The angel - who has been patiently watching your tranquil planning from afar - blinks. "They will think you simply died in your sleep.

"I see."

The only remaining preparation in your home was to leave your apartment key under the mat in front of your door. You send a text to that same closest friend to come by in the morning to help clean, and if you didn't answer the door to use the spare key under the mat.

All of this took up a 25 minutes of your remaining time. However, there is one more person you couldn't stop thinking about as your time of expiration looms closer and closer. You turn to your companion. "Would you mind teleporting me somewhere? There's one last person I need to see."

Three raps on the balcony door was all it took for you to see movement in the bedroom. The lump rolls over, a head peaks out from under the blanket, first checking the time then lifting up to face the window. Bicolored hair is illuminated as the figure slowly retreats from the bed, clad in nothing but dark sweatpants.

Your heart pounds and your stomach churns, the normal reaction that he elicits out of you whenever you're near him.

The boy rubs his eyes and blinks the sleep away, focusing on your waiting figure. He opens the balcony door full of confusion. "(Y/n)? Why are you here? It's 3 am." His voice is as gravelly as you've only imagined hearing it being, thought you usually picture him greeting you in the morning after sleeping next to him.

Anticipation wells up inside you. Up to this point, you had no problem spilling your deepest thoughts to your loved ones, but something about him had always made you think twice before showing any sort of affection. Call it a force of habit, but you've never wanted him to know about your crush on him since you wanted to preserve your friendship and keep your relationship from becoming awkward around your mutual friends.

But you have nothing to lose at this point; might as well cross this final what-if off your list in your last few minutes. "I know it's late, Todoroki, but I have to tell you something It can't wait until morning."

He sighs heavily and leans against the door frame. "I'm listening."

You use the ever-lightening weight you feel unraveling within you as strength to call upon. "I have feelings for you."

The boy's expression doesn't change after you've ripped the bandage off, his stoic expression still in tact.

You can't help but let out a puff of laughter. "You're the only person I've met who I can confidently say I've imagined waking up next to. I always thought we would've been compatible as a couple, we would've been happy together. Your calm nature, your quiet power and charisma, your heart, I did fall for all of it. And... I didn't want to leave without finally saying this to you."

This is your first confession. Every other crush you had, you let pass you by without so much as a word or hint. But now, you've run out of time to hide it. In a way, you're grateful for the pressure to finally overcome your fear of rejection, but only regretful that it came under these circumstances. If he rejects you now, it doesn't matter.

But Todoroki's response was unreadable, the only display of feeling being his slightly widened eyes.

Your face gets hot and you laugh to cover it up. "Yeah, I came at 3 am to confess to you, I'm sorry." Your eyes flicker to the clock on his bedside table, the time telling you that you have barely two minutes to wrap this up. Behind you, the angel makes its presence known by gingerly touching their hand to your shoulder. "I need to be going now."

You're about to leave the balcony when another stroke of bravery crosses your mind. Squarely facing him, you grip his neck and tug him closer until your lips meet gently as you've dreamed of on many occasions, though the burst of electricity that erupts between you two is indescribably better than what you've imagined.

Todoroki's hand reaches to meet your wrist just as you pull back to rest your forehead against his. You want to laugh; such a blissful feeling was waiting for you this entire time where you could've had endless kisses like these, but you have to be satisfied with just the one as it's the only one you're getting. You almost forgot that you have to part ways with him forever now. Still, it's a perfect way to die, you think in bittersweet parting sorrow.

You step away from him for his tether on your arm to keep you still. He finally exhibits emotion: desperation and hunger for another one, mixed with fear as he acknowledges there must be something amiss. "Don't go," he pleads, as if this is the last time he sees you. Little did he know it would be.

You give him one last smile. "Goodnight, Todoroki. Thank you." Your body is feather light now, your time whittling away to the final seconds. Without a second thought, you let go and fling yourself off the balcony.

In the blink of an eye, you're back in your familiar room, laying in your bed. The conflicting sensation of a heavy body but weightless inside overtakes you, and you know it's time. The lingering aftermath of your final kiss still on your lips, you smile to yourself. If your soul can remember memories, you hope this feeling remains permanently engraved in them. "I'm ready to go." Your eyes flutter closed and you breathe out, your terminal exhale coming with the tingle of a thin thread gently unraveling its last fibers.

A faraway caress is your final feeling.

"Rest now, my child."

Part 2

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki angst #todoroki imagine #todoroki scenario #gender neutral reader #mha todoroki #bnha todoroki #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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sweetwritertanya · 4 years

Text

Just A Friend

Summary: You and Namjoon have been friends for about two years and you grew feelings for him. But you think it’s unreciprocated. On a vacation which he invites you to come along in, things take a turn.

Warnings: Starts with ANGST and ends with a whole lot of SMUT! Like a lot, so be ready for: swearing, erotic body touching, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (because of the next listing), impregnation kink, overstimulation, hair pulling, praising, dom!Namjoon, sub!reader.

Requested: YES! The 💒 anon, as they wish to be known, requested this fic. In fact, they provided a lot of detail, especially for the smut, so a lot of props to them! I used a lot of the ideas they provided, so thank them as well! I really hope this is what you had in mind and that you’ll like it sweetie.

Word Count: 4889

Stomping across the bedroom you were staying at, you even consider just picking up your suitcase and leaving. Honestly, you weren’t sure what you were doing here anyway. You had long ago sworn to yourself you would stop hoping for things to change and just give up, but yet, as soon as he asked you if you wanted to tag along you smiled brightly and promptly agreed, heart singing within your chest.

You felt stupid. You felt stupid and angry and rejected. Mostly, you felt hurt and to make matters worse you knew you were the only one to blame. It was you and your own feelings fault.

Namjoon and you have been friends for two years now. You’ve been in love with him for over a year and a half. It brought tears to your eyes, thinking of how much you’ve been pinning for him, how much you wanted him to reciprocate your feelings. But he only saw you as a friend, the chubby female friend that would hang out with him and the guys, introduce them to cute girls or give them advice when it came to women. And that was it.

Two months ago, you decided enough was enough. You would distance yourself from him slowly, just enough to give yourself some time to somehow get over your feelings without having to ruin the friendship. Because, truth be told, you still wanted to keep him close. As much as it hurt to have an unrequited love for him, it hurt more to think of him not being around.

But then he decided to invite you on a trip with the boys to the Alps. He would even pay for the plane tickets and the stay in the ski resort. And he asked so nicely, so excitedly, with that stupid little dimple smile that always melted your heart and all you could do was say yes. You forgo all your plans of getting over him for one last hope that this meant something.

It didn’t. Just as you got ready to go on the ski lessons programmed for this afternoon, you saw Namjoon flirting with one of the female instructors at the entrance of the resort place you were all staying at. It made your stomach turn and left a sour taste in your mouth. You turned around, took off your new windbreaker ski jacket and stomped up the stairs into your room in a hurry.

Taking a few shaky breaths in your room, you decided to light up the fireplace in the room. The plane ticket had the return date scheduled for the day after tomorrow, and even of you went and tried to get it changed so you could leave today, Namjoon had all the plane tickets in his room. You weren’t about to go and ask him for yours.

Struggling to get the flames to cling to the wood, your heard a knock on your door and assumed it was the resort’s staff coming to clean the room.

“No need, thank you” you yelled at the door, huffing at how the fire just wasn’t starting.

“Y/N, it’s me.”

You froze. That was Namjoon’s voice. After considering for a moment to just ignore him completely and carry on as if you didn’t hear him, you sighed and got up. You crossed your arms above your chest and glared at the door with a subconscious pout in your lips.

“I’m not going on the ski lessons, so just leave without me” you informed him in your best detached voice.

“I know, I’m not going either. The boys already left” he responded from behind the door.

“What? Why didn’t you go with them?” you frowned.

“Just let me in, Y/N. It’s awkward talking through a door” he begged, knocking on the door by the end of his sentence.

You hesitated, biting your bottom lips as you remembered him with that woman from before. But then again, why would he flirt if he wasn’t going with them to the ski lessons? Something felt weird about it, so you just launched your arm forward before you changed your mind again and opened the door for him.

He looked as if he had planned to go with the guys, dressed with winter boots, long brown snowboard pants, a turtle neck sweater underneath the blue ski jacket, scarf still around his neck and gloves pocking out from the jacket’s pocket. His short hair was slightly disheveled as if he had a beanie on before.

The moment you saw his concern small brown eyes looking at you, you turned your back and went back to the fireplace, trying to distract yourself from your aching heart with the task at hand before.

“You seemed so excited yesterday about the prospect of going skiing, you went on about it almost the whole plane ride, why did you change your mind?” you heard him asking as he closed the door after stepping inside.

“So were you, so why didn’t you go?” you questioned back, not wanting to answer him.

“I asked you first.”

You sighed, irritated with everything, the conversation, the fireplace that just wouldn’t start, the feelings you had for the man behind you. Everything.

“I just didn’t feel like going anymore, okay? And I’m in a bad mood right now, this stupid fireplace isn’t helping, so maybe you should just go and leave me alone, Namjoon!”

You didn’t mean to yell, but your voice elevated before you could stop it. Giving up on the wood catching fire, you walked away from the fireplace angrily, crossed your arms and went to the window, trying to calm yourself by looking at the beautiful white scenery outside.

“Let me help you with this” he offered, taking off his jacket and scarf, busing himself with the fireplace as you had before.

“Just leave me alone, Namjoon. You know I’m not great to hang around when I’m in a bad mood” you tried to warn him, more so because you really wanted distance from him right now. “You should have gone with them. Maybe you can still catch up.”

“It would have been fun, but even with the bad mood, I prefer your company” he shared.

“Liar.”

You didn’t mean to say it out loud, you honestly thought you had just thought it for yourself, but Namjoon heard you loud and clear.

“What does that mean?” he sounded offended.

You cursed at yourself for not being more careful before turning back to him, eyes set on the large carpet beneath your feet and arms as tightly wrapped around yourself as ever. You tried to think of how to get him to go away without destroying the friendship.

“Nothing. It just makes sense, you’ve been friends the guys for way longer than you’ve known me, why wouldn’t you want to go with them and have fun instead of wasting time here with me? Plus, there was the pretty instructor, who wouldn’t want to go and learn from her?”

You pressed your lips together and kept your mouth from opening again, realizing how saddened you seemed by the last sentence. You needed to keep your feeling at bay.

“So you did went down for the lessons” Namjoon realized, as that was the only way you could have seen the instructor. “What happened, Y/N? Why are you lying to me?”

Hands closing down into fists at your sides, teeth grasping down on your bottom lip as you tried to keep yourself from crying. The atmosphere in the room felt colder than the snow outside. This was probably going to be it. As much as you treasured this friendship and wanted nothing more than to keep it intact, it felt as if you guys were about to fight and things probably wouldn’t be the same after.

“Y/N? Y/N, just talk to me!” It was Namjoon’s turn to grow frustrated. “You’ve been acting strange lately. I don’t know why, but it seems like you suddenly want to get as far away from me as possible, and I feel like I’ve done nothing to deserve that!”

“And you didn’t! You did absolutely nothing wrong, Namjoon, it’s all my own fault, okay?” you barked back, tense arms falling to your sides as you finally gaze back up at him, seeing his own worried but serious stare. “I’ll get over it, alright? I promise, just give me some space.”

“Get over what, Y/N? You’re making no sense!” he continues, irritated, lifting his hands in the air.

“You!” you finally declare.

Your watery eyes can barely stay focused on him as you feel the shame washing over you, after admitting your feelings like that when it was the last thing you wanted to do. But the harm was done now. And as much as it still hurt, a weight seemed to lift off your chest as you confess the deep secret you’ve been keeping for so long.

“I’ll get over you, Namjoon! I’m sorry, I know we’re just friends but…” your voice breaks a bit and you have to look away from him. Only then did you realize he had managed to light up the fireplace, without setting anything on fire, which was a win for such a clumsy guy. It almost makes you smile. Almost. “I’ve had feelings for you for way too long and I don’t think I can get past them without distancing myself from you for a while. I’m sorry, I just-”

Two strides. Two strides is all it takes for him to close the gap between the two of you, an undecipherable look on his unusually stoic square face that you missed as you looked at the ground, before taking your round face into his big hands, forcing you to lift your head just in time for his mouth to capture the words you were about to say.

Completely shocked, your whole body freezes as you feel his fleshy lips clam around yours purposely, hands pulling your face towards him as he keeps pressing his lips further, almost to the point it hurts. All your thoughts clutter in your brain, disabling any rational understanding of what was going on.

When he separated his lips from yours for a split second, you try to speak even as you have no idea what to say, but he doesn’t let you. His hands fall from your face only to go around your back and around your neck, pulling your scrumptious body violently against his own as his parted mouth finds yours and steals the breath you were about to take.

You find yourself closing your eyes, the forceful nibbles he starts around your lips singeing your prickled skin, head still spinning but body giving in completely to him. You lean against him and move your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer as you kissed him back.

He rumbles against your lips when he feels you complacent, sucking on them lightly as he pulls his head back up and looks at you from half-closed dark eyes.

“For how long?” his raspy voice asks.

“Hum?” Your brain is still in short-circuit, eyes heavy and clouded.

He squeezes at one of the lumps at your sides urgently and pulls slightly at the hair at the nape of your hair, trying to grab your attention.

“How long have you had feelings for me?” he demands to know.

You swallow dry at the intensity behind his eyes, your heart beating madly on your chest and your muscles tensing up. A flare of heat rushes to your cheeks as you decided to tell him the truth, too anxious to even try and lie to him when he looked at you like that.

“A year and a half. At least” you add, hesitant eyes jumping between his.

Again, Namjoon almost jumps at your lips and ferociously ravishes at them, smacking them hard together and tracing your soft bottom lip with his tongue. You yelp at the warm and wet touch, and it’s a good thing his hands are keeping you so close to his body since you feel your legs loosing strength as he slips his tongue past your parted lips and swirls it around yours, coaxing you to respond.

You don’t care to know how this is happening. You don’t dare to question if it’s even real or some mad hallucination. You just take it all in, the warmth of him around you, the scent of musk and dew of him mixing with the smoke and fire of the fireplace, the taste of menthol and honey. The feeling of his rough hands holding you close. The small groan he released when you sucked on his tongue and ran your fingernails down the back of his neck.

Not sure how, if Namjoon just couldn’t hold your weight up anymore of if he himself lost his strengths as well, but you felt the world around you swirl and your back hit the floor, the pain only numbed by the hands and arms around you, a barrier between you and the floor.

It knocked the breath out of you, but it was still nothing compared to the way Namjoon bit your bottom lip and pulled it with him as he raised himself up on his forearms, each around your face, legs kneeling around your bulky thighs. He looked exasperated and deranged.

“Two years” he growled, much to your confusion. “I’ve been in love with you for two fucking years and now you tell me I could have had you more than a year ago? Do you have any idea how I feel right now?!”

His face told it all, he didn’t need to say it. Frowned thick eyebrows, creating lines on his tall forehead, thin eyes with a fiery intensity that outdid even the fireplace crackling to your left, full lips set in a straight line as his bottom jaw stood out with how tense he was.

“I never thought you would like me back. I thought I was just a friend” you whispered at him, wide eyes staring with incredulousness at him.

Namjoon dryly chuckles as he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against yours. When he opened them again, they were calmer and sweeter. Loving.

“How many friends introduce you to all their friends, to their parents and take you out on vacations like this one? How many friends call you every day, say they missed you when you were just together, tell you how beautiful you are every single time?”

“Namjoon, I… I didn’t think-”

“No, you didn’t” he interrupted, his frustration bubbling back up. “And now we wasted two years we could have been together pinning for each other. But no more.”

Reuniting your mouths, this time not only is he kissing you deeply, his hands busy themselves with tracing your full body above your clothes. You can feel them slowly going down beneath your arms, softly groping your lumpy sides, grasping at your wide hips and down your fleshy legs, on the way back up finding themselves beneath the thick hoodie you were wearing.

“I’ve dreamed… about having this body… next to mine for so long” he tells you between pecks at your lips that slowly travel down your neck. You tremble both because of his words and of his cold fingers dipping into your skin, swallowed between the rolls on your stomach. “Thought about all the things I wanted to do to you. How heavenly your body must be and how good I could make you feel if you let me…”

His hands pull your hoodie up at the same time his tongue slips up and down your pulse point on your neck, and you squirm a bit as a light moan leaves you.

“N-Namjoon…” you sigh as you close your eyes, hands blindly clinging to his arms and back.

Growing impatient, you feel him lifting his upper body away from yours and you open your eyes in time to see him strip of his turtle neck, leaving his torso bare for your eyes to take in. The sun kissed skin covering the defined muscles, shadows created by the fire on the fireplace making him look sculptured, hard nipples standing out. He looked breathtaking, and that was the exact effect it had on you.

For your surprise, he actually pulls you up so you are sitting in front of him, his strong legs straddling you, as he pulls at your hoodie with a determined gaze set on you. His demeanor makes you offer no resistance as he removes the article of clothing from your body, leaving you with your bra underneath. But his fingers dance across your back as he leans in to steal another kiss, undoing the hooks and the straps slowly fall from your shoulders. He leans back again just to see as he removes the bra entirely from you, exposing your breasts. Through the orange flickering light of the fireplace you see his pupils dilate.

“So fucking beautiful…” he whispers more to himself than anything. “You are much more beautiful than I ever imagined, angel. Can’t believe it took this long.”

His hands cup your breasts and he feels the weight of them, the roundness of them, thumb brushing your puckered nipples as he did so. Your back arches towards his touch instinctively and he does it again. One hand at your shoulders pulls you back down into the carpet, laying your back to it as his head slowly follows you down and his lips wrap around one of your nipples.

You writhe beneath him and whimper shamelessly as he lavishes on your chest, wetting and sucking your erect globes until you are yelping and clawing at his shoulders and down his back, your legs rubbing together under him in search of some friction. So very slowly, he moves his head down your body, leaving your nipples to swipe his tongue on the underside of your breast, then leaving long wet kisses down your pudgy stomach, hands kneading at the soft flesh.

“You feel so good, Y/N. All softness and warmth, so much to squeeze and hold on my hands.” He tells you as he reaches your belly button, pecking around it which tickled a bit. “I bet you taste sweet too. Let me find out, yeah?”

You gasp as he aggressively removes your pants from your body, as if offended by them. They fly off your wide legs in a second, your socks going with them, and leaving you clad only in your panties. You look down at him with overly hot cheeks and uneven breaths, a tight pull in your lower belly at the thought of what he was about to do.

With a hungry look, Namjoon kisses from your ankles up your legs, hands following his mouth on the outside of your thighs as he moved up. They grasp at your pillowy flesh and pull your legs apart, until he is facing your burning center. You cry out loud when he sucks on your clit through the panties, the unexpected feeling at the sensitive button making your hips jump up, only for his hands to grab you tightly and keeping you in place.

He keeps teasing you through the fabric, much to your frustration, panties growing wetter both from your overflowing juices and from the work of his tongue against them, tracing your slit up and down and lapping at it.

“N-Namjoon, p-please!...” you cry out as the tightness on your womb becomes excruciating and you want - no, you need - more.

“Please what, kitten?” he knowingly asks against your covered mound, the rough voice reverberating against you and you mewl at the feeling. “Tell me what you want.”

“I… I…” your brain spins around in search of the right words, but it’s so difficult to think when he flicks his tongue so expertly around you bundle of nerves. “I want you to fuck me. I need you inside, now, please, Namjoon!”

Your hands hit at his shoulder with how exasperated you are and he chuckles against you.

“Get on your hands and knees for me, kitten, and take off the panties. I’ll give you what you want” he promises.

Hooking your thumbs around the hem of your panties, you pull them off you as you turn around and get on your knees like he asked, turning your ass in his direction as you hear him removing his trousers. You bite your lips and can’t help getting even more aroused as you think about finally having him inside, like you dreamed off so many impish nights.

“So pretty, angel. All pink and glistening for me” he tells you and you feel his fingers opening your folds for him to see. “It’s like you want me as much as I want you” he whispers.

“I do, Namjoon. I d- Ahhh!”

You wanted to turn around and tell him how much you loved him, how long you hoped for something like this to happen as well, but then he grabs both of your ass cheeks in his hands, squeezing the abundant flesh and parting them as he leans in and licks up your exposed pussy, catching you completely by surprise and you almost fall flat on your face, the strength of your arms wavering for a split second.

His hands keep massaging your rump and his head moves up and down your velvet skin, licking away the overflowing juices only for you to replace them instantly, your inner walls clenching down on nothing as he keeps nipping and sucking on your clit and his tongue swirls around your entrance.

“F-fuck, Namjoon, I’m gonna… I’m gonna!...”

Your legs and arms are starting to quiver, the tension of your muscles making you sweat alongside the heat of the fireplace next to you, your heartbeat feeling like it’s inside your skull and the most agonizing knot about to burst from within you.

But then he pulls his lips away from your lower ones and you whine profusely at the loss of the feeling, only to have him kiss around your ass cheeks and up your spine, hands gliding up and down your horizontal body as you feel something hard pocking at your legs. You swallow dry.

“So, so pretty… like a goddess” he murmurs against your skin, leaving kisses between your shoulder blades and hands coming around you to play with your breasts a bit. Your whines have turned into almost sobs at how much you needed release. “I love, Y/N. Loved you for so long.”

You turn your head at that, lust blown eyes staring back into yours before he united your lips for a sweet kiss. As your mouths press together, one of his hands positions his length and in a swift sway of his hip, he enters you. You part your lips away from his as you wail at the feeling of him stretching you, the size of his cock reaching deep within and it almost makes you come undone from the feeling only, hands clawing at the carpet beneath them.

“You’re so tight and slick, kitten! Feels so good, like you were made for me” he remarks, backing his hips up only to thrust them back into yours as deep as he could go. “Were you made for me, angel? Are you all mine now?”

“Y-yes, Namjoon. All yours, please. Please, more” you beg of him.

As he starts picking up the rhythm, his hands are clawing at the sides of your hips, guiding you with him at each lunge, and his kisses travel down your back, until he leans back up and just looks at you from behind. You are whaling his name and digging your nails in the carpet. Your skin is all sweaty and gleaming with the light of the fireplace. Hair is sticking at the nape of your neck and back, and Namjoon goes to brush it away but instead he grabs and tugs slightly on it, at the same time he gets faster. You feel the tip of his cock hitting at your cervix at the same time the sting of him pulling your hair kicks in and it drives you insane.

“Fuck, Y/N, you look so good like this, you take my cock so well” he praises with an out of breath speech. “I’ll bet you look so pretty cumming. Are you gonna cum for me, sweet angel?”

“Namjoon, ahh… Ahhh!...”

His praise and the repeated assault on the sensitive spot on your cervix with the tip of his length finally does it. Your walls convulse and crash down around him, the aching coil inside unfurling and pleasure cascading in waves through your body as you moan out his name, falling to your forearms as you can’t keep yourself up any longer.

Namjoon stops for a moment to let you catch your breath, but it isn’t much longer before he starts moving again, still perfectly erect inside of you, your sensitive walls feeling how hot and throbbing his cock was.

“You look better than my dreams. I dreamed of you like this so much, of seeing you come undone and filling you up with my cum until you can’t take it no more” he confesses, pulling your body up until your back meets his chest.

One of his hands grasp your neck and turns your face to him, so he can leave sloppy hungry kisses on your mouth as he keeps plummeting his cock into your overly sensitive quim. The other moves from your wide hip into your stomach and he grabs the protruding flesh above the place where your bodies joined together, feeling the ripples each plunge created on your skin.

“Namjoon, please!” you sob out, tears from the overwhelming pleasure gathering at the corner of your eyes.

“Please what?” he repeats, kissing down your neck as the hand on your neck moves down to swirl one of your nipples in between his index finger and thumb. Your walls automatically clench around him and he hisses. “Ugh, kitten, if you keep clenching around me like that, I will cum sooner than I want.”

“Please fill me up” you find yourself saying. “I want your cum so bad, I want to be filled by you and just you, please! Please make me cum again.”

You had no idea you had such depraved thoughts, much less that you could say them out loud, but when it came to Namjoon you wanted anything and everything. You felt no shame, in fact you couldn’t help but feel a hint of proudness when he cursed and the thrust of his hips grew quicker, face hidden in your shoulder as he bit down on it.

“Fuck, you like that? When you beg like that it makes me want to give you everything you desire, kitten” he says. “Bet you would look so pretty… Your fertile womb overflowing with my seed, I bet it’s begging for it right now.”

“Yes, Namjoon, yes! Please!”

The hand that was holding your stomach drops down until his fingers rub your clit and he keeps thrusting up into you. Your head falls back into his shoulder as you scream, too much stimuli making your nerves catch fire and the dam breaks. You cum heavenly and violently, your slick heat spasming and tightening around him and sucking him dry as Namjoon’s cock twitches inside and spills out his essence.

Both of you fall into the carpet and Namjoon finds the strength to pull out of you and parting your legs to see your overflowing womanhood, a mixture of your juices spilling out. He smiles and kisses up your arm, one arm stuck under your head and the other around your waist, fingers tracing lazy patterns on the skin of your belly as you both take time to recover.

It’s comfortable to stay where you are for a long time, twenty minutes going by as you lay side by side with the warmth of the fireplace keeping you contented. At some point you rolled over to face him and you both just smile at one another, your fingers coming up to trace over the dimples on his cheeks lovingly.

“I’m sorry I was so rough on our first time together, angel. I didn’t mean to, I envisioned being a lot more gentle” he apologized, one hand coming up and brushing your hair. You shake your head.

“Not at all. It was perfect, Namjoon. With you, everything is perfect” you reassure him.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m so glad we came on this vacation. Even if we end up never going skiing as long as we do this instead” he teases with a smirk.

“I love you too. And next time, let’s not waste the perfectly good bed over there” you point out, finger aiming to the soft bed that was just a few feet away from where you were both laying, on the ground, on top of a carpet.

“You’re right. It was a waste. Let me correct that.”

“Wait, what? Ah!”

A mixture of a yell and a chuckle leaves you as Namjoon pulls you up with him and drags you back into the fluffy bed, intent on more than making up for all the wasted time you both were pinning for each other unnecessarily.

#bts chubby reader #bts chubby!reader #bts #btsxchubby reader #bts namjoon #namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #bts rm #bts smut #bts angst #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #kpop smut #kpop angst #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #plus size reader #request

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kyberconfessions · 3 years

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Omega Squadron - Clones

Please don't use them. These are mine and I created them and I love them.

Do not steal. Thank you.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Delta - Commander CC -7767

Stoic, kind, quiet, always has his arms crossed. Completely and utterly in love with his General. But knows she loves another. Still loves her. Will still give his life for her. Will follow his general to the ends of the earth. Protective of his team and family. Fuck you, you're not Omega. Really, really loves tea and meditation. Will meditate long into the day with Chidori and Maul. He doesn't have the connection to the force they have, but being able to clear his mind and have a moment of silence is more than enough. Best friends with Captain Rex of the 501st and Commander Cody of the 212nd. Will frequent 79s with them when they're all planetside and complain, er discuss, about their Generals and the crazy situations they put themselves into.

Has military cropped hair with one side shaved and the GAR symbol tattoo'd. Small smattering of grey at his temples. Not a fan of it, but his General said it made him look distinguished, so he kept it. Has one line on his chest and neck for each member of his squad in their company purple.

large scar across the bridge of his nose. Not from the war, but from breaking up a fight in 79s and getting a glass slammed into his face.

Jedi symbol tattood on inside of left wrist, keeps it hidden.

Donner - Communications CT - 4459

Prankster, always cracking jokes, knows that making someone laugh can usually help alleviate the pain they're feeling. Enjoys fried foods, thinks of others, always has the biggest and most genuine smile. Really loves those scented oils he got from naboo, especially the cardamom.

Long hair on top, undercut buzzed on bottom. Wears hair in topknot. Two tattooed rectangles under right eye, three lines shaved into left eyebrow, black out tattoo on entire right arm. May or may not have been involved in the '79s Incident'.

Niner - sniper CT-9999

Gentle. The most gentle man in the entire GAR. so very kind. Will give all of his food rations away to street urchins, just so they know someone cares for them. Has tried to adopt lothcats multiple times, but a stern glare from Delta usually has him putting it back.

Amazing shot. Will be the first to volunteer for whatever mission his General has. Always tries to talk down situations. Prefers to use his words over his fists. But will finish fights if he has too. Heart is to big for war, will sit and let you cry on his shoulder if its needed. Gives the best hugs. Best friends with Donner.

Regular military issued hair cut, nothing fancy, no facial tattoos, has the republic gear on his entire left shoulder, chest, deltoid, trapezius, and into his back. Still sees everything with wonder and big eyes.

Bama - Medic CT-3524

No nonsense guy, will call you out for making stupid mistakes. Dry bedside manner. Oh? You've got a hunk of shrapnel lodged in your side? Here, let him rip it out if you all the while telling you how stupid you were for standing to close to a bomb. Can and will drug Delta if he thinks he's not sleeping enough.

Had to learn a lot about Zabrak anatomy when Maul was added to the team.

'Two hearts! Why the kriff does he have two hearts?!'

Will drink everyone under the table. Once ran into a dangerous warzone to grab a kid who had wandered from the alleys.

Shaved head, sometimes sports a few days old shadow, but likes to keep it clean. Black out tattoos on both arms, completely covered. Wears a necklace with the Republic Gear. Has heteochromia from an injury sustained on Geonosis. Basically one normal colored eye and one almost completely black eye (can still see fine and doesn't want a stupid kriffing implant.)

Familial grump.

Ares - Weapons Specialist ARC-8599

CONTRABAND EXTRAORDINAIRE. You want something, he can get it! Correlian wine? Easy. Sabaac game from the Palace of Naboo? Childs play. Religious regalia from the Chiss? Please, find me something hard.

loves his gun. Named it Mesh'la. Yeah its Mando'a. Fuck off. can and will shoot every weapon in the GAR. Usually is the one laying down heavy fire so his brothers can maneuver or escape. Can curse you out in 6 different languages. Was the first to accept Maul into their ranks.

'So what if he was a sith? We've all done stuff we're not proud of. Who are we to judge? The General trusts him and thats all that matters to me.'

loves working out. Will workout every chance he gets. "Mesh'la isn't the only big gun I've got! BAM!" MASSIVE FLIRT.

Has a more stylized version of the military cut, bottom fades into the top with a longer section on top towards the front. Two red bands on upper right arm, Omega symbol branded into chest. Not tattoo'd, branded. Bama had a field day cursing him out in Mando'a and applying bacta patches.

Nero - pilot CT-1966

Great pilot, best pilot, can fly around the best of those clankers. Not very smart. Look, don't expect him to be able to recite Alderaani Poetry, but has read every manual for every cruiser this side of the galaxy. Really wants to do the Kessel run, Delta told him no. Rrreeeaaallly wants to though. Donner and Ares may sneak him off with one of the y wings, see if they can do some damage. Has a crush on the Civilian Auxiliary that helps fuel their ship. Stumbles over words, very shy, turns hot faced and wide eyed when Ares flirts for him. Boy is pretty and has a good heart, but definitely will not become a Senator any time soon. Everyone thinks he and Maul are best friends, when really he's absolutely terrified of the red and black Zabrak and can't physically speak when he's around. Maul on the other hand finds Nero's silence and calm demeanor relaxing and enjoys watching space go by, so he will sit with Nero as they go through hyperspace. So Maul sits up with him in copilot chair and Nero sweats bullets and internally screams the entire time.

Buzzcut and intricate pattern shaved in, swears its a map into Wild Space, Bama told him it looks like he list a fight with his clippers.

Soul patch and checkerboard diamond tattoos on left forearm GAR symbol on left calf.

#clones #clone wars #OCs #omega squad #my clones #do not steal #mine

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crossbows-and-moonshine · 4 years

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Screaming Salvation (Part two)

Was supposed to upload one a day of these until I run out and totally forgot lmaoooo

Let me know what you guys are thinking of this so far. This story may be somewhat darker than my usual. I don't know if dark is the right word for it but there is a lot of hurt and healing and shit involved.

Fun fact! The name of the fic was originally ‘The Hurt, The Hope’. Which is another As It Is song from the same album. I think it's self-explanatory why. The hurt is all they've been through, the hope is the kids. Carl, Judith and the new baby are the future of this new world. But I thought the other song fit it better so I changed it.

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

It had been a few hours since they’d found Rosalie, and they'd done nothing but walk. Her already tired body and sore feet were screaming at her, and the cut on her arm was throbbing. Rick had said once they found shelter someone would stitch it for her. They didn't have time to stop and do it out in the open, it was too dangerous and it was getting dark. Some people had tried to introduce themselves. A woman named Maggie and her husband Glenn finding it their job to be the welcome party. Maggie pointed to everyone in the group and told her their names but she found it hard to care. She doubted she would be staying long. Once the woman realised the new girl didn't want to speak, only nodding or shaking her head and staring off at nothing, she decided it was best to leave her be. Maggie wondered if she was always like this or if it was the trauma of the day.

Rosalie noticed the crossbow guy, Daryl apparently, walking next to her the whole time. He seemed to do this thing where it felt like he projected outwards, like a protective shell that encompassed her and the baby. She wasn't sure if she was imagining it or just delirious from lack of blood and food. He never strayed far from her, and when they had to stop for a small break if someone got too tired, he seemed to hover close to her. Always alert and tense as he watched out for threats. He never seemed to let his guard down, and Rosalie knew that feeling. She had to be that way surviving on her own. If it wasn't for the fact she was injured and stupidly fucking tired, she would be the same way in that moment. The only reason she had some semblance of not being wound so tightly was the fact that she was with people, strength in numbers. She felt his gaze on her every so often but didn't care, keeping her eyes ahead. She had felt from the get-go that Daryl could easily suss people out. She just figured maybe that's what he was doing. She couldn't bring herself to care if he was. She wasn't a threat to his people, not unless they were a threat to her.

When they finally found shelter, she almost fell to the floor and kissed it out of desperation. She was beyond tired and she really didn't want to be out late in the dark with the baby. It was a run-down cabin in the woods, and after clearing it, they all filled in. They sat in the living space, a fire going to keep them warm, and the red-headed man and Latina woman took watch at the windows. When Rick handed her a bottle of formula like he promised, Rosalie felt like someone had cracked open all of her ribs. The pain and guilt were eating her alive. Even though she wasn't thrilled to be hanging with a group, she was grateful and she wanted to thank him. The words wouldn't come out though but Rick could see it in her eyes, how touched she was. He just gave her a warm smile and a pat to the shoulder. It was strange to her, ever since she relented to his request to join them, he’d acted like she was one of them. Part of the group. His words from earlier echoed in her mind. We look out for our own. She didn't feel like part of the group though. She didn't feel like one of them, and she didn’t want to. She felt like an outsider. A mere travel companion until she got her shit together enough to trust that she could look after the baby outside, or leave the baby with them. She was sitting near the fire for warmth, near the group but not directly next to anyone, clearly keeping her distance. And as soon as the boy greedily drank the formula, he happily nuzzled into her and fell asleep in her arms in his dirty blue onesie.

“How old is he?” Maggie asked from across the fire, her eyes on the sleeping boy with a caring smile. Rosalie nibbled her lip a little, avoiding all the eyes that seemed to fall on her. She never liked being the centre of attention. It felt like being the new girl in school all over again.

“I don't know,” was her blunt reply, causing a few raised eyebrows and some frowns.

“You don’t know?” Carol asked her, looking almost incredulously at her. Like how can someone not know how old their baby was, the idea was absurd.

“He’s not mine, I found him two months ago,” she said tensely, her hands protectively tightening around the boy as she glanced up, shooting a glare to the older woman. She noticed Carol's eyes widen a little, and something akin to pity or sadness crossing her features. She presumed most of the others did the same.

“You found him?” Rick asked her curiously. He was sitting off to her right, next to his son Carl and Daryl. Judith on Carl's lap. Rosalie chewed the inside of her cheek trying not to get agitated by the people that had helped her. It was natural they were curious, but she didn't want to talk about it. When she talked about it, it meant it was real and that she was in fact the sole carer of a baby that wasn't hers. She felt that crushing weight of pressure in her chest again.

“He was in the woods alone outside. I heard him crying and went to look… His mom wasn't too far away getting made into a snack,” she muttered with a dark glare at Rick, making it obvious this wasn't something she wanted to talk about. She saw the man swallow thickly and glance to the sleeping boy. She knew too well what he was thinking. How if she hadn't turned up the baby would have been next, and that was a dark thought indeed. But to the group, it also spoke volumes about what kind of person she was. To save the baby, to raise him as her own. A baby in this world was no easy feat. It was like an alarm bell for dinner for the dead, and it made it so much harder to survive. Yet she had done it, no hesitation.

A dark silence took over the group, grim thoughts swirling around their mind. Most of them thinking about baby Judith and how lucky she was not to be in that situation.

“Have you named him?” Carl spoke up, his eyes looked upon her kindly. She didn't know how she felt about that. She tensed a little, the archer next to Rick noticing. He’d noticed everything about her, observant as ever.

“I just call him Tiny,” she shrugged, making Carl snort a little. The adults didn’t find it amusing though because they knew. They knew why the boy had no name. Rosalie was terrified of naming the boy, terrified of forming an attachment other than keeping him alive for fear that something would happen. To her or the baby, none of which mattered. But ultimately the girl knew deep in her bones that one way or another, they would be separated, and she was scared to become attached to him.

Her eyes drifted to the little boy sleeping soundly curled into her. Despite every effort to not get attached to him, the girl who held no hope long before the turn had gotten very attached to him. She fucking hated herself for it, for making herself so weak and vulnerable.

“I think he looks like a Jacob,” Carol mused softly, a smile directed at the baby in Rosalie's arms.

“I like that name for him, suits him,” Maggie grinned, making Rosalie clench her jaw at people trying to name the baby that was her responsibility and hers alone. Again that conflicting feeling. She had thought about leaving the boy with them, she shouldn't be getting angry at them for naming him. What the fuck did she care? But she did, she fucking cared and it made her mad.

Much to her relief the focus soon turned from her and the boy, to people just talking to each other. She kept feeling eyes on her and when she glanced up, she noticed Daryl looking right at her through his hair as he chewed his thumb. He didn't look away, the both of them just looking at each other for a moment before Rosalie looked down at the baby. She wasn't sure what was going on with the man. She couldn't figure out if he wanted to protect her or put a bolt through her heart at the first chance he’d get. She was struggling to get a read on him now with his stoic gaze.

She felt her stomach grumble and she couldn't remember the last time she ate. She grabbed her pack and looked around, finding what she was looking for; squirrel meat wrapped in cloth. She’d caught it herself with the bow the ugly assholes from earlier had taken from her. Lucky for her, it was the only thing they had taken. But it was still a big blow as she didn't know how else to hunt for food. She had prepped it, rationing it and storing it in her bag. She didn't have much, yet for just her and the baby, it would have lasted about a week. Her eyes looked around at the others, noticing they too hadn’t eaten since they found her. She growled inwardly at the niggling feeling inside of her, telling her to share her food, to do the right thing. She wouldn't have to deal with this shit if she was alone. But they had helped her, and Rick had given her formula for the baby without any fuss or hesitation. She couldn't ignore that. She sighed a little as she took the meat wrapped in cloth, reaching over to Rick next to her and silently handing it to him. She heard the soft murmur of conversion stop around her, once more being the focus of attention she’d rather not have.

Rick looked at her confused before he unwrapped it, his stomach partially growling when he saw the meat. He knew it wasn't much for their group, but it was more than enough. More than what they currently had, which was nothing. And what's more, it was obvious this was precious to her. This was hers and would have kept her going for quite a bit. He looked a little surprised at the gesture and looked at her. She felt the heat creeping its way up her chest to her cheeks. She really hated people noticing her existence. She wasn't used to it. To Rick, although the gesture was a simple one, it carried a lot of weight to him. She could have easily not told them about it, or even just cooked it for herself. But she chose to share it with him, with his group. It was yet another thing that spoke volumes to him of what kind of person she was.

“Are you sure?” he asked hesitantly. Of course he fucking wanted the food, he needed it, they all did. Daryl had not been able to find anything when he’d gone hunting earlier that day and they were all starved. But he also didn't want her to feel like she had no choice but to hand it over to them. She just gave him a nod before looking back at the boy, stroking his dark hair a little as if to ground her. She felt uncomfortable being around this many people. All these eyes watching her and judging her. It made her skin crawl.

“Thank you,” Rick smiled. A real genuine smile that he couldn't remember the last time was on his face. The others murmured the same as they looked at her, grateful for her help, but she didn't want any of it. She wanted them to stop looking at her. Carol took the meat and started cooking it as everyone fell into conversation again, making her relax just slightly. She chanced a glance up again only to see Daryl's eyes once again on hers. But this time he gave her a little nod of thanks, seeming to take note of how uncomfortable she was with everyone looking at her and making it into a big deal. He knew that feeling all too well, he was the same. He remembered back in the prison, how people acted like he was some sort of hero for going out hunting and he hated that shit. She returned the nod and glanced back down. She really didn't know how she felt about this group yet. It wasn't long after that the meat was cooked due to how small she had cut it up, and they all ate in companionable silence. Grateful for the food in their bellies, even if it wasn't that much.

She sighed and tried to get comfortable and winced at her arm again. It hadn't been stitched. She had been adamant the baby needed food first and then he’d fallen asleep. It had stopped bleeding, the blood coagulating and starting to form a scab, but it was still hurting and pulled every time she moved it.

“Let's get you stitched up,” Rick said softly, noticing her reaction to moving her arm. He didn't want the girl's arm to get infected and it didn't take a genius to see how little she seemed to care for her own well being over the boy’s. Rather letting him sleep comfortably than get her arm seen to. Daryl got up without prompting and rummaged through a duffel, getting out a first aid kit and walking over to her. He sat beside her, glancing at the baby. He couldn't do this when she was holding him, but he wasn’t sure just how to voice it. Not when he’d observed how protective she was over him. She looked at the man, knowing what he was thinking, and Maggie picked up on it too.

“I can take him for you,” she offered with a warm smile. Rosalie tensed a little, her arm holding the boy tighter, something else that Daryl observed. He could see the war inside of herself. To trust a stranger to hold the boy, and he watched her carefully as she finally relented. He knew it was a hard decision for her to make, and he knew if the shoe was on the other foot and it was Judith, he would have been the same. Maggie gently took the sleeping baby, grinning as she looked down upon him as she held him close. Rosalie looked at her, Maggie looked like a doting mother. It made her heart hurt and she swallowed thickly. Maybe Maggie would be a good person to trust the boy with. She felt eyes on her and glanced to see Daryl, still sat next to her watching her with careful eyes. It was almost like he knew just what she was thinking. That she was going to leave the baby with them because she felt useless and inadequate to do the job herself. She looked down from his gaze, it made her feel stripped bare.

“Let me see it,” his voice was gruff but his tone was soft. It was a strange combination but she gave in anyway, lifting her arm to him with a wince. He took it in his large hands, examining it, furrowing his brow a little as he did and sucking through his teeth. It was bad, she was already aware of that. The man didn't know how she was acting so put together about it, like it was a tiny scratch. He grabbed a cloth and some alcohol to clean the wound before glancing at her through his long hair.

“S’gon’ hurt like a bitch,” he warned, his tone apologetic. He felt like the poor girl had already been through enough for one day, but if he didn't stitch her up it wouldn't end well for her. She looked at him and just gave a curt nod. She was well aware it would hurt, it wasn't the first time she’d been through this.

He looked at her a little apprehensive for a moment, almost like he didn't want to do it. Up close like this he could see her very clearly. She was pretty and looked young, no older than 25. It was an odd combination with her fierce nature he had seen when she almost chopped off that pricks head right off his skinny ass shoulders. He saw the rage that took over her, he fucking felt the same rage when the asshole had muttered those vile fucking words that made him feel like he was going to throw up everywhere. He’d heard her growl and snarl like a wild wolf protecting her pup. And now seeing her up close, he was almost startled by how soft her face was. Her dark brown hair was matted and caked in blood and grime. He noticed it was chopped crudely to just above her shoulders, almost like she had taken a knife to it and hacked at it herself. Her eyes were wide, a light blue. Yet despite their colour, they looked dull, jaded at the things she had endured. Even through the layers of dirt and blood that covered her skin, he could see she was pale as can be, but it suited her. He could also see just how tired she was, and he wondered how the fuck this tiny little thing had not only managed to keep herself alive for so long, but the boy too.

He was shocked when she had said the baby wasn't hers, that she had found him. From how protective she was of the boy, he never would have guessed she had been with him for only two months. That she wasn't his blood. He found himself grateful. Not only for the fact the baby was found at all before he endured something so horrific, but that it was Rosalie who had found him. How she had taken it upon herself to keep him alive no matter the cost. He was glad when Rick had made the decision to invite her to join them. He knew some others were a little apprehensive at first, but he knew why Rick had done so. And the reason was Judith. Daryl felt the same ache deep in his chest the second he heard the baby who was strapped to the scared girl. He felt like his stomach dropped right out of his ass and he couldn't possibly harm the girl when she was with a baby. Not unless she was a complete threat to them, which he knew she wasn't. He was ready to shoot if needed, but he could tell straight off the bat she wasn't a threat to him or the group unless they struck first. She had been desperate and wild-looking. He dreaded to think the hell she had been through to have that jaded look in her eyes, and he found an intense need to protect her and the boy. Gravitating towards them as they walked and keeping alert. He could see when she walked how tired she was. How she winced and limped a little and he knew her feet were hurting her. He couldn't imagine how she ever got any damn rest when it was just her and the boy. No one to take watch shifts with, to ever feel somewhat safe to sleep or stop for a rest. So he’d found himself by her side, protective and guarding, hoping she could sense that she could at least not be so alert and have some kind of rest. To know someone had her back for once.

He realised he’d been staring at her arm for a moment deep in thought, and as much as he didn't want to hurt her, feeling the guilt bubbling inside of his chest. He knew he’d feel a fuck tonne more guilty if she died from infection and left the baby without his guardian. He’d noticed the look Rosalie gave Maggie, and he hoped he was fucking wrong about it. He couldn't shake the feeling the girl might up and leave, leaving the boy with them. He wasn't even angry about it. He knew why she would do such a thing, he saw it as clear as day in her eyes the moment she watched the boy with Maggie. She felt like she wasn't good enough, wasn't able to keep him alive. Guilty for not being able to look after him on her own as well as a group could have. But he didn't want her to leave. He wanted her to stay, for her and the baby to become part of the group. And he really hoped he was fucking wrong about what he thought.

He got the thread ready with a needle, dowsing the needle in the alcohol to sterilize it. With one hand firmly gripping her arm, the other deftly started sewing the awful wound closed. She clenched her jaw, exhaling hard through her nose as she breathed through the pain without making a peep. It unsettled Daryl. It was almost like she'd experienced pain all too much in her life that she was used to it. No one else would have been able to act like that under the circumstances. He tried to work quickly and when he was done, he gave it another wipe with alcohol. He looked down at his work as did she, it wasn't perfect by any means but it was closed and that's what mattered. It would scar though, and the thought made Daryl angry. Angry that she would have a permanent reminder of those assholes and the things they said. The things they could have done to her and the boy before they even came across them. He wrapped her arm in a bandage, his rough hands surprisingly delicate as he undertook his task.

“Thanks,” she muttered, her voice quiet and raw sounding. He’d noticed the only few times she had spoken that her voice was quiet, and sounded so tired he wondered how she hadn’t just lay down and conked right out. He gave her a little nod and put the stuff back in the first aid kit, but he didn’t move back to his spot beside Rick. Instead he stayed next to her, leaning against the wall. She felt it again, the weird projection thing he seemed to do, and she wondered if he even knew he was doing it. She grabbed her pack and took out some dirty clothes, laying them on the floor next to her. She looked at Maggie expectantly, and Maggie gave her a sheepish smile as she handed the baby back over. Rosalie lay the baby down on the pile of clothes like a tiny makeshift mattress, before draping the blanket she used to carry him over him gently. Then she curled up next to him, protectively, her back to Daryl and the rest of them. She needed sleep so she felt better in the morning when they would head out again.

Despite the fact she was still slightly wary of the group, they'd done nothing but help her and the baby, and she was grateful. She was grateful to have a roof over their heads, for the baby to have food in his belly that he needed so desperately. To have some respite from being alone. For the fact she would be able to sleep for once. The strange projection that Daryl omitted made her feel safe. Like somehow without words, by staying next to her, giving off that vibe, he was saying to her to get some rest and she didn't need to worry. That her and the baby were safe and he wouldn't let anything happen to them. And she didn't need telling twice. Her exhausted body fell asleep instantly, her hand on the infant's tummy like she needed reassurance he was still there with her.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #twd #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfic

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 83

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007

The call comes shortly before four in the morning; the shrill ring and the incessant vibration of the phone against the nightstand startling him awake. Tyler groans at the intrusion; annoyed by the abrupt end to what had been an uncharacteristically peaceful sleep. Insomnia had settled in their first night in Dhaka; rattled by the ongoing threats against his family and the turn to the very place where he’d nearly lost his life. Seven years feels like seventy some days; given reprieve when the memories don’t creep up for weeks, sometimes even months on end. Yet there’s times where it feels as if it were seven days ago; vivid recollections of the taste of his own sweat and blood, the smell of gunpowder and spilt gasoline, the cries of the wounded and dying. It’s been years since he’s had what he considers a decent sleep; five to seven hours without being disturbed by pain or bad dreams or being woken by a crying baby or little ones climbing into bed alongside him.

While it only been three hours since he and Esme had returned upstairs the short period of rest that had preceded their love making had been the deepest and most restful sleep in recent memory. The day’s roller coaster of emotions finally caught up to him; initially channelled into languid and gentle -and ultimately desperate- sex. The realization that it may very well be the last time they would physically enjoy each other fuelling the need; hands and mouths working together to fully worship and pleasure one another before giving in to the act itself. Moving slowly inside of her at first; long, soft kisses being exchanged as her hands roamed his shoulders and back and travelled down his arms. Those huge, dark eyes and her legs wrapping around his waist and heels digging into the small of his back signalling that she needed more from him. WANTED more. And he’d obliged; repeatedly driving into her with near brutal force. Thrusts that pushed her further up the bed and had her crying out in a mixture of pleasure and discomfort; teeth sinking into his shoulder and nails breaking the skin as they raked down his back and over his ribs. Enjoying the way his name sounded coming from her mouth; whether it be the whispers and whimpers or the begging and pleaded and eventually the cry of her released. It’s always been her favorite thing to hear, even outside of sex. The way it sounds when she’s giggling while he teases her or when it’s sleepy and slightly disoriented after he’s woken her up after falling asleep on the couch.

He can remember what it had felt like when she’d said it for the first time; in that cramped and dirty hotel room in the city centre. Since their initial first meeting at that old shack in the outback, she’d been calling him by his last name; a habit picked up in both the military and her time on the job. First names are usually abode; too personal considering the unpredictable circumstances and the very short time you’re actually in someone’s life. But in that moment...in the heat of an intense argument between two severely obstinate people...with his hand around her neck and those dark eyes -stoic and unnerved- staring up at him, everything changed.

“Admit it,” she’d snarled. “For the right price, you’d leave me AND the kid behind. Admit it, Tyler.”

It was the first time she’d said it; his first name. And it had caused something inside of him to snap; that stubbornness and assertiveness and those eyes his complete undoing. It had been years since a woman had made him feel that level of want and need, and despite the rational side of his brain screaming at him to walk away, he’d given in. His hand still on her throat as he kissed her with a complete loss of control he’d never exhibited with anyone else. Spurred on when she’d so eagerly responded; unable to stop things from progressing even further. Taking her right there up against the wall, pounding into her with punishing thrusts that were fuelled by years of anger, guilt, and regret. And that little body had taken everything he’d unleashed on it; hands tightly gripping his hair and her legs wound around his waist. Encouraged by the way she begged and pleaded for ‘more and ‘harder’ and the way his first name suddenly couldn’t stop tumbling from her lips.

After that, she never called by his last name ever again. And he’d have to stop himself from smiling every time she said his first. It sounded THAT good.

Propping himself up on his elbow, he reaches over his wife’s still, sleeping form and snags the phone before it can go to voicemail. There’s that brief moment of panic of late night calls while on a job; someone getting a hold of him to say that something to one -or all- of the kids. The tightness that forms in your chest and the way your heart hammers wildly. But the relief is instantaneous at the sight of Yaz’ name on the screen. Although it brings a whole host of other emotions with it.

“Yeah?” His greeting is simple. Voice laced with the lingering remnants of sleep.

“Be ready to go in three hours.”

“That was fast.”

“Guy I sent to try and get eyes in Asif’s place had other ideas; decided to go a different route. Grabbed one of the street thugs and beat the shit out of him and threatened to blow his knee caps and his dick off if he didn’t tell him where Neysa and Aarev are.”

“And he rolled over on his buddies?”

“Guess he really wanted to keep the family jewels. You were right; it IS a storage facility. One that hasn’t been in business for a while. About ten minutes outside of the city centre, going west. Sent my guy there to check it out; three separate buildings. They’re being held somewhere in the centre one. Sorry I couldn’t narrow it down any further.”

“I’ll work with whatever you give me. How many hostiles on site?”

“My guy counted six. I was able to get some surveillance set up; I’ve only seen ten at the most. Not too bad, right? If you can take out a whole apartment of assholes…”

“I’m not the man I was back then.”

“It was only seven years ago. Not seventy.”

“Tell that to my body.”

“You gonna be alright?” Yaz asks. “Think your old bones can handle this?”

“It’s not my bones I’m worried about.”

“If you can’t mentally do this. I’m not going to hold it against you. If you think whatever is left of your sanity won’t hold up...”

“I’ll be fine. In and out, yeah? Sounds like a pretty straight forward extraction. Not too many hostiles to deal with, a pretty open space, we’re away from the market area. What could possibly go wrong?”

“You know better than to ask something like that. It was a good call on Esme’s part; going north. Not a single damn roadblock that way. They’re expecting trouble to come over the Buriganga. That’s why they’ve shut the bridges down. I’ll drop you guys off just north of Dhaka; there’ll be two SUVs waiting.”

“How far back into town?”

“Twenty minutes. I'll be waiting at the extraction point. By the time anyone realizes what went down at the storage place AND get there, you’ll already be on your way back. We’re going to cause a big old thing on the Sultana Kamal Bridge.”

Tyler grins. “Big old thing, huh? I’d expect nothing less from you, Yaz.”

“Got a couple guys coming to pick the three of you up. Seven. You good to go?”

“I will be.”

“I’d expect nothing less from YOU. See you soon.”

“Yep,” he confirms, and then disconnects the call and returns the phone to the nightstand and rolls over onto his back. He groans at the discomfort in his shoulder and across the small of his back, then rakes his hands through his hair and runs them down his weary face.

He doesn’t move for several minutes; a forearm draped over his eyes. Finding himself oddly calm; long ago relegating himself to both the seriousness of the mission and his chances of getting out of it alive. The latter has improved with news of location and the number of hostels; with Koen and Rata and Anil’s two men, there will be more than enough bodies to handle everyone on site. A large indoor space will be much easier to navigate, and provides more places to grab cover if needed. He much prefers working in that kind of environment; having more room to move and not feeling as he’s being confined and suffocated. While everyone assumes the apartment seven years ago had been easy, it had in fact been one of the harder take down’s he’s ever done. There’d been a lot of people in that little space, and he’d had to work quick and with whatever items were at his disposal once he was unarmed.

Tyler moves back onto his side; sliding closer to his wife’s sleeping form and wrapping an arm around her, hand settling on the small -but very visible- baby bump. The fear is there; that this is the last moment of this kind he’ll get to spend with her. That worry that he’ll never again experience that soft, supple skin pressed against his own or breathe in that familiar scent. That he won’t get to see her grow bigger with child. HIS child. The way her body changes and she becomes even more beautiful and desirable; the extra weight and curves and the way her face fills out and seems to glow. She’s never seen herself the way he does, especially while pregnant. And she could never understand how incredible she actually is; selflessly giving her body in order to nurture and protect a life that he had a hand in creation. He never thought it was possible to love someone more with each passing day. That devotion that grows impossibly stronger when she watches her as a mother.

Esme stirs. Giving a long, content sigh and then pressing herself back against him; hand slipping down to briefly rest on top of his. Her fingers grazing along his own and then over his wrist and across his forearm. Her touch is soft and deeply intimate, and the quietness and the innocence surrounding it profoundly affects him; tears pricking his eyes and his throat and chest tightening with emotion. When her hand once more settles on top of his, he pushes his fingers through hers and holds as tightly as she can stand. It’s desperate; all of his fear and his worry communicated through something so simple. And for several minutes neither move nor speak his eyes closed and the top of his nose pressed against the back of her neck.

“How long?” she asks.

“Three hours.”

“That was fast.”

“It was,” he sighs. “Way too fast.”

He’d thought he had more time. That it would take Yaz at least half a day to mobilize his teams; to get eyes into Asif’s place and scouts sent north. And he’d planned on spending every remaining waking moment with her; doing whatever it took to make sure she knew exactly how much he loves and worships hers. Words have never come easy to him; often lost on what to say past those three simple -yet profound- words. The last thing he wanted -of the worst case scenario came into play- was her being left with doubts surrounding how he felt about her. Actions are easier for him; those small, thoughtfully little gestures that always bring a smile to her face. And he’d thought he’d get that chance; an opportunity to show her just how -and what- he feels. Three hours will feel like three minutes. With a deadline like that, he’s suddenly at a loss; not knowing if there’s any words or actions that could ever truly communicate how much he DOES love her. How thankful he is for the second chance he’d been given seven years ago. And how he always thought they’d have more time together than that.

“How much do you have to do to get ready?” she asks.

“Everything’s ready to go. There’s nothing I need to do.”

“So we can just lie here like this? For a little while?”

“For the next three hours if you want.” He raises his head from his pillow and presses a kiss to her temple, then her ear and her cheek and finally the corner of her mouth.

Releasing the hold on his hand, she rolls over onto her side to face him and slides even closer to him, settling her cheek on his pillow. The tips of their noses touching and their mouths mere inches apart, eyes locked. He tries not to notice the tears that sparkles in hers; the way she chews on her bottom lip as she struggles to control her own tsunami of emotions. He manages a small smile and presses his lips to her forehead, allowing them to linger for several seconds before pulling back to look at her. Eyes slowly scanning her face as calloused fingertips trace the burrows in her brow and move across the tops of her cheeks and down the bridge of her nose; travelling along the outer edges of her hair and across her lips.

“Don’t go,” Esme whispers. “Please don’t go.”

“I have to.”

“Let someone else do it. You don’t have to do this. It doesn’t have to be you.”

“It does. You know it does.”

“I thought I was prepared for this; that I was ready to see you walk away. But I’m not. I’m nowhere near ready. Please don’t go, Tyler.”

“It’s going to be okay,” he promises, and kisses the bridge of her nose before gathering her into his arms; pulling her flush against him with one hand on the small of her back and the other at the nape of her neck. “It’s alright,” he whispers, and places a series of feathery pecks across her shoulder. “I’m right here. I got you.”

The tears come now; loud, heartbreaking and gut wrenching sobs that shake her entire body and he feels to his very soul. All of those emotions pouring out of her; feeling the hot, bitter drops against his skin and the way her hands desperately clutch at his upper arms and the back of his neck. Even when things had been their darkest and their hardest, she’d never control to that extent. There’s nothing left to say; no possible words that could bring her comfort. Instead he lets her cry. His eyes closed and his lips pressed against the side of her neck; a palm sliding up and down her back in an attempt to soothe her. There’s little more he can do; no promises he can make or words that will lessen the severity of what lies ahead. No snide or humorous comment that will bring a smile to her face. It’s way beyond anything either of them have ever experienced; a fear and uncertainty that no other job has ever brought with it.

Eventually the sobbing subsides; transitioning into light whimpers and then a silence that’s occasionally interrupted by soft sniffles.

“You alright now?” Tyler asks when she pulls away. The hand that was in her hair now moving to her face; fingers clearing the remaining tears off her cheeks and the sides of her nose. He hates seeing her cry no matter what the circumstance. Especially when he’s the reason behind it.

“Not really,” Esme admits. “But I will be. When this is over and you’re back here. Safe and sound.”

“Hopefully it won’t be an all day thing. Sooner I’m out of there, the better. Last thing I want is to get trapped in the city. Didn’t go so well the first time.”

“This time you’re not doing it all alone. Or least you’ll have people watching your back. I could only do so much, and Ovi was just a kid. You pretty much had to carry the entire thing.”

“I think you totally underestimate how much you actually did.”

“I know I slowed you down. A lot. I know that you’d just listened to Nik…”

He pecks her lips. “We’re not going to talk about that. That’s the last thing I want to talk about.”

What DO you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know. You have any more dreams?”

She nods. “A good one this time. A very good time.”

“About what?”

“About when we got married. How nice you cleaned up; suit, tie, the beard all trimmed.”

“I was going to cut my hair too. But I figured you’d be pissed off enough to turn around and walk out.”

“I so would have left you at the altar if you’d done that,” she teases. “That was the one thing I asked you not to do; cut your hair.”

“I will never understand your obsession with it.”

“It’s just how I know you. It’s how it looked when we met. I guess it’s just what I’m used to. I’m sure one day I won’t mind if you do something different. But I swear to God, if you ever ask me shave it off again….”

“I know it broke your heart the first time. I won’t do that to you again. Maybe I’ll keep the hair and shave the beard off.”

“Don’t you dare,” she warns, and presses a kiss to his lips. “Do you remember the morning after? The hotel in Byron Bay?”

“I vividly remember that morning. And the night before.”

“I don’t mean THAT. Although, THAT was pretty incredible. I remember thinking afterwards that it felt different. In a good way. An amazing way. Because now it just wasn’t my boyfriend or my fiance or whatever making love to me. It was my husband. I don’t know; thinking about it that way made it seem different. Is that weird?”

“No. It’s not weird. I remember watching you sleep and thinking ‘that’s my wife’.”

“You did?”

“Seemed surreal; my fake wife now being my real one. Especially after I said I’d never get married again.”

“After Mark, I told myself I’d only go for girls for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah, it’s easy to see why he ruined all men for you.”

“I guess it just took a certain man to change my mind.”

“Yeah, one who could put up with all your shit.”

“I didn’t come with THAT much shit. You came with enough baggage for both of us. And I still didn’t run away. Maybe I’m the glutton for punishment.”

“Maybe,” he grins, and kisses her.

“But do you remember that morning? We had breakfast out on the balcony. And it was so nice out; it wasn’t too hot and the sky looked amazing and the way the sun shone on the water…” she sighs. “...it was like I woke up that morning and everything seemed even more beautiful than before.”

“I remember you had your hair down; the sun was making all the red in it sparkle. And you had that on this pink shirt that was off the shoulder and tied at the middle of your back. You were already showing pretty good with Millie; I remember thinking there was no way you could possibly get any more beautiful. And I remember wondering what the hell I’d ever done to deserve my life; a new wife, a baby girl on the way. You were really talkative and giggly that morning.”

“I was a newlywed. It was my honeymoon. And you’re the bringer of multiple orgasms. We should go back there; stay at the same hotel. A little getaway.”

“We can do whatever you want, baby.”

“What I’m going to say next is probably going to sound sappy. Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Why would I laugh?”

“It’s really sappy. Like really, really, REALLY sappy.”

“Try me.”

“I remember watching you and seeing the ring on your fingers and thinking how good it looked on you. And I was the one who put it there. I remember thinking ‘I have a husband now’ and it felt really good to think it. And it felt even better that it was you I was thinking it about. Is that weird? That I thought that?”

“No, baby. It’s not weird. It’s not weird at all.”

“And I know you don’t think it sometimes, but you’ve been an amazing husband,” her voice quivers with emotion and tears once more sparkle in her eyes. “I know things haven’t always been easy; that I haven’t been the easiest person to be with. That I’m tough to love sometimes. But you’ve been the one person I can count on; who makes me feel safe and protected. And I guess I just needed you to hear that. That there hasn’t been a time I didn’t love you. Even when things were shit, I loved you. Even when we didn’t know if we were going to make it or not.”

“But we did. We DID make it.”

“Seven years is not enough. And I’m scared that if you leave…”

“Everything’s going to be okay. In and out, right?”

“Nothing’s ever that simple.”

“Maybe this time it will be.” He brushes her hair off her forehead. “Maybe this will be the one time things don’t go to shit.”

“Maybe. But I wanted you to hear all that. About how amazing you’ve been. About how much I love you. I didn’t want you to walk out here not knowing all that.”

“I’ve always known. I’ve never doubted it. Have you? Ever doubted it?”

“How you feel about me?”

Tyler nods.

“No. You’ve always made sure that I know. Even if you don’t say it, you’ve always found a way to show it. And I see the way you look at me sometimes; you think I don’t notice, but I do. And I can’t describe it; what it looks like. How your eyes and your face look. I just know how it makes me feel when I see it. It makes me feel beautiful and incredible and...I don’t know…loved.”

“I’ve always loved you. I always will. I need you to know that. Just in case. I need to know that you know.”

“I know. I’ve always known, Tyler. I knew on the bridge. I knew before you did. It was in your eyes. It’s always in your eyes.”

“I have a confession to make. About seven years ago.”

“Uh-oh. I don’t know if I like the sounds of that.”

“It’s nothing bad. It’s just…it’s about the first time. In the hotel room. When I grabbed you.”

“When you tried to choke me out, you mean?” she lightly teases.

“I wasn’t angry. I mean, I was. I was pissed off that you didn’t listen to me. But I wasn’t THAT pissed off. That’s not why I did it.”

She combs her fingers through his hair. “Okay…”

“I was trying to scare you.”

“Why?”

“Because I was scared. Because I liked the way you smiled at me. I liked the way you’d always find a way to touch me. I liked the sound of your voice and the way you laughed And I hated that I DID like all of that. I didn’t want to like it. I didn’t want to like YOU. So I tried to scare you away. Because I didn’t want to feel anything else for you. Because everyone I’ve ever loved? I’ve lost. And I didn’t want that happening. Not again. That’s why I did it. I wanted to scare you away.”

“Were you surprised? When it didn’t work?”

“I think it made me even angrier. Because you wouldn’t let me get away with it. But I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was trying to protect you. From me.”

“There was nothing to protect me from, Tyler. You’re not the monster you think you are. You never have been. And I saw you; the real you. The one you hide from else. There was nothing you could have done to scare me away.”

“And to think you call me stubborn.”

“You are the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. But you're also the sweetest. And the most adorable.”

He frowns. “Shut up.”

“I’m sorry. You are. You have a huge heart in that big body of yours. And you may have been able to hide it from everyone else you’ve ever known, but you’ve never been able to hide it from me. And I love that about you; you’ve never felt a reason to hide it. You’ve always trusted me; right from the first night in Dhaka. When you told me about Austin. You let me see all sides of you. Even the ones that aren’t so pretty.”

“Don’t call me pretty. Or adorable. Or cute.”

“I don’t care what you say. You’re the most adorable mercenary ever.”

“How DARE you insult me like that.”

“I love you,” she says, and pushes his bangs off his forehead. “I only hope one day you’ll know how much,”

“I already know. And I love you. So much. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You. Us. My kids. My life. Everything.”

She manages a shaky smile, then breaks down once more. Both arms circling his neck as she buries her face in his shoulder. “Can you just hold me? That’s all I want. Just hold me, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, then drops a kiss on the top of her hand and wraps both arms around her. As tight as he possibly can.

*****

Three hours later she finds herself standing on the front porch, watching as the last of the needed gear is loaded into the trunks of the ‘getaway’ vehicles. Despite the stifling heat and oppressive humidity, she can’t stop shivering; the fear and anxiety so powerful it creates a damp, cold sensation that stretches from head to toe and seems to burrow into her bones. It’s nearly a hundred degrees outside and she can’t seem to get warm. Not even with the fleece lined hoodie she keeps tightly wrapped around her.

Every time he leaves for a job it’s difficult; the uncertainty of the situation, the possibility of things going wrong, the potential for serious injury or even death. Normally she’s more optimistic; refusing to let doom and gloom settle in despite how dangerous a mission sounds. But this is beyond anything she’s ever experienced before; aside from seven years ago. How fitting that it’s the same place that carries such a heavy weight; the vivid and brutal memories of the past making it nearly impossible to envision a different outcome in the present.

“How are you holding up?” Koen inquires, as he joins her on the porch. A tactical vest slung over one shoulder, backpack perched on the other.

“I was just going to ask you the same thing.”

“You know me; I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Usually that means a red head with daddy issues,” she teases.

“You’re way too quick for me, you know that? I see how you keep him on his toes. Although I don’t think he stands a chance against you.”

“He’s been a good sport. He hangs in there for some reason. He’s been sticking around for seven years. I’m just hoping he’ll stick around for at least seven more.”

“I don’t think he’s going anywhere. I think he’s a little too crazy about you.”

“Yeah,” she smiles, and pulls the sides of the hoodie even tighter around her. “I’m pretty crazy about him too. Which is why this is so damn hard. I thought I was ready; that I’d be okay when the time came. But I’m not okay. I’m far from okay.”

“Just hang in there a little while longer, kiddo. You’ve come a long way already; be a shame to break down right before the finish line. Your man’s got this; he knows what he’s doing. Smart as hell. Even if he does do dumb shit sometimes. Has a knack of getting me into trouble, that’s for sure.”

“He appreciates it. Koen; everything you’ve done, everything you continue to do. You backed him right away; when he showed up at your place and told you about the business. And you didn't think twice about helping him when all this started. You just agreed to it. Knowing how bad it could get.”

“Well, as much as I shit talk him, I really do love that drongo. I’ve got a soft spot for him. And you and the littles. How could I not? You’re the one who made him who he is now.”

“I know you’re totally overestimating my role in his life.”

“You’re the one who gave him a second chance. Saw past the mess he was. Made him a husband and a daddy again. You’re the one that’s stuck by him through all the bullshit; the booze, the meds, the job. And I know damn well he’s not the easiest person to love.”

“Well he’s made it pretty easy for me. Even at his worst, he’s better than most.”

She watches Tyler as he finishes the last of the preparations before heading out. Standing at the open tailgate of one of the SUVs, quiet and focused despite Rata attempting to carry on a loud and animated -and most likely nervous- conversation. His eyes are darker and the furrows in his brow are present; lips set in a thin, grim line as he works at filling the pockets on the vest he already sports. This is the old Tyler; the one that’s all business with adrenaline coursing through his veins and his instincts and senses running on overdrive.

“You know, I used to like seeing this side of him,” she says. “I used to love it, actually. Seeing the mercenary side of him. Intense, focused. I liked knowing what he was capable of. Now…” she sighs. “...well I don’t like it so much now. How sad is that? What kind of wife would even think that, let alone say it? How horrible am I?”

“One that loves her husband and hates what’s happening to him. You’re not horrible. Let’s cut the shit and stop pretending that this time isn’t different; that the stakes aren’t a lot higher. Has he ever walked into something where someone was intentionally looking to kill him?”

“Not that I know of. Not since I’ve known him.”

“Hard to like anything about a situation like this. Considering what he’s about to walk into?”

“I can’t even believe it got this far. That Mahajan went so far off the deep end that we’re actually at this point? How did this even happen? It’s been seven years! Saju is dead, why would he still want revenge on his family? And to threaten mine? We took Ovi in; we gave him a life. A real life. A real family. We love him like he’s our own. And this is how Mahajan repays us? Threatening my children, putting a bounty on my husband’s head? How the hell did it ever get to this?”

“Some people are fucked,” Koen reasons, and she gives a small, dry laugh. “I wish I had a better explanation. But it’ll all be over soon. We’ll take care of shit here, Anil will handle things with Mahajan. He’s ready to go?”

“As far as I know. He’s got a couple guards he was able to pay off. They’re going to lead him right into the showers when Mahajan is in there. It should be over pretty quick. If you ask me, he deserves something slow and painful. But beggars can’t be choosers, can they.”

“Sooner it’s over, the better.”

“Should have been over a long time ago. If we’d been told about this when it all started, Tyler would have ended it then. But Ovi dropped the ball and then Allison and her games and I just…” she sighs and tucks wayward strands of hair behind her ears. “...a lot of people fucked up. And now my husband has to go and fix it. What else is new? Just watch out for him, okay? Have his back? Please.”

“You know I will. I’ve followed him this far. Might as well go balls to the wall.”

She struggles to hold back a flood of tears. “Would it be too much to ask that you bring him back in one piece?”

“You got it kiddo.” He draws her into a tight hug and presses a kiss to her temple. “Hang in there, okay? We’re almost there.”

“You be safe,” Esme says, and affectionately pats his cheek when he holds her at arm's length. “It’s kind of nice having grandpa Koen around.”

“I never said you call me that.”

“I don’t remember asking your permission.”

“Smart ass,” he smirks, then playfully tousles her hair before stepping away. Giving Tyler a nod and a small smile; patting him on the shoulder as he takes his place on the porch.

“I can’t look at you,” she says, as her hands busy themselves tightening the Velcro secured straps on his vest. “If I look at you, I’ll cry. And the last thing you need is me crying right now. I can do that when you leave.”

He places his hands on the side of her face, then presses a kiss to her hair. Neither of them speak; their eyes closed, his chin resting on the top of her head, her hands tightly gripping his forearms.

“Be safe,” she pleads.

“Always.”

“I love you. I love you so much. I wish that was enough; to get you through this”

“It’s enough,” Tyler assures her. “It’s always enough.”

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, and she finally raises her head to look at him. “I won’t ask. I know you don’t want me to.”

“You ask, and I’ll do it. I’ll stay. And that’ll just bring even more problems.”

“I know. I know why it has to be you. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“It’s going to be alright.” He cradles her face in his palms and kisses her. Longer and more intense than usual. “I gotta go,” he moves a hand to the back of her neck and places a kiss to her forehead. “See you when I see you.”

“Yeah, you will.”

He pecks the tip of her nose, then runs a hand over the top of her head and down her hair before stepping off the porch.

“Hey!” she calls to him, and he stops and turns towards her.

“Remember the first time around, when we said we were going to travel when we got out of Dhaka?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“You totally bailed on me. I think you owe me a trip, Tyler Rake,”

A grin plays in the corners of his mouth. “I definitely do,” he says, and then turns and heads for the waiting car.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction #Extraction 2020 #Extraction fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth character #best part of me

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garbotuesday · 5 years

Text

Spontaneous

Went through my computer and found this half-finished WIP, and decided to un-WIP it. I like writing one-shots lol. Also this is the first time I’ve ever written any stevetony or superfamily. I’m surprised how much I liked it!

The moment the door slid shut behind them and Tony heard the sweet hydraulic kiss of the door's edge meeting the wall, he could've cried. He was tired deep down in his bones, in a way that only a full day's rest could fix. Steve fell into step next to him, and the two collapsed onto the couch and leaned into one another.

“Welcome home, sirs,” Jarvis intoned, dimming the lights without needing to be instructed.

“I'm going to rest here for a sec,” Steven said, toeing off his boots and letting them fall to the ground. “Then I'm going back to our room to sleep for another seventy years.”

“I'll join you,” Tony said with a soft sigh. The two men sat on the couch quietly and just breathed for the first time in almost three days.

“Jarv,” Tony slurred out, already half sleeping. “Peter?”

“I'm sorry, sir?”

“Peter. Where is he? I want to say hello and goodnight to the little squirt before I sleep the rest of my life away.”

“Peter instructed that you should call him when you returned home,” Jarvis said. “He isn't in at the moment.”

Steve grunted. “Probably out with Ned.”

“Alright.” Another ripping yawn tore through Tony's face. “Jarvis, call Peter. Put him on speakerphone.”

Both men settled more comfortably into the couch, stretching their legs out onto the glass table in front of them as the sound of a ringing phone echoed overhead. Tony deliberately scooted into Steve's space and rested his head on Steve's shoulder. Steve snorted and lolled his head to the side, laying his cheek in Tony's hair. Tony resolved that as soon as they hung up with Peter, they were going to shut their eyes and sleep right then and there on the couch, his back be damned.

Peter picked up after three rings. “Hey, Dad,” he said casually. “Welcome back.”

“Hey, kiddo. Jarvis said to call you when we got back. Where ya at?”

“Where's Pops?” Peter asked. “I'm here, Pete,” Steve said.

“How did the mission go?”

“Well enough,” Steve answered flatly. “Fury was pleased, at least.”

“You sound dead on your feet,” Peter said with a light snort. “You been debriefed yet?”

“Debriefed, fed, and showered,” Tony answered. “Now the only thing keeping us from going into hibernation for a season is you, kid. Where are you?”

“Wow, showered already?” Peter asked. “Fury must have been very pleased to roll out the red carpet like that.”

Tony opened his eyes. Peter had pivoted off of the question twice now. “I notice you haven't answered my question yet, Pete.”

Peter was silent for a moment. Steve heard him take a slow, shaky breath. “I'm not ignoring it, I just...wanted to make sure you didn't have to go back to work first.”

“Peter,” Steve said, raising his head off of the back of the couch a bit. “Where are you?”

“I will tell you,” Peter said slowly, his voice rising in the verbal equivalent of holding up a finger. “But first I need you to know that I'm fine, okay?”

Tony and Steve were both sitting up now. “Peter,” Tony said, more sternly this time. “This isn't funny. Where the hell are you?”

“I'm at St. Olga's Hospital,” Peter answered reluctantly. “My, um...my lung collapsed.”

0-0-0

There were undercover SHIELD agents in the hallway of the hospital guarding Peter's room when Tony and Steve came barreling toward them. To their credit, they didn't flinch away from the furious gazes of the two men while they staunchly asked for identification.

They both rocketed inside the room and stopped short just at the edge of the bed. Peter was there, sitting up slightly but looking absolutely spent in his blankets. He was wrapped in the hospital blankets, but also his favorite blanket from the Tower, the soft one with the big yellow duck on it. Someone had got it for Steve as a joke and Peter had never given it back.

There was a pulse monitor on his finger leading to a machine that loudly counted the beats, a nasal canula that went into Peter's nose, an IV, and an ominous looking tube that disappeared into the blankets. Tony felt bile rise up in his own chest. His kid was sitting here covered in a million fucking wires and he hadn't even been given a phone call. A glance at Steve's stoic face told Tony that he was feeling much the same.

Peter looked blearily at the two of them. “Sorry,” he said softly.

Tony took a step forward and grabbed the railing of the bed, forcing himself to breathe and not pass out. “Why sorry, Bambi?” he struggled to get out. “Not your fault.”

Peter shrugged. “You both look pissed. Usually saying sorry does the trick.”

Steve came forward and ran his hand through Peter's hair. Some defensive part of Peter's expression melted and he leaned gratefully into his father's touch.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Steve told Peter. “You're not the one we're angry with.”

“I'm going to strangle Fury,” Tony said, voice thick. “There's no way that one-eyed bastard didn't know you were laid up in a hospital room, and he just let us get on with the debrief without telling us.”

“I would advise against making such idle threats in a hospital, Mr. Stark,” Fury drawled, looking bored in the doorway.

“Idle?” Tony asked, giving Fury a look that would have made a lesser man flinch. “If you would like to see things get very fucking real, continue to stand in the doorway like this isn't your fault. I dare you.”

Fury rolled his eyes and took a very bold step inside the hospital room. “For you information, Tony, this isn't my fault. It isn't anyone's fault, as this gentleman is willing to explain to you if you're willing to stand down.”

Only then did they notice the small man in the lab coat so slight and unassuming he'd been completely eclipsed by Fury's presence. Tony didn't break eye contact with Fury, but he did make the effort to unclench his fists.

“Hey, Dr. Watkins,” Peter said in a voice that was little more than a whisper. Tony and Steven both looked at Peter in concern. Their son was clearly exhausted and very pale.

The doctor smiled at him as the came forward and looked over the monitors on Peter's left. “Hello, Peter. Dads, it's nice to meet you.”

Tony was in no mood, but Steve made polite effort and shook Dr. Watkins' hand. Dr. Watson gave launched into a quick rundown of what was going on. It was called a spontaneous pneumothorax. Apparently a hole had opened in their son's lung, and thus far, there was absolutely no telling what had caused it or if it would happen again.

He left both men to wrestle with that while he turned to Peter with a wizened smile. “ And how are we feeling this afternoon? Better or worse than yesterday night?”

Before Peter could answer, Tony's voice whipped across the small room at the doctor furiously. “What happened yesterday night?”

“Oh, another small hole opened up on the left side, a few centimeters below the first one,” Dr. Watkins said, taking a step forward and pressing two fingers gently into Peter's side. Peter's face went even whiter and he let out a sound so pitiful Steve instantly reached for his hand.

Dr. Watkins' made a small noise of disapproval. “I had hoped that would feel better by now,” he said gently. “If it's still causing you that much pain, we can up the drip a bit more.”

Peter shook his head, keeping his eyes closed. “It makes me dizzy,” he said with a grunt. “Don't want to throw up any more today.”

“Okay,” Tony said, clapping his hands together once. Vomiting, IV's, not one but two holes in his son's lung – it was enough. Tony wanted him home, now. “No need to worry about the IV, Peter will coming home with us now.”

Peter looked up at him and blinked owlishly the way he did when he was sick, one eye at a time. Dr. Watkins' brow furrowed. “I can't sign off on that currently-”

“We have our own private medical facilities,” Steve said, gripping Peter's hand tighter. “And an ever-present rotating staff of medical personnel.”

Dr. Watkins lifted a brow and looked over to Fury, who nodded once. Dr. Watkins nodded slowly and turned back to Tony. “Then may I speak with these doctors before I release him? There are a number of delicate points they must be aware of to treat him effectively.”

Tony robotically rattled off a phone number that would go straight to Cho's office. Dr. Watkins promised to be back in no time, heading out to make the phone call from his office. It wasn't necessary, there was a phone right by Peter's head, but a man smart enough to get a medical degree was certainly smart enough to read the rising tension in the room.

Tony turned to Fury, who still looked unimpressed in the face of Tony's anger. “I just want to know,” Tony said slowly, “why we weren't informed.”

Fury made a bitch please face at him. “I'm not the one to ask,” he said, pointing at Peter with his chin.

When both men rounded on their son, Peter flinched. “Um-”

“In any case,” Fury said, cutting Peter off. “I just wanted to be sure you were still alright. Romanov and I have to go through the flash drive to see if anything else needs to be done to secure the information they took.” He tipped his head at Steve and Tony. “I'll be in touch if we need you.” Then Fury, too, was gone.

Peter, cold though he was, began to sweat when the door shut and it was just him and his parents. They both stared at him, jaws set, waiting for a well thought out, rational explanation he didn't have to give. He gripped the gown he was wearing underneath the covers in a tight fist.

“I'm not sure what to say,” he finally said when far too much time had passed.

“Apologize now,” Tony snapped. “Be sorry now.”

“How did you even manage to keep this from us?” Steve asked.

Peter shrugged helplessly. “When I woke up here, Fury was sitting there. He told me they were going to put together some kind of task force to find you guys, but I...I told him not to.”

Tony put his hands on his hips and looked down at his shoes, a sure sign he was holding onto his patience by the skin of his teeth. “Why?”

“Because your operation was delicate,” Peter said desperately. “You couldn't have communications anyway, that part of Greenland being so remote, but you wouldn't have been safe if he had tried to get someone to you. What if someone followed the task force and then the mission was compromised? I was in a hospital, Dad. It could wait.”

Tony slammed his fist into the guard rail of the bed. Peter jumped, then winced. Tony seemed not to notice.

“Perhaps its slipped your mind, or perhaps you need to be reminded, but in either case, allow me to explain; you are our child, not the other way around. You don't get to decide what we know about your health when it goes sideways, and you sure as shit don't get to withhold something like this.”

“Do not swear at him,” Steve said, low and dangerous and so suddenly ferocious everyone in the room flinched back. Tony blinked at Steve, stunned, before swallowing and looking away.

Steven turned back to Peter, who also looked mortified, and put a hand on his son's cheek. “Pete,” Steve said tenderly. “Please. What your father is trying to say is that you don't need to worry about us when we're on missions. You are our first priority, and you always will be. It isn't your job to keep us safe, but it is our job to keep you safe. We have each other's backs out there so we can both have yours when we come home. Do you understand?'

Peter's lip trembled, and a few tears managed their way out before he could swallow them back, but he nodded. Steve pulled a soothing hand through Peter's hair and stood. He gave Tony an indecipherable look.

“I'm going to talk to the doctor,” he said. “Be nice.”

Steve walked out to find Dr. Watkins, and Tony and Peter looked at each other uneasily.

“I didn't mean to yell,” Tony said, eyes down as he tapped the guardrail of the bed. “I'm not angry with you. Well, I am, but I can't be right now.”

Peter hiccuped a laugh and then winced again. Tony took Peter's hand. “What is it that's hurting you?” he asked, concern pulling at his features.

Peter sighed a long sigh that seemed to deflate his whole body. “Everything. I'm so tired.”

Something in Tony twisted at hearing how his son was so clearly miserable. “We're gonna get you home soon,” Tony said, squeezing Peter's hand. “Dad and I can make you dinner, and we'll all get to sleep in our own beds. How's that sound?'

Peter snorted. “Fucking excellent.”

“You know how your dad feels about that kind of talk.”

“Let me get away with one, I'm sick.”

0-0-0

They brought him home in an ambulance.

It didn't matter that Peter was coming home, nor did it soothe Tony to see the woman he'd handpicked coming toward them with a confident, determined look on her face. It was still Peter coming out of an ambulance on a stretcher. Tony's world still didn't make sense yet.

A team of doctors moved Peter from one stretcher to the other and whisked him away to the medical level. There Peter was hooked up to the same bevy of machines he had been attached to in the hospital, but he didn't look quite as small and scared as he had at St. Olga's. Once all the tubes and wires were in place, they replaced all Peter's blankets and put Discovery channel on the ensuite TV. Peter was out in minutes.

Steve collapsed into the second bed next to Tony. They had set Peter up in the only double occupancy bedroom they had, so everyone could sleep at the same time. “Have I ever told you how brilliant I think it is to have a medical facility in our house?” Steve asked, slurring his words with sleep. “Because it is.”

Tony smirked. “Do you remember when we used to do this when he was a baby? He'd fall asleep and we would scramble for our own blankets and pillows so we could drop next to the crib, get a snatch of sleep before he woke up again.”

He felt Steve shake the bed with silent laughter next to him. “The good old days,” he said.

They both sobered for a moment, both thinking it but unwilling to say it; and now their son was old enough to keep them out of the loop. Now their son would hide the truth from them, if he thought he needed to.

“What did we do wrong?” Tony asked softly. “To make him think he needed to keep this a secret?”

“Nothing,” Steve said with a snort. “We raised a good kid. Not only a good one, but a self-sacrificing one. We can be mad at him all we want, but even we can't deny he was only following our examples.”

“I fancy myself a rather selfish man, and I'm sure most would agree,” Tony said with faux haughtiness. Steve snickered into Tony's shoulder.

“We've both made plays to save a city that could have ended with us dead,” Steve said quietly. “I went down and you went up, but we both were willing to sacrifice to keep them safe. Fight me on it all you want, but he gets that from us.”

Tony thought about one of the last calls they'd made in Greenland, to split up instead of staying together. Tony had been against it, and if it had been his call to make, they've have kept the unit together, but he hadn't wanted to hamper the mission with his need to keep Steve close. They'd split, and they'd found the enemy, but each team of Avengers had been outmatched by what they found and they'd nearly lost the battle. Steve had a neatly healing line of stitches across his back for their trouble.

If they'd done it Tony's way, how many fewer days would it have taken to find what they needed to come home? How many fewer days would their son have spent in the hospital, scared, small, and cold against hospital sheets?

“I want to make a motion,” Tony said, bringing up one hand. “The three of us need to be a little more selfish.”

“I second that,” Steve said with a sigh.

“Thirded,” Peter slurred, surprising them both into quiet chuckles. “Th'motion passes.”

Steve put his head on Tony's shoulder and they both watched their son slacken back into sleep.

“Look at him,” Tony murmured to Steve just before he himself went down for the count. “Asleep like his ass isn't grounded for the next six months.”

“Be nice, he's sick.”

“Fine. Four months, then.”

#irondad #irondad & spiderson #superfamily #stevetony #fic #oneshot #sickfic #a youtuber i like recently went through this #and i thought 'wow that sucks'#and my little gremlin brain went 'ONE SHOT'

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myheroaizawashota · 5 years

Note

Could you pretty please do something with Aizawa and his s/o and the fated scenario of getting wisdom teeth removed and being all loopey afterwards. I really couldn't decide if it be funnier of Aizawa was the one all drugged up or s/o was and he just has to deal with it. You can decide which one. I don't mind either way.

[I would acrually Pay money to see this acrually happen hahaha I think aizawa I’m drugs is gonna be a knee slapped so I’m gonna take it thst route!]

You stood silent in the corner of the uncomfortably small room, arms filled with your husbands capture weapon as he sat sulking in the dentist chair. For weeks he’d stubbornly fought your advice to visit the dentist, insisting he could just manage through the pain he was in. You could see minor swelling along his jaw, which if you believed him, allegedly didn’t cause to much discomfort. You’ve learned though what your husband says and what he feels are two different things. After watching him suffer on for three weeks, eventually you were able to convince him to see a doctor. Though, in fairness once he became unable to sleep due to the pain the issue took a lot less prodding on your end.

With a sigh you gently stepped over to where he sat, stroking the back of your hand against the good side of his face “I don’t know why you waited so long to come to the dentist Shouta...i didn’t think big tough pro hero Eraserhead was afraid of the dentist” you chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood before the doctor arrived.

“I’m not afraid of the dentist, that would be an illogical fear...” He paused a moment leaning his cheek into your hand, you swearing you could see genuine emotion covering his face as he sighed.

You couldn’t help but place a small kiss to the top of his head, leaning your hip against the side of the medical chair. “That pause sounded like you wanted to admit something there darling” you couldn’t help but snicker, his eyes unamused as they glares your way. “Shouta relax....im sure you’re going to be fine...the dentist should be in any moment with the results”

You gave him a small smile trying your best to as well provide him some peace of mind but, you could see his body tense up the moment to doctor walked into the room. You could swear you’d never seen this man express so many emotions before in your life, all in one instant the seal that held back every emotion began to crumble one by one they crossing his lips. The corners of his mouth began to tug into a frown, he cringing slightly at the burst of pain it sent. You both watched as the doctor pinned the X-Ray on the board in front of him. “Let me say for starters, you’re going to be fine. This is just a strong bit of discomfort from your wisdom teeth. It’s nothing that’s going to effect your life drastically” the man laughed “but i do suggest we remove them.”

You watched as Aizawa white knuckled the arm of the dentist chair, your hand immediately moving to calm his nerves you simply just letting your finger tips rest softly on his knuckles. “Are they that bad off?” You asked the doctor, he leisurely pinning them up on a lighted screen for both of you to see.

He hummed and with the cap of his pen pointed to the area in question “do you see all this inflamation? This is just caused simply by a lack of space in the mouth. The best course of action we could take would be to remove the tooth, cutting the problem straight in the rear end.”

You could tell just by the look on Aizawa’s face that he had no intentions of removing the tooth, his mouth pulled miserably into a frown “I can assure you during the procedure you won’t fee a thing Mr. Aizawa, you’ll be numbed to the heavens” he all but laughed “what we’ll do is pop a small intravenous right into your arm as well as numbing the gums with a bit of novicane. It’s easy enough, though with how far out your wisdom teeth have broken, i would suggest we do the procedure today.”

That was all Aizawa needed to hear. Today? Nope. Absolutely not. You watched as your foolish husband moved to get up, you immediately pressing his chest back down into the chair “he’ll do it, becusse with his schedule we don’t know when he’ll be able to come back” you huff, eyes giving him a very tested ‘do not even try me Shouta or you will be sleeping in that beloved sleeping bag of yours on the couch for a week’ look. You watched as his eyes softened, sometimes he was like caring for a child...rational and stoic he was, but sometimes he just acted so foolish. “You will be fine, you need to get this surgery done. It’s affecting your work now. The last thing i need is for you to be distracted by a simple tooth ache and you slip up while out on patrol.”

He couldn’t disagree with you. The throbbing pain in his jaw was enough to keep him distracted in most daily task. Not to mention the fact teaching was made a lot more difficult when he couldn’t open his mouth to speak. With a reluctant sigh his eyes shifted from yours to the doctors “approximately how long do you think this surgery will take?”

The doctor pressed his lips in thought as he snapped on a set of latex gloves, softly grabbing Aizawa’s chin, careful not to hurt him. He’d made that mistake first time around, and the pro hero was quick to share his complaints about it. You watched as the dentist instructed your lover to tilt his head back he looking around at the inside of his mouth “well, luckily enough your wisdom teeth are a little easier for me to get at than most, though looking in here once more I can see the pressure one of them is putting on your left molar...i would recommend taking the bottom two wisdom teeth out today. I can very easily have you out of here within two hours”

You sighed and tuggged Aizawas scarf closer to your chest, you felt bad forcing him along but you knew it was in best interest no matter how terrified he seemed. “You can handle two hours, this is nothing.” You encouraged him lips pressing to the tip of his nose.

You swear you can see the corners of his mouth fold up, even if they shortly after smoothen out back to his normal unamused stoic expression. With his head hung slightly in defeat, he sighed and looked up at you “I’ll see you in two hours.”

Those two hours were what seemed like the longest two hours of your life, even though you knew they weren’t. You nervously bounced your leg in the waiting room, fingers gently playing with the scarf in your lap. You knew he was going to be okay, but you still couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy. Were you sure forcing him to do this today was the best thing for him? You should have given him time to apply his own feelings and logic to the situation instead of guilting him into things. “Ms. Aizawa, your husband is ready for you now” the nursing assistant smiled, she holding a chart in her hands.

With relief in your heart, you stood and gathered your belongings before following her into Shouta’s room. Poor thing looked so incredibly tired, more so than usual. “He’s on quite a bit of pain relievers” she noted, flipping the pages up and down on her clip board. “From what it says the doctor needed to dig just a bit deeper, when removing the tooth the bone fragments fractured and splintered along his gums. Don’t worry, it was all taken care of, but he’ll just be in a bit more discomfort than most.”

You frowned and moved to run your hand gently over the top of his head, pausing when he lifted his arm to grab yours, he immediately tucking it to his chest. Your heart fluttered and you couldn’t help but laugh “I told you that you’d be fine you silly man.”

It was in thst moment your husband did something so uncharacteristic you nearly asked the nurse if she was sure this was the same Shouta Aizawa you had left just 2 hours ago. He laughed, his mouth of gauze fully exposed as he shook. “What’s so funny?” You couldn’t imagine what you’d said that was so humerus.

“I’m a silly man” he chuckled before leaning into you “am i your silly man? You look very beautiful, not that that’s very important to me but you’re so beautiful.”

You gently tucked his head to your chest and giggled, kissing the crown of his head with a smile “of course I’m yours...now come on let me take you home, I can’t wait to tell Yamada about this one” you laughed. You helped him up and out of the chair, his body purposely bumping and knocking into yours as you walked together, his hand desperately clinging onto yours.

As you lowered him into the car and buckled him up, you were shocked when he grabbed your head and tucked it tightly to his chest you nearly dropping the keys to the car on the floor “H-hey watch it- Shout what are you doing you jerk-“

“I’m sorry I’m so difficult all the time Y/N”

You stopped dead in your tracks heart racing at those words. What did he just say? You waited a moment before responding, your ear pressing against his chest as he kissed the top of your head admittedly drooling on it a bit. “Difficult?” You repeated.

“I’m so difficult.” He hummed finally releasing your head as his eyes began to close. “I can be a really ass to you and you don’t deserve any of it your such a good wife Y/N. You’re here for me even when I’m being a stubborn idiot. I never tell you what I’m feeling or even tell you what you need to hear. Even when I go as far as messing things up beyond repair, you still always are there telling me it’s going to be okay, and that I’ll figure it out because I’m the smartest man you know.”

Your heart began to break a bit at his confession, tears threatening to spill from the corners of your eyes as you watched him do yet another thing you’ve never seen. You watched as he cried, “and sometimes I don’t know that i am the smartest guy. I do pretty dumb things. I don’t go to doctors when I need to, I rush head first into things even when I know stepping back and assessing things I shouldn’t and I make you worry so much all the time. I’m sorry if I don’t make you happy sometimes.”

This was so bizarre, it was as if he was releasing four years of emotions at you all at once. You sighed and pressed a kiss to his forehead, your index finger running along his water line as you wiped it dry “hey, you listen to me okay? You make me the happiest woman every day of our lives Shouta Aizawa. I knew what being in a relationship with you entailed and i didn’t care. Sure sometimes it is hard for me, and sure sometimes I wanna smack you upside the head for worrying me sick most days but that doesn’t mean I’m not happy with you. By far that is not what it means.”

His arms moved to wrap around your body weakly and you knew he it wouldn’t be long before he’d fall asleep. You gave a sniffle and wrapped his scarf gently around his shoulders. With that said you headed to the drivers side of the vehicle and started the engine, head turning when you hear a muffled “I love you Y/N. I don’t say it enough, but I do.”

Your wrist rubbed at your eyes and you couldn’t help but grin at that. “I know you do...and I love you too.”

BONUS:

[ this wasn’t asked for but I also thought I’d be a bit humorous if Aizawa got into some mischief with some texts! Disclaimer: I do not own the art I used in the text below art credit to Nartothelar]

#aizawa x reader #aizawa x hizashi #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #bnha aizawa #bnha hizashi #bnha x reader #bnha requests #bnha #my hero academia #plus ultra #requested

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a-chrome-disguise · 4 years

Text

Cyrus vs protag, round 2

Following on from the first battle, in Celestic Town.

Ksenia and Looker found themselves witnessing a gathering of the entirety of Team Galactic, a sea of bizarre grey outfits and teal bowl cuts in front of them. Looker grabbed Ksenia’s arm, and pulled her back to a safe hiding spot, before any of the grunts could notice them.

‘Over here,’ he hissed, glancing back at the large room. ‘What is the meaning of this gathering…?’

Ksenia shrugged, but his question had been answered by the appearance of Cyrus, addressing his team overhead.

‘Fellow members of Team Galactic,’ he greeted, his voice amplified by the microphone he had set up and positioned in front of him, ‘hear me! This world that we inhabit today is a crude one, lacking, incomplete. It has always been - and always will be - a struggle to survive in this society that we have crafted for ourselves today, unless something is done about it. That is where we, Team Galactic, come in. Because it is both Pokemon and humans alike that are incomplete, and it is up to us to do what nobody else will, and change that!’

A roar of cheers went up, complete with a grunt or two whistling loudly. Ksenia raised a single eyebrow, her expression thoroughly bemused.

‘Because we, as a society, are so flawed, we fight, we maim, and we hurt! We spread our negativity around from one person to another like a plague, thrusting our anger onto others, because the powers that be created us to be imperfect!’ Cyrus continued, his voice growing louder, more passionate, even while his expression remained as stoic and deadpan as usual. ‘This incompleteness is detestable, it is abhorrent, and it must change!

‘Together, we as a team pored over our land’s myths and exposed their secrets! Together, we as a team caught the lake guardians! Now, we as a team, will change the world! The power of dreams is finally within our grasp, and our long-held dream world is about to become a reality! To those who venture to Mt. Coronet, and those who stay here alike… though your orders may differ, our hearts will continue to beat as one! Let there be glory for Team Galactic!’

‘So… that’s the leader of Team Galactic,’ Looker rather obviously remarked, as a second cheer went up, including a few yells of compliments aimed Cyrus’ way. ‘Quite a performance, wasn’t it?’

‘It was definitely something, yeah,’ Ksenia agreed.

‘Mesmerising, for somebody just twenty-seven years old,’ he added, and Ksenia gave him a bizarre stare.

‘...Twenty-seven? You can’t mean Cyrus!’ she whispered. ‘He looks, like, fifty!’

‘A bit unnecessary,’ Looker remarked. ‘But I don’t exaggerate his age. Twenty-seven.’

‘Wow. Misanthropy does horrible things to a guy.’

‘And making a world for themselves alone? Preposterous,’ Looker continued, holding a hand to his chin, lost in thought. ‘In fact I would go so far as to say that it makes my head spin! A new world? And this world is “incomplete”?’

Ksenia watched as he shook his head.

‘Very well,’ he continued. ‘To investigate these matters is a job of the International Police. Of which I am a member in good stead.’

‘...’ Ksenia stared at him. ‘But not in good enough stead to not mention it in the middle of the Galactic HQ.’

‘And it is my job, therefore. We shall part ways here. Good luck, and take care, my friend!’ Looker finished, as though she had not said anything. He gave her a hearty clap on the shoulder, before hurrying off, leaving the young woman alone in his stead.

‘...Thanks, you nutty son of a bitch,’ she muttered.

Pushing on ahead, Ksenia strode through the building. She managed to avoid the majority of the grunts that were scattered about, and came to a halt outside a door on the fourth floor. The floor underfoot was grey, metal, and the walls were painted with a starry night sky. Facing the lock to the white and yellow door she wanted to gain access to, she pulled out the Galactic key that she had managed to obtain earlier, and unlocked it.

The room inside was dark, but in spite of that, she could still make out Cyrus’ back, and frowned. Why was he standing there, in the dark, all by himself?

Taking a step inside, an overhead fixture flicked on, flooding the office with light. Cyrus had his eyes closed shut and took a deep breath. He had been trying to wind down and recuperate after giving his speech, but no, this damnable woman just had to come and get in the way. Interfere. Again. He turned to face her, his exhausted, hollow gaze meeting her glaring one head on.

‘I do not recall sending out invitations to just anyone, and yet, here you are,’ he remarked. Phone in hand, he sent a quick message to Mars and Jupiter. To tell them to make their way with their teams to Mt. Coronet, while Ksenia was unawares.

‘Frankly, I’m a little insulted I didn’t get one,’ Ksenia retorted, crossing her arms.

‘My apologies. I will have to make sure to rectify this mistake in the future,’ he sardonically replied. ‘So, you will have heard my speech, I presume. Heh.’ He made a noise almost like a snicker of amusement, though his expression did not change. ‘All a big lie.’

‘...What?’ Ksenia narrowed her eyes at him.

‘It is true, insofar that my intention is to create a perfect new world. But that world is not for the likes of Team Galactic,’ he stated, closely watching her expression. Perfect. She seemed sufficiently distracted. ‘I seek a new world, that is solely for myself. Else, it could not be the complete eutopia I so desire.’

‘...So, you’re just using your team?’ Ksenia guessed, her expression contorting with disgust.

‘Yes,’ Cyrus lied. ‘You have seen them, have you not? Therefore, you cannot be unaware that they are uniformly useless.’

‘Well, you’ve got a point there,’ she conceded, ‘but that’s still… awful.’

‘It is unfortunate for you that your opinions do not mean anything. Not to me, nor to anybody else in this building,’ he shot back. ‘And furthermore, you are not here for them, are you? You are here for the lake guardians.’

‘Damn right. Fine, okay, you and your team managed to capture them, but damn it, I’m not going to lay down and let you walk all over me - all over the rest of Sinnoh! I’m going to oppose you whenever I can, starting by taking Uxie, Mesprit and Azelf back!’ she boldly declared, a hand clenching into a determined fist before her.

‘You are welcome to them,’ Cyrus shrugged. ‘I am done with them, so if your heart aches to save them, be my guest. I could not care less, and honestly, you will be doing me a favour. It saves me from having to dispose of them.’

‘...That’s cold…’ she glared. ‘You went out of your way to capture these Pokemon, and you don’t even care?’

He shrugged again.

‘What you see as being cold, I see as pragmatism. No, I do not care about them, because I have what I need now,’ he said, and Ksenia felt her heart sink. What had he done to them? ‘You appear to be quite a remarkable young woman.’

‘Really? If you don’t care about them, then I really doubt that you care about how “remarkable” I am, either,’ she snapped.

‘Oh, you are correct. It was a mere observation. There are no feelings behind an observation, just clinical logic. But you have nothing to do with these Pokemon, do you? And vice versa. Yet here you are, still coming to rescue them. Why? Is it pity?’

‘Because what you’re doing is fucked up!’ Ksenia declared, glaring daggers at him.

‘Ah, anger. Anger and pity… such useless emotions. There is no logic in emotions such as these, there is no rationality. “Pity” and “compassion” are mere products of the weak and faulty human heart, and it is that sort of nonsense that has brought you here before me right now,’ Cyrus said, his eyes boring into hers. She swallowed hard, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. She wanted to look away, to break eye contact, but did not want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she was intimidated.

If he was possible of being satisfied, anyway. When she saw him reach for a Pokeball, she immediately did the same.

‘You were compelled to come here by such vacuous sentimentality, and I will make you regret paying heed to your heart!’ Cyrus growled, and initiated the battle with the appearance of his Sneasel.

#Galactic Leader Cyrus #Galactic Boss Cyrus #Pokemon Cyrus #Detective Looker #ooc #prose #[Ksenia Vasilieva] DPPt protag

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katlyn1948 · 5 years

Text

An Unexpected Journey: Part 12 “Winter Is The Fury”

First off: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you all for your dedicated patience when it came to this chapter. I am SO sorry that it took SO long to get it up. I do want to warn you that it is not as good as some of the other chapters (in my opinion) because I had a slight case of writer's block as I wrote it. Second: I had to cut this in half because it was getting WAY to long and it was dragging. The "second part" of this chapter will be posted as a stand alone chapter on Sunday. Sunday we will see what does down at Storm's End and I can tell you that the title of that chapter will be "Fury is Coming." Third: I hope you guys like this chapter. If it sucked, I'm sorry, I know it did! But if you liked it, comment and let me know. Trust me I am no stranger to trolls and will take your comments with pride. Oh as a side note: This was my first time writing a fight scene and I am pretty sure it went better in my head than it did in words. Anyway, I hope I was able to get my point across and you understand my thought process when it comes to this chapter (probably not, though). Enjoy and as always, happy reading! Oh and also, I think I left this at another cliffhanger. If I did, I'm sorry, not my intention, but hey, what can I say, I am a sucker for a good cliffhanger.

Arya’s rage hazed her mind. Everything she was feeling; the happiness and joy, quickly vanished from her being the moment she read that letter. She hadn’t felt this kind of rage since her father was beheaded and she began reciting her list of people she would kill. Everyone on that list was now dead and Arya had the sudden urge to create a new list of the people that had decided to hurt her new family. The first name she would add would be Lord Swann. She would gut the man as soon as she saw him. She would take her needle and slice his open from chin to naval.

Arya had aimlessly wondered the keep. Her intention was to find her brothers but even that task proved difficult. She couldn’t erase the words that she had read. Send help. She should have trusted her feeling; should have let him come with her, then both Lyra and Gendry would be safe. She felt so stupid to think that those lords wouldn’t stage a coup. She couldn’t understand how they could. Lord Swann did not seem to have the numbers for a large coup, so other lords must have turned against them.

She couldn’t help the tears that fell from her face. She hadn’t cried in so long, and the action felt foreign on her face.

“Arya? Arya? Arya, can you hear me?” Dany had suddenly appeared in front of her.

“Dany? Where did you come from?” Her voice was so small.

“Arya, I have been calling your name for quite some time.” Dany had worry written all on her face.

“I was coming to tell you that Lyra had fallen asleep with the girls and to not worry about her tonight. Gendry would have loved to see her make new friends. Should we send a raven to him to ask him to join us?”

Arya could no longer keep in her emotions. Just the sound of his name ripped her heart into pieces. She burst into a visceral sob, collapsing into Dany’s arms. She felt the warm embrace surround her and hold her close.

“Arya, what happened?” Dany whispered into her ear.

“I-I need Jon.” She managed to say in between sobs.

Dany nodded and tired to lead Arya back to the small council room. It took longer than expected, considering Dany had to drag Arya back to the room. To their surprise, Jon and Bran were already waiting, with Tyrion by their side.

The scroll that had been sent to Arya was now in the hands of Jon, already worn from the constant fiddling it had endured.

“What is going on?” Dany asked after she had placed Arya on a seat beside Bran.

Arya hiccupped and wiped the snot dripping down her face, “It’s Gendry. A coup was staged, and he is being held captive along with other members of our house.”

Dany’s eyes shinned with concern and she turned to Jon. He nodded to confirm the devastating news.

“How did it happen?” Dany asked as her eyes flicked between Jon’s and Arya’s.

Arya took a deep breath before answering, “It was Lord Swann. Rena said as much in her letter. He has been trying to take control of the Stormlands since Gendry became lord. He tried to stage a previous coup but was unsuccessful. Gendry believed that Lord Swann didn’t have the men supporting him that time around. But since my arrival, things have been…tense with a few of the other lords.”

Arya knew her relationship with some of the other liege lords had been strained, especially once she took up the job of holding the weekly meetings, and she had tried to mend those ties before she left for King’s Landing without much success. With the added stress of the struggling crop and lack of income that the Stormlands had been producing, trying to fix an already fractured relationship proved difficult, even for Arya.

With Gendry being in the forge nearly every day for the last three moons, some of the lords were beginning to wonder if their high lord even cared for the position. Arya had assured them that Gendry was doing everything in his power to make sure the Stormlands thrived, even if it did mean he was strapped making weapons from sunup to sundown.

She was able to keep most of the lords at ease, but she couldn’t ignore the looks on several of their faces. It was the look of doubt and distrust and it had shaken Arya to her core.

She cursed herself for being so naïve. She should have known that with her gone, a coup would be easier to stage. She couldn’t deny that most of the liege lords were frightened of her and would never dare cross her. But with her out of Storm’s End, there would be nothing to stop a coup.

“I need to go back. I need to save them.” Arya said as she started to rise from her chair.

Jon was quick to rise after her. He met her at the small council door, pressing his hand against the large oak door, preventing Arya from exiting.

“I understand that you want to go and save them, but we have to think about this rationally.” He gently said.

Arya’s fuse was beginning to shorten. She loved her brother, but at that moment she wanted nothing more than to take her fist and slam it against his jaw.

“And how do you supposed we do that? I can’t sit here and wait, Jon. Gendry and everyone else that are being help captive at Storm’s End are in danger. My family is in danger.” She told him simply.

Jon looked into Arya’s eyes and saw the fire building. It was a fire that he hadn’t seen from her in a long time. He knew his sister and he knew that once she set her mind to something, she never would give it up.

“You are mad if you think I am going to let you go in there alone. We will save them, Arya. All of them.” He placed his other hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

Arya reached her hand to meet his and grasped it.

“Thank you.”

A throat cleared from Tyrion, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but how do you suppose you get into Storm’s End? The moment Swann’s men see you approach the gate they will kill you on the spot. The only reasonable way to get in without being seen in to take a ship directly to the shore of Storm’s End, but you run the risk of sinking that ship before ever reaching land.”

Arya hated that the imp was right. They would be too exposed with they went at Storm’s End directly and trying to dock a ship in Shipbreaker Bay was near impossible. They couldn’t be seen, that was the main objective, yet all of their options left them exposed.

“There is another plan.” Bran had spoken.

All eyes turned to him. His expression was stoic, but there was a slight smile pressed onto his lips.

“I sent Ser Brienne back to Tarth a little over a moon ago. The Tarth family is loyal to Lord Baratheon and will help. A raven has already been sent. While you attack from the front, Ser Brienne along with the Tarth men will be able to attack from behind. The waters around Griffin’s Roost are much calmer and can be navigated with ease. They will dock there and ride to Storm’s End along the shore.”

Tyrion took a sip of his wine from a goblet that seemed permanently attached to his hand, “And how will the Tarth men get into Storm’s End? It is impenetrable.”

Arya shook her head. She remembered a secret passage that Gendry had shown her the second night she was there. He had told her he found it on accident and he would use it to escape to the shores every once and a while. She had taken up to using more than him as of late; wanting to watch the waves crash against the shore.

“Not completely. There is a passage that leads to the inside of the castle, much like the old passage here at the keep. It is hidden and obscured and can be used to smuggle them in. It’s smaller and the Tarth men may have to crouch to get inside, but they can get inside.”

“Good, now that we have the clear, what about men? You have Tarth, but do you have anyone else?” Tyrion questioned.

Dany cleared her throat, “Take some of the unsullied. Grey Worm will help.”

“Are you certain?” Arya asked Dany.

Dany nodded, “You are family, Arya and so are the people being held captive. I help my family.”

Arya’s lips curved into a smile. She was beyond grateful to the Dragon queen and didn’t know how she would ever return the favor.

“I am sorry I did not see this earlier, Arya. If I had known, I would have been able to prevent it.” Bran suddenly stated.

Arya moved to meet her brother at the head of table. She took the seat beside him and grasped his hands firmly into hers.

“Don’t be sorry. It would have happened if you saw it or not. I’m just glad you thought two steps ahead of me and asked Ser Brienne to join us. Thank you for that.”

Bran gave her a genuine smile break onto his face, “Anytime.”

“So, when do we leave?” Jon asked, breaking the moment between Arya and Bran.

Arya looked at her younger brother once more and he nodded, approving the words she was about to say.

“We leave tonight.”

Jon nodded in agreement then turned to leave the council room but not before he placed a soft kiss onto Dany’s lips.

Arya could see the fear in her eyes and wanted to assure her that everyone would come back in one piece, but even Arya was too smart to know that. It was normal for Dany to be worried because Arya would be too, if she was in Dany’s spot. But Arya was worried. More afraid than worried, if she was being honest. She feared that the people she had grown to love and care for would be no more. She feared that she would never see their faces again and she feared the words she would have to tell little Lyra if anything were to happen to her father.

That was perhaps the most terrifying part for Arya. She didn’t want to have to think about Gendry dying, but there was a high possibility that he could. If the unthinkable were to happen, Arya wasn’t sure if she would be able to tell Lyra. She couldn’t stand the thought of her little girl’s heart breaking, all while hers was breaking too. Then there was the possibility that Arya wouldn’t come out alive as well. Little Lyra had already gone through so much in her short four years, that Arya couldn’t stand for her to go through anymore tragedy. She had to think about her now and not just herself.

Arya lifted from her seat and stalked towards Dany’s direction. She needed to speak to her before she left on what she thought to a sure suicide mission.

“Dany, I need to ask you a favor.”

Dany nodded, “Of course. Ask me anything.”

Arya tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it was useless. She could feel the tears beginning to prick at her eyes and she blinked them away before Dany could notice.

“If anything were to happen with me and Gendry…I need you to take Lyra. She will have no one else and I know that if we were gone, she would be happy with you. Please promise me you’ll take her.”

Dany quickly embraced Arya into a hug, “Nothing will happen to you or Gendry. You will get him out alive and flay that Lord Swann into a million pieces. If I could burn him alive, I would. Then you will come back here to King’s Landing and embrace your daughter and husband into a bone crushing hug.”

Arya let out an exasperated laugh, “I think I would love to see him burn.”

They let go of one another and Dany looked Arya in the eyes, “I promise.”

Arya gave a weak smile, squeezing Dany’s hands in reassurance. She gave her one last hug before turning out of the small council room.

They left shortly after. Jon and Arya were accompanied by the unsullied that Dany had brought from Dragonstone and a few gold cloak soldiers that Bran was kind of enough to lend. It was nearly 200 men and with the Tarth company meeting them at Storm’s End, the roughly had a party of 500 willing soldiers. It was more than Arya could ever ask for and she hoped that it would be enough.

They rode through the night, not wanting to stop at any cost. The soldiers were quick and had little difficulty keeping up, but for Arya it still felt like they were going at a pace of a slug. She knew that eventually they would have to stop to rest and with each passing hour, Arya could feel her anxiety heightening at levels she didn’t think imaginable. She was making careless mistakes that a novice would make, not some trained assassin that traveled the high seas. She was stumbling over small rocks or nearly falling off her horse. The worst was her utter exhaustion during the journey.

There were times in her younger years as a child that she would be able to stay up for hours on end without so much as a wink of sleep and be capable of killing a full grown man. Now, she was lucky if the steady gallop of her horse didn’t rock her to sleep. She truly didn’t feel like herself and it was beginning to annoy her that even the slightest jab or joke coming from one of the gold cloaks could send her into a fury.

Jon nearly had to pull her off of a young solider for imply that the capture would be all dead when they arrived. She had her dagger pinned to his neck and his body trapped between the ground and her small frame.

“Say anything like that again and I promise that your neck will be sliced open so wide that your head will be hanging to your body by a string.” The words seeped with venom as she sheathed her dagger, climbing off of her young boy before Jon could drag her off.

She could see the worry on her brother’s face and chose to ignore is questioning eyes. She wasn’t in the mood for being reprimanded and could honestly care less of what her brother would say. Her main priority was getting to Storm’s End and killing that fat pig Swann before he could harm anyone she loved.

It had taken a full night and day to reach Storm’s End and Arya was slightly relieved to see the high drum tower peaking above the trees. They couldn’t get too close to the castle for the fear of destroying their cover. It was best if they made camp just along the end of the woods. They would be able to see the castle and observe, all while keeping out of sight.

The sun was sinking below the horizon and Arya would have to go through another night not knowing if her family was still alive. They had to wait for the raven from Ser Brienne informing them of their landing on the beach. Arya was sure they would receive one when they reached the woods edge but there was no raven in the sky. They couldn’t march the gates, not with the backing of the Tarth men on the beach. They had to wait, or run the risk of being slaughtered.

That is what annoyed Arya the most. She hated waiting or sitting still. She wanted to get into Storm’s End and kill anyone that got in her way. She found it difficult to keep her mind off of the bad things that were running throughout her head. Every possible worst scenario would creep up in her in her deep inner thoughts, giving her more panic and anxiety than the last.

She was sitting by a dull fire they had made for the night. Most of the unsullied and gold cloaks were gathered by other fires or sleeping in their respective tents. Arya had made sure to pick a fire close to the woods edge, yet far away from the other traveling party. She wanted to be alone to pick her thoughts, which she couldn’t decide if that was such a good idea.

“I thought I would find you here.” Jon had snuck up on her, causing her to jump slightly.

“Must’ve been in deep thought if I could cause you to jump.” He questioned as she sat on the log adjacent to her.

“I-I don’t think that this plan…is going to work.” She told him honestly.

Jon pursed his lips, “Why, because Bran came up with it?”

Arya shook her head, “No, because Tyrion is right, we are too exposed. Even with the Tarth men, they will see us coming and that could give them the opportunity to execute the captors if they haven’t already.”

Jon stayed silent for a moment and began to take in his sisters words. He was stupid to not listen to Sansa during the battle with Ramsey; he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

With a deep sigh, he asked, “And you have an idea?”

Arya nodded. She knew what she had to do and it was something that she hadn’t done in a very long time. She may be out of practice, but she knew the skill would come back to her with ease. It was only a matter of if she was able to go through with the task.

She had vowed that she would never take another face for as long as she lived and for year on the seas, she didn’t have to. Taking faces had damaged a part of her that took years to heal and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to go down that path again. She remembered the person she was when she did it and she didn’t want to become that person again. She feared that if she took a face then she would remember the euphoria it made her feel, making her want to feel it even more. But now was not the time to think of her feelings, not when her family was in danger.

“Well, are you going to tell me or muster in your thoughts all night?” He jabbed.

Arya threw him a look that would kill and he quickly apologized.

“Remember when you asked me if I used Needle and I told you I had, once or twice?” She waited for his response. He quickly nodded and motioned for her to continue.

“Well, it was more than once or twice. I’ve killed a lot of people, Jon. Remember the Freys? That was me. I killed Walder Frey and stole his face in order to kill the rest of them. Poisoned their food and watched them drown in their own blood. I trained to be a faceless man; to steal faces.” She confessed. She had only told Sansa of her history and only a little to Gendry. This was the first time she was telling her older brother; a man she trusted with her life.

The shock on Jon’s face was evident but he didn’t muster a word. He simply nodded, taking in every word that Arya spoke.

“I plan on taking one more face and I have to do it tonight.”

That elicited a response from the brooding man.

“And whose face is that, exactly?”

Arya pulled out a map from her satchel that was placed beside her. She lifted from her perch and moved to sit beside Jon on the log he was seated on.

“You see this right here?” She asked as she pointed to a dot on the map. “This is Stonehelm and is occupied by the Swann family. Lord Swann and his sons won’t be there, but his daughter will be. There is no doubt that she would have stayed behind while the men in her family did all the brute work.”

“Arya, Stonehelm looks as if it nearly a half a day’s ride, you’ll never make it back before sunup.” Jon mentioned.

“Aye, it’s half a day’s ride if you gallop like a mule. If I ride full speed, I can be there and back before anyone notices I’ve been gone.” She tries to convince him.

“I don’t know, Arya. I don’t like the idea of you going out there alone…at night. And we are talking about killing an innocent girl! You can’t be serious.” Jon was trying everything to convince her stay put.

Arya scoffed, “Innocent? Jeyne Swann is far from innocent. My friend Rena had told me many things about Lady Swann that has made me coil in disgust. She even tried to strike young Lyra when she thought I wasn’t looking.” The memory nearly brought tears to her eyes.

Lyra had been training in the yard with Arya after a rather wet day. The muds of the castles were wet and sticky, causing anyone who walked within it dirty in an instant. They had just come into the hall from her archery lesson, tracking dirty and mud all along the floor. Lyra was excited about the mud and ran into the hall, tripping over her own feet as she did so. Lady Swann just so happened to be in her path and the little girl slammed right into her, ruining her pretty silk dress.

“Ugh, you little fool!” Lady Swann had yelled. Arya could see her hand raised, readying to come down on Lyra’s face.

Arya had made her way over to them in record speed, grabbing Lady Swann’s wrist, pushing it out of the way.

“Don’t ever raise a hand to that child again because I can promise that if you do, that hand won’t be attached to your body any longer.” Arya threated. Lady Swann jerked her hand free from Arya’s grasp and stormed up to the visitor’s chambers.

Arya had never felt rage like she had that day. It was that moment that she knew she would protect Lyra with her body if need be.

Arya shook the memory from her head and turned to face Jon. She could tell he was thinking deeply and contemplating the plan.

With a deep sigh, Jon nodded his head, “Okay. But only if you’re sure.”

Arya grabbed his hands into hers and gave them a reassuring squeeze, “I am sure. Those people in there are my family too and I can’t lose them.”

“You have to promise to be safe. And if you are not back by sunup, we march the gate. Understand?” His voice was stern but loving and Arya couldn’t help but smile at the thought that he sounded so much like their father.

“I promise and I understand, Ned Stark.” She joked.

Jon let out a soft chuckle and embraced his sister, squeezing her a little too tight. Arya felt peaceful in his embrace and was hesitant to let him go. He reminded her so much of the great late Ned Stark and although not biologically his, looked exactly like him. The older he got the more his features favored their father’s and it panged her heart ever so slightly.

“I have to go if I wish to return by day break. I also want to warn you that I will not look like myself. Don’t be shocked and don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to.” She chided.

Jon nodded and released his sister. She gave him a soft peck on the cheek before mounting her horse and riding off into the woods.

She felt the cool night air flash across her face as her horse galloped at full speed. She didn’t want any risks or take any chances so she rode hard and she rode fast. Her main priority was getting to Stonehelm and back before the sun had a chance to break the horizon. She knew it would be a risky kill. Swann may have been an idiot but he wasn’t stupid. He would have his castle guarded for any repercussions that may make their way to his home.

Arya had to be smart about her approach. First, she couldn’t be seen. She would have to tie her horse just on the outskirts of the land and walk the rest of the way. Second, she had to get passed the guards without making any sort of sound; which was easier said than done. And third, she had to kill Jeyne and steal her face and try to get into Storm’s End without any suspicion. Yes, much easier said than done.

She had been out of practice, she will admit. When one is on a ship for five years, there is only so many places to hind a creep without it becoming repetitive. There would be times when they docked that she could practice her sleight of hand or her whispered footsteps across cobbled stone. Her water dancing had stayed with her for there was no shortage of crewmen who wanted to battle the Night King slayer. It was the killing she was weary about. The last person to meet their demise by her hand had been a crewman who decided to force himself one of her handmaids. The poor thing was frightened to the core and couldn’t create a proper sentence after the whole ordeal. Arya had tended to her as much as she could in her cabin below. Once she was able to calm the girl, she went above deck and took her Cat’s Paw dagger and sliced it across the man’s neck. That had been nearly four years prior and Arya wasn’t sure if she could take a life so easily as before.

Jeyne Swann was nothing short of an evil wench, but did she deserve to die? She hadn’t killed or murdered anyone Arya had cared about and she hadn’t even tried to hurt anyone on purpose, so did she really have to die? Arya was conflicted and wasn’t sure if she could slice her neck as easily as she done with the crewman or even Littlefinger. But maybe she could still use Jeyne as a bargaining tool. Lord Swann loved his daughter, that much Arya knew, and she had a feeling that he would do anything to get her back safely.

Arya reached Stonehelm in a little over two hours. Her horse was exhausted and her thighs were sore from gripping the saddle. She secured her horse to a nearby tree just on the edge of the woods. She fed him an apple for his hard work and began her trek to the castle.

It was much smaller than Storm’s End, but still had its own sense of fierceness. Arya noticed the black and white watch towers and made sure to remain in the shadows of night. Although the sun had set and the sky was black, it would not be enough cover for the young wolf. She had to remain unseen and unheard. She came up to the gates and noticed a number of guards stationed just outside of the main gate. A few other guards were patrolling the parameter of the castle. Arya noticed a small guard, not much older than she, walking towards her. Now was not the time for a conscience, so with one swift move, Arya drove her dagger into his neck, silencing his gargled cries. The guard bleed out quickly, never seeing the face that slayed him. She swiftly carved his face and became the unnamed guard. This was a risk, she knew, but she had to get into that castle and this was the only way. She dressed in his armor and situated Needle and Cat’s Paw where she could reach them easily. She knew she couldn’t speak; she didn’t know his voice, but she was able to see how he walked, and she picked it up with ease. Arya continued the patrol the guard was walking and ran the parameter. When she reached the front gates, a guard halted her.

“Stewart! Your supposed to be inside the walls! Get in there before Harding feeds you to the birds.”

Arya turned slowly and nodded to the guard while making her way inside the castle. She was surprised how easy that was, although it could have just been luck.

Once inside she shed the armor and face and followed a handmaiden inside the castle hall. Most of the small castle was sleeping, making her venture through the building easier. She had to find Jeyne’s chambers and she had an inkling that the handmaiden knew exactly where they were. Without thinking, she shoved the handmaiden into a nearby utility room, pinning her against the wall.

“I really don’t want to kill you, but I will if I have to. All you need to do in order to live is tell me where Jeyne Swann’s chambers are. This is a rather urgent situation, so I suggest you tell me immediately.” Arya whispered into her ear.

The handmaiden’s face went pale; her whole body shaking.

“She is up the stairs, the last room on the right.”

Arya nodded and knocked the handmaiden unconscious.

She shuffled through the corridors without so much as a sound. Her feet were light as feathers and her breathing was steady. She followed the handmaiden’s instructions and soon she was standing right outside Jeyne’s chambers. She didn’t see a light emitting from the room and guessed that the lady was now sleeping. With a deep sigh she grabbed the door handle and gently pushed it open.

The room was dark; the only light was the from the small candle seated on the small table placed by the chamber window. It wasn’t a large room and Arya could make out where most of the objects were. She glanced over to the bed and noticed a sleeping figure with blonde hair curled under a mountain of furs.

Jeyne Swann looked oddly peaceful as she slept, not the wicked girl Arya had come to know. It was strange for Arya to see her as that; a girl. Whenever she mentioned Jeyne Swann or even picture the foul woman it was always the same image that popped into her head. A high-born lady pointing her nose down at you as if you were nothing more than scum at the bottom of her shoe.

Arya turned from where she stood at the entrance and slammed the door behind her, starling the young woman awake. She saw her fumble for the candle before she came to realize that another person was in her room.

“Arya Stark?” Her voice was like a putrid smell seeping with poison.

“Good evening, Jeyne.” Arya said coolly as she made her way to sit at the small table.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Storm’s End.” She confessed.

“Am I? Well I guess your father got it wrong. No, I wasn’t in Storm’s End when he attacked. I was safely put away in King’s Landing welcoming my new nephew into the world.” Arya’s voice remained calm and calculating. Her stoic behavior made Jeyne feel slightly uneasy about the situation at hand.

“That’s impossible, we intercepted the letter. You couldn’t have known.”

This response peaked Arya’s interest. They had been intercepting letters and it seemed they had been doing it for quite some time.

“Did you, now? Well I suppose there were multiple ones. The point is, I wasn’t there and now I’m here.” Arya pulled Cat’s Paw from its place on her belt and she began twisting it around in her hands. She could see the fear sweep across Jeyne’s eyes and this elicited a smug smile to form on her lips.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. At least not yet.”

Jeyne swallowed, but her voice remained unwavering, “What do you want?”

“I want the truth, Jeyne. You tell me the truth and I’ll let you live. If you lie, I will carve that pretty little face of yours off and add it to a collection of faces long forgotten.” Arya scared herself at how much the truth was behind those words.

“I am not going to play your stupid games! Now leave before I have my guards called.”

Arya pursed her lips. She didn’t want to harm the woman, but she was proving more difficult than even her own sister. She lifted from her seat and came face to face with Jeyne. She towered over Arya by nearly half a foot, yet she was cowering in fear at the she wolf. Arya placed her dagger on the side of Jeyne’s cheek and dragged down, leaving a cut across her porcelain skin. The red ooze spilled from her wound and Jeyne quickly reached to cover the cut.

“You evil little bitch! Why did you do that!?” Jeyne yelled.

“That was a warning, Jeyne. Now you can play my game or die. Remember to tell the truth.” Arya returned to the chair and propped her feet atop the table.

“First question. What is your father’s plan?” She hadn’t expected the girl to relinquish all of her father’s information and if she did Arya would trust her even less than what she did now.

“We want Storm’s End.” It was the truth, Arya knew that, but it wasn’t the whole truth.

“What does your father plan on doing with the captives?”

“Kill them, probably, unless they are useful.” The ease of those words slipping out of Jeyne’s mouth frightened Arya.

“You would want innocent people dead?”

Jeyne shrugged, “Why would I care, I don’t know them.”

Arya’s blood began to boil, “And what of Gendry and Lyra?”

“We all know that bastard child doesn’t belong to Gendry. She looks nothing like him! That little bitch is nothing more than a nuisance that deserves to be rid of. As for Gendry, father will most likely kill him, even with me begging not to. I like Gendry and I don’t want to see him die. But you…you would have to be dealt with.” Jeyne spat.

Arya was up from her seat within seconds. Her dagger was firmly on Jeyne’s throat just itching to slice through it.

“Why kill Lyra? She is nothing more than a child!”

Jeyne’s mouth twisted into a wicked grin, “Because she would be the heir to Storm’s End and we need to tie up loose ends. All loose ends.” Arya noticed Jeyne’s eyes flick downwards to her abdomen.

“What are you talking about?” Arya said through gritted teeth. She pressed the dagger a little harder to Jeyne’s throat causing her to squirm in discomfort.

Arya needed to be careful and not get too emotionally wrapped up in situation. One wrong move, one wrong slip up and she could be dead instead of the girl in front of her.

“For being the Night King slayer, you are rather oblivious! My good sister has had three children; I know a pregnant woman when I see one.” Jeyne said as she winced in pain.

Arya knew better than to fall for silly tricks, yet she still did and looked down at her own stomach, instinctively reaching her free hand to cradle it. And that was the opening Jeyne needed. She shoved Arya from her, knocking her back into the wall. Arya stumbled but caught herself before falling on her arse. Jeyne had turned to run but was too slow for Arya Stark. With one swift movement Arya grabbed Jeyne’s pale blonde hair and pulled her back, causing Jeyne to fumble into the bed post.

Jeyne was livid and saw red. She shuffled to her bed side table and pulled a small three-inch dagger from the draw. As Arya approached, she swung stabbing the assassin in the upper arm.

Arya cried out in pain and she clutched her arm. She found the hilt of the dagger and pulled it from her arm, leaving a deep wound oozing with blood. Arya threw the small dagger across the room and turned her attention to the cowering girl who was trying so desperately to open her chamber doors.

But Arya was too quick and before she had a chance to turn the lock her throat was sliced open. At first Jeyne hadn’t noticed the blood pooling around her night cloths. It took her a second to realize that she was choking on her own blood and that her body was getting cold. She looked up at Arya’s storm grey eyes.

“You stupid girl! Why didn’t you listen.” Was the last thing that Jeyne Swann heard before she took her last breath.

Okay so a lot to decompress. SOOOOOO....yeah a lot to go over. First, I contemplated a lot about killing Jeyne off or not and in the end I was like "fuck it" let's kill her. The only sucky part about that it is now I have to write about how Arya is going to deal with that as well as the prospect of bringing a life into the world. Basically a lot of mental shit will be going down in the last chapter (definitely not the next one because Storm's End happens). But be prepared for that. Also like, I really didn't feel that bad killing Jeyne off. I wonder if this is what it is like for GRRM when it comes to killing character's off. Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed the fluff, angst and somewhat mild violence?

#Arya Stark #Gendry Baratheon #arya #Gendry #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #bran stark #Tyrion Lannister #got fanfic #fanfiction #shit got real #hot damn #gendry/arya #gendry x arya #what the fuuuuck #holy shit #shiz nips

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