#gif 5 is like pai letting his walls down or like letting sky in

[seatawinan]

Favourite Shows [7/7]: Love in the Air

Not today. Not now Maybe after your graduation Maybe after you get a job Maybe after you get to live the life you want When you’re ready I’m gonna propose to you

[keelt9]

Chapter 1

Masterlist

The doorbell is already disturbing. I walked to the door and I could see through the camera a white napkin waving in the air. I giggled and opened the door.

“So you already visited mom, huh?” Lewis hugs me softly.

“It's so obvious?” I let him walk in, right to my mess. “It's actually happening, oh my god.” 

I put my hands at my waist and see my apartment or what still makes it look like my apartment.

Lewis points to the big pile of boxes and bags next to the window. “This is for moving?”

“That's for charity or rubbish.” I point to the barely 5 boxes next to the T.V. “Those are mine.” 

He pressed his lips together, seeing the mayhem in the kitchen, all types of food containers and a lot, a lot of boxes and bags split all over it.

“What have you been eating?” That moody voice tone exactly as mom.

I walked to clean the sofa so he could sit. “Pizza, Mexican and Chinese, healthy meals.”

I layed in the carpet tired as I heard him talking about what I should be eating; however he wasn’t speaking to me, he's on his phone ordering food, a healthy one.

He hung out, took out his coat and laid next to me. “Upside down?” 

I scoff remembering what these 7 months have been, hitting like a thunder on my mind and heart.

“I had a life planned Lew, literally I was at 10 hours of walking down the altar, and look at me.” I raised my arms to the sky. “Now I’m packing, trying to move on and set a piece of life together.”

Lewis sighs but turns on a Bob Marley's song, “Three Little Birds.”

“And the job?” I laugh because I forgot to mention I already quit my job. 

I see the empty walls and furniture, the frames piled in a box and the bag full of fragments of photos. Years in tiny parts.

I told my twisted life to my older brother, after a delicious dinner and random talk with Lewis, he walks and observes the boxes and suitcases.

“So all this goes with mom?” I forget I changed the moving date, but the new owners of the apartem arrive in 3 days. 

I tossed my hair. “It’s the plan.” 

Lewis makes a weird face as he sees all the wedding presents that friends and family instead I keep. 

“Why don’t you send it to my place? I’m barely at home.” I stand up and walk to him. “I know you can handle it, but it’s easier.” 

I see the present disturb him so much, and put it away.  “Ok, not because it is easier, unless you find a job.” 

I have money for living 3 months without worrying too much. However, in my to do list to find a job it's a priority.

“Oh, talking about that.” I shook my head and he put his hands on my shoulders. “Listen to me first, ok? I don’t spoil you, not that much.” 

Both of us laugh.

“I’ve been thinking, you need distance from all this, and you and I have been talking about founding a refuge for dogs, right? So, here is my offer.” He used his poker face. “Prepare a proposal for the refuge, all included, convince me and if you do it, I set everything for we can put it to work. But I have two conditions.” 

I bluff but I keep listing. “1. You will accept a modest pay for reporting your advances. 2. You’ll come with me this season.” 

I roll my eyes faking a laugh, and walk back to keep packing, but he doesn't surrender.

“Come on, it’s a good offer. Besides, I need someone who’s to keep an eye on Rosco all the time and not be distracted for the race.” 

I feel so proud of Lewis, however he knows I’m not anymore a huge fan of the formula one, less if he didn’t win, and Rosco doesn’t travel that far.

“Don’t use Rosco against me.” I turn around and a photo of Rosco is in front of me. “Hamilton!” 

Lewis moved his phone in front of my face. “Think about it, ok? Meanwhile I’ll keep your boxes safe.”  

I push him as he begins to close the boxes with tape. “It’s rude to use my love for Rosco against me, you know that?”

He smiles but doesn't answer and focuses on his task.

It's a bittersweet feeling how 6 years of my life now is packaged in 5 boxes, 3 suitcases and 2 bags. 

T.V turned on, like always, mom is in her bedroom watching the first race of the season early in the morning. 

I soft knock on her door. “Can I come in?” She smiles and pats the side of her bed as I laid down with her.

After a couple of minutes she finally spoke. “I’m proud, how you are handling this.”

I scoff and hide under the sheets. “Mom, I’m a mess, I feel like a mess and my life is a mess. Proud of what?”

Mom discovers my head and smiles softly at me. “But you are still fighting, believe that is more than enough.” Jewel appears under the sheets and licks my face. “A mess but a wonderful one.” 

I smile and hug her as Jewel gets between us. “Thanks mom.” 

The commentator said Lewis made an amazing overpass to Sainz and now is in the 5th place, mom splits and watches the T.V holding my hand.

The radio communication of Max appears on the screen along his onboard.

“Smart guy, a little bit not too friendly? I think.” I laugh and stand to go change my clothes for taking out Jewel.

Mom stops me at the door. “You have all packed?”

I nodded and Jewel was about to pass over my feet, sniffing my shoes. The 3 year old pomeranian, who is picky about his morning walks.

“Don’t be jealous young lady, those boys have my things, I must be nice.” The expression of my mom makes me smile.

Melbourne greeted me with a strong windy day, following the specific and detailed instruction of Lewis. I just packed what I could need and no one could get it for me. 

We agreed that I don’t attend the paddock on the days of practices and the qualy day. I remind myself to focus on my job and I keep my nerves calm as much as I can.

At 5 am, I knew it Lewis knock the door of my room, three soft knocks follow by <It’s me.>

I opened the door for him, eyes half closed as he put a bag over my bed. 

“I can’t believe I got you this.” I opened the bag and saw the t-shirt and caps I asked him. “The clothes are perfectly fine.” He pointed to the other bag next to my bed.

The day I arrived a bag full of clothes was on my bed, my issue is all are clothes style Lewis Hamilton.

I take out the clothes of Mercedes, black and white t-shirt and only black caps. “I’m not a fashionista, thank you so much.” Lewis scoffs and tosses my hair.

“Don’t be late.” He said leaving my room and sunglasses on. The sun didn’t even come out yet.

In the paddock I arrive in calm and walk right to Mercedes hospitality greeting all the people I know and someone who I was introduced to in the past days.

I stayed in there as much as I could, working and seeing the videos that are posted in the preview. After the ceremony I stopped working and walked where all the Mercedes crew used to watch the race. 

Great race for Lewis and a second place, get all the team clapping and congratulating each other for the good work. I remind myself in the garage all the ceremony to keep far away from the cameras and reporters.

It isn’t like the old times anymore.

After the ceremony, along with the celebrations, Lewis changed his wet clothes. I met him in the garage giving him a big hug.

“So proud of you.” I hug him tight, before splitting and hugging him one more time. “Mom said this is for her.” 

Lewis chuckles and sighs. “I’m so happy to have you here again.”

With the cameras focused one more time in the first place, almost all the garages are calm.

After I split from Lewis, someone got down my cap and hugged me shaking me side to side.

“Here is where you've been hiding, huh?” I recognized the voice of Bottas even though my eyes were covered.

I giggle. “Damn it, I should stay in the hospitality room.” Mocking Bottas who let me go and smiled at me.

Checo laughs and I hug him. “How long has it been?” 

I didn’t even think about it, but there are few pilots who have kept going here since the last time I came to a Gran Prix.

Lewis sighs as both of us look at each other. “Pff, like, 9-10 years, more less?” I said winning eyes wide open from everyone.

“You were this tall.” Checo raised his hand to the level of his torso.

Bottas couldn’t let go. “No, no, this tall.” This time my height was at their waist.

I giggle. “Ok, I got it, I will say hi from time to time. I wasn’t that little.” I stuck my tongue out for them.

“Yes, you were.” Lewis sentences. “But, this grown up guys has been asking if it was actually you, the girl who has a strong resemblance and walks around the paddock or if it was someone else.”

“Turns out, it’s actually you.” Bottas fake a shock expression. 

Their respective crews interrupt us, all still have a lot of things to do, so they say goodbye and make me promise at least I won't hide from them, the younger ones have to live with that.

Late at night, Lewis finally had time to rest and we went out for dinner. We chose a nice place with an amazing view to the ocean far away from people so we can talk in peace.

“It changed?” Lewis asked in the middle of our dinner. “The paddock, the atmosphere, all.” 

“It’s been 10 years, Hamilton, of course changed, a lot of new faces.” 

Years ago I was the little sister of a F1 champion. There were days where cameras were over me and made me feel…. some relevant, a proud sister who was grabbed at her father and mother's hands supporting his older brother.

Just I forgot that I was a little fish in a tank of sharks.

Lewis clearly understood the silence that followed by stirring answers.

“You’re right, things change.” Lewis careness my hair and smiles at me. “Remember it’s just a year, by the end of it you will be a brand new you at that’s what matters to me.” Lewis has this tendency of making me cry easily.

I sniffed as I laid my head in his hand. “Why do I have the best brother in the world?” 

Lewis laughed and laid back a proud smile on his face. “What a coincidence! I had the same question.”

The no race weeks I spent in Newport in Wales where I plan to set up the refuge; searching places and an apartment, a few days in London babysitting Rosco and explaining Lewis my advances in search for some recommendation, but always I have the same answer. 

<You have the master's on this, I trust you. Just think about put Rosco face on the inauguration.>

One of the many things I love from the paddock is the Mercedes area; big black crystals all over the place, almost impossible to see inside but so easily to see outside, at the last level a rest zone where you can hardly hear the people from inside and the people outside hears and feels distant.

The race week in Azerbaiyan I allowed myself to go to the paddock for the sprint. Lewis finished in seventh place and George in fourth, so after it ended all reunited for the small meeting they had every time a race ended.

I go to work in what I called, the tea zone, with some peaches and my computer trying to brainstorm me, but I get stuck every time I start typing. 

I bite the top of my pen and I close the computer at this rate I’ll have burned out.

I lay back my head, stretching my neck and when I sit down straight one more time I notice the top level of the Red Bull building is almost empty, just a single person taking a Red Bull watching his phone. 

I go down stairs where I can see right to Tom, one of the teammates of Lewis. 

“Still inside, huh?” Tom nods, making adjustments to his camera.

“Tough day.” He sees me. “This is a familiar thing, huh?” He pointed at the sunglasses. 

I giggle while taking another bite of my peach. “We can say that.” I sigh. “I’m going out for a while, I’ll be back to leave with my brother, all right?” 

Tom nods, after a month they learned one thing; Lewis, this time is overprotective of me.

“Use one of the markers so you don't get lost again.” Tom jokes about the first week I arrived, I got lost as I walked around the place.

At the end of the day, there was a lot of movement around the place, but what always calls for attention is the drivers. If you can see a bunch of cameras, people and one single color in the middle you find a driver.

I reached the zone where you can see all the garages, I stopped there trying to focus on and put an order to my mind. 

“It’s weird for someone who isn’t that excited to have a car just a few meters away.” I don’t turn around hoping for my “I know” to be a satisfactory answer. “Almost all around here would give anything to be this close.”

Reckless I turn around. “I have other priorities, a different one. I’m here for who matters to me.” 

“Then you should be with that person.” I scoff at the answer. 

Mom, you're right, Max isn’t an easy going guy.

I stand straight holding my eyes on his totally not friendly face; curiously mad, that’s how I feel.

“I heard you could be here.” Checo speaks, still with his suit race at the level of his waist. 

That’s what for the sunglasses, I can roll my eyes and no one knows. 

“I’m not lost, I swear.” I walk to him, giving him a hug. “Such a good race, congratulations.”

Checo hugs smiles. “I better go, I should be in another place.” Checo narrowed his eyes and looked at my back. “See you tomorrow.”

I walked and didn't turn back but I could hear the conversation at my back.

“You collect mad Hamiltons, mate.” Checo said.

“What? What are you talking about?” Max raises his voice. I couldn’t avoid taking my time.

Checo makes himself more clear.  “She is Lewis Hamilton's sister. His little sister.” 

As soon as I arrived at the building, Lewis came out from the meeting, a kind of stress expression on his face. 

I greet all the team with a smile as they let us alone in the hall.

“Tough one?” Lewis put his arm around my shoulder, changing the subject.

“Are you hungry? Let me change my clothes and we will go for dinner.” Yes, it was a tough one.

As we walk out from the paddock Lewis notices for the first time my camouflage actually works. Wearing a cap, t-shirt from Mercedes and jeans, combine with a hoodie or a jacket is enough for the cameras and reporters didn't even looked at me

In the car Lewis giggles. “I'm impressed. Good plan.” I giggle. “Smart girl.”

Our night is pretty lovely, nice dinner, a good talk and going back to bed earlier so he can be fresh for tomorrow's race.

One more time it was an early race, so by the time I left the hotel, news about his arriving at the paddock were all over the internet.

I walk in calmness at the entrance even when I see the world wide champion standing outside of RB hospitality. It's time for a second round?

“Morning Y/N.” Bono greeted me as he appeared next to me, head and papers in his hand. 

Bono has been with my brother for years, supporting him, helping, being a friend, becoming family.

“How was the dinner?” He smiles and walks next to me as we get inside talking about our nights.

No, the second round must wait.

It wasn’t a good race for the team with the fifth place from Lewis and the seventh of George it's not how the team expected it to be.

After the race ends, I meet my brother in the hospitality room, I hear him so he lets out all that disturbs him.

“I left my phone in the garage.” Lewis let back his head. “Wait here I…”

I know he's tired of cameras and questions so I grab his arm. “I'll go. Stay calm.” Lewis pressed his lips together but didn't reply to me.

As I put my cap outside of the building I lost the vision in front of me until the incessant chattering made me lift my eyes. Cameras and microphones all over Max.

Same strategy, pass behind the cameramans who are so immersed in taking the best or worst side of the winner of the day.

In the garage I pick up the phone and walk back where Lewis has his eyes closed, headphones on.

“Where are those connected?” He laughs and takes his phone. 

“I remember the songs.” 

After a long day, finally Lewis is free to go. We'll take a flight late at night to London to go to a party of a friend of the family.

In the hotel lobby picking our things, we were talking about the time he has to learn to change dippers.

A few meters from the main door, Max intercepts us. “Lewis, you’re leaving?” Lewis and I turn around.

“Yeah, we have a small reunion with family.” Lewis stops and thinks for a second. “Oh, you don’t know each other, Max, she’s my little sister, Y/N...” 

“We crossed paths before.” I said shaking my hand in front of Max, but Lewis noted the acid answer.

“Not that good, I guess.” Max narrows his eyes to me as he tries to see through my sunglasses. 

One of the bellboys calls for us teeling our car is waiting for us. 

“Nice to meet you Max.” I said politely as much as I could. Lewis giggled and gave Max a similar observation as Checo.

“Winning her bad side so quickly, another record Max.” I heard his hands crashing into each other, in a high five. 

In the car Lewis giggles, shaking his head. “What?” 

“What did he say to you?” I shook my head and threw at him a fluffy toy I bought for Rosco.

“Let it go Lew, let it go.” He took out his phone and taunted me as I put my headphones 

“Just me?”

[gloomzombie]

I'll Bury You For This

Pairings: Jeff the Killer X Male Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5,167 (Y'all gettin fed today)

Chapter Seven: Pretty Handsome Awkward

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6

August 27. 5:31pm.

     “What are you doing, Y/N? I was calling you,” My heart sinks in my chest at the sound of his grating voice. Really? He had to do this now? Gage turns back and walks up, then pushes past me to face John. I let it happen, and just stared off into the sky. I feel myself grow numb. Why did Gage do all this? I turn to look at them, and I feel the distance between me and him grow, ever so slightly.

     “Hi, I’m Gage.” He offers a hand out to him. Such a gentleman for someone so fucking disgusting. John eyes him, looking him up and down before taking his hand. He hasn’t washed his own in over a year. “Y/N’s dad. Who is this? You never mentioned a new friend, Y/N.” He looks over at me and I feel so small again. Just like I did the first few years after he started his torturous abuse. “Sorry, it just slipped my mind, I guess.” A lie. I did end up telling him about Gage, but just as I thought, he forgot all about him 10 minutes later. John glares at me, and I know that if he even remembers this when we go inside, he’ll scream at me. 

     Gage glares at me too, and I feel myself shrink even more. “Well, do you wanna come inside?” As soon as John finishes asking, I feel myself jump slightly. “No, that’s not a great ide-” “Sure. I don’t see a reason why I shouldn’t,” Gage totally disregards what I was beginning to say. He doesn’t spare me another glance before he lets John lead him inside.

     I feel that weird choking feeling that happens before you cry, so I walk a distance behind them. Hopefully they won’t feel the need to talk to me. I feel suddenly so self conscious of the condition the house is in. It’s not entirely my fault, but I feel guilty nonetheless. I pay close attention to Gage as his eyes fall over every piece of trash or broken, unclean furniture, and the permanently stained walls from the cigarettes John smokes. I have to look at my shoes, which are not much better looking than the house. “Oh,” I hear him whisper, and I feel the tears pricking at my eyes. I blink them away before they can fall down my cheeks. “Ah, sorry about this. Y/N doesn’t like to clean, even though I try my hardest to get him to!” He laughs, and I bite down on my lip as hard as I can. He always makes it seem as if I’m at fault for everything. 

     I can feel Gage’s stare, but I refuse to meet his gaze. I don’t want to see the disgust in his jade eyes, then feel worse than I already do. “It’s fine. Can I see your room, Y/N?” I look up, finally meeting his eyes. I gulp, hoping not to sound as if I’m about to break down. “Yeah, I guess.” I don’t wait for him, walking down the hallway at my own pace. Luckily, I can only hear one pair of footsteps. I guess John will leave me with Gage, which I might not have minded if he came here when I wanted him to; but I can feel my stomach flip and turn all kinds of ways. It reminds me of the feeling you get when you’re climbing up and up on a rollercoaster, about to drop. I feel as if I could drop any second, too.

     I open the door to reveal my room, not nearly as messy as the rest of the house, but still dirty enough for me to add that to the list of things to feel insecure about. I let out a shaky sigh, and hope Gage doesn’t catch onto how I’m feeling. I wonder if he’d even care. I hear the door shut, and then lock. God, why is he locking it? 

     I sat down on the bed, my eyes focused on the multicolored blanket I got from the thrift store. If it were someone else, someone more like me- poor, I can admit that- maybe I’d feel comfortable with another person in my room, but Gage is rich, he doesn’t know anything about what I have to live like. He sits down in front of me, so I’m forced to look up at him. Instead of scrutiny in his stare, I only find those kind eyes of his. And yet, I can’t seem to trust them the same way I would have before. 

     “I didn’t know you..” He huffs and presses his lips together, as if he were trying to figure out the right words to say. “Were poor? Yeah, well I’m glad it wasn’t obvious,” I snapped. I couldn’t help but feel so upset with him. He’s pushed so many of my boundaries in this past hour, and it’s difficult for me to just let that go. His expression changes, twisting into one of pity. At least, I think that’s what it is. Either way, I don’t like it. “Don’t look at me like that, Gage. Seriously, what the hell did you think it’d be like? Did you think I was doing something to my dad?” I roll my eyes, exasperated.

     Gage frowns. “I don’t know, Y/N. I just thought it was weird. I mean, you wouldn’t let me come inside, and you told me that you ignore all of your dad’s messages and calls. What else was I supposed to think?” I grit my teeth. “Nothing! You were supposed to think nothing of it, Gage! Why else would I ignore my dad, huh? Do you think I hate him without a reason to? God, do you really think that little of me?” I stand up and start pacing around the room. I need to calm down. I hear the sound of the springs in the bed sigh as he gets up and walks over to me. I turn away from him, but he wraps his hand around my wrist. I glare at him. “Y/N, no. Look, I don’t know what I thought, okay?” His voice takes on a pleading tone, and his expression is one I can’t read. I pull my arm away, holding eye contact with him.

     There’s a knock on the door, and it makes me suddenly conscious of how loud I was. “Y/N? Is there someone in there with you?” I feel the heat rise in my face. Oh no, no no. “Is it Xander? I didn’t know you were having a sleepover. You didn’t tell me anything about that.” I don’t glance at Gage; I don’t want to see his expression. See how much he doesn’t like this, because I’m sure he doesn’t. God, why did Gage have to come inside?

     The only person who knows about John’s dementia besides me is Xander, because he’s been my friend long enough to watch his memory deteriorate alongside me. I don’t tell people about it, because they don’t need to know. I don’t want people to fucking know. And now, Gage is going to have to know because he’s going to ask questions, whether he knows the answer to them already or not.

     “No, Gage is here.” I try to sound firm, but my voice wavers, making me sound dejected. I’m not sad that he doesn’t remember anymore, I’m just miserable because I have to deal with it. I can feel Gage stare, but I don’t look back at him. There’s a few seconds of silence behind the door, before John’s voice picks up again. “Who’s Gage?” I glance at him as soon as those words leave John’s mouth. He’s covering his mouth the way he usually does when I make him flustered, and I can read his feelings easily with the way his eyes water. I look at him, confused. Why would he cry? He’s not the one who has to deal with John. “Friend I made from school.” 

     A few seconds later, he responds with “Oh, okay then.” His footsteps trail away from the door until I can’t hear them. There’s a deafening silence in the room, but we keep looking at each other expectantly. I sigh, then let my gaze drop to the ground. “I’m sorry for yelling at you..” I whisper. I let the tears slip down my face, because there’s no point in stopping it at this point. Gage’s arms are around me in a second, and I’m stiff at first. I never let myself break down in front of people, because I do just fine by myself- if just fine means sobbing until my face goes numb and resorting to unhealthy coping mechanisms.

     “No, no. It’s okay, it’s okay.” He mutters into my hair, and I rest my head on his. His hands move up and down my back, as a means to comfort me. I hesitate in his arms. I’m not used to being comforted, I only ever do that for other people, not the other way around. I chew on my lip, and pull out of his warm embrace. I look at the wall, littered with random posters and cutouts of pictures of band members. I sniffle. Pathetic. “I think you should leave,” I murmur, my voice all wispy sounding. His hand gently pets my head for a second, then retreats. “Okay,” he whispers back. I peer back at the door after I hear it shut. I lock it back before John can come ask me more questions I don’t want to answer.

August 28. 8:34am.

     I slump down in my chair and rest my head in my arms, folded on the desk. I didn’t get any sleep last night. I cried for most of it, then tossed and turned for a few hours. I think I fell asleep sometime around 3. Luckily I did today’s work yesterday, so I basically have a free period. As everyone around me talks and laughs, I try to sleep, but it doesn't work, as I never can really get comfortable enough to sleep in school. Someone taps me on the shoulder a few times, and I look up sleepily. “Huh?” I ask, squinting at Lily as she smiles politely at me. “Hey, sorry for bothering you. Why are you so tired?” She takes the empty seat next to me.

     I shrug. “I just didn’t get good enough sleep, I guess.” I yawn as I rub my eyes. She nods. “I get that. Then I guess you won’t wanna come with me to the mall after school today, huh?” She bats her eyelashes at me. I think for a second, processing what she asked. “Uh, yeah, no. Sorry, I’m just really looking forward to a nap after I get home.” She sighs, then bites her lip. “Thought so. Tomorrow?” 

     Damn, she really is persistent with this... “Yeah, sure,” I respond, then lay my head back down on the table. She pats my head, before I hear her chair squeak against the floor, signifying that she’s left. Before I succumb to the misty state of mind between awake and asleep, I wonder, just for a second, about Lily. It sure seems like she might have a crush on me, but I don’t think I care enough to think too much about that right now. I’ll figure that out later. I let out a deep breath before closing my eyes.

     For the next couple of periods before lunch, I manage to finish my work quickly, so I get some rest time in each class. I never actually sleep, of course, but it’s better than nothing. I feel better than I did this morning, that’s for sure. As I walk into the cafeteria, I look over at the table Gage and I usually sit at. He’s not there. I frown. Did he really not show up today? I sent him a message before I went to bed last night, telling him that I wouldn’t need a ride for today. Guess he took that as his chance to not even show up. 

     If he had other friends, I’d ask them about it, but he doesn’t really talk to anyone here but me. Wait, I never thought about that before. That’s kinda weird. Well, I guess I don’t have that many friends either, though. I wonder why he didn’t show. Was it because of me? Ugh, of course you find an excuse to think it has to do with you, Y/N. Not everything revolves around you. I internally groan at the pessimistic thought. 

     I scan the room, looking for any table I could possibly sit at. Lily and Stacy sit at a table in the back with a few other people that I don’t know. There’s too many strangers there for me to feel comfortable sitting with Lily and Stace. I think it’s best I don’t sit next to Lily anyways. Xander is definitely a no, though I wouldn’t have to deal with those fangirls anymore. Ever since he came back, he’s told them to calm down I guess, because they don’t practically drool over him anymore. I sigh at the thought of sitting alone today. I got used to talking during lunch.

     I almost trip as someone taller than me pushes past me. “Hey!” I exclaim before registering who it is. They turn around, and I’m met with Jeff’s familiar masked face. “Oh, it’s just you.” I blink at him, a little confused. I’ve never really seen him in here before, so I always assumed he skipped or ate lunch somewhere else. He rolls his eyes before turning to leave. “Wait! Can I eat lunch with you?” I ask and I feel my face burn as the words leave my mouth. That’s such an embarrassing thing to ask. His eyebrows knit together, and he stares at me for a second before letting out a deep, elongated breath. “Fine.” I smile. “Thanks.” 

     He leads the way to a table in the furthest corner, and it looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in weeks. I guess the janitors just don’t bother with it. He sits down and I take a seat beside him. I watch as he takes out a notebook, writing down in it roughly; with his fingers pressing the pen too hard on the paper. I lean in closer to see what it is, but he tilts the notebook the other way. He glares at me. “Sorry, jeez.” I mutter, looking away. 

     I take out my small lunch, which consists of a water bottle, a chocolate chip muffin, and a lunchable; the nachos, ‘cause that one is by far the best. I eat silently and after a few minutes, my eyes drift back over to Jeff. He’s still writing, his eyes squinting at the paper as if his own writing has somehow offended him. My lips perk up at the sides slightly, and I can’t help but think how peaceful he looks like this. He looks kind of..content. Happy isn’t the word that would describe it, but he doesn’t look like he’s angry, which is how he usually looks. I tilt my head slightly, infatuated by him. He’s always been kinda pretty, hasn’t he? 

     “Why are you staring at me like that?” He asks suddenly, though his eyes never meet mine. My face heats up, and I look back down at my half eaten muffin. “I don’t know. Sorry,” I murmur before eating more. A page of lined paper is slid in front of me, and I squint at it. I feel the heat grow in my face and I have to stop myself from covering it. He drew me. It’s not detailed or anything, but it’s definitely me. Why did he do that? I look back at him, and meet his eyes. His icy blues blink at me. I can’t read his expression, but he’s still not mad. That emotion of his is always easy to see. “You drew me?” I ask, and I bite my lip. Why does my voice have to reflect my anxiousness every time? 

     “Duh. What else does it look like, dumbass?” He rolls his eyes as he taps his pen on the table. I huff and my eyebrows furrowed. “Well, yeah. But why?” He stares at me for a while, and I feel oddly insecure under his inspecting gaze. I watch him contemplate his answer, his eyebrows knitting together. “You drew me,” He grumbled. I raise an eyebrow. “Is this a way to, what, get back at me?” I gawk at him. Did he seriously draw me because he’s still worked up over that drawing I made two weeks ago?

     He rolls his eyes again and it makes me more frustrated. He seemed to hesitate before he began to speak. “Yeah, cause that was dumb. You’re fucking dumb.” He looks away, back down at the paper he took out of his folder. He starts scribbling down in it, and I look back at the drawing. I don’t believe for a second that he drew me because he’s angry. 

     “Oh and don’t look at me like that again.” He catches my attention once more. “Like what? You keep saying “like that”, like what?” I persisted. The sound of my racing heartbeat fills my ears. He meets my gaze for a second. My cheeks burn, and I almost scoff at what he says. “Like you like me or something.” I can hear the smirk in his voice, so I think he’s just messing with me. Key word think. “Don’t you have a boyfriend?” His eyes drop to the paper as he continues to write. 

     I frown. “No. He’s not my boyfriend.” I don’t think he will be either. At this rate, I might stop dating him soon. He lost my trust in just less than an hour yesterday, and it’s been eating away at me all last night; and so far all of today too. I don’t know what happened. Was he always so pushy? Was I at fault for his behavior? I just can’t wrap my head around why he acted the way he did so suddenly. 

     I have to remember that I’ve only known him for three weeks, which really isn’t enough. But for those two- almost three weeks- he acted so…nice…perfect. Too perfect maybe? I chew on my lip absentmindedly, nearly forgetting the boy sitting beside me. “You sure act like boyfriends,” Jeff grumbled, and my focus is on him again. I raise an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I voice my thoughts aloud. Why is he acting all weird about it anyways?

     “Please. You’re practically shouting ‘I sleep with this guy!’ with the way you’re always all over each other,” He rolls his eyes. I squint my eyes at him, even though he’s not looking at me to be able to see it. “That’s a bit much. Why do you care anyways?” I counter. Am I all over him? I try to think back to the previous week, but the only PDA we do is hold hands or the occasional hug. Is he…

     “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Jeffrey.” I respond smugly. His eyes flash to mine in a second and his calm expression vanishes. “No- what the fuck- I’m not-” He stammers and I laugh. “Really not helping your case.” I smile as his eyes wrinkle. “Why the hell would I be jealous? Your little boy toy isn’t even close to my type.” He finds his voice, and I raise an eyebrow in response. “But am I your type?” His eyes pierce into mine, and he’s silent for a minute. I feel my face heat up with each second that passes. Am I?

     “No. I’m going to class.” He swiftly picks up his papers and file, then practically runs to the other side of the cafeteria. I frown as I watch him walk out. Did he do that on purpose? I chew on my lip. Why do I feel kind of…disappointed, knowing I’m not his type? I shake my head. I don’t need validation from someone like Jeff.

3:19pm.

     I flop down on the bed as soon as I get home. I still feel so emotionally drained from last night and I desperately need a nap. My bed practically called to me ever since I walked in the door. I sigh and throw the blankets over me. I don’t even care enough to change.

     For the next hour or so, I toss and turn this way and that. I just couldn’t fucking fall asleep. I groan, giving up. I sit up and rub my tired eyes. I was thinking way too much. Overthinking about Gage mostly, but also straying to thoughts of Jeff and even Xander. I had turned my phone on silent before attempting and failing to nap, so when I turned it on, I had a few messages. My stomach churns and I suddenly feel sick. 

3:48pm.

Gage: Hey. Can we talk? It’s important.

4:02pm.

Gage: Y/N?

Gage: Guess you’re busy. Talk to you later then.

     I chew on my lip, but it’s pointless as the skin hasn’t had time to heal. I sit up and toss the blankets aside, gazing down at the screen. So he doesn’t come to school and doesn’t even respond to my message last night, and now he wants to fucking talk? What could he possibly want to talk to me about? I sigh. I guess there’s only one way to find out. 

4:25pm.i was trying to take a nap, sorry. what’s up?

Gage: In person. I’ll pick you up in 30 minutes.

okay

     I can’t help but frown as I send the message. He didn’t even ask if he could, he just said he was going to pick me up. Who does that? I really don’t understand him right now. Is he still upset over that bullshit yesterday? God, if anything I’m the one who should be fucking upset about that. And if that’s why he’s wanting to talk to me in person, what even is there to talk about?

     I let out a deep breath and rub my face. I don’t need to overthink this. I get up and start to undress. I distract myself by dressing up in something a little nicer. I put on some eyeliner after that too; I figured I might as well. Not that I’m doing this because I’m seeing Gage, because I really don’t care to dress up just to see anyone. Besides, I was hella depressed last year so for a while I dressed like I just woke up- and yet he still liked me somehow.

I leave the house as soon as Gage texts me saying he’s here. It feels so..awkward as I walk out and to his car. As soon as I get in, I expected at least a hello or something, but instead, all he does is start fucking driving. Is he serious? The expression on his face is one I can’t read; he looks neutral, but not. His hands aren’t gripping the steering wheel tightly the way he did yesterday, so if he’s mad, he’s not showing it. That’s good- I guess. 

    God, he looks good. I can’t help but think. His hair is all messy and he’s wearing the outfit he bought yesterday. So he can’t be too upset, can he? If he’s wearing something he bought on a date with me, he shouldn’t be; but maybe he’s doing that to make me feel bad? Ugh, shut up, Y/N, just listen to the music. His music. Shut up! But goddamn, that sweater really does look good on him, even if it’s over a shirt.

     Soon, he parks and gets out of the car. He��s stopped us at a park. Oh, god. I get out, and close the door absentmindedly. This is the park I went with Xander to. A flood of memories comes back to me in an instant, and I get so overwhelmed by them. I remember the way my fist hurt after punching Xander, and how he showed up that following school day with a bandage over his nose. I remember the after; how I was almost fucking killed after hours of walking home. And how that someone looked an awful lot like Jeff.

     A pair of hands grips my shoulders and lightly shakes them. “Y/N, are you alright?” Gage asked, and suddenly my eyes focused on his. My eyes flit over his features, and I realize that I’m feeling really anxious now. Slowly, I nod, and pat his hands with mine. “Y-yeah. I’m okay.” His hands drop before I can really revel in the fact he touched me. So maybe he isn’t mad. “Good.” He turns and starts walking.

     Okay maybe he is. I follow a distance behind him. He walks us up to the benches, and sits down on the table. He glances at me and pats the spot beside him. I take it, leaving a little space between us. I wait for him to speak. I mean, he was the one who took me out here to talk. “Y/N?” He asks, and I look at him, but he’s looking out onto the trees. “Yeah?” I respond, and internally curse myself for how shaky my voice sounds right now. I don’t want him to be mad at me.

     “Two weeks.” My eyebrows furrow. “What?” “Two weeks we’ve been dating, and you still haven’t asked me to be your boyfriend.” His gaze finally meets mine, and his brows are furrowed the same way mine are. But his pretty green eyes are all I can think about. “You haven’t asked me to be your boyfriend either.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Okay. Will you be my boyfriend, then, Y/N?” He asked, his voice tinged with a bit of frustration. Is this really the reason why he’s upset? I bite my lip, and think about it. I don’t really like the idea of a label. Plus, just today I was thinking about cutting things off with him. I do like Gage, but he really disregarded my boundaries last night. 

     And yet, despite that, I don’t think I care. That’s bad, isn’t it? Yet, he’s liked me in a way no one else has. I had boyfriends before, but we didn’t date. As if we were boyfriends for the sake of not being friends with benefits or just so we wouldn’t sleep with other people. So now that I am dating someone, I want to take it slow, do things right this time. But is this right? I wouldn’t know. Everyone has their flaws, right? So what if Gage’s is him being pushy? That’s hardly anything. It could be much worse.

     “Yes, I’ll be your boyfriend.” That little v in between his eyebrows disappears, and a wide smile makes its way onto his face. His hands cup either side of my face, and he brings me into a kiss. I close my eyes and kiss him back, but I’m not really feeling it. All these thoughts are still floating in my head, and I’m still anxious, so I just kind of let this moment happen. This should feel right. His hands trail from my face down my neck to rest on my chest. He’s never touched me like this, even the night I kissed him for the first time and we almost did something I would have regretted. 

     I rest my hands on his waist, a safe place to put them. His movements become too much, his tongue sliding its way into my mouth- and I have to pull away. His eyes open, and immediately his eyebrows knit together again. “Woah, are you okay? Did I do something wrong?” He asked, his hands climbing up to cup my face again. I didn’t realize how the tears started to spill out and run down my cheeks. I quickly wipe them away and nod. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay, really. Just.. keep kissing me,” I whisper and press my lips against his for another kiss. He hesitates, his hands stiff on my face, but eventually, he kisses back and we resume what we started.

6:47pm.

When we pull up to my house, I go to open the door, but Gage’s hand grabs my wrist. I turn to him, his gaze catching mine. “Ga-” I start, but he kisses me, pulls back momentarily, then kisses me again. It catches me off guard, but again, I let it happen. His hands roam over me; from my face, to my hair, down my neck and chest, then finally resting at my waist. We sat there in the car for a while, his lips melting against mine in a hot and messy kiss. His hands grip my shirt, and he keeps trying to pull me closer, but I’m already as close as I can get while we’re in the car.

     My hands trail from his hair to his chest, and I give him a light push. “Gage, please,” I whisper, trying to catch my breath. He blinks at me, his face turning a little pink. “Sorry, I guess I got carried away.” I opened the door and stepped out. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” I asked, leaning against the frame. He smiled, and I noticed the way it made me disregard the events from yesterday. “Yeah. I’ll pick you up same time as usual.”

     John is sprawled out on the couch when I go inside. I try to pay him no attention as I lock the door. “Hey, you’re finally back. What are we havin’ for dinner?” His words are slurred, and I notice the few empty beer bottles around the couch. God, he got in the old beer again. I need to throw the rest out tomorrow. “Uh, give me a second,” I responded before quickly striding down the hall to my room.

     I place my phone down on my bed, and glance into the small square mirror hanging on my wall. I touch the space on my neck where Gage’s teeth sank in. He got a little too excited at the park; he even drew blood. I chew on my lip anxiously. John would kill me if he saw that. But, I do have to admit, it was cute; the way he freaked out when he tasted it. I open one of my dresser drawers and take out an old turtleneck sweater. I take my shirt off and slip the sweater on. It’s itchy, but I’ll have to wear it tonight, since he’s insisting I order us dinner. 

     I glance over at the mirror again, staring at my reflection. The past days of stress have started showing up on me; the purple spots under my eyes darkened, and I look almost empty. I’m sure that’s from all the crying. “I guess I’ll just find something in the kitchen then!” I hear John’s voice from the living room. I sighed deeply. He’s so tiring.

[fizzyxcustard]

The Unexpected.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: Spooks

Pairings: Lucas North x OC (Amy Holland)

Warnings: Sexual references, bit of pining, angst-ish, fluff, alternative identities

Comments/Notes: From the imagine, "Imagine Lucas North is undercover at your work, investigating your bosses, but he genuinely falls for you." Requested by @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady and a dear anon (Thank you!)

As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.

It was all completely unexpected. Nowhere along the line did Lucas expect to fall in love. The operation from the outset had seemed like a simple one: go undercover at a London-based government office, searching for the sender of illegal documentation to foreign officials, which was advocating the use of chemical warfare. It should have been a week at most, but the assignment had turned into a four week ordeal. 

The silver lining to this operation had been working alongside an administration officer, Amy Holland. She was four years Lucas’ junior, but had the innocence of someone much younger than a woman in her thirties. Initially and she had been quiet around Lucas, not offering much in the way of conversation, more out of insecurity than anything else. Such a good looking man would never entertain the idea of liking her, surely. 

Amy had been shocked when Lucas began sitting with her. He would walk into the office, always a little earlier than the expected start time, and use the desk next to her. On breaks and he would accompany her to the kitchen for tea or coffee, at lunch he had even been gentlemanly enough to pay for her meal once or twice. 

At the end of the fourth week and Lucas had finally found what he was looking for. In line with protocol and his operation directives, he had copied the documents and accompanying signatures onto a memory stick. Then he would return to the Grid, walk out of Amy’s life and never be seen again, the true nature of a Spook. 

Lucas knew this was his last day and he sat beside Amy, listening to her talk about an argument that had ensued between two of her neighbours. “I’m nosey by nature,” she giggled. “Glass up the wall type of thing.” 

Amy looked at Lucas for a second, noticing that he seemed distant. Not that he wasn’t looking at her, but he seemed to be looking at her a little more than usual. It was as if he was studying her for some reason, and the crinkle of his brow reminded her of someone saddened by their inner thoughts. 

“Are you okay?” Amy asked, leaning a little closer to him. “I’m sorry if my choice of topic is boring you.” Then she looked down in shame. 

“No, Aim, you never bore me,” Lucas replied, turning himself in the swivel office chair so that he was directly facing her. “I didn’t mean for it to seem like I was. I’ve got something on my mind.” Could he trust her? His gut was in knots. She was so detached from the job that he did and he wanted someone who was ‘normal’. The other women who had been in his life had all been intelligence officers; all of them mirrored him. Amy was different. There was a safety in her, and he knew that he couldn’t walk out of this place and let her go. 

Amy became a little uncomfortable, her insecurity getting the better of her. She looked away and began to work on the document she was proof-reading. There was definitely something wrong with him. 

“Can we talk after work?” Lucas asked. 

***

A few hours later, Amy and Lucas were walking side by side down by the river. The London Eye was lit up in the distance, shining different, alternating colours against the black backdrop of the sky. Tourists milled around, taking photographs. The wafting scent of honey roasted nuts from a street cart hung in the air. It was a chilly evening with a very gentle, but crisp breeze. 

Lucas guided Amy over to a bench which gave a view of Lambeth Bridge, and there in the distance, the other side of the bridge, was Thames House, MI-5 headquarters. 

Amy sipped from a coffee cup and turned in a little towards Lucas as she sat down. Did he realise how gorgeous he was? Did people walk past, assuming they were a couple, thinking to themselves about how out of her league he was? “I’m getting a bit hungry now,” Amy said, trying to make conversation. It had been quiet between them both since they had finished up their work. She couldn’t help but feel that she’d done something wrong and had offended him. 

“We’ll grab dinner in a bit,” Lucas replied. 

We? Amy smiled to herself. It seemed that he wanted to be in her company a little longer, at least. 

“I, um, need to talk about some things with you and be honest,” Lucas began. ‘I’m not who you think I am. I thought that working in the office would be easy, and I’d do what I set out to do, and then leave. I officially finished today. But…I can’t stop thinking about you, Amy.”

Amy’s cheeks began to burn vivid red and her heart raced. Her gaze shot upwards at that last sentence he said. How? How could all of this be true? 

Lucas inched towards Amy, closing the gap so that not only he could be closer to her, but no one could overhear them. “I never expected to feel like this. And now that I’m leaving the office, I can’t walk away and never see you again.”

“I can’t even believe you think that way about me.” Amy hung her head again, unable to meet his gaze again. Shame had won out. “You’re gorgeous, Pete.” 

Lucas smiled. “And that’s the first thing I need to tell you the truth on. My name isn’t Pete. It’s Lucas.”

“Lucas,” Amy whispered, smiling. “It actually suits you better. I never thought you looked a Pete. Lucas definitely suits you more.” 

He felt a shiver of anticipation race up his spine as he heard her saying his name for the first time. Many nights and he had imagined her moaning his name in throes of passion. “It’s Lucas North.” 

“Thank you for trusting me with this, Lucas. I don’t even know if I’m supposed to ask any more about what you do for…”

“I’m a spy. I work for MI-5. I can’t go into details why I was in your office for the last month, but it had nothing to do with you personally. I understand if you feel betrayed by me but it’s my job.” 

Amy shook her head. “I don’t feel betrayed at all. I know that MI-5 operatives have to keep to strict guidelines and rules with keeping their identities hidden. Does that mean I’ll have to be vetted?” 

“How did you know about that?” 

“I work for the government, too, remember? Amy giggled. “I might not work for your team, but I know how the Spooks operate….well, a little bit, anyway.”

“That would depend on if you want to carry on seeing me,” Lucas replied. 

His steel blue eyes were dark with something that Amy had never seen before in him. It was an intensity that made her heart race faster, and the pounding between her legs intensify. 

Lucas leaned closer and kissed her. His hand cupped her cheek and his fingers idly laced in her hair. The kiss deepened and Amy curled her arm around him, her hand sifting through his short, black hair. 

“I take that as a yes,” Lucas said, smiling, as they both withdrew from the kiss. 

***

Amy and Lucas walked back the way they had come, hand in hand. Darkness had swept in over London now, but there were still plenty of people filling the streets, crowding the main tourist hotspots. London never slept. Even when Lucas had to go out on surveillance at night, there was still traffic, both pedestrian and on the road. 

“Would you rather have something to eat while we’re out, or come back to mine? I can cook for us,” Amy asked. “I live…”

Lucas smirked. “I know where you live. Background checks had to be completed on all the staff while I was in the office. I remembered your address. Coincidentally you’re not too far from me. Only a five minute tube ride.”

Amy laughed. “You’re telling me that you’ve worked out the route to my flat?” 

“Maybe.” 

The tube journey back to Amy’s flat was quick. Lucas still held her hand, growing used to the feel of her small, warm hand, enveloped in his large one. Their fingers, despite being so different in size, fit perfectly. 

Amy put her head on Lucas’ shoulder, her cheek brushing against the fabric of his Belstaff jacket. She felt as if she needed to pinch herself in order to wake up. 

At the barriers, exiting the tube station, Lucas reluctantly let go of Amy’s hand, allowing her to scan her Oyster card first and be let through. Then as soon as they were both the other side of the gate, he grabbed her hand again. 

Once Amy and Lucas were inside her flat, with the door closed, Lucas couldn’t help but kiss her again. And this time they could be free in their expression, without anyone walking past them. 

The kiss grew hot, so much so that Lucas’ hands were delving lower down Amy’s body. The feel of her was making him hard and he had to take a deep swallow to bring himself back to full composure. They were both panting as they parted. The insecurity of not knowing whether this was too much too soon was set in both their gazes. 

Instead of cooking, Amy ordered take away for them both. 

Lucas felt cosy in Amy’s living room. Both of them were warm under a red and black checked blanket, with the heater on and the television blasting away to itself in the corner. The living room was small and compact, with a small sofa and armchair. There were two, white bookcases, filled with books and DVDs. Next to the television was a display cabinet, painted white, with glass doors. Behind the doors was an array of Disney figurines. The walls of the room were painted light blue, covered in places with framed photographs and signed stills from TV shows and films. 

After they had eaten, Lucas and Amy discarded the Chinese takeaway boxes on the coffee table in the centre of the room. By now and the heat was at a plateau. They were kissing again, writhing beneath each other in their want to be one. But they were too worried their wants would be shrugged off by the other. 

However, Amy could feel Lucas’ hand moving lower. On impulse, she grabbed it and shoved it in the waist of her jeans. He groaned, knowing what she wanted. She was silently asking him to come in. She groaned his name, his real name. And he smiled. 

***

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[revelisms]

Excerpt: An Artificial Sun

Silco recounts a past life.

From 'bitter bright wings,' a character study of Silco and Jinx set after Episode 5. Full story on AO3

"In the river, you told me..." She turns her cup in her hands, warm against her palms. "You told me you let—let a weak man die."

He tips his mug into a slow sip. "I did."

Her nails click over the porcelain. "I guess I—I was just...curious." 

He waits for her to elaborate further. She doesn't. "About what?" he prods, and glances down at her. The fire of his left eye glows in the dim. "Who that man was?"

"Well—" She curls her fingers slow about her cup. Shrugs softly. "Yeah."

He turns back to the skyline. There's a pause in the way he lifts his cigarette, something one might call hesitation, before he takes another drag. He lets the smoke sit in his throat. Breathes it out. 

She hates it, when he's quiet like this. She hunches upon herself, so close to ripping the words back; spitting out forget it, or I'm sorry, or fleeing, entirely.

"I spent years, looking for purpose," he says then, and his tone is strange. "In the dark. In the mines."

He tacks off the ash from his cigarette, peering absently over the balcony's metalwork to the sea of emerald-fogged buildings cobbled below. "Digging through the rocks, until your fingers bleed," he continues, faraway. "One can lose their minds, down there. No matter how hard you fight for something—there's always more earth to slough through. More tunnels to carve out. Every hour longer than the last; every day bleeding to another."

She looks up at him, quietly. The wind has loosened his hair from its usual coif, scattered over his brow. He's dug one hand into the crook of his elbow: the cigarette turned slow, pensive, within the other. The light washes out the red of his shirt to a bloody brown.

"That sort of life," he mutters on, embers in the words, "it starves you, for reassurance. That every bone you've broken has been worth something—and all the time you've wasted away will pay off, in the end." He stares out over the smog, the winding dark of the rooftops, the ghoulish giant of a city on a hill high, high, above, and chuckles, bitterly. "Can you blame them?" he muses. The fire of his eye burns on something she can't see. 

He takes another drag, slowly. "I was willing to do anything, to get out." Venom, in that word—and she has heard it before. He's never shied away from baring the ruthlessness of those years in the filth, climbing rung after blood-stained rung. In some ways, it is a mantle: a declaration of achievement, fought for tooth and nail. The cigarette bounces in his fingers. "But," he says quietly, and his mouth turns tense. "You spend so long underground, it roots inside you. The sun turns cold. And everything you spent months, years, scavenging for feels like dust, blown away."

She looks down into her cup, fingertips caught on the smooth slope of its clay. His words pause again, muddling—but it's alright, now. She focuses on what she can. The city is never quiet: but this early, a stillness blankets it. A breeze whispers about the building's edges.

Smoke unspools blue above him. "Then, one day," he continues, frowning, "someone comes along, who lights that fire in you—and you forget. All the fight you had in you; the power you gave yourself. You burn it all away." He rests his head against the rough stone of the Drop's old wall. "That faith in something that is not your own—it breaks you. Turns you reliant." The word stings, like a blade. "An artificial sun, replacing whatever that dead thing in the sky used to be—and when you lose it..." The words trail out to a whisper. He taps the unlit end of his cigarette on the railing, once, twice. "You're nothing." 

The memory festers, in the quiet. It fills the space between them, thick as oil. He takes another drag. "Or," he breathes out, waving the embers towards their slow-built empire. "It frees you. Reminds you why you survived, before. How you survived, before."

She rests her cheek on her knee, and swallows. She can feel his eyes slip towards her: weighing out his words, turning them over. 

"Sometimes," Silco murmurs, and it is gentle for all the fire that sits in it, a furrow creasing his brow, "we have to kill parts of ourselves, to remember. But those parts of you—they never leave you." He swirls the dark pool of his coffee. Takes a slow sip. "Not completely."

[golden-buddle]

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#5

Struggling to walk, Ingo stumbled down the darkened tunnel.

He.. wasn’t sure what happened, he just.. had to keep moving.

With each step his legs groaned under him, each wheezing breath was accompanied with his hands being pressed against the cool walls.

He needed.. he..

A muffled wheeze slipped from him as he fell to his knees.

Only a few moments ago the world was too hot. Too.. red.

Why was it too red..?

His arm fell from the wall, causing him to immediately slump to the floor with a low thump.

This.. wasn’t right. He was.. he was going to find someone.

Something happened. The.. the sky changed.

Another chest rattling wheeze.

Why did his shirt suddenly feel so tight-?

His entire body shook as he pawed at his jacket. He.. he was worried. Something happened. Something big.

He was running- that sounded right- he was running, he fell and then.. something struck him.

It was red. Red like the sky. And.. he barely managed to drag himself into this tunnel.

His body shivered once more, his ripped and torn jacket slipping free.

He.. couldn’t wear it. It was too cold to wear it.

He squinted into the darkness, his hands coming up to his face.

This.. this wasn’t right. Why wasn’t this right? He.. couldn’t remember. What happened-? How did he get here-?

A groan leapt from his throat as he curled inwards.

His arms and legs itched. Growing and straining against his clothes as he tried to keep his thoughts.

The list conductor pulled himself up, his legs shaky under him. He needed to get up. To leave. To- to find..

The next groan that slipped from came out deeper. Darker. More aggressive.

Tearing cloth filled the air. Ripping and snapping as he held his claws to his chest-

..When.. when did they become claws?

Blinking back tears, Ingo blearily tried to uncurl, only to let out a inhuman shout of pain as snapping bones filled the air.

He dropped back down to the ground, his grey eyes looking back to see pale thick curved fur covered thighs and a thin set of paws.

That.. that wasn’t right-

His claws snapped forward, digging into the stone under him as his jaw dropped.

His jaw- he could feel his jaw stretch. His teeth moving, sharpening, growing-

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134 notes - Posted March 15, 2022

#4

The rain softly poured outside the little cave they were huddled into. Neither Ingo or Akari saw the storm coming, it came in to fast and they were far from paying attention.

As Akari’s wings were still covered in down, and she was barely able to fledge, it meant that the cool winds of the mountain storm was cold against her form and wings.

Still- she can ignore it. She’s a teenager after all, she can tend to herself.

Swallowing softly, she ignored her own shaking form as she slowly dug through her bag. She’s been needing to organize the mess it became..

Besides her, Ingo stayed silent and combed through his own wings. After the snafu of his instincts taking over and Lady Irida’s quick thinking, he wasn’t really allowed near the fledgling unless she sought her out.

Which, of course made his instincts prickle. He understood why, the relationships between Clans and the Galaxy Team were already tense, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like it.

Akari was clearly not being taken care of properly, the state of her wings made it clear.

But speaking of the fledgling..

His eyes jerked to the girl after a bang of lightning echoed through the mountains, the girl jumped at the sudden noise, her trembling wings snapping to her back with her actions.

A soft startled trill slipped from her lips before she was able to stamp her instinctive reactions back down, and return to her sorting.

..But her wings were still trembling and tight to her back.

Ingo felt his lips thin as his eyes wandered to the cave’s entrance. She was scared. And no doubt cold.

The lost conductor let out a soft sigh before he stretched out his wing to cover her back. He felt Akari jump at the sudden movement, but then relax into his limb.

The two stayed silent as she started to put her items away. But with her bag repacked, Akari.. didn’t seem to know what to do now. They had a soft fire going, carefully made by the Warden. But.. there was nothing left for her to do.

Moments passed as she sat under his wing. And after a few more passed, she made her decision. Moving slowly, the young teen leaned into the Warden’s side.

After a moment, the Warden fully closed his wing around her, keeping the cool wind away, and warmth from the fire close.

Together, they sat there until the storm faded.

139 notes - Posted May 2, 2022

#3

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157 notes - Posted March 27, 2022

#2

Ingo couldn’t help but rock on his heels as he awaited by the PA system.

After years of training with his brother, months of stressing over exams, weeks of paper work, they were finally here.

Subway Masters over their own subway system.

Emmet was by the doors, chattering to crowd as he explained the new and improved safety systems.

Ingo flexed his hands, quietly waiting for his cue.

After too long of waiting, his brother finally flashed him the go ahead.

Ingo immediately felt the corners of his lips turn up as he spun on his heel and grabbed the PA remote. Behind him, he heard Emmet step to the side.

“Now remember everyone, follow the rules and follow the schedule! Now, everybody smile!”

Nearly vibrating out of his coat, Ingo spun around to face the crowd and his brother once more.

With a quiet swoosh of the train doors opening, Ingo sucked in a deep breath and lifted the remote to his mouth.

“AAAALL ABOOOAAARD!”

Ingo’s voice echoed through the subway, his voice carrying through the tunnels without the speakers assisting him.

Emmet’s constant smile grew wider as he glanced over at the nearby speakers, not even blinking at the ringing in his ears.

But what did make him blink was the smoke coming out of the freshly installed speakers.

The subway fell silent as Ingo turned towards the crowd.

But Emmet wasn’t looking towards his brother, nor the crowd, his eyes were stuck on the sparking and smoking speakers.

He managed to tear his eyes away from them and turn towards his brother just in time to yell out-

“Ingo-! The speakers, they look like they’re going to-!”

Multiple small explosions rang through the air as each of the speakers combusted.

For once, the active subway was frozen.

The two subway masters slowly blinked, the older one turning towards the younger one.

“..Uh.. Sorry?”

A beat passed.

And the two burst into laughter, much to the confusion and near panic to all of their future passengers.

379 notes - Posted March 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

*Cough @manchasama cough*

-------

Ingo froze at the sight of the girl in front of him.

He didn’t see it this morning, but now, further into the day, his eyes couldn’t be dragged from the limp limbs behind the girl- Akari. Her name was Akari. Not a random girl.

Irida had told him she was like him. But she didn’t explain, didn’t say more than that the little girl had fallen from the sky as he did.

He bit his cheek as his eyes dragged over the limp limbs.

The Wings.

The feathers were singed. The supposed to be soft down singed and brittle. The pin feathers sticking up from where she couldn’t reach.

And was that a broken blood feather?

His hands itched and his own wings fluffed up under his coat.

As Lady Irida and Akari spoke, he couldn’t drag himself into the conversation. All he could see was the girl’s horribly kept wings, how he couldn’t help but internally shriek at the lack of care.

She was young, primary feathers not even in sight.

...This... this..

His hands clenched.

This.. could not stand.

:readmore:

He abruptly straightened out, his own unkempt wings straining under his coat.

“Miss Akari!” He snapped out, interrupting his Lady and the little miss- he will need to apologize later- “Who has been taking care of your tracks?”

The fledgling Child let out a meep as her wings fluffed, showing more broken feathers.

“Uh- um- m-myself..?”

He had to bite back a growl as he stepped towards the girl. His eyes were still on her wings, and while he could feel his Lady’s questioning gaze, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and stiffly guiding the wings back up to their proper positioning.

Limp wings indicated weakness, that no one was caring for the girl in the proper way.

He could feel Akari’s stiff muscles as he clicked his tongue, but he didn’t stop. With a blank expression his hands swiftly dove into the downy feathers.

Akari let out another surprised noise as Irida barked out Ingo’s name.

But he didn’t stop, in fact he stepped closer, standing behind Akari to get closer to the unkempt wings. The feathers were so brittle. It was clear she wasn’t even using any oil.

“Where is your repair kit, Miss Akari?”

Akari straightened up, her wings too weak to pull from Ingo’s skilled hands. “Wh-What-?”

Ingo grit his teeth as his feathers itched. “Your preening kit.”

“O-Oh, um- I.. don’t.. have one..?” Her voice trailed off, down feathers flattening to make herself smaller.

Ingo took a sharp intake before he finally turned his eyes back to his leader. “Lady Irida, I apologize for interrupting you, but I must take care of something.”

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497 notes - Posted April 26, 2022

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[sadmanyeyes]

Chapter 5

Oni booty:

Ling Ling yells at the two for being late, asking what they were doing. Turns out, at the end of the last chapter, they were filling the fountains with gasoline because the claw monster hates light...so the natural solution is drive into the fountain and torch it!

Ling Ling lifts and shakes the proven immortal Yakumo, saying there are no such things as monsters, complaining that the statue could be taken out of the mansion while they're goofing around. She tells them not to fuck this up because she needs the money.

Later on, Pai and Yakumo discuss how if the statue can turn her human, they're not too far from their goal. He asks her what she plans to do when she turns human...and she doesn't know. Hell, she doesn't even know what a brain is. Yakumo himself plans on getting back to his old life, far away from any monsters. This upsets Pai for whatever reason but Ling Ling tosses Yakumo the survival knife, saying she found the statue. She kicks down a wall and gives chase, finding (surprise surprise) Mr. Chau with the Ningen. Yakumo and Pai tell her to be careful...and she whoops his ass, telling him she already called the police and they'll be surrounding the place at any moment. She tells him he can't escape...and he goes "Bet" and flashes a bright light. She says she won't fall for his tricks and kicks at him, knocking him against a pillar. He escapes inside a hidden door, yelling at the claw monster (Tochau) to kill them. Ling Ling tackles him inside the door as Tochau attacks, getting scratches on Pai while making her drop the light.

She's fine but Tochau is still in the room, waiting for them at the door. There's nothing they can lead it away with without the light, let alone get rid of it...Yakumo goes to open the window to use the sunlight but, oh shit, it's raining! Yakumo asks Pai if she could turn into a triclops but she doesn't know what he's talking about.

So Tochau attacks again and Yakumo jumps out the window onto the window...landing thingy with Pai. This sucks rancid dick for him because he's afraid of heights. He jumps down onto the tile roof while escaping it. demanding to know why the Tochau wants the statue so damn much. Oh yeah, they have the statue. That part's important because Pai grabs it and runs off with it to lead the Tochau away, saying she's fine with whatever happens as long as Yakumo is safe (oh, the irony). Yakumo yells yes, it very much fucking matters what happens to her as they are linked in life and death before he throws himself on the invisible Tochau, stabbing it with the knife and hurling it off the roof with him into the fountain. Which then explodes.

A mysterious woman (who, I'm just gonna put this out here, looks like Huang) watches with a smirk as a shellshocked Pai approaches the fountain with the Ningen in hand, horrified. Then Mr. Chau comes out of nowhere and snatches the statue away from her, saying it belongs to Kaiyan Wang. Then, a regenerating Yakumo comes out of the fire, asking who is Kaiyan Wang.

Seeing the symbol on his forehead, Mr. Chau runs away...only to bump into Ling Ling, who tells him the police are here and he needs to give up. He's then shot down by Huang, dying while telling her she has betrayed Hsunkai. Huang says he's the murderer and she can't let him leaving after he stole and killed her husband. She guns him down while Pai tells her to stop, not wanting Mr. Chau to die. With his still dying breath, Mr. Chau says they'll never have the statue and throws it to the sky, where a giant hand comes down from the clouds and levitates it up in a pillar of light.

He says the Ningen will return to the world of darkness and tells everybody to despair in their search, finally dying for real.

So the police show up, they take away the body and Yakumo and Pai. Yakumo is bummed because he knows he's not going back to his old life for a while but Pai says she's happy anyway. Yakumo is confused...but he's less bummed.

In another location, Huang, with a similar mark to Yakumo's on her head, apologizes to Kaiyang Wang, saying she'll get the statue back for him...but she recognizes Yakumo's mark and finds it interesting.

The chapter ends with Yakumo and Pai eating away Ling Ling's pay with a big meal.

End of the chapter...and the mini-series(!). But we're far from done...

[mamirhodessxox]

Summer Time Sadness

Austin Butler x Lana!reader (Basically the reader makes lana del rey songs)

Summary; Basically Y/N is performing at coachella and doesn't realize austin was there and watched her sing until she looked in the crowd

Warnings; Fluff, Semi-Angst

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

It had been 5 months since me and Austin broke up. I was getting pretty big song wise I just kept my music genuine and that’s what got me here basically, I was performing at coachella since it was around that time of the year and everyone out there was excited to see me as my music was seen as relatable, everyone i knew was there to support me besides austin. (So she thought). I walked on stage and smiled before walking towards the microphone and started singing one of my most infamous songs on the internet.

Kiss me hard before you go

Summertime sadness

I just wanted you to know

That baby, you the best

I sung my heart out as fireworks went off in the night sky as I looked around at the gorgeous lights until i noticed someone very familiar in the crowd and fear went through my body but i ignored it and kept going.

I got my red dress on tonight

Dancin' in the dark, in the pale moonlight

Done my hair up real big, beauty queen style

High heels off, I'm feelin' alive

He was smiling clapping as if he was genuinely proud of me which made me sing even more

Oh, my God, I feel it in the air

Telephone wires above are sizzlin' like a snare

Honey, I'm on fire, I feel it everywhere

Nothin' scares me anymore

Every memory of us glazed through my mind as I sang even more which brought tears to my eyes until I looked over at my very drunk friend Melanie who was cheering me on the whole time 

Kiss me hard before you go, Summertime sadness I just wanted you to know That baby, you the best

Austin stared at me paying no attention to anyone else he just focused on me and held that charming smile on his face as I sang my little heart out to not only the crowd but now directly at him and he now knew that.

got that summertime, summertime sadness

Su-su-summertime, summertime sadness

Got that summertime, summertime sadness

Oh, oh-oh, oh-oh

I'm feelin' electric tonight

Cruisin' down the coast, goin' about 99

Got my bad baby by my heavenly side

I know if I go, I'll die happy tonight

I sang the rest of the song until I finally finished and got off stage and went somewhere secluded where Melanie got too first and hugged me tight while holding her flask “Babes!! You did aboslutely fucking amazing up there tonight!” I laughed at her squealing form as We held each others waists as she opened her flask pouring tequila into my mouth what i hadn’t realized was that Austin was watching leaned up against a wall with a smirk until i lowered my head and shook it not used to how hard that liquor hit me “Still doing it like a pro huh?” Melanie turned around and looked at me smiling before running off leaving me and him alone together “I didn’t know you were gonna perform until I saw you on stage from afar so I decided to come and watch.” I smiled slightly as he walked over to me and stood close, basically towering over me since I'm way smaller than him. “Well..thank you for sticking around! I really appreciate it Aus, i hope you’ve been doing goo-” He cut me off as she quickly leaned in placing a kiss on my lips which pushed me back into the wall behind me a bit as I kissed him back until we needed to catch a breath “I’m so sorry for what happened between us Y/N I really am"

I frowned as I remembered the main reason as to why we broke up, I felt alone in the relationship as he got focused on the Elvis movie which was fine but he barely acknowledged me when I was in a depressive state "It's fine Aus.." He sighed as he held me by my waist with one hand and used the other to make me look up at him as I had tears forming in my eyes and drop down my cheek which caused him to wipe my tears "Let's try again sweetheart..Please? I miss you so fucking much and I promise I'll give you my undivided attention from now o-" It was my turn to shut him up now as I pulled him closer and kissed him "I would love to Aus you don't realise how much I miss you crave you and just want to be around you." Music was booming around us but we ignored it as we were both to focused on being in each other's atmosphere "I love you so much Y/N" He wrapped his arms around me holding me close as if i were going to disappear into nothingness "I love you more Austin." We were finally back together, It was now making sense to us both as to why we ended up back in each other's different realities. Because we were meant for each other and we were meant to be together for the rest of our lives.

[pintsizemama]

First Snow

Day 5

Welcome to the 2021 Christmas Writing Challenge! Big thank you to Steph (@toomanystoriessolittletime) for putting this together!!!

Summary: It’s Grogu’s first snow…and You and Din have a confession to make.

Pairings: Din Djarin x Reader, Din Djarin x You

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Rating: Mature 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1,392

Warnings: language, kissing, FLUFF, allusions to sex/getting pregnant…Let me know if I missed anything!

Day 4 Day 6 Christmas Masterlist Main Masterlist Din Masterlist AO3 Join my taglist

The temperature had dropped dramatically since you landed on the latest planet. You couldn’t even remember the name of it at this point. You had bounced around the galaxy so much the last several months, they all started to blur together.

“Patu?” A little voice behind you called. You turned and smiled at the adorable little green child who had stolen your heart. He waddled up next to you. You reached down and scooped him up.

“It’s getting cold out here, isn’t it, little guy?” You murmured, cuddling him in close. He burrowed into your chest, seeking your warmth. “You wanna go back in the ship?” He cooed in the way you had learned to recognize meant ‘no’. “Alright. We’ll stay out here just a bit longer. I’m getting sick of staring at the metal walls all day too, buddy. Believe me.” You set him back down on the ground and followed him for a bit. You stayed close to the ship. Din had been clear he didn’t want either of you to stray far.

You looked out on the horizon, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. He had been gone for a couple days, and you missed him. This latest bounty had been a pain in the ass. Din had chased him across three planets already. You hoped this would be the last. You followed the kid further, but made sure to keep the Razor Crest in your sights. Just then you felt something cold and wet hit your nose. You wrinkled it and brought your hand up. When you looked, there was nothing there. As you stared at your open hand several snowflakes landed on your palm.

You looked up to the sky in amazement. It was snowing! It had been so long since you’d seen snow. You had seen more than enough desert planets to last you a lifetime. Snow was less common in your travels.

“Aroo?” The kid chirped. You looked down to see him holding out his hand to catch the snow. He examined it closely and then put it in his mouth. He grinned up at you, clearly happy with the taste.

“Is this your first snow?” You asked him. He nodded slowly. You picked him up and hugged him close. “I’m glad I got to share one of your firsts with you.” The snowfall picked up, and soon there was enough for you both to play in. You built a small snow man and made snowballs to toss at each other. The kid cheated and used his special powers to lob them at you, but you didn’t mind.

You lost track of time, and also forgot to keep an eye on the ship. If you had been paying attention, you would have noticed a certain Mandalorian returning with his bounty.

Din heard laughter. More specifically, your laughter. He loved that sound. Your laugh was light and beautiful and contagious. He smiled inside the helmet, excited to be back with you. You had been traveling with him for months. He was hesitant with you at first—he was with everyone. But somehow you had managed to slip beneath his armor and work your way into his heart. He quickly shoved the bounty into the carbonite chamber and made his way out to see what was making you laugh. He slowed to a stop when he took in the scene before him. You and the kid were laying in the snow waving your arms and legs bag and forth. You popped up and helped the kid get up. He approached quietly and heard you explaining what you had been doing to the kid.

“See?” You said, pointing to the figures in the snow. “It looks just like an angel now.” The kid cooed and then promptly shoved a handful of snow in his mouth. You laughed delightedly.

“You keep eating that snow and you’re gonna pee yourself,” you warned him.

“Having fun?” Din asked. You yelped and jumped in surprise.

“You’re back!” You exclaimed excitedly. “Did you get him?” Din nodded, and you beamed. “Well, we should celebrate!”

“I don’t think we need too—” before he could finish, a huge snowball plowed into his visor. “Meshla, did you just throw a snowball at me?” You bit your lip and shook your head.

“No,” you teased.

“Oh, you’re in for it!” Din called out as he gathered snow in his large hands. You squealed and grabbed the kid as you ran for cover. Din pummeled you both with snowballs, but you two managed to get a few hits in. You were breathless with laughter. You and the kid hid behind a small snow covered mound. Din had stopped his assault, but you knew it was only a temporary pause. You peaked cautiously over the mound. Din was nowhere in sight.

“Where’d he go?” You whispered to the kid. Just then Din crashed into you and knocked you on your back. He smooshed a pile of snow into your face. “Maker! Din! You scared the shit outta me!” You laughed as you spit snow out of your mouth. Din’s shoulders shook with mirth.

“You look cute covered in snow,” he chuckled. He picked up another handful and held it up playfully.

“No more!” You begged. “I surrender! Mercy! Mercy!” Din laughed.

“No mercy!” He teased.

“Tell daddy to play nice!” You called out to the kid. Din froze at your words. Your eyes widened when you realized what you had said. “Din, I—”

Faster than you’d ever seen him move before, Din dropped the snow and pushed his helmet up just enough to reveal two very plump, soft looking lips. He leaned down and crashed his mouth into yours. You moaned and kissed him back fervently. You had been dying to kiss him since the moment you met. His tongue pushed past your lips and licked deep into the hot cavern of your mouth. He settled himself between your thighs and you groaned when you felt him harden against you. You lost track of everything as he overwhelmed your senses.

“Aroo?” The kid cooed next to your head. Din pulled back and pulled his helmet back down. He stood quickly and helped you up.

“I’m sorry, cyar’ika,” he apologized. “I—I got carried away…it won’t happen again.” You placed your hand gently on his chest.

“It’s alright, Din,” you assured him. “I wanted it to happen…and I want it to happen again.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” you said. “I…well, I’ve had…feelings for you for a long time now. I was just too nervous to act on them.”

“Feelings?” He asked, tilting his helmet. You sighed.

“I love you, Din Djarin,” you whispered. Din’s fist clenched. It was the only reaction he had. You watched him, hoping he wouldn’t kick you off the Razor Crest.

“I love you, too,” he said gruffly.

“Really?” You gasped.

“Yes,” he replied. “I have for a while…but hearing you call me his dad”—he gestured to the kid who was currently shoving more snow into his mouth—“implying we’re a family…fuck, I just couldn’t control myself. It’s all I’ve ever wanted with you.”

“It’s what I want too,” you said with a teary smile. “We are a family.”

“I know,” he said. His hand cupped your face. “I want to make you mine…make you my riddur. Have more children with you.”

“Please,” you begged.

“After we drop off these bounties,” he told you, “we’ll say our vows.”

“Ok,” you said with a smile.

“But I plan on starting to try for those children tonight, cyare,” he said huskily.

“Oh, that works for me,” you whispered.

“Good,” Din responded. “Now let’s get this little gremlin back on the ship and to sleep as soon as possible. We have a lot of ‘trying’ to do tonight.” You laughed and scooped the kid up. He still had two hands full of snow, but he whined when he realized playtime was over.

“Don’t worry, little guy,” you cooed. “We’ll see snow again soon. I promise.” He nuzzled into you.

“You’re a great mom,” Din said. His hand came up to rest on your lower back.

“You’re a great dad,” you returned. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you knew he was smiling. You couldn’t wait to make this family official.

Day 6

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[haruhey]

Hide Away With Me

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Word count: 3.6k

Established Relationship Fluff !! | Suggestive? | Part 2: Hands To Yourself

Dancing in the dark, with you between my arms.

Let’s use your house for a party, he said.

It’ll be a good opportunity to blow off some steam, he said.

It’ll be fun, he said.

Remind Daryl to never to agree to anything Rick asks for at least another month.

Groaning silently, he shifts in his seat tucked cozily next to the fireplace, feeling much too unwelcome in his own home as his fingers fiddle the bottleneck of the beer he’s nursing. Soft jazz flows through the old record player he had lugged from some house four down from the left, and it’s barely quieted down from when he was standing next to it. There’s saxophone and piano in the song, maybe some trombone too and a trumpet every now and then, but his knowledge of instruments extends only to the guitars used by the rock stars Merle would listen to. Voices from the people talking in front of him drone on and on about their past lives - wild parties from their university days, graduating summa cum laude only to work a 9 to 5 - but they amalgamate with the music sooner than later.

Daryl’s bored shitless. And uncomfortable, too.

He should have said no.

A small glimmer of joy flashes through his cloud of annoyance as you laugh at something Maggie says. Glenn is at her side, arm slung lazily across her waist as he leans his weight on the wall behind them and huffs something in denial, letting out a dejected sigh at her teasing. Daryl, however, pays zero attention to them as his free hand draws small figures onto your thigh, absentminded as he seeks an escape from the situation he had agreed to put himself in.

The chair Daryl’s sitting on - well, the both of you are sitting on - is something of a loveseat; an unneeded piece of furniture from Carol’s house which she gifted to him when news broke out in your tight-knit group that the two of you finally got together. It’s nice, a begrudging favourite of his since he swears his ass had never sat on anything so soft in his life, but there was another reason, too.

It’s spacious. Big enough for the two of you to fold up into each other and spend nights cuddling in front of the fireplace, reading anything the two of you could get your hands on. It was those nights he found himself drifting to on long recruits - boring, long-winded novels lining the bookshelves of your home only ever sounding good when you read them to him. Truth be told, he had come to the conclusion long ago that you could make anything sound good; no matter if it was Hemingway or Steinbeck.

Back against one of the armrests, you shift your legs under the blanket Daryl had draped over you as your dominant hand works its way under. His fingers are warm when you link yours with his and you turn your head just slightly to offer him a small smile before redirecting your attention to the couple of people who had just joined the conversation. As much as he had hated how soft you made him prior to the two of you becoming a thing, now that he could call himself yours, he found that he actually didn’t really mind it all that much.

His eyes never leave your face even when you turn away, gazing at you like you had just hung the stars in the sky. 

You adjust your position, wiggling a little in his grasp and the warmth of your legs on his makes him feel slightly better as he remembers all the other times you’ve draped yourself over him. Merle would have called him whipped, and maybe he was, but he didn’t care; he would gladly gorge himself on anything that took away from his desire to sink into the damn loveseat and disappear from his own home. In an odd way, feeling you so near him - in his lap with the cotton providing enough privacy and comfort for the both of you to allow yourselves into this position - just felt right.

It feels just as right as when he wakes up next to you in the morning, and he loves it, scooting you closer as the two of you watch more people file in. The clock on the wall continues to tick along, barely audible over the sounds of the vinyl record and Daryl groans quietly when his eyes flick over to it.

40 minutes.

It’s only been 40 minutes.

“... Isn’t that right?”

Your voice breaks him out of his daze and he grunts in acknowledgment, attempting to cover up the fact he’s much too caught up in his own thoughts as his other hand now falls to the back of your dress. It’s one he’s seen a few times - once on the night of Deanna’s party, once at a large bonfire that ‘boosted community morale’ or some shit, and once upon request just so he could take it off you later that night. He knows it’s the only one you have and, secretly, he enjoys that fact, thinking to himself that maybe parties weren’t all that bad if he got to see you like this. Sure, maybe he likes the way it hugs your body a little more than he should, but to not splay his hand across that window of tantalizing skin afforded to him would just be a damn shame.

Fuck, now he had another reason for wanting this stupid party over.

The conversation continues on and he picks up some talk about a lake and maybe taking a group out to fish before the dots connect in his brain. The two of you had stumbled across a little creek out in the woods during one of the hunting trips together and Rick must have spread the word about it when Daryl told him. He shifts you in his lap for a second before pulling his hand out of the blanket and grabbing the beer he’d place on the small table next to him, taking a generous swig of the liquid before offering it to you. Shaking your head in response, you lean in towards him, voice hushed so that the people around you don’t hear, and he feels the breath of your words fan across the side of his cheek.

“You’re not even gonna try and hide it?”

He sputters, jostling you slightly and nearly spitting out his beer at the thought you had somehow read all the less-than-innocent thoughts reeling through his mind like a greatest hits CD. Pulling his head back, Daryl raises an eyebrow at you in hopes you’ll fall for his innocent act, and he finds himself holding his breath until he hears you speak.

“You’re bored, aren’t you? It’s written all over your face.”

A sympathetic smile worms its way onto your face and a rush of relief washes over him before you grasp his thigh, squeezing it underneath the blanket in an attempt to cheer him up.

“Jus’ wish we were alone, tha’s all. Y’know, without everyone… around.”

Shrugging nonchalantly, he takes another swig of his beer before placing it back onto the small table and his hand seeks yours. The cotton is a poor substitute for the warmth of your skin, but Daryl reciprocates the squeeze nonetheless, the action enough to make you know you were right. He was never one for parties, never went to one if it was avoidable and there was no doubt in your mind about that fact, but his respect for Rick’s ambitions towards Alexandria outweighed his personal strife.

“Are you feeling uncomfortable?”

There’s something about the way you look at him when you say those words that makes his heart stutter. You’re looking at him like he’s the only damn thing in the world, and he’s starting to forget about everyone around him. It’s powerful; you’re powerful. Shit, did you put him under some spell? Nobody’s ever cared so much about him and it makes him feel special - it makes him feel like his love for you could eclipse the damn sun.

“Can’t exactly do nothin’ about it.”

Humming at his confession, you smile and take his free hand in both of yours, bringing his knuckles to your lips and wishing you could lean in to kiss him instead, but he was right, there were people around. There were far too many to feel comfortable doing something as intimate as that, and part of you felt selfish for wanting them to leave. Shifting in his lap, an idea springs into your head and you wait for a good chunk of the Alexandrians to disperse from the fireplace before you toss your legs over him and onto the floor.

Immediately, his hand goes to grab at your waist, the warmth of him on either side of you making you grin even wider than you were when your figurative lightbulb popped on. The blanket is still in your grasp as you hop up, hiding the fact your dress rides up for just a second from everyone except Daryl who’s seated directly behind you. He chokes on nothing when he sees the black boxer briefs he’d leant to you as safety shorts before you spin around and extend your hand. It’s so soft, he knows it is, and you’re so inviting. Who was he to deny you?

“I think I can do something about it.”

Slotting his hand in yours, he shakes his bangs into his face in an effort to hide his blush while his mind wanders about the true meaning of your words. Nobody really pays mind to the two of you as you walk with him in your grasp - this was your house after all - and expertly, he’s weaved through the sea of people as you wave on the off chance you’ve both bumped into someone who cared enough to acknowledge your presence. It was stupid of him to think you would both make it to wherever it was you wanted to take him completely ignored. Of course they would wave at you. You always were so much more likable than he was.

Each step up the stairs clams up his hands and he swallows his spit in anticipation, but his curiosity overtakes him when you bring him to one of the spare rooms he’d never been in. The two of you had only gotten the house recently, and he had been on recruitment since then. Even though this was his home, Daryl’s knowledge of it extended little past the bedroom he shared with you and the first floor.

Dragging open the door with your free hand, you huff in triumph when you find that it’s empty. The kids had run off somewhere else to play board games or read comics, and it seems like they had conveniently missed this room, hearing their excited shouts of victories and losses from a few rooms down. You couldn’t blame them since, to anyone else, the door looked out of place - a hallway closet perhaps, one full of towels and laundry detergent, not a room that rivaled yours in square feet.

There’s a bed up against the far wall that’s fitted over in an almost laughably bright race-car red, and he flusters when he feels you let go of his hand to lock the door, nearly jittering at the thought of why you’ve stolen him away and brought him here. Here where you’ve locked the door, prying eyes unable to sneak glimpses of whatever is to transpire. Here where you're both essentially isolated from the world outside, humans and walkers alike.

Here where you’re both alone.

Gulping, he watches you as you grasp his hand again, kicking off your worn sneakers and leaving them at the door before he follows suit. There’s a slight tickle at his feet from the fur of the carpet, but his attention is solely focused on you, seeming to float along the ground as you walk him closer and closer to the center of the large room. Closer and closer to the damn twin bed which lies just a few more feet away. It’s small, smaller than the queen size the two of you share, but it’s big enough for him to just lay you down and blanket your body with his. Jesus Christ, is this going where he wants it to go?

But then the unmistakable laugh of one of the children seeps in through the walls and panic washes over him, the true implications of what’s been running in his mind coming to the surface. The house was big - bigger than any he’s ever been in before, which wasn’t a hard feat considering he’d only ever crashed in houses that reminded him of his childhood - but the walls weren’t soundproof. You could both hear them, which means there was a more-than-likely possibility they would hear you, too. Daryl was never one to toot his own horn, but if his memory served him correct, they would most definitely hear you.

Pulling you back flush against his chest, he shakes the bangs from his face and looks down at you, eyes almost dejected as he nibbles his lip anxiously through his words.

“We- we can’t- we- I- they could hear us.”

A hum of confusion escapes you as your brows raise, trying to figure out what exactly he meant. When Daryl realizes his misinterpretation, his eyes widen almost comically and he can’t meet yours in fear that he’s just embarrassed himself to a new end. Shit, he was so goddamn stupid - his stupid, stupid brain just couldn’t fucking control itself around you. As if you would ever risk doing something so intimate with people just downstairs and down the hall.

He swallows hard, mouth pulling into a thin line as his spit creates some kind of plug in his throat from how ashamed he is. You’re just looking at him, questioning him and waiting for an answer that never comes because he’s too busy chastising himself about just how stupid he really was. Unable to meet your gaze, he stares at the wall the twin bed is pushed up against and you follow his eye line, suppressing a laugh from bubbling up your chest when you connect the dots.

“What exactly are you thinking, Daryl Dixon?”

Something in your voice tells him he doesn’t need to answer your question, and he mutters a quick ‘shut up’, glaring at you with no legitimate ill-intent as he scrunches his nose for a second. Laughing freely, you pull yourself off of his chest and bring him to the center of the room before you let go of his hand. The jazz music still plays from downstairs and he watches mesmerized as you spin around him, the dress you’re wearing fanning out from your torso almost hypnotizing. He’s sure he’s slack-jawed as he stares openly at the way you’re moving, but you look so carefree and so damn beautiful with the first tricklings of moonlight streaming in that it makes his heart hurt.

“Don’t you wanna dance with somebody?”

Grasping his hand, you pull far from him until both of your arms are straight from where he connects to you, and he chuckles when he realizes this is probably a poor imitation of something you saw in a movie. He wasn’t a dancer, his stiff body is a testament to that fact, but there’s something about the way you’re smiling at him and the way he swears your eyes are sparkling that makes him want to do anything he can to keep that expression on your face. At least in the confines of this locked room, he feels a comfort he can’t explain. Just with you, it feels like his whole being has found a home to return to.

Your moves are much more graceful than his, but still, you stumble over yourself and he catches you, strong arms grasping at either side of your waist and pulling your back into his chest. Eager fingers find their way onto your stomach, splaying over with a tenderness that makes butterflies erupt underneath his touch and you rest your head against his shoulder. Leaning down, he kisses the rise of your cheekbone, a small smile plastered on his face when he hears you giggle and he sways you from side to side. It’s not nearly as impressive as you spinning around him moments ago, but he loves it just as much.

“Don’t you wanna feel the heat with somebody?”

Twirling around, you push your chest up to his and run your touch up both of his arms. The flannel of his black button-up is softer than you imagine and it causes a smile to seep through your words. It shouldn’t affect Daryl as much as it does, he can barely feel the warmth of your hand over his shirt, but a silent groan drops from his lips anyways, no doubt from the coupling of sensations and the way your voice drags deliciously against each syllable. He seeks your lips again, only for you to turn your head from his at the last moment and wrap the nape of his neck in the crooks of your elbows. Childlike, he pouts before he feels the breath of your words against his ear when you pull him down, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t you wanna dance with somebody?”

You have to know what you’re doing, don’t you? His body moves on its own accord when you tug him to you, the carpet becoming a furnished ballroom wood floor under the pairs of socks gliding across, laughter bouncing off the walls in this little bubble of intimacy he never wants to leave. Each sway and step makes Daryl’s smile grow even wider, forgetting about the people downstairs and the handful of teenagers just down the hall. You always did this to him - made warmth overflow in his chest, made him submit to all your whims in a heartbeat. He was whipped, wasn’t he? Real damn whipped - but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

A yelp escapes your throat when, in the haze of twirling and innocent wonderment, your calves hit the race-car red blankets and you fall back onto the bed, your fingers digging into his forearms as you brace for impact. Shit, did the room get smaller or did you just forget how far Daryl had swayed you? He joins you not long after, dragged down by your grip as he crashes onto your body, pushing out the air from your lungs with a muffled grunt before you both laugh exasperated.

“Don’t remember dancin’ bein’ this fun.”

He rolls off you and to your left, his voice making you turn your head to his, and you catch a sliver of amused teeth before he faces you too, eyes softening the instant they meet yours. Giggling, you scoot closer to him and turn your body to the side, planting a kiss on his lips that he reciprocates by imitating your actions, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and feeling so damn relaxed despite the fact he’s pretty sure he would fall off the tiny mattress if he moved even an inch.

To hell with the party going on downstairs. Anything that took him away from this is nothing but a nuisance.

“It’s fun when you do it with somebody who loves you.”

There’s a twinge of melody at the end of your sentence when you pull your face away, eyes crinkling with a happiness that makes his heart soar. God, this felt good. Just being here and lying next to you. It felt like the nights in the prison when you would spend the time stargazing with him. It felt like the nights on the road where you would sleep close to where he was keeping watch and he admired how peaceful you looked with each steady breath you took. It felt perfect to be here, on a bed much too small for the both of you, away from the view of everyone else to scrutinize his unsure steps - it just felt nice to be loved by you.

Absentmindedly, his hands find home just over the swell of your ass, pulling his hips closer to you in an effort not to fall off the mattress. He shuts his eyes for a second, relishing in the warmth of holding your body close, and lives in the memories the two of you’ve created. This reminds him of the first time he had spent the night at your house, huddled into you because you forgot to mention the bed you had taken was a twin one. He’d wrapped you up in him to an almost suffocating degree, but neither of you minded, both too drunk off the heaven that was the warmth of one another.

“Don’t try anything, Daryl.”

He hums in response to your mumbled warning, your tone lacking any real authoritative intent as he worms his fingers underneath the skirt of your dress, pushing one of his knees in between the two of yours before he plants another kiss on you. It’s a silent plea for the two of you to stay like this a little longer - arms around each other as smooth jazz muffles in from the sliver beneath the locked door and through the plaster walls that line the room. Just a little longer before the two of you had to resurface from this euphoria you’ve created.

“Wouldn’t dream ‘f it.”

He would just have to wait for everyone to leave then, wouldn’t he? After all, you had a dress you would have to take off, and Daryl would be damned if he didn’t at least try and help.

──── ⋙

should i... make a part 2..?

straight up pwp... jk...

unless?

@daryldixonluv @pulplorrd @fuseburner @hells-mistress @maria--grey-blog @marylimlp @pncnsc @tinachristeen @hail-yourselves @whimsicallymad @just-always-tired @phoenixblack89 @inkyvibin

comment to be on my taglist!

[myyoungroyalsblog]

I CANNOT and WILL NOT stop thinking about a The Last Of Us AU with Wilmon but not fully following the story? I just keep picturing this: yes I just finished watching the entire series AGAIN avaksbsjdbdbdb

Wille is in a place that's like Jackson, a small town with nice people/families where each person has a job/responsibility and a home. It's basically like a small town, with big walls surrounding it to kill any infected/bad people.

Now Wille is having a drink at the bar, he lets himself have this treat once a month or so, and he's talking with Linda. Sara is also there with them... But not Simon.

He hasn't seen him in almost 7 years, not since outbreak day. It happened on their last day at Hillerska; graduation day.

Two years they had been dating, talking about moving in together so Stockholm and start university together, and in a single second, that dream was gone.

He's probably dead, he thinks bitterly.

But at least there are familiar faces that have found their way into this small town where it's safe and nice, like Linda and Sara.

It's one of those days where he's missing Simon more than usual, and feels the moisture start to build up behind his eyes.

He pays for his drink, bids Linda a goodnight and goes outside to go home, the sky painted in different colours signaling dusk.

He turns to walk away when he sees Malin, who had become one of the "leaders" in this place (and she does a bloody good job of it).

But she's not alone.

She and others have just closed the big entrance gate, signaling letting somone in.

Who will it be this time?

The last people they let enter was almost 5 months ago, who coincidentally was the sister of one of the residents, who hadn't seen each other in years.

It was a celebration, and even though he was happy for them, he also envied them.

He kept looking towards Malin who was getting closer, a small figure beside her, looking weak but determined.

When Malin saw him, she smiled and made a stopping motion, telling him to wait and not leave just yet.

He furrowed his brows, making a questioning motion towards the person beside her, who had his face down.

When they were a few meters away, he could see the brown curls on the boys head, reminding him of his lost love once again, feeling his heart chip away little by little.

God Simon, I miss you so much

But before he could start to wallow in his grief, Malin nodged the person beside her, who he now realized was holding his left side with his right arm.

Maybe a bruised rib?

He was about to ask if he was okay when he finally saw his face.

There is no way...

But there he was.

Simon.

A little bange dup but alive.

He was alive.

He could feel his body start to shake.

"Si... Simon?"

The smaller boy looked up, and for the first time in a very long time... Brown eyes bored into honey ones.

"Wille? Is that you?"

He broke down.

He took three steps forward and engulfed him in his arms, sobs racking his body, "Simon... Simon... It's you..."

He leans his body weight against the prince, the exhaustion of survival hitting him at full force now, "I found you, I finally found you..." He whispered into the blond strands he loved so much, his hand moving through it now in soothing strokes.

And then Linda and Sara come out and hug him and in the end Simon gets settled in and they spend the night together idk (BUT NOT LIKE THAT they just cuddle and cling to each other all night long and for all the days to come ahhhhhhhh)

Sorry but if I didn't stop now I would continue and this would turn into a fic and I do NOT have the energy for that rn lol

[cinnamonrusts]

i’ll see you in the village -- 7 (final)

parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Chris is overjoyed to see you safe and sound in his arms, despite Ethan crumbling before his eyes. Despite the circumstances -- is this happily ever after for Chris and yourself? (chris redfield x f!reader)

a/n: we’ve reached the end of this series! thank you all for your love and support! i enjoyed writing this so much, xoxo.

                                                                ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.*

Chris’s lips felt chapped against your cold skin and you could feel the coolness of his sweat from his cheek in the freezing air. Your eyes examined his face as he repeated his words, “You’re okay. You’re okay,” you were unsure if he meant the reassurance for you or himself, but nonetheless - hearing his real voice was soothing.

“Chris?” you asked again. His attention turned to you and his grip tightened around your hand, “Yeah? You okay?” he asked. You hummed and gave a weak nod, “It-It’s pretty cold out here. Th-these bad boys could cut glass right now...” your free hand covered the exposed upper half of your body. Chris chuckled, he couldn’t believe that everything you’d been through -- you could still crack a joke and make him laugh. That was one of the things he loved most about you.

He helped you lean up with his palm gently placed between your shoulder blades, “Let’s get you somewhere safe--,” Chris started but stopped when the roots that covered the landscape near the two of you withered away. When the area opened, Ethan Winters was on his knees with his infant daughter clutched in his arms. Chris looked toward you then to Ethan before he turned back, “I’m alright,” you assured him and watched as the man ran to his friend. “Ethan!” Chris called as he shook the blonde’s shoulder. Ethan’s head hung down over his daughter but remained silent. The Alpha’s voice cracked as he feared for the worst in regards to the father who was finally reunited with his child.

✧.*

A huge mass of black roots rose from just in front of the horizon and Chris quickly slinked his arm around Ethan to pull him in your direction. “Can you walk, [Y/N]?!” he called out. Your head nodded quickly as you pushed yourself up from the ground - whether you could or not, you would. It had been quite sometime since you walked on your own, so you wobbled side to side a few times before you were able to stand still. You pulled the lab coat closed and waddled to Ethan’s aide, then slinked an arm around the other half of his body. “It’s-it’s nice to finally meet you, Ethan. I’ve heard quite a bit about you,” you said with kindness heavy in your tone. Ethan remained silent but he slowly lifted his head and gave you a weak smile.

The mass of roots opened and revealed it was the Megamycete that Miranda praised during her rule of the village. Chris quickened his pace which was troublesome for Ethan and yourself as you were gaining back your strength while Ethan was losing his. “There’s a bomb in that thing that’ll blow this village sky-high!” Chris informed. “A bomb?!” you yelled. Chris pulled out a detonation device, “When I hit this trigger, we can’t be anywhere near it!” Despite this worrisome news, Ethan paused in his tracks which stopped the two of you, your eyebrows furrowed as you noticed Ethan seemed to get worse. Chris did his best to encourage the man to keep going by telling him that his wife was alive.

“Mia..?” Ethan asked. “Yes! Keep going, Ethan. Knowing that [Y/N] helped me when I felt like it was the end. You can do it too...” Chris kept egging him on before you stopped him when you said his name firmly. The infant looked up to her father with love in her saucer orbs while Ethan looked down to her, “I’m so sorry... I love you...” Ethan handed baby Rose to Chris who was reluctant to accept her, “Tell her yourself,” his voice dropped when he realized what Winters was doing. Ethan removed his coat and covered his daughter with it, his condition worsened as each minute passed in the frigid outdoors. “Teach her to be strong...”

“Chris, give me the trigger,” you reached for it but his grip was tight. He was reluctant to give you it because he knew that you’d give it to Ethan, “It’s what he wants,” you grabbed it again and this time you were able to yank it free. Just as you passed it to him, he pushed you out of the way from an attacking root. You stumbled backward into Chris who then pulled you tight to his body with Rose tucked safely in his arm. Ethan stood on the opposite side with the trigger in his deteriorated hand, “Goodbye, Rosemary.”

✧.*

When you heard Ethan’s voice crack with tears, you could feel your heart tear because it was so evident the love he had for his daughter. Ethan fought through hell and high water to reach her. He disposed of the Lords and managed to destroy Miranda (something that you couldn’t even do) - and now decided to sacrifice himself so the three of you could escape this European prison.

Chris knew that any more protests would fall upon deaf ears and he said goodbye to his friend. Ethan was armed with the detonator and the three of you needed to get the hell out of there - so he grabbed hold of your waist and ran off to safety before the explosion would detonate...

The helicopter was like a saving grace and you were relieved to see it because you knew that it meant you’d finally be free of this place. It had been days since you’d arrived. You were subjected to physical harm, torture, and whatever Miranda did...was it still inside of you? Your future was uncertain but instead of being afraid now for it now, you would live in the moment and worry later.

Mia, Ethan’s wife, was overjoyed to see her daughter safe in Chris’s arms. However, this soon darkened when the group lacked an important member. “Where’s Ethan?” she cried out as the helicopter took off into the air. Her eyes darted frantically as she ached for an answer from someone, anyone! You sat down on a seat and Tundra approached you, she gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Great to see you safe, [Y/N].” you smiled and nodded, “Yeah, good to see you guys too.” It was difficult but you tried your best to not make eye contact with Mia, you waited for Chris to give her the news - it wasn’t your place, you felt.

Her anger boiled as she demanded that Chris answered her. But the answer was not what she expected as the blast from the explosion rocked the helicopter and the bright flash blinded mostly everyone in the craft. Mia rushed to the circular window and observed the fiery inferno that engulfed the land below. “I told you to sit down...” Chris spoke, his voice dark. She wouldn’t look away, “What have you done?” she asked, sadness tore at her throat. Mia fell into a swarm of tears and Chris punched the wall of the cabin, “I tried.” his voice cracked as he fought back tears. “He stayed so we all could escape.”

✧.*

You pushed yourself up from your seat to try and comfort Mia. It was too difficult to watch her mourn as her head hung heavily over Rose, who cooed at her mother - she was a glimmer in the darkness. But when you took a step in her direction, your head felt like it was spinning. Soon, you ended up on the floor of the helicopter and began convulsing. Chris and two members of your squad rushed to your aid. They did their best to get you to answer them but you remained silent as your body shook uncontrollably for several seconds. Not long after, you stopped and laid completely still with your eyes wide open. Chris scooped you up and placed your upper half in the bend of his arm. “[Y/N]!?” 

Suddenly, small fractures began to crack across your skin and spread out throughout the entirety of your body. Chris panicked when he noticed and his hands tried to hold the pieces that began to fall away from your core. Your skin turned white and broke like ceramic; Chris held you tighter but it only caused you to crumble more. “Chris...” you gained consciousness somewhat and struggled to speak. He hushed you, “Don’t say anything, just-just relax.” Chris rocked you back and forth in a soothing matter, but he was sure to be careful. “Chris. I-I...” you lifted your arm up slowly and cupped his cheek in your crumbled hand, which was now just a few fingers and mostly empty spaces.

“I love you...” just as you spoke your last words... you crumbled into the same material as the others before you who were infected with the mold. When the ashy pieces tumbled away, all that remained in Chris’s arms was a crystalized statue of your torso. Just the same as what Ethan picked up after he disposed of the Lords and the creatures that were scattered throughout the village.

Chris was speechless as he observed your remains that were still clutched tightly in his arms. “Alpha, I--,” Tundra attempted to sympathize with her superior, despite being in shock herself. She reached out to touch his shoulder but he slapped her hand away.

“Because we destroyed the Megamycete -- it took [Y/N] with it.” his thumb rubbed the smooth crystal as tears fell from his eyes.

“And someone’s gonna pay ---,”

[beskarberry]

Silver and Steel

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 2 (The Mandalorian x f!reader)

It was then you noticed the open wall next to you. The steel panel was slid open to reveal a vault packed corner to corner with more firepower than you had ever seen in one place. Your eyes roamed from blaster to rifle to flamethrower, noticing that not all of them were made for five fingered hands. This wasn't just an armory, it was a trophy case.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 7.5k

Content warnings: ALOT. Descriptions of violence (a little spicier than canon) blood mention, near death experiences, hurt/COMFORT, fluff, smut exhaustion sex, top!reader.

A/N: I hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it but yeah PLEASE READ THOSE CONTENT WARNINGS!! It all works out ok in the end! Also good chunks of this was inspired by a particular filk song called Call the Navigator which I’ll link in the replies so the external link doesn’t ef up my post.

<-Previous Next->

"Med pack... junk....junk....spotchka?....is that all you've got?"

You were bent over a deep supply crate, your legs barely touching the ground while you dug through what you had hoped would be the food stock. There were several banged up tins of rations and a handful of miscellaneous junk, but nothing that looked real food. You were clean and dry after your shower, but the energy that had been spent in this very supply room just an hour or so earlier had to be replenished. "Where’s the rest of it?"

The silence coming from the cockpit was expected, but still frustrating. With a huff you grabbed two food tins and made your way through the old ship towards the ladder. At the top though a small antechamber you found your new comrade seated in the pilot chair, fussing with the buttons on the console. On either side and slightly behind his chair were two other passenger seats, though the one on his left was missing a good deal of padding. The cockpit was poorly lit save for the lighted console and the dusty starlight overhead. Though you were in the air, you could tell you were still on Tatooine. Hooray. Why are we still here? The great Dune Sea stretched out on all sides, sparsely dotted with sand people villages, but you couldn’t see any of the large space ports such as Mos Eisley or Mos Espa. In the ships’ darkness you couldn't tell what the lumpy thing was in the other chair, probably blankets or laundry. You went to toss it off the seat when a pair of huge black orbs peeped out from the heap of fabric.

"The fuck is THAT?!" You rocketed backwards, dropping the food tins in the process. The bug eyed creature made a soft cooing noise and lifted the rest of the blanket off itself, allowing two gigantic green ears to pop into view. It didn't look like a threat, in fact it looked kinda cute, but you knew it could still be dangerous. A pair of stubby three-fingered hands made grabby motions at you, the little creature giggling at your bewildered face. " Where'd you find this thing, is it some kind of pet?"

"He's not a pet." Finished fiddling with the console, Mando turned in his chair to readjust the blanket that had slumped off of the small beastie. It squealed happily and wiggled in its comfy cocoon before noticing the food tins that were still on the floor. He pointed the tiniest claw at them and chirped at you, demanding to be fed. "You'd better give him one of those before he gets mad."

It took you a moment to process what he said before scooping one of the tins off the floor, peeling back the lid and placing the dish in the seat next to the little thing. He greedily scooped the mystery mash into his tiny toothy mouth, gibbering between bites. You picked the remaining tin off the floor and leaned against the door frame, watching it happily chow down.

"If it's not a pet then what is it?"

"He's my..." the Mandalorian paused, fishing for the right words to say, "...he is my child."

That was not at all the answer you expected, if he had said emotional support gremlin you would have been less confused. The baby was still making a mess of his dinner, almost dropping his plate before Mando snatched it and set it carefully back in his lap. You had seen first hand that there was a human under all that metal plating, and your tired brain fizzled trying to make the connection between the two very different beings. Mando could tell by your puzzled face that he had some explaining to do.

He told you the tale of how he had been charged to bring the baby in as a high credit bounty, but after he used the reward to get new armor he went back and stole the child away from its captors. He talked about the Mandalorian concept of a 'foundling' and that he himself was one too. At some point you had popped your food tin open and started eating, though you were so captivated by his story that you couldn't remember doing so. When he'd finished you set your empty dish on the busted chair and gently held your hand out for the child to grab with one mush covered paw, who babbled excitedly at his new friend.

Behind you his parental guardian was rigid, ready to take you out if you made one wrong move against his precious cargo. Though he had been the one to steal you away and forgo freezing you in carbonite he still didn’t exactly trust you, your reputation as a hunter-killer was what had driven your bounty so high. He knew you were disarmed, but what else could you be capable of? However, you weren't paying mama-hen Mando any mind. Instead you let the baby play with your hand a bit before he returned to his food. You decided that the only place left to sit was on the floor. Squished into the tiny space between the passenger and pilot seats was cramped, but it gave you a fantastic view out the rounded transperisteel window into the vastness of the night sky.

“Your story sounds awful familiar.” You turned your attention to the metal clad man, watching him fidget with the steering controls. “You abandoned a guild reward for anothers wellbeing, like I did. Someone that didn’t deserve to be dragged back in cuffs. Is that why you picked up the puck on me? Some kind of kindred spirit something or other?”

“We’re nothing alike.” He was watching out the window, focused on flying the ship to unknown destinations, but he was bouncing the leg farthest away from you. So when the cogwheels turn in your head, the machine moves somewhere else. If you hadn’t experienced his human body first hand you could have easily convinced yourself he was a droid.

“Now that’s not true. You told the guild to get fucked because your moral compass was pointing the other way. I didn't just let that quarry go y'know? It was more than that. There was... there was someone she had to get back to. And the New Republic was just gonna lock her ass up and for what? It wasn't right." You remembered that Togruta woman, pointing a blaster at you with tears in her eyes and her belly swollen with a child that did not belong to the man she was being forced to marry. A few thousand credits weren’t worth another child being made an orphan, and you gave her your ship to escape in while you led hunters on a wild-bantha chase away from her. You knew it drove the guild insane but you wouldn’t have it any other way. A tiny green foot poked itself out from under the blankets by your head, bringing you out of your reverie. On reflex you tucked it back into the safety of his blankies.

Though you thankfully didn’t remember much of your early childhood, you knew you had come from Corellia. You didn’t know if you had parents or siblings, but there had been many other young street urchins in your alley behind the shipyard, and all you had then were each other. You never planned on having any kids yourself, but they were still something to be protected. At all costs, if necessary. “I’m guessing this little dude is happy with that decision.”

Mando had begun to take the ship closer to the ground, it was almost totally dark outside but you could see on the radar there was a large mountainous formation up ahead. Carefully, he landed the beat up craft on a sturdy outcropping of rocks, kicking up whirlwinds of dust and sand. Far out over the sand you could see a collection of lumpy looking ruins that were slowly succumbing to the march of the dunes. You guessed this was where your quarry was hiding out.

The baby was starting to get sleepy, his huge eyes disappearing slowly as the weight of his eyelids became too much. His little head rolled forward, threatening to toss him off his seat. Your big mean bounty hunter heart couldn’t take it, so you scrambled to your feet and scooped the baby up in your arms, sitting down in his seat to get him situated in your lap. He fussed and squirmed a bit, but you had learned a no-fail trick from the Corellian ship builders that would often help to sneak orphaned children onto their ships and off that skughole of a planet towards a better life. Many years ago they had done the same for you.

“Oh, I have sailed the midnight sea from Hoth to Arvala-5.

Seen the Cloudshape Falls of Alderaan, met rocks that were alive.

But soon I came to realize as world to world I roamed,

That nowhere in the galaxy could really be my home.”

The songs you knew were often sang by whole crews of starship sailors, loud enough to shake their durasteel walls, but you dropped your voice low and soft to turn the star-shanty into a lullaby. The baby was watching you with glittering eyes, he had stopped his wiggling and curled up tightly against your chest.

“So call the navigator, set the course and go!

We've stars and planets to explore, my wild heart tells me so.

Beneath the metal decking I can hear the engine sigh

And all I need is a mighty ship and a staaaa-aarr to guide her by”

A tiny yawn betrayed his wondrous eyes, and he gave up and closed them shut, rubbing his little hands on his face. You lowered your voice to almost a whisper.

“I've seen a million beauties and I've known a million fears,

And life is what I've found between the laughter and the tears.

Still I will sail the last frontier through worlds both tame and wild,

And marvel at their strangeness with the wonder of a child”

Soft snores were your only applause, the baby having drifted off mid stanza. You hummed a few more lines of the song to be sure he was asleep. The cockpit was as dark as the surrounding sky, but the glint of silver caught your attention. Starlight reflected off the beskar plates in a way that made the black of his visor seem darker than the heart of a collapsed star, and just as deadly. The Mandalorian was watching you intently, completely motionless.

The precious moment with the baby had made you very forgetful of the dangerous situation you were actually in. You had been captured, you were this man’s prisoner and yet here you were all cozy in the chair with his adopted son in your lap. You glared back at him, matching his fierce gaze when the little green bundle moved to get more comfortable, one tiny hand catching claws in the top you were wearing; a tunic that did not belong to you.

“Here, you take him then.” Your voice was hushed so as not to wake the child, and you raised him up gently to try and unhook him from your shirt. Immediately there were two gloved hands coming to lift the baby off of your lap. He was a monolith of leather and metal, but the way he pulled his son in close was so gentle that all the ferocity of his profession dissipated like mist. Mando carefully tucked the blanket under the sleeping little baby and wrapped him up tight before slowly turning away from you and the flight deck to head down the ladder in total silence, leaving you alone in the dark.

You watched him go, the top of his shiny silver head disappearing into the floor. Without the sounds of life in the cockpit the quiet of the night weighed heavy on your ears. He still hadn’t told you why he had kept you out of the carbonite, all you had done was let him use you as his personal play-thing... and maybe murder off some of his bounty hunting competition, but that wasn’t much to go off of. You had done worse for much less. Put your skills to better use, that’s what he had said. Absently you toyed with the end of your sleeve, no, not your sleeve. His sleeve.

That was another thing, what reason did he have to show you hospitality when his first interaction with you had been so violent? Binding you and marching your ass through the desert after he had fucking shot you. Your escape plan had almost worked, ha! All you would’ve had to do is tire him out and run but that had backfired entirely. The apex of your thighs still thrummed with sensation, warm and blissful. Though you’d had lovers in the past you usually didn’t still feel them so deeply afterwards. The smell of the fresher soap still clung to your body and clothes. Clutching at the collar of your sweater you pulled it to your face and breathed deep, letting the heady scent of it fill your lungs.

“Let’s go. We have work to do.” The modulated voice coming from the ladder startled you from your guilty indulgence and sprang you to your feet, but the source of the voice was already back down the ladder. You sheepishly followed suit.

“You plan on telling me what we’re up to exactly?” Down below the Mandalorian was loading himself with ammunition, each and every slot on his many bandoliers was packed to the brim with charges. His pulse rifle was slung over one shoulder, clanking up against a new piece of equipment you hadn’t seen before. Some kind of jet pack maybe.

“I have two bounties to catch on Tatooine. One of them conveniently fell into a sarlacc pit. The other one's hiding out down there." A bounty fob blinked red in his hand; quick flashes indicated that the target was close by. “If you help me with this, you’re off the hook. I’ll tell Karga you’re dead and the guild will stop sending hunters after you. But-” He turned to face you, he was holding your beat-up old back pack by one ratty leather strap. "If for one second I think you'll turn against me, I'll take the half credits for your corpse."

"You're one to talk!" You hissed, storming up to the gunslinger with the ferocity of a lothcat. "You kidnapped me! I didn't ask to be here."

The man in question didn't budge under your verbal assault. "Do we have a deal or not?"

He forced your backpack into your arms to accentuate his point. You ripped it from his grasp and stormed to the other side of the cabin. Everything was still inside; a pack of bacta patches, a few mementos, three busted tracking fobs and some blaster charges. Speaking of blaster-

"Where’s my gun, Mando?" Your question was answered when you turned back to face him. He was holding it by its barrel, extending the grip towards you. You met his visor with contempt, but took the old blaster from him carefully as not to cause a misfire. It would be nice to not be on the run from a guild you had pledged your loyal services to for so many years, that now wanted you delivered back to them in carbonite; and you knew that Karga would trust his favorite hunter. The life of a moisture farmer wasn’t what you dreamed of when you escaped Corellia. Fuck that. "Yeah, it's a deal. One hunt and I'm gone."

It was then you noticed the open wall next to you. The steel panel was slid open to reveal a vault packed corner to corner with more firepower than you had ever seen in one place. Your eyes roamed from blaster to rifle to flamethrower, noticing that not all of them were made for five fingered hands. This wasn't just an armory, it was a trophy case.

If he didn't want you to ogle his wares he should have closed the panel, but instead he joined you at the wall, picking up some extra plasma cartridges and a vibroblade with a curved handle, which he pushed into your hands. "Will that be enough?"

Either you trust me or you don't, pick a side, tin can. You didn't answer him right away, opting to pull a chest holster and another couple of blasters down from the wall. You cinched the holsters tight and tucked a blaster in on either side, slung a disruptor over your back and stuffed the knife in your boot. Once you had everything in place you stuck your fists on your hips like a superhero with a confidant nod. "Yeah, that should be good."

Mando was watching you with intensity, his visor going over each of your weapon choices. He tugged on your holsters’ cross straps to make sure they were secured. You rolled your eyes at him, "I know how to dress myself, sir."

No answer. Typical. He stopped fussing with your straps and turned back to the wall, selecting a heavy multi-ammo bandolier. He stepped closer to you, wrapping both arms around your waist to fit the belt in place on your hips. You tried to convince yourself that it was the cool beskar of his chest plate pressed up against you that sent a shiver down your spine. The physical contact was over as quickly as it had been initiated, and then he was back in the vault fishing out the tiny silver explosives that fit neatly into the circular latches on either side of your belt, handing them to you without a word. Finished with his selection he pressed a few buttons on his vambrace, one to slide the armory shut and another to summon an egg-shaped hover crib to float to his side. Inside its shell the child was sound asleep, a heart-melting smile on his tiny little face. As adorable as he was, you furrowed your brow in confusion.

“Is he coming too?”

“Where I go, he goes.” Mando said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He strode back to the supply crate you had been digging through earlier and packed a handful of rations into a bag for the journey through the dunes. Cool desert air gusted into the stuffy cabin as the access ramp fell open, and the three of you headed out into the darkness of Tatooine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your dreams were hazy and feverish, shots of blaster fire flickered through the fog from unknown assailants. The smell of blood and blast plasma strong in your nose even while unconscious. You saw the sneering face of a Twi’lek twist in agony and purple blood painted his face before he winked out of existence, replaced in your mindscape with bloody hands. Your hands. Then there was cold beskar on your cheek and strong arms hauling you from the carnage. Harsh wind in your ears and the ground spiraling away beneath you. The howling wind so loud you couldn't hear the questions being barked in your face. Pain, the smell of burning skin, then nothing. You felt objects moving frantically nearby, and something soft and green was pressing into your ribs. Your eyes, heavy as they were, fluttered open to see two huge black orbs staring up from your side where bright red blood was staining the sheets under you. Is that ... my blood?

“Hey green bean...what’cha up to?” Your voice was hoarse and weak, scratching its way out reluctantly past chapped lips. Talking made your head pound, you reached up to cradle your aching skull when two leather tipped hands caught yours and held them steady.

“Easy... Don’t move too much. Please.” Your hands were gently set back down at your sides, shooting pain up your arms. A large black and silver body was hunched beside you, frantically sticking bacta patches to your skin.

“Mand...do? What…what happened?” Your voice was barely a whisper, so faint the recycled air of the cabin threatened to whisk it away.

“You got the bastard, but that fucking Twi' managed to get a shot off in your gut point blank before he went down. You shouldn't have survived that but you did.” Is that a compliment? He was wrapping a long gauze bandage around your arm, fixing the bacta patches in place so they could do their thing. It hurt, but not as much as you thought it should have. Down by your side the child had rolled into you face first, passed out cold next to an emergency cauterizer. Mando nodded at his sleeping son, “And if it wasn’t for him, you’d be dead for sure.” 

The baby? How is he involved with this? Thoughts echoed loudly in your skull, and you decided that thinky time was over. The little guy had the right idea, you should sleep now, embrace the comfort of the dark behind your eyes, let it swallow you whole.

“Hey hey hey! Not yet. Stay with me, ok? You need to drink something. Here.” An armored hand slid under your head, urging you to sit up just enough to take a drink out of the metal canteen pressed against your lips. “You need to stay awake, just for a little while.” Cool water graced your dry mouth and dripped onto your chin. Embarrassed by your mess you tried to wipe the droplets away but once again your arms were halted in place. A rough piece of fabric dabbed at your face.

“I’m not a baby, Mando. I can take care of myself.” The creeping sting of blast-burn that still scalded your skin told you that might not be true. The bacta was just starting to seep into your bloodstream, but it would take some time to work its magic.

“I know that. I was with you down there in the fray. A rancor would have been less terrifying to face than you. But right now I need you to hold still.”

Another compliment? Or was that sarcasm? You’re losing your edge, tin man. You tried to roll your eyes but the effort made your head spin; you glanced around the cabin, trying to avoid meeting the visor that was pinning you to the cot. Strewn about the floor of the ship was what was left of your holsters and weapons, splattered with red and purple blood. You couldn’t be sure, but it looked like one belt had been blasted to smithereens, torn strips of leather the only indication it had been there at all. Farther away you saw a dark block in the carbonite freezer. The Twi’lek from your nightmare was frozen solid, though from his limp posture you guessed he had stopped moving long before he was put in the chamber. One of his long lekku had been cut clean off, and even in carbonite you could see the wound was fresh. Something long and curved stuck victoriously out of the center of his chest. Your vibroblade, lodged to the hilt in his sternum.

Mando was still kneeling on the floor by your side, and though you couldn’t see his face his hunched shoulders gave you the feeling that he was distraught. He still had your head resting in his palm, his thumb absently toying with your hair. Maybe it was the bacta running through your system that made you start to feel warm and gooey on the inside, but the sensation of his hand on your scalp felt... nice. Nice to be touched in a way that wasn't just for survival. Though you had already felt his hands on your body this was something else entirely. Sincere. Maybe it was just the first time somebody near you wasn't trying to kill or capture you. You foolish girl, you've already been captured. Are you so lonely that a gentle touch makes you melt? Maybe it's you that's losing your edge.

"You should have left me for dead, cashed in on that half credit reward."

"That is not The Way." His mantra was rehearsed, spoken as easily as he drew breath, but you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“Well... thank you for not letting me bleed out.” You could see the top of the baby's green little noggin still curled up against your side, though the part of your ribs he was leaning on didn’t have a single mark. You looked for the blast wound that Mando was supposedly talking about, but aside from a handful of plasma burns your skin was smooth and healthy; the pool of dried blood under you was the only indication anything had been there at all. What kind of mando magic is that? And what did he mean about the child? Your first thought was how disappointed you were there wouldn’t be a good scar. Your second was realizing your top was missing. Shreds of it were still on your shoulders, but the front had been ripped off completely to get to your vanished wounds. Mando seemed like he didn’t even care, he had been so focused on patching you up that the idea of modesty was thrown out the window, but you couldn’t help teasing him. “There’s not a scratch on me, Mando. You just wanted me topless, didn’t you?”

His thumb on your scalp froze, his visor going from your face to your chest with rapid snaps. Without letting your head drop he used his other hand to tear his cloak from his back and throw it over you and the sleeping baby. “Better?”

Party pooper. “Yes, thank you.” Why is he being so nice? He must have ulterior motives, right? Why keep me alive if not to cash in on that bounty? You decided to push his buttons some more. “This bed sucks. Is this why you're so crotchety? Because you sleep on this Maker-forsaken thing? It’s making my back hurt.”

The cot you were on was spartan at best, more of a cloth covered bucket than a bed. It was recessed into the wall opposite of the armory, bits of machinery and droid parts hanging over the space above you. There wasn’t much of a gap between your head and the durasteel plating of the ship’s hull. Your teasing was rewarded with a long, tired sigh. The hand that cushioned your head moved down to your shoulders, pushing on you so that you sat up straight. You scooped the baby off of your side and into your arms, trying to ignore the dried blood from your wounds that stained the sheets before swaddling the sleeping bean in his father’s cloak. The metal man rose from the floor, letting go of you just long enough to remove his cross-belts and unlatch his chest plate, setting them on the floor with a dull thunk. He squished himself between the wall and your back, his dorsal plate scraping loudly without its cape. He scooched one armored leg around you until it was between your hip and the wall on your side, pulling you into his lap and turning his whole body into a pillow, letting your torso rest on his. He was used to the sharp metal bed frame, but that didn’t mean you should be subjected to it.

“Is this ok?”

You could only nod, your cheeks flushing red with a mix of emotions. It was more than ok, his formidable body was warm and comfortable. His arms wrapped around your waist, helping to support not only you but also his foundling. The spice of him was strong now with him on your back, worn leather and metal and that damn fresher soap that was making a fool out of you. Underneath his steady breathing the sound of something rhythmic caught your attention, it was quick and faint, but unmistakably the sound of his heartbeat. His heart is racing. Listen to that engine purr.

Behind you a man with a name you may never know watched your chest slowly rise and fall with each breath, not with lust but something unfamiliar though not unwelcome. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, whether from the ordeal of keeping you alive or the fact that you were in his arms again he couldn't be sure. He sighed, trying to convince himself to calm down, but the deep breath he took only flooded his senses with the essence of you, threatening to melt the beskar off his head with the heat rushing to his face. He couldn't help the way his fingers traced over your skin, careful not to undo any of the bacta patches. He jumped slightly when your hands found his, but the weight of the child still in your arms made it difficult to reach your fingers. The glove you were touching was suddenly empty, and a bare hand snaked out from under the cloak that kept you modest. With the press of a button the child’s pram floated its way over to you from the supply crates. The baby’s adopted father carefully lifted the sleeping creature off your lap and into his hover crib, another button press on the vambrace and the shield door slid closed.

His hand returned to the safety of the cloak, pulling the other glove off before finding your fingers again. His skin was so warm you couldn't help but imagine his hands somewhere more intimate. Evil, evil bacta... Maybe you wouldn't have to.

"I should thank you properly." It was impossible to hide the tiredness of your voice, but he was close enough you only needed to whisper. His grasp tightened around you, your once plush pillow was now a rigid wall of muscle.

"You should go to sleep." the sound of his baritone words so close to your ear made your skin prickle. Too late for that. Slowly you guided his hand down your belly until your tangled hands bumped into your belt line. A low growl rumbled out of the modulator.  “Cyar'ika... you need to rest."

The alien term of endearment made you hum, but you ignored his words of warning and pushed his hand under the tough fabric till his fingertips found your heat, both of you gasping softly at first contact. His free hand fumbled with your button, and after some difficulty you undid it for him along with the zipper. With space to work, with his wrist moved freely, lazily rolling a calloused fingertip against your clit; remembering his lesson from the first time he experienced your body, his touch was light as a feather.

There wasn’t much you could do for him in the position you were in, so you leaned back against him and relaxed, letting him enjoy you at his own pace. The bottom of his helmet was pressed into the crook of your neck, and though it was sharp you could feel something warm and soft underneath it. So there is a real man under there. Scruffy stubble brushed at your skin and sent goosebumps down your chest. Under the beskar his eyes followed the prickling trail that lead under the tattered cloak you still wore to your breasts, watching the way the fabric pointed where your nipples grew hard for him. His other hand couldn’t resist finding its way to your pert peaks, rolling them between his fingers in that way he knew flushed you with heat. Soft gasps rewarded his ears as he worked at your breast and clit, rubbing them in tandem. Your hips rolled into one hand and your back arched into the other, urging him to help you build your climax. He obliged, adding a second finger to pinch your clit softly between strong digits until you fell apart around him.

The pressure that was building behind you and pressing into your spine told you that if you wanted more from him you would have to give him a better angle. You started to get up, but the hands on your sensitive spots held you in place.

“What about your injuries? I don’t want to hurt you.” What injuries? There’s nothing left! His voice was filled with sincerity, a far cry from your first encounter. You didn’t answer him, instead you found each of his hands and squeezed them with a hum, asking him to trust that the bacta had set in and made you comfortable enough to move from your impromptu med bay. He slid his fingers out from your burning core, dragging the wetness from your cunt over your skin until his palms were on your back, helping to push you up off of him. The teeny tiny bed frame made it difficult to spin yourself around until you were facing him, and even more difficult to kick your pants off as you passed over top of him, but he never took his hands away from you to keep you steady until you were seated in his lap.

Straddling his waist you rolled your hips over where his cock was hidden from you, making him shudder under your legs. His arms glided from your knees to your hips, languidly making their way up your sides and past your breasts to the last remaining tatters of the black knit sweater he had allowed you to wear. Hooking a thumb under its ruined edges, he slid it up over your arms and cast it away into the darkness of the ship. His hands went right back to working at your breasts, massaging them like dough in time with your grinding hips. You took a moment to admire how he looked underneath you, his remaining armor glinting in the hazy ship light as his hands searched for every sensitive inch of your chest. You knew from legend that his helmet could never be removed in front of you, but you’d never heard anything about the rest of his clothes. Where his chest plate had been was a strappy flak jacket dotted with magnetic fasteners. Your hands went slowly to the first clasp, and the hands that were so indulged in you froze, his body stiff between your legs.

“Is this ok?” The irony of you repeating his question from earlier back to him made your lips turn in a sly smile. 

“Y-yes.” His voice was nearly imperceptible, and you realized that he was shaking. You looked to his visor, watching him nod in consent before you continued. He dropped his hands to your hips, pulling down on your thighs and rutting up into you while you busied yourself with the complicated under armor until it fell away at his sides, revealing a pair of suspenders and an identical black knit tunic as the one that had been shredded off of you. You didn’t have the energy to peel every article of clothing off of him, so this would have to do. Without his cloak bunched around his shoulders you were able to see the flesh of his throat, so warm and inviting that you wanted to sink your teeth into it.

You bent down to nibble at the exposed skin, and the filthy moan that rattled out of the helmet sent shivers down your spine. The taste of him was exquisite, better than you could have imagined under all that fabric and leather. The overwhelming cocktail of his scent straight from the source made you bold. You kissed your way around the edge of his helmet where the metal met his skin until you found his pulse point and made good on your desires. His body convulsed when you bit down, sucking at the tender skin until you left blooming marks that would be there for days.

“Cyar'ika... Please...“ There was that word again, you didn’t know what it meant but the way he breathed it like a prayer felt like warm honey in your belly. Releasing his tormented neck you ran your hands down his broad chest until your thumbs bumped the leather suspenders that lead you down to his waist line where you were able to tug the edge of his shirt free, giving you a delicious window of his tummy; well-muscled and dusted with dark brown hair. 

“What’s wrong, tin man? Nobody ever touch you like this before?” He was still shaking while you ran your hands under the edge of his shirt and through the soft treasure trail of fuzz from the top of his belt line to the bottom of his ribs. He couldn’t answer you, his breath caught in his throat at the sensation of your hands on his skin, but you were starting to put the pieces of his puzzle together. No, probably not.

You decided not to torture him any longer. The fabric of his pants was nearly stretched to capacity and wet with your slick. You had to stretch one leg out onto the floor to get enough of a footing to lift yourself high enough off him that you could free him from the canvas prison. His cock nearly burst out of its confines, and your face flushed red at the sight of him standing proudly at attention, twitching in your hands with a flood of shimmering precum made just for you.

His chest was heaving, ragged breaths forcing their way out of his modulator before you’d even taken his length. You used your hips to notch him at your entrance and his grip on your thighs clenched like a steel trap. Slowly you lowered yourself onto him, letting him fill you until you were stretched wide. Your eyes met his visor, though from the way it was tilted you knew he was watching himself disappear into you. His arms wrapped tightly under your ass as he thrust into you hard enough that he lifted you off the cot, quickly scooting both your bodies down the bed until he was flat on his back. You tried to stay upright, but his pounding soon had your head spinning until you were falling forward into his chest, digging your arms around his shoulders in a way you were becoming familiar with. Your hands found their way to the back of his helmet to where his hair line started, sneaking a few fingers under the metal edge to tangle in his curls. The Mandalorian’s hands were on your waist, holding you in place while he rocketed up into you, filling the ships cabin with the sound of wet slaps. His thick cock hit different from this angle, grinding up against the sweet spot deep inside you with each rut until you started seeing stars behind your eyes. He could feel you building up around him and he quickened his pace until you were gasping his name.

“M-mando! I... I’m gonna....” Your muscles coiled with heat until you burst, your sweet cunt fluttering around his still pumping cock until he went cascading over the edge of ecstasy with you, his helmet vibrating with a guttural roar. His feverish body shook, giving you a few short thrusts to milk the cum from his cock until it spilled out from where he was lost inside you.

His shaky arms held onto you so tightly, as if you would blast away into space if he let go. The endorphins flooding his head made him want to pour his heart out and tell you everything, bare himself in body and soul for the first time in his life. He wanted to tell you how nice you had looked in his clothes, how the loose knit fabric draped over your breasts was a work of art; even more so when you were standing before him armed to the teeth in his hunting trophies. How seeing you slice that fucking Twi’lek to ribbons was more graceful than any ballet. The sight of the bloody hole that had been burned into your side had made his skin crawl. Mando wasn’t ready to explain the child’s healing powers, he barely understood them himself; but if it wasn’t for the baby he would have been burying your corpse instead of tending your wounds. Instead of experiencing your living body like he was now.

His heart fluttered at the thought of his foundling healing you with his baby sorcerer magic, his tiny green paws pushed on your side where the blood was spilling from your wound. The thought of you dying for his bounty made him sick, but pride flushed the sensation away when he thought back to that first day with you up in the flight deck. How when his baby boy was restless that you acted, not with malice but with tenderness and care. He'd never wanted to rip his helmet off faster in all his days than when you sang his son a lullaby, the sweet tune of it filtering through his sensory equipment, and he longed to hear it as it was meant to be. In that moment he had been entranced, but the fierce glare of his visor had made you feel threatened. He didn't want that. He wanted to make you feel safe. The same way you had made his child feel, the same way you made him feel now. Like the galaxy itself couldn’t tear you from him.

But the ugly truth was that soon it would all end when you both went your separate ways. All the feelings he wanted to confess to you died in his mouth, leaving a bitter taste that brought him back to reality. You still straddled his waist, and though the blood had long since left his cock it still sat neatly in your heat, letting him feel your gentle heartbeat around him. Carefully he pulled himself free from the apex of your thighs and rolled you both sideways onto the unforgiving cot, letting gravity shuffle you down until you were nestled in the crook of his arm. He couldn’t help brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, meeting your half lidded eyes with his own behind the visor.

“I don’t think I can get to the fresher this time.” Your voice was barely a whisper, and the edges of sleep crept unbidden to your eyes; the traumatic activities of the day finally winning over your endurance. “You’re probably going to have to burn these sheets.”

Mando hummed with indifference, though for you he would burn all of Tatooine down if you asked. All the lovely thoughts that had danced through his mind came rolling through again, haloed in the warm light of afterglow. Only one made its way past his lips, sneaking out of the helmets’ modulator like a prayer.

“How does the song end?”

“Mmm?” You were so close to sleep, so cozy and full of cum that you knew would be a fun mess for morning-you to clean up. You wracked your brain trying to remember what the hell he was talking about. The star-shanty? “Why, do you need a lullaby too?”

“N-no. Just curious. When you leave, my foundling might ask me about it.” Liar. The calloused hand gliding up and down your spine brought the original contract you made with him ringing through your skull. One hunt and I’m gone.

“Leave? I’m not going anywhere until I see you tell Karga face to face that I’m rotting in a sarlacc pit. No take-backs. That old dog will probably dance when he hears he won’t have to part with his credits and I want to catch it on holo-corder.”

The rumbling sigh deep in his chest sounded more like an engine powering down than a mortal man, and it told you more than words ever could. The arm you had around his chest was met with strong fingers that intertwined with your own. He doesn’t want me to go. Who are you, Mandalorian?

“Tell me anyway? Please?” His arms tightened like a fortress around you. His words were distant, echoing out from somewhere in dreamland instead of right by your ear. Alright you big softie, if you’re going to beg me. You sighed heavily against him, trying to recall the songs of your distant past. 

“The nights are long between the stars, and lonely too for me,

I wonder how I might have fared with home and family.

But the bonds of friendship I have formed will last my lifetime through,

Security is not for me, my dreams are all of you.”

The same soft snores that had been your original encore with the baby now ghosted in your ear, muffled by the mysterious beskar helmet but still unmistakable. Like father like son. 

The weight of his arms around you was like nothing you had ever felt in your years on the run. You had traveled so far and met so many living beings but not once had you let another share your bed while you slept. You could get used to this. The thought was the last you had before sleep overtook you, your body slumping against his while you dreamed of silver and steel.

<-Previous Next->

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@mandoinevarro​ @mrsparknuts​ @cookiejuicedesu​

[cinebration]

Written in DNA (Booker x Reader) [Part 11]

Booker and the immortals implement your plan to capture Quynh.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Epilogue

Tagged: @lucy-sky​, @city-of-weird​, @all-the-right-regrets, @alannister-always-pays-her-debts​, @fleetwoodsmacabitch​

Warnings: none

Gif Source: boydswan

Booker thrummed with tension as he drove back to the airfield. Waves of pain pounded in his skull, his neck and upper back a riot of knots. He glanced up in the rearview mirror, his hands clutching the steering wheel.

You and Andy sat in the backseat. Andy brooded, her face haunted. You sat unnaturally still, scanning the surrounding the area with just your eyes as Booker approached the tarmac.

It should work, the plan. Booker told himself as much, but he didn’t truly believe it. Maybe it was the migraine or the brutal streak of bad luck he was accustomed to, but he didn’t feel right, like an axe hung over his head, waiting to drop. He recalled the sound of the guillotines, the swish-thunk of the blade and the softer thud of a head falling off a body.

Focus, he snarled at himself, guiding the car down the stretch that led to the FBO hanger.

Early morning light had begun to crest the horizon, but the dark still reigned over the airfield. Booker slipped the car between pools of light cast by runway lights and eased to a stop in front of the hanger.

You were already out, dragging Andy along beside you, before he took his hands off the steering wheel. He scrambled out after you, struggling a moment with his seatbelt.

“I’ve brought her,” you shouted into the dark, your voice echoing in the hanger. “Now what?”

Quynh materialized out of a shadow in the hanger, striding forward with a hungry look on her face, eyes sharp even in the semi-dark. Booker stopped a few feet to your left, the gun in his waistband pressing hard against his lower back.

“Quynh,” Andy breathed. The surprise in her voice was genuine, the grief in it heart-wrenching.

“Andromache,” Quynh purred. “How nice to see you again in the flesh.”

Andy pulled against you, but you held her firmly in place. Her hands were bound loosely behind her back, giving her enough slack to slip the knot when the time came.

“How did you get out? Who found you?” Andy’s voice cracked.

“My saviors are not important. What matters is that you are here.”

“I tried finding you. I spent years—”

“No.” Quynh’s voice snapped in the early morning air. “I do not want to hear your lies. You left me.”

“I couldn’t find you—”

Quynh stepped forward and cracked Andy across the face. The slap reverberated through the air. You held Andy up, keeping her from pitching forward. The immortal raised her head. Licking at the blood welling from a split in her lip, she tried to meet Quynh’s gaze.

“Why are you not healing?” Quynh asked. She stepped forward, jerked Andy’s chin higher. “What is this?”

“Andy has lost it,” Booker mumbled.

Fury spasmed Quynh’s face. She shoved Andy away, staggered back a few steps. “No! Why!?”

Booker glanced behind her at the shadows in the hanger. They had begun to move, detaching themselves from the far walls. Joe and Nicky moved forward on soft feet, angling toward Quynh. Somewhere behind the hanger, Nile waited with their getaway vehicle.

“Fate would,” Quynh snarled to herself. “I wanted you to experience my pain, but now you cannot. Not without dying.” The rage in her face died, replaced with something cold, dead. “I can still find a way to make you suffer.”

Andy slipped the knot. She lunged forward as Joe and Nicky closed in behind her. Quynh snarled as the three immortals converged on her. She landed an elbow in Joe’s throat, a kick to Nicky’s thigh. Her hands raked at Andy’s face.

Then she was sobbing, thrashing against Andy’s chest as the woman held her tight, whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Quynh’s anguished wails rang through the hanger, drowning out Andy’s voice.

Booker turned away, unable to stomach it. The grief drove daggers through his heart, reminding him of the rage of his distraught son.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Glancing up, he met your kind gaze. “What now?” you asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Your favorite words,” you laughed.

He risked a glance in the other immortals’ direction. They had gathered around Quynh, trying to soothe her while restraining her.

Reunited.

Chest constricting, he exhaled shakily only to frown. Nile hurried toward them, her gun drawn at her side. “What is it?”

“There’s a convoy setting up a perimeter,” she announced.

“What?”

“General Howzer,” you whispered.

“I called him,” Quynh muttered. “I only wanted to borrow you.”

Your expression didn’t change, but Booker felt the anger in you.

“Who?” Nile asked.

“You need to get out. All of you. Cut across the field and jack a car before the perimeter closes.”

Booker recognized the edge in your voice. He stepped up to you, dropping his own. “What about you?”

“I told you.” You met his gaze. “He’ll just keep sending them.”

Something dislodged within Booker. “No, you can’t give yourself up.”

“It will buy you time. You can’t let him get his hands on any of you.”

Andy and the others were already moving across the tarmac, heading for the field lining the landing strip. Booker could hear the cars slowing to a stop, boots hitting the ground. In the distance, a chopper approached.

“Go,” you hissed, shoving him away.

“But—”

“Don’t make me make you.”

A hand closed around Booker’s elbow. Nile appeared beside him, tugging on him. “Come on.”

Booker glanced back at you, but you were already across the airstrip, firing your gun into the air. He followed Nile into the unkempt grass, trying to keep his eyes on you.

The chopper’s searchlight clicked on, bathing you in white. Men poured in from around the trees, screaming at you to put the gun down. You went down to your knees.

“Come on,” Nile insisted, yanking on Booker.

“We have to do something,” he said. “She can’t go back. She can’t.”

Nicky seized Booker by the waistband and yanked him across the field. A gunshot cracked the air.

Booker jerked back to see you collapse.

[niksixx]

Close as Strangers

Requested: Nope! 

Pairing: The Dirt!Tommy Lee x Fem!Reader 

Description: Based on the song ‘Close as Strangers’ by 5 Seconds of Summer. Lyrics are bold and italicized. 

A/N: Reblog and leave your own tags!! Thanks for supporting me :) 

*GIF is NOT mine. Found on Google. Credit to the owner.*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Six weeks since I’ve been away

And now you’re saying everything has changed

And I’m afraid that I might be losing you

And every night that we spend alone

It kills me thinking of you on your own

And I wish I was back home next to you

Tommy had a job to do whether you liked it or not. Mötley Crüe was at the height of their success, landing tours in countries all across the globe. Being unfamiliar with the music scene, having a rockstar boyfriend was much harder than it looked. You supported him in every way, being there for him as his fame grew, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said it wasn’t difficult at times.

Shortly after Mötley Crüe’s debut in America, your relationship crossed over the line from casual to serious. You and Tommy adored each other, two halves of one whole, but lately you felt your relationship slipping right through your fingers. And the worst part was there was no motivation to save it.

“I’ve only been gone six weeks, honey.”

Six weeks too many. Now on his second tour, Tommy was busier than ever. Phone calls after every show were either late or nonexistent. In the event that he didn’t call, you tried not to take it personally, finding random things around the house to keep you busy, to keep your mind from wandering.

And then the plethora of rumors started and knocked the wind out of you. Tommy would never cheat on you, his heart was too loving, his soul too pure, but the paparazzi pictures did their job of convincing you that maybe Tommy had been unfaithful.

There was no denying that your relationship was dwindling, changing for the worst. In your bed, the side Tommy slept on grew colder and colder each night he was gone. The body pillow that rests in his place was too soft, lacking the firmness of Tommy’s body that you’d grown to love as you fell asleep beside him. The blankets didn’t compare to having his arms wrapped tightly around your frame.

Everything was just...different.

“Am I...am I losing you?”

No.

No.

No.

It was the word you wanted to scream out to him on the other end of the line, but it wasn’t the word that came out.

“I miss you so much, babe. I hate that I’m not there with you. I’d do anything to come back home to you.”

And you’d give anything to have him back, too.

Are we wasting time? Talking on a broken line?

Telling you I haven’t seen your face in ages

I feel like we’re as close as strangers

Won’t give up, even if it hurts so much

Every night I’m losing you in a thousand faces

Now it feels we’re as close as strangers

On the other end of the line, you can hear Tommy’s name being called either by his bandmates, groupies, or partygoers that found their way backstage after the show. He was easily distracted, shouting back and forth or laughing, forgetting that you were patiently, tiptoeing the line of impatiently, waiting for him on the other end.

“Tommy.”

“What? Oh, shit, I’m sorry babe.”

He was always sorry.

Sorry for leaving.

Sorry for forgetting to call.

Sorry about the photos.

Sorry for the excessive drinking.

Sorry for becoming distracted midway through your conversation.

Overtime, the word ‘sorry' lost its value.

And when it did, you became even more distant, intolerant of his inconsistencies.

“Baby?”

“Tommy, I haven’t seen you in three months. The least you can do is give me five fucking minutes on the phone.”

“Woah. Damn. Chill out. I was just talking to Vince.”

“Chill out?” You ask dramatically, now sitting upright in bed. “Chill out? You see Vince every day, Tommy. All I want is a sliver of your time, five minutes, and you’re giving me a hard time about that?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Tommy sighs sadly, scrubbing a hand over his face. Cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder, he hastily digs a cigarette from his pocket. He lights it and puffs out a cloud of smoke. “Are you okay, baby? You’re awfully snippy.”

You had every right to be snippy. Miles away in a foreign country, Tommy was living the life he always wanted for himself, all the while you were at home, going through the motions of an ordinary day seven days a week.

At times you were jealous of his success, as it had been the factor that took him away from you. It was hard being cooped up alone in a house that was meant for two people.

In theory, you’d be fine if the effort was there. But amid Tommy’s hectic lifestyle, you were floating in the background unseen.

The sigh from your lips was one of defeat. “No, Tommy, I’m not okay. I feel like my boyfriend is a stranger to me now. I miss you more and more every night, but lately I feel like giving up.”

Tommy pauses, heart racing. His grip on the cigarette tightens. He didn’t like where this was going. “On what?”

The lump in your throat grows, fingers gripping the phone tighter. You almost choke on the words, wondering if it’s a sign to hold them back. “On us.”

“No, no, no, no, no,” Tommy repeats in a rush, hand firmly planted against the cool brick wall behind the payphone. “Don’t say that, baby. Don’t you dare say that. I love you. I love you so much, you know that, right? And I miss you. I miss you all the time. When I’m up on that stage and I look out into the crowd, the only face I don’t see that I really want to see is yours.”

Maybe you should’ve kept the words at bay. But what good would hiding your feelings do? Even thousands of miles away, Tommy could pick up on the cues. The slightest change in your voice could send him into a panic.

“Tommy, being away from you for so long is so exhausting and I just...I don’t want to spend my time sulking and crying and waiting for you to come home. You’re struggling to make time for me when all I want is a five minute phone call, the media keeps reporting that you’re drinking more than usual, and the photos...the photos are tearing my heart in pieces.” You try not to think of the photos or of the groupies that made it their priority to sleep with men like Tommy, but the images were burned into your brain. “I feel like you’ve been on tour forever and I just can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

Tommy’s world comes crashing down around him. Just thinking of you ending the relationship has him sucking in nervous breaths, mind whirling with possible solutions to save your relationship. There was no way he was letting you get away from him. He wouldn’t give you up so easily.

“What if you come on tour with us?” He questions suddenly. “You wouldn’t have to worry about seeing me because we’d always be together. Come on baby, let me show you the world.” He’s sure this idea will work. You’ve mentioned before how the rest of the world seems nonexistent, as you’ve never traveled anywhere outside your immediate country. He’s giving you the chance, and he hopes you’ll take it.

But his high hopes come crashing down as you don’t think twice about rejecting his proposal. “I have my own life to live, Tommy. I can’t drop everything and spend the next four months in twenty different cities. I have to work so I can pay rent and pay for groceries and bills. Be realistic.”

Tommy frowns, crushing the butt of his cigarette under his boot. “You were just complaining about not seeing me. I give you a way to do that and you shut it down.”

The tips of your nails suddenly become important as you cradle the phone between your ear and shoulder. You pick and pick, teeth biting the corner of your bottom lip as you do so.

“Baby, tell me where your head’s at,” His voice is small now, unsure. “Tell me you’ll always be here. Please tell me I’m not losing you.”

“I want to be able to say those things. But you’re halfway across the world right now and I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I need you here.”

There’s a heavy sigh on the other end of the line as you find yourself sliding off the bed and trudging to the window, staring out into the dark sky. The crescent moon is the only thing illuminating the outside world along with a few street lights on the pavement. Around you, the world outside is quiet. The thoughts in your head? Not so much.

It was a conversation you never wanted to have, but it was necessary. You and Tommy were two different people who needed different things. Was there a chance you were acting selfish by pleading with him to come home? No doubt.

You knew Tommy would never give up his job despite his immense love for you. And while you wanted him to come home, you couldn’t force that decision out of him.

Which is why you had to make the decision yourself.

On the phone I can tell that you wanna move on

Through the tears I can hear that I shouldn't have gone

Everyday gets harder to stay away from you

“Don’t do this,” Words break through Tommy’s quiet sobs as his body is curled in a ball on the floor beside his hotel bed. After receiving what had been the worst news of his life, his legs had given out from underneath him, his body crumbling to the ground. “Please, baby. Don’t do this to us.”

After sleeping on it for a few days, you realized that the only thing you could do was break things off with Tommy. The road to your decision was a long and rough one, but hopefully it would be worth it if there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

But it was hard. Leaving your love behind wasn’t supposed to be easy. You had your doubts, and numerous what-ifs made you question your decision.

In the end, you knew it was the right choice even if your stubborn boyfriend wouldn’t agree with you. It wasn’t fair to make Tommy give up his dream in the middle of the band’s success. It was okay to be selfish at times, but this wasn’t one of them.

“You don’t know how hard this is for me,” There’s a crack in your voice, and soon a few tears leak from your eyes. Curled in a ball as well, your body sits heavily on the kitchen floor, back pressed against the stove. “I don’t want to do this. I really don’t want to do this, Tommy. But I can’t ask you to give up your dreams and come home. That’s selfish, and I love you too much to make you choose.”

“You’re not even giving me a choice,” Tommy says angrily, tears flowing freely. He runs a hand through his hair, dragging it down over his face, before slapping it lifelessly against his leg. Exhaling a shaky breath, Tommy leans his head back against the side of the bed. “I shouldn’t have gone. Fuck this, I’m coming home.”

“Tommy, no.” The tone of your voice is firm. You won’t let him sabotage his dreams on your account. “Listen to me. I love you. I do. But this isn’t working for us.”

“It’s not working for you,” Tommy corrects sarcastically, wiping his eyes with the back of his free hand. “Last I checked I wasn’t the one ending our relationship.”

You should have expected this, but his words stung as he spit them back to you. There’s no way you can blame him. He’s hurt. He’s angry. You deserve the lashing out for blindsiding him.

“You know I never cheated on you, right?” Tommy sniffles. The thought of being unfaithful to you had never even crossed his mind. “The photos, I mean.”

You nod. “I didn’t think you would.”

The long pause between the phone line is eerie. Tommy’s labored breathing is audible on the other end of the phone, and it’s not the type of breathing from the exhaustion after a wild show. It’s panic. It’s fear. It’s the feeling of loss.

“I told myself I’d fight for you, but if this is what you want, then I’ll let you go,” The words surprise you. Part of you had already imagined Tommy packing for the first available flight, but the defeat in his voice told you otherwise. He was staying put. “You deserve to be happy, and if I can’t do that then--.”

“Tommy, you’ve made me so happy. The happiest I’ve ever been,” There was no denying that. You had never laughed more, smiled more, loved more, than when Tommy became an integral piece of your life. “But it’s just--.”

“Right person, wrong time?”

The last piece of your beating heart shatters. The phone almost slips from your clammy palm as the reality of his words hit you. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Your life would be different if you’d met Tommy at the right time. There’d be no hesitation, no confusion, just blissful love.

Tommy clears his throat and it sinks into your bones that there was a large possibility this would be the last conversation you’d have with him. “Before you go, I want you to know something,” Tommy pauses to gather his thoughts. “I want you to know that we’re going to be together again one day. When all this is over, I’m going to find you, and I’m never going to let you go. You’re the one for me, Y/N. I’m letting you go now because I love you, but I’m going to win you back again. That’s a promise.”

One final tear slips down your cheek. “I hope you do.”

[miss-authorcita]

But I know I miss you

Draco Malfoy x Gryffindor!Reader

Summary: A year after the war Draco still misses you. Can he make it up to you?

A/N: I apologize in advance if there’s any grammar errors, I just wrote this and it’s 4am over here. I was listening to Taylor Swift’s Betty and for some odd reason (*cough* DracoTok *cough*) Draco Malfoy came to my mind! I wrote his odd little reader insert and I hope you guys enjoy it. I didn’t add the lyrics as most Song Fics because I feel like this isn’t wholly a Song Fic. Anyways, enjoy!

During the TriWizard Tournament the Hogwarts’ student body had an abundant amount of news to digest every day. It was two days before the Yule Ball when a new couple went public and the news of their relationship caused quite a stir. Their romance fed the rumor mill for weeks. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin dating was shocking enough, but having the mean Slytherin Prince walk into the Great Hall hand in hand with the Heart of Gold Gryffindor seemed like something impossible. For months their relationship was analyzed, picked apart, studied, observed, dissected and much more by the students of every house (and even some of the staff). It took the horrid event at the final task for their rarity to become old news. The constant pestering settled and in 5th year no one batted and eye at how the couple locked gazes across the room or at seeing them side by side. It was during the start of their 6th year that the whispers begun again. Hogwarts most notorious couple were not looking at each other. Draco Malfoy and (Y/N)(Y/L) had broken up over the summer. All around Hogwarts students talked, spreading the news, the new gossip sweeping the halls. Only people close to the ex-couple noticed the longing looks they sent each other when the other one wasn’t looking.

But that was years ago. A year after the end of the Wizarding War. Across Europe people were gathering at different locations to commemorate the fight, celebrate the good that came from it and remember those lost. Narcissa Malfoy was surprised when an invitation arrived by owl from Harry Potter himself for both her and her son. The letter attached to the invitation was in a messy scribbling explaining that the event would be hosted at (Y/N)(Y/L)’s family mansion since Harry knew a crowd of that size wouldn’t fit in Grimmauld Place. He went on to say that both Malfoys should feel welcome and to thank her for her part in defeating Voldemort.

When Narcissa told Draco of the news he didn’t know how to feel. A small bit of hope lit up his soul. His mother left him to decide if he wanted to attend or not. His head filled up with dark thoughts as it usually did now a days. Were you dating Potter? No, he had married the Weasley girl, right? Had you married? And then he willed his thoughts to change. If he went to your celebration, could he speak with you? Apologize? Maybe take a walk down your parents garden like you used to do when the world wasn’t dark. He hadn’t even been seventeen when he took the mark and promised to marry Astoria Greengrass all in the same night.

He remembered aimlessly flying around in his broom, the summer breeze tousling his hair, his gaze wasn’t focused on anything until he spotted the light blue mansion on the hill. He descended back to the ground as carefully as he could because the sight of it made his breath catch and his vision glaze over. He had so many memories of the two of you at that mansion, even the one where he broke both your hearts. His life had changed drastically in one night, the second the dark mark was burned onto his arm he thought of you and how much you’d come to hate him if you discovered the truth.

Even knowing how much you despised him, you still made him want to survive. He remembered wanting to curse Pansy, she had been the one to relay the rumors of his affair and engagement with Astoria to you. Draco didn’t know if he was relieved that the tears in your eyes and the betrayal they reflected wasn’t because of the truly worst thing he’d been forced to do. The one thing that he was certain would push you out of his life forever.

But you still found out. It took months, but you figured out the truth. He still remembered crashing Slughorn’s party and seeing you in the arms of Harry freaking Potter, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as your body shook from laughter. The song playing in the background was one you loved, and Potter seemed to be singing it to you. He was half glad Snape dragged him away because he wasn’t sure what he would’ve done next. Till this day he wondered if you had followed him and overheard their conversation. He still couldn’t figure out how you found out his darkest secret.

The rumor that everyone around Hogwarts stuck by during that whole 6th year was that Draco Malfoy spent the whole summer cheating on (Y/N)(Y/L) with Astoria Greengrass. They supposedly hooked up during one of the many balls at Malfoy Manor and were caught by Pansy Parkison who in a jealous fit sent an owl to (Y/N) letting her know of Draco’s infidelity. Draco never laid a hand on Astoria, but having you believe he was a cheater was easier than confessing he was a Death Eater. He couldn’t take the look you’d give him if you knew the truth. The very one you had on your face hours before he let the Deathe Eaters into Hogwarts. He knew you knew but didn’t approach you. He took the coward’s way out because he wanted to protect you, but also protect himself. Yes, he didn’t want you anywhere near the chaos, because even if he’d hate to admit it he knew you’d be safer by the Golden Trio’s side than by his.

The day of the celebration came, and Draco stood in front of his mirror examining his dress robes. They didn’t make him feel as before. The last time he wore something similar you were on his arm, dancing the night away at the Yule ball. The silver snake on his lapel made him sick. He wasn’t as proud to be a Slytherin as he once was. He had spent the whole week rehearsing what he would say to you, how he would approach you, he wouldn’t be surprised if you told him to fuck off. He missed you so much. It had been three years without you, his light, and his world was so dark.

He tried with Astoria, he did. You were gone from his life after the war, his father imprisoned in Azkaban and his family had lost everything. His mother never pushed him, but he could see the subtle clues she left about the good that marrying the Greengrass girl would do for their tarnished reputation. So he tried for a whole summer, but nothing came of it. His Heart of Gold Gryffindor was never far from his mind and Astoria’s hatred for his fall from grace never let them move forward. He heard through the grapevine that Astoria had married Nott that very winter.

The (Y/L) household was very imposing. He’d never felt intimidated by it before, but now it felt like the very walls knew he wasn’t welcomed. His mother had decided very last minute not to attend, still guilty of her part in the war despite Potter’s words. He felt the same, but his need to see you was greater than his shame. He was going to knock on that door and finally face you. He was willing to do anything to make it up to you. Make up for the harm, the lies, the hurt.

Once inside, he let the house elves take his coat, curiously observing that they all wore actual robes. You always said you wanted to free your house elves, pay them you had said, and it seemed that you had. He looked around the crowded room and his breath got stolen the second he found you. Velvet maroon dress, hair tied up in an intricate style, and a gorgeous smile on your crimson lips. You were currently hugging someone. Was that Luna Lovegood? His feet seemed cemented to the floor as his fears suddenly started consuming him. Would you have him back? Take him out to the porch to speak privately, maybe kiss him in front of all your stupid Gryffindor friends? Then other thoughts invaded his mind, making a cold sweat start on his brow. What if he was too broken? What if tonight didn’t go as he’d dreamed? He broke your heart, who’s to say he could even deem himself enough to mend it.

He’s only seventeen, but he knows he misses you. Misses your old cardigan that gained a new patch every time a new hole appeared; your Grandma had knit it for you. He missed riding around your brooms together, kissing in the sky and trying desperately not to fall. He just missed you.

All thoughts halted the second you turned your head and locked eyes with him.

He missed you.