#for the rest of this year i have second chapter of my bb going up on the 13th and then The ExMas Fic going up around christmas | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wiypt-writes · 1 year

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Consciousness Of Guilt Ch 24

Summary: It’s the countdown to Christmas, and you and Andy have a very excited almost 3 year old…and a pain in the ass Elf to contend with.

Warnings: Language, adult themes, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer. I do not consent to my work being translated or posted elsewhere. If you see this fiction on any site other than Tumblr it has been taken without permission.

W/C: 7.3k

A/N: Thanks to my beta @spectre-posts

Consciousness Of Guilt Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 23

According to Ferris Bueller, “life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” Well, you certainly could relate.

Within what felt like such a short amount of time; Lucy was growing, life was rapidly changing and there was no slowing down. You had gone back to work and while that was an adjustment in and of itself, you enjoyed the opportunity to work from home as well when necessary. Lucy was attending a daycare in the lobby of the building, and it gave you (and Andy) a chance to check in on her. Although you weren’t sure it were a good idea in the beginning as you knew Andy was down there “watching” or “checking in” far more than you were. Ron even would joke that if one couldn’t find Andrew Barber in his office then his calls should be

“forwarded to the nursery in the lobby.”

And speaking of Ron, the end of the year was fast approaching and so was his retirement. The founding partner had given the news to yourself, Andy and the board with their spouses present at a dinner party they’d hosted at autumn’s start. He had declared that he would be stepping down at the end of February the following year. That meant many changes were coming including adding much more to Andy’s desk. Because, with Ron’s announcement, came another vote to seat Andy as the second head of the firm.

Simply put, it was as if you and Andy had merely blinked, and here you were. Your baby girl now almost three, and another year about to draw to a close.

You woke and stretched, leaning over to give Andy a quick peck on the cheek good morning. He stirred, and smiled, his arm moving to slip round your back.

“Morning, Angel.”

“Good morning, BB.” You smiled as your lips brushed his. “Happy first of December.”

Andy snorted, “whoopee…” You playfully slapped his chest and he laughed. “Seriously, what’s to get excited about? You’ve already put the tree up…it went up the day before Thanksgiving.”

You knew he was only half-serious. Whilst he’d grumbled it was far too early, when he’d seen how excited his little girl at the boxes of decorations, he’d got stuck right in to help.

“Listen, Mr Grinch…have you forgotten what’s waiting downstairs?”

At that, Andy grinned. This was the first year that Lucy had really appreciated and understood what Christmas was and her excitement was infectious.

“I can’t wait for her to see it.”

The two of you laid quietly talking for a few minutes, until Andy’s alarm obnoxiously signaled it was time to get up.

"Hit snooze," you suggested.

Andy sighed, “I’d love to, but I have a lot of prep today.”

You groaned, "alright. I'm working from home today. I'll keep Looby with me."

Andy groaned as he stretched. “I know it’s only a DUI and possession but whilst he’s pleading guilty for the DUI, on the rest he claims he’s been stitched up…”

You rolled to your side, facing his side of the bed, "well, I know it's been tough so far, but I’m sure it's going to work out."

“It feels like an awful amount of prep for something so minor, but there’s huge implications here that go behind the verdict.”

“Like…”

“Bent cops.” Andy wrinkled his nose.

“Oh…”

“Yeah,” Andy shrugged a little, before his arm which lay under your neck threaded into the hair at the back of your head. “Busy couple of weeks before the holidays.”

You nodded and leaned up for a kiss. "You best get up, or I'll kidnap you."

“Isn’t kidnapping when it’s done against your…” he trailed off, the joke dying on his lips. “Fahk, Angel…that was…”

Your eyes grew soft, "Hey....," you cupped his face, "Andy no, it's okay. I'm okay."

He took a deep breath and accepted the soft kiss you gave him. “I know, I still don’t like the…the jokes, you know?”

Before you could reply, a little voice called out echoing down the landing and through the monitor on the bedside table.

“Daddy! Mommy! Isss awakes!”

“Well, that's a new record," you snorted. "That’s your fault for reminding her last night she’s got her advent calendars to open.”

"Me? I did no such thing, that was Penny sending that fahkin' ugly bright box of which, no doubt, is full of shit prizes and candy."

“Oh hush!” You giggled, “you know full well she’s more excited about that glittery card dinosaur one you managed to find!”

Andy chuckled as you moved so he could climb out of bed, his bare torso flexing a little as he headed out of the room, Grant following. He opened the baby gate into Lucy’s room to find her sat up, the early light from the sunrise illuminating her slightly.

“Good morning Looby-Saurus.” He beamed.

“Hi Daddy Wex!” She giggled as Grant hopped up onto her toddler bed and stuck his nose into her face. “Gwant!”

“Stupid dog…” Andy grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Daddy nos calls Gwant!” Lucy admonished as she stared up at him and Andy couldn’t help but snort at the expression she wore, so like you.

“Okay, okay.” He grinned and swooped her up in his big arms. She still sometimes looked so small in them to him, his precious girl. "Do you want to come snuggle Mommy so I can get ready for work?"

“Yup yup yups!” She hugged him round his neck and then she gasped. “Oh…iss a-vent day?”

He groans a little, "yep, it's advent day."

She squealed. “We goes?”

"Yes, but after I get dressed for work."

“Otay…”

"I'll be quick, promise." He kissed her cheek as he walked them into his room.

“Mommy!” Looby grinned as she saw you sat up in the large bed.

"Good morning, Looby Loo!"

“Iss assvent!”

"I know! Are you excited?"

In the corner of your eye, you saw Andy trying not to laugh at the unfortunate mispronunciation of the word.

“I so esscited!”

Andy headed into the bathroom, and you smiled at Lucy.

"I tell you what. Let’s go grab your robe and your slippers, make sure you’re warm when we go down, yeah?”

"Does it snows wast night?"

“I think so.” You grinned, “shall we see?”

"Outs dare?" She pointed to the French doors on your balcony.

"Yep, go see!"

She hopped down from your bed and ran to the long curtains, pulling them apart as she pushed her face through. “Mommy! More snows!”

"Oh my! Well, we'll just have to go out in it, won't we?" You laugh. “Make a snowman!”

“Wike Olaf!” Looby grinned as you climbed out of bed and grabbed Andy’s sweater from the vanity chair.

"Yes!" You pulled it on over your sleep cami.

That was when Andy threw open the bathroom door and rushed out in only a towel. "Sorry, two minutes." he quickly said and grabbed his underwear and undershirt, running back in.

“Daddy siwwy.”

"Yes, he is!" You carried her back to her room to get her robe and slippers. Andy met you two in the hall, his tie hanging around his neck and his jacket fisted in his hand. The smell of his shower gel, aftershave and the linger of toothpaste was a particularly heady mix that morning.

"Okay, let's get your advent!” He swooped up Lucy as she grinned and clapped.

You followed and smiled at Andy as you opened the door to the huge open plan loving area of your old farmhouse. Andy set your daughter down and she immediately squealed.

“Oh. Wow!” You gasped as Andy took a dramatic inhale, “what on Earth…”

"Wassat, Wassat?!"

“It looks…it looks like an elf!” Andy grinned as Lucy ran to the little elf doll on the sofa. The Elf was sat holding a balloon.

"Das 'L' for Lucy!" She bounced on the spot, pointing at the balloon.

“You’re right.” Andy nodded. “That’s what it says. Hi, Lucy!”

Jumping up and down with pure glee, she took the sign and handed it to you.

You gasped, "Bunny, I think it's... It's a note, look!

“Issat?” Her eyes widened.

"Hang on, I need to make sure it's real...." Andy took the note from you and squinted as he inspected the teeny writing on the page. “Miss Lucy Jo Barber, Sheephill Cottage!” He read with an astonished tone. “It is real!”

"Reads it, Dadd-wex, peas!"

“Okay…” Andy took a deep breath and opened the letter. “Hi Lucy! I’m your special elf! I’m new, from the North Pole, and Santa sent me to your home especially so we can play together!” He paused as Lucy gasped.

You could help the grin that matched your daughter's as Andy read. This was definitely going to be the best part of the season.

“Like all new elves, I don’t have a name. So, the first thing we can do together is pick one. Anything you want, as long as it isn’t a rude word like…” Andy gasped and playfully looked at Lucy, “like fart or butt…”

She giggled and covered her grin with her small hands.

“You can play with me all day, but at night you have to leave me under the tree so that I can report back to Santa through the special Red bauble…”

"I can do it, I can do it!"

“I can’t wait to play and have lots of adventures. With love, from your Elf!” Andy finished. “Well, how awesome is that?!”

"I so esscited! I has to name hims! Don't goes!"

Andy chuckled, “I have to get to work soon, Bunny but…okay, a couple of minutes.”

"Think really hard, Lucy... A name is special." You encouraged.

“Erms….Pickles!”

Andy snorted, “what?"

“Pickles!”

Andy was about to ask why, but his phone rang. It was Ron. "Angel... I..."

“Yeah, okay…go. See you tonight.”

"I love you," he bent and kissed you. Then he kneeled down, "I gotta go, Bunny, come gimme a kiss then you and 'Pickles' can play."

“Bye daddy!” She ran to him and kissed his bearded cheek. “I wobes you.”

"I love you, too." He stood and kissed you again before rushing out.

"So," you clapped your hands together and smirked, "what are we going to do with Pickles?"

And that was how it started.

You quickly realized the Elf couldn’t be left “under” the tree as Grant took a liking to him, and on the first night, Andy spent a good five minutes trying to retrieve him from your dog’s jaws.

Then, each and every day you had to remind yourself or Andy to move the damn elf, that fast became an annoying and obnoxious chore. But seeing Lucy’s reaction each morning was so worth it. It was in the kitchen hanging off the fridge, it was in the bathroom Lucy used being naughty using the sink as a tub. It scuba dived in Grant’s water bowl, pulled all the cushions off the couch, left a trail of marshmallow footprints all over the kitchen counters….When it was Andy's turn to move it, you'd learned to double check the setup, for the first time he was in charge there was a very precarious pose your husband had put it in. So, you had to fix it. And that was how every turn Andy had went, so you had to scold him each time as you fixed it before Lucy saw.

But one Tuesday evening, a few weeks after his 46th birthday, Andy outdid himself.

You’d arranged Pickles on the coffee table with one of Lucy’s Barbie Dolls, and a few of her dinosaurs around a little table of their own along with a sign that informed everyone that this was a “tea-rex” party. You’d left to go grab a drink from the kitchen and come back to find Pickles’ head was now between Barbie’s legs and Andy was bent over the scene, giggling like a naughty schoolboy.

“Andrew!”

"What?” He spun to face you.

“You absolute child!”

“Hey, Picks has to try Barbie at least once in his life!"

“You are the…” you slapped the back of his head, causing him to yelp, “absolute worst!”

"Oh c'mahn!" He drawled in his Boston baroque as you moved to fix the toy porn scene in front of you. “I mean I'm naht a Barbie man myself, but..." he wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling your neck.

“You’re not?”

"Nope...." he kissed your skin. "I like wings."

“Smooth….”

"I have my moments," he snorted.

“Hmmm…” you moved in his arms, turning to face him.

"It's just a little fun, Angel," he smirked and kissed the tip of your nose. "You laughed, something you haven't done for a week."

You sighed. "I know, it's been busy. With both Amber and Eva already gone, and now the nursery closed for the holidays, I've been overloaded. And I'm still not feeling well."

“No?” He frowned. “I thought you said you were yesterday?”

"I just still feel tired and run down," you sighed. "Honestly, it's just the full plate but now that I'm working from home, it'll get easier. Especially with you and Ron buttoning up this case. I didn't want to say much because you're so stressed and putting in the hours."

Andy took a deep breath, “well, we have the closing arguments tomorrow so…that’s it. If no verdict by 5pm, it’s deferred until new year. I’ll be finished tomorrow evening regardless.”

"Good," your hands ran up his cotton tee covered chest and sighed. "You wanna light that fire now? We can turn the lights out and leave the tree on?"

“Mmmm get comfy, huh?” He smiled and leaned down to kiss you. “Any of that red we opened at dinner left?”

"A bit. Maybe a glass each."

“Just enough.” He smiled, “the Christmas order from the Wine club should be arriving tomorrow or the day after. I stuck a few bottles of the cheap stuff in so we can make mulled wine.”

"My favorite," you slipped from his arms and padded back toward the kitchen.

When you came back a small fire was just starting to pick up. Andy tossed on more kindling before, once satisfied it was going to take, he chucked on a log.

You passed off his glass and he took it with a soft smile, but not without kissing you gently in the glow. His free hand rest against the small of your back.

You loved the night times. Andy always made time for Lucy when he came home, playing, bathing, and reading her a story. But once she was tucked in, and it was just the two of you, he relaxed even more.

"I love you," you bumped your nose against his.

“I love you too.” He smiled, his lips brushing yours.

"What now, counselor?"

“Movie? Sit on the rug and talk?

"Rug sounds good to me,” you winked.

You both settled down, you sat between his legs, your back settled in against his chest as he leaned against the oak coffee table. One of his long legs was extended flat along the floor, the other bent at the knee.

The two of you drank your wine and talked, in the easy way you’d always been able to. Andy’s hands would rub up and down your forearms and sometimes his lips would kiss your neck. Your hands would move up and down the top part of his shin or fingers would draw lines and swirls over his thigh.

It was peaceful, intimate, and in the comfortable moments of silence, the crackle of the fire filled the room making it feel even more homely and cozy.

As the flames started to die down, you checked your watch.

"It's late, Andy," you spoke with a softness almost as if any louder you might disturb the silent night. "You don't want to be late in the morning."

“Ten more minutes.” He whispered, his lips kissing the back of your shoulder.

"Alright," you sighed in appreciation.

His lips didn’t move far from your skin. His beard tickled you as it gently rubbed against the crook of your shoulder.

You reached back to curl your hand around his neck. Your fingers ran down the length of his neck.

He hummed in appreciation, as his lips found the hinge of your jaw. You responded the same. But you leaned your body into him more as your fingers scratched at the shorter hairs along the back of his head and a hand pressed further into his thigh.

As he nuzzled into you, one hand moved, splaying across your belly as the other arm wrapped across your chest. Your hum turned into breathy grunt and sigh.

The hand that was splayed on your belly slid further down, fingers softly brushing the inside of your right thigh through your sleep pants. The other softly traced the swell of your breast. A gentle moan left your throat at the feel of his hands on you like that. Your body easily responding to your husband’s touch with a delicate yet elevated sensitivity.

Andy sighed, his lips now at your chin as his fingers danced over your nipple, which was peaked through the soft material of your sleep shirt. “Oh, Angel…so responsive for me…”

You whimpered at his voice and touch, "Mmm, yeah.” You tilted your hips back against him. His lips met yours as you felt the hand on your thigh slipping beneath the waistband of your pants.

You gasped into his mouth, the tickle of his fingers passing your mound was pleasurable. Your own fingers curled into his hair. His mouth hovered over yours, his eyes twinkling as he slowly circled your clit with his fingers, the other hand now slipping into the neckline of your top.

The twist of your body against his chest gave you a better angle to feel his hot breath against your lips. Your hips tilted forward just a pinch to practically fall into that finger circling you. You jutted your chin just a fraction outward to capture a kiss as his hand now cupped your breast.

He gave a squeeze and his thumb rubbed over your nipple now with the pad of his thumb against your skin. It was slow, delicate, like a strum to a guitar string.

"Mmm," you hummed against his lips.

“Good?” His voice was a grunt as his tipped his hips forward, his hardness pressing into the dip of your back.

"Yeah," you whispered. "S'good...."

“Can I fuck you like this?” he rasped.

Your belly knotted as your chest fluttered, "ah, fuck, yes...."

You didn’t wait, your hands moved, and you pulled off your top and then tipped your head back round to Andy.

“Lose yours.”

His hand came away from your sleep pants, your clit missing his touch, as he took that very hand to single handedly pull that collar of his sleep shirt over his head.

You moved as he did so, slipping your sleep pants down and you heard Andy groan a little behind you.

"Good?" You smirked.

He chuckled as you felt him shuffle, hands on your hips as you knelt up. He eased you back over him, one hand letting go to grip at his dick. As you moved yourself backwards, you felt his head brushing through your folds, and you moaned.

“That feels good…”

Andy sighed pleasurably as you rocked over his cock. His head tickled your clit and a delightful whimper sounded from your lips at the feel. His hands remained at your hips, not pushing, or pulling, simply resting as you dictated your speed.

It all felt so good. His hands on you, your hands bracing yourself at his thighs as you rubbed along his shaft. You felt a stir inside and changed tactic, wanting him inside you.

You stopped and shifted backwards, Andy immediately obliging. His tip slipped in with ease and you slowly sank down on him. The remnants of the burning embers and fire, now near gone, still warmed you and the Christmas lights around you casted a romantic glow across your bodies.

You leaned back against his chest as he tipped his hips upwards, both of you sighing as he filled you.

After a minute, your hips rolled as you snaked that hand and arm back and up around his neck and nape. His lips nipped at your shoulder, hands sliding up your rib cage until they cupped both of your breasts.

"Yes," you hissed. You splayed your fingers over the back of his head as the heel of your hand cradled the base.

His hips were slow, thrusts deep as his palms squeezed your mounds before his fingers pinched your nipples.

"Fuck, Andy," you squirmed.

His hands continued, teasing you as his rolls were measured. His lips brushed up your neck.

Your skin felt like it was on fire and not from the dying flames, but from Andy's touch and his deep thrusts. He filled your still tight insides with a stretch you'd grown accustomed to, desired most days and begged for at times. The way his soft hands were gentle always at first but demanding when begged for.

“Feel so good, Angel.”

"Yeah, it does," you replied with a whine. "Jesus, Andy, it's real good."

His fingers continued their massaging and plucking, your nipples so sensitive as his rolls and thrusts picked up pace ever so slightly.

Your delicate walls began to flutter against his shaft as it rubbed along your ridges. The hooded edge of his tip kissed your spongy surface as the slow drag of his thrusts slipped through you.

He kept that same, steady pace to the end, and you came with a soft whimper as his teeth nipped your shoulder.

Your weight settled with a welcome slouch against his lap as you became pliant to his touch. Your orgasm had your whole body tingling and every sense was intensified. You could feel the fibers of his hair on his thighs, the grooves of his teeth on your skin. Even the prints of his fingers and thumbs felt like imprints on your nipple and breasts.

“Oh, baby…” he cooed, “there we go…”

"Fuck, Andy...."

Andy could feel you, squeezing him as you trembled in his lap.

"Jesus, Angel...."

You could only whimper as your body kept going. It was as if a shorter, weaker, second orgasm was trickling through. An aftershock of sorts.

You were that caught up, you didn’t feel Andy as he came, but you heard his little grunt in your ear.

The room was silent bar your heavy breaths mixing with his. There was a peppering sound of soft kisses, but it were only for your ears.

"That was good, Angel."

“Mmmm.”

He lightly chuckled with a rasp to his voice but made no attempt to move you, and the two of you remained there for a bit longer.

****

Neither of you wanted to get up the next morning, but Andy knew the end was in sight. He was up, showered, downstairs and waiting with coffee before you and Lucy appeared.

He could hear the two of you in her room, giggling in excitement at what Pickles could have been up to overnight. He smirked with a flick of his brows knowing damn well what the little shit had been up to.

Soon after, the door opened and Looby ran into the room and squealed, “looks!”

"Oh my, he's had a party with your other friends!" You grinned and your eyes moved over to Andy.

He smirked at you over his mug. “Yeah, said friends look really happy. Bet Barbie had a great time last night.

You blushed, "Angel did."

He said nothing, merely arched a brow and you knew he was smug as fuck.

Breakfast was the usual affair and at 8:15 you kissed him goodbye so he could make the half hour drive to Denver.

As he went through security, he placed his case in the conveyor belt and walked through the scanner. As Andy replaced his belt and watch, stuck his phone back in his pocket, the guy at the X-ray machine peered carefully at the screen before he chuckled to himself and looked Andy.

“Merry Christmas, Mr Barber.”

"Merry Christmas, Jack," he smirked. "Have a good one."

He grabbed his case and jacket and headed through. A few moments later he entered the courtroom as spectators did but slipped through the bailiff to sit at the Defense table. He placed his case down on the desk in front of his seat, an empty one to the left where his client would sit and turned to Ron as he clicked the clasps on his case open.

“Good evening?” Ron smiled.

"Great evening,"

“Dare I ask?” Ron snorted.

Andy just smugly grinned, "Nope."

Ron chuckled as Andy opened the case and stopped dead.

“What the…” his boisterous laugh filled the room as those around took a glare at him.

“I don’t…how the hell…” he chuckled as he turned his open case to Ron. There, on top of his files, led Pickles.

Now, it was Ron's turn to join in on the laughter.

“Is that the famous Pickles?” He reached for the elf.

"That it is," Andy shook his head.

Ron grinned as he sat the Elf doll on the edge of the desk.

“Shit, Ron! You can’t…” but Andy’s attention was jerked away as the Bailiff called for order and their client was led in.

"All rise...." the spiel went on and as the judge sat down then told everyone to do the same, his eyes shot up at the defendants side.

"Barber, what the hell is that?"

Ron snorted as clearly Andy was head seat and was taking the ticking off from His Honor.

“Erm…I…”

“A new witness.” Ron quipped.

“No, I…it’s… Ron!” Andy hissed.

“It’s a little unbecoming to try and enter a new witness at such a late stage,” the Judge’s mouth twitched a little. Various titters rang round the court room.

“I’m sorry, your Honor. My daughter…she must have snuck it into my bag…” Andy grabbed the doll and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I can only apologize.”

"I'm a grandfather to twelve Barber, I get it. They’ve all had these damned Elf On A Shelf things each year for ages. But the merry little shits are annoying as hell, so put...."

"Pickles, Your Honor..." Ron interjected to more laughter.

"Pickles," the judge snorted, "back in the case until recess, huh?"

“Yes, sir…it’ll stay in there, believe me.” Andy tossed the doll into his case and closed it with a snap. “More than my life is worth to lose him.”

He glared at Ron as he sat back down, the soon retiring senior partner grinning like a fool back at him.

Thankfully, the rest of the proceedings went according to plan. The summing up was completed and then before lunch the jury were sent to consider their verdict. To Andy’s surprise, they were called by the clerk less than three hours later as the verdict was in.

Andy bit his lip and exhaled with relief as the verdict came back not guilty. The Judge nodded, and then following the sentencing for the DUI and a final consultation with their client, Andy and Ron left the courthouse. As they were leaving, the DA pulled them both to one side, informing them that she would be sanctioning an investigation into the allegations of corruption.

After Andy promised the firm would help in any way they could, they headed out into the cold air, buoyed by both the result and the fact it was now officially over in time for Christmas.

“Well,” Ron turned to Andy as he paused at his Mercedes, “not a bad one to bow out on.” He smirked as he opened his car door. “Maybe you should thank the elf…”

"You know, you're still my boss, or I'd say fahk you," he snorted.

“Only for another 2 months.” Ron grinned, “hit me with your worst!”

"Man, just 2 months left. I can’t believe you’re bowing out, you bastard!" Andy chuckled.

"Oh yes, yes I am," Ron touted. "I've put in my time. I'm seventy, and I’m done."

Andy had the door open to his Audi coupe, "I'm heading back for a few hours before going home.”

“What? Why? Fuck that! It’s back past your house to go to the office and you’ve done enough. We tied everything up, so go home. That’s an order, and as I’m still your boss…”

“Fahking fahk you!” Andy snorted, as Ron shot him a look. “Okay, okay, I’ll go home!”

“Good! I’ll check.”

“Don’t I know it. Hey, are you and Giselle coming by for dinner still?"

“Absolutely, be with you at seven-ish. Unfortunately, I’m driving as the boys, wives, and grandkids land early tomorrow morning so…”

“Yeah, you mentioned. Don’t worry, Y/N’s made mulled cider, not wine. Coupla beers if you fancy. Lucy will no doubt have us up at the crack of dawn, so we won’t have much either. Save it for tomorrow.”

“Speaking of my little pal, will she still be up tonight when we arrive or…”

“Well, she goes down around seven but she’s not in nursery, sure we can let her stay up a little longer. You never know, she may lay in tomorrow, I can pray for a Christmas miracle.” Andy winked.

"Good," Ron winked, "I'd hate to miss spoiling my God daughter on Christmas Eve Eve!" Ron chuckled and slipped into his Mercedes. He rolled down the window and shouted over the loud dual muffler. "See you at seven!"

With a smirk, Andy climbed into his car and pulled out of the lot, dialing his secretary’s number just to check in. By the time he was home, he was satisfied all his loose ends for the years were tied up and he was absolutely ready for the ten or so days break he would get.

The moment he stepped inside the house, he could smell the spirit of Christmas. Clearly, you'd been busy. And the motley crew of decorated cookies who seen better days proved so as they sat on the counter.

“Daddy!”

"Looby-saurus!" Andy kneeled down and dropped his case and jacket to his feet as he caught her little body.

“We medz cookies!” She grinned as she wrapped her little arms round his neck.

"I can see that! Did you decorate them?" He picked one up and offered her a bite before taking one himself.

“Yups!” She nodded. “Mama says Uncle Won and Aunti Zel will wike dem!”

"Oh, I bet they will, they're gonna be here later," he kissed her cheek. Then he turned to his right and kissed you tenderly.

"How'd it go?" Your hands pressed into his chest.

"Standard sentence for the DUI: fine and costs plus community service and a driving ban, no custodial or probation. But we expected that as it’s his first offense. Main thing is, not guilty for the possession," he said softly with a smile. “Which means we just ripped open an IA on the department.”

"Well, congrats BB, it all worked out. And judging by the early arrival, you're home for good now?"

“Yup.” He grinned and jiggled Lucy a little. “I’m done now until the 6th of January!”

You grinned, "Did you hear that, Lucy? Daddy-Rex is home for a lot of days!"

“Yay!” She cheered.

“So,” Andy set Lucy on the kitchen counter, “what else did my girls do today?”

"We cleaned up, made our cookies, had a Snowball fight!" You smiled.

"I gots Gwant. Den, he pushed me."

“He pushed you?” Andy gasped, as he reached to unwrap his scarf, “well that’s just put him right on Santas naughty list!”

"Das what I says!" Lucy opened her hands up like she was saying 'I don't know.'

"Lucy, hop down and go wash so you can help me, okay?" You offered.

Andy gently dropped her to her feet, and she ran off with excitement towards the bathroom by the laundry room.

He took off his coat, dropped it over the back of one of the tall stools which sat under the breakfast counter and loosened his tie.

He snorted as he lifted his case to set it in the same stool, remembering what was inside, "the fahkin' elf."

"What was that?" You looked up at him.

Andy moved his case to the counter and looked at you, “open it…”

You dried your hands from your work and walked around to the stool. You clicked the locks on the top and opened the case. Then, you sputtered a loud snort that turned into a chuckle. "How...I swear I did NOT do that!"

“Well, if it wasn’t you, it was either that spotty little Asshole or Lucy.”

Knowing full well it wasn't Grant, you simply smirked and titled your chin as your eyes humorously looked at your husband.

“Ron sat the damned thing on the desk, in court. Then told the judge it was a new witness.”

Your jaw dropped as you tried to cover it, "oh no...." you started chuckling again.

“Thankfully, the judge saw the funny side.” Andy snorted.

"I'd hope! It's Callahan, right? Guy's got a crap load of kids and grandkids." You remembered the judge from Andy having had a trial previously with him.

“That’s the one.” He nodded, then spun round as Lucy came back into the room.

"Looby…." you smirked, "where's Pickles? He was here this morning..."

“Erms…” instantly she adopted the same guilty expression Andy wore when he’d been caught out and Andy grinned.

“Pickles has been in court!”

"I knows!" She giggled and put her chubby little hands over her grinning face. "He goes!"

“Did you put him in my briefcase?” Andy gasped, “I thought he climbed in!”

"I halps!"

“Well, he got to see the judge. Uncle Ron sat him on the table.”

“He did?” She squealed, “was you in tempt?”

Andy chuckled, "almost!"

You blinked, not quite sure how your nearly three year old knew what that was, let alone how to use it in the right context. But then again, she was bright as a button. Her vocabulary and self-awareness already streets ahead of what you’d expect of a child her age.

"Alright, Smart Bunny," you shook your head with a smirk, "I need your help with the snacks while Daddy goes and changes for Ron and Giselle."

“Otay…oh, I puts Pickles back first?”

"Yes," Andy thrust him in her direction, "He needs to think about what to tell Santa tonight about his day!"

As she took the elf, Grant sidled over, his tail wagging.

“No, Gwant!” Looby sternly told him. “Daddy, you ups so I reaches?”

“Absolutely.” Andy picked her up and crossed the dining area to the living space where the larger tree sat.

She reached and set the elf right on what Lucy had deemed the 'homes' branch next to a red bauble. Grant sat looking up, licking his lips.

"NO GWANT! Bad dog!" Lucy shook her finger at him. "No eats!"

“He can’t reach, baby.” Andy kissed her head, “don’t worry.”

You snorted as you heard, "I wouldn't trust that. He got all the way to the back of the counter this morning."

“He what?” Andy wheeled round.

"Yep," you popped your 'p'. "This," you indicated to the chicken and mushroom pasta bake waiting to go into the oven, "is the second one. Lucy and I had to go back to the market after nap." You glared at the dalmatian.

“Fur coat…” Andy grumbled.

"Today, I'd agree." You snorted.

Andy headed up with a shake of his head to change and decompress from the day before Ron and Giselle were to arrive. It felt damn good to keep the laptop closed for at least a week and ignore important emails for just as long. He hung his tie and shirt, ready for the cleaners as well as his suit pieces. He slipped into dark jeans and a thin sweater, keeping his undershirt from the day on.

You heard his boots thud along the stairs as he came back down to join you and Lucy.

The three of you prepared the rest of the snacks and the accompanying sides to the pasta bake. Lucy then had her dinner, and Andy took her upstairs for a bath and to change into her pajamas ready for the evening.

"No bed," she argued as he slipped her snowmen sleep shirt over her head.

“No, not yet. You can stay up and see Uncle Ron first. Maybe open the presents they’re bringing if mama says you can.”

"Oh... Can I seep wif Daddy Wex and Mommy?"

“I tell you what, you can go to sleep in our bed with the tv on and then I’ll move you later on, okay?”

"Otay, Gwant comes?”

“Yeah, Grant can sleep with you.”

She grinned, "Ups, peas, we goes!"

Andy chuckled, “want me to carry you or you wanna ride on my back?”

"Back!"

“Alright, robe and slippers on first.”

"'tay," she slid off her bed, feet first with her belly to the duvet.

She slipped her little feet into her Rudolph slippers that Pickles had bought one morning and then Andy held out her little dinosaur robe.

"Danks, Daddy Wex." Then Lucy gasped, "Daddy!"

"What, Bunny?"

"Oh nos! I forgot!"

Andy crouched down, "hey... Lucy what is it?"

"I fogots my assdent!"

Andy tried not to laugh, “that’s okay, we’ll open it now.”

"Okay..."

“Now…” Andy swiveled round, “hop on…”

He grunted as she did, then stood and tossed her a bit so he could settle her evenly, causing her to giggle. At the same time, he thanked whomever that she was still tiny, or he'd be fucked with his old man back.

“Lessgo Daddy-wex!”

With a roar, Andy jogged out of her room, causing her to shriek and giggle. You heard their laughs and giggles before his feet touched the stairs to come down and just as they hit the first floor, there was a knock on the door. Grant barking to make sure they were all well aware.

"Deys here! Dems here!"

“Well let’s go let them in!” Andy exclaimed back, bouncing to the door.

He opened the inside door to the porch first, Lucy still on his back and then he swung the heavy oak outside one inwards.

"Uncle Won! Auntie Zel!”

“Well, hi!” Ron beamed, as Lucy bounced on Andy’s back.

“Come on in outta the cold!” Andy chuckled, stepping back. He crouched so Lucy could slide off his back.

“Lemme get inside, pipsqueak!” Ron chuckled, “get these bags down so I can give you a hug!”

The greetings were spread between all and once the excitement died down and Lucy showed Giselle everything, she had in her advent for the fifth time, they'd settled in the living room by the fire.

“Bunny, did you open your advent for today now or did you forget again?” Andy asked.

"Aun Zelle halped! Penny gots me dis!" She held up a toy so close to his eye that he needed to lean back to see it.

“Another dinosaur!” Andy grinned.

"Issa di.... Di..."

“Diplodocus…” Andy said, pronouncing it carefully so Lucy could copy.

"Diplodikis"

“That’s it. Hi five!” Andy grinned.

Ron found the mispronunciation hilarious while and Giselle rolled your eyes.

"Alright, Looby Loo, you get to open your gifts from us, and then I heard Pickles say it was bedtime," Ron sighed.

Lucy opened her mouth to argue but a look from Andy stopped her impending protest dead.

“Remember what we agreed upstairs, bunny.” He spoke softly but firmly.

"Yes," she sighs a bit.

“Come on…it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow, we got a big day!”

"What's we do?"

“Well, we got breakfast and the last Advent day, then we’re gonna take Grant for a walk by the creek, build a snowman. Then we’re gonna help Mommy get things ready, before we go to Patti’s for dinner and watch the Carol singers. Then it’s home, and we make sure Pickles is ready to go back to the North Pole with Santa!”

"Santa! I sees him near Patti's," Lucy grinned as she took an outstretched gift from her Godfather. "Fanks!"

She flopped down as she started to unwrap the first present, but then paused halfway through ripping off the first bit of paper

“How’s comes dese presents here?”

“Well, you see, Santa brings some presents, but friends and family, well they buy each other things too.” You smiled, running your hand over her head. “So, Uncle Ron and Auntie Giselle bought these for you. And in a minute, you can give them their gifts from us.”

"Oh...." she drew out.

She continued and squealed as she unwrapped her gifts, which formed a set of new art supplies, complete with a wooden box with her name on to keep them in.

"I wuv dems! Fank you!"

“You’re very welcome, honey.” Giselle caught her hug before she then ran to Ron.

“Merry Christmas, my little squish monster!” Ron hugged her tight.

After exchanging the adult gifts, Looby was ushered round to say goodnight before Andy carried her upstairs.

That gave you the chance to invite Ron and Giselle to the dining area to take their seats so you could eat.

The hour was late by the time things were consumed and cleaned up. Giselle helped you, despite Andy's protests that he and Ron should be doing it. Even Giselle told Andy to piss off as she found it to be the perfect point in time for 'the two of you to have your cigars and scotch'.

She stirred the mulled cider and inhaled the aromatic scent that made one's heart warm and fill with a delightful holiday spirit. "So, what'd you get Andy for Christmas?"

“A long weekend in Vermont, towards the end of January.” you smiled. “Ron helped me, said he’d wangle the diaries. Booked us a cabin. Lucy’s going to my parents.”

"Oh, how lovely! You two deserve a trip like that. A log cabin, big fire, skiing! Ugh, we haven't done that since Ronnie's hip replacement. Old fart seizes up as soon as it hits forty*.”

You chuckled, “you know I’ve never been skiing. Andy has, not for a while.” You smiled, “and, then from Lucy…” you grinned, “I booked them one of the experience days at the museum, you know where they do the special dinosaur days and tours?”

Giselle grinned and opened her mouth to answer you, but you suddenly felt extremely warm and a little bit funny.

"Y/N?"

“I’m fine just…it’s a little warm, that’s all.” You waved Giselle away, “been feeling off for a few days.”

"Well, here, sit," she guided you to one of your bar stools. "I'll finish these." She grabbed you a glass of water.

“Thanks…” you sat down, glancing over to where Andy and Ron were sat. Neither seemed to have noticed.

After a few sips of water, you felt better and were thankfully able to participate in the rest of the night.

But something was niggling in the back of your mind, and you couldn’t quite figure out what.

*****

Christmas Eve morning had you slowly starting the morning. And that was despite Andy's plans of a big busy day.

But no worries, it was a lazy breakfast, more brunch really, and then you set off for a walk. Andy made good on his promise, you built a snowman the three of you before heading home and warming up with hot chocolate and a snack.

Then, you loaded into your jeep and headed back into Boulder. You let Lucy give Patti the small gift you’d bought for her, and in exchange she was very happy with the dinosaur book Patti gave her.

Then, after your burgers and fries you went out onto the square full of little Christmas market stalls, to wait for the Carol service.

Lucy and Andy were busy examining something at one of the stalls when you glanced around, and it suddenly hit you. What that nagging feeling had been.

You moved towards Andy and gently stood on your toes.

“One last thing I need to pick up, won’t be long…”

“Alright…” he leaned down, giving you a quick kiss.

You shot off across the square, slipped into the shop in question, leaving less than five minute late with your purchase stuck in your inside pocket. You needed another quick pit stop, before you returned ten minutes after you had left.

“Looks, Mommy!” Lucy excitedly waved a little wooden tree ornament at you as you reached her and Andy. “Is a daddy wex!”

“Oh, wow!” You beamed. “That’s amazing!”

“We got three!” Andy grinned. “A daddy rex, a mommy rex and a Looby saurus.”

“Hmmm, that’s great.” You beamed, “but…well, you might need to add another.”

"What?" Andy looked as if he hadn't entirely heard you.

You reached into your pocket, dipping your chin into your scarf a little and pulled out the test you’d just done. Thankfully, Lucy was too busy looking at the Carol singers who were now walking into the square with their lanterns to hear Andy’s exclamation.

“Holy fahking shit!”

You grinned. It was all you could do.

His nose was redder than seconds ago his eyes definitely not stinging from the winter air. He had no words, but you could see it on his face.

You'd just given him the third best gift of his life with you.

And pulled his hands from his pockets and quickly grabbed your face. His beard poked then tickled your cheeks as he kissed you, hard.

Lucy giggled, “kissy!” and you spluttered a bit as he pulled away.

“I know….we hadn’t planned another after Lucy, and…we’re gonna be a bit older than we both probably wanna be but…oh, Andy!” You couldn’t help the tears of happiness that pricked your eyes, “another baby!”

He grinned and pulled your face to his again. "I love you, fahk, I fahking love you much, baby."

You spluttered, allowing him to kiss you again before a yell of protest came from Lucy.

You broke apart quickly with a wet laugh from you both. Andy spoke first his voice able to carry over the growing crowd.

"What's the matter?"

“I no sees ” She looked up at you both, pointing to the singers who were now stood ready to start on the small makeshift stage in the middle. Her woolly hat slipped down over her eyes and Andy chuckled. He lifted her up into his arms, righted her hat and gave her cheek a huge kiss.

“Shoulders, peez!”

He grinned and tossed your daughter in her rightful place. Once she was settled, and her holding on, Andy looked down at you again.

His free hand cupped your jaw while his fingers carted through your hair and around the base of your head. "Here we go again," he grinned and bent as far as he could without losing Lucy.

You pressed up on your toes and met him the rest of the way, a final searing kiss to your lips as the opening carol played.

"Angels we have heard on high

Sweetly singing o'er the plains

And the mountains in reply

Echoing their joyous strains...."

"Thanks, Santa," Andy whispered as he pulled away

****

Chapter 25

#consciousness of guilt #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #Andy barber smut #defending jacob #defending Jacob fan fic #Chris Evans characters

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in-a-nook-with-a-notebook · 1 year

Text

Reunion | 21st Time’s The Charm

Franchise: Star Wars

Pairing: Poe Dameron x male reader (reader’s pronouns are he/him/his)

Word Count: 3151

Warnings: angst, swearing, angst, more angst

Series Summary: You met Poe Dameron on twenty separate random occasions before you even remotely considered joining him in any sort of way, as part of the Resistance or otherwise. And while a lot happened in those twenty times, nothing really happened until the twenty-first…

Chapter Summary: Some loss of contact with Poe causes you to lose yourself and your mind a little bit. When he suddenly comes to you with an offer, you’re forced to do what’s best for both of you.

A/N: I’ve been working on this part for way too long so enjoy 💀

Y/N = your name // L/N = last name // Y/N/N = your nickname // E/C = eye colour // H/L = hair length // H/C = hair colour

Series Masterlist // Prologue // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6

One day, you were messaging Poe, thinking he’ll get back to you quickly like he always does. Except, he didn’t. At first, you don’t think much of it; he’s probably busy working with the Resistance, or maybe he’s back into running spices. But then one day of waiting turns into two. Two days turns into three. Three days becomes a week, which becomes two weeks, which becomes a month.

Nightmares start coming back after that first month of radio silence from Poe. Back when you lived with your family, the nightmares were about them. Now? Fear of losing Poe. Every single dream you have may start out great; you and Poe hanging out and chatting like you always do. Then, typically, he gets called away on a mission for the Resistance. Your nightmare always decides to show you a visual of his x-wing blowing up with him and his astromech droid BB-8 in it, or Poe making the sacrifice play.

Just like every morning, you wake up in a cold sweat. You crawl out of bed and sit at your desk with your radio and record a message for Poe.

“Hey, man. This is… what, the thirty-second day without hearing from you? I won’t lie to you, I’m pretty worried. I know the Resistance is keeping you busy. Of course they are, you’re one of the best pilots in the galaxy. I just… well, it would be nice to hear you’re alive once and a while, you know? I’m not really up for losing my best and only friend. Anyways, things are going pretty well here. Making some money, which is nice. Miss you. If you hear this, take care of yourself, please? I can’t lose you.” You clear your throat. “Answer when you can. I’ll be here. Probably.”

————————

You and Poe were out of contact for a year and a half. You weren’t quite sure what he was up to, but you know you spent every damned day of that year and a half thinking about him, leaving him messages.

Out of the blue, you had lost your best friend. Your only friend.

On your eighteenth birthday, your parents take you to a casino in Canto Bight on Cantonica, though you’d rather be anywhere but there. While your parents got a room, you stood awkwardly in the lobby waiting and wishing you could just leave. Everyone here are your parents’ kind of people; people who got rich by working for or with the First Order. This is your parents’ idea of a good birthday event, though, so here you are.

Your E/C eyes scan the crowded room boredly, hoping not to make eye contact with anyone. Or anything, for that matter. Then, your gaze rests on a young man with dark hair and the most breathtaking eyes. Well, they’re only breathtaking to you, really. You would stare into those brown eyes of nostalgia all day if you could, but you’re almost too startled to comprehend who’s eyes you believe they are.

Your eyes make you think it’s him.

“Poe?” You call out. The young man looks around and you get a better look at his face. It’s definitely Poe. “Poe!” You shout again. He keeps looking, but can’t seem to find you. You start to weave through the crowd, muttering apologies as you go. Then, a small group of Houks passes you and you lose sight of Poe for a second. By the time they move out of the way, you see the back of his leather jacket as he slips out the entrance.

“Poe!” You holler, now pushing urgently through the crowd. From what you can see through the translucent doors, he makes no show of turning back, still walking away. You rush out the doors and proceed to be drenched with the rain – and you had just started to fucking dry off. Dammit.

You look around desperately as either water or tears or both streak down your face. Your hair gets flattened to your head and in your face as you look around. Even in the layers you’re wearing, you begin to shiver in the cold, wet air.

Dejectedly, you slip back into the casino and shake your head like a wet dog to get rid of some water. What you didn’t know in that moment was that a certain Resistance pilot was watching from afar, making sure it really was who he so desperately hoped it was calling after him.

————————

One morning weeks later, you wake up in a cold sweat after a long night out with your family at a different casino, this one on Corulag. Your parents had been making a deal with the owner over something you decided you didn’t care enough to attend the meeting about. You’ve snooped through their files already anyway.

It was another nightmare, of course, that woke you. You’ve been having them for so long that you’re not entirely sure when they started, maybe a few years ago or something; you had started having bad dreams about the shit your family would get up to working in favour of the First Order.

You shake your head to rid yourself of the remnants of the nightmare. Your feet hit the warm carpeted floor of your bedroom in your family’s home on Coruscant. Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you pad out towards the bathroom, flinching a bit when your feet make contact with the cold tile. You shiver a little, your bare torso having to adjust to the temperature drop in the cool room.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, combing your fingers through your H/L H/C hair, frowning at yourself.

You peer at the symbol tattooed on your cheekbone. You’ve been feared by some because of it. A great many people are terrified of your family, for the system they created. Whenever you go out on your own, you cover it with your sister’s makeup.

You tilt your chin up, looking at the scars on your neck from a fight a couple years ago after a pod race, your second big circuit. You’ve learned to hide them. You were sort of proud of them, if you’re being honest. You got them for a good reason. The tattooed symbol on your cheek? All you feel is shame from it.

You sigh and look away from the mirror, shedding your pyjama pants and getting in the shower.

————————

It doesn’t take you long to pack. You knew your parents were going out today on another meeting in a whole other system; it was your chance.

You pack two bags, one with clothes and one with belongings. Then, you return to the bathroom with some of your sister Aria’s makeup, which you’d stolen from her bathroom earlier. You carefully cover the symbol on your cheekbone just like you do all the time, even though you were planning on wearing a hat and a hood anyway.

There’s a knock on your door, and you freeze in place. Then, someone speaks.

“Y/N/N?”

Your heart soars and your jaw drops at the sound of the voice. You immediately rush across the room and tap the button to open the door. Your gaze meets the brown eyes that always bring back memories.

“Poe?”

Poe Dameron is leaning against your doorframe, breathing heavily like he ran across the planet to get here. “I don’t have much time-”

“Yeah, no shit!” You drag him into your room and close the door. “What the fuck are you doing here? You can’t be here, why are you here?

“That’s a lot of questions,” he states.

“I have a few hundred more, starting with why didn’t you answer me for over a year and why did I see you in Canto Bight, followed by why the fuck didn’t you see me?”

“Y/N/N, I will answer all your questions as soon as possible but I need to tell you what I came here to tell you, so can you shut up and listen for a sec?”

“First of all-”

“I’m sorry, I need to-”

“You can’t tell me to shut up when I’ve-”

“This is really important-”

Another knock on your door startles both of you into silence. “Y/N?” Your dad calls out. “You alright, son?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Dad, why?” You answer, masking your anxiety about Poe being in your room, in your house, this close to your shit family.

“I just heard some yelling. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yep! Just this thing I’m working on, I was watching a video someone made as an instruction manual and the guys in the video started fighting for some reason.”

“…Okay,” you dad replies unsurely. “Well, your mother and I are heading out for the deal. Are you sure you don’t want to join us?”

“I’m sure! I wanna get this project finished. You guys have fun, though!”

You hear your father’s footsteps recede, and you exhale sharply. “Okay. You have a lot of explaining to do, starting with whatever the fuck you’re saying is so important.”

“I’ve been promoted to Commander in the Resistance,” Poe says quickly.

You blink. “Dude.”

“What?”

“Dude.”

“What?”

“Dude, why didn’t you call me? Poe, that’s amazing!” You hug him with the biggest grins on both your faces and he hugs you back. For some reason, you’re acutely aware of just how exactly his arms are around you. You can feel one of his arms around your waist with his hand on your side. His other hand is bracing your head, holding you as close to him as possible.

He’s hugging you like you’re about to disappear into thin air, never to be seen again.

After a moment, you realize you’re hugging him that tight too.

“I’ve missed you,” Poe says, his face buried in the crook of your neck. “So much. You have no idea, Y/N/N, oh my god.”

You laugh, then realize there are tears rolling down your cheeks. No wonder your eyes are stinging. “Fuck,” you mumble. “Sorry, I’m getting your jacket all wet with my stupid tears.” You try to pull away but Poe holds on tighter.

“I don’t care.”

You smile even more, gripping his jacket even tighter. After another long moment, the two of you pull apart. “Is that all you came to tell me?”

“What?”

“That you joined the Resistance, is that all you came to tell me?”

“Wh- no, actually. Your parents.”

Your nose wrinkles. “What about my parents?”

“They’re worse than either of us even thought. I went through a bunch of records with the general and all those deals? Big big deals for the First Order. Your parents and their system are one of their number one suppliers of, like, everything. Even stormtroopers.”

“Stormtroopers? How? I thought they were raised to be troopers from birth.”

“Yep.” Poe stares at you, waiting for it to process in your mind. It finally sets in and you turn to Poe in horror. He nods. “Yeah.”

“My parents are baby smugglers?” You whisper.

“Unfortunately. Still, though, not entirely why I’m here.”

You frown. “What the fuck else could you need to tell me? Poe, you’re not making any sense anymore, man.” You walk back to your bed to make sure you’ve got everything you need in your bag, one last once over.

“I have an offer,” Poe says.

You scoff. “Yeah? And what would that be?”

“A place in the Rebellion.”

You freeze in place, one hand still in your bag. Thoughts run through your mind, scenarios of everything that could happen if you do the one thing you’ve wanted to do for as long as you could remember: join the Rebellion.

“Y/N/N?” Poe murmurs.

You still don’t answer, standing there by your bed with your hand in your bag.

“Hey,” your best friend whispers, carefully walking over to you. “Talk to me. What’s going through your mind right now?”

“I can’t,” you say, so quiet that Poe barely hears you.

“What d’you mean you can’t?”

“I mean I was about to ditch this place tonight,” you say, your normal tone returning. You turn around to face him. “My parents know I’m still sympathetic to the Rebellion, they’d tear you lot down to pieces looking for me. I can’t let that happen.”

“But you could fight against them instead of running, Y/N/N, please,” Poe mutters, gradually getting closer and closer to you.

“Poe, please.” You feel another tear slip down your cheek and you make no effort to wipe it away. The makeup you’d used to cover your family symbol is probably washed away by now with how much you’ve cried since opening the door for Poe.

“Y/N/N, we need you and you need out of here. Even if you don’t want to fight yet.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do for the Resistance if not fight?”

“Intelligence operative? I dunno! The possibilities are endless but the point is, you can join us. We can see each other again and I won’t lose contact.”

“You still haven’t explained that,” you say.

“Deep undercover missions,” Poe replies. “I’ve been sent on a few. In between that, I’m flying into battle against the First Order and believe me, you are the only person I’d like to talk to before or during or after a battle and I couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?”

“Couldn’t,” Poe emphasizes. “My radio, the one we were using from The Edge to talk, it was smashed and I got so busy I was never given a chance to fix it.”

“…Okay, that’s fair,” you decide, the little bit of resentment you held for Poe’s lack of communication ebbing away a little. “What about Canto Bight? That was you, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” he says slowly. “I saw you.”

“Bullshit, if you saw me, you would have talked to me!”

“I couldn’t bring myself to!” Poe exclaims desperately, starting to pace around the room. “After unintentionally blowing you off for so long, I was scared you’d be mad at me.”

“I was,” you say softly, barely holding back more tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. “Poe, you were all I had. You are all I have. I can’t have friends with the family I’ve got, with the person I am- I won’t let myself! Then, I let myself get close to you and maybe this is bold of me to say but you were my lifeline, you have been for a long time. So yeah, I was mad at you but I was furious with myself for letting all that happen, for allowing myself to be hurt like that and I want to be mad at you still.” You scoff. “Gods, I want to be so mad at you right now but I can’t bring myself to be angry with you.”

“Come to the Resistance,” Poe whispers.

You close your eyes and tears are released. “I can’t. I can’t let my family hurt you or them in the ways I know they will. It’s safer for me to leave, Poe. You don’t understand.”

“Y/N/N…”

There’s a knock on your door. “Mr. L/N?” It’s one of your parents’ servants, Daymien. You’d recognize his voice anywhere. “Are you alright in there?”

“Yeah, Day, I’m fine!” You shout back.

“May I come in?”

“That depends, have my parents left?”

“Long gone, sir.”

“C’mon in, then,” you answer. Poe looks at you like you grew three heads in that moment. “Relax, Poe, he’s more loyal to me than them.”

The door slides open and Daymien steps in, closing the door behind him. “Greetings, Mr. L/N. Your shuttle is ready in the hangar downstairs. Your parents have already left for their deal, so you have time.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, shaking his hand and clasping his shoulder. “Keep in touch.”

“Of course.”

You turn to Poe, not really sure what to do with yourself. He smiles almost sadly. “Go on, Y/N/N,” he says gently. “We’ll meet again, I know it.”

As you quickly make your way down to the hangar, you think about what Poe said.

We’ll meet again.

That’s the problem, though, isn’t it? You’ve already met, but now you want nothing more than to stay with him. Fuck parting ways. You want it to be safe enough for the both of you to be together for a while.

You climb into your shuttle, setting yourself up for a long flight to… well, you’re not sure where yet. All you know is that you need to get far away from here and far away from Poe. You won’t let him get hurt because of you.

————————

[Poe’s POV]

I haven’t left Y/N’s place yet, still standing on the balcony of his room. I was just gonna stay to watch him take off but I haven’t moved.

“Sir? Mr. Dameron?”

I turn around to see Daymien is still here. “Sorry,” I say to him. “I should probably go, shouldn’t I?”

“Before you do, though, sir, I have a question, of sorts, for you.”

I frown. “For me?”

“Yes, it’s about Y/N. About the both of you, really,” Daymien says, wringing his hands. “I’ve been really worried about him lately, especially after the two of you lost contact. He’s been… well, he’s been different.”

“Different? Different how?”

“He’s… he’s quiet, he’s reserved. I always see him with plans and books, blueprints and stuff. I just, I dunno, ever since you two stopped talking, he’s been weird. You gotta take care of him, Poe, please.”

“Y/N can take care of himself, we both know that.”

“That’s not the point,” Daymien replies. “He’s in danger and he’s not-”

“Danger? What danger? What’s wrong?” I ask immediately. Daymien hesitates. “Dude, come on, I need to know.”

“Not long after you guys lost contact, his parents got him in with the wrong crowd. Well, more like crowds, plural. He made some enemies while you were gone and he pissed off a lot of people with his political stances; siding with the Resistance and all.”

“Then he’s in danger out there on his own!” I exclaim.

“Poe-”

“I-I’ve, I’ve gotta radio him, I should-”

“Poe-”

“…be out there with him, I-”

“Poe!” Daymien says loudly. I shut up. “You can’t do that.”

“What? No, that’s bull- that’s bullshit, man, I need to be there for him! I can’t lose him again, please!” I take a deep breath when I realize that there are hot tears streaming down my face. “Daymien, I have to help him.”

“Poe, I’m sorry,” Daymien says quietly. “We can’t help him now, you can’t make contact. But I need you to keep an eye on him. You need to give him time, though. He needs time.”

“Fuck time,” I say, marching towards the door. “I don’t need time.”

“What do you need, then?” Daymien calls after me. I stop as the door opens and look back at him, tears still staining my cheeks.

“I need him.”

#poe dameron #male reader #poe dameron x male reader #x male reader #the force awakens #the last jedi #the rise of skywalker #skywalker saga #oscar isaac #oscar issac x male reader #star wars x male reader #stars wars

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yunarim · 1 year

Text

. . . loading : real-life otome simulator ☆ - chapter 1

❤︎ prologue ❤︎ tags : female reader, reader is yuu, extrovert reader, second-year reader, sfw, fluff, chapter 6 spoilers ❤︎ author's note : english isn't my first language, please make sure to point out mistakes if any! :) you can read this work on ao3 ^^!

. . . loading 1st chapter : 35% (in which she just knows she needs an additional rest because sleepless gaming nights aren’t so helpful after all)

Yuu didn’t know whether Ortho talked to his brother in a serious, more persuasive way, or was it just “Yeah, fine, sure, just don’t let her enter any further” answer from Idia, but the girl managed it right to the Ignihyde.

Ortho even was there with her for some time. They laughed together as she described characters, but then he said he needs to check his brother, and left her with a cup of hot tea. What an angel he is.

Yuu grabbed headphones and looked around, checking if there was someone in the lobby, but hell no - no way an Ignihyde student will willingly go out of his room. At any rate, an exciting feeling boiled up in her, and she proceeded to download fresh out of the oven game.

Oh, so the prologue starts with a main heroine’s voiceover. She sounds so mature and mysterious! Still kinda familiar, though… Yuu thought she looked through all of the details beforehand, and even the name of the voice actress lingered in her memory, she still couldn’t get where she heard her for the first time. Even so, there was no time left thinking about this. Her 2D boys and girls are waiting, after all!

Yuu chuckled at the main plot features. Main heroine strongly resembles Yuu herself. The way she speaks, the way she befriends everybody… The way she got transmigrated into the magic world, being absolutely magicless herself. Yuu saw many manhwas with similar situations and almost could claim she were an isekai excerpt at this rate, but it was much more ironical to read something like that now .

“Oh, so it has two story modes, I see… I guess I need to clear each of them in order to unlock the true route, then.” She mumbled to herself, already clicking on a cute girl profile, choosing her as her first ever route to play.

The game has started.

───◌┈┈───♡⃝───┈┈◌───

Lilia didn’t interrogate her, as usual, instead, the smile of amusement stretched on his cute face all the time she excused herself and headed straight to the Ignihyde dorm. Ah, the sense of the blooming soon-to-be-friendship with a totally shut-in dorm leader lingered in the air, which only bat fae himself could feel.

Today was the exception, though, and Lilia appeared in front of her, hanging out of the ceiling at the exit of the school building.

“Oh my, Lilia!! Give me a second, I’m out of my breath… I told you not to do this little prank of yours with me!!”

“Don’t you worry, Yuu, hehe~ It’s just I’m worried about your appearance.”

“Eh?” Yuu genuinely blinked in incomprehension.

“I bet you can win over Ignihyde dorm leader’s eye bags at this rate. Come here, I have something from Rook.”

Lilia, still hanging out of the ceiling, applied some BB cream on the girl's skin, smiling proudly after seeing her looking not so tired anymore.

“I’m not in the right position giving you advice on this matter, given I’m the gamer myself, but I’m not human, unlike you. Pulling all-nighter is critical for your health!”

“Okay, dad, I understand.” She chuckled, leaning over, and tried to hug Lilia in this position of his. “I’ll sleep properly today… It’s just I had to finish the last chapter of the remaining route and I can unlock the last, true one!”

“Yeah yeah, as you say! Alright, take care!”

After arriving at Ignihyde she pulled on her headphones as usual, already entering the game and continuing her walkthrough.

It was the last, best-friend troupe route. It was considerably hard to play since this character was voiced by Neige and Yuu cringed at times, but really appreciated all the amount of hard work he has done.

Alright, the tricky last choice comes! The heroine is known to be quite ambitious, yet she still has to maintain the image of an exemplary student who never disobeys her beloved sister. At first she suspects Neige’s character to be a delinquent (Yuu actually genuinely laughed at the image of Neige behaving in a Deuce way, but quickly collected herself), but he proves wrong, suggesting the main heroine to fly off the cage she is believed to be trapped in. Heroine isn’t sure whether she should let her heart decide or think about her sister who was left out in the heroine's original world. Debating with her ideals, she meets her crucial moment in this route, and Yuu is here to solve this problem.

“What’s with this Makoto Niijima* kind of experience even…” Yuu mumbles to herself, getting a lot of resemblance. “But well if I’m getting her character right, then…”

Yuu decided.

╰► Explain that you can’t do it

╰► Forget about your previous life and risk it all

Sudden increasing trust stat gave her the thought that she did everything right. And she actually did - with that tricky situation Yuu managed to gain understanding from Neige’s character and he agreed to wait until the heroine’s heart is ready. It seemed actually ridiculous, but still cute and interesting enough to get her bursting into tears at beautiful CG andー

“No, what the hell is this choice?!”

Huh.

Yuu quickly wiped her tears, afraid of showing her emotional side, and tore off headphones, looking back.

“I mean, what??? You’ve been playing the fool just to do something actually smart in the end and it works??? What for were the previous dumbass options then?!”

Yuu blinked once. Twice. She couldn’t even register that Idia appeared right in front of her, lamenting over her choice, so she forgot she had a otome-related business to discuss with him. Tips of his hair were blazing with an orange shade on them, hence Yuu got a sneaking suspicion he was furious. Once her attention shifted to this amazingly beautiful iridescent hair, she stared at him for a moment, until finally regained herself.

“Uhm, hello, Idia?..”

Ignihyde's dorm leader appeared out of nowhere, reminding her of Lilia suddenly, but in any case - it was unexpected. Idia looked as if he was grumbling about something extremely serious, and for a second she felt an urge to ask if everything was alright.

When his breath hitched with incessant whining, she dared to speak up.

“I assume you chose the second option?..”

“You bet I am! I mean, the task was playing dumb, and I did just that. Why pull out a smart kid card so suddenly… I don’t get it.”

Yuu mentally chuckled at his commentary. She was amused at his indignation. Though all of the “I hate otome games” popped out in her head.

“Ugh, first of all, I don’t think we’ve met properly, right?” She stood up, and Idia suddenly jumped on the spot from the realization that he was talking to a stranger. Well, not to a stranger exactly, but similar.

“I’m Yuu. It’s nice meeting you, Idia.”

“Erghhh, I know your name, no need for an introduction or whatsoever…” Idia mumbled to himself, his voice began to dissolve into near-total silence to the point she needed to concentrate on him talking. “You were doing just fine gaming, why are you playing extrovert all of sudden…”

“I’m always being extroverted, but alright. Actually, it’s quite funny that you chose the second option, lol. You truly didn’t get the main heroine’s character, huh.”

Now that seemed to startle Idia for a second. He can admit he’s bad at finding out how feelings work (especially romantical ones - they could be compared to the dark forest submerged in a dark maze), but her statement has awoken something indescribable in him.

✎﹏﹏ ⌜ Would you like to turn on competitive mode? ⌝

YES NO

➩ . . . Proceeding to react accordingly to your choice. Countdown before starting: 3… 2… 1…

“Huh? Why would I even try to analyze something that useless?” Idia hushed, completely forgetting he’s staring at the girl like she was stating nonsense.

“Maybe for the reason that it actually helps you during your walkthrough, nah?” Yuu fends his argument away in a light manner, but Idia didn’t seem any pleased.

“The main heroine doesn’t even have logical reasoning, she lacks common sense and she’s dense af. Why would I, again?”

“But I assume you didn’t even reach this ending yet, heh? You look like you’ve been for a bunch of reloading due to the wrong choices. Correct me if I’m wrong on that one.” Yuu chuckled softly, drawing her knuckle to her lips to hide a smile.

“Oh Great Seven, watch this normie trying to touch the inner core of mine. Good luck to you on that, then.”

“I’m right, though. I know I am.”

“Never in my life thought that Ortho was begging for such a normie to be able to use our lobby PC, geez. To think that would be you, even…”

“No, I actually have to reciprocate to that one. To be completely frank, I thought you would hate this game. Uh, to be more exact…”

Yuu cleared her throat, drawing all of Idia's attention to her. He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest before she continued.

“ Otome games are out of my league. I don't want to waste my time on them… Since I’m in a good mood today, I’m taking criticism regarding my intonation. I believe I did well. So?”

Frightened look came across Idia’s face for a second before it switched with pure anger, but she still found it quite amusing, considering she was planning to get the exact same reaction from him.

“Hey, you!!”

“It’s Yuu, thank you very much. Yes?”

“U-ugh, nevermind… Was it Azul who told you?..” suddenly the cocky tone of his faded away, leaving a place for stuttering, and she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t cute at some rate.

“Not exactly, but close. Anyway, what’s the matter with such a sudden change of heart?”

“Like a normie like you would actually u-understand,” Idia pulled on the hood, pulling the strings down, trying to hide from the girl, now almost physically feeling her determination and nearly fainting due to talking to an extrovert. Extremely popular extrovert magicless girl out of people! He could manage talking to Azul, but being confronted by a girl, never talking to one irl? Never!!

Still, she was standing in front of him, waiting for an answer. He could give a try, considering she was playing after all, but it was otome which caught her attention, although he saw boys playing other dating-sims in their freetime, too, what made her different from them then? Does she even know Star Rouge at least? Yes, she may be from another world, but it’s impossible to skip this legendary totally OP five-star game, right? But then again, what ifー

“Ugh, listen, I’m sorry if I was impolite or hurt your feelings, I was just curious?..” Yuu tried to sound not offensive in any rate, but she was still curious as hell.

“Have you looked through characters’ profiles?” Idia spoke so suddenly and silently that the girl took a few steps closer to actually hear what he said, causing Idia to step back accordingly.

“Yeah, I spent two weeks on simping on teasers,” Yuu chuckled softly, but Idia heard quite a bit of highly specialized slang from her, peeping out of his hood for a moment. Normies usually don’t speak in that way. “Why?”

“D-do you know the main heroine’s voice actor?..”

“You mean Kim MinjiU** ? Yeah, I definitely heard this name, but I can’t remember where… Is something the matter?”

“And there I was, thinking you could consider you not so normie I thought you were at first…” Idia took off his hood, to which Yuu smiled gently, ignoring his words. “She’s a Gakemo leader. But of course you don’t know what a girlboss she isー”

“OH MY GOD HOW COULD I FORGET!” Yuu exclaimed suddenly, her voice reaching almost a desperate scream level, and Idia considered hiding in his hood again, but was so stunned at her behavior that he couldn’t think properly at the moment, continuing staring at her. “I’m jamming to their last release, but I forgot the leader’s name… You’re right, sorry I didn’t recognize her at first. Geez, it’s so embarrassing. Gakemo songs are quite similar to my favorite group songs in my world.”

She was smiling sheepishly, while Idia tried to process what the hell happened just now. His inner demons were fighting with each other, debate unfolded, reminiscent of a battlefield, where Idia was trying to decide whether she was considered normie or not.

“So she’s the reason you’re playing?” Yuu continued her attempts in restoring the conversation and getting it back on track, finally remembering her plan.

“Y-yeah,” Idia answered, seeing the monitor turning off behind her back. “A-and what’s the reason you are playing?”

He thought it was Neige at first. They had a thrilling discussion, after all, it would be just as logical for her to play for simping. He had no interest in romancing all characters, all that matters is his bias’ words regarding true route. In an interview, she said that she was incredibly happy to play in a new role. Moreover, the voicelines of the heroine were very emotionally different from those she voiced in other routes.

That could play for Yuu simping over Neige as well, right? He’s new to this whole games industry, it was normal for everyone to appreciate his work? Or so Idia thought.

“I just happen to like otome games,” she shrugged. “I like the characters and the story, too.”

“It's dumb as hell though…” Idia mumbled, noticing Yuu frowning.

“The hell? The game is top-tier, it’s impossible not to notice. Have you ever read the reviews? No one has unlocked the true ending yet, and it’s so fucking thrilling. It’s such a challenge!! And you think it’s dumb?”

“MinjiU is slaying all by herself, though,” Idia regained his confidence once more, his smile sly.

Yuu got startled for a moment, feeling rage overwhelming her, but what was the reason? It was just his opinion, he could think whatever he wanted to, she had no right to prevent him from it. And yet…

Something irked her.

“Never took you as someone who turns down the challenge.”

“Huh?!” He frowned at her. “Who said I’m turning it down?”

“I will be the one who reaches 100% clear first-try true route, obvi~” Yuu grinned.

“Ha, says someone who never used presents for characters for unlocking extra secret CG.”

“Ugh how did you!ー” Yuu paused and bit her lip. She didn’t notice him watching her playing, for how long has he been doing it? Was it just today? If it was, then she opened her in-game inventory just once by accident, how could he manage to get this that quickly…

“Classic normie behavior spotted, lol!” Idia folded his hands, laughing at her.

“Call me normie once again, and I’ll!..”

“What? Don’t know how to fight back, normie ?”

“Shut the fuck up, you won’t handle my top-tier references, you can cry about it. Oh to be you, not knowing my world games masterpieces.”

They continued bickering, completely forgetting what was the reason in the first place. Yuu didn't seem to realized she forgot to save the game, when the lights went off in the entire dorm just for a half of a minute, but this case got all Yuu and Idia’s attention.

Great, stuck with a normie girl in a complete darkness, what a flop era of mine, Idia thought, revealing his tablet and tapping really fast, his focused face was illuminated by the bluish glow from the tablet. Yuu heard a mechanical sound, followed by another bluish glow in an opposite way of the lobby, so she guessed it was Ortho who floated into the room.

“Oi, Ortho, what happened?”

“My sensors indicate that the freshmen in the system room caused a short circuit. One minute, I'll restore the lighting.” With that being said, Ortho closed his eyes, then suddenly the whole lobby was being illuminated again. Yuu blinked twice, trying to get used to the light. “All done!”

“Thank you,” Idia smiled.

“Hello again, Ortho,” she smiled as well but then finally noticed her PC was shut. “Oh shit.”

“Is there a problem, Yuu?” Ortho floated to her, and then looked at the monitor too. “Oh…”

“I forgot to save my walkthrough… Shit, there was like, a lot of time spent on this route…”

“ Go cry about it or what did you say?” Idia went back into a mode where he freely mocked her, ignoring the upsetting state she was in.

“Big brother, it’s bad to talk that way to Yuu! But I don’t believe there’s a way to restore the data, I’m sorry, prefect…”

“I’ll manage I guess… It’s just.. Ugh, I feel like a fool after saying I’ll reach the true ending first. What am I supposed to do now?”

Idia proceeded to go back to his room, when Ortho suddenly did something similar to clapping his hands and smiling, then grabbed his brother’s hood and tagged him back despite his complaints.

“I know the way out, Yuu!”

“Alright?..” Yuu glanced back at Idia, turning pink. “Does it have something to do with your brother?”

“Yes!” Ortho, despite his small body, was built quite strong, being able to grab her and his brother at once to get closer to each other. “Just finish the last route together!”

Silence. This is it. This is where Idia dies.

“I’M NOT GOING TOー” “I’m sorry, Ortho,” Yuu interrupted him, ignoring Idia turning absolutely crimson at this point. “Idia seems to lowkey being not so fond of the plot and the characters, while I am. I also don’t think your brother really supports this idea either.”

“YES, SHE’S RIGHT, ORTHO, LISTEN TO ANOTHER EXTROVERT HERE.” Idia protested, but still couldn’t make a move, Ortho’s grip on his arm became even stronger.

“It would be such a great experience for my brother to make a friend here in NRC! You seem to have similar interests, too. Oh, I’m sorry if I’m being pushy, I didn’t intend to… But I just think you'll benefit from this too, Yuu.”

Yuu looked at his pure big eyes, filled with a genuine hope, and couldn’t stand against them, raising hands in surrender.

“Alright, alright… I’m doing it just for you, though.”

“Thank you so much!!” Ortho hugged her, turning at his brother, still holding the girl in his hands. “Brother, will you agree, please?..”

“I didn’t add you puppy eyes function, just how the hell..”

“Hehehe,” Ortho laughed. “Don’t worry about my brother’s decision. Well, see you tomorrow, Yuu?”

“Yeah, it’s getting late already. Will you bring your computer here in the lobby by tomorrow, I presume?”

“Why, no!”

This when she and Idia knew it won’t end well.

“Since the computer didn’t save your gaming data for something I think was approximately 5-6 hours, you’ll be playing on my brother’s computer. In his room!”

What the actual fuck she didn’t really subscribed to?

“ORTHO WHAT THEー”

“Okay bye-bye see you tomorrow!!”

Yuu didn’t remember how she got in the Mirror Chamber, but well, she guessed it was another confidant rank she had to max out, speaking Idia’s language. He knew the true choice based on her walkthrough now, after all, it’ll help him to adjust to her gaming pace quite fast. What could go wrong, really?

Yuu thought she heard Idia screaming in desperation in Ignihyde, but decided to return to Ramshackle in peace, thinking whether she should bring some small gift as a partially uninvited guest to Idia’s room tomorrow.

Meanwhile Ortho somewhere in Ignihyde: being happy his little light trick was a huge success.

#twst #twisted wonderland #idia x reader #idia #idia shroud

20 notes · View notes

allie-scribbles · 2 years

Text

Harder to Hold [4]

Tags/Warnings: the slowest of burns, death of a character, grieving, alcoholism/bad drinking habits, unhealthy coping mechanisms, injuries

Chapter Index

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Poe ran his fingers through his hair, exhaling slowly. He lay in his bunk, staring at the ceiling. He’d been tossing and turning for the past couple hours… Most nights he slept soundly, but tonight sleep evaded him.

Turning to check the time, he groaned and dragged his hand down the side of his face. It was just past midnight, and Leia had asked him to give a quick training session to a group of recruits at 6am. As much as he wanted to rest so he would at least be slightly coherent when speaking to them, Poe had a sneaking suspicion that sleep just wasn’t happening tonight.

Resigning himself to a sleepless night, he swung his legs over the side of his bed and quietly tugged his boots on. With a quick glance to be sure his movements hadn’t disturbed BB-8, he stood up and grabbed his jacket off the desk chair.

As he moved to open the door, a sleepy, inquisitive beep sounded from behind him.

Smiling softly, he turned around and crept over to BB’s charging dock. “Hey buddy. Sorry to wake you. I just couldn’t sleep. Going to go for a walk.”

BB-8 looked up at Poe, and emitted a string of concerned beeps.

Poe shook his head. “No, but thanks for offering. I just want to be alone with my thoughts for a bit.”

The droid whirred his understanding, and with a tender “G’night, buddy,” Poe shrugged on his jacket and slipped out the door.

At first, he wasn’t sure where his feet were taking him. He meandered through the hangar and out to the tarmac with his head down and shoulders slumped, not even bothering to pause and stare up at the stars like he normally did. The stars were part of the problem tonight.

Before he knew it, he was a good ways down the path to the lake. He snorted and rolled his eyes when he realized where he was headed. Poe was not a fan of bodies of water larger than a puddle. But, there was no denying being near it could be relaxing, and relaxing was what he needed tonight.

He often found himself going to the hidden lake an hour’s walk from the base when he needed to clear his head. He was amazed no one else seemed to go there, but figured it was because no one ever went looking. Hell, he had stumbled upon it by accident on a sleepless night like this one.

Lost in thought, the hour spent walking passed quickly for Poe. It only seemed like a few minutes had passed when he reached the top of the grassy hill looking down at the lake.

As he began to head down the slope to his favorite tree, he stopped short. Listening. Looking. He thought he had heard… crying? He didn’t see anyone though, and the sound didn’t repeat. Assuming it must have been some strange bird call, he resumed his walk. “Gotta relax, Dameron,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. “People find out you’re hearing things, next thing you know you’re grounded pending a psych eval.”

A few seconds later, he heard it again. A quiet, but definitely-not-a-bird, sob. And it was coming from the base of a tree at the bottom of the hill.

Poe’s own demons were quickly shoved to the back of his mind by his concern for whoever was down there. He quickly moved towards the source. He always felt the need to endure his sufferings alone, but he’d be damned if he let anyone else do it.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You sat staring blankly at the lake, knees tucked up under your chin, ¾ empty bottle of whiskey dangling in your hands. A quick glance at your datapad a few minutes ago had revealed it was 1:30am… much earlier than you thought.

Something about this year was different, and you couldn’t quite figure out what. Normally, by this time you were still crying heavily, your body shaking with emotion. There would only be a couple small sips of whiskey left, and you’d be kicking yourself for not bringing a second bottle.

But now, even though your heart still ached and begged you to give voice to your pain, you couldn’t manage more than an occasional hiccuping sob. Your soul wanted to keep crying, insisted that you did, but your body refused.

With a sigh, you raised the bottle to your lips to take a sip. Despite what you had said to Wills, you were trying to cut back a little on the booze this year. You’d never say it out loud, but you did feel horrible about the scare you gave him last year after the broken arm incident.

Lowering the bottle from your lips, you capped it and set it in your open pack. Maybe your body just had no more water to spare for tears. Grabbing your water bottle, you took a deep drink.

“Hey, are you alright?” a voice behind you inquired.

You inhaled sharply, forgetting that your mouth was full of water. Sputtering and coughing, you tried to scramble as far away from the voice as you could, which ended up with you tumbling down the hill to the edge of the water. Who the kriff was that? Where the kriff had they come from?

“Shit! Shit, I’m sorry,” the voice exclaimed, their concern evident. You heard footsteps rush over, stopping right in front of you. “Are you ok? I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

Gasping, you calmed yourself enough to grab the hand that had been dropped into your field of vision. At least whoever it was was decent enough to help a damsel in distress to her feet.

“Y’know, probably not the best idea to sneak up on someone in the middle of the night around here. We are in a war, you know. Coulda blasted your poor face off…” you muttered as you stood.

But your voice died in your throat as you heard a deep chuckle and saw the man it came from. Tousled dark curls, brown eyes full of genuine worry, and a lopsided smile that could melt beskar.

Poe kriffing Dameron.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Your eyes widened, cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. With a squeak, you jerked your hand from his and scampered back to the tree. It was definitely time for more whiskey.

Kriff, kriff, kriff was your inner monologue as you quickly made your way back to the tree. Was every meeting with this man going to be a never-ending parade of embarrassment?

As you grabbed the whiskey from your pack, you heard him clear his throat behind you. Stars, that man moved quietly.

“Permission to approach?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Taking a deep breath you steeled yourself, taking some comfort in knowing that if you said anything too awkward you could pass it off later as you being a little tipsy.

You turned around to face him, caught slightly off guard by the kindness in his eyes. “S-Sorry about that,” you stammered. “I - I just wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here… I didn’t know anyone else knew about this place.”

“What? Don’t be sorry. I didn’t think anyone else knew about it either. It was my fault for sneaking up on you,” he said with a smile.

You chuckled nervously. “Heh, guess we were both wrong.” You looked around the lake, the trees, anything but him, and fidgeted with the bottle in your hands. Desperately thinking of a way to avoid the impending awkward silence.

Thankfully, he saved you the trouble. Kind of. “Oh! I recognize you!” he exclaimed excitedly. “You’re Jess’ mechanic, right? Y/N Y/L/N? We ran into each other in the medbay a few days ago. I’m Poe, Poe Dameron.”

You groan and cover your face with your free hand. “I was kinda hoping you were out of it enough to forget that. That was probably the worst impression I could have made on my friend’s Commander.”

He laughs - laughs - and shakes his head, messy curls bouncing in the moonlight. “I could think of worse. Although you shouldn’t have taken off like that… I wanted to be sure you were ok, but you disappeared.”

Maker, you thought, this has to all be an act. No way a big shot flyboy is actually this concerned about anyone who isn’t part of his squadron. You knew pilots, and the ones who were good tended to be assholes with over-inflated egos. Cade, Jess, and Wills had been the only exceptions you’d ever encountered.

You look down at the ground. “I think I’m the one who should have made sure you were ok…” you mumble. “I was the one who ran into you. I’m really sorry about that… I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

Poe reaches out and touches your shoulder. “Hey,” he says gently. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve taken worse hits.”

Looking back up at him, you manage a small smile. “Well, thanks for not holding me responsible for that hit and run, Commander Dameron. I don’t want to keep you from your midnight wanderings, though.”

You turn and take the last few steps back to your tree, and sigh as you plop down back in your spot. Taking another sip, you quirk your brow when you see him still standing a few feet from you.

He shuffles his feet, almost imperceptibly. “It’s just Poe, Y/N. And actually, I came down here because I heard something. Was just gonna keep walking but… I mean, if you want company I’m happy to sit with you. We don’t have to talk or anything. But no one here should have to be alone if they don’t want to be.”

“Says the man who was walking in the woods alone in the middle of the night,” you shoot back sarcastically.

“Guilty as charged. But I’d rather have company tonight, if that’s ok with you?”

Realizing you were too emotionally drained to fight on this, you nod your head. He drops down next to you, leaning back on his hands. He eyes your mostly depleted bottle.

“Are… are you drunk? Did you drink all that?” He asks with a tone of disbelief. You snorted.

“Not a chance. I’ve been drinking this for a while.” He didn’t need to know that “a while” just meant the past 20 hours. It took a pretty impressive amount of alcohol to push you past tipsy into the realm of full on drunkenness, and ¾ of a bottle over the better part of the day wasn’t going to do it.

He nods, letting the subject drop. You silently offer him the bottle, and he gives you a questioning look.

“People don’t come to a secluded lake in the middle of the night unless they’re meeting a secret lover, or something’s deeply upsetting them. Since it’s pretty obvious we don’t fall into the former category, I figured you could use some.”

Poe shrugs. “Touché.” He takes the bottle and downs a healthy swig, wincing a little as it burns.

“Damn, you drink the good stuff,” he murmurs, handing the bottle back to you.

You hum your agreement as you cap the bottle, setting it between you as you continue to stare blankly out at the lake.

You’re not sure how to feel about having someone here with you that isn’t Cade… is this betraying him? Sitting in what he and you had come to consider “your spot” with someone else, even if you didn’t invite them there? Would he be hurt, disappointed? And stars, why did you feel so comfortable sitting here in silence with someone you barely knew?

As your mind ran a mile a minute, tears began to slip out. Remembering you had an audience, you sniffed quietly and tried to discreetly wipe them away.

But Poe saw. A flash of concern darted across his face, unnoticed by you as you tried to pull yourself together. He studied your face, seeing the depth of the sadness written there. And out of nowhere, he’s hit with the thought that what he’s seeing is simply too much. Too much pain for one person to handle.

He had asked Jess about you yesterday as he was being stitched up. He knew he had seen you in the hangar before, usually with a smile plastered on your face, covered in grease and grime, but that was about it.

A fond expression lit up Jess’ face as she distracted him with stories about something witty you said, something silly you did, some incredible repair you helped her with, something you tripped over. From what she said and what he had observed, you were an adorably clumsy ray of sunshine who cared deeply for the happiness of others. Sadness was never mentioned, never even hinted at. But there it was, etched deeply across your face.

In that moment, Poe’s heart broke for you. And he has to know. He has to know what could cut you down to the core like this, what could erase every bit of the joyful person he’d been told about. Because if someone like you could be this sad, was there any hope for someone like him to ever be truly happy?

Softly, he speaks. Hoping you’ll open up to him, even though you have no reason to. Hoping the moonlight and the whiskey and the forest will take pity on him and work their magic. Because even if he doesn’t really know you, he understands you’re not the kind of person who bares their soul to others easily. You wouldn’t be here alone if you were.

“What’s got you out here alone tonight?”

You continue to stare across the lake, giving no sign you heard him. No sign of the battle those words had sparked inside you. He had no right to know your story, but something deep inside you was screaming for you to tell him. Urging you to believe that he’d understand, maybe more than anyone else could.

No. You couldn’t… Could you? Telling him everything was out of the question. But the little voice inside you whispered for you to tell him a small part. That maybe it would make you feel better. That maybe being alone wasn’t the way.

Just when he had given up hope of an answer, mentally kicking for crossing the line and making you uncomfortable, you exhaled slowly and spoke.

“I lost someone,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, refusing to make eye contact with him as you speak. You instinctively bring your hand to your chest, fingering the ring hanging from your neck through the fabric of your shirt.

He doesn’t say anything right away, but you can feel his gaze on the side of your head.

When he does speak, it’s in an impossibly small voice, heavy with grief and defeat. “Me too. I’ve lost so many people, Y/N.”

And now that he’s started, he finds he can’t stop. Doesn’t want to stop. And his deepest, darkest secret, the one he buries down deep in his heart where sometimes even he can’t find it, comes tumbling out.

“I can’t sleep some nights because of it. I see their faces, hear their voices. And… and I’m starting to believe that all this isn’t worth it.”

You’re stunned. The poster boy of the Resistance can’t have doubts, can he?

Moving with speed you didn’t know you had, you whip around to face him. You fix your gaze on him, his soft brown eyes now full of embarrassment and pain. Yours blazed with a passion you didn’t know you still possessed as you spoke forcefully.

“It has to be, Poe. It has to be worth it. If it isn’t, then they died for nothing.” You pull away, startled by your outburst. Scooting back, you mumble softer, “And if he died for nothing, then I couldn’t live with myself.”

Poe sat frozen, taken aback by your conviction, by the fiery passion that had consumed you for a brief moment. He knew he felt that way once, too, but it seemed to be something he experienced less and less these days. It was still there, but a small torch compared to the raging fire it used to be.

“S-Sorry,” you stammer. “I… I get a little intense sometimes…” you fiddle with a blade of grass, trying to hide your embarrassment and the flood of emotions you were just hit with.

“No, um, that’s ok,” he says with awe in his voice. “I just haven’t… I just… I wish I felt as strongly as you do about it right now.” He chuckles darkly. “I mean, I’m the one a lot of people here look to. I’m the one supposed to be so sure of this fight. And there you are, unwavering, and I’m the one sitting here doubting everything for the hundredth time.” He sighs in exasperation, running his hands through his hair, and flops down to lay on his back.

In that moment, your heart breaks for this man you barely know. He’s tapped for more missions than any other pilot, and takes on the dangerous ones the General won’t assign, instead letting those willing to risk it all volunteer. He’s the one people look to to be strong, be their guiding light, the epitome of what a Resistance fighter should be. And he’s holding the world on his shoulders for them, not daring to let anyone see the cracks forming deep within.

Yet, he’s trusting you. A lowly mechanic he doesn’t know, but has deemed worthy of keeping his secret.

Laying down next to him, you take a deep breath. Choosing your next words carefully. “I’m not unwavering, Poe. I have moments of doubt. Everyone here probably does. But the belief always comes back, and I think that’s the important part.”

You pause, blinking up at the stars. “You just have to find something you can anchor yourself with in those moments. At least that’s what I have to do. And it usually brings me back.”

He hums his acknowledgment, and you don’t press further. Sitting back up, you take another drag of whiskey.

You stare across the lake, and your thoughts drift back to Cade. Your anchor when he was alive. Still your anchor now, though in a different way. The tears start again, and this time you don’t care if Poe sees them.

He sits up slowly, gently takes the bottle from your hand and catches your eye. Inquiring without words if he’s allowed to finish it. When you nod, he swallows the last of it., tosses the bottle in your pack, and turns to face you. In the moonlight, you can barely see the tears threatening to spill from his own eyes.

He tentatively reaches out, grabs your hand, and squeezes it. In that moment, you know this night won’t be brought up by either of you again. It’s like a bubble in time, destined to be remembered but not spoken of. So you let your tears continue to fall, and with a reciprocating squeeze slowly withdraw your hand from his.

You expect him to get up and leave, but he doesn’t. A small part of you is relieved. You had forgotten how nice a comfortable silence, free of any conversational expectations, could be.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #allie scribbles about poe dameron #poe dameron fic #poe dameron x f!reader #poe dameron x female reader

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amaya-chwan · 3 years

Text

Takeaways from Therapy Game Restart 14 + Illustration Book Release Date

Hello again everyone! ❤️💛💜

It's finally here... chapter 14! In all its glory! 😍🥰✨

Before we get to our takeaways, just some news I missed in the last post!

🎉 SENSEI'S ILLUSTRATION BOOK WILL BE RELEASED AROUND THURSDAY, 23RD SEPTEMBER! 🎉

Image taken from this Twitter post from Dear+!

It is titled "日ノ原巡イラスト集　DARLING" and boasts a collection of illustrations from Sensei's works so far: Secret XXX, Therapy Game, and Kamisama no Uroko.

The current price is ¥2970 with tax (¥2700 without tax). If you'd like to preorder it on your proxy shopping service, I've found it on the Comi Comi Studios website here! The bonus for purchasing it on this website is a B5 clear file~ I haven't seen it on Animate just yet, so fingers crossed it'll appear on their website soon with another (different) bonus! ❤️💛

Alright, with this amazing news done, let's move onto our takeaways, the long awaited takeaways! Thank you for being so patient with me! 💜

My short life update: currently in week 8 of lockdown and I haven't left my house in a long time other than for exercise or groceries. But I do have my vaccination appointment booked so YAY! 🎉

Here are our takeaways for this chapter:

Oh man, we pick right up from the last page of chapter 13. MINATO, BB, YOU LOOK SO PAINED! 😭

Sensei is the BIGGEST tease... that's all we got of that Minato and Shizuma scene...👀😭

The female staff at the veterinary hospital have really mellowed out! They're not bad, after all. ☺️

Oh dear, Nakajou-sensei, please get better ASAP!

Whoa... did Onodera just...?? I'm starting to think back to that Onodera discussion we had a couple of months ago... 🤔

Poor Shizuma, always roped into Onodera's workplace stuff! IT'S BECAUSE YOU HAVE GREAT PEOPLE SKILLS, SHIZUMA! PROUD OF YOU! 😍🙌

Man, Onodera has a really... blunt way of saying things to her human clients. Wow, brave. 😲

But I will say, Onodera really is good with animals. 🙌

Yet again, I think about that Onodera discussion we had... 🤔🤔

And that’s it for this chapter’s takeaways! For a more detailed breakdown/summary of this chapter, please continue after the cut! There may or may not be a surprise scene (or two) there. Please keep reading if you want to see~ 😉✨

Our chapter begins where we left off in chapter 13--Minato pinning Shizuma down on the bed. Shizuma looks up at Minato and reflects on his actions that caused the pained look he is seeing.

Image taken from this Dear+ Twitter post!

On the next page (title page), the dialogue reads: Shizuma wants to understand what it is about his director (Onodera) that is making Minato uneasy. // However, that beautiful liar hides it well...

(I believe we are taken back to the morning before Shizuma and Minato meet up for their date.)

The title page features Onodera walking back to the clinic, bread in hand, with a cat cozying up on her leg. We are then brought to the clinic's lunchroom, with the female staff and Shizuma on break. The roster in the room shows that Onodera is extremely busy, Nakajou-sensei has afternoon house call appointments, Tatsumi is Nakajou-sensei's support for these appointments, and Shizuma has a half day and finishes in the afternoon in lieu of working on his scheduled day off.

Shizuma asks his coworkers what presents they like from their partners and takes note of their answers. One of the female nurses asks if it's Minato's birthday. Shizuma confesses that their relationship has been affected by the various things happening lately, so he wants to get Minato a gift before seeing him later that day.

The nurses quickly pick up that the gift is a "tribute" of sorts as this line of work means a lot of missed appointments and dates, and Shizuma confirms their suspicions. While the nurses realise male-male relationships and male-female relationships aren't that different in this aspect, everyone in the lunchroom is alerted to someone shouting Nakajou-sensei's name.

Shizuma and a nurse see Tatsumi with Nakajou-sensei, who has collapsed on the floor. While the staff are concerned about Nakajou's well-being, she brushes it off as a dizzy spell. Before they can help her up, Onodera sweeps her off her feet and carries Nakajou to her (Onodera's) office. While Nakajou asks Onodera to put her down out of sheer embarrassment, Shizuma and Tatsumi are in shock, with Tatsumi commenting on Onodera's manliness in that moment. One of the other nurses gently smacks Shizuma's shoulder and tells the two to grab a blanket and a drink for Nakajou.

In her office, Onodera asks Nakajou why she's been overworking herself to the point of collapsing. The nurse (who gave the gentle smack) very obviously hints to Onodera that it is her fault. As Nakajou calms the nurse by saying that's just how the director is, Tatsumi asks Nakajou about their afternoon appointments. She says she'll be fine to go after a little rest, but the nurse says she mustn't overexert herself.

After a few back and forths about who should go and the clients' needs/personality (picky about the vet, had a pet that doesn't like men, etc), Onodera says she will go. The nurses are shocked and reminisce about all the issues they've had when Onodera interacts with the owners. Tatsumi and Shizuma stand there, and can very clearly imagine those situations happening.

While Onodera rearranges and informs the nurses of the shift changes to accommodate Nakajou-sensei, Shizuma has a terrible premonition that unfortunately comes true: he is appointed as Onodera's support for the afternoon house calls.

Wearing a sulky expression, Shizuma packs the necessary equipment in Onodera's car and reminds her that he has a very important engagement that night that he cannot miss, and as such will leave immediately after the house call appointments are done. Onodera bursts his bubble, and tells him to give up on those plans while he can since this is the line of work he's chosen.

As Shizuma reads the client files, he questions Onodera on why he is her support when he's never attended to these clients before. While Onodera tells him that good coordination is important with a physician's support and that he's the only one she can rely on to give her an honest opinion and calm the clients, Shizuma realises that he's basically the mediator between her and the owners. She confirms that this is his strong point, has great expectations for him, and proceeds to drive. Shizuma then reads the patient files at lightning speed, realising there's a threatening 'something' that Minato has sensed, but that's just how the director is. He then vows to make it to their meeting tonight, no matter what.

The first three house calls, as expected, involve Onodera insulting and angering the owners--Onodera tells the first client that his insistence on seeing Nakajou rather than a 'young' director is having a negative effect on his pet who needs immediate medical care; Onodera offends the second client, inferring from their conversation that her pet's appearance is more important than the need to shave their fur and get an ultrasound done; Onodera accuses the third client of being irresponsible in caring for his exotic animals and asks for more effort on his part. In all three scenarios, Shizuma awkwardly smiles while trying to ease the tension.

The scene skips to Onodera and Shizuma arriving at their fourth and final house call for the day. Just as Onodera explains to Shizuma that she must check a whole host of things at house calls (and indirectly be too blunt about it with the owners), Shizuma asks her to consider the owner's feelings and change when and how she says things. She glares ahead in silence, and Shizuma is just glad that she is now aware of it. He again reminds her to talk with the owner nicely and gently as he probably won't be able to help with the next client as their pet dislikes men. Onodera tells him to just sit in the corner and witness the client become furious while he doesn't help, making him feel slightly guilty for saying that. He is now adament on not helping her.

They reach the owner's home and we meet an elderly woman named Shiratori and her 9-year-old male cat, Tono. Shiratori apologises to Shizuma as her cat doesn't like men. Tono hisses at them as Onodera opens his cage, but is then coaxed into submission by Onodera who covers his vision with a towel and takes him into her lap to calm down. Shiratori and Shizuma are surprised at his sudden docile nature, with Shizuma witnessing how well she deals with animals.

As Shizuma looks on at Onodera while she completes a check on Tono, he sees she is crumbling at the friendliness and talkative nature of Shiratori, who sings nothing but praise for Onodera and how her family must be proud to have such an amazing daughter. Aiming to ease her troubles and remembering the earlier guilt-trip she gave him, he redirects Shiratori's attention to her broken fly screen and offers to fix that plus everything else that needs repair in her home.

Onodera watches as the two leave the room for a bit before apologising to Tono for ignoring him. Tono looks on at Onodera happily while she asks him how he can live with such a lively human and to tell her his secret to this. She brings him into her arms once more to check his limbs, and as Tono looks up smiling at Onodera, Onodera sees her reflection in Tono's eyes, and both seem to realise something.

BG Text: Stare...

Suddenly, Shizuma and Shiratori, who are busy fixing the window, hear a loud crash and rush into the room to find Tono atop the cabinet and Onodera on the floor, with her hair in disarray. In the next panel, Tono is shown to be hiding in the bookshelf, looking on irritatingly at the humans. Shiratori apologises to Onodera, who shakes it off and says it's nothing to worry about and no harm's been done.

Shiratori asks if Onodera will fix/tie her hair up again, but when Onodera says her hair tie was broken when Tono used her as a launchpad to get on the cabinet, Shiratori runs to get her a new one. As Shiratori gushes over the 3 piece dopey looking character hair tie set she received as a present from her grandchild (and lets Onodera pick one), a greatly displeased look is plastered on Onodera's face. Shizuma, in shock, notices her displeasure and hopes she just thanks Shiratori for it. And Onodera does, bringing a great big smile to Shiratori's face.

As Onodera and Shizuma leave, Shiratori says she's glad to have talked with Onodera and invites her to come over again. As she says this, we see Onodera looking back with a blank look in her eyes.

And that’s it for this chapter! THANK YOU FOR READING THIS FAR! 💜 While I was surprised at the lack of Minato in this chapter (Sensei legit is such a tease, LOL 🤣), I'm happy we can learn more about Onodera. Ngl, I'm starting to really question if Onodera is male or female now, given what transpired in this chapter. I guess we shall see in the next one!

I also changed the formatting a bit and removed the bullet points. Please let me know which format is better/easier to read! Ahah!

EDIT: Spelling and grammar checks are done! Didn't change a lot, but hope it reads better! 💜

📢 As always, please support Hinohara-sensei by purchasing her books and CDs! 📢

And please also refrain from resharing these translations and images outside of this post! Thank you for understanding! ❤️💛

There won't be a chapter in next month's (September release) Dear+, so I shall see you in two months for the next chapter (Dear+ November Issue, to be released in October).

As always, stay safe during these turbulent times and look out for each other and for your loved ones! 💜❤️💛

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toruvi · 2 years

Note

i know i made a comment on ao3 BUT I HAVE TO SCREAM AND CRY ON HERE TOO!!!

my first intuition of Levi answering the phone was correct but people on here made me second think myself ajsidjfnwj I’m going to trust my gut from now on lol, I can’t believe you knew this whole time and just laughed at our misery !!!!! but then again I probably would too buahahaha

but hold up..hold up … hold. up.

“When he's certain you've fallen asleep, he presses two fingers to his lips, then onto yours. They squish the plush of your lips as he whispers, "I missed you too."” << this part got me fucked up LEY!!!! THUS PART REALLY FUCKED WITH ME CAUSE ITS BASICALLY AN INDIRECT KISS AND OMGGGGGGGG AHAJJEJCKSKA you really messed with my feelings, I expected a kiss from Levi but NOOOOO not even in the END AT THE MITCHEN COUNTRR!!! I WAS ROOTING FOR THEM BITH BUT POOR BABY LEVI JUST USNT SURE OF EMOTIONS 😭😭😭😭😭😭

AND Levi with a TATTOO FROM WHWN HE WAS IN A GAMG OMFGGG ley, I’m so emotional over this chapter and I loved it and I loved all their tender domestic moments with each other 🥺🥺🥺 like the shower scene and Levi relaxing with a kiss at his nape ???? I’M EATING THAT SHIT UP SO MUCH ITS SO FLUFFY AND AGAHSHHD MY HEART WAS SWELLING SO MUCH WITH IT ALL, I really needed all the fluff pertaining to Levi and I’ve been motivated to finish my painting of him hopefully by this weekend so I can show him to you !!! 😭😭 you’ve earned that as a reward for this beautiful chapter <33 and thank you for motivating me without the intention of it

BUT SERIAUOY I LOVED IT SO MUCH AND I UOPE YOU GET SOME WELL NEEDED REST!!! YOUVE DESERBED IT FOR THIS MAGNIFICENT CHAPTER and I’m so excited to see where it’s going after you’ve said you never saw it going where it is now at the beginning of it

oh and I’m thinking maybe erwin was his first kiss?? or was it Farlan ???? DURING HIS TEENAGE YEARS MAYBE??? I MAY BE COMPLETELY WRONG BUT AS AN ENGLISH MAJOR FOR MY FIRST SEMESTER IN COLLEGE I PICK UP ON THE CERTAIN USAGES OF WORDS AND SPACES/COMMAS AS A FORM OF LITERARY ANALYSIS soooo: >> “He couldn't have the life he wanted with Farlan, with Isabel.” << I’m probably overlooking it but the separation of Farlan and Isabel is triggering my brain to think it was on purpose…. you probably didn’t intend anything with that and it’s just me lmaooo

ALEXXXXX I LOVE U FIRST OF ALL

HAHA I'M SORRY. I wanted to fucking BURST every time someone mentioned the phone call, it was completely unexpected that people would think it was someone else jkdfghjkdfhg IT ISSS AN INDIRECT KISS :(((( LEVI JUST KISS HER ALREADY SHEEEEESH 🙄 I KNOWWW I'M SORRY. If you don't mind being patient I promise I'll do my best to make it worth it for waiting this long for a kiss jkdhfkdsjhg <3

The fluff is what got me through these last few weeks I'm ngl :((( especially with al lthe sad shit canon Levi was going through, I NEEDED some fluff desperately. GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR PAINTING! I can't wait to see the finished product!! (unless you finished it by the time I have answered this and I missed it) I'M DOING MY BEST TO REST BUT UHH I can't stay still for too long dfjkhdsfkjh

MMMM Wonderful theory you have there with Farlan. Even more interesting about the commas omg???? I CAN'T SAY ANYTHING BUT I'm loving the interpretation rn hehe. ALEX I LOVE YOU OKAY THANK YOU for sending such a sweet message like always, they are ggreatly treasured <3333 (I put your scouts sticker on my phone btw, its next to my lil levi and i love it so much AHH <3) THANK YOU FOR READING AS ALWAYS BB

#pwasoi.ask

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littlemisspascal · 3 years

Text

The Last Mandalorian

Chapter One: The Warrior in Carbonite Part 3

Fandom: The Mandalorian / Pedro Pascal

Eventual Pairing: Din x Togruta!Female!Reader

Word Count: 4,320

Rating: G

Summary: A series that is a mixture of Mandalorian, Star Wars, ATLA, and my own imagination. The Imps have seized control of the majority of the galaxy, including your homeworld Shili. You and your sister Ahsoka have developed a daily routine despite the stormtroopers keeping your village imprisoned. One morning you make a startling discovery that will change the course of your lives forever.

Warnings: I don’t know much about starship mechanics so probably nothing in this is accurate but it’s fanfiction people so cut me some slack please, reader gets a nickname 🥳, plot plot plot, discussion of loss of loved ones, worldbuilding, dialogue heavy, this is a slow burn but it’s also ridiculously self-indulgent so I’m including as many cute getting-to-know-you scenes as I can, reader is 17 and Din is 19 so I’m going to warn this as underage even though nothing sexual or even vaguely romantic happens in this chapter.

Author Note: Thank you anyone and everyone who has read even a sentence of this story! Special thanks and love to @dindja for creating this stunning, fantastic, amazing piece of fanart for me 💖💖💖 I still can’t believe how perfect it is. I mean, I’m such a sucker for pinky promises it’s not even funny and this is just beautiful 😍😍😍

Part 2

Cross-posted on AO3

For as grand and wide-reaching as the Galactic Empire has become in its ten years of existence, it had relatively small beginnings. A group of radical Force-wielders banded together under the leadership of an old, beady-eyed man named Sheev Palpatine who believed it was his divine destiny to seize control of the entire galaxy, rewriting the ancient laws to match his own beliefs. His cult, the Sith Order, gained attention by attacking Jedi temples, capital cities, places with large populations until every corner of the galaxy had heard of them. Most regarded them with fear, but over time they began garnering a startling amount of followers who were discontent with the status quo and willingly drafted themselves as soldiers in Palpatine’s fight for control.

At first everyone in your village thought Palpatine and his cult of followers weren’t worth worrying about—after all, Shili was a peaceful planet that never drew much attention to itself. But within the first year of its inception, the Sith Order captured Ryloth and the similar peaceful characteristics between the Twi’lek planet and Shili were too glaring to overlook. A seed of anxiety took root in every Togruta’s mind after that, and continued to grow with every planet seized as the years progressed.

The Decimation of Alderaan didn’t start as a tragedy, believe it or not. The Mandalorians, Jedi, and Alderaanians combined their numbers in an all-out fight against the Sith Order. It was the largest battle ever fought in the history of the galaxy, thousands of souls willing to die to defeat Palpatine’s followers. For the first three days of warfare, the fight seemed to be in favor of the allies with many noteworthy Sith members reportedly killed in the fray, such as Palpatine’s second-in-command Dooku and lethal Zabrak assassin Maul. You remember there was a sense of hope felt within your village as everyone listened to the news reports blaring across the Holonet. A belief that things were finally, finally going to return to normal after so much chaos.

But on the fourth day, the Sith Order brought their own ally onto the battlefield.

At the time there wasn’t a name for the droids that slaughtered every opponent they faced. They were described as indestructible, unharmed by blasters and the intense heat of Mandalorian flamethrowers. Not even lightsabers could damage them. The allies didn’t stand a chance, brutally murdered one by one, their dying screams echoing across the Holonet, forever haunting listeners far and wide.

The Dark Troopers were unleashed upon Mandalore afterwards and out of the ashes rose the Galactic Empire, except, in a twist nobody—not even the Sith Order—saw coming: Palpatine died before taking on the title of emperor, passing away in his sleep. A mediocre ending for the monster who permanently altered the foundations of the universe. One of his loyal followers from the cult’s early beginnings took control in his place, a vile man with a penchant for spilling blood and a deceptively bland name: Gideon.

Only seven years-old then, you didn’t understand the unbalance in the Force your aunt kept referencing. You didn’t understand the meaning of the word genocide either. But you did understand the galaxy would never be the same ever again, and the lesson was only further established as truth when the Imperials seized your village.

There is no normalcy to return to anymore.

And as long as Emperor Gideon remains in control, there is no future to hope for either.

Silence reigns in the aftermath of Maar’s explanation as the long list of tragedies hangs heavy over the four occupants. There is tension in the air as you await the Mandalorian’s response to the extinction of his people, whether that be an outburst of anger or tears, and each passing minute only intensifies the nervous energy thrumming through your veins. Your leg starts to bounce restlessly, a bad habit you have had since childhood.

The Mandalorian stands eerily motionless. Your eyes keep flicking from your lap to his visor though you know it is rude to stare. His helmet hides his expression, but you don’t need to see it to know he is floundering right now, mind scrambling to piece together all the details thrown at him. From personal experience, you know the loss of a loved one hits like a tidal wave, hitting you over and over again until you must decide if you are going to stand up or surrender to drowning. Grieving the loss of your parents is the hardest experience of your lifetime to date.

But this...this is vastly different. The Mandalorian didn’t just lose his loved ones. He has lost his friends, neighbors, comrades, acquaintances, everyone all at once. This loss isn’t a tidal wave. It is a kriffing avalanche, burying him ten feet under in total darkness, and there is no one he can count on to save him.

Finally, after the longest five minutes of your life, he shifts, resting his hands upon his belt with an unexpected air of seriousness. “I need to go.”

You frown, head tilting. That is his reaction?

“Go?” Ahsoka echoes, sounding as incredulous as you feel. “Go where?”

“To look for survivors,” he answers, blunt and harsh, the words forced through clenched teeth.

Ahsoka is struck silent, and you feel your heart break on his behalf. Your mother’s stories about the Mandalorians had always included, one way or another, their lifelong bonds with each other. You had felt those ties when you had connected with the Mandalorian, believed for a moment as strongly as he did that his fellow warriors would come search for him, that his absence would be noticed and missed amongst them. And here he is now, still desperately clutching to them, unable—or, perhaps unwilling is more apt—to believe a stranger telling him those bonds have been cruelly severed.

“What you need is to rest,” Maar says, gentle yet firm, letting her authority as the eldest in the room seep into her tone.

He shakes his head, not backing down. “I’ve been asleep for ten years. I don’t need any more rest.”

“Your ship, it, uh,” your shoulders hike up defensively when his visor snaps in your direction, pinning you with its blank stare. Clearing your throat, you continue with a slight grimace, “It’s going to need some repairs before it can take off. I can help you fix it.”

Ahsoka looks over at you in surprise, and then in worry. You don’t blame her, especially since the offer had slipped out without you consciously meaning it to. Once again, the Force is calling the shots and you are just along for the ride, a passenger in your own body.

He considers you for a long moment, then asks, “What do you know about the mechanics of a gunship?”

If anyone else had asked you that same exact question, you would have bristled at their condescension and retracted your offer in the next breath. But with the Mandalorian, there isn’t even the slightest hint of patronizing courtesy. It is a serious question prompted from genuine curiosity.

You sit up straighter, smiling at him now. “Enough to confidently say I’m your best shot at getting off the ground.”

“What’s your plan, exactly?” Ahsoka asks you, braced against the wall with one eye on you and one on the Mandalorian across the garage, patiently waiting for you to finish assembling your tool kit.

“Huh?” You reply distractedly, trying to decide if you should bring your carbon chisel or not.

“You don’t have one, do you?”

Not. There are bigger concerns than a bit of carbon scoring. You move to grab your favorite screwdriver with a tapered socket, only for Ahsoka to snatch it away, holding the tool hostage.

“Hey!”

“Have you thought about what you’re doing?” Ahsoka asks slowly, staring you directly in the eyes. “Once you fix his ship, he’s gone. And he’s taking our best chance at escaping Shili with him.”

A quick glance over your shoulder shows the Mandalorian studying the scattered BB unit parts on your workbench. You are missing a few vital components needed in order to bring the little droid back to life after a stormtrooper shot a plasma bolt through it for accidentally bumping into his leg, and haven’t had any luck convincing the village traders to track them down for you when they went to the capital.

“We can’t keep him here against his will,” you manage at last, turning back to your sister. “Otherwise we’re no better than the Imps.”

When Ahsoka doesn’t say anything, you shrug a shoulder, adding, “Besides, I think I’m supposed to fix it for him. The Force seems pretty insistent about it.”

She makes a face at that. “I liked you better when you ignored your Force instincts. You didn’t make me worry as much.”

A laugh escapes you, embarrassingly loud in the otherwise quiet space, and your cheeks immediately start burning. Ahsoka’s lip twitches like she wants to smile, but instead she schools her features into a blank expression when the Mandalorian’s head turns at the sound. Only once he diverts his attention elsewhere again does her stare lose some of its intensity, looking less like she wants to dissect him beneath a microscope. You can practically see her protective-older-sister-instincts buzzing, reacting to the warrior’s presence.

As much as he is a chance at providing an escape, he is also first and foremost a complete and total stranger. Even worse, he is a complete and total stranger who knows how to handle weapons.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” You squeeze her arm reassuringly. “Shouldn’t take longer than a couple of hours. You’ll be so busy smoothing the Elders’ ruffled feathers you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Ahsoka finally relinquishes the tool, exhaling a quiet sigh. “You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.”

Walking side by side with the Mandalorian in silence isn’t awkward, per se, but it definitely isn’t comfortable either. He is close enough your arm keeps accidentally grazing against his, the cold brush of metal against your skin startling you each time. You would have considered his nearness strange if you hadn’t heard Ahsoka threaten to castrate him if you wound up hurt before she sent him flying at the juni tree branch outside your window with an unnecessarily strong push of Force.

To his credit, the warrior handled her rough treatment with the same ease he has handled everything else thrown at him. You are beginning to think Mandalorians don’t just wear beskar—they are made of it too. Other than the few glimpses of frustration earlier in Maar’s office, he keeps his cards close to his chest, impossible to read.

He watches everything though, reacting to the slightest of movements and sounds. Constantly alert. You are certain he is watching you right now, despite the fact his helmet is facing forward, your nerves prickling in response to the sensation of eyes upon you.

To your surprise, he is the one to break the silence first. “You sneak out often.”

It is a statement, not a question.

You suppose the dots are easy enough to connect to reach that conclusion. Still, the certainty in his voice has your heart skipping a nervous beat. He hasn’t even known you a day and yet he is privy to secrets no one outside your community is aware of. “Yeah,” you nod your head after a brief lapse of silence, “Ahsoka can’t train in the village. Not with the stormtroopers around.”

“Has your village tried to run them out? Fight back?”

It is only because you know he is just trying to understand your village’s predicament with the little bits of information he has that you don’t snap at him for being so insensitive. He has no idea what these past five years have been like for you all. No idea the amount of losses and sacrifices the community has suffered.

Your grip on your tool kit tightens. “I was twelve when they came. The community is mostly traders and hunters, not trained fighters. The few weapons we had were nothing compared to their blaster rifles, but some of the adults tried to defend the village, including our parents. They...” You swallow, or try to, at least, your throat suddenly dry as sand. “Our aunt looked after us until last year we woke up one morning to find a note she’d left to join the rebellion. We haven’t had any contact with her since.”

The Mandalorian’s gloved hand brushes against your knuckles. This time you think it might have been on purpose.

“I lost my parents as a child, too. There was a riot and they died protecting me,” he offers his own private details with the same reluctance as one volunteering to have their teeth pulled out. “The Mandalorians took me in, raised me as one of their own.”

You say nothing about the way his breath slightly hitches when he says Mandalorians, appreciating his openness as it puts you both on somewhat equal footing with each other.

“I owe it to them to look for survivors,” he tells you, and your montrals detect the quietest hint of a plea in his voice.

“I understand,” you answer, keeping your tone light to preserve the fragility of this moment. This kind of situation doesn’t happen often—two strangers on the same wavelength, exposing their vulnerable underbellies, desperate to be heard and yet skittish at the same time—and it is oddly therapeutic.

A decision is made right then and there in the span of a heartbeat. And even more significantly, it is 100% your own choice without any intervention or manipulation from the Force.

You stop walking, causing the Mandalorian to halt as well. He scans the area for a threat, then visibly jerks when he turns back to find you have your hand held out towards him, pinky raised high, reacting as if you are pointing a weapon at him.

“I don’t understand,” he says, blunt and almost suspicious sounding. Are you just imagining it or can you actually hear him frowning? “What are you doing?”

“Haven’t you ever made a pinky promise with someone before?”

“...A what?”

You snort, ducking your head to hide your smile, and then reach for his hand. Surprisingly, he doesn’t protest your touch.

“A pinky promise,” you repeat as you make his hand form a fist, curling his fingers towards his palm, and then adjust his pinky so you can wrap yours around it. He watches the whole process wordlessly. “It’s a sacred vow shared between two people. The Elders say once it’s sworn, the promise can never be broken.”

He cocks his head, skeptical. “Never?”

“Never,” you reaffirm with a nod. Licking your lips, you look at his visor, right where you instinctively know his eyes are staring back. “I promise I’m going to help you. No matter the odds.”

And something leaks into your voice then, something resolute and binding and otherworldly. A tremor shoots down your spine, too quick for you to make sense of it.

Your sister’s words echo in the back of your mind, ‘You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.’

You try to pull away, self-doubt gnawing a hole in your stomach, only for the Mandalorian to wrap his pinky tighter around yours, holding you still. A gasp escapes your lips, muffled by the bleeding sincerity in his voice as he swears:

“I promise I will be there when you need me. No matter the odds.”

And although your sister could undoubtedly provide you with a long list of reasons why you shouldn’t, you believe his promise to be true.

The Mandalorian heaves a heavy sigh at the sight of his crashed ship.

“I can’t do much about the landing gear,” you inform him, believing honesty to be the best policy for cases like this. “And I brought some foam-jet for the cockpit viewport, but it’s not a permanent fix. You’re going to have to find someone offworld to replace them.”

“Right,” he agrees absently without turning his eyes away. It occurs to you then that this ship is the closest thing to a home he has now. One of the few precious relics from his past he can still physically cling to.

“Does your ship have a name?” you ask.

He looks at you, as if coming back to self-awareness, and answers, “Razor Crest.”

A good name, you think. Strong. A bit mysterious. Just like its owner.

You nod decisively. “I like it.”

His modulator crackles faintly, a quiet noise produced from a sudden exhale of air. You blink at the unexpected sound, surprised to realize you recognize it. A laugh. The Mandalorian just laughed at something you said. What is next in store for you? Are akul going to sprout wings and start flying?

He steps around you, heading for the side entry door still open from yesterday with its ramp laying on the ground, pebbles shifting noisily beneath his boots with each step. You don’t realize you are staring, oddly entranced by the swish of his cape and his purposeful strides, until he calls out your name to ask if you are coming.

You nearly drop your tool kit in your haste to follow after him into the Crest’s interior, ignoring the flaring heat radiating from your cheeks.

For the next few hours, you and the Mandalorian work in companionable silence, engrossed in rerouting wires and welding damaged components with your trusty hand torch. The gunship is older than you initially assumed, perhaps even as old as yourself, and you idly wonder if the Mandalorian found it in a scrapyard somewhere or maybe inherited it from another Mandalorian. You notice the way he handles each piece with an experienced and respectful touch; the same kind of care someone reserves for their most cherished possessions. Anyone with eyes can see how much he loves the Crest just by watching him.

Once you have finished sealing the numerous cracks dissecting the cockpit’s viewport like a spiderweb with foam, you approach the Mandalorian to see his progress on returning power to the dashboard. He is on his back beneath the steering controls, rearranging a mess of wires, and barely acknowledges your presence when you squeeze yourself into the tight space next to him.

“The red wire goes before the white one,” you point out, noticing the mistake immediately. “Fire hazard.”

He pauses, looks at where you have gestured, and corrects his error without criticizing your intervention. You bite back a smile, pleased to be heard. Within your community, even though you have proven your skills time and time again, some of the villagers, usually men, don’t always adhere to your advice, thinking you are too young and too female to know about technology, until they inevitably make their problems worse for themselves and come back to you with their metaphorical tail between their legs.

You help him reattach the cover plating once he has finished, screwing the bolts back into their corners, and then watch, fingers crossed, as he attempts the ignition sequence, flipping a series of switches.

None of them light up with even the faintest flicker of life.

“Dank farrik,” he growls under his breath, slamming a fist upon the console.

You take a tiny step forward, hesitant to direct his frustration your way. “Can I try?”

He tilts his head, probably thinking he knows this ship better than anyone and if it doesn’t work for him then you aren’t going to have any luck either.

Eventually he steps back with a shrug, uttering a simple, “Sure.”

Although you can’t remember the last time you were on a ship, it doesn’t take long to refamiliarize yourself with the various controls and screens once you take a seat in the pilot chair. When your hobby for fixing broken machines changed into a passion you wanted to pursue as a future career, you started memorizing any reading material you could find on the Holonet, including the flight manuals for different classes of starships. You flip through the stored information in your mind about gunships as you press a few buttons on the panel overhead, trying out different sequences for a response.

When your third attempt fails, you bite your lip, racking your brain for a solution. You think about Huno’s kitchen droid and how you had been on the verge of ripping off one of your head-tails trying to repair it after one of its fuses blew, causing it to malfunction. Your tools and knowledge hadn’t been able to fix it in the end. It had required a special remedy to bring it back to life.

You lay your palms flat on the console, just as you had held onto the droid’s square torso. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the Mandalorian fidget, as if he wants to come closer but is hesitant to crowd you. You ignore him, pressing your fingertips harder against the metal, visualizing in your mind the unseen gears, cables, and components stiff and powerless. You imagine the parts working properly, a current of electricity running through each wire, life ultimately returning to the entire ship, and whisper under your breath a request to the Force.

“Please work, please work, please work…”

An invisible pulse of energy burns down the length of your arms and discharges through your fingertips, strong enough you jerk backwards against the seat. Every button and screen on the dashboard lights up all at once, beeping with alarm at being so rudely resurrected.

You sit there helplessly, stunned and breathless, hands twitching in your lap. The kitchen droid hadn’t required even half as much energy to restart, barely a pinch. Now your body feels like you have been thrown against the electric fence a dozen times. Wordlessly, the Mandalorian comes to your side to help, punching buttons and turning knobs until the alarms quit blaring. A distant part of your brain thinks the Razor Crest as a whole seems strangely soothed by his presence, not quite as cold and dark, but it is hard to follow that train of thought due to the distracting pain throbbing along your temples.

“That’s quite a spark you’ve got,” he says, not unkindly or accusingly, just a statement of the obvious. He looks down at you, not outright asking for an explanation, but giving you the opportunity to open up if you wanted to.

“Yep, that’s me,” you reply, forcing a cheerful smile, praying it doesn’t resemble a grimace. “Sparks Tano at your service.”

He chuckles again, oblivious to how your heart stutters at its raspiness. “Thank you, Sparks. I appreciate it.”

“Well, we’re not done yet.” You rub at your temples under the guise of adjusting your headband. “I need to take a closer look at the engines before we attempt flying out of here. I—”

“I’ll do it,” he cuts in, already heading for the ladder. “You stay here, see if you can update the navicomputer settings.”

You know he knows that updating the navicomputer is child’s play for you. Clearly you aren’t as great at concealing your pain as you thought you were and this is his way of giving you a break. A small part of you is irritated at being treated like a porcelain doll, but you push those negative feelings aside as quickly as they develop. Your aunt always used to remind you and Ahsoka it was okay to accept help when it was offered, that needing support didn’t in any way make you weak.

“Hey, wait a second,” you call out as you spin around in your seat, freezing him right before he disappears from view into the hull. He holds onto the ladder, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“Back at Maar’s place you didn’t introduce yourself and it’s weird just calling you Mandalorian in my head,” you say, awkwardly drumming your fingers on top of the armrests. He doesn’t answer, eliciting a sigh from your mouth after a drawn-out beat of silence. “What’s your name? You do have one, right?”

“I do, but I can’t tell you it,” he admits at last. “By Mandalorian Creed, only other Mandalorians or my riduur—my spouse,” he corrects, seeing your confusion, “are allowed to know my name and see my face. This is the Way.”

He doesn’t linger to hear your response, dropping down into the hull with a resounding thud. You slowly turn back around, staring absently out the glass. Every culture is unique, including your own, but you think there is something especially interesting about the Mandalorians’. It sounds like a lonely existence, only able to show your face while in select company. What would have happened if he had been unconscious and you had slipped the helmet off his head? What consequence would he have faced?

And if there truly aren’t any Mandalorians left besides him, his spouse will be the only one to ever know him completely. It almost sounds like a love story, if not a little bit heart-wrenching.

Two high-pitched dings from the console jerk you out of your thoughts with a wince. You look for the source, finding the radar lit up and actively scanning the area, and bristle when you see a pair of red dots moving across the screen.

Not even a minute later you are sprinting out of the cave, ignoring the Mandalorian’s alarmed shout from the roof of the Razor Crest. They’re early, you think with panic, looking towards the sky where two starships with Imperial logos are heading straight for your village. Why have they come back so soon?

You push your legs to run faster, your surroundings a blur beyond the trail in front of you, but the effort is meaningless. You won’t make it back home before they land.

And when your absence is noted, bloodshed is not a possibility.

It is a guarantee.

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maeve-writes · 3 years

Text

Beautiful Hell

Inspired by: Beautiful Hell by ADNA

Pairing: Bucky Barnes (tfatws) x Reader (experiment/mutant!Reader) Rating: 18+, Minors DNI Warnings: Angst, fluff, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk. Summary: Your past shows up in an unexpected way thanks to Bucky Barnes. You just wanted to be... normal, not caught up in the life of a hero or worse, and yet you’re drawn to him, addicted to him even. You thought that part of your life was over, but your relationship opens up a whole new chapter that you’re not sure you’re ready for. a/n: Unbeta’d, any mistakes are my own and please forgive me. I have not written anything that wasn’t work related in about three years, so I’m a little rusty. This is just a dip of my toe back into the water. I’d like to continue this if there is any interest! Thanks for reading!

There’s very little that makes you upset these days. You have a great job, a cozy apartment, and wonderful friends. It’s taken a long time for you to find stability and even longer for you to accept that it was okay to have it. Most of that struggle was on your own, but you eventually found others like you that were dealing with the same inner turmoil and you’ve grown.

The group still meets twice a month, but now you run it. You see the same pain and anger in the eyes of strangers that you once held, you’ve been in their shoes and you want to help start their journey of healing and self discovery. You would never turn someone away who wanted help, who sought out the chance to better themselves, but six feet of muscle and adamantium shuffles into the recreation room of the local Boy’s and Girl’s Club, and you bend the already folded aluminum chair in half.

The squeak of the metal catches his attention and his brow knits together. His eyes dance between your face, the chair, and back again. “Cheap material,” you say weakly with a lift of your shoulders. You watch as he puckers his lips in thought and his hands are shoved into his jacket.

One of your regulars, Sarah, takes the chair from you and tries to right it once more, but finds it more difficult than you played it up to be. “Set up the rest, I’ve got this,” you tell her, happy to tear your attention away from the man. You reset the bars of the chair and unfold it, placing it on the floor to see if it will act as it should. It’s a little wonky, the bend leans it too far back, but it will hold you - it’s a chair.

You sit among the circle and begin. People sip their coffee and share their stories for the week. The new people introduce themselves, including him, but everyone already knows his name. He didn’t share this time, but you could tell he wanted to from the way his jaw clenched and the uncomfortable shifts in his sheet. You were like that once, you know just how he feels.

Two hours pass and the crowd slowly trickles out. You start the clean up, the putting away of the chairs. You move around the room and do your best to ignore his eyes burning into you - into your soul. “You could at least help clean,” you tell him without looking up from the sink against the far wall where you now stand. “Chairs still need to be put away.”

It takes a few beats, but you hear his heavy footsteps fall behind you and the eventual scrap of metal as the chairs are being folded. There’s a steady rhythm to his method, a clink of his metal arm against the chair, the screech as the chair is closed and his footfalls to the corner to put it away.

You finish your last coffee pot, drying your hands and turn to see the wonky chair in his hold. “Cheap material,” he repeats, looking down at it before he bends it back and forth. You see him trying to mold it back into better shape than you had earlier as your face grows hotter by the second. When he deems it “good enough,” he brings it over to join the others. “Who are you?”

“No one,” you reply instantly.

His head snaps around, blue eyes burning, “You’re a horrible liar.”

“Not true,” you counter, “I’ve lied to myself for years.”

He turns to you fully and crosses his arms over his broad chest. He doesn’t find your attempt at what he thinks is a joke funny. “Who are you,” he asks again, his voice becoming clipped and impatient.

You tell him your name, your full name but it does not ring any bells to him. It wouldn’t, not in a way he would realize. “You saved someone years ago, not as… you, but as,” you pause and wave the towel you used to dry your hands, “you know.” You try your best to ignore how his body tenses up and you continue, “You killed his wife and his unborn son. You changed him. Changed everything, really. Somehow, I got caught up in it all.”

His hardened stare quickly shifts into curiosity and you force yourself to look away before you crash into the stormy blue. “They pumped us full of all sorts of stuff. A lot of us didn’t make it. I can still hear the screams if I try.” You grind your teeth to make yourself stop falling into that abyss. “But my dad raised me by himself, he taught me how to survive, how to be strong. He always told me: Girl, if you’re gonna go down, go down swingin’. And I forced myself to keep going, no matter what they did, I wasn’t going to let those assholes get the best of me.”

The towel was back in both of your hands now, pulled and stretched as you tried not to think about the pain and the loneliness that followed. “But eventually I was freed, just like you freed that other guy. I got a chance to be him now… but I didn’t take it.” The terry cloth ripped in half and your arms fell by your sides.

You dared to look up at the man and you inwardly swore. His face was so painfully beautiful, full lips were in a pout and his eyes twinkled blue in their sadness, in their empathy. “They wanted us to be something and I wasn’t going to let someone else define me. I ran for years, scared and alone. I had to change my life over and over because I didn’t want them to find me, then I realized I was actually doing what they wanted… I was being someone I’m not.”

You crossed the room to the trash can nearby and not too far behind he followed. The two of you began to toss half-eaten pastries and empty disposable coffee cups. “So, I settled down here, started to go by my real name and took any threat that came my way.” You watched him sniff at an uneaten danish, “Cherry, I think.” His shoulder lifts in a ‘what-the-hell’ kind of way and he takes a bite. “It took about two decades for them to stop,” you finish, “and I was able to finally start to live my life.”

He silently offers half of the danish to you, which you decline. “And when the world went to hell in a hand-basket, you what, sat here and lived your life?” The blow was meant to sting and it did. He didn’t know if you were gone in The Blip but from your recoil, he got his answer. “I don’t know what they did to you, but you obviously have the ability to help people, you should use it.”

“I do,” you reply, offended. “This,” you wave your hands around for the second that evening, “helps people. Just because I don’t strap on leather and beat up bad guys doesn’t mean I don’t make a difference.”

Bucky stills completely, even his breathing, and he looks down into the trash can he has been pushing around for you. It looks as though he wants to toss himself in it. “You’re right,” he says with a heavy exhale, “that wasn’t fair of me. It’s just… the world is running low on heroes, they’re now relying on a guy in a bird suit.”

“I thought that guy was your friend,” you ask with a tilt of your head.

When the corner of his mouth tips up into a boyish smile, you mirror it with a toothy grin because of how infectious it is. “Yeah,” he nods, “I guess he is. But I just hate being the only muscle.”

“You’re plenty enough for this hemisphere,” you laugh and reach out to pat his shoulder, when you feel the muscle packed there, you whistle through your teeth, “and maybe the other one, too.”

He laughs and rolls the shoulder you tapped, tossing off your hand playfully. “Yeah, well it wouldn’t hurt to have more because getting hurt hurts.” You two exchange smiles and finish trash detail. He ties up the full bag and prepares to bring it out while you work on putting a new one in the can.

You lead him out back to the dumpsters and he tosses the bag in after you open the heavy metal lid. When it falls closed again with a loud, ringing bang, you pull out a pack of sanitizing wipes and offer him one which he gladly accepts. “This might not be the right time,” he begins, eyes drawn to the large, smelly trash bin next to the pair of you, “but would you like to have dinner with me sometime?”

“Who knew you were so romantic, Sergeant Barnes,” you tease to hide your fluttering heartbeat that he can undoubtedly hear. Under the pale yellow beam of the streetlights you can see the flush forming on his face that mirrors your own. “I’m free tomorrow around seven.”

Bucky straightens to his full height and his eyes sparkle brightly when that boyish curl makes its way back to his lips. “Then it’s a date,” he nods as you both pull out your phones to exchange numbers and you give him your address.

“Don’t be late,” you warn him, tone playfully serious, “I get angry if I don’t eat before eight. Bad things happen if I don’t eat.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods with a low rumbling chuckle, “I don’t plan to disappoint you.”

Your face splits into a smile and you lead your way back in, “See you tomorrow, Sergeant.”

“Tomorrow,” he says, his eyes trained on your every move. “And it can’t come soon enough,” he adds under his breath.

Your day goes by in a blur. Work is stressful but rewarding. Even though you love your job, your mind was not completely on it. Just past noon you received a text: Just seeing if this works. I’m looking forward to tonight. Have a good day. BB

It is unclear if he does not really know how texts work or if it is his excuse to send you one, but either way it makes you giddier than a schoolgirl. You reread it several times, answer a few work related calls and emails before you finally answer back: It works! I’m also looking forward to tonight. My day was good, but your text made it better. Hope yours is fantastic! xx

You are hesitant to hit send, but if you are going to shoot your shot, then you might as well go all in. Your phone doesn’t even go to sleep before you get another text in return: I’m about to see the prettiest gal in town, my day will be more than fantastic. How do you feel about sushi and bowling? BB

Of all of the things to do, especially together, you would not think of Bucky Barnes to pick that as your first night out together, but you had a weakness for sushi and your competitive side could never say no to a game or two: I haven’t been bowling in years, but I’m sure I can teach you a few things. xx

Oh, sweetheart, you’ll be learning a thing or two before the night is over. BB

You aren’t sure if you guys are talking about bowling anymore and that thought lights a fire in your belly. With a shaky breath you send your last reply: I’ll be happy to learn anything as long as I get to call you Professor Barnes and I can stay after class for extra credit. ;) xx

It isn’t until two hours after your lunch that you get your last reply from him: Looking up that reference sent me to the part of the internet that I’m still not used to, but I’m glad I did. You don’t happen to have a skirt and some of those socks that go up to your knees, do you? Don’t answer that, I won’t be able to make it through dinner. See you at 7. BB

You did happen to have just what he asked for and it was tempting to wear it, but you tucked the idea into your pocket for another time. Instead, you picked something more appropriate for bowling, a pair of navy skinny fit cotton dress pants with enough stretch to not rip when you bent over to toss a ball, a curve hugging camisole that was draped by a soft, cream colored cashmere sweater.

After messing with your hair for an hour, you settled for a messy bun and just finished your makeup when your doorbell rang. You call out to him to “hold on” as you shuffle through your apartment, trying to wriggle into your loafers on the way to open the door. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry,” you apologize as you pull open the door.

He’s standing in the doorway dressed in a canvas jacket over a plain black shirt, dark jeans over his long, thick legs and his normal boots top it off. “You look gorgeous,” he says, forcing you away from your lingering gaze as it continues to travel up and down his body like he’s the one for dinner. “These are for you,” he presents a bouquet of flowers with an unsure smile. “They’re beautiful,” you say wistfully, taking the flowers and stepping aside to let him in. “Thank you.” He nods and stands near the door as you finish putting on your shoes. “Let me put these in water and we can go.” “Take your time,” he says and trains his eyes on you. They follow you through the apartment, to the kitchen as you look through your cabinets for a vase. When you bend over, his head tilts ever so slightly which you can see out of the corner of your eye, but when you turn to try and catch him, he just smiles innocently. “Need any help?”

“I’ll manage,” you laugh and eventually find a vase. The flowers are arranged not so elegantly into the glass, but you add water and place them in the center of your kitchen island. “Now, I’m starving and getting hangry.”

“Hangry,” he repeats. “That doesn’t sound good. I guess I should feed you before that happens.” He holds out an arm and like a magnet you are drawn to him and latch to it, maybe it’s because of the metal. Nevertheless, you walk arm and arm to the sushi hole-in-the-wall two blocks away, eating in a small booth in the corner to hide away from prying eyes.

You learn about Bucky Barnes for the first time. Like everyone else, you hear things from the news, from the internet, you try to shift through the lies and mess. But here you’re learning what he likes, what he’s learned, what he wants to learn. He doesn’t give his past up as freely as you did, it’s obvious he’s still coming to terms with it, but everyone travels at their own pace.

He learns about you, too. He asks you about things none of your past dates have asked. Hell, even your past boyfriends and girlfriends weren’t interested in half of the stuff Bucky manages to squeeze out of you. And you find it so easy to talk to him, so natural. You’ve only known him for two days, but it feels like decades.

Your hand slips into his when you leave the restaurant and head to the bowling alley. He laces your fingers together two blocks into your walk and you once again wrap your free hand around his arm. It pains you to move away when you have to go in and put on the bowling shoes.

“Before we begin,” he says to you as he watches you put your names into the computer, “let’s make a bet.” You finish entering the ‘y’ of his name and lift an inquisitive brow his way. “If you win, you can have one thing you would want from me.”

You twist in your seat and narrow your eyes, “And if you win?”

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, you watch it disappear with a pout, “I get a kiss.”

“You could just ask for one,” you laugh and slowly lean towards him.

Bucky, too, leans in and bumps noses with you, “Yeah, but it’s more fun if I work for it.” He sits back and winks, trying not to laugh at your deflated and deepening pout. “C’mon, sweetheart, you’re up first.”

You sigh heavily and pick up the bright green ball that you picked from the line waiting to be thrown. “Okay, if I win, then I get to wear that skirt and socks for you,” you say over your shoulder before you toss the ball down the lane. It rolls down the center and knocks down all ten pins as STRIKE flashes on the screen above you.

When you flop down in the chair next to him, he’s still staring at the spot where you stood moments before, gears still churning. “Hey,” you laugh, snapping your fingers in front of his face to knock him out of his daze, “are you okay?”

“Would it be wrong of me to lose on purpose,” he asks sheepishly. You roll your eyes and cross your arms and he lifts his own in surrender. “Okay, okay. I get it, that’s no fun. Just know, darlin’, I don’t go down without a fight.” He steps up and takes the same ball you used and chucks it halfway down the lane before it, too, knocks down all ten pins. He turns to you, a smirk plastered on his face.

As much as you loved to have fun, you loved to win more. “Is that how it’s going to be,” you asked, getting up to pass him on the way to take your turn.

He laughs, pressing close as you both slow when you come into each other’s orbit. “That’s how it’s going to be,” he nods and rakes over his lip with his teeth. A challenge is set and you don’t back down. Strikes and spares are thrown by the both of you in between lingering touches and whispered sweet nothings.

In the hour you two have rented the lane, you managed two games and with one point over you, Bucky wins. He doesn’t claim his prize right there, it’s too public and there’s far too many people around. Instead, he offers to walk you home and you happily accept as long as you can wrap yourself around him once again, which you do.

You two try to take your time on the way back, enjoying the crisp evening air, but more so each other's company. The conversation from dinner continues as a flow of likes and dislikes between more sweet nothings. You’re lovedrunk by the time you’re at your front door and you don’t want the night to come to an end.

Reluctantly, you release him from your hold and he looks as disappointed as you feel. “Tonight has been wonder-” “I had such a great-” you both begin simultaneously and trail off together, ending in nervous laughter.

“Thank you,” you tell him, leaning up to kiss his cheek, “for such an amazing night.”

“I should be thanking you,” he says, a hand timidly reaching out to rest on your hip. “I’ve been a little rusty at this kind of thing, but you made it easy.” His thumb traces the arc of your hip bone and you step closer to him. “But, you know, I might need some more practice.” You resisted to roll your eyes, but the laughter bubbles between the both of you. The distance closes by one of you, and you don’t care who, but you find your hands splayed across his chest, “I think I can help you out there.”

“That would be my second win of the night,” he grins down at you, his eyes trained on your lips.

“Speaking of my win,” he trails off. His flesh hand raises to your cheek and you instinctively lean into it. Your nose wrinkles at his chuckle but it doesn’t stop you from raising on your toes to close what little space there was between you.

You could sense his hesitation, the silent question of what was enough and what was too much. A small hum bubbled in your throat as you pushed your hands up his chest, nails scraping up his neck and into his hair. You could feel the shiver ripple throughout his body and his teeth came out to bite down on your bottom lip.

It was your turn to laugh now and he licked into your mouth in return, turning it into a whimpering moan. You could feel his triumphant smirk against your lips and you reward it with a tug of his hair. His hips instantly buck against you which throws you off balance, but he catches you with his metal arm winding around your back and pins you against him.

Your tongues slip and slide against one another, the taste of his sushi and beer choice mixes with your own. Your nails once again claw along his scalp and cause him to growl into your mouth. He surges forward with you in his grip and crowds you against your door, reluctantly breaking away for air, “We should say goodnight,” Bucky whispered against your kiss swollen lips.

“You can tell me good morning when you wake up next to me tomorrow,” you shoot back and roll your hips against his, causing both of you to react with a strained moan.

“Are you sure,” he asks, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“I’ve got a spare toothbrush with your name on it,” you nod. You watch him debate the issue with himself before placing one last chaste kiss on your lips before losing his grip just enough to let you open the door.

You two stumble in, Bucky pulling you back to him, his mouth kissing along your jaw as you try to lock up for the night. You barely got the deadbolt turned when his teeth sank into your sink causing you to cry out. He instantly licks at apologetically and turns his attention to getting you undressed instead.

When your sweater is pulled over your head, you push off Bucky’s jacket, both falling to the floor near the door. Shoes are next to go, sloppily kicked off near each other and once again you two are drawn back together, tongues dancing. Your fingers twist into the short brown locks and his hands snaked down to your ass. He lightly cups each cheek, using them to bring you as close as possible, and even though your bodies leave very little room for air to pass through you still try to move closer.

“Bed,” he breathes into your mouth. You give him a quick nod. With a happy groan, he squeezes you by your bottom, picking you up to carry you to your room, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist.

Your small one bedroom apartment isn't anything special, but it is yours and it has the biggest, comfiest bed that you are in love with. Bucky easily guides you both there, not once breaking your kiss aside from grunting or growling from your teasing hair pulls or the rolls of your hips.

He climbs onto the mattress with you still wrapped around his upper half, crawling up to the pile of pillows near the headboard where he eventually lays you down. His weight settles above you, and normally, you would welcome it’s warmth and comfort, but at that moment, you want it to be rough and needy. “Bucky,” you whine, this time the one to break the kiss.

Flushed cheeks and blown pupils, he looks down at you, boxing you in with his arms on either side of your head. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“You’re wearing too much,” you tell him as you try to pull off his shirt, it makes it up to his shoulders before it stops. His laugh shakes his entire body and yours, which makes you pout in return.

“You’re wearing the same amount, doll,” he reminds you, looking down to see your breasts sway in your camisole. “Far, far too much, in my opinion.”

You roll your eyes and playfully slap at his chest, “Then do something about it.” He mutters something about impatience and sits on his knees between your parted thighs as he pulls his shirt over his head to toss it aside.

“Your turn,” he nods to your shirt while he works on the buckle of his belt. You hastily pull the top over your head and work on your slacks, wriggling out of them just as does his own. He sits back on his hunches and looks you over, laying spread out in a matching white lace bra and underwear set. Now at he’s down to his boxer briefs, you can see how big he his, how hard he is, and when his wandering eyes rest on your covered sex, you can see it twitch with anticipation. “Holy shit, you’re beautiful.”

You didn’t think your entire body could blush from embarrassment, but Bucky just proved you could. “That’s my line,” you return, taking in every inch of his exposed skin over hard muscle. Super serum or not, Bucky Barnes was a gorgeous specimen. When you two finally lock eyes once more, you both shiver. “Are you going to touch me?”

He lets out a shaky breath and reaches out to run a hand lightly over your damp panties, slick from your want for him. “I’m afraid I’ll never stop,” he replies honestly, instantly addicted to the needy whimpers you are giving him.

“I don’t think I would want you to,” you groan. “Please?” You feel his fingertips dance over the lace, tracing over the pattern and causing you to throb with need. “Bucky!”

“You need me, don’t you,” he asks, voice dropping to a low rumble that hits you right at your core and makes your toes curl. “You need my touch. Need me to satisfy that ache?” You nod desperately trying to sit up to pull him down on top of you, but he pins you down before you could rise. “Tell me,” he purrs.

“I need you,” you respond instantly. You’re rewarded with his fingers pushing the panties aside and begin to dance along the slick folds.

“You need what,” he goads. He finds your clit and rubs it once to draw a happy mew from you but stops much to your disappointment.

“I need you, Bucky. I need you to touch me, to kiss me,” you whine with a rock of your hips, trying to get him to move again, but he doesn’t. “I need you to taste me, to lick me, to fuck me.”

Smile on his kiss bruised lips, his thumb swirls around your bud and he sinks his middle finger into you with a groan. “You’re tight,” he hisses as he sinks knuckle-deep, “and dripping. Shit, you’re going to feel like heaven.”

You can’t focus on what he’s saying too much. The feel of his fingers pumping in and out of you feels good, feels right, but it’s not enough, even when he adds two or three. He works you open, your slick starting to run down his fingers, and he palms himself over his briefs. “Bucky, please,” your voice cracks, “I need more.”

He nods, he has time to take you apart with just his fingers later, but it’s been so long since he’s been with someone like this, someone he’s felt like this with, he needs it as much as you do. When he removes his fingers from you, you whine at the loss but it cuts off into a gasp as you watch him lap and suck off your slick from his hand. Bucky freezes, eyes narrowing, and for a moment you’re wondering if you did something wrong. “What? What is it?”

“Trying to stop myself from eating you alive,” he says through clenched teeth, jaw visibly flexing with the effort. You blink up at him, confused, but he shakes his head and forces himself to remove his boxer briefs. “I’m having you for breakfast,” he decides.

“Uh huh,” you reply absently, your mouth watering as his cock bounces against his stomach when it’s free. It’s long, thick, and leaking, trying to hypnotize you and very much succeeding.

“I’ll let you return the favor, sweetheart,” he laughs. His flesh hand spreads his pre-cum down his shaft and he pumps slowly while his metal hand pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Still with me?”

Blinking free of your daze, you stare at his lustful gaze and nod. He moves closer, hooks your legs over the bends of his elbows and runs the head of his cock along your folds. Your hole twitches desperately for him, “Such a pretty little pussy, so needy.” Your hands wrap around his wrists and grip at him tightly, hard enough to make him hiss. “You’ve been a good girl, I guess I can give you what you want.”

He pushes in agonizingly slow, the head of his cock sinking in what felt like centimeter by centimeter. You clench around him, trying to draw more of him in, but Bucky takes his time to bottom out. When he is finally fully seated in you, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and apparently so did he. “Fuck,” you say simultaneously.

Your legs are positioned around his waist and he once again frames your head with his forearms, which, in turn, pushes him further inside of you. “You feel so good, doll,” he whispers against the ‘o’ of your lips. “So warm, so tight, taking me so good.” Your hands find their way up his arms and into his hair. All it takes is one tug that has him growling, “And I’m going to ruin this pretty pussy so good that it’s going to feel me all week.” He rolls his hips back as slowly as he originally pushed in, “And I wanna hear you tell everyone who it belongs to while I do it.”

He snaps his hips forward driving you up the bed and further into the pillows, a cry getting caught in your throat from it. His pace is brutal, skin slaps against skin, and his mouth seeks out yours. The kiss is sloppy, but hungry, just as primal as his pistoning hips. You hold on to him the best you can as the bed rocks, headboard slamming against the wall. Your nails trail against his skin, egging him on and drawing sinful noises from love-swollen lips.

His hips shift angles and eventually find that spot that makes you see stars. “Bucky,” you cry out breathlessly, uncurling your toes and removing your nails from his shoulder blades. He buries his face in your neck and marks you with his teeth and tongue as he relentlessly fucks towards your brink. “So… f-fuck- so close.”

“Cum for me then, sweetheart,” Bucky growls against your skin, snaking a hand between your bodies to work at your clit. “Show me how good I make you feel. Cum for me.” His thumb rubs over your bud once, twice and a white hot punch in your gut blossoms throughout your body as you let out a strangled cry of his name.

You can feel yourself clamp around him, working him impossibly deeper, begging him to fall down into the abyss with you. And he does, hard. He chases his bliss with you, your name a mantra spilling from his lips as he spills inside of you. He doesn’t stop until you’ve both become too sensitive to handle anymore. He pulls out of you with a heavy sigh and falls next to you on the bed onto his stomach.

“Holy shit,” you finally break the silence, “that was…”

“Yeah,” he agrees, his head turned to look at you with tired, blissful eyes. “Goddamn, yeah it was.”

You weakly reach around to search for his hand and eventually find it, he lances his fingers with yours. You don’t break eye contact when he leans over to share a few chaste kisses before collapsing again. “You’re fantastic, Bucky, and I want you to know that was the hottest sex I have had to date.”

His post orgasm bliss is shattered and replaced with a furrowed brow, “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

“...but as hot as it is feeling you drip out of me, I need to shower,” you finish. You can see the relief wash over him and he nods in understanding.

“I’ve got a good memory,” he yawns and taps at his head, “that image is stored right here.” You fight a blush and slide off of your bed to head to the bathroom when seconds later you hear him do the same. He shrugs at your questioning look, “No need to waste water, right?”

You laugh as you turn on the faucets only to be crowded against the wall and your mouth is covered with his once more. The water splashing against your bodies and the echoing sounds of your moans drown out the repeated calls to Bucky’s phone. Mission. Suit up. SW

Answer your damn phone. SW

It’s the green button. SW

Green button and slide right. SW

Dammit, if you blocked me again, I stg. SW

Man, what are you doing in Soho? Yes, I’m tracking you. OMW. SW

a/n: To be continued?

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes tfatws #bucky tfatws #bucky barnes fatws #bucky fatws #Beautiful Hell bb fic

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binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

two tails | reader x minho |

Three

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff

Tags: neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, floristnpunk!jisung, gradstudent!jeongin, agedup!skz, slow burn, plot driven, gradual romance, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of previous kinda sad relationships

Word count: 5.4k (y e e h a w)

Tagging: @lauraneuuh

Chapters

P | ONE | TWO | THREE | ?

zeal noun

: eagerness and ardent interest in the pursuit of something: fervor

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Seungmin never liked your cooking, or at least, he’d often mumble this into his spoon while beginning his second serving. He was probably just being nice, or respectful. Your best friend of four years had never been less.

Aside from the fact the he had a 70 pound golden retriever, never had you once seen a strand of that golden hair cling to the cloth of his winter coats. In the autumn, he would drive you in his hand-me-down ‘91 Mitsubishi to the city where you would tutor the English students just so you wouldn’t have to bear the cold of the subway. In the summers he would toss soju down his throat with you, sitting on the carpet of your living room and turning his head to the side with a hand raised to hide his glass. In the spring, he would remember your birthday--several months before his--and take you to coffee shops and bookstores, then the grocery store (which he knew you hated) and would buy for you the most expensive beef he could find.

You would cook the meat for the two of you, and he would say that he liked it...even if you had charred it black on the edges.

Seungmin flicked at the little aluminum tab on his beer can while he watched you murder yet another plate of perfectly fine vegetables on your stovetop.

“At least it smells nice.” You flipped the circle of white onion.

“It does.” He returned, nonchalant, flicking the beer tab a little poink.

“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet. Too tired to complain about those dicks from the marketing team? They put you on a shitty pitch again didn’t they?”

“Every pitch is a shitty pitch there. God, you wouldn’t believe the kinds of slogans that they make me say sometimes. It’s humiliating.”

“Hey, you’re the one that took the pay raise over that job at that high school.”

“Well, you didn’t have rent staring you dead in the face and a dog that’s practically active and sentient enough to be a real child.” He slugged down a sip of his drink. “I’m a single father you know.”

“As if!” You choked out your laughter. “Since when did you turn into Hyunjin? You were never one for dramatics anyway.”

“Go get your vegetables, they’ll burn.” He nodded his head to the stove. The thing was, they were already burnt.

You salvaged what you could of the vegetables then placed them over your rice balls (not intended to be balls in the first place) and the chicken strips which had undoubtedly been seasoned just a little too much. You slid the ceramic bowl in front of him. At least it was steaming. That was a good sign.

Seungmin nodded a little in thanks, then let out a less than obvious sigh before taking his first bite.

“Spicy...but good.”

The way that his breath sounded thin made it convincing enough to you that it wasn’t just “spicy.”

He scrunched up his face in that adorably puppy-like way that you had long gotten used to.

“Really. Tell me. It isn’t the pitches. Don’t pretend like I can’t read you.”

Your best friend squeezed his eyes shut with a rather generous slug of his beer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whaaaat?” You whined a little while opening up your own can. “Oh my god. It’s that girl from the art division. She has a boyfriend doesn’t she? Dammit.”

“No.” Your friend drew the disdain in his eyes up to you from the chicken that had made his nose start to run. He wiped at it quickly.

“I hope it’s not my mother that’s getting to you. She’s too damn nosy for her own good and twice as cocky as she should be. Don’t listen to her. What did she tell you anyway?”

Seungmin poked at his food with his fork then twisted a crispy-tipped red pepper. “Have you talked to him again?”

“--Minho?”

You shied at the memory of meeting him on his morning run two days prior. He would go out at nearly 8:00 on the dot every morning, just when the sun started to peek into the dewy pink and blue mornings.

“You should put on a sweater if you’re going to get up this early for those plants of yours. Don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Yes.” You answered your friend. A tiny ache pinged at your chest--and it wasn’t the kind that felt all twisted. “He asked me to watch the meteor shower with him this weekend. I hope I can cook something edible for him.”

Seungmin’s knee bounced, “Aren’t you at least at little suspicious of him?”

“Suspicious? Why would I be?”

“You hardly even know anything about him, or where he came from, what he does for a living--”

“--Now you’re starting to sound like my mother Seung. Relax. Besides, sometimes it doesn’t take much to feel...comfortable around a person. I mean, look at us! Soju nights started like, three weeks after we met. And I do know where he works. He works for a company that makes windows; fancy ones.”

“Windows?” He cocked a brow.

“He did say that it was kind of boring...”

“I just--” Your friend sighed out, resting anxious hands on his knees. Here he was again, being nice and respectful, like always. “--You could get hurt if you’re not careful.”

“What?”

“I’m saying, don’t get your hopes up.”

“Geez Seung...” Your voice trailed off with a different pain in your chest. This was the kind that twisted.

His expression softened, and he lent a hand to your shoulder, lingering, squeezing lightly. “Your mom...she told me to look after you...not like I do that already with you falling all over yourself and burning things...I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Hm. Thanks.”

“You’re also miserable to deal with when you’re sad. You make me blow my grocery budget with how much frickin’ ice cream and freezer tater tots you force me to get.”

“You like those tater tots too though.”

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Bomi purred in your lap swaddled into a little ball of white, orange, black and brown. She was napping, or rather, trying to nap with the way that her little cat-shaped eyes blinked slowly. You tried your best to soak every little moment of it up: you knew that with her, it would be fleeting. There was something supremely calming about being close to your little furball like this. After all the love that you poured over her in the form of useless cat toys and new cat food every week, this somehow made it all worth it.

You tapped lightly at your keyboard, not too harshly, just lightly enough so that you wouldn’t startle your sleeping cat. The tips of your toes were cold, but you didn’t dare to move to grab a blanket to ruin the moment. Outside, a light spring rain befell on your small cement patio. Droplets of the warm showers patted at the roof of your home softly.

Your eyes had grown tired and dry at this late hour, but the end of the chapter was near. One more time you hovered your mouse over the little notification bar, clicking at it for that one last push of motivation:

Bomi needs to quit MESSING AROUND. Blaze is right in front of her!!! Ahhhh I want them to get together soooo bad

Is Herbie okay?? Poor bb, its so cute how we would do anything for Bomi.

Bomi:

Blaze:

*now kiss*

Are we really getting to the end of Book 1??? This has been such an amazing story N/n, I always look forward to your updates <3 they make my Thursdays hehe

I can feel like something big and bad is coming...oh no...I hope that Blaze and Bomi make it through

A thankful little chuckle hummed on your lips, then you pressed enter to start a new paragraph.

“Oh Bomi,” You exhaled, “If only Blaze knew how you felt too.”

Chapter 27

...The group journeyed through the cavern with flickering white flames dancing and casting shadows on the stone walls dripping in stalactites. Bomi held on to the hilt of her sword tighter with a sense of dread creeping up her throat. Blaze looked onward, much as he had been doing these days.

His leg was wrapped in a bloodied bandage: a reminder of the battle won against the Boar in Hilgram. He had jumped in front of her as he had countless times before.

“Hello??” Blaze’s voice echoed against the long and winding chambers of the cave. In his tone he was confident, but his shoulders still shook with an uncertainty.

Herbie’s little hedgehog feet patted the damp floor, and he looked up at his Princess with fear in his soft black eyes. The little velvet banner wrapped around his body had been torn and tattered from one too many battles.

Had it been darker, Bomi wondered if she had reached out for Blaze’s hand to find in him. She shook her head with her resolve, eyes painfully shut. It was only in the darkness that she allowed herself to want for him.

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Today must be one of those spring-summer days.

Your warbled reflection chased after you in the blue glass of the university’s library windows. You had hoped that no one was on the other side watching you as you wrinkled up your nose to look like one of those devilish gargoyles that you had been writing of the night before. From the inside, rows and rows of books were lined up perfectly, however there were almost no students inside. It always did make you a little sad how few students would be there when you clocked in for your mandatory office hours.

Spring-summer days meant that the businesswomen on the sidewalks had exchanged with trousers with flowing skirts and little clicky ballet flats and each businessman had his tie and collar tugged down. There was a comforting warmth to the spring air that reminded you of your own college days when you and your friends--long gone now--had stayed up late to study, then would scour the buzzing streets for snacks. Things were much simplier then.

At the library’s entrance, budding tulips and geraniums of light purple hues were greeted by round bumblebees. Had the city not been as loud as it was, you could nearly hear the cicadas in the park on the east edge of the shining silver building.

You bowed slightly to the attendant at the desk who always would smile at you with adorable smiling eyes to match. She would often wear earrings of strange shapes that you had never seen before. She wore a lanyard too that had little cat paw prints decorating it; it was because of this you knew she was someone you could trust.

“Are you having a nice week?” You said to her customarily.

“Oh, I am. It’s always the same around here. My daughter will be having her baby soon! Sometimes I think that I’m more excited than she is.”

“You’ll have to tell me when that happens so I can bring her a gift, okay?”

The attendant smiled warmly, and nodded you off with a little oh, you don’t have to.

“Remember your key card this time?” She watched as you jingled around your own keys with the obsessive amount of plastic and silicon keychains.

You tsked. It seemed like nearly everyone in your life had now known how forgetful you tended to be sometimes.

“Yes. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be over there.”

Once more the two of you exchanged little bows and you made your way over to the back of the four storied library with the atrium of trees in between. There was a marble fountain encircled by the trees that had little oval shaped leaves. Two tiny birds, all black, bounced from branch to branch. It was your secret, but you had written about that fountain many times in your writing, but you were the only one who knew that it was real.

You tapped the reader to hear that familiar do-do doot along with the flash of the green lock. As always, the study room was a bit messy with eraser shavings sprinkled about and the odd dry marker laying next to the trashcan where someone had tried to toss it in, but had missed. The minute hand on the wall clock scooted right on to the 12.

“Are you busy?” That fluff on white hair peeked into your study room just like clockwork.

“For my favorite student? Do you even have to ask?”

Jeongin, the oldest and most attentive student in your class hopped in with his adorably boy-ish charm. Regardless of the fact that he was in the last year of his grad degree, it was impossible for him to look that old. You didn’t have the heart to tell him, but he technically shouldn’t have been in your class for undergrads, but you weren’t going to stop him.

“Why’d you decide to take this class anyway?” You would ask him.

He’d answer, “For fun.” with that cute little smile of his.

“I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“I just got here.” You pulled out a seat for him.

“Oh. Good. I was wondering if you could proof read my short story again. I’m having trouble with the ending. I just don’t think I understand all the way how to make it full circle like you said in lecture.”

He unzipped his leather backpack: obviously a gift from someone in his family that must have thought it would make him look his age. It didn’t. What didn’t help further was how he had adorned it with all kinds of keychains; much like your own keys. It was because of this that you knew he was someone you could trust.

His manuscript already had dozens of scribbles in his own handwriting with tons of question marks riddling the margins.

“Let me take a look.”

You skimmed the pages of the short story--one which you had already read the week prior--for all of his new edits. The notes made it a bit hard to read, but you were used to how he would make a mess of his papers now. He leaned in close to you with glossy eyes that might have even twinkled a little like a cartoon. Both of his knees bounced furiously while he watched you read, and would look from the paper, to your face, then back to the paper, then back to your face...

“Is-is it good? Better?”

Jeongin had written a love story. His first one that you had known of. It was about a boy and a girl who had met on an airplane, and had been seated together. The two of them found out that they had shared so much about their two lives without ever meeting until this very moment. They had realized they went to the same high school, worked in the same building, and were travelling for the same reason: to meet up with someone that they had once loved. It was beautiful, tragic, and in some ways, familiar.

“I think that it’s wonderful Jeongin. The edits that you made to it from last week really help with the narrative flow as well as the vertical plot. You’re really good at asking the deeper questions behind the piece like “why are they really there,” and “why is it important that they are there.” All you need to do is tie it up.”

“But howwww?” Jeongin slumped in his wheely chair. “What should I say?”

“Well...” You tapped your pen to your lip. “The ending scene is when they land at the airport right? Why don’t you have your main character say something that calls back to all of their similarities and makes it seem like they’ve known eachother all along?”

“But I don’t want it to seem like they’re going to forget eachother.”

“They won’t. You established that they’ve both found something different than what they were looking for in the first place.”

Your student’s face tangled up into concentrated knots and he puffed those thin strands of bleached white hair away from his eyes.

“I could say...‘see you at home’? Or...maybe that’s too cheesy--”

“--No it’s not! If you like it, I think that it also fits the story well. Its like, now they understand, and they’ve got something in eachother now that they hadn’t had before; also juxtaposing with your themes of travelling to make a reference to home.”

“Damn, you’re much better at this kind of stuff than I am...” Jeongin wrote down the new ending on his print out.

“Its just...what I like to do.”

“I’m glad I came.” He grinned out with his mischievous and trademark smile. “How’s your story going by the way? Almost finished?”

“Oh...”

A heat rose in your cheeks. You had decided to tell Jeongin about Princess Bomi a few weeks back, but you had neglected to tell him exactly what the story was about. That was a secret better kept to yourself.

“Its...good. I think. My readers seem to really like it.”

“Maybe you’ll let me read it someday. I bet there would be tons of other people who would like to read it too, you know, outside of the internet.”

“That’s what I’ve been told...” Hyunjin’s urgings echoed in your head. “Maybe...” Your eyes wandered to those scribblings of his. “How about we make a deal?”

“What kind of deal?”

“Once we get both of our stories sorted, lets submit them together. I’m sure people would like to read yours too.”

“Mine?!” Your adorable student’s face flushed as deeply pink as the sweater he wore. “Oh no, no no no no no.”

“I’m telling you it’s good! Its relatable, raw, well written. It never hurts to try. How about submitting it for the literary journal they do at the end of the semester?”

“You mean the one that all the arts majors read and fuckin’ eviscerate?? Hell no.”

“Hey, I could get eviscerated too by my chief editor.”

Jeongin gulped with his terrified, brown, cartoon-character glistening eyes boring holes into his manuscript.

You sang, “~Wanna go down together~?”

“A-as long as we’re going down together...I guess it’s worth a shot.”

“Alright then!!”

He made a little sound of disgust, then shoved his papers back into his much-too-old-for-him bag. “That was all I needed to ask you for. Thank you.” He bowed with respect. “I won’t be bothering you for too long today.”

“You wrote a good story Jeongin.”

“Mm. Thank you.” His smile turned into a tiny flustered line.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

STUPID NEW CAT FOOD. AGAIN.

In one hand, you held the crinkled up grocery list with angry doodles of your cat folded into the corners of the page. You didn’t quite know if cats had eyebrows like the ones you had drawn onto your cat’s smug face, but you were for certain that this cat must’ve had them...and they were angry.

Bomi had selfishly decided at the end of your week that she no longer liked the last brand of cat food that you had found on the shelves of the grocery store. It was the brand stored next to the one that you had nearly concussed Minho with.

You were at your wits end. There must have been something wrong with your cat--to hell with her being a picky eater. Maybe she really was just a little alien inside there. A little alien that hated cat food. The image of you sitting at your dining table across from Bomi eating two plates of people food crossed your mind. She picked up the fork with her white paw and dabbed at her mouth with a cloth napkin. The idea didn’t seem the most out of reach.

In your other hand was your phone opened to the maps app with the small blue dot leading you to the specialty pet store.

“Damn spoiled, stuck up, good for nothing, pain in my as--”

“Hey! Blossom??”

Your head whipped around so fast you cracked the bones of your neck with a startling pop. You rubbed at your neck to ease the pain.

“You okay?”

At first you figured you must have dreamt him up in your neck-induced-pain. You cursed at your overactive imagination, still just as strong as it was when you had been small.

Blaze in the flesh he was alllll the way from his battered Converse to his stupidly handsome curly hair.

You laughed out incredulously with a hand still glued to the back of your neck.

“Didn’t think that I would be seeing you around here again. Or at least, I was kind of hoping that I would.”

He marched right up to you with that same smile you had pictured on Princess Bomi’s companion countless times before. Today he wore a leather jacket over the arms that you knew were covered in all kinds of flowers and vines. It hadn’t quite hit you yet that he had said he was hoping to see you.

“Sorry if I startled you. I was just...really surprised.”

“You’re fine, it’s fine.”

You neck didn’t tell you it was fine.

“What are you doing around here?”

“Pet store.” Was all you could get out. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you, but for someone who worked at a flower shop, he did end up smelling an awful lot like flowers. It was a sweet aroma, much like your garden.

“Ahh, I just got off.”

You walked on, also not noticing that he had started to follow you a couple steps behind.

“I realized I didn’t get your name last time.”

“Oh. It’s Y/n.”

He hummed with a smirk. “I do kinda like Blossom more.” He crammed his hands into his pants pockets with a wistful little sigh. “Pretty nickname for someone as pretty as yourself.”

“Psh. Stop.” You had said it sarcastically, but you didn’t intend for your heart to skip as harshly as it did when he had said so.

“You’ve got a pet then? Dog? Cat?”

“Cat. Just one.”

“I wish I could take care of a pet like that. Don’t think I would be too good at it though. I see myself as more of a plant person. They’re quiet, don’t do too much, and they sort of love you back in their own way.”

“How's that?”

“By growing. And flowering. Changing colors and looking good in your windowsill. Nothing too crazy.”

“I...guess I can see what you mean.”

He flicked at the black hoop pierced into his lip in the way that you certainly hadn’t forgotten; and you were one for forgetting much.

“Mind if I go in with you? I don’t have a whole lot going on.”

Jisung. You had also remembered his name. He carried Blaze with him in the way that he had that fiery glint in his eye like he knew he was getting away with something. He was brash and forward, and charming as all hell. The sunset of blood orange and cotton candy pink seemed to melt into his shoulders where he stood before you in the golden hour of the evening. A yellow carnation was tucked into the pocket of his jacket.

“You don’t have to...”

He had already made up his mind, and swung open the door to the pet shop neighboring the floral shop. You didn’t know how you had missed it.

The squawking of birds chimed with the bells hung over the shop door.

“You coming?” He held it open for you.

You sheepishly entered before him, nearly tripping on the little incline to the entrance and catching yourself three seconds before disaster.

Jisung prompted, “Lead the way.”

Normally you would have been concerned over the cleanliness of the store, but that seemed insignificant compared to the way that he looked around all in his Blaze-like wonder. He widened his eyes at the rows of fish tanks and twiddled with the little feather cat toys at the ends of the isles.

Granted, he seemed much more immersed in the kinds of aquatic plants and moss balls that they had rather than the cute bunnies and mice, but still, you couldn’t help but shy away when he caught your glances.

“Glad that I joined ya Blossom.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

There was something about Minho that felt like a lullaby. He wore a lavender colored sweater when he arrived at your doorstep: of course it was pooling into paws at his hands as always. The collar dipped deep enough for you to see the tops of his collarbones, and they were gorgeous and curved. His eyes wrinkled a little under his wire framed glasses when he would smile: that of which would also look like the little grin of a bunny. Effortlessly his brown hair kissed his forehead.

He would speak softly and carefully, and listen to everything that you had said to him as if it was the most important thing in the world. His feet were too big for your spare pair of house slippers and he had a tiny hole in his khaki pants right by the waistline. Minho greeted Bomi with a tiny “aigoo” and she let him sweep her up into his arms where he bounced her lightly. She would never let you do that. Traitor.

“Your home is very...you.” He had complimented. You had no idea what that meant.

His lips were pink and glossy with drips of that peach soju that you had bought in the hopes that he would like it. It turned out that it was his favorite flavor.

You wanted so badly to kiss the peachy flavor off of those lips.

He had laughed a little at your array of cat-related home decor, laughing the most at your dish towels that had two fat cats on them that looked like chefs. He said that he had seen a movie once and the characters reminded him of that.

The two of you sat outside on your patio on the wire chairs that would imprint designs into the back of your legs. The air mixed with the smell of your citronella candle and the scent of the roasted duck that you had attempted to make for him. You really shouldn’t have tried to make something for the first time when it was also his first time coming over.

Maybe he was just being nice, but he had said it tasted good.

It did not taste good, but rather harshly of salt and too much rosemary.

Bomi rubbed at his legs under the table and even hiked herself up on two feet to peek into his lap. As much as it hurt to see your traitorous cat act this way, it was because of this that you knew he was someone that you could trust. Minho gave her head scratches and insisted to help you with the dishes--a mistake on his part. It took all of two minutes before you had a mishap with the detachable sink head, and soaked through his sweater.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t trust you with water then?” He chuckled while dabbing away at the fabric.

“That probably would be best.”

Minho was a lullaby in the way that he laid down next to you on that quilt you had made in a crafting class some years ago. All of the patches were disjointed the the color scheme made very little sense, but it was stull functional. He kept his hands folded to his chest with reverence. His chest rose and fell calmly, and his body heat floated over to you. His presence was something familiar and still something that you couldn’t place.

“Are you getting tired?” He asked you gently.

You lied, “No, just resting my eyes.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have had that much soju then.” He joked into the open air.

“How much longer?”

“At least thirty more minutes.”

He was so warm. Warmer than any chill of the spring night.

First you would have kissed the peachy flavor on his lips. Then you would have cuddled all up into that lavender sweater which you imagined to be even softer than cat’s fur--or rather--it looked like it could have been.

“Do you know any constellations?” Minho pointed up to the sky.

“Not really.”

“Well, that one is Ursa Major...and over there...that’s Leo. Can you see that it sort of looks like a triangle?”

“Yes.” You had said, but really you didn’t have a clue, you liked it more hearing him talk about them. “Where did you learn about constellations?”

“Long time ago. I think it was in school, but, that was so, so long ago.”

The cool grass under the quilt rustled when he had leaned back up to sit, then dragged quilt attempt #2 over your body and his.

“It was getting a little cold.” He quietly announced.

His simple action of doing just that heated up your whole body now knowing that the two of you were trapped together, inches apart.

Minho tucked his arms to prop up his head. “Thank you for cooking for me. I haven’t had someone other than my mother cook like that for me in a long while.”

“I’m sorry...I know that it was pretty inedible--”

“--And thank you for allowing me to come over too. I...realize...I don’t really know what I’m doing that well. I kind of invited myself...I hope that I’m not putting pressure on you or anything...”

“--Doing what well?” Your heart leapt into your throat.

“I just haven’t done this in a really long time.”

This.

What the hell was “this?”

“I’m not following...”

“Letting myself do something fun. Something nice and relaxing.”

You had formed a painful little “Oh.” on your lips. Your idea of this was different from his after all.

“--Something nice and relaxing with you.”

Another “Oh.” formed, but this one was a thankful one.

“Can I tell you something?” Minho’s voice was barely in a whisper.

“What is it?” You looked over at him and he was wrapped in the navy blue light of the night. You could have sworn that you could see the faintest inkling of stars in his eyes.

He looked back at you in earnest. “I’ve been...scared, too, since moving back out here.”

“W-why?”

“There was something in me that was telling me that moving out here wouldn’t fix everything, and that I would be stuck forever on those things that happened, and the things that made me unhappy.”

“Minho...what are you saying?”

“-Got my heart broken. Back then. As cliché as the sounds.” He laughed, and it even sounded a twinge embarrassed. “I ran away from it to here. I had figured that it would give me time to get it all back together again.”

“I-I’m so sorry.”

“Running is good and all when you can physically remove yourself from what’s chasing you, but some things...”

Your chest felt heavy. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

“You do?”

The first summer cicadas had started their nighttime chant, and their hisses ebbed and flowed like sea waves.

“I feel like...these expectations that my family has of me, my mother...I can’t ever escape them. They’re always there and burned into my head. I think of them even when I don’t want to: get a better job that “contributes”, get married, have grandkids...”

You paused with your own eyes cast up to the sky. The massive expanse seemed unfathomable.

“Why is it that we can’t ever be happy doing the things that are supposed to make us happy?”

The first meteor flew past your eyes with the speed of light, barely slow enough for you to catch it.

The second was a bit slower, and traced after it a millisecond of white spectral dust.

“Did you see that??” Without thinking, you poked once at Minho’s arm.

You couldn’t see, but he had grinned with a weak smile. “I did.”

All at once, the sky was illuminated with brilliant streaks of light and their white hot heads that would fade and dissapear just as quickly as they arrived. They tore through the sky with astonishing speed and you traced the outline of each line as fast as you could.

“There’s so many.” You wondered aloud.

Under the warmth of the haphazard blanket, fingers twisted into yours: careful and tentative, soft and curious.

Minho breathed out, “I feel pretty happy right now.”

123 notes · View notes

flyingkiki · 3 years

Text

A Very Merry Christmas (3/4)

A little bit more excitement and a whole lot of steamy escapades for our favorite bbs. As promised, 2021 is a year of smut and steam for our favorite birbs.

Check out chapter 2 of A Very Merry Christmas to refresh your steam tank. We know Tim a little dirty boi behind closed doors -- or in abandoned tree houses.

In today's episode, that bathtub looks perfect for some luxurious steamy action.

~~~

Titus, much to Raven’s surprise had taken a great liking in her. Over the course of her stay, the Great Dane was practically glued to her side, following her everywhere. While endearing, it proved to be quite a challenge during movie nights once Raven quickly realized that despite his size, Titus believed he was a lap dog.

“Titus!” Tim whined when the dog’s tail smacked him across the cheek one evening while the whole family settled down to watch The Nightmare before Christmas. As Raven settled down next to Tim on the couch, Titus climbed up on Tim’s other side and clumsily clambered over his lap to get to Raven, who stifled a giggle.

“Oh,” Raven breathed as the huge dog settled on her lap, knocking the wind out of her. She felt Titus snout settle into the crook of her neck and his paw dig painfully into her thigh. The dog practically leaned against her and she shot Tim a quick look over Titus’ hulking form. The dog wiggled in her lap, trying to get comfortable. “You’re a big boy,” she breathed.

Tim frowned and tried to nudge the dog off his girlfriend. “You’re suffocating her, Titus.”

Unfazed, Titus yawned and clumsily knocked his face against Raven’s cheek. With a little huff, he licked her left cheek and dropped his chin onto her shoulder.

Raven squeaked softly at the lick and wiggled under Titus, trying to get comfortable. Titus paw dug painfully into her thigh. She leaned into Tim’s shoulder and grabbed his forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze signaling her discomfort. “Tim,” she whispered. He had to do something or her illustrious career as a superhero might just end due to suffocating under a 160-pound dog.

Tim sighed and reached around the massive dog to gently nudge Titus off his girlfriend. When the dog whined and sneezed into Raven’s shoulder, Tim rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Dami,” he called the younger boy sitting on the floor next to Dick’s loveseat. “Call Titus, he’s suffocating Raven,”

Damian looked over his shoulder, frowning at the sight of his dog taking more interest in Tim’s girlfriend. “Titus,” he called over the noise of Jack Skellington discovering Christmas. The dog di not even budge and Tim shot him an annoyed glance.

“Looks like Titus has a new favorite human,” Jason commented slily, enjoying getting rise out of his younger brother.

Damian huffed and glared at Jason for even insinuating Titus had a new favorite. Shaking his popcorn bowl, Damian called Titus again. The sound of popcorn in a bowl seemed to have caught his attention. “Titus, come here.” Damian called again just as Dick ‘shhed’ him.

Titus seemed to finally get the message and with a huff into Raven’s neck, he jumped off Raven’s lap (and successfully kneeing her in the process) and trotted towards Damian. With a low whine, he curled up right next to the boy and deposited his head into Damian’s lap.

Titus continued to follow Raven that evening. Tim flat-out refused to have the dog in their bedroom because sex with a dog watching was a terrible idea. Titus was following them the entire morning as they helped Alfred with a new batch of Christmas cookies.

“Titus, time for your walk,” Damian appeared at the entrance of the massive kitchen, already wrapped up in his winter jacket. He jiggled the leash to catch Titus’ attention, which was solely focused on Raven as she bent over the kitchen island pipping lopsided smiles on gingerbread men with Tim and Bruce.

The dog whined and gave Damian a brief glance before turning back to Raven.

“That much sugar cannot be good for you,” commented Tim in amusement after Bruce ate half of a gingerbread man. Their small group remained oblivious to Damian and Titus. It was Bruce’s second cookie that morning and Alfred was not pleased at the depleting cookie count.

“It was missing an arm,” Bruce brushed off the accusation of being a cookie thief. He broke off one of the legs of the cookie. “Here, have the leg.”

Tim looked scandalized. “And be an accessory to your crime, Batman?” he said with wide eyes but still accepted the amputated sugar treat. It was a delicious leg.

“Who knew Bruce Wayne was such a sugar junkie?” Raven commented after drawing yet another lopsided smile (frown?) on a gingerbread man. She stuck a bright purple candy onto her gingerbread man’s neck. That kind of looked better.

“His sugar panel is terrible, Miss Raven,” Alfred appeared next to them sounding totally unimpressed at Bruce’s sugar habit. He glanced at the pile of cookies they had been working on, noting a few that had gone missing. He sighed softly. “Perhaps I may suggest refraining from eating any more cookies, Sir? We’d like to keep the rest for Christmas tomorrow and some for everyone to take home as well,”

“Might not fit into the Batsuit after Christmas, Old Man,” Jason commented from where he was mixing chocolate chip cookies. Cass giggled next to him.

Bruce looked a bit sheepish has he polished off the last of the gingerbread man he stole from the pile. “Right, Alfred.” Raven watched as the man looked amused and she shared a small smile with Tim, who looked happy to spend a little downtime with his adoptive father. Moments like these were rare for Tim. “I shall have a little bit more self-restraint,”

“I’d appreciate that, Sir,” Of course, Alfred did not sound very convinced. Leaving the fresh batch of cookies, he went back to working with Jason on the cookie batter. Raven and Tim chuckled softly in amusement.

“Titus!” Damian called again, this time gaining the attention of everyone in the kitchen. The dog in question raised his head in acknowledgement before lying down again and staring up at Raven.

Bruce looked over the counter and watched the dog in surprise. He looked up at Raven with a hint of amusement. “Looks like Titus has taken a liking in you,” he commented.

“More like a huge dog crush,” Jason added, smirking over this shoulder.

Damian huffed and crossed his arms, frowning at the group. “It’s likely that he senses her demon heritage and keeps watch to protect us,” he said, annoyance laced in his voice.

“Damian!”

“Hey!”

“Rude, you brat!”

Bruce was clearly disappointed and angry while Tim looked furious. Bruce frowned at his son and placed his piping bag on the counter. He crossed his arms in disapproval, an action Damian immediately mimicked. Reindeer apron or not, an angry Bruce Wayne is a scary Bruce Wayne. “Apologize, Damian,”

“Why? She is half-demon,” Damian sniffed and frowned, frustration bubbling low underneath his skin. “I’m sure Titus senses this. And I honestly do not understand how you can allow Drake to –”

“Finish that sentence and I swear I will smack you into next week,” Tim scowled, fist tightening on top of the marbled kitchen island. Raven could feel old emotions surface as the boys glared at each other and she frowned.

“I could help take Titus on a walk with you?” Raven said suddenly, knowing well that Damian was not going to apologize anytime soon. His frustration and resentment were coming off him in waves. She placed her hand on top of Tim’s arm, trying to calm him down.

“I don’t need your help,” Damian bristled.

Raven rolled her eyes at the haughty attitude. Ignoring Damian, she handed Tim her pipping bag and shot him an assuring smile. She removed her apron and placed it on the table, before turning to Damian. She tilted her head and raised her eyebrow in challenge. “Really? Not unless you want to clean up Titus’ pee later, I think you’re stuck with my offer,” she said.

“Raven,” there was a hint of worry and confusion in Tim’s voice. Raven shrugged and leaned up to kiss him on his cheek. “It’s alright,” she whispered and squeezed his forearm reassuringly. She waved off Bruce as he glanced at her.

Turning on her heel, she looked at a fuming Damian, displeased at the idea of being bossed around. “Wait for me at the door, I’ll go get changed,” she said. Ignoring Damian’s protest, she walked out of the kitchen with an eager Titus hot at her heels. Damian stopped out soon thereafter.

Jason blinked; astonishment written all over his face. “Well shit, that took a weird turn,”

Raven met up with Damian at the large front door. The boy was still frowning into his dark blue fluffy scarf when she approached and made no acknowledgement when she stood by him. Titus appeared by her feet, oblivious to the jealousy he had caused. “Ready?” she asked.

Damian sniffed again and silently hooked Titus to his leash and the trio stepped out into the cold. The leash wasn’t really necessary and as they would step further out into the forest, Damian would release Titus from the leash. The dog was trained enough to follow commands.

They were walking silently towards the large frozen lake, keeping close to the edge of the woods for Titus to sniff along and do his business. The silence between them was palpable, Raven could feel Damian’s storm of emotions. She watched as Damian released Titus from his leash and they followed him through the snow as he happily sniffed at snowy bushes and tree trunks.

“There is no need for you to accompany us,” Damian said, voice laced with a frown as he walked ahead of Raven.

Raven stuffed her hands deeper into her winter jacket as a cold breeze passed them. She hurried to keep up with Damian and walked next to him. She shrugged her shoulder dismissively and offered him a small smile. “It’s alright, I don’t mind the company,” she said.

“I do,” Damian frowned. Of course, ever the brusque one.

They stopped as Titus stopped by a bush a little up ahead. They were close to the completely frozen lake, they could see old dock and the outline of a few people walking by the lake from the distance. A few snowflakes started to fall as winter continued with is below zero temperatures. They watched Titus do his business in the snow.

“I’m sorry about this whole ordeal with Titus,” Raven said, glancing at the scowling boy.

Damian spared her glance; eyebrows draw into a perpetual scowl. “He senses the demon in you,” he said.

The corner of her lips quirked just a little bit and there was a bemused look on her face. “Well, I think you’re right about that,” she said. Damian continued to stare at her with a mixture of mild surprise and anger. They heard Titus make snuffling sounds as he buried his nose into the snow. “Some animals are quick to catch on meta-physical psyche,”

“To sense a threat,” Damian supplied.

“Sometimes,” said Raven. She glanced at Damian, sensing a mix of emotions. “They also get attached or curious. I’m pretty sure Titus is just curious after sensing a new presence in the house. He seems to be very loyal to you,”

She could see Damian move and some of the tension leave his face. She offered a small smile at the frowning boy. “I’m hardly a threat,” she added finally, her voice soft in the cold wind.

Damian swallowed and briefly glanced at Titus, who scampered towards him for pets. Looking up at Raven, his frown softened ever so lightly. “I apologize if it sounded like I was implying that,” he mumbled, his voice sounding just a little strained as if apologizing was not something he commonly did.

Raven hummed. “It’s alright. We always try to be protective over the ones we care for,” she said.

Damian cleared his throat. Looking away, he turned his attention back to Titus. It seemed like that conversation was now over. Raven would settle with whatever she could get from the boy.

They continued to watch as Titus enjoyed the snow, sniffing at the bushes and barking at stones. The silence was soon pierced with the sound of a loud crash and something heavy hitting ice and water. Louds screams filled the air.

Raven and Damian straightened, alert. They watched as the wooden docks gave way and parts of it disappeared into the lake. A name rang through the air, and they watched the outlines of two people wave frantically by the shore. Someone had fallen in.

Raven shoved her phone into Damian’s hands as they started with a run towards the lake. “Call Tim and the others. We need to help now,”

Damian scowled. “You’re not going in there. I can –”

Raven stopped and glared at Damian, halting the boy. Her Titan authority suddenly taking over, and she frowned. “They need help. That water is below zero, do as I say, now.”

She barely heard Damian make the call as she sprinted towards the couple, adding a little bit more force into her run. She couldn’t teleport, that would have been a risk to her identity and the rest of the family. She could do this rescue manually.

“My name is Rachel. What happened?” Raven breathed, reaching the couple by the docks. It was a middle-aged man and woman, both looking frantically at the remains of the docks. There were shrill cries coming from the middle of the lake, just past the remaining wooden beams of the docks.

“Maggie!” breathed woman, frantic. “The whole docks gave way and she fell in!”

The man, who looked like he was in a middle of a phone call with the fire department shot her a frantic look. “She’s five!”

Raven pulled off her bonnet, gloves, and scarf and thrust them to the frantic woman. “Here, she’ll need these when we get back,” she said. Not sparing another glance at the frantic couple, Raven took a running start towards the remaining wooden beams and jumped, easily landing on the standing wooden beam. It creaked under her weight, and she ignored the sounds of water and ice hitting the beams. The beam lurched as she shifted her weight to jump to the next support beam, nearly slipping on its frozen mossy surface.

She heard water splashing and weak cries for help up head. Raven knew she had to pull out the girl soon before hypothermia would set in. Jumping onto the last few support beams that stood out at odd angles in the freezing water, Raven stopped at the last one that leaned heavily to the right, barely above water. There was still about three meters of a distance between Raven and the little girl with some wood floating in between them. There was no way to pull her in from where she stood. She had to swim towards the girl. Well, fuck.

“Help!”

“Maggie!” Raven called, heart pounding in her chest in anticipation of the freezing water. She hated cold showers. This was going to be terrible. “I’m coming for you. Don’t worry!”

“Help,” Raven heard the little girl whimper. With a sharp intake of breath, Raven carefully slid down the upturned support beam and plunged into the icy water. She gasped as her muscles initially froze at the icy sensation. Her chest seized at the freezing temperatures and the wind momentarily knocked out of her. Holy fucking shit. Raven screwed her eyes shut and willed her muscles to move as cold water slapped her face. Hearing the soft whimpers up ahead, Raven pushed forward and quickly swam towards the girl.

“Maggie, hold on,” Raven called, she swore she felt her teeth clatter in the cold. Using a bit of her powers, she swam faster through the water, knocking away the large planks in her way. Raven panicked as the whimpers seemed the grow softer as she approached and Maggie seemed to slowly sag against the large wooden plank she had been holding on to.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” Raven surged forward and watched as the little girl seemed to have fallen asleep and slip into the water. Gasping, Raven lurched forward and dove straight into the water. Spotting the small pink body in the murky lake water, Raven quickly grabbed the little girl and broke through the surface gasping for air.

“Maggie, hey, Maggie,” Ignoring the biting cold and how her winter clothes weighed her down, Raven wrapped the little girl closer to her body and patted the girl’s bright rosy cheeks as she spluttered and gasped against her shoulder. Raven allowed the little girl to gasp and recollect herself against her shoulder and she listened to Maggie whimper and wheeze loudly.

“I got you,” Raven whispered and wrapped her arms tightly around the little girl. Craning her neck, she faced Maggie and pushed wild red curls away from the girl’s face. “Hey, I’m Rachel. Let’s go back to shore, okay?”

“It’s so cold,” the little girl whimpered, and Maggie’s arms tightened around Raven. She began to sniffle and cry softly. “I want mommy,”

Raven continued to thread in the freezing water, keeping herself and the little girl afloat. Rubbing her hand soothingly across the girl’s back, she nodded. “Your mommy’s back on shore, we’ll get you there in no time,” she assured. Looking over the girl’s shoulder, she caught sight of the frantic parents back on shore. Damian was with them talking on the phone with an alert Titus at his feet. She waved her hand in the air. “Got her!”

It was a bit of distance from where they were to the shore with a thin sheet of ice covering the lake water. She would have to break through the ice as she’d swim towards the shore. It should be easy enough, Raven thought. The little girl shivered into her neck as Raven started to swim to shore, pressing the little girl into her.

“It shouldn’t take us too long,” assured Raven, as she used her right hand to push them through the water. The little girl pressed into her chest, whimpering in response. Using her fist and forearm, Raven punched into the thin layer of ice as she pressed through the ice. “You’ll get lots of hot chocolate after this,” Raven assured. “That sounds good, right?” her voice strained slightly at the cold. Her body groaned in protest as the icy water continued to stab her muscles. The little girl nodded into her neck and whimpered. Good, at least she was still pretty responsive.

“Rachel!”

Raven looked up from pressing through ice to watch Tim, Dick, Bruce, Cass, and Jason rush towards where Damian and the parents were. Cass and Tim were carrying heavy blankets while Jason was carrying a rescue buoy.

“Hold on!” Jason called from shore. Raven stopped swimming and watched as he twisted his body and forcefully threw the rescue buoy across the lake. The red ring was attached to a rope and Raven watched as it flew through the air before dropping onto the ice and skidding towards her. Using her powers discreetly underwater, she helped the buoy slide towards them. “Got it!” she called as her cold fingers wrapped around the red ring.

“Here, Maggie,” she shifted the little girl and slipped the ring securely around Maggie’s shivering form. “I need you to wrap your arms the ring, okay?” Raven watched as the little girl whimpered and she swam closer to the buoy and wrapped her arm around the girl’s shivering form. “You got this. I’m right here, I’ll push us through. My friends are going to pull us back to shore, okay? I’ll break through the ice so it’ll be easier for us, okay?” Raven pushed some red curls from the girl’s face. “Ready?”

“Okay,” Maggie whimpered. Not really wanting to waste any more time, Raven nodded and turned back to Jason and the rest. She tugged the rope. “Go!”

Raven felt Jason tug the rope and they lurched forward easily. Keeping her hand firmly pressed into Maggie’s back, Raven swam next to her and used her arm to press through the thin layer of ice to avoid any hard ice hitting the little girl. Her muscles groaned in protest and the felt the ice bite her skin.

“Maggie, baby!”

Raven groaned and pushed the buoy with a little bit more force as they closed in on shore and her feet started to feel the ground. Maggie started crying again at the sight of her parents and with a low grunt, Raven pushed the ring forward to shore. She heard Bruce bark out orders to grab the girl and Raven’s legs slipped under her as she pushed the girl towards the shore and within reach to a waiting Jason and Dick.

“Oh my god, my baby. Thank you so much, thank you. Oh Maggie!” Arms were flying around as everyone made a grab for the little girl and the mother continued to sob in the rush. Raven slipped in the water as she lost her footing and her knees hit the ground. Weighed down by her clothes and her frozen limbs, Raven clambered back to her feet and gasping for breath as the cold seemed to finally register.

“Rae,”

She felt gloved hands wrap around her wrist and pull her out of the water. She gasped as the cold air seemed to bite into her body. She tumbled into a warm solid body and her arms instinctively wrapped around Tim, immediately recognizing his warm press of emotions and his scent. She shivered as arms wrapped around her and a heavy blanket was pressed around her. She felt hands rub up and down her back as she continued to shiver into Tim. “Maggie,” she whispered, trying to look over Tim’s shoulder to where Bruce was assisting the parents. She heard muffled crying and the distant sound of an approaching ambulance.

“Maggie okay,” said Cass, hands pressed into Raven’s back to keep the blanket from sliding off her shoulders as she and Tim tried to rub some warmth into Raven.

Tim’s fingers dug into her body and he pressed her closer. “They’ll be okay, you did great, Rae.” He whispered and pressed a kiss into her cold temple. “Let’s get you back home for a hot bath,”

The trek back to the house was a blur to Raven as Tim and Cass practically pushed her back to the house with Damian and Titus on their heels while Dick, Jason, and Bruce remained by the docks to help the family and talk to the lake management regarding the docks. Cocooned in the warmth of the thick heavy blankets, Tim gently steered her into their large bathroom, warm already from the hot bath that Alfred may have already drawn for her.

“Strip,” Tim said after closing the door behind him and gently peeling off the blanket from her body and unzipping her drenched jacket. Raven hummed in protest at the cold, but lethargically complied as her healing powers slowly worked on healing her from the cold that seemed to have seeped into her bones. She shivered when warm hands pressed into her bare shoulders and hip, directing her into the excessively large bathtub.

“I’m fine,” she grumbled but allowed herself to be gently pushed into the tub. Tim snorted, sounding very unimpressed and helped her climb into the tub. Raven sighed loudly as the comfortably hot water wrapped around her freezing body and she instinctively closed her eyes and allowed herself to sink lower into lavender scented bubbles. Her tense muscles eased, and she slowly felt the cold leave her as she leaned comfortably against the tub and allowed bubbles to tickle her nose and chin.

“I’ll go get you some tea,” Tim said, and Raven heard him stand up from where he sat momentarily on the tub ledge, just watching her. She cracked open her eyes lazily, muscles more relaxed and significantly less cold as she watched him stand and make his way to the door.

“Aren’t you going to join me?” she asked, her gaze drifting over the bubbles and watching Tim curiously.

Tim blinked as his hand settled at the doorknob. He raised an eyebrow at her, lips curling up lightly, and the worry that settled around his shoulders lifted a fraction of an inch. “My entire family is downstairs, Raven,” he said, tone light. “I’ll get you some tea,”

Raven rolled her eyes and raised her right hand out of the water, lazily draping it over the ceramic tub and beckoning him to come closer. Lavender scented bubbles slid down her hand and onto the floor as she waved her hand in a beckoning motion. “I’m not asking you to have sex, Tim,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Though, it’d be a nice reward,” her eyes danced in amusement as Tim snorted.

“Come sit with me,” her hand slipped back into the warm water, and she slid a little deeper into the tub as her muscles groaned in protest. “Please?”

Caving at her request, Tim smiled and made quick work to lock the bathroom door. Raven lazily watched him take off his clothes, silently appreciating the way his muscles moved at every movement. Tim caught her triumphant smile behind the bubbles and he playfully rolled his eyes as he approached the tub. “Shut up, you,” he murmured playfully and gently nudged her forward to slip into the tub behind her. Water sloshed around in the tub dangerously as they settled in together and Tim leaned against the tub wall, gathering Raven in his arms. They both released content sighs.

“What a morning,” Tim breathed into her hair while gently running his fingers along her arm.

Raven hummed in agreement. She shifted in his arms, her fingers curling into his biceps. “I hope the little girl will be alright,” she whispered.

“I’m sure she’s fine. B was there to take care of everything.” Tim said. He leaned forward and kissed her temple, pleased to find that she had significantly warmed up. “You did great,”

She hummed again, silently glad that she decided to go on that walk with Damian and Titus. Who knew what might have happened to Maggie? Allowing the warmth of the bathwater and Tim’s presence to wrap around her, Raven felt herself slowly relax and settle comfortably against Tim’s chest as the last of her adrenaline left her body.

“I think I deserve a reward,” Raven hummed, fingers curling into Tim’s biceps as she leaned into him. Her emotions purred lowly, still coming off the adrenalin and looking for a little release. Arching into him just the right way, she felt his body respond immediately and his thighs pressed into her hips.

“Raven,” Tim said warningly, knowing full well where this was going. He felt her shift against him, soft curves brushing against his thighs and chest. A soft warmth immediately pressed low in his abdomen, and he sighed softly into her hair and squeezed her shoulders.

“What?” Tim could hear her smile in her voice. Digging his fingers into her shoulders as he kept her wrapped close to him, he pressed a kiss to her temple. “My family is downstairs,”

Raven hummed and titled her head up, a languid smile stretched across her lips as she knew she already won. She felt his erection press into her lower back, and she eagerly pushed her ass into him. “The silencing spell is still up,” she whispered and pressed a soft kiss underneath his chin.

“Raven,” Tim sighed as his resolve broke when he felt her move against him and press another tantalizing kiss into his neck. He groaned as Raven stretched across his chest, placing her head onto his left shoulder, and her breasts teasingly peaking out of the water. Releasing his hold around her shoulders, his hands slid down her chest and gently cupped her breast, fingers sliding over hard buds. He heard Raven sigh in pleasure, head tipping back in delight.

“I’m not sure if sex in a bathtub is safe,” mumbled Tim and watched Raven close her eyes, relishing the soft ministration across her breasts. Nimble fingers slid over her nipples, stroking and tweaking the hard buds. He listened to her sigh in pleasure and he eagerly watched the emotions on her face – he always enjoyed watching her openly show her emotions, it was a thrill to watch knowing only he could milk these ripples of emotions from her.

Raven released a soft sigh and looked up at Tim with hooded eyes. Shifting in his arms, she spread her legs underwater and draped them over his toned legs. The tub was wide enough for enough movement for both of them. Arching into him and relishing the tantalizing feeling of being spread out in front of him to do as he pleased, she felt heat pool low in her abdomen. “I’m sure we can do enough,” she mumbled. She sighed as one of his hands slid down her stomach and teasingly trekked towards her center. She released a soft keen as his hand cupped her fully, fingers pressing into her and she jerked into his hand. As fingers began to softly stroke her, she gave him a languid smile. “And if we’re not yet done, you can bend me over the sink and fuck my brains out,” she said teasingly.

Tim groaned, his last strands of restraint breaking at her teasing. Feeling his blood roar, Tim slid his hand up her neck and tilted her head for a greedy kiss. It was sloppy and hot as tongues slid against each other at the strained angle and Tim eagerly drank every whimper and groan that he milked from her. His fingers underwater worked their magic, slipping into her hot center and stoking a hot fire within her.

Raven bucked into his hand, eagerly chasing the pleasure and release and teasingly brushing against his own hard erection. Raven released a soft keen, as she felt Tim’s fingers dance all over her body, stroking her heat and pushing her gently towards the edge. Being so openly splayed in front of him – legs spread wide over his strong legs and her back pressed into his chest – and allowing him to stroke, probe, nip and twist as he pleased simply burned her heightened emotions. It was a sin how well he knew how to draw out every last bit of desire from her.

“Ah, Tim,” she whispered, as teeth scraped hungrily against her pulse point and two fingers eagerly stoked a burning fire within her. His nimble fingers were magic.

She tittered so closely to the edge, her adrenaline and emotions sizzling under her skin, as Tim expertly drove her towards oblivion. “Please,” she whispered and screwed her eyes shut as her sensations went into overdrive – warm water lapping against her heated skin, fingers pushing her over the edge, and teeth scraping over her skin.

Tim released a soft groan, unable to hold back as his own desires seemed to sizzle dangerously underneath his skin. With low growl and curse, he pulled out his fingers from her and ignored the whimper of protest. Sitting up, he pulled her up with him and wrapped his arms around her waist and hoisted her up his chest and with a few quick movements – water sloshing over the tub – he took his throbbing member and slipped into her, reverse cowgirl style.

“Fuck,” Tim growled into her hair and listened to Raven’s soft keen of pleasure as his grip around her waist tightened and he pumped into her, stroking her hungrily and catching her own erratic thrusts. Their thrusts were hurried, each roll of their hips hungrier than the last, as they tittered so dangerously close to the edge of no return.

Raven released a strangled cry as fingers danced over her clit and her movements melted into erratic thrusts. She felt her whole body erupt into an inferno as her adrenaline stoked her desires and continued to feed of Tim’s own pleasure. She felt her whole world disappear as she tumbled over the cliff and her whole body seemed to erupt in inexplicable pleasure as Tim expertly steered her through the inferno.

Tim came quickly with her as his world exploded and he released loud moan into her neck, Raven’s name a soft mantra against her skin as he continued to pump into her and extended their high. Their movements were frantic and sloppy, as they milked every last inch of pleasure.

The world seemed to slowly come back to her as Raven slumped against Tim in exhaustion, her emotions purring and the heat in her abdomen so pleasantly warm and sated. She gasped, catching her breath and listened to Tim’s own labored breathing.

Tim wrapped his arms around her and carefully slipped out of her, shuddering at the sensation of loss. He carefully wrapped her in his arms, they settled comfortably against the tub, both trying to catch their breath and allowing their heartbeat to come to normal.

“Told you we could do enough,” Raven whispered teasingly, fingers wrapping around his forearms that settled across her chest and she gave him soft squeeze.

Tim chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “My knees are on fire,” he commented breathlessly. He kissed her cheek at her amused chuckle. “Totally worth it though,”

“Let’s see if we can try the bathroom sink tonight,” he added playfully as an afterthought.

#Tim Drake #Raven #Teen Titans #TimRae #TimRae 2021 Year of Smut and Steam #TimRae Fanfiction #Fanfiction #Teen Titans Fanfiction #Young Justice #Batman

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hypfic · 3 years

Text

After Facing the Wall

so.... that DH vs BB live huh... if you haven’t seen the live I don’t think this really spoils anything since it’s pretty ambiguous, but if you’re trying to avoid any mention of it, avert your eyes!

I wrote this as a completely self indulgent drabble at first, but then I kept going and the next thing I knew, I was four pages deep in Ichiro love... When I first got into hypmic I wasn’t a big fan of Buster Bros, but now?? Oh boy now they’re tied for first with Fling Posse.... and Ichiro... I love him so much and want to hold his hand....

(I was supposed to finish working on chapter 3 of IKOT109 yesterday but I did this instead... chapter 3 should be done soon! she’s a long one!)

☆♬○♩●♪✧♩　　♩✧♪●♩○♬☆

You’re laying in bed half awake after watching the broadcast of today’s DRB. Unfortunately, you were stuck at home with a cold as the brothers went off to battle.

You were just dozing off when the front door to the apartment creaked open. Rubbing drowsiness from your eyes, you grabbed your glasses from the nightstand and shuffled out of the bedroom. You stood silently in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the framing as the three brothers briefly discussed the night’s events. Ichiro glanced up and caught your eyes, smiling weakly at you. He was hurting, the opponent he faced today, that the three of them faced today, was greater than any boss before.

You walked over and gave the two younger bros a hug, holding them tight and expressing your pride. After ruffling Jiro and Saburo’s hair, you sat next to Ichiro. You reached down and took his hand in yours, leaning into his side and kissing his cheek. As he continued to talk with his brothers, you rested your head on his shoulder, tracing circles around his bruised knuckles. You didn’t say anything, you didn’t need to, just being there was enough.

The brothers’ conversation gradually lagged and the two of you were soon alone. Ichiro sighed and kissed the top of your head, squeezing your hand for reassurance. You knew that this… this was all a lot for him. An old friend and teammate, and his father…. He had so much in his mind. You looked up at him and kissed his furrowed brow, reaching over to wipe the forming tears from his eyes.

“Hey, let’s go upstairs, ok? Lay in bed and cuddle, alright? Hmm?”

Ichiro nodded, eyes still focused on the wall in front of him. You tugged him up by his sleeve and didn’t let go of his hand until the two of you were in his room. As soon as the door closed behind you, Ichiro pulled you into his arms in a tight embrace, burying his face in the top of your hair. You wrapped your arms around his waist as he held you tight, head resting over his heart. You swore you could hear it bleed and break.

The two of you held each other close, simply basking in the safety and comfort of the other’s arms. You felt a few tears dampen your hair, you pulled Ichiro even closer.

He pulled away after allowing the moment to linger. He looked tired, empty, uncertain. You stood on your toes and moved a hand to cup his cheek, sweetly kissing his lips. Ichiro smiled meekly at you, leaning down and pressing your foreheads together. He let out a weighted sigh as he reached for your hands again. You could feel his tremble.

It was hard for Ichiro to uphold the strong, unbreakable front he presented. This was especially so when it came to his family… his brothers. You’d watched the three of them grow so much since their previous loss, yet this battle seemed to hurt even more.

You couldn’t begin to imagine what your boyfriend was thinking. What he was feeling. Rei’s cutting words haunted your mind, but you only experienced them second hand. Ichiro… Ichiro was in the direct line of fire. To be spoken to like that by the man that’s caused him so much hurt… you couldn’t wrap your head around how Ichiro must feel.

You pecked his lips again and tugged him towards the bed, pulling him into your lap as you sat down. Ichiro liked to be held, and you loved to hold him. Even though you were much smaller than the man in your arms, your presence and embrace was immensely comforting.

Ichiro sat up for a moment and removed his jacket, tossing it to the floor before settling back in your arms. He laid his head on your chest, breathing in sync to the drumming of your heartbeat.

You ran your fingers through his hair, humming a tune softly as his hand made their home around your waist.

“Ichi,” you said softly.

“Hmm?”

“I’m really proud of you,” you swallowed back tears, halting your hand and bringing your face down into his hair. It smelled like sweat and smoke, with the lingering hint of his stupid, fruity shampoo. “You and the bros did so well. You especially, I guess I’m a bit biased but,” you moved your hand from Ichiro’s hair to wipe away tears. “You’ve grown so much, and I think everyone can see that. You’re so strong, and you held your ground the entire time. I think he underestimated you and you rose way above his expectations…”

Ichiro shuffled out of your arms to face you, smiling softly as he took your hands. He brought them up to his lips and kissed your knuckles, tracing the curves with his thumbs after placing your linked hands in his lap. You knew if you looked at him, both of you would burst into tears so you stared at your linked hands.

He scooted closer to you and let go of your hands, reaching over and holding your face. You had no choice but to look up at him and wobbly smile, the flooding feeling of tears in the back of your throat.

Ichiro’s eyes were misty when he looked at you, a few tears slipping down his cheek. “Thank you, y/n. For everything. For being here, for supporting me, for supporting Jiro and Saburo too. I don’t know if they express it enough but they love you just as much as I do, they see you as a part of our family,” he leaned down and kissed your lips. “I think I love you just a bit more though. But, I don’t think we’d be anywhere close to where we are today if it wasn’t for you.”

“Don’t say that…. I’m sure you would. All of the progress the three of you have made has nothing to do with me.”

Your boyfriend shook his head. “You might not think it, but you inspire us, inspire me to be better. After all my bros and I have been through together…. I’ve always wanted to be the best for them. To provide for them and protect them, especially after that incident years ago. But, every day they show me that maybe I’m the one who needs protecting. They always have my back and put so much faith in me, I don’t think they know how much faith I have in them.” Ichiro paused. “After you stumbled into my life and in turn into theirs, I think I relaxed more, allowed myself to rely on my family for advice and support. I know I say this a lot but I was terrified to ask you out,” he blushed, “But the two of them insisted that I try and I’m so glad they did. You brought in something we could think about that wasn’t work or division related, and that allowed us to relax and focus on ourselves… I’m forever grateful for that.”

You didn’t realise that tears started running down your cheeks. “I-Ichi….”

Ichiro smiled and kissed your forehead, brushing your tears away with his thumb. “I love you, baby, so damn much.”

“Yeah the ‘kyun’ really gave it away,” You teased with a giggle, cheeks flushed.

“Ah… yeah, I…” he stammered.

You laughed, leaning up and kissing him. “It was cute~ it made my heart jump.”

“Oh my god, it’s really not that big of a deal babe I-“ Ichiro huffed, cheeks red.

“But seriously, Ichiro. You guys did so well, I’m just sad I couldn’t have been there to cheer you on from the crowd…. stupid cold,” you pouted.

“Well, think of it this way, you cheer me on every day no matter where you are, just by being here with me.”

“Ichi that was disgustingly sappy and adorable I’m going to vomit.”

He laughed, “Says the one who was kissing me all over and expressing how proud they were of me,” Ichiro paused and looked at your shirt. “And wearing my Miku t-shirt.” Ichiro flicked your forehead.

“Hey! It’s comfy ok? And I missed you and it smells like your cologne….” You blushed.

“Oi, are you two done being gross and look decent?” Jiro knocked on the door. “.... Can Saburo and I come in?”

Ichiro looked at you and smiled before patting his lap in invitation. You climbed into his lap and sank into his embrace as he wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your head.

“Come on in, boys,” you called out with a smile. “You want in on this, Jiro-chan?” You smirked as Jiro fake gagged at the sight of you in his brother’s lap.

The two younger brothers stood in the doorway timidly, Saburo holding onto the back of Jiro’s sleeve. They both had a look of physical and emotional exhaustion on their faces.

“Alright, come on, in the hug you go,” you opened your arms wide with a smile.

You could practically see their hearts swell with joy before they threw themselves on the bed. Tears fell on their lashes as you and Ichiro pulled them in tight. Your eyes looked back and met Ichiro’s. His gaze was filled with love and charity. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

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paper-n-ashes · 3 years

Text

sparks and embers - chapter 3

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Chapter 3 - The Return

Words: 4k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: medical descriptions and procedures, some sexual themes - mainly in the form of OC being thirsty AF

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

On the way back from the East village, filled with the Gossams, humans and other alien species who had similarly escaped to a simpler life, I couldn’t help but curse at myself for giving in so easily to the pleas of a good-looking stranger.

Aiding someone merely for their physical appearance? How horribly unprofessional.

The voice in the back of my mind was loud. And curiously judgemental.

It had been over a full day cycle since I’d departed the clinic, making Poe vow to remain within the confines of his bed until I had returned. I’d left him with enough food for two days of my travelling, hygiene supplies, a drip running slowly for some pain relief and range of tools for him to attempt getting BB-8 up and running, hoping he wouldn’t have any reason to struggle getting out of bed.

The thought of his still fragile femur bone breaking and splitting the artery I’d spent all my energy on mending was beyond frightening. I worried about him every minute I was awake, imagining any number of complications that would leave me a corpse to find when I arrived back.

Bleeding, clots, stroke, infection, sepsis.

It wasn’t easy to slip those thoughts from my mind in the lone starkness of the Raxus countryside. There wasn’t really anything to look at except grass and sky, nothing to distract me from the worst case scenarios.

I’d convinced some of my old patients to join my cause, promising them better medicine and equipment if I was only able to have a comm-tower to order everything I needed. It didn’t seem like lying. The comm-tower really was my only link to the rest of the galaxy, and I would have needed it fixed anyway. Only now, time seemed to be more of the essence.

After spending the night amongst the locals I had grown to be familiar with over the last few years, I’d begun the trek back with the knowledge at least one problem had been solved. Some promised spare parts, others were going to follow my path within the next day cycle to get my comm-link back online. I hadn’t divulged all the story, at least not the part about this repair job apparently being a determining factor in the fate of the galaxy.

I hadn’t pressed Poe about what that meant exactly. I was used to the Resistance and their soldiers having somewhat of a flair for the dramatic when it came to war, after healing many of their battle wounds in years past. I knew how fervently they believed in their cause - that they were the only thing standing between galaxy wide harmony and First Order dictatorship.

I understood their hope of peace in our lifetime, but I’d lost mine a long time ago. Good, bad, they were just two sides of a coin that would flip for eternity, desperately chasing power for their own reasons.

In truth, I didn’t particularly care. I just hoped to live my life somewhat free from the burden of picking a side.

Before unlocking the clinic door, my feet aching from hiking for 6 straight hours, I drew in a long breath with a silent prayer I wouldn’t be walking in to find a dead body. With a fluid motion I turned the handle and pushed the door open, my head popping in first around the entryway to where Poe’s hospital bed stood. He immediately heard the latch clicking and shot his head up to meet with my eyes.

“You’re back,” he smiled, as I noted how much colour had returned to his face during my absence.

He looked so much better.

For the first time, I found myself studying his face, my stare tracing from his strong angular jawline to his high cheekbones, the prominence of his nose, the whiskey colour of his large cheerful eyes, his tousled deep brown hair. Then I took in his wide grin, shapely pink lips curled upwards to show perfectly set white teeth.

Stars, he’s so handsome.

In the muddle of memories I’d conceived from the night of his crash I’d not recognised, at least not during the time I was struggling to keep him alive, how attractive he was. And now with his health a far better picture than the last time I’d seen him, it was all I could notice. My heart quivered through a beat as he beamed at me, soon realising his smile was more a reflection of the prospective good news I brought with my return, making it settle back into a normal rhythm.

“Hi,” I breathed, walking closer and setting my pack down at the foot of the hospital bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he answered, “The smaller burns are almost gone, and my chest wound is closed, look!” He pulled up the grey hospital shirt I’d managed to change him into before I had to leave. This time when I saw the nakedness of his chest and abdomen I couldn’t help but stare at his softly defined muscles, all tensing during his movement. He was right, the hole below his rib now sealed, a newly-formed, pink scar in its place. The chest tube was still secured above it, now redundant.

“Gotta love bacta,” I hummed. “I can take that drain out now if you like.”

He looked at me incredulously. “You’ve just done a 30 hour round trip for me, not even sat down, and you want to dive head first into more treatment?”

“I... uh... I mean... I just wanted to help you feel better,” I stammered.

Poe shook his head, smirking. “It’s okay, I appreciate it. Really, I do. But I’m alright, the tube can wait. How about you rest for a second and tell me how the mission- I mean, trip, went?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Two days ago you were begging me to get going so I couldn’t waste any time, now you’re telling me I can take a load off?”

"Uh, yeah… Sorry about that,” he grimaced. “Having some time to think while you were gone... It made me realise everything you’d done and were doing for me - a stranger you had no reason to help." Poe took a long exhale before speaking again, his tone serious. "I was in a lot of pain, just woken up in a strange place. It’s still imperative to get a message back to the Resistance as soon as possible but... that’s not your burden to bear. I can't thank you enough for your help, but I'll try not to ask too much more of you.”

It seemed not only had his physical health improved, but logical thought and patience had returned.

I took my cue to sit on one of the opposite hospital beds, letting my feet dangle over the edge to kick my shoes off, feet pulsing with gratitude at their release. “There’s some villagers coming tomorrow,” I started. “They will hopefully have a new comm-tower up and running within the next couple of days. I told them about your droid too. There’s some spare parts in that bag.” I pointed my hand out to the satchel at Poe’s feet, glancing at the L shaped table beside his bed I’d set up. BB-8 was sitting on top of it, head and body still separated and now unbolted at separate points, wires haphazardly sticking out in different directions. Falling back into the mattress, I let out an exhausted sigh, relishing the feel of the squeaky mattress under my body.

“I really owe you. The Resistance owes you,” Poe praised after a few moments of silence, as I heard him begin to rummage through the satchel. I held back a frown, even when I knew he wouldn’t be able to catch sight of my face.

I didn’t do any of this for the Resistance.

It occurred to me then I wasn’t really sure why I’d done it at all. I had always been a sucker for those in poor predicaments, hence why I became a doctor in the first place. But the trek had nothing to do with treatment or medicine. It was purely at the behest of this pilot, who’s charming appearance in the dimmed orange light of the evening made my skin feel hot.

“So, how did a girl like you find herself in the middle of nowhere on the Outer Rim?” Poe questioned, fiddling with some of the parts.

I sat back up. “I’m not a girl. I’m 28. That’s a little too old to be called girl anymore.”

Poe chuckled, the sound of his laugh both warming and positively thrilling. “I apologise. How did a woman like you end up here?”

“I used to work on Coruscant, that’s where I started my medical training,” I explained, remembering the glittering planet I’d spent much of my young life on. “Then moved into the war relief efforts on medical frigates scattered throughout the galaxy. Treating wounded soldiers day in day out took its toll, having people constantly injured and almost dying for a war they didn’t start.” I glanced to Poe's expression, seeing a glow of understanding behind his eyes before I continued. “Plus, there were more than a few times I felt a little redundant. The medical droids they have kind of... made my treatment obsolete. I wanted to practice medicine in a place where adequate health care was rare or non-existent. I wanted to help those who were most desperate, who otherwise couldn’t afford it, those who would actually value the care of a live human doctor. So I picked a planet at random, and settled here."

The random part was an utter lie. No one had cared about Raxus since the Clone Wars, and the First Order wouldn’t make it their priority to conquer Outer Rim worlds for a while yet. It was a quiet, calm planet with countless refugees fleeing here to make peaceful new lives. They wouldn’t be concerned about old, rusty equipment, lower quality bacta or no medical droids. They would simply be happy at having a doctor within a day’s trek.

And no one would think of looking here for a Force user.

Poe studied me in quiet thought for a moment, taking in what I’d divulged. “Well, they're damn lucky, with how nicely you patched me up. You’d run circles around some of the doctors and medical droids at the Resistance base.” He grinned at me again, earnestly, another attempt to thank me for my work. I felt the pit of my stomach tense, and it wouldn’t retreat, the thought of his smile lingering in my mind even after he’d gone back to his tinkering.

It had to be because I’d been in isolation for so long, why I was reacting so strongly to the innocent smiles and compliments of a man I barely knew. I definitely wasn’t used to conversing with men so close in age to my own. Most of the local humans were older, married with children, and I rarely made conversation around any other topic than their illnesses.

“What... uh... Why were you flying over Raxus?” I asked awkwardly.

His eyebrows creased together as he looked back at me. “Raxus wasn’t my destination, but I... can’t tell you any more than that.”

“Oh…”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he urged. “It’s just, you know, highly confidential.” He seemed apologetic, like he owed me more of an explanation.

I nodded, agreeing the less I knew about the Resistance and their missions the better. “Well, you’ll be able to get back to it in a couple of days,” I insisted, breaking the awkward silence that had lingered. “Some time and a little bit more bacta and you’ll be like new again.”

“Actually, speaking of that,” he started, an uneasy expression now settling in his features. “I was wondering when you were thinking of letting me get out of this bed.”

“Depends on the reason Poe. I’d recommend starting your formal rehab tomorrow at the absolute earliest, otherwise we can get you up and walking if you need to do something… uh… specific.” There was no hiding the waver in my voice.

He laughed, louder than he had before, the sound making it difficult for me not to blush. “Aren’t you a doctor? Why are you embarrassed for me to use the bathroom?”

“Hey!” I frowned. “I was trying to save you from being embarrassed.”

He shook his head, still chuckling. “I’m alright on that front for now. I was actually hoping to use your refresher. It’s been a few days…”

“Oh of course!” I’d cleaned him up as much as I could before I’d left, getting rid of his obliterated flight suit and helping change into the bland hospital outfit I reserved for overnighters, but even to myself the idea of a shower was enticing.

A thought flashed into my mind of steaming water hitting Poe’s sun darkened skin, trickling down his toned body as he lathered himself in soap suds.

Woah.

Okay.

That was new.

It had been such a long time since I’d felt the fire of blood rushing to the lower portion of my abdomen, insides clenching at the heat so suddenly ignited.

Poe was looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue. I internally shook away the incriminating thoughts before they could be conveyed on my face. “How about I get that chest tube out first? Then I can help you to the ‘fresher?”

He breathed out in relief. “That would be fantastic.”

I stepped lightly off the hospital bed, walking shoe-less over to my medical trolley to drag it back to Poe’s side. And immediately, without me asking, he sat up and began a haphazard attempt to pull off his shirt, left arm bandaged and stiff, right arm enveloped in the cast I’d made and evidently still painful to move.

In a wordless reply, I helped him pull the fabric over his head, confronted with the image of a half-naked, strikingly handsome man in front of me.

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t recognised any of his raw allure when he’d been almost stripped completely bare by my own hands on the night of his crash. It seemed bizarre I wouldn’t have noted the strong, broadness of his shoulders, his armoured chest littered deliciously with dark hair, carved abdominal muscles tensed in waiting.

I swallowed hard, hoping Poe wouldn’t register my shaking hands as I prepared the tube removal kit. Snipping the sutures around the plastic, unsteady gloved fingers pulled out the tube as smoothly as I could manage, Poe flinching slightly at the sensation. He continued to look away as I injected some bacta gel into the wound, sealing it closed with a few new sutures and placing a waterproof dressing over the site.

“All done,” I settled. “Like nothing happened at all.”

Poe looked back to me and smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was obvious he remained troubled by the memories of his crash, and understandably so. I’d seen the same look in many other military personnel, the attempt to put on a brave face when images of fire, blood and terror pierced their thoughts. I desperately wanted to take his mind to a brighter place. “So, ready to try walking?”

“Absolutely! Lead the way doc.”

Ugh. Eventually I would have to correct him on that.

I stepped back from the side of the bed, arms stretched in readiness for when he inevitably stumbled. “Please take it slowly. Your muscles aren’t going to be pleased with what you’re doing after over two days of bed rest.”

“Sure thing,” Poe scoffed.

Typical male.

Initially he seemed to take my direction, moving his legs slowly from under the blanket, pain now registering on his features. He swivelled himself sluggishly to let his legs fall over the side of the mattress, breathing slightly heavier to push through the discomfort.

He was leaning more on his left side, right arm hovering over his thigh. Tentatively, he slipped his left foot onto the floor and shifted his weight onto it, pushing his hand into the mattress to help himself up.

Soon he was standing in front of me for the first time since we’d met, and even amongst all the burns, bruises, dressings and bandages, he looked impossibly strong, toned muscles wrapping his form.

He noticed the timid smile form on my lips.

“Hey don’t start laughing at me. I don’t think I could handle my ego being bruised along with the rest of me.”

“Oh... I wasn’t-,” I stumbled, quietly relieved he’d misread the reason behind my smirk.

He held his hand up in protest, grinning. “I was kidding. You’re welcome to laugh at the adult sized toddler learning to walk again.”

It was difficult not to snicker at his words. “Come on,” I encouraged. “Just think of how nice that hot water will feel.”

He sighed in agreement and moved, taking a hesitant step onto the previously fractured leg. I swiftly froze with anxiety, even when the logical side of my brain told me both the break and the artery would have stabilised exponentially by now. But the emotional side, the part that remembered the rush of blood that had exploded from the wound site, nagged incessantly at me, insisting that this was a very bad idea.

My eyes were glued to Poe’s figure as he shifted his weight deliberately, muscles tensing at the trigger of pain he was likely feeling, before he made a delicate hop to move back onto his left leg.

Even that one haggard step appeared to take a lot out of him, but he seemed determined, eyebrows already wrinkled in concentration. He continued the process a few times over, my arms still poised in waiting for the foreseeable stumble as I walked backwards. I couldn’t help but hold my breath as he limped, following me out of the clinic room into the hallway that lead to my office, the ‘fresher, and my living quarters all the way at the end.

His steps became faster, more confident, when all of a sudden, his balance wavered.

Reacting quickly, I stepped forward to catch him, arms circling under his own and around his torso, hands now gripping the muscles on his back as he crashed into me. I would have stayed there for a moment, my fingertips registering the warmth radiating off his skin, until I became fully aware where his face had fallen into.

I felt Poe’s heated exhale through the cotton of my white shirt after his face had collided into my chest, directly between my breasts. The twinge in my lower abdomen occurred again, breath hitching in my throat.

He scrambled to push himself back into a standing position, my arms releasing from around him, his hands clamping around my biceps as he fought to reclaim his steadiness again.

“I am so sorry!” he blurted, his face dangerously close to mine, only a small touch of redness visible under his caramel skinned cheeks. I knew my blushing would be much more pronounced.

“It’s okay,” I breathed. “I was waiting for that to happen.”

His eyes widened.

“Not that!” I yelped. “I meant you falling! I was waiting for you to fall!”

Poe’s face illuminated into a beaming grin. “Sure you did.”

I frowned in protest, but couldn’t stop the chuckle escaping. I shifted to face the same way as him, an arm curling around his torso, angling my body under his own. “How about I help you the rest of the way?”

His hand gripped onto my shoulder, the hardened squeeze making the tensing inside me ripple even faster.

Focus Alex.

Poe let me support him as he limped down the hallway, and I desperately tried to distance myself from the thoughts that swirled in my mind at being connected so closely.

Eventually we made it into the ‘fresher, a white and grey tiled room with the large, frameless shower enclosure taking up most of the space, the only privacy a plastic curtain that could be pulled across the entire spans of the room. I’d designed it with the idea there would be enough space to assist overnighter patient’s in washing themselves, since I didn’t have a nurse to do it for me. Yet, it still gave me the ability to provide some discretion by stepping out past the other side of the curtain, ready to swoop in if I was needed.

And that’s what I’d planned for Poe, knowing he was hardly the type of patient that was going to let me do anything for him if he could help it. Guiding him to the backless shower chair, I released him to his own devices and quickly pulled the curtain across. It was more for my own concealment at this point, needing to take a moment to settle myself down, the memory of his hold still lingering on my skin.

“I’ll be right here if you need any help okay? Everything you need will be on the shelf under the shower start button.”

“Thanks Alex,” he answered, his voice huffing out as I could hear he’d already started to shimmy down his pants.

Stop imagining it Alex. Stop thinking about him naked, a metre away, behind that thin curtain.

The sound of water rushing into the tile floor pulled me back into some impression of reality. I busied myself with organising my own hygienic supplies in the mirrored cupboard, desperately trying to think of anything other than the man hidden from my view, steam swirling around his figure, water dribbling down his bare skin. From behind the screen I heard a pleasant moan leave him, obviously enjoying the hot water battering into his aching muscles for the first time in days.

And with that sound I felt a twinge between my legs, heat swelling and rippling outwards through my body.

Stars, that was... hot.

It felt so unprofessional, to be tantalized by the thought of a man, a patient, in the middle of such a basic act of human hygiene. But I couldn’t deny he was more attractive than any patient I’d ever had in my life, and the thought of ripping open the curtain so I could join him was suddenly the most tempting thing in the galaxy.

I locked my hands onto the basin that stood in front of me, trying not to be overwhelmed by the sound of Poe lathering soap between his hands, then sliding over an unseen portion of his body.

It was then I started to pace, hoping the repetitive movement would stop me ruminating over the indecent notions my mind was conjuring. Minutes ticked by too slowly as I waited for him to finish his routine, begging for the irresistible pull of craving to be released from me.

“Hey Alex?” Poe suddenly called.

“What's wrong?” I squeaked, cursing at myself for sounding so startled.

“I actually need some help.”

Oh maker, why do you do this to me?

I swallowed hard. “Y-yeah. Sure. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he began, voice sounding a little forced. “It’s just... with my left arm still bandaged, and my right arm still in the cast, I can’t wash my hair. I know it’s a little strange, but could you help me out?”

My heart ricocheted inside my rib cage, frolicking at the thought of seeing him soaked in water, fingers raking through his dampened hair.

Come on Alex, try to keep at least one shred of professionalism.

“Sure,” I agreed, a more competent tone saturating my voice as I withheld my internal fluttering. “Make yourself… uh… decent, and I’ll open the curtain.”

I heard Poe’s movement as he reached for one of the towels hanging on the rail nearby and wrapped it around his lower body. The flowing water soon came to a stop, the sudden silence making me feel uneasy.

“Ready.”

I placed myself in front of the curtain between us, his stature only barely visible through the clouded screen. My jaw was locked as I took a deep breath through my nose, meditating in thought, frantically clawing at a sense of calm.

Then I reached towards the plastic, clenched my hand around it, and pulled.

Next Chapter

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 3 years

Text

Something Held | Feeding Habits Update #8

Hi all!

Not me not realizing it’s been 3 months since I posted a Feeding Habits update hahahahahaha. Today let’s chat chapter nine, SOMETHING HELD. This also marks the last chapter in Harrison’s POV so prepare to say goodbye to this icon! TW: body horror, mental illness, trauma

Just a reminder: This is my original work and plagiarism of any form will not be tolerated.

Scene outline, excerpts & a little reflection on making difficult decisions that my not particularly benefit the book but benefit you as the writer under the cut because this update is GIGANTIC.

General taglist (please ask to be added or removed):

@if-one-of-us-falls, @qatarcookie, @chloeswords, @alicewestwater, @laughtracksonata, @shylawrites, @ev–writes, @jaydewritesfiction, @jennawritesstories @eowynandfaramir, @august-iswriting, @aetherwrites

Scene Breakdown

Scene A:

It has been two weeks since Lonan found Harrison at his shared apartment with Suzanna and things are getting strange. Lonan and Suz are getting closer, Harrison is getting more distant and slowly losing it. One morning, Harrison wakes hearing Lonan and Suz’s laughter, and crawls to the kitchen to investigate. When he reaches them, Suz is evening out Lonan’s hacked haircut and they’re both sobbing.

Scene B:

Shortly after this bizarre encounter, Suzanna steps out of the apartment for a breather because her son is sort of terrifying her! So Lonan and Harrison double-team to clean up Lonan’s hair shavings. Harrison begins eating the hair while Lonan stares and they have a conversation about the state of their friendship.

Scene Ba:

This scene is gross and confusing! More hair is ingested. My god.

Scene Bb:

After the above ordeal, both boys rinse off because they’ve been rolling?? around?? in??? hair?? but also?? things don’t stop being a little gross

Scene C:

An air of calm finally settles over the apartment. Lonan brews earl grey tea for him and Harrison to share and Harrison asks if he abandoned Lonan in the final chapter of Moth Work. Lonan doesn’t really answer this question so Harrison continues on his confused, but finally lucid (one-sided) conversation, admitting he understands he burdens his mother, who still has not returned. They circle back to the question of abandonment and Lonan answers Harrison the way he wants to be answered (yes), and this is a moment of freeing, where he feels some sort of responsibility in this irresponsible new life he’s led in NYC. They sort of agree to be friends again.

Scene D:

The boys head into the city to find Suzanna, heading to a bakery near the Hudson River. Lonan drives in his used car, a strange experience since Harrison has not seen him drive in years. Taking the opportunity, he searches through the car and finds a map in the glove compartment. The map is erratically scribbled over and it takes him to moment to realize this is Lonan’s map and the first indication that Lonan, who he has assumed is this stable, perfect person, is not as unscathed as he seems.

The boys pass the waterfront and Lonan nearly crashes the car into an oncoming truck. Harrison regains control of the vehicle tucking them into a side street. Shaken, Lonan apologizes for the mess he’s created both physically from his nosebleed and between Harrison and his mother, which gets Harrison a little antsy because he doesn’t like the suggestion that he’s going to leave. Lonan clarifies, stating he won’t if that’s what Harrison wants.

Scene E:

Later, everyone is back at home and Harrison wakes up to a Lonan-less bed. He gets up to investigate the strange dripping coming from the bathroom and opens the door to find Lonan precariously teetering over a sink filled with water. Harrison, concerned, moves him away and tries to ask why Lonan is presumably going underwater, but doesn’t push. They both stand on opposite sides of the bathroom until the sun rises.

My process:

Honestly, writing this chapter was a huge up and down. The first half of it came much easier to me, but the rest was a literal hellfire to get through. I think I was incredibly fatigued with writing in Harrison’s POV as I’d been writing it since June (I finished this chapter in either December or January). This book has been a pain in the ass to write despite me liking what it is, and I really think it being the only place I’ve physically “gone” since the pandemic makes it even harder to write. I felt claustrophobic in Harrison’s POV since I’ve been writing it for half a year, and in a lil ~breakdown~ my beautiful sister reminded me of something she’d previously told me, “it's not about what works, it's about what you want”.

Let’s chat about this for a sec! I think I was watching a Harmony Nice video on her “hard-to-swallow” self-care, and she basically outline (I’m paraphrasing here) that it’s critical we care for ourselves in ways that might not necessarily be easy to do. Honestly, leaving Harrison’s POV is one of those hard-to-swallow self-care things I literally had to do because my mental health was not happy with me! Y’all know my boys are very close to me, and I’m not picking favourites but Lonan is 2500 times easier for me to write with at the moment. I think Harrison’s situation and how he deals with it is much too similar to mine but in a way that is difficult to place (Lonan and I are unfortunately similar but in a way that is easier for me to understand about myself!). From the beginning of writing his POV I’ve been in Struggleville, but kept pushing through hoping the next chapter would be “the one”. Not to burst my own bubble but there is no such thing in the state of mind I was in! I was pushing myself to find something that doesn’t exist because my brain was really not equipped to do what I needed it to do. I really, really did not want to quit on Harrison’s POV, but I had to, not because I don’t like him (he’s my baby) but because I needed a moment to myself. I felt way too seen in ways I don’t really know how to address in myself, so writing him was horribly frustrating at all times (my fault, not his).

My characters really do live in my head rent-free lol. They live in there! They take up space! They take up energy! They take up concentration, and resources I need for myself! Empathy is so integral to my process, that I give a little part of myself in everything I write. This is a blessing because I really get to dig my heels into the mind of another person, but a curse because I’m not a machine (and sometimes I forget that). It is a lot of emotional energy and labour to give everything you have to fictional people. I don’t think an artist needs to be tortured to create good art (this is not it!) but I never truly practiced this well? In my attempt to be empathetic, I was torturing myself a little bit, not going to lie!

So to combat this, I decided I needed a change. Hence, this chapter is imperfect and probably needs some stuff added to it, and while I’ve only written little of Lonan’s second POV, I’m feeling a lot better! It’s nice to get “outside” in a different place lmao this is so sad (pandemic writing things).

Excerpts:

I wrote the beginning of this in a livestream I hosted on my YouTube channel! There’s also a shoutout here to my dragon tree Lisa <3 miss u boo

Two weeks go by. Lonan sleeps on the couch. Harrison wakes up at dawn—no earlier, no later. Suzanna buys a plant: a Madagascar dragon tree she names Lisa. June grows into the collar. Lonan plays sudoku in the newspaper. Harrison learns to bake focaccia, gluten-free, whole wheat. Suzanna learns to palm read, tells Lonan he’s experienced great betrayal (they stop the reading immediately; Lonan goes back to the newspapers). Harrison begins burning incense at sunrise—frankincense. The dragon tree nearly dies (Lonan saves it). It rains every weekday that contains the letter T. Lonan shifts stacks of soggy newspapers onto the breakfast table, answers crosswords with the help of Suzanna (four across, nine letters, Something held). Harrison burns a baguette. Suzanna buys a hanging basket of pothos. The power goes out for two days and the icebox floods the kitchen tile (Lonan mops it with old newspapers, the ink running like jellyfish). June barks for the first time. Harrison eats a bundle of dried bay leaves. Suzanna waters the plants with rainwater, icewater, wrung into a coffee tin. Harrison leaves the stove on while sautéing shallots (he eats them whole). Lonan wakes up feverish and fills out four newspaper crosswords, then falls asleep on the coffee table. Suzanna moulds panna cotta in coffee mugs and shares the batch with Lonan when they won’t tip out. Lonan teaches her how to propagate the pothos and soon they have twenty empty cans of cuttings poking from the windowsills. They rearrange the furniture, the couch facing the kitchen instead of the TV, the dining table right outside the bathroom, then put it all back the next day. They birdwatch from the tiny window with binoculars and a magnifying glass. They sort coupons. Whittle soaps. Watch Norwegian films without the subtitles. Discuss cliff diving. Make matching anklets (blue beads, elastic string, the plastic clacking how Harrison knows they’re coming). All of this they do as Harrison lies on his bed for two weeks, counting the corners of his ceiling and trying to determine a way to multiply them telepathically.

This is the very next paragraph!

At first he assumes they’re laughing. The sun nearly rising between other high rises, blotting his room with dawn. This is not a surprise. They are probably making pancakes out of buckwheat and discussing the hilarity of whole grains. They are probably laughing at store-bought cherry preserves. Too sour. Their cheeks puckered. But then the laughs get louder, and the sun rises higher and it’s not laughing at all, but gasping.

Here’s Harrison crawling!! is this straight out of the exorcist probably!

Harrison’s instinct is to crawl. As if his smallness against the ground will stop anyone from hearing him, even before he unlocks his door. On hands and knees he shuffles from his bed to his doorframe, edges the door open with his shoulder. On hands and knees he hikes through the hallway, the gasping getting louder, shuffling until he sees them. Lonan sitting on one of the kitchen stools, a grocery bag wound around his throat. Suzanna clacking scissors in two hands so their blades ping in the sun. Her fingers loped around his hair, knuckle-deep, the blades snipping, the gasps growing, them both sobbing, the hair falling, the sun stalking, their bodies rocking. Harrison takes it in from his crawl. Experiences it all on his knees.

So this excerpt seems really you know, normal:

They clean up the hair. Harrison with the dustpan, Lonan with the broom. Harrison still kneels. Lonan still cries. The only thing that has changed since crawling into the kitchen is that Suzanna is taking a walk around the apartment complex. She needs air. Room. If she cries long enough, a cigarette. So Lonan sweeps. Harrison collects. This repeats.

The kitchen smells of nutmeg. Freshly grated from a whole club over espresso, Harrison imagines. He smells this as he tracks Lonan with the dustpan, hovering its open belly for clippings of hair. And Lonan is so compliant, brushes cuttings of himself onto the plastic surface so Harrison can trash it. As Harrison looks on from his knees, Lonan diffuses in sunlight, the window illuminating only his edges. A body so familiar Harrison knows exactly where it flares with light or absorbs it. A body with skin like mulberry silk. A body he could recreate in charcoal with his eyes closed. His archangel translucent and luminescing.

Skip this excerpt if you don’t want to read about Harrison eating hair!! i’m sorry!

Harrison picks a bundle of fallen hair from the dustpan. It’s airy from being recently shampooed, smells faintly of pear, maybe even ginger. This hair, touched by a woman, or a few women, and cut by one, or a few, in different contexts. Eliza’s hands deveining the roots, and then Suzanna’s, trying to fix them. So Harrison eats it. That bundle like a toothpicked cube of cheese. He puts it in his mouth and swallows.

Lonan watches like he’s unconcerned. He watches this feral animal—Harrison must be something feral, starved of something and ravaged by that hunger. Chewing mouthfuls of hair like that will quell of him of what is missing, if there even is anything missing, something unidentifiable in this bland circuit of New York City, this time-loop of sonhood, this fresh start a dousing of flatness. As Harrison eats, he understands he consumes that something like it’s holy communion, reuniting with that something by absorbing it. And still, that hunger moves him, from finishing the dustpan of hair, and closer to Lonan.

“Do you think I’m a bad friend?” Harrison asks, wringing the corner of his lips clean from loose hairs. From this perspective, Harrison on his knees collecting hair, Lonan’s eyes look bluer. Maybe their saturation has nothing to do with the angle, but Harrison feels this is true; his eyes are so crystalline, they are temptingly edible. Like two plump blueberries. Or a matching set of clear glass marbles. Harrison swallows. He repeats, “Do you think I’m a bad friend?”

Lonan swallows, adjusts his grip on the broom. “We’d have to be friends for me to answer that.”

“Aren’t we?”

And here’s the rest of this scene!

“You’re my mother’s friend,” Harrison says. “She trusts you.” He crawls closer to Lonan. “You’ve got secrets. Rituals. Tell me her favourite finger-food and who she wants to marry.”

“I don’t know your mother that well.”

Harrison wraps a handle around Lonan’s ankle. A muscle there jumps like a dolphin breaching the water. He’s memorized this plane of skin, could rebuild it from single grains of sand while blindfolded. He furls his hands across its surface, unfurls.

“You garden with her,” Harrison says. “You share a plate for dessert.”

“She’s kind to me.”

“You cook her breakfast.” Harrison tugs on Lonan’s ankle, knowing it won’t raze him, knowing he’ll come down anyway. “You know the exact temperature she drinks her coffee down to the last digit.”

“I’m trying to be hospitable.”

“You’re trying to be a son.”

Lonan kneels. Crouching so they’re huddled over each other, so it’s nearly impossible to distinguish one body from the other, which one sinks, which one rises.

“My mother’s only got one son to live with,” Harrison says, his voice thin from a clogged throat. He reaches for Lonan’s scalp, scrapes a line down the centre, now an even plane of cropped hair. “And it isn’t me.”

“You’re unstable,” Lonan says, burrowing his face either into a cabinet or Harrison’s shoulder—neither can tell. “You won’t let yourself have friends.”

Farther, toward the tile they go, a pile of hair scattering. “My mother wants me to forgive you by replacing me with you.”

“She’s grieving,” Lonan says.

Harrison loses his hands. He doesn’t know where they disappear to, if he touches skin or tile. “I haven’t died,” he says. Skin or tile. Skin or tile.

Here’s an excerpt from scene C ft. this memoir bit from the time I was shocked that this university I visited had real FANCY teabags:

Lonan brews tea. Earl grey, from a tin. Harrison doesn’t know why he expects it to come from a bag. An individual paper sachet, or if he’s lucky, one of those fancy ones woven from nylon. But it’s from a tin. Two teaspoons into the bottom of a single mug they pass back and forth, wordless at the kitchen table. Strung in the bathroom, Harrison’s t-shirt hang-dries, nearly figure-like, an unfilled phantom. He tugs a throw around his shoulders and stares at his hands. Each crest of cuticle. Each bulb of knuckle. Each maze of fingerprints.

He is material. This is fact. Not just outlines. He’s got skin that goes pinkish when pinched, a pulse that juts from his wrist, two eyes that burn at the scent of lavender, ten fingers. But as he holds his hands up, studying them in the faint moonlight, it is difficult to believe his tangibility. In the city, he has lived as a haze. Fogging over grocery stores, eateries, nondescript. Fresh start has always implied an air of zest, a zing that should have fueled him to plant roots in this restart. But Harrison is rotten, aphid infected, overwatered, underwatered, then not watered at all. He flexes his fingers. He pops the joints. He tries to press his pinkie to the back of his hand. But none of this brings him back to himself. His hands continue feeling like someone else’s. His body invisibly marred in some way he can’t reverse, disconnected in retaliation.

Harrison reflecting on his relationship with his mother:

Suzanna has never left him alone this long, and to her detriment. He imagines her now, living the life she always should’ve lived, the life she lived before he crosscut his way to her most important thing. She’s probably at a salon, having her hair twirled with a round brush, making dinner reservations at some place always too expensive for two (extra points if it has a French name, more if she has to wait a half hour before getting a table). When she talks to her stylist, she doesn’t mention a son, but plans to travel up the west coast, all the way into Canada if she’s feeling adventurous. She’ll buy crime novels she’ll never read at duty-free, reapply a lipstick that cost her a paycheck in the reflection of a hand-dryer. After the salon, she’ll meet a woman at a wine bar, converse about children, and still not mention a son. Suzanna’s singleness will be a celebration.

The boys finally trucing it out <3

When Harrison finally opens his eyes, Lonan is staring at him. His eyes two reels of the Pacific. They cycle in blue. So much of him has changed, and yet he is still the same. Beyond the haircut, Lonan isn’t that much different. He can’t be much different. But as Harrison searches, splaying his palm on the wet table, he knows this is untrue. Lonan is hollower than he was last summer. A little more haunted. They have this in common, then.

“Can we be friends?” Harrison asks. With his pinkie, he finds himself writing against the damp table just as he did Lonan’s scalp not too long ago. Lonan’s gaze follows each loop of each letter, Harrison’s steady left hand.

Lonan is consumed studying what Harrison has written, where each letter connects in near-cursive scrawl. After a moment, he nods, once, twice, and then reverts to staring at the table’s new inscription. On its surface are two words: something held.

The boys in the car like old times <3

Lonan drives. This is strange because Harrison has not seen Lonan drive a car in over a year. Usually, Harrison takes the wheel, but tonight he guides them through the city, in search of Suzanna. His car is clean. This isn’t unexpected. A cherry-coloured hatchback that rattles whenever he makes a left turn. It smells vaguely of cotton air-freshener and the undercurrent of cigarettes.

“You still smoke?” Harrison pokes at the plastic nob for the radio, and it crackles to life. Synth and electric guitar pulse in 4/4 time.

“I bought it used.”

They’ve agreed to get to know one another while they search for Suzanna. Another restart, some attempt at an honest hour. As Lonan changes lanes, Harrison pokes open the car’s glove compartment. A tin of nicotine gum falls on the mat. A hot pink feather pokes from underneath the driver’s manual. Harrison hauls out both, runs the feather along the gum tin, then the back of his hand, and then Lonan’s cheek. When that rouses nothing, he unlocks the tin and removes a slit of gum. Right as he’s about to pop it in his mouth, Lonan says, “I wouldn’t eat that.”

“Why?” Harrison asks. “Did you lace it?”

“Like I said, I bought the car used.”

Harrison puts the gum back, and then the feather. He sticks his hand farther into the glove compartment, feels around until he drags out a map of the state, bilgy and half torn. He unfolds it, careful to avoid the rips, and flattens it against the dashboard. Almost immediately, it wilts against the cold, faded from time in the sun. It’s been marked up. Half with pencil, half with a red ballpoint pen. After a few minutes, Harrison understands the previous owner’s route. Or at least he does at first. Following the red pen arrows, they started at Long Island, then reached Manhattan. Then a much longer arrow takes him from Manhattan to Geneva, and then Buffalo. And then the red pen circles, once, twice, three times, four times, and what is in the centre doesn’t even have a city name. What it does say is HELP, in all-caps, each letter then melting into an illegible scrawl. Harrison sees bits of words: Luke, woe, hands, clay, guard, stray, each wobbly and disappearing into the other, becoming cities of their own, destroying others. He tries to understand the route, but the farther he pours over the map, recircling each line with his finger, the more lost he gets in the ink.

“Is this your map?” Harrison asks. There is no proof that it is. Even the handwriting is all wrong. Ragged. Confused. Desperate. Not like Lonan’s careful, hesitant print.

“Like I said, I bought the car used.”

“But is it your map?” Harrison asks again. Gently, he creases the paper and then slots it back into the glove compartment. Outside, they pass three convenience stores in a row, a flock of couples emerging from a bowling alley, tipsy and cradling leftover deep dish pizzas and mozzarella sticks. They pass two more convenience stores before Lonan finally answers.

“I was confused,” he says.

“This is more than confused,” Harrison says. “It’s disturbed.”

“I’m not disturbed.”

“But something is wrong with you.”

Lonan slows at a crosswalk. A group of teenaged girls whisk by in glitter and lip gloss.

“Yes,” he says.

This is Harrison trying to stop Lonan’s nosebleed after their bizarre swerve which I think is kind of <3 tendy <3

Harrison reaches for him. One hand on the back of his neck, and the other reared toward the red stream. His touch is tactful, so faint his fingerprints wouldn’t even be left behind, but still, the dabbing with his jacket’s hem is enough to redirect the blood’s flow from Lonan’s upper lip to the cuff of leather. The radio is still on, garbled like an unmassing of crepe paper lanterns.

This is the final excerpt for this update that takes us to the very end of the chapter! Harrison has just found Lonan supposedly head-first in the sink and though he asks at first why he is doing that, takes an alternate approach as the chapter closes:

Harrison gets up, his knees popping like gnawed bubble gum. He decides he will handle Lonan at a distance, if he chooses to handle him at all. Like a timid pet owner trying to tame their suddenly-rabid yorkie. Like a friend not trying to tip the full glass. To let its contents film at its surface, but never spill.

Somewhere in the apartment, Suzanna probably listens to them. If Harrison didn’t know her better, he’d imagine her pressed neatly against the door, waiting to hear the shuffle of their bodies or the tang of an argument. Instead, he imagines her at the kitchen table, gripping a glass of water for so long, half of it evaporates.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Harrison says, stepping back until his spine hits the counter’s lip. He curls his fingers under the granite. Looks toward the window, now a faint periwinkle. Lonan heaves. His fingers caging his face, an animal restrained. They stand there until the sun rises.

So that’s it for this gigantic update! I have like four short stories to update you on so I hope to be back soon!

—Rachel

#writing #writerblr #amwriting #writeblr #fostered #mothwork #writingupdates #feedinghabits

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sneezefiction · 4 years

Text

dance with me

Bokuto x Reader - Scenario

event request: “Can you do prompt 2. Dance with me for Bokuto?? Congrats btw!”

a/n: i’m always down to write anything for Bokuto, bb. enjoy some fluffy, slow-dancing moments with your fiancé, Bo, for me please, love!!

warnings: mentions of marriage & engagements

wc: 1350

---

“Y/n, can you set that down for a minute?” Bokuto’s grin peeks over the top of your paperback book as he pushes it down with his hands.

“But Bo, I’m at the best part!” You whine, pulling it towards your chest, away from his grasp.

He’s leaning over you now, a signature pout adorning his expression. You try not to look up, but you can’t help it.

No.

Not those eyes.

His puppy-dog expression tugs at your heartstrings in the worst way. His eyebrows are knitted together with such sorrow, imploring you to give him your undivided attention.

“For me? Please.” He’s begging. Again, a puppy-dog.

“I just want to be with you…” His head is tilted, eyes pleading.

You sigh helplessly. So needy.

But you give him a soft smile, gently marking the chapter and setting aside your beloved book for the boy you love even more.

His eyes light up immediately, Bokuto’s smile is beaming at full-force once again. Just as it should be.

“Fine-”

As soon as he gets verbal confirmation, he’s grabbing you firmly by the underneath of your thighs and lifting you up off the couch causing you to gasp. Your balance is thrown completely off. He laughs as you frantically tuck your legs behind his back and throw your arms around his neck to keep yourself from falling backward.

With that, you give him a frustrated frown, but the moment his eyes crinkle with mischief, you know you’re in trouble. He squeezes your thighs, tickling you, which forces you to abandon your forced frown and sends you into a bout of bubbling laughter.

A peachy blush forms across his grinning face at the sound of your voice, even though he’s the one who’s supposed to be getting you flustered. Bokuto buries his face into the crook of your neck, drawing your body even closer to his. You tighten your hold around his neck, loving the way his soft, grey hair brushes against your face.

Bokuto is always trying to find new ways to incite that divine sound.

It’s like music to his ears…

Music...

“AH MUSIC.” He blurts out, jolting his head back to face you, a flash of excitement glimmering in his golden-yellow eyes.

His sudden movement shouldn’t have startled you since he’s almost never calm for more than a few seconds, but you still haven’t fully adapted to his chaotic tendencies.

“Babe, what?” You question, cocking an eyebrow at his goofy expression.

“Ahhh, just come with me!” He expresses impatiently.

“Bo, you’re literally carrying me.” You state, but not without a laugh.

So he sets you down gently, allowing your feet to meet the floor before immediately dashing to the next room over, leaving you confused and wondering what your boisterous sweetheart was getting you into this time.

But in all truth, you’ve never loved someone more.

Before Bokuto, you’d always fallen for short-term lovers. “Bad boys,” as Bokuto now cheesily refers to them as.

It was easy to fall for their mysterious, eye-catching personalities and attractive faces.

They promised you pretty things. Long, steamy nights in dim-lit hotel rooms. Flirty, messy kisses in darkened theaters. Yes, your past boyfriend’s showered you in dirty, devoted promises about what they would do to you.

But it was never about what they would do for you.

You would always end up wishing for more. For something beautiful to happen in the slower, cloudier moments of life. For someone to last longer than the sunny, sensual seconds…

Yet they never stuck around to share the little things. You were always racing against time. Any ounce of conflict or trouble would crumble the already shaky foundation of your relationship.

It was never like that with Bokuto.

It didn’t bother him if you were sick, blowing your nose for 4 days straight or leaning over a toilet seat. He was there. Never leaving you alone except to get groceries or medicine. Holding your hair back and buying you boxes of tissues and cough drops. He would gladly catch a cold for you.

It didn’t matter that you were trapped inside your apartment on your 2 year anniversary, sheets of pouring rain coasting across the window panes, the weather laughing at your attempts to go out. Bokuto was impossible to faze in moments like these. He lit candles across the kitchen counter-tops when the power gave out and wrapped his arms around your shoulders as you concocted a dessert of some sort. You two consumed ungodly amounts of cookie dough that night and shared in celebratory chocolate kisses.

It didn’t change when you were grief-stricken. When you’d locked yourself behind a closet door, sobbing and mourning your most recent loss. He would sit on the opposite side of the door. Waiting for you. Crying with you. That small space under the door? Bokuto used it to feel around for your fingers, linking them together with his digits when he found them. That day, and many times after, he coaxed you out of real and metaphorical closets with loving, gentle words.

It’s why you chose to set that precious book down today.

It’s why you let him hold you whenever he’s feeling needy or lonely, a knowing smile etched onto your face.

It’s why you decided to put on that gold-laced engagement ring. Why you accepted his teary-eyed marriage proposal months ago.

Because for so long, you couldn’t see yourself with anyone for more than a couple months at most. It always seemed to end no matter how much effort you put into your side of the relationship.

Yet Bo gave you every reason to believe that he would stick around, making you feel like you always had a place by his side. That you were always wanted. Worthy of a lifelong commitment.

And whether you liked it or not, he would’ve bugged you until you agreed to marry him, so it’s probably a good thing you accepted the first time around.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts because just as soon as he had raced out of the room, he’s back with a newfound energy, hands full with a massive Bluetooth speaker and a fully-charged phone.

The moment it’s set up, he’s choosing a song. His eyes dash through all of his beloved playlists labeled with strangely specific names. You peer over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the one he’s scrolling through.

The playlist is titled “Dance With Me.”

You burst into another soft fit of giggles over the lovey-dovey name, causing him to turn his head, much like a curious owl.

He had the makings to be a charmer. And a cheeseball.

Both, for sure.

“Y/nnnn, don’t make fun of me! I need to practice for the wedding, don’t I?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you like a schoolboy with a crush.

A smile silently adorns your features.

With the click of a song, your ears are blessed with the melodic flow of R&B, thick with bluesy guitars and lyrical loveliness. A true slow jam, perfect for rocking on heels and leaning into broad shoulders.

You roll your eyes, throwing your arms around his neck for the 2nd time today.

“We’ve still got 8 months til we’re married, baby.” You remind him, your heart jumping at your own words.

8 short months.

8 months until forever.

Forever with your favorite person.

And it doesn’t scare you. No, the flutters in your stomach are reassuring and brimming with excitement.

You couldn’t wait.

So you rest your forehead against his, staring deeply into his contemplative orbs.

As you two sway to the beat, you can tell he’s thinking. Pondering that sentence. Cultivating a response. You can feel it in the way his thumbs stroke the sides of your hips in deliberation.

He’s searching your gaze and his own mind. Drawing a conclusion.

You just wait. Swaying to the beat, drinking in his almond, vanilla scent, patiently watching his thought process unfold before you.

“I just wish it were sooner.” He whispers, eyes locked on yours.

Oh.

Oh Bokuto.

You release your hold around his neck, slowly drawing your face away from his and moving your hands toward his features. The slow dancing pauses, his feet subconsciously planting themselves on the floor in curious anticipation of what’s to come.

Your knuckles stroke his cheekbones, causing him to flush slightly. Fingers brush against his jawline, your eyes now concentrated on his lips.

How dare he speak such beautiful things with that mouth. Always so smooth when you least expect it.

You lean in, giving him a soft peck, lingering on his lips for just for a moment. Enough to tease him. Because it’s so unfair of him to say things like that...

When he knows full well that you would marry him right here, on the spot.

Under the broken chandelier in your dingy apartment’s living room, you would dedicate your whole life to him, vows and all, while twirling to a playlist called “Dance With Me.”

---

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @kaidasen, @miss-rin

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#haikyuu #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotaro #bokuto #bokuto fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #hq #hq scenarios #hq imagines #bokuto fanfiction #haikyuu headcanons #hq headcanons #600 follower event #sneezefiction

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