#i wish I hadn’t spent so long writing this fic honestly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cptindanvers · 2 years

Text

as this season ends [you pt. 2]

summary: you get over what you can’t fix. but bandaids can’t stitch things back to how they were.

pairing: steve harrington x reader

notes: big ANGST!! hurt/comfort, a lot of relationship building & slow burn. slightly canon-divergent for the ~drama~

word count: 3.7k!! buckle in buds

a/n: WOOOOOO it’s been a while!! this part is really different from the first one but im very proud of both of them (you pt1 is one of my fav fics ive written) but my writing style has changed a lot and i really hope this part doesnt bore anyone,, im a fan of longer works and am really happy with how this part turned out :)

buy me a kofi!

read part 1 here! / masterlist

Autumn had taken longer to come this year. The sticky summer heat slowly dissipated as the leaves turned brown and the temperature dropped steadily. Cool air greeted you every time you stepped outside; the pre-winter chill was beginning to teeter on uncomfortable, rippling wind bringing back painful memories.

For the first time in a long time, things were comfortable - as much as they could be. The ache in your heart subsided as the months grew on, and you accepted the relationship between Steve and Nancy.

Honestly, you had forced yourself to push down any negative emotions you most certainly felt - seeing the way Steve and Nancy looked at each other felt like a pat on the back and a punch in the face all at once. They were clearly happy together; that was all you wanted for your friends, right? Plus, Steve had changed, so much. Some nights you wished you were the one who could’ve brought that change. You wished you were good enough to make him want to be better.

But you didn’t let it hurt you anymore.

You were more than content with your relationships now - Steve and Nancy were still kept at an arm’s length away; though you didn’t think they even noticed with how absorbed they were in each other. Your place in the Byers household grew tremendously, considering you barely even glanced at Jonathan Byers before… everything.

A routine formed a few weeks after the nightmares began - the bags under your eyes and a slip in conversation gave you away to Jonathan. Neither of you could sleep soundly; memories of the monster that had hunted your loved ones always in the back of your head.

You hung out at the Byers’ more and more - you spent the night more often than not, your place at the breakfast table established long ago. You and Jonathan took turns driving to school, splitting to your respective classes and later finding each other in the parking lot for lunch; sometimes you ate in a comfortable silence, sometimes you’d listen to music accompanied by light conversation and bubbly laughter. Whatever it was, you two were inseparable.

The two of you were a sight - former Steve Harrington conquest with freak Jonathan Byers, previously rumored to have killed his brother? There were dozens of whispers and rumors surrounding you everywhere you went.

The grand decline of your social standing didn’t really faze you; you’d only had a place in the Hawkins High social pyramid by association with Steve, and you’d really rather be called a waste of a pretty face behind your back than deal with Steve and Company again.

When that last bell rang, you were the first one out of your class. Leaning by Jonathan’s locker as eager kids pushed past, you’d wait for him to reach you from his class on the opposite side of school. That car ride home was always your favorite part of the day, windows down and worry momentarily escaping you.

Though, the anxiety never held off for long.

Everything that happened last year would stick with you for the rest of your life; that much was clear early on. You hadn’t realized the extent of how deeply it all haunted you until you realized how small your circle had become. Circumstances aside, deeper relationships were limited to the people who’d gone through last year’s events with you. Which led to a more careful watch over everyone, especially the kids.

A protectiveness over Will had started since he’d gone missing, and had slowly spread to each member of the party - much to their annoyance. Despite your overprotective tendencies, you’d always ended up winning the kids over with snacks or toys, to which they’d declare how you were their favorite older teen and their beloved Paladin, whatever that meant. (You’d really tried to sit with them and understand their game, considering the monster you’d fought last year was straight out of it - but the entire thing made your head spin.)

Now, Halloween was coming up and you could feel the excitement radiating off the boys as they discussed their plans for Ghostbuster costumes. You could see the worry in Joyce’s eyes when Will hinted towards the group’s plans to trick-or-treat; it was easy to spot when you shared the same concerns. You trusted Will and the boys, but anything could happen. Though, as Joyce slowly but surely warmed up to the idea, you couldn’t help but share Will’s excitement for the greatest night of the year.

Things were comfortable - as much as they could’ve possibly been. Then, suddenly and painfully, that thin blanket of normalcy was ripped to shreds.

⁂

It was up to you and Jonathan to chaperone the kids tonight, but god. This headache was killing you and there was no way you’d be able to handle screaming kids all night. After an eternity of pleading and reassurance, you were snuggled on your couch, relishing the silence around you. It didn’t take very long for you to drift off, dreamless sleep taking over. You didn’t mind; it was the best case scenario nowadays.

A harsh knock at the door startled you awake, heart rate increasing as your throat tightened with worry. Anxious, unreasonable thoughts flooded your brain as you waited for any confirmation that the sound was conjured by your own disheveled mind, jumpy and paranoid.

A second knock at the door, weaker than the other, led you to the door in an instant. You could barely make anything out through the small peephole in the dark. You took a deep breath before opening the door with one good pull, your brain taking a while to catch up when you realized the figure you saw was walking away before turning towards you in surprise. The reasonable idea that it was Halloween night with tons of kids running around suddenly made its way into your brain.

But the figure on your porch was entirely too tall and alone to be kids trick-or-treating.

Your brain came to a stop when you realized who that figure was, squinting in the dim light to make sure you weren’t officially losing it.

“Steve?”

Steve looked like a deer in headlights, perfectly still as he tried to make sense of the emotions on your face.

“Sorry,” was all he could say as he turned away from you, guilt mixed with something else.

He shouldn’t have come here. He had no right to do this to you, to seek out your comfort when he’d hurt you so badly before.

“Steve,” your voice came out softer than you’d expected, gentle and warm. “It’s okay.”

With a few unconscious steps taken forward, Steve was wrapped up in your arms, arms tight against you as his body shook.

“It’s okay.” You repeated, rubbing circles into his back as you felt silent tears stain your shoulder.

Steve hadn’t told you what happened, but that terrible, sinking feeling in your chest and with his broken sobs were enough for you to invite Steve inside and out of the chilly autumn air.

Leading him to the couch and wrapping the blanket you were under only thirty minutes ago, you sat next to Steve in silence; hands over his in comfort as he collected himself.

“Nancy…” he started, voice breaking.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.” You didn’t really want to know. You were treading on a thin line of friendly and actually friends with Steve. One wrong move would crush the wall you’d spent so long building. All the distance you kept wouldn’t have been for nothing if you never let Steve get too close.

What if you fell in love with him again?

“I think she broke up with me.” Steve’s voice was quiet, but the pain in his voice was evident. It was the same pain you heard when he talked about his parents, or his future, or anything he used to share with you in a hushed voice. All those talks that’d end with a kiss and a promise that you’d find a way to fix things, together.

“Oh, Steve.” You squeezed his hands harder, hoping the motion would ground him, if nothing else. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s what I deserve, right?” Steve laughed humorlessly, hesitantly pulling his hands away from yours.

“What? No, it’s not-”

“Enough with that... bullshit.” Steve shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “We hurt you. I hurt you. It’s karma.”

“Steve. You don’t deserve this.”

“You’re right. I don’t deserve you.” Steve pulled back, looking anywhere but you. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Steve!” You were frustrated now, exasperated that Steve’s name was seemingly the only thing you were able to say. You knew he always felt bad about what he did but…

“I forgave you. Both of you.” You said as soothingly as you could. Your mind was a mess; the hurt mixing with sympathy as Steve spilled his heart out. You still cared about Steve, even through your messy breakup. Maybe that was a mistake. It would’ve been a lot easier for you to hate Steve and Nancy, but you couldn’t. They were good people, underneath everything. One mistake didn’t have to dictate the rest of their lives.

“Yeah, I didn’t deserve that either.” Steve laughed bitterly.

“I don’t think it’s very fair for you to decide what you deserve or not. That was my choice. Take it or leave it.” You didn’t mean to snap. An uncomfortable silence hung around the two of you as your words settled in.

“You still deserve to be happy, Steve.” Even if it’s not with me.

Steve turned to look at you, really look at you. He hadn’t done that in a while. You picked at the hem of your plain t-shirt, pajama clad legs crossed over each other. Your eyes were puffy with dark circles he’d never noticed before. How long had they been there?

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but nothing seemed to form. No words, no thoughts. How had you loved him when you were selfless and he was so selfish?

Your landline rung, saving Steve from having to break the silence. He clutched onto the blanket tighter, averting his eyes as you got up to answer.

“Hello?” You were expecting Jonathan to answer on the other end, letting you know that the kids were home safe. He knew how much you worried.

“Hey sweetie, sorry to call so late. Mike and Will are here and really, it’s no problem if Will stays for a while! But Dustin and Lucas didn’t come by, so-

"I’m so sorry, Mrs. Wheeler, I’ll be right there.” Where the hell was Jonathan?

“It’s really not a problem! No one at the Byers’ was picking up, so I just got a little worried. I know you’re really close with them.”

“Yeah.” You nodded, not realizing Mrs. Wheeler couldn’t see you. “I’ll be right there.”

You hung up abruptly, cutting off whatever Mrs. Wheeler was saying.

A new wave of worry washed over as you wondered where Jonathan had gone. Had something happened to Will that made him go to Mike’s so early into the night? Why weren’t the others with them?

You turned around and were hit with guilt. You’d completely forgotten Steve was there. He was standing now, attempting to neatly fold the blanket he’d been using.

“I should go.” He stated, full attention on smoothing the stubborn folds of the stupid blanket.

“You don’t have to.” You said, a little too quickly for your own liking. Steve looked away from the blanket for a second, glancing nervously at the sincerity in your eyes.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now.” You said sincerely.

So Steve let himself believe you.

“When’d you get a car?” Steve asked, inspecting the decorations as the two of you climbed in.

You shrugged. “A while ago.”

⁂

The rest of the ride was quiet, music from the radio playing lowly in the background. Occasionally, Steve would mutter more about what happened between him and Nancy, and you’d give him all the reassurance he needed. She was just drunk or, she really cares about you, y’ know? But the small smile on Steve’s face never seemed to reach his eyes.

You hadn’t realized how terrible of a situation it was until you knocked on Mrs. Wheeler’s door and she opened up with a bright small, albeit a little surprised to see Steve.

Shit. How could you be so stupid, bringing Steve to Nancy’s house?

“Basement?” You said abruptly, not realizing you cut off the conversation Mrs. Wheeler was having with Steve.

“Oh, yes-”

“Thanks.” You’d apologize for your rude behavior later.

You knew realistically, Will was fine, but that itching feeling in your chest wouldn’t go away, anxiety mixing with nerves to get Steve out of there.

It’d been a while since you’d been inside the Wheeler house, taking a second to process where you were going in your frazzled state. You turned a corner too quickly and consequently almost crashed into someone.

Your name left Jonathan’s lips as his left yours, both tones confused. Jonathan’s concern only grew when he glanced at Steve behind you.

“Are you here for Will?” You asked, searching for answers on Jonathan’s face.

“Will’s here?”

You could only gape at Jonathan in disbelief, your headache coming back as you rubbed your face with your hands in frustration.

“You-!” Rage consumed you but you bit your words back, knowing you’d say something you’d regret. “Yes, he’s here,” you managed to get out between grit teeth.

“Did something happen?”

“How am I supposed to know? You were supposed to be with him tonight.” The guilt in Jonathan’s eyes was enough for you to regret your words instantly. Moving past Jonathan, you opened the door to the basement before you could make things worse, clamoring down the stairs in a hurry.

Will and Mike were sitting on the couch side by side, in deep discussion that was clearly not meant to be overheard, evident by the way their heads snapped at the sudden noise. Were they hiding something?

They greeted you instantly, confused by the two boys that followed your lead, especially Steve. But they’d heard how your angry voice carried and decided against poking at the subject.

“You guys have fun?” You asked with a smile, a complete 180 from your brief conversation with Jonathan.

As if it wasn’t obvious, the boys glanced at each other before delivering stiff smiles. “Uh.. yeah.” Mike coughed.

Definitely hiding something.

“Are we going home now?” Will stood up abruptly. That was the nail in the coffin - Will was never eager to leave his friends.

“Yeah, but I won’t be staying over tonight. Sorry, bud.” You smiled softly at Will, hand on his shoulder as you guided him up the stairs.

“Goodnight, Mike!” You called down. “Brush your teeth or they’ll all fall out!”

“Shut up!”

⁂

You let Will and Steve jump into Jonathan’s and your cars, respectively, before you pulled Jonathan aside.

“Where the hell were you? Why weren’t you with the kids?”

“I let them go by themselves for a while.” Jonathan shrugged.

“What was more important than them? Than Will?”

“Don’t do that. Nothing’s more important than Will.” Jonathan scoffed. “I just went to a party-”

“A party? Since when do you abandon Will to go to fucking parties?”

“I didn’t abandon him!” Jonathan ran a frustrated hand through his hair in an attempt to recollect himself. “You know, you have to stop treating him like he’s five eventually.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was the devil for worrying. You weren’t there because you decided to go to some stupid party and something happened-”

“Something happened?”

It was your turn to scoff.

“Are you fucking kidding? It’s obvious-”

“Oh, so you know Will better than I do now?” Jonathan knew he was being completely unreasonable now, but he couldn’t help the words spilling out of his mouth.

You turned back to your car, headache hammering through your skull.

“Call me when you find out what happened.”

“Yeah, go back home with Steve. What the fuck is up with that, anyway!” Jonathan called after your retreating figure, wanting to kick himself instantly. He’d have a lot of apologizing to do later. But for now, he got into the car, waiting for Will to say something, anything about what happened. Was he really such a terrible brother not to notice anything wrong with Will? On the trip back home (including all the stalling Jonathan did to give Will extra opportunities), nothing left Will’s mouth other than a fake yawn and quick goodnight.

⁂

Your hands clutched your steering wheel angrily, knuckles noticeably white. You and Jonathan never argued. You knew it’d all turn out okay between you two, but he had serious explaining to do. And yet, his words kept replaying in your head.

You have to stop treating him like he’s five eventually.

You did not treat Will like a toddler! You treated him like he was a preteen, which he was! And he almost died last year, he wasn’t like every other kid!

You didn’t realize you’d voiced these thoughts aloud until Steve nodded. “I completely agree with you, but I think you were supposed to turn right a few blocks ago.”

“Shit,” you hissed, realizing you’d long passed your house. Pulling over, you smacked your head against your steering wheel. “Shit.” The sound of defeat was so strong, Steve couldn’t help but lean over to place a warm hand on your back.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ll just make a U-turn, there’s no one on this street anyway.”

You grumbled something incomprehensible against the wheel, and Steve knew it wasn’t just about the missed turn.

“Hey, it’s just trouble in paradise, right?” Completely ironic.

“We’re not dating.” You didn’t know why you felt the need to clarify that. “He’s like a brother to me. A completely annoying, totally idiotic brother.”

Steve just nodded, words repeating in his mind, hammering all the way to his chest. Or was just the beat of his heart?

If there was anything Steve remembered about you, it was how you hated being wrong. He also knew how deeply you cared for people, more than yourself sometimes. It was something he’d always loved about you; another painful reminder of how good you were towards him. Of how badly he’d ruined things.

“The worst part is he’s right. We’ve all been treating Will like… like he’s sick or something. He’s not allowed to go anywhere by himself. God, even school. I feel like I can’t breathe until I see him go inside. And he does, and I just sit there and wait. Like something’ll happen at any second. Like I could stop it if it did.” Admitting everything out loud… you felt so stupid. Stupid for Will, stupid for Steve. He’d come to you for comfort and here you were, making it all about you. How was Steve able to stand it? How could he stand you?

“I can drop you off, if you want.” You gestured weakly to the open road ahead of you.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now.” Steve smiled softly, patting your back.

How could he be so selfless when you were being so selfish?

⁂

You arrived back at your house and very awkwardly handed Steve some of his own clothes to sleep in. You’d kept them stored in a box in the bottom of your closet; too embarrassed to give them back but too hurt to wear them.

An argument about sleeping arrangements was cut short with Steve essentially pushing you onto your bed. However, he hadn’t anticipated that, startled by the movement, you’d reach out to grab the closest thing for stability; which happened to be Steve.

The proximity brought back bitter memories; you could see the same ones that haunted you reflecting in Steve’s eyes. And yet, both of you hesitated; reveling in the familiarity but knowing whatever you had, had been broken long ago.

“I should- Couch.” Steve sputtered out, tripping over himself to get off you.

“Yeah.” You mumbled softly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Steve gently squeezed your hand. He stood there a while, then briskly left the room before he could do anything he’d regret.

⁂

One night was all it took for everything to crumble.

The dam broke, your defenses fell. Angry, hot tears fell out of your eyes as your fists clenched around your pillow, overwhelming pain in your heart and in your head.

Finding out about Steve and Nancy had been one of the worst pains of your entire life. Forgiveness had come easily to you after the fact; who were you to stop them from being together? You weren’t one to cling on to a hopeless relationship.

Though you supposed you never got a chance to process your hurt fully; it was one thing after another, and there were much bigger things for you to concern yourself with than an ex-relationship.

But Steve was with Nancy, that was a fact. Despite how terrible it was, it worked out for you in some ways. If Steve was unavailable, you couldn’t feel anything other than friendship for him. If Steve wasn’t around, you couldn’t desperately wish it was you in his arms rather than Nancy.

So, you told yourself it was okay. It didn’t hurt. Out of sight, out of mind.

But, now… there was the possibility that Steve was available for you to love again, and did you really want to subject yourself to that? But the Steve you knew before and the Steve you were seeing now weren’t lining up and it made your heart hurt and your head spin. Through all the counterarguments you presented to yourself, it all led you back to the original, unfixable issue.

Steve just didn’t love you anymore. Or maybe he never did in the first place.

Your feelings were all rushing back, crushing you with their weight. The feelings you’d willed away, pushed down until they were no longer acknowledged overflowed and exploded. One-sided attraction was bad enough, but it didn’t help that you were still painfully in love with someone who hurt you.

And you couldn’t help but wonder that maybe, if you’d met Steve post-Nancy-Wheeler, it all could’ve worked out; but it was too late for that.

It was much too late for what could’ve been.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x gn reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington angst #stranger things angst #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic

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quil12 · 1 year

Note

souyo + soulmates?

I may have gone a little overboard with this one lmao. It's a little over 3k words - I honestly could write a whole fic with this concept. I used my favorite Soulmate AU trope for this - the one where anything you write on your skin gets transferred to your soulmate's skin as well (the only thing that tops it for me is when injuries transfer - that works more for the benefit of angst though)

Yosuke excitedly grabbed a pen from his desk, going over to his bed, and sitting cross-legged down on it. He placed the tip of it onto his forearm, writing out one simple word.

Hello

He stared down at it, as if waiting for something to happen.

It was his tenth birthday - the day he had been waiting for for such a long time. It was the day he finally got to get into contact with his soulmate. Everything that he wrote on his skin would subsequently appear on his soulmate’s skin - that was, everything that he wrote aside from his own name - at least until his soulmate heard him say it. For whatever reason, those words wouldn’t get transferred over. That made it significantly harder to find your soulmate, although it was still possible. For children with next to no resources though, it wasn’t something that typically could happen.

After a few minutes of constant staring, a black dot appeared just beneath where he had written. He watched with bated breath as the character was formed in penmanship that seemed out of place next to his own, messy handwriting.

Hello

Yosuke’s heart was pounding in his chest. They had answered him. This person who he was supposed to be connected with for the rest of his life had just said his first words to him.

He hesitated briefly, thinking about what he wanted to say, before putting the pen down on his arm again.

I wish I could tell you my name, but we’re soulmates! I’m really excited to talk to you

There was only a small pause before more words started appearing on his skin. It was kind of odd just watching them show up, seemingly without any outside input.

It is odd to not be able to say my name. It doesn’t feel like a proper introduction. I’m excited to talk to you too.

I guess my first question is if you’re a guy or a girl

The handwriting was very neat and precise, and they were talking so formally, he was leaning more toward girl.

Guy. What about you?

He wasn’t entirely expecting that, but he shrugged it off. He would probably be able to relate better to a guy anyway. Soulmates could be either romantic or platonic. He guessed this was just a case of it being platonic then.

I’m a guy too. How old are you? I just turned 10

I’m still nine, but I’ll be ten in about a month.

That settled some amount of uncertainty that had worked its way into his gut. Part of him had been worried that his soulmate was older than him and just hadn’t bothered to get into contact with him. Today was actually the first day that they would have been able to talk.

Yosuke thought for a few seconds. He wanted to get to know him a little bit more.

What are you doing right now?

I was just starting my homework.

What’re you gonna do after?

I’m not sure yet. I just got a new book though, so I might start reading that.

Homework and then reading. That wasn’t something Yosuke could ever visualize himself ever doing. How different were they if that was his plan for the night?

What’s the book about?

As they kept writing, he was quickly realizing a problem. They were both writing fairly small, but there was only so much room on his arm to keep adding things.

As he was writing a synopsis of the book, Yosuke stood up, walking to the bathroom. He grabbed a washcloth, getting it wet with warm water and soap. He started rubbing at some of the words on his arm, erasing some of it to make room for the new conversations. He supposed that doing this was just going to be a part of talking with his soulmate.

They spent the rest of the night talking with each other, getting to know each other’s hobbies and interests.

His soulmate seemed to spend a lot of time reading and studying. Apparently he went to a cram school most nights. He participated in the soccer team at his school, but that was about the only thing he could relate to him on.

Even so, he was really enjoying talking to him. They were different, but it wasn’t a bad different.

As it reached 8 o’clock, his soulmate informed him that he needed to start getting ready for bed. Yosuke was disappointed, but didn’t fight him on it. There was one last thing he wanted to ask though.

Before you go, what exactly should I call you?

What do you mean?

I can’t just go around calling you my soulmate. That’s no good.

Oh. I don’t really care. Whatever you want to.

Yosuke thought about it for a few seconds, one word coming to mind.

Partner.

Partner?

We’re supposed to be linked together our whole lives, so you’re my partner in life.

There was a several second pause.

All right. Partner it is.

Yosuke smiled to himself as he stared down at the words written in someone else’s handwriting on his arm.

Good night, Partner. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

Good night.

Yosuke leaned back against his pillow, staring up at the ceiling, his chest so warm. He had good feelings for the future.

After a few minutes, he stretched his arms up, blinking in surprise. He hadn’t realized it while they were talking, but he was absolutely covered in ink. Talking to him was going to be a messy process, he supposed.

- - -

Over the years, the two of them kept up a consistent line of communication. It got to the point where he couldn’t even imagine living his life without him there.

They had come to an agreement that they wouldn’t try and figure out each other’s identities - if they were supposed to meet, then they would. They didn’t have to force it.

Besides, it was kind of nice to have someone who knew what was going on in his life who wasn’t actually involved in it. He always had someone to talk to about what was happening who didn’t necessarily have a personal stake in any of it. It just was good to get all his thoughts and feelings out.

And he often did the same thing in return. He felt like he knew things that no one else knew about him. From how overwhelmed he sometimes got from his parents’ expectations of him, to how he felt like all of his friendships were surface level at best, to how anxious he sometimes got when thinking about the future.

He really liked those nights when they would talk about things like that. He liked getting to know who he really was.

He liked how he would sometimes look down at his hand to see that he had drawn a little doodle for him - usually it was a cat. He loved drawing cats for some reason.

Through everything though, he oftentimes wondered what he looked like or what his voice sounded like. How tall was he? What color was his hair? Did he have good taste in clothes? What did his smile look like? What did his laugh sound like?

He wanted to know the answer to those questions so badly. He didn’t know for sure if they would ever meet though, and, even if, by some twist of fate, they met, how would they even know that it was them? Was it possible that they had met already and they just didn’t know it?

Questions like that kept him up at night, but, at the end of the day, there was nothing he could really do about those uncertainties but keep moving forward.

- - -

It was his first day of school as a second year. He was ready for this year to be great. He was ready for these upcoming days to be the best in his life.

That was, he had been ready for all that until he crashed his bike.

He had barely made it to school on time, laying his head on his desk as he tried to push through the pain.

When the new transfer student was introduced, he was barely paying attention - that was, he was barely paying attention until he glanced up to see him walking toward him, heading to the empty desk in front of him.

Just seeing his face made his breath catch in his throat. He didn’t think he had even seen a guy as handsome as he was. He was tall and it looked like he had a decent amount of muscle built up on his arms and chest. There was just something about him that made him want to talk to him and get to know him.

What was his name again?

He tried desperately to remember what he had said, but it was all a blur.

The rest of the day, he spent staring at the back of his head, trying to think of what he should say to him. He could talk to him after class.

- - -

He didn’t get a chance to speak to him after class.

There had been an announcement made saying that everyone was to stay in their classrooms. He had decided to take that opportunity to give Chie back the DVD she had leant him, only to realize that he had cracked it that morning when he had crashed.

He didn’t even want to remember the pain that had happened after that.

He then had to rush to get to Junes to work a shift, so speaking to the transfer student was something that would have to wait until the next day.

After he had gotten home, eaten, and taken a shower, he had climbed into bed, grabbing a pen off of his desk, clicking it open, and beginning to write.

How was your day?

He only had to wait a few minutes before there was a response.

It was fine. It’s a new school this year, but it doesn’t seem bad. What about you?

Huh, that was right. He had mentioned that he was transferring schools. He hoped that everything went well at his new one.

That’s good. I’m sure you’ll settle in in no time. And it was… I crashed my bike on the way to school

Oh no. Are you okay?

I’m fine. Oh, but there is a new transfer student in my class. He sits in front of me, but I just can’t remember his name.

Do you like him?

His face felt hot as he read that question. He had been the only one he had ever told about the confusion he had faced in regards to his sexuality. They had talked for a long time about it and he had eventually admitted that he was attracted to both guys and girls. It wasn’t something he was super comfortable admitting to other people though.

During that same conversation, he had admitted to him that he was exclusively into guys as well. Hearing that had made him a little more comfortable, but also created even more of a kinship between them.

He’s really hot if that’s what you’re asking

That was what I was asking. You should really find out his name though.

I’m working on it.

They talked for a while longer before both deciding to call it for the night.

He was definitely going to talk to the transfer student tomorrow.

- - -

He crashed his bike again.

Straight into a trash can.

To make matters worse, the transfer student watched him do it. He even helped him out of it.

He had never been so embarrassed in his life.

“Are you okay?” he asked, quiet worry apparent in his voice.

He let out a forced laugh, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I really owe you one though.”

“It’s no problem. It’s just good that you’re not hurt.”

“Yeah… Oh! I’m Yosuke Hanamura by the way. We’re actually in the same class.”

“Yu Narukami.”

Yu. His name was Yu.

“It’s nice to meet you. We should probably get heading to school soon though or else we’re gonna be late.”

Yu nodded, beginning to walk in the direction of the school. He really didn’t talk much, did he? Then again, he probably talked enough to make up for two people, so it didn’t really bother him that much.

- - -

After school, he wound up hanging out with Yu and Chie, going to Junes for a while and talking about things. Chie made them promise to try out something called “The Midnight Channel” that night. It sounded kind of kiddish to him, but he would still try it out.

He had gone home after that, heading up to his room and doing his homework, but, before he knew it, it was later at night.

He had some time to kill before midnight, so he decided that he might as well talk to his Partner and get him caught up on what had happened that day.

He sat down on his bed with a pen, beginning to write on his arm.

I know his name.

There was a response almost immediately.

What is it?

Yu Narukami

There was a long pause. A longer pause than he ever remembered there being in the middle of a conversation. Was he all right?

He waited a few more seconds, when, to his relief, there was a reply.

What do you think about him?

Well, like I said, he’s really hot. He doesn’t really talk a lot, but that’s fine. The first thing that he did was to help me, so I like that about him. And, I mean, we didn’t really get a long time to talk, but I really want to get to know him more.

He had written a lot. That had taken up most of the space on his arm.

He took a while to respond again.

I hope you do get to know him better.

They talked for a while longer, but he was acting a little bit weird. Was it possible that he was jealous about the fact that he wanted to get to know Yu or that he thought he was hot? He wanted to reassure him, but he also didn’t want to make any assumptions.

As it started getting closer to midnight, he cut off the conversation, saying that he had things he still needed to do that night.

He still thought it was kind of dumb, but he went to go try and watch the Midnight Channel.

- - -

A lot happened the next day.

All three of them had watched the Midnight Channel and they had all seen someone on it. But then, Yu had said that he had unconsciously gone to touch his TV screen and his hand had gone through it.

Neither him or Chie really believed him. He had to have just been half asleep.

They had gone to Junes after school and gone to the electronics department.

He hadn’t actually been half asleep. When they had gotten there, he had stuck his whole hand and arm into one of the TVs there, eventually sticking his whole head inside.

Both he and Chie had started panicking, and, in that panic, all three of them had fallen completely inside the TV.

There was a whole nother world inside of there. One filled with fog that made him feel exhausted and nauseous.

After a while, they had come across this weird bear… thing, who had offered them a way out.

They were currently standing in the parking lot at Junes, saying their goodbyes. Chie left first, leaving just him and Yu.

He stretched his arms over his head, yawning, “Well, I should probably get going home too.”

Yu looked down at the ground, hesitating before speaking, “Actually, there was something that I wanted to talk to you about if you’d be willing.”

“What about?”

“Well…” He hesitated for a few seconds, “Do you want to come over?”

Come over? To his house? To his bedroom maybe? What did he want to talk to him about in there?

“Uh… why exactly?”

“There’s just something I really need to show you.”

He was looking at him almost pleadingly. Despite his concerns, there was something about him that made him not want to say no.

“All right. Let’s go.”

He gave him a soft, almost relieved looking smile. A smile that made his heart start to pound in his chest.

He followed him as he led him to his house. His younger cousin was home and he briefly exchanged introductions with her before heading up the stairs to Yu’s room.

It was pretty bare in there - only the essentials that he needed for living. Then again, if he had just transferred, he probably hadn’t had a lot of time to fully settle in yet.

He sat down on the couch against one wall while Yu sat in his desk chair.

“So what did you need to talk to me about?”

Yu took a deep breath before reaching onto his desk and grabbing a pen, opening it, then placing it above his hand, writing something on it.

He watched as he did it, his confusion only growing deeper.

After a second, he looked up, meeting his eye.

“What?”

“Just look at your hand.”

At his hand? Why would he look at his hand?

He decided to humor him, lifting his hand up, his breath catching as he saw what was written there in his soulmate’s neat and precise handwriting.

Yosuke

He looked up to see Yu smiling at him - a smile that made his heart start to pound.

“You’re…”

“Yeah.”

Yosuke didn’t even quite register what he was doing as he stood, clearing the small distance between them, and wrapping his arms around him, more or less moving to be sitting in his lap.

He grunted, but wrapped his arms around his waist as well, holding him against him.

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. He was so warm and comfortable. Familiar, yet not at the same time.

How could this be real? This was his soulmate. His Partner. They were actually getting to see each other in the flesh. It was almost too good to be true.

After a while, he pulled back slightly. There were tears in his eyes as he spoke.

“I can’t believe that it’s actually you. I didn’t know if we’d ever actually get to see each other.”

Yu reached up, laying his palm against his cheek. It was oddly intimate, but he found that he really didn’t mind it, leaning into the touch.

“It is a little hard to believe that we’d end up so close together.”

“How long have you known that it was me?”

“Not until you wrote my name.”

Yosuke’s heart seemed to stop as he remembered something. He groaned, burying his face against his collar bone, “That means I told you directly how hot I thought you were.”

“‘Were’? You don’t think so anymore?”

He pulled back, glaring at him, “Of course I still think you’re hot.”

He gave a small laugh. A laugh that made his heart start to flutter.

“You’re pretty hot yourself.”

He made a noise, once again burying his face into his collar bone. He had never been called hot before and it was so embarrassing.

Yu began to gently run his fingers through his hair. That was such a pleasant sensation - one that he could easily fall asleep to.

“So, if you’re willing, do you want to maybe hang out like this more often?” Yu asked.

Yosuke pulled slightly back off of him, looking into his hopeful gray eyes.

“Of course. You’re gonna have a tough time getting rid of me now.”

He laughed. “That sounds perfect.”

#souyo #fanfiction #im kind of considering making a fic on ao3 thats just all of these that ive written together #just to have them somewhere less ephemeral #cause ive written a decent amount at this point #that being said #im still down to write more #so feel free to send asks!

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side-shuffling-hyperfixations · 1 year

Note

hi!!! i re read ur peter/gwen sick fic this morning aaa i love them ☹️💞 ur writing is so good!!

do u think u could do something similar but where gwen is the one sick and peter takes care of her? thanks !! 🤘🤘

“Peter, the sooner you leave me alone, the less likely it is for you to catch whatever I’ve got and the more likely it’ll be for me to get this studying done,” Gwen sighed, wishing her voice wouldn’t whistle and rasp so painfully; it felt like she had spent most of the day gargling rocks. Setting her pencil down, she slid a heavy, aching arm out for the thermos on the other end of her desk, only for Peter to hastily snatch it up out of her reach.

“Whoa there. Listen, I know I’m one to talk and this thermos honestly smells amazing right now but you really don’t need coffee in your condition,” he pleaded.

“It’s warm, it feels good on my throat.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not gonna help you sleep! I don’t even know why you’re still up, honestly.” In return to her exasperated, obvious gesture at her textbook, he gave her an equally obvious eye roll. “You’re the teacher’s pet—every teacher’s pet. If you told them you’re sick, I’m sure they’d give you extensions to catch up once you’ve gotten some rest.”

“I’m close, okay? I’ve only got…” Gwen wavered, blinking at the page before her as she tried to crunch the numbers. Come to think of it, how long had she spent staring blearily at this one chapter? This one page? The past few hours were becoming muddled, muted by the dull pounding in her temples. “…I-I’m close,” she mumbled at last, giving up on any estimation. “You can whisk me up in your arms like any other damsel in distress as soon as I’m done.”

Taking a swig of her coffee for himself, likely knowing he would need a boost for what lay ahead, Peter then set it aside in favor of shuffling behind Gwen’s desk chair and sliding his hands over her shoulders. Against her better judgment she leaned into his strong, safe touch, struggling to suppress a shudder when he started kneading along the base of her neck and the top of her spine. She hadn’t realized how many knots of tension she had been holding there until now that he was trying to loosen them up.

“I brought some of Aunt May’s soup,” he murmured coaxingly, hunkering down to press a few slow, soft kisses into the crown of her mussed golden hair. “That’ll be nice and warm for you too but not if you keep it waiting for much longer. After that we can get you changed, get all cozy under the covers…You’d seriously rather be studying than snuggling right now?”

Pulling heavy eyelids back open, unsure of when she had closed them, she tried to muster another protest, only for a few rough, ragged coughs to escape instead. Once those first few found traction, the rest were eager to follow, ripping the air from her lungs. The pounding in her skull spiked to a dizzy thundering, her ribs rattled for mercy and Peter’s grip tightened to offer support.

“You’re okay, shh, shh,” he cooed, worry and warmth mingling in his voice. “You’re okay, just breathe.”

Easier said than done with her sinuses swimming and her chest burning with every crackly gasp. Curling in on herself, reflexive tears burning her eyes, she realized then that the answer to his question was a resounding no. She didn’t want to be here. Her back and butt were sore from staying slumped in this chair for so long. She was cold and clammy and congested and she would much rather be buried under her blankets right now. The only distress this damsel had to be in was that which she was bringing on herself. It could end at any time, if she could only bring herself to take the out her boyfriend was offering.

Whatever results she managed to cobble together definitely weren’t going to be her best work if she kept going now. As Peter had so kindly pointed out, she was top of her class; she had higher standards than this.

“…S-Soup sounds pretty good right now,” she admitted at last in a wet, weary sigh. She didn’t have to glance back at him to sense how he lit up at the words.

“Really? You’re actually gonna—Right! Yes, yes, okay! Coming right up,” he promised with another kiss to her head; although it was brief, she could feel the relief in his smile against her scalp before he bounded across the room to fish through his pack for the Tupperware, as well as a few other essentials. “Okay, we got soup, decongestants, cough syrup, painkillers, cold packs, this heating pad—”

“Since when do you come so prepared?” she sniffled, earning a laugh that somehow managed to be sheepish and sly simultaneously.

“I figured I’d need a pharmacy’s worth of weapons! Pretty sure I’ve convinced supervillains to surrender faster than a stubborn Stacy!”

#marvel #spider man #fanfiction #the amazing spider man #peter parker #gwen stacy #andrew garfield #emma stone #sickfic #caretaking #fluff #romance #petergwen #answered ask #quobber

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kylespencersgirlfriend · 3 years

Note

hear me out: interning with luke

interning with luke

luke cooper x gn!reader warnings: me being a hoe for enemies to lovers and writing over 1k words for a character with 3 mins of screen time, one mention of porn but no detail word count: 1,284 (the fact that this is one of my longest fics LMFAO) a/n: i kind of love writing for characters like luke with little to no screen time because there's a lot more room for imagination. anyways, lemme know what you think of this :) also, i know this episode is meant to take place at the end of summer, but we're going to pretend it's at the beginning for this

-i see your "interning with luke" and raise you "initially luke was the office's only intern, but given that he's terrible at his job and michael doesn't want to fire him, he brings on a second intern instead, and you end up getting stuck with all of the work luke fails to do, so you dislike him, but he eventually wins you over"

-go fish

-michael puts out ads for a new assistant since he can't bring himself to fire luke

-you haven't had any luck finding a summer job, so you apply for the position

-the interview goes really well, and michael tells you that you can start monday

-monday morning, erin texts you everyone's coffee orders

-you get up early so you can grab them on your way to work, and everyone's relieved to see that you didn't mess anything up

-"thank god," darryl says after taking a sip of his coffee "it's not decaf."

-andy makes a comment about you already being better than the "other assistant"

-michael had mentioned during the interview that they already had another assistant, and you were glad you had someone to split the work with

-but based off everyone's comments about him you're not so sure you're going to enjoy working with him so much anymore

-after a couple minutes luke strolls in

-late of course

-and you figure he's the other assistant you've heard such good things about

-"hey so, no one ever texted me the coffee orders, so i didn't get anything" he says

-"oh thats okay, y/n got them today" erin tells him

-"who?"

-michael comes out of his office and greets both you and luke

-"so, luke, y/n is actually our new assistant.. our, new new assistant, because, y'know, the workload was just too much for one person, i didn't want to put that pressure on you"

-"oh... cool."

-at first luke sees you being there as an excuse for him to do even less work than before

-"did you send those samples out luke?" "actually y/n was already headed to the post office anyway, so they did it instead"

-you despise him

-you're bending over backwards to do this job the best that you can while he just sits back and watches

-he honestly doesn't even realize it, he's just happy you're doing all the work for him

-everyone in the office LOVES you and hates luke

-they're pushing for michael to fire him and just keep you

-the crew asks you what you two think of each other

-you: "he's the worst. all he does is play cookie clicker or watch porn or whatever on michael's computer all day, and i get stuck doing work that's supposed to be split between two people. i bet he gets paid more than me, too, since he's michael's nephew."

-luke: "the other assistant? yeah, they're cool, i guess. i dunno, i've never really talked to them."

-after about two weeks of you two interning together but hardly interacting, michael sends you two to the store to pick up supplies for one of his random office parties

-and that's really the first time the two of you have been alone together

-so he starts trying to make conversation with you and you are not having it

-and that's the first time it occurs to him that you might not like him

-so from then on he starts putting more effort into talking to you

-he walks you to your car after work

-he helps you carry stuff to and from the warehouse

-he sits with you during your lunch break

-it gets to the point where he spends more time talking to you than pretending to do work

-like before he would at least try to look busy but now its totally obvious he's only showing up to talk to you

-think season one jim and pam except you're super annoyed instead of smitten

-one day you two have to accompany michael on a trip to new york

-him and erin go in one car, which means you're stuck with luke in his

-for over two hours.

-you spend a couple minutes in silence

-"do you mind if i put music on?" he asks

-"no, i don't care" you reply, not looking up from your phone

-"ok cool, i'm just gonna put my playlist on"

-you don't respond until the music actually comes on

-it's your favorite song

-you look up "you listen to this?"

-"yeah, this is actually my favorite band, why? do you not like it, because i can change it if-"

-"no no, they're actually my favorite band too"

-"really?"

-"yeah, this is my favorite song by them"

-"mine too!"

-you chuckle "you wanna listen to this other band after? they have the same vibe, but they're so underrated"

-"yeah totally!"

-the rest of the car ride goes super fast

-the entire time you guys talk about music and movies and your jobs and whatever else comes up

-once you get to new york the crew asks you both about the ride

-you: "the car ride was actually... fun. which is surprising, considering i just spent two hours and fifteen minutes in a confined space with luke and... didn't totally hate it."

-luke: "i had a good time in the car. y/n is actually really fun to talk to. plus they have good music taste."

-so after that you and luke gradually get closer

-you and him definitely give each other the jim look™ when something crazy happens

-you know the one

-he offers to start driving you to and from work

-"i just thought, y'know, we could save gas money, and it's better for the environment"

-you agree

-after one long day you lean back into the passenger seat of his car and close your eyes

-he turns to look at you

-"you okay?"

-you open your eyes and face him "no, i'm beat" you chuckle "i can't even imagine how tired i look right now"

-he smiles a little and turns away as he starts driving "no, you don't look tired. you look really cute"

-"wish i could say the same for you"

-"hey!"

-you laugh "i'm kidding, i'm kidding! the 'i-dont-own-a-hairbrush' look really suits you"

-he laughs "you think so?"

-"yeah," you reach over and ruffle his hair "all bets are off if you comb this mess"

-"i'll keep it in mind"

-the rest of the drive is spent in comfortable silence with slight blushes on both of your faces

-he parks in front of your house

-"well, this is me. see you monday" you say

-you turn to open the car door, but before you can luke grabs your upper arm and pulls you in for a kiss

-it's short and sweet before he pulls away

-he pauses for a moment "i'm sorry y/n, i don't know why i did that, i wasn't thinking-"

-you cut him off by pressing your lips to his again

-after that day you go on a couple dates before you make it official

-because of you he actually starts trying at work

-like wow... your power

-he doesn't want to get fired since working together lets him spend time with you

-the entire office knows you're dating

-like they don't know

-but they know

-they gossip about it at lunch

-"the interns are so cute together" "you don't even know if they're dating for sure" "luke has actually started putting effort in at work... if that's not y/n's influence i don't know what it is"

-when michael finds out he will take credit for your entire relationship because if he hadn't hired you then you and luke wouldn't have met

#luke cooper #x reader #imagine #headcanons #fluff #the office

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oddaodd · 3 years

Text

· Idyllic Announcements In The Wake of Epsom ·

Request: By a lovely anon, “hi! can you do a fic where the reader is tommy’s wife and was at the derby with him (end of season 2), and after he disappeared she freaked out and made everyone look for him and stuff, until the other shelbys finally convinced her to go home, and when Tommy finally comes back they’re both just holding each other and crying, and she tells him she’s pregnant?”

Author’s note: I absolutely adored writing this, you know I love angst, so thanks for this lovely request and as always, I wish you all a lovely day.

Warnings: Season 2 SPOILERS, mentions of death, pregnancy and violence

Even though it was an idyllic day at Epsom; Y/n couldn’t shake off the nasty feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong. Maybe it was just the nerves of an unannounced announcement she had been planning to surprise Tommy with, as well as his reaction to it.

Or maybe it was how easily the plan Tommy had told her about could be jeopardized. The plan that involved Lizzie luring a high ranking officer so that Tommy could kill him, a high ranking officer whose death would distract the police while Arthur, some blinders and the Lees ambushed Sabini’s men with the intentions of getting rid of their gambling licenses.

When Tommy first told y/n about it, he intended for her to wait at home, out of harm’s way, but Y/n immediately refused and Tommy had no choice but to bring her along because he knew very well that Y/n would go regardless if he denied taking her.

Y/n hadn’t noticed how deep in thought she was Tommy took hold of her hand bringing her back to earth.

“The race is about to start” he spoke looking into her tumultuous eyes.

Y/n gave him a small nod and squeezed his hand knowing that that meant the plan was about to be put into motion. Tommy could see her worry and gently cupped her face.

“Ey, it’s going to be alright” he promised even though he wasn’t completely certain.

Y/n then gave him a soft smile and pressed her lips to his in a soft sweet kiss before telling him to be careful and after that Tommy began walking away. The nasty feeling Y/n was feeling intensified significantly making her wonder if she should just yell out her announcement from him to hear before it was too late, but she stopped when he disappeared between the mass of pretty dresses and posh suits. The announcement would probably distract him from the plan.

She went and took her seat to watch the race hoping that it would distract her from her worries, but even after the horses began racing, the race proved to be a futile attempt of a distraction from her worries. She was holding her breath for the most part of it and when it ended she hastily got up and headed towards the table where John, Arthur, Lizzie and Tommy accorded to meet after the race.

When she got there her stomach dropped, John Arthur and some Blinders cheering happily over Sabini’s burnt license, and a bloodshot eyed Lizzie, drinking some champagne in a torn dress were there , but no sign of Y/N’s husband.

“Have you seen Tommy?” she worriedly asked Arthur, upset by the sight of the state of Lizzie.

Y/n had voiced her concerns over using Lizzie as bait and Tommy promised he would get to her before anything happened, but evidently, that part hadn’t gone according to plan. What else had gone wrong?

“No, but don’t worry, love. He’ll be here” there was a blurriness to his tone that prevented him of any worries.

As the minutes passed by and Tommy still didn’t show up Y/n managed to convince everyone to look for him but even with everyone looking for him, he was nowhere to be found. Some excruciatingly long hours after, Y/n was frantic, tears spilling down her cheeks as the sun began to set.

“you should get home” spoke up John after a while.

“I can’t” she breathed devastated.

“We’ll keep looking, I promise” he said honestly “Come on, I’ll drive you”

The drive was just as excruciating as the time spent looking for Tommy. Y/n couldn’t stop thinking dreadful things as her hands rested over her stomach. What if he was lying dead somewhere, never getting to listen to her announcement. She could already see herself attending a funeral in tears.

She was taken out of her thoughts when the car finally pulled up in front of the house she shared with Tommy. She stepped out and begged John to please call her if he heard anything to which John agreed to with an apologetic smile.

Inside the house, Y/n made her way upstairs not even stopping to remove her coat and shoes, a childish hope that he would be waiting in their room fueling her actions. But when she stepped into the unsurprisingly empty room she deflated and drew a chair to the nearby window waiting for him as she tried to calm herself down reassuring herself that tommy wasn’t an easy to kill man.

It seemed like forever until a blurry shadow came into view at the end of the street. Y/n squinted her eyes trying to make out her husband’s figure and as the shadow walked closer and closer, Y/n felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders. It was him.

She rushed down the stairs just in time as she heard the sound of the door opening and closing ring through the thin walls of the Small Heath house.

When she saw him standing there in their receiver she wasted no time for hellos or worried inquiries about where the hell he had been. She just engulfed him in the tightest hug possible. A hug which he reciprocated immediately and lasted a few intense minutes.

“Are you alright?” she asked with teary eyes as she parted from him just enough to get a glimpse of his face. He sported an exhausted expression and some blood splattered across his cheek.

“What happened?” she sniffed trying to wipe the blood away.

“I’m fine” he spoke in a raspy voice that was only uttered when he cried “its not mine, love” he gently stopped her hand from wiping at his face. “I’m fine”

“what happened?”

“It doesn’t matter , everything is going to be alright now” he said pulling her close to him again, needing to feel her against him after the exhausting emotions he had experienced during the day.

“I was so worried” she confessed tearily against his chest “I was already dreading how awfully lonely life was going to be without you and ... and I couldn’t stop beating myself for not telling you before. Oh I couldn’t bare it, Tommy.”

“Tell me what?” he asked pulling away wiping away some of her tears.

“I was going to tell you after the Derby” she sniffed a bit calmer.

“Tell me what?” he asked again

“I’m pregnant” she smiled weakly, taking his hand in hers and placing it over her still flat belly. Another tear rolled down her cheek when his thumb began rubbing against the fabric of her dress

“Are you sure? “he asked in soft disbelief a weak smile tugging at his lips.

“Polly confirmed in in my leaves” she said, focusing her attention on Tommy’s loving stare.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I don’t know I wanted to wait for the perfect time, and even though this is far from perfect, I couldn’t wait anymore” she explained.

“Fucking hell, Y/n” he breathed contentedly before cupping her face and kissing her. Y/n smiled against his lips and allowed herself to melt against him.

“we should call your brothers to let them know you are alright” she spoke softly against his lips.

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @peakyxtommy @nyotamalfoy @writeroutoftime @babylooneytoonz @slytherinicequeen @lilymurphy03

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sleeping-on-cracking-ice · 3 years

Note

did i just bingeread everything you posted? absolutely. do i regret it. absolutely not. ✨you are an amazing writer!!!💕 And while we’re at it can i request a scenario where Niragi goes crazy and scares his s/o really bad but he gets kinda soft and tries to comfort them later? If that makes sense haha And also a giant thank you for writing in gender neutral!!🥺💕

Thank you so much for reading my fics! I’m honestly really flattered haha 😅 Here is you’re request!

Comfort From A Tormentor | Suguru Niragi

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Niragi (ft. OC)

Summary: Niragi tries to comfort you, his S/O, after you witnessed his murderous behaviour for the first time

Warnings: toxic relationship, blood, murder, graphic violence, pushy behaviour, reader watches someone being killed, going into shock, panic attack, quite intense trauma, slight abuse of power

Word Count: 2.4k

*reader is gender-neutral

You always knew that Niragi wasn’t the kindness at The Beach, which was quite blatantly obvious. When people heard you guys had gotten together and were now in an established relationship, you had many people express their concerns privately with you, labelling him as an evil and violent character. You always shook it off, because you’d seen nothing of the sort during the time you had spent with him.

The worst you ever saw him say or do was a threat, or a short punch to the ribs as a warning, but even then the victims usually deserved it. You hadn’t experienced one of Niragi’s ‘outbreaks’ that people have discussed with you about. You started to believe it was all rumours to keep you away from him until he lost it one night in front of you, causing you to believe everything you had been told about him.

It was a usual night at The Beach, people parading around the pool and filling their brains and sinuses with alcohol, allowing them to forget their shared hardships for the evening.

You sat in a small booth that was excluded from the rest of the crowd. Your head was leaning on Niragi’s broad shoulder as you watched everyone dance to the blaring music. You felt the bass vibrate through the ground and in your chest, making you excited from the fun atmosphere.

Niragi lifted his hand and pet your head softly. “You okay little mouse?” he checked, bringing his face closer to yours and placing his lips on your cheek. You turned your head towards him and brushed your lips on his. “Yeah, I’m just tired,” you whispered. Niragi smirked and rubbed his hand along your bare leg. “We can go to bed soon, let’s just stay a little longer.”

Niragi shifted underneath you and stood up, making you lean back against the cushioned backrest. “I’m going to get a drink,” he stated bluntly before picking up his rifle from the small table that sat in front of you. “Don’t let anyone touch you otherwise you’ll regret it.”

You felt uneasy at his threat, but you knew if you just listened to him he would never carry through his brutal promises. He wasn’t that hard of a personality to figure out.

You watched as he strolled away towards the bar, leaving you by yourself and cold in the booth. You moved your eyes from him and looked around to everyone else, watching a few people jump into the pool and laugh together. You wished Niragi had less of a important placing at The Beach so he could relax like everyone else instead of constantly having to deal with stupid drunken dickheads causing trouble.

You looked over towards the bar again to see if you could spot Niragi, but couldn’t see him from where you were sitting. You needed to go to the bathroom and you were wondering if you could make it before he returned. You shrugged your shoulders and stood up on your feet to leave. It wouldn’t be that long, and besides if he did some back to you not being there, you were sure he wouldn’t mind. It’s just the bathroom.

You quickly made your way past the few crowds of dancing bodies. The smell of sweat and alcohol filled your nostrils as you pushed through, making your face scrunch up in disgust. No matter how long you spend there, you would never grow used to the party smell.

You made your way to the lobby to get to the bathroom located there. It was a quiet walk and hardly anyone was in the halls. It made you more calm, knowing that no one was around to bring you a hard time.

But unfortunately, you thought too soon. As you arrived at the lobby and were crossing the main lounge area, a young man with jet black hair and blue board shorts stood up from one of the couches. You failed to notice him earlier due to him being hidden behind the backrest.

“Oh hey!” he exclaimed your way excitedly. “I thought you’d come here. I saw you drink a rather large cocktail earlier so I just guessed you’d show up some time soon or later.”

You froze in shock, looking the man up and down with confusion written on your face. “What?”

He shook his head as he slowly made his way over to your frame. “Forget it. I wanted to get you away from your psychotic side piece so I could get a chance with you without being killed.” His smile was a bit too creepy for your liking, bringing an unpleasant tingling feeling up your back.

You stepped back as he attempted to reach out and grab your hand. He slowly recoiled with a frown on his tanned face. You shook your head and hands, denying his movements towards you. “No thanks actually. I’m not interested,” you insisted, turning your back to try and escape into the bathroom.

You felt your heart drop from the sudden grip on your wrist, pulling you back towards the annoying man and into his chest. He lifted your chin so you were looking at him and crashed his lips onto yours.

You panicked, ripping your arm out of his grip and pushing him away from you. He stumbled back a bit before smirking at your angered expression.

“What the fuck was that?!” you screamed at him, wiping his saliva off of your mouth in disgust. “Did no one ever teach you what no means?!”

Before the man could respond, a piercing sound of gunshots rang through the room. You covered your ears and dropped to the ground in fear of being hit. You looked towards the man and saw him crouching as well with a few bullet marks scattering the carpet around him. They barely missed him.

You kept your head down low in case of another load being shot at any moment, but you were grabbed by your upper arm and pulled up roughly after a few short moments. Niragi stood there, angered expression on his face and tightening his grip on your arm. You felt your blood pumping with adrenaline from his movements.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” he hissed into your face, being way too quiet for your liking.

You didn’t know what to say. Your words were trapped in your throat, being held there by the shock of the gunshots and Niragi’s anger towards you.

“I told you to not let anyone touch you. And how hard is it to stay in one place for five minutes?!” His fist moved from your arm to your jaw, holding it tightly so you would face him. Tears were developing in your eyes. You tried to stop them from rolling down your cheeks in fear of angering Niragi more, but the pain throbbing in your jaw made it nothing but more difficult. This wasn’t the Niragi you knew. He’s never laid a violent hand on you before.

“Niragi, stop,” you whimpered out, holding onto his wrist that was hurting you. “It hurts.”

“I don’t care. You deserve to be hurt after not listening to me.” Niragi finally released his grip from your jaw. You dropped to the ground, clutching your face in pain and letting out quiet sobs. The look in his eyes was menacing, making him seem unpredictable. You were terrified, pushing your legs against the carpet to separate yourself from his tall frame.

You watched as he turned away from you and walked towards the young man, who scrambled to his feet to try and run away. But Niragi leaped towards him and grabbed his shoulder before he could do so. He pulled him back harshly onto the ground and placed a boot on his chest, keeping him there. The man struggled until Niragi held the barrel of his gun against his forehead, making the petrified man freeze underneath him.

You watched in horror as he leaned down and pressed harder and harder on his bare chest, making the defenseless man cry out in fear of breaking a rib. “You’ve made a huge mistake my friend,” he growled, sticking his tongue out and showing off his piercing. “You dare touch what’s mine, you suffer the consequences.”

You leant up against the concrete wall, feeling too weak and in shock to stand up. You cried and screamed as you watched Niragi stamp his foot incredibly harshly on the man’s head several times. Blood poured down the side of his face and he put his hands up in defense, which deemed useless against Niragi’s strength. Niragi didn’t stop, moving his aim from the man’s face to his chest, hands, stomach, groin and thighs. His screams of pain and suffering echoed around the room, ringing in your ears and making your heart ache. Yes, he did attempt to force himself onto you, but hearing another human screeching out for help when you could do nothing was one of the most painful things you could ever inflict on an empath such as yourself.

You shook violently and covered your eyes with your hands, not wanting to see anymore. You wanted to disappear, to evaporate into the wind. You wanted to wake up back at home, in your safe warm bed from before the Borderland. You felt sick from the contrasting differences between the world in your head and the one you were physically in. Why couldn’t you just fade away?

You felt a presence in front of your shivering form, and you slowly peeled away your hands to reveal the abuser in front of you, looking into your eyes worryingly. Your stomach dropped from catching a glimpse of the blood splattered lightly across his attractive features. You felt nausea building in your stomach, making you want to throw up.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” Niragi lifted a hand and tried to place it on your cheek, but you flinched away violently and screamed as you crawled onto your hands and knees, attempting to quickly escape him. It was deemed almost impossible to do considering the emotional state you were in at that moment. You just watched your lover beat a man until the light left his eyes, you weren’t going to recover from the shock quickly.

You cried as he grabbed your ankle and roughly pulled you back. You struggled against his grip and tried to shake his hands off of your shoulders and waist desperately. You were terrified that he was going to hurt you, beat you until you were dead just like his other victim.

“Baby! Why are you so scared?! Hold still!” Niragi cried, attempting to hold your thrashing body against his to quiet you down. He was feeling desperate and helpless, what was happening to you? You’ve never done this before. He thought maybe you were in shock and thinking that he was the man trying to force himself on you.

“Y/N! It’s me! I’m here, you’re okay!” he cried in a frightened tone. He managed to pull you roughly by your waist into his lap and held the back of your head against his chest area. He began to shake himself, being so worried about your emotional state. He felt you suddenly stop struggling in his arms, hearing your soft sobs of fear against his shirt.

“What’s going on baby? You’re scaring me,” he groaned into your neck. You shivered against him, feeling too weak to even push yourself from his chest. You could do nothing but sit in his lap, terrified of the man who was attempting to comfort you.

“It’s okay. He’s gone now. He can’t hurt you anymore,” he cooed, stroking your hair in an attempt to calm your rapid breathing. He let out a shaky breath, being on the verge of tears. He felt his heart rapidly pumping in his chest, thumping against his ribcage. He was at least comforted at the fact that you were back in his arms, away from everyone and everything that wanted to separate you from him.

He leaned his head back and looked at your face tucked into his chest. He saw your tight hands scrunching his black and white button-up into themselves, making him feel soft at how vulnerable and small you looked.

“It’s okay baby. I’ve got you. I’ll always protect you.”

You tried to level your breathing, listening to Niragi’s heartbeat to focus on something else other than the fact that he had just murdered someone in front of you.

Everything everyone had said was true. Niragi was purely an evil person, filled to the brim with violence and murderous impulses. You repented your doubts so badly, wishing that you had listened. But you chose to give him a chance to be a good person for once in his life, and he threw it out the window. Only now, you couldn’t escape him. You had to now live with being the object of a murderer’s desires.

You felt Niragi snake his arms underneath your knees and shoulders gently, standing up from the ground with you in his arms. You clutched onto him from around his neck, tears still slowly travelling down your face.

“Let’s get you to bed, hmm? My little baby must be so tired after all that.”

‘After all that’. He said it like it was nothing more than a bad day. Your boyfriend just killed someone in front of you and then just forced you back into his arms. This wasn’t a bad day, it was a traumatic experience that would stay with you for the rest of your life, remembering every detail and image of the event vividly.

“Niragi,” you mumbled. He glanced down to your weak frame, face going soft from the tired expression across your features. “Shh, don’t speak. Just go to sleep. I promise I’ll be here when you wake up.” He leaned down and placed a tender kiss to the top of your head.

You didn’t want him to be there when you woke. In fact, you didn’t want to wake up at all. You felt miserable and defenseless in his arms, wishing for nothing more than to wake up and for it to be all some horrific dream.

But you didn’t wake up, because it was your reality. Niragi’s delusional, obsessive and abusive mindset was nothing new anymore, it was normal everyday life for you from then on.

#alice in borderland #alice in borderland imagines #alice in borderland imagine #alice in borderland one shots #alice in borderland x reader #aib #aib imagines #aib imagine #aib one shots #aib scenarios #aib x reader #niragi #suguru niragi #niragi imagines #niragi imagine #niragi one shot #niragi scenarios #niragi x reader

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phdmama · 2 years

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Since I spent yesterday writing instead of self-promoting, you’ll get Self-Promotion Sunday this week.

I’m definitely not someone who writes super-long fic. I’m in awe of people who do, but I’m just not capable.

I find it interesting that I have a larger number, and longer fics overall, in the 1D fandom than in Drarry, and the difference between the two is actually statistically significant at the .05 level! I have no idea what this means but it’s sure interesting. Well, it’s interesting to me. Probably not to you!

ANYway, here we go! A selection of my longer fics, by fandom!

DRARRY

(We'll Call This Fixer-Upper) Home 52,520 words, Explicit

This is one of my fics that means an incredible amount to me. It’s very personal and I put so much of my own heart into it. Check the tags!

Come Rain or Come Shine (I'm With You Always) 35,240 words, Explicit

I had a lot of fun with this fic! It’s the exact same story told start to finish from two different perspectives. It was such an interesting project, learning what was going on in the other character’s head, things I hadn’t known. Another check the tags fic.

LARRY

If I Had Three Wishes (They'd All Be For You) 66,265 words, Explicit

This is the Provincetown summer fic. The longest thing I’ve ever written, and another of those fic that I’m so proud of and put so much of my own heart into. And, of course, another check the tags fic!

Unveiled 65,403 words, Mature

This is one of my more recent long guys. This one’s a royal, magic, A/B/O but super light on that, AU and it was really fun to write! It’s also the fic I recently realized I left like 5000 words out of when I originally posted it! Whoops.

Feels Like Coming Home 60,379 words, Explicit

I feel like this is my og longfic. This fic is probably the most personal and emotional thing I’ve written. This is my take on exes-to-lovers. CHECK THE TAGS.

Bonus Larry Longfics

It's a Better Place (Since You Came Along) 51,866 Words, Explicit

aka the Magical Cruise, soulmate fic. I dunno guys, this one is just a lot of fun, I think. And there’s an actual plot beyond the love story?! I’m not going to lie, I kinda love this fic.

no heart for me like yours (no love for you like mine) 46,563 Words, Explicit

My take on stranger to enemies (that doesn’t last long) to lovers to exes to lovers. Wedding planning, total AU and OCs. I think this is honestly one of the best things I’ve ever written.

#self promotion saturday #except it's sunday #I'm a day late oh well #my writing

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Text

just a day

welcome to the poly frontier?

listen absolutely no shade to the other authors who write triple frontier poly fics (I got permission) I just wanted to try my take on what relationships with this group of guys would look like - and I honestly think my execution is going to look really really different. This one’s just for me to explore and start to develop the dynamics, so I really hope you all enjoy!

note: I’m going to say this is an 18+ series, sorry!

pairing: triple frontier guys - Will “Ironhead” Miller, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Francisco (Frankie) “Catfish” Morales, and Ben “Benny” Miller x (f) reader

wordcount: 2k?

warnings: obviously a poly relationship, which includes kissing, domestic intimacy with all of them (not just with the reader, but not in-between Will and Ben because nope), mild sexual themes

another note: I will not be fetishizing male/male relationships, nor will I be including any romance or sexual between the brothers

You wake up tucked into Will’s chest, his beard tickling your hairline like he fell asleep kissing it. Hand on his chest, you feel the steady rise and fall of it, slow and peaceful in the murky morning light. His arm is around your shoulder, half tangled in your hair, and there’s another arm tucked around your waist from behind - Santi's.

Pressing a kiss to Will’s collarbone, you gently begin the process of extracting yourself, apologizing with soft squeezes instead of words. Their hands find each others in their sleep, and you almost think you made it, for once, before Will’s blue eyes find yours for just a moment. It happens every morning – they need to know you’re okay.

Verifying the time, he gives a bleary smile before rolling, free arm searching for a pillow to hold against his body in your place during the precious few minutes he has before he needs to get up, too.

Frankie is in the kitchen already, and of all of them, he’s the best at hearing your quiet footsteps. His arms wrap around your frame, gathering you into him as he relishes the feeling of just you and him, for a moment.

Your nails run over his back, and he shudders at the feeling, smiling at you a little as the two of you pull things out of the fridge. It’s unreasonable, how many groceries you all go through, but feeding them is important to you, a love language in itself. Frankie was the first awake – his coffee is already brewing. In half an hour, give or take, Will and Santi will wander out, and the smells in the kitchen will change, but not yet.

For now, it’s dark roast coffee and there are quiet crunches of the apple you tossed into his broad palm. It’s not enough for the whole day so you tuck a breakfast bar into his work bag for later, with and extra jacket and a water bottle. There’s no need for notes, with him, the slow kisses he shares with you at the door are more than enough to bring him home to you in the evening. Before he can give up his time with you his hand slips under the shirt you’re wearing, just running over your bare side like he has all the time in the world.

Then his hat is firmly on his head, and he brushes his rough thumb over your cheek, looks at the stairs to the bedroom with just a touch of longing, and slides out the door.

You’re mixing peanut butter into a premade jar of overnight oats when Will wraps his arms around you from behind, pressing his warm chest against your back. He’s tired – more than the others, and you let him borrow your strength for long moments. Santi watched from the doorway, giving them too you, his eyes fiercely affectionate, before he sandwiches Will between you half crushing you with their weight.

Laughter is a good way to start the day, even if it breaks the quiet.

They bump into each other, happy, but silently arguing over who’s turn it is, before Santi relents and slips off to the shower. When you hand Will the jar, he kisses your temple before your mouth, and his hand is firm on your hip. He makes you eat with him, would make you pancakes if he had time, and asks what you’re working on today. His fingers flip the pen in his hand, but he’s too distracted by you to work through the paper like he did before. It’s new, all of you sharing the same space, and there are pros and cons.

Then they trade places and Santi's body is damp and insistent as he kisses you, a little too needy for a man who has less than twenty minutes before he has to leave. You cant really deny him, though, indulging his touching while exploring him in turn, before pushing his distractingly bare chest away from you. He talks about his day a lot, considering it hasn’t happened yet, but his passion is contagious. He isn’t planning on telling you, but he fixed a bug on your laptop last night before he went to bed, and hid your favorite chocolate in your desk.

The kitchen smells like juice and granola now, and the ache of waking up is seeping out of your limbs.

When Benny comes out, you expect him to complain about the noise, but he doesn’t, just ruffles his hair and hugs Santi sleepily from behind.

His energy hasn’t quite built for the day, but he cant really sleep in like he wants to, and likes to see them off. He was restless last night, you could tell even with Santi between you on the bed, and you wonder if he relaxed at all. You give them space, retreating to get yourself ready and set up in your home office, pausing to send Will off with kisses and well wishes. When he forgets his timing and kissed down your neck, you hook your fingers in to his belt loops and he almost calls in sick.

It doesn’t happen, though, he’s too responsible without extra encouragement, and his eyes crinkle as he promises to continue, later.

Then it’s Santi and Benny’s turn, looking silly with the former prepared for tedious meetings and the other in his pajama's with a duffle bag, but that’s how it goes, sometimes.

When Benny finishes at the gym, he finds you working away, lost in your music, and hovers at the door for awhile before his eagerness for you wins out. His hands are needy, but he doesn’t say words – his eyebrows speak for him and you nearly give in to his big, pleading eyes.

He likes it when you run your hands through his hair, and you do, and press a promise into his cheek with your lips. You know today isn’t a day he wants to plan fights or check emails or update his socials, but he gets to it anyway, waiting for you, and needed to feel productive. They’re all too smart, beautifully, wonderfully overpowered with strength and mind and love and you know they cant help but direct it somewhere, Benny included.

As you finish your work for the morning your phone tells you the others are meeting up for lunch, and you thank them individually for the chance to give Ben a little extra attention.

Last night’s fight hadn’t gone great. The four of you had rallied behind him afterwards, patching him up while Santi yelled about justice and Frankie forced him to eat and drink, but now was time for something different. You were the center of this world they’d created, the one who’s undivided attention meant everything to them.

Ben rarely wanted to talk about the pain, during, needed to punch it out at the gym or be soothed by Santi's validation before seeking you for heated, slightly painful kisses. Now, though, he’s frustrated with himself, and seeing it hurts in your chest like the cut across his skin.

You settle onto the huge bed in his corner, offering him your arms and a smile that soothes the throbbing in his bruises. This is a moment just for the two of you, and he takes full advantage, tucking his head onto the pillow of your chest and letting your hands wander his shoulders and hair and neck. Ben starts out ranting, but gets distracted along the way, soaking in your attention and the sliver of skin exposed on your stomach.

He kisses along the line, unable to resist half smiling at you as he licks it, almost losing himself to the temptation to go a round with you all on his own. They wouldn’t mind, really, but he doesn’t, just shifts back up to press your mouth against his. It’s slower and it’s nice for him not to have to be intense, with you.

The afternoon is spent quietly, both of you working diligently, knowing the others are doing the same, so you can cherish your precious free evening. You find a note from Frankie, a little inside joke that he knows will remind you of a story, and it makes you text him something that will make him laugh.

At some point Santi calls you, frustrated, needing to verbal process, and the three of you on speaker phone navigate it with the gusto of heroes on a fantastical adventure. Will’s logic is absent with him, but you get the feeling it hardly matters, this time around. In truth, Ben is better at working the tightness out of Santi’s voice, and when you talk, you can hear him sigh like you’ve scrubbed a bit of darkness out of his day.

When he gets home his mood is much improved and he picks Benny up with a grunt, spinning him around once, thick arms careful of the younger man’s sore spots. You get an equally soft kiss, and you smack him when he squeezes your ass, a glint in his eye.

There’s still a bit of shyness in Ben as he asks Pope to look over the videos from the fight, still a bit of awe and raw respect for the older man, and it makes you melt a little to see. The men are tentative sometimes, about the developments in their relationships with each other, but some things needn’t change.

The couch is nice, a recent purchase, and you have a matching chair you like to settle in, mostly ignoring the distant voices and glancing out the window through the leaves of a large tree in the front yard. There’s a story on your phone you’ve been meaning to catch up on, and it’s peaceful, reading as the clouds float by.

There’s sounds of tires rolling over the gravel, and it makes you laugh when you open the door to see Ironhead and Catfish carrying no less than a small crate of take-out from Benny’s favorite Italian place. Unpacking it, Will spends more time invading your space, catching up, and flirting with you than Frankie does. He would never say it aloud, but he’s excited to see the reaction to their surprise.

He gets a perfect one – Benny yells when he smells it, and is jumping up and down, and the way Frankie’s chest puffs tells you it was his idea. Will gives you a squeeze and you know he’s proud, too, if for different reasons. He takes the moment of distraction, while the attention is on his brother, to slip his hand in your back pocket and kiss you without anyone noticing. If he had his way, he would yank you into the laundry room, but the idea of eating together keeps your feet planted and he sighs against your mouth.

The boys eat like they’re starved, before they’re grabbing at you, coaxing you into the living room, and you’re beyond thankful there’s not really dishes to do. It’s not that they would make you do them, but it’s nice for all of you to be able to ride out the remarkably low-effort evening.

Santi is insistent it’s his turn – the others have all had their time with you today, and only Will grumbles. They compromise, your legs over the later, your side in the protective hallow of the formers chest. You choose a movie at random, knowing they’ll talk through it if you do. It’s nice, to listen to them banter from the cozy arms wrapped around you.

They get caught up talking about an old friend you’ve never met, and Frankie tries to explain things to you as they rapid-fire stories and bets on where he is now. You roll your eyes when you lose track again and again, but it’s full of joy, and he catches it before getting pulled into a ridiculous debate.

Hands run over your calves, gently kneading, and you wonder if Will even knows he’s doing it – taking care of you is his second nature.

The film is finished but the talking hasn’t, now moved on to the inaccuracies in the movie as they try to outdo each other with random useless knowledge. There’s no real annoyance in their voices as they bite at each other, and you think that really, nothing has changed, and it’s good.

At some point you doze off.

There’s hushed arguing, and Frankie wins, scooping you into his sturdy arms and carrying you to bed. He likes the way you murmur your thanks, and his heart pounds as you sleepily pull off his hat and toss it somewhere. It makes him feel like you knew it was him, could feel it was, even in your mostly unconscious state. It’s a nice feeling, and he tucks it away in his mind, hoping to save it for if ever he get’s jealous.

The sleeping arrangements are a mess – Will has tried multiple times to make cohesive charts, and none of them stick. It’s a tangle of limbs and everyone shifts depending on temperature and general neediness. Santi laments the choice of a movie over a long evening of unhurried lovemaking, and receives and smack on the stomach in return. It makes you wake, halfway, and when your arms reach for him, he forgets his previous complaints.

They settle at their own pace, quiet conversations floating in and out of your dreams, and the sounds of teeth being brushed and plans being made make you smile. Tomorrow maybe, you’ll be up without a thought, awake and talking or kissing with whoever else didn’t need as much sleep, but for now, you didn’t mind. It was just day, with many before and many to come.

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge

#triple frontier #poly frontier #i guess?#i don't know how to tag this #will miller x reader #santiago garcia x reader #francisco morales x reader #ben miller x reader #maybe i don't know people

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djarinsbeskar · 3 years

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gif credit: @di-n for this beauty

EXPLORATION ARC: PART 1 - NEXT TIME

A/N: And so friends, we begin our rapid descent into filth. I have to admit, whenever I write anything remotely sexual, especially in a fic for the first time, I get so flustered worrying that people will think it’s too crude or too much. But then I remembered that this is exactly why y’all are here and I felt much better about throwing away any inhibitions and embracing the filth.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 10k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: Injury detail, injury treatment, language, masturbation (male and female).

Summary: It’s mighty hard to distract yourself from your mysterious and alluring shipmate, so why bother?

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

What do we do now?

Three months later… and you still hadn’t received an answer.

After the mess on Mynock, the devastation at the loss of both Biran and Kuiil and the mystery that still surrounded the child, you had been drained, physically and emotionally.

So, after your question had received nothing but silence in answer and being too tired to demand one, you had holed yourself away in one of the only private areas of the Razor Crest, a storage area adjacent to the cockpit. Half of it was taken up by the slabs of carbonite the Mandalorian kept his quarries in, but there was space enough to sit and try to work through the slew of emotions you had been bombarded with in only twenty-four hours.

You had scoffed, resting your head back against the unforgiving metal of ships interior; twenty-four hours ago, you had been lamenting the loss of adventure, of some sort of elusive fulfilment. Once again, caught up in thinking the grass is greener on the other island… It was a flaw you were beginning to recognize in yourself and you weren’t happy about it.

An incessant longing for an unknown goal.

You wanted to make a difference when you were stuck on Pamarthe, so you joined the Rebellion and it had given you a purpose.

After the Empire fell, and your skills as a combat medic became obsolete, you chased that same desire for purpose back to the Outer Rim in the hopes that altruistic work in a voluntary clinic would somehow satisfy that longing.

Then the New Republic pulled back the curtain and shown that in essence, things had not really changed, that you had somehow wasted years achieving something that suddenly felt hollow. And it was unfair. Unfair because you knew it wasn’t hollow, you knew the galaxy was in a better place than it was before you joined the Rebellion and yet you felt your life was lacking once more.

Biran had soothed the jagged edges of a life that hadn’t been able to fit in any one particular place and – for a time – you had been content with working in his practice. Until the moment you weren’t. When the gaping maw of dissatisfaction crept back into the corner of your eyes, making you agitated and wishing for more once again.

You seemed to have gotten your wish the day the Mandalorian had entered your life and brought with him an unyielding ability to take life by the jaws and roar right back at it. He seemed to create his own purpose, the child a testament to that, and even if you had no way of knowing the innermost workings of his mind, you were fascinated by it, by him.

You spent so long seeking a purpose when you should have been creating one of your own instead.

It was a sobering realization as you sat alone beside the generator room on the cold metal of the Razor Crest’s storage room, nothing to show for that wasted time but a bloody arm and a dead friend.

The tears came then, for Biran, for yourself, for the child, even for Mando. You had buried your face in your arms and allowed yourself to grieve.

You had no idea what to do.

A little less than two days after your hasty escape from Dandoran, you entered the cockpit again sheepishly.

If you hadn’t heard the Mandalorian moving around the ship, climbing the ladder down to the hold or the hiss of the refreshers hydraulic door opening and closing, you would have thought he hadn’t moved an inch since you were last there.

You had had a severe talking to yourself over the last day and had laid to rest a portion of the self-loathing you had been wallowing in, realizing it wouldn’t do you any good to stay fixated on things you could no longer change. It had given you a measure of peace. Self-awareness was not always a flattering reflection, but with it, you were able to see what needed to be worked on.

The slightest incline of his helmet to the right was the only indication he gave you that he was aware of your presence, the child cooing happily from the seat beside him when he saw you.

You had taken the same seat as before, letting the child clamor up onto your lap to make room for you both. Silence still reigned and you were suddenly so aware of how much you relied on external white noise during your last meetings with him; the murmur of a bustling crowd, Biran’s jokes or simply your attention being focused on an injury. Without such distractions, the Mandalorian’s silence was deafening.

You knew he didn’t converse easily, that much was obvious from his abrupt statements and cantankerous nature whenever you saw him. But you had never felt the lack of cues – physical or verbal – until you sat in his ship with him alone. It felt like you were being asked to treat a patient when you could neither see where they were hurt or listen to their reaction; their breathing or any pain they might be in. You were adrift in this ship and for the first time since you saw him braced against that alley wall on Klatooine, you felt a jolt of nervousness race up your spine.

“How’s your arm?”

The question was spoken quietly but still felt too harsh on your ears. Maybe you were just feeling overly sensitive, you couldn’t tell at this point. All you knew was that the sound of his voice was jarring when only moments before you felt as though the silence was drowning you.

“It’s fine.” You muttered after a moment, “It wasn’t deep.”

“You know I would have---” he started before he cut himself off, the frustration evident in the huff he exhaled afterwards. No, Mando was definitely unaccustomed to speaking with you when the bickering and banter that provided you both with a safe wall to hide behind was stripped away.

But you knew what he was trying to say; I would have taken care of it.

Your chest filled with a soft warmth at the thought. But you didn’t mention it. Instinct told you that he would get defensive or spooked, like one of the regal crested stags native to Pamarthe. Massive and intimidating but would bolt at a loud noise or sudden movement. You felt that if you acknowledged the emotion, the tentative willingness he had tried to express to dress a wound for you, he would immediately throw up more walls, more barricades around himself.

You appreciated the sentiment none the less.

He seemed to appreciate the fact that you didn’t bring it up too, because a few silent minutes later, he spoke again.

“I don’t need to tell you that Mynock isn’t safe for you anymore.”

You looked up from where you had started playing with the child on your lap, simply passing his small metal ball to him before he handed it back to you. He seemed to take immense joy out of the game, delighted to show you his toy but equally excited to have it back in his hands in the next moment.

Mando kept his face forward as he spoke, so all you could see of him was the breadth of his shoulders where he had crossed his arms across his chest and the back of his helmet as it leaned back against the headrest of his chair.

“…But I’ll take you to whatever planet you want.”

“Oh.” Was your pitiful excuse for an answer. Pitiful, because you were slightly embarrassed that amidst your self-reflection, you hadn’t once considered your next move. You frowned. You always had a plan, but now? You had no idea where to go.

You mulled over your next words carefully.

“Can I think about it? I have to… figure out where would be best.” You continued when he offered nothing in response. It was true; you had no credits, no clothes, you didn’t even have a toothbrush you realized grimly. You had to be smart about where you went next if you were going to survive.

You ran through the list of friends and contacts you still had from the Rebellion, pilots and other medics who would no doubt help you in a pinch without question. You could go home, the clans on Pamarthe were loyal to a fault but your mind immediately shut that idea down as a wave of nausea washed over you, a combination of homesickness and fear making you feel slightly ill. No, you hadn’t been home since before the Rebellion, and you weren’t about to break that streak now.

You were so absorbed in your own thoughts, that you didn’t notice Mando’s quick glance at you over his shoulder. He had never seen you look less put together. Hair a disaster, clothes bloodstained from your arm and slightly sooty from the fires. Your face was clean, and so were your hands so you had obviously washed up at some point. You were a mess, honestly. But he was relieved to see the same fire that lit your eyes remained if a little subdued, the underlying steel of intelligence that glinted like beskar was still there. He knew you had seen worse than what happened on Mynock, knew you were tougher than to let it break you, but his own guilt over sending the child to you aggravated his worry that you might be… altered, changed, different because of what he did.

Obviously, his worry was misplaced.

He might wear beskar armor, but you were the one who had a spine of it.

“Let me know when you figure it out.”

He spoke slowly, as if perhaps, he shouldn’t say those words. Their ambiguity was dangerous, leaving a back door to interpretation, but your appreciative smile he caught in the reflection of the wraparound transparisteel of the Razor Crests’ observation viewport made him forget momentarily why ambiguity was such a bad thing in the first place.

That was months ago.

Somehow, neither of you mentioned your destination again. You never told him where you wanted to go, and he never asked if you had decided.

The fact was almost dangerously acknowledged when Mando landed the Razor Crest to refuel a week later, when he had made the offhanded remark that you needed clothes and whatever else you might need as you travelled because, as he put it, “a man shouldn’t’ be told he can’t access half of his ship just because you’re waiting for your clothes to dry” and handed you a pouch of credits as he pushed by you gently to get to the entrance of the ship.

He could have asked you then where you planned to go, it was the perfect segue into that conversation, but after a tense moment when he stood at the top of the open ramp on his way to find work to tie them over until he started taking Guild jobs again, he straightened his shoulders and simply nodded to the child,

“Take care of the kid while I’m gone.”

That change in topic seemed to put the idea of you leaving to bed and you never brought it up again.

Not when you returned with several sets of clothes, feminine products, medical supplies, and foodstuffs for the ship on Ryloth.

Not when he brought back a thin sleep mat on Lothal with only a grunt in response to the thanks you had offered him after he had noticed you rubbing out a kink in your shoulder the day before.

Not when ‘I won’t be long’ replaced the stiff order of ‘take care of the kid’ thrown over his shoulder whenever he left you both alone, taking the time now to stroke the child’s long ear as you held him in your arms, feeling his eyes on you as he spoke.

No… the two of you had fallen into a delicate, if slightly hesitant routine; one that didn’t involve you leaving the Mandalorian or his child.

Next time, it appeared, did not end in goodbye.

Adjusting to life on a ship again had been both easy and difficult.

Having spent a portion of your life sleeping in hard, cramped spaces with a number of other rebels, living on the Razor Crest was not as difficult as one might think. It wasn’t idea, Maker no. But there was running water (even if it was constantly recycled), something of a galley (kitchen was too generous a term, but there was a single nanowave ring and small cooling chamber) and somewhere soft to rest your head at night (even if your pillow was just a bunched-up blanket).

The areas you struggled with predominantly, could be summed up in two words: boredom and privacy.

You were used to spending twelve hours or more a day on your feet treating patients. Complacency and downtime were not in your repertoire, and while you can admit that you took advantage of the rest for the first week or two, you soon found yourself getting agitated and itching to do something.

The child proved to be an excellent distraction when he wasn’t holed away in the cockpit with the Mandalorian. While he was a darling little bogwing who fussed extraordinarily little, he needed constant vigilance. You learned very quickly that those doe-eyes hid a proclivity for mischief you had only glimpsed at back in Mynock. If you didn’t keep one eye on him at all times, you would lose sight of him only to find him in the cooling chamber looking for food or Maker forbid, in the weapons chamber.

Apart from keeping up with the child, you had taken to cataloguing the medical knowledge you had swimming in your mind on an empty datapad you had found in the storage area by the galley one day. You lamented the loss of the stacks of datapads you had collected over the years to further your knowledge and keep up to date with the latest medical advances, so you took it upon yourself to organize a one-stop-shop for all the information you had accumulated. It was antiquated given the knowledge was already in your head, but it filled the time, nonetheless.

Regarding privacy however, it wasn’t that you didn’t have any.

You had flatly refused to take Mando’s bunk when he had thrown the offer to you soon after Ryloth, and instead took it upon yourself to reorganize the holds setup. The small alcove by the galley that kept excess inventory of food, ammunition, blankets, and medical supplies was relocated to the storage area outside the generator room on the same level of the cockpit. The generators themselves had been too noisy to sleep beside so, despite being a larger area, you had settled the sleep mat down in the now empty alcove across from where the crates Mando used as a table and chairs was set. You didn’t need a whole lot of space while you slept, so it suited you fine. You had spent years sleeping on ships so a somewhat soft mat – however thin – was all you needed to get a good night sleep.

Rather, it was your feeling of invading the Mandalorian’s privacy that you struggled with. Your unwitting shipmate was a large, somewhat stifling presence in the beginning, and you felt an illogical imposition on his life before growing more accustomed to living with him after several weeks.

It was as you got used to him though, that your troubles began.

After six weeks of travelling on the Razor Crest, you had learned several things about the Mandalorian.

One, that despite the ship being as small as it was with three – read; two plus a pint-sized gremlin – people living in it, Mando could be elusive and you could easily go days without seeing him and even longer without hearing him speak. Whatever progress you had made previously during your encounters in getting him to talk only seemed to apply in small doses. You found yourself growing used to silence and adjusting to speaking softly without realizing it, your normal speaking voice sounding too loud even to your own ears.

Two, for all you did see of him, you had never once seen him without every stitch of armor on him. Beskar wasn’t light and you knew he had to remove it sometimes to shower and sleep and eat, but you never heard even a whisper of metal clattering as he took it off or put it back on. The only thing you ever heard that would suggest he ever took his armor off, was the sound of the water in the refresher as it ran down his body. Mando only showered when he was certain you and the kid were both asleep, a habit you had picked up on only when the sound of the spray pulled you from unconsciousness for the fifth night in a row. The simple sound of the water and the occasional splash as he rinsed his hair – if he had hair – or body clean of soap immediately pushed tiredness and any hope of sleep away, which led you to fact number three.

That your attraction to the Mandalorian was growing, rather than dissipating, the longer you were around him. Whatever attraction you had entertained on Mynock over the years was magnified when you were forced to live in such close proximity to the man each and every day. Perhaps it was because you didn’t have as much to focus your attentions on, but you suddenly felt hyperaware of his every movement whenever he was in your presence and each of those movements seemed more enticing than the last.

There was the time he was cleaning his blasters.

Mando had just entered hyperspace after finishing up a job on Sriluur and after a grumbled, “No, I did not see a Raquor’daan” after your tongue-in-cheek question upon his return, he returned to the hold after putting the ship on autopilot.

Unexpectedly, he pulled one of the durasteel crates out from beside the makeshift table instead of remaining in the cockpit, the sound of the crate dragging across the metal flooring making both you and the child startle while he took a heavy seat down and pulled out the blaster at his hip. Another two followed as he lay them out almost reverently on the table.

Given that his adopted father was staying down in the hold, the child very quickly lost interest in playing with you and his metal ball. He whined at you insistently until you placed him in the crab carapace that sat on the same table in front of the Mandalorian before taking your seat again to focus on the compilation of medication doses per age, race, and pre-existing condition on your datapad to keep yourself occupied.

“No.”

You were amused when Mando’s filtered voice stopped the kid from touching the blaster without the warrior even having to look up from where he was using a small pipe brush to clean out the barrel of the first blaster. The little bogwing only watched him as he slowly tried to take a small, but no doubt important part of the blaster that sat on the table closest to his small frame, waiting to be cleaned.

After a few moments of this back and forth between father and son, you recognized when the Mandalorian was beginning to lose patience. The clipped edge of his voice that usually took a lot longer to show itself whenever he spoke to the child. The deliberate turn of his helmet to look at him as he spoke. All tiny, insignificant things you were becoming aware of despite yourself.

“Okay buddy. Let’s play over here instead.” You reached across the table and picked him up before Mando reached his limit and sat back down with the child on your lap, a safe distance from the blasters and the child’s wandering claws. Mando didn’t say anything, his movements never faltering as he lifted the barrel up to the front of his T-visor, inspecting its interior for a few measured moments before he set it down and picked up the next piece, satisfied.

While the little bogwing was most certainly not impressed to have been removed from Mando’s side, you had discovered a secret weapon early on that you could pull out whenever the child became fussy. It was truly a lifesaver of a thing; one you thanked the Maker for every time it stopped a tantrum or soothed away a fear.

You simply pulled your hair over your shoulder and waited for the tell-tale widening of the child’s eyes before his clawed hand wrapped around a bunch of the strands. He was content to hold it, pull it occasionally and enjoy its’ texture and color. You flattered yourself that it was comforting to the child, but you knew nothing comforted him more than the cool steel of beskar under his cheek whenever Mando held him.

At the thought, your eyes shifted to the man in question, oil rag in hand as he gently ran it over each part of the disassembled blaster, slow in the drag down the exterior of the barrel and examining it regularly before continuing.

It was the first time your breath had caught looking at him.

The way he completed each task so meticulously made you feel like you were witnessing a ritual; there was something innately private and intimate about how the warrior took care of his weapons. Should you look away? Perhaps… but after a few monotonous weeks, your eyes drank in the sight, taking in far more than you would usually be aware of in such a mundane act. The dexterity of his gloved fingers as they ran over each part of the weapon, they way they expertly shifted to disassemble the other two blasters laid out on the table, as if with a simple touch, the steel fell apart to obey his wishes.

It was the first time you felt an image of him, a fantasy, brush against your mind.

A fleeting image of those same fingers running down your spine slowly, deliberate, and certain in their path. As experienced with handling a woman as he was when he handled a weapon. The brush of his knuckles down your sternum, along your cheek. The strength of his grip behind your neck or holding your hips down.

You startled, yelping as the child giggled when he yanked your hair after your momentary lapse in concentration.

The visor shifted slightly to look at you and you hoped the guilty look on your face didn’t tell him everything you had just imagined before he pointed at the child,

“Mind your manners, kid.” He rasped before turning back to his work.

The child cooed in delight, thinking all of this was a truly wonderful sport and pulled your hair again. You laughed at his antics, slightly embarrassed as your yelp had been drawn out in surprise as opposed to pain. You didn’t think the child was even capable of inflicting pain; even at his most excited, he never pulled your hair hard and it softened your heart to him further.

The Mandalorian only sighed in your peripheral, pushing himself to his feet and making his way around the table. Those fingers you had been thinking about not two minutes earlier gently untangled the child’s claws from your hair and picked him up into his arms to settle him down.

“You’re too young to be pulling girls hair yet, ad’ika.” You heard him chide in that low baritone as he moved further into the hold towards the child’s hover-pram. It took every ounce of self-control not to let your jaw hit the ground. You barely succeeded.

Unfortunately, you didn’t succeed in stopping your thighs from shifting, subconsciously rubbing them together to relieve the uncomfortably need that settled there, quickly escaping to your mat under the pretense of needing to untangle your hair from the child’s ministrations.

Then there were the numerous times you had to get by each other, to get down the ladder to the hold, or to leave the ship, or even just to get into the cockpit. Anywhere that involved you both being in the same space at the same time resulted in the Mandalorian brushing against you accidentally as you crossed paths. Like you said before, Mando was large, and the Razor Crest was not.

One fateful encounter had yet to leave your mind.

You had been frantically looking for the child for nearly half an hour after breaking your second cardinal rule:

Do not take your eyes off the child.

Well, you did. And you were – once again – contemplating the pros and cons of throwing yourself into a sarlacc pit over facing the wrath of the Mandalorian if you didn’t find the sneaky little bogwing he called a son.

You linked your hands behind your neck as you released a long breath to try and calm your rapidly increasing panic. He wasn’t in his hover-pram (though his metal ball was there so surely, he couldn’t have gone far?), he wasn’t in the crab carapace (it sat cold and empty apart from the few errant credits Mando had tossed into it the day before). He wasn’t in the refresher and he wasn’t in the cooling chamber. He wasn’t hiding under the blanket you used for a pillow and he wasn’t playing in the carbonite chamber. You had even taken a panel or two from the side of the ship to see if he had gotten into the electricals, but they too were missing a little green terror.

“He can’t have gone far…” you whispered to yourself, your eyes scanning every single area of the hold carefully, looking for any movement or flash of green that might tell you where your charge had escaped to.

Your eyes landed on the rarely open hydraulic pocket door beside the refresher at the front of the ship, to the bunk where you knew the Mandalorian slept whenever he got the chance to.

What were the odds that things would work out in your favor, that the child wouldn’t be in Mando’s private quarters? That you could quietly continue your search elsewhere on the ship because underneath it all, the child knew there was nothing interesting in there?

The odds? Fucking zero.

Closing your eyes as you dropped your head back on your shoulders, you dragged your hands over your face,

“Why me?” you groaned into your hands, feeling infinitely sorry for yourself before you dropped your hands and stared at the open hydraulic durasteel door in distrust, as if it were going to alert Mando of your trespassing for even pondering the idea.

It’s just a room. The lovely, logical part of your brain said, soothing your nerves before the treacherous, licentious part finished the sentence:

It’s just a room where the Mandalorian sleeps…

It’s just a room where the Mandalorian removes his armor…

It’s just a room where the Mandalorian---

You curtailed the rapid descent your thoughts were plummeting towards and took three confident steps towards the room to prove to yourself that you were unfazed. You faltered on step four, but as your foot landed on the metal flooring, you were practically in front of the room already. So, you glanced in with a slight arch of your neck, leaning to the right.

This was the only place on the Razor Crest you hadn’t seen fully. Mando never locked it, but you tried to respect what privacy he did have by avoiding it. You understood that everyone had their space; a single area that was theirs to completely unwind in, even momentarily. You understood the significance of a place like that and invading Mando’s made you feel guilty.

The room itself was clinical in its simplicity. Your eyes roved over the bunk to see if the child was there. You took another step in so you could lean down to see if he was down the side of the bunk, where several metal shelves sat empty apart from a single blaster and a piece of durasteel armor that looked suspiciously like Mando’s old vambrace. He must put his armor there whenever he takes it off. You couldn’t think of another reason for there to be so much wasted space in the room otherwise.

“Psst, kid. Are you in here?” You hissed, not wanting to tempt fate and draw the Mandalorian’s attention if he heard you.

As it happened, the odds that you had put at zero for yourself might as well have been negative infinity, because the response you received was a filtered throat being cleared that had you spinning in place to see Mando watching you with his head tilted and a thumb hoked in his utility belt as he leaned against the wall casually.

And there was the child – proud as the tooka who caught the titterling – sitting in one strong arm, watching you with curious eyes as you stood back up, heat rising to your face as you floundered.

“I---”

“Found him.”

Mando saved you from what was no doubt going to be a terribly awkward attempt at an explanation as to why you were snooping in his bunk, so you merely offered him a sheepish smile when he didn’t question you. You held out your hands when the green monster stretched his own short arms out to you.

Mando pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer to hand the child over and his body ate up the space around you.

It was surreal and slightly unnerving, the way his body seemed to dwarf any space he walked into, particularly this small area in front of his bunk. The breadth of his shoulders blocked the light behind him, and you were ensnared by the faint memory of their strength from realigning his arm after the Houk Incident. You mind was suddenly barraged with sinful images of anchoring your nails into those shoulders, or the sight of your thighs thrown over them as he---

“Can’t take your eyes off him for even a minute.” You laughed to cover your runaway thoughts, honestly you needed to get laid the next planet you landed on, fingers stroking absentmindedly over a large ear while the unpainted helmet stayed trained on you before nodding slowly.

“He gets into more trouble than you do.” He rumbled, the faint lilt of a tease making you instantly narrow your eyes, secretly thankful for the more familiar territory.

“That’s rich, coming from the guy who ended up wanted by not only the New Republic, but the Empire and Bounty Hunters Guild as well.”

He scoffed as he rolled his shoulders back and crossed his arms, a clear rebuttal he decided didn’t warrant a verbal response, but it made you smile slyly in response, eager to keep the upper hand as you moved to get by him.

“You’re quite impressive, you know?” You purred as you passed him, the warrior not conceding an inch of space to let you get by him more easily, his body remaining an impassive mountain in front of you.

“Yeah?” His voice – husky even when filtered – dripped with a curiosity he tried to mask with arrogance as he tipped his head back to look down at you from his greater height while your front brushed against his lightly. You could practically hear the smirk behind his helmet in that one word.

You smiled sweetly at him and – for the first time – touched him for reasons other than medical as your patted the beskar on his chest twice,

“Mhm…” you hummed slowly, squeezing past him finally even as he turned slightly to keep his eyes on you, eyes that were scorching your body despite your inability to see them,

“You single-handedly united the galaxy in getting all three of them to agree that you’re a menace.”

Your saccharine smile grew at the indignant noise that left the warrior in response, the sound so boorish and organic coming from a man who could at times seem as emotionless as the droids he despised. It was a human sound, and your heart thrilled at it, the sensation settling between your legs as you wondered what other human sounds the Mandalorian could produce as you escaped back up the ladder to the cockpit before he could respond. It stroked a primal part of your ego to have been the one to draw out a sound, even one of derision, from him.

You thought about that sound for longer than you cared to admit, one of the few others you had added to the growing catalogue of memories you had accumulated over your short time on the Razor Crest. Each memory was capable of tormenting you to the point of arousal while you stubbornly refused to give in to your body’s need for release over thoughts of him.

You might have broken your second cardinal rule of ‘do not take your eyes off the child’ but you were steadfast in sticking to your first cardinal rule:

Do not cross that line with the Mandalorian.

You might have been able to abide by that rule if all you had to worry about was the limited content you had to fantasize about. The way he moved, his voice, those glimpses of the human underneath the metal when he spoke in that growling language whenever he was frustrated, or the occasional groan from a stiff neck after too long in the pilot’s chair. The faint memory of the tanned skin you had seen when treating that poisoned stab wound over three years ago. You could deal with all of those. They were ambiguous and vague.

Vague enough that when you did succumb to your own please and give yourself the release you craved night after night while biting your lip to contain even the smallest sounds escaping, you could fool yourself into thinking that it was any nameless, faceless man and not the Mandalorian you travelled with.

That changed the day you were exposed to the sheer strength and power of the Mandalorian first-hand as he wrestled a quarry into the ship after a hunt. The base, primordial desire for physical strength used for the purpose of provision and protection was stoked inside of you.

Mando had shown up with a live quarry, a Trandoshan who – once on the ship – had made one last desperate effort to escape, using the Mandalorian’s distraction as you came out of the refresher to break the binders with the brutal strength Trandoshan’s were known for and lunge right at you. Whether it was to kill you or to use you as leverage for Mando to release him, you never found out.

You had managed one startled step back before the Trandoshan was tackled to the ground in front of you. Mando’s size belied his speed and he quickly had a knee pressed into the quarry’s back, a hand pressing down on the Trandoshan’s neck to keep him in place while he used his free hand to try and restrain him once again.

The image of Mando’s body, humming from the thrill of a fight and the testosterone that rolled off of him because of it, seared itself into your mind. How the quarry could hardly move under the strength of his knee pressed down on his back. How – even under all that armor – you could practically see his muscles ripple and strain taut as he kept the quarry subdued enough to attach a new set of binders.

It was primal.

And it was your undoing.

As you let your fingers roam down beneath your sleep shorts that night to find yourself already soaked, you didn’t even try to stop the memory of Mando man-handling the quarry from filling your thoughts. You didn’t stop the memory from morphing into something else as you imagined yourself underneath him instead. Imagined the Mandalorian using that strength on you for an entirely different reason as you easily sunk two fingers inside your twitching cunt, desperate to be filled by something more than what you could give yourself.

You imagined his hand pressing between your shoulder blades to keep you down, to keep you submissive and could almost hear his voice growling in your ear while you desperately tried to replace the sensation of your own fingers inside you with his. Your other hand traced down your overheated body to circle your clit lightly. Your hips bucked, your body already strung too tight as a whimper slipped past your lips as you imagined he would no doubt leave you wanting more, removing his fingers to replace them with the blunt head of his cock. Just the thought of him pushing into you was enough to send you over the edge, biting down on your lip hard enough that you tasted a tang of copper from where your teeth broke the skin while your orgasm washed over you. You were left panting in the pitch-black hold of the Razor Crest wondering how long you could handle your attraction to the Mandalorian before it drove you crazy.

But it wasn’t until a month later, three months since Mynock, when Mando’s penchant for colorful injuries proved to be the straw that broke the bantha’s back.

You had landed on Scipio a week ago.

The frigid atmosphere of the planet was only made worse by the fact that the majority of structures in its capital city sat at a high altitude to escape the snowstorms that could leave entire ships buried in a matter of hours.

It was the first Guild job the Mandalorian had taken in a long time, but it offered a good bounty. From the short answers you had managed to pry from the stoic warrior as you entered Scipio’s atmosphere, he was a money launderer. A disgraced member of the Banking Clan back in the day before he found spice and flesh trafficking to be a more lucrative venture.

The guy was a genius when it came to cleaning dirty credits, funneling them into dummy accounts and businesses, directly influencing the rise in power of several top tier warlords of the fallen Empire. You had thought to question why it was so easy for former Imperials and their supporters to gain power but then you answered your own question. Credits. Credits could buy you anything; buy your survival, buy loyalty, and even buy freedom.

The Mandalorian didn’t seem too concerned about the quarry himself, rather the security detail he might have around him. This type of guy would rather pay someone to die for them instead of picking up a blaster themselves.

The spaceport where you landed doubled as a motel, equipped to stand the sub-zero temperatures and for people like yourself and the child, who would usually remain on the ship, provided somewhere safe to sleep for the duration of your stay. Mando had been frustrating as he explained again about keeping an eye open while in the motel, to double check the locks and not to let the child out of your sight.

It had ended with you snapping at him that you weren’t stupid, weeks of frustration catching up on you.

You had effectively shut him up though, and after a few tense moments he reached out to stroke the tip of the child’s ear gently,

“I won’t be long.” His voice was measured in its control to bite his tongue on a sharp retort, so you only nodded once in confirmation.

You regretted your short temper the moment you had snapped at him. You knew he kept his worry over the child to himself but sometimes he tended to hover, particularly when you weren’t on the Razor Crest. But having once again woken that morning to slippery thighs and the lingering image of a blurred silhouette scraping his teeth down your neck, you were feeling a bit high-strung.

So you had lashed out in your irritation, and a week after he left, you still felt bad about it.

The motel itself surrounded the spaceport. For the first day you had distracted the child and yourself by sitting at the window and pointing out the different ships that landed and took off, the high vantage point of the rooms allowing you to see a good portion of the entire port.

You told the child what each ship was (those that you knew, anyway) and told him which was fastest and what each one was used for and even the ones you knew how to fly (even if that list was miserably short for someone from Pamarthe). You still had your suspicions that the child could understand everything you said to him and so spoke to him as if he did. It did no harm and he seemed to enjoy the attention, babbling on your lap, and pressing his forehead to the window.

The ships had been a distraction for all of a day. Neither of you had warm enough clothing to tackle exploring the outdoors so your exploration was limited to the corridors of the motel and the extended sheltered area of the spaceport. The freezing chill still managed to permeate the vast port and you soon found yourselves back in the room for the next few days.

When the commlink Mando had given you crackled on your wrist, you nearly wept with happiness that you might soon be getting off this planet. You would take a week in hyperspace over the prison you felt you had been in within the four walls of the motel room. There were only so many conditions, symptoms, and treatments you could document on your datapad before you started losing the will to live.

“We take off in twenty.”

The commlink warped the unmistakable voice of the Mandalorian, probably due to the raging storm outside affecting the connection but you didn’t care. You guys were leaving, and you wouldn’t be sorry to see the back of Scipio.

Packing up the few items you had brought with you for the child, you placed him back in his hover-pram and closed it around him to protect him from the cold. Pressing another button on the commlink, it began following you as you started making your way down to where the Razor Crest was docked. The few moments you had to spend in the freezing blizzard to get onto the ship felt like a life age, the snow and wind biting into your skin beneath your clothing and almost burning with how cold it felt.

You turned towards the open ramp of the Razor Crest, desperately wanting to close it but you knew the Mandalorian had been out in that weather far longer than you had, and the quicker he got in, the better.

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long as a few minutes later, the hazy blur in the blizzard sharpened to reveal the beskar clad warrior with a limp figure over his shoulder. Your eyes raked over him, narrowing at the slightly tremble in his left leg as he threw down the prone body none too gently on the floor of the hold. He reached to his right to press one of the manual controls to lift the ramp and finally shield you all from the snow before he reached down to grab the human man by the collar of his shirt and dragged him into the carbonite chamber.

He hadn’t said a word to you but then again, that wasn’t out of the ordinary. He preferred silence and you were used to it.

Instead, you took a few liberties and climbed up to the cockpit to initiate take off procedures. The Crest was old, bless her, but after a moment or two you managed to get her up in the air and out of atmosphere. Once you were able, you activated the autopilot. You were still at cruising altitude and would only be able to enter hyperspace once you were a suitable distance away from the planet.

Mando hadn’t come up when you had taken off and you noticed his absence. It wasn’t like him to remain down below so, with a moment’s hesitation, you returned back down the ladder to find him sitting on one of the large crates with his head back against the wall.

Your eyes immediately focused, mind sharpening as you assessed him from a few feet away. Breathing was normal if a bit heavy, nothing bent at a wrong angle or limbs missing.

You let your eyes drop to the leg you saw tremble slightly. The flight suit Mando wore under his armor, especially the bottoms, were soaked through so you couldn’t tell if the darkened stains on his thigh were melted snow or blood.

“No.”

Your eyes snapped up to his helmet which had turned slightly once you caught his attention.

“No?” You questioned, a frown settling over your eyes as he sat up with a grunt.

“I don’t need you patching up ever scratch and bruise.” He snapped.

Oh, he was cranky. That meant he was in pain.

It was true that Mando had flatly refused any help if he ever came back bruised and sore and for the most part, he probably didn’t need any medical attention. Half the time you didn’t even know because he simply dealt with it himself wordlessly. He had lived this life long enough without you, he knew how to handle himself. Most of the time. Your trained eyes were able to spot a mile away what he could deal with himself and what needed more practiced hands. If he was acting like a cantankerous reek again, then you knew it was time to step in.

You scoffed and took the few steps towards him, completely professional as you dropped to your knees in front of him. You didn’t miss the strangled noise the modulator picked up from behind the helmet, but you didn’t have time to worry about how you might look kneeling in front of his open legs.

All you were focused on, was the shredded duraweave near his knee, dried blood crusting along the flesh of his inner thigh just shy of the beskar plate sitting over his left thigh. You clicked your tongue and sent him a withering look,

“Seriously?”

A growl reverberated from his chest, a string of that foreign language leaving him before he looked away. He looked petulant.

“In Basic if you don’t mind.” You asked sarcastically, eyes already back on the wound underneath the torn duraweave. Your fingers picked a shredded edge of the duraweave to get a better look. You were reminded instantly of the wound he received from the poison laced dagger with you first met him, but you were relieved to note that this wound seemed clean of venom.

That was about all that was clean about it though, because unlike the single laceration of the dagger wound, his thigh had a semi-circle of shredded puncture wounds where something had obviously sunk into his flesh and shook its head.

“Fucking nerfherders, what bit you?” You turned your eyes back up to him, startled by the size given that the single row indicated only one side of the jaw met his flesh. You worried momentarily if the back of his thigh carried similar wounds where whatever it was bit down but you would deal with this first.

“Whitefang.” He bit out, the frustration in his tone evident but you had grown accustomed to him acting like this whenever he was hurt.

You had gotten to your feet again, turning away to your small area where you could rifle through the medipack you had built for such occasions. You almost dropped the bacta and saline when you turned back to him.

“A whitefang? How in Malachor did you---”

“He didn’t only have mercenaries guarding him.” Mando spat, groaning when the anger in his voice caused his muscles to tense and the obvious pain that followed. You shook your head and knelt back down, sitting on your heels as you peeled back the shredded edges of the duraweave, stopping only when a gloved hand wrapped around your wrist in warning. Your eyes flickered up to the expressionless T-visor, a sigh leaving you as you looked back down.

“I’m only pushing it back as far as the wound goes. I won’t see any more of you than it takes to treat your bite.”

You tried a different approach to your usual Mando Method. Negotiation as opposed to strong-arming him. You didn’t try to remove your wrist from his grip, despite how tight it was but your patience seemed to work because with a steady exhale, his grip loosened and released you. You nodded once,

“There, that wasn’t so hard?”

Mando simply leaned his head back heavily and looked up towards the ceiling, his hands resting back on the crate behind him and leaving you to your work.

You turned back to his thigh now that the hard part was over, truly he was a menace when it came to looking after himself. You tutted to yourself while you cleaned the caked, dried blood from around the puncture wounds with clean gauze soaked in an antiseptic solution and assessed their depth as you did so. There were seven punctures in all, the two canine fangs being the largest and deepest, so you focused your attention on them first.

While the Mandalorian hadn’t said a word despite the sting the antiseptic no doubt caused, he let out a soft exhale when you cleaned them out with saline water to flush out any dirt that might have entered the open wounds. You bit down on your lip to hide the slight smile, he seemed to enjoy that part last time too. Now that you were sure he wasn’t in any immediate danger; you allowed your eyes to travel down the length of his body on their way back to his thigh.

You covered the hitch in your breath with a small cough when your eyes passed over the prominent bulge that was nearly at eye level; he was hard. Your mouth instantly went dry as you turned back to his thigh with a bit too much force, a heavy tension settling in the air that was making it hard to focus.

So, you tried to lighten the mood when he sighed again softly at the cool liquid on his heated skin.

“Careful Mando, or else I’ll start to think you enjoy getting injured.”

You had quickly moved on to threading the dissolvable medical thread through a wicked sharp curved needle and began to layer tight, neat stitches inside the two deepest wounds, anything to distract your hands and eyes from straying somewhere they were wholly unwelcome.

The needle moved easily through his flesh, the thread laced with bacta, one of the greatest creations to come from the last five years of medical research which allowed the healing qualities in bacta to penetrate the body better, using the physical thread to hold the flesh together while it knitted everything back together quicker than the body would be able to by itself.

The Mandalorian hadn’t moved since you began, but you felt the telling warmth on the top of your head where his eyes had settled, watching you sit between his legs and once again, soothing his pain. You hadn’t expected an answer given his mood, so when he did reply, you nearly dropped the needle you were carefully putting away for cleaning later.

“In my line of work, you learn to like a little pain.” His voice sounded thicker, a dark undercurrent to the usual rasp and it made your cunt clench at the veiled insinuation. He must have known you could see, right? He hadn’t made any move to hide his obvious arousal, but then maybe he felt that to draw attention to it would be to acknowledge it.

You smoothed a large bactapad over the wounds, the smaller punctures not deep enough to warrant stiches and satisfied there were no other wounds on his thigh. You used the action to buy yourself some time as you ran your tongue over your bottom lip, desperately trying to get some moisture back as your mind ran wild with the possibilities that single sentence meant about the Mandalorian.

When you had done all you could do, you bit the bullet and looked up at him again. His head was tilted down, not hiding the fact that he was watching you as you worked, and you just knew your underwear was ruined from the image that lay before you. The Mandalorian leaning back with his legs spread and watching you like the hunter he was.

“I’m sure there are other ways you can enjoy that without getting you leg bitten off.” The words that left your mouth were smoother and said with a confidence that made you want to pat yourself on the back. You packed up the medipack and stood up, keeping your eyes on his visor so they wouldn’t be tempted to stray down to the bulge that had yet to disappear.

“No strenuous exercise until they’re healed.” You ordered, your tone allowing for no argument as you turned to put the medipack away, thankful that he couldn’t see the flush on your cheeks when you started moving towards the galley to prepare something to eat for the child and be away from this suddenly stifling situation.

Mando seemed content to remain where he was for a few moments longer before he stood to test his leg on his full weight. You staunchly kept your back to him under the guise of heating a ration pack on the nanowave stove, but you could feel him brush past you on his way to the cockpit.

“Pity.” He dropped the word on your lap without stalling his movements as he passed you, his voice still thick and laced with a sinful darkness before his presence vanished entirely up the ladder, albeit a bit slower and into the cockpit so he could get you all into hyperspace.

When you heard the tell-tale hiss of the cockpit door closing, you braced your hands on the edge of the galley counter, a shaky breath leaving you.

What the ever-loving fuck what that?

A few hours later, and you were in the refresher, the hiss of the shower the only security that your moans were smothered as your fingers played with your clit, expertly circling it before swiping over the sensitive bundles lightly. Your head fell back, the water soaking your heated skin and running down your body the same way you imagined his hands might, how his tongue might follow that same path.

Your eyes closed on a whimper as you slid a finger insider of yourself, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed at how easily it slid in, your arousal providing the perfect lubrication.

You still hadn’t been able to unwind from the tightly strung ball of tension the Mandalorian had left you in hours before and despite your better judgement, had locked yourself in the refresher seeking even an ounce of relief. You should have been ashamed, getting off to the memory of a man who – while being someone you already accepted your attraction to – was a patient in that moment.

It didn’t matter that he seemed just as aroused, that he stoked a desire deep inside you with his words. You didn’t even know his name and yet, the physical attraction you felt for a man whose body you had seen only slivers of, was unlike anything you’d felt for anyone you had been with before. He had you soaked with a few choice words, a tilt of his helmet and his legs spread arrogantly as if he hadn’t just been bitten by a whitefang.

You moaned quietly as you imagined yourself kneeling between those thighs again, but this time not to treat an injury but to satisfy a different sort of ache. You thought about the noises he might make if you took his cock into your mouth; if he would try to control your pace and how much of him you took. You added another finger as you wondered if he would finish in your mouth, or if he was someone who wanted to finish deep inside your cunt instead. If he would pull you up from your position between his legs so he could sink into you and fuck you until he finished.

You could feel your orgasm cresting, your fingers drenched with your arousal and a final forbidden fantasy of what he must look like when he came – what expression would paint the face you would never know as he spilled inside you – was what had your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

You couldn’t muffle your cry at its intensity, nor could you control the moan spilling from your lips despite swearing you would never say it, never acknowledge outside your own mind that you wanted him.

But you couldn’t help yourself, and it changed everything.

“Mando…”

He was right the first time.

He should have fucking listened to his instincts when they told him you were dangerous on Klatooine.

He should have known when that lick of desire danced across his body the night he first met you.

He should have known when the blush he caused to rise on your cheeks made his chest swell with masculine pride.

He should have known when he hesitated every time he went to ask you what planet you wanted him to bring you to.

And he should have damn well known when he had to stop himself from fucking you the moment you knelt between his legs to treat his bite.

But he hadn’t listened and now he was stood frozen on his way to his bunk, the sound of his name laced with desire as it rolled off your tongue on the other side of the refresher’s door rooting him to the spot.

He felt himself get painfully hard under his armour again.

He had felt edged all day after trying – and failing – to calm himself down in the cockpit after you had finished with him. He recited his Creed in his head over and over until the memory of you looking up at him with those expressive, intelligent eyes had him hard again almost instantly.

Din felt his lips curl into a snarl at the sound of you moaning his name, at the torture you had unwittingly inflicted on him now that he knew what you sounded like in the throes of pleasure. It would be so easy, so easy to just pull the door open and give you a real reason to moan his name.

He clenched his hand to his side where it itched to open the door, it would be so easy…

He shook his head, trying to shake the insidious thoughts of giving in to the attraction that had skyrocketed since you began travelling with him.

A shift of his weight sent a twinge of pain through his thigh and that grounded him.

No, not tonight.

He continued on his path to his bunk before he had been interrupted, locking the hydraulic door behind him before he removed his helmet and ran a hand down his face.

Not tonight.

He removed each part of his armor, setting it down on the shelves beside the bunk, fingers ghosting over the bactapad that still clung to his thigh, the whispered memory of feeling your fingers on his bare skin again causing his cock to twitch beneath his flight suit before he removed that as well.

Not tonight.

He lay back heavily on his bunk, muscles and joints exhausted from the arduous week on an ice planet. He let his eyes roll closed when his hand wrapped around the hard shaft of his cock where it lay heavy against his stomach, lips parting on an exhale. The memory of his name on your lips filled his head as he swiped his thumb across the head of his cock to spread the pre-cum already leaking from the tip and hissed at the sensitivity.

Not tonight, he thought as his grip tightened as he stroked himself towards a quick release, but one day soon he would make you pay for the torment you inflicted on him today.

He came with a low groan, your voice in his head chiding him once more about no strenuous exercise and he smirked in the darkness at the memory, fatigue making his eyelids heavy.

Soon.

Some liberties I have taken with Star Wars Canon:

- Pantran whitefangs (a species of big cat) are native only to Hoth, and are notorious for being impossible to domesticate and are constantly hunting. Anyone who tries, usually ends up dead. For the purposes of Stitches, it didn't seem likely that a money launderer would hide on Hoth. It's a desolate planet with a population that "would just about fill a cruiser". Scipio was at one point, the centre of the Banking Clan during the Galactic Republic and was such an important location that both the Republic and Separatists each sent ambassadors to ensure there was no corruption there. It has a larger population and more cities, somewhere I can justify a money lauderer hiding out in. This is why I transplanted Whitefangs to a different planet though I have made sure that it was an equally frozen one!

- Bacta usually removes the need for literal stitches as we know in real life, but I theorized that, while bacta is a perfect healer given time; in triage and emergency care, going back to basics sometimes helps. That's why I tried to combine the idea of bacta thread, something that would physically hold a wound together and prevent blood loss while the bacta worked in the interim.

- The generic "bending the Creed but not breaking it" spiel about reader seeing Din's body so long as it's not his face.

Stitches Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel @sarahjkl82-blog @gracie7209 @pychedelic-star @nova646 @theflightytemptressadventure @wantingtobekorra @computeringturtle @slayerette26 @kesskirata @greatcircle79

Hopefully I haven’t forgotten anyone! But drop me a message if I did!

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

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Note

hello, excuse me if this makes you uncomfortable but my birthday is September 14 and I have very few friends and therefore I did not receive congratulations or gifts, could I please ask for something with drarry and scorbus? something like Harry and his children living in the manor anda Lucius and Narcissa still alive, I know it's out of your comfort zone and if you can't or don't want to then sorry for the inconvenience🥺😖

Scorbus

Hello friends, First thing- Happy birthday to the nonnie who requested this. Second thing- Yes! For your birthday and for the other lovelies who have requested Scorbus, I will write one (1) Scorbus fic. I will do my best but I've got to be honest- I don't have any real feelings about Scorbus (I don't read much of it and didn't enjoy The Cursed Child). So we'll have to see how it turns out.

cw: talks about hospice care and future death (not of a main character- we're talking about Lucius, no death will take place in the fic) without further ado, here's the best take I can give you. <3

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

"But Daaad," Albus whined, "I don't want to go!"

"I know, bud," Harry replied, instantly regretting calling his 15-year-old 'bud', as he helped Lily find her bag.

James came in and flopped on Albus' bed, "It's just because he-"

"Shut up!" Albus shrieked, pouncing on him and smothering him with a pillow.

"Boys-" Harry started even as the boys started screaming and wrestling and Lily started to cry about not being able to find something. "Enough!" he shouted, casting a shield charm between the boys. "All of you," he said, "Let's just take a breath."

"But-" multiple voices rang out.

"No buts," he interrupted. "Deep breaths. Right now."

(Read more below the cut)

Everyone glared at him but at least they stopped talking.

"Okay," he said, "James, please stop intentionally trying to bother your brother."

Albus stuck his tongue out at him.

"Al, please finish packing. Lily, your straightener is in the bathroom under the sink."

They let out a collective groan.

"Look guys," he said. "I know. I know it's hard when I have to go to work. I know being in a house where someone is about to die is difficult. But Draco is a good friend and if I can help Lucius pass on, I need to do it. Okay?"

All of his children nodded sullenly.

"Besides," he added, "The manor is huge. You won't even have to see Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. And," he said, smiling at Albus, "Scorpius will be there. I'm sure he'll be glad to have a friend, yeah?"

Albus rolled his eyes and just muttered, "Can you get out so I can pack, please?"

With a sigh, Harry nodded and left, thinking for the thousandth time that single parenting was really fucking hard.

---------

He hadn't expected this to be his life. Harry had expected that he'd join the aurors or that he'd go on to be a quidditch player.

Working as a hospice care healer had never been in the plans. But there was no denying that he was good at it; he wasn't grossed out by all of the ways that bodies failed as a person began the process of dying. He didn't mind the late nights and early mornings. He actually usually enjoyed listening to stories from his patient as they reflected on their lives. And death didn't bother him. He'd spent nearly twenty years in this profession, he was good at his job, and he liked it.

Still, as he stood looking at the Manor, nerves that he hadn't felt in years settled in. He couldn't be sure if it was because the Manor still gave him the creeps all these years later, if it was because it was Lucius Malfoy and they'd never had the best of relationships, if it was because he was anxious about how Draco would handle his father's death, or something else entirely.

"Let's go," Albus snapped, impatient and anxious.

He nodded once and stepped up onto the top step and rang the door bell.

Draco opened the door, looking exhausted.

"Hey," Harry said softly, aching to hold him, to take him into his arms and hide him away from the rest of the world and all that was happening to him.

But they didn't do that. Not in public, not where anyone could see them including their families. Maybe especially their families. "Hi," Draco replied and Harry knew he was wishing for the same thing. "Thanks for coming."

"Of course," he said because there hadn't really ever been a choice. He loved Draco and he would do anything that would help make this easier. "Let me just get these guys settled in and I'll check in with your dad, okay?"

He nodded, "I have you guys set up in the West wing," he said as he started inside, "I know this is probably not the way you were hoping to spend your summer hols-" Draco started.

"It's okay," Lily said, falling into step beside Draco. "I'm sorry about your dad," she added.

"Thank you," he replied.

And Harry smiled, if nothing else, he and Ginny still agreed it was important to raise their kids to practice kindness.

-----------

It was a long day. The first day at a new job almost always was, lots of intake paperwork, lots of working to make sure they had all their doses right in order to keep their patient comfortable, and inevitably lots of input from the patient's family.

By the time Harry had gotten everything set up and diagnostic spells and alerts in place, Lucius was sleeping comfortably in the hospice bed, Narcissa on the cot beside him.

Only Draco remained awake, watching Harry work from the sofa in the corner.

When he finished he nodded to the door and Draco followed him out. "You okay?" he asked softly once the door closed.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" he whispered.

"Yeah, love," he replied, giving Draco's hand a quick squeeze. "Of course."

Draco nodded once and led the way through the halls to a different wing entirely. He opened the last door on the left and let Harry in first.

Harry looked around curiously. He'd obviously seen Draco's room in his own home but not the room he occupied when he stayed at the Manor.

"It's actually not the room I stayed in as a child," Draco informed him as he made his way to the drawers to pull out two pairs of pajamas. "It gave me nightmares," he said, "after everything in this awful house."

He hummed, "It must be hard," he said gently, slipping into the comfortable clothes Draco had tossed him. "A lot of trauma wrapped up in an already challenging event." He folded down the covers and climbed in, making a space for Draco so he could curl up in front of him.

"Harry?" he asked once he'd settled back against him and pulled Harry's arm snug around his waist.

He hummed, pressing a kiss to the smooth, soft skin of Draco's neck.

"Do you think you might want to tell our families about us?"

Harry froze, "Do you think you might want to tell our families?" he asked.

"I asked first."

"Personally," Harry said, "Yes. I would like that. I don't like keeping things from my kids and you're," he swallowed. It was silly to be nervous, he'd said this before, but he couldn't help the surge of adrenaline. "I love you, Draco. You're important to me. But the real question is do you want to tell them? You dad-"

"My father is a bigoted arse," he snapped. "And yes he is dying but Harry you make me so happy and I just," he sighed. "I don't want to keep it a secret anymore. If he hates it, he hates it but I don't want him to go from this life thinking that he got to control mine."

Harry didn't quite know what to say.

"I'm awful. I know. I-"

"Draco," he said, squeezing him a little tighter, "I wasn't judging you. I don't think you're awful. Grief and death affect us all differently. If that's what you want, let's do it."

"Let's tell our kids first."

--------

Harry called a family meeting the next day after he'd check on Lucius and they'd done a bit of exercise and gone for a walk.

In retrospect, this might not have been the best thing to call it. Family meeting had never had the best associations and the last one they'd had was to tell the kids that he and Ginny were getting a divorce.

His kids were cagey, Scorpius was withdrawn, and Draco was honestly a bit erratic.

"Okay," he said, smiling at the room, only Lily smiled back. "So we," he said pointing back and forth between him and Draco, "have some news."

"Oh Salazar, please no," Albus whispered.

Harry gave him the look the one every parent had perfected by the time their child was three. "It's good news," Harry said.

"We're together," Draco blurted.

James barely looked up from his book as he said, "Called it."

Lily said "Like together-together?"

And Albus promptly burst into tears, fleeing the room.

"Albus!" Scorpius shouted, jumping up and chasing after him.

Harry and Draco looked at each other. "Maybe he thought that Ginny and I would get back together someday?"

James rolled his eyes, "That's not it. He and Scorpius are like," he waved a careless hand, "a thing."

Draco's eyes widened.

"Oh," Harry said. "And no one could have said something about this before?"

James shrugged, turning the page, "I tried to say something yesterday and you told me to shut up."

"I did not use those words," Harry said.

"Yeah, but that's what you meant."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, he was careful about his words, never wanting his kids to feel like they were unloved and unheard.

"It's fine, dad," James said, waving him off, "You should talk to Albus."

He was right, they really did need to talk to Albus and Scorpius.

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

When they found them, Al and Scorpius were sitting together on one of the swings and Al was still crying.

"Alright," Harry said, transfiguring a couple of sticks into chairs. "Let's talk about this."

"You're the worst," Albus shouted at him. "It's like you're intentionally trying to ruin my life without even knowing you're doing it."

It took everything in Harry not to point out the fallacy in that logic. Draco, too, if the sharp intake of breath was anything to go by. "Could you tell me more about why you feel that way?" Harry asked, gently squeezing Draco's thigh.

"Because he thinks you're going to ask us to break up," Scorpius said, biting his bottom lip.

"And even if you don't, everyone's going to think it's weird," Albus said, a hiccoughing sob escaping.

"Think what's weird?" Draco asked.

"If you guys are dating and we're dating," Scorpius said.

Harry nodded, "I think I understand," he said. "But honestly, guys, we're not going to ask you to stop dating and it doesn't really matter what other people think."

"Easy for you to say," Albus sniffled, "You're Harry Potter. Everyone already loves you."

"I agree with you dad," Draco said, "other people's opinions are irrelevant. It's not as though you were raised together or anything like that."

"Well everyone already hates you anyway," Albus snapped, "So why would it matter?"

"Albus," Harry warned, "Apologize."

"No, it's alright," Draco said. "I used to be a lot like you, you know," he said. "I used to really care about what other people thought and how they felt."

"What changed?" Scorpius asked curiously.

"Your mum, actually," he said, with a little smile. "She helped me to look at myself and see who I really was, not the person that people believe me to be. She helped me to recognize that other people didn't define me, I did." He shrugged, "At the end of the day, if I chose to listen to them I was still the one defining myself that way."

"That," Albus started, wiping his nose on the back of his hand, "Makes sense."

"Good," Draco said, nodding once.

Harry squeezed his hand, "Right, well, congratulations, you two. Please be sure if you decide to make things physical you talk to one of us about protection spe-"

"Dad!" Albus shrieked, covering his ears. "Shut up! Shut up! Merlin save me."

Draco laughed, attempting to stifle it with a cough and failing in Harry's opinion.

"I'm just saying," Harry said, holding up his hands in defeat. "We should probably have this conversation at some point."

Albus shook his head and Scorpius had turned as red as a beet.

"Well. I'm off, then. Back to work," Harry replied.

Draco took his hand, "I'll walk you," he offered and they headed back to the house.

"Well," Harry said, once they were a good distance away. "That was unexpected."

"Was it, though?" Draco asked. "The way Scorp talks about Albus," he trailed off. "Well, let's just say he reminded me a little too much of me at that age."

"Had a crush on me that long have you?"

He laughed, "Longer. My father was just too bigoted to take my ramblings for what they really were."

Harry leaned over and pecked his cheek, "Well, I after that, I think that telling your parents will be a piece of cake."

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

See the rest of my drabbles here

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry #scorbus #sorry i did my best friends but i don't know that i did a very good job to be honest #love #hospice mentioned #lucius is dying #I feel like this is a mess #drarry ficlet #drarry fics

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littleaxebad · 2 years

Text

Singularity / Simple Man

Since ya’ll seem to like your sad juice so much…

Does anyone remember that song-fic challenge where you would put your iPod on shuffle and you would have the length of the songs that played to write X amount of drabbles based on said songs? Or did I just show my age…

Either way… here’s a little something sad for ya’ll, even though every time I see sad art/stories I want to yeet my phone out the window. Also, I gave myself a normal amount of writing time for qualities sake.

Summary: Jason and Salim ruminate on feeling the absence of the other.

A Singularity - Puscifer

Leave me to my darkness

Leave me to my grieving

Leave me to my silence

Go, go

Leave me be

Jason watched Salim walk out of his life. Standing in the doorway of the shepards hut until Nicky roused him with a cautious hand on his shoulder.

“You’ll see him again, man…” It was a reassuring gesture but Jason didn’t want it. He wanted to run after Salim. But that would put the other man in danger - would take a father away from his son longer that they had already been painfully apart. Jason shrugged away Nicks good intentions and went back inside to wait for the evac chopper. He sat away from his team, and no one spoke to him. And that was fine, he wasn’t looking for sympathy, wasn’t looking for them to understand.

Hell, he didn’t even understand it himself.

Sunlight danced idly on the grey stone wall. The breeze was light, but it moved through the hot afternoon air enough to make their carefully guarded free time a more than welcome change from the endless questioning, examinations, scrubbings and long periods of empty waiting spent in spartan cells. Jason shifted, bringing his knees up and resting his arms on them. His back was against the wall and he watched without paying attention, as Nick and Rachel let off steam by aggressively throwing a tennis wall against the stones. Did he want to join, they’d asked, and Jason had just moved his head impassively from side to side. Five days of Nicky’s concern and Rachel’s cold kindness woven in with the suffocating blanket of quarantine felt like clinging hands around Jason’s neck. He’d examined the absence of Salim - the screaming loneliness that rung persistently in his ears as much as his heart - from every angle that made sense to him and come up blank and tired. More tired than he’d ever felt in his life. He barely knew the man, and while it was true he’d risked his own life to save Salim; had opened up to the Iraqi in ways he still hadn’t been able to open up to Nicky, Jason still felt the heavy claws of guilt in his heart whenever he wished Salim was with him.

It made no sense… it wasn’t like he was in love.

“You can’t mourn forever.”

“Full offence, Colonel, but Goddamn you.”

“Hey - if it wasn’t for me, you probably would have shot him.” “IF IT WASN’T FOR YOU, WE WOULDN’T BE IN THIS FUCKIN’ MESS!”

Silence followed, on all sides. Jason could feel an ache pounding in his chest, forcing excruciating honestly out into the open.

“If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be fuckin’ suffering right now, Sir. If it wasn’t for you, my broken fuckin’ heart would still be in one stone cold piece. You stay the fuck away from me from now on. Leave me be.”

Simple Man - Paul Williams

I just want to hold you, I don’t want to hold you down

I hear what you’re saying and you’re spinning my head around

I can’t make it alone

The first night, Salim cried himself to sleep and screamed himself awake. Zain didn’t understand - couldn’t understand. How could Salim explain to his child that the monsters weren’t just in his books and myths, but out in the world: very real, and very dangerous. He simply couldn’t find the words. He could barely even explain who the birthday wishes came from - a comrade? A friend? A brother...? On the third night Salim sat outside, staring up at the stars. He wondered what Jason was doing; was the American looking up at the stars too? By the fifth night the pain had become physical: a crushing, demanding weight that left behind curling tendrils of emptiness as it crashed and ebbed in violent waves. A feeling of drowning; a feeling of loss. Something he might feel if he were to ever lose Zain - surely not something one would feel for another man they did not know. Should he have asked Jason to run away with him?

No, Jason had another life. One that Salim did not belong in.

Simple tasks filled Salim’s days: gardening, cooking, cleaning, waiting for the knock on the door that would force him to admit he’d lost Dar… that he’d lost everyone. When the nightmares no longer wrenched him from sleep but simply pulled him like a loose thread, Zain had begun to talk about University - another welcome distraction, and one that filled him with pride. But what happens when he does go, a small voice in his head asked, and you are left all alone? Occupied with his simple tasks Salim still wished he could see Jason again, look up and just see him across the room: walking in through the door, standing at the counter drinking tea, climbing into bed. But it was not to be. The negative space in Salim’s arms would never be filled by the other man, who would go home and never look back. And Salim did not want to be the anchor that prevented such a magnificent ship from returning to shore.

But every night he felt so, so alone.

Salim had never expected another person to be the thing that made him feel complete; that made him feel strong. His life rolled on, unchanged for the most part, and his desire for life still burned. But his fingers would grasp for absent hands in the darkness; and unshielded from malicious shadows he might admit to no one “I can’t make it alone…”

#salim othman #jason kolchek #salim x jason #jason x salim #house of ashes #jalim #dark pictures house of ashes #the dark pictures anthology #supermassive games #HoA #fanfiction

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

Text

While You Sleep

Chapter 6

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: mainly fluffy, brief mentions of violence Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

(a/n: this was probably the most fun chapter for me to write so far it just came out so cute and sweet i think!! also super sorry all my energy has been focused on this fic i haven’t written many other one shots or anything i just really am getting into this story!)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

When you woke up the next day, something new was in the air. Everything felt lighter, a bit more relaxed. You actually felt refreshed for what seemed like the first time in your life. As dramatic as it sounds, it was unreal.

You sat up in bed, taking in the morning without the dread. Sure, prior to your dream last night there were bits of chaos still lurking. You couldn’t ignore it and it certainly was not going to go away overnight but everything had shifted, and you could at least appreciate what lulled you to sleep.

You sighed, almost looking off into a daydream like a lovestruck school girl. You had seen Bucky in such a normal fashion just sitting in his bed reading. You didn’t know when exactly the memory had been from but that didn’t matter. It was something without violence, it was a real look at him. He was so content as he focused on the book...

But you didn’t have the time to sit around pondering about your soulmate’s hobbies forever. You still had a life to get on with.

Despite your body’s reluctance, you lugged yourself out of bed and started getting your work uniform together. There was a bit of pep in your step, a complete contrast to just a few weeks ago when you were pulling yourself around holding on to the last bit of will you had. It was insane what one meeting with a soulmate could do. Maybe you now understood everyone’s fuss over it.

You redid your hair and touched up your makeup before packing your bag for the day. Once your sneakers were on and you felt actually good (the most glorious feeling, you thought), you headed out your apartment door.

As you were making your way down the stairs, you noticed someone was waiting by the building’s entrance. You rarely ever saw people around the space so the figure stunned you a bit. As you walked closer, though, you recognized that shoulder-length brown hair.

“Bucky?” You said, surprised, as you opened the lobby door. He turned around, greeting you with a warm smile.

“Good morning.” He spoke so casually as if he always stood outside your apartment waiting for you.

“Everything okay?” You asked, suddenly worried his presence here wasn’t as cheery as he was leading on.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, I just came to walk you to work if that’s okay.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “Walk me to work? W-Why?”

Bucky shifted his stance slightly as if suddenly embarrassed. “Because I think that’s something that, uh… that…”

“Soulmates,” you said, finishing his sentence. Bucky looked relieved at that. “That’s something soulmates do?”

He chuckled at the little smirk you were giving him. Your heart felt so full at the thought of Bucky wanting to walk you to work, make sure you got there safe and everything. Maybe even check out the area where you spent most of your days.

“You can say no, of course.”

You shook your head. “I’m flattered you want to walk me.”

At your acceptance, Bucky extended his elbow for you to take. You giggled as your hand wrapped around his arm and you two began on the route. You were too giddy to look back up at Bucky, even though you could feel him sneaking glances at you, so you turned your attention to his arm. Surprisingly, it was the metal one he had offered to you. While most of it was covered by the sweater he wore, his hand was still peaking out of the sleeve. You stared down at it, curiously, watching the light bounce off the material and listening to the little groans it made as his fingers moved every now and then.

“It’s not going to hurt you,” Bucky said suddenly, making you jump. You quickly pulled your gaze away, opting instead to look up at him. Your heart sank at the tinge of worry behind his eyes.

You shook your head as your cheeks warmed in embarrassment. “I didn’t think it would,” you confessed, honestly. “I just think it’s interesting.”

He hummed, unsure. “Interesting?”

A sudden uneasiness fell over you as you found yourself maybe crossing lines now. Sure, you had seen here and there in the nightmares what the arm had done, but you also could see that wasn’t what it was doing right now. Right now it wasn’t a weapon, a danger. It was a guide for you, physically bringing you a tad bit closer to your soulmate.

“Well, yeah,” you shrugged. You had to choose your words carefully, you thought. “I don’t have to tell you this but it’s unlike anything else out there. It’s powerful. Seems very strong, as well. Probably… Probably has seen a lot but you extended it towards me showing you’re at least a little comfortable with it,” A pause. “I-I don’t think it defines you if that’s what you’re worried about, despite how it’s -- how you -- have been weaponized.”

Bucky didn’t respond at first, making your heart plummet. Had you actually burnt this entire thing down in less than twenty-four hours? You two fell into silent steps as you continued your path to work.

As you rounded a corner, just when you were about to spontaneously tell him it was okay if he never wanted to see you again, Bucky finally spoke up.

“Have you seen the things I’ve done?”

“I’ve read some articles-,”

“That’s not what I meant.”

You brought yourself to a stop on the sidewalk. Bucky halted beside you and shook off your grip. You frowned at the action but didn’t acknowledge it any further.

“I don’t think it matters what I’ve seen,” you said, a bit of confidence finally mustered up in your tone. It was true, too. Over the past few hours, you hadn’t seen anything from the nightmares that aligned with the actual Bucky in front of you. “We can discuss this another time but I promise you, Bucky, I’m only focusing on what I see right now. Right now I see a man who voluntarily woke up at a ridiculous hour just so he could surprise me and walk me to work. It’s incredible.”

Bucky’s eyes were faintly glossing over, threatening to cry. You didn’t know what to do other than take his hand, intertwining your touch with his metal one. He accepted it, wordlessly. With a nod, you got back on your walking route to the shop.

“Thank you, doll,” Bucky said just above a whisper. You nearly missed it. Your heart did somersaults as you registered the words.

You two fell into more silence until you decided you needed to lighten the mood. You weren’t letting him drop you off at work like this.

“Now,” you said, clearing your throat as your own tears had just about formed, “how did you spend the rest of your night?”

Bucky shrugged. “Nothing crazy,” he sighed. “I did some reading before bed.”

“Hmm.” Your interest had been peaked. You thought back to the little dream you had last night, portraying a very studious Bucky. You figured that while it was recent, it wasn’t from last night (dreams rarely ever came through that quick), making you now curious of his reading choices. “Interesting. Wouldn’t have taken you for a reader. What’s the book about?”

He let out a breathy chuckle. “Some new science fiction series Steve picked up for me,” Bucky explained. “I’m not too far into it but I think it has something to do with time traveling.”

You nearly laughed. You thought back to how the nightmares you had been getting recently were all over the place as if you were on your own time-traveling journey -- only it was the cruelest way possible. Fate was such a character.

“Is that the kind of books you prefer? Science fiction?”

Bucky nodded, “Guess I’ve always been interested in all that science stuff.”

That science stuff. You giggled. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you said. “I’ve fallen a bit out of reading but I’d love to get your recommendations one day.”

“I’m not exactly well versed in all the books out there.” Because he had missed so much -- there was always that unspoken fact in every other thing he said. You wished you could coax him out of that habit but that didn’t seem possible right now. I

“Well, good thing I’m not looking to know about all the books,” you smiled, looking up at him, “I’m just looking to know about your books. Whatever comes across your radar that you end up loving, I’d like to hear about it.”

Bucky returned the smile. “What did you do with the rest of your night?”

“Nothing really,” you shrugged, turning your focus back to the sidewalk ahead of you. “I fell asleep pretty much right after getting home.”

You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you. From the corner of your vision, you could see a bit of a frown on his lips.

“You didn’t do anything?”

You shook your head.

“No hobbies or anything?”

You sighed. “I’m usually just too tired or too into work to do very much. Last night had been… Overwhelming for me, I think. When it was over, I was exhausted. All of me, body and mental.”

You felt Bucky’s thumb start rubbing soothing patterns on the back of your hand. Your breath caught a bit in your throat.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean for you to get overwhelmed.”

You began shaking your head profusely, “No, no, it’s not your fault, Bucky,” you insisted, “I psyched myself out a bit, I think.”

He let out a long sigh at that. “Well, you shouldn’t do that anymore,” he said, so sincerely. “I never want to bring you pain or worry, okay? That shouldn’t be what… we do.”

“We do?” You looked up at him but he had already turned away. “Oh, you mean what soulmates do.”

“The word still gets caught on the tip of my tongue.”

Your cheeks started feeling hot. “I understand.”

As the conversation faded, your coffee shop came into view. You two stopped outside it. Glancing in the window, you made eye contact with your coworker who had just begun setting up for the day. Her eyes got wide as she realized who the man was behind you. Her shock promptly morphed into excitement.

You turned back to Bucky. “Thank you for accompanying me.”

He flashed you a smile, making your heart just absolutely dissolve. “Of course,” he said. “Anyday, anytime. I’d be happy to accompany you anywhere.”

You were shamelessly full-on blushing, once again feeling like a ridiculous school girl. You had to avert your gaze as Bucky’s eyes on you were making you feel all sorts of things in these fluffy moments.

With a pointless nod and no more words, you turned to face the coffee shop entrance. One hand on the handle, you stood there. Just holding it. You could hear Bucky walking away.

Fuck it, you thought.

You quickly turned back around and dashed to catch up with him. He was walking so leisurely as if he expected this. You called out his name and he whipped around promptly, looking as if he was fighting back another smile.

“Here,” you said as you grabbed a napkin and pen from your bag and scribbled down your phone number. “It’s my number in case you want to, I don’t know, text me or call or something.”

He took the napkin gently as if it was the most precious gem in the world seconds away from shattering. With a nod, Bucky responded, “Sure, doll. Thank you.”

You smiled, giving him a nod back. That wasn’t all, though. You had another caution to throw into the wind. Quickly, you placed your hand on Bucky’s shoulder and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. It was so fast you barely had time to register your own movement but Bucky definitely picked up on it. Now his face was the one with a tinge of warm color coming up on it.

“Have a good shift.” It was all Bucky seemed capable of saying as he shot you a wider smile, eyes softening at your nervous form. Before you could respond anymore, prolonging this weird but sweet goodbye for the day, he resumed his walk back.

As feelings of all sorts washed over, you headed back to the coffee shop where you finally entered… And was greeted by your coworker standing in front of the entrance, arms crossed, staring you down.

“Good morning,” you said, avoiding eye contact and trying to get around her. She stepped in your path.

“Was that…” You nodded before she could finish the words. She broke out into a surprise fit of giggles. “You met him?” She asked in disbelief.

You nodded. “Last night. We had dinner and he walked me home. It was very nice.” You kept it short and sweet, not feeling like gossiping about something so fresh. But you also secretly wanted to just throw everything out there. It was exciting, it was new. Overall, though, it felt great.

Your coworker let out gasps, almost in awe. “That’s so exciting,” she said. “Is he, like, nice? Anything like-,”

You shook your head quickly, making her cut off her words. “He’s nothing like…” You didn’t want to say them anymore. Well, at least for right now. You knew a talk with Bucky about it all had to be coming but you want to push it aside for now. “He’s wonderful. A true gentleman. He showed up this morning to walk me to work. What man nowadays would do that?” You chuckled, almost in your own state of disbelief. “Plus, he’s kind of fascinating. Unexpected, even. Would you have guessed he’s a reader?”

You made your way farther into the shop, discarding your bag and throwing on an apron. You began wiping down the counters as your coworker followed.

“He sounds almost… normal?”

You stopped your movement, taking in that observation. You finally nodded in agreement. Yeah, you guessed that so far he was kind of normal. At least, personality-wise.

After a moment you said, “I think I’m glad I didn’t try to move on.”

Despite not looking at her, you knew your coworker wore another ridiculous, lovey smile. She was practically in awe and, you had to admit, you kind of were, too.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

taglist under construction right now, deepest apologies!

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #marvel fanfiction #marvel #mcu #mcu fic #avengers #fanfiction #soulmate au #slow burn #fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst

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httpsaiki · 3 years

Note

Congrats on 300 love! I don’t think I’ve requested something yet from you even though I love your writing! Anyway, could I request a fic where Teruhashi and the (fem)reader are dating(usually I don’t mind what pronouns the reader has but for this one it’s kinda relevant. But you can make it gender neutral if you want)? So the two have been dating for a few months. The reason Teruhashi entered this relationship wasn’t because of “love” but because she wanted to get her fans off her back and what better was to do that than enetering a relationship with another girl. She this that it may help get her male fans off her and at first it’s great. Then the reader starts to see the relationship declining. At first Teruhashi was sweet and kind but now she is kind of rude to the reader, saying things like how she is embarrassing her or that if Teruhashi is so perfect why isn’t her s/o capable of being that way too. Mean ik (I don’t like Teruhashi if you couldn’t tell), the reader is also dealing with comments from her fans saying that the relationship is a charity case and such so she is feeling horrible in the relationship. A fight happens between the two and mean stuff is said. They break up and the reader isn’t taking it well. Not because she is upset she isn’t in the relationship cause she is happy to be out but because of the backlash from fans. Seeing this either Kuboyasu (jabjshsk I love him sm) or Saiki (love him too) comfort her and they begin to hang out more till they start to date. The two are now in a healthy and loving relationship and the reader gets to see what that feels like and how that wasn’t what she had with Teruhashi... I really just write this whole fic out lmao. I was going to write it but I’m simply lazy and I wanted to request something from you. As always ignore this or change anything if you don’t like it an take your time please don’t rush or stress yourself out. Ily hun❤️❤️

Hi!! Thank you so much <3! I wanted to say that I adore this request and honestly was ready to drop everything to write it, what an amazing idea you have here! I’m worried I focused a little too much on the Teruhashi part but, man, I’m a sucker for angst so it was a lot of fun. I think I may have gone a little overboard, as I don’t think I’ve written something this long before. I’m sorry if it’s wrong or not quite what you wanted. Thank you so so much for this request, I love it!

Small edit: I forgot to add I picked Saiki for this, as I think I write him a bit better than Kuboyasu!

— Reader is female! Warnings for slight angst, break up, fighting.

WC: 3041

Italics are Saiki “speaking” telepathically.

Teruhashi is the perfect pretty girl, on the outside at least. —————————————————–

“So, what I’m trying to say is… Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?” Teruhashi asked on the rooftop one fateful evening after school. She looked as gorgeous as ever, trying to hide her slightly blushing face as she avoided your eyes. The wind was blowing gently through her hair, causing it to sway ever so slightly to one side. The sun was setting behind her, giving her an even more angelic glow to her appearance. You said yes, of course, how could you not? It was magical, especially when it was from the world’s prettiest girl. There was no way you could reject her.

The perfect couple. That’s how it appeared to be. For some time, that’s even how it was.

Teruhashi Kokomi. Your stunning, admirable, and perfect girlfriend. She’s amazing. A few months ago when she asked you to be her girlfriend you were exhilarated. The thought of dating what many considered to be the perfect girl was a chance you knew you just couldn’t pass up. All the time spent with her felt like cloud nine, she made sure you were happy no matter what, and of course, you tried to do the same for her. Her reputation truly held up, even in private.

Over those months, it amazed you what a wonderful girlfriend she was, having seemingly endless affection and love for you. It felt like she was more in tune with your emotions than you’d ever been. She was always ready to listen to your problems, whether you just wanted to vent or needed solutions. She was such a giver in the relationship that you even felt a little bad about it.

She knew that, but she’d never tell you. Not yet, anyway.

So many precious memories flashed through your mind as you thought about her. From getting ice cream on hot summer days to study dates amid a cold, snowy winter (where there wasn’t as much studying as there was cuddling). All the late nights you had spent with her, talking about everything and yet nothing. Video calls at the bright and early hours of the mornings just so she could get your opinion on what she should wear for the day. Every little thing you did together seemed as perfect as Teruhashi herself.

So where had it all gone wrong?

The relationship seemed like it was going great. What happened? What had you done wrong? Recently, Teruhashi had been acting anything but herself. She’s been aggressive, rude, and not interested in anything to do with your relationship at all. She’d avoid you, ignore your calls and texts. When she did see you, she’d throw insult after insult your way, blaming you for problems that were far from in your control, ones that her in her life, not yours. But that wasn’t even the half of it.

What made it even worse? That was only in private. In public, whenever she was with you (or without) she put on her little show of being Miss Perfect. You don’t know how you didn’t see through it before, looking back it was so obvious how fake it was. While in public you were sometimes able to convince yourself she still loved you, clinging onto a desperate hope that things weren’t nearly as bad as reality would tell you. Maybe she was just having a rough time? Her life must be hard, with the constant stalking and fans harassing her along with the need to keep everything in her life completely in order. She must just be tired of it and need somewhere to vent her anger. You didn’t mind being that person, but just not like this. You couldn’t always expect her to be perfect, and you hadn’t. You did your best to make it clear to her from the start that you didn’t need her to be perfect all the time and that you’d be there no matter what. If she wanted to relax in private with you, she was more than welcome to. She never did.

You had it rough, too. Her fan club was constantly harassing you as well. They called you names worse than she did, and had gone to extreme lengths just to get you to break up with her. They stole your things, drew on your desk, and were all-around horrible towards you. They claimed the only reason Teruhashi was dating someone like you was that she pities you, Teruhashi could do so much better. Deep down, you knew that may be the case, but she still asked you out for a reason, right? You never once complained about it, nor told Teruhashi. It would be okay in the end, and being with her was worth it.

Looking back, the red flags were there from the start. It would’ve been better if you caved to the fan club’s wishes from the beginning.

Your arguments seemed to only get worse with time. Insults being thrown your way more than once a day. During a particularly bad argument, she expressed how she felt she was the only one keeping the relationship alive, the only one that truly cared. For the first time, you fought back.

“How could you say such a thing! I do my best for you, I’m sorry we can’t all be Miss Perfect! I try so hard and yet it’s never good enough, is it?” You yelled in frustration, your voice was a lot louder and far more powerful than you intended. Teruhashi was visibly taken aback, despite her constant berating, you had never once raised your voice at her. She paused for a moment, clearly to think. You could easily tell just what she was thinking about.

You had no idea she’d been keeping track of everything you told her. Well, you did, but you never imagined your insecurities would be used against you in the way Teruhashi has been. Screaming them, bringing them up to your face, and forcing you to face them without warning. Using them to insult you, making them worse, and letting them dig deeper into the back of your mind.

Her face contorted in anger, even angrier than before. Listing things “wrong” with you as if her life depended on it, Teruhashi began her angry ranting. She wanted to get it across to you that she’s perfect and you’re far from that. She listed everything you’d ever done that irked her, every annoying thing you’ve said, and every problem you’ve ever told her about. She mocked emotions you’d told her in confidence and confessed that she always found them dramatic and ridiculous. She expressed how embarrassing it was to be seen in public with you, how she should only be seen with people on the same level as herself. If that wasn’t enough, she dealt one last finishing blow.

“I never loved you anyway.”

She turned and she left, slamming the door to your house shut behind her.

Your mind went blank and you barely noticed your knees hitting the floor as you collapsed to the ground. You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt the tears soaking into your shirt. You couldn’t see nor hear, everything around you felt numb and dark. Did she really mean all of that? There was no way you were that bad of a girlfriend to her.

Why did you still not want to break up?

Days passed and you still hadn’t left your bedroom, let alone your house. Your phone was blown up with texts from your friends, asking if you were sick. You learned from glancing at a few of the messages that Teruhashi had told them that. Reading her name hurt, it made you feel ill as you remembered what had happened a mere few days ago.

Your phone dinged once again. You reached out and grabbed it with a weak grasp, not having the energy to do more than the bare minimum. The name on your screen made a wave of nausea come over you, the content of the message not helping either.

From: Kokomi♡

I’m coming over.

You really needed to change that contact name. That wasn’t what was important, though. Why was she coming here? What else could she possibly need from you, and what on earth else could you possibly offer? You didn’t have much time to think about it, you needed to appear at least somewhat put together by the time she got here.

Your hair was just finished drying as you pulled on clean clothes. You made sure the entrance and living room areas of your house were clean, along with the kitchen. The knock at the door sounded so familiar, Teruhashi always knocked the same way. It sent chills down your spine. Pulling on the best neutral face you could muster and forcing your legs to move, you opened the door.

She looked different. There was no glow to her anymore. She’d never looked less like an angel in your eyes. Even compared to when she’d been yelling at you. It was jarring, almost like she’s a total stranger. It’ll make talking to her easier, you mused.

You wordlessly invited her in, stepping aside as she avoided eye contact and made her way to sit in the living room. Even once you were sat in front of her, she still wouldn’t look at you. You couldn’t tell if that was because she felt shame or disgust. You just hoped it wasn’t the latter.

“What do you need?” You started the conversation, keeping your voice as steady as you could muster. You were quite impressed with how well you were doing.

“We need to break up.” She stated, still not looking up. You rolled your eyes.

“As if I’d stay with you after that.” You spit out, trying to keep your words from sounding too venomous. A moment of silence, you could feel your heartbeat quicken in your chest. The nerves were starting to get to you and one of you needed to say something before the panic could set in. Luckily, Teruhashi did.

“They were right, you know - the fan club?” She said quietly.

“What?” You were surprised, she knew about that?

“It was like a charity case. I only dated you to get them off my back. Didn’t work though. Shame.” Her voice was calm, way too calm to be saying something so harsh. She was fine just ending your relationship like that, no matter what you’d been through together.

“Oh... of course.” She really had never loved you. You were just a tool she could use to escape the mindless drones that claimed to support her. So it all had meant nothing. It was just too good to be true.

She stood and wordlessly left, walking out of your life for good. Good riddance.

Your pain was only beginning to set in. You couldn’t care less that she broke up with you, you were miserable dating her anyways. No, the hardest part was you would be truly alone now. You knew once word got out that she broke up with you the whole school would blame you. There’s no way their perfect pretty princess could do wrong. It hurt to think about it, you’d probably lose your friends over this. There was one person, though, just maybe one person you could talk to.

Saiki Kusuo. An average looking boy, he didn’t stand out much. You had been friends with him months ago before you dated Teruhashi but she forced you to stop talking to him when you started dating. You never understood why, but she eventually told you that it’s because she used to like him before she got with you and she found it awkward for you to talk to him. You understood. The guilt ate you alive, but you complied. From that day on, you’d never again spoken a word to him.

You could tell just by looking at him he wasn’t like everyone else. He didn’t fawn all over Teruhashi when she entered a room and maybe that’s what drew you to him right now. He’d be the perfect friend, someone that wasn’t obsessed with her. You just hoped he’d forgive you.

“Hey, Saiki?” You asked, shyly walking up to him. He glanced up at you, an uninterested expression plastered on his face. He wasn’t visibly upset by you, but that only made you more nervous. You have no idea what he’s thinking. Realizing he wasn’t going to reply, you continued talking.

“I was just wondering if you’d be willing to have lunch with me. I-I know we haven’t spoken in a while but there are some things I’d like to clear up.”

Saiki knew exactly why you stopped talking to him. He wasn’t going to blame you for that, either. It wasn’t your fault. Sure, he was a little upset about it, you were someone whose presence he actually could tolerate. You were nice to talk to, mainly because you knew when was a good time and when to stop. Traits Saiki greatly admired and appreciated in a person. He might have even liked you a little.

He wasn’t about to let you go. Not as easy as the first time. “Sure.”

His response was curt and blunt, but you couldn’t help the small smile that graced your features. It was your first genuine smile in months. Maybe the whole world wouldn’t be completely against you.

“Thank you.” You stated simply, turning to sit back in your seat. It seemed like such a meaningless thanks, but Saiki knew there was more behind it than that.

Lunch came quickly enough and before you knew it you were eating under a tree with Saiki. You explained everything that happened over the last couple of months, how awfully you’d been treated behind the scenes. You apologized more than necessary for abandoning Saiki, trying to convey that you didn’t want to, but your ex-girlfriend had somewhat forced you to.

Saiki was forgiving, and far more understanding than he needed to be about the situation you were in along with the one you found yourself in now. Deep down, he was happy to have you back. Even if you weren’t super close before, he wanted to help you feel better and get over the torturous relationship you had just left.

So Saiki was there for you. The little lunch meets becoming a daily occurrence and he did his best to keep the Teruhashi fan club away from you. Talking to Saiki felt different, it was like he was genuinely listening and cared about what you told him. He was eager to help and aided as much as he could in your recovery.

Weeks passed as the routine kept up. On the weekends you’d meet for dessert and studying. Everything you did with Saiki felt right, it felt safe and healthy. You hadn’t realized how suffocating your old relationship was - even during the good days.

It wasn’t until Saiki asked you out and you said yes that you truly experienced what being loved felt like. It was late, well after the sun went down. Saiki had snuck into your house, claiming that his parents were being annoying but you knew that was a cover for the fact he missed you. There was no way they were awake these early hours of the morning. He saw your tired face under the dim light that peaked in from your window, as you woke up from his sudden appearance in your bedroom. Saiki felt a small rush. He needed to tell you. Now.

“Y/N” He spoke.

“Saiki?” The confusion was evident in your voice, “You spoke?” You were clearly tired after being disrupted from your sleep. Never having heard him speak before wasn’t helping with your state.

“Yeah.” He whispered, reaching a hand out to brush the hair out of your eyes, letting it linger on your cheek. It was a little more than platonic, just like the look in his eyes.

“I really like you, Y/N.” He whispered once again, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

But you did. Your eyes shot open, blinking a little in surprise. There was no way he just said that, you must be dreaming. There was no way this pink-haired boy that made you feel more than anyone else ever had was standing in your bedroom, at four o’clock in the morning saying he likes you.

You sat up, “You really mean that?” It came out without you intending it to. It probably sounded rude, but you were far beyond the point of being awake enough to care.

“Yeah.” He said, a small chuckle coming out, “I do.”

You didn’t say anything, all you did was slide back on your bed, making room for Saiki and open your arms. He took the hint and made himself comfortable next to you. He let out a small sigh, doubting he’d be able to sleep like this despite his relaxation. He wanted to protect you for as long as he could. He stared at you, probably a little more than he should. Saiki couldn’t help it, his eyes wouldn’t leave your form. You looked like you belonged in his arms, or so he thought. He was having a hard time processing his happiness at your figure in his arms. It had always been you, he was well aware of that now.

“You still awake?” he asked, going back to his telepathic communication. You mumbled a small yes, prompting him to continue talking. “Thank you,” he started, “for asking me to sit with you at lunch that one day. For coming back to me.”

You let out a tired giggle, “You missed me.”

“I did.” He felt you tense when you said that as if you were shocked to hear it. That didn’t surprise him, he had his doubts you were told you were cared about enough, especially in your last relationship.

Looking down at you once again, he realized you’d fallen asleep. A smile grew on his lips as he made a silent promise to show you what real love feels like. He’d cherish you to the moon and back. It’s what you deserve and he was going to give it to you.

#the disasterous life of saiki k #saiki no psi nan #saiki k #saiki kusuo #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki #teruhashi #kokomi teruhashi #kusuo saiki #kusuo saiki x reader #my writing

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toherlover · 3 years

Text

more fun here

pairing: din djarin x reader (no use of y/n)

Summary: after spending the last 3 weeks on a bounty, din decides to give you the day off, but personal space was the last thing you wanted after spending so much time alone.

wordcount: 2.6k

warnings/tags: alcohol, drinking, language? maybe? i dont remember, lots of fluff, mutual pining, mostly from din’s pov

A/N: hi so i have never actually posted a fic before oop. i have them i just ~dont share~ so this is something new to try for now!

Mando jumped when the hatch fell open, shaken out of light sleep. His hand immediately fell to the blaster tucked into the holster but froze when he saw her trudging up the ramp. She was holding some sort of drink in one hand, her other arm held out to the side as if she was walking on a balance beam. The girl was muttering under her breath, obviously concentrating way too hard on not spilling whatever liquid was frothing in the glass.

When she got to the hull of the Razor Crest she let out an exasperated sigh.

“Hey Mando!” the girl yelled a little too loud, “I’m home!!”

The Mandalorian said nothing. She leaned against the frame and held the glass out to him, panting and starting to slide to the floor.

“I- I got one for-for you!”

He had given her the day to be off on her own, considering how safe the new system they’d landed in was known to be. Maker, she’d spent the last three weeks couped up in the crest by herself. Cabin fever had never really gotten to him, but when he came back this time, bounty flung over his shoulder, it was obvious that it had gotten to her.

He’d felt bad telling her to stay on the ship and only run to the shop when necessary, especially when she butted back in argument. The girl probably didn’t realize it was for her own good, a protective measure. She had rolled her eyes in annoyance, but when Mando didn’t falter in his stance through the fight she reluctantly agreed. He hadn’t meant to leave her alone this long, he truly thought it’d be just over a week, and there was a pang of guilt in his chest for leaving her here like this.

In his absence, the girl had thoroughly redecorated the ship. All sorts of… things, crafts, maker-knows-whats, were sitting atop crates, hung on the walls, clearly made using whatever she’d found rummaging through the spare parts bin and in the singular shop connected to the docking bay.

There was a string of little flickering lights hanging across the hull, pieced together from old console controls. It looked like she had sewed together some old fabrics to create some sort of rug, too.

The girl herself was asleep on the floor, surrounded by papers covered in writing and doodles. It was a mess- whatever she’d been writing was scattered and out of order. The kid was tucked under her arm, completely limp and snoring quietly. They looked like they’d passed out on the spot, mid-activity, on the Crest’s floor. She was wearing an odd combination of clothing he’d never seen before, had she made them herself? The child had a crown woven out of old wires sitting on his head, a matching one had clearly slipped out of her hair.

Mando silently thanked the stars not only for the fact that she was asleep when he got back, but that he had a layer of beskar to hide the smile he couldn’t keep from inching across his face. When he’d hired her a few months back to watch the kid and help copilot as needed, the girl had seemed so harsh. Her knuckles were scarred and she sneered when she called him out on his shit. Which she seemed to love to do.

In the cockpit, they’d sit in silence for hours, something the Mandalorian usually valued with others, but he wished she’d say something. Anything. Occasionally he’d feel her eyes trained on his helmet, or he’d glance back at her to see her clearly thinking deeply about something, but it was never a shared thought. It was quiet.

He’d never admit to it, but he was terrified that she was scared of him. Maker, she’d seen him come back out of breath and dragging a body behind him. She was always standing by when he was at his worst, catching her flinch out of the corner of his eye didn’t make it any better.

But there were moments. Moments he was sure she hadn’t noticed him watching. Moments when she was soft. There were little things. Like how she always gripped the armrest a little tighter and squeezed her eyes shut right before they landed, or how she places a gentle kiss on the kid’s head every night before tucking him in. He doubted she was aware, but she sticks her tongue out just a little bit and fiddles with her necklace when she’s concentrating. Sometimes she leaves little reminders around the ship for them both; they’re always signed with a smiley face at the end.

There were a few times he’d caught her humming to herself and dancing around on her toes. She was graceful- he wasn’t expecting that. For a fighter pilot with such a callous attitude, she was so delicate. So he stayed back, knowing she’d stop the moment she knew he was there.

Or how she left a third woven crown hanging from his seat in the cockpit. No, she didn’t wear a helmet, but it was pretty clear that she hid behind her own layer of beskar, too.

But they had never shared a moment like this: the girl slumped in the door frame, holding a drink out to him with a straw stuck in it. The child toddled over to her.

“Hey little dude!” she put the drink on the floor and held her arms out to him. “Look, sorry I’m back just a little smidgen of a bit late,” she said, words slurring, bopping him lightly on the nose. “I sorta kinda,” the girl’s voice didn’t get any quieter as she tried to whisper, “forgot where we were parked.” She shook her head and held a finger to her lips, “Don’t tell Mando.”

The Mandalorian let out a sigh loud enough to be heard through the vocoder and her head whipped around to face him. “I’m-” she started to get up, “I’m sorry I’m a little bit,” she held on to the wall as she stumbled forward, “a little bit late.” With a huff she gave up and sat back down on the floor, but continued to scootch herself closer to him, only stopping a foot or so before his feet.

Still, he was silent, and the color seemed to drain from her face. Under the cold stare of his visor, she tucked her head back like a child expecting to be scolded. After a few moments, she glanced nervously around the room, looking anywhere besides where she knew his eyes would be. She couldn’t tell the man in front of her was doing everything in his power to stifle a laugh as she struggled to sit up straight.

“Hey, so you’re actually a reeaallly quiet person,” she said softly, fidgeting a bit, “and I don’t know if you know or realize it or not, or if it’s on purpose, b- but when you go all quiet like this I really don’t know- I mean I’m terrible at reading the room anyways- but I can’t tell if you’re mad and I just-”

He cut her off. “I’m not mad.” Her face lit up slightly. Honestly, he wished he was angry. He should have been angry. His ship was a mess. But when she sat in front of him like this, he found it hard to be even the slightest bit irritated. He’d asked her to be back before nightfall, and for once she didn’t ask why or argue back.

“Oh.” She smiled softly then leaned all the way back so that her head skimmed the floor. She reached behind her, grabbing the blue drink and sliding it forward as she sat back up. “It was fun. Probably not your scene, I don’t really know, but the music was good, you would have liked that. You should have come.”

With a sigh, the Mandalorian rose to his feet and held a hand out to her, offering to help her up. She smiled again and let him pull her to her feet, immediately placing a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. His hand landed on her waist to keep her upright. “I don’t really do parties.”

She looked up at him. Somehow, even in her intoxicated state, she always managed to look him directly in the eye. “Yeah, I know. Sorta figured. To be really honest with you though, neither do I, I just wanted to do something a little bit different, yah know?”

“I know.”

They stood there in silence for a minute, then she rested her head against his chest. He froze. She’d never shown an ounce of affection, let alone stand together like this. He knew she was drunk. He guessed the girl wouldn’t remember this in the morning. But still, he held her tightly and savored the moment. It couldn’t have been comfortable, but she leaned against him anyway.

“But the credits I’d give to see you dance in this tin-man suit,” she knocked on his chest and giggled.

“I don’t really dance.”

“Liar. You can so dance. No way you’re that quiet and sneaky and can’t.” Her nose scrunched up as she scoffed at him, poking at his chest plate. “Me, however, whew, you really don’t know what you missed, shiny. You’re holding the worst dancer on this side of the galaxy.”

His head cocked to the side and he paused, watching her poke fun at herself, thinking of all the times he’d caught her tiptoeing around with the child. All the times she would sing quietly and swing her hips while out and about. The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them, “No I’ve seen you dance, you dance all the time.”

Her lips parted as a confused look fell across her face. He couldn’t fully read her expression, but it was clear a million thoughts were flooding her brain. He was instantly worried that he’d offended her. Not only had he invaded her privacy- he admitted it to her face. He worried she’d step away and the moment would end, that she’d go to bed and leave in the morning, taking her pay and her bag. But with one eyebrow raised and a soft smile playing across her face, she wrapped both arms around his neck.

“So I guess you owe me one then, huh? I brought you back a drink and everything.”

-----

You picked up on his almost inaudible laugh even through the modulator. Sure, you’d had a few drinks. You had been a little past the point of tipsy as you neared the Crest, but you were coming to your senses now. Were you over-exaggerating your state of mind? Most indefinitely. You couldn’t help it, though. The last 3 weeks had been an absolute shit-show.

You were fine until the end of the first week, then you started to get worried. The thought of him kept you up at night, so you told yourself that there was no way you could have possibly missed him. You only cared because this was your wellbeing now. I mean, before you got this position you spent every minute alone, too. This wasn’t any different.

Except that it was. And you hated that it was. This was just supposed to be another job. Somehow this man in a metal suit had weaseled his way into a soft spot in your heart.

He’d been so patient. Sure, you knew how to fly a ship, and you’re not clueless when it comes to mechanics, but this ship was unlike anything you’d seen before. So he taught you.

When he came back bloodied and bruised, he’d explain exactly what he needed you to do. In one instance he had gently guided your hand, slowly realizing he didn’t have to patch himself up anymore. Maybe he liked having you there. It was impossible to tell; maker, the few times you’d tried small talk it seemed to push him away even further.

But you didn’t want him further away.

You wanted him right here.

Figured that one out week two.

Week three the kid decided you didn’t need sleep. He cried and whined until you hung up that makeshift strand of lights. Then he sat and stared up at them like they were the most beautiful thing in the galaxy. So you made more things to pass the time. And more. And more.

You don’t even remember finally falling asleep, so waking up in the cot was a surprise. You slipped out of bed to figure out what was going on but stopped dead in your tracks when you heard him laugh.

The hatch to the cockpit was open, and from the low angle, you could just barely see the child sitting on the Mandalorian’s lap.

“It looks cute on you, kid.” The baby giggled and reached out for his arms. The wire crown was sitting on his head again. “How does mine look?”

The crown you barely remembered making for him during the third-week fever dream was clearly resting on his head, atop the helmet and all. The baby cooed.

When you landed he practically announced that the day was yours and you were free to go off and enjoy yourself. You thought about asking him to tag along but worried it’d be overstepping. Maker, the man had to have been just as, or even more, exhausted as you. Your pity didn’t run too deep, though. You knew it was selfish, but you hoped that maybe he’d want to be with you.

You tried your hardest to not seem disappointed when you turned to see him still in the hull as you strode down the gangway. You walked to clear your mind before popping into a cantina, which ended up being the center of life, and finding peace with the bottle.

The buzz had almost completely worn off by now, and you were back. And he was back. And he was holding you like he couldn’t risk letting you go.

-----

He looked down at her and let out a sigh. “Next time, sweet girl. We need to get you to bed before you’re out on the floor.”

Her face flushed pink at the sound of his words. Stars, at least he hoped that was why. He could practically see the wheels turning behind her eyes asking, ‘sweet girl? When did you get so soft on me?’

She pushed up on her toes, flattening her body completely against his. Her arms were still around his neck, and he carefully brought his hands together behind her waist. Had he not been wearing the kriffing helmet he would have been able to feel her breath against his neck as she nestled herself impossibly closer.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she whispered.

He gave a curt nod, his body stiff and tense under her.

“I wanted to leave the second after it started,” Her voice dropped even lower and her eyes fluttered shut, “... figured it’d be more fun here with you.”

His heart stilled as he realized her invisible beskar helmet had been lifted. He hoped it fell from her shoulders and rolled down the ramp, was lost in the night, maybe even stolen by scavengers, never to be seen between the two of them again.

She could feel his grip on her back tighten as his head relaxed onto her shoulder.

“Tomorrow night we’ll stay in,” his voice was just loud enough to pass through the modulator.

A smile crept across her face, “I’ll hold you to it, Mando.”

“I’m a man of my word.”

“I know.”

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