#and let me tell you a secret- i have three more finished pieces to share in the next few days!!

[strawbebbiesart]

evening routine 🦆🌙🧴🧽👓

(part 1)

[echobx]

the one with the notes - jj maybank × ex!fem!reader

summary: you get to know someone knew, but it doesn't feel right

warnings: miscommunication, reader getting hurt (accident), angsty

word count: 2k

author's note: apparently I can write as long as it helps me avoid my life, so yeah. part 2 bc I have an important project to finish and my brain won't let me. but at least I can write, right? right? 😭😭😭😭

part 1

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It starts slow. Simple glances, sharing smiles, a drowned out “hi” in a hallway. For two people who had been attached by their hips just three months ago, you really don't seem like you are even more than acquaintances at this point. But you know there's more. It's in the way he looks at you, how he flips you off when he feels you stare, how he makes you laugh from across the classroom. It's in the way you don't even notice that the new guy has been standing next to you, trying to ask you out for prom; because all you can think of is how good JJ would look in a tux.

“So, do you wanna go to prom with me?” he asks again, and you blink twice, then a third time. “Sorry?” you don't mean to be rude, but you can't picture yourself at prom, even with the right person it would feel wrong. “You and me, prom?” Sammy asks, and you shake your head to clear your thoughts. “Uhm, I mean- Can you give me a day? I don't, uhm- I have to check my schedule, my mom has a dinner sometime that week that I have to attend,” you reply, and he nods, a smile spreading on his face. “I can color code with you, if you say yes,” he suggests and hands you a small piece of paper. “That's my number, probably easier that way.” You hold onto the paper, unsure what to do, but when you look up again he has vanished.

You walk to biology, head a complete mess, and out of pure habit of heart your feet carry you to JJ. Sitting down beside him without saying a word, and all he can do is look at you. “You know, I don't think Steven will like that you're stealing his lab partner,” he whispers, and you finally snap out of it and look up at him. “What?” “You don't sit here anymore,” JJ reminds you, but when you nod to get up, he holds you back. “It's okay, stay.” “I should really get to my seat,” you look at him, and he lets go of your wrist. “Will you tell me why you are so out of it, or is it a secret?” JJ holds his index to his lips, indicating secrecy, which makes you chuckle. He looks good, his shirt is clean and there are no rings under his eyes. All in all he looks more put together than you felt all month. “Uhm, I don't know, it's just-” you take a deep breath and look down at the balled up paper in your hand. “Sammy asked me to go to prom with him,” you whisper and JJ huffs. “Who?” “Sammy, the new guy,” you mumble and look up at him. You had expected him to be displeased with it, to hate the idea, but instead he was simply surprised. “He seems nice,” JJ shrugs and turns to look out front. “Does he know that it's still a whole month until that thing?” If you didn't know better, you'd say there's a little jealousy swinging in his voice. But you do know better, and throw the idea straight into the mental trash can, the same one that is filled to the brim with the idea that you could win him back somehow. “No, I think he does. Just wanted to give me time to shop for a dress. Color matching and all,” you mutter, and JJ nods, scrunching up his nose as if he was about to start making fun of the guy. “Color matching,” he repeats and shakes his head, not saying a single thing as you get up and walk over to your actual seat, making space for Steven, who had just walked in and was giving you a confused look.

The whole lesson, your mind is running haywire. Was it really just acquaintances? People who say hi in the hallway, who smile at each other in passing. None of it had any meaning, and you had to convince yourself of that. Because anything else would cause you to spiral, and if it wasn't real (it couldn't be) you'd just end up worse than the first time round.

The next day you tell Sammy that it's okay, and he's rather giddy over it, more so than you. You spend more time with him over the following month. He helps you pick out the dress, he is all in all a good friend to you. And you know it's not just friendship that he seeks, but you aren't ready for more, not yet. Yet, he's understanding of your situation, of your feelings and for some reason you don't even question why he would be interested in you. Getting to know Sammy is inherently different from how it was with JJ. Sammy is sweet and nice, and he has your mom wrapped around his finger, but if you are truly honest with yourself, it's not enough. And you can't stop comparing him to J. To how he would make you laugh with stupid, childish things. To the way he'd look at you, especially before bed when you felt like your worst. JJ is all you had ever wanted, and more. But you had fucked it up because you have issues. You know deep in your heart that JJ would've never cheated on you, he loved you too much to hurt you in such a way. But your brain and its stupid chemicals didn't let you love him in peace. He'd just have to talk to a girl that wasn't you or Sarah or Kie and your blood would start boiling. It didn't even make sense to you, which was the worst part. You didn't understand why you were jealous like that, and you hated yourself for it. And no matter how hard he had tried to make it easier for you, it didn't help.

That month is also when the notes start. Small folded colorful pieces of paper with words on them. “You look beautiful, today” or “I love your smile.” But you don't think much of it. You don't know the handwriting, and the most likely culprit is Sammy after all. He's the one who showers you with compliments every single day, so it doesn't seem far off that he'd slip a few notes into your locker.

You arrive at the school that night in your light blue dress, ready to have at least a bit of fun before the year ends. You spend most of the time dancing, with Sammy, not even noticing the pair of eyes that linger in the dark, always watching you. When you go to the bathroom, you run into Kie, and she almost falls over, but you catch her. “Thanks, y/n,” she smiles, but it's not the genuine smile you know of her. “No problem,” you mumble and keep walking when she speaks up. “You know, it's pretty fucked up that you keep stringing him along like that.” “What?” you turn to look at her. “He left you all those notes, and you are too caught up with the new guy to even look at him anymore. That's fucked up, and you know it,” she scoffs, and you feel like you got hit by a car. It takes some time for it to settle, but by that point she is already gone, back towards the gym.

“Kie! Kie wait!” you scream while running after her. It doesn't matter to you that you might cause a scene, not when it's this important. “What?” she turns and snaps. “I think you've done enough.” “It's your handwriting,” you pant and she laughs. “Of course it's my handwriting. And the fact that you didn't even think of that- What's it like in that head of yours? Cozy? Cuddled up and ignoring the pain you cause the people around you?” “That's not fair,” you shake your head. A few people had turned to see what was going on, but most were still unaware of it all. Of the mess you had created unknowingly. “It's not fair to fuck someone over the way you did. That's what's not fair, y/n! Fuck, I don't even know why he still loves you,” she sneers and your heart drops some more. It hadn't occurred to you that he had been honest that day. It hadn't occurred to you that he hadn't just said it to calm you down. “But that's not- I will fix it,” your eyes jump around the room, not fixing on anything in particular, especially not the painful expression on Sammy's face. “I can fix it.” “You can't fix shit, y/n/n. Couldn't even fix yourself,” Kie scoffs. “I'm gonna fix it, I have to.” “Why should he ever care?” she snaps, and you stare at her in fury. “Because I love him, Kie. I love him. I love JJ,” you yell at her, but the sound of a glass shattering on the floor makes Kiara turn.

The glass filled with punch l, that Sammy had held, has slipped out of his hand, but his eyes are fixed on you. It takes a second for him to turn and walk away, and you don't know what to do. You never meant to hurt him, that had never been the plan. You run after him, yelling his name, but he's faster than you, mainly because you are in heels. And there it is again, the overwhelming feeling of guilt, and the pain that comes hand in hand with it. It's the same as the night you had broken up with JJ, the same you had felt waking up to an empty bed after-

“Y/N?” You can hear someone calling out for you, but it sounds far away, too far to be real. “Wake up, baby, come on,” JJ's voice buries itself in your mind, but you know it can't be true. He doesn't even go to prom, he wouldn't be here, you're hallucinating. “Y/n/n, wake up. Please, my love,” JJ begs, and you open your eyes. His blue eyes are filled with tears, but he starts to smile, brushing over your cheek. “Hi,” your voice is raspy and doesn't sound at all like you. “Hi,” he grins, tears wetting his cheeks. “What happened?” you hush, and then you feel a stinging pain on your forehead, but when you reach for it, he stops you. “It's okay, we're taking you to the ER. You fell down the stairs in front of the gym,” he explains. “I can't remember,” you whisper, the pounding in your head is making it hard to concentrate. “I know, I'll tell you when you're better. Please just, stay still, all right,” he whispers and you nod a single time.

“JJ?” you ask quietly, but the noise of the engine is drowning out every other sound, and you can only see him move his lips, no words coming to your ears. “I love you,” you mutter before losing consciousness the second time that night.

When you wake up at the hospital, you are alone. You can see your mother outside your room talking to a doctor, but the person you needed most isn't there. Your heart clenches, it hurts worse than your head. “How do you feel?” your mom asks after sitting back down by your side. “Like I was run over and trampled on by a herd of angry rhinos,” you mutter. “They say you have a concussion, on top of that laceration,” she says and points at your head. “Where's JJ?” you ask and her soothing smile drops. “I told him to go home.” “Why?” “Because he's the reason you are in this mess, honey,” she tries to hold your hand, but you pull away. “That's not true. He saved me,” you whisper and turn away from her, facing the window and wishing you had never made the mistake of breaking up with him.

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please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist:@ijustwantttoread@spideysimpossiblegirl@redhead1180@princessmaybank@kys4-20@drwstarkeyy@immyowndefender@julczimozart

[livesincerely]

i was just reading back through your writer’s desks and remembered how much i loved the slideshow au! no pressure but do you have anymore thoughts on it? it’s just one of my faves <3

The outline/notes for that one are still in the very early stages but I’m happy to share what I’ve got so far!

00000

He’s waiting for Tony to come back from the bathroom, the next episode of Crime Scene Kitchen queued up on the tv, when his phone vibrates with a text from Jack.

this prod meeting is running long, probs won’t be back until late. Go ahead and watch w/o me

Everything ok?

ya but part of the set got busted during a scene change so I gotta figure when/how to fix it before tomorrow night

I’ll put your takeout in the fridge and save you some egg rolls

and that’s why you’re my favorite

Say hi to Medda for me

of course

“Jack’s not going to be home until late,” Davey announces as Tony wanders back into the living room. “He says we should start without him.”

….

“Dave,” Tony says, sighing deeply. “Why am I looking at a PowerPoint titled, “Jack Kelly + David Jacobs: A Comprehensive Argument for Maintaining Equilibrium.”

Davey pins him with a scathing look. “It’s a Google Slides presentation, you godless heathen.”

“What the fuck?” Tony asks, ignoring him, clicking rapidly through the screens. “When did you even make this?”

Davey shifts in his seat. “I mean, it’s more of a living document, so it’s never really finished—“

“Davey.”

“A couple years ago, I guess,” Davey says. “Give or take.”

Tony squints at the computer screen. “It’s saved on your old university account.”

“Okay, or maybe it was three months into junior year!” Davey admits, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was a stressful semester and I was super nervous about failing my animal science midterm and Jack was out on a date with that PoliSci major that lived upstairs and— And the when isn’t the point! The point is, according to my research, telling Jack isn’t worth the risk of ruining our friendship.”

“What are these graphs even measuring?” Tony asks, staring at one of the slides. “‘Overall Happiness, Jacobs v Others’?”

….

“Well, your math is absolute shit, for one thing,” Tony says, frowning at a graph entitled ‘Art Pieces per Subject’. Davey’s name is sitting in dead last. “There’s no way these numbers are right. Jack draws you literally all of the time.”

Davey frowns right back at him. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Uh, yeah he fucking does,” Tony disagrees. “You’re, like, one of his favorite things to make art of, period. He spends about half his time bitching about how copic doesn’t make a marker that matches your eyes—at this point I’m pretty sure he’s got more drawings of you than actual pictures.”

“I think I would’ve noticed if Jack suddenly started drawing me,” Davey scoffs, shaking his head. “It’s not like he’s subtle when something’s caught his eye. Plus, he lets me flip through his sketchbooks whenever he finishes filling one and I’m almost never in them.”

“Which one?” Tony asks.

Davey blinks. “Which one, what?”

“Which one,” Tony repeats, oddly intent. “Which sketchbook does he show you?”

“What do you mean, which one?” Davey asks, irritated. “The only one! The one he always— it’s not like it’s some big secret!”

Tony stares. Then Tony sighs.

Very quietly, Davey hears him mutter, “…pair of fucking morons.”

…..

“Okay, but, riddle me this,” Tony says. “Why don’t you just tell him? What’s the worst that could happen?”

“What’s the worst that could— I literally just went over all the reasons why that’s a horrible idea!” Davey exclaims. “It would ruin everything!”

“I really don’t think it would, Dave,” Tony says. “You and Jack… will ya at least think about it?”

“I’ve done nothing but think about it,” Davey says, and to his horror, he can feel his eyes starting to sting. “I can’t.”

“Want me to do it?” Tony offers, and he says it like a joke but Davey knows him too well to think that he’s anything but absolutely serious.

He jolts forward, arms outstretched as if to preemptively cram the words back down his throat. “Don’t you fucking dare, Tones, I am so fucking serious—“

“Okay, okay!” Tony says, holding up his hands in surrender. “I won’t snitch on your neurotic ass, even if it’d make you happier in the long run. My word as my bond or whatever.”

Davey huffs out a laugh, and it’s only a little teary. “Fuck you, my neurotic ass is the reason you made it to graduation, shithead.”

…..

“Hey, can I borrow your laptop?” Jack asks. “Mine’s dead and I left my charger at the theater.”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Davey absently responds.

…..

“Davey,” Jack says, voice straining. “What the hell is this?”

“What is what?” Davey asks.

“This.” He turns the laptop around and— oh shit. It’s The Argument.

He feels his blood run cold. “Oh,” he says. “That.”

“Dave,” Jack says, his mouth set in a hard, thin line. “Did you make a fucking PowerPoint about me? About us?”

Davey swallows. “…It’s actually a Google Slides presentation,” he says weakly.

…..

“You’re telling me this is nothing?” Jack demands, incredulous. He tilts the screen back to show Davey the current slide, which is just an enlarged photo of Jack’s handsome, smiling face, surrounded by a halo of red arrows and the caption, ‘JUST LOOK AT HIM,’ written in boldfaced text. “Nothing? Nothing at all?”

“Maybe we can stop looking at it now,” Davey says, loudly. He leans over the back of the couch, making another panicked grab for his laptop, but Jack dodges out of the way, clicking to the next slide.

[fandom-go-round]

(for december, or whenever you feel like writing for sun and moon) could i request some hcs/short scenerios expanding on sea salt like glitter sun/moon x reader relationship? I know you have brought that story to a conclusion but i think little things like maybe convos between sun/moon about reader, things the three of them do together after getting into a relationship, behind the scenes scenarios that we dont see in the original, and general hcs would be really cute :) its such a lovely story and i love the dynamic a lot so even table scraps would satisfy me lol love your writing and thank you if you respond to this <3

Thank you so much for this! I loved writing it and it was such a good time but it’s hard to fit everything it and be a coherent story. It was hard to pick what to put into the story and what to save. I hope you enjoy this extra story piece! Defiantly ask for more if you want!

Warnings: Exophillia, Mermaid x Reader, Cultural Differences, Mer Sun x Reader x Mer Moon, Poly Relationship

Sun loves to try human food, even though 9 times out of 10 he hates it. It’s always amusing to watch his fins flare out in offence and then spit out whatever you’ve given him. Cooked meat he can handle but even then, he prefers it raw. Moon thinks that Sun’s a weirdo but tries things in secret. He has an odd affinity for soy sauce that you think is hilarious.

Sun watched in horror as Moon took another huge bite of stir fry, picking out the beef and eating without chewing. You snickered from your rock, taking another spoonful and watching, content to let the two of them fight it out. You were taking dinner on the beach again and Sun insisted on trying your meal.

      You knew enough by now to pack an extra serving or two; you couldn’t tell if Sun thought it was a game or genuinely wanted to share some of your culture. It was probably somewhere in the middle. Sun had taken one bite and promptly turned to the side to spit it out. You laughed behind your own spoonful, watching Sun complain and Moon slide closer.

      Moon was never as interested to try your food as Sun but today he seemed more willing, taking a few sniffs before tilting the container towards his mouth. He refused to use silverware (Sun loved them) but he chewed thoughtfully, letting out a low hum. Sun turned to his mate, pout on his face and watched as Moon began to eagerly devour the meal. You were surprised, stopping your own chewing to watch.

      Logically you knew that the mers had to eat a lot, they were huge, but it was another to see them in action. Moon finished off the entire tupperwear in a few minutes, licking his lips and turning to you. You clutched your meal to your chest and he snickered, moving closer.

            “Salty.” He smiled as he spoke, poking you in the side. “More.”

            “Salty?” You echoed, letting him steal another piece of beef. He gave a pleased rumble, curling his tentacles around your legs. You snickered to yourself, giving the rest of the food to the mer. He brightened, rubbing your cheeks together briefly before taking your box. You couldn’t help but enjoy the irony; who knew mers would enjoy soy sauce?

You’ve been debating about getting a house boat. You don’t know if it’s a retirement plan or something else but the idea of being in the water with your boys is appealing. Part of you is still nervous about only being able to swim a little bit but you’re trying to learn. Sun and Moon are trying to get you to move the cabin closer to the water but that’s not really possible. Eventually you’ll get a little house on the ocean but that won’t be for a long time…

There are other mers out there; Sun had mentioned them during your courting period. It’s not something you know a lot about but from what you understand, Sun and Moon are generally mers that live in pairs and not pods. They had a pod they traveled with but decided to get their own territory close by. You ask questions about mer culture and Sun is happy to share with you while Moon would rather learn about human culture. Moon wants to woo you but has an image to uphold.

[joshfuckingkiszka]

『game plan - jmk』

jmk x f!reader

I added a lot more than I think was intended, but it fit together so well in my mind and I love the result.

THIS PIECE WILL BE REGARDED AS 18+, MINORS DNI

» requested 

warnings: slight mention of sexual content, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, more angst than originally intended, and fluff so sweet you’ll have cavities tomorrow

☀

You let out one last long moan as Josh finished inside you. The recording studio had been particularly tense, the twins getting into it time after time. It seemed that whenever they finished an argument, one could simply breathe, and another row would ensue. Of course, you hadn’t been there, that was simply what Sam had said when he called to warn you that Josh might be especially agitated when he got home.

With that in mind, you had immediately gone to work, prepping the house for your boyfriend’s return. You lit candles and incense, dimmed the lights, and made him a Salty Dog. Figuring he would simply want to relax, you also dropped the needle on a jazz album he had in his collection. But Josh Kiszka did not want to relax. Quite the opposite, actually. After seeing all the work you had put in, he downed his drink and carried you up to the bedroom, where the next two hours were spent in anything but a relaxing state.

A lazy smile was directed at the curly haired man, his teeth shining brightly as he walked to get a warm washcloth. You reached for your phone to check the time, only to see a notification from three hours ago.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Josh rushed out at your proclamation, now in boxers.

“What is it, mama?”

“I forgot to take my fucking pill!”

He looked confused for a second only to remember that little case of tiny white pills you kept with you. The ones that allowed him to indulge in his secret little kink of cumming inside you, your birth control.

“Oh. Fuck.” You looked up, nodding as you shared his concern.

After a moment of deep silence, he asked, “Can you still, y’know, take it?”

“Yeah, I will, but we should probably get a Plan B, just in case,” to break the tension, you joked, “No little Kiszkas yet.”

He didn’t miss the last word, and it didn’t escape you that you had said it. The silence became different then. Neither of you wanted to address it, but you both had to. It was a promise of a future, you wanted assurance that he shared that promise, that it wasn’t one-sided. He wanted a similar promise, one of understanding, the music, the fans, his brothers.

“I’ll go get it.” You attempted to get up, but the overwhelming soreness between your legs prevented that, and instead, your knees wobbled and you fell back to the bed.

“You stay here, mama, rest, and I’ll go get it.” If he was being honest, he had no idea what he was looking for. Nobody had ever indulged him like you had. But that one little word was nearly choking him and he needed to clear his head.

The Walgreens down the street was nearly void of cars. It was freezing inside and a light flickering near the door would probably drive him insane if he thought about it long enough.

“Where would they be?” Josh muttered to himself, wiping his palms on his khaki shorts. He checked the medicine aisles first, and let out a frustrated sigh when that search turned up empty. He decided to simply check every aisle at that point.

A pair of teenage girls were in the makeup aisle, giggling and searching for something specific. He could tell they were sisters and he remembered his and Jake’s late night trips like that, and when Sam began to beg to join them. He moved to the craft aisle, where a mother stood with her son, a smaller baby in a stroller in front of her.

“What do you need for your project, Joshua? I don’t see why you didn’t tell me about this days ago.” She wasn’t frustrated, simply tired from the time of night and what had probably been a long day.

“I’m sorry mommy.” She pulled him closer, urging him to grab what he needed so they could get home.

He thought it fitting that the boy’s name was Joshua, he too always waited until the last minute to tell his parents about projects due the next day. Josh hoped it wasn’t genetic. The scene brought him back to you. Yet. Josh hadn’t really ever had time to seriously think about kids. He knew he wanted them, eventually. But when was eventually? The last two years with you had been an unexpected whirlwind, and he never wanted that to settle. But what was life if not moving to the next milestone?

Speaking of, he really needed to find better hiding spots. You had almost spotted that black velvet box under the bathroom sink, and he was waiting for the perfect moment. Now he was wandering aimlessly around the store when it hit him. Wherever there are pregnancy tests, there should be Plan B. He eventually found it and, when he had everything he needed, he checked out, ignoring whatever judgment seemed to be coming from the older cashier.

When he pulled into the driveway, he took a deep breath. The music coming from the bathroom alerted him of your presence there. Your eyes were closed, bubbles covering most of your body.

“Mama?” he whispered, not wanting to disturb you.

“Huh? Oh, hey Joshy. Made my way in here a few minutes ago, thought it would help with the soreness.”

“Has it?”

“A bit so far. Did you find it?”

He nodded, pulling the box out of the bag. After opening it, he handed it to you, along with a bottle of chocolate milk.

You laughed at him, confused at the drink choice.

“Do you remember when we met?” He grabbed your hand, gently playing with your fingers. “You walked into that coffee shop and ordered an iced hot chocolate, and she told you that was just chocolate milk, so you got that.”

“That…wasn’t when we first met?”

“Well, you didn’t notice me, but I noticed you. Couldn’t get you out of my mind, and a few hours later we just happened to be in the same record shop.”

“I was looking for Dolly Parton’s greatest hits,” you laughed at the memory.

“Mhm. I’d made the decision hours before in that coffee shop that if I ever saw you again, it was fate, written in the stars. It was, us, we were always meant to be. Out of the seven billion people, you chose me.” His eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them.

“I just wanted to fuck a rockstar, you just wouldn’t leave.” You both laughed. Truth was, when you saw him in that record shop, before he had even noticed you, you knew he would hold a place in your heart.

“We’re like two stars, bound to meet and form the most beautiful constellation. Earlier, when you said that thing about kids, it honestly scared me. I don’t know why, it just did. But after I thought about it, I wouldn’t want it with anyone else. I don’t want life with anyone else.”

He turned around, pulling out your favorite candy. Josh moved to the sink and asked you to close your eyes.

When he allowed you to open them, a box with a ring was in front of you. You gasped.

“I’ve had it for, like, a month. No moment ever seemed perfect enough, but every second I’m with you is perfect. Will you spend forever with me?”

Your hand grasped the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Of course I will, rockstar.”

〚taglist〛

gvf: @doodle417​ @brokenbellz​ @gretavanfleas​ @pyrojoshy​ @greta-van-chaos​ @xserenax-13​ @hayley1623​ @kdarling1​ @autumns30 @keighoe​ @chalametpwk​ @sammysvanfeet​ @shawnsthighs​ @gretavanbitches​ @sammiejane22​ @gretavanbestie @jordierama​

joshy: @prophetofthedune​ @loofypoofy​ @gretavangrace​

[chickensaladquinn]

Chicken Salad Quinn pt 9 - Day with Mommy

Other Parts: Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8

an: I've been in a been of a slump coming out with the next few parts, so here's a random little spinoff about Quinn hanging out with mommy. We'll be getting back to the Y/n storyline shortly <3

It was finally the off season, and Quinn could not be more excited to be spending his time back at the Hughes' lake house. His days were full of golfing, going out on the boat, hanging out with all of his hockey friends, but most importantly, he got to eat fresh chicken salad directly from mommy every single day.

Mommy always rolled her eyes at her sons love for chicken salad, but both she and Quinn knew that it was all a ruse. She secretly cherished her mommas boy always coming to her for her famous chicken salad. As a mom with three boys who were all grown up, it was rare to feel needed. But Quinn always came around to make mommy feel better.

One night, Quinn couldn't sleep, so he made his way down to the kitchen to grab a little late night snack (chicken salad, of course). As he tip-toed into the kitchen, he was shocked to see that it was already occupied. Mommy was still up.

"Hey there Quinny, coming to get some chicken salad?" she inquired. Quinn nodded blushing lightly. Mommy gave him a smile and handed him a bowl of the white, mayonnaise filled, oniony goodness.

"You know, I was thinking," she started, "maybe I could teach you my recipe. That way if a shipment ever goes bad again like last season, you'll be able to make it yourself. Then you won't have to settle for chicken salad chick."

Quinn's eyes widened. "You mean, your world famous, secret family recipe? That you've never shared with anyone? EVER?!?" Quinn was shocked that she would even bring it up. He was a little nervous, too. Would he ever be able to make it like mommy?

"You have to swear on Luke and Jack that you'll never share this recipe with anyone, no matter what," mommy said, eyes narrowed. Quinn nodded eagerly, not bothering that to tell mommy that he would swear his brothers away for a chicken nugget. He knew he would take this recipe to his grave, no matter who or what he swore on.

"Come on, dear. Let's first gather our ingredients."

And so Quinn and mommy spent the late hours of the night working away in the kitchen, mommy guiding Quinn through every step carefully. Quinn listened intently, hoping to soak up as much mommy knowledge as he could.

When they were finished, they beheld their giant bowl of chicken salad. The way it glistened in the fluorescent lights of the lake house kitchen nearly brought a tear to Quinn's eye. It truly was beautiful.

Just as Quinn reigned his tear in, he heard a sniffle coming from beside him. He looked over and what he saw nearly broke his heart into pieces.

Mommy has tears streaming down her face. She tried to dab them away with a napkin but they were falling too fast for her to catch them.

Quinn pulled her into his signature Huggy Bear embrace and asked her what was wrong.

"Now that you can do it yourself, there's no need for me anymore. My boys don't need me." Mommy broke down into sobs. Quinn guided her to the table and sat her down. He sat right across from her and took both of her hands into his.

He looked down and started to cry as well. These small, delicate hands had held him and his brother for years. They had brought them up and made them into the man that he was, that all the Hughes boys were. These hands that had played the game themselves, that had taught him much of what he knows, were now trembling with the sobs of the one person that Quinn knew would always be cheering him on.

"Mommy, listen to me." Quinn said, his voice thick with emotion, "There's no one that gives hugs like you. There's no one who puts on rash cream like you. There's no one that makes chicken salad better than you. I may have learned all these things from you, but they can't have the mommy touch when I do them. I'll always need you."

Mommy took a deep breath and smiled at her boy. They hugged for a long time, then packed up their chicken salad. Quinn walked mommy to her room and patted her on the back, reminding her that she would always be his one and only mommy, no matter what happened.

[chaotictarlos]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤

Thank you both for the asks! I love this little game! It's always nice to have a reason to brag about my writing or shine some light on fics I wished people looked at more. In no particular order, here's a list of mine.

You took the best of my heart and left the rest in pieces - This is one of my favorite fics that I've written in this fandom. It's a character study and exploration of emotions through Carlos' POV of the breakup era. I enjoy writing the breakup era and writing the boys getting back together, and how each of them make their way back to the other. This is the first part in a series of what will be three fics. It can also be read on it's own. (I'm currently working on the TK POV one but real life has been busy lately)

I’ve always dreamed of me and you, now here we are - summary: It's a tale as old as time, meeting the right person but during the wrong time of life. TK Strand and Carlos Reyes dated in college but parted ways when they graduated, not knowing they would ever see each other again. Six years later, Carlos is working as a social worker in Travis County and TK has just accepted a position as a professor at The University of Texas at Austin. They run into each other when a mutual friend invited TK out for the evening. This is a fic that I've taken a pause on because of some truly nasty people who, instead of not reading, decided that they wanted to send hateful words my way. I want to get back into this fic, I have so many ideas for it and how I want them to eventually end up back together. I have the next chapter written and ready to post, I've just been anxious about it.

With love, your soulmate - summary: Carlos Reyes doesn’t think he has a soulmate. In the 22 years he had been alive he had never found anything that would tell him otherwise. At first, it bothered him that he was seemingly without anyone and that there wasn’t a perfect person out there for him but he learned to grow comfortable with that information. He learned to adapt, to date enough that he wouldn’t be lonely, and on the nights when he was without anyone he found ways to make himself feel good. He was content. Or so he thought so until a letter arrived on the day of his 22 birthday. A letter addressed to him, from the past and from his soulmate. From there, they start talking. Leaving letters for each other to find and read, falling in love through the words that they shared. Will TK ever catch up to Carlos so that they can have their happy ever after? Or will time remain cruel to them? **Soulmate AU based on the short film Brooklyn Love Stories - Long Time Distance Relationship with Ronen** This fic was such a labor of love because it was so hard at times to figure out timelines and to get it the way that I wanted it to go. In the end, it was so worth it and it's the first chapter fic I finished in this fandom. I also just love a good soulmate au.

Jingle those Balls - summary: Two families, one fake relationship. TK needs a fake date for his mother's Christmas Work Party. Enter Carlos. MY TARLOS HALLMARK FIC. I almost didn't write this but Cee encouraged me so much an dI am SO glad that I did. I ended up writing 20K words in two weeks and I just love how this turned out. It's silly, fun, a little angsty and smutty. Carlos is so sassy in it too. I had such a delight in writing it!

where do we go from here / how did we (i) get here? / And in your hands, is all of me - the parts I never let you have - I'm rec'ing all of these together because they truly need to be read together. These three fics kicked off my season 4 coda series and deals with the topic of Carlos being married to Iris. There's a fic from Carlo's POV, TK's POV, and then them together. I struggled a bit with the secret when it was revealed and this was a great way for me to work through it and I think I created some really good fics that deal with the topic.

Bonus +1

We can get a little crazy just for fun - My series of slutty Carlos fics. These are just fun, smutty fics that are inspired by Rafael's thirst posts and I always enjoy writing them. I think others would enjoy them as well.

[urmindisastreamofcolors]

Fuck Around, Find Out (Series)

Series description: After your five year relationship comes to a blazing end, you seek comfort in your friend group as you try to pick up the pieces of your shattered life. When the night of your breakup with your psycho ex takes a wild and unexpected turn, you begin to question the nature of your relationship with your lifelong best friend, Jake. As the boundaries of your friendship begin to blur, Jake struggles with an internal battle to tell you a secret he’s been keeping for years as you begin a journey of self growth to always be your own first-choice.

Warnings: talk of toxic ex, cursing, and physical fighting so read with caution

Taglist: @theweightofstardust @maverick-rose @weightofdreams-gvf @doodle417 @milkgemini

A/n: Here’s chapter 3 finally! I know updates have been sporadic, but I’m doing a lot of revising and editing as I go. I don’t have a specific update schedule in place, but let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for chapter 4! Im currently writing off my phone which is a pain and I can’t get the read more link to work correctly, so if anyone has any tips on how to do that from the mobile app I would be so appreciative!!

Chapter Three: The Morning After

You probably wouldn’t have woken up, but you were burning up. A thin layer of sweat stuck to your hairline line and the back of your neck as you tried to wiggle away from whatever was making you so hot. When that didn’t work, you tried, and ultimately failed, to kick the blankets off of your body.

With a huff, you finally cracked your eyes open to try and untangle yourself, but you turned bright red when the sleepiness cleared from your brain and you realized you were laying on Jake’s chest. He had one hand in your hair loosely and the other wrapped tightly around your waist with your legs tangled together.

You had no idea how the two of you had ended up sleeping so…closely. You had shared many beds (and even a few couches) together over the years and you occasionally ended up spooning if you were really cold, but typically, you woke up facing opposite directions.

You wiggled slightly as you tried to get out of bed when your bladder started screaming causing Jake to stir. A long sigh left his nose as he pulled you closer.

“You okay,” Jake asked with a voice full of sleep and concern. His lips lightly brushed over your forehead as he gave your body a gentle squeeze. You tried to ignore the fact that your face had turned an embarrassing shade of scarlet at the gesture.

“Yeah, but I’m about to piss the bed if you don’t let me up.” You gave him a gentle shove as you reluctantly tried to detach yourself from his side.

His brown eyes shot open as his body stiffened and was suddenly very awake. You looked up at him through your eyelashes and openly laughed at his bedhead. Jake’s brow furrowed in confusion as he gently pulled away from you and sat up to stretch.

“Uh…sorry, Y/n. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything,” Jake said with a yawn. When the golden rays hit his face, you were able to make out bruises that littered his forearms and a slowly forming black eye was starting to appear. You gave him a soft smile as guilt wracked your body. Shaking it off quickly and opting not to think about it, you stretched as you continued on your journey to the bathroom.

You were already halfway out the door as you waved his concerns away before running to the bathroom across the hall. Despite drinking into the wee hours of the morning, the sunshine sparkling through the bathroom window told you that it was still relatively early. More than likely before noon.

There was a bloody washcloth haphazardly flung into the bathtub that Jake must’ve used to clean his knuckles and face after the fist fight. The dark red was a harsh contrast to the white rag. Your stomach did a small flip as you shook off the creeping feeling of anxiety that trickled up your spine.

If you don’t think about it, then did it even happen?

You quickly finished up knowing that boys would need the bathroom soon and washed your hands and face before following the rich smell of coffee into the kitchen. A small smile broke across your face at the state the other boys were in. Jake must’ve woken them on his way in to make breakfast. Josh was sleepily chewing on a bagel with his curls sticking up while Danny sat on the couch with his sunglasses on as if the sunlight filtering in from the large windows would make his sight evaporate, but he was doing better than his best friend. Sam was laying on the floor with his eyes closed and face pale taking deep breaths clearly fighting the urge to throw up. A snort left your mouth at his slightly green complexion.

“Is Sammy okay,” you asked quietly as you grabbed a coffee cup.

“He’s fighting for his life right now,” Josh stated matter of factly as he poured coffee into your mug.

“Oh my God! I’m never drinking tequila again,” Sam eventually responded in a small whisper that barely reached your ears and you laughed loudly at his dramatics as the lanky man pulled himself up from the ground with Daniel’s help. Jake shook his head at his little brother’s obviously miserable state as he continued to crack eggs into a skillet. His messy hair had been pulled into a low bun as he cooked breakfast for everyone, but his bed head was still evident.

Slowly, Sam and Danny made their way to the kitchen and forced food down their throats in the hopes it would miraculously cure the hangover. Being the ever helpful eldest brother, Josh grabbed the grape flavored pedialyte that Jake always kept on hand and placed it between the two boys with a mischievous look.

A comfortable silence settled into the kitchen as everyone enjoyed their breakfast. The five of you had spent many hungover mornings together after a wild night out on the town. The only person really missing was Ronnie. A sad sigh left your nose at the thought of it being a few more months before the only Kiszka sister would be back in the United States from studying abroad. Another wave threatened to flood your body when you realized that your next FaceTime call with her would require you to retell the entire story of your breakup.

“So, what are your plans for the day, Y/n,” Danny asked, effectively silencing your brain and interrupting the silence as he flicked the cap off the pedialyte and took a chug. You felt your inner peace falter and shatter as you realized there was no escaping the events the previous night.

“Well…I don’t know. Was Thomas actually arrested last night,” you inquired softly as you played with the eggs on your plate as your appetite evaporated. A heavier silence settled in the kitchen, replacing the peaceful one from earlier. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Jake unconsciously clench his right hand into a fist at the mention of your official ex-boyfriend. His knuckles looked bruised and angry.

Danny rubbed his face as he thought about your question. “I don’t know. Neither you or Jake pressed charges, so chances are slim if I had to guess. We can always call the officer lady from last night and ask.”

“He should’ve been arrested honestly,” Sam said around a mouthful of eggs resulting in Josh slapping him upside the head as he scolded him about his manners.

“Prison is too kind for Thomas,” Jake uttered under his breath as he put his plate in the sink and lazily stretched his back. You glanced at the clock on the stove as you rubbed the nape of your neck.

10:31 a.m.

He had until midday to have his things out and knowing Thomas, he probably had no intention of actually leaving. Your breath caught in your throat at the thought of Thomas lounging in your living room, just waiting on you to come home.

“We don’t have to be at the studio until this afternoon to clean up some of the new music. We can just go with you whenever you’re ready to leave. Consider us your personal bodyguards for the time being! Hell, do you just wanna borrow some of ours,” Josh offered with a brotherly smile when he noticed the panicked look in your eyes.

“I’m not a rockstar, so I don’t think I need an entire team of burly men to protect me from Thomas,” you laughed.

“Nope! All you need is a Jake,” Sam followed up with, laughing loudly and clearly proud of his joke.

The laughter eventually ebbed into comfortable conversation as you, Danny and Sam began to discuss their newest album. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Jake had finished his breakfast and put his dishes in the sink before disappearing down the hallway. You stared at his back for less than half a second before Danny’s infectious laughter filled the room and effectively pulled you back into the conversation.

While you were caught up in the small talk, Josh topped off his own coffee and bounded after his twin brother with purpose. His brow was scrunched as questions raced through his overly active mind, but he knew better than to voice them with you even remotely close.

While Sammy and Danny may have had suspicions of their own, Josh knew exactly how his brother felt about you. He could read Jake’s expressions as if they were his own. In a weird way, it felt a lot like looking in the mirror whenever strong emotions flooded through his twin brother.

The door to Jake’s bedroom was slightly cracked and a small sliver of sunlight filtered into the hallway. Without knocking, Josh pushed open the door and stepped in quickly, but ensured it closed behind him.

Jake was standing in front of his dresser as he sorted through his folded shirts looking for something to wear for the day.

“Okay, Jake. We’ve gotta talk about all this,” Josh said quietly as he perched on the edge of his brother’s unmade bed.

“There’s not really anything to talk about though,” Jake stated with a shrug of his shoulders as he peeled the old Metallic shirt off his torso. “Should I wear this white shirt or a Cream shirt?”

“I’ve literally shared a womb with you and I’ve never seen you lose it like you did last night,” Josh addressed while ignoring Jake’s question, but quickly faltered when his twin snapped around to face him.

“What are you saying, Josh,” Jake spat as he crossed his arms defensively over his chest.

“I’m saying you can’t keep hiding how you feel about, Y/n. We both know your head over heels in love with her.”

Josh held his breath as he watched Jake’s spine become rigid as he glanced to the door. Once he saw that it was firmly shut, he turned to face his brother. Josh took in his wide brown eyes and for a moment, he felt like he was looking at Sammy instead of his twin.

“Keep your fucking mouth shut, Joshua,” Jake spat as he flung the Metallica shirt at his older brother’s head.

“You’re not my fucking boss, Jacob,” Josh spat back as he flung the shirt back at his brother. A tense silence filled the air as Jake’s mind raced.

“Pinky promise me right now you won’t tell anyone. Please,” Jake said almost pitifully as he extend his hand to his brother. Without an hesitation, Josh extended his hand and wrapped his pinky around Jake’s. They each kissed the tips of their thumbs before pushing them together to lock it in.

“Promise. And wear the Cream shirt. It’s your favorite.”

“You had better not ever tell anyone that we still do fucking pinky promises,” Jake scoffed as he continued pulled the gray shirt over his head.

Josh babbled out some random story about how pinky promises are basically blood vows between twins as he opened the door and made his way back to the kitchen. Jake would be a liar if he said he had listened to a word his brother had said on his way out.

But he knew his secret was safe.

[shish-kabinch]

landscaping your mind

a theory / headcanon / thought ramble / possible au about grian’s ninth episode of season nine

for some odd reason, the existence of landscaping your mind - chapter one has got me on the edge of my seat with bated breath and let me tell you why:

to begin with, the order. not only are the “landscaping your mind” segments out of what is written to be chronological order, but the time difference between chapters 2-3 and chapter 1 is nothing less of interesting. grian’s pointed out many times how people don’t tend to watch all the way to the end of his videos, so why would he wait to put lymc1, something that’s assumably about an audible ad, all the way at the end of the video? it’s almost as though he was trying to keep it secret; not hidden, but under the radar for those who don’t have a keen eye to spot it. and i have to mention the cut off. this is what really got me intrigued. the passage read for chapter one is obviously one to take note of, but i’ll touch more about that in a minute. i’m more interested in the fact that the passage was never finished. the tone of which the sentence “and plucking one will reveal” gives off is just one of an unfinished statement, though im certain everyone else knows that. if lsymc1 really is some one-off silly audible thing, what’s the purpose of putting so much effort into creating such a pretty scene, especially when compared to lsymc2&3 -- and why go through the effort of killing the scene but cutting it off? what is there to lsymc1 that we haven’t heard, and why? and finally, the narrator. at first i didn’t think too much about it. scar being the narrator of isym simply made sense -- he’s a builder. he landscapes. but considering the contents of chapter one, i can’t help but theorize on a deeper level.

grian already said that the “lore” of season nine isn’t connected to evo lore (i know man pack it up evo enjoyers we lost another fight), but that actually helps strengthen my theory here in the idea that scar knows something.

“past life, memories, desires, dreams, and past loves.” and who shares these things? scar & grian. it’s an ongoing joke in the community that it’s hilarious how the two of them always end up finding each other one way or another, but i’d be damned if this wasn’t the biggest coincidence i’ve seen. third life, last life, (especially) double life, hermitcraft -- how coincidental to have a man whose been by grian’s side for a good majority of it be the one to voice a passage talking about the past!

now this is me trucking into theory territory (if i hadn’t already done so) but just here me out.

grian made the statement that the rift was a rip in “space and time”, and made the claim that it’ll be possibly pulling things from the past into the present. i’m here to present the theory that lsym is possibly a piece of literature shot through the rift and picked up by scar retelling the past lives between him and grian. i have a feeling that lsymc2&3 aren’t the actual chapters two & three and that’s why chapter one was put all the way at the end of the video; because it is the real chapter. it wasn’t supposed to be found, but it was -- by the very person it was written for. and as the seasons going to continue, so are the references to past realities, and we may finally find the answer to what “plucking one will reveal” in landscaping your mind chapter four.

or maybe its just some silly audible ad lmao

[saikokirakira]

Steven Has a Girlfriend (Steven Grant x Bakunawa!Reader Intro pt.2)

a/n: i know, i know. it's been dull and short. layla's up next, and i promise it'll be more interesting. next update will be next tuesday, same time. :)

Prev: I. Steven pt.1 | Next: II. Layla pt.1 | AU Masterlist

warning: steven being a sweetheart; bakunawa committing steven hate crime; proofread and edited one (1) time

It was odd.

It was definitely odd.

Steven’s dating life has always been bleak and ended up with a lot of confusion on his part.

But his relationship with you has been running… way too smoothly.

Since the first ‘date,’ you conveniently showed up to his work, having looked him up on the National Art Gallery employee list.

Steven mentally heaved out a sigh.

At least he wasn’t being a creep since he did exactly the same thing, only bad at it.

All searches he pulled up were your works rather than where to find you.

“I heard the best guide is here in the gift shop.”

Steven’s heart swelled at you remembering what he said at dinner three days ago.

Most of your dates were showing up during Steven’s lunch break every other day and him showing you his favourite exhibits.

Being your own personal tour guide — it was almost too good to be true.

Steven’s sleep disorder was still running rampant with him blacking out for a few days.

He finds some texts in his phone of him still oddly replying to your messages every day.

He also noticed how you would also go missing for a few days.

Steven believes it’s you acquiring a few art pieces or delivering finished pieces for clients.

There was absolutely no reason for you to suspect each other of any secrets.

It was simply two individuals in a casually going on dates with each other.

When you and Steven hit the one-month mark, he wondered if both of you were going too slow.

You knew right away that Steven was uncomfortable.

How couldn’t you? Bakunawa berated the guy's timidness in your head all the time.

Yet the serpent deity was also the very reason why you were able to find Steven, so you weren't in the right spot to argue.

“Steven, is there something you want to tell me?”

Steven immediately stiffened up before fidgeting from where he stood.

You held his hand and sat him down on the park bench.Spit it out, wimp.

You mentally shushed Bakunawa in your head, then smiled assuredly to Steven.

“Why are you dating me?”

Okay, you did not expect the question.

And Bakunawa was also iffed on your behalf, hissing threateningly.

The deity seal marked on your back began to slither over your shoulder.

Even though it did nothing, you still gripped at your wrist with your free hand as if it would stop him from moving.

You controlled your shared temper with the deity and squeezed Steven’s hand.

“Because I like you, silly.”

Steven smiled, his cheeks growing warm. Then he raised your joined hands, bringing them to his lips.

“I’m… not well.”

He proceeded to tell you about his sleep disorder, his missing time, why he was always late for work.

It didn’t make sense to you. You and Steven texted every day.

“I guess I still want to talk to you even while I’m asleep.”

“Then we’ll make it work.”

“What?”

WHAT?

Mastering it for the past decade, Bakunawa’s roars barely made you flinch now despite the booming volume making your ears ring.

“Nobody said this will be easy, Steven. I like you; you like me. We’ll work on our issues together, okay?”

Steven can only nod dumbly.

You proceeded to lean in. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please do.” Steven nodded with fervor.

He actually met you halfway out of his own eagerness.

It was sweet and shy with a little yearning for something deeper, something more passionate.

In due time. You mused to yourself.

A clink of coins a few feet away broke the cloud of your romantic spell.

"Hey, old chap! I got meself a girlfriend!”

You laughed at Steven’s gleeful cheer and glanced at the elderly man donned in golden statue clothing.

He was busy entertaining a group of tourists but managed to give Steven a side glance.

If he could smile, he would probably return Steven’s cheers.

“Let’s go, puppy.”

Steven happily held your hand right until you drove him home to his flat.

[27emailsicantsend]

Of Converse and Pavement

Masterlist

Here it is! My project for @rinaweek that I have been working tirelessly on for over a month. I hope this is a fic you can come back to again and again, reclaiming the untold stories of Ricky and Gina.

Chapter One: Secret Dating

Chapter Two: Love Languages

Chapter Three: Missing Moments

Chapter Four: Nighttime Adventures

Chapter Five: Jealousy

Chapter Six: Date Night

Chapter Seven: Oh? Oh.

Author credits and notes can be found below.

I have a few remarks to make in regards to the project as well:

First, I want to thank my many anons who have sent me so many headcanons and small works that have inspired a lot of the writing you will see throughout the chapters. Because of the nature of anons, it is very hard to credit them for their ideas, but please take this as credit. If you submitted an idea to me and see it in here, it is yours. You are welcome to DM if you would like me to put your actual name in this portion of the credits.

Second, some of the things I admire so much about the writing of HSMTMTS is the layers, development, and intentionality. Everything feels like it is meant to be a part of the show and necessary for development. I wanted to reflect that nature in my writing, so some of these chapters will be shorter than others. I tried to trim and add exactly what was needed and where, so I could tell a whole and complete story.

Third, another thing I admire about HSMTMTS is the meta (the layers!). I have tried to go above and beyond to add meta from many different worlds related to this show, including my own writing. It might be fun to even play a game and see if you can find all of the hints to the show itself or other media connected to it. I’d love to see what you discover.

Fourth, I have been asked if I have a Twitter a few times to share items related to my writing and this project in particular. I don’t have a HSMTMTS Twitter (anymore), but you are more than welcome to reblog, comment, and share links to this project on here or other platforms- instagram, twitter, etc. (aside from writing specific platforms such as AO3 and Wattpad). All I ask is that you credit me. :) And thank you so much for wanting to share my work. It means the world to me.

Fifth, this story is supposed to be my own progression of S4, happening right after S3. Not every character confirmed to be in S4 is in it, but I included the ones that interacted with Ricky in my story since it’s from his perspective. I tried to include any updates to relationships throughout the progression of the story as well. The only thing not mentioned is that Jet, Maddox, and Emmy now live in Salt Lake and go to East High with everyone else. 

Sixth, the photo I am using right now is a temporary placeholder. @emneeli is working on some beautiful custom cover art for this project. Once they’re finished, I will replace add it to my chapters. @emneeli​ was so kind and thoughtful in this process. They took the time with me to discuss ideas, framing, and art style to truly reflect this piece. They also helped keep this a secret, so that when I was ready to show my project to the world, it wasn’t given away beforehand. I am so grateful for you!

I hope you all enjoy, please let me know what you think! :)

[quietwingsinthesky]

your jo/dean/sam fic??👀👀👀

lmao yeah it took me a minute to find it in my wip folder because none of these fics have titles that make it easy on me (fun fact: it was sitting between one fic titled "oh my god" and another titled "choking your brother to death as an act of devotion" my wip folder is so normal)

ANYWAY. basic premise of this fic is that while I was watching s2 with my friend, I was thinking about her flirting with Dean, about how the original plan (Kripke's idea, i believe?) was for her to be their half-sister, and internally going "hey uh eric. hey eric. why was your idea directly after 'she's their sister' that 'she should want to fuck dean'" and then combine that with s2 having absolutely insane vibes around sam & dean, and i started putting together a little rewrite. nothing too fancy, just What If jo kept hunting with the boys, what if the three of them had insane sexual tension, what if she was secretly their half-sister. what if there is no escape from the winchester family curse no matter how much you try to hide from it.

it is also a fic i started for kinktober with the prompt of the day being "double penetration" asjdlaksjd. and then about 9000 words later i did not finish it in time.

i've tried to find a snippet that makes sense all on its own to share, but they're all very tied into each other, referencing lines from earlier parts and such. still! turns out i do have a little of the playthings part of the draft finished that mostly works standalone. just keep in mind this is very unfinished, try not to judge too harshly ^-^

He helps Sam into bed and watches him drunkenly snuggle into the mattress. Dean’s got the horrible urge to laugh because he knows just how shitty Sam will feel come morning and thinking about him whining over a hangover is better than lingering on Sam’s death wish. He won’t remember anything Dean said, that’s what he holds onto. He’ll be too busy vomiting his guts up to know what Dean just promised him.

Dean turns, and there’s Jo. He’s yanked violently out of his and Sam’s tiny world and into one where Jo’s brown eyes have witnessed every transgression this night. Dean wishes the worst of it was what he promised Sam, but he can still smell Sam’s breath as it beat against his face, his lips centimeters from Dean’s, dipping and swerving like he wanted as badly to kiss him as to run and never come back.

Jo is staring.

Dean goes on the offensive. It’s easiest.

“You let him get like this while we’re working?” he asks. Jo’s face ricochets through emotions, wide, confused eyes to her mouth twisting into a scowl to it falling open a little, head tipped into astonishment more than anything else.

“You think I could have stopped him?” There’s a slur to her words that Dean picks up on. She hears it, too, shakes her head. “I thought we were having fun. And then, I thought he was trying to prove he could drink me under the table. And then, he got...” She gestures at Sam. Sam snores, always so helpful. She looks between him and Dean. She meets Dean’s eyes, and then her gaze falls, in a way that should be familiar and instead leaves him nauseous, to his lips.

“Jo,” he says, “please.” He wants to say that he’s begging please don’t tell anyone else. But... cat’s out of the bag. There’s no way she can’t be putting the pieces together. He knows what he’s really asking. Please don’t look at this like it’s something ugly. Don’t look at Sam like he’s a monster. Don’t look at me like I ruined everything.

(And deep down, he’s crying out, please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me, I know you will one day but don’t let it be now, not for this.)

Jo’s gaze darts over to Sam again. She’s got her arms crossed.

“Please,” Dean says again.

“He was drunk,” she says, slowly. It’s almost like a way out. Pretend this never happened. Go back to normal. Only Dean can’t take that option either, not if she knows and she hasn’t run away screaming yet. Just one more person to bear this secret, and maybe it won’t be so heavy. (Jo doesn’t deserve to have to carry it, to have to hide it, but Dean is so tired of him and Sam being the only ones.)

She waits for him to take the out. He doesn’t.

“But that’s not why he was trying to stick his tongue in your mouth,” she finishes.

“He’s messy when he’s had too many.” Dean’s voice is too strained.

“You’re real fucked up, you know that?” Jo says. Dean expects it to come with a slamming door or something thrown at him. It doesn’t.

“I know,” he says. “We know.”

“Who else?”

“What?”

“Who else knows?” Dean shrugs.

“I don’t know.” Gordon’s eyes, narrowed and disgusted and murderous. “We don’t exactly give that info out freely.”

“Just me, then?” Dean could point out that he didn’t tell her either, that she eavesdropped on him and Sam’s private world. It doesn’t change anything, and besides, he’s telling her now, isn’t he? Can't help himself.

“It’s just you,” he confirms. “You gonna stand on a street corner and start shouting ‘Extra! Extra! The Winchesters are brotherfuckers!’” Jo grimaces.

"Don’t put words in my mouth. I'm not going to tell anyone," she says. “I’m not- Let me think.” She puts her hand to her forehead, grimace deepening, and then he hears her mutter, “Fuck.” He knows that tone very well. He’s said that exact word that exact way dozens of times. Jo stumbles as fast as she can into the bathroom. She manages to make it to the toilet before she starts retching. Dean moves without thinking twice, bending down next to her and gathering up her hair in his hands. He holds it out of her face and listens to her curse around the burn of stomach acid and alcohol in her throat. When she’s done, she slumps. Dean flushes for her.

He should probably back off. Let her go.

He strokes her back instead. He can just barely feel her heartbeat against his palm, reaching through muscle and skin and the thin fabric of her tank top to reassure him she’s still here.

[no-droids]

Home

gif credit: @javier-pena

Part Eighteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.5K

Warnings: SMUT, religion kink (maybe?), squirting, consensual stalking/pursuing, canon-typical violence, mention of underage drinking, uhh I believe that’s it but as always, let me know if I’ve forgotten anything please!

A/N: Hey yall!!!  So I know this chapter has been a long time coming and though I’m not completely satisfied with it, I hope it brings a little happiness to you for an hour or two while you read!  School has been kicking my ass and I’ve been in a bit of an emotional slump recently, but I pulled a few all-nighters to post this on time and it’s finally finished!  Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me and sent me encouraging words over the past month or so, I hope you enjoy the end of the Sanctuary arc💕

Also like last time, part 2 of my collaboration with @followwhereshegoes will be posted after the chapter!!  As a reminder, sweet girl is a reader insert and every imagining of her will be different—this is Lisa’s interpretation of her and her artwork is absolutely gorgeous, so please go give her a follow!

Day 5–11:13am:

You zone out again in the early morning, but that happens a lot.  Din always keeps you up so late, all the time, and without any caf here, the rising sun just makes your eyes droop instead of flutter brighter and wider.  You helped a bunch of younglings find their way into their robes when it was still dark out, tying sashes and fitting masks while holding back your yawns.  The walk into Nariss is close to three hours, probably more with all these tiny little legs, and you almost forget to change into your new digs before everyone grabs breakfast.

Even though your ragtag entourage leaves for Nariss just as soon as everyone finishes eating, you don’t reach the city until nearly lunchtime.  Mostly because the kids walk about as fast as the elderly holy women chaperoning the trip.  You and Naydee lag behind the group, forcing yourself to meander slow as fuck when you nearly sprinted this same exact path just a few days ago.  On the way there, you listen to children of all sorts sing happily as they walk, chatter about their excitement for the parade, complain about wearing the fabric mask they made themselves, and more than once, somebody takes a tumble onto the ground and is left in teary sniffles and dirt stained clothes.  Likely for this reason, the robes are designed to be two pieces—a long tunic with a hood and a separate pants portion to prevent tripping instead of a draping skirt, but the smallest ones are clumsy and find a way to fall anyways.

It’s a colorful bunch—a chaotic rainbow of babies running around, and you share easy conversation with your new friend about the plans for the day until she asks something that makes you nearly trip and join the dirty robe club.

“Sister Drya said your family is meeting you in the city,” she tells you, ignoring your immediate subtle toe stub and the awkward shuffle you have to do to make up for it.  “There’s going to be lots of people downtown, I’m worried it might be hard for them to find you.”

Your heart thuds in your chest and you feel a bit short of breath at being abruptly confronted with the need to lie, but at the same time, you kind of love it.  Having a secret, hiding the truth from others, and just the reminder that you’re almost guaranteed to see Din and the baby before midnight pours warmth and tingles through your tummy.  Everything together is a hit of spice, filling you with a kind of excitement that used to be foreign to you.  Having fun, experiencing new things isn’t quite over yet, but home is calling and you miss it with every fiber of your being.

“I don’t think so,” you eventually respond, hoping she can see your kind smile and the sentiment it carries even as light, shimmery fabric wraps right around your mouth.  “If I disappear, you’ll know why.”

Naydee’s eyes crinkle in the corners to match yours.  “Hopefully you’ll be able to see the fireworks first,” she nudges you, her skin glowing against the pale cream fabric she has wrapped around her own mouth and the hood laying delicately over her braids.  “They start at eight.”

The fireworks, you almost forgot.  You know what?  Today is a good day.  You hear yourself think the full sentence multiple times, and the words put a spring in your step after every single one.  The road gradually becomes wider and filled with more travelers, and you feel safe in the back.  Like some kind of sheepdog bringing up the rear of this migrating cluster of children, making sure none of them drift off by themselves and start eating grass or something.

Surprisingly, the kids manage to be relatively patient and well-behaved once they’re in line at the gates.  The Sisters shuffle them along one by one as everyone moves up slowly, taking even longer to get into the city than it did a few days ago.  The entrance is packed already—so many people visiting for the festival, and they’re all dressed in costumes or robes of sorts, or at least a mask.  Most are beautifully crafted, but some manage to look slightly scary even with the soft springtime color schemes.  It’s a completely different world, a different life for each person as you pass them by.  Your stomach is starting to growl by the time you finally make it to the front, and luckily the guards just let the kids through without any ceremony.  Just you and the rest of the caretakers in light robes need to hold still for the retinal scan, matching each other perfectly except for differing shades of fabric, skin, and eye color.  Once the gates open for you and you step through, though… it’s… Maker.

Extravagant, magnificent are both words.  Floral is another.

It’s like they hung up bouquets wherever they could think to fit them, and this is just the edge of the city.  As the group moves through the streets and closer to downtown, it becomes more and more overwhelming.  The air itself is a warm fragrance wafting all around you, sunshiney and breezy and perfect, flowers of all kinds lining the modern buildings and archways like they were planted there from the very beginning and it just took this long to bloom between the cracks in the concrete.  You wish you had names for all of them so you could list them—the only thing you can offer is the color and vague descriptions of the ones that stick out to you.  Tiny yellow ones that are so small, they need to be bunched all together in massive quantities to even resemble normal flowers.  Up overhead, elaborate arrangements of enormous blue and purple and pink ones, wrapping around each other and hanging down from rooftops.  Some don’t even have petals, it’s like they’re big green cups that are big enough to hold things inside them.  You’re fascinated by every single one, wanting to stop and smell them all individually but needing to keep up with the large group and not allow any stragglers to be left behind, including yourself.

About an hour later, when you’re almost in the middle of the city and there are people everywhere, it’s time to eat lunch.  There isn’t much to it because of how expensive it is, and you’d normally feel bad for accepting the small meal each one of the children gets, but you donated all of your credits to the Keja and left absolutely zero for yourself.  Good intentions, terrible idea.  Still, you pull your mask down and snack on some deliciously fried food, trying not to eye anyone else’s platter after you finish yours.  It’s so good and it’s gone in an instant; you couldn’t even say what exactly it was besides which stall you got it at.  Whether it’s just the brilliant atmosphere or if the food on this moon is really just that good, you’re not really sure, but you’re still slightly hungry afterwards with no extra money to sneak a snack.

Soon after, the kids all line up to get their faces painted, or whatever portion of their face is visible behind the cloth masks and hoods they’ve got on, and music blares from at least four different directions and none of the songs are even in the same language.  Depending on the part of town, it seems like the celebrations are all different.  It makes sense, considering most if not all of these individuals were victims of the Empire’s wrath, spread far and wide across the galaxy.  Here, they’re free, and they want everyone to know it.  Spring festivals of some sort are likely common for most cultures, at least those from planets with seasons, not like Arvala-7 where it was arid and hot year-round, and you’re assuming there are multiple things being celebrated today depending on which street you live on.  There’s chanting in different tongues, dancing and drums, outfits and masks from different cultures every single time you look.

At some point, the children spot a crowded street with flowery rails set up all along them, and you stand behind the tiny heads while everyone waits for the parade to begin.  You think your heart has just been beating slightly faster than normal all day today, but when you finally hear the sound of sirens blaring in the distance and cheers begin to pour out from the gathered crowd, it kicks up and you feel like you’re just as wide eyed at the spectacle as the waist-high babies all huddled together up against the railing.

A flurry of people and things pass in slow succession.  First, New Republic officers with their blaring holobikes, bright orange as always.  Then come large groups of people walking behind banners in languages you can’t read, some of them waving, some of them making different sounds and songs.  Bands marching in formation, dancers in dresses and masks and gorgeous flowers in their hair like crowns, and then brilliant hovering vehicles decorated in bright colors and festive depictions.  The craftsmanship and cultural significance is stunning to witness, it’s so insanely loud, there’s so much going on, and yet…

Through it all, you think of Din.  No matter the faces, the sights you see.  There’s someone juggling.  There’s either a very tall man and woman walking together or they’re both on stilts.  There are enormous balloons being led through the air, people are riding atop an assortment of animals you’ve never seen before, there are traditional costumes and spectacular stunts being performed.  Stalls with games and prizes line the stretches of concrete on the cross streets, people are laughing and celebrating and drinking in equal parts, everything is so lively and festive and fun, and yet, though it all, you think of Din.  Him and the baby, they’re always in the forefront of your mind, occupying your thoughts and making your tummy stir more and more as the time passes like the parade in front of you.  You don’t think this environment would ever be his favorite, and in some far away galaxy, perhaps if you lived other lives together and called a beautiful moon exactly like this home, then you might have to drag him out to see all the with you and the kid every year.  You’d have to bat your eyelashes and kiss his cheek and snuggle up to him all nice and pretty like, and he’d probably grumble and complain about it while wrapping his arms around you—all the people and the noise, sweet girl—but he’d go.  For you, he’d go.

Your thoughts suddenly stop short and you blink for a second.  Why… Why was that scene so vivid?  So wistful?  You used to preoccupy yourself with fantasies about Din all the time, back before you even knew him as Din.  But in every single one, it was sexual and likely came from a place of boredom, a lack of external stimulation.  Here you are amidst bustling surroundings, and you’re daydreaming about domesticity with him.  Why?  You want to travel the galaxy, right?  You want to see things you’ve never seen before, right?

For some reason, you think of the floor, and you miss it.

***

Day 5—5:04pm:

It’s late afternoon at this point and nobody can find the teens.

More people have made their way into the city and it’s starting to get extremely fucking crowded, especially where you are downtown, and the handful of them must’ve slipped away with all the excitement happening and how difficult it is to keep the young ones together now that the parade is over.  You don’t know how long they’ve been gone—one second they were walking around just slightly detached from the rest of you, you assumed because the boisterous younglings fucked with their cool vibe, and then the next Naydee is gasping out to you that they’re gone.

“Sister Drya is going to kill me,” she hisses, her dark eyebrows furrowed in self-admonishment and stress.  So many fucking people here, you know her pain.  “I was supposed to be chaperoning them, they were just here—”

She shakes her head under the loose, cream-colored hood, groaning and then speeding up her gait to catch up with the woman in charge, but you decide to grab her wrist before she can relay the bad news.  

“I can go find them,” you offer, speaking as low as you can with the blaring noise surrounding you.  “Before anyone knows they’re missing.  Is there a way to convince everybody to stay in one spot for a little while?  You won’t get in trouble, but I need to know how to find you again.”

Naydee’s eyes widen in surprise, and even though it’s likely a bit out of character for you, you have a feeling it’ll be a deceptively easy task.  Even with the masses right now and how atrociously big this city is, you already have a general idea of where they’re likely to be.  Besides, you’re not even sure your absence will be noticed if Naydee is the only one who figured out the teens were gone—the other Sisters can thrive without you while missing anyone else would be noticeable, and you owe your new friend a thousand favors for helping you out these past few days.  The least you can do is save her from the scolding of one of the scariest old ladies you've ever met.

“Be as quick as you can,” she finally agrees.  It’s a lot of trust to put into you, but you’ve had experience in reading the most unreadable man in the entire galaxy, some teenagers shouldn’t pose too much of a problem.  “If you’re not back in thirty minutes or somebody notices, I’ll have to say something.”

You nod, silently breaking away from the group without another word.  You think you can hear her announce to everyone that it might be best to eat dinner now to skip any long lines later—smart—but you’re out of their hearing range and line of sight almost immediately.

***

Day 5–5:17pm:

“Really?”  You raise an eyebrow since they won’t be able to see the way your mouth is twisted up underneath your mask, crossing your arms and tapping your foot against the ground to further illustrate just how not fucking impressed you are.

Seven teenagers freeze, and slowly—depending on how much bravery they can individually muster—they turn around on their stools to face you.  The atmosphere in the tavern is bustling and cheery, booze being passed around a large crowd that laughs and mingles, but your vibe is stone cold and quiet.  The contrast doesn’t feel wrong on you like it normally would; the negative and disapproving energy you’re emitting makes you feel powerful, untouchable, armored and strong.

“How did you find us so fast?”  One of the twin boys squeaks out behind a light blue robe, sounding worried.

“Had a hunch,” you grumble, glaring sternly at each of them in turn.  Your tone is dry, your voice sits lower in your throat when you’re pissed off.  All you had to do was look for the closest bar that doesn’t have any orange jumpsuits poking around waiting to card underage younglings, it wasn’t that difficult.  “You’re not exactly unpredictable.”

“Are you gonna rat us out?”  The other twin asks you, in a voice that’s oddly deep compared to his brother.

“I should,” you snap, quickly reaching out to push their drinks away.  “I should let Sister Drya rain down her holy fury on your asses, got good people all twisted up over you for nothing and I’m missing dinn—”

You don’t know why, but you suddenly cut yourself off and jerk upright, spinning around.

The sounds of glasses clinking and boisterous voices fill the bar, but they seem to fade out for a second.  Your eyes fly around the crowded space, your heart lodged in your throat and looking for anything reflective.  Every flash you see is a false alarm—belt buckle, wristwatch, cocktail shaker—

He’s here… isn’t he?

Only, there’s nothing.  Nothing is out of place, nothing jumps out at you the way you’re assuming it will.  You’re braced taut and ready to bolt at the first sign of a chase, but it never comes.

It’s so… unexpected, this feeling.  It’s not like you’re being hunted anymore, but instead, you’re the hunter.  You’re feeling the weight of him from this far away and it’s like he’s calling for you to come find him, teasing the wild adrenaline rush you get from just feeling his presence, as if he absolutely knows it happens.  Whispering soft in your ear and then vanishing the second you’re able to turn around, like he’s here but he’s not.  Playing with you from so far away.

This… this is a taunt.  

The whole thing at the inn was leagues below this, that was rudimentary.  Teasing, getting even, having fun with each other, whatever you want to call that, that’s what it was.  This is scarily sophisticated.  Fluid and practiced and the best kind of frightening, stark and dangerous compared to the carefree and upbeat setting surrounding you.  You’re not making it up, it’s not just you being paranoid.  You know him with your eyes closed.  You know he’s here somewhere watching you, just like you know the starlight that streaks across the pitch black horizon of hyperspace.  Not because you can see it, not really, not directly.  But because by it, even in the vastest and darkest and emptiest of voids, you’re suddenly able to see everything else.

“You okay, Nerida?”

The volume gradually comes back up and you blink, suddenly remembering where you are, who else is with you.  The chatter becomes slightly louder than it seemed before.

“Yeah,” you eventually say, slightly airy while continuing to stare emptily at the crowded room.  He’s not here, you don’t think, not anymore at least.  But you’re not stupid, you know what this means.  You’re already caught, there’s nothing you can conceivably do that will delay the reunion for the next—you look down and pull the loose sleeve up to check your communicator—seven fucking hours, there’s no way.  He’ll pull back and follow you, keep up with you from a distance and then snatch you away right when you let your guard down.  You at least need to get the kids back to their guardians before that can happen, though.

“Let’s go,” you quietly tell the group of foundlings, grabbing elbows and hauling them out of their stools.  “Naydee was the only one who knew that you were gone when I left.  Here’s to hoping she managed to keep it that way.”

***

Day 5–5:32pm:

Against all odds, you’re able to rally the wayward teens and successfully lead them through shoulders that are beginning to move closer together as the crowd grows and grows.  You stay towards the back and don’t look behind you once—not only do you not want to give the younglings an unnecessary reason to become paranoid or to question your actions, but you can still feel Din lingering.  Moving like a shadow, probably fitting in perfectly with the masked festival-goers, nothing drawing any attention to him with all the spectacular sights and noise occurring.

Soon you return to the same spot from before, and you and the teenagers seamlessly integrate yourselves back into the rest of the group without anyone noticing a thing is out of place.  When you move to stand beside her, Naydee’s bone-deep sigh of relief is palpable even behind the concealing fabric; she squeezes your hand incredibly tight in a silent gesture of thanks, and then pulls something from the deep pockets of her robe and passes it to you sneakily.  A purple fruit.  She must’ve saved it for you.

Maker, fuck yes.  It’s not much but it’s more dinner than any of the seven troublemakers get, but Naydee quietly assures you they’ll be able to eat something once they return to the Keja around midnight, just not the tasty expensive treats they’re selling at the vendors.  As the sun goes down, you try not to stain your pretty fabric a deep maroon as you chomp and feel your lips start to curl upwards.  It sounds so fucking stupid when you put it like this, but you keep going back to Din and revelling in knowing that he’s so close, like you’re just mentally checking in on him.  You don’t get the sensation by thinking, though—more like you just focus really hard on your heart and feel him there just a second afterwards.

Is that how pure, stupid, shameless love feels when you’re completely entrenched in it?  It’s not like it’s surrounding you, it’s not suffocating you or making you float.  It’s just a thing.  Like… a thing inside your chest, a physical thing you can search for and find, something you can point to on your body and say it’s right here, this is where my love for him lives.  Right at the bottom of your heart, right where it curves and beats strong when other hearts meet flat at sharp angles.  You do it over and over again, reconfirming its existence every single time.  You don’t know what else you’d call it.  Love is the only word.  To love, to know.  To hold in the heart.

Soon, you start to notice that people are slowly moving around your stationary group.  You look up and watch the crowd begin to walk, some of them giving soft smiles to the cute children as they pass by, but all of them following the same unspoken direction.

“Where is everyone going?”  You ask Naydee, standing on your tiptoes to watch the crowd migrate like a giant system, an organism or mechanism of thousands (or tens of thousands?) of smaller moving parts all traveling in tandem.  It’s fascinating—you’ve been to crowded places, you know what it looks like when a lot of people are packed into one area, but you’ve never seen what it looks like when they all move together.  They would normally be bumping into each other, slipping in between, fighting and never really getting anywhere, interacting individually and thinking separately.  Now they’re progressing in one single direction, so many with the same mindset and understanding of what comes next.  A second parade, almost, with New Republic officers directing the flow of pedestrians as they pass.

“The eastern part of the city!”  Naydee yells over the noise and points, and beyond her extended finger, you can barely see the light of a dusky body of water in the distance beyond the buildings.  “The fireworks are going to go off over the bay, but it takes awhile to get there!”

“Is…”  You blink for a second, suddenly caught off guard, trying to think back to the holomap the concierge pulled up at the front desk of the inn.  Surely you would’ve noticed it, but your sudden childlike hope makes you ask anyway.  “Is it part of an ocean?”

Naydee shakes her head.  “A really big lake!”

Your shoulders drop just the slightest bit in disappointment but still, you ache to see it.  You can’t even imagine—the fireworks are likely going to reflect across the water, giving everyone double the view.  And luckily, after all the children and caretakers are individually accounted for, you start to behind the slow-moving crowd towards the docks you know lie beyond.  

Naydee scurries ahead to keep the kids together, ushering them forward and preventing any drunk passer-bys from accidentally stepping on them, and you quietly bring up the very rear of the entourage.  You take the time to observe more than anything, walk in the back and experience instead of trailblaze.  So many people, so many stories to be told, so many differences and diversity around you.  Your face is partially concealed and you don’t move your head too much, just your eyes.  They flick around to take in everything, the crowd thinning little by little as you make it out of the confined space downtown.  You’re able to make out full bodies and outfits again instead of just heads and shoulders, allowing you to breathe just a bit easier under your mask.

And then at one point—and it’s almost a little startling because it happens all at once—the organizers must decide that the sun has officially gone down, because the lights come on.  All of a sudden, paper lanterns and bulbs flicker into existence all around you and the world decides it wants to glow, glint and twinkle from the inside out.  They’re everywhere, draping across rooftops and tangled around street signs and stuffed into the flower bouquets overhead, raining soft colors down on everything.  You’re in complete awe, trying to keep walking but also needing to look at as much as fucking possible in the suddenly luminescent city.  It’s so colorful, so vernal and warm and you feel like you’re… Like when you took a shower on the Crest for the first time and spent a few happy moments just playing with the water and soap for your own enjoyment, it’s as if all the brilliant rainbow of colors the bubbles would make under the fluorescent light decided to surround you at the same time.  You’re inside stained glass, blinking at the flowers and wondering if Din can even smell the air or if it’s filtered, processed and reduced to nothing under the helmet.

And that’s when you see him.

But with the way your chest rapidly constricts and you can count your heart beats as they pound, blaring white noise through your ears and adrenaline through your veins, it’s like he's just allowing it to happen.  You immediately understand that you don’t have fucking anything the second your eyes land on him; this isn’t a heads up that you caught wind of early, it’s not a gift or an advantage you’ve incidentally gained over him that you should be thankful for.  Being able to see him directly like this, being able to make out all these fucking details from this far away…  This just feels like you’re being informed of the endgame right before it comes.  If you were anyone else, if you were a real bounty and this was a real hunt, his armor glinting and reflecting the lanterns overhead would feel like a knife you're about to be on the wrong side of.

You have a decision to make, very quickly.  Either keep in this same direction, head straight towards him and just pretend like you are who you’re dressed as, a random caretaker for a bunch of rowdy foundlings during a spring festival on Nariss, or disappear.  Drop back, move through the crowd and use the distance you have between you right now as your only hope of getting away in time.  Neither one gives you a particular advantage—your chances of being caught have already skyrocketed exponentially just being able to see the reflection in his armor, the hovering shield at his side with big black eyes… staring directly at you.

You almost trip over your pantlegs, gasping.  Baby.  He beams at you and you think he calls out through the passing crowd, his tiny arms extending out, and your chest feels like you’re pulling organs as if they were muscles, cramping up and seizing with emotion.  You want to run to them even though you’re meant to be running from them, call out over the noise and wave even though you’re not supposed to.  You want to hold the kid again, squish his little forehead with kisses, walk around with Din’s hand pressed against your lower back and see the fireworks with him.

Your hands clutch at the draping fabric covering your chest, pulling and twisting it uncertainly.  What do you do, what do you do?

No matter what, you know it’s over.  Keep your head down and try to move past him, or break away from your group and try to escape—both are different paths that lead to the same result.  What’s the point of running when he’s the one chasing you?  The heart-pounding thrill is the only reason you’re even considering it, but his body stands so tall amongst the crowd, not moving while people ebb and flow like a river passing around him.

Except then you can hear his voice repeat the last thing he said to you in person as if he says it directly into the comm in your ear.  When you do see me… try to outrun.

You should run—run, it’s better than just hoping he doesn’t see you when you already know he does.

Unless…

Out of a trillion different possibilities, you soon realize that there is exactly one situation in which this could turn out in your favor.  You can immediately picture the scenario in your mind, but there’s just too many variables to conceivably rely on getting them all right.  This maybe has a… two percent chance of working?  Maybe?  Everything would have to go perfectly, just fucking flawlessly, but what other choice do you have?  Two percent is better than whatever odds you’re dealing with now.

You walk silently behind the group of foundlings as you approach closer and closer, keeping your head purposefully down as they skip and giggle and dance ahead.  He knows you’re here—he has to know, you’re counting on him knowing.  Walk right in front of him, pretend like you don’t see, make sure you keep left.  Keep left, keep left, keep your head down, keep your head down—

A leather glove suddenly catches hold of your wrist hard enough to tug you backwards.

Your gasp is audible over the sound of the crowd and you spin around, jerking your head up to look at him in fear.  Your heart slams as the beskar reflects your mask and hood back at you—you’re terrified and it shows, you can see it in your eyes.

You quickly try to yank your hand away, even as your index finger stretches up towards the communicator around his wrist.

“Miss Nerida?”  A child’s voice cries, and then small hands grab at you from behind as you bury the urge to actually fight him.  Your instincts are demanding you attack when his grip is this strong, but you just whine and struggle, slapping weakly at him with your free hand and feeling more of the younglings begin to pull at you, their high pitched voices calling more and more attention to the scene.

Your gaze flicks to the side, suddenly landing on a pair of New Republic officers helping direct the thousands of moving bodies from the closest street corner.  They’re looking at you, pointing and beginning to speak into their own comm units.  Din’s helmet snaps sideways to follow your gaze, and then he’s immediately dropping your wrist and stepping back, retreating as quickly as he caught you.  Though you don’t want to—though you don’t want to give yourself away even more, you want to pretend fully that he was a complete stranger and the children were right to try to help you get away—your eyes fall to your son in the hovering crib by his side and you feel yourself crumble just a bit.

Just a few more hours, kid.  A few more hours.

Children pull you away while your pursuers both disappear into the crowd, and you quickly turn to soothe the tiny babies instead of chasing after the one you miss so terribly.

“I’m alright,” you tell them, scooting them up and encouraging them to continue walking.  Blend in, blend in, don’t let anybody think anything is wrong.  “Come on, we’re fine, come on, we have to catch up.”

They take your lead as soon as one of the caretakers turns around and sees the small group crowding around you.  You think she asks what happened, but you just tell her a man mistook you for someone else and nothing more comes of it.  She’s able to settle the chaos better than you are, and by the time you’re continuing to travel forwards once more like nothing happened, the communicator suddenly flicks on in your ear.

“What did you do?”  He breathes out, his footsteps moving fast through his voice.  He’s traveling much quicker than you expected—is he still being followed?  The officers are gone from your sight, they might be going after him right now, weaving between bodies and calling out to the perpetually vanishing glint of armor as he navigates his way out of danger.

You look down at the comm on your wrist and your heart nearly soars with victory.  It worked.  It worked.  You just have to outlast a bit longer, don’t draw any extra attention to it—he’s preoccupied and he certainly doesn’t sound happy, but you hope that’ll be enough to make him slip.  Use his frustration to your advantage, let him think the only thing you were successful at was momentarily escaping him.

“The cops weren’t part of the plan,” you admit quietly, keeping your head down as your loose hood billows in the twilight breeze.  “Don’t get caught.”

There’s a few moments of just his breathing, his footsteps, and the noise floor humming through the comm, before he finally responds.  “You look beautiful.”

You stare unseeingly down at the concrete under your feet, still feeling your hand tingle from where he caught you.  The line abruptly mutes on his end and you just keep moving forward, onward, wanting to look back but knowing he’s already long gone.

***

Day 5–5:24pm:

Din is fucking furious.

He had you.  You were right there, right in front of him, and even if he hadn’t been subtly trailing you all day, seeing the red footsteps get covered and flicker out of existence just a few moments after you make them, he would’ve recognized you anywhere.  In black and white, in the fading light, with your face covered, children calling you by a different name and attaching themselves to you like they’ve known you forever—doesn’t matter, he would’ve known you.  Your eyes have always given you away, always so expressive and starry and soft, but able to see right through solid steel whenever you look at him.

But then you slipped from his grasp, and then more guards pushed him further and further away from you.  They must all be in constant communication, because every single jumpsuit he sees immediately spots him and starts following.  It’s fucking exhausting, and he thinks of you the whole time.

He waits in a dark alley with the kid and taps the side of the helmet a few times to bring up the time on his comm, but then relaxes just slightly when he sees the hour.  It’s earlier than he thought it was, he’ll be able to find you again.

Though, something tugs at him while he’s looking at the clock ticking away in front of his eyes, counting down each second that passes.  There was… a moment.  Back in the square, when he was holding onto you again, when you were looking directly into his once more—everything in his helmet— 

No, he shakes his head while the kid looks up at him curiously, it can’t be.  It was just a split second, it was gone so fast.

But he can’t get rid of it.  Though there’s no explanation, he thinks the display screen flickered.  The sky behind you looked different for a single frame, your footsteps weren’t bright red and visible anymore, your eyes weren’t grey and he stopped wondering what shade of fabric you and your friend decided to choose for you to wear.  It was silvery, he’s almost certain.  Like his armor, it only reflected the color of everything around it.

Color.  Everywhere.  Bursting for a blink of an eye, and then gone just as quick, before he could actually figure out what it really meant.

***

Day 5–6:59pm:

This water is quiet here, but it sparkles.

It doesn’t ever really get truly dark thanks to the enormous hanging moon and ringed gas giant dancing with Sanctuary II, constantly reflecting light back onto the surface and reacting with some of the trace chemicals up above the atmosphere, and you think the sky just might be the prettiest you’ve ever seen it.  Must have something to do with the equinox, the glimmering angles of light being played with by celestial bodies in this stunning system, but it’s a dream.  The Maker apparently couldn’t decide which colors he wanted tonight so he just splashed all of them together all at once, let them run and blend like ink in the gentle water below, like the various people who call this moon home.

That view in front of you, coupled with all the flowers and lanterns lining the streets behind you, and you’ve lost track of time the exact same way you hoped Din would.  You think you’ve stood for about an hour or so in this one spot, half-listening to excited chatter from the babies, mostly just gazing across the stretch of water and being able to just barely spot the docks in the distance, but it feels like it’s only been minutes.

You check your watch—the fireworks should be starting any second now.  You don’t know what to expect, just that in your experience, explosions tend to be loud.  You've decided you’re not going to plug your ears, though.  Tummy twisting with nerves and another inexplicable feeling you can’t quite put your finger on, you resolve to experience the unknown exactly the way it’s meant to be.  Fully, without worry or fear.

Then, lacking any warning or ceremony whatsoever, a single flare launches silent and high from one of the small boats skimming the bay, and the crowd seems to hold its collective breath as the dim light disappears into thin air for a split second, before—

It’s… quite possibly the most dazzling thing you think you’ve ever seen.  So shamelessly decorative just for the sake of it, not serving any other practical purpose besides celebration and visual spectacle, and you’ll probably never know another extravagance like it.  You grew up with dust pelting against tired eyes, you never thought they’d get to reflect such gorgeous bursts of color back up at the sky, glassy and childlike amongst a group of equally wide-eyed children.

As expected, a deafening boom follows closely behind the singular display, but just witnessing it is incredible enough to make you forget to brace yourself for the sound and you jump almost violently in response.  There comes a loud cheer from the people standing around you, a few delighted gasps and children who decide now is the best time to start crying, but then more flares begin to launch from the boats and the subsequent show will sear itself into your memory to replay over and over again.

Still, you think the endless sky and dark water below would have to light on fire to stop him from coming to mind.

Din.

You click the comm on, continuing to stare in stunned awe but wanting nothing more than to hear his voice right now, feel his hand rest on your lower back and the kid’s three fingers squeezing one of yours while the stars rain down from above.  You’re only continuing to run from him because it’s expected of you, that’s the reason you’re here, but it’s becoming harder and harder to argue with yourself.  “Do you always see in black and white?”

It takes him just a few seconds to respond, but he always does.  “Only when I’m tracking someone.”

The loud booms can be heard over the earpiece, happening maybe a second after they crack and sparkle above you.  You can’t tell if the latency is due to the electronics or if he’s just that far away from the source of the sound itself, but… you don’t think he is.  He feels close again, like he could just walk up right next to you any second, or maybe that’s just how he always feels now.

“Does that mean you haven’t seen the sky here?”  You ask after a moment.  This whole time, everything has been grey for him?

“I saw it,” Din murmurs, and even though it’s quiet and explosions are thundering loud enough to deafen more sensitive ears, his quiet voice somehow breaks through it all.  “When you left the Crest, I saw it behind you.”

For some reason, you suddenly feel like crying.  Whether it’s the way he phrases it or the sentiment in the words, you’re close to tears without even knowing why, looking up at the sky illuminating spectacularly.  He says it like he wasn’t the one who parked on this moon and told you to go on without him.  “Can you… turn it off for just a second?”

He takes a second, before clarifying for you.  “I turn it off and I lose your footprints.”

So that was the ultimatum.  He doesn’t want to turn it off until you’re back with him again.  Does he not understand?  Does he not know what you know?  Maybe you just happened to feel it first, this overwhelming physical sensation inside you whenever you think about him.  It’s like the exact opposite of a hole in your chest.  And it’s so odd, so counterintuitive.  Being comforted in his absence, feeling him with you when he isn’t.  Falling in love in the dark, knowing him without ever seeing him.

“You never needed them,” you say, reaching up to pull your mask down under your jaw and chin for a moment, wanting to freely breathe the freshwater and flowers while stars explode and fracture across the sky.  It’s a truth you’re acknowledging, something you’ll carry with you, something you fundamentally own at this point.  “You’d find me without the helmet.  And I’d find you.”

The fireworks continue to bleed into the water beneath them, multicolor splashes rippling into existence and disappearing just as quick.  You could’ve never imagined a more colorful, magnificent landscape—besides your waterfall on Naboo, of course.  That was a pure product of nature though, a place hidden away and untouched by people, completely sacred.  Light refracting against mist, natural glass that would shatter under your weight.  This is a celebration of life and family.  Loud in a different way, affecting you in a different way, but just as wonderful and touching.  A cultivated paradise, designed to be beautiful and safe only because they wanted it to be.

“Think so?”  He asks softly.  He sounds so deep and warm, but… a little distant.  You’re able to hear it in his words.  You don’t know why, though.  Doesn’t he believe you?  Perhaps… perhaps this isn’t The Way.  Perhaps this is part of a completely different oath, one where knowing and loving somebody isn’t the same thing as looking at their face, not at all.  Where you can have them exist entirely separate from each other, because this is love.  This is real, enduring, bone-deep love, and you haven’t ever seen his face, so how would he explain that?  How would the Mandalorians reconcile that?  You bear the mark of the mudhorn, you’ve moved through time and space with him, you’re a mother to his son, and you’ve never seen his face.  It defies both the Mandalorian oath and traditional understandings of love, or it meets them right in the middle, depending on how you look at it.

“I know so.”  For the first time, you think you might sound more confident and certain than he does.  Maybe he doesn’t fully get it yet, but then you suppose he’ll just have to trust you.  “Will you look at the sky?”

“I see it,” Din tells you, but you know he doesn’t.  Not the way you want him to.  And stars, you just want so many things for him, don’t you?  The sky, fresh air, water, light, food, rest.  You want him to see the galaxy the way you do—have a new appreciation for the gifts that are given just because you’re alive to experience them.  All the physics and mathematics aligned perfectly for it to happen—all the chemistry, the systems, the dynamics that dictate the universe, they all got together and crafted a world where you, him, and the kid all exist together at the same time.  You want him to know the significance of that.

“With color?”  You ask, knowing his answer before he seems to.

“I…”  Din wants to argue, or at least say it again.  He can’t or he’ll lose you, he already told you he doesn’t want to turn the setting off.  It’s such an unnecessary conflict, but you want to respect it so much that you’re willing to give up things of your own to make it happen.

“How do I fix it then?”  You whisper, so desperately wanting this one thing for him, this one grandeur to behold.  How do you fix this problem?  How do you convince him to look with you?  You’d offer to just go and find him instead of continuing to run away for the next few hours, but you know the show will be over soon and you don’t have much time left.  “Do you want me to come look for you?  It’ll be too late by then, you’re too far away.  Look at the sky.”

It’s silent for a moment—truly silent, even though colorful bombs are going off above the bay.  You don’t know why you’ve attached yourself to this so strongly, but it’s almost devastating when you don’t get a response.  You look away from the spectacle for the first time in an eternity, gazing unseeingly into the crowd of onlookers with a sudden sadness taking hold of you.  He won’t look, he’s too stubborn, he holds onto things too tightly.

But then, a flurry of flares start launching in rapid succession from the distant boats, screaming and crying on their way up and then igniting into showers of light, and the abrupt increase in activity manages to catch your attention once again.  This must be the end, they saved the best for last.  Every corner of the horizon flashes and sparks, and you’re mesmerized at how bright it is, how many colors they’ve managed to fit into one single frame.

“It’s beautiful,” comes his voice, and the smile that you break into feels just right for the brilliance of the view above you.  Maker, it is, isn’t it?  Now you can hear it—he sounds like he’s looking at it too, with color, in all its breathtaking glory, and you feel like you’re flying.  Like he picked you up and let you watch up close, like you can feel his armor under your fingers right now as he carries you through the sky.

It swells up inside you, a rising wave similar to the ones you can see in the distance, and you know you probably shouldn’t say it because it’s not in your best interest to say it right now, but you have to say it anyways.  It’s an unknowable compulsion, a need to connect and communicate directly with him but for your sake, not presently, not at this exact moment in time.

Luckily, you mute your comm just in time and simply give the words to him from very far away.

“Hurry up,” you say, sending the sentiment into the sky with all your love, and the conflicting hope that he won’t take the advice until a bit later on.  “Come and find me.”

***

Day 5–7:37pm:

After the fireworks are over, people start to drift off in separate directions, clearing the traffic and congestion from the streets around you.  Someone puts their hand on your shoulder and you blink a few times, spinning around and almost stepping on a bunch of tiny little feet by accident.

Stars, that’s a lot of children.  They’re all crowded around Naydee, who pats a few heads and almost buckles under the younglings clinging to her leg.

“Figured you would be long gone by now,” she grins at you from behind her mask, and you’re reminded to pull yours up over your face just from looking at her.  “It’s late—we’re going back to the Keja.”

“Oh, shit,” you breathe in surprise, but the noise of the gradually dispersing crowd manages to cover it up.  At least from younger, more easily distracted ears, but you think Naydee hears you.  Her dark eyes roll good-naturedly, looking happy but exhausted from the long day.  You’re going to have to say goodbye now.

“What happened to your family?”  She asks after a moment, and you think she’s being careful with the way she says it, likely because family is a difficult topic to navigate in general around some of the children hanging on her and begging for her attention.  “Have you been in touch with them?  If not, I’m sure you can come back with us.  It’ll be late by the time we get there, but at least you’ll be safe.”

You open your mouth to automatically decline her offer, knowing Din is still in the crowded city looking for you and wanting to stay where there’s lots of people.

But then… well, he would expect you to do that, wouldn’t he?

There’s more people here.  More danger, but better places to hide.  It’s the obvious choice, it’s the one that makes the most logical sense.  But you’d also be completely alone and you’re assuming the only reason he hasn’t snatched you up yet—which you know he could’ve done multiple times by now, is likely because you’re with a group of innocent foundlings, moody teenagers, and very stern older women.  He probably doesn’t realize you’ve told them about him and the kid, though you were slightly vague on the details.

It’s also a little over three hours to get back, but you’re banking on it being closer to four with how whiney and tired some of the small voices sound, others sounding like they’re an enormous sugar rush contained into a tiny little capsule.  Would he have the gall to try and get you right from under their noses?  Will he even know you left the city, or will he assume you made the smartest decision possible and simply account for it ahead of time?  No, you're overthinking it, just make a decision and stick with it.

“There’s also free food,” Naydee shrugs while you’re still considering, but… well, that settles that.  Almost three days of friendship and she already knows exactly how to win you over in the end.  Sustenance for your empty tummy, an escort the entire way there, and heavily guarded walls beyond.  Din will have to get creative in response—you flaunted your imagination for days, coming up with dozens of evasion tactics to outlast him, but this one just seems… incredibly practical.  Exploiting a weakness of his—isolating it, having it be reinforced by precedent, and then taking advantage of it.  You bet he’ll catch on, but still, it’ll make it more difficult for him, and you’re grasping at straws to hang on just a little longer.

“I…”  Quick, come up with something.  You clear your throat.  “The city is too crowded, I haven’t been able to find them.  I could just… tell them where I’m headed and see if they can find me along the way?”

Naydee smiles and nods.  “Sounds perfect.”

Yet, the entire walk back… you keep thinking you’re going to feel Din trailing behind you, waiting to feel the nerves twist in your tummy and your palms to sweat, but you don’t.  You keep glancing over your shoulder and then down at your wrist, needing to talk yourself out of addressing him through the comm to let him know exactly what the plan is.  You like maintaining a sense of secrecy from the new characters you’ve met on your adventures—Naydee, Karga, Peli—almost everyone you’ve been introduced to, you found a way to find a subtle enjoyment in hiding certain things from them.  But with Din, you don’t have any walls.  They crumbled nearly a full year ago when he silently pushed a cauterizer in your hand and took his armor off for you, and you’ve felt the inexplicable need to bare yourself to him in return ever since.  It would be to your extreme detriment to do it now, but you still have to fight the urge.

Even if you don’t feel him following, you still find yourself acting like he is.  Constantly turning back to double check the road behind you, drifting off in the middle of shallow, distant conversations with tiny foundlings who can’t tell the difference, keeping towards the middle of the pack this time to avoid being picked off towards the back.  The belltower at the orphanage is loud and will ring for quite a distance, so your timing has to be utterly pristine for this to all work out.  You eye your comm the entire way there, trying to stall just the right amount to avoid any realizations or fall into any traps he may be setting for you.

You eventually leave the city walls far behind you, and now you have no clue where he is.  You lost him, and maybe that’s why you feel your heart beat insanely fast the whole time.  He could be anywhere now.  Behind you, adjacent, parallel—you can’t decide where to look, but it keeps you wide awake and focused while the group tiredly travels back to the temple.

***

Day 5–11:32pm:

You can see it in the distance, the brick buildings slowly coming into view.  One might think your stress would have worked itself out by now, been brought back to a manageable level after four hours of walking, but you’ve been on red alert for the past hour or so.  Any movement or rustle that doesn’t come from the sleepy children or exhausted caretakers, you’re on top of it, snapping your attention to the offending tree or animal and not being able to relax even after affirming it’s just nature, it’s not shiny metal bounding after you in the darkness, ready to take you down.

The infants are all likely snoozing away in the nursery, and the Sister who volunteered to stay behind and look after them comes to greet the group at the gate as you approach.  Like always, two Brothers open the iron bars to allow you inside, and you feel the anxiety dig its claws into your tummy.  If Din is going to get you, this is the very last moment to do it.  These walls are guarded and you’re nervous for him, you’re nervous for yourself—you’re just fucking nervous.  Jumpy and worried, not being able to pinpoint him anymore and feeling all the more anxious because of it.

It doesn’t feel right.  Nothing feels right about this, but you can’t figure out specifically what’s wrong.  This was the exact plan, this was a way for you to just survive these last few hours and yet, it doesn’t feel right that you actually succeeded in doing so.  It doesn’t make sense that he’d allow you to return all the way here, especially when he was close enough to touch you earlier.  Din has had so much time to snatch you up, so many opportunities to lure you away, confront you—anything to catch you, and he hasn’t done it yet.  Why?  Either you truly did escape and he has no idea where you are, which doesn’t feel right, or he’s choosing not to get you for whatever reason, which also doesn’t feel right.  What’s he waiting for?  You can’t have won.  It was all too fucking easy, you’re expecting to see him around every single corner because he should be there, he shouldn’t have allowed this to happen.

When someone gently touches your elbow, you’re so on edge that you nearly whip around in surprise.

“Sorry!”  Naydee immediately apologizes, taking her hand back to lift her hood and remove the mask covering her face.  “Didn’t mean to scare you!  I was just going to say that the commissary is still open,” she offers, and you watch the small group of hungry teenagers break off from the group to make their way there.  “It’s going to take awhile to get the children ready for bed, so we’ll be in the dormitories if you need to sleep.  Otherwise, I’m not sure I’ll see you again.”

You stare at her and blink a few times, trying to readjust your focus.  She’s your new friend, she just said this was likely the last time you’ll see each other, but you can’t stop thinking about Din.  Imagine he’s hours away in the city right now, still looking for you.  You’re trying to evaluate your priorities here, but you truthfully never expected to get this far.  Inside the gates, surrounded by brick buildings and silent guards.  You know your way around here, you know hiding spots, you know how to outlast—it’s incredibly advantageous for you to be inside these walls.  What is he doing?

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you give Naydee a quick hug and she happily accepts it.  “I’m sure we’ll meet again at some point.”

She smiles and nods, pulling back and letting a couple grumpy foundlings catch her robes and yank on them impatiently.  The loud group eventually disappears into the dorms, and the door shutting behind them cuts off the tired crying and chatty voices determined to stay awake, leaving you in silence that feels slightly unfamiliar after going without it for so long.

Fuck, you just need to breathe.  As soon as the dead quiet grips the air around you, you realize you need to relax.  You’re way too fucking wound up; you want to bolt at the smallest thing and the sudden silence of being alone multiplies it to the point where you have to remind yourself of its importance.  Breathe.  Focus.  There’s about fifteen minutes before the bells ring, fifteen more minutes and the chase will be all over.

Can you eat?  You thought you’d want to, but you think you’re too fucking antsy.  You can’t stay here alone, that’s for sure, but you also don’t want to be around all the children right now.  The commissary will have a handful of people wandering around, teens snacking and maybe a Brother or two standing guard.  It’s the best place to wait the clock out, so you make your way there.  The gentle breeze billows around your loose robes, your pantlegs swishing as you walk.

A few minutes later, you’ve got a plate of food in front of you but your mask is still up, and you’re just sitting there.  Towards the back of the large room, sitting by yourself at one of the tables and staring down at your communicator.  Five minutes.  You have five fucking minutes left before he finds you.  Can you feel him?  Is he closing in?

You sit up a bit straighter, taking a deep breath.  Focus on that feeling from earlier.  The presence in your chest, the weight that didn’t used to be there months ago—focus on that feeling and branch it outwards.  Can you feel him?

Something catches your eye.

Or no… it doesn’t, does it?  Nothing is out of place here, nothing is visibly wrong or amiss.  The only thing that’s changed from all the times before is how dark it is through the windows, and how there are only a few kids in here grabbing a midnight snack instead of being packed like usual.  Nothing else.

But there’s… there’s an acolyte in the far corner, standing guard with his back to the wall.  It’s not his presence that gives you pause—you expected him to be here, there’s always been at least one present whenever you’ve sat down to eat.  He doesn’t look any different from the rest of the Brothers you’ve passed by this evening or the days before—tall, silent, dark brown robes, hooded and mysterious—so why do you suddenly feel yourself break out into a cold sweat as soon as your eyes land on him?

Bubbling laughter and chatter echoes through the large room from one of the tables near the entrance—seven teenagers stuffing their faces with food and sharing animated conversation with each other now that it’s late and they’re alone—but your stomach twists and your fingers start to tremble as you slowly rise from your seat in the back.  You want to keep your head down and be casual but it’s impossible, you desperately need to keep looking at that silent guard in particular and your heart kicks up in your chest—

—and then it wrenches sideways when you’re carefully backing away from the table and the offending acolyte takes a single step forwards.

Run.  Everything in you screams for you to run, and it’s rarely done that before, but you can’t.  Not yet, you don’t want to draw attention, and the logical part of your mind rages against your gut instinct to haul ass.  He’s here—of course he is, the thought screams through your veins as you try to weave quickly in between tables, feeling light on your toes and readying yourself to run as soon as you can.  The dark figure seems to find a careful pace behind you, staying just far enough behind and walking in perfect silence, and you have so many fucking questions but you can’t even think a single thing beyond run away, run away.  Where’s the kid?  How did he get those robes?  Did he actually take his helmet off just to get to you in a room where anyone could confront him?

Your feet propel you forward as soon as you make it out of the door, you break out into a sprint—just flat out bolting because you know how fucking fast he is and you need as big a headstart as you can get.

You race down the stairs and through the courtyard, the beautiful surroundings contrasting drastically with the way you’re running for your fucking life through them.  It’s not beautiful to you right now; you feel clumsy and physically unable to move fast enough no matter how quick you go, your eyes are wide and every nerve is on fire and you can’t even tell if he’s behind you anymore with how silently he moves, but you just trust that he is and keep barreling forward.  Your breath puffs against the clinging fabric of your mask as you keep sprinting, willing your legs to pump faster.  Get to the belltower at least, get to where you have the smallest chance of being caught by the people who guard this place.

As soon as you allow yourself to even conceive the possibility, two Brothers in dark hooded robes suddenly turn the corner a little ways in front of you and your reaction time is perfect—you jerk to a halt and take a single step forward as soon as they spot you.  Since your momentum already committed you to it, you just have to walk, keep your head down, move directly past them and hope Din disappeared from behind you in time.

Step, step, step—keep going, control your breathing, you’re okay, you’re allowed to be up late tonight and they shouldn’t stop you.  Walk right by…  Stars, you feel their silent stares as you casually pass, and it just feels so cold and analytical compared to the kind of danger Din is gives off when dressed in the exact same clothing.  He’s hard and tangible and an unrelenting force, where they just feel like ghosts that haunt this place.  The threat they present is impersonal and detached, but the terror currently chasing after you is so real that he can read your mind.

You wipe the sweat from your brow as soon as you turn the corner, and your feet are already starting to speed up on their own knowing you’re out of their sight.  Run, get to the belltower before Din does, you can see it standing tall about a hundred feet away.  The stairs leading to the door come closer and closer, but you hear something behind you and it propels you faster.  It’s like you can feel him right at your heels even though you haven’t seen him, snapping at your ankles even though your footsteps are the only ones you can hear anymore.

You scramble up the stairs and close the door behind you, spinning around and facing it even as you slowly retreat backwards into the moonlit tower, trying to stay quiet.  Breathing through your nose, eyes shifting around the enclosed space, continuing to back up and away from the door.  Where is he?  There are so many windows that allow you to look outside, but why can’t you spot his movement through them?  Wasn’t he right behind you?

Behind you.

There’s no reason or logic at all to it; you just react.  Spinning around and throwing a mean punch.

Din jerks back just in time to miss it, twisting and dodging at the very last second to avoid your next few hits—but… things seem to slow down, even if they’re happening so fast.  The moonlight cascades through the dozens of windows lining the circular walls and it shines just enough to reveal small glimpses of him.  With every aggressive strike from you, you see something else—you see a flash of his chin when you try to uppercut, you aim for his chest and you see a bit of his jaw.  When you go for his jaw, he steps sideways and catches your wrist, and you see the bend of his nose catch the light this time.

But then it’s like he finally figures out that you’re actually fighting him, and now he’s coming for you.  Trained and ruthless, not weighed down by any armor and lightning quick, launching perfectly aimed attacks that you’re only able to avoid from reaction and muscle memory alone.  You block or move whenever he strikes, you attack whenever you see an opening, you sidestep at the same time he does—

Until you land a spin kick directly to the center of his chest and snap your leg to shove him back, your heel smashing into that soft spot right above his stomach with dead precision and brute force.  He exhales sharply and takes a few more steps back to steady himself while you pause to catch your breath.

Din abruptly comes back and you fall into it with him again, keeping a sharp rhythm with each other that’s faster, harder, and way more real than any sparring match you’ve ever shared.  The hours and days in hyperspace you spent practicing with him are but a fraction of what he’s throwing at you right now, the combinations so rapid and blurred that you just have to trust your knowledge of him and his movement through the dark.

But then, your downfall.  Bells begin ringing an earsplittingly familiar melody above you, and it shatters your concentration—you falter just as he grabs you and sweeps your feet out, and though you know how to get out of that, you’re not quick enough on the jump nor counterswing to prevent it.  He takes you to the ground, hard, and then your wrists are being pinned together above your head and your mask is being tugged down.

Din’s mouth on yours makes you want to cry.

The whole thing is like coming home.  You spent a week surrounded by strangers and having them call you by a name not given to you, fending for yourself, and now here he is.  Someone who knows who you really are, someone that wants to care for you.  Tears come to your eyes even as they're pressed tightly shut, and Din kisses you like he’s never known anything else.  His mouth fits to yours as if the Maker made your lips before ever considering the rest of you, his bare hand clutching your jaw and forcing you to open for him, letting him lick deep inside after going so many days without it.  It might feel dominant and overwhelming if it happened to any other person, but through it, you can also taste his desperation and weakness, how soft he is even when he’s squeezing your jaw and squishing your wrists together too tightly.

Rigid steel that bends only for your touch.

He pulls back and your heart throbs at how moonlight continues to bathe just the smallest glimpses of him under the hood—never the full thing, never the whole face, but enough.  The quiet light that brushes the arch of his nose, how it bathes the hard line of his jaw so that you can barely see his scruff when he turns his head the right way.  His eyes are hidden in near darkness but there’s the faintest glimmer where they should be, and it’s the closest you’ve ever been to looking at him without the helmet.  You can see him, you can see shadows of his chin, his neck—dear stars, his fucking neck.  You’re pinned and paralyzed under him and the ringing bells, yet you feel like you just might float if he wasn’t holding you so tight to the floor.

“Where’s the baby?”  You finally lift your chin and ask, needing to raise your voice over the melody clanging loud throughout the tower.

“Making friends,” Din pants back down at you, and… stars, then you just start giggling.  Adrenaline turning into pure joy, imagining the kid wreaking havoc with all the other babies in the nursery right now.  It feels more light and airy than anything your body should know.

“What are you so happy about?” He asks, swallowing and then continuing on with the same quick gasps.  “You lost, I caught you in time.”

“Did you?”  You drop your head to the brick floor and ask, biting your lip as he stares back down at you.  Suddenly—

—Bong—

Din holds utterly still over you while you take a quick breath and wait for the next eleven bells… 

…but then break into a slow grin up at him when nothing but utter silence follows.

There’s a moment.  Just a single moment where the cogs turn rapidly under that shadowy hood, one where the faint reflection of light in his eyes flickers down to the communicator on your wrist that says midnight and back to you, one that solidifies the longer it takes for another bell to ring.  It’s not going to.

One o’clock.

You think he puts it together.  The one moment he was never able to figure you out—when you tried reprogramming the comms just a few days ago.  The one trick up your sleeve that you resigned to throw away and almost forget about because the circumstances for pulling it off were never realistic.  Fuck with the electronics and set the clock back just one hour—all you’d need to do is reset his communicator, the timecode is synced together.  He told you before that it’s connected to his helmet, but all the buttons still work.  Rapid, panicky thinking and a wild surge of bravery in the face of certain downfall is the only reason you were able to pull it off, and you’re perfectly willing to admit you just got lucky… especially when he’s still holding dead still over you.

But then Din moves so suddenly.  You can’t account for it because there’s no build-up whatsoever—it’s so fast, you yelp while he grabs your knees and throws them both to one side.  You flop over sideways and large hands reach up under the draping length of your tunic to yank your pants down over the curve of your ass, before he’s fitting his palm up between your legs and pushing two thick fingers inside you.

Your head thunks back against brick with how unexpected and merciless it is, but his other hand is grabbing your jaw and twisting, forcing you to look up, stare right into the dark shadow under the loose cowl.  The whole thing is too overwhelming—you’re trying to keep quiet but your breathing feels like thunder crashing inside this tall, echoing chamber.  He’s touched you so many times, he knows exactly how to do it by now, but it feels like so much more than that.  Probably because you can see the way Din’s mouth silently falls open as he feels you, stretching his fingers up and hooking them tight inside.  You can tell when he closes his eyes, the smallest glint slowly disappearing into nothingness while the hand around your jaw blindly moves up.  It catches your chin and lips, and then two fingers push over the bottom edge of your teeth to slip into your mouth.

Your entire leg twitches and jerks while you lay sideways on the ground and open up for him, your neck twisted at a sharp angle to keep your eyes on him and his fingers in your mouth, giving you something to bite to stop making noise.  Din makes room for himself inside you two different ways, and you just choke on his fingers and try to stay quiet, praying he’ll go deeper.

But then you’re not expecting his whole fucking arm to start moving the way it does—oh fuck, what is that?  First you just feel jostled and displaced, but then suddenly a wicked, deep, burning pleasure starts to roar through you, radiating outwards from the rapid motion of just two fingers inside you.  It’s not in and out, it’s up and down so hard and quick against your g-spot that your eyes cross and your hands go numb.

You think you grab at him, clutch onto his arm or chest and open your mouth to moan at the new and overwhelming sensation, but his hand pushes up against your chin and closes it for you, the bend of his fingers caught hard between your teeth but you don’t think he cares.

“Quiet,” Din hisses the word down at you while his arm continues to work, your toes starting to curl as the feeling overwhelms you.  Fuck, what is happening, what is happening?  It’s like he’s just shoving unfamiliar sensation at you so forcefully that you can’t even think straight anymore, not even ten seconds in.  You can only feel the pleasure, fire blurring hot and shapeless through your entire body as your eyes clamp shut, his fingers isolating that perfect spot and stimulating it directly, relentlessly.

Something dull and white hot presses up tight against all the muscles you have down there and you’re almost afraid of how strong it is.  You gasp and choke and he has to take his fingers out of your mouth and just clamp down around your entire jaw, sealing the whole thing shut with his large hand.  And then Din’s fingers leave your pussy too—and stars, you should be embarrassed by how desperately it clamps around nothing for as long as it does.  He’s not even inside you anymore but your body is on such a delay from the hot, twisting pleasure, and he doesn’t put them back in until your muscles are finished spasming.

Everything comes back full force as soon as he starts moving again.  Noise starts to come from your throat, humming in your vocal cords to deal with the arcing, swirling build, and so Din just moves his hand there instead.  He finds where it’s vibrating from your neck and he pushes up against it, trapping the sound right at the source.  He’s fucking perfect at it for some reason… how many times must he have done this to know how to cut noise out without stopping airflow?  You clutch at his wrist and silently mouth his name, feeling his arm work between your legs—faster, faster, harder, pushing you higher, higher—

Din pulls his fingers out again and this time, one of your thighs suddenly feels warm and wet while you spasm and you hear him growl out a ragged, “Fuck yes.”  Everything is sparks zapping through you long after his touch is gone, you cry out but it’s all trapped under Din’s expert grip.  His fingers soon push back inside you and you dig your nails into his forearm, your sounds muffled and quiet enough to hear his raspy groan.  

“Let me see it again,” Din breathes, his arm starting to work up and down once more, and you don’t even know what he’s talking about anymore.  What does he want to see?  You losing your mind again?  Being reduced to an utter mess in front of his shadowy but unobstructed gaze just because you managed to pull one over on him?

Fucking… apparently.  It’s what happens, after all.  You’ve never seen him like this before; whenever he’s worked up and taking it out on you, there was always something in it for him, too.  He’d hammer into you and rock your world until his eventually shattered, and then you’d both lay exhausted afterwards, equally affected and satisfied.  This isn’t like that—this is just cruel, targeted retribution on his behalf, coaxing the molten pleasure out of you with his fingers and keeping his other hand locked around your throat.  You blink helplessly up at him, your vision starting to blur by the time he leans down to whisper to you.

“I missed you, sweet girl.  Did you miss me?”  It’s so soft and quiet compared to the strength and relentlessness of his movements.  You can’t speak even if you wanted to, but when he finally pulls away to yank his hand out and you feel all your muscles automatically flex outwards and push against the sudden emptiness inside you, his voice groans long and satisfied while your thighs get wet again  “Yeah you did,” he breathes, pushing your shaky legs to the brick with his hand and watching you struggle through the aftershocks.

Did you just cum?  You don’t even know, that’s how fucked up you are right now.  The whole thing felt like an orgasm from the very beginning, just a boiling hot tornado ripping through every single cell in your body, never really having a peak.  If you didn’t cum, then why do you feel so weak?  You feel heavy, your limbs don’t work properly, and you barely even register Din pulling at the fabric of his own robes until he fits himself up against your entrance.

When you do realize it, though… your body burns with it, wrecked already but wanting him to take what he wants from you.

“Oh, plea—” you gasp but you don’t even have enough time to get the full sentence out.  He’s already pushing his hips forward, pressing you tight into the ground and opening you up after what feels like a fucking eternity without him.  It’s the hottest, slickest welcome you could give him, you hear it in the whispered curse his lips brush up under your ear, the wet noises your body makes that get louder the longer you hold the moan in your throat and bury your head into his shoulder.  He throbs thick and perfect inside your tight, spasming cunt, stretching you and smacking the rough ground near your head with how fucking good it is to be back, finally, finally—

Your hands grab uselessly at his chest while you try to acclimate, try to breathe while you’re blind with sensation.  It’s so fitting for him, isn’t it?  That your reunion should be just as physically debilitating as it is mentally.  Din’s voice scrapes on a groan like he’s dragging it across the brick ground as quiet as he can, catching when you clamp down on him and shuddering when you clamp down harder.  That’s just it—you don’t ever loosen, you just keep tightening and tightening around him, threatening to break and cum again.

This feels different from before, though.  It’s deep, purposefully so.  His hand reaches up to push the fabric of your hood back, lifting himself up over your body and wanting to start as deep as he can.  You feel him in a place you’d never be able to reach and that’s just the beginning—that’s before he starts thrusting into you, hitting a dull sensation at the apex of each movement so hard that it becomes sharp.  His hips don’t make practically any sound smacking into you because they don’t really smack, they just rock downwards and fuck you into the floor without needing to pull out really at all.  You know he’s just trying to keep it as quiet as possible, but what he lacks in speed and agility he makes up in power.

You don’t even realize you’re making too much noise until a palm wraps tight around your mouth and the room gets a little emptier.  Din keeps you all to himself on the floor, silencing as much as he’s working you up, smothering as much as he’s freeing you.  There’s no easing up, no dragging it out, no gradual build or climb—it’s just there all of a sudden, pleasure and pain pummeling you all at once, engulfing you in flames.

You reach up to grab at the loose fabric of the hood over his face, catching a fistful of it before his hand suddenly snatches your shaky wrist and pins it back to the ground.

Maker, you forgot—oh, you completely forgot about how many people could find you right now if they ever decided to look in the right place.  You’re not in hyperspace; your body is rocking against rough brick, you’re probably going to have a lump on the back of your head from how terrible you are at trying to map out heaven while holding still.  He’s pinned down what he can with one hand; your fingers are the only things that can move besides how tight you can curl your toes, but you feel your moans turn into words against his palm.  They garble indistinctly and you’re not really even sure what you’re saying, but Din decides it’s worth hearing.

“Shh,” he whispers, slowly lifting his hand from your mouth.  “Shh, tell me—”

“W-wanna look,” you hear yourself whimper, trying your best to keep quiet but wanting to scream it while he fucks you hard and slow on the ground, “—I wanna see, I wanna look at you—”

“Fuck,” Din gasps, and though his grip tightens on your wrist and you know he can’t do it right this second, the words seem like they shatter something inside him, “Keep—oh fuck, please, k-keep saying…”

“I want to marry you,” you nearly whine for him, feeling his hips kick up rapidly and start hammering in and out, in and out, in and—“I want to see your face, I wanna be yours, I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I-I—”

You think he drops his head into your neck to muffle his own sounds.  Though they start out rough and quiet and indiscernible, but they gradually become louder as he repeats himself over and over again, growling and fucking you rough.  You only catch it on the peak, when he pulls his mouth away from your skin and gasps them raggedly one last time.

“—ve you—I l-love y—”

He kisses you to stop himself.  But it’s not really a kiss, it’s more desperate than that.  Though it’s beautiful, it’s beautiful in a different light.  It’s not rejoicing at having you back with him once again; it’s a last prayer begging you to stay by his side forever.  He loves you.  He gives it everything—it feels even more concrete and simple than taking the hood off him and revealing his face would.  You told you that you'd know him without ever seeing him, and you did.  You picked him out and found him when absolutely nothing was giving him away, and this feels like a manifestation of that.  Even if you’re not in a place where he can show you his face, his beautiful brown eyes, something still feels like it changes.  He loves you.  You gasp into his mouth and his tongue sinks deep into yours, tenacious and brave and unyielding.  

When you finally cum, you almost bite him on accident.  

Everything surges hot and molten while he pulls back and keeps fucking you through it, and you can’t tell where you’re touching him anymore, just that his skin is blazing hot under your hand and he feels like everything the armor isn’t.  He loves you.  You’re looking into his eyes right now.  You can’t see any of the details, not really, but the moonlight flickers like silent stars moving through dark depths, staring right back at you and giving you an anchor for the euphoria rocketing through you.  He loves you.  Your nails dig in sharp and slowly drag downwards, scratching hard red lines into whatever thick muscle that is—

The back of his neck, making his hips stutter and when he cums for you, he does bite.

You lift your head just in time to feel his teeth catch your chin instead of your mouth, and his entire body shakes while you keep dragging your nails down the side of his neck and his throat.  Din fucking lives for it, he releases you and arches into the pain and owns your marks like he wishes you made them deeper, stretching his neck and lifting his chin into the moonlight and—

Maker.  You can see it, with direct light, you can see more of it than ever before.  You can see his soft lips and white teeth gritting the sound of your name as quietly as he can, the dark facial hair dusting across the lower half of his face.  A fucking gorgeous jawline and throat extended long over you, flexing hard with his cock pulsing inside you.  You can just barely see the bottom of his nose from under the brown hood, the dark curls brushing up under his ears.

Stars, you still never see his eyes, the fabric of his hood acts like a blindfold draped over them, but you think you cum again.  Even if it’s on accident, it’s mean—Din tries to keep from squishing you and his hand pushes down hard against your lower tummy while he shoves his hips deep one last time, and you cum while staring at half of his face in the moonlight.  Completely lovestruck.

How can he be this beautiful when you’ve only seen fractions of him?  You have everything but the eyes now, everything but the most mysterious thing about him, the reflection into his deepest self, but you feel like you’re hypnotized by every single feature you do see.  His tongue coming out to wet his lips, the vein pulling under his sharp jaw—he’s gorgeous, he’s gorgeous, and your body agrees.  It shakes and shudders under him and eventually, Din finishes and you keep looking as his chin slowly lowers, face disappearing into the shadow once more.

Stars.  He’s so handsome and no one has ever told him, fucking dreamy and the biggest grump you’ve ever met.  Without being able to see him, you already want to reach your hands out and touch him, drag your nails through his scruff and force him to extend outwards into the moonlight again for you.  Whenever he does end up showing you his face, you know right fucking now that you’ll never be able to look away.  For the rest of your life, you’ll be staring at him, apologizing blankly for your rudeness but not feeling sorry at all.

Din leans down and gives you a slow, gentle kiss, finally relaxing into a slouch and breathing hard with the effort it took to shatter you with pleasure.

“The kid is with the other foundlings,” he whispers against your lips.  “You… you’ll have to go get him, I need to grab my armor.”

You squeeze around his cock, pulling at the fabric of his robes and ignoring him for just a second.  He fucked you in robes belonging to one of the guards and nobody has mentioned it, you need to say something.  “Where did you get this?”

“I found it,” he tells you after a moment, kissing up under your jaw.  Oh fucking Maker, he feels so good and perfect inside you, shoulders so broad and crowding you on the floor, and his lips are plush and hot, brushing and fitting your skin like it’s just an extension of his own.  “Some guy was wearing it.”

It takes you a second.

“Mando,” you suddenly gasp in quiet horror, pushing at his chest and trying your best to detach his mouth from your throat.  It’s so much more difficult than it needs to be, but you eventually succeed.  “What did you do to him?  Where is he?”

He lifts his neck up just the tiniest bit, turning his face towards yours under the hood and holding still for way too fucking long.  He’s too close to see the expression he’s making, but you know the tone of his silence.  He’s in trouble and he knows it before you do.

“Ma—”

“They’re in a closet,” he admits at the very same time, completely monotone.

You don’t know which word to emphasize.  A fucking closet?  They’re?  Plural?  Instead of stressing any particular word, you decide not to do it at all and it ends up just coming out in the same exact blank tone as him.  “They're in a closet.”

“Inside the Temple,” Din continues on when you lay still as a statue underneath him.  His head slowly dips down once more, pushing his hips against you just the slightest bit to make you remember the cock still inside you instead.  Your eyelashes flutter with it—fuck, focus—“I didn’t know there’d be more than two.”  He kisses your neck so gently.  “It was an accident.”

You don’t say anything at all, your mouth pinching down at the corners because it should but your heartbeat galloping with how… fucking sexy he is.  You shouldn’t encourage this, this horrible behavior just to get close enough to catch you, but your curiosity overtakes you and you ask a question you’ve asked yourself before.  “Did they put up a fight?”

“Mm,” he whispers noncommittally, rocking his hips down once more.  “You did.”  Your nails dig into his chest, making him falter just slightly before slowly kissing your neck again.  “Did so good.  Fought hard, outsmarted me.  Pretty fucking girl.”

And then your eyes pop open as you feel it.  His cock suddenly beginning to harden once again inside you, twitching and gradually gaining a thicker shape, and for a moment, you actually fucking consider it.  He’s the only one in this galaxy that could not only ruin you on these sacred grounds, but then coax you into doing it more than once—stars, are you actually considering it?

“We can’t,” you automatically tell him, but it’s fucking pitiful.  Zero effort, absolutely no umph behind it, leaving it entirely up to him and how much he wants it.  Your logic reminds you that the kid is probably wreaking havoc in the nursery and there are tied up guards in the fucking temple that could be discovered any second.  You shouldn’t have even let him fuck you here in the first place, but…  “Mando, we can’t—”

His mouth opens against the crook of your neck and his tongue brushes velvet hot on your skin, tasting the glistening sweat there and not moving his broad figure a single inch over you besides getting closer, deeper.  Your nails dig into his collarbone, aiming for reason one last time.  It’s apparent that you’d be better off rephrasing, knowing the challenging streak in him and how much telling him what to do doesn't help.

“It’s not a good idea,” you attempt instead, breathless and trying not to move under his mouth and lazy hips.  “Not smart.  Bad idea to fuck again.”

Din’s body stops moving, even though he keeps getting harder.  His jaw opens and then his teeth scrape softly against your flesh, making you tilt your neck back and gasp.

“Later,” he lifts his head to state aloud, committing it to truth now that it’s been spoken and heard by another person.  “Later, I’ll fuck you on the ship, in our bed, when I can get you naked and have your taste in my mouth.”

Tingles rock through your body and you squeeze around his cock just as he pulls it out and tucks it back into his pants.  Your lungs quiver when you inhale—it’s shaky, but it reminds you of how long it’s been since you’ve been able to breathe correctly.

“Later,” you finally agree, combing your fingers through your hair and glad you have this hood to cover your freshly fucked dishevelment.  He came inside you and you don’t want to be leaking and getting your nice pretty robes all wet and stained, but then of course, without any prompting, Din quickly scoots back on his knees and drops his head down to take care of it for you.

***

Commotion.

After Din helped you clean up the way he sometimes likes and then disappeared to change back into his armor, you put your mask and hood back on and tried to look as casual as possible walking to the nursery.  Your knees wobbled slightly and you couldn’t stop smiling under the mask the entire walk there, but when you arrived, you just saw a dim room with sleeping infants—not what you were expecting.  Soon, however, you hear it: down the hall, distant and coming from the dormitories, you hear a loud commotion.

Fuck, you’re nearly wincing with every step you take now, and not because you’re sore.  Well, you… are, a little bit, but in a great way.  No, you’re just dreading the ridiculous shinanigans you already know are well underway, wondering if Din actually dropped the kid off in the dorms from the beginning or if he somehow migrated his way there to cause trouble.

When you walk inside, the first thing you see is a handful of crying and shouting toddlers, and while you can’t immediately spot your favorite floppy-eared monster, you don’t have to see him to know he’s probably standing tiny directly in the middle of this tense showdown.  Automatically, you’re taking a few steps forward to rescue him, but then you stop as soon as you see what the other babies are so mad about.  A large piece of chocolate leftover from the festival levitating just beyond their pitiful little reaches.

Hm.  Who could possibly be responsible for using demon powers to steal snacks and hold them hostage from a sizeable group of hostile children.  A mystery that may never be solved.

It makes you take a second.  The sheer… the… stars, you can’t even think straight—how fucking typical it is just hits you right in the chest, sends your heart into orbit.  Of course.  Of course this is what he’s gotten himself into without immediate supervision, of course this is the shipwreck you’d walk into, and you’re holding back a chuckle before making a single move to intervene.  In the midst of everything, you can hear adults approaching distantly from behind you.

“—don’t know where it came from, I was helping the younglings into bed when I heard the ruckus and I—”

The voices gradually grow louder, and you snatch the floating piece of candy out of thin air and whip around right before Sister Drya and Naydee walk in.  Their hushed, concerned conversation is cut to an abrupt end, and you clear your throat as they take you in, standing in front of chaos central continuing to go off behind you.  Do you… look as freshly disheveled as you are?  You’re not supposed to be here, you know, but hopefully the only strange thing is your presence itself and not anything concerning your appearance.

“Nerida,” the older lady suddenly announces, the name alone holding so much expectation, and the younglings missing their candy have now turned their ire towards you and the crinkly food wrapper hidden in your fist.  “What is the meaning of this?”

“Ah, yeah,” you stand up a little straighter, letting the chocolate casually fall out of your grip behind you, and a stampede of feet suddenly kick up to recover it.  It’s fine, nobody will know, it’s fine.  “It’s just…”  Your head tips behind you to the cause of the uproar, feeling a bit sheepish yet so incredibly fond.  “My… kid.”

Sister Drya stares at you for a few seconds, before tipping sideways and staring at the culprit.  “That is your child?”

You turn around just in time to see him, now abandoned by the angry mob of children, finally notice you.  All of a sudden, his pitch black eyes light up something bright and sunshiney, and you just start beaming in return.  What an adorable little creature, apple of your eye and pain of your ass.

“Yep,” you sigh, dropping into a squat and watching him barrel towards you, catching him right before he can trip over his brown potato sack and scooping him up into your arms.  “Hiya, bug,” you murmur with a grin, lifting back up and plopping him in his favorite spot in the universe—your left hip.  “You making friends?”

He giggles and it’s like sparkles and bubbles fill the room instead, wrapping tiny arms around the largest surface area he can get and clinging.  He laughs with a tiny open mouth, bless him, clearly not understanding the sarcasm, and suddenly your eyes feel just the slightest bit wet.  No, you’re not crying, don’t be fucking ridiculous, but you missed him like hell and he’s just the cutest fucking thing—why do you feel like crying?

“Sorry about that,” you apologize to the two women while slowly turning around, brushing your thumb over one of his cheeks and smiling as it squishes.  “He’s… uh.  Not great at sharing.  We’ll work on it.”

Takes after his dad, you purposefully leave out, just a different kind of sharing.  Din hasn’t shown you his full face yet and the kid performs magic tricks to taunt a roomful of children a fraction of his age for a single piece of chocolate, completely different kind of sharing.

Sister Drya says something in response, but when you look up to address her, all you see is Din standing silently behind her and Naydee, slowly dropping his hand from his helmet to his side.  They don’t seem to notice he’s there and you automatically try your best to pay attention to the Sister speaking to you, but your eyes get caught on the silver reflecting in the dim light beyond.  Fuck, he’s a presence.  An immediate distraction, taking all your focus with a single glimpse.  Seeing him fully armored again, staring at you from the silent shadows behind everything… you melt a little bit, knowing that you’ve seen more of what’s underneath than anyone.  Your shoulders settle and your entire body burns warm, wobbly like the air around a fire, and one of the kid’s hands leaves you to reach out towards his dad.

You watch the metallic helmet tilt sideways after a moment, saying everything without saying anything.  Come on, make up an excuse, let’s get out of here.

Looking at him in the quiet shadows, you’re reminded once again about how much you love him, how much softness you have inside you for a man so hard, so guarded.  And, for the first time, a voice in your head finishes a poem you didn’t realize you were writing, adding its own verse and bringing everything back around to the beginning.  He loves you, too.  How much he lets his guard down for you, the way he’s revealed more of his face to you than not.  You love each other.  You’re family.

So, all at once, you decide to mess with him, because that’s what family does best.

“Don’t be shy, come say hello,” you suddenly urge his silent figure, taking a step forward and speaking directly to him.  “Sister Drya, Naydee, I’d like to introduce you to my—”

It’s remarkable, you see it happen in front of you.  Like he has powers of his own, Din just literally fucking disappears.  Like magic, he’s nowhere to be found within a blink of an eye.  You know he’s capable of it; he’s done it plenty of times during the chase just to fuck with your head, but you’re staring straight at him when it happens this time and it might just be the funniest fucking thing you’ve ever seen him do.

Sister Drya and Naydee both turn around to an empty hallway bathed in shadows and you laugh.  A deep, shameless, loud belly laugh.  Where the fuck did he go so quick?  You were staring straight at him and you have no fucking clue.  He’s just out, and you’re left alone with his child and the unspoken understanding that he’ll just catch up with you later.

You’re giggling even as you shake your head and give the women your genuine thanks for keeping you and feeding you these past few days, grabbing your backpack with all your belongings and eventually using three green fingers to wave goodbye to them.  The very first thing Din says when he seamlessly joins you outside the Keja later is, “That wasn’t funny,” which just makes you laugh harder.

***

About a half hour has passed, and you’re walking along a dirt road, cradling a very happy baby in your arms and giving the grown man next to you an incredibly hard time.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, your back twinging slightly at the way you’re leaning about as sideways as you can get without falling over.  You think you’re basically just the hypotenuse between the ground and Din, who easily supports almost your entire weight with your backpack slung around his far shoulder and readily allows you to rest against him.

“They’re fine,” he grumbles in response, squeezing you tight to his side.  You just have to focus on moving your feet; it’s like he’s practically carrying your upper-half anyways.  “I gave them the night off.”

“You stuffed them in a closet,” you hiss, feeling his shoulder shrug under your cheek.

“I gave them the robe back,” he says, not really defending himself and more just throwing it out there to see if it helps any.  “I’m sure someone’s found them by now, they’re fine.”

Your eyes suddenly go wide, absolutely mortified at the thought.  “Wait.  What do you mean you gave the robe back?”

He shrugs once more, apparently not seeing the problem yet.  “I borrowed it, so I gave it back after I put my armor back on.”

If you could plant your feet on the dirt road and screech to a halt, you would, but all your weight is already resting on him and you’re working solely off his forward movement.  You just hope your tone holds the same amount of shocked disapproval your body language would’ve conveyed if you weren’t so completely attached to his hip like a parasite he adores.

“You fucked me wearing it, though.”  Your voice is strangely flat, so fucking confused and horrified by the mental image of him just tossing the soiled garments haphazardly somewhere in the temple behind you, or even worse, leaving them somewhere respectful, and Din soon stops in the middle of the deserted road.

“Oh,” is all he says, emotionless and blank through the modulator.  Did he not even consider this?

“I had to promise them I was a virgin just to sleep there, you know,” you admit, and you can tell that’s brand new information to him with how still he goes as you continue to lean against him.  You’re getting the feeling that he probably knows a lot more about your experiences on this moon than you think he does, but can tell that this is brand new information to him.  “And you locked three of their holy men in a closet, chased me across the temple grounds, fucked me in one of their robes, and then.  You gave it.  Back.”

Din stays perfectly silent for quite some time.  You can never go back to that place, you know this for a fact.  You’re banned forever now, it’s what you deserve.

Never one to be outdone but not actually having anything to say for himself, Din suddenly decides to just scoop you into his arms and boost up into the sky without a single word like an actual fucking maniac.

You squeal and damn near drop the baby because of it, but he cinches you tight to his chest and refuses to loosen with your struggle.  Eventually, after you realize he’s completely locked you in and you won’t fall to your death with this poor innocent child in your arms, you glance over the shiny pauldron on his shoulder and watch the kid’s crib disappear by the abandoned road as Din takes you higher and higher.

The crib—he forgot the crib—

“D-Din,” you stammer out through the whistling air, stiff as a board.  Stars, you have such a different sense of adventure than him; an explorer and a daredevil, one who gets a thrill from discovering the existence of the edge of a cliff and one who’ll take a running dive off of it without thinking twice.  He’s hit with blaster fire some days, he faces down death completely fearless like it owes him one every single time, and you’re stiff as a fucking board while he carries you through the sky.  It’s stunning up here, it’s exciting and wonderful, but you’re so scared that you can barely even look.  He’s giving you the most fantastical view, everything your budding adventurous streak could ever ask for, and your terror is crushing.  It would be different if you could hold on, but you’re responsible for not letting the baby slip through your arms and you just have to trust that he won’t let you slip through his.

You raise your voice.  “Din?!”

“I won’t drop you,” he automatically reassures, and well you sure as fuck hope not, but there’s something else.

“What about the crib?”  You call out over the wind whipping, tucking the baby tight to your chest and settling your hands over his ears to avoid them flapping and whacking you repeatedly in the chin.

“We’ll come back for it,” he responds, just as easily.  Maker, you wish decision-making came that easy to you, that commitment and choice should be so simple as to just fly away from things on the ground and promise out loud to come back for them.  You know he will, but still, his spontaneity shocks you after spending the past week thinking every decision through meticulously, and you’re taken aback by the casualness of it all while soaring through the sky, committing such spectacular feats without a single thought beyond it.

Soon—incredibly soon, which honestly kind of blows your mind—you spot Nariss glowing in the distance and then you’re flying overtop of the city, slowly dropping altitude in the middle of a quiet little side street.

Din carefully allows your feet to settle on the ground before letting go, but you still stumble a bit stupidly after flying so high without any sort of safety measure besides him, prioritizing the steadiness of the baby in your arms instead of your feet underneath you.  His gloves catch at your clumsy body and pull you along with him without another word, leading you out of the quiet alley and into the middle of a beautiful, luminescent street.

What’s he doing?  He seems slightly hurried, and you’re clueless but you go with it, clamoring along behind him to wherever he’s leading you.

Though, you suddenly remember one of the very last things you told him last night right before he steps up in front of a vendor.

“Caf,” Din grunts, sliding a few credits towards the man standing behind the counter. “The… biggest one you have.”

Okay, well.  You could just about fucking cry.

“Y’sure?” The vendor asks skeptically, jerking his head at the large thermos behind him.  He’s balding, wearing a white outfit with his eyes scrunched up and forehead sweaty, likely working all day.  “It ain’t fresh.  Closin’ up soon, was just about to trash it and go home.”

The helmet turns to gauge your response to the news, the sharp angles and contours looking so sleek and dangerous as they reflect the colorful lamplights, but just filling you with comfort beyond anything in the entire galaxy.  He’ll take that armor off for you tonight and you’ll sleep next to him.  He’ll call you by your given name, or the fond name he’s given you, and you’ll cuddle your baby on a metal floor in hyperspace with him, and all will be well.  Even if he needs to leave again soon—even if you don’t get to go with him, you’ll always have these small eternities with each other, and that’s more enough for you now.

You’re completely zoned out while staring at him, and Din turns back to the vendor before you can even remember the conflict he was attempting to defer to you.

“Yeah, just empty the whole thing in there for her,” he mutters, and you want to marry him.  It’s been a long week, and in your haze and delight of being with him in this gorgeous setting, your brain turns to cavewoman mush.  Big man, makes me happy.  Strong man, loves me, knows me.  Provider, makes me feel good, protector, loves me.

Din hands you the large cup of steaming caffeine, clueless to your grunted inner monologue but knowing better than to reach out and grab the kid from your other arm.  You’re just fine like this, hands full, the little frog snuggled up against your side and blinking up at your face instead of any of the shiny or glowing things around you.  When you look down at him, you can see the world through his eyes—quite literally, they’re reflective and gigantic—and his father’s hand quickly finds its preferred spot on your lower back.

“Try to drink it quick,” Din advises you gruffly, pulling you snug into his side and sloshing the big cupful of piping hot liquid in your hand.

“It’s a thousand degrees,” you protest, trying to balance your three favorite things in the universe all begging for your direct attention at once.  “It has to cool down.”

He gives a dismissive hm in response, and you frown even as your heart soars with how tightly he’s gripping you, how little leeway you have to even move without him.  Part of you is so thrilled at being reunited with him that you consider snarking something back at him, excitement making you brave.  He could probably chug boiling hot liquid in thirty seconds and doesn’t see the point in letting it sit any longer, and you could make some stupid joke about filtering it through his helmet or having a built in bendy straw but you decide to keep it to yourself.

So then you just stand there together, under stringed lights and flowers everywhere, and he waits.  Holding you glued to his side, completely silent and clearly just waiting for your caf to stop steaming so threateningly in your hand so you can drink it.  For some reason, the fact that he’s wanted by the New Republic doesn’t really register at this second—you’re not looking for cops, though he may be.  You’re just lost in this beautiful, fancy city that’s on the edge of finally quieting down after a long day, and you’d like to see more of it with him next to you.

“Well, do you wanna just…”  You ask, tilting your head around at all the vendors.  “Shop around for a bit?”

“Shop… around,” Din repeats slowly, sounding the words out like they’re not common Basic.  Admittedly, they do sit a bit awkward in his voice when put together like that, describing a phenomena he’s likely never even considered a thing before, but it’s so fucking pretty here and you’d like to show him something this time instead of the other way around.

“Yeah, like,” you shrug a shoulder, tipping your head in a random direction.  Anywhere, you’ll go literally anywhere with him, the three of you can go explore.  “Just wander around, and look at all the pretty things.”

From where you’re standing right now, you can already see glittering crystals and jewels being sold at the tent across the street, there’s a booth dedicated entirely to floral arrangements and crowns next to it, you can hear a distant quartet playing melodically in the distance and a couple is being painted by an artist on the corner.  Bars are in full swing at this point, as if they weren’t all day, and even though the merchandise is all different, the multicolored tents look slightly similar when they’re underlit with multicolored lights.  It’s less slightly lively than it was in the daytime, but also… more beautiful, in a sense.  Muted, softer, more romantic.

“I don’t have any more credits,” Din admits casually, finally turning to look around at everything.  You get the feeling that he’s just now seeing it, even after spending the entire day here.  “That stale caf was the last of it.”

Money well fucking spent, you can assure him of that.

“It’s okay,” you tell him automatically, gently bumping your hip into his.  “We don’t need credits, we can just look.”

So that’s what you do.  Even though it’s completely not his fucking style, for the next hour or so, you just walk around downtown with him and sip your caf, looking at anything and everything new and experiencing it with him.  At first, you think he’s just entertaining you, following you while you discover new streets and attractions, but then he points out different things and you know he's looking, too.  There are large animals harnessed up and pulling carts for people to ride, there's an enormous spinning wheel set up in the distance, its colorful lights flickering out as soon as you ask what the fuck that is and why anyone would ever get inside one.

You eventually end up finishing your caf around the time he’s leading you back through a quiet, abandoned alleyway, and you hand him the empty cup to throw away in one of the trash cans on the corner.  The conversation has faded to a comfortable quiet and you don’t really need to ask—you go willingly, not requiring anything beyond his hands on you and the baby dozing in your arms.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he murmurs, gently sweeping you up into his.  You sigh, glad he’s giving you a moment to prepare yourself this time, holding the sleeping kid securely to your chest and resting your head on his shoulder.  “Let’s go home.”

After you’re comfortable, Din rockets up from the ground and climbs high up into the canvas sky.  He disappears with you and the baby into the pastel clouds above, making it back to the Razor Crest in probably about an hour, maybe less.  You and the baby do nothing more than climb into the comfy floor blankets while Din starts up the engines, and you think you’re dozing off together by the time he makes the pit stop to collect the crib and the jump into hyperspace.

You think he might shower?  You’re not sure—you just know he moves up behind you in bed at one point without any armor, burying his face in your hair while you cuddle the sleepy kid to your chest.  It’s dark in the hull, Din’s palms are bare and warm as they slide around the front of your body and he breathes you in, and there isn’t a single place that can touch you here, not a single place you’d rather be.

Home.

***

@followwhereshegoes​ Thank you for the stunning artwork! 💕To anyone interested in possibly doing an art collab in the future, please message me!!

[itsapeterthing]

Cake || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

summary: you and your boyfriend bucky barnes head down to the wilson residence for a barbecue. sam’s nephews adore the both of you and as you watch bucky play with the kids you’re ready to tell your boyfriend that you’re pregnant

a/n: gif credit- @davidsfincher ; i will never get over this scene. reblogs and/or replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 2.7k

warnings: pure fluff based on episode six, mentions of pregnancy

masterlist || request || taglist

“I say we get the vanilla one.”

Standing besides you in the supermarket aisle with his arms crossed, your boyfriend turned to look at you with disgust written all over his face.

“Vanilla?” Bucky said, shaking his head. “Are you kidding, Y/n? All kids like chocolate.”

As he was speaking, Bucky reached out to pull one of the chocolate cakes off of the shelf it was sitting on, but you swat his hand away.

“Oh yea?” You asked. “And what makes you the expert on what kids like?”

Uncrossing his arms, he waved his hand in your face.

“Metal arm.” He said. “Also don’t pretend like Sam’s nephews didn't love me last time we were there.”

You couldn't argue with that. The last time the two of you had been to the Wilson residence in between missions, Sam’s nephews absolutely adored the super soldier. They couldn't get enough of the one hundred and six year-old man with the vibranium arm and the fun they had messing with him.

You had just as much joy watching the interactions between the three of them. You couldn’t help but entertain the idea of starting a family of your own with Bucky.

The two of you had been dating for years- not including the five year blip the two of you had been snapped from existence in- and had often discussed the idea of getting married and having children in the future. You didn’t think you would be ready yet, but as you watched children be in absolute awe of your boyfriend, you felt as though the pieces began to fell into place.

And funnily enough- they did.

You had been feeling sick and exhausted for the past few weeks, but you figured it was on account of the missions you had been going on with Sam and Bucky. When the symptoms continued while you stayed at the Wilson’s home for the weekend while Bucky helped Sam fix the boat- you had taken pregnancy test.

It was positive.

Although you knew that you and Bucky could handle it, you were still in absolute shock realizing that you were going to be starting a family- you were going to be responsible for more than just making sure you and your friends didn’t get killed fighting bad guys- you were going to be a parent.

The only person who knew was Sam’s sister, Sarah. She was the only one inside the house when you had taken the test and when she had heard you pacing around the bathroom, hyperventilating, she opened the unlocked door and immediately saw the pregnancy test in your hands. You had sworn her to secrecy, making sure she didn’t tell your boyfriend or her brother, promising her that you would tell them when the time was right... but with the mission in New York City coming immediately after your stay, you hadn't found the right opportunity to tell Bucky yet.

However, you told yourself that you finally would tonight... after attending the barbecue.

“Yeah, yeah.” You rolled your eyes. “I can’t argue with that. They did love you, but that doesn’t mean you know anything about cake.”

Reaching his hand out for the chocolate cake again he scoffed. “I’m not taking advice from someone who wants to bring a vanilla cake to a party-”

You swat his hand again. “We’re not getting the chocolate.”

“Yes,” He insisted, inching his face closer to yours. “We are.”

“No. We’re not.”

“Can I help you guys with anything?” You heard a worker ask from behind you.

Backing away from your boyfriend you smiled, shaking your head.

“No, we’re fine. Thank you.”

As you watched the worker nod before walking down the aisle, you turned back to your boyfriend.

“Okay fine.” You said. “We’ll compromise. Ice cream cake?”

You watched as Bucky’s eyes widened. “Wait! There’s ice cream cake?”

Twenty minutes later you and Bucky had arrived at the barbecue, your boyfriend taking the cake out of your hands as he stepped out of the car.

As you made your way around the front of the vehicle you watched as Sam’s nephews bombarded Bucky, play fighting with him as he faked attacking them back, making sure to dodge their fists from knocking over the cake in his hands.

You couldn’t deny the way the sight made your heart fill so much you swore it could’ve exploded right in your chest.

As you watched the scene unfold, hearing the laughter erupting from the children around him while he faked getting hurt, you heard Sarah come up behind you.

“You know,” She said, crossing her arms and standing beside you. “You almost scared me to death watching you on the news.”

Glancing at her beside you, you shrugged. “I was fine.” You said. “That wasn’t the first fight I’ve been in.”

“I just can’t believe they let you go.” She said.

“What? What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” She laughed. “I can’t believe they would let you go do something so dangerous like that knowing you’re-”

Before she could finish her sentence you swat at her arm, rapidly shaking your head, checking around you to make sure no one was listening to your conversation or had heard what she had just said.

“I didn’t tell them yet.” You told her in a hushed voice.

“What?” She asked. “Why not?”

“I couldn’t tell them. If I did they would have never let me go- especially Bucky- but I couldn’t let them go in by themselves like that. You’ve seen the Flag Smashers, Sarah.”

“How long are you going to keep this a secret?” She asked.

“I was going to tell him today.” You told her. “We just needed to sort out the Flag Smashers before I could even think about telling him I’m pregnant-”

“You’re pregnant?”

At the sound of Sam’s voice, you and his sister immediately spun around to be met with Sam standing behind you, only a foot away.

You watched as his mouth dropped and his eyes grew wide and you felt your heart began to race in your chest, knowing that you had just exposed your secret to Sam- you and Bucky’s shared best friend.

“Sam...” You said.

“I-” He stumbled over his words, trying to piece the information together. “You’re pregnant?”

“Yes, but you can’t tell Bucky.” You pleaded, gripping his bicep. “I haven’t told him yet.”

“What?” He exclaimed looking between you and his sister. “How long have you known? Why haven’t you told him yet?”

Playing with one of the rings on your fingers, made anxious by the conversation, you focused your gaze on the water behind him, not able to meet his eyes.

“I found out last time I was here.” You said. “So I found out like a week ago. You can't blame me though, Sam, if I told him he would of never let me go help you guys in New York.”

“Yeah!” Sam nodded. “Neither would I. You could of died!”

“But I didn’t!” You said. “Just don’t tell him okay, Sam? I’m going to tell him tonight.”

Before anymore could be said, you heard the sound of your name being called by Sam’s nephews and spun around to find them running in your direction.

“Hey guys!” You laughed, a smile reaching your face once again.

Watching them run towards you, you knew what they wanted before they even had to ask. Stretching out your arms, you moved your hands in the direction of each of the boys, using your powers to lift them a maximum of three feet above the ground- not wanting to upset their mother. You smiled as you watched the boys laugh about how “awesome” it was in awe as they looked down at the ground three feet below them.

You felt Sam’s hand land on your shoulder.

“I’m happy for you, Y/n.” You heard Sam say, leaning in closer so no one outside of your current group could hear him. “You both are going to be great parents. Just tell him soon, okay?”

He pat your shoulder one last time before walking past you and his nephews you were still currently floating midair.

“How come when I ask you guys if you want to fly you say no?” Sam asked.

“She’s using magic!” Cass exclaimed.

“Yeah, Uncle Sam.” AJ agreed. “That’s way cooler.”

Sam threw his hands up in the air, walking in the opposite direction and as he did you lowered the boys to the ground, much to their disappoint. When they scurried off in the direction of their uncle, your eyes met Bucky’s staring at you, smiling from across the way of where you had just been levitating Sam’s nephews.

“Look at you!” He said, smiling, reaching out his arms for you.

“Me?” You laughed. “You just had a whole choreographed fight scene with the boys. You’re like their cool uncle.”

You watched as your boyfriend pulled off his sunglasses and smiled at you, resting his vibranium hand on your waist.

“Only if you’re their cool aunt.”

You smiled. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Afterwards the two of you went to eat and spent the remainder of the meal sharing a table with Sam, his sister and his nephews. Despite the dangerous mission the three of you had been dealing with the past week, the table was full of laughter and joy that you were happy to welcome in.

Even when the cake that you had brought was sliced, you and Bucky smiled at each other from across the table when the boys scoffed down their slice of ice cream cake that contained both vanilla and chocolate- your compromise having worked in the end for the better. At times you even used your abilities to pull the fork out of your boyfriend’s hand just as he was about to bite down on a slice of cake, hearing the boy’s laugh as they watched the super soldier roll his eyes at you.

“Ha ha.” Bucky would say. “Very funny... what is that? Three times now? Really, Y/n?”

But he knew you would continue to do it as long as you continued to hear the sounds of awes coming out of the boys’ mouths and he couldn’t fault you for that. Instead sneaking you a smile when you brought the fork back into his grasp.

At the end of the evening when everyone had began to make their way home, the sun setting over the horizon, you helped tidy up with the Wilson siblings. When the tables were all wiped clean, you brushed your hands off on your bottoms, watching as Bucky sat on the edge of the dock, the golden hue of the sunset setting on his features.

Glancing over your shoulder as Sarah ushered her children back home, you saw Sam throw you a thumbs up. When your eyes met his you smiled, mouthing a “thank you” before he turned in the direction of his sister, following her path back home.

Sighing to yourself you turned back to your boyfriend.

You were going to tell him. You were going to finally tell him you were pregnant.

You took one last deep breath, taking in the last moment before Bucky and your’s life changed forever.

Making your way towards your boyfriend you kneeled behind him, your chest meeting his back as you wrapped your arms around his chest.

“Hi.” You whispered.

“Hi doll.” He hummed, moving his hands to hold yours that were resting against his chest.

“Had a nice day?” You asked, leaning in to press a gentle kiss against his cheek.

You felt as his chest rumbled when he chuckled, staring out over the water while the sun continued to set, its reflection turning the water gold.

“Yeah.” He said. “I wish it could be like that every day, you know?”

You knew what he meant. You understood that he was talking about the peace, the joy, the laughter- the normalcy. You understood that he was talking about how your lives were so hectic and always would be due to the hand you had been dealt with super human abilities. You could never have a normal life, but you also understood that it was more than just never having to fight or go on a mission again- it was the feeling of family, of caring and of love.

“I know it can’t be like that every day.” You said. “But would you... would you settle for most days?”

You felt his hands squeeze yours a bit more, tilting his head back to get a better look at you.

“What are you talking about?”

“Would you settle for most days, Buck?” You asked again. “Would it all be worth it even if you still had to fight?”

He answered in a heartbeat.

“Of course it would.” Bucky said. “I’d fight for one day of this.”

You unwrapped your arms from around his chest, moving to kneel besides him on the dock so he could face you. Knowing what you were about to say, you took in the moment, breathing in the fresh air and memorizing the way his face looked in the golden hour.

“I’m pregnant.”

You watched as his face dropped and you were almost worried until a wide smile reached across his face.

“You’re pregnant?” He asked, so in disbelief he sounded as though the wind had been knocked right out of him.

You smiled, nodding your head and took his hand in yours. “I am. I found out a few days ago-”

“Wait.” He cut you off. “A few days ago? Did you know you were pregnant when we fought in New York City?”

Staring at his face now, confronting the issue, you were suddenly very interested in the frosting he had somehow gotten on the bottom of his shirt, tugging on the hem and scratching it off.

“Y/n?”

“Okay, yes. I knew.” You confessed.

Rather than the fed up, overprotective reaction you were expecting, you felt Bucky’s hands reach to cup your face, forcing you to look at him. Rather than anger in his eyes, all you saw was worry and you were wishing you had never gone and fought just so you could save yourself from seeing him like that.

“Promise me you won’t fight anymore.” He said. “At least until the baby’s here- God I can’t believe we’re having a baby- just promise me okay? If anything happened to either of you I wouldn’t know what to do with myself-”

“I promise, Buck.” You assured him, smiling and beginning to feel tears prickle in your eyes. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

You watched as he began to smile once again and the two of you couldn’t help but laugh- so consumed in complete and utter joy. You and Bucky had gone through so much- especially within the last few months- but as you both sat there, so happy you couldn’t help but laugh, you realized it was worth it and you would go through it all again if it meant that at the end of the day you two would come back to each other every single time.

For the first time in your life, you watched as tears of joy began to fill his eyes, almost as if they had begun to wash away the years of pain that he had suffered previously. Although he was sure he hadn’t fought his last fight... he was sure he was going to be okay. He was happy. He was going to share his life with you. He was going to be a dad.

“We’re gonna have a kid.” He repeated the words, almost as if to convince himself that they were true.

“You’re gonna be such a good dad, Buck.” You told him, laughing through the tears that had begun to fill your eyes. “If you’re half as good at being a dad as you are the ‘cool uncle’- our kid is in good hands.”

“You think so?” He asked.

“I know so, Buck.”

[michelle-is-writing]

Always, Hank McCoy

Word count: 1.6k~

Hank and I have a fantastic relationship - we have ever since we first started dating. No matter what, we always talk to each other and we’re open to each other’s feelings. To many of our students, we have a special type of love, but to us, it’s just pure and true love.

Although, as of lately, our relationship has turned to that of a married couple's relationship in a sitcom. It's like a wall has been put between us, causing our conversations to boil down to simple greetings in the morning and farewells at night. In my mind, I can't think of anything I've done wrong to cause this border - and in all honesty, I can't think of anything that Hank did either. I guess I could count the fact that he's been kind of avoiding me, but I also understand that he needs time to himself. However, when a few days turns into a week, I can't help but grow concerned.

In a way, it's like we've grown apart, but I'll be damned if I just let our relationship turn into turmoil because we're not talking to each other. This is an problem that can be easily resolved; I just need to figure out the source of the problem and fix it. I'm not going to let three years of shared memories and secrets disappear into nothing.

"Hank," I state his name, walking into his seemingly empty lab. All of the students have returned back to their quarters and every class has been cleaned up for the weekend. I don't see Hank, but I don't know where else he could be. "Are you in here?"

A smile soon finds its way onto my face as his head pokes up from beneath the desk, his messy brown hair sticking up as if he had been running his fingers through it mindlessly while his glasses slip down the bridge of her nose. Upon seeing me, he lightly smiles, only to quickly return to his work on the floor behind the desk. He didn't even greet me or say 'hello'... something has to be wrong.

My smile now gone and eyebrows furrowed in concern, I walk around the counter and see what he's working on. My eyes quickly recognize the large piece of metal on the floor as the circuit board for Charles' cerebro. If I can remember, he's working on it to further develop the distance it can go to detect other mutants. Thankfully, I know that this won't take Hank long to do, and at the most, it will probably take him two days.

Sitting down in front of him, I cross my legs in order to avoid the circuit board and place my hands in my lap, my fingers nervously picking at each other as I try to find the right words. "Hank..." I begin, his hands slowly stopping in their movements as he tightens the wires on a silver segment of the board. "We need to talk," I tell him, watching as his blue eyes flicker to mine for a quick second, only to return back to his project. I sigh at this. "Hank, we've been-"

"I can understand if you want to break up with me," Hank cuts me off, his words taking me by surprise. With a sigh and shake of his head, he continues on. "I wouldn't want to be with a blue, hairy, mutant like me either," He finishes, causing my eyes to nearly bulge from my head.

"What..." I start, my voice quiet as utter bewilderment fills me. "What brought this on?" I ask him, taking his hands away from the electric board and holding them in mine. This causes him to finally look into my eyes for longer than a few seconds. "I'm not going to break up with you," I assure him with a small, disbelieving laugh. "Why would you ever think that?"

Hank waits a few moments before responding with a sigh and moving closer to lay his head against my chest. "I'm sorry," He apologizes with a voice filled with melancholy as my hands find their way into his soft and fluffy hair. "It's just... I've started turning into Beast more often than I would like," He begrudgingly admits, "I've started doing it more in my classes too, and my students have noticed as well, making it twenty times worse."

Confused, I shake my head. "Why didn't you tell me?" I question Hank, slightly hurt by his revelation. We always tell each other when something's wrong, so it kind of makes me sad that he kept this from me. "I could've helped you in some way!"

"Because I didn't want to burden you!" Hank answers me almost instantly. "Besides, you shouldn't have to deal with a... with a beast..." He mutters, causing me to frown even more. I wish he wouldn't feel this way about himself. I wish he would stop thinking that there's something wrong with him because there's not. He's perfect the way he is.

"Hank, I'm not with you because you're a handsome man," I tell him, watching as he slowly rises from my chest to give me a slightly confused look. "I'm with you because you're you," I give him a small smile while lifting my hand to his soft cheek. "Not only are you intelligent, but you're sweet, funny, shy, nerdy in every adorable way possible," With each compliment I give him, the blush on his cheeks grows darker as the smile he's been hiding for the past few weeks shows itself, making my heart beat faster than ever.

At his positive reaction, I grin as I lean forward and plant my lips on top of his in a passionate kiss. Barely a second passes before Hank kisses back and gingerly places his hand on top of my blushing cheek. As the seconds pass by, our kiss becomes more sensual as Hank's other hand plants itself on my hip and pulls me closer until I'm straddling his lap, the circuit board long forgotten by now.

Shifting my body closer to Hank, I feel the hand resting on my cheek grow a bit larger and furrier as his cheek beneath my palm does the same. This doesn't faze him as he probably doesn't realize it, but I know what's happening. It's not a bad thing - in fact, it's probably a great thing. With Hank letting his walls down and opening himself up to me, he's begun to slowly turn into beast, and I need him to know that it's okay.

Pulling away from the kiss, I'm slightly shocked to see Hank now fully transformed into his blue counterpart, his teal eyelids covering his now yellow irises while his mouth stays shut with a small smile. So, this is what he means by transitioning more often - even the simplest kiss can cause him to change, and yet, he doesn't realize it. Why is this so embarrassing for him?

"Hank," I say his name with a smile, provoking him to open his beautiful sunny eyes. Leaning closer to his face once more, I brush my nose against his before pecking his soft lips with my own, causing him to try and resume kissing passionately like before. However, I stop him before he can, and instead, take his hand in mine before pressing a kiss against his cerulean skin. At the sight of his skin change, Hank lets out a disheartened sigh with a frown, but I don't let him remain sad for long.

"No matter what color your skin is, or how much hair you have on your body, I will always love you," I assure him, letting him place his hand back onto my hip. Smiling, I gently shake my head at him, running a finger across his cheek as I try to fathom the man before me. "Nothing will ever change that - do you hear me?"

A few seconds pass as I watch Hank's smile slowly return to his face before he reattaches his lips to mine in another fervent kiss. This time, I let him do so, relishing in the sensation of my back being pressed against the floor while Hank hovers above me, his assaults on my lips slowly moving down my jaw and onto my neck where he nips and kisses the skin. Meanwhile, his hands slide underneath my shirt as the blue tufts of fur on his skin create what feels like sparks against the flesh of my stomach. This is not only odd, but almost unbelievable for Hank to be so eager for me outside of our bedroom, the risk of being caught ten times worse now than ever before.

"I will always love you too," Hank says, stopping at my collarbone to press delicate kisses there. "No matter what," He adds, just as his eyes peer up to look into mine. "We will always be each other's."

As soon as the sweet words leave his lips, it's almost as if the animal in him returns with fervor, taking every chance to leave marks against my skin. While his hands slide down to grip onto my hips, I let out a small moan mixed with happiness and lust. I'm happy that I finally have Hank back, and at the same, time, I'm glad he's not holding himself back either.

[becca-e-barnes]

Take Care of Everything

This is my first ever fic for a writing challenge omg I’m so excited! Huge congratulations to @balenciagabucky for hitting 3K followers!! That’s such a huge milestone and thank you for organising such a fun challenge! So excited to read the rest of the submissions 💗 @dulceslibrary

Pairing: Personal Assistant! Bucky Barnes x Lawyer! Reader

Word Count: 3.5k maybe?

Summary: There’s only one thing in your life that your PA doesn’t take care of

Warnings: Smut, praise kink, pet names, protected sex (go me for writing something safe sex for a change), court mention, lil fluff, mile high club

Minors, do not interact.

“Un-fucking-believable.” You couldn’t stop the roaring boil of the blood in your veins, storming out of the court room with your long black gown billowing behind you. Being one of the top barristers in the country brought it’s fair share of high profile cases but this one had got on every last nerve in your body and you were out of patience.

The case itself wasn’t the problem. The issues were straightforward enough and applying law to fact, at the most basic level, your client had done nothing wrong. It should have been essentially cut and dry. The problem was the opposing council and the lack of intervention from the judge.

The prosecution had torn your witness to shreds. You had tried to warn the poor woman beforehand, as you did with every client, but on the stand, she had just crumbled under such an intense and downright ignorant line of questioning.

It shouldn’t have even been allowed in the first place. The judge should have stepped in and clipped the opposing council’s wings but the damage was already done and now you would have to pick the pieces up when court resumed on Monday.

“How did it go?” Your personal assistant must have been leaning outside the courtroom door for who knows how long, his suit somehow as neat and pristine as always, despite the fact it was the end of the day.

“Fucking dreadful, Terry was an asshole to Andrea and she lost it. Should’ve known he’d pull shit like that, he’s always a cunt on Friday evenings.” You practically spat the words out, heels clicking on the floor as you made your way down the marble hall to collect your things and begin to put an end to this miserable week.

Part of you almost wanted to laugh at how Bucky had developed the skill of being able to keep up with your pace without even having to look up from his blackberry. That only came from years of practice.

“Terry loves playing with fire. Fuck him. If anyone can put him in his place on Monday, it’s you.” Bucky still hadn’t taken a second to pull his nose up from his phone, his steps landing in perfect time with yours until you reached the chamber at the end of the hall, throwing the heavy wooden door open in front of you. Bucky filtered in behind you of course, closing the door behind him before slipping his phone neatly into his pocket.

“Thought your doctor warned you about your blood pressure? You gotta calm down.” Bucky’s face showed he was genuinely concerned, his eyebrows knitted together in disdain but there was nothing new there. He had worked for you for years now and truth be told, he was damn good at his job, not to mention the fact he was the closest thing to a friend your busy schedule allowed you to have.

“I’ll calm down when I’m dead. We need to get to the airport if we’re going to make that flight for the convention.” You pulled your wig off, setting it neatly into the little wooden closet before removing your gown, hanging it up alongside the other worn ones from earlier in the week so they could all be dry cleaned and back in the closet for Monday.

“It’s a private jet honey, it can’t leave without you.” Bucky laughed softly, knowing you were worked up and hoping a little joke would ease the tension.

You had to admit, you were so thankful for Bucky. He was devoting the prime of his life to making sure you had everything you needed, your life only felt so seamless because Bucky made it that way. He didn’t just manage your calendar and fetch you coffee like any other PA, he lived and breathed you. He went everywhere with you, crashing in your spare room at least three nights a week because you had both worked yourselves to exhaustion. He never missed anything. He had a solution for every problem, nothing was too big for him to tackle and given the chance, you two could absolutely take over the world one day. You confided in him, and he in you, getting to know every tiny detail of his life in the past few years, right down to that fact that neither of you had seen your family or been on a date in months. Hell, he’d went as far as buying you a packet of batteries one Monday after a particularly long and stressful court hearing.

“Here, got you these.” He had smiled mischievously as he handed them over to you, chuckling a little at your confused expression. “For your vibrator. Looks like it’s gonna be a long week.” You took them gratefully, joking with him that you really would need them, tucking them into your handbag and damn were they appreciated. The following morning he had asked how you had got on and you could only laugh. You didn’t tell him how thoughts of him had come into your head right as you had gotten close. Similarly, you didn’t tell him how painfully intense your orgasm had been when you imagined him on the bed with you, watching you come apart against the plastic toy. You could just picture his hungry gaze, watching how your body gushed as you released, nipples pebbled from arousal and your lips parted, a single whimper of his name escaping you as you rode out your high.

No, that was a little secret you would keep to yourself. He didn’t need to know your dirtiest fantasies. He was an employee. An employee that often arrived at your bedroom door shirtless and smirking, holding a stack of freshly made pancakes on the mornings he stayed over at yours but an employee nonetheless.

—————————

The cab ride to the airport would have been silent if it hadn’t been for the gentle tapping of your thumbs and Bucky’s racing over your respective phone screens. You had at least two dozen emails left to reply to and your eyelids were beginning to get heavy, the body heat radiating from Bucky in the cab’s back seat making you drowsy. You took a second, squeezing your eyes shut to force away the tiredness before going back to typing relentlessly.

The trip to the airport was short, Bucky had competed the preflight checkin so you essentially stepped straight onto the plane, taking a seat by the window, with Bucky taking the one opposite you. Takeoff was smooth as always, your phones picked back up as soon as it was safe to do so. But with the glowing screen came a fresh wave of drowsiness, your eyelids threatening to close of their own accord.

“Shit, Buck did you pack my -“

“Glasses? Left side of your bag, under the tissues.” Bucky finished your sentence for you, not looking up from his phone.

“And my -“

“Eye drops? In your makeup bag.” There it was again. What surprised you most was that Bucky didn’t even need to see you to work out exactly what was wrong.

“Do you really just take care of everything?” You huffed out a little laugh, digging through your bag, finding both your glasses and eye drops exactly where he told you they would be.

“Everything but you.” He chuckled, finally setting his phone down.

“What do you mean ‘everything but me’? All you ever do is take care of me. You organise my shopping and dry cleaning for god’s sake.” The whole notion of Bucky doing anything but taking care of you was just insane because you sure as hell didn’t have time to do any of those things for yourself. That’s what you hired him for after all.

“I didn’t mean like that. I meant like really take care of you. You’re so damn up tight.” You knew by the little chuckle that accompanied his words that he meant it affectionately but it still made you slightly defensive.

“I’m not up tight.” You protested. Normally you would’ve let harmless comments like that slide but the combination of your shitty day and the fact you were so sleepy made it impossible to not seek out conflict. This was the life you were used to after all. A life of treating almost everyone you came across adversarially. It was second nature to you at this point, inside and outside the courtroom.

“Come on, you seem to forget I am your calendar. You think I don’t know you haven’t gotten any in months? You should get laid, that’s all I’m sayin’. Wouldn’t kill you to have an orgasm every once in a while.” The words roll off his tongue like it’s nothing and truth be told, if you were in better form, this would have been a perfectly normal conversation between the two of you. Neither of you were particularly shy when it came to talking about your hookups.

You hated how right he was. You hated that you hadn’t been touched in months and Bucky knew that. You hated that most days, you were too exhausted to bother tending to your own needs. And you hated the warmth spreading through your body at the thought of Bucky finally taking care of you.

“Don’t know Buck, an orgasm might actually kill me with my high blood pressure.” You needed this conversation to turn more light hearted and you needed it fast, before your head became so clouded with need that Bucky picked up on it.

“I mean, I handle everything else for you. Wouldn’t even mind if that became part of my remit.” You almost couldn’t believe how carefree and nonchalant this whole conversation seemed, Bucky hoping you missed how he cock twitched in his trousers. Of course you didn’t. You missed nothing.

“If what became part of your remit?” You quizzed firmly, trying not to give anything away but knowing your eyes had gone big and doe-like, entirely of their own accord. This was a dream come true.

“You. Actually taking care of you. However you need.” His stare was intense, watching you keenly to determine whether he had horrendously overstepped and was about to get fired.

“Why would you even want to?” Your voice carried every single ounce of confusion you were feeling, staring Bucky down with an intensity that mirrored his own in that moment.

“You’re far too smart to act dumb.” He replied softly, knowing it was all or nothing now. If he was getting fired, he might as well be honest. His head tilted downwards, drawing your attention to the bulge growing in his suit trousers. Years worth of need and longing bubbling over all at once.

“If you want this, tell me. If not, that’s fine. But it doesn’t need to be anything romantic. Can be just sex. Whatever you want.” He was doing his very best to stay calm, his brain finally catching up with his mouth and considering that he was now in way too deep to just apologise and about to get his ass handed to him at thousands of feet in the air by one of the best legal minds in the world.

You’d never wanted anything more in your life. It was almost like Bucky was dangling himself in front of you. A piece of meat before a lion that could be snatched away at any second. You weren’t going to give him the chance, professionalism be damned. You were out of your seat and onto his lap in a flash, your pencil skirt hiked up to allow you to bracket his legs in your own.

“Are you sure about this?” Your quizzed softly, giving him one last chance to back out before you lost all self control.

“Do I feel like I’m not sure?” His voice was almost a choked whisper, his hands landing on your hips to press you down against his stiff cock.

You’d never seen him like this before. Horny and needy and losing himself in the feeling of you on top of him after years of fantasies. He had tried to curb the fantasies but his body didn’t allow him to. You were all he could think of on those lonely nights, a hand wrapped around his cock, groans and whimpers escaping until he came over his hand, a cry of your name pulled from his lips. He thought you would never know. And now here he was, the woman of his dreams perched in his lap, asking to be taken care of. Even the filthiest parts of his brain couldn’t have come up with this.

He could never have dreamt how you moved forward so tentatively, your lips hardly even touching his. He was used to seeing you confident, in control, the calmest person under pressure and yet here you were, unsure of yourself for the first time, he imagined, in your life. You both kept your eyes open for a little while, your lips sliding together gently, getting a feel for one another, up until your teeth sank into the plush skin of his bottom lip and an actual groan left him, his eyelids fluttering shut. The sound could’ve made you quiver with need. It was so alarmingly sexy, knowing your huge, sexy PA could be taken apart with the smallest touches. Suddenly, this seemed to be as much, if not more, for Bucky’s benefit than your own.

“Thought this was for me, hm?” Somehow your condescending court voice was pushing him over the edge. You felt one of his hands come up, tangling in your hair while the other wrapped around your waist, pulling your core flush with his clothed cock. He kissed you with a burning intensity that made your head swim and your pussy throb, loving how he was taking control but still hurtling further into a breathless, needy state.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve thought about this. Didn’t think we’d be joining the mile high club.” He huffed out a little light laugh, using his grip on your waist to help you roll your hips over his growing erection.

“Couldn’t have been thinking about this for as long as I have.” You smiled softly, letting out a little gasp as his cock nudged you just right through your panties that you were sure had been soaked through already. His eyes went wide at your admission, his dick twitching deliciously underneath you.

“Fuck, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.” He whispered, making you laugh at how eager he was.

“I won’t be able to wait until we’re off this plane Bucky. You gonna fuck me right here?” You teased him softly, your faces so close, your tiny hands running down his pristine shirt, toying with the buttons. When you began to graze his chest gently with your nails, it was like a switch flipped inside Bucky. He thrust up against you with a growl loving the yelp you let out, one hand now squeezing your ass, the other massaging your breasts through your blouse.

“Gonna fuck all the stress out of you. Gonna have you leavin’ this plane leakin’ and cockdrunk.” Somehow you didn’t even doubt his words and you had to admit, it did sound quite appealing to give up the control for a while, just letting Bucky take over.

“Gimme all you’ve got Barnes. Gotta make it worth my while or this is gonna be the last time you get the chance.” You couldn’t help but tease him before instantly realising that might have been a mistake, his lips burning hot as they worked against your own, needy, insistent and as always, eager to please.

His mouth was relentless to the point that you found yourself practically dry humping his cock, your hands laced in his hair while his untucked your blouse from your skirt, greedily holding onto any skin he could reach. He tasted of peppermint and coffee, smelt like the expensive aftershave you were so fond of and felt like a man who’s only purpose in life was to make you cum until it hurt.

“Need you. ‘Nside me. Now.” You managed somehow to pant the words out between the fervent slide of his lips over yours, his tongue dipping in to taste you, never wanting this to end.

The feeling of your much smaller hands landing on his belt buckle made him look down but he could’ve cum then and there at the sight that met him. The front of his suit pants were slick with your mess, proof that he wasn’t just dreaming and you really were needing this just as badly as he was.

“You’re so fuckin’ ready for it aren’t you? Look at the mess you’ve made. Why didn’t we do this years ago?” He was groaning, shifting in his seat to help you get his trousers and boxers down. You couldn’t help how you gasped a little at the sheer size of him, his cock thick and long, the head slick with precum, proud veins running up his shaft. He looked Godly. Two firm pumps was all it took to have his head thrown back against the plush leather seat, cursing and bucking against your hand, aching for more.

“I’m sorry Buck, I can’t wait any longer.” You panted, his lips attached to your neck now, kissing, licking and sucking all his frustration into your skin. If there was a time for foreplay, that wasn’t it. Neither of you had the patience right now.

“Thank God, needa feel this pretty pussy.” He all but whispered as you lined him up at your soaking entrance.

“Shit Bucky, you got a condom?” You asked anxiously, stilling yourself at the last second.

“My bag, zip compartment at the front.” He replied quietly and sure enough, that’s exactly where you found a packet. Tearing the wrapper off, you slid it down his length earning another groan from the huge man who was practically shaking beneath you.

“You think of everything.” You giggled, finally beginning to slowly sink yourself down onto him. Your laugh quickly turned into a breathy moan, your breath mingling with Bucky’s and you noticed how he made a very similar noise. You pressed yourself down slowly, your body having to adjust to the stretch.

“So tight, fuck. Shit, never felt a tighter pussy in my life.” He whispered when you were finally seated on top of him. He pulled your skirt out of the way to appreciate just how connected your bodies were in that moment. His cock just seemed to fit perfectly, so snug you could’ve cried as you began to slowly work your hips against his.

“Oh my god Bucky you’re huge.” You should’ve been embarrassed by how high and needy your whine came out but right then and there, you didn’t care.

“It’s all yours sweetheart. Gonna fuck you so good you never need another cock again. Gonna ruin anyone else for you - fuck.” Under normal circumstances you would’ve chastised him for being so overconfident but feeling how his cock nudged your sweet spot perfectly, you thought he might actually be right.

“Gotta fuck you angel, can’t just sit here anymore, ‘s driving me crazy.” He just couldn’t keep himself still any longer, lust burning behind his eyes in a way you had never seen in him before. You lifted yourself up slowly, feeling his length slipping from you, your walls fighting to pull him deeper until you sank back down, taking the whole length at once. The strangled cry that left Bucky was incredible. You repeated your gentle rise and fall, setting a decent pace. Every sharp fall of your hips tore a needy gasp from both of you, the sweetest spot inside you throbbing from the almost constant onslaught. It was everything you craved. Bucky was grasping at every curve of your body, lost in the feeling of your soft skin and the grip of your silky walls and the smell of your shampoo as you rode him, building speed as your pleasure built in your lower belly. The wet sounds escaping where your bodies were joined was nothing short of obscene, only fuelling Bucky to meet each of your thrusts with his own.

“Oh my god, I -oh oh- I can’t, can’t take it Bucky please.” You groaned, manicured fingernails digging into his chest.

“I got you honey. ‘s okay. Gonna take such good care of you when we get to the hotel. Just want you to cum once for me now, okay? Take the edge off. You feel so good wrapped round me. You know what else I can feel? Your pretty pussy is leakin’. Feel you drippin’ down over my balls. Never felt anything so hot in my ‘ntire life.” His fingers fell to your clit, rubbing neatly as if he had been trained to do nothing else. You were on cloud nine, your high so close but not quite there yet.

“Bucky, gonna cum. Oh fuck!” You whined, your orgasm hitting you like a train. You came with a loud cry, eyes squeezed shut, rocking against him more than fucking so his cock stayed buried inside you.

“Shit, how did you get even fuckin’ tighter. ‘M so close.” He whispered against your neck, broken and needy. Your high had all but subsided, aftershocks still pleasantly coursing through you as you went back to letting your hips rise and fall so Bucky could finish. It only took four more well timed thrusts before he was cumming with a shout, pulling you flush against him as his balls emptied into the condom.

You were both spent and sweaty but more satisfied than you could remember being in months, your chest pressed to his as you both came down, craving a little extra affection. Bucky held you for a good few minutes until you felt his cock softening, knowing he really should get cleaned up. You let him slip from you, pulling your skirt down to take your original seat across from him again.

“Gimme a second.” He whispered, kissing your forehead before making his way to the little bathroom, returning a few minutes later looking just as put together as ever, apart from his telltale grin.

“Jesus, we should do that more often.” You smiled quietly when he returned, letting him settle in the chair beside you this time, the dividing arm rest pushed out of the way so you could cuddle as much as possible given the limited space.

“I can’t stop now honey. That pussy is addictive.” He smiled, happy to see you leaning so comfortably up against him but even happier when he heard your soft little snores.

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