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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

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marmalade taffy

Helmut Zemo smut & feels. Soft!Dom Zemo, non-superhero!AU, Zemo being the weird uncle of college!Maximoff twins. This was written on a whim so if someone signs up to beta-read, I will shower you with affection and reminders to drink water. The Reader is addressed as "you" and is not described - race/age/body type neutral. The language I used for Sokovian is actually Serbian. Word count 2,8k.

Fun fact: I have mild synesthesia. Emotions/feelings and some people have an assigned color (and sometimes smell) for me. That's how the name of the fic was born. This fic feels like the colors of marmalade and taffy, look them up. This fic is dedicated to my lovely @slothspaghettiwrites , the shining beacon in my misty, rocky beach. (You're a periwinkle for me, by the way. I thought you might ask.)

When you first see him all you do is raise an eyebrow. His sleek, well-maintained vintage car stands out almost grotesquely amongst the various sedans and mom vans on the campus and you can see the glint of his wristwatch even from afar. Wanda's and Pietro's sheepish smirk only makes the situation worse - the girl's attire obviously screams "liberal arts" and her twin brother doesn't seem to have anything better to wear than tracksuits.

The man behind the wheel is unfazed. He is calm and collected in that European way, not conceited, just waiting. For what? You don't know. His eyes trail over you but he doesn't smile, simply gives a tiny polite nod. If you hadn't had extensive conversations about cultural differences with Wanda, you'd say he was extremely rude.

Shy, quiet Wanda, who's eyes lit up seeing her favorite not-actually-uncle. In a surprising dash of energetic agility, she hopped right into the car, her numerous scarves a bright flash of saturation against the campus grayscale. You giggle and wave at the departing car, snorting when Wanda's hand reaches over to briefly honk the horn, causing the driver to swerve the tiniest bit, his eyes trained on you in the rearview mirror.

He comes and goes often. Almost always in a different perfectly restored vintage car, mostly with the same polite mask of bored contentment. You know he's royalty in his home country and can't help but wonder how frivolously the twins act around him - no, free. He gives all the appearance of a silent, strict man.

You're proven wrong rather quickly. Freshman year left behind you, you and Wanda decide to ditch the dorms for an apartment - she finds one rather quickly and it's just you two in it even though it is ridiculously huge and the rent amount she requests is equally ridiculously small. Not the one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you pretend nothing is out of the ordinary and buy yourself a new pair of shoes.

Helmut - Wanda finally formally had introduced you two - doesn't come by often, however the visits are always... Eventful. He's not at all what it seemed to be; in the quiet of your apartment, a witty, incredibly clever man resurfaces from under the stoic façade. The Slav in him easily lets him consume alarming quantities of alcohol together with Pietro, who opted to stay in the dorms with his idiotic football team, and - you couldn't believe your eyes at the time - dorkily dad-dance squat in the middle of your living room, unfazed by your and Wanda's cackling.

The way Helmut is absolutely unbothered by the audience and the laughter, pale face flushed from the wine and a little smirk stretching his thin lips into expression almost catlike. The maroon turtleneck stretches nicely across his chest, as thinly as your lip that you worry between your teeth.

Pietro raises an eyebrow. You shrug.

"Got something in your eye, no?" He teases playfully and you shrug again, taking another swig of your nice, European beer.

There are more gatherings, more parties and quite a few rides in his car, when the wind blows your hair in all directions possible and intermingles it with Wanda's as you giggle and squeal in the back seat. Helmut always indulges you two; the word 'no' simply does not exist in that man's vocabulary. He insists politely but firmly on a dinner with all three of them on your birthday and the gifts he brings make your eyes pop out and your face heat.

"A woman like you makes any sensible man want to shower you with the finest gifts," Helmut's voice is quiet and his accent is thick and somehow, it makes it all that harder to refuse. He smiles like usual - tiny and a little secretive, as he pecks your cheek, filling the air around you with the smell of his cologne. It makes your mouth water and your fingers clench helplessly around the half a dozen of silk paper-wrapped boxes.

The summer rolls in and it's hot and humid and finally you don't have to worry about waking up at the crack of dawn or classes or the annoying boys who can barely take a no for an answer. The invitation to Helmut's villa doesn't come as a surprise; Wanda had been riled up over it since early May and Pietro and his whole damn football team were equally as thrilled.

You pack flowy dresses, daisy dukes and swimsuits. The expensive jewelry and handbag Helmut had gifted you, too, since the villa is surrounded by a whole neighborhood meant solely for the rich and famous. Wanda is absolutely unbothered by her own bohemian chic and you quietly envy her; the longer you get to know her, the more you realise of how much actually she does not give a fuck about anything besides her paintings and sculptures.

It's admirable, really, because she is talented. And Helmut knows it, too, having had collected and kept every single work Wanda had made, showing it off in the various rooms of his two-story mansion. The abstract fits in well and is a great conversation topic for him and his equally important friends. There's an endless stream of them in the first days and Wanda isn't overtly happy, choosing to run away to laze around the pool with you more often than not.

Helmut's friends stop at the glass wall between the inner side of the house and the pool to stare at you two, too, causing something dark and tense flash across his features. There always had been a sort of tangy obscurity in him, you've noticed, but not nearly enough for you to grow concerned. It added the bittersweetness, the flavour and consistency to the modest man.

Although calling him modest might have been a mistake. The moment you can't shake off one of his friends after a polite chit-chat seems to never end, Wanda nowhere in sight, dread and unease digging their sharp, spindly fingers in the soft flesh behind your rib cage, Helmut is suddenly there, arm wrapped almost possessively around your waist.

"Draga mea, Wanda is looking for you. She says it's urgent," He stares the man down with the eyes of a vulture. "I believe we haven't been properly introduced," Helmut seems to not realize he's still clutching you in a grasp of steel as the man opposite you rumbles out his name, few syllables you'd forgotten seconds after he spoke them for the first time.

"Baron Helmut Zemo," the fingers brush and squeeze once, gently, over the valley of your waist before letting go. You miss the rest of their peacocking, walking away with a fight and fire inside of your hammering heart. Anxiety and longing and confusion mix and blend, combining into a cocktail that has you beelining for the bar like a woman parched.

The next day you're sleeping off the hangover, first in your bed and then by the pool - Wanda had run off into town for one thing or another, and knowing her, she'd be back home at the crack of dawn. It was blissful peace, the soothing balm for your troubled heart and your aching head.

"Hungover?" Helmut's voice was quiet and a little bit teasing. None of the Eastern Europeans had ever showed the signs of having any ill effects from the alcohol they drunk, unlike you.

You stretched, too blissed out to care about the skimpy strings and straps of your bikini, basking in the gentle morning sun. "Mmm, not anymore," a swim in the cold pool had done wonders.

Your soft pink float rocked as Helmut's footsteps quieted, giving way to a short splash and the sound of his breathing somewhere in your space. Just as you cracked open your eyes, he reached out a hand to steady himself next to you. "I wanted to apologize for the situation yesterday. That man was stepping out of line. He is not welcome in my home anymore."

You stare at him and then you snort. The blunt was he usually speaks is so easy, it flows oh so effortlessly. No mind games, just honesty. You want to pay him back in kind. "Don't worry, Helmut. I just had a bit too much to drink," that was the truth. Any other time and you wouldn't have hesitated to unapologetically steer clear of any creep. Heat and bubbly don't mix and that was your own mistake.

"No, printsesa," the man in front of you let loose some of the delicious darkness, eyes growing stormy, hand gently resting over yours. "Some men are fools, they are nothing but animals. You deserve to feel safe, especially in my home." His lips stretched into a smile, water dripping down his jaw and making tiny circles form in the azure of the pool.

"I can't argue with that," you replied, catching the stray liquid and following the trails it made with your eyes. His forehead, dripping down over his eyes, making Helmut blink the stray drops away until they landed on his lips, trickling down his chin.

You swallowed, opting to dip your toes into the cool pool water before you could make a fool of yourself. The water splashed towards him, making a mischievous grin grace his usually serious face, as me made a half-hearted attempt to splash back weakly, making the water sizzle on your sun-kissed skin. Never the one to back down from a challenge, you knitted your eyebrows in mock offense, eagerly letting the water wash over you as you abandoned the float in favour of creating waves with your whole body.

The temperature contrast was delicious and Helmut's laugh even more so as it echoed in between the high walls of the building surrounding the pool. The sun was nearly at its peak, shining over your head in a beacon of heat that almost matched the one inside of you, the one that had blossomed there months ago and finally grew into a steady smolder, shooting sparks whenever you were around the baron.

It was hot and wet, the same feeling chasing you two when you finally kissed. His hand firmly planted on the side of your neck, his nose softly brushing against the underside of your jaw, Helmut was in no rush to taste you, to savour every millimeter of your sun-kissed skin. The man left you with your fingertips trembling and heart scrambling for purchase somewhere in the deepest pits of your belly.

"What are you so hungry for, mmm?" Helmut's voice rumbled next to the shell of your ear; you could barely focus, skin singing underwater, where he held onto you like a lifeline. "You have hungry eyes, ljubavi, tell me what it is and I'll give it to you," your bodies pressed flush against each other, his eyelashes flittering against your cheek.

"You," the maximum capacity for your brain was one-syllable words and you used it sparingly, failing to suppress a gasp when Helmut's mouth latched around a particularly sensitive spot right under your jawline.

Teeth scraped over it before he soothed the sting with his tongue. "All the things in the world, I could give them to you. And yet..." He sounded almost disappointed. Perplexed, just as you were at the strange admission. "A woman like you would have men fighting for your attention yet you give it to me so freely," he murmured softly, capturing your lips in a slow, fluid kiss once more. "I will make sure you have everything you could ever want."

Helmut's touch grew bolder as he steered the two of you towards the shallow end of the pool. The taste of him was intoxicating, like the sweetest, most alluring poison you'd ever tasted: you knew that once you had one small bit, you'd be addicted, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. His words were clever and his mouth even more, making the short stumble upstairs last hours.

A wall, baroque tapestry, marked with the wetness of the pool water, where you allowed yourself to be pressed against as he leaned into you with the entirety of his broad frame, domineering the kiss effortlessly.

You panted as your back hit the soft, million-thread count, unmade sheets of the baron's bed, staring up into his eyes and finding your own reflection in his pupils, blown wide with lust. The tiny smirk was back but now his unexpressive face was marred by a gleem, accentuating his moist, puffy lips you'd licked into and bitten in a heated frenzy.

"Beautiful, printsesa," he stated with quiet firmness, leaning over into you to unclasp and toss away the upper part of the bikini. The bottoms followed suit, flung carelessly somewhere. His hands ran over your as it sang, every tiniest nerve hypersensitive, coming alive with a fervor borne of months of longing, complimented by the summer heat and cool waters.

"Helmut," your voice wavered, flowed on the syllables as his clever, clever mouth trailed hot down your chest, briefly submerging each nipple into the sear of it. Goosebumps rose over your exposed body, highlighting a trail for him, a trail he followed eagerly. Kisses were candy sweet and marshmallow soft.

Hot breath at the apex of your thighs had you mewling and arching into it, having abandoned all shame, and Helmut found it amusing. The petite chuckle made an appearance, his fingertips ghosting over the part of your lower lips; he was as amused by your impatience as he was enthralled by the youthfulness of the gesture. "Shh, ljubavi, I will make it feel better," his accent as thick as clover honey and just as saccharine.

The first movements were tentative, brief and so light, the demanding moan slipped out of your mouth along with a growl of frustration. You felt continuous chuckling, slight stubble rasping along the sides your thighs; you felt him pick up pace and steady his hot hands on your hips as you attempted to trash against the overwhelming stimulation your pussy was receiving.

His moans, loud and wet, drove you closer to the edge like a drunk drove a Ferrari; Helmut's skill was unparalleled but it lacked precision as he lost himself in the moment just as much as you.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm- I'm so close," you managed to grunt out before the crescendo hit, eyes rolling back into your skull as the influx of more, more, more hit every nerve ending in your body. You could do little more than rest your legs on his shoulders as the noble man, the quiet storm lapped up every drop of your release.

He made the inside of you weak.

In seconds, Helmut was back on top of you, grinding his arousal into you desperately, almost begging for it and all you could do was let your body respond, mimic your lover, clench around nothing just as you felt him twitch.

"Tell me you're mine," he demanded hooking one of your legs over his hip, eyes boring into yours with everything in them plain on display. It was a terrifying thing: as if your heart had suddenly grown legs, stood up and walked out into the bare, wide world, open for all to see. "Ti moa, skaži eto," his native tongue made his voice even more hoarse, you couldn't resist anymore.

"I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours," you chanted the words like a prayer, hoping he'd be merciful - and he is. No, there's only a hidden tenderness in his hands as he drives into your with increasing force that shakes you and makes your core quiver, igniting your flesh once again like the color red; it's messy and it's sloppy and you're barely aware of Helmut muttering something into the crook of your neck as you feel yourself clench down on him with a choked moan.

"Fuck," hearing him, the polite composed man, bite the end of his own orgasm into a curse made a wave of magenta hot rush travel through your body at lightning speed, his cock pulsating and coating you, claiming you from inside out so sweetly you couldn't resist a shallow gasp into his cheek, a gasp he mirrored as his own oversensitive flesh was once more assaulted by your combined lust.

The tide of his breathing was high; both of you spent yet still drunk on the newfound sense of togetherness. It was clear as a summer's day that in your arms laid a man who'd once lost something important and you - you were a someone who's never had anything of significance and perhaps, this time each other's arms would let you both keep whatever it was that you missed.

#helmut zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo smut #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x y/n #zemo smut #zemo x reader #zemo x you #bun writes #baron zemo #zemo #i am KNEELING

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acourtofsnakes · 3 years

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

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

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

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

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

Introduction

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

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

Mando’a Translation: Tracinya - Flame

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They were going to remove his armour.

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

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

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

And then he had been sucked back into a fitful abyss

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet this… this was bad.

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

Concussion too then… a bad one.

He just prayed there was no permanent damage.

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

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

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

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

Again, his thoughts returned to his haven.

You.

You were going to kill him when he got out.

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

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

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

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

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

Maker, he was battered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He couldn’t. He didn’t.

And now look where he was.

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

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

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

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

Oh, joy.

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

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

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

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

He looked the same as always.

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

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

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

Before he slaughtered them all.

Din hated him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Please no, please…

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

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

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

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

Sick bastard, reading his thoughts.

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

Except there was just one problem…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two hours later, a plan had already been created.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How would you feel afterward?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~

“Sir?”

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The mythosaur necklace that Din had given you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

All of it fell away until you felt the power flowing through your blood, felt it brush up against every living thing in your vicinity.

Ahsoka’s voice slipped through your mind, “Now, think of him. The memories, the way he makes you feel, the happiness you feel with him. Think about what makes him your Mandalorian.”

Your power flowed through you, out of you, wrapping around the ship and you were already deep in your mind by the time it started shifting the direction you were facing.

What makes him your Mandalorian…

You let that question move through you, thinking of his touch, his voice… the way he softened the harsh edges of your mind and eased your chest.

The way you had truly come alive after meeting him, how you saw the galaxy as you had before – something beautiful and wild and begging to be explored.

You breathed in and out slowly, musing on the way you felt you had also brought light to Din’s life. Not just from the way he told you... but the way he seemed to have mellowed even more since first knowing you.

He laughed more, let himself go a little… His moments of uptight, rigid restraint had melted into something far softer and… goofier.

Ahsoka’s gentle praise whispered through the thoughts and memories, encouraging you. For however long, you didn’t know.

And then you felt it.

Your power brushed over something… someone.

Din.

His essence, his soul, burning like a bright star in your longest night. A sense of comfort, fierce loyalty and determination, all encased in a glittering shell of honour.

Your eyes snapped up, the ship slowing to a stop and then – there it was.

Moff Gideon’s cruiser.

And speeding toward you… about thirty Stormtroopers, ready to attack.

Mayfeld grinned from behind you as Duru leapt from the control panel, “Time to make an entrance.”

~~~

When Din got out of here, he was going to tear Haran into little pieces.

Well.

He would help you tear him into little pieces.

You had probably more rights than anyone to do so, but he had some things that the cocky shit needed to pay for.

Hey, maybe you could tag team.

Din kept thinking of creative ways to take Haran apart, to see if he was as strong inside as the power he oozed on the outside. It would be a fascinating project.

Maybe when you cut him open, he would be a hollow shell, or maybe there would be some kind of malevolent demon inside him.

He supposed these thoughts were rather twisted and dark, and that Haran had undoubtedly been through some awful things in his life… but so had you, and you were worlds apart from each other.

Besides, it was all he could do. Think of Haran’s death and try to avoid thinking of the alternative thing that was screaming at him like a siren.

That you may very well be on your way to rescuing him.

Din could tell himself for hours that you wouldn’t heed it, that you’d know it was a trap but… it just wasn’t you.

You were one of the smartest people he knew, but if anyone you loved was in danger, caution tended to get thrown out the window.

Sometimes, you were both more alike than you realised.

Din sighed, curling his fingers into fists and then releasing them again. A few hours ago – or maybe days? – he’d lost feeling in his arm. He couldn’t pop the dislocated shoulder back into place without removing his armour, so it was stuck there, swollen and pressing against the beskar. It had started with pins and needles, and then a cold feeling like ice in his veins.

It made him feel unsteady, lopsided – though that may have been the broken right leg and twisted left ankle.

Not only that, but every movement of his head made his stomach roil dangerously, and his breathing seemed to be coming laboured… more like sharp pants rather than deep breaths.

You were never going to let him live this down.

He huffed again, but the faintest smile rose to his lips as he imagined you both somewhere safe.

You’d wait long enough for Din to be suitably healed before tearing into him… and no doubt it would creep up for months afterwards. He could almost hear the cocky tone as you bickered about something and you’d whip that out, “Oh, well, I suppose I could always go an attack an Imp base and get shot of the sky. Stars above, can you imagine doing that? What fun.”

The thought made him chuckle, just a bit even though it irritated his ribs again.

Of course, that soft sound seemed like a siren call and seconds later, the door to his cell swung open and the King of Shadows and Death appeared – more like King of Arrogance and a limited wardrobe.

Didn’t he have anything else to wear besides that cloak?

Or was Din just jealous? His own cape was a bit tattered, and he’d always envied the way you wore your own hooded cloak, blending into the darkness and sweeping around corners like some kind of phantom.

Maker, his concussion must be getting worse.

Pushing that thought from his spiralling mind, Din tilted his head back to look up at Haran, “Are you lonely? Is that why you keep coming to see me?” He tilted his head, ignoring the feeling like boulders crashing against the inside of his skull and the bits of light dancing across his vision, “Or are you looking for a bit of nightly entertainment? Because I have to say, I’m hardly in the shape to do so.”

His tongue felt so heavy his mouth.

Haran rolled those unsettling eyes as the door closed behind him and he walked over, leaning against the wall opposite, “Yes, Mando. My days are just so meaningless without your shiny head to light the way.” He put a gloved hand to his chest, gasping, “Why, if we weren’t on an Imperial Cruiser, I might just drop to one knee and beg for your hand in marriage, right now.”

Prick.

Din turned his head away, breathing shallow as his stomach flipped again, “What do you want? If you hadn’t noticed, I’m a rather busy man.”

Haran chose to ignore him, snapping his fingers together and pulling a face like he just remembered something, “Oh, wait. I can’t marry you, can I?” He looked up at Mando, golden eyes burning through the side of his helmet, “Because you already have plans to do that to someone else, don’t you?

Din willed himself not to rise to the challenge, not to take the bait. He instead tried counting his breaths, focusing on anything but Haran’s silken words.

They flowed like water around the small cell, almost irresistible, “Does she know? Does your little princess know that you’ve been carrying that ring around for months now?” He crossed one ankle over the other, “I have to admit, it is a stunner. How much did you have to save for a rock like that?”

Anger hissed through him, but Din closed his eyes.

Many jobs. He had saved the credits from… more jobs than he could remember.

He would bring home most of the credits but would siphon off just a little from the top to add it to the tiny stash he had going. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get a ring with a huge stone like others he’d seen but… he had a feeling that you would love it regardless – at least he hoped. The ring had sat nestled in an inner pocket of his tight underlayer of clothing for a while now, and he could still feel it’s hard press into his skin. Thankfully it hadn’t been crushed in the fall.

It was new to him. Not just the fact he had reached this point in his life, but the fact he was looking for an engagement ring.

Mandalorian’s traditionally gave weapons instead but… you weren’t a Mandalorian. And the pair of you… this was different. And he wanted to do it right.

You had taken on board so much of his traditions and rules… he wanted to do this for you. Do something in a way that you would be familiar with.

Of course, there was one other major thing that was different –

“Have you even revealed your face? How do you know she’ll want to marry you? I mean, she loves you now but… What if you take off your helmet and she can’t stand you?” Haran examined his gloves, his words low and almost childlike but that was the point.

Din gritted his teeth, keeping his body loose – as much as it could be with the pain – “Seriously, are you here for a reason?”

Boom!

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the entire ship.

It echoed down the hall, but Din could calculate it was far away, deep in the belly of the cruiser so most likely a cargo hold.

Red lights began flashing outside of his cell, the sound of many thumping footsteps racing past.

No… no-

Haran’s eyes unfocused and a cold, dark power brushed against Din. Even through the armour, he could feel it. The way it leeched the warmth from him, swallowed what little light was in the room. It had a pull to it, like the silken caress of his voice given life.

Din shuddered, but Haran hadn’t noticed, instead feeling for something… someone…

His pupils dilated, black swallowing the gold and then he grinned, a cruel, delighted grin and his eyes came back into focus. He stood up, laughing, “Oh, Mando. I’m afraid your luck has run out. Your precious princess has just made her entrance.”

Bile rose up in Din’s throat and he shook his head, “No, you’re lying.”

Din knew he wasn’t. Knew it because he felt you. Every cell in his body was crying out to leave the room, to be reunited with you. Hell, he could almost smell your achingly familiar scent.

Haran advanced on him, crouching down and he took off his gloves, revealing a pair of slender hands – absolutely mauled with twisted, marbled scars.

Din couldn’t stop staring at them, at the evidence of some awful injury – fire, by the looks of it, “What are you doing?” He couldn’t move away, the pain too great and the room spinning. Horror flooded his senses – horror and relief.

He felt sick at the relief, because the last thing he wanted was you near any of these people, but at the same time… you were coming to rescue him.

He wasn’t going to die in here –

That power brushed against him again, slipping through the cracks in his armour and seeking out the injuries as Haran said softly, “The game is beginning.”

~~~

So, your idea to enter the ship discreetly… maybe hadn’t gone entirely to plan.

In all honesty though, it wasn’t your fault that you’d been attacked.

And it wasn’t your fault that the only evasive maneuverer that they wouldn’t be expecting was to lead them on a wild goose chase around the ship and then…. Crash into the cargo hold.

Okay, so Boba had been going for a gentle landing, but the situation had required some fast thinking and strategy and so… there you were.

Maybe it hadn’t been what you’d decided upon but… you had to admit, the explosion provided excellent cover for your teams to slip in.

Amongst the chaos, you weaved around the edges of the cargo ship and you were through into a service passageway, watching Cara and Fennec disappear down a hallway opposite.

The cruiser was like a maze.

You had no idea how long you had been navigating the halls, but you knew it was long enough.

Already, you had encountered a few Troopers, but they were silenced before they could raise the alarm – and stuffed into nearby rooms so they would be delayed when they awoke.

Mayfeld kept pace easily with you and Ahsoka, as you sent out waves of power to sweep the area, “They most likely have him in the cells. But if they know we’re coming… They would have moved him.

Somewhere more central, where we have no choice but to be in the open and vulnerable to attack. So, we should head toward the front of the ship, maybe.” He kept his voice hushed and his blaster aimed.

Ahsoka peered over her shoulder at him, raising her eyebrows, “Tell me again where you came from?” She had her other saber in her hand, held in her trademark grip as she moved like a shadow.

Mayfeld chuckled low, “Impressed?”

Seriously?

Ahsoka rolled her eyes, looking ahead again, “Please, don’t flatter yourself.” She shook her head, pausing and raising a hand for you all to stop too.

You pushed your power around the corner as well, combining with hers and you felt it.

A cluster of Stormtroopers gathered near a service room. They were standing between you and the next hallway and would need to be removed.

Focusing, you did a rough tally, “Nine of them. All armed.” You worked it through in your mind. You could take them – but there was still enough time for them to raise the alarm. Especially if they were near service rooms, they’d be able to signal to others and you would soon be ambushed.

Even without power, Mayfeld appeared to have done the same, “We need to draw them away, get them somewhere quiet.” He looked back the way you came, then to the right where there was a dead end.

Ahsoka sighed, shaking her head, “How? Any noise will alert the others. We need to - ” She broke off, having just seen what you were doing. “Where are you going?”

You had moved away from the safety of the wall, drawing the hood of your cloak up over your face. “You and Mayfeld get ahead, see if you can find a map or something in one of those rooms.”

Something dark thrummed in your blood, your palms itching with an intense need to… to make someone hurt.

Mayfeld rose an eyebrow, facing you as he kept his back against the wall, “Are you crazy? They want you as much as you want Mando! You can’t just walk out there like a party gift.”

A party gift that’ll explode in their faces.

Stars above, the very thought almost made you laugh with an unnaturally shadowed delight.

You indeed chuckled, rolling your eyes, “Exactly. What Stormtrooper grunt would pass up the opportunity to deliver Moff Gideon the very thing he’s doing all of this for? They’ll take me straight to him or throw me somewhere to wait. Either way, it gets them away from you.”

Ahsoka was watching you, her eyebrows furrowed slightly. She didn’t agree with this anymore than Mayfield, but she too knew there was no other way. “Okay.” She ignored Mayfeld’s noise of protest, “Be careful. Try not to draw too much attention if you can help it. We’ll find anything we can and if you’re not back out here, then circle back to find you.” She was still watching you with that strange look – like she could sense something off.

You gave her a playful salute before pulling out another knife from your boot, rolling your shoulders and strutting around the corner.

Instantly, the group of Troopers turned around, guns raising as they beheld your cloaked appearance, and the shining lightsaber in your hand, “Hey! Stand down!”

You dropped the hood, grinning wickedly as you purred, “Hello, boys.”

You moved like a flame, tearing through the group of Stormtroopers and spreading your embers of death, ready to turn into a blaze.

The whir of the lightsaber was the conductor of your dance, providing a beat as your separated limb from limb. The deadly energy whipped through the air, severing one of the Troopers hands from his wrist and he went down screaming, clutching at the stub at the end of his arm which was smouldering. You didn’t hesitate, whirling and flinging a sharp, deadly knife from your hand.

There was a muffled, wet noise impact as it lodged itself in his throat, buried in the gap between the chest plates and helmet.

You didn’t know if Ahsoka and Mayfield were close, if they’d found a map – you didn’t care.

These men, these followers were standing between you and Din. Maybe they had been forced into it, but as you had said before. They made the choice to stay.

A yell sounded from behind you and a sharp blow to the middle of your back had you stumbling, the air knocked from your lungs.

You sucked in a sharp breath but before you could turn, the back of a blaster smashed your skull and you tumbled to the floor, fighting through the wave of nausea and the stars in your vision. The lightsaber was flung from your grip, skittering across the floor.

A somewhat altered voice hissed against your ears, a knee pressing to your spine, “You think you can waltz in here and take us all down? I don’t care what the boss says.” The muzzle of his blaster now jammed against the back of your skull, forcing your forehead to press against the icy, metallic floor and you bit your lip with the impact, “You are vermin. A monster. People like you shouldn’t exist.”

The dark creature within you snarled, and you spread your fingers of your free hand, the other caught up underneath you, “Didn’t your boss tell you?”

You heard him cock his head, “Tell me, what?” He dug his blaster in harder, right against the base of your skull.

A wicked grin spread your lips, causing them to split further but quite frankly, you didn’t care. The pain only aided in the focus, the hot blood nothing as it ran down your chin, “Watch the hands.” You lifted it from the floor, wrapping the Force around his throat and you gave him only a second to realise what was happening, before curling your hand into a fist and crushing his windpipe.

He choked, hands flying up to his throat but then he was instantly gone, slumping forward over you in a heavy tangle of limbs.

You groaned, shifting his body off of you, “Get off of me.” You muttered it uselessly, scrambling up and you scooped up the lightsaber, before turning to survey the hallway.

Footsteps resounded from both ends of the hallway, and you lowered into a battle stance, adrenaline still humming through your veins and numbing everything else, everything but the fight and the goal – Din. Along with the cool ice of battle… something heavy and alluring whispered to you, as black as night and hungry for more death.

White armour burst into your left peripheral and you whirled toward it, flinging a hand forward and then back.

The Stormtrooper was dragged off his feet, again trapped with the invisible pressure around his throat as he ground to a halt, legs swinging forward with the remaining force of him flying at you.

He snarled, scrambling at his throat, “You can’t do this. You won’t beat him, no matter what you believe.”

You rolled your eyes, letting your head fall back with a groan, “When they make you, do they implant some kind of need for all the dramatic bullshit? Honestly, whoever the first one of you was, he must have been an incredible bore.”

The Trooper thrashed about uselessly, his weapon falling to the floor and you sensed the glare through the black visor, “At least we have hearts. And maybe we’re all the same, but we’re more human than you are.”

Monster.

Ah, back to this, yet again.

Always back to this.

Your smile was angelic, your appearance anything but.

Long cloak hanging from your shoulders, battle suit fitted and black as coal. Your boots were stained red, the blood looking like ink on the dark leather.

As for your face, you sported a wicked bruise to your cheekbone, a long cut across your forehead and with the blood dripping down your chin, the wild fury in your eyes… You probably looked every bit the monster they said you were.

And you couldn’t care.

“You think I haven’t heard this one before? How I have no humanity, no soul… I’m an abomination that shouldn’t deserve to live, blah blah blah.” You shook your head, something deadly and shadowed twisting through your blood, humming in dark delight at what you were doing, the devastation you were feeding it.

There was a name for it.

You knew what it was, the siren call to step over the line that you were only too pleased to answer.

You’d deal with that later.

The Stormtrooper choked as you tightened the hold on him, obviously about to speak but then his head jerked, focusing over your shoulder.

The other footsteps – a pair. One heavy, one light and nimble.

Mayfeld, and Ahsoka.

You didn’t bother turning around as you heard them skid to a stop, Mayfeld sucking in a breath at the sight around you.

The fallen bodies of the Troopers, broken about and still smouldering, the blood coating the walls and the floor, the edge of your cloak trailing in it. The stench of death and the smell of molten plastic.

Mayfeld whistled low, “Fucking hell…”

You ignored them, focused on your prey, tightening that leash bit by bit.

It was like the very air around you was alive, more frantic than normal. Your power flared, tasting the death in the atmosphere, slipping through the ship like a poison and marking where each target was. Every single obstacle between you and your love.

You could feel their living souls, see them in your mind like glowing stars in the sky. You knew that if you went for them, you could close your eyes and still take them down as quickly and skilfully as if your eyes were open.

Is this how Haran was so good at killing? So skilled at finding people?

Without the distraction of sight and sound, you needn’t worry about the expressions on people’s faces, the noises they made as they died.

With your eyes shut, using this glittering map in your mind… they were merely lights to snuff out.

“If you follow this path… No one will be able to help you. You will have to make the choice whether to stay on it, or to fight your way out.” Ahsoka’s voice was a soft breeze in the night of your mind, softly lit in the same white as her sabers, of which one you held in your hand.

A symbol of strength… which you had used to destroy lives.

Your eyes opened slowly, gazing up at the Stormtrooper ahead of you.

A choice.

Seconds ticked by, seconds you knew were slipping away on the clock of Din’s life as you made up your mind.

The Trooper fell to the bloody floor and your voice was demanding, no room for argument, “Take us to your little master. I except he’ll be waiting.”

~~~

Booted footsteps rang out on the cold metal hallways.

The King of Shadows and Death could move like a whisper on the wind, as if the air itself parted around him and kept him silent.

But this time, he wanted to be heard.

He wanted the Mandalorian to know that his hope had been in vain.

He merely looked at the guards standing either side of the door and they nodded, one scanning the chip that would trigger the heavy locks in the door.

It swung open and Haran crossed the threshold, gazing down at the broken Mandalorian, slumped on his cot. He grinned, cocking his head, “Time’s up, Mando. Your saviour has come to rescue you from the enemy walls. Looks like you don’t know her as well as you thought.”

The Mandalorian growled, dried blood like rust on his beskar, “If you think you’ll walk out of this unharmed, you obviously don’t know her like you think you do.”

The last time Haran came to see him, he had healed his injuries just enough that Mando wasn’t permanently dancing the line between being awake and being unconscious. He did nothing to remove the pain, or the severity of them, but he had prevented infection. He’d also healed his legs to the point where he could walk – barely.

What good was a knight who fell before the Queen could finish the game?

Haran walked over to him, hauling him to his feet. The Mandalorian was the same height as him, so he gauged he was looking right into Mando’s eyes when he whispered, “I think I know her a lot better than you think. I can tell you that she would not have come here peacefully. And she would not have let go the people that stood in her path.”

Mando shook his head, trying to pull away from him but he was unsteady on his feet, the blood rushing from his head, “No. You’re wrong. She won’t listen to that call, to the... Dark Side or whatever it is. She’s walked that line before, and she’ll make the right decision again.”

Haran chuckled low, half dragging the beskar-clad knight out of the door, “Oh, I don’t doubt that she’ll make the right decision. But whether or not it’s right depends on which side you’re standing on.”

The Mandalorian groaned, hating that he couldn’t pull away from Haran, hated the weakness of his body, the unsteady, lurching footsteps of his still fractured legs and the armour that weighed down on his broken bones. “Why are you doing this? Why are you so obsessed with corrupting her? You’ve been living your sick little life for… however long it is now. Surely there’s some other person to terrorize?”

Haran scoffed, rolling his amber eyes, “You really need to get it through that thick skull of yours – I’m not corrupting her. I’m merely bringing back someone she’s tried to bury.” He looked over at Mando, raising his eyebrows, “Has she told you? About the time she had no code of honour, of mercy?”

The man beside him snarled, his leg giving way for a moment as agony rippled up his hip, his bones screaming, “What the fuck are you talking about now?”

It was easy to hold him up, despite the weight of his beskar and they walked down the imposing hallways, three Stormtroopers flanking them – whether it was to stop Mando trying something, or stop Haran having his fun, he didn’t know. Or care.

“There was a time, little hunter, where your precious princess slaughtered anyone who dared stand in her way. She was broken, hungry for vengeance and only to eager to have her fill.”

Mando was quiet for a moment, the heavy scuff-drag of his boots the only sound to be heard – one he probably hated as he moved nearly as silently as Haran did.

Something like triumph flickered over Haran’s face at his silence, “You truly didn’t know? Oh dear… There’s a lot she hasn’t told you, Lori. Things I’ve seen in her head that I doubt even she remembers she did.” He guided them around toward the corner, to where it would all come to a head.

And to where his power was tugging him, whispering to him of the state the next hallway had been left in.

The Mandalorian pushed away from him, summoning some kind of inner reserve of strength. He stopped, the guards pausing behind him and shifting their weapons as a warning. He looked at Haran, the harsh lighting bouncing off his beskar, revealing nothing of the man beneath and Haran wondered if he had revealed his face yet.

“You seem to think telling me these things will bother me or make me look at her differently. Whatever she’s done, whatever terrible things she’s committed… it doesn’t change the fact that I love her.” He stepped forward, ignoring the guards as they moved too, “I’ll tell you something, Shadow man. There is a light that burns within her, a fire that could rival the very stars up there.” He pointed to the ceiling, “And no ounce of darkness, be it her own past or your own twisted powers, will ever snuff it out.”

He moved that finger to jab Haran’s chest. “You tried to dump her at the bottom of a lake, and she came out burning brighter than before. So carry on, tell me all these horror stories to try and scare me away.” He shrugged, the rough baritone of his voice steady, ringing with loyalty and truth – and threat, “All you’re doing is making me love her even more.”

Golden eyes flicked between the visor, assessing. Plotting.

Then Haran smiled, a sinister, deadly smile as he inclined his head, “I don’t doubt for a second everything you said is true.” He brought his hands together behind his back, resuming the walk and he used his power to push the Mandalorian along. “I believe that you’re willing to throw down the gauntlet to protect her honour every single time someone threatens it. But I wonder… All you’ve heard is stories.”

He walked around the corner and stopped yet again, his dark power dragging Mando to his side. “What will you do when faced with the truth first-hand?”

The hallway was carnage.

A bloody battlefield.

Multiple bodies littered the stark floors, bright red blood sprayed all along the walls – even the ceiling. The once white armour of the Troopers was stained with the stuff, their bodies bent at unnatural angles, as if a strong power had taken hold of their limbs and yanked them in all the wrong directions until bones shattered and muscles tore.

The Mandalorian looked upon the scene, the blood coating the tips of his boots.

A dismembered hand lay just a few feet away and the severed wrist, the tendons hanging out of it... all singed. As if cleaved from the body by something white-hot and burning.

A lightsaber.

Which would explain why the hard shell-like armour of the fallen Troopers were marked with black holes and marks, the stench of melting plastic mingling with the reek of burnt bodies and blood.

This was the work of someone with deadly skill, usually so precise… pushed to the edge, to this.

Oh, it wasn’t mindless, not by any means.

It was clearly thought out… maybe even savoured.

Haran breathed in the smell like he was standing in a field of flowers, “Well. I have to say, I’m impressed. This looks like something I’d leave behind.” He walked through the mess of shredded bodies, a phantom wind lifting the edge of his cloak so it didn’t drag in the blood, “These poor soldiers never had the chance.” He crouched down, pushing the helmet of one Trooper – resulting in the head rolling a few inches away from his body.

He looked at the Mandalorian, raising an eyebrow as the fluorescent lighting brought out his scars, “Still singing her praises?”

The Mandalorian was silent, hands clenched at his sides but then he moved, not away from the scene, but toward it.

Through it.

Through the blood and flesh until he was standing right in front of Haran, feet splashing to a stop in the scarlet river, “Always.”

~~~

Moff Gideon was waiting for you as you were escorted into a large, open chamber.

He stood there, hands clasped behind his back, with a young girl at his side – presumably his second in command. There was a sick expression of glee on his face, dark eyes glittering with what he presumed was triumph.

Next to him, stood Haran, clad in black as always, with that embroidered cloak holding –

Din.

Oh, the sight of your Mandalorian threatened to bring you to your knees as you were stopped a few metres away.

You couldn’t see his body – obviously – but you knew simply from the way he held himself, that he was terrible injured.

He seemed to be bearing his weight to one side, slumped over even as he stood, and you could hear is laboured breathing from here.

Oh Din, what happened to you…

You had to admit, a small part of you wondered if there would be anything left of him when you arrived. Not from the possibility of torture, but simply from that terrible fall.

The thought of tumbling all that way down to the ground, encased in a rock-solid metal shell… You couldn’t even fathom it.

And yet, there Din was, still alive after something that should have killed him.

Clearly, the Maker had plans for him.

Gideon cleared his throat, watching the Trooper grunt retreat to the edge of the room, “Well, well. After all my time spent hunting you… Here you are.” He cocked his head, “I thought you’d be taller.”

You rolled your eyes, sighing, “Oh stars above, please tell me this isn’t another villain speech. I hate those.”

Haran’s lips twitched perhaps remembering this exact same conversation from his bunker.

You flickered your eyes to him, before looking back at Moff Gideon, who was looking at you with… a rather bored expression already.

“I was told you were insolent and arrogant, and I can see my sources were correct. They were also correct about how to summon you here.”

He looked over at Haran, “Though it took many years for someone’s ideas to actually bear fruit. Well done.”

Haran bristled slightly, as if taking praise from a mere human man irritated him.

You supposed it did.

Gideon was nothing compared to Haran, power or not.

“Well, I would hate to disappoint you, of course.” You shot him a sweet smile, venom in your eyes, “If you wouldn’t mind, do you think you could tell me what it is you want before I take my Mandalorian here and leave this dump.” You held up your comms watch, “I have a party in Coruscant I’m due to be at and it won’t look very good if I’m late.”

You thought you may have heard muffled chuckles from the line of Stormtroopers assembled behind him, but you paid it no heed.

Gideon bared his teeth at you, eyes blazing, and he brought a hand in front of him to point at Din, “Do you not realise, we have your precious bounty hunter captive? Do you not realise who is holding him?”

You looked over at Haran, shrugging lightly, “A guy who has interesting taste in fashion?”

Did Gideon not know about the bunker or the lake? Had Haran neglected to tell him you’d met before?

Haran revealed nothing in his expression, but there was something in his eyes… something ancient… some of betrayal? Of lies?

Moff Gideon snarled at you, “Insolent creature. You are here because we allowed you to be. In fact, the only reason that happened, is because of the failures of the people I sent after you. Had they done their job, you would have been broken long ago. That disgusting affliction of yours burnt out of you.”

Heat licked down your spine, and the atmosphere in the room shifted as the three Force wielders within it straightened at is words, the ugly discrimination in his words.

Dangerous game to play, Gideon.

You kept your breathing even, feeling the shadows prowl beneath your skin, teeth and claws still dripping with blood from the hallways, wanting more, “Have you ever wondered why you’re stuck here, chasing down women and babies?” You took a step forward, anger and pride for yourself, for Ahsoka, every Force Sensitive person both dead and alive making your voice carry strong over the empty air – even pride for Haran, in some way.

Gideon rose an eyebrow, “Do tell.”

“You’re stuck in the past. You believe that people like us,” You motioned to yourself, “You believe we are abominations. Freaks of nature. The Force is nature. It’s the very thing that binds us all together. There is no fear in it, no monstrosity. I don’t know why it’s so hard for you people to understand.”

The Officer sighed, shaking his head and moving a step closer as well, “Oh, I understand that. I wasn’t referring to the others in this room. I was referring to you. You, my dear, have been sick and twisted from the very moment you were born.”

Din pulled against Haran’s grip, growling in anger, “I’d advise you to stop speaking.”

Haran yanked him hard, “Stay quiet.” He spat the words at Din, but you didn’t fail to notice the murderous look he shot Gideon over Din’s head, his golden eyes livid.

A shaking had taken over your hands, so you clenched them tighter around your weapons, years of abuse playing in your mind.

But you pushed back against it, for you were stronger now. Stronger because of it, not in spite of it.

Gideon continued, looking upon you in disgust but there was a sick fascination here too, “You have been marked for death long before you showed your powers. You think it was coincidence that the hunter was stalking you in your miserable little village? She was there on orders.” He looked over you, “A child responsible for the deaths of her parents. You might as well have pushed the blade in your mothers flesh yourself.”

A roaring took over your head, filling your ears with the sounds of screaming, the stench of blood and the way the light sapped from your life as your parents died.

But… the world was different now.

It was bright again.

Because of Din, your friends… That’s why you were here.

You glared at Gideon, wanting so desperately to tear out his throat with your power, your hands, or even your teeth – but now wasn’t the time. You shook your head, “You don’t win this time, Gideon. I’m afraid your sad little life will be ruled by chasing me for just a little longer.” With that, you flung your hands wide, making your power explode through the room with a battering impact.

You felt another wave at the same time as yours, fuelling it – Ahsoka’s.

You only just managed to keep it free from Din, though Haran had thrown up a hand milliseconds before you, as if sensing what you were going to do – and evidently creating a shield.

Gideon and the Troopers weren’t quite so lucky.

The Force flung him through the air, causing his head to smash harshly against a metal beam and he crumpled to the ground, limp.

Haran spun to look at him, and it occurred to you – he should have protected him too. He was working for Gideon. Or… at least pretending to be.

Who was really calling the shots here?

No time for that now.

You used Haran’s distraction to throw yourself at him, activating the lightsaber and unleashing yourself on him with a strangled cry of rage.

He startled, just a few seconds too late and he pushed Din at you in an attempt to slow you down.

Perfect.

Just as you planned.

You were never really going to engage in battle with him, had never intended to attack him.

But you knew he would use Din as a shield, thinking you were too blidned in your rage – but you proved him wrong.

Din careened into you, stumbling against your body and you both nearly tumbled to the floor, but then Cara was there, helping you support his body as he wrapped an arm around you, “You came…” His voice was hoarse, weak with pain and exhaustion.

The relief and love in his voice nearly brought you to the ground, “Of course I came for you, Din. I will always come for you.” You gave him a watery smile, walking toward the others, keeping one eye behind you as Haran watched.

Why wasn’t he moving… Why wasn’t he attacking?

“I saw what you did.” Haran’s silken voice called out from behind you, making you pause in your retreat. “I know you feel it. The call to the Dark Side. And I know that you answered it.”

That would be why.

You slowed to a stop, forcing Din and Cara to slow too. “How do you know I answered it?” You looked straight ahead, still not turning around.

Haran sounded as though he took a step forward, “I felt it. I felt it when you allowed the Dark to show you how to get here. You saw the lives as glowing lights, a map to saving your Mandalorian. And the mess you left in that hallway…” He trailed off meaningfully, “You needn’t fear it, darling. It’s not evil. It’s merely… a different perspective.” His voice had melted into the same one that had coaxed you into swallowing the poison, into stepping off the edge.

Here you were, yet again. Only you weren’t standing on the precipice of a raging torrent… You were standing on the edge of the Dark Side.

And his words had instantly awoken it, set it pining for a life to be unleashed, untamed.

Slowly, you turned around, cringing when Din’s broken feet tumbled over each other too, so you slowly let go “A different perspective…?” You cocked your head, voice starting to sound unsure as his seductive baritone filtered through your mind, weaving around it.

He smiled, that gorgeous, disarming smile that instantly made you lock focus on him, “Yes. Others may tell you that the dark side is evil… But it isn’t. It’s simply using that power in a different way. Using it to get the things that you deserve.”

You swallowed, feet hanging over that metaphorical edge, “You – You promise? I can’t go back to that place. I can’t be a… monster again.” Your voice trembled over the word; eyes locked on his amber ones.

Din shook his head fiercely from your left, fighting against Cara’s hold as she pulled him away, but he was too weak, “No. Sweetheart, no. Stop listening to him, please… He’s lying to you. You don’t need this. You don’t need that darkness, princess. You’re so good, so strong… please don’t do this.”

And then you made a decision.

You ignored Din.

And walked toward Haran.

Stepping off of that edge.

Haran extended a gloved hand to you, “That’s it, darling. That’s it… Coming here doesn’t make you a monster, it just means you are claiming your birth right. This is where you belong.”

As you reached his presence, a feeling wrapped over you, muffling Din’s voice, the sounds of the others around you. You slid your hand through his, gasping a little as you felt your shadowy beast respond to his own, felt them twine around each other, greet each other.

“I don’t…” Uncertainty still clouded your expression, and you lingered a little, worrying you were making a fatal mistake.

He saw this, gently drawing you closer and into the circle of his arms, “No one will die. Your Mandalorian, your friends… We will help them leave safely and then… Then we can begin.” He guided your head to his neck.

Din’s voice, though muffled, was desperate, clawing at you, “No! Cyar'ika, you can’t. Please, I’m begging you. You don’t need to go to him, you don’t need to do this. I love you. I love you for who you are, for every single thing. I’m not afraid of you, of any single part of you.” He sobbed.

Din sobbed, reaching for you, “Please don’t leave me alone.”

You were glad your head was pressed to Haran’s neck, because the backs of your eyes burned, shame and guilt threatening to choke you.

You had to do this.

You had to do it now before you shattered completely.

You were quiet, and then just… went pliant in his arms. You raised your own to his back, winding around his lean frame and lifted your face from Haran’s neck, nuzzling your nose along his neck, “I believe you.”

“NO!!” Din fell to his knees beside Cara, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sweetheart, please don’t do this. Please-” The way his voice broke tore through your heart, and you nearly backed out right then and there.

But you didn’t because Din… He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why you had to do this…

Haran’s arms tightened around you, one coming up to cradle the back of your head, “Good girl. I always knew you would see the light.” A deliberate, ironic choice of words form the King of Shadows and Death.

Din’s sobs speared though you, each devasted noise threatening the tears building in your own throat.

Raising on tiptoe slightly, you ran a hand down his back, the other splaying wide, ready.

You brushed your lips along the smooth line of his skin, breathing in the smell of wind and midnight, “There’s just… There’s one little thing…”

Haran nodded, his cheek resting against your hair, “Anything. Anything you want, it’s yours.”

His words muffled the soft sound of an object flying into your hand as you let out a breath against the shell of his ear, whispering, “I will never be your Queen.”

The sound of a lightsaber activating, not through air… but through flesh.

Haran’s choke of surprise – and agony.

You held his sagging body to yours, snarling, “That’s for the lake, you twisted asshole.” You stepped back, letting him fall to his knees, yanking free the lightsaber and savouring the gritted howl of agony as you tore back through more flesh and tendon.

Those amber eyes of his blazed like molten gold, deadly and furious, “You don’t know the mistake you’re making. You’re throwing away your life with these fools.”

You bared your teeth at him, raising the saber threateningly to his throat, letting it make the faintest contact, “Come after me again, and I will end you. I don’t care if you’re hundreds of yours old, or the King of Death or whatever else you call yourself. I’m not afraid of you. And I will destroy you before you can do the same to anyone else.”

With that, you quickly turned, bolting toward your family and friends, “Now!!”

Ahsoka flung her hands wide at the same time as you, creating a wide bubble of Force energy that blew through the space.

Every Stormtrooper in the area was knocked flat on their back, instantly out like lights as you threw your arm around Din’s shoulders, trying to get him up as he stared at you.

“What… I don’t…” His voice was bewildered, dazed with pain and he was heavy in your arms.

You whimpered just slightly, desperation and anxiety creeping forward, the edge of battle slowly fading, “I’ll explain everything later, we have to go now, Lori. Please.”

Mayfeld was suddenly there, supporting his other side and then you were all running for the cargo hold, leaving the destruction behind you.

Even as you ran, Cara and Fennec scouting ahead, Ahsoka behind you aiding with the energy bubble and Mayfeld helping you carry Din… You couldn’t quite figure out how you had pulled this off.

You’d done it.

~~~

Haran watched her leave, supporting the Mandalorian and hurrying away with her friends, her power combined with Tano’s to create an impenetrable shield around them all.

Well… He would have gotten through with half a thought – perhaps a whole one – but any of the other fools in this place wouldn’t stand a chance.

Many footsteps rushed into the room and then he felt hands on him, pushing away his own, trying to get to his wound.

He looked down, saw a medic with their pack open by his side, flitting and fiddling.

“Leave it.” His silken voice was hard ice, enough of a bite there to inform the medic what would happen if they didn’t leave.

Despite the medics healing instincts, they knew the tone well, and moments later the kit was packed up and Haran was already turning away from the retreating figure.

Strong.

She had grown stronger far quicker than even he had expected. He knew it was within her, but he had thought the trauma ran deeper, its claws embedded into her very soul and creating a barrier every time she would try to tap into the power.

Tano must have taught her how to master her fear, or how to get past it.

Useful, it saved him a job… but also irritating. If she was already harnessing that trauma, it would mean he could no longer use that aspect.

Haran walked the path she had taken, out to the cargo load, the harsh wind roaring across the space as the tech’s struggled to gain control of the ship again, to remove whatever bug the girl and her friends had slipped in.

No matter. It didn’t upturn his plans… just meant he had to work with a new angle.

And fortunately, he had one, courtesy of the would-be Queen herself.

Haran had come across the bodies in the hallway on his way in here, saw the way they were dumped on the ground with their limbs at unnatural angles, their armour shattered from the inside out.

And if the still smoking scorch marks all over their bodies weren’t indication enough, a sweep of his power had revealed massive internal devastation.

Haran stood with a gloved hand pressed to the bleeding wound as he watched the steadily shrinking shape of a ship. A mere thought had the hole stitching back together as he extended his fingers out slowly.

No one on the clean side of the Force would wreak havoc like that of the hallway, regardless of their love having been kidnapped and beaten.

And that meant simply one thing. And one thing only.

She was being called to the Dark Side.

And she’d heeded that call.

Maybe only temporary, but the Dark Side was like Haran himself. Once you let it in, once you got that first taste… it never truly left. She could deny it all she wanted, trick him with it, think it was merely a reaction from the stress of saving the Mandalorian, but it had already rooted within her.

He could feel it.

Haran tipped his head back and laughed, his ebony curls dancing across his forehead as the wind tugged and pushed at his tall, lean frame. A lone pillar of darkness, hovering at the edge of the world.

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#well this was a journey #the mandalorian x reader #edited because I realised I spelt Mayfeld wrong #the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #the mandalorian #rogue #pedro pascal

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draconic-ichor · 3 years

Text

In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 13: Crystal Clear: Part 2

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, oral sex, penetrative sex, breeding kink, talks of infertility

Summary: The night after their outing gets deeper then Heisenberg had ever planned. Words spoken, heavy and otherwise

Feedback appreciated. 18+

This will get a bit heavy near the end….be ready my lovelies

They sat on a large outcropping of crystal, talking about nothing in particular. They simply filled the silence with whatever came to mind: Heisenberg sharing new ideas he was mulling over, while Juniper gushed about recipes she was excited to try.

Their voices were light and soft, becoming a comforting mummer as the sky deepened into a dark shade of orange above them.

Feeling the daylight slipping away, Heisenberg finally pulled out his pocket watch. He looked at it almost surprised, rubbing it on his coat to clean its surface before double checking his eyes hadn’t deceived him.

“Damn, it’s getting late Buttercup.” He admitted, part of him wanting to stay within the cavern forever. It was hard to abandon this place, especially now that it was filled with a warmth he couldn’t describe.

Her smile fell slightly, “We better get back before it gets too dark then.”

He nodded, standing.

On their journey back Juniper carefully opened the cherries. She popped one in her mouth before offering the open jar to Heisenberg. He pulled his glove off with his teeth, shoving it in his pocket before diving in for one.

Juniper giggled at the face he made, the tartness catching him off guard.

They passed the jar between each other as they walked.

“Hey Doll.” Heisenberg spoke around a mouthful, wanting to catch her attention. She looked up at him, watching as he contorted his jaw and tongue behind closed lips. He opened his mouth to reveal a cherry stem tied in a knot between his teeth, smiling cockily.

She gave him a playful shove, “Maybe you can show me other tricks with your mouth later.”

“Is that a challenge?” He asked, spitting the stem into the snow.

“Maybe.”

“Dangerous game buttercup.”

She pranced ahead, turning to scoff “I’m so scared.”

“Little sweet thing like you?” He licked his lips, “I’ll gobble you right up.”

Careful to seal the jar first, Juniper smiled wickedly, “You’ll have to catch me first, old man!”

With that she quickly turned and started to race down the stone bridge, the factory peeking out in the distance.

Stomach aching from the amount of cherries he’d eaten, Heisenberg did not give chase. Instead gingerly walking forward.

Juniper realized her miscalculation as soon as she reached the iron gate. Her compass hummed and vibrated against her neck, sidedly dragging her forward. It stuck tight to the gate, holding her in place like a leash. Twisting to look at the man responsible, her green eyes narrowed.

His face was alight with victory as he strode up to her. Clicking his tongue he asked, “Now what was all that kitten?”

She grumbled, “This is cheating.”

Whistling he straightened, “Well shit, you’ll have to punish me then.”

She struggled a bit before he spoke again, “Or…I could just have my way with you because I’m an unfair bastard.”

He came close to her face, his splitting in a roguish smile, “I think I’ll take option two.”

She gasped as in one swift motion he released his hold on the compass and scooped her up, slinging her over his shoulder. He strode towards the factory hearing her giggle.

As always he was true to his word…After cleaning up and shedding all their clothing, Heisenberg instructed her to get onto the bed.

Juniper complied, thighs pressing together eagerly. Heisenberg licked his lips, stalking towards her like a hungry wolf. Crawling up the bed he sealed their lips in another kiss, pulling away to trail more down her neck and breasts.

Juniper’s fingers found his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. He rumbled into her flesh as he worked his way downwards.

Making it to her opening, he smiled, her already hot and needy. His pale eyes flicked up to meet her own, warmth radiated between them. He set to work, diving in and completely devouring her.

Always a man of passion he put all of himself into every task, this was no exception. He adored to feel her write under him, her soft thighs squeezing around his head. And the sounds she made: the sweetest music to his ears.

His lips wrapped around her clit, sucking feverishly. She arched back into the bed with ecstasy.

Juniper’s eyes rolled back as she moaned.

“Karl…I-I,” she stuttered.

He let go to lath circles into her flesh with his tongue. He felt her approaching her release, keeping up his pace to draw it from her.

“I love you!”

Her sweet voice sounded, almost crying the last words as she came.

Heisenberg’s eye snapped open. Lifting his head, he searched over her face.

She wasn’t looking at him, lost in pleasure and unaware of what she’d said.

He crawled up the bed, over her. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his hip, encouraging him in closer.

He leaned down, brushing hair from her forehead. Coming down from her high, Juniper smiled up at him.

She cupped his face softly, her smile reaching her eyes as he pressed into her hands.

His eyes squeezed shut, his heart swelling.

He dropped to his elbows, propping himself up over her but close enough their chests touched.

Their lips sealed in a kiss.

It wasn’t hungry or fevered.

They simply enjoyed the closeness of the act, Juniper tangling her fingers in his unruly hair. Their kiss deepened. Heisenberg rolled his hips, slowly entering her slicked opening.

She mewled into his mouth, making his chest rumble. He took her slowly, enjoying the simple touch of their bodies.

Breaking the kiss he watched her lips, eyes flickering up to meet her own.

Her feelings were echoed by him. Juniper pulled him closer, his hips rocking slightly into her. He nuzzled into her neck, movements tender. She met his affections in kind, holding him and peppering kisses down his cheek and jaw.

Heisenberg felt addicted to her touches, the way her walls drew him in. Felt like he could never get enough of her warmth.

His thrusts increased with need. He groaned into her skin as he came, the muscles of his back tightening.

Juniper whispered words of praise, her lips against his ear. He huffed out hotly as he pushed himself up on his hands.

He started to pull free from her then surged his hips forward, bottoming out in her again.

She gasped out feeling him going seamlessly into another round.

“Trying to breed me?” She asked breathily. His cock squelched as he fucked his seed back into her.

“Would you like that?” His voice was husky, bringing his thumb to brush her lip.

Her face flushed deeper at the touch, making his lips twitch into a smile. Their combined releases filled the room with obscene sounds.

“Want me to fill your belly with my pups?” He almost whispered the words, “To stuff you full?”

Her legs tightened around him.

“Yes!” Juniper arched deliciously into him.

“Tell me what you want.” He kept thrusting into her wetly.

“I want your pups!” She cried out pleasure threatening to spill over, “Breed me please.”

Heisenberg picked up his pace, spurred on by her words, pushing her over the edge.

She shook under him, crying out with tiny decelerations of her delight.

Her core milked him as she tightened.

He rolled back on his haunches, pulling her hips off the bed with him. He held her down as far as he could on his cock.

Juniper felt him paint her walls, pleasure radiating to every extremity.

He breathed out deeply, gathering her up and hugging her to him. Juniper wrapped her arms around his neck.

He shifted his legs out from under him, maneuvering her lay down with her more comfortably. He didn’t leave her warmth.

They enjoyed their afterglow, Heisenberg rubbing small circles into her back.

The vulnerability of their act didn’t cause him the depth of distress it had previously. It would still teeter between a sense of ease and wavering bewilderment.

He wanted to speak, words fluttering around his rib cage like a small bird. He swallowed, drawing her closer.

“Hey Karl?” Juniper’s voice was small and tentative.

“Hm?” He rumbled from his chest, not moving.

“We’re you serious?”

“About?”

She bit her lip, cheeks reddening, “About me…having your ‘pups’?”

She felt him stiffen a bit, taking a long intake of air.

His mind swam with emotion, wanting to say so much but the only words to tumble from his lips were, “Buttercup…I don’t think we can.”

He looked down into her eyes: they were big and sweet and innocent. Their green depths filled with confusion.

He signed, cuddling her a bit closer. “The cadou, it…changed us. It takes away a lot.” The words made his chest ache.

Heisenberg saw the understanding draw over her. Juniper gave a small nod of understanding, her lips becoming a thin line.

He was reminded that he was no longer human, that it was stripped away from him.

“But what about Alicina?” Juniper asked, her brows knotting together.

“The bug girls?” He shrugged, “No she adopted them after she was turned. I don’t know anyone that’s been able to…to have a kid after…”

He trailed off, but said enough.

Juniper quietly laid her head down against his chest, listening to his heartbeat for a long moment.

“It’s alright.” She finally spoke.

“Hm?”

“It’s probably good that we can’t.” She frowned, seeing his questioning look she continued, her voice somber, “I wouldn’t want Miranda to take them away.”

Heisenberg felt his heart drop, but had to agree. The thoughts plaguing his mind. He shook them away, lifting Juniper’s chin to meet his gaze.

“So it’ll just be you and me, buttercup.” He soothed, taking a thumb and brushing away a stray tear from her cheek, “Will that be alright?”

She nodded, affirming, “You and me.”

“Even if I’m a grizzled old bastard?” He gave a toothy grin causing her to softly giggle.

She smiled sweetly up at him, “Even then.”

“Good.” He smiled back, drawing her into a tender kiss. He could be happy, he told himself: just her and him.

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #heisenberg x oc #re8 oc #heisenberg #in the steel steeds heart #heisenberg smut #resident evil

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svtkillua · 4 years

Text

milk and tea > 2

rating: [pg-13 / angst] genre: soulmate au pairing: todoroki shouto x reader warnings: cursing, heartbreak, angst! word count: 9.5k

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1 - chap 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 [final]

The pendant hanging from your neck felt heavier the longer you wore it, like the days of the week that had ticked past added pounds to the object by the hour. You simultaneously adored it and loathed it, constantly catching yourself staring at it and fiddling your fingers around the chain. You loved that it reminded you of him, that the present special from Todoroki somehow made you feel like you yourself were special, like the gift was as close to a boyfriend like gesture you’d ever get. It made you feel adored, like the silver chain was a harsh contrast to the gold on your palm because it was a different reality, one that for a moment didn’t seem like a daydream. You hated it, however, when you stared too long and remembered that a few minutes after he slipped it on your neck he left to be with her. You loathed it for being a constant whisper reminding you that it was just a necklace, just a birthday present, not a declaration of love in the form of jewellery, but a kind gesture between friends. Because that was all you could be to Todoroki as hard as you tried to imagine otherwise.

“Are you listening to me?”

Your head lifted from its downward angle, eyes trailing from the wooden table top to the wide windows of the cafe, the sounds around you feeling too loud for the small space. People were tucked in at all the tables, several offices on the upper floors of the building leading to a packed cafe every lunch rush. You almost always came down to grab coffee and a bagel, used to the hoards of people that blended in with the beige and brown walls, familiar with the scent of roasting coffee beans and the hum of the espresso grinder. You shifted in your seat as you looked back over at your friend, setting down the sandwich you’d been picking at, brushing your hands together in a silent clap in an attempt to brush off the crumbs.

“Sorry, Izuku.” Your head shook side to side as you eyed his pouting features, cracking a smile at the way he huffed out a breath of air, lips puckered like a child who hadn’t gotten their way. Midoriya was perhaps your closest friend next to Todoroki, someone who had never pitied you but rather tried to fill your life with brightness. It was no wonder his soulmate was so enamored with him, you couldn’t blame her, his personality was affectionately child like, so awake and full of life you almost envied him for his eternal positivity. “I sort of zoned out.”

“It’s alright, I was kind of rambling to be honest.” He chuckled with a shrug, the sweater he had on bunching slightly around his neck, the fabric looking too thick for the warm spring temperature. He had on wide, round glasses, his hair a bit more curly than normal from the small amount of humidity in the air, fingers wrapped around a huge plastic cup full of peach tea. “How was your birthday? We missed you at the bar.”

“Okay I guess.” The fidget you made in your seat was involuntary, fingers trailing over the line on your palm out of habit. The light was hitting it just enough to make it seem to glow, the gold glinting in your irises as you flickered a glance between it and Midoriya, shoulders bobbing in a shrug. “Todoroki came over for a bit, we had a pizza.”

“That sounds like a boring birthday celebration.”

“Well I didn’t exactly feel like throwing a wild party, Midoriya.” Your eyes rolled at him, fingers drumming into the table top as you glanced at someone who waved in passing. Part of you felt anxious, wondering where Todoroki was even though you knew he was more than likely working out. He tended to work during his lunch breaks most days, which was what got you in the habit of bringing him coffees and snacks on your way back to the office across the hall.

“Are you okay?” His palm landed on top of your knuckles, the gesture innocent but filling you with a bit of warmth, the genuine flash of concern on his features almost comforting. “I mean, I know you’re probably upset but, you know.”

“I don’t know.” You sighed, shrugging and glancing at his soulmark, the bright blue on the face of his hand in a swirly pattern, almost mimicking that of a flower. The color bloomed against his skin tone, like a spot of blue sky poking out from clouds on a summer day, Midoriya himself the ball of sun beaming through the air. “It’s not like there’s much I can do to change how things are, everything just feels wrong. It feels unfair, like something’s not making sense how it was supposed to. I don’t know how to be okay when I’m supposed to be happy alone. I don’t feel happy alone, I feel lonely.”

He nodded slowly, hand retreating to instead pick at his sweater, cup lifting as his lips wrapped around the straw and he took a gulp, adam’s apple bobbing. His eyes danced around the room as he debated what to say, eyelids fluttering as he blinked when the sun hit him directly in the face. You could almost see his thoughts forming, could picture the words as his messy scrawl put them down in his head, the ink bleeding into his tongue as he set his cup down to speak them into existence.

“Just because you don’t have a matching mark doesn’t mean you have to be alone.” He reasoned, nodding once towards you with a half hearted smile, his gaze flickering over the planes of your face while you tore your focus away. You knew what he was referring to, that several people without soulmates had ended up together, that people with circumstances like yours made their own destiny and chose their own path. It was illegal to not be with your soulmate but if you didn’t have one all bets were off, anyone else who was alone was up for your taking, but somehow that idea didn’t sound right in your head.

Maybe it was because you’d gotten so hung up on Todoroki but you didn’t feel like you were meant for just anyone, didn’t feel like you could make a deep connection with someone even if you could sit and talk to them for hours. Most everyone you heard of who didn’t have a soulmate was content being alone, didn’t feel so desperate for affection as you were, didn’t long for someone to hold them and be beside them all their life. For everyone else like you, it sounded like they were indeed made to be alone and they liked it that way, but you loathed it.

You constantly felt lonely, like the rest of the world had left you fend for yourself, like everyone else was paired off and had forgotten you were still there. It was hard to go outside and see people holding hands, getting close to the person that was meant for them. It stung to hear your friends had met their match, to go to their weddings and smile wide knowing that it would never get to be you standing there in white across from your soulmate. It made your chest burn to picture yourself marrying someone you weren’t made by the universe for, to look at the mark on your hand and know you’d never see it on another person for as long as you lived. It was cruel, like going out most days were torture to the beating muscle in your chest, like being happy was going to be one of the hardest challenges to achieve in your life.

The only thing that made you feel that way was Todoroki, and anymore that happiness came laced with the longing that you’d grown for him in your gut. You’d fallen so in love with Todoroki that it was hard to see past that now, that picturing him was enough to make your pulse quicken and throat constrict. Now the mere idea of watching him marry someone else made your eyes burn, fingers itching to feel him when you pictured someone else touching his beautiful skin you’d grown so attached to. Knowing he was a few floors up in the gym made your lips pull into a faint smile, almost like you could feel him there, could sense the warmth that radiated from his body and imagine it baking your skin.

Todoroki made you feel things others wouldn’t, and in a way perhaps that was why you’d found yourself growing so infatuated with him. That was always how they made soulmates seem in movies, like they would understand you in facets others couldn’t, that they would be the person that just clicked into place, like a missing puzzle piece you’d finally found. You couldn’t understand how you’d fallen so in love with someone who wasn’t meant for you, couldn’t grasp that even though you felt all the things you were supposed to feel for a soulmate, he wasn’t that person. Things had been hard before he met Momo, but afterwards it all felt worse, the love in your chest like a weight that made your feet drag and posture slouch.

“I gotta get back upstairs.” Your head lifted as Midoriya stood, your body following suit as he pulled you into a quick hug, smiling faintly with a nod as he walked off right after. You remained in place for a beat, watching his figure with a sigh, jealous of him, jealous of how easy he tried to always find a bright side in his head. You envied how second nature it was for him to be positive, to find a light in a room full of dark. It’d never been that way for you, never so easy to become a spark that filled everyone with vibrancy, if anything, you’d become the one that always turned the lights off.

After grabbing another coffee and pastry from the counter, your feet carried you up the flights of stairs towards the office, the steps resonating with loud smacks in the half empty staircase. They complimented the sound of your heart beat as it pounded in your ears, matching in rhythm the quicker you ascended them, the heavy door slamming behind you serving like a crescendo to the song being created behind your rib cage. This had slowly become your favorite part of the day, the short walk down the hall towards the double paned glass doors facing your own, admiring the way the sunlight sprouted through them and created hazy shapes on the carpeted floor. It looked so welcoming, like it was the perfect package just waiting for you to unwrap it, like the universe knew someday Todoroki would work there so they created an entry as warm as he was.

You spotted him as soon as you walked inside the studio room, waving at the receptionist as you strolled past her and further into the space, fans running that created a quiet hum that mixed with the clicking of cameras. He was always tucked back into the corner office whenever he was taking a break, the one directly across from the main studio space, the room with the most windows that overlooked the streets below even if he insisted he didn’t like heights. He was hunched slightly over his desk, camera laying idly beside his laptop as he moved his finger over the keyboard, brows furrowed together and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. His hair was pushed back off his forehead though pieces fell forward, like he kept fussing with it, lips parted as he exhaled, the angle of his jaw accentuated by the light streaming into his space from outside. He was oblivious to your approach, completely deaf to the outside world as he poured himself into his paperwork.

And gosh was he stunning.

“Todoroki?”

His head lifted in a flash, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he blinked rapidly until he focused on you, the curve of his lips spreading until his cheeks bunched upwards, eyes slipping faintly into half moons. The pang of guilt you felt for interrupting him washed away as he took his glasses off and moved to stand while you waved him off, moving closer to set his coffee and lunch down beside his computer. He was staring at you now as incessantly as he’d been doing to his computer, the sound of his foot tapping into the hardwood floors beneath his chair faintly reaching your ear when he sank back into his chair.

“You didn’t have to bring me lunch.”

“I knew you wouldn’t eat if I didn’t.” Your shoulders rose and fell with a faint laugh falling from your lips as you used one hand to push your hair away from your face. You looked his way long enough to catch his gaze before tearing your own away, pretending you didn’t feel the way his focus was making your esophagus feel too tight, like your heart had made a new home there. “Someone’s become quite the workaholic lately, hm?”

“I have not, I just have a lot to do and I’m too tired to continue exercising.” His fingers landed on top of yours as you took a step back to move towards the door, focus shifting back onto his features as he nodded once in your direction. You swallowed hard, trying to force down the rock forming in your throat as he slipped his fingers between your own long enough to give your hand a squeeze with your palms flushed together. It was almost sad how incredible a him barely holding your hand could make you feel, how the smallest amount of affection from Todoroki felt like he’d dropped to his knee and asked you to be his forever. “Thank you though. Stay for a few minutes and keep me company?”

He hardly had to put up an argument even if you should have shaken your head no, fingers slipping from his grasp as you sunk into the chair across from him, the desk serving as a barrier to separate your bodies. His posture relaxed once you were seated, lips wrapping around the opening of his cup as he snapped his eyes shut and took a quick sip, adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he swallowed and dropped the cup back down. The shirt he had on was gray, like the color of a sky after a thunderstorm in the middle of the summer, the colour making him look more drained as he pushed his wheeled chair slightly back from the confines of his desk, dark jeans clinging to his legs.

The simple smile that flashed over his features as the paper bag crinkled open between his fingers made your own cheeks tug upwards, nothing but a pastry and the spare half of your bagel shoved inside but it was enough to make him feel appreciated. He always looked grateful when you dropped him off a coffee or snack, always made a point of thanking you for days after, like you’d single handedly made the world spin for him. It was one of the million things you loved about him, how humble he was, how he considered every act of kindness he received as a gift, one he couldn’t wait to return the first chance he got.

“So what are you working on that’s so interesting?” His head rose when you spoke, eyebrows furrowing together as his lips pursed, jaw moving while he chewed on the sandwich. It made you grin, his cheeks full like a hamsters as he shuffled forward and swiveled his laptop around for you to see. The screen illuminated an article of breaking news covering crimes in the neighborhood, images of black and white mugshots dotted around the paragraphs in order to send a scary effect across to the reader.

“New villains showing up everywhere we least expect.” Your gaze flickered over to him when he spoke, eyes following the way his tongue poked out from between his lips, licking a crumb away from the pink flesh. He nodded his head once towards the screen before you focused back on it, voice thick as he half yawned, arms stretching forward and straining against the fabric of his shirt. “They want to be mysterious, I guess, but they’re not too good at covering their tracks. Quite an easy job for all of us right now.”

Your head bobbed in a nod as he trailed off his speaking, lifting the bagel back to his lips as you leaned back in your seat and turned slightly to look out one of the windows. You had to squint, the sun steaming in just high enough to cover your face in heat, burning your irises in comparison to the pale coloring of the room. It felt peaceful, your eyelids drooping shut and arms folding over your chest, heartbeat at a steady rhythm while you listened to Todoroki’s quiet humming as he ate. For a moment you let yourself pretend you were at home, that the pair of you was married and this was any regular work day evening, content just spending your time together not speaking, because the love you felt in your chest said enough.

It was so easy to fall into with him, the lull of security he provided simply by being there was too comforting to fight off. It’d become so natural to tune out the rest of the world when you were alone with Todoroki, like second nature to forget that the day dreams in your head were complete fiction. Being alone with him made it feel like it could be real, like the way your heart rate spiked when he laughed was normal because it was made for him to hold. His presence raised up the bubbles of hope in your chest until you felt like you were floating, like he’d placed you on top of a cloud and was letting you feel that sense of love you’d never really get, like he was letting you pretend your feelings for him were reciprocated without him even knowing it.

It was like you craved Todoroki as much as you wished you could get away from him, like you wanted to fight the pull he had on you but feared how you would continue to breathe without him there giving you oxygen. He was simultaneously becoming your perfect dream and your nightmare, and slowly the two ideals were mixing into one muddled mess of emotions you were having trouble sorting through. You weren’t sure how to separate your feelings for him from reality anymore, weren’t sure how to continue being in his life without completely destroying your own heart in the process.

A quiet click made your head move, eyes rolling as you groaned loudly and raised your hands to cover your face, Todoroki’s laughter mixing with the sound as he continued snapping away at you with his camera. You could hear his chair scraping against the wood as he stood up, footsteps indicating he was moving closer to you as your legs lifted, knees bent to try and curl yourself into a ball on the chair.

“C’mon, stop covering your face, the lighting looks great right now.”

“Knock it off.”

“Please?”

It felt right, with just the two of you there giggling over something so pointless, like that was how it was supposed to be. It felt like this was what the universe was supposed to have done, that all along it should have made the pair of you for the other, that you should have been the one that got to make him laugh like that every day. It felt like everything, for a moment, was how it was supposed to be, how your heart had decided it was supposed to be from the first moment you saw him in the park. Just you and Todoroki and no one else, nothing there to interrupt you besides the sounds of your own hearts beating.

“Stop!” You laughed at his insistence, peeking out from between your fingers to find him bending closer to you, his cheeks pulled into a wide smile as your eyes connected for the second he lowered his camera slightly. He took another picture, you could tell by the sound of his shutter releasing, another groan falling from your lips, this one laced with laughter as he reached a hand out and started gently tugging at your wrist. The contact felt electric, like he was shooting fireworks off that were spreading up your arm and making your heart skip a few beats out of surprise, his laughter only serving to heighten how light everything felt.

“Todoroki?”

It was laughable how quickly your mood could plummet, the air no longer feeling light and delicate, but rather too thick for you to breathe in, spine locking up as your legs dropped back to the ground with a gentle tap from your shoes meeting the wood. Todoroki’s touch on your wrist vanished, his laughter trailing off as he stood upright and cleared his throat, your eyes burning into his as he stared at you before focusing off at the door. You didn’t want to look at who it was, didn’t want to see her smiling face when Todoroki moved past you to give her a hug, just knowing it was happening right beside you enough to make your fingers dig into your thighs.

“Momo, I didn’t know you were stopping by.” His voice was pleasant but you could tell he was surprised, his posture stiff as he slowly came back into your line of sight with her in tow. You focused on her back at first, on the way her hair was tied up into a tight bun, on the clasp of her necklace that was catching the light as Todoroki pulled a chair over from the corner of the room for her to sit in.

“I wanted to bring you lunch.” Her voice was delicate, like her full volume was someone else’s whisper, her arms folding in her lap as she sat down, Todoroki’s palm on her lower back as she did so enough to make you swallow harshly. She was wearing one of his jackets, you noted, that brown one with the elbow patch you’d sewn on for him when he ripped it during a night out. “I hope I’m not interrupting something.”

“You’re not.”

Her head whipped over to focus on you once you spoke, the smile on your lips feeling as ingenuine as it did uncomfortable, your fingers weaving together as she flashed you an tense grin with her nod. She was holding a paper bag with Todoroki’s name written on it in swirly black ink, a heart scribbled beside the T with a smiley face inside. She passed it off to him, her fingers brushing his own as he nodded in appreciation, setting the bag beside your own crumbled up one, it almost seeming like a metaphor for the two of you, one that made you exhale like a deflating balloon, the false sense of comfort you had now ripped away. Todoroki cleared his throat awkwardly, a silence falling over the room that made you itch to escape it, like the walls were closing in on you the longer you sat there watching him glance between the two of you.

“Well, good.” She pressed her lips into a thin line as she nodded and looked over at Todoroki, your eyes flickering to her palm, seeing her soulmark when she flexed her fingers back and forth mid air, like she was trying to stretch out a muscle. Your own palm suddenly felt like it burned, like your subconscious was reminding you of how badly you wished you had that mark. You would have given anything to be in Momo position, to be the person that Todoroki would marry and have a forever with, to be the person Todoroki loved so strongly it was all consuming and soul changing. “How’s your day been?”

It almost felt like you weren’t there, watching Todoroki turn his screen towards Momo as he started rambling on about his morning, like you were seeing a scene from a movie you didn’t want to be watching. You could almost picture them like that, like this was how they’d be as the years passed, chatting in their kitchen while the rest of the world fell away behind them, their skin growing wrinkles but their palms staying matching and pristine. It stung, like the bubbles of hope you let yourself build up were all being popped one by one, like wasps were stinging your insides just to put you back in your place.

“Todoroki we need you out here for a second?” A girl poking her head into the room looked apologetic as she motioned for Todoroki to follow her, his eyes darting between your own and Momo’s before he was slipping out. You wanted to grab his wrist and drag him back in, wanted to force him to stay and serve as a barrier protecting you from talking to your own worst fear. Momo was everything you wished you were, the person you were most envious of and found yourself loathing when none of this was her fault.

She couldn’t help it the universe had paired her with Todoroki, she couldn’t help it that she was made for him and you weren’t. It wasn’t her fault that you didn’t have a soulmate and yet on the nights you laid alone in bed you found yourself blaming her, because she had gotten the person you craved like a drug. She couldn’t change the fact that you were made to be alone, that you had fallen in love with a man that was made for someone else, someone you could never be. You could blame her all you wanted but none of this was Momo’s fault, and deep in your chest you knew that, you just wanted someone to be mad at. Disliking her had seemed the easiest way of avoiding the demons you liked to ignore, the truth of knowing that you were meant for no one and there was no reasoning behind it too much for you to accept. You wanted a cause, wanted an explanation, even if you’d never truly get one.

And through your jealousy that temporary bandage of an explanation had become her.

“He works too much sometimes, don’t you think?” Her light voice made you lift your head, eyes flickering over her features as she stared at his desk, drawing on the surface with the tip of her finger. She had a half smile on her lips as she shook her head side to side, laughing faintly as she adjusted in her seat, the dark jeans she had on almost matching the ones Todoroki had on, pale pink sneakers poking out beneath the ends of them. “I wake up in the middle of the night sometimes and find him typing away on his laptop.”

You tried to laugh, tried to ignore how your chest stung picturing them in bed together, tried to pretend the mental image didn’t make you want to curl up in a ball and scream until your lungs gave out. She meant well, she was trying to make conversation rather than sit there in silence in her boyfriends office, but you doubted your amusement was even half convincing. You weren’t sure it was possible to be genuine when your insides felt like they were rotting, weren’t sure if you could even be truly happy when your soul had stopped trying to a while ago.

“Yeah, he gets sucked into it sometimes.” Your head bobbed in a half nod as you focused back down on your legs, tracing circles around the red scratch on your knee from when you bumped into your bed frame earlier in the week.

“I’m sure it’s just because he’s so passionate about it, but sometimes it worries me. I’d hate to see him overwork himself.” She trailed off, eyes focused on you judging by the slight shift in voice and the subtle goosebumps rising on the back of your neck. You lifted your head to lock eyes with her, hands overlapping each other in your lap as she pressed her lips into a thin line, like she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. “Does he mention it to you? That he’s tired or unhappy?”

Todoroki was never really one to share emotions with people, not the ones that he didn’t deem good or important enough. It took you months of persistence before he opened up about any problems he had, any unhappiness that lingered in his heart. He took a lot on himself, held the weight of the world on the tops of his shoulders but still stood tall with a smile on his face. He didn’t like admitting he needed help or comfort, besides with a few people, and somehow you’d become lucky enough to be one of them.

You’d become the friend who he called in the middle of the night to talk about the things that were keeping him up. You’d become the one who heard of all the problems his parents had caused for him, the one who listened to the things he disliked about society and the way the world worked. You were his confidant and his comfort blanket, and in many ways he was yours, the one person who never judged you when the mark on your hand made you want to ball your eyes out. He never pushed away from you when the rest of the world sent you judging looks, never let others assumptions change the way he acted around you.

All he wanted at the end of the day was to be happy, and for the people he cared about to feel the same. You knew how heavily it weighed on him when someone was upset or unhappy, and sometimes he felt the need to try and fix things himself. He always went out of his way to do extra work if it’d help his co workers, always volunteered to be the one paying for other’s lunches so it wasn’t a burden. He always went to his family dinners even if they made him miserable, always put up with his parents nasty remarks and harsh judgements because he thought he had to. He pushed back in little ways, with his career and choice of friends, but sometimes you wondered if it was enough for him.

He had a heart that was surely even more golden than the shimmering line on your palm, one that shined like a lighthouse in the dead of night, but also weighed heavily in his chest. Sometimes you wondered if he was stopping himself from being as happy as he made most everyone else. You questioned, if he could have anything in the entire world, what he would want, what the secret wishes were he had that he’d never uttered out loud.

If you could wish for anything, you would wish for him.

“No, but I don’t think he would admit working too much is a problem anyway.” She nodded, glancing away to focus out the window at your response, the light falling over her features like a spotlight on a beautiful painting. “I should get going, my lunch break is ending soon.”

Her head moved up and down as you stood, eyes not turning towards you as you tugged down on your skirt, making sure it hadn’t ridden up. She was outlining her soulmark, you noticed, the dark lines stretching along her palm almost dark as the night sky, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. You could picture it on Todoroki’s, could see the mark you’d memorized and tried to wish away like a movie playing in your subconscious. They probably traced eachother’s all the time, probably had dreamed their whole lives of meeting the other and lucky for them they had. Lucky for them they had someone who matched them, they got to love the person they wanted to love and didn’t have to hide it under blankets of self loathing.

From the time you were a child it was all you heard about, soulmates, how magical and wonderful it would be when you met them. Everyone talked about it, about how that one person was the only one meant for you, society ensuring that with the laws preventing non-soulmate relationships over a certain age. There were people who didn’t like it, those who found the laws oppressive and out of date, considering most people ended up with their soulmate anyway, but fighting back was pointless. It was all so ingrained into society at this point, the nursery rhymes you’d sing at recess even laced with the messages of your one and only being the one you matched marks with.

They always said the only person you’d truly love would be your soulmate, and maybe that was why ignoring how strongly you felt for Todoroki hurt so much. Because he wasn’t your soulmate, he didn’t match your mark and yet you’d fallen so damn in love with him it seemed impossible for your brain to accept he didn’t belong with you. Even there in his office, staring at the girl with a mark on her palm that was an exact copy of Todoroki’s, it felt wrong, like the burning in your chest was more than just jealousy. You loved him more than all the stars loved the night sky and you couldn’t help the thought that maybe you loved him more than Momo could.

“I like your necklace, by the way.” You paused your movements towards the door when she spoke up, spine tensing as your fingers subconsciously rose to toy with the pendant hanging from your neck. You turned back towards her, her eyes drawn to where your hand was, her lips spread in a half smile that curved downwards as her fingers curled, hand palming into a loose fist on her lap. “Todoroki gave it to you?”

She phrased it like a question but didn’t seem to want an answer, your lips parted slightly as you swallowed down hard. Your hand slipped away from the necklace, landing back at your side as you nodded once nonetheless, her eyes drifting away from the jewelry to instead float back up to your face, smile faded as she blinked a few times. The air felt heavier, more thick, like the unknown thoughts running through her head were clogging up the space, skin feeling too hot like suddenly you had on a hundred layers of clothing.

“I found it one day, when I was doing the laundry. He’d forgotten to take it out of his jacket pocket before he tossed it in the hamper. I actually had thought it was a present for me. ” Her voice had dropped in volume, her head shaking as she exhaled all the oxygen from her lungs and took a quick glance at the necklace again. Your stomach felt like it dropped, like it had been filled with cement and was too heavy to stay put, an irrational sense of guilt crawling up your spine from the look on her face. She looked wounded and confused, wistful but unaware of what she wanted to say, mouth opening and closing twice before she finally spoke. “Is something going on between the two of you?”

“What?” You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, surprised by her rather upfront question, and judging by the way her eyes widened momentarily she must not have meant to be so forward. She cleared her throat, pursing her lips and exhaling heavily as she looked out the windows again, your fingers curling into your palms to close into tight fists to hide how they were shaking.

“Do you like Todoroki?”

“Sorry about that.” Todoroki’s rush back into room cut off anything you would have said, lips parted and pulse pounding in your eardrums as you took a step back towards the door. It felt like you’d been caught red handed doing something you shouldn’t, like you were a little kid with their hands shoved into the cookie jar before dinner. Todoroki’s palm landed on your back as you stumbled slightly into him, his eyebrows raised when he focused down on you, hair falling onto his forehead like he’d just combed his fingers through it. “You okay?”

“I have to go.” The words tumbled out as you stepped away from the warmth of his palm, ignoring his fingers as they tried to grasp onto your wrist, clearly confused as to why you were hurrying out. You could feel Momo staring at the pair of you, could sense Todoroki’s apprehension to just let you run off so clearly bothered. You knew he wouldn’t follow you, not with Momo there, his soulmate, with her perfect packed lunch for him waiting on his table top.

It was like you were in a haze, barely anything registering in your eardrums as you walked back into your office, sitting down to riffle through the papers waiting for you on the desk, eyes moving over the words but not reading them. You couldn’t feel anything besides the pounding in your chest, the force so strong it felt like it might burst through your ribcage and fall onto your keyboard.

You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to handle the situation or the question she’d thrown at you. What would she do if she found out you were in love with her soulmate? Would she keep him away from you and cut off the thing you cared about most. Did she know for a fact you liked Todoroki or was she just insecure? Was it that painfully obvious you were completely in love with him? If she knew you liked Todoroki, than did he know? It felt like the room was spinning and no one else could notice but you, like the walls were caving in and on them was written all of your secrets, ready to swallow you whole.

All the worst case scenarios were flooding into your conscious and making your eyes burn, eyes squeezing shut, the paper fluttering between your fingers as your hands slightly shook from your nerves. It felt like all your emotions had skyrocketed and you didn’t know how to handle it. You simultaneously wanted to call Todoroki to listen to him talk until you calmed down and wanted to run as far away from him as possible, wanted to lock yourself in a room where no one could see you anymore. It was all too much for you to deal with alone but was too heavy of a secret to spill on anyone else.

Who exactly could you tell that you were madly in love with your closest friend and his soulmate had perhaps figured that out?

Who could you tell that your world felt like it was about to fall apart?

Sometimes when you were thinking too much your eyes stopped focusing, the world becoming fuzzy as all your attention poured into daydreams rather than what was right in front of you. It felt like a filter, like you’d applied a blur to the colors coming from your laptop, barely registering the sounds of laughter pouring from the speakers. You could fall into a fog when you were like that, could get so distracted away from the world around you with a few dazed blinks at nothing in particular. It always seemed to happen when you had the most on your mind, the loss of focus, your quiet breathing the background noise to the scenarios running through your mind.

Right now those scenarios were all about Todoroki.

You’d been thinking about what Momo said all afternoon, that alone enough to make a wave of panic ripple through your gut. She’d looked so distant, so unreadable but somehow intimidating, like she had your entire world in her palms and didn’t realize it yet. You questioned how long she’d been thinking about it, if finding the necklace from Todoroki was what spurred her self doubt or if she’d known from the first time she answered his phone for him and found you on the other end. You wondered if it poured out of you so visibly that everyone knew but just hadn’t had the heart to shut you down, that you were a silent laughing stock to the haves, the only have not there seemed to be who didn’t know their place.

Your lungs deflated as your lids fell shut, feet shuffling beneath the blanket covering your legs, the sounds of the stupid action film playing on your laptop coming to a stop when you blindly reached out and smacked at the keyboard. The enveloping silence was both too quiet and too loud, letting your thoughts run rampant until they were so aggressive they felt like blood chilling screams. You didn’t know what to do or where to go now, you didn’t know how to handle a situation that hadn’t even happened yet. There were too many what ifs, too many possibilities for how Momo’s question came about and too many options for how bad the outcome from it would be.

You’d never imagined loving someone would be so messy when you were growing up, always idolizing that passion for another human being as something almost magical, something otherworldly. Everyone made it seem like once you found it nothing else would matter, that the world would stop being so loud until all you could feel was that love in your chest. No one told you how bitter it would be, how acrid the taste in your mouth would be watching the person you loved be with someone else. No one took the time to sit you down and tell you maybe things wouldn’t work out how you wanted, no one set you aside and traced the gold on your palm to warn you maybe you wouldn’t be as lucky as everyone else.

No one told you back then that maybe you’d be alone now.

No one told you that love was only magical when someone was loving you back.

The buzzing beside your thigh made your lids flutter open, the fuzzy light still coming from your computer painting your legs the color of a blue sky. You squinted at your cell phone, blinking rapidly as Todoroki’s name came into focus flashing across the front. He’d texted you a few times since you rushed off so suddenly earlier, always able to tell when something was bothering you even when you wouldn’t admit it. He had a way of knowing things about you before you knew them yourself, always noticing little quirks and habits that he’d point out before you realized you even had them. He knew you better than you did and at times it made it harder to ignore how strongly you felt for him, made it scarier to imagine moving far enough away you wouldn’t see his face everyday.

Part of you was tempted to let it ring, to ignore his voice just a little longer, to try and peel yourself away from the strong hold he had on you without even realizing it. You didn’t know if he’d talked to Momo, if she told him her suspicions and was now just calling to let you down easy, didn’t know if he was calling to tell you he couldn’t be around you anymore because it caused her discomfort. You didn’t know if you could listen to him reject you, didn’t think you could handle how crestfallen you’d be if he quietly whispered that he couldn’t see you again. You didn’t know what you’d do if your worse case scenario was true and Todoroki was about to be ripped away from you, but the stronger part of your will power was desperate to hear his voice ringing in your ear drum, regardless of the words coming from his parted lips.

“Hello?”

“Thank gosh, I was starting to get worried.” His relieved sigh made your lips tug slightly up into a smile on your cheeks, picturing the way his hand was probably tugging through his hair in his bedroom, his legs folded up like a little kid. “You weren’t texting me back all afternoon.”

“Sorry, I was just sort of out of it.” Your lips pressed into a thin line as you leaned back in your bed, palm resting flat on your stomach, the huge t-shirt that was serving as a pajama top bunching around your waist. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“It’s alright.” He hummed for a moment, ears picking up on the sound of his bedroom window being pulled shut, before he let out a heavy puff of air, presumably moving to sit back down on his oversized bed. You wondered if he was alone in it, gut churning picturing Momo there beside him, nerves swelling with the unknown of where this conversation was going. “You just rushed out so fast earlier I thought I’d done something. You don’t usually ignore my texts and I guess I just thought the worst.”

His faint chuckle at his own worry made your chest ache, eyes squeezing shut in relief that Momo hadn’t said anything to him, or at least if she hadn’t he didn’t seem to be taking it to heart. You still felt apprehensive, shaken up, like you were on the edge of a cliff and unsure of how good your balance was anymore. It was soothing to hear his voice nonetheless once you got over the initial panic, swallowing hard to get down the rock formed in your esophagus before you spoke.

“You worry too much, Todoroki.”

“Only about you.” The laugh that followed the syllables made your lungs feel empty of oxygen, body rolling onto its side and face nuzzling slightly in the pillow. If you closed your eyes tight enough you could almost imagine it was Todoroki’s chest you were burying yourself against, could almost smell his cologne you’d memorized the scent of long ago. It was like you were intoxicated and the only think you’d ever tasted was him, like was your drug of choice and biggest addiction, one you didn’t want to worry about the consequences from. “I can’t stand when you’re mad at me. “

“I’m hardly ever mad at you.”

“Remember that time I broke your coffee table and you didn’t talk to me for a week?”

It was so easy to fall back into him, so easy to let the conversation flow naturally into your eardrums with him giggling through the phone and rambling everytime you responded. It was simple, loving him, when the rest of the world was quiet. It was easier to love him from afar, through the safety of a phone where you could hang up and close yourself back off once it was over. It was more difficult to hide the stares when you were in front of him, harder to swallow back the praises you wanted to shout at him, to stop yourself from grabbing his hand and never letting go. When you were apart you could pretend everything was fine, you could close your eyes and imagine your soulmarks matched, that he was yours and he was close enough for you to touch. When you were in front of him you were reminded of everything you didn’t have, reminded every time you saw his palm that he already had his someone and it wasn’t you.

He made things feel easy, made the rhythm of you talking feel easy over the time that passed with him speaking to you through the phone. He chipped away at your unease and put a fog over the worries that had been burning into your brain, if only temporarily. His chatter about his afternoon and tangents about things you already knew were enough to make everything feel warmer, more gentle. He knew how to get to the deepest parts of you and brighten them, knew how to pull you from your own thoughts without much effort, in a way that you could only hope you did for him as well.

“I wish I was there right now.” His heavy sigh made you swallow, rolling onto your back as you took a peek at the alarm on your bedside table, reading the blinking red numbers with a muted yawn. You ignored the fluttering in your stomach at the idea, picturing him momentarily there in bed beside you, imagining how incredible he’d look with his hair all fused up and his chest rising and falling like the rhythm of a slow ballad.

“I’m sure Momo will be back soon from her parents, it’s not like you’ll be home alone that much longer.” Her name sounded foreign coming from your tongue but you tried to ignore it, arching your back and moving your legs as you tried to pry the blanket up from underneath you, slipping it over your body soon after. It was soft, like the texture of a those giant teddy bears people got for valentines day, the same color of the sun the sky had been wearing that morning.

“She probably will, but that wasn’t what I meant.”

You paused momentarily as his words floated through the phone, unsure of what to say to that, not positive what exactly he meant. It made your pulse quicken, pounding in your fingertips and eardrums like you’d just run a marathon in the middle of summer. He seemed to be contemplating how to continue, judging from the deep breathe you heard him suck in before he spoke again, voice somehow more gentle than before.

“I wish I was there in your bed, in your apartment, with you.” He paused and cleared his throat slightly, the sound of him flopping onto his pillows melding with the car honking as it drove by down below on the street. “I miss you.”

“You saw me a few hours ago.” You laughed faintly, heart in your throat and pounding so violently it was hard to breathe, something about his tone and choice of words feeling more intimate than you were used to with him. Suddenly the phone didn’t feel like it was giving you much distance from him, felt like it was making you more vulnerable without seeing his face to try and work out what was going on inside his head.

“I don’t care, I miss you.” His voice dropped in volume, your lids falling shut as you took a heavy breathe, one that felt like it wasn’t enough oxygen even with your lungs swelled like close-to-popping balloons. “I miss your laugh and your smile and that look you get when you stare out the window too long and forget what we were talking about. I love when you do that, have I ever mentioned that to you? I love when you get all embarrassed or angry and try to act like you were listening to a single thing I said.”

“What are you doing, Todoroki?”

“I love your soulmark too. I know you hate talking about it and hate seeing it even more but it’s so beautiful. It’s the prettiest shade of gold, it reminds me of what the sun looks like right before it sets.” He ignored the slight wave to your voice as his kept getting softer through his rambles, your hands shaking as you used one to grip the blanket around your waist. It felt like the room was spinning, like your brain couldn’t keep up with the things tumbling past his lips. “Sometimes I wish mine looked like that. Sometimes I wonder how different things would be if mine matched yours.”

You nearly dropped the phone, your lips pressing into a thin line to stop yourself from saying anything. Your eyes burned as you squeezed them shut, trying not to make a sound as you let the words replay in your head, fingers shaking as you gripped the blanket tighter. It was something you’d thought about a lot as well, about how desperately you wished your marks matched, about how different things would be if he was your soulmate. It was almost strange to hear him saying it, like you were daydreaming rather than being awake, like your dream had come a reality but was laced with a nightmare.

“I was so disappointed that day in the park, when I ran into you and I saw your palm when you went to brush off your sweater. Fuck my stomach just sank to my feet, like someone kicked me in the chest and tried to bash my ribcage in.” His bitter laugh sounded thick, too loud for how mutely he was speaking, your teeth clamping down onto your bottom lip in an attempt to stop yourself from letting him know there were stray tears slipping down your temples onto your cotton pillowcase. “I never hated my own soulmark before that, I never wanted so badly for it to go away or be someone else’s instead. ”

“Don’t say things like that.” Your voice shook as you interjected him, sniffling once as you shook your head reverently on the bed, the room feeling too small, the air too hot, heart still like a drumbeat in your eardrums.

“I wanted it to be you so bad.”

You didn’t bother hiding the quiet cry that fell from your lips as you rolled over onto your side and pressed your cheek into the damp pillow, muscles too tight from how hard you were trying to hold yourself together. It felt right and wrong, it sounded like heaven and hell, hearing him tell you how damn much he wanted you to be his one, because it was what you wanted all along. You’d always wanted Todoroki, you’d wanted him since that day in the park and him finding a soulmate hadn’t changed that.

But even if he meant the words past his somewhat tired and rambling state of speaking out loud it didn’t matter. Even if he was as in love with you as you were with him, the two of you could never happen, it was never and would never be allowed. Todoroki had a soulmate, and by law he had to be with her. You would never be allowed to touch his skin or kiss his lips, you’d never get permission to marry him someday or fall in love with the eyes of the world watching you. You could never have Todoroki, even if somehow what he was saying held as much weight as it felt like it did. Even if you both loved eachother, you couldn’t be in love, and that was what crushed you the most.

“Todoroki?” You could faintly make out the sound of Momo’s voice as she called out in the background, cutting off Todoroki as he cleared his throat to say something else, your eyes snapping open, like someone had woken you up from a too deep sleep. Without thinking you pulled the phone from your ear, hitting end and tossing it away to the end of the bed, like it’d been on fire and you’d only now realized.

Everything felt twisted now, more confusing than before, because Todoroki had never said anything like that to you. He’d never brought up that day you two met in the park, never said that he’d felt as stopped in his tracks as you had been. He never told you that he wished his palm looked like yours, never informed you of how angry it made him that you didn’t match, how much he hated his own palm after seeing yours.

Todoroki had a soulmate, he had Momo, and he was supposed to be with her, but the words that had tumbled from his lips felt like ones he’d been stopping himself from saying for a long time. He sounded lost, confused, desperate for someone or something to give him a sign on what he was supposed to do, what all the things he’d bottled up meant. You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to handle the world piling all of this onto you, onto your already fragile heart and weaning self acceptance. You didn’t know how you were supposed to stop yourself from loving someone when he was making you feel like somewhere in the back of his mind, he loved you back.

Your hands rose, covering the entirety of your face as you cried quietly into them, chest shaking as you choked on the air you tried to get down, everything feeling like too much once again. You were exhausted and wide awake simultaneously, desperate to sleep but scared of what you’d dream. You didn’t know didn’t know what was the right thing to do and what was the wrong, and weren’t sure which path you even wanted to take. You felt like the world had swallowed you whole, like you were thrown down a pit and left to figure out how to pull yourself free.

There in your bedroom with his whisper of how much he’d wished you’d been made for him replaying in your head, you had never felt more confused.

[previous chapter] - [next chapter]

#todoroki shouto #shouto #todoroki #todoroki x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #milk and tea fic #todoroki fluff #todoroki angst #todoroki smut

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years

Text

placing bets

request from anon: A fluffy, soft, and pining George please? Like, he was really young when he fell in love with her upon first meeting—he made a joke that caused her to laugh, and he just found it to be the most beautiful sound and was smitten ever since. 😭❤️

word count: 3.9k

A/N: i love a pining, head over heels, irrevocably in love george with a girl who knows it and is totally going to make him work... bye i’m crying

tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @bobduncanlover @dreamer821 | message me if you’d like to be added!

Your laugh seems to echo across the entire Quidditch pitch. Okay, not really, but it’s both loud and soft at the same time in George’s ears, and it floats in the air between you both, and he’s desperately clinging to the sound of it—just like he does whenever you laugh. Just like he did when you were both eight years old and met for the first time in the village outside of Ottery St. Catchpole all those years ago, after having shown you a magic trick when you giggled yourself into oblivion.

In love with you right then, he was.

“You’re not allowed to laugh at me,” he teases you now. His voice is calm and steady in his ears and he’s thankful that he doesn’t sound as nervous as he feels. He rebalances himself on his broomstick after nearly falling off and peers at you with a smirk.

“I’m sorry—but you can’t expect me to not laugh when you do something as silly as try and surf on your broomstick, George.”

His feet finally touch the ground, and much to his dismay he sees the rest of the team emerging from the changing rooms, undoubtedly gearing up for tryouts. He swallows over a lump in his throat when both Harry and Fred nod at him from the other end of the pitch. He knows he’s a fantastic bloody beater, but the fact that you’re going to be watching tryouts with Ron, Ginny, and Hermione are making him feel less confident than before. He stands up straighter to try and push these feelings away. It doesn’t work. You seem to notice.

“Hey,” you say after a moment and place a hand on his shoulder, “you’ll be great. Just try not to fall off of your broom this time, okay?”

A laugh escapes his lips and he says to you as you make your way toward the stands, “Well I bloody hope I don’t fall, since I’ll be spending the majority of this tryout doing my very best to impress you, anyway.”

You roll your eyes at his comment, but he sees a rosy pink color flood your cheeks. “Best focus on the bludgers, Georgie, don’t want any of them to whack you, yeah?”

He laughs again, takes a deep breath, and turns toward his teammates. Fred is looking at him with raised eyebrows and a laugh so sweet it could cure an illness. Once he realizes that you’re now out of earshot, Fred teasingly slings an arm around his twin’s shoulders, turns to Harry and asks, “He’s been in love for the longest bloody time—how much longer d’you reckon before he finally does something about it?”

“I dunno, mate,” Harry says and kicks George playfully in the shin, “he’s been pining for what—eight, nine years now? Give it another five or so, I reckon he’ll be able to maybe ask her out then.”

“I’ll be sure to send bludgers toward the both of you today, then,” George replies with a mischievous grin as the other two fall into raucous laughter. He peers up at the stands, easily finding you sitting with his siblings and Hermione, and when you finally look up and meet his gaze, you wiggle your eyebrows at him, and wink.

Like George seriously needs to be sent into overdrive before what is arguably the most important Quidditch tryout of his entire life. He does his hardest to nudge Fred very hard in the ribs when all he can hear are snickers and kissing noises in his ear.

— -

George peers up at the very dark, cloudy gray ceiling in the Great Hall. He absolutely hates it when it rains. He’s looking particularly grumpy as he listens to the thunder clap outside the tall windows. He’s sipping rather moodily on his pumpkin juice when you plop down next to him and say, “Brighten up, would you, Weasley? Why the long face?”

“It’s raining,” Fred replies before George can catch his breath and answer you himself, “Georgie hates it when it rains.”

“Why?” you ask suddenly, scooping a bit of vegetables onto your dinner plate, “We’ve known each other for so long, how have I never known this about you? I love it when it‘s raining! The sound of the pitter-patter on the roof, the way the grounds smell right before a rainstorm—it’s absolutely beautiful.”

“Don’t ramble on too much, Y/N,” Fred says, again. George can’t seem to get a word in edgewise. “George might just try and make it rain all the bloody time if you love it so much.”

You turn to George, who’s rib cage is being flooded with butterflies. He tries to ignore it. He grins cheekily at you when you raise your eyebrows and inquire, “Is that so? Trying to impress me more, are you?”

“Can’t help myself,” he replies with a wink.

“I’ll get you to enjoy the rain one day—for real. You can count on it. You’ve got to find the beauty in everyday life.”

He wants to tell you, when he peers into your sparkling eyes and feels the nerves grow stronger, that he already does find the beauty in everyday life. Instead, he asks, “Mmm, is that a promise?”

“Most definitely.”

“If you don’t mind,” Fred stands up from his place across from you and looks in the direction of Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny and winks at his twin, “I’m going to go and have a chat with that lot while George continues to embarrass himself with his rubbish flirting.”

George is upset when he realizes that Fred is far enough away from him that he’s unable to kick him quite hard underneath the table. But then, much to his surprise—and delight—you respond to Fred with, “His flirting isn’t rubbish.” Then, you turn to George with a slight little smirk and continue, “it’s quite cute, actually.”

George finds himself biting down on his lip to keep from smiling too much as he watches you twirl your spoon carefully in your fingers. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I swear to Merlin,” Fred says under his breath, but both you and George are still able to hear him.

“Oi! Get over here, you three!” Ron calls from a few seats down. Hermione rolls her eyes when he continues, “We’re placing bets on how the Hufflepuff versus Slytherin match is going to go next week—first of the year!”

Fred jumps in between Ginny and Ron and begins animatedly discussing the first match. To you, George shrugs his shoulders and says, “We’ve been summoned.”

“Too bad,” you say, picking up your bag to take your spot next to Hermione before continuing with a bit of flirty sarcasm in your voice, “that little smirk of yours was getting me all flustered.”

The banter between you both hardly gets George all worked up anymore. In fact, it’s pretty normal for the two of you, and has been for years. But sometimes, he finds himself thinking now, you’ll say something, or do something, or bat those beautiful long eyelashes at him and he feels nothing but nervousness take him over. This is one of those times. You notice the tension rising between you both, alongside the cherry red color now flooding his face. You squeeze his arm and say playfully, “C’mon now, Georgie—we’ve got bets to place.”

Another bout of nervousness creeps up on him when you pull him by his arm and you place yourself down next to Hermione. Harry, Ginny and Fred are all discussing the upcoming matches very animatedly, Ron is pulling at his hair due to confusion and stress, Hermione is immersed in her spell book, but when George looks down, all he can focus on is the very small amount of space on the bench between his hand and yours.

— -

The sun is flooding the Hogwarts grounds, and it’s quite warm for an autumn afternoon. George, Fred, Lee, Harry, Ron, and Neville are all sitting beneath a tree near the water’s edge, certainly not working on the assignments they’d planned on doing, but instead, engaging in what could only be described as tomfoolery and a complete and utter waste of time.

Fred is laying in the grass, one hand behind his head, the other twirling his wand in between his fingers. He’s saying something to the others, there’s a bit of mock laughter floating through the air, but all George can do is watch you up near the castle, immersed in a conversation with Ginny and Luna and a few other students, and he can’t help but smile as he watches you place your bag gently on the ground and proceed to engage in some type of hopscotch-like jumps.

When Lee throws his hands up at the fact that George is completely ignoring him, Ron shoves his older brother playfully and says to the others, “You’ll have to excuse him.”

“You see,” Fred continues, “little Georgie here is quite in love—”

“—and he can’t seem to focus on anything,” Harry finishes.

“Shove off,” George retorts before sticking out his foot to trip Ron, which sends his younger brother into the grass while another roar of raucous laughter echoes across the grounds.

“So Georgie,” Ron says, getting to his feet and brushing the dirt off of his robes, “today the day then, mate? Finally going to tell her how you feel?”

Fred chimes in with his eyes closed, “He doesn’t need to tell her how he feels, he makes it rather obvious, doesn’t he? I reckon she’s known for years.” In his heart of hearts, George knows this, too. He doesn’t exactly hide the fact that he’s mad for you. But he wonders, now, as he watches you laugh at something Ginny says, if you know deep down how he truly feels. Do you just see it as him being playful, overly friendly—flirting just for the sake of it? Or can you really tell that he actually does have feelings for you?

It’s as if his thoughts alone call out like a signal to you, because he’s taken by surprise when you peer up at him when he’s not fully prepared, and you wink. And there they are. Those butterflies again. He smirks mischievously at you.

“Settle down, you lot,” Fred says rather politically to the crowd of rambunctious boys. George finds himself finally coming back to the conversation after being a bit distracted yet again. Always letting his mind wander, he is. “All in favor of placing bets on when Georgie, here, finally makes a move? Yes, Lee—I am planning on winning this one, actually, nobody knows my twin better than me.”

“I’d like in on these bets,” George says suddenly, taking the entire group by surprise.

“You can’t place a bet on yourself,” Ron says through laughter.

Harry and Neville say together, “I think he should be allowed.” Harry continues, “Would make for quite the adventure, don’t you reckon?”

Fred peers at George, who’s standing now, with his hands in his pockets, glimpsing back and forth between you and his friends, waiting patiently for his twin to make a decision. A very slow decision, George comes to realize.

“Alright then, George,” Fred finally agrees, sticking out his hand for a very professional, firm handshake, “you’re in. What’ve you got for us?”

“Give me a week,” George says. A week? There’s no denying that George Weasley’s a confident bloke, but when it comes to confessing his feelings to the girl he’s been pining over for years, well—even hearing himself say it now sends a bit of a chill down his spine. “Seven days. If I don’t do anything by Sunday evening’s feast, you lot win. Alright?”

George looks around the group, each and every one of the boys has raised eyebrows. But they all nod in agreement, and the feeling of dread suddenly looms over George—he can handle it though, can’t he? Fred notices his skittishness and says with a bit of a smirk, “See you on the other side, mate.”

— -

It’s been four and a half days since George stupidly decided to get involved in Fred’s antics, and the boys have absolutely no problem reminding him that less than seventy-two hours remain for him to finally “make a bloody move already.” This isn’t helping George’s nerves—nor are the winks you’re sending him from across classrooms, as your entire friend group is creating mischief right under your nose.

“Hey, wait up!” Your voice bounces off of the walls in the corridors as you frantically hurry through the sea of students to catch up with George, who’s heading to Potions with Fred, rather reluctantly, of course. Fred begins trying to poke George in the ribs, winks, and vanishes before you can even notice he’s there, leaving you and George alone near the entrance to the dungeons.

“Hey you,” he says and immediately regrets how cheesy it sounds in his own ears. Quick to hide the fact that he’s very embarrassed, he continues, “what’s going on?”

“What’s going on with all of you?” you ask curiously. “Fred keeps telling me that we’re all in for a rather exciting weekend, but as far as I’m concerned, I have absolutely nothing planned except to sit outside and read. Yes, a very wild few days, I know—” you say when George stifles a bit of laughter, “—so, you want to tell me what you have planned? Some sort of major prank, or something?”

You’re essentially giving him an opening and George isn’t sure why he’s not just asking you out right now. It’s the perfect opportunity! Not yet, he thinks. There’s still around seventy-something hours, or so. Instead, he opts to go for something different. “Oh, erm, there’s some—Gryffindor bloke who’s been mad for this girl for years and hasn’t told her yet, so we’ve all placed bets on when he’ll finally do something about it—next few days, apparently..”

“Really?” you ask, intrigued. You wiggle your eyebrows at him and clutch your books tighter in your arms. “Who is it?”

“Can’t tell you that, Y/N,” George replies with a smirk, “That’d be breaking the rules, wouldn’t it?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, fine, I’m not even going to try and argue. How much time has he got left?”

George swallows thickly, thinking of the ticking clock, and says, “Til Sunday evening.” The words sound foreign in his mouth. He can feel his face flush and much to his dismay, you certainly seem to notice.

“Two and a half days, huh?” you ask, clicking your tongue. You inch forward to him and continue in a lower voice, “that’s not a lot of time, is it?”

George swallows again. He has a love, hate relationship with the effect you have on him. “No, certainly isn’t.”

“Think he’ll do it in time?”

“Well, he’s got too, hasn’t he?”

You send a mischievous grin his way, and he’s surprised he isn’t falling to the ground right now. He’s being supported by none other than caffeine and his own nerves. His heart is nearly pounding out of his chest when you look up at him with those sparkling eyes. He can tell now, by the look you’re giving him, that you’ve easily unraveled this. You know. You’ve got too. You’ve completely read him like a book and at this point you’re just teasing him mercilessly. He bites back a smile. “Certainly hope he does—can’t keep the poor girl waiting, can he?” you say now, taking one step closer to him, now just inches from one another. You place your hand on his arm, squeeze tightly, and shoot a teasing, cheeky grin in his direction. Then, you pull back, shrug your shoulders, take a deep breath, and leave George breathless before continuing down the corridor, “Anyway—see you later? Stay out of trouble, Weasley.”

You wink before vanishing completely. When you’re completely out of sight, George actually tightens the grip on his bag and falls back into the wall and to the ground in some sort of emotional, flustered chaos. He’s grinning from ear to ear and is feeling incredibly elated but also beyond frustrated at himself. He should be kissing you by now, but instead, he’s biting his lip in pain due to a sharp blow to his shin.

“You’re an idiot,” Fred says now, and George realizes he’s been hiding around a corner this entire time. “Like putty in her hands, you are. Pathetic. She just gave you an in, mate! And you didn’t even take it!” Ron and Harry are on the other end of the corridor, laughing at this exchange they’ve just witnessed, when they make their way over to the doubled-over George.

“Relax,” George tells them once he regains his balance. “I’ve got to lay the foundation, haven’t I? ‘M taking my time. Still have two and a half days, like she said.” Foundation. You two have known each other for years already.

Fred slings both arms around Ron and Harry and glances cheekily at his twin brother, shaking his head in utter disappointment. “Maybe so, Georgie. But I reckon you’re still an idiot.”

— -

George slumps into the Great Hall rather begrudgingly, not at all looking forward to this feast. At the Gryffindor table are Fred, Ron, Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Lee, Neville and many others who look up and begin to clap sarcastically at the sight of him. George narrows his eyes at them and sits down on one of the benches and places his head directly onto the table.

“Why so glum, Georgie?” Ginny and Hermione ask teasingly.

As predicted by the others, George unfortunately had let time run out. Many opportunities had been handed to him, of course, but had he seized any? No. He absolutely hadn’t. Fred sticks out a hand and nods to the others to follow suit. “Cough it up, mate. One sickle each.”

“Oi, let the poor bloke wallow a bit first,” Ron jokes. George is already feeling poorly. He’d been so stressed about this stupid bet that he forgot to hand in his Herbology assignment, he had an absolutely rubbish Quidditch practice yesterday, and, on top of it all, the gloomy, rainy weather outside is not helping to lift his spirits at all. He groans. In a voice muffled by his face leaning directly on the table, he says to nobody in particular, “I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot who’s in love and I reckon I will be forever.” The others do their best to try and stifle some mock laughter, but George can’t help to let a small, pathetic laugh escape his lips, too.

“It’s alright, then,” Neville says in a low voice, “you don’t have to pay me. I know first hand just how scary it can be..” he glances in the direction of a shy looking Hufflepuff.

But then, when George looks up and rubs his eyes due to exhaustion, he notices a couple entering the entrance of the Great Hall. A Ravenclaw boy is draping his own robes over a tiny Slytherin girl who, by the looks of it, unfortunately has just been caught in that rainstorm outside. Together they huddle closer to one another, laughing at the sight of her drenched clothes and hair. George stands up, quickly throws a bunch of sickles onto the table in front of his friends and says to nobody in particular, “Reckon I can still win in the end!” He’s just got to get over himself.

“No,” Fred laughs through a mouthful of potatoes, looking down at the sickles on the table, “it’s quite obvious that you’ve definitely lost this one, mate.”

But George ignores this, and instead runs through the crowd of students and out of the Great Hall and straight out into the rain. The wind is rather blustery, he comes to realize. Two seconds outside and his clothes are already soaked through, but he’s not regretting his decision—not when he sees you splashing in a puddle a few feet away. He smiles genuinely at the sight of you.

“Hey!” you yell over the howling wind. Your voice continues to soften as he gets closer to you, “You told me you don’t like the rain! If you’ve been lying to me this entire time, then, I suppose you owe me a Butterbeer in Hogsmeade.”

You’re quite a sight to behold. Your white button down shirt is soaked through, tie askew, cardigan wet and dripping and shoes covered in mud. Your soaked hair is plastered to the sides of your face, and your cheeks are the natural rosy color they always are, but it seems to make your eyes sparkle even more so than usual. You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You bite down on your lip as George walks over to you, his uniform completely drenched from the rain, and he brushes your hair out of your face and presses his lips to yours.

And first kisses are meant to be chaste, soft, innocent—but nothing George Weasley does is ever innocent. He smiles against you, biting on your bottom lip just a bit before melting into you again, his hands wrapped tightly around the back of your neck, his fingers getting entangled in your wet hair. It’s eager and hungry and desperate. He can feel your hands slip underneath his shirt, spread out over his ribs and abdomen and hip bones, and soft, small moans escape his lips in the surprise of the moment.

When the two of you finally pull apart, he peers closely at the droplets of water on your eyelashes, falling down your cheekbones every single time you blink, “It’s a date.”

You peer down at your watch, noting the time and peering inside the entrance to the castle in the direction of the Great Hall. With a sensual smirk, you ask him, “So—that bloke lose the bet then?”

“Yeah, he did,” George tells you now. The wind is picking up, the rain coming down sideways now. He swallows over a lump in his throat but lets out a small laugh, “but a few lost sickles isn’t a big deal—not compared to what he won, at least.”

You sling your arms around his neck and run your hands through his wet hair, teasing him slightly, “Well at least he finally did something about it.”

“Sorry it took me so long, darling.”

“No apologies needed,” you reply, leaving light kisses against his lips, “but you owe me, now.”

“Yeah, the Butterbeer in Hogsmeade.” he agrees, tightening his grip around your waist, eager to get his lips back on yours, “haven’t we established this?”

You throw your head back and let hearty laughter escape your lips. “You’re adorable. No, my love, you owe me for lost time. Best find a way to sneak up to the girls dormitory tonight—and don’t get caught.”

He laughs fully now, poking you in the ribs as nervousness and adrenaline course through his veins. He’s counting down the seconds until he can, undoubtedly, fly in through your open window tonight. You pull on his shirt to get him back into the castle; there’s no part of your bodies or clothing that are dry now. But he grabs your hands and pulls you back toward him, still standing directly in line of the rain and the wind, and he continues to move fat strands of wet hair out of your face. “What’re you doing, Georgie? Thought you didn’t like the rain?”

He wraps his hands around the back of your neck again and pulls you closer. Against your lips, he says through a cheeky grin, “I reckon I can get used to it now.”

reblogs & feedback are always greatly appreciated!

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Workout.”

Forgive me for being short today, But I have a Russian test in less than an hour, and it is on numbers which is the most excruciating part of this language lol.

Hope you all have a good day :)

The human pulled to a stop huffing and puffing, hands on his knees as he took in great big breaths. Krill could see ribs through his skin as the great bellows expanded and then contracted. Sweat slicked the skin as the body desperately tried to cool itself.

“Heart rate 165.”

The human straightened himself out coughing once or twice to clear his throat, reaching out and wiping his face with a towel.

He threw the towel over one shoulder and stretched the large muscle groups in his chest, stomach and back pulling tight.

Sunny leaned against the wall just to their right both sets of arms crossed over her chest, “So, what is this supposed to be fore. Is this like a dominance thing or something.”

The human wiped his face again and raised an eyebrow, “IT’s exercises, Sunny. You know so I can be fit enough to pass the UNSC PT exam, or perhaps so that I can do my job better, or maybe because I look better whenI’m more fit.

Sunny turned her head to look at him, her eyes scrunching down a little as Krill went to take notes on a clipboard.

“You mean…. You didn’t just grow to being that size?’

The human glanced down at Krill incredulous, “IS she serious? Do the Drev like, not have to work out?”

Krill shook his head, “Drev do not have subcutaneous fat deposits like humans do. Any acquired deposits are stored below the carapace between the connective tissue, padding them down and giving them more protection.”

Sunny looked between them in confusion, “Wait, hold on…. I’m confused.”

The human towelled off his hair, “I have to work out to look like this sunny. IF i don’t use it, I lose it.”

She turned to look at Krill.

He tucked the holo-pad under one arm, “You see, Sunny. Humans are meant to adapt. They can adapt mentally, and they can adapt physically. The body changes to match the requirements of its environment. Sometimes this takes years to do, for instance if you take a light skinned population of humans and put them somewhere with a lot of sun, and keep that population in complete isolation, after a few generations, the skin will darken to compensate for the increased UV light. However these things happen on a smaller level. The body fluctuates to adapt to the amount of physical work which is required.”

The human nodded, “Exactly. Running strengthens the heart, and it increases the hemoglobin in my blood, so that I can run for a longer time with more oxygen. If I were to stop running, I would loose all of that and have to work back up.”

Sunny stared at him incredulous, “So, you have to force your body to be able to perform correctly. Like, It can’t just DO what it needs to do, but you have to convince it over years of training to be able to do what you want.”

The man shrugged, “Well anything sucks when you phrase it like that.” He turned and motioned them to follow, “Historically, humanity was evolved in an environment with little food. We ate a diet heavy in proteins, fiber, and natural carbs from fruit. Fat is an essential part of a human’s diet, but it is relatively difficult to find in nature because of this, the body adapted to make humans love and crave fatty and sugary foods for energy. Well since well into the twentieth eighteenth century, fatty foods were becoming commonplace, and easy to get our hands on, but the body wasn’t aware of that, so it continued to treat these new fatty foods the way our bodies would have treated them back when we were hunter/gatherers storing every last bit up for use later.”

Sunny followed after in fascination, “I see, so now you have…. Too much of a food that your body craves.”

The human looked over his shoulder, “You got it, and the body doesn’t know when to stop storing fat. It’ll just keep going. So if I were to sit on my ass all day eating chips, I would lose the muscle and I would get bigger as fat deposits were stored up for energy.”

Sunny shrugged, “What is the problem with that?”

The human tapped his chin lightly, “A few things, I guess. For me, at least, if I were to just stop working out, I wouldn’t be able to do my job as well, I wouldn't be able to run as far, or to jump as high, or to lift as much. And lifting myself up in a pullup would be impossible, and considering the amount of times we have all almost fallen off a cliff or had to haul ourselves up rope, you would think that would be a bad idea. Not to mention that the larger you are the harder your heart has to work as the blood supply is forced to expand, and since you aren't working out your heart it gets weaker but has to do more work, which --in turn-- increased the risk of heart issues. Compounding all that I wouldn't be able to sit in a cockpit or pilot a jet properly.”

Sunny shook her head, “That seems like a very… annoying model. You can never just relax. You always have to work to keep your body where it should be. And the amount of self control you have to have….”

The human laughed, “You have no idea how much self control I need when a box of doughnuts gets in my way.” He sighed, “Keeping my abs as been a real struggle, but the UNSC drilled some self discipline into me when I was still young.”

“So you weren't always this big.”

The human snorted, “no not in the slightest. In fact, I was so skinny, you could see my heart beating through my rib cage.

Sunny grimaced.

“Yeah I know, kinda gross. Those are your two directions. If you don’t work out your either super scary skinny, or you get a bit big. If you’re working out right you get muscles.” He turned around flexing proudly for them to outline the lines of his biceps, chest and stomach.

Sunny would have rolled her eyes back into her head, but she supposed, now that she knew he had to work for it, she was at least somewhat proud of him.

“Ok, I have a question then.”

“Shoot.”

“Can you get bigger?”

More laughter, “Oh yeah, totally, but I’m not THAT dedicated.”

They were just coming around a corner when the commander skidded to a halt eye to chest with an absolutely massive human.

Even sunny stepped back in surprise.

This human was large enough to look sunny in the eye, with shoulders about as wide as her, and a chest that looked like it could have benched a small car.

It was almost comical, a moment ago Sunny had assumed that the commander was a large human.

“Wow there big mean. I’’d rather not get steamrolled today, thanks.”

The large human glanced down at the commander.

“Sir.” He grunted before stepping around and walking up the hall.

Sunny watched him go, “What do you have to do to get that big!”

“You practically have to live at the gym.”

They turned the corner walking into a large room, with strange machines of unknown use.

ANd in here there were humans of all sizes and shapes, but most of them absolutely massive. Those who lacked height, did not lack muscle.

Male humans, female humans, all of the above.

A tiny female human stood at one of these machines carrying a bar on her shoulders with enough weight that sunny assumed it might crush her. Instead she squatted down to the floor and stood back up.

The captain blinked, “Holy shit.” He motioned towards her, “She squats more than me by the way. You see these guys are insane. I work out to maintain, these guys do it because its their hobby.”

Krill floated upwards to whisper in sunny’s ear, “For the muscle to enlarge, the fibers must tear open, and then the body comes back and repairs the tear to withstand the pressures that tore it in the first place.

Sunny stared at Krill incredulously, “So you're telling me, they just…. Tear themselves apart to get like that.”

The Commander left them standing in place walking over to the wall and jumping upwards, catching his hands around a black bar welded to the wall, the muscles in his back, just below the shoulder blades flexed as he pulled himself upwards, the muscles in his shoulder blades rolling under the skin.

They continued to watch as the commander did his set, a little bit of everything for demonstration purposes. Getting off one of the leg machines, one of these large female humans walked past sitting where he had just sat reaching out pulling out the peg and and bringing the weight almost to the bottom of the plates.

The commander leaned in, “See her, she could probably crush your skull using just her legs.” He sighed, “Man, I only WISH I could be that badass.” He looked up at sunny, “Sometimes I come here just to knock myself down a peg.”

Across the room, one of these massive humans was hauling a huge bar lined with weight on either side up over his head like it was nothing.

“You see that, that would probably invert my spine if I tried to do it.” “Must you be so graphic?” Krill wondered

“Yeah, because that’s how much of a wuss I am.”

Looking around, Sunny wasn’t convinced entirely of his status as a wuss. He had all the requisite muscle groups of, even the largest humans, and more than some. There were great swatches of the human population who,even here, were missing some things.

A few of the humans had large arms, ut small legs, small legs, but large arms, no chest, or chest and no abdominal muscles.

Yes sure, he may have been smaller than their largest, but he WAS well rounded arms, chest, stomach, legs, back and shoulders.

She found herself surprised at the smug satisfaction in comparing her human to the other humans.

Sure her human couldn’t bench THAT much, but he also had better legs, so there.

“You ok, Sunny?”

She turned her head to look at him.

“Just thinking.” She said

He shrugged at her and returned to his work.

It’s hard to be a human.

They have to work for everything they have, especially when it comes to their body.

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kyber-kisses · 5 years

Text

Crimson Horror

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: graphic description of blood and wounds, spn level gore, angst, cursing, a little bit o fluff. Cauterization.

Summary: After getting separated on a hunt, the reader and Dean are desperate to find each other, but things don’t always go as planned.

A/N: This one is a bit longer than my usual one shots, but that just happens sometimes. This has been sitting in my drafts for awhile so I buckled down and finished it. Hope y'all enjoy, and my SPN taglist is still open!

Things had gone terribly wrong. Everything had gone to shit so damn quickly that Deans head was having trouble processing it. A hot mess. That’s what this whole thing was. A piping hot mess that he had no idea how to fix.

It was supposed to be a milk run. Just a simple vamp hunt. Everything had been going perfectly until the three of you had stepped into the old distillery. One vamp became two and then two became four, and soon enough it was a three against ten fight. Dean knew you could handle yourself, but he couldn’t help it that he kept trying to keep one eye on you, to make sure you were still standing. He had been back to back with Sam when the inevitable happened.

You were overpowered, your form quickly being swallowed by the monsters and blocking you from view. He had screamed your name until his lungs burned, but that too had quickly been cut short when a blunt object slammed against the side of his head, knocking him out cold. Sam quickly following suite.

And that’s how he found himself in this situation. Weak legs, a throbbing temple, and his wrists shackled above him. He had no clue as to where he was or where the rest of the vamps were, but all he cared about was making sure you and Sam were still alive.

“Dean? Oh thank god, I wasn’t sure you were gonna wake up.” Sam voice echoed through the space, making the older Winchester head whip around as he tried to look over his shoulder.

“Sammy! Are you okay?” Dean breathed, trying to get a good look at the figure slumped against the wall behind him, but the chains around his wrists halted him from doing so.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m all good. A little banged up, but that’s about it. They got me all tied up.”

“Damn it.” Dean paused, eyes scanning the otherwise empty room. “Have you seen Y/N? Do you know if she’s still alive?”

There was silence from the younger Winchester before he let out a shallow answer. “No. I don’t know where she is. The last time I saw her we were getting our asses handed to us.”

And just like that, Dean began to fear the absolute worse. You were nowhere to been seen, and neither were the vamps. Even if you had taken down several of the monsters, he couldn't stop replaying that moment where he saw you begin to drown in a sea of razor like teeth and sharpened fingernails.

“Do. . . Do you think she’s dead?” Says voice broke through the silence, his eyes bearing into the back of Deans head.

“”She’s not. She’s not. . . She can’t be.” He breathed, his head falling forward with exhaustion.

Just as he was about to open his mouth again, the door across the room burst open, and one very angry vampire came stalking into the small space.

“Well look who finally decided to join us.” She smirked, bright red lips twisting into a menacing grin as her eyes lit up.

“Where is she?” Dean barked, pulling against his shackles as he stared daggers into the woman.

“Where’s who?” She lightly questioned, shoving her hands into the leather jacket that clung to her frame, rocking on her heels. “Oh, you mean your pretty little friend?”

Deans jaw clenched, his fists along with it. “Where. Is. She.”

“Right where we left her. She’s probably still bleeding out on the main floor of the distillery, that is . . . If she’s not already dead.” She smiled again, lazily twisting a strand of dark hair around her index finger.

“Why? You’re a vampire, why would you leave a perfectly good meal lying out like that?” Sam spoke up again, shifting in his spot on the floor, trying to look around Dean.

“Why, because she wasn’t what we wanted. We were waiting for the infamous Winchesters. We couldn’t care less about her.” She explained.

Dean swore he could hear the blood pumping through his veins as he struggled against the shackles, the metal clinking when the chains connected. He needed to get to you. He needed to make sure you were still alive. He needed to save you.

“I’m gonna kill you. The second I’m out of these shackles I’m gonna separate your head from your shoulders.” He growled, a new fire blazing in his eyes as he stared at her.

The vampire only grinned, slowly stepping up to him, “Oh, you’re desperate to get to her, arnt you? I can see it in those candy apple eyes.” Gripping his chin in her bloodied hand, she leaned in closer, “I was planning on killing you both now, but now I’m thinking I should wait till her corpse is cold, and drag it in here. See the fear in your eyes before a drain you.”

Dean flexed his fingers, his arms beginning to go numb from being suspended above him for so long. How long had they been here anyways?

“You are seriously messed up in the head, Lady. I’ll tell you that much.”

“Yes, you’re probably right. But just to make sure, let’s have a little fun, why don’t we?” She grinned, her own fingers flexing as her nails glinted in the dim light.

*. *. *. *. *.

Weight.

That was the first thing you felt when you slowly blinked into consciousness. A crushing weight bearing over your chest, almost like you had a cinder block resting atop your rib cage. Mustering you what strength you could find in yourself, you shifted your arms, attempting to move the object off of you so you could breath.

You couldn’t see much, and you weren’t sure if it was due to the amount of force you had hit the ground with or the blood seeping into your vision, painting everything in a red lens. Or maybe it was a combination of both.

Pressing your hands against the object, you quickly realized it was not a block of cement, but actually a body. It was now unmistakable. Shoving the corpse off of you, you inhaled a lung full of oxygen, wheezing at the sharp pain.

You definitely had a broken rib . . . Or two. As you carefully sat up, your senses slowly began to kick back in. Your face felt weirdly stiff from the blood that currently caked it, not to mention- the air smelled heavily of copper. Eyesight slowly following suite, you soon made sense of where you were.

The light from the full moon split through the cracked windows across the large space, Illuminating the sea of vamp bodies you currently resided in, all heads separated from their bodies, the floor painted crimson, much like yourself. Thankfully you didn’t see Sam and Dean among them.

But that was now a whole other question? Where were they? They wouldn’t just leave you here. And judging by how cold the body was that you had touched, you had to have been here for almost a day. The blood on you already dry.

You had to find them. You had to find Sam and Dean.

Taking a deep breath, you braced your hands on the cold floor, attempting to push yourself to your feet.

And that’s when a whole new wave of pain swept through you, a anguished scream leaving your lips as you fell back. Looking down at your leg, that’s when you finally noticed the rather large knife buried hilt deep in your thigh. A Blade that you knew all too well because it was the one you carried with you on every hunt.

But you never expected to see it sticking out of your thigh.

And god was it painful. How you hadn’t noticed it before, you didn’t know. But the white hot pain that you felt had you biting your knuckles to stop the flow of screams and curse words.

You had to be careful. There was a good possibility that there were still vampires somewhere in the building, and if there were- they probably had Sam and Dean.

With ragged breaths, you pushed yourself back into a sitting position, doing your best to look at the damage with the minimal light you had. You shouldn’t take it out. At least not now. If you did, you had a good chance of bleeding out before you found them.

Which meant you only had one choice; you were gonna have to search this place while walking around with a big ass knife sticking out of your leg.

Just another Saturday night with the Winchesters.

Reaching across the floor, your fingers wrapped around the handle of your machete, using the weapon to help push yourself upright with a grunt. As a hunter, you had been bitten, scratched, thrown, punched, and kicked. And all the pain that came with it had sucked, but this? This took the cake.

“Looks like it’s up to me now to save your flannel clad asses, now.” You hissed lightly, your foot practically dragging against the concrete floor as you moved slowly towards what you could only assume to be the basement. “You two idiots better be alive . . . “

*. *. *. *. *. *.

Deans head whipped back as the vampire through yet another punch, the force of her fist vibrating through his jaw. He let out another groan, inhaling through his nose.

“God, you hit like a girl . . . That doesn’t know how to hit.”

Both he and Sam had lost track of how long they had been there. There were no windows, no clocks. Nothing to help them perceive what time it was . For all they knew, days could have gone by.

“You do know I still have a handful of vamps out in the hallway that are more than willing to come in here and help me, right?” She sighed, stepping back.

“Well then, let’s make it a party why don’t we?” Dean mocked, sending her a bloodied grin. He couldn’t help it. There was still something so satisfying about getting under a monsters skin and annoying them.

“With an attitude like that I’m thinking its time I go grab your friends body and drag it down here for you to see. Does that sound like a good idea?” She smiled back, seeing both brothers faces fall at the mention. Two could play at that game.

“You so much as lay a damn finger on her, and I will make sure you wish you were never born.” Dean threatened, once more pulling on the shackles binding him in place. At this point he had done it so much that the skin was basically raw beneath the metal.

“I’m sorry, aren’t you the one that’s chained up here?” She mused, stepping into the doorway before turning to look at him, eyebrows raised in amusement.

Deans jaw clenched once more. His hands itching for his machete which was god knows where.

“I won’t be too long. Don’t you worry.” She grinned again, giving the two a small wave.

But before she could fully turn, the glint of a blade flashed through the air, separating the female vamps head from her body almost silently. The body collapsing like a bag of rocks only to reveal you on the other side.

“Oh my god, Y/N.” Sam breathed, eyes taking you in much like Dean was. . . who had fallen silent with dread.

Of course he was glad to see you alive, but it looked like you had crawled out of hell itself. Your face caked in blood like much of your clothes. A good portion of it also in your hair. But the worse part was the blade buried in your thigh, most of the denim stained crimson and clinging to your leg. Your eyes glazed over like you weren’t fully there. Like you done with everything.

“Y/N.” Dean breathed, now struggling even more against his restraints, desperate to get to you and help, “please tell me you have the keys.”

You nodded slowly, heavily limping across the room towards him, your chest rising and falling as you took in shallow breaths. “Took em off a vamp just a few minutes ago.” Producing the keys, you slightly leaned against Dean, losing your strength to stand as you unlocked the shackles, pausing only so you could give Sam your machete so he could cut his bindings. You managed to get one of his cuffs off before thing went wrong . . . Again.

There was a shout from Sam, and before you could register what was happening, a lone vamp that you had clearly missed came barreling into you, sending you skidding across the floor.

Dean was close to dislocating his wrist as he tried desperately to wiggle his remaining hand out of the metal cuff. “Sam!” He yelled, his brother cutting the final binding from his legs before rushing forward.

Unfortunately before he could reach you, the vamp you were weakly grappling with yanked the blade harshly from your thigh, blood spurting out at an alarming rate and making you scream out in pain once more.

And then Sam ended it with one quick swipe to the vamps neck, his head rolling across the floor and thudding against the opposing wall.

Your hands flew to the now open wound as you gritted your teeth, trying to staunch the blood flow, but it only bubbled up through your fingers, soaking the fabric of your jeans completely and dripping onto the floor. The blade had definitely hit an artery. There was no doubt about that.

“Dammit, Sam! Get me out of this cuff!” His eyes full of fear as he watched on helplessly.

Swiping the keys off the floor, Sam was quick to his feet, unlocking the remaining cuff from Deans wrist and practically vaulting out of the way as his brother moved past him, stripping his flannel from his frame and skidding to his knees besides you.

“God, Y/N. What the hell happened?” He breathed, quickly tearing the sleeve of his flannel with his teeth and wrapping it around your upper thigh, tightening it into a makeshift tourniquet.

“I can’t exactly remember-“ you hissed, the pain making it extremely hard for your brain to think properly.

“Dean, she’s losing a lot of blood-“ butting in, Sam stood over the two of you, watching as Dean quickly tied the knot. But unfortunately the blood just kept coming. The tourniquet not being of much help.

“Yeah, I can see that! We need to call an ambulance- get her outside.”

“We don’t have any cell reception out here. And we don’t even have our phones.” It was like the universe wanted you to bleed out right here on the basement floor. Things were just slipping downhill at an alarming rate.

Dean chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to think of what to do before it was too late. His hands were already dipped dyed in the crimson liquid, mirroring your own.

“Do we still have that blow torch in the trunk from that wendigo hunt we went on a few months ago?” He questioned quickly, eyes moving between you and Sam and a rapid pace.

“Yeah, I believe so-“ Trailing off, Sam suddenly knew what Dean was asking, he didn’t like it, but they didn’t have much of a choice at this point.

Tossing the impalas keys to Sam, Dean gave all his attention to you once more. “I’m gonna pick you up, okay Sweetheart?”

Sam was already out the door by the time Dean scooped his arms underneath you, picking you up with ease, only wincing when you let out a strangled cry, trying desperately to keep pressure on the wound in your leg.

Dean didn’t think it was possible to move that quickly with someone in his arms, especially when he also had to avoid the vamp bodies scattered down the hallway, and even we he had to go up the stairs, his legs never stopped moving, his chest heaving as he burst out of the distillery.

“Sam!”

“Almost got it! You need to lay her down though!” Kneeling next to the trunk of the impala, you could barley make out Sam through your fading vision. The Younger Winchester holding a knife to the jet of fire emitting from the blow torch.

That’s when it caught up to you. They were gonna cauterize the wound. And just like that, you felt like a child in the doctors office. You wanted nothing more than to squirm out of Dean arms and bolt.

But that wasn’t an option.

“No,no,no,no,no-“ you begged weakly, head falling back as Dean knelt down, laying you against the cold gravel.

“I know, I know. But we don’t have much of a choice Y/N. Please don’t hate me after this.” Pulling his arms out from underneath you, he made quick work to tear the denim away from the wound, exposing the skin so they could work.

“Please tell me you at least sterilized the knife-“

“I did, don’t worry.” Sam echoed, using his free hand to hand over one of the washcloths they kept in the first aid kit, allowing Dean to wipe away as much blood as he could, disinfecting it to the best of his ability. (Which unfortunately wasn’t much.)

Out of the corner of your eye you could see the glow of hot metal as the knife finally reached the temperature that was needed.

“Dean-“

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry.” He sighed, blood soaked hands moving to roll up another washcloth, “I’m gonna need you to bite down on this alright?” You nodded, teeth sinking into the fabric as your eyes snapped shut.

“Dean, you’re gonna have to hold her down.” Sam voice rushed as he knelt down on the other side of you. All the older Winchester could do was nod. His hands pressing down on right above your knee and shoulder, keeping you firmly restrained to the ground.

There was no warning. No count down. It almost came out of nowhere, catching you off guard. Sam suddenly pressed the side of the blade firmly to the wound, skin immediately sizzling on contact and successfully getting a series of muffled and agonizing screams. Your back arching as your other heel dug into the dirt. Hot tears were streaming down your face, collecting on the gravel beneath you.

The worst part was that to do it properly, they had to apply the knife in short bursts. It was only for a second or two. If it was held there for too long it would burn into the healthy skin tissue.

Even though the whole thing only lasted a few minutes, it felt like hours. Deans jaw clenching as he squeezed his own eyes shut, turning his head away from vision of the red blade pressing against your flesh. Your muffled shrieks making his stomach flip. Dean could bear his own pain, but yours? It was too much for him to handle. He wished he could take it for you. But it wasn’t possible.

It was only when he saw Sam pull away that he fully turned back, feeling you instantly relax against his hold and go silent.

“Are you done?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m done.” Discarding the knife on the ground, Sam fell back onto his heels, running a hand through his hair. “We still need to clean it though. Should be easier now that the bleeding has stopped.”

Finally allowing himself to let out a breath of relief, Dean moved to grab one of your hands, giving it a light squeeze. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He tried joking, hoping it would calm his own nerves as well. His relieved smile falling when he didn’t get a response. Pulling the cloth from your mouth, he let out an exhale. “Y/N?”

“She’s out. The pain probably just knocked her unconscious.” The younger Winchester explained, grabbing the first aid kit from besides him and digging through it for the rubbing alcohol wipes.

Dean nodded once more, chewing on his lower lip. “We should- we should get her back to the motel. Get her someplace safer than this dump.”

“I’ll go start the car.”

*. *. *. *. *.

It was the musty smell of the motel room that immediately told you where you were before you had even opened your eyes. The next was the uncomfortable mattress beneath you. . . If you could even call it that. The oh so familiar drone of the old television turned down low told you that you weren’t alone, and that at least one of the brothers was nearby. You were probably gonna get torn a new one the moment they realized you were awake, but at this point you no longer cared. You were grateful to no longer be on the rough gravel of the distillery parking lot. Anything was better than that.

You let out a groan when you felt the pain in your leg once more, but this time it felt like it had been grazed across the surface of the sun. The pain hot and uncomfortable, mixing with the ever growing soreness beneath the surface.

“Y/N?”

Dean. Thank goodness.

Swallowing thickly, you blinked against the yellow tinted lights of the motel room, eyes landing on Deans silhouette seated besides your bed.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up. Are you okay?”

Dean leaned forward in his chair, a calloused hand rubbing down his face. “You just had a knife wound cauterized and your asking me if I’m okay? Sweetheart we really need to talk about your priorities.”

“But are you okay?” You repeated again. “I didn’t get a good chance to check on you before that vamp body slammed me and took my knife.”

“I’m fine. Wrists are a bit tender from the shackles, and I have a nice black eye, but that’s about it.” His hand finding yours once more and squeezing it.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine, Y/N! I swear.” He paused, moving from from his seat to sit next to you on the bed. “How do you feel? Sam went out to grab you some antibiotics. Should be back soon.”

“I feel fucking weak, Dean. I passed out earlier because of pain. That’s never happened to me before.”

“Woah, hey. You are not weak. You’re probably the toughest out of the three of us. You were unconscious for almost a day, and then got up with a knife jammed in your thigh and killed a bunch of vamps, successfully saving me and Sam.” Kissing the back of your hand, he looked over at you. “You are the strongest person I know.”

A soft smile took over your features as you watched him. “You keep sweet talkin me like that Winchester, and I might just buy you a drink.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, the amusement on his face clear as day. “If anyone is buying anybody a drink it’s me. I still feel bad about pinning you to the ground while Sam pressed hot metal to your skin.”

“Yeah, well first how bout you take this gimp home to the bunker so she can get some proper rest on an actual mattress, and then we can talk details. Deal?”

“Deal.”

The End.

SPN TAGLIST:

@familybusinesswritingbro@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti @callmekda @jordangdelacruz @orphiceseum @andthatsmyworld @marvelfangirllll @fandomnerdespressourself @gladiosamicitias @castielsangelsx @lxstgxrl-ck @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl @neerness @totallyluciferr @supernaturalenchanted @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs

#dean winchester one shot #supernatural imagine #spn x reader #supernatural x reader #bi danvers writing #dean x y/n #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester

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petri808 · 4 years

Text

Happy Halloween!

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 22 | 23 | 24 | 25

*Bonus Halloween chapter* it’s longer than normal (2k)

The biggest party in Tokyo was for a western holiday called Halloween, and the streets surrounding the heart of Shibuya that Saturday were literally crawling with a million young adults in every kind of costume you could imagine! Most of the revelers had no idea as to the origins of this holiday. All they cared about was dressing up and having a good time, including Lucy and her friends who’d dressed up as their favorite manga characters from Eden’s Zero. The businesses lining the streets in the area were used to the onslaught and welcomed it because it meant a nice chunk of revenue, while authorities did their best to control the crowds.

The group started off with Lucy, Levy, Erza, Gajeel, and Gray, but over time as others showed up or they ran into more friends, the groups numbers ebbed and flowed. Gray was the first to take off to meet his girlfriend Juvia, and once Natsu was off of work and joined them, Lucy and he split off to cruise by themselves for a while.

“Wow it’s so eerie how much you guys look like Shiki and Rebecca!”

“Thanks Mira,” Lucy blushes.

“Tch, I may look like the guy, but I’m not as dopey as him,” Natsu retorts. “He’s taking too damn long to make it official with Rebecca.”

“Don’t mind him,” Lucy giggles, “Natsu ships Shicca hard. But it’s even funnier to watch him and Gray argue over Weiszmura.”

“That’s because Gray is a blind bat who won’t admit they match!”

“Okay,” Mira laughs, “put the canons away. Are you two gonna check out the BUMP party at Womb nightclub?”

“Maybe a little later.” Lucy answers for them. “I heard they had some decent bands this year, but I’d rather go somewhere a little smaller like Sonidos.”

“Oh, yeah? Lisanna’s boyfriend Bixlow is the DJ there tonight.”

Lucy looks to Natsu, “we definitely should stop by and say hi.”

“Agreed.”

“Well it was nice bumping into you. I need to meet up with Laxus so you two have fun! I’ll catch you later!” Mira waves as she rejoins the flood of passerby’s.

Natsu takes Lucy’s hand and the couple continued walking around with no real destination. They stop in open stores to browse or grab yummy-looking finger foods from street vendors along the way. Despite the chaos around them, this was turning into a nice reprieve from their daily lives. It was already 1 am, but from the amount of activity going on, it was easy to lose track of time.

“Look, look,” Lucy points while dragging Natsu with her. “Photo booth!”

“Aww, really?” He whines, though the smile never wavered on his face.

“Yup!” She pulls him in and fishes out a bill from her wallet for the machine.

“Chi-zu!”

The pair chuckle and pose for the five shutter clicks. Each pose varying until the last one ending with a kiss from Natsu and genuinely surprised expression on Lucy’s face. It wasn’t their first kiss, but this would be a memorable one. For a few seconds as the machine printed out the slip of photos, Natsu holds her gaze, sweeping his thumb gently along her flushed cheek. There was a sense of intimacy in these confined booths where many a couple had hidden away from the public for this very kind of very moment.

“Thank you,” he smiles, eyes soft and pure of appreciation.

“For what?” Genuinely unsure of the reason.

“Giving me a second chance. These past few months have been the happiest times of my life and it’s all thanks to meeting you on that train.”

“I’m really glad too,” Lucy smiles sweetly. “Really... really glad,” she breathes out as she moves in to kiss him again.

“Excuse me?” A loud knocking sound stops them. “There’s other people waiting to use the machine!”

“Whoops. To be continued,” she gives Natsu just a quick peck and the pair get out of the booth. They apologize to the next group in line and race off hand in hand, laughing. That had been exhilarating!

Lucy’s heart was still racing even though they were long gone from the photo booth. She and Natsu had been taking things extra slow because of her earlier concerns. Aside from dates and a few kisses here and there, they’d never gone much further and she wondered who was the one holding back. Was it really her or was it actually him because he was too nervous to lose her? Tonight... in that booth... if they weren’t in public... her body flushes wildly just from the thought of it. Okay, so maybe she’s been dying to take their relationship further. Maybe not sex— yet, soon, or maybe... ‘argh! Not now!’ Lucy scolds her libido. But a make out session was a very tempting idea!

They check out Lisanna and Bixlow for a short time at Sonidos, before briefly hooking back up with Levy and Gajeel for some crepes. That’s when Levy quietly informs Lucy that she’ll be crashing at her boyfriend’s house instead of going back to the dorm. “You know... for some privacy,” the girl winks at Lucy. “Hint. Hint!”

“I-It’s too soon for that! W-with us,” her tips burn with lies through each syllable.

“Pfft, you can’t lie that you’ve never thought about it.”

“No... not all the way...”

“Uh-huh. Well, do whatever,” she winks a second time and stands up to leave. “See ya in tomorrow night.”

“Yeah. See ya.”

“Why are your ears all red?” Natsu asks Lucy.

Lucy stiffens up. “N-Nothing important.”

“Oh... okay,” he smiles. “So whatdya wanna do next?”

“Actually, I’m kinda getting tired already.” It was after 3 am and they’d been out and on their feet for over seven hours.

Natsu sighs relief. “Me too! I just didn’t wanna ruin your fun. Shall I take you home?” He squeezes her hand with a smile.

“Yes,” she returns the squeeze, “and if you’d like you can spend the night— I-I mean since you’re tired and all! I’d just feel better than making you back track.”

“I’ll behave, I promise.”

The couple ride the train the short distance between Shibuya and Shinjuku to where Lucy’s dorm is located, cautious of the other riders on the train. Even though alcohol is not allowed on the streets during Halloween, it didn’t stop people from getting drunk and few creepy peepers kept looking at Lucy. But luckily, the train wasn’t very packed despite the holiday because the Shibuya party wasn’t over till 4am and they beat the end rush. On the way, Natsu texts his roommate out of courtesy, only to find out that Gray and Juvia were already at the apartment. Figures. Well it was a good thing he wasn’t walking into that situation! Even if nothing happened, just watching Juvia fawning all over Gray wouldn’t have been appealing. Once they arrive at the dorms, they make sure no one had followed and proceed inside.

Lucy leaves Natsu in the small living room as she changes out of her costume and into something a lot more comfortable. He was lucky the men’s costume was still semi-normal and he only had to remove the jacket and goggles for comfort, but the black hair dye will wash out in a week. She then grabs them a couple bottles of melon milk tea before joining him on the couch. Thank goodness, they didn’t have school, or he didn’t work the next day.

“That was fun,” Lucy curls against his arm with a yawn. “So, tiring though.”

“I haven’t been to Shibuya’s party in a couple of years, but it sure hasn’t changed,” Natsu chuckles. He leans his head against hers while threading their fingers together. “Totally agree on being tired. It probably wouldn’t be as bad if I hadn’t worked too.”

A companionable silence falls over the couple for a few minutes and after some time Natsu assumed Lucy had fallen asleep resting on his shoulder. He would have stayed in that position till his ass was numb if it kept her relaxed. This beauty queen deserved it and more, and he meant every word he’d told her earlier. The second chance had become a cosmic wish come true and he’d be damned to let anything ruin this between them.

“Hey Natsu?”

“Yeah Luce?”

“Do you think we could pick up from where we left off... in that photo booth?”

He swallows hard. It was one thing in the heat of the moment, but quite another to put aside his nerves now that they were so relaxed. This was a different kind of intimacy and much more intimidating to say the least. A private apartment without anything or anyone to interrupt or stop two consenting adults from going too far... and the last thing he wanted to do was something wrong! A regretted decision would destroy everything built up until that moment. But he couldn’t tell her no either!

Sensing the turmoil, Lucy sits up and turns his face towards her. Her instincts were probably on point earlier about his anxiety. “We don’t have to, if you’re not ready, but I wouldn’t mind making out with you... just a little.” She adds in the goal as a way to allay his fears. And it works. Lucy immediately feels his shoulders relax again. She gently caresses his cheek, her eyes zeroing in on his lips. “I just… like kissing you Natsu.”

“I’ll let you direct then, a-and if I start going too far, just stop me. I won’t get mad, I just...”

“Shh, I know,” she smiles, “and that what I like about you.”

Lucy closes the gap and steals his lips, starting slow, then adding pressure behind it. Her hand slides behind his head, fingers weaving into his messy hair as she tilts her head to deepen the kiss. Their tongues tease and test, mouths molding together as teeth clack gently the further, they push each other’s oral boundaries. She could still taste some of the sweetness of the crapes lingering.

His own hands stay glued, one with fingers twined in her hair and the other to Lucy’s side, just below the rib cage. Natsu loses himself in her kisses, they were so soft and sweet, a little adventurous as she ran her tongue once over his canines and giggled. That brought a grin to his lips and a straight arrow through his heart. He wasn’t ready to say it out loud yet, but he loved Lucy. His heart knew it and that’s all that matters, so when the time is right, he’ll tell her, but not yet, he knew she wasn’t ready for that level.

Natsu’s so lost in the kisses he barely registers additional heat against his chest as Lucy’s hand has found its way under his shirt. It wasn’t doing more than simply resting against his pectorals, but it was much further than he’d expected her to venture tonight. Every few minutes her fingers would lightly curl against his skin or move slightly up or down, sending little shivers over his skin. As far as he was concerned, she could do anything she wanted to him as long as it was her choice.

It surprises him when Lucy starts to press forward. At first one of his hands moves to keep from falling back onto the couch, but her sudden whine triggers him to let it happen and the next thing he knows Lucy is using him as a bed. So, he wraps his left arm more firmly around her body to make sure she doesn’t fall off.

Lucy lifts her head to look Natsu in the eyes. “Is this okay?” She questions him. “Am I too heavy?”

“I don’t mind,” he smiles at her, “but are you comfortable? I could shift us over so we’re more on our sides.”

“That would be great. Just felt like snuggling more.”

He kisses her lips. “Works for me.” Natsu then adjusts their bodies carefully until Lucy’s back is resting against the couches backing with her head on his shoulder and chest. She wraps her arm around his torso and huddles close to his frame, while their legs are slightly tangled together. “Comfy?”

“Mmm hmm,” she nods her head against his chest and closes her eyes.

Natsu kisses the top of her head, bringing a smile to her face, then wraps his left arm over to rest his hand on her shoulder and cuddle her close. “Goodnight, Lucy.”

“Mmm. Goodnight, Natsu.”

Eight months ago, the only thing Natsu thought about was a career and now after that fateful train ride he knew his new goal in life had to include the blonde next to him. Lucy felt so perfect in his arms and oh, if only he could wake up like this every morning for the rest of his life, well than he’d be the luckiest man on the planet. With a smile of his own, he closes his eyes and lets the cadence of her heartbeat lull him to sleep. This was a very happy Halloween indeed!

Just to give an idea this is Shibuya on Halloween: I’m so sad I didn’t get to see it this year like I was supposed to ;-; but Natsu and Lucy got to have a little fun in my place lol.

Also a warning, the story gets much more angsty after this for several chapters 😅

#nalu #nalu AU #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nalu fan fic #nalu fan fiction #natsu x lucy #angst and fluff #it’s a bit of a ride from here #strangers on a train #fairy tail

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bexterbex · 4 years

Text

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 44

Warning, PLEASE CHECK TAGS IF YOU SEE SOMETHING YOU DON’T WANT TO READ THEN DON’T READ.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Will tag as I go along, Will update tags, Slow Burn, Influenced by Star Trek and other Sci-Fi themes, References to We Happy Few, Tons of References and quotes to George Orwells 1984 see if you can find them all, The First Order is the new Big Brother, but who is really surprised, Blatant Nazi Symbolism, Interrogation Themes, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Really just drawn out Slow Burn, Don’t repost without permission, Torture themes, Suggestive Themes, Execution themes, Disturbing Themes, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Controlling Kylo Ren, Physical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Possessive Kylo Ren

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 44: Facing the Consequences

You awoke with pressure behind your ear. As you become more conscious you realized Kylo was leaving a love mark behind it, for whatever reason. “Ah, Kitten is awake. Good, I need to go to training.” He got up from behind you before pulling you up to do the same.

It was just as early as the other morning you had watched him train. You weren’t coherent enough for this, but he had said that he was going to keep an eye on you so that is what he intended on doing. You were a kitten on a leash or a songbird in a cage. You were attached to his hip.

You got up and got ready this time putting on a turtleneck and trousers in an attempt to hide his love marks. You did a subtle amount of makeup in an attempt to draw attention to your face and not the dark bruise behind your ear. When you came out of the bathroom Kylo hooked a finger in your collar while his lips grazed your cheek before whispering in your ear, “I know exactly what you are doing Kitten.” His finger then widens the opening of your neck while his lips dipped down to make one of your marks darker. His other hand came to squeeze your ass, “Mmm Kitten there is no time to play.”

He was telling you there was no time to play? He was the one obsessed with playing with you, you wanted to be left alone. He was the horny one, your spark mostly ignited when he kissed you or touch you in certain ways. Your body often betraying your brain.

Like the last time, you and he were to have breakfast after training. You were greeted by the lieutenant as usual. You all made your way to the room, the only real difference this time was the presence of Captain Phasma. You joined her and Hux on the outside of the circle. Phasma moved so they were now on either side of you.

Kylo and the knights proceeded to spar. He routinely glanced in your direction, you couldn’t tell if it was because he needed to make sure you were there or if it was because he was looking for something else. You made the conscious decision to ignore him.

The lieutenant produced a cup of stimcaf for you without you having to ask. That man needed a pay raise, you thought as you brought the just right temp liquid to your lips.

You were the first to speak in your little group, “I have been tasked to choose a lady in waiting. And I have no idea how to do it.”

You watched the general who contemplated your predicament, but it was Phasma who spoke up first. “The girl from the shopping center. She seemed to be knowledgable enough about what you would need.”

Before you could respond the Hux asked, “what was her name?”

“Olivia-Rose Gordon,” responded Lieutenant Mitaka.

This caused Hux to look up something on his data pad, “She is 27, unmarried, matchless, no children, a clean record. She would be a good candidate.”

Your head was spinning. “I can’t just ask her to be my lady in waiting.”

“Why not,” asked Phasma.

“Because she might feel pressured to accept and then she will be trapped in space far from home,” the weight of your words not fully hitting you yet.

“I assure you m’lady she will not be trapped. She will be given one of the most prestigious positions in the galaxy. She will be able to travel with you and given many luxuries your planet cannot offer her.”

Your mind was frozen. You knew she would be trapped with you if you were to ask her, would it even be fair? Before you could respond Phasma spoke once more, “she seemed taken with you m’lady, and she seemed interested in the opportunity to travel, she asked about it during her registration.”

“Send someone out of uniform to ask her, I don’t want her to be pressured into it. If she says no, we will need to respect that.”

“As you wish m’lady,” responded the general who then seemed to type out the order on his data pad.

You then just all seem to watch the training, your mind drifted back to the horrifying thought that you will no longer be able to be home in a matter of minutes. That small rational part of your brain kept telling you that you will still be in the solar system for a few days. That you will still be home in a sense.

Your mind then drifted to all the memories you didn’t get to make, all of the Friday nights going out to the bars with Carter and Hayden, all of the birthdays with your nieces and nephews, all of the holidays back at your parents’ place. You had no idea when you would become empress so you had no idea when you would be able to come back, if at all.

If Kylo was any other man you could simply reason with him to end any sort of romantic relationship, and just be platonic matches. You could then be free, and not caged like you are now, but he wasn’t any other man, and your heart wouldn’t be able to take it. You had to face the fact that you loved him, as twisted as he was becoming you did love him.

Another thought drifted into your mind, who would he choose? You were allowed to pick one of your ladies-in-waiting but who would he choose? Did he already know her? Did you already know her? Come to think of it you had yet to ask the general what happened while you were gone. How did Kylo react?

“Tell me general, how did he react to my departure?”

“I was able to have the damage done to your chambers repaired before we returned, but just barely. There are still several communications terminals that need repairs, an entire squadron of ‘troopers are still recovering in the medical bay, as is that female officer,” his voice trailed off.

“Oh, no what did he do to her,” you ask.

“It wasn’t pleasant, to say the least, she has a broken clavicle, a fractured sternum, several cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and broken femur.”

“Why did he do it,” you were concerned you had rather liked her.

“Several reasons apparently, in his eyes she failed to report that you were leaving, both the lieutenant and I had orders from you one way or another as to not tell him, she did not. She had taken a few pieces of jewelry while you were packing, and she has had a not so subtle infatuation with the Supreme Leader. This is not uncommon among some of the younger female officers. Especially if they have had the chance to see him without his helmet.”

“Even if she did do all that she didn’t deserve to be beaten like that.”

“I say she got off better than execution,” replied Phasma. “She also attempted to seduce him once he cornered her.”

You felt as if you were not talking about the same sweet girl that helped you pack. “But she should have been demoted and reassigned, not have the crap beaten out of her.”

“I would have executed her,” commented Phasma.

You looked at her.

“What? It’s what I would have done,” she reasoned. Even through her helmet, you could hear that she was honestly telling the truth.

“I still feel bad, maybe I should go and apologize to her.”

“I don’t think that would be a wise decision m’lady. I also do not believe the Supreme Leader would allow it,” said Hux.

You frowned. Of course, he wouldn’t, but then again he would probably want to escort you so maybe it was for the best, not having him near her.

Kylo and the knights were wrapping up training, all of the high ranking officers done giving him their morning debriefings. Soon you would be at his will once more, following him wherever he pleased. He took your arm in his and took you back to your chambers.

You both ate breakfast before he got ready for the day, while he was in the shower Trudgen and Kuruk were waiting with you along with the lieutenant. You felt as if this was to tell you there would be no running away while he was busy. Once ready he informed you that he had one last meeting at the White House, to set up General Parnadee as the Commander of Earth.

You went about down the halls to the hangar where you were greeted by the large entourage of Hux, Parnadee, Phasma, Pyre and an escort of ‘troopers. Throughout the flight down to the surface Hux and Parnadee were discussing some of the importance of what she would be doing along with how many ‘troopers she would be expected to recruit initially.

The shuttle lands and you all depart. Kylo’s grip on your arm tightens and you feel the Force around you do too. No running. Even if you did have the chance to run, where would you run to?

Your parents would send you back, as would Carter and Hayden. The education they had received would be sure of that. You had no idea what state of mind your siblings would be in but you were pretty sure they were in the same boat. The entire planet was in the same boat. Your ark. And it was your covenant with Kylo that would keep it afloat. Your covenant would end the floods, and the suffering they may receive.

Before you and Kylo enter the room the Hux asked to speak to you for a moment, and by you he meant both of you seeing as Kylo refused to let you go.

“M’lady we have received an answer to your inquiry from earlier this morning,” said Hux.

“We have,” you honestly didn’t expect an answer so soon.

“Yes, m’lady. She has agreed to take the position as your lady-in-waiting. She will join you tomorrow on your departure from the Steadfast to the Supremacy. I have made arrangements for everything she will need. One of our seamstresses will assist you with packing, the lieutenant was kind enough to make an itemized list of your purchases, and everything will be checked. After that, any other trip you shall take one of your ladies-in-waiting will help you prepare,” responded Hux.

Really, he was the one running things, making sure the whole First Order was together and operating with stellar efficiency. Whereas Kylo was the hammer that cracked down anytime he saw fit. He had others do the work, but he made sure those others were people that could do their jobs. Just as he was going to have you be his diplomat. He was an enforcer, a brute, a beast. You would be refined, tame, and calculated. You needed to keep a closer eye on the general to learn tips from him. He almost always knew when to bite back at Kylo and when to hold off, but you suppose it was because they have been doing this dance longer than you had, and he knew all the steps.

Kylo then had Hux enter the room and you were left alone in the hallway with him. A hand came to hook itself under your chin to bring your eyes to meet his, or rather where his were supposed to be under his helmet.

“You will behave yourself. Your people are to believe that Earth is completely under General Parnadee’s control and therefore my control. They are not to know exactly when we are leaving. You will remain quiet unless it is called upon you to speak, do I make myself clear Kitten?”

“Yes, you made yourself very clear, Kylo,” you respond. You could feel his grip on your chin tighten as you said his name. But you had an agreement that if he called you Kitten when you were alone that meant you could call him Kylo.

He released your chin only after his leather-clad thumb swept over your lips, if he wasn’t wearing the helmet he would have kissed you. You entered the room together, much seemed the same except for all the projectors seemed to have video conferences with all of your world’s major leaders, like a giant U.N. meeting. Upon your entrance, everyone stood and gave a weird sort of salute, and in unison said, “Long Live the Supreme Leader.”

All of the eyes of the world leaders looked different than from just over a week ago, they now looked dead. Their eyes had no life behind them, no soul. You were afraid, you were very afraid. Your ark was now tainted with sin, the devil had won. Your people were no longer your people anymore. You were alone in the galaxy.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo x reader #kylo x you #kylo ren smut #kylo ren series #star wars #first order #star wars imagine #Star wars soulmate au #sw first order imagine #star wars first order #a soul to mend his own

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pinkysfaultorbrainsfault · 4 years

Text

pinky and the brain - s1e2: of mouse and man

episode summary: brain needs money to build a perpetual answering machine to occupy everyone in the world for long enough for him to take over. to do that, he needs an absurd amount of money, so he decides to get a job in an office!

and then fake a nondairy creamer accident that turned him into a mouse, because as we all know, brain has to take the most dramatic path he possibly can in life, or he dies.

the rundown:

we open with pinky showing off his ass.

PRODUCED BY PETER HASTINGS. i assume that means the episode, and not the ass. the ass was initially produced by pinky’s parents and then helped along by the warner brothers’ dietary experts for their. mouse actors.

brain isn’t feeling it right now.

instead, as he plucks a rib from the lab’s anatomical model of a human being, and uses it to unpick his cage, he angsts - WRITTEN BY PETER HASTINGS - he angsts over the Dark Side Of Man, that has built war machines and pollution spilling factories and

VOICEMAIL.

😱

as pinky continues to stick his ass out (though onlyfans wouldn’t be launched for another twenty one years) brain runs through his latest plan, which, of course, involves voicemail.

look at those wiggles. this is a rough draft episode.

anyway brain intends to reroute all telephone conversations into his confusing, recursive, voicemail service that, he claims, will keep the human race occupied for “at least seventy two hours.”

“more than enough time for a well prepared mouse to seize control of the planet.”

“i see! so all we need now is a well prepared mouse.”

I???????

HOLY FUCK

brain is unhappy. i am not surprised.

“i am a well prepared mouse, pinky.”

“oh. well. there you are, then.”

unfortunately this plan comes with the pitfall that it will cost.... one million, six hundred and fourteen thousand dollars. which is a lot of money, or, as pinky puts it, “a lot of money!”

as brain wonders about how to raise these funds (”without running for congress”) pinky pinkys off to watch some tv.

HAVE YOU BEEN INJURED IN AN ON THE JOB ACCIDENT

YOU MAY BE ENTITLED TO HUNDREDS, THOUSANDS, EVEN ONE MILLION SIX HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS IN COMPENSATION

LENNY PARVIK GOT ME TWO HUNDRED AND ELEVEN DOLLARS

EVEN THOUGH I’M NOW NINETY PERCENT FUDGE, IT’S OKAY BECAUSE LENNY PARVIK GOT ME ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTY TWO DOLLARS SIXTEEN CENTS AND SOME CHANGE

<LOUD, INCREDIBLY DISTRESSED CRYING>

hm.

“pinky, are you pondering what i’m pondering?“

“i think so, brain, but i get all clammy inside a tent.”

anyway so brain’s new plan is to get a job, stage a

HIDEOUS ACCIDENT

and then sue them for one million, six hundred and fourteen thousand dollars in workers compensation.

this episode also has a lot of faces. god, but these mice are so bloody cute. youtube has not yet been invented, but one day it will be, and all brain has to do is sit in front of a camera and nom some corn and go O:O with his face, and everyone will be crying over him within minutes.

it’s so sad that he doesn’t know that.

but for now, he has a job interview to go to. good luck, brain! can’t be any worse than that time allsaints forgot about me and the manager acted like it was my fault.

“impressive credentials. you’re certainly qualified. are you married?”

“oh, yes, i have a lovely wife and two beautiful young children.”

“oh that’s too bad. we’re looking for someone who has no life. thank you.”

as family man walks off, dejected, in comes a completely unsuspicious fellow looking for an honest living honest living, just like in rent the musical.

his arm is acting up, a bit, but it’s fine.

“very impressive resume. princeton, harvard, six years in the industry-- tell me, mr brain, what are your long term career goals?”

“i plan on taking over the world.”

“you have drive! i like that! but confidentially, taking over the world is my job, hahahaha.”

”yes. haha. ha.”

”now. brass tax - are you married?”

“i do have a roommate. but he’s very busy with his own activities.”

HA HA HOO HOO HOO

<muah>

HAHA

“but. one more thing. about your head. isn’t it rather small?”

“no. not for my race.”

“no! no, of course not-- and your people are such... good... cooks... with their tiny heads, uh. please. excuse me for one second.”

“carol! send everyone else home! i got myself a minority person!”

BRUH I?!??!?!?!?!

anyway. brain gets the job.

“mr brain! welcome to the world of re-reinsurance!”

he’s delighted.

back at the labs, he plots his untimely demise at the hands of re-reinsurance,

stating the accident “could be bluffed by altering the mollecular matrix through a substrate platform of microwaves.”

pinky’s response to this is “look brain, i made a choo-choo.”

“oh, and me without my video camera!”

in simpler terms, he explains to pinky that he will stage an accident, “utilising the microwave oven and the non-dairy powdered creamer.”

“because”, to pinky’s apparent horror, “nobody really knows how a microwave works.”

“but why the powdered creamer, brain?”

“nobody knows how that works either.”

(and then, i guess, there’s a scene where some guys jump him on the train for some reason,

i’m only putting it here because this guy is like “oh, you’re funny, you’re a regular gallagher”

and brain’s like “you think gallagher is funny?”

anyway then he ties the dude into a pretzel and throws him off the train.

bonk. it adds nothing, but it’s very funny.)

“this is your cubicle right here. if you need any office supplies, ask the office manager and she should have them over in two or three months.”

it’s brain’s first day at work! his boss reads him the company policy on

vacations, personal phone calls,

and sexual harassment.

“don’t worry about it. you’re safe if you avoid all contact with other humans.”

“my goal in life.”

as brain unpacks the things that pinky has packed for his “home away from home,

awwwww.

his nosy cubicle neighbour inquires about brain’s “pet mouse,”

elaborating that he keeps mice! haha! to feed to his pet snake!

to be fair this is also me around snake people. more understandable in brain’s case, being that he is, actually, a mouse, and i am a human person who may be slightly obsessed with tiney small flofys.

;u;

(they play tennis on their lunch break and brain sets him on fire, so it’s not too bad.)

upon his return from the office, pinky, who has dolled himself up to the nines, presents brain with a Yummy Dinner of Food Pellets With Food Pellets.

i will say i think it’s really cute how this show keeps pushing the narrative that pinky just really, really wants to be an old timey housewife. he just spends his time watching i love lucy (when Fish TV isn’t on) and stuff like that and he’s just obsessed with the idea of dusting something alluringly but ineffectively and making brain little dinners.

and it’s so fucking cute!!! what??? it’s adorable. as soon as they get the world pinky better get a little dollhouse kitchen room with lime green everything and a functioning oven.

“please, pinky. i’ve had a very tough day.”

“oh, you have? you’ve had a tough day?”

“what about my day, brain? we always hear about your day, but what about mine?!”

“DO YOU EVER ASK WHAT I DID TODAY???!”

“very well pinky. what did you do today?”

“i don’t remember.”

“anything?”

“not a thing.”

“well, now i know how american gladiator stays on the air.”

the next day, at work, brain is vexed by the fact that nobody has refilled the coffee machine.

“sorry. that’s my fault. hey, you’re cute.”

“you know what they say. big ears. big earmuffs.”

.....okay.

unfortunately brain’s mechanical arm chooses now to malfunction.

she’s into it?

brain maintains that it was a mistake, and he doesn’t find her attractive at all, because brain knows how to talk to women.

she is no longer into it.

horrified by his semi-accidental fuckboy behaviour, brain heads out as quickly as he can, only to be immediately called into his boss’ office.

despite brain’s claims that “the young lady appears to have misunderstood me,” which i’m sure will hold up well on twitter,

mr boss man reveals that he has done some fact checking, and there is no record of brain attending harvard or princeton.

“oh.”

he is given the ultimatum that he either produce his diplomas, or HIS CAREER IN RE-REINSURANCE IS OH OH OVER!!!

very sad!

looks like it’s time to stage a workplace related accident.

he pours the creamer everywhere, discards his suit, and runs up to plonk himself merrily into the pile.

ahem.

HELP, HELP. A TERRIBLE OCCUPATIONAL DISASTER. I’VE BEEN MAIMED BY AN ON THE JOB ACCIDENT REQUIRING MASSIVE WORKERS’ COMPENSATION.

as others in the office crowd around to look, brain makes his dramatic reveal.

“i’ve been turned into a mouse!”

COLLECTIVE GASP.

obviously mr boss man won’t pay that kind of money.

so, as brain emphatically tells him, I’LL SEE YOU IN COURT.

conclusion:

as the goodfeathers sit on justice’s head, and bitch about jury duty,

The Man From Washinton asserts that brain’s claim that he is a mouse is preposterous.

good thing brain has xrays to prove it! they “clearly” define his “mouse skeleton!” wait a sec and he’ll grab them.

oh shit! where they go?

(”there really is only one conclusion here.” says a local doctor.

“this man is a mouse.”

“then i’m afraid the only conclusion here, doctor,”

“is that you have never seen these.”

“i trust this might keep you quiet.”

“it might.”)

(BRUH/???????????????) (if boss man is out here bribing people with lingerie, he could have tried that way before this got to court.)

egged on by the lack of evidence in Mouse Corner, christopher walken produces the artefacts from brain’s office cubicle.

“i ask you, when was the last time you heard of a mouse winning a bowling trophy?”

“ugh. pinky.”

“yes?”

turns out pinky is here because “they’re not covering this on court tv,” but does advise brain that “it’s a good thing they didn’t find the mechanical suit, eh, brain?”

oh shit.

“pinky, you must go to the office and get that suit from the kitchen closet. do you understand? if they find that we’re sunk.”

“oh! brain! you want me to help!”

off he goes!

fall mouse. bonk.

(he sneaks into the snack delivery.)

(poit.)

(unfortunately, he gets delivered straight to the vending machine.)

(”narf? ):”)

“well. yes. i had noticed his... small, furry head, but i assumed that was normal for his people.”

“and what people would that be.”

“i’m not sure? i think they’re from europe?? maybe france.”

“the size of my head and whether i was a man before the accident is not the question, here. the fact is i am now a mouse.”

(meanwhile, at fiero:

“try the fruit rollups. they’re yummy.”

“oh, i am doing well. poit.”)

“so how exactly did the accident happen, mr brain?”

“some bizarre thing involving a microwave oven? i don’t know exactly-- no one really knows how they work.”

“incorrect! in the oven, a magnetron produces microwaves which cause water molecules to align, and reverse alignment, producing heat, and not mice.”

“the accident also involved a.... nondairy powdered creamer.”

“ah. um. oh.”

(meanwhile,

pinky attempts to drive.)

“mr brain, in your experience with other mice, are they intelligent?”

“no.”

“exactly. your honour, i contend that mr brain is simply too intelligent to be a mouse.”

oh dear.

(meanwhile,

pinky tries not to get hit by a car.)

“but-- no, noo, i’m not intelligent.”

“i am a simpleton! yes. like any average mouse!”

“um. narf.”

that’s mean, brain, considering the aforementioned narf is on his way to save your gay little ass right now, but whatever.

“so you would have no problem with me saying that albert einstien was a champion surfer.”

“what-- i mean, no.”

“or that the temperature of the sun is a comfortable seventy degrees fahrenheight.”

“i wouldn’t know--”

“or that the fermi-dirac’s distribution function is a soup kitchen?”

“that’s preposterous! your honour, the fermi-dirac's function is, for any system of identical fermions in equilibrium,”

“the probability that a quantum state of energy -- E -- is occupied!”

“my word, man! don’t you know your quantum statistics!”

heck.

bonk.

“oh, blunder.”

and what a blunder indeed! the judge decides to rule that brain’s intelligence proves that he is “not a mouse, and that being the basis for your claim, i now dismiss charges against fiero and company.”

“.....very well. i’ll go now.”

“i’m afraid not. i find you guilty of fraud, perjury, and appearing naked in a public place. take him away.”

good thing they have human man sized handcuffs for this human man! brain looks incredibly perturbed, despite the fact he could probably swim in them. and also that he... kind of lives in a prison anyway, if you think about it. oh, cool, can’t wait to evade that cage so i can go live in my other cage.

hm.

luckily, pinky arrives to save us all from that particular moral quandry.

“i got the suit, brain! i got it!”

“pinky--”

the police attempt to intercept pinky,

so he knocks them over. hoo hoo.

brain falls over,

attempts to enter the suit through the shoe,

and is squoshed for his crimes.

faced with a veritable army of police, at this point,

pinky activates the emergency protocol,

says blue lives scatter,

and fucks off out of the courthouse.

we stan a legend.

unfortunately brain got a fair few ouchies during his prison break, so pinky bandages him up. it’s very cute.

anyway, i’m giving this one to brain, on account there were, yknow, a fair few ways that could have been mitigated. fiero fucked him over, though, so i’ll give him that.

brain: 5 ½ pinky: 6 ½ outside influence: 10

“egad, brain! brilliant!”

“but isn’t that horribly illegal?”

“............yes.”

#patb #pinky and the brain #this took so long lol #BUT THIS EPISODE WAS REALLY GOOD #IT GOT AWAY WITH SO MUCH BRO I ....

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thinkyoureholy · 5 years

Text

Fragile Figures [18]

Pairing : Choi San / [fem] Reader

Genre : Angst, Violence, Language, Fluff, Smut, Character Death, Mafia! AU, Hired Assassin! AU

Words : 2.6k

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

-Yunho’s P.O.V-

I crouched down in front of her, reaching out to cup her face in my hands. She was looking at me but I could tell she was looking right through me. She had been like this for the past two days, not uttering a single word, I was beginning to worry. Seonghwa had been unconscious for about half a day, his wounds weren’t severe or anything, he had just lost a bit of blood but his life wasn’t in danger. And the answers I got from him had me worrying even more.

-Two Nights Ago-

I pulled a chair up next to Seonghwa who was gingerly pulling his shirt over his head, “What happened that night? Did she really do this to you?”

He let out a deep breath, wincing as he pulled the shirt over the bandages on his rib cage, “No, one of his people did but...she blacked out again.”

“You mean-” I cut myself off, not even wanting to believe something like this happened again.

Seonghwa sighed heavily, leaning back against the bed as he ran his fingers through his hair, “Yeah...and worse than the last time. We thought she went off the rails with Kanda betraying her. But with San…” he trailed off, staring at the wall with a faraway look in her eyes, “I’m afraid that if we don’t get any information within the next few days, and that’s stretching it thin, she might lose it completely and when she does, she won’t know the difference between friend or foe anymore.”

My shoulders slumped at the words that fell from his mouth, my mind racing as I tried to figure out the best solution. We need to find San and we need to do it now. And I knew just the man that would give me the answers I needed, unfortunately he was unconscious and Yeosang said the possibility of him waking up within the next few days was near impossible. That is if he even wakes up at all.

“Did he at least say anything before she blacked out?” I asked, hoping for something, anything that could help at this point.

Seonghwa furrowed his brow, a dazed look in his eyes as he met my gaze, “It’s all still a blur but I remember him saying San wasn’t there and that he didn’t know where he was either. I vaguely remember him trying to say more but by that time she had already snapped. Had she let him speak for just a minute longer we would’ve gotten a bit more information. It’s odd but he looked willing to help, even if he was the one that kidnapped San in the first place.”

I cocked a brow, looking at him as if he had sprouted a second head, “Don’t be ridiculous. Kanda would never be willing to help us, he used and betrayed us, not to mention he’s tried to kill us all multiple times. If anything he was probably lying to save his own skin.”

Seonghwa averted his eyes, scratching the back of his head, “I’m just saying...he’s been acting weird the past few attacks.”

“Have you forgotten who gave you the burn scars that claim your entire right arm, shoulder blade, and neck? What? Are you going to forgive him now?”

His eyes snapped back to meet mine, the glare he was giving me was enough to make a chill run down the length of my spine, “Never. Once we get all the information we can from him I’m going to kill that son of a bitch myself. Just because I’ve picked up on some changes of his behavior doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven him. I’ll never forgive him for what he did to me, to Y/N, to us,” He narrowed his eyes as he spoke, the fire that was burning in them was so intense that I had to look away, “Y/N and Joong might let talk like that slide but I sure as hell won’t. Throw shit like that in my face again and we’re going to have a problem, understand?”

I scoffed, acting as defiant as ever, “Whatever,” I pushed myself up from the chair, avoiding his gaze as I looked around, my eyes landing on Kanda who lay as still as ever two beds away, “Just try and remember everything that happened.”

I turned my back on him and began to walk out, hearing Wooyoung calm him down as he called after me.

-Present Day-

I heaved out a sigh, letting my hands fall back to my sides. I furrowed my brows when I took a good look at her eyes, the small light that had been resparked days prior was now gone. She...looked empty inside and there’s not a damn thing I can do. I won’t and can’t be the one that returns the light to her eyes. The only way she’d go back to normal is if we managed to bring San back to her.

"Yunho he's awake!" Jongho came over to me, breathing heavily as if he ran the whole way here.

I looked at him in shock, standing up to run over to the infirmary but a blur of red that passed but stopped me. I caught a glimpse of her red jacket just before she vanished. I cursed and ran after her, chasing her down to the infirmary. She had just managed to open the door but before she could take a step inside I wrapped my arms around her waist and dragged her back.

"Kanda! Tell me where he is! Please! Tell me!" She shouted desperately, kicking her legs to break free of my hold but I held on tightly.

I tried dragging her out of the room but she held onto the door frame, her strength surprising me. I mean, I always knew she was strong and that she'd have me on my ass within seconds in a fight but damn, I didn't think she'd be strong enough to keep me from dragging her out of a room by hanging onto the damn door frame. Even with Jongho’s help she wouldn’t let go. The frame is only two inches thick for fuck's sake! How the hell is she still holding on?!

-Seonghwa's P.O.V- [ayyyeeee first Seonghwa p.o.v. noice]

I grabbed onto Wooyoung's shoulder, using him to help me stand upright. It had been a few days and I've been getting better each day but I still felt weak at times and right now was one of those times. I guess it has something to do with the amount of blood I lost.

"Take me over to Kanda then help those two get her out of here." I told Wooyoung, my voice low.

I left no room for any arguments and he didn't offer any, simply giving me a nod of his head. He helped me get over to where Yeosang was leaning over Kanda, checking his vitals. Yeosang glanced over his shoulder and gave me a silent warning, one I disregarded. I was going to get the answers I wanted from this bastard and then I was going to kill him. The moment Wooyoung left to help drag Y/N out of the room I reached over to grab Kanda’s collar but before my fingers could even graze him Yeosang grabbed onto my wrist tightly.

“He’s just woken up after, days, Seonghwa. He can barely even talk, if he can even muster the energy it requires to do that simple action that is. Any questions you have for him can wait a few more hours.” He said, his voice calm but an underlying threat came through in his tone.

“San could die in those few hours. He can already be dead for all I know and you’re telling me to wait?” I spat out through my teeth, clenching my hand into a fist and yanked it out of his grip, “Move aside, now.”

But he didn’t budge, standing in front of Kanda protectively. I knew he wasn’t doing this because he was loyal to Kanda, no this was the doctor side of him I was seeing. Any patient he had, whether it was one of us or an enemy, he protected with everything he had. He didn’t care what happened afterward but while he was treating them they were untouchable. He would even go as far as fight for them. Yeosang isn’t just some doctor either, his our second best fighter, second only to me.

“Yeosang,” I said his name in a low voice, warning him one last time, “Move before I move you out of the way.”

He scoffed, a smirk crossing his features, “In your condition you’re better off picking a fight with a cat. You may be able to beat me when you’re at your best but right now I’d have you on your knees within seconds.”

I set my jaw but said nothing. In my weakened state I won’t even be able to fight off a small child, much less a full grown man who had the same training I did. And I should know how strong he is more than anyone, I was his teacher. I clenched my hands at my sides, hoping I could deter him by simply staring him down but he was strong-willed, as usual.

“Sho…”

We broke out of our staring match to look over at Kanda. His eyes were darting all over the place, his hands fisting the sheets underneath him. He looked like he was trying to get up but he was too weak to even lift his head. The room was dead silent, Y/N had been dragged out by now and both Yeosang and I were too surprised to do anything. That is until I snapped out of it. I reached over and grabbed Kanda’s arm, ignoring the death grip Yeosang had on my forearm.

“Seonghwa I said-”

“I don’t give a fuck what you said. He just spoke so that means he has enough energy to answer my questions," I snarled, giving Yeosang a glare before turning my attention back to Kanda, “Where is San?”

He stared at me wide-eyed for a second before shaking his head to the best of his ability, “I...I don’t know. The last time...I saw him...was...a week ago. I swear. I don’t know...where...they took him…”

Kanda was struggling to speak, his breathing labored, the monitor by his bed going haywire with the quick beating of his heart. Yeosang tightened his grip on me, placing his other hand on my shoulder as he tried to get me to leave but I refused to do so.

“Who took him? Who the hell did you hand him over to?!” I prodded, needing these questions to be answered more than anything.

He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing heavily. If I didn’t know any better I’d say he’s about ready to pass out. But he opened his eyes, the desperate look in them surprising me.

“Mei. Choi Mei. That’s--That’s all I...know. Please...I’m telling...the truth. So--So don’t...kill me. I...can’t die...yet. Shoyo...I have to save...Shoyo. I’m all...he has...left. Please.”

He sounded so...broken. He had tears running down the sides of his face, the look in his eyes was almost too much to bear. I looked away, my hand lost its strength. I was beginning to pull away from him but he mustered up all the strength he had and grabbed my hand, his grip stronger than I thought he’d be capable of in his condition.

“If you...find them...can you...get Sho out? I know...I have no right...to ask this...of you. But...he’s--he’s only nine. If you...can...get him out...safely...and give me...your word...that you’ll...look after him...I will give...my life to you. My betrayal...will mean absolutely nothing...if I can’t get him...out of her clutches. She’s the one...that pushed me...to betray you all. If not for...her threats...then I never...would’ve dreamed of...doing what...I did to you,” He paused, his voice getting smaller and smaller with every word he spoke but I was still able to hear him loud and clear

I averted my gaze, staring at the white sheets on the bed. I didn’t know whether to believe him or not, a part of me was yelling at me to kill him now but another part of me, a smaller part was telling me to believe him. On what basis, I don’t know.

“Hwa...please. I’m begging you.” He whispered, his hold on me loosened until his hand fell back to his side.

I snapped my gaze back to look at him but when I did he had already closed his eyes. My heart skipped a beat when I thought about him being dead but the heart monitor he was hooked up to reassured me that was was still alive. Wait. Why was I worried about this bastard?

“Get out, Seonghwa. I need to stabilize him, again. Go tell Y/N all the information you just found out. I want all of you to stay out of this room unless you’re injured. No more interrogations until he can sit up on his own.” Yeosang said in a firm voice.

I didn’t bother arguing with him as I turned on my heel and began walking out the door. I kept repeating the name Kanda had given over and over in my head.

Mei.

Choi Mei.

Where have I heard that name before?

-San’s P.O.V-

A wet cough wracked through my body, blood coating the inside of my mouth. I kept my head down as I swiped the back of my hand over my mouth, refusing to meet her gaze, that is until she forced me to look into her eyes. Her index finger and thumb dug into my chin roughly, moving my head up so I could meet her icy gaze. The smile that adorned her face didn’t match well with the murderous look in her eyes.

“Now, little brother, I want you to answer me truthfully this time. List all of their weaknesses. Their individual weaknesses, their group weaknesses, and the weaknesses in the place they’re at right now. I want you to tell me everything you learned in the time you spent in their presence.” She said, her voice was so sweet it made me want to gag.

“Go to hell.” I snarled, earning myself another punch to the face.

“This is your last chance, San.” She warned, standing over me with a dark cloud looming over her shoulders.

I spat the blood that was in my mouth at her feet, glaring up at her, “Fuck you.”

Her eye twitched the slightest bit, the vein on the side of her neck looking close to bursting and I thought it would, until a laugh fell from her lips. The mere sound of it had a sense of dread washing over me. She never laughed, never, unless she was about to inflict some serious harm seconds later. When she turned her attention to the table next to her I felt my whole body begin to shake, the fear finally setting it. She glanced over her tools thoughtfully, a calm look on her face while I couldn’t be more terrified. I dragged myself away from her, crawling back until my back hit the wall. I instinctively shielded my head with my arms, trembling violently as the memories of the times she’s pulled out her tools started to pour in one after another.

“You could’ve made this so much easier for yourself, little brother. Why must you always force my hand, hmm?”

I just wanted to live my life the way I wanted to. Why? Why was I born into this wretched family?

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cthulhuoflongisland · 4 years

Text

Fem Roadrat fic below, they’re in love and they bang:

They tore out of Australia like Mako’s fist through a paper screen.

That had been the easy part. The mad dash in the raft to get out, fueled by adrenaline and the knowledge that if Junkrat kept running her gigantic mouth, Mako would be out of a job quicker than it began. The world deserves this, she tells herself as Junkrat chatters away beside her, contained energy making her muscles shake and her voice come out high and giggling. She can’t let this scrawny slip of a woman get choked out before she gives this godforsaken planet what it’s earned, after all.

Junkrat fills Mako’s silence easily, fingers twitching and eyes wild. She never stops for more than a minute, but forgets frequently what she’s talking about. She has no regret or remorse for what she plans to do, or the destruction she plans to bring. She delights, in fact, at the possibility of it without an ounce of shame. Without tears or hesitation or any reflection at all.

The world deserves this, Mako tells herself.

The world deserves this.

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

The hard part comes much later, shoved into a tiny motel room with one bathroom and a shower so small it wouldn’t fit half of Mako’s body. There’s a single queen-sized bed, and for now Mako’s claimed it, thumbing through a water-stained romance novel as Junkrat tries and fails to relax.

The heart pounding exhilaration has receded, after a lot of heists and daring escapes, and now they’re forced to hole up in places like these between jobs. At first, the novelty of vaguely soft sheets and tiny bottles of shampoo were enough to stave off Junkrat’s complaints, but she’s bent over the desk now, tinkering with her arm and periodically letting out growls of frustration. More accurately, Junkrat is cycling between taking apart and reassembling her prosthetic for twenty minutes at a time and then pacing around the room with a sour look on her face while Mako silently rereads the same paragraph about Elizabeth tearing her corset off to succumb to her base desires.

The cycle breaks when Junkrat flings herself onto Mako’s belly in a display of aggravation that’s so familiar at this point that Mako doesn’t bother to push her away or tell her to knock it off, or even look up from her book.

“ Roadie.”

She turns the page.

“ Roadie.”

“ What.”

Junkrat tries to hide the stupid smile she gets on her face every time Mako responds to her, like Mako hasn’t learned to pick up on it. She wriggles to a position where she can look up into the eyeholes of Mako’s mask, which requires her to shove her head under the romance novel Mako has yet to put down and rest her pointy, pointy chin on Mako’s rather expansive breasts.

“ Was just wonderin’ when you’d be finished.”

Mako rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, too used to this game to be truly irritated. “ Won’t be for a while if you keep this up.”

Junkrat squishes her sharp cheek against Mako’s cleavage, like they’re well-worn pillows and not human flesh. Mako’s gotten used to the sharp pinch of her, and lays the book down with a sigh. She lays her massive palm on top of Junkrat’s head, pushing her face into Mako’s chest, which makes her cackle and squirm, like she couldn’t suffocate and die there if Mako willed it. Mako ignores the fluttering feeling in her stomach when Junkrat stills and relaxes, only barely twitching when Mako withdraws her hand.

Those eyes meet hers as Junkrat begins to chatter again, subdued and almost focused. Mako silently strokes a thumb over her jaw as she listens, absorbing nothing, not willing to acknowledge that she could spend forever like this.

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

Junkrat stands there, wreathed in flame as she throws her head back and howls with laughter, like all she could ever want is this destruction. Like it fuels her. Makes her. She’s nothing but fire in the vague shape of a woman, lithe muscles glistening in the warm light. If Mako were a weaker woman, she’d fall to her knees and worship her in awed silence, but instead she looks away and stares at the shattered glass of the suits’ offices, as if she can’t see Junkrat’s reflection in the pieces.

She loves her then. It burns (God, it burns) just like the heat that radiates off of her, her blonde hair wild and stained with soot, a reminder that Junkrat claws her way into everything and everyone with no regard for anything but herself. Mako savors it as she fires bullets into the back of another snivelling billionaire, ready to let it cave her chest in. They all deserve what they get, and Mako meets their empty pleas with the pull of her trigger. The ones that charge her find their skulls crushed and their lips silent, and it’s only when all of them are dead that she realizes her lungs are rattling and she’s bent over a broken desk.

Junkrat’s fingers are at her back, scorching hot, and suddenly her mask is filled with gas. Mako gasps it in and feels her lungs clear with every breath, Junkrat’s metal hand pressing the canister to its opening until it clatters to the floor, empty. Her smile is wild and crooked as it ever was, and God, she has no idea. No idea what Mako would do to kiss that smile, to keep it on her lips all the time.

Mako can’t pretend anymore after that, but stays silent.

There are some things she doesn’t deserve.

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

In another motel, a coast away somewhere on Long Island, Mako lays next to Rat on a bed too small for either of them. It’s four in the morning, too dark to see and too cold for summer, but Junkrat has been talking for hours now, mostly to herself. Mako lets her, knowing that she’ll eventually trick her brain into shutting off, and quietly enjoys the drone of Junkrat’s mismatched ideas. She’s half-way to dozing when Junkrat turns to face her, groping for her arm in the dark.

“ You listenin’ to me?”

Mako grunts, not in the mood to speak.

“ I said, what was it like? B’fore the omnium?”

Mako grits her teeth, letting out a long breath. She hates this question. It always comes back to this, and no amount of silence can deter Junkrat from asking.

“ Less fucked up. Bugs were a lot smaller.”

She can practically feel Junkrat’s eyes roll, and she slaps the mattress in frustration. “ Fuck’s sake, you really weren’t listenin’, were you? I was talkin’ about pickin’ up girls. Used to be easier, didn’t it?”

Mako really must have been half-asleep, because she has no fucking idea how Junkrat stumbled onto this subject. She’s suddenly wide awake, not sure if she’s about to give herself away.

“...Some ways. Depends on why you were pickin’ ‘em up.” Fucking got a lot easier in the wasteland. There were no more nice bars for Mako to sit at, making women blush and taking their numbers home. It all became physical, rougher and faster and leaving Mako wanting for something deeper.

Rat shifts, incentivized by such a long response. “ Yeah? Bet you were good at it.” Her voice lowers a little, and her hand stays on Mako’s bicep. “ Ladies love the big quiet types. Ain’t ever had much luck, m’self, squawkin’ ‘n spillin’ my drinks.”

Mako sits up, her stomach turning at where this is headed. She can’t bring herself to shrug Rat off and go back to sleep, though. Her heart pounds against her rib-cage, and it’s as if she’s found something she’d thought had burned away years ago. Her mouth opens, and she can’t stop the words from spilling out of her throat.

“ You’re young. Pretty. Wait a while longer and someone’ll snatch you up.”

Junkrat jerks away, like Mako’s reached out and shocked her. A truck passes by and the light that blares through the window lets Mako see her face, chapped lips parted in surprise and those big, amber eyes wider than Mako’s ever seen them. She wonders if Rat can see her, too, and if the brief flash of light makes her look half as perfect.

“ Since when d’you think I’m pretty?”

Mako pauses, unsure of how to answer, but Rat snatches up the silence and fills it herself.

“ Are you tellin’ me we coulda been fucking this whole time an’ here I was thinkin’ you didn’t like me?”

“Jesus,” says Mako, rubbing a hand over her face, “ I said you’re pretty. I didn’t say I wanted to fist you.”

“ But that’s what you meant!” Rat is suddenly climbing on top of her, jittery and overjoyed. “ I know I ain’t pretty. That’s just what people say when they wanna get in my pants.”

Mako’s heart sinks, her face softening as she strokes the hair out of Rat’s face and behind her ear. “ Rat.” Her hand runs down to trace over Junkrat’s features, worshipping them in the dark instead of just fantasizing about it. “ You’re pretty.”

Rat slows, awed by Mako’s admiration. She lays flat against Mako’s body, so their faces are inches apart, her breath tickling Mako’s cheek. Mako wonders how many stupid men have called her ugly, told her she was too bony, too tall, too strange to be attractive. Mako would kill all of them with her bare hands if she could find them.

“ I’m not saying that to fuck you. I just want you to know.”

Rat nuzzles against Mako’s palm like an affectionate cat, and then steals a kiss from Mako’s scarred, unsuspecting lips. Her nose pokes Mako’s cheek, and her back arches when Mako’s hands, huge and strong and warm, wrap around her tiny waist. Mako feels herself fall into that heat almost instinctively, her surprise melting away and giving rise to slow pleasure.

“ I think yer pretty, too,” says Rat as she pulls away with a smack, filling Mako’s silence for the millionth time, “ Real pretty. You make me wetter ‘n a hurricane.”

Mako snorts, but doesn’t take her hands off Rat, who melds against her like liquid metal. “ Romantic.” She kneads Rat’s tense shoulders, and lays her chin against the top of her head. Rat never could beat around the bush.

“ I’m tryin’ my best!” Rat squishes Mako’s cheeks together, her metal leg catching the sheets as she drags herself up Mako’s body, hips already squirming. “ ‘s kinda hard to set the mood when I know you’d fuck me now!”

“ Never said that.” Mako’s hands, reaching down to squeeze Rat’s hips and feel her shiver, betray her cool tone. She’s already restraining herself, hungry but tender. She’d never forgive herself if she cracked Rat’s bones or left bruises just because she’s been so starved. She deserves to be savored. Treasured.

Loved.

Rat starts to kiss up her neck, and Mako moans, feeling that wicked smile in the hollow of her shoulder. She feels up Rat’s flat ass, massaging those bony hips that never stop jerking against her, biting her lip at the sensation of a woman’s feverish flesh finally under her fingers again.

Rat wriggles out of the torn tank-top she throws on every cold night, and God, dear God, Mako can’t help but slide her hands up to Rat’s soft, bite-sized tits, pinching them just to hear her gasp. She wants to bury her face in them, feel Rat’s mechanical fingers tangle in her hair as she covers her chest in dark hickies. The smell of her, gunpowder and smoke and faint sweat, is enough to drive Mako wild with long suppressed desire, her head swimming as she tries to make Rat out in the dark.

Rat has no time for such romantic gestures. She flicks the table lamp on after a few times fumbling in the dark, panting, “ Lemme see you, Hoggy, c’mon, lemme see-,” and delights when Mako is suddenly bathed in warm light, maskless and flushed and letting out low, deep groans as Rat grinds against her crotch. Mako’s chest swells with pride when Rat licks her lips, stripping down to nothing and lifting Mako’s worn t-shirt in such a frenzy it’s as if she can’t help herself. She leans down to roll a nipple between her teeth, and Mako holds her there, huffing through her nose.

“ Rat,” she wheezes, “ Slower.”

She pulls Rat’s head out of the cleavage she’s created by pushing Mako’s breasts together and kisses her again, overtaking her thin lips to feel her melt and shiver, both hands grabbing at Mako’s loose hair. Mako squeezes her hips, her ass, her thighs, never hard enough to bruise, and listens to her muffled moans as Rat desperately slides her tongue into Mako’s mouth, tracing her sharp incisors. She vibrates with impatience, pawing at Mako’s covered crotch as she’s held there before she jerks her head out of Mako’s hands.

“ Fuck,” she breathes, still shaking as she presses her forehead to Mako’s, “ please, Hog. I can’t wait no more. I can’t, I can’t, please please please-”

Mako can’t deny her what she wants. What she deserves. She lifts her by the waist effortlessly and sets her spread thighs down on her face, not unlike she’s imagined thousands of times. Rat cries out for her tongue, which pushes into her slick, warm pussy without hesitation and pistons in and out of her until Rat shrieks so loud someone pounds their fist against the wall in the room next to theirs. She lets out high, begging whimpers when Mako sucks her clit between her thick, practiced lips, her thighs pillowing Mako’s head even as she cums, tongue lolling out as her voice chokes in her throat.

Mako feels the familiar burn deep in her gut as Rat slides back down to kiss her cheeks, her wide nose, every scratch and mole and acne scar. She rubs her cheek to Mako’s like it doesn’t feel like sandpaper, so lovely in her nakedness that Mako can barely stand it. She yanks Mako’s pajama pants down low enough to stick the fingers of her flesh hand inside, still kissing her and murmuring slurred praise. She furiously rubs Mako’s clit, engorged with arousal as two long fingers slip inside her without any struggle at all. She moans for Rat as she’s fingerfucked by shaking hands, which pound the spot inside her that makes her roll her hips and kiss Rat’s pleased grin until she clamps around her and bites her long, tanned neck to keep from having the cranky heterosexual yuppie next door report them to the manager.

She lays there half exposed as she catches her breath, her arms wrapped around Rat’s waist as the lanky little minx snuggles against her, grinning deliriously. She’s so tender when she kisses Rat’s forehead that she feels her heart clench inside her chest, gently rubbing circles into Rat’s naked ass as her muscles relax.

Rat in turn feels Mako’s biceps up with lazy joy, giggling in between pants.

“ Ain’t never thought that was gonna happen outside my head.”

Mako grunts in agreement, and Rat begins to babble again. She passes out to the sweet cacophony with the light still glowing beside them, and doesn’t wake up until noon the next day.

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

Things don’t change as much as Mako worries. Rat is no less fierce in battle, not regretful or ashamed of what they do every night they can manage. She holds Mako’s arm tighter now, calls her by her real name when they’re alone, screams at anyone who openly looks Mako up and down to sneer at her to keep their eyes off her girlfriend. She is just as rough and jagged as always, and Mako is so proud. So grateful to have this gleaming piece of desert glass stuck to her side, stealing her lingerie and black jewelry from the malls they loot. They murder the people who’ve earned their death, steal what they want, and have their wanted posters hung up in teenage girls’ bedrooms.

They leave the States to hide in some obscure Sicilian village where no one could understand their accents even if they were speaking the right dialect. People give them a wide berth when they sit together in the bar there, holding hands as casually as Rat orders Mako the most expensive cocktail on the indecipherable menu by jabbing at the picture and demanding it in some of the most atrocious Italian ever spoken.

When it comes, pink and sweet as Mako used to enjoy all the time, Rat slaps her on the back with a wide grin.

“ Go on, mate! You deserve it!”

“ Yeah,” Mako tips her mask up and smiles, “ Guess I do.”

#Roadrat #My writing #Lemon #Rule 63 #Overwatch

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heli0s-writes · 5 years

Text

IV. I’m in the mood for love

Summary: Beyond the sass and the crass lies a tender moment Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes A/N: Maybe I wrote myself into a pickle? Idk but I teared up a little at the end. Also this is the most politics I’ll ever put in my work-- let’s keep it civil and chill if we disagree.

Foot in Mouth Syndrome Masterpost

It’s a miracle that you had worked up the courage to trot downstairs to return the only covering that separated two bare-ass naked men from your eyes. And not to mention yourself, who was only covered in a towel, too.

You make Steve stand so far around the corner of the doorframe that all he can do is stick out his hand. Bucky rustles the shower curtain impatiently and makes a comment on how “non-hyperverbal” you’re being and you’re too nervous to even respond back. When Buckyeye starts looking at you and the swinging white hem at your shins, you shoo him up the stairs before he gets any other bright ideas.

“Didn’t know you were such a prude.” Bucky comments later as you fiddle around in the kitchen, “But I guess it makes sense-- you still have those stuffed animals on your bed.”

You bristle and glare at him, “Just because you didn’t have a childhood doesn’t mean I can’t.”

It’s a little too mean, and you hear the venom that shoots right into him as soon as it leaves your mouth. “Sorry.” You comment. Damn it. He grew up in the fuckin’ Great Depression where everything was dusty and shit.

“Not all of us can travel the world eating caviar at the ripe age of four.” Bucky snarls. Ugh. Why’d he have to do that?

“Oh, fuck you.” You retort the same time Steve sharply calls Bucky’s name to reel him back in. It doesn’t work, as Steve knows, because when you and Bucky get into it—you get into it.

“You wish, princess. Wait, you’re such a goddamn prude, anyway--”

All Steve can do is cross his fingers and bark, “Buck!”

It’s too late. You’re across the room before Steve can say much else and you’ve launched yourself over one empty couch and straight into Bucky sitting on the other. The force knocks it slightly and it teeters before flopping back with a muffled thud.

Buckeye begins to run around in circles, unsure of the kind of play this particular moment is.

You have no idea what you’re doing, and you doubt you even want to—or can-- hurt him in any way, but you are so finished with his bullshit. You death-grip his hair as you jab both knees into his abdomen. Bucky moves to rip you off, but you clamp your teeth over his wrist and he yelps.

“Fuck you!” You scream, “fuck you so much! I—ow! I fucking apologized, you—Ugh!”

Buckeye, ever the perfect audience member, begins to bark to the rhythm of your screeching and aggressively nudges Bucky’s foot with his snout.

Soldat’s metal hand pushes your face back until its tilted up to the ceiling and further beyond, precariously suspended. The only thing keeping you from cracking your skull on the coffee table is your clinging to his hair. Steve’s concerned expression is upside down and his arms are outstretched, trying to determine the right configuration to pry the two of you apart. “Get that fucking! Aluminum foil finger the fuck away fr---”

“Shut up!” Bucky’s palm smashes against your mouth as his legs wrap around your back until you’re a squished human pretzel inside of him. You’re too crushed even to make any sounds and behind you Steve is sputtering vowels and consonants but not stringing together any real words. Finally, he nearly shrieks,

“Bucky! Jesus! You’re gonna actually kill her!”

Yep. This is how you’re gonna go, you think. The Winter Fucking Soldier has officially had enough of your bullshit, too, and he is going to bear-hug you to death. Who would have thunk it? Your fingers disengage and fall uselessly over his arms.

When time begins to slow and your soul starts to yeet itself from your body, Bucky blessedly lets go. “You’re bluer than I was in cryo.” He sneers.

Steve gasps, scandalized by the comment. For whatever reason, he’s covered Buckeye’s ears, too. You would send him an incredulous look, but you can’t feel your face.

With a pathetic whistle of air, you flop backwards and hang upside down over the couch, thighs gripped tightly by Bucky, heaving deep breaths until your lungs feel like they might burst through your rib cage. No wonder you are not a superhero—fuck the hubris, you are physically not built for this shit.

“I think I’m gonna vomit.” You mutter when Steve’s face begins to spin alongside your dog who slobbers all over your nose. Bucky yanks you up by the front of your shirt and the cough that blasts from your mouth goes right into his face. His smug expression twists into one of disgust and you take the moment to waggle your eyebrows suggestively.

Your sour mood has fled and now that you’re absolutely sure you cannot kick his ass—you return to the one thing you do know you’re capable of:

“Hey, baby. Is that a glock in your pants or are you just really happy to see me?”

To drive your point home, you bounce on his lap with a wide grin, wiggling your butt in exaggerated motions.

“Okay! That’s enough!”

Steve scoops you up and plants you back on the other side of the coffee table. “That’s too smart! Too smart!” He scolds as you pat your bottom and then curtsy. Bucky only huffs and crosses his arms, refusing to meet your gaze. Ha-ha. Winter Soldier, meet your match—Ass Woman. No, that just sounds like a porno.

“Alright, fuckers.” You declare, stepping over to the built-in bookshelf around the flatscreen and retrieving a leather-bound copy of The Wizard of Oz. “Ready for chili?”

They watch you open the front and stick your hand inside the false pages and retrieve a roll of bills. “What?” You ask nonchalantly. “Oh—shut up, Barnes. Like you guys really need me to pay back the vet fees. Technically, my tax dollars pay you.”

Steve shakes his head no. So, you casually toss him the roll of cash and then pull out another one.

“Jesus! Will you put these back?”

“Look,” You say, “For every month I don’t come home my mother puts another wad in this box.” You show them the pile of rolled bills, each encased in varying sizes of rubber bands. “She thinks it’ll ensnare me, but joke’s on her, the more I’m away the more there is to spend. She’s not very smart—a consequence of never having to think for herself.”

“And you’re fine with spending it?” Bucky ponders. The relationship you have with your family grows more confusing the longer they spend in your parents’ house. The memorabilia littered in your childhood bedroom seems to suggest that you aren’t completely detached from your family or your childhood. The way you respond to being home is paradoxical, too—disgusted at the excess one minute, reveling in it the next.

“It’s just fucking money. They make so much of it. I couldn’t bankrupt them if I tried. My father has offshore accounts in the fucking Caymans. I literally could not.”

They both pause before Steve speaks up, “Are you an only child?”

You frown. “No.” Then you aggressively push him by the shoulder and toward the exit, motioning for Bucky to follow. “It’s fucking Skyline time.”

Suddenly, you pause at the door and turn around to put both your hands on your hips. Looking both of them up and down, you shake your head impatiently. Steve is wearing his civilian Captain America outfit again. And Bucky, honestly, Bucky looks like someone cosplaying Bucky.

“Who dressed you?” You demand, exasperated, “You guys like, do spy stuff? It’s baffling to me that you don’t get caught immediately. Steve—khakis?”

Upon being admonished, he scoffs and looks around, “What’s wrong with my khakis?”

“Will you please tell him something?” You ask Bucky, who only rolls his eyes as if to say, you’re fuckin’ telling me. When it’s obvious that Steve’s poor choices are solely the result of him being an old fuck with no fashion sense, you mumble. “At least switch shirts. I’m going to take Buckeye out… please… fix this.”

When you come back, the sight of Steve wearing black and Bucky wearing light blue is so discomforting you cover Buckeye’s eyes. “It’s okay, boy.” You whisper loudly. Bucky flips you off but fixes the hem of the shirt he’s sporting. Steve—for whatever inexplicable reason, has decided to tuck… You quickly yank his shirt from his waistband and shake your head. “Christ, why are you like this?”

Untucked and uncomfortable in black, Steve looks at the menu as if the letters on it were runes from an ancient past. He doesn’t understand at all what Skyline Chili is or why it is. They’re coneys—this he does understand. But the rest of it—nope. Why would anyone ever need that much cheese? Bucky mirrors his sentiment by shutting the menu and crossing his arms.

The small bowl of oyster crackers in the middle of the table is being torn apart as you shovel handful after handful into your mouth. There is an inordinate amount of hot sauce sprayed on the top of the crisps, and you wipe your hands haphazardly on a napkin when you’re finished.

“Okay. You feelin’ spag or nah?” You ask, not even looking up. “Spagbol.” You continue, “Spag-y. SPAGHETS!” Then, in a terrible and very offensive Italian rendition, you pinch your fingers together and enunciate, “Its-a-spha-ghetta!”

Bucky slumps down into the booth until you stop. Steve puts his hand over his eyes.

“Why would you put chili on spaghetti noodles?” Bucky hisses.

The waitress arrives right after his question and you reach over to take his hands into your own— still reeking of peppers and vinegar from the hot sauce. “Shh,” You say almost tenderly, “Adults are talking now.”

“I hope you rub your eyes with that hand later.” Bucky snarls.

“I’ll cup your balls with it, instead.” You respond.

The waitress whimpers at the conversation she’s just stumbled into.

Six coneys arrive and as well as two plates of spaghetti. You explain to the boys that the Skyline specialty is steamed buns, mustard, special secret spice chili, raw onions, and hella shredded cheese. The noodles come with the same, sans mustard, and if you’re feeling extra frisky— beans. One plate is extra frisky today. Then you unscrew the cap to the hot sauce and shake the shit out of it onto everything.

They are bewildered at the sheer excess of American consumption as you shove almost half a coney into your face. Cheese flops down onto your plate.

“I think I’m gonna vomit.” Steve whimpers.

“Big baby, wimpy, Stevie can’t eat the cheesy?” Between mouthfuls, you’re still a dick. “Just try it! What are you, six?”

He glares at you and then sends a puppy-dog look to Bucky who already is lifting a coney to his face. You take another bite and watch them do the same.

Immediately, Steve coughs. Bucky starts laughing so hard he drops the pile of shredded cheese all over the table. You tuck into the overflowing plate of spaghetti, hot noodles melting the cheddar on top into an amalgam of gooey yellow. “I can’t do it.” Steve groans, “This isn’t right. This isn’t what God wanted.”

“God is dead, bitch.” You reply, “There is only Skyline Chili.”

“So what’s your deal?” Bucky asks from the couch.

The three of you have returned back to the house, winding down for the night. It’s eight now, and you’ve driven them around the city just to show them the sights. The gentrified downtown with its bustling crowd of young, white party-people interspersed with streets of dilapidated buildings and homelessness. There’s a bitterness to your voice when you talk about the changing scenery—but a kind of sadness, too. You admit you don’t really know the solution. The business brings in money to the city, but all the people left behind are really getting left behind.

You show them the more relaxed areas, like Over the Rhine and point out its massive brewery. You promise to take them there soon. There’s also the famous Cincinatti Zoo, and King’s Island, where you swear is better than where Steve wanted to go- Coney Island #2. There’s no point in taking him there, you declare when he starts to sputter, because he only wants to go to shit all over it, and because King’s Island is way cooler.

“What do you mean?” You ask back, flipping through the stations with your feet propped up on the coffee table. Steve and Bucky are sitting side-by-side under a blanket. There is a bowl of chips and hummus shared in their laps since Steve refused to eat during dinner and is now very cranky.

“All of this. Excess. Money. And then... you.” he waves to the house, then to you, sprawled out carelessly on a leather couch in mismatched pajamas. Buckeye’s head is faithfully in your lap, big eyes peering up at you, as if he’s waiting for an explanation too.

“You hating on my penguin top and pumpkin bottoms or what?”

“C’mon...” Steve beckons, knowing that your deflection is just another cop-out.

So, you groan, because they’re teaming up on you and after almost three months it’s bound to happen. They’ve told you so much about themselves already. You’ve learned all about the personal lives of the Commandos, the war stories, serums and experimentations, the cryo, the trial after the Triskelion... the blood, and sweat, and all of Steve Rogers’ tears.

“Well... it’s not as exciting as you think it is.” You mutter, tugging on Buckeye’s ear, finding the texture comforting under their persistent gaze. “Just a dumb girl born into an obscene family.”

But you tell them, truthfully and genuinely. Your family has old money- oil, or steel, probably both. As a result, you grew up in the lap of luxury, private schools, language programs, singing classes, dance lessons, horseback riding, trips to Europe and Asia, enormous birthday parties and a line of suitors as soon as you started growing breasts. The worst part, you admit, is that you loved it.

The picture they picked up in your room was from junior prom, and the date was a boyfriend- family friend- you’d been with for about six months, and he already planned on proposing. That was just how it was. Rich people marrying other rich people continuing the line of one-percenters.

Really, you say, your family was maybe the 10 percenter-range. As rich as maybe low A-list movie stars, not quite Jeff Bezos. But you know him, too.

“What changed?” Steve wonders out loud for both him and Bucky.

“Living in New York.” You half-smile at the memory of Union. “After Ohio State, I went to Union for my graduate studies and it blew my shit wide open. But that’s what happens when you start opening yourself up to other realities.”

You tell them about the immense struggle the first year at Union, feeling ostracized and realizing that your life is nothing like most peoples’ lives, and then beginning to frame your understanding of the world in a different way. You tell them you got mugged once and you felt like you probably deserved it.

“Then the election happened.” You sigh, and they both groan at the reminder. “As you know... it’s just been downhill and fucked. We had a big falling out here over Thanksgiving holiday.”

You didn’t come home in almost two years. You took out loans, you worked two jobs, took a full course load and wrote a thesis, and then went on to your Doctoral program. Your parents reached out to you and you eventually came half-way back into the fold.

“And spending their money?”

Most of the money you get you give to the local shelters. “That’s just direct action, baby.” You laugh. “We go at it, all the time. But you know, I figure... If I have to live in this shit world, might as well be a bastard about it.”

That earns a hearty chuckle from both your guests. “Jesus, that explains a lot.” Bucky grins as you nuzzle Buckeye and plant a kiss on his wrinkly face.

It feels so much better now that you’ve aired all the dirty, 1000-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets.

Steve hops up from the couch and runs downstairs, “Be right back!” He yells. You and Bucky narrow your eyes at the trail he’s padded into the carpet. In the distance, you can hear his rummaging and then thumping footsteps back up into the living room. He’s perfectly in one piece, because he’s Captain Damn America and nearly flying up a flight of stairs ain’t shit.

“I figured this would happen.” He grins, holding up a metal flask. “It’s time to break out the Asgardian mead.”

The three of you are drunk on whiskey and space-juice, tumbling around the downstairs living room. You are banging on the piano keys, tapping out a stuttering and off-kilter rendition of The Magic School Bus theme song while they wrestle. Why is it that no matter how old boys get, they still love to wrestle? Around their legs is Buckeye, running around in circles and panting, like a racecar at the Indy—only making left turns, having the time of his life.

“Get a fuckin’ ROOM!” You scream, throwing another shot down.

“You mean your room?” Steve laughs back, head under Bucky’s arm, tapping uselessly on his ribs.

“Captain America, fuckin’ in my room. Carve that on my grave, baby.” You mutter, as the piano lid slams down and you take a bow, knocking the bench over with a crash. “Oops.”

“Thas direct action, baby.” Bucky parrots you, “You’re so fucking lame.”

Buckyeye leaps into the air and licks him on the face. “Fuck!”

“Yeah, defend my honor, Buck!” You whoop. “Not you!” You point to Bucky, who flicks you off with a cackling laugh. The sound of it flutters into your ears like a ghost- leaving cold trails down your back. Suddenly, you get an idea.

“Hey-- you guys on Twitter?”

They sit crosslegged on the floor flanking you as you scroll determinedly through what seems to be endless tweets. There are other tabs open, too, of compilations of these. Thirsttweets, you explain. The internet loves and wants to bone the hell out of Captain America. Some of them want the Soldier there too—just watching, apparently.

Steve is seventeen shades of red and a little bit of purple. Bucky keeps cursing under his breath and at one point, you think, is reciting Hail Mary. It’s a million times worse than your playlist.

Who’s Got the Biggest Dick in Baseball is nothing compared to captain america could spit into my mouth and id say thank you

“I would never!” Steve gasps. “Or that!”

The tweet in question says: ruin my life big dorito daddy

“What does that mean?” Bucky groans, a little ruffled by all the lewd attention Steve is getting.

“His back is shaped like a Dorito, duh. Don’t get jealous, big boy. You’re next.”

For whatever reason, Bucky’s tweets are way worse. Maybe it’s his persona—that redeemed baddie type of thing. People eat that shit up like chips and dip—and apparently want to eat him too.

As long as I have a face, Winter Soldier has a seat rearrange my guts, Sargeant Sexy When will James Buchanan Barnes put his fist in me? WHEN? I didn’t know I was into getting choked until I saw that metal arm.

You snort whiskey into your lungs in the middle of reading one out loud and spend the next five minutes with your insides on fire. Steve has his head in Bucky’s lap and there are tears coming out of his eyes both from Bucky’s clenched jaw and you, crumpled into a heap spewing amber.

A jazz tune belts out from the surround sound system. Steve has picked a Music Choice station from the seemingly endless list of cable possibilities and of course, being a nostalgic thing, chose Swingers — wait, Singers and Swing. Your brain is loopy with joy.

“Didn’t you say you took dance lessons?” Steve asks nonchalantly.

“Uh-huh,” you sigh on the floor, legs crossed over Buckeye as you pull him down on your tummy. Rolling side to side with you, your dog begins to groan and flop, aggravated at your antics.

“You know, Buck used to dance.”

“Uh-huh, you sure did, didn’t you, big baby?” You kiss Buckeye on the nose.

“Bucky. Bucky, not Buckeye.”

He returns from the restroom with his hair pulled away from his face, changed into a long sleeved soft shirt and sweats. “What?”

“You used to dance!” Steve urges with a flick of his wrist, “Get on out there!” He waves his finger to the carpeted living space where you are spread-eagled, trying your best to keep your dog next to you. Damn it, you want cuddles!

“You want me to lead her? Stevie, I couldn’t lead the girl to water if she were a horse.”

“I am not a whore!” You cry indignantly, shooting up from the carpet and knocking Buckeye over with a yelp.

“A horse! Jesus H. Christ, ya deaf!”

You probably are, you think, as the music slurs itself into one long whine. Bucky grabs you by the hand anyway, determined to prove some point to Steve. He turns you around until you face him and takes a second to start on the right beat.

It’s like a switch has flipped and he becomes all step and sway as he moves to the music, leading you, too. Some vestigial memory digs its way out of your muscles from all those damn dance lessons and your feet point and tap along with him, hips rocking when he spins you around and pulls you back. A grin slowly breaks across his face, big and lopsided, all teeth.

You feel like a little puppet in complete submission to him as he expertly uses the perfect amount of momentum to change your course.

Laughter bursts forth from your mouth as you whirl dizzily around Bucky, hands clamped tightly in both of his. The room is a blur of colors and the blue of Steve’s eyes, watching.

At one point, you stand hip-to-hip side-by-side and kick your feet together before he takes you by the waist and dips you low. You’re breathless as he laughs, mirroring your puffs of warm air from above, wild with motion— his hair slipping from behind his ear to hang over your forehead.

“Holy shit you got moves.” You proclaim as the song finishes and he tugs you up with a satisfied chuckle. A slower melody comes on and you move to return to the couch where Steve is sitting with Buckeye, but Bucky tugs you again, closer.

He places one hand behind your back, resting on the ridged thread-bare waistband of your pajama shorts, and the other one he holds up to his chest. You blink away the fuzzy spots from your eyes and peer at him, looking so far away even though he’s just inches apart. His expression has changed, dropping into something distant and removed and staring straight through you.

You see it now. He’s not Bucky anymore.

It hits you like a bag of bricks, that this is James Barnes, in all his glory as a beautiful Brooklyn boy. Out dancing with a girl. Laughing, just like this: bristled, square-jawed and cleft-chinned. Wide, pouty lips. Bright steel eyes. Before he was a soldier, he was just a boy.

Before he was The Soldier, he was just a boy.

His chest rises and falls slowly as he takes a deep breath. The crooning in the background is tender, melodic, with the singer’s sweet voice pining for her loved one accompanied by delicate plucks of a piano.

Once, too, he pined.

The tears in your eyes spill over when you press your mouth to his. Bucky lets go of your hands and you catch his face with them, instead, holding onto his head, fingers grazing his ears and neck and brushing away his hair. You kiss him as if he might be shipped out to war tomorrow. It hurts even more to know that he probably had a night just like this, in the arms of a girl he loved, right before his entire life changed.

And then, you tear away and look at the couch where Steve sits, chewing on his lip, red-eyed too. You sob uncontrollably when you rush around the table and into his arms. He wraps them around you, pushes his face down into your shoulder.

“I love you guys.” You whisper, curled up in Steve’s lap, because the story of Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter was never explicit in the history books, but you know it too. “Oh God. I’m so sorry it’s like this. I’m so sorry.”

Steve forgets sometimes, that they were ripped out of time. He forgets the torment and tearing of Bucky’s entire being. They busy themselves in tomorrow and moving forward so much that they bury how the things that made them also broke them.

You are clinging onto his shirt, crying for him now, for both of them. Two handsome soldiers, living, dying, resurrected again. Having only each other to know and hold.

Sergeant Barnes of the 107th closes his eyes and presses his lips together. When he opens them, he is Bucky Barnes of the terrible, modern age once more. He crosses the room quietly, as he always does, as he was made to do. He sits down next to Steve as you look up at him with love and sympathy and so much sadness he can’t stand it. He links his hand in yours and smiles in a way that cracks your heart right open.

“Don’t get weird, kid.” Bucky whispers with moist lashes. Your laugh is strangled when it escapes your throat, all wet and whine as you squeeze his fingers tighter.

“I love you. You don’t understand.”

Steve breathes a sigh into your shoulder and rubs his damp cheeks on the penguin print of your sleeping shirt. From next to him, Buckeye looks up quizzically and gives his arm a long, slow lick.

“Yeah, yeah,” He mutters, swatting at your dog’s snout lovingly, lips pressed into your collarbone. Then, he kisses you too, tipsy and torn open. In the background, Julie London sweetly croons:

If there’s a cloud above and it must rain, we’ll let it.

But for tonight, forget it.

I’m in the mood for love.

Next Chapter

#marvel #mcu #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky #self insert #fanfiction #FiMS

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