#i don’t always keep track of my ships so some may get missed out sometimes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

no-droids · 4 years

Text

Promise Me (It’s Yours)

Part Eleven of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10K

Warnings: OMFG might be the first chapter of rough day to not need any warnings, can you believe it?? I mean of course there’s language, a splash of smut, and just the briefest reference to suicide, but pretty PG-13 this time my guys I apologize

A/N: I’m sorry I know people show up for the smut but I was feeling soft in this Taco Bell parking lot so here this is, I hope y’all like it. I guarantee none of the math is correct but please go with it

***

You jerk awake to the sound of whimpers.

It’s late. The bonfire is nothing more than glowing coals, and your back is resting against a scratchy log instead of a long, comfortable chest. You blink rapidly, trying to figure out where that noise is comi—

The kid. Fussy in his crib, his gasps starting to turn into quiet sobs.

“Hey,” you murmur, aiming for soft and comforting, but the sleep sits right in the middle of your vocal cords and splits your voice in half, making you sound like an exhausted demon. Weirdly enough, it seems to chill him out (did a demon actually teach him how to choke people without touching them?) and you sit up to blearily look around. Where’s Din? “Where’s—” you rub your eyes and squint around once more, “—where’d your dad go, bug?”

The clearing is bare. The field is, too—no path, excluding the one you three made on the hike here. Nothing in the distant forest, and the black duffel bag sits somewhere near your feet.

Alright, no worries, maybe he just… went to take a leak or something. Really… oddly far away. That’s fine. Sometimes humans have to do that—maybe he has a. A shy bladder. Or something. You’re totally fine. The kid blinks back at you through equally tired eyes, his head tilting as he seems to be taking cues from you right now in the absence of his father. You both should just try to go back to sleep…

Or you can wait up for him. That sounds like a better plan. Don’t panic, just trust him. Give him the benefit of the doubt, it’s the least you can do.

You take a second to look around again, still coming up empty. It’s dark out, but the moon is suspended high in the sky. The fire doesn’t even give off much light anymore, just dying embers. Your eyes scan the ground again, catching on the black bag at your feet.

Was that there when you went to sleep? No, the last person who had it was Din, and he was sitting over there, in front of the boulder behind the kid’s shield.

You blink down at the stationary bag for a few more seconds, studying it like it’ll spill all of its secrets if you glare hard enough, but then something sparks in your memory. Something odd, something you only noticed for a second last night. There was a red light that reflected off Din’s helmet when he reached into the bag for food earlier, wasn’t there?

You think back on it, try to isolate the hazy memory. If it was a laser sight, you would’ve recognized the bright beam and panicked, but you didn’t. It was unfocused, dim. Flashing.

Had… had Din brought a tracking fob with him from the Crest? But why?

Maker, it’s like your mind knows it should speed up but it’s still too stupid to actually do it. You should… you should check the bag, right? Just in case… you don’t know. You’re being ridiculous.

You reach out to catch the dark bag nonetheless and then unzip it, rifling through it for a particular item you figure should be in here somewhere. Food, food, more food…

Somewhere…

—It’s not here. No tracking fob here. No red light to be seen of.

Had you been imagining it?

No, you determine after a second. No, because you remember thinking it was odd—you specifically noticed it, clearly recognized it but didn’t contemplate too much into it at the time.

Alright, no worries, maybe he… maybe he went on a quick little hunt while you were both sleeping. He must’ve gone back to the ship to grab his armor and guns and then set off. That’s fine, there’s more food in the bag. He said he’d be here when you woke up, which most likely means morning. Right?

Cool. Cool cool cool, you can wait until morning. You can just settle back down against the log right here and find a comfortable position—there we go—and just wait for the sunrise, wait for the inevitable return of your missing party member. Party leader, arguably. He’ll come back, he always does.

Your body begins to relax, even though something still seems… strange about this. Like there’s something important you’re still missing.

… The field is bare.

You instantly sit up and turn back to study it in the moonlight, study the single path you left on your way here. You remember hiking at least… a grand total of two hours to get here from the Crest, maybe? Granted, you took quite the detour, but that just means he would’ve carved a distinct, new path on his way back—

Would he… would he really go on a hunt without going back to the ship first? Would Mando truly venture out—without telling you—to go collect a quarry without any weapon on him whatsoever? Any piece of armor besides a helmet?

Does that seem right to you?

Fuck, you suddenly feel wide awake, and the baby starts gasping out troubled cries again. You push yourself up to your feet and stumble around the dying flames to go comfort him, dropping to your knees next to the reflective sphere. Your head stays on a constant swivel as you quiet him, brushing the pad of your thumb along his wrinkled forehead and shushing him as you keep looking out at the breezy field of grass, trying to see if you missed anything.

Fuck, maybe you’re just overreacting. What direction is the ship? Which way did you…? You think back, trying to piece together limited information of what you can remember about today. Glancing back down at the log you slept on and then the path leading away from the clearing, rapidfire calculations start going off in your head. No, you realize after a second of frantic thought—no, the sun would’ve—if you walked…

Eventually, you’re able to pinpoint a general idea of where the ship should be, and if you’re right, then he definitely would’ve left a new path to get back to it. You don’t like this. It’s out of character for him. It sits too weird with you, and the kid rarely starts crying unless something is bothering him.

Alright, alright, don’t panic. Din is a professional. He must’ve left on purpose—you would’ve woken up if there was any sort of struggle, or even just an exchange. Odds are, he grabbed the tracking fob and just… went to go get the quarry.

Without waking you. Without telling you. Without bringing anything else with him. No armor. No guns. Just the fob.

Some strange sense of dread begins to fill you, one that feels all the worse when there’s no clear explanation for it. You won’t pretend like you’re an expert, but to a Mandalorian, that seems like it could be considered suicidal, wouldn’t it? What reason would he have to do this?

The field continues to wave, undisturbed, in all surrounding directions except one. You look over at the clearing leading to the dark forest, the treetops too thick to let anything but traces of crystal moonlight through. If he left… he’ll have gone that way. The only direction that wouldn’t leave a path.

Okay. So there's a decision that needs to be made. You can either stay here, in the middle of this wide open field until the sun comes up, and hopefully he comes back by then. Or… you could. Go check if something went wrong.

The forest is gorgeous from here, you can see that. Thick treetops, drifting gently in the breeze, steady and quiet and picturesque. Admittedly, you can also see a haunting, looming nightmare of darkness warning you to stay away from whatever it’s hiding. This is an unfamiliar planet. You know it’s safe, this is the most isolated sector and Din said practically no crime happens here, but. He also said he’d be here when you woke up.

Hang on, wait. Something catches in your peripheral. There—right on the other side of the kid’s crib, you see—

A glove.

… He left the glove. Whether on purpose or by accident, Din left his glove. The one connected to the vambrace, the one that houses all his controls.

The one that houses the comm link.

The piece of armor is already in your trembling fingers before you realize you even went to grab it. Anxiety, stress, dread—you don’t know which weighs on you heavier while you slowly rotate it in your hands, trying to understand what’s happening right now. He left his emergency communicator. The only chance you have at contacting him unless he decides to come back.

Panic suddenly constricts in your chest, and you make your decision blindly. The kid continues to squeak out little whimpers as your arm sinks down into the leather and you pull the gauntlet up almost to your elbow, flexing your fingers inside the fabric and feeling your heart beating in your throat. The controls are fairly basic, it doesn’t take much time to figure out which button he synced with the hovering sphere, which command he uses to lock the two locations together.

“Chill out, kiddo,” you whisper, doing your best to calm your own raging uncertainty. Conviction is key, you think. You made your decision. Not wanting to waste any more time in case something went awry, you sling the bag over your shoulder and set off in the direction of the trees, feeling… woefully underprepared for whatever may potentially face you.

The forest is quiet as you finally make your way past the first few trees marking its beginning, or end, and you need a second to blink and adjust your vision. It’s dark—if you thought it was dark when you awoke, it’s nothing compared to this. The treetops are thick and barely allow any moonlight to pass through their dense leaves whatsoever, just bits and pieces scattered here or there. There’s no path, no trail, just nature. Fallen logs, moss, rock and boulder formations you have to avoid.

You shush your agitated ward again, wanting to control yourself because you’re getting the kid worked up into baby battle mode with no visible threats to see. He reads energies—he’s capable when he wants to be, when he deems the situation fit. Right now he’s quieted somewhat but he’s still on high alert, recycling your inner panic outwards until you feel the air shifting around you, an… unexplainable phenomena you can’t even describe properly.

Well, you figure. If anything, he’s far more dangerous than any weapon Din typically carries with him. You tend to forget, most of the time. He’s never hurt you, no matter how boisterous the tantrums sometimes are, and you find yourself very rarely thinking of him as anything other than an innocent, helpless baby you’re tasked with protecting. Though it appears that most of the time, he’s been the one protecting you.

What are you saying? There’s no need for protection right now, you’re simply searching for your absent ally. You’re not being brave—no matter how quickly your heart is beating or how much your hands are sweating, you’re not being brave because bravery implies facing something you fear. You have nothing to fear, it’s nothing more than an abandoned forest. A backdrop for your endeavor.

Though… though now that you think about it, this setting looks eerily similar to one you’ll have seared into your memory forever. The forest on Corellia.

You will the thought away with a frantic shake of your head. Naboo is safe, Naboo is safe—it’s not like Corellia. It’s not crawling with people desperate for food and credits, desperate enough to resort to kidnapping and slave trade. Naboo will economically prosper no matter what threat befalls the galaxy, its industry comes from tourism and resorting.

You stop for a second, needing a breather. Just for a second. You haven’t been walking more than fifteen minutes but the terrain makes your feet hurt. Sure, there are clearings between trees and the ground isn’t complete overflowing with obstacles, but they’re still present. The scattered rocks dig in under your shoes and some of the bushes you pass by have sharp leaves or thorns—but it’s the sprawling root systems that prove to be the worst. They crawl across the ground like they can’t decide whether they want to be part of it or not, and more than once you stub your toe on a hidden tube arching a few inches out of the mossy soil.

A part of you almost has to remind yourself that you’re here because you’re looking for somebody, rather than being trapped here trying to evade something. The adrenaline and fear are starting to get the best of you, make you too antsy, warp your senses. You’re deep in the forest now, but not enough to feel the wind disappear yet—you can still hear it rattling around above you, leaves slapping against each other, branches creaking as they tower over you. You almost wish it were quiet. You don’t feel comforted by the breeze anymore, it doesn’t feel like an ever present reassurance as much as it does a burden that masks the noises you could otherwise be hearing. The snapping of twigs that could potentially be there. The crunching of leaves under feet that aren’t your own.

So. You should probably admit now that this was actually a horrendous idea. Because you’re fucking stupid for not realizing this earlier, but. Din ventured into this hellscape to find a quarry, did he not?

A… wanted criminal.

Shit. What the fuck. That’s a hell of a fucking thing to register this late, isn’t it?

You can turn around, you figure. You can turn around right now and head back to the campsite—actually, that sounds like a great idea. You should do that.

You spin around and begin retracing your steps… which, you figure out about five minutes later, is an impossible feat. None of your surroundings look familiar—or shit, maybe it all looks familiar. Like… trees. And fucking rocks. Trying to distinguish landmarks is almost impossible now, and there’s no way to tell which direction you’re going with no visibility overhead, no celestial body to guide you.

You don’t immediately panic, not until you (quite literally) stumble upon a small stream of water flowing through some stones under your feet.

Well, okay. That’s not good. Okay, well, no, you suppose that could be good. It’s water—it’s a landmark, sure, the tiniest little landmark you've ever seen, but that’s exactly the problem. You’ve never seen it before. Which means you’re most definitely not going in the right direction.

At this point, the only option you have is to turn around again. Maybe you can unintentionally make the same series of stupid mistakes once more to start you right at the beginning. The kid is still glancing around in his cradle, making sure no harm comes to your useless ass, but then you freeze when you begin to hear something in the distance.

It’s an unfamiliar sound—a deafening one, even from this far away. Long and echoing, a giant chorus of… something. Something you’ve never heard before, something you can’t place.

Your heart is thundering as you walk closer to the source of it, moving slowly and cautiously forwards and having no clue what it could possibly be. It doesn’t seem to amplify much as you travel closer, which means it must be a ways away still. It’s terrifying nonetheless—the anticipation, how sweaty your hands are, the way you’re very aware of the muscles in your stomach for some reason.

The baby coos softly at your side, but the suddenness of the gentle noise nearly makes you jump out of your skin. You gasp and look down at him for the first time in what feels like ages, clutching at your chest, but then—

—then footsteps rush you from behind and something grabs at your shirt.

You react completely on instinct, your body nearly throbbing with adrenaline as you whip around and launch a mean jab aimed at the dark silhouette behind you. It slams directly into his solar plexus hard enough to bend him in half and ripple through your whole arm with the blowback. Your other fist pulls back and instantly goes for him again, but he just barely manages to jerk his arm up and block it in time—

And thank the Maker he does. Because you were just an inch shy from colliding your knuckles against the side of his head in your wild stage of panic. The one currently covered in devastatingly strong, shiny metal, the helmet just barely visible in the dark forest.

It’s like it doesn’t even register with you—you’re already going to hit him again when Din’s hand hooks around your arm and he yanks you forwards. Your body slams into his and then he’s wrapping himself around you and holding suffocatingly tight. Everything inside you still wants to struggle against him, gasping into his shoulder as your heart continues to gallop with terror no matter what your logic tells you. But he holds harder than steel and the sound of his voice eventually returns to you after a moment, repeating harsh words at you through a familiar vocal filter.

“—me, it’s me, it’s me, I’m right here, stop it, stop it, stop—”

You blink desperately against black fabric, letting the familiar scent, touch, and embrace bring you back down again. He’s so solid—has such a strong hold on you, absolutely no give to be found, and the devastatingly tight embrace manages to quickly settle you.

But he doesn’t wait long. As soon as you stop fighting him, he releases you in favor of grabbing your shoulders and shoving you out at arm’s length, frantically jerking the helmet up and down your body and twisting you back and forth while he looks. Your arms dangle with the inspection and you readily let him move you around like a rag doll, not having enough sense to register anything beyond safe. You’re safe. Everything seems to exist in a box right now, far away and yet compact at the same time. The visor snaps back up to your face and you blink dazedly up at him.

“I’m sorry,” you immediately tell him, voice pitched high and awkward, “woah, hah—whew, ahah—I’m sorry, I-I’m just—“

His fingers hook at your chin and he pulls it up, tilting your head back and forth, allowing the small patch of moonlight beaming through the treetops to catch the water in your eyes. It glints in shameless betrayal, and you try unsuccessfully to blink it away despite the damage already being done. Din drops his arm and you lower your chin without the platform propping it up.

“You just—you just—” you gasp out, delayed relief suddenly filling you and making your voice wobble dangerously, “—y-you went on a hunt but you left your armor. You left your guns, you left everything. I didn’t know—what could’ve happened, I—why’d you do that? W-Why—why didn’t you t-tell m—”

He wraps his hand behind your head and pulls you into his chest once more, not saying a single word. This hug is just as tight as before, just in a different way. He still uses it as a way to calm you and it still squeezes the air from your body, but this one doesn’t feel like it’s entirely for your benefit anymore.

It takes you a few more seconds to realize his hands are trembling.

You go to pull back, but he tightens, anchoring you to him. “What’s—” you gasp against the fabric covering his shoulder, “—what’s wrong? Are you okay? Where’s the quarry? What’s—what’s making that sound? Are we safe?”

Din takes slow, shallow breaths, and you hear it almost too well with your ear shoved against his body. Little by little, he loosens his grip on you. Both of you are still panting by the time you’re able to wrench back and look up at him.

Bare, shaky hands push your hair back away from your face, eventually coming to rest framing both of your cheeks. They’re warm and strong where his fingers wrap around the bend of your jaw, securing you in place, and when he speaks, he sounds like he’s been through hell and back.

“Don’t ever,” Din whispers brokenly, tugging a little bit to make sure you’re listening. “Don’t ever—ever run away from me like that. Ever again. Understand?”

You stare up at him, wide-eyed and dumb, unmoving. Is that what he thinks? That you were trying to… to run away from him?

“I—I wasn’t running,” you immediately stutter out, blinking rapidly at him and trying not to let the confusion show on your face. “I’d never run—I-I told you I wouldn’t—”

“I came back and you were gone,” he breathes, his quivering thumbs brushing along the height of your cheekbones. “I—my kid, he was gone, everything was gone, I-I…” The helmet shakes back and forth the slightest bit, and then he drops his grip to clamp down on your shoulders, clearing the fragile turmoil from his throat and hardening his tone. “Listen, you can’t do that—you can’t take my kid and just… just disappear like that, please, promise me you won’t do that agai—”

“You disappeared,” you accuse with a whisper, but it’s like he doesn’t even hear you.

“Promise me,” he urges, shaking you enough to make your head bobble just slightly, and the quiet plead of his voice through the modulator compels you to acquiesce without a second thought.

“I promise I won’t disappear,” you vow to him, unwavering and earnest. “Now promise you won’t, either.”

Din stares at you for a moment, his body tense and completely stationary. He’s still breathing heavy though, his chest rising and falling hard enough for you to count. One, two, three… Seven. Seven whole breaths, before he finally responds.

“I promise,” he eventually declares, before taking a step forward and crowding you, pulling your shoulders in and slowly tilting his helmet down until it rests against your forehead. The cool metal feels like ice on your burning skin—but you ignore it and allow him to get as close as he can possibly be, to hold you tight and keep you there. “I promise,” he goes on, “that if you ever—that if something ever happens to you two, and you just… just vanish on me like that again—then I’d—I’d…”

And then his next words steal the air from your lungs, wipe your head clear of any thoughts whatsoever—the hushed, vehement sincerity in his voice. Yet… calm. Certain, composed, and with purpose. Almost as if he could only get you to understand one thing, then he would want it to be this.

“Then I’d tear this whole galaxy apart to find you,” he tells you quietly, tightening his hands on your arms and swearing an oath to you. “Both. Both of you. I’d—I’d never stop. I’d rain hell. Tell me you understand.”

“I… I understand,” you finally murmur, and Din quickly pulls you to his chest and wraps himself around you once more without another word. His fingers tangle in your hair and encourage you to rest your face in the crook of his neck, so you do. Even though his helmet jabs uncomfortably at your cheek like this, you do your best to just settle down and breathe him in, bring your hands up to rub at his back and wait for his heart rate to slow.

Eventually it does. It seems like it takes ages, but eventually he's able to unwind his large stature from around you, letting you have a bit more of your own space. He doesn’t take his hands off you, though—his palm drags down your elbow and catches your bare hand in his, gently tugging.

“Let’s go,” he says quietly, beginning to lead you… somewhere. Probably out of the forest and back to the ship, but you don’t question it and completely forget about the low rumbling still echoing in the distance. You follow directly behind him and away from the mysterious sound, the fingers of your right hand still laced with his left, knowing there are far more important questions to be asked.

“Din,” you whisper, but he doesn’t need anymore prompting.

“I thought I’d be quick enough,” he admits, pulling you along by your hand. “It’s barely been a couple hours.”

You stay silent and focus on your feet, letting him go at his own pace. More than once he plays bodyguard, standing in front of wickedly sharp branches while you and the kid pass, and there’s never anything said beyond a quiet ‘thank you’ every time he does it.

“I’ve…” he says after a while. “I’ve been doing this job for awhile. And there are things… things you learn. Quick. Ways to predict people, ways to get in their heads. Last known locations tell you a lot about a quarry. Smart ones go to populated planets, planets like Coruscant, planets that make it nearly impossible to find people. Brave ones go to dangerous planets, suicidal ones try their luck in the Unknown Regions, idiots continue to go about their business on their homeworld without caring. But planets like this—like Naboo… those are the pacifists. The ones that don’t ever put up a fight. Watch your feet.”

You blink and stumble over a hidden root nonetheless, trying to keep up both physically and mentally. Din tightens his grip and catches you by your elbow.

“This one was like you,” he goes on, pulling you up and leading you forward once more. “Wasn’t trying to run. Just wanted to spend his last few months hiding out on the most beautiful place in the galaxy before he got caught.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up? Why’d you go in the middle of the night?” You whisper, not upset anymore. Just trying to understand. “You couldn’t have waited until morning?” But Din just shrugs.

“I didn’t want to remind you.” His sentence is short and stunted, yet serves to answer all three of your questions without providing any information beyond that, the unspoken sentiment barreling forth and smashing into you full force. He didn’t want to remind you. He wanted to leave while you were asleep and then return before you woke up, never letting you remember that responsibilities exist beyond this gorgeous planet for the time being.

You’re a bit shocked, to be honest. In hindsight, though, you suppose it makes sense. Din was the one who navigated to this sector, kept the bag out of your reach the whole day. If the kid had decided to wake up just an hour or two later, he would’ve been back by then, and you would’ve never known any different.

“Anyway,” he clears his throat, and a wave tiredness suddenly grips you. Fuck. Too much thinking. “The quarry went willingly, they always do when their last wish is to chase down a pretty landscape. Nice guy. Found him camped out by a giant—”

Din suddenly goes oddly quiet, and you’re too exhausted to push it. You’re starting to drag a little bit. You woke up in blind panic and have been on edge ever since, and now that you know things are okay, your body just wants more sleep. The trees blur as you keep moving forward, zoning out and knowing you likely have another few miles of walking before you’re back.

You almost trip over him. You don’t even notice he’s there until you nearly run into him. In your defense, the only visible part of him is his helmet; the clothing is too dark under the thick treetops to see anything else. Still, it takes you a second, and you blink down at Din’s crouched figure in front of you, blocking your intended path.

“Up,” he turns to mutter over his shoulder when you ultimately fail to comprehend.

…There’s no way.

Hesitantly, you lift one of your knees to his side and feel his arm firmly hook under it. Emboldened, you lean down until your forearm can wrap around the front of him, and then you do a stupid little bunny hop along the curve of his spine. Din easily catches your other leg before rising up.

He bounces you higher on his back once he’s upright, and you’re automatically resting your chin on his shoulder and clinging to him, your heart filling with butterflies as he begins trudging forward.

It’s… oddly comfortable. As long as you keep your arms wrapped tight around his chest, you can bury your face into him and drift in and out. He goes out of his way to keep you as level as you can possibly be, trying to soften his steps so your jaw doesn’t bounce on top of him while he steps over fallen logs and ducks to avoid low hanging leaves.

Later—you’re not sure how long it’s been, his voice comes through the modulator, ringing with your ear pressed against the helmet no matter how quiet he tries to be.

“How’d you know I went on a hunt?” He asks, and there’s a soft reservation in his tone, as if he doesn’t really want to speak but needs to ask you anyways.

“Mmm?” You slur into the fabric stretching over his shoulder, probably drooling on it a bit, too. “Hmm?”

His voice increases marginally in volume, but still maintains a gentle undertone that lulls you into relaxing deeper. “You knew I left to look for the quarry—how?”

“Fob,” you tell him tiredly, not having much energy to spare the words. “Wasn’t in the bag.”

You’re too out of it at this point, it takes a moment to realize Din has abruptly slowed down. “How’d you know there was a tracking—”

“You’re… reflective?” You ask, though you don’t really know why you’re asking. “S’to your detriment. Sometimes.”

That seems to stun him somewhat, halting him in place for the time being. The biggest response it gets from you is the tiniest little eyebrow twitch inwards, wondering why the steady movements of your transportation seems to have temporarily stalled. “How’d you know I left my armor?”

“Hmm?” You ask again, not really hearing him.

“Hey, stay awake for a second,” he bounces you and you groggily mutter something under your breath that even you can’t comprehend. Din glosses over it while you blink your eyes open. “Tell me how you knew. You didn’t go back to the Crest.”

You drag your head off his shoulder and squint around, looking around at the edge of the forest and the flowing grass beyond and trying to think with your stupid, tired brain, really needing to focus on the question. “…No?”

The curiosity in his voice can’t be masked, not by him nor the filter through which it’s processed. “So how did you know I left my armor on it?”

“You would’ve left a trail,” you shrug. “The grass is tall.”

“I could’ve just taken the path we made earlier,” he eventually proposes, still completely motionless in the middle of the relatively sparse number of trees leading to it. “Gone back to the ship exactly the way we came.”

“Y’could’ve,” you admit with a yawn. “But the ship is that way,” you lazily raise your arm and point a good fifty or so degrees to the left, and Din follows his own outstretched gauntlet you’re still sporting around your hand with the visor.

“I’m impressed,” he finally says, shifting you on his back but perfectly content to keep his feet rooted to the spot. “I didn’t think you had a good sense of direction. You know where the Crest is on this planet but not when we were on Canto Bight.”

You snort a laugh. No, no you have no such thing—you got lost as fuck in this forest. A good sense of direction counts as a solid survival skill, and you’d say you still very much lack most of those. Besides pulling water out of thin air, you can’t claim to know much of anything at all in that department.

“Mmm. No, that was just—“ you shake your head. “Y’know, jus’ some… panicked? Math? That’s all.”

“Panicked…” Din repeats slowly, “…math.”

You nod, frustrated that he’s still not moving, clearly waiting for you to explain your rapid, chaotic thought process from earlier. Still, you do your best for him, trying not to slur your words too much. “We… walked towards the sun this morning to get to the field. I remember, because your shiny ass was blinding me the entire time, what must’ve been like. A whole fucking hour? At least. And… and then we walked a little less to get here, forty-five minutes probably, then me ‘n the kid watched the sunset leaning up against that one log, which was at a solid angle—little more than fifty degrees to the right from the path. You could’ve retraced your steps from earlier if you really wanted to, but taking the shortcut would’ve shaved off about...” you snuggle your face into his shoulder deeper for a moment and think really hard about it. “Thirty minutes? Or an hour round trip. Give or take, since the kid slowed us down.”

He still doesn’t move, and you huff quietly, feeling like you’re on top of a stubborn blurg that just can’t be fucking bothered. Should you squeeze your legs around his middle? Will that work?

“You… went on a hunt, sweet girl,” Din finally says, bluntly, after way too long of a pause. He sounds vaguely impressed for reasons beyond that of your comprehension right now. “In your own little… panicked way. How does it feel?”

“Unsuccessful,” you breathe, burying your forehead into his shoulder once more and blinking your eyes shut. Too much thinking, too much thinking. You need to sleep.

“You were on the right track,” he hums, bouncing you up and setting off again, and you can’t help yourself. It’s completely involuntary, tumbles out of your mouth without thought.

“Craziest bounty hunter in the guild,” you slur, and Din doesn’t give you even a shred of the laughs that deserves.

“I should make you walk just for that,” he threatens instead, though he does no such thing. He just keeps leaning forward in a position that can’t be comfortable for him and lets you fall asleep on his back, holding you tight to his body as he finally breaks out of the last trees and continues hiking through the familiar field to go back home.

***

You rouse twice. Once, when hands allow your legs to slowly slide down a firm body and settle on solid metal. He spins around to catch you before you can collapse, and then slowly eases your exhausted body down to the floor.

A bare hand cradles the back of your head until that finally settles down, too.

The second time, you can’t quite be sure of. One of those moments where you’re barely conscious, drifting to the point where everything around you could be part of your dreamscape, where you can’t trust your own ears or mind to differentiate between what is real and what isn’t. All you’d need is a single person telling you this didn’t actually happen and you’d accept it without question.

Pacing. Quiet footsteps moving back and forth across the floor as you sleep, pausing every once in a while to stand in front of your slumbering figure. Something unintelligible is mumbled as he walks away, the hollow thunk of boots clambering up a ladder. Engines rumble to life under your ear, and gravity gently pushes you deeper against the flat metal supporting your body.

The footsteps soon return and start to pace around once more.

***

“Hey,” a quiet voice murmurs, your shoulder rocking back and forth slightly. “Wake up.”

You blink your eyes open to a familiar visor looking down at you, his hand quickly leaving your shoulder and brushing a gloved thumb across your cheekbone when he sees you’re awake. “Mm? Din? Wha’s—” you glance around you at the dark hull of the Razor Crest, before blinking your tired gaze back to him, “—s’going on? Wha’ time s’it?”

“Late,” he whispers. “We’re in the air. I had to wait until the kid was asleep, but I want… I want you to see something.”

“What is it?” Still blinking blearily, you sit up, but then Din grabs your hands and keeps your momentum going until you’re slowly dragged to your feet. What you do when you’re standing upright doesn’t really qualify as standing or upright—you just sag against him with exhaustion as he wraps his forearms around your lower back, keeping you pressed tight against him as your ankles drag uselessly against the ground.

“Use your feet,” he reminds you quietly, and you harumph in a grumpy response. Maker, you want to go back to sleep. You’re sure you tell him as much, but he just shushes you and encourages you to hold yourself up, letting go while you steady yourself but hovering his palms a few inches away from your arms just in case. “I want you to put my helmet on.”

“Excuse me?” You ask him, swaying slightly and rubbing one of your eyes, not feeling amused. “Is this some kind of… power trip? Or something? Because you’ve spent the last few days literally beating me up, I’d assume that would be enough for y—”

“I let you beat me up,” he grumbles under his breath. “How are you ever gonna take a punch if it hurts you that bad to just throw one, sweet girl?”

“I’ll punch first,” you respond groggily, trying to move forwards so you can lean on him again, but being stopped by a firm grip on your shoulders.

“I know you will,” he mutters, letting go after a second to brush your hair away from your squinty eyes. “Listen, I want you to put my helmet on, okay?”

You nuzzle your head into his leather palm and hum, giving it some thought. “Are you gonna… turn on the light thingie?” You clarify, not being able to remember what the setting is called, and he nods.

“Yes,” he tells you very seriously. “There’s a… stars, a ‘noise thingie’ that I’ll turn on, too. You won’t be able to see or hear for a little bit—you’ll have to trust me.”

“Is this for sex?” You blurt as soon as the thought occurs to you, and Din sighs heavily, letting his head drop to his chest in exasperation. “Like some sort of a… sensory deprivation thing? Because if so, I can like—I mean I can get into it.”

“If I say yes, will you put it on?” He tries, and. Well, that question shouldn’t wake you up nearly as much as it does. You blink at him, actually registering the sight of the mirrored visor this time. Your gaze drops to see he’s back in full beskar regalia, his body looking even larger and broader with it on.

“Oh,” you say quite suddenly, remembering the question. “Oh. Shit yeah, I will.”

He shakes his head. You’re getting better and better at reading him—becoming more fluent in helmet, one could say—and this head shake says he can’t believe he’s actually surprised that worked. “It’s not for sex,” he tells you immediately, deadpanning the delivery even more than he typically would. “Will you still put it on?”

You look at him blankly, wondering why this is even happening. He said you’re in the air right now, and there’s… something he wants you to see? Whatever this is, it’s spur of the moment. Something he felt the need to wake you up for, but likely won’t push if you decline.

“Yeah,” you nod, “'course I will.”

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, tipping your chin up slightly in the dim hull so he can watch. Since they already want to do so regardless of the gentle command, your lids readily dip shut and you wait patiently as his touch leaves you for a moment.

You’re already sagging a bit by the time one of his hands returns to your cheek, and then plush lips press gently to yours. The sigh you give him is completely involuntary—aching and quiet and longing as you let it go right in his mouth, your expression narrowing with concentration.

But he’s quick. He leans back before either of you can get lost in it and reminds you with a gorgeous, rumbling baritone, “You’ll have to trust me.”

You nod in confirmation and soon his helmet is carefully being lowered over your head. This is the second time around he’s done this—and you suppose if you couple that with your still lazy demeanor, the silent darkness that comes along with it doesn’t bother you as much as it did a few months ago. The padding still grips your cheeks and you still feel disconnected from your surroundings—even more so now than the last time he put it on you—but it’s welcoming, in a way. Giving you a reason to cling to him and tilt your head with the unfamiliar weight, breathing slow and easy while isolated in your own little pitch black world.

Oh Maker, you could probably fall asleep again just like this, so long as he keeps holding you up. But Din has other plans, clearly. He eases you backwards, continues to walk you back and back and back some more, and you have no problem just going with it. He’s strong, taking almost all of your weight and somehow instinctively knowing how to hold you so that you’re fully supported no matter how you’re positioned. He shifts you to one arm at one point, does something with his free hand that you can’t really figure out but aren’t really bothered by either.

He guides you both a few more steps backwards, and you start to wonder how long the hull actually is. But then he suddenly grabs you tight—tight enough to make your eyes pop open to the black void in front of you and panic slightly, before he tilts you back even more and suddenly the ground is dropping out from under your feet, the air rushing silently around your entire body.

Okay, now you full-on panic.

He doesn’t let go, thank the stars, even when you scramble up to straddle and cling to him, heart clanging hard against your sternum at his fucking audacity. The jet pack? Are there just no fucking rules anymore?

Sure enough, the thrusters kick in and he’s good enough with the phoenix to counteract the gravity shift as much as possible, making it a gradual thing instead of a rapid change in motion. You’re almost confident you would’ve slipped out of his grip and gone slamming to the ground had he not done the preventative maneuver.

Regardless, you’re gonna fucking kill him. You’re going to murder Mando and get your own bounty puck, one with your name on it. It won’t end well; everyone after you will have a personal vendetta considering you offed one of their own. If you survive the confrontation then you’ll likely get taken to mine spice somewhere for the rest of your miserable life, probably Kessel—that is, assuming he doesn’t kill you first, within the next however many minutes.

And oh, he seems like he takes his sweet fucking time, hauling your fuming, decapitated ass along on a late night joyride. Every second he continues to allow you to fly in blind, deaf isolation is another butt whooping you’re vowing to give him, and it pisses you off even more that you can’t even express your righteous fury because you can’t let go of him. You’re a parasite in midair, clinging to his metal body while he slowly descends, navigating you both down until you feel his boots finally meet solid ground.

You carefully reach for the ground with one foot and try to feel it with your tippie toes just in case he’s somehow tricking you, until Din drops you down and your feet mercifully meet dirt. As soon as you find your balance, you shove an open palm against the metal of his chestplate in anger and Din quickly catches your wrist, the beskar shaking slightly under your hand like he found the whole thing rather humorous.

You don’t have much time to fuss. He spins you around and then his hands settle on your shoulders, and for some reason… you only notice it now. The fabric covering your torso and legs is gradually becoming damp for some reason. You can’t feel any real splashes of water—no raindrops or anything, but it gets worse and worse the longer he holds you steady in front of him.

His hands eventually drag down your arms and elbows, until they’re catching your wrists and slowly pulling both of them up. Din cradles the backs of your hands as he presses your palms against the cold metal helmet around your head, and then he gradually begins to pull it up, and—

—Loud.

You stop for a second.

… Tears spring up.

Din keeps pulling.

What starts out as a dull hiss continuously amplifies as the beskar slowly lifts, growing louder and louder in volume until it’s a deafening, violent, thunderous roar.

Yet still, you don’t open your eyes. You just… listen to it. Let the sound of it fill your heart, the same sound you caught earlier in the forest but now amplified exponentially, almost surrounding you with reverberating white noise. Your whole body is practically drenched in water by the time you finally open your eyes and blink through the heavy mist.

He said no oceans, and he was right. It isn’t an ocean—it’s… something so unbelievably beautiful that you don’t even have a name for it. You don’t want one, not really. There isn’t a name that would be good enough. It’s easily—by and far, in your measley handful of decades of existence—the most majestic thing you’ve ever seen. A gigantic, enormous cliff dwarfs you on three sides, with tens of thousands of tons of water arcing over their sharp edges and plunging into the rocky lake below.

The cloud of droplets ricocheting from the base of the jaw dropping cascade is massive in and of itself—easily taking up a good quarter of your field of view even from this distance away. The shore sits close enough but the spectacle is still somewhat distant, remaining an untouchable heaven, a gorgeous lake separating you from it and rippling with waves that settle to lap at the sand.

The rest of the setting comes later, after you’re able to process the main event. You’re in the middle of the forest from before—familiar colossal trees wrap around the shoreline and vibrant shrubbery blankets the edges of the falling water, evergreen and fed by a constant nourishing mist. The sun is also beginning to come up. You can’t see it yet, but you can see the way the sky is starting to gradient itself from a starry midnight blue to pale lavender, the first rays beginning to peak over the treetops.

You feel yourself take a few, slow steps forward, but leather catches your hand from behind and gives it a firm squeeze before you can move completely out of reach. You don’t even have to look back at him to know what it means. The sentiment transfers seamlessly—be careful, he says, before dropping it and letting you continue forth.

Reaching the shore brings even more beauty to a backdrop you didn’t think could get any better. You have to carefully step over—oh, heavens—small, transparent crystals tinted every color you can imagine to reach the water, sparkling under the gently lapping waves. They’re like thin, flat shards of glass, and you know that if the sound of the falling water wasn’t so deafening, you’d probably be able to hear the muted crunching noise they make shattering under your boots with every cautious step. Jagged edges and multicolored powder is all that’s left in your wake, no matter how careful you try to be.

You almost don’t want to move since they’re so delicate and everywhere, probably blanketing the entire floor of the lake, but you push forward with purpose until you’re just close enough to squat down and dip your fingers into the cool water. It’s crystal clear and reflects the lightening sky with every gentle ripple and disturbance. You study the pieces of glass as the repetitive waves distort their shape, the colorful shards turning to smooth, round pebbles the closer they are to the water. A large green one catches your eye—circular and comparatively tiny, but standing out amongst all the rest.

You pluck it from the shore and let the almost perfectly round emerald sphere roll around in your palm, scanning the shallow water once more. Then, ah—there, you reach out and grab a slightly larger, heavier, unassuming brown one that you have to hold up to the gradually rising sun to see its sparkle. It’s got harder edges and feels rougher in your hand but you like it that way. You like that there’s a bit of a warm amber at its center when the light hits it right.

Perfect. Taking another moment to study your choices, you eventually end up finding a gorgeous, slightly pearlescent piece that sits just between the size of the other two in your collection. It’s tinted a pale, off-white amongst a sea of color and there’s something gentle about it that speaks to you, something that feels right about the gradual sloping curves and how it sits in your palm.

Carefully pocketing the three pieces of fragile glass and rising up, you glance back to see Din standing there, helmet on once more and frozen right where you last left him.

He looks… awkward, almost. Holding his hands behind his back, all his weight shifted to one foot while the other twists back and forth against the ground just slightly. Nervous, for some reason. Feeling unsure of his place. The posture tugs at your heartstrings, as well as the spectacular gesture, and you soon make your way back to him.

“Where did you… where did you find this!?” You have to yell over the rushing water once you get close enough. “I didn’t see anything on the navcomp—”

“—wasn’t—navcomp—” he replies, barely just loud enough for you to hear. You miss most of it, but you’re able to piece together the gist based on what little you can catch. “—quarry—isolated sector—uncharted.”

Uncharted. It’s uncharted, the navcomp wouldn’t register it. Untouched by millennia of progress. Plenty of people have probably seen it before, but apparently none of them have ever told anybody about it. The universe is vast but it’s also old—it’s unbelievable that cartographers have plotted almost the entire galaxy but they still missed something like this.

The roar of the marvel is so deafening, it takes you a moment to realize he’s still speaking

“—nobody—yet—it—” he nods the helmet out at the spectacular landmark, “—it’s yours—you want—”

“My what!?” You bellow, but he doesn’t clarify or add anything new. He just spins you around again, extending his arm out over your shoulder to point at the breathtaking view and then dropping his helmet down next to your ear.

“Yours,” Din repeats firmly, resolutely. Nothing more to be said.

You’re not sure if you’re crying yet, there’s too much water in the air to tell. All you can do is just instinctively lean all your weight back into his chest and let his arms lace around your body, and you have to blink the droplets away as they start to trail down your forehead and into your eyes. He keeps you like that until the rising sun begins to reflect off the cloud of mist at the rocky base of the monument, scattering light in all directions and splitting it into a beautiful spectrum that reflects every color.

You wonder if Din can see it. You wonder if there’s a filter on his helmet that isn’t infrared or night vision, where a computer isn’t constantly alerting him to movement or sudden changes in atmospheric pressure. Just… pure, unobstructed, visible light. You know there’s probably all sorts of tracking measures programmed in, you know he can zoom and spot a sniper from a vast distance—you know he sees things you don’t. Things you won’t ever see. But you also hope the visor isn’t shaded too dark—you hope there’s a setting that works like a one way mirror, if only so that he can also see the beauty of this planet the same exact way you can.

You eventually turn in his arms and take one small step away from him just so you can look at him, and sure enough, the visor is tilted up towards the natural beauty. Your eyes study every inch of him as if you’ve never seen him before, as if he may as well have taken the helmet off right in front of you. This is thoughtful. It’s so fucking thoughtful of him. For being such a mystery, this right here… this is soul bearing. It’s not an ocean, it’s a million times better than one and the fact that he not only remembered you telling him something like that, but he actually flew you out here to see it. It makes your chest ache with an unknown feeling, one you still have trouble recognizing. It settles down right in the softest part of you, makes your mouth open and give it a four letter name.

You say it so softly, confess it knowing he’s not looking, knowing he’d never be able to hear above the sound of the cascading rapids crashing against the rocks below. You can’t hear it either, but you can feel it. The way the word lilts off your tongue, the simple truth in it that’s impossible to hide from any longer.

He glances back at you, before doing a double take. Gently, Din pushes at your shoulder and urges you to face forward again, to take all of it in while you still can, and yet.

All you can see is him.

His head slowly turns back down to face you, and your eyes keep shamelessly scanning every bit of him, watching the mist droplets chase each other down the reflective metallic curves and contours of his helmet. Din slowly leans in, carefully eases his arm under yours and wraps tight around your lower back to bring you closer to his side. You sigh and press up against him, your palm creeping up the damp fabric wrapped around his throat. The visor doesn’t leave you, even when your temple comes to rest against his pauldron. No, he just allows the smooth metal covering his forehead to gently touch yours for a moment and hold there. Both of you tucked away in the middle of a hidden paradise, standing in front of a gorgeous monument crafted by the hands of the Maker himself.

And, like the two starry eyed idiots you are, neither one of you can seem to look away from the other.

You mouth a silent thank you to him, hoping he can read the heartfelt candor from your lips. Something tells you your message was received, because his grip tightens. As if in slow motion, his whole body lazily drops down just enough to scoop you up with an arm hooked under your knees—before Din suddenly rockets upwards.

You squeal and cling tight to his shoulders as he lifts you up higher, and higher—he slowly rises across the considerable length of the lake and closer to the falling water. You’re already beyond drenched but as he gradually approaches the base of the falling water, it starts raining down and splashing you in buckets.

Once he’s near enough to the powerful, arcing column pouring over the long rocky edge, Din carefully spins around and hovers until his back faces it, which means you can hide your nose and mouth from the splashes against the armor shielding his shoulder. He slowly rises up the length of the natural landmark and lets you watch the rushing water up close behind the safety of his body, sacrificing his own view so that yours can be all the better.

Eventually the falling waves break and you look down at the broad, gorgeous rapids flowing out towards you, the sun casting its dawning light over their foaming peaks. Din spins around and you adjust yourself accordingly against his chest, knowing you’ll never have a view like this again. He flies low along the river and you can see the colorful glass sparkling through the strong, yet completely transparent current. Soon he levels out and you cling tight to him, burying your face in the soaking wet fabric of the cowl wrapped around his neck and sighing, unable to recall a time you’ve ever been happier. It swells in your heart and warms your entire body even as it’s drenched in cool water, and you wonder again how he could’ve ever thought you were running from him. How could he ever think you’d run from him when all he’s ever done is give you wings?

***

The Crest hurdles through hyperspace while Din silently removes his armor and then strips you both of your sopping wet clothes. You remember your glass souvenirs at the very last second and carefully remove them from your pockets despite your closed eyes, reaching out to hand them to Din without looking. His palm catches the pebbles with the quiet sound of them clinking together, and you feel him pause for a second, probably studying them as he cradles them in the dim, single fluorescent light he left on.

You feel him leave you momentarily, hear him gently set them down someplace safe without a word. When he comes back and his warm arms snake around you once more, he lowers you down to the blankets and then proceeds to make the softest love to you he knows how on the floor of his ship.

A small part of you wishes you were still on Naboo, but somehow. Somehow, despite the dead quiet hull, it’s better than anything you can remember.

His naked body presses tight to yours, his mouth always open and tasting wherever you’ll let him venture, never letting you forget for a single second that he’s just as bare and exposed as you are. Your hands take full advantage, feeling everything. The strong, rippling muscles of his back as he props himself over you, the soft hair curling at his nape, the length of his spine shielding you from the rest of the ship, allowing you the opportunity to pretend you’re somewhere else if you really tried. If you tried, you could convince yourself you’ve got a mattress beneath you instead of a blanket draped over hard steel. You could convince yourself your eyes are open while he kisses you, despite knowing it’ll never be allowed.

But… you don’t. You don’t need to. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

And then at one point, his mouth is between your legs and you see a flash of his forehead on complete accident.

To see it on any other person would be nothing, it would mean absolutely nothing. It’s not like it somehow makes him anymore recognizable to you—plenty of people share the same exact features, you still wouldn’t know him out of a trillion different faces. He could walk right by you and you’d never know. Technically, it’s not even his face—it’s just a small fragment of it. But to you, the quickest glimpse of dark, wavy locks curtaining over the smooth, golden skin just below his hairline… it means everything to you. You sear it into your memory, right alongside the sight of crystalline water roaring over an enormous cliff edge.

You never tell him you saw. He never finds out.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #fanfic #reader insert

5K notes · View notes

yelena-bellova · 3 years

Text

Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter Nine

chapter eight - Chapter Nine: The Soldier and the Mutant - chapter ten

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n deals with the new knowledge about who her father truly was and receives a surprise visitor.

Warnings: angst, fluff, fluff, FLUFF, my gosh it’s nearly suffocating how much fluff, language, one allusion to sex, mentions of suicide, mentions of torture

Word Count: 10.1k

A/N: I’m just gonna let this one speak for itself, thanks for being so patient 😉

----

“HYDRA?”

“HYDRA…” I sighed.

Melanie and I were sat on her front porch, coffee cups in hand and revelations on our lips. I’d been home for two days and the shock of finding out about my father’s longstanding lie, while still fresh, was morphing into numbness. Being his daughter too, Mel needed to know the truth as well.

“This guy’s gotta be lying,” my sister waved a hand in front of her, “He has to be, he’s a criminal a-and he’s crazy.” “He’s not lying, Mels,” I held my head in my hand with my elbow resting on my chair, “I went online and scoured the internet, Dad’s name was listed in the HYDRA files leaked ten years ago.”

Mel leaned forward in her seat and hung her head, bracing her weight on her knees. My sister had always been a rock, unshakable even in the face of the worst circumstances. Even though she was keeping it together for my sake, I could see the well of emotions that would spring up once I was gone. “I can’t believe this,” she mumbled, shaking her head softly, “But looking back, it makes so much sense.” I furrowed my brows at her, “You wanna spell this one out for me?”

“Think about it,” she turned in her seat to face me, “Dad was wracked with guilt every day since he came home from the,” she set her mug down on the coffee table and made air quotes, “‘service.’ Nightmares and flashbacks and that awful depression…I mean, the man tore himself apart for what he’d done when he wasn’t passed out from drinking. He’d have had to do some pretty nasty things to feel that much guilt.” “Yeah, well, he should have felt guilty,” I grumbled, staring down at the coffee to hide the tears slowly forming in my eyes, “He hurt innocent people.”

“Wow…” she said quietly.

I sat forward in my seat, “Mom can never find about this, the shock could kill her. And as much as I feel like she should know who she was married to, I don’t think I can destroy another person’s image of Dad.” “No, I don’t think we should tell her either,” Mel agreed, taking a sip from her coffee, “I’m sorry enough that you had to find out. Wait,” she slapped a hand over my arm, “Does Bucky know? You said you and Sam were working with him.” I had done my best to put Bucky out of my mind for the past two days, failing spectacularly. I had gotten so used to him being by my side the past week that once he was gone, it felt like something was missing. Never mind the way I’d left him, those blue eyes begging me not to shut him out, the very same thing I’d asked him not to do. I had to remind myself at least ten times a day that removing myself from his life was for his good.

“Yeah, he knows,” I looked back down at my lap, squeezing the coffee mug so tight, I thought it might shatter. Mel threw her hands out to their sides, “And?”

“And he knows,” I replied, knowing that wouldn’t be a good enough answer for her. “So this guy finds out that our dad tortured him for years and he’s been running around Europe with his daughter and he had no reaction? What are you not telling me?” “Mel, what do you want me to say?” I snapped my head up, “He was there when Zemo told me and he’s not with me now, there’s nothing more to tell…"

I may have been a mutant, but sometimes I wished I’d have gotten my sister’s detective skills instead. She could take one look at a person and go Sherlock Holmes on their ass before they knew what hit them. It was one of the reasons she’d made such a good psychologist before becoming a stay-at-home mom.

Mel inhaled sharply and her eyes widened, “Oh my gosh, do you-“ “Don’t say it,” I held up a hand and forcefully pressed my eyes shut, a few teardrops squeezing out onto my eyelashes, “Please don’t say it.” As requested, she fell silent, her hand slipping onto my shoulder and rubbing small circles. I trained my eyes ahead of me, focusing on the last remnants of the morning’s sunrise. I’d always loved getting up early enough to watch the light spread across the sky, giving me hope that whatever pain I was feeling was only temporary. I found no such comfort gazing at the spectacle in my current state.

“It’s better this way,” I said, not able to look at her lest she see my contradictory eyes, “Trust me.” “Well,” Mel sighed loudly, “You’re the one that knows the guy…Just promise me one thing?” “Hmm?” She pulled one of my hands out of the death grip I had on my cup and took it into one of hers, “This is huge news, life-shattering, and we’re allowed to process it however we need to. But I see that look in your eyes, none of this is on you. Don’t blame yourself for what Dad did to him.” And if Mel had spent the time I had with Bucky, watched him in the bar in Madripoor, been in the therapy session with him, seen his reaction to losing his arm in Riga, I knew she’d feel different. I had a front row seat to Bucky’s PTSD and my father had been the ringleader. How could I not feel a little responsible? ——

Sam, Sarah and I had talked the boat situation over the morning before. The offer that Sarah had received from the guy who had been interested before Sam returned home had fallen through, he’d cited the reason as that it would take more money to fix than it was worth. Ever the hero, Sam had phoned everyone in the community who had known his parents and called in as many favors as he could. As I pulled up to the docks, ready to roll up my sleeves and begin working, I was delightfully surprised at how many people had responded. There were at least a dozen sets of helping hands waiting to work. It was moments like these that reminded me how lucky I was to live in such a close knit community.

I weaved through people, greeting and thanking everyone for coming out as I made my way to the boat. “Black Falcon to the rescue again, huh?” I called out to Sam as I climbed aboard, he was standing at the bow of the ship next to somebody whose back was turned to me. “You know it,” Sam called back, turning around and facing me, along with the man who he’d been in conversation with.

It was Bucky.

My heart stopped and I froze in my tracks, adrenaline shooting through my veins. Our eyes met across the deck and we may as well have been back in Sokovia. There was the same pain threaded through his ocean blue eyes only enhanced by the fear reflecting in mine. I wanted to run to him and away from him all at once, but knew which instinct needed to be listened to.

I looked to Sam and faked a hopefully convincing smile, “I’ll be below deck.” Hurriedly, I hauled my ass across the deck and raced down the steps. My hands flew to cover my nose and mouth as my breathing increased. He was here, he couldn’t be here, why was he here? Any progress I’d made, however small, in trying to put Bucky to rest had been revived the second I saw his face.

“You wanna explain what that was?” I looked up to see Sam stepping off the final stair and crossing his arms in front of me, “One day you’re friends and the next you bolt outta the room when you see the guy?” “Just,” I strained, stopping to take as soothing a breath as I was capable of and straightening my posture, “Keep me where he isn’t.” Sam sighed, reading me all too well, “Y/n, if this is about your dad, there’s noth-“ “Now what needs to be done down here?” I interrupted, placing my hands on my hips and hoping that if I projected confidence, I’d start to feel it.

“Fine,” Sam conceded to my wishes and gestured to the engine we were standing next to, “Check the zincs. If you need to replace ‘em, we’ll have to run down to Joe’s. And just so you know,” he stood at the steps and pointed between me and where Bucky most likely stood above us, “I don’t agree with this.” I shook my head to shake myself out of the moment as he left me to my work, blissfully hidden from the person I wanted to be with most.

——

I had never experienced a more uncomfortable day.

For the entire morning and afternoon, it was like switching a light on and off. If Bucky came below deck to fix something, I filed out as quick as I could to work above deck. We didn’t interact more than when we passed each other once in a while, each brush of shoulder sending a jolt of electricity through me. Sam had been no help either, he’d prevented me from making the necessary run to the hardware store or helping Sarah with lunch. He was determined to try and quarantine me and Bucky on the boat, most likely in hopes that my resolve would weaken. No matter how much it was killing me, I kept my distance and my head down as we made repairs in awkward silence.

When the sun began to set over the waters and there was nothing left to be done for the day, I carefully made my way up the stairs and listened for voices. When I heard none close by, I took quick steps across the deck and hopped off the boat onto the dock. I didn’t dare look over my shoulder to see if Bucky, who was stealthy enough to sneak up on anyone, was behind me and kept on my path to the outdoor kitchen area Sarah was closing up. “Good day?” I asked, grabbing an extra rag to try and get the oil off my hands from working on the engine.

“Better than you,” she retorted, “You’ve had that sour look on your face since you got here.” “Just,” I sighed and stopped my rigorous rubbing for a second, “Still thinking about everything…” Stopping her cleaning while I resumed mine, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and leaned her head against mine. Out of Sam, Melanie, myself and her, Sarah was the most removed from the situation. My dad hadn’t interacted much with the Wilsons, he hadn’t interacted with hardly anyone outside of his family, so Sarah didn’t have many memories with him nor had she fought HYDRA. It was actually nice to be around someone who didn’t have his dirty deeds bouncing around their head like an old school Microsoft screensaver.

“You,” she pressed a kiss to the side of my head, “Are one of the best human beings I know and nothing can change that, not even this.” Starting the argument that this revelation did in fact change a lot of things would be useless, I knew better than to try and prove Sarah wrong. I simply patted her arm and leaned into her embrace, taking the comfort I could get even if I didn’t necessarily deserve it.

“By the way,” she said as she unwrapped her arms, “Sam invited Bucky to stay the night.” My stomach dropped, “WHAT?” “He was gonna go find a hotel room but that’s ridiculous when he can just crash on the couch,” Sarah shrugged, wiping off the counter once again. “Why?” I pressed my hands to my mouth in a praying position, “Why could you not be an angel who has to help everybody, just this once?”

Sarah turned to face me, placing on hand on her hip, “The guy saved your ass from being killed and ran you to the hospital,” I opened my mouth to ask her how she knew that, she held up a finger to me, “Sam told me all about Riga. It’s the least we can do for him. And don’t even think about running to Mel’s place for the night, you promised the boys you’d take them to school tomorrow morning.” I stood there, nervously wringing the cloth through my hands as Sarah walked away to finish up another task before night fell. All my efforts to keep away from Bucky were failing and it wasn’t due to anything on my part. How was I supposed to protect him if we were constantly around each other? As I looked out to the deck of the boat, I could see Sam and Bucky had winded up there drinking beers to celebrate their long day of work. It was a scene that only days ago, I could have easily slipped into. I didn’t just miss Bucky, I missed the dynamic the three of us had grown to have. Sam would have pressed a beer into my hand and lightheartedly elbowed me, I’d have settled down next to Bucky whose hand would have naturally drifted to the small of my back…It would have been a perfect end to the day. Instead, I was cursing my father for ever having dipped a toe in HYDRA’s pool, his decision had ruined my life.

——

I had two vendettas, one with Sam for inviting Bucky to stay and one with my quickly drying throat that begged for water.

Laying in bed with my pillow smashed across my face, I peeked one eye out to check my alarm clock. 1:29AM. I’d laid in the same position for an hour, hoping that sleep took me over and my thirst would die till the morning. The family had been asleep for hours and with the amount of work Sam and him did, Bucky should have been passed out too. If I pulled it off just right, I could sneak downstairs to grab a bottle of water and get out before he ever stirred. Waking an ex-assassin wouldn’t be good for either of us.

I tiptoed out of my room, mindful of the creaking door as I passed AJ and Cass’ bedroom. Once I got to the stairs, I chose a silent approach and used my energy to float my way down the steps. I continued doing so through the kitchen, sneaking a peek over to the couch to see Bucky sound asleep. I opened up the fridge quietly and reached in blindly, feeling around till I hit a bottle and pulling it out. Tucking the bottle under my arm, I placed my hands back at my side and began to let the energy lift me.

“You do know I can hear you, right?” The familiar voice startled me, causing me to absorb the energy back into my palms quickly. I squeezed my eyes shut in frustration before turning to see Bucky, laying in the same position I’d found him in with his lids still shut. “Forgot,” I said, hoping he didn’t hear the shake in my voice, “Super soldier.”

Flipping the blanket Sarah had given to him off his body, he swung his long legs off the couch and sat up to face me. It truly wasn’t fair how good he looked even in the middle of the night, the moonlight coming through the windows and highlighting his silhouette. Admiring his profile was the only thing making the uncomfortable silence semi-bearable.

“We need to talk,” he started. “We really don’t,” I hurriedly replied, starting to rotate my body to flee. Bucky stood up, the couch creaking in relief as he did, “Yes, we do. You left so fast the other day I couldn’t get two words in.” “Because you didn’t need to,” I said from my place in the kitchen, “There’s nothing you can say to make any of this better and you shouldn’t. In fact, you should hate me.” He raised a tired eyebrow, “Hate you?”

“Yes,” I said, a little louder, “Hate me for what my father did to you, hate me for being his daughter. I hate me right now, I don’t understand why you don’t.” “Because there’s nothing to hate,” Bucky chuckled softly, “You of all people have given me the least to hate.” “Bucky, of all people you should hate me the most,” I said firmly, setting the forgotten bottle on the counter, “We travel the world all week and then you find out I’m the daughter of the man whose job was to hook you up to machines an-and torture you all day. That’s the man who I drew pictures of and kissed every night before bed and thought was the greatest person to ever walk the fucking planet,” I spread my arms out to accentuate the point, “That man is one of the reasons for all that pain seeping out of you. And guess what? I’m him. I’m literally his flesh and blood! So go ahead, hate me! You have every right to, and it would make this all so much easier if you did.” “Make what easier? Ignoring each other?” Bucky crossed his arms over his broad chest, “I don’t want to do that.” I knew he wasn’t going to let it go, I had only one decent shot at ending the conversation and I needed to take it, even if it broke my heart. “Well, it’s what I want,” I picked up the bottle again, trying to pretend I was as confidant in my decision to walk away as my words were.

“That’s a lie and we both know it,” Bucky said, the tiniest smirk appearing on his lips, something I always found cute but now found annoying.

It may have been the biggest lie I’d ever told in my entire life, but it was also truth. I wanted to leave Bucky before he inevitably left me. “No, it’s not,” I said, my voice threatening to tremble as I used it. “You wanna look me in the eye and tell me that?” I hadn’t dared to make too much contact with those wild eyes that I’d fallen for, I’d only give in all the quicker and let his grace draw me straight into his arms. He’d called my bluff, knowing that lying to him was easy when I didn’t actually have to see him and that I couldn’t continue the charade if that changed. As I dragged my eyes up to meet his, the tears I’d been fighting back began to come forward. He looked broken and whole at the sight of me, exactly how I felt.

“What do you want me to say, Bucky?” I whispered, my throat closing with emotion.

“I want you to tell me, to my face,” he paused, drawing a shallow breath, “That I’m crazy and that I read every signal wrong.” It would have been less painful if he’d sucker punched me with his left hand, I’d have actually preferred it. It had taken everything in me to tell just one lie, I couldn’t do it again to either one of us. But I also couldn’t succumb to my feelings. “Bucky…” I shakily began, clenching my fists at their sides.

“Because you’ve been living in my head pretty much since the minute I met you, and I don’t wanna sweep this week under the rug like it was nothing,” Bucky made a sweeping motion with his hand, “I don’t think I can.” “Bucky, we can’t…I can’t do that to you.” “Do what?” he asked confusedly, squinting his eyes as if he couldn’t see the issue. “I don’t want to hurt you!” I snapped, allowing the tears to break free of their restraints and shed themselves, “There’s going to come a day where every memory of what he put you through is going to be blamed on me and I can’t wait for the day where you wake up and look at me like I’m the monster my father was. I can’t have a little of you, Bucky, and then lose you entirely.” My cheeks were wet with my guilt, I made no effort to dry them or cease their streams. I stood there on the edge of where the kitchen met the living room staring at the man who held my heart, trying to pry it from his hands to no avail. Bucky looked just as surprised by the revelation as I’d been when it flew from my lips without any opposition from my head.

“What did you say to me in Riga?” he whispered, his voice raising slightly to try and emphasize the point he was about to make, “’I don’t believe that any part of you is capable of me?’ ‘That’s not who you really are?’” he echoed my sentiments from days ago, “You’re not him. If I believed there was any of him in you, I wouldn’t be standing here begging you to stop beating yourself up about this.” He took a step forward, waiting to see if I walked away but I was too focused on him to think about running. He continued coming forward, “Y/n, I can’t walk away from this like you mean nothing to me. You’re the first person I’ve met that sees me as Bucky Barnes before anything else. I gave you every reason to write me off and you didn’t give up on me,” he paused, swallowing harshly as he stopped in front of me, “When I’m with you, I feel safe for the first time in a long time. There’s never gonna come a day where I stop lookin’ at you like you’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

There were mere inches left between us, the words I had been dying to hear were now mine for the taking and I was too paralyzed with shock to react. Of course he had to come and hit me with my own affirmations, making perfect sense. The side of my mind that believed I didn’t deserve this happiness was screaming that these feelings would fade, that my father’s sins would always be at the forefront of us. The other side that wanted nothing more than to reach out and close the distance between us was telling me to believe him and let myself be cared for, something I’d always believed I was too broken for. And somehow they were both drowned out by the excitement I felt with Bucky in such close proximity, staring down at me with those cerulean pools, infused with the darkness that sent a chill down my spine. There was a palpable change in the air, from emotional to the great and grand something we finally near naming. Every part of me wanted to reach out and take him for for myself, to kiss him and pull him so close that there was no telling where I began and he ended. If there was a chance for me to back out, it was now. I could run to my room, to my car, anywhere that he wasn’t. But at the end of the day, that wasn’t what I wanted. I could either let myself be held captive by crimes I’d never committed, or I could dedicate myself to loving the man who the universe had somehow tied me to long ago.

“Tell me to stop,” Bucky said, his voice hitting that low timbre that made goosebumps break out across my skin.

I couldn’t deny either one of us any longer.

Bucky took a step towards me, his eyes never leaving mine as I backed to accommodate him and his plans. A small gasp left me as my back hit the kitchen wall, my hands reaching back to press against it to try and find purchase on something. There was now only a breath’s width of space left between Bucky and I, our shared air growing more and more heated as we bathed in the anticipation of the moment. His eyes flicked between my y/e/c ones and my lips, looking for any signs of hesitation that didn’t exist. He placed a finger under my chin to tilt my head to his liking, pausing to take in the sight of my tear streaked face in the last seconds before we let loose the storm that had been brewing inside us both. I took the time to admire the wonder on his face, the two of us his newest discovery in a world he had long been asleep to.

He leaned in and our lips finally touched, euphorically.

I found myself unable to move, overwhelmed by the sensation I’d wanted to feel since our dance in Madripoor. Bucky didn’t overstep his bounds, he kept our mouths softly connected as we absorbed each other. When he disconnected our lips, whether to repeat the act or pull away, my body snapped into action and my hands flew to his neck, pulling him back down to me. Our lips didn’t fight for dominance so much as they did try and take in as much of each other as they could. Bucky’s hand slipped from my chin and both fell to my hips, pulling me flush against his body. On his tongue, I could taste the remnants of however many beers he’d shared with Sam, they’d stayed on the boat till the first evening stars started to appear. The scent of him, freshly showered after a long day of work, invaded my senses and spurred me on further, my hands moving to fist the back of his blue henley. With our kisses becoming more fervent, Bucky’s metal arm wrapped around my hips and lifted me so effortlessly, it only made the moment more heated. I wound my legs around his waist and let him carry me to wherever he desired, him easily supporting my weight and never disconnecting our lips as he fell to the couch. My hands snaked up his back to thread themselves through the short brown locks, causing him to pull away with a soft moan before diving back into my mouth. His flesh hand took hold of the back of my head and pushed me further into the kiss, trying to taste as much of me as he could. This. This was what I had been craving since the moment I’d realized I was far more starved of Bucky’s touch than I’d thought I’d been. The delightful friction our bodies created, the pressure of our lips dancing together, the knowledge that I was just as much his as he was mine. No more questioning, no more stolen moments wondering what could have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted. This was whole and perfect and right.

Eventually, the second long breaks we took for became insufficient and we needed to part for longer. Bucky looked gorgeously spent, his half lidded eyes following me, his lips deliciously swollen and his hair messed up from where my hands had been. I smiled as I dragged my hands to his cheek and ran my thumb over his plump lower lip, bringing a lopsided grin to his face. There was a joy I hadn’t seen him express yet and my stomach flipped knowing that I was the one to bring it in him.

“Don’t leave,” he breathed, his chest rising and falling rapidly in the aftermath of our passion, “Please.” In my palms, I held one of the world’s most deadly men, someone whose reputation had consisted of how ruthless a killer he’d once been. And here he was, warm and soft and begging me not to go. “I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered, delighting in how his eyes brightened at hearing my words. Contrasting the intensity of the minutes before, I leaned in and brushed my lips against Bucky’s with as little pressure as I could. He chased them the second I pulled away, eliciting a giggle out of me that he swallowed, kissing me so lovingly it almost broke my heart. He inhaled me like I was oxygen and he’d been deprived far too long. It didn’t occur to me that there was a chance I was his first kiss since before he shipped out in the ’40’s. “I don’t wanna stop,” he mumbled against my lips. “Then don’t,” I replied, breathing in his soft exhales, “We’ll stay up all night doing this.” Bucky chuckled, pulling away from my mouth to turn his head and press tender kisses to the palm I’d been cradling his cheek in. He tugged me closer then, my hands winding around his shoulders and his face burying itself in my neck. My laugh at the sensation of his scruff quickly morphed to a moan as he planted drawn out kisses against every inch of the bruises our encounter with Walker in Riga had left me with. I extended my neck to give him better access, feeling his lips twist in a wicked grin as his ministrations caused my breathing to quicken. “Okay, if you keep doing this,” I gasped, trying to steady my voice, “We’re gonna be up all night doing something else.” He pecked the column of my neck once more before pulling his head out and facing me, still smiling. I pressed my forehead to his and he nuzzled his nose against mine, still desperate to keep any contact he could.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while,” Bucky confessed, rubbing his metal hand up and down my back, “Thought about it in Riga, when we were fighting, in the alleyway…”

“Me too,” I agreed, grinning uncontrollably, “But you know why I’m glad it didn’t happen till now?” Bucky hummed questioningly, “Because this is the longest we’ve been together without someone interrupting us.”

Bucky chortled loud enough for me to feel the need to cover his mouth, causing me to laugh myself. I never thought that there would come a day where the two of us would be sitting on my couch in the middle of the night, as lighthearted as could be. This was a slice of heaven after all that we’d been through. “Do you believe me now when I say my opinion of you is never gonna change?” Bucky asked. Had he not proven to me that it was true, I wouldn’t have believed it. I’d have punished the both of us for the rest of my life. “As long as you believe me when I say that I know you’ll never hurt me.” I knew that there was so many layers to his pain, most that I would never understand, but he couldn’t keep a part of himself hidden forever. If we were going to do this, we were going do it wholeheartedly, taking the best and the worst parts of each other. The unlovable would never go unloved as long as we were together.

“Okay,” Bucky sighed, tightening the arm around my waist and bringing the other to my face, “Okay.” He pulled me down to press his lips to each of my cheeks, landing one last one to my mouth.

Our kisses became longer and softer, signaling that though we were both eager to explore this new territory, exhaustion was running the show. We eventually slowed down to where Bucky’s face rested in the juncture where my neck met my shoulder while my head rested against his, one arm wrapped around his shoulders and a hand running through his hair. My lips laid featherlight kisses against his temple every few minutes, taking advantage of the fact that I could do so freely now. I could feel his hot breath hit my skin at such a leisurely pace that if it hadn’t have been for his metal thumb rubbing my waist every once in a while, I’d have thought he’d fallen asleep. Eventually, when my eyelids began to shut against my will, Bucky shifted on the couch to lay both of us down. I settled naturally on top of him, my head against his chest and a hand resting on each of his broad shoulders. Just when I thought in my drowsy haze that nothing could make the moment any more perfect, Bucky pressed a sleepy kiss to the top of my head and tightened his arms around my back, securing my body to his.

This was peace.

This was right.

This was what we deserved.

——

At the sound of hushed voices and grunts, my eyes slowly opened. I blinked a few times and made out the sight of my nephews, AJ throwing punches and Cass deflecting them with the shield that had laid in the hallway for days. After days spent witnessing some of the worst the world had to offer, this was the purity that I needed to see.

“Bucky…” I whispered, he inhaled sharply as he awoke with one arm slung over my waist and the other hung over the edge of the couch. I tapped his chest and pointed to my nephews, still oblivious to our presence.

“Hey,” Bucky called, his morning voice rougher than it was the rest of the day.

The boys jumped at the sound, Cass shoving the shield back in its case and him and AJ running as soon as it hit the ground with mischievous smiles on their faces. I laughed softly, looking up to see Bucky lazily smiling. I had the best view in the world, close enough to see the lines that drew his grin up, so different from the frowning ones I was so used to seeing. When he tilted his head down and our eyes met, his smile made no effort to lessen itself.

“Morning,” he said, bringing a hand up to stroke the top of my head.

“Morning,” I replied, shimmying up his body and taking hold of his cheeks, our lips meeting in early morning bliss, “We’re in deep shit.” “Why’s that?” he asked.

“The boys can’t keep a secret to save their lives,” I chuckled, “So you need to enjoy your last day alive because Sam is going to kill you.” Bucky wrinkled his nose as he laughed, “Thanks for the warning.” I dropped my head back to his chest, picking up one of his dog tags in my hand and reading his name pressed in the metal. I’d never been a big believer in fate, but as I rubbed a thumb over the necklace I was reminded that Bucky and I should have never met. He should have been long gone by now, Captain America’s childhood friend who met a tragic end before he could see the war won. He wasn’t supposed to be here, warming my body with his and pressing the sweetest kisses I’d ever known to my skin. Our being together defied time itself.

“Seeing them, the boys…” Bucky began, still stroking my hair, “I think I get what you and Sam were talking about back in Maryland.”

I rested my chin on his pec to see him, his gaze focused on the ceiling in deep thought. “Steve giving him the shield…It’s not the same at all.”

I shook my head, sadly, giving confirmation to his revelation. I didn’t begrudge him for not understanding right away, unless you were in Sam’s shoes you could only have so much of an understanding. The unrelenting way that Bucky had pushed him was what had caused me to call him out on several occasions. But if the week we’d had with our confrontation with the police, meeting Isaiah and coming to Delacroix had finally shown him the flaw in his thinking, I was glad. “I think you should talk to him,” I suggested. He scoffed, “I think I owe him a lot more than that.

“Well, he’s probably already out on the boat. And I,” I groaned as I sat up, straddling Bucky’s hips, “Promised the boys that I’d take them to school so we both need to get up.” Bucky made a similar sound as he swung his legs over the couch, pivoting my body so that we were in a similar position we’d been in in the middle of the night. He took my face in his hand and gave a kiss so long, I knew I’d feel the ghost of his lips until the next time I was able to feel the real thing. To think just hours before I’d been hellbent on convincing him that we couldn’t allow ourselves to act on our feelings. Here I was now struggling to let go of him to spend an hour apart at most.

The giggling on the other side of the wall broke the spell though.

Bucky and I broke apart with a shared smile. “See you in a bit,” I whispered, pressing my hands to his chest and pushing off of him to disappear around the corner.

After dressing for the day, I corralled the boys into my car. I could practically hear their predictable thoughts and feel their eyes boring into the back of my head as I shut my door. “There’s donuts with both your names on them if you promise not to tell Uncle Sam what you saw this morning.”

A resounding chorus of enthusiastic ‘okays’ reminded me that I was the best aunt in the world who made the worst parenting decisions.

——

By nothing short of a miracle, Bucky was still alive when I returned.

We worked on the boat with familiar stolen glances and secret smirks when Sam had his back turned. At some point Sarah kicked the two of them off the boat for attempting to repair the water pump, something she’d been repairing and Bucky and I were forced to separate. As the two men departed the dock, he turned around to catch one last look at me and flashed the smile I’d seen more of in the last twelve hours than I had all week.

“You wanna tell me what changed from last night?” Sarah’s voice broke me out of the daze I was in.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at that man with googly eyes all day,” she climbed aboard the boat, “You’re also lucky that our brother is clueless.”

I rolled my eyes and bumped my hip against hers, “Freakin’ mom vision, can’t get anything past you.” “I’m just glad you got out of your own way, he seems like a good guy,” Sarah smiled, “He’s also fine as hell, if you haven’t noticed. If you wouldn’t have gone for it, I might have.” Our loud laughter mixed together as I whacked her with the towel I’d been using to clean an oil stain off of the boat.

Later that day, after finishing helping my sister with a few repairs we could get done without interruptions from Sam and Bucky, I wandered to our backyard to behold a sight I never thought I’d see. Sam was throwing the shield around while Bucky stood beside him. I stopped at the side of the house to watch, the Vibranium bouncing off of training pads from our garage that were strapped to the tree. Since Sam had brought the shield home six months ago, I’d never seen him do more than pick it up and look at it every once in a while. He’d kept it stored away in his bedroom in its casing, AJ and Cass hadn’t even seen it until he’d left it in the hall after returning from Maryland. To see him wielding it now felt…right. He looked just as natural with it as Steve had. Bucky had made a 180 as well, he looked content watching Sam as he caught the shield in its return journey back to them. If I hadn’t watched them bicker like schoolchildren for the better portion of the week, I’d have mistaken them for friends. “Are you telling me that you two could’ve man-hugged it out back in that interrogation room?” I shouted as I watched them clasp hands and pull each other in, “Coulda spared yourselves a lot of discomfort.”

They both laughed and turned to face me, in an effort to save time as I made my way out to where they stood. “So what’s new?” I asked with a knowing smile, eyeing Sam as he held the shield at his side

“Absolutely nothing,” he replied, “And a little bit of everything.”

I chuckled before my eyes inevitably found Bucky’s, who was already waiting for me with an outstretched palm. “Can I talk to you a minute?” “Yeah,” I reached out and intwined our fingers. “Whoa! Wait, wait, wait,” Sam boomed, gesturing to our locked hands, “What the hell is this?”

“Something new,” I shrugged, looking up and matching Bucky’s smile.

Sam groaned in disgust, “You’ve been here twenty four hours, Barnes, you couldn’t’ve kept your hands off my sister? I-I can’t even look at this, it’s sickening, ugh…” he turned his back to us and began his walk back to the house, spinning around quickly and stuttering, “You know what? I-“ he closed his mouth and shook his head, “Uh-uh, nope, can’t do it.” Bucky and I both snorted as we watched him leave, voicing his displeasure to himself. I looked down and noticed the packed duffle bag that rested at Bucky’s feet, “I get the feeling there’s something you need to tell me?” He sighed, reaching blindly to weave his fingers with my other hand’s set. “There’s something I gotta go do. A couple somethings actually. I talked to Sam, or at least he talked to me,” one corner of his mouth quirked up, “This whole making amends thing, I haven’t been doing the greatest job of it. There’s too many names in that book that don’t have closure about what happened to someone they loved. If I stand a chance at putting what happened in the past, I gotta go ‘do the work’.”

I rubbed my thumb over his smooth metal knuckle, staring down at the space between us. “Yeah, you do,” I looked up at him, “Recovery sucks, there’s no sophisticated way of putting it. Sam and I have both seen the ugly side of it. But you owe it to yourself to work as hard as you can for your freedom, as difficult as it can be sometimes.” Bucky leaned down to press his forehead against mine. “If it hadn’t’ve been for you, I might not have believed that. I wanna get better for you too, to try and be the man you deserve.”

I hummed and bit down on my bottom lip, smiling widely. “So…you kinda like me.” “Yeah,” Bucky chuckled softly, “Just a little bit.”

The warmth I felt radiating through me, brought on by nothing more than a touch of our hands and a shared smile powered me in a way my energy never could. “Go,” I said after a few seconds of silence, “Do whatever you need to do. I think there’s some things here that I need to take care of myself.” Bucky pulled back to look my face over as if to commit every inch to his memory before holding the back of my head and pressing a kiss to my lips. Perhaps it was cruel that I had just gotten him and now had to let him go for an undetermined period of time. But his recovery meant more to me than any amount of heart pounding touches or earth shattering kisses he could give. If we ever had a shot of making it, we needed to go to our separate corners and heal.

I hesitantly broke away from his lips first, rubbing mine together after to memorize the taste he’d left. “If I don’t let you go now, I won’t be able to…” “It won’t be forever,” he shook his head, bumping his nose against mine, “Sam’s gonna call me if he gets a lead on Karli.” Rather than keep him longer with my insecurities about jumping back into hero work now knowing who my father had truly been, I decided that dealing with that was for my personal healing. I reached my arms up to wind around his neck, his finding their new home around my waist and for a split second in time, nothing else mattered. There was just me, Bucky and the future I hoped we had ahead of us. I memorized the feel of him, the rise and fall of his chest against mine, his soft hair between my fingers, the scratch of his stubble against my neck. I hadn’t had time to daydream about Bucky since recognizing my feelings for him but even if I had, they’d have never done the real thing near justice.

“Stay safe, Sergeant,” I said, pulling back to peck his lips one last time and releasing him from my hold.

Bucky picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, giving my hand one more squeeze and holding it as he started to walk backwards. Once we reached a point where the only way to keep the contact was to follow him, we let go with a brush of our fingers till I was only holding air. With a final shared look, he turned his back to me and started down the dirt path that would lead him from our corner of Louisiana to the rest of the world. In so many ways I felt as if we’d traveled back to 1943 when he’d shipped out for England. I was sending him off to another war, this time battling his own past. Above any other feeling I felt for Bucky, the one that topped the list was belief. I believed in him more than he believed in himself and I wanted that to change. He could do it and once he did, there was no telling just how happy we could be.

But I in turn had to deal with my own demons.

——

While I wish I could have said I had a plan like Bucky’s, I had no idea what the first step was to healing past what my father had done.

HYDRA wasn’t a topic that I could just plop down on a therapist’s couch and start discussing, there were only so many people I could talk to about it. I found myself wishing that Steve was still around, next to Bucky he was the world’s leading expert on how much damage the organization could do. Without a blueprint of how to begin mending my wounds, I was left to wallow in my own grief over the man I’d believed my dad to be. Sam, however, was on fire.

After him, Sarah and I had made the unanimous decision that the boat was too important to our family to part with, he had launched into the most intense training I’d ever seen him put himself through. He was both blowing me away and not surprising me at all with his dedication.

One morning, I came outside at his normal time to come home from his 6AM run with a cup of coffee for me and a Gatorade for him. On cue, he came jogging up the dirt path I’d watched Bucky leave on days ago.

“You’re inhuman,” I said, tossing him the drink as he approached, “I’m convinced of it.” “It’s nothin’ you couldn’t be doing,” he panted.

“Yeah, I can run with you or I can get up before sunrise. A combo deal is not gonna happen,” I chortled before taking a sip of my coffee.

Sam joined me and sat down beside me on our back porch, the view of the blue waters a perfect accent to the almost fully risen sun. “Look, I don’t wanna know any details but…you and Bucky?”

I smiled as I stared down into my mug, just the thought of him causing happiness to bloom in my chest. “It was kinda happening the whole time, it just took us a while to realize it.” Sam groaned, taking a long swig of his drink. “That’s all I need to know, as long as you both are happy and not too disgusting with each other,” he looked out the corner of his eyes at me, “I think I can live with it.” “Well, that’s mighty big of you,” I patted his sweaty shoulder, instantly regretting the decision and wiping my palm on my bathrobe, “That shield starting to feel like it’s yours?” Sam chuckled, “It doesn’t feel like it’s not mine anymore, it’s…weird. Talking with Isaiah was sobering and he’s allowed to be as bitter as he wants. The man’s earned to right to feel anything after what he’s been through. But,” he sighed, “I couldn’t let it go. All that pain and suffering, I can’t let it go to waste.” “You couldn’t not be a hero even if you tried,” I shook my head in amazement, beaming with pride at my brother, “I’m proud of you.”

“Hey, that’s my line,” he hit my knee with the back of his hand, “I’ve got Torres working on some things, hopefully we can figure out where Karli might be going next-“ I couldn’t lead both him and Bucky to believe I was seriously considering going back to the fight. “I’m gonna stop you right there,” I held up a hand, “When you find them, it’s gonna be just you and Bucky. I’m out.” He furrowed his brows and twisted to face me fully, “Why?” “I can’t be the hero I thought I could, not after what I found out. It would only be a matter of time till somebody looked me up and figured out who my father was, then what? Some ex-HYDRA member comes looking for me? The public loses trust in me to protect them? Your reputation gets damaged when they realize I’m your sister?” I dropped my head down to stare at my lap, “It’s a bad idea. HYDRA doesn’t breed heroes.”

A beat of silence was played before my brother gave his rebuttal. “Look at me,” I dragged my eyes away from my engrossing coffee to him, “I couldn’t give two shits what people think about you being my sister, cause you know what? They don’t know you. They don’t know what you’ve done to try and stop the Flag Smashers, how you saved my life in that warehouse or how you helped keep our family going for five years. They don’t know how stubborn and caring and how much of a hero you are without your powers,” he paused and smirked at me, “And they’re never gonna know that if you don’t show them. What your dad did was horrible, but you’re not the one that did it. If you didn’t let his secret hold you back from being with Bucky, why’re you letting it hold you back from something else you want? You don’t need to be proud of being his daughter, but you need to make peace with it.”

He was right, as if he could ever be anything other than. Sam was counseling me like a sister but also like one of the countless veterans he’d helped wracked with guilt. I didn’t know if I’d ever fully recover from the hurt that came with the revelation, but if I kept on going how I was, I’d be a complete hypocrite. If Bucky could face the victims of his crimes and confess to them, I should’ve been able to deal with my ghosts. All I’d ever wanted to do was help people, to use that mutated gene of mine to help right wrongs. To do that, I needed to do the work. “This is a far cry from a few days ago when you were ready to send me packing,” I retorted. “Well,” Sam chuckled, “You proved me wrong. Fighting with you by my side just felt right, made me wish you could’ve been there for ‘em all.”

The fact that I had shown him that I could keep up with him was astounding, I honestly didn’t think it would ever happen. But with his approval, I’d have to have been an idiot to walk away from it all.

“Good talk,” I smiled, patting his leg while taking one last sip of my coffee before handing it to him.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked.

“Making peace with it.”

——

The drive from Delacroix to New Orleans had always relaxed me. The disappearance of the deep bayous as the scenery slowly changed to city, the ever present cypress trees, the hour travel time always gave me time to think. Something I was thankful for today especially.

I parked my car outside my destination, making the long trek through the cemetery I’d visited every week as a child. My feet automatically as I passed the neat rows of above ground tombs until I reached where I needed to be.

Keeping a safe distance away, I stuffed my hands in my jacket pockets and took a deep breath. “Hi,” I whispered, greeting my father’s tomb as if I expected it to speak back to me. “Um…I don’t know if you can hear me wherever you are but…there’s some things I need to talk to you about.” My eyes began to water, partially from the wind hitting my face but mostly from the tears that had been waiting to spring free. “Why’d you do it, Dad?” I whispered against the lump in my throat, “I don’t understand how you could ever have been a part of something so destructive. You were the last person I would have ever believed could have done something like this. You were my hero,” I looked down at the ground between us, “I never thought you’d end up being the villain.” I drew a shaky breath and continued, “I watched your guilt over your ‘time in the service’ tear you apart to a point where you thought death was the only way out so…I think it’s safe to assume you felt bad about what you’d done. I watched you every day try to be a good father to me and Mel, you didn’t succeed all the time but you did your best. I know you loved us…” “Somehow,” I dug the heel of my sneaker into my the dirt, “I’m trying to find it in me to forgive you, Dad. For the pain your secret’s brought me, for what your name could do to the rest of my life, for lying…But the one thing I don’t know how to forgive you for is what you did to Bucky,” the tears that I’d finally gotten under control threatened to start again, “Because Dad, he means the world to me and to know that you were behind that pain that’s running his life…It makes me want to hate you. And the saddest part is that I know you would have loved him if you’d ever gotten a chance to meet the real him.”

“The way I see it, I can’t undo the damage you did to the world,” my voice found its strength, “But what you did isn’t going to dictate what I do with my life. I’ve only ever wanted to do good, however I can, that’s what I’m going to do. I know that you wanted me to keep my powers hidden, probably because you didn’t want anyone to find me, but I can’t do that anymore. I can’t pay the price for your sins. So I’m gonna fight and I’m gonna try to rewrite our family’s legacy.”

“Anyway, that’s, uh, that’s all I wanted to say,” I took a slow step forward and placed a hand over the stone tomb, “I wish…I wish things would have turned out different.”

With one last gaze upon my father’s final resting place, I left the same way I’d come, for once not having to fake the confidence I was feeling.

——

“Oh, oh, it’s going…” I teased.

“Give it back!” Sam yelled! “It’s going!”

“Y/n!”

I levitated the shield further away from Sam and slid it across the ground into the boy’s soccer net, AJ and Cass chasing me as I did. I’d only just shown them that their aunt could make stuff fly and we were currently engaged in an intense game of keep away with Sam.

“AJ! Grab it!” I yelled, my nephew hurrying to the net and lifting the shield, stumbling a little as he took off running with it on his arm. I threw up a force field around Sam, who was gaining on him, “Oh no!” Sam was laughing the whole time as he tried to punch his way out of the bubble encasing him. “Go go go!” I cried, watching the boys run off with the shield into the house, dropping the field once they were inside.

“You’re the worst influence on them, you know that right?” Sam chuckled as we slowly made our way towards the front door.

“Hey, I don’t want them thinking their uncle’s the only cool one in the family,” I replied as we entered the house, pulling out my phone to check the notifications I’d feel vibrating in my back pocket. One was a news alert. “Sam.” “Huh?” I tossed him my phone and hurried through the house till I reached the television, flipping to the news to see the article come to life. The GRC was voting in New York on the Patch Act, a movement that would move twenty million refugees back to their home country.

“Shit,” I mumbled, feeling Sam’s presence behind me. His phone rang to announce a call. “It’s Torres,” he held out the phone and revealed the man’s face. “Sorry this took so long, spare you the technical details, but I finally got results for the scans you asked for and I think we’re onto something,” Torres explained as Sam and I went to look at his computer, displaying a map of Europe that lit up with bright red circles. “When we look back, all these pings, they’re from places just before the Flag Smashers hit. Clearly, they’re all over Europe. Earlier today, we got one from New York. Now, I can’t promise you they’re not using a VPN or masking their location, but…” I’d stopped listening after he’d said ‘New York,’ and turned my attention to the tv, every piece of the puzzle was coming together. Karli wouldn’t be physically able to hold herself back from interfering with the vote. “Great work, Joaquin,” Sam said, his eyes trained on the screen along with me, “We’ll take it from here,” he hung up the call and turned to me, “Time to get to work. Come with me.” He rose from his chair and led me to the coat closet nearest to the front door, opening it up to pull out a large silver case and handing it to me. “I don’t know what’s in it, Bucky just told me to hold onto it until the time came where you’d need it,” Sam stated, “I’m thinking that’s now.” Confusedly, I carried it out and up to my bedroom, placing it on my mattress and trying to figure out how to open it. There was no keyhole, only a bar that hosted a red screen. My finger brushed over it, the action turning it blue and the case automatically released an air lock I didn’t know it had. Waiting a few seconds to make sure nothing popped out, I carefully opened the box to see something I couldn’t have predicted in a million years. Resting on top of the surprise was a note on the nicest stationary I’d ever seen…

You may be able to kick my ass, but I’m never gonna stop trying to protect you.

- Bucky

I breathed a soft laugh, holding the paper in my hand and imagining Bucky hunched over a table, writing the words that were now lodged in my heart. “Sam,” I called out, leaving the case open and rushing across the hall to my brother’s room, “Sam, it’s-“ All words disappeared and all thoughts halted at the sight of him opening up his own case, I didn’t need to see its contents to make an educated guess at what was inside of it. There were a dozen emotions playing out on Sam’s face, wonder, apprehension, excitement, shock…Every one of them valid but none of them coming close to the amount of pure determination in his eyes.

I watched from the doorway, smiling, “Ready when you are, Cap.”

----

A/N: AHHH. Only two chapters left, hope this one lived up to your expectations. Getting your messages and comments and asks have been making my days and I’m so glad people are enjoying this little ride I’m taking us all on. Let me know what you thought and/or if you’d like to be tagged for the remainder of the series!

Safe Haven taglist: @tanyaherondale @wanniiieeee @asoftie4bucky @edencherries @i-reblog-fics-i-like @ttalisa @gcfty @withyoutilltheendofthismess @rinaispunk @weirdowithnobeardo @felicityofbakerstreet @godlyhufflepuff @eternalharry @voguesir @mizz-kraziii @okayline @smellmymisunderstoodfluff @wanderin-stories @nicklet94 @intricate-melody @aesthethickks @stumbleonmywords @simplybarnes @21bruhs @lostinwonderland314 @superbookishhufflepuff @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @zozebos @fandomxreaders @kittengirl998 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @i-know-i-can @x-judyjude-x @thebi-valkyrieofvalhalla @buckverse @living-that-best-life @haphazardhufflepuff @citlalireedus @lindseyrae20 @missstef23 @qhbr2013 @sebby-stann @bluemoon-icecream @iixbella @lets-love-little-me @abitofeverythinggg @itsnottilly @sltwins @mads-weasley @hart-failure @natdrunk @nctma15

#bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x platonic!reader #marvel imagine

253 notes · View notes

1plus1kiyoomi · 4 years

Text

Chapter 6: Fight or Flght Response

[prev] [next]

[masterlist]

——————————————————————————

warnings: mentions of sex and pretty much a toxic relationship

Morning comes and Kuroo wakes up with a headache. Eyes still closed, he taps on the other side of the bed, his hands looking for your body. “Love?” He groans. “Love, can you bring me some medication? My head hurts.”

Kuroo falls asleep once again and then wakes up an hour later. He sits up, his head ringing. “(Y/N)? Love?” He leaves the bed and doesn’t feel any presence of you in the house. “Oh, it’s 9AM. She must be at work already.”

Well, Kuroo’s not wrong. You are at your office but you aren’t working. You’re weeping at your table because you can’t seem to get rid of Kuroo’s words to his friends.

“So (Y/N) and I are trying to work our marriage out for a year, and she’s taking it way too seriously. While I can’t even look at her face! She messages me all the time about where I am, what I’m doing and all of that. She begs me to go on dates and nags at me if I miss it. I want to tell her off sometimes, but she’s a really good fuck. Like she’s amazing in bed and she lets me have it anytime so yeah. I guess it’s worth to stay.”

It keeps repeating in your head like a broken track. And your tears run down your cheeks and you know it won’t stop for a while. You stand from your desk and move to the little bedroom that is in your office. You lay on the bed and bury your face on the pillow.

The moment you heard his words come of his lips last night, you wanted to slap him hard, beat him up, tear his hair off his head, but you couldn’t. You were glued on the wooden floor of Kenma’s house, not able to believe Kuroo could say that. Your heart shattered into pieces that couldn’t be even counted.

But still, you went home with him. Even slept with him.

If your friends, especially Iwaizumi, find out about this, they’ll definitely tell you to leave him. No excuses. And you don’t want to leave Kuroo.

“Where did I go wrong? Is it because I’m ugly?” You take your phone out and open the camera app. “Very ugly right now. This is why he doesn’t want me to post anything about our relationship.”

Someone knocks on your office door so you wipe your tears quickly and open the Netflix app so you can pretend that you’ve been watching a sad movie this whole time.

“(Y/N)? The flowers are here,” Terushima says as he enters your office. “Why are you crying?”

Speaking of Terushima, he and Kuroo have become friends after their fight. When Kuroo picks you up sometimes and Terushima’s also there, you always find the two talking about hair. The blonde even goes to your place sometimes so he can style Kuroo’s hair. It’s their form of bonding so you really don’t have a say about it.

“This drama is just so sad,” you lie, showing him the screen of your phone that is playing a random sad movie.

“I didn’t know you were the type to cry cause of movies,” the blonde chuckles. “Anyways, fix yourself. Because we will be decorating a big function room starting this afternoon.”

“I almost forgot. The client wanted all real flowers right?” You sigh and sit up from your bed. ‘No time for crying. You’re a busy woman.’

“Yeah, so we have to make sure that the flowers will not wither tomorrow,” Terushima confirms.

You brush your issue with Kuroo under the rag and focus on your work instead.

Evening comes quickly and it’s finally time for your team to set up at the function hall. You had to wait until late evening to start since there was an event beforehand. The bestman of the wedding, Yuta, joined your team as the supervisor.

While you are setting up on the stage, you can feel your workmates throwing weird looks at you. “What?” You raise an eyebrow at them and one of your colleagues walks up to you.

“The best man has been staring at you ever since we got her,” she whispers with a teasing smirk. You roll your eyes at her and brush it off.

It’s always like this. At every event, your colleagues ships you with every best man or groomsman that shows interest towards you. They don’t know you’re actually married and think you’re single so they tease you. In hopes that you finally get to plan your own wedding. Sadly, you already are married and no wedding will take place.

You take a glance at the said man and he is staring at you, but not in a creepy way. As soon as you make eye contact, he smiles at you. You swear your heart skips a beat but at the same time you will never admit that it did.

“Miss (L/N)?” Yuta calls you out of nowhere. Surprised by his sudden presence, you fall on the ladder you are on and land on top of him.

‘What in the drama is this?!’

“I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” You push yourself off of the man quickly and bow repeatedly.

“It’s alright! It’s my fault for surprising you.” Yuta stands up as well and when your eyes meet, you burst into laughter. “You’re much prettier up close.”

“So you’re the straightforward type, huh?” You let out a chuckle and he smirks at you. “I thought you’d be a shy one since you have been just staring until now.”

“Well, since you think I’m the straightforward type, let me ask you. Are you single?” Yuta smiles at you shyly this time and you feel your cheeks burn hot.

‘You’re married, (Y/N)! Don’t even think about flirting back.’ You mentally scold yourself and look away from the man beside you. “Find out yourself.”

The glamorous wedding finally ends and it was one of the best weddings you have every coordinated. The couple is so in love with each other and they are surrounded by supportive family and friends. The guests were very uplifting and fun in general. You even made friends with some of the guests and have gotten closer to Yuta.

“Thank you for planning our wedding. This is such a dream come true!” The bride thanks you with a bow. You bow back and say your thanks as well. “And Yuta’s a good boy.” The bride winks at you before she and groom leaves.

“(Y/N)!” Speaking of the devil.

“Yuta!” You wave at him. He runs towards you and pants when he’s finally in front with you. “Can I help you with something?”

“Do you have a drive home?” He asks you so you shake your head no. You’re just being honest. “Can I drive you to your place?”

“My place is just a 10-minute walk from here, so it’s okay,” you reply. You check the time and it’s already past midnight. “I have to go now. It’s really late. Bye!”

“I’ll walk with you!” Yuta offers. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Okay, then. Whatever makes you sleep at night,” you joke and he just laughs.

The two of you walk home and Yuta shares random stories about his childhood. You like it. You like how he is open to you without you trying. You like how he’s initiating first. You like how gentle he is when he is talking to you. You like how he softly calls your name. You like how he’s not hiding that he’s interested in you. But you hate how you want Kuroo to be like that towards you. You hate how you’re still thinking about him.

Kuroo’s words come crashing into your mind again and you badly want to take Yuta’s hand and ask him to bring you home. But your mind is also telling you to come home quickly to Kuroo, even if you know he won’t be waiting for you.

“I’m here!” You say as you arrive in front of your condominium building. “Thank you for walking me.”

“No problem.” Yuta scratches the back of his neck. A change of demeanor happens, and Yuta becomes shy. “Can I get your number? I want to tak-”

“(Y/N)!”

Your world freezes as you hear Kuroo’s voice. It’s 1AM. Why the hell is he outside your building as well? You turn your head see him glaring at you with his arms crossed.

‘What do I do? Kuroo might misunderstand! And I can’t tell Yuta that Kuroo is my husband because he wants to keep our relationship a secret. Oh my gosh! What to do?’

You’re panicking. Your whole system is. You can feel your fingers tremble. Kuroo is walking towards the two of you and is already so close but you still don’t know what to do and say. The particles in your container are bouncing on the walls of your space rapidly because of pressure, and it’s making your mind go blank. Your fight or flight response is not functioning well.

Kuroo has been waiting for you at your building’s lobby since 10PM. He was waiting for your message about him picking you up at the hotel, but clearly you forgot about that. He thought you forgot because of fatigue but clearly that’s not the case.

Especially now that a man he has never seen before walked you back to your place.

“Who’s this?” Yuta and Kuroo ask in unison. Yuta glares at Kuroo, not liking how provocative the guy looks. Your husband raises an eyebrow at Yuta, his feline-like eyes glaring back at the unfamiliar guy.

“Kuroo, this is my friend Yuta,” you start to introduce but they aren’t even listening to you. They’re in this staring contest you don’t know about.

“And Yuta, this is Kuroo, my brother.”

——————————————————————————

Facts:

Your reactions when you are nervous are driven by the production of hormones and equip us to fight or escape from situations that are dangerous or threatening. This is known as the fight or flight response.

Nervousness can cause stuttering and rambling.

Anxiety may be partly genetic.

People who are anxious are quicker to pick up on changes in facial expressions than those who are but they are less accurate. Thus, it causes misunderstandings.

Taglist: @postsfromthe6 @elianetsantana @chaelysian @kiyobbie @lilxstan @moonlightaangel @oh-hey-its-a-simp @kellesvt @lifeisnotdiajoubu @starry-magicshop @stantalentstanunderratedgroups @mint-mai @torilovestowrite @faithmoonxd @agaashesmilktea @birdiewolf @yeibuub @maitenight @ashhhh26 @kageyamasgirl @tnu-ree @avatarkyoshithewarrior @kurokawa-aida @dabisdominion @chanayah @sevenseoul @marissaraeblr @amlnadya @weebintheinternet @shizukusimp @madmelle @soullesstaco @merrdlp @kouholic @kiyoomi-channie @kageyuh @kaachanultra @sabzhabib @134340-cm @toripersonalacc @itsimjaebeomsforehead @todobruhski @graykageyama @coconut-dreamz @rienin @dawnsbaby @kagebunshiin @heavenini @d-efend

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smau #haikyuu series #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro smau #kuroo tetsuro fanfiction #kuroo x reader #kuroo smau #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x you

492 notes · View notes

princecharmingwinks · 3 years

Note

i cant believe you said you dont write for fandoms!! these are ending up AMAZING! have another fail date for you to make better: we went four-wheel driving over the dunes out bush, we took my car but he drove because he's done the route before. we were the second car in the convoy and because my car is a little smaller than the others it couldnt make it up the last dune! it nearly made it over before sliding back into the sand and ended up half buried! (1/2)

(2/2) the rest of the group had to drag and push us out with planks and chains etc while we were stuck inside because no way in hell i was opening the door to let the sand in! so three wheels in the sand, waiting on our rescue, irl it was a bit awkward but im hoping you'll rewrite a better ending <3

Awww concussed dragon, you are sooo sweet! Thank you! Your unique failed dates are great to work with. Alrighty, let's get into this one! So the pack got big in this one and while most don't have lines, I liked the idea of everyone being there (or almost for anyone I missed haha). I left some of the couple combos up to interpretation so feel free to ship at your leisure.

---

The pack, after much pestering from a certain human/spark, were finally going on their camping trip. The alpha had finally conceded when Stiles had shot him a pout and hopeful eyes. Derek had reluctantly agreed and ignored the snickering of his betas in the corner of the room.

On the morning of the trip, everyone was pairing up into groups of drivers and passengers so no one drove alone and there were less cars.

Derek and Stiles were the last members out of the rebuilt Hale House. Derek had been locking up and Stiles was finishing off some wards to ensure there were no unwanted visitors while they were away. He was still learning to harness his spark but small wards of protection were easy enough. Defensive magic was easier, offensive was another story.

Stiles threw his bag into the back of the jeep and glanced around.

"So, who's joining Roscoe and me?"

Erica snickered, "Derek."

"What?" Stiles and Derek snapped in unison. Well at least Stiles had a punctuation mark, Derek's not so much.

"I'm with Danny, Lydia and Jacks." Kira spoke up. "Scott, Malia, and Isaac are with Allison."

"I'm obviously with my boy." Erica jumped onto Boyd's back, who was used to his girlfriend's antics and easily caught her. "And Theo is meeting us there after picking up Liam from work. Everyone's paired up so that just leaves you two."

Stiles felt his heart flutter but managed to keep his voice even as he spoke, "Alright Alpha My Alpha, let's get going."

Derek didn't say a word as he slid into the passenger seat of the jeep. Everything would be fine.

Everything was not fine. Stiles was definitely going through a quarter life crisis at the realisation most of the pack were in couples. How did he not realise that? When had it become a prerequisite to start dating a pack member? And now it was just Stiles and the alpha. The alpha he had been in love with for years. Great...

"What's wrong?"

Stiles was pulled out of his internal panic by said alpha's soothing voice. Derek had softened over the years, showing care and concern for each member of the pack. He now bought scent-free nail polish for Erica (so the acid smell didn't upset all the were's noses), stocked Isaac's favourite gummybears and even hugged Kira willingly at her university graduation. Derek Hale was a softie.

"I'm fine, nothing wrong here, no sir." Stiles prattled. Even he heard the blatant lies without supernatural healing. He glanced to his side and was greeted by raised eyebrows.

"Ok, so I may have just realised how paired up everyone in the pack really is."

"Except us."

"Yeah," Stiles sighed. "Except us. Do you ever think about that? Like, why you haven't dated anyone since..." He trailed off. Derek didn't have the best track record for his love interests but he hadn't even been on a date for more than 3 years.

Derek looked out the window at the scenary, they were driving into the sand dune part of the journey, and for a moment Stiles thought he wasn't going to answer.

"I've been waiting."

Stiles blinked. Huh?

"For someone so smart, you're really clueless sometimes." Derek huffed, glancing back at Stiles.

"What have you been waiting for?" Stiles dared to ask. They had paused to allow Allison's four-wheel-drive to roll up the last sand dune, waiting for their turn. Roscoe would be the last time to make the climb.

"I thought it was my imagination at first but then you kept coming around and..."

It was Roscoe's turn now and Stiles slowly prepared for the final climb of the dune. He tried to keep focused on the task at hand, allowing Derek to speak his thoughts. You never rushed the alpha when he was being vulnerable.

"I know you kind of like me?" Derek voiced it as a question but all Stiles heard was sirens in his brain. Derek knew? Stiles' foot slid off the peddle and they immediately started rolling backwards, fast.

"Shit! Shit, shit shit." Stiles acted quickly but it wasn't enough. Roscoe descended the sand dune and sank, refusing to move. Sand on either side of them blocked the bottom of their doors. They were officially stuck.

Stiles rested his head on the steering wheel and slowed his breathing. There were multiple crises going on but most had solutions.

The others would work out they hadn't made the climb soon enough or Theo and Liam would find them on their way through. So either way, Roscoe being stuck wasn't a massive deal. The real dilemma was Stiles' outed feelings for Derek.

The same Derek that was eyeing Stiles with concern as he called Kira to request some assist. Stiles heard him hang up before the sound of a door handle being jiggled. He snapped his head up.

"Whoa there sourwolf, there is to be no sand storm in this car, thankyouverymuch." He reached out and tugged the alpha's hand away from the door.

"I figured me getting out and pushing was the preferred option to sitting here with you in a state of panic at my assumption."

Stiles pulled his hand back. "What?"

"Look, we can just forget I ever said anything, alright? I get I'm not the most desirable crush to have. It's probably just familiarity and your sense of loyalty that's fueled your scent around me anyway. Don't worry about it."

Stiles shook his head, "Oh no you don't. You opened that can of worms and I'm no coward." The spark met Derek's gaze. Had he been planning on ignoring his feelings for the alpha? Sure. But was he going to run away from a moment like this? Nope. Stiles Stilinski was a lot of things but after running with wolves and other supernaturals for most of his life, he knew when he needed to tackle something head on.

"Now, before you go down your rabbit hole of I'm-not-good-enough crazy talk, I've got something to say."

Derek nodded like the soft alpha he was and turned to face Stiles more fully.

"You, Derek Alexander Hale, are amazing. A little on the martyr side but that's because you are so protective of your pack. I'd be crazy to not fall in love with you. That's right, love not like. I've been in love with you for years but how was a kid like me going to catch the alpha's eye? I didn't want to ruin our friendship. This," He gestured between them. "This is important to me. I don't want to ruin it."

Derek released a sigh of relief? Stiles couldn't read his eyebrows which was disappointing when he was the most expert at interpreting the alpha's facial expressions.

Then Derek was darting forward and claiming Stiles' lips in a searing kiss. Stiles went with it, almost unbelieving that any of this was happening.

Derek eventually pulled back and rested his forehead against Stiles'.

"Worth the wait." The alpha whispered, grinning, bunny teeth all on display.

"Two way street here. You could've said something too. How long have you liked me?"

Derek blushed and it was only because they were so close that Stiles saw the pink of his cheeks and ears.

"I've always liked you, even if I didn't always show it. But love? I think I've loved you since you woke me up on an elevator floor by punching me. You could have left without me but you didn't."

Stiles pouted, "Since then?"

Derek raised an eyebrow, "What's wrong?"

Stiles pushed Derek back and clumsily crawled across the gear stick to straddle the alpha's lap.

"We could have been having the best sex of my life for years, Derek! Years! We've got a lot of making up to do." Stiles dove in to kiss Derek this time. The alpha happily drew Stiles in closer, curling his arms around the spark's slim waist.

A knock on the window, interrupted their make-out session. Boyd's face appeared with judging eyebrows to rival Derek's.

"Heard you needed a hand." Boyd spoke loudly with a smirk as Derek's hand moved away from Stiles' ass to rest safely on his back.

"What's Erica doing?" Stiles asked, leaning over Derek to squint at the blonde chatting wildly on the phone. Derek focused his hearing.

"Turns out I'm not the only one who was waiting." Derek grinned, "And everyone apparently owes Lydia money."

They did eventually get Roscoe out of the sand dune thanks to the advantages of going camping with multiple supernatural creatures. By the time everyone was settled in the camp and Erica had informed Theo and Liam on the events of the day, Lydia was a very rich woman.

Stiles couldn't complain though. Not when the alpha was snuggled between his legs as Stiles sat on the log and Derek roasted them marshmallows. Apparently no one trusted Stiles near an open flame following the incident with that vampire clan. Stiles combed his fingers through Derek's hair and looked around at the pack. This camping trip was the best idea ever.

Ok so I must confess I do not camp like...ever and have no idea how four-wheel-driving works so please forgive any major errors in that department. I tweaked things a bit from your prompt sorry. I just couldn't imagine Stiles letting anyone else drive Roscoe. Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for popping in!

#sterek #teen wolf #derek hale #stiles stilinski #princecharminganswers #princecharmingwrites

93 notes · View notes

nejibaby · 3 years

Text

Afterglow

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Y/N

Summary: Without Ace, your nights are back to being long, dark, and empty. But when you finally reunite, Ace refuses to just be your Daylight.

Daylight - Part 1 | Afterglow - Part 2

Word Count: 4.3k (my hands slipped, I’m so sorry)

Loosely based on: Taylor Swift’s Lover album (but mostly about the songs Daylight and Afterglow)

A/N: I really think Whitebeard is a great father, yk? So I see him as someone who you can always seek and rely on. He looks tough (and he’s actually tough), but he’s soft too! And Ace too, in that respect is similar to WB. I really believe he’ll be such a good boyfriend 🥺 Anyway, I really enjoyed writing this so much! Thank you to everyone who read this, I love yall 🥰

Sailing by yourself in a boat for one reminds you how vast the sea actually is. With the rowdy Whitebeard pirates, sometimes the sea, no, the world, seems a lot smaller, a lot more manageable, but alone, it feels so massive it’s almost frightening.

It’s easy to get lost, except there’s no such concept like that for someone like you who doesn’t have a destination to go to in mind. Quite simply, you’re wandering, but not lost.

You drift from one island to another. Your initial intention is to get as far away as possible from the crew. Now that that’s achieved, you’re unsure of what to do next.

You allow yourself to observe and to experience some sort of normalcy at the islands you dock at. It’s a good thing that you don’t really stand out so no one suspects you’re a wanted pirate.

Walking down the streets of random towns, you’re reminded of how lonely being a Celestial Dragon was. No one wants to interact with a World Noble, afraid of the consequences if they’re angered. Things changed drastically when you became a pirate though. People don’t shy away that much with pirates in certain places. They interact with you, albeit hesitantly sometimes. Nevertheless, you felt so free and happy.

Now, you’re still a pirate, as marked by Whitebeard’s infamous tattoo. But with the unsuspecting townspeople and the lack of the presence of a crew, you don’t feel like one. Somehow it makes you feel empty.

The void is immeasurable. Despite it being unbounded, you’re sure that a single person can fill that emptiness: Portgas D. Ace.

But there are oceans separating you from Ace— a distance that you put. With the space between you, there’s silence in your voyage, however, it’s quite mystifying how every island you reach seems to scream his name.

There’s an island where you’ve docked at that’s snowing all year long. It brought back memories of when you were fairly new to the Whitebeard Pirates and had landed on a similar island. Back then you’ve worn a coat as you disembarked Moby Dick, however, the cold continued to seep through your layers of clothing. You couldn’t handle extreme temperatures that well but you didn’t want to make a big deal out of it so you continued to walk alongside the crew to scout the area. The thing was you may have been terrible at hiding it because Ace noticed the way your body was shivering and your teeth chattering. You were only acquaintances back then but he went to your side and striked a conversation with you. You didn’t understand why you became comfortable when he approached you all of a sudden, but then later that night you realized that he used his devil fruit abilities to warm you up.

At one island with a bustling town, there’s this restaurant that serves a variety of meat. You’re reminded of Ace and his bottomless pit of a stomach, and of his narcoleptic episodes while eating. He has a tendency of eating and then running, and the first few times he did it with you had you reeling. When you’ve finally realized that he’s never going to change, you start to keep a pouch of gold coins with you, reserved for paying for the food he eats. You leave it on the table just as Ace pulls you to run, and he has no idea about it. Owners or servers at the restaurants would still follow you out, but not to berate the both of you for not paying but to return the extra gold coins because you pay too much. Like usual though, Ace pretends not to hear them and they never got to catch up with you and Ace.

On another island, there’s a huge wild boar thrice the size of a human. It reminded you of the time you got so excited to explore an island that you speedily ran towards the forest alone, only to be met by a wild boar. The size of the boar stunned you and its glare kept you frozen in fear. A loud scream escaped your lips when it lunged at you, except the impact never came. When you’ve gathered your bearings, the wild boar was dead and… cooked, courtesy of Ace’s devil fruit abilities. He saved you, but he played it off as if he had his eyes on the wild boar since the beginning “to hunt it down.”

The current island you’re at is in famine. As soon as you docked at their port, a group of men has drawn their swords at you. For a moment, you thought they were bounty hunters so you grabbed your daggers and took a defensive stance. However, from the way they keep looking back and forth to you and your boat, and from hearing the faint sound of their stomach grumbling, you can tell they aren’t. Behind some trees, you can see the heads of some children peeking with worried yet hopeful looks on their faces.

Slowly, you raise your hands up in surrender, dropping your daggers in the process. You can’t turn your back on them — figuratively and literally — so you walk backwards towards your boat. The men look at you curiously but they don’t ever lower their swords.

In a quick motion, you grab a bag containing all of your food supply and throw it at them. One of the men catches it. “You can have them. It isn’t much, but that’s all I have.”

The man who was able to catch the bag carefully opens it and sees food. He almost cries at the sight of it. The rest of the men lowers the sword after you offer no sign of aggression. They start calling the other citizens of the area afterwards.

The children are the first to come running towards the men — all of them conveying excitement. You couldn’t tell how long they haven’t eaten but judging from how thin they are, it has got to be quite some time.

A small girl stumbles and falls near you and you quickly come to her aid. There isn’t much damage, just a scraped knee so you carefully patched her up.

“Thank you,” she gives you a toothy smile and then starts heading to the men who are distributing the food.

She comes back a moment later, arms outstretched to hand an apple to you. “For you,” she says.

Something blossoms in your heart because of her sweetness. “Thank you, but it’s fine, you can have it,”

She doesn’t object but then she hugs you tightly. “Thank you so much.”

Surprisingly, even on an island like this, you’re reminded of Ace. You remember his story about coming to Wano and meeting a child named “Tama” who seemed to be as charming as the child you helped and is under the same fortune.

Now that your mind has drifted to thoughts of Ace, you didn’t want to think of anything else. Even as the people gather around you to offer their thanks, and even as they usher you to a bonfire to celebrate for the food to eat, the thoughts of him linger in your head.

And just like in all the previous islands you came to, you wish he’s here with you too.

There’s longing in your heart, but there’s also something else— something pleasant that you can’t quite describe— and you attribute it to the gratitude of the people.

The mother of the child you helped, Sito, offers their spare room for you to take and you graciously accept. Soft snores almost immediately fill your ears after a few minutes of them bidding you good night.

The longer you stay awake, however, the pleasant feeling you felt a while ago starts to leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

You’ve always criticized yourself for not being able to do more when you were still a Celestial Dragon but now that you did something good, you start to feel selfish for doing it because it makes you feel better about yourself.

It’s at times like this that you seek Pops. There’s a sudden urge to hear his voice and his thoughts. So you grab your Den Den Mushi, but you hesitate.

You’ve lost track of the days since you left Moby Dick. And in that time frame, you never once called Pops. Although you didn’t really promise to call, maybe he was expecting you to, especially since you know he wouldn’t do it first.

You sigh. Maybe this call is long overdue after all.

You step outside the house and start to contact Pops using the Den Den Mushi. It only rings once and then it’s answered, almost as if Pops was waiting by the Den Den Mushi. The thought brings a smile to your face. “Pops—”

“Why on earth are you only calling now?!” His angry tone welcomes you.

“I’m so—”

“Is that Y/N?!” Marco interrupts. Ah, how could you have forgotten? It’s at this time that Marco reports to Pops. “We’re so worried about you -yoi!”

You can hear sounds of struggling on the line and then there’s a loud smack followed by an even louder crash. There’s a moment of silence which makes you wonder what’s going on in the ship.

“Why didn’t you call earlier?!” Pops’ voice booms. “If you’re going to leave a Den Den Mushi, I’m going to expect your reports but I received none of that.”

“I’m sorry Pops. I have no excuse,” you sheepishly say.

“Everyone’s worried about you,” he pauses but then his voice rings louder once again, “Some are even outside my room trying to listen in on our conversation. But if they know better, they should leave us alone.” The sound of rushing footsteps could be heard in the background as Pops finishes his sentence.

You chuckle, imagining the crew eavesdropping. “How are you Pops?”

“I’m doing fine.”

“How’s everyone? How’s… uhm… Ace?”

“Everyone’s just missing you. You didn’t say goodbye after all,” he says. “I put Ace on a mission because he won’t stop pestering me about you. He won’t come back in a couple of days.”

“Oh.”

“He misses you a lot,” he sighs. “He strides to me everyday to demand your whereabouts. Each time I wouldn’t tell him but he never learns. Vista says he’s on his 56th attempt the other day.”

The brief image of Ace that your mind comes up with brings a small smile to your face.

“When are you coming back?” Whitebeard breaks your reverie.

“Ah, I’m not sure yet… It might take a while.”

He hums. “So how are you? Have you been eating well?”

“I’m doing fine, Pops. No one’s been coming after me yet so everything’s going well,” you respond. “But… Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“There’s this island with people who haven’t eaten in so long so I gave them everything I have.” There’s a loud growl coming from Pops so you immediately continue your speech before he could scold you for doing such a thing. “I feel really good about what I did as they thanked me. But then the longer I thought about it, I started feeling ashamed because... wasn’t it selfish since I did it to make me feel better about myself? Then I started to wonder if it was wrong to do good things just because I wanted to be absolved of my parents’ sins. Was I wrong in doing this, Pops?”

“No, you did the right thing.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you’re not an inherently bad person for getting paid in gratitude.”

“But…”

“Making yourself happy by making other people happy is how it’s meant to work. If one of your key motives to doing good things is to feel good, then you’re still doing something good and there’s nothing shameful about that.”

Hearing his words puts you at ease. You’re glad you called him. “Thank you, Pops. I’m sorry for worrying everyone there and for disrupting Marco’s report. I promise I’ll call more often from now on.”

“It’s fine. Just don’t forget to take care of yourself too. Where will you be headed next?”

“I’m not sure. I’m just going where the sea leads me.”

“Be careful.”

“You too, Pops,” and with that, you bid your goodbye and hang up.

By morning, you start preparing your things to leave. You didn’t want to stay for too long because you didn’t want to consume even a portion of the small amount of food they have.

Sito offers you to stay another night, worried that it would be uncomfortable to sleep on a boat. “You can stay one more day. There’s still enough food for us to share.”

“Oh no, I don’t want to impose,” you decline. “But do you mind if I ask what happened here?”

There’s sadness in her eyes, it was easy to tell the memory pained her, but she tells you everything anyway. “This island is one of the few lawless areas in the world, hence, it’s a place where pirates would dock at. A group of men once docked here and kidnapped the leaders of our town. They were sold off to be slaves, because apparently the Nobles like to enslave people of power…” Her words start to fade on you upon the mention of the World Nobles.

Anger flares up in your system immediately. How low can the Celestial Dragons go? It’s sickening to think that you share the same blood as them. It’s because of this revelation that something becomes clear in your mind.

Ever since leaving Moby Dick, you’re just wandering aimlessly. But after hearing Sito talk about this island, you’re finally sure of what your destination should be.

Sabaody Archipelago.

Specifically, the Human Auctioning House.

From the sudden fury that overwhelms you, not even the fear of being within arm’s reach of the Marines, and possibly dying, could stop you from going there.

It’s reckless and foolish, but isn’t this the reason you left Moby Dick that night— to face your nightmares instead of running away from them?

You listen politely as Sito explains everything else but her words enter and leave your ears without you having to comprehend them. Fortunately, she doesn’t notice your inattentiveness, probably because she wants to pour her frustrations out to a stranger.

You offer your sympathies to her and promise her you’d come back with your crew and help them some more. It’s a simple promise yet for someone who hasn’t been offered help for so long, it means a lot, enough to even bring tears to her eyes. And just like that, you leave.

There are two more islands to stop at before you reach Sabaody Archipelago. You gather provisions on one island and buy explosives on the other.

The only thing you’re sure you can actually do alone is to blow up the Human Auctioning House. Facing the World Nobles is for another time, unfortunately. As for the Marines, well… You’d worry about that if they indeed come. You know you’d be able to handle them as long as they don’t send an Admiral after you.

The thing that worries you the most, however, is Pops’ reaction once you let him know of your plan. While you can always just not tell him, it feels wrong, and you promised you’d report to him, after all. And it’s hard for you to admit, but you secretly want to be saved in case your plan goes askew. That, and well, you still want to make up with Ace, may it be just strictly as friends, but preferably as lovers.

You decide to call once you’re about to set sail towards Sabaody Archipelago. You’re sitting in the middle of your boat, still anchored at the port when you told Pops your plan. And as expected, he’s mad.

He demands you to go back to the crew immediately. “Captain’s orders,” he says. But after a few moments, he retracts his words and says, “Your father’s orders.” You feel the weight of his words when he said that and you almost concede. But the faces of the slaves your family had flashes into your mind and it solidifies your decision.

Interestingly, despite the weeks you have spent away from the crew, their ship is nearer to you than anticipated. As confirmed by Pops himself when he angrily said, “Enough! I’m sending Ace to get you! Two or three days is enough for him to catch up with you.”

But quite frankly, that’s also enough time to execute your plan. And if the odds are in your favor, then Ace might just come in time for your escape.

Arriving at Sabaody Archipelago, you keep your face hidden underneath the hood of your cloak. It’s normal for pirates to walk around the place without having to hide their identities, but it’s a luxury you can’t afford. If someone catches wind that you’re here and reports it, the Cipher Pol just might come and capture you before you can even execute your plan. That just won’t do. So on the first day of your arrival, you only scout the area of the Human Auctioning House and retreat back to the inn you stay at.

You carry out your plan on the next day. You place a bomb where the side of the stage is supposed to be. It’s a distraction so people inside would leave the premises. The plan is to find the keys and free the slaves while the people are panicking from the explosion. Then eliminate the head of the place, Mr. Disco, and finally blow the place apart. It sounds simple but with you having to do all the work, you know it isn’t.

Now that you’re here, your nerves are spiking up. Arriving at the entrance of the building, you take a deep breath, your hand automatically reaching for the bracelet that Ace made you. It instantly calms you down.

It baffles you how fate works because on the very day you decide to free the slaves that are being sold off at the Human Auctioning House, Ace’s brother, Luffy — along with his crew — is at the same place to rescue their friend who was kidnapped.

Somehow even on a dangerous mission like this, there’s still something or someone who’d remind you of Ace. It makes you wonder: has he really embedded himself too deep into your life that there’s no escaping the thoughts of him? Not that you mind; the thoughts of him bring you peace, after all. But still, it’s fascinating that even in both mundane and dangerous settings, he makes himself known to you.

Upon entering the Human Auctioning House, everything happens so fast and unexpected. And quite frankly, a lot happened that wasn’t part of the plan.

Aside from finding the Straw Hat Pirates, you got yourself injured when you used your body to shield their fish man friend, Hatchi, from Saint Charlos’ gunshot. Then you confronted Saint Shalria personally despite you not planning to get involved with the Celestial Dragons. As for the slaves, it was the Dark King, Silvers Rayleigh, who actually freed them. The only things that you personally executed from your plan were Mr. Disco’s elimination and the bombing of the Human Auctioning House.

Escape is easy once the building starts to explode because the Marines would have to lessen the forces who're chasing after the pirates in order for them to successfully put out the fire. Without any Admiral on the scene yet, it’s not hard to slip away from them and/or fight them.

Even with the gunshot wound on your arm, you’re able to take down each and every one of the Marines who are chasing you. But halfway through your journey back to the grove where you left your boat at, you lose your adrenaline.

You start to feel the sharp and stinging sensation on your arm once again, yet, you couldn’t help but smile. You have gotten out alive. The slaves have been freed. With both Mr. Disco and the building gone, the Human Auctioning House will no longer be operational, or at least not yet until someone steps up. But that won’t be after a long time.

It’s a wonderful day.

You look up at the afterglow of the sunset with a serene smile. You have a feeling your nights are going to feel shorter now and less frightening than they were before.

Your peaceful moment is cut off by someone rather abruptly. You jump in surprise as someone wraps their arms around you from behind all of a sudden. “I finally caught up with you.”

Your breath hitches at the sound of the voice. “Ace? What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer your question, but he mumbles, “I’m sorry if I only came now. Pops wouldn’t tell me where you were, but I came as soon as I could.” Then he tightens his hug. “I was so scared, I thought I’d lose you…”

“Ace, I’m sorry about—”

“Hey, it’s on me, okay?” He interrupts. “I blew things out of proportion, and now you’re blue.”

You pull away from his hug to face him.

“Y-your arm! You’re bl-bleeding,” he stutters after seeing your injury.

But you pay no mind to that. “Ace… I’m really sorry about us—”

“Ssshhh, baby…” he rubs his hand on your back.

He looks at your figure carefully, focused on looking for any more bruises or wounds. When he doesn’t find anything more, he gently holds you by your waist. “Don’t blame yourself, I’m the one who burned us down, but… it’s not what I meant.

“It was all in my head, okay? It’s just that the Celestial Dragons are all grouped in my head as scums and that they’re inexcusable because… my brother was killed by a Celestial Dragon.”

A wave of guilt flows through your body, enough to weaken your knees. Before you could fall, however, Ace catches you and brings you to his chest. But this doesn’t stop you from sobbing on his chest. “I didn’t know, Ace. I’m so sorry.”

“No, that’s the thing, baby. It isn’t your fault. It wasn’t you who pulled the trigger. And… I have to admit I failed to see that at first,” he says as he hugs you tighter. “I shouldn’t have stood there frozen after you told me your story. I’m supposed to be the one who understands you...

“I’m not trying to make excuses and I’m not trying to make this about me but it’s just that… for so long I thought that I inherited the bad blood of my father, and I spent my lifetime failing to see that his sins aren’t my sins,” his voice cracks as he cries. “So when I found out about you… My mind automatically held you liable for the sins of the Nobles…

“But I talked to Pops and he straightened me up. I understand now. Our parents’ sins aren’t ours. It never was ours to begin with. So I’m sorry for blaming you for something you didn’t do…”

Ace stares at your crying form. He cups your face and sincerely says, “It’s so excruciating to see you low,” as he wipes the tears on your eyes. “I’m sorry if I hurt you…”

“It’s fine Ace, I forgive you. But…” You look directly into his eyes. “I’m at fault too,” you confess. “I was the one who left... I was so used to living like an island and isolating myself that it didn’t occur to me that I was punishing you with silence… I should’ve waited patiently for you but I ran away…”

Ace rubs your back gently and presses his forehead against yours, “I forgive you too.”

You smile in relief.

After a couple of minutes in silence, Ace tilts his head. “Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Remember when you said that you saw daylight after sleeping in a long, dark night?”

You give him a curious look but nodded anyway.

“Beside wishing that I was there for you sooner, it had me thinking...”

“What?”

“Uhm… The world is terrible and cruel, and no one can ever really stop the dark nights from coming.”

You frown. You don’t really understand what Ace is trying to say.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is,” he rubs his neck while his cheeks starts to blush, “if you ever have to go through those dark nights, I wouldn’t want you to wait for daylight.

“I want to be there with you on those nights until they’re over. I don’t want to leave you when things get rough and only show up when you’re better. I know you see me as your daylight but I don’t want to be just that.”

His words warm your heart, and makes it skip a beat. “You know, Ace, there are remnants of light that linger in the sky even when the sun has long gone down and the night starts. It’s the afterglow,” you mumble.

“Yeah, but that goes away too after a while,” he frowns.

“Well, lucky for you the moon reflects the sun’s light during the night, huh?”

He grins. “Yeah, yeah. I like that. I want to be your source of light, may it be the daylight, moonlight, or the afterglow.”

A moment of silence engulfs the both of you. Under the soft afterglow of the sunset with your arms wrapped around each other, you feel at peace.

Once upon a time, you used to believe love is black and white— that it’s straightforward. It was either you love Ace or you don’t, there were no gray areas. No matter what he feels, says, or does, your love for him never ceases.

But then some other days you believed that love is burning red— that it’s full of passion, lust, and romance, much like the nights you spent entangled in the sheets with Ace.

However, right now in Ace’s arms, all you could ever think about is that love is golden. It was warmth and comfort, like what daylight brings. It was contentment and serenity too, much like the feeling of lightness one gets when seeing the afterglow of the sunset. Either way, it’s Ace who makes you feel those.

No matter what color love actually is though, for you it’s always embodied by Ace.

210 notes · View notes

eurydicees · 3 years

Note

For the prompts, any fandom, any ship: decadence. Just the word decadence, let's see what you can do, go wild

ahhhh thank you for this prompt!! this was so much fun to write. i hope you don't mind that i chose kyohru. i've never written them before but i've been aching to, i just didn't have a good idea. hope you enjoy :)

i promise to remember every sunrise with you

summary: an introspective night under the stars, and a moment together under the sunrise. takes place some point after tohru finds out that kyo will be locked up after high school.

pairings: kyo sohma/tohru honda

words: 1536

warnings: none

The thing he will miss the most, Kyo thinks, when he is caged, is the sky at night. He’ll miss the stars, and the way that they blink in and out with the wind, as if they are wind chimes pushed from side to side with each passing cloud. He’ll miss the lights of the planes as they fly by, the red and green blinking in the moonlight like something alien. He’ll miss the moon, the crescent and the gibbous and the full moon, all hanging in the sky like a face looking down and loving him.

He lies on the roof, now, staring up at the stars. It’s four am, and the sun is beginning to peek over the horizon, rosy fingers beginning to drift out and over, lighting the sky with her sunrise-red and gold. He wants the night to last a little longer, wants the darkness to stay and hide him for just a few more hours. He needs the loneliness, sometimes.

Other times, he wants nothing more than to be with people. He wants nothing more than to hold hands with someone— his mind speaks a name and he does not let it sit on his tongue for long— or hug them, or find the sweetness of being held in a way he has never felt before. Other times, he wants nothing more than to be in the light, reaching out to find someone there to reach back. Other times, he wants nothing more than to laugh with a friend, to let happiness fill him up until he’s spilling over with it.

He knows, though, that he does not deserve it. He was cursed long before he ever knew he hungered for such a thing as happiness, and bearing his curse means starving.

Kyo shifts slightly, moving his hands behind his head to rest on his palms, crossing his ankles. He feels steady up here in a way that he doesn’t feel in the stifling heat of the house. Though the day is humid, these ghost hours of the night are cool. He sighs, closing his eyes.

He thinks of the little hut with the cage that he will be put in after graduation— because he knows, deep down in a place that he cannot accept, that he will lose his bet with Akito. He knows, in a way that sits and settles bone deep and that he ignores so carefully, that he will never win against Yuki. His punches always land slightly off, he always commits to his dive a little too strongly, his stance always slips a little too early.

Kyo isn’t giving up. Not yet. He can keep training. He’ll win, he tells himself, and be accepted, and then he can sit and stare at the stars for as many nights as he wants. He can sit on a roof and make wishes on airplanes and track the moon’s waxing and waning and be free. He can drink in the wind and let himself drift away on it, letting it relax him. There will be no confined spaces to fear, no cages to prepare himself for, no people to get ready to miss.

He will be able to indulge this one thing. He will drink in the stars and he will hold them on his tongue and he will let them burn. He will let himself live.

There are other things, too, that he will miss. He knows this in the same way that he knows he will be locked up: with certainty, and with a carefully executed ignorance. There are things that he knows he cannot let himself hope for.

“What are you doing up here?”

Kyo opens his eyes, turning towards the ladder at the side of the house. “Tohru?”

Tohru pokes her head above the edge of the roof, looking at him with wide eyes. “Can I… join you?”

“Sure,” he says, more earnest than he had meant to make it sound. He wants her to join him in this silence, he realizes. He wants her to find him in the secrecy of his thoughts. “What’re you doing up?”

She shrugs, crawling onto the roof. She’s hesitant with every step, as if she’s afraid that she’ll fall off. He sits up, reaching his hand out to steady her. She takes it with even more hesitance, but her grip is strong when he helps her sit down next to him.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” she says softly. “I don’t know why. But I thought I would come watch the sunrise. I didn’t know you would be awake.”

Kyo nods, turning away from her. From the roof, they can see the entire city, they can watch as the world wakes up below them. The sun hasn’t risen yet, not entirely, but the sky is turning a lighter blue than the nighttime had brought. The sun is spreading out over the horizon, spilling colors along the line of mountain and forest and city, rising up and painting the sky gold.

This, too, he will miss. This, too, will be something he aches for. Once he’s in that cage, he will never see the sunrise again. He’ll never sit with Tohru and watch the brilliance of the light.

“Why are you awake?” Tohru asks, glancing over at him.

He looks at her, and she turns away, cheeks flushed, as if she’s embarrassed to have been caught looking. He wonders why she does that— why she looks. Every time that she sees him, Kyo can’t help but feel like she’s seeing something more than his eyes, like she’s seeing straight into his thoughts rather than just letting her gaze wash over his face. It’s strange, though, because he doesn’t feel invaded so much as he feels cared for. Someone cares enough to truly see him, to try to understand him.

For so long, Kyo had thought that he was unknowable. But Tohru is trying to unravel all of his webs and nets and fears. Tohru is trying to know him, and Kyo aches to tell her every secret he has ever kept.

He won’t. He knows that would be the end of everything. One day, he’ll have the courage. Maybe right before he’s locked up, he thinks bitterly, so that she never has to look at him again.

“Couldn’t sleep either,” Kyo finally says, breaking himself out of his self-induced misery. “Bad dreams.”

“Do you want to talk about them?” Tohru asks. “Sometimes that helps.”

Kyo shrugs. He pulls one knee up to his chest, resting his elbow against it. Tohru, next to him, wraps both her arms around her legs, holding herself close.

“That’s okay,” Tohru says. “You don’t have to. I remember whenever Mom asked about my bad dreams, I never wanted to tell her, even if I knew it would help.”

“It’s just… weird to talk about,” Kyo confesses. He doesn’t look at her, just keeps his eyes on the horizon. “I just think too much, you know?”

Tohru nods, eyes unfocused. She’s drifting off into her head, he can tell. She’s going somewhere that he can’t follow.

Somehow, though, he finds that he doesn’t mind when she does that while he’s with her. He’s grateful for any amount of time with her, whether or not it’s spent in silence. If he’s going to be locked in a cage for the rest of his life, he wants as many sunrises with Tohru as he can count, no matter the amount of talking versus dreaming.

“It’s so beautiful,” Tohru murmurs, so soft that he almost doesn’t hear it.

She’s looking out at the horizon. The sun on her cheek glitters like drops of molten gold in her eyes, her entire face lit up by the sunrise. He studies the way she looks out at it, the soft frown of her lips that’s slowly turning into a gentle smile, so small that he wonders if he knows she’s smiling. The way that her hair falls in front of her face, the way that it curls at her forehead.

He reaches out and brushes her hair behind her ear. She turns to look at him, eyes still bright. “It is.”

He’s not talking about the sunrise, and he thinks that they both know it.

But neither says anything— he just turns away, looking out at the sky, indulging himself in this sunrise. In this moment with Tohru, this peace that he may never find again.

Tohru sighs, and she scoots closer, pressed to his side. She drops her head against his shoulder, and he tries not to tense up. He’s so unused to any kind of physical touch, but even as he thinks that, he can feel himself relaxing into the feeling. He can feel himself softening.

When he’s locked up, Kyo thinks, this is a memory that will keep him going. This is something that he will hold onto hungrily, when he’s starved of everything else. When Akito is the only person that he sees, when he can never find the stars again, he’ll think of this moment. He’ll think of Tohru.

For now, though, he’s just going to watch the sunrise with her, and count each star that fades.

#my writing #august prompt challenge #fruits basket #kyohru #kyo x tohru #kyo sohma #tohru honda #fruits basket fanfiction #furuba fanfiction

62 notes · View notes

tohellandbackanthology · 3 years

Text

WE FINISHED SHIPPING OUT ALL PHYSICAL ORDERS (and other important info about your package)!

Hi guys! That’s right! On June 19th, we officially wrapped up packing more than 800 orders of To Hell + Back: A Destiel Anthology and immediately got drunk and partied actually we just talked about the impossible housing market in Vancouver. Barring three orders which were still missing phone numbers, by now everybody else should’ve received a tracking number with their book on the way!

While we’re relieved that one of the hardest parts of the job is now done and over with, we know that our project is still far from over. With that in mind, we’d like to outline some important info via this handy FAQ about what to look out for as you wait for your package to arrive.

**When are digital books shipping out?**

Right now! As promised, now that we’ve finished shipping all physical books, we’re now switching our focus to digital copies. Please do note that we’ll be shipping digital books in batches, so not everybody is going to get their book at the same time. Why are we doing this? Because sometimes emails bounce and we want to make sure we catch those when they happen. By sending the books out in batches, we can better keep track of these issues.

We will be sending out digital books in the following order: Indiegogo/Big Cartel digital-only backers first, and then everybody else. We feel this order is fair because those of you who didn’t order a physical book have now been waiting a long time and we want to be sure you receive your books at the same time as people begin receiving their physical copies in the mail.

We aim to complete shipping all digital books no later than July 11, but we are working fast in the hopes of finishing by July 5th.

**I didn’t receive my tracking number!**

We had multiple checks in place to ensure that we covered every order*** so if you didn’t get an email from Canada Post, please check your junk/spam folder and see if your email might have landed there. If it’s not there either, please message us at [email protected] and we’ll resend you your tracking number. It’s always possible that there might’ve been a typo in the email address that we had on file for you, and if that was the case, then the email containing your tracking number wouldn’t have reached you. That said, even if Canada Post’s email didn’t reach you, you should have received an email from Indiegogo or Big Cartel also indicating your tracking number as we inputted tracking info into these sites too!

*** A select few packages don’t have tracking numbers. If you purchased a tier that was a merch + E-book combo on Indiegogo (“I’d Rather Have You”; “Cursed or Not”; “I Always Come When You Call”) and live outside Canada and the United States, it was unfortunately not possible for us to generate a mailing label with a tracking number because your parcel was too small. Instead, please keep an eye on your mailbox. Your envelope parcel should reach you within 4-6 weeks.

**The only thing my tracking number says is ELECTRONIC INFORMATION SUBMITTED BY SHIPPER :( When will Canada Post pick up my package?**

All orders were picked up by Canada Post on June 21, 2021. If your tracking still doesn’t show ITEM PICKED UP BY CANADA POST, contact us immediately so we can figure out what’s going on.

**My package didn’t arrive! It says ITEM BEING RETURNED TO SENDER! Help!**

Please contact us IMMEDIATELY if this happens so that we can reroute your package before it’s too late. If the package is returned to us, we get charged for its shipping. Then subsequently shipping has to be paid again to resend it to you! That’s 3x shipping and it’s not good, for either us or you! Please don’t delay a second if this happens. Tell us right away because we are determined to get it back to you! In the words of @justholdingstill, “Over my dead body are they sending it back to us.”

**When will I receive my package?**

From the point that your tracking displays the message Item picked up by Canada Post, you can expect that:

Canadians will generally receive their packages within 2-4 days, but it can be up to 7 days for remote regions.

Americans will generally receive their packages within 10-14 days. This includes Guam and Puerto Rico.

All other countries will receive their packages within 4-12 weeks, but we have noticed that these packages are coming WAY faster than that, usually within 2 weeks. Down below is a breakdown of how quickly certain countries have received their fastest package:

Argentina: 15 days

Finland: 8 days

Germany: 10 days

Italy: 16 days

Mexico: 10 days

Norway: 18 days

Russia: 15 days

United Kingdom: 21 days but so far, this seems to be an exception—only one package has arrived as of today.

All other countries: No package has reached its destination yet that we know of

**I have my tracking number but it’s not showing any movement! Is my package lost?**

Canadians and Americans should have regular updates to their tracking information every couple of days, but please be patient—things happen, packages get rerouted, or sometimes have to sit for a little bit in customs or a sorting facility before moving on to their final destination.

Likewise for our international backers, you will most likely get regular updates to your tracking information until your package leaves Canada. At this point, you will receive the following notification: International item being forwarded to destination country. From this point onward, you won’t receive any updates to your tracking information for a long time. This is completely normal and it just means that your book is on a boat making its way to your country. After it arrives on shore, you may or may not get more tracking notifications—it will depend on how the next carrier processes your order. In general, for all the international countries that have received packages so far, they have had full tracking upon reaching shore.

**When is my package considered lost? What should I do then? How much time do I have to contact you?**

Canadians should wait 14 days from the day that their package is picked up by Canada Post before contacting us (unless your tracking says that it’s returning to sender, in which case contact us IMMEDIATELY so that we can reroute your package!).

Americans (including Guam and Puerto Rico) should wait 21 days from the day that their package is picked up by Canada Post before contacting us (unless your tracking says that it’s returning to sender, in which case contact us IMMEDIATELY so that we can reroute your package!).

All other nationalities should wait 12 weeks from the day that their package is picked up by Canada Post before contacting us (unless your tracking says that it’s returning to sender, in which case contact us IMMEDIATELY so that we can reroute your package!).

Please don’t contact us before that. We won’t be able to help you earlier than this. We have to talk to Canada Post about your parcel and they won’t take further steps until the waiting period is over.

When you contact us, please give us the following information via email at [email protected]:

Your full name

Your shipping address

Your shipping phone number

Your shipping email

Let us know where you’re an Indiegogo or Big Cartel backer

You have four weeks to contact us after the ‘package-is-officially-lost’ date. For example, if your book was picked up by Canada Post on June 1 and your home address is in a country other than the United States or Canada, you will wait 12 weeks to see if your package arrives. In this example, your package is officially considered lost on September 1. You have four weeks to let us know. In this example, you have until October 1 to tell us that your package is lost. If you tell us after October 1, unfortunately we can’t help you! We have a timeline in place for the official end date of our project and this deadline helps keep us on track to donate our remaining funds to our charity of choice, Wish Vancouver, in a timely manner. Not to mention we’ll be selling off our extra books and if you take too long to contact us, there might not be any remaining books for you to have a replacement!

**My tracking says that my package was delivered but I can’t find it!**

We encourage you first and foremost to ask your neighbours and anybody else who lives with you or around you to see if they might have received it for you. Please also contact your postal service to see if they might have held it for you at the post office. Finally, please keep an eye on your tracking and please try your absolute best to be there to receive it so that there is no chance of your package being stolen. If your tracking information declares that it was delivered, we consider it delivered on our end too and as much as we would like to help you, we’re not a business and as such, our funds are limited and we can’t be responsible for stolen packages. If your package does get stolen though, please let us know and we’ll talk to Canada Post regardless. All our books are insured and if Canada Post agrees to pay the insurance amount, we’ll put aside a book for you from our extras sale. You will still be responsible for paying the full amount of shipping. If Canada Post denies the insurance amount, we can still put a book aside for you but you will have to pay the full amount of the book and shipping.

**Have any other questions that come to mind?**

As always, please don’t hesitate to shoot us a message! We always strive to get back to you within 48 hours or less, but please note that justholdingstill, casthewise, and pray4jensen/60r3d0m are heading out on a mini vacation to Vancouver Island from June 30 to July 4 so you might not hear from us as promptly at that time! Unfortunately we won’t have cell service or WiFi.

Aside from this, thank you again for your patience and support. We can’t wait to see photos of your books (and shelves and pets and plants!). Be sure to tag us when you do post!

With love,

Your TH+B mods

#admin: 60r3d0m #admin: pray4jensen #announcement #tohellandbackanthology

66 notes · View notes

washymylifeaway · 4 years

Text

Haikyuu fanfic recs for ones I liked hehe

EDIT: I made a pt 2

Anyway, as the title suggests, I am recommending some fanfics for popular(ish) ships that I personally really enjoyed! I’m only doing one or two fics per ship (which in hindsight is KILLING me so I’m just putting the first fics I find and am like I really liked that one LOL) because I wanted to do a shorter fic rec list (tho watch this become super long LOL). I also may or may not be procrastinating finishing a couple other long posts, so there’s that hehe. For the (kinda but not really) public consensus for best fics per ship (by kudo count) check out some of my other posts. Also I’m putting some ships I don’t actually read much of (OOPS LOL) so if you think that there’s a fic that fits my type (if I even have a consistent type) better, pls tell me LOL. Otherwise, pls continue heh :)

As always, pls check WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARIES for fics before reading to make sure you’re taking care of yourselves (since mental health is key!) and stay healthy!

IwaOI:

The Loyalty of a Traitor by DeathBelle (E) 76.9k // ok so does me liking this fic make me basic cause I feel basic LOL. I really love mafia fics, and the way the story line developed was SO good, like IN LOVE with this story. This is a fic where you should read WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARY before diving in, but if the length scares you, don’t be. It’s so easy to fall in and get lost in the writing!

the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle by kittebasu (chanyeol) (T) 66.3k // again, basic? Probably LOL but it’s good so I have no shame ;) Again, pls don’t let the word count scare you (cause it scared me LOL), you get really into it after like 2 paragraphs, so just make sure you have enough time to finish hehe.

KuroKen:

Thicker Than Blood by kylar (M) 91.4k // are you surprised that there is another mafia one? You really shouldn’t be LOL. Anyway, I’ll just be here pushing my mafia fanfic agenda while you read this monster of a fic hehe :) Definitely read WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARY because there is some very sensitive topics involved! I also adore the oibokuroo friendship headcannon, so more reasons to read, right?

Liked, Commented and Subscribed by Royal Society of Pandas (Abarcelos) (T) 45.7k // this fic is SO funny omg. I read it and I had to stop so many times just to laugh because I could not stop sometimes LOL. However, there IS angst towards the end, it gets resolved, but it’s still there... But honestly, it just adds such depth and flavor to the fic, so pls read it!

BokuAka:

bang! now we're even by Authoress (M) 11.9k // so I’ll be honest, I don’t read a lot of BokuAka (...oops?) and so I wouldn’t consider myself as the best person to be recommending fics for this ship (in general too LOL).... ANyway, I love myself some good spy AUs (was gonna put that IwaOi spy AU but the LIMIT), and Akaashi in a dress? Like the tags might state, what more do you need? The characters are done beautifully, and the story development is SO good, so I give you all my humble BokuAka rec.

Crisis Converted by valiantarmor (M) 60k // man do I really love fighting in my fics LOL. This was super good and the plot itself kept me really engaged (what a twist omg). It does talk a bit about mental health issues, but it’s done so well, and they really did this AU justice!

DaiSuga:

How to Manage by SuggestiveScribe (E) 39.3k // ok so yea yea we established, I’m basic, BUT can you blame me? This might’ve been one of the first DaiSuga’s I’ve read and I have no regrets. Literally, this fic series is one of my favorites, so OF COURSE I had to add it somewhere :D Honestly, I don’t even think you need to read the first one to understand what’s going on, but I would just cause it has some funny DaiSuga moments too ;) This is explicit for PWP, so proceed with caution~~

Add New Contact by booksong (G) 8.5k // this one! It’s so cute and poor Daichi LOL. He really out here doing the most,,, Anyway, we love tech Suga, and a nice dash of snarky tsukki (LOL is he salt, yes yes he is). It’s very fluff and pine, so if you want to read Daichi having gay panic like 24/7, go right ahead LOL.

SakuAtsu:

Burden of Blame by DeathBelle (E) 91.2k // ummmm, haha what, another mafia AU? Me, predictable? Noooo, never..... Anyway, this one was so freakin’ good like, love it so much! It’s one of my favorite mafia AU fics, and I love the story line progression. Poor Atsumu being dragged into this mess, but it’s okay because THEY are IN LOVE. Honestly, this fic is Atsumu best boy like he is the best boy. BEST BOY.

Notte Stellata by awkwardedgeworth (T) 20.9k // I ignored all of the other fics I LOVE in this ship (like the pain I’m in rn), but I love this fic with my whole heart. Like I have reread this fic multiple multiple times because I love it so much (tho I might’ve skipped the angst a couple of times cause I didn’t want the pain okay?). I keep coming back, and the second fic in this series is SO funny and cute and I love it here. Please read it, it’s so FREAKING good, angst and ALL.

KyouHaba:

Team Mom by All_My_Characters_Are_Dead (T) 2.7k // so as I was going through this tag (because that’s what I do LOL), I remembered this fic and I love it. Like yes Yahaba is the fear factor and yes Kyoutani is the DAD. I really like the team dynamics in this one, and the first years make me laugh pls.

Camellias by kiyala (T) 1.9k // IK you’re all like, you’re missing such great fics, like no I’m not I just made myself hate myself by limiting fics to two per,,, I love this fic and when I starting looking for this ship, it was the first one I thought of hehe. I really love magic and their interactions are so cute and the PLANTS ARE DOING THE MOST. Pls read both in the series, cause domestic KyouHaba is best KyouHaba ngl LOL. I love the plants, and if you read the second one, someone tell the trees to stop bullying Yahaba.

MatsuHana:

This gets annoying fast, Makki by Ink_stained_quills (G) 2.3k // IM IN LOVE WITH THIS FIC PLS I COULD NOT STOP CRYING TEARS OF LAUGHTER. This AU needs more fics PLEASE. It was SO freakin’ funny and the other teams KILLED ME. Like how they all approached the problem differently and how some of them (KUROO) asked for help LOL. Please this is so freaking funny go read it.

boiled frogs by reginagalaxia (E) 91.5k // I told myself I was gonna put my most angsty fics on another post (which I will for my other favorite MatsuHana angst fic which I love), but this fic. Omg I saw it and I was like I have to. Literally I have to. I hate angst, but read it. It, the, plot, omg, I jjfnsfknalkjdnf ljksan. Like I’m not sure you understand. This fic. asjfjfsadnldjb. I never thought I could hate a character SO MUCH,,,, like SO MUCH. READ TAGS, WARNINGS, AND SUMMARIES because some serious stuff really goes down. Bless Iwa-chan.

SunaOsa:

Accidentally in Love by pancake_surprise (T) 19.6k // JOSE CUERVO strikes. I love this fic and all the chaos in it. The way they were supposed to be the responsible couple (of friends LOL),,, sike. This one is only a slight angst and it’s mostly love and fun :) Also technically this is no longer the first fic in the series, but I’m still putting this one cause the other one is SakuAtsu orientated hehe :)

Spring Secrets by DeathBelle (T) 3.8k // Seasons might be one of my favorite (as all things also seem to be) series of all times. I don’t like rerecommending fics I’ve already said to read, which is why I’m not yelling at you to go read a certain other fic (which is my life and blood). Anyway, this fic series is all fluff barely angst (maybe that’s why I like it) but it’s so freakin good pls read it all ahhhhhh.

Komori/Suna (what is their ship name):

I wish to live in a world by hatsuna (T) 24.8k // ok ngl this fic was so sad and relatable? Like I was like wtf why are you making me cry rn even though like I shouldn’t be? My heart? Pain. (Hotel? Trivago.) Technically, this is END GAME but the main pairing is kinda SakuAtsu???? Something of the sort, but also their relationship (Komori and Sakusa) is written so well and idk guys I think you need to read this fic rn.

Ah the two fic limit hurt me, but fear not I am making ship specific rec posts (LOL I’m so dramatic), so if you wanted more of a ship,,,, its a coming hehe. And yes I did say I’m making an angsty fic rec post, but we’ll see if it gets finished before I side-track with posts like these LOL.

156 notes · View notes

mithrilwren · 4 years

Text

Here we go, the cadwulf that wouldn’t let me sleep in this morning. How did this ship happen to me so quickly, and why did my brain decide it needed to be poetic... these are questions that may never be answered.

[Also on Ao3!]

“You don’t like meat, and you don’t like drink.” Eodwulf grins, arms uncrossing. “Is there anything you do like?”

“Well,” says Caduceus.

Eodwulf’s fingers brush the edge of his hair.

“Well?”

And Caduceus never finishes the thought.

---

It turns out they can be persuaded - Astrid, and Eodwulf. Though it’s really Astrid who accepts their second invitation. Eodwulf’s eyes flicker to her before agreeing, and Caduceus notices, as he did the night of the dinner. A hierarchy, it seems, wherein Trent is lord, and Astrid advisor - which leaves Eodwulf a vassal of some sort. Not unacknowledged, but lower down.

Still, when Astrid has drifted to the bar and Caleb and Jester follow, and Fjord and Veth ply Eodwulf for one more round, he has no one to look to for guidance. Caduceus might have expected him to seem lost, except he flourishes under the inattention, growing bolder, more boastful - challenging Yasha to a test of strength, and losing, but only just - and Caduceus’s own attention grows, as bulky muscle strains beneath fine black velvet.

(Tonight, it was Eodwulf who pulled back his chair. “A favour for a favour,” he’d said with a wink, and Caduceus would not have blushed, only it’s strange - nobody’s paid him the courtesy before.

But Eodwulf’s dark eyes were shining with mirth, and he’d blinked his own brighter ones, and taken a seat without a single word of protest.)

The evening is spent in distraction. Eodwulf and Astrid, from their lives of solitude and scrambling; the Mighty Nein, from the next long road ahead; and Caduceus, from his good senses. It’s an indulgence, to pretend that Eodwulf’s attentions to him are anything beyond a man who appreciates a like sense of humour. But Caduceus pretends nonetheless, and grows freer by measures, enjoying the warmth of good natured teasing as much as any liquor flush.

Flirting, he’s tried before, but it never seemed to hit the mark, and his own eyes flicker to Fjord, and Caduceus brings them forcefully back to Eodwulf’s hands on the table - now rough there, now soft another place - one slapping for another drink, the other calling Caduceus over - and Melora help him, he goes.

For the wine of attention is sweet, and sticky red on Eodwulf’s lips, and he thinks he should be allowed to taste it, while he has the chance.

Surely, by now, he’s earned that much.

---

Caduceus is not a man quick to anger. If pressed, he would say he hates nothing at all.

But he hates-

He hates Trent Ikithon.

He hates what he’s done to Caleb, and what he continues to do to the people in his care, and he hates that his lies are not lies in a way Caduceus can discern with a keen eye and a careful glance. They are written in the bone, in the flesh. The body is so corrupted it can no longer tell rot from flower, nor truth from falsehood.

There is no saving this man.

But there may be hope for the others.

Righteous rebellion is the name he gives to the fluttering in his stomach, as they draw Eodwulf - Astrid as well - closer into their circle. A big ol’ middle finger to Trent, as Beau would say. To save someone who sees no way out, from under the nose of a being of impossible strength-

He’s done it before.

So, too, he names the fluttering excitement, and anticipation. Even remembrance, of the way Fjord looked at him, the day he’d given him the Wildmother’s symbol, and Caduceus had almost thought-

But no, he’d thought wrong.

And here he is, ready to make the same mistakes again.

Eodwulf looks at him from across the table. Astrid is down the way, but he never once glances her direction as he asks, “Something not agreeing with you?”

It’s care, in a gruff sort of sense. His deep voice rumbles through Caduceus’s chest, in the way he knows his own does for other people. Yasha sometimes says that it helps her sleep, so he’ll talk the night away, telling nonsense stories until they both drift off.

What would it be like, to curl up in those arms, be held close to that impossibly broad chest? To be small, and large as well - as much as he needs, in whatever direction?

He pushes the thought away.

(Sometimes, he tires of being the one who has to know where the lines are.)

Eodwulf taps his fingers on the table, still looking at him thoughtfully. “I could use some air,” he says, and raises an eyebrow. Caduceus nods, unable to break Eodwulf’s steady gaze, because try as he might, the thought keeps returning, again and again.

They leave together, slipping out into the Rexxentrum night, and the rational part of Caduceus’s mind cries danger, to be separated from his party and alone in the company of their enemy’s servant, and the lonely part cries he wants you, he wants you, in a reckless, unquenchable clamour.

“I know a place,” Eodwulf says, “where it’s a little quiet,” and Caduceus knows the words, and the words beneath. He is not so young, so naive, to miss the subtleties of Eodwulf’s speech.

‘A little quiet’ means to be alone. And to be alone is…

He half expects to be led off to some back alley out of Jester’s tales - for murder or something else, who can say - but the streets Eodwulf takes him by are wide and well-lit. Caduceus’s foreign clothes are noticeable even in the dead of night, and people stop to stare as they pass by, eyes drifting over Eodwulf like a shadow to land on him. His hair, his height, his dress - all abnormalities perused and catalogued, before people resume their nighttime strolls.

It’s not unusual, nor particularly bothersome, to be watched. But one older gentleman stares a little too long, and doesn’t stop staring even after Caduceus dips his head in friendly greeting, and something in the air changes. A hand reaches out and grips Caduceus’s arm, drawing him back into the centre of the street. Eodwulf appears suddenly - though he was always there, Caduceus remembers. It’s just that his presence wasn’t felt, until now.

It must take practice, for a man the size of Eodwulf to disappear. Through magic, Caduceus can manage the same, but it’s more of a reflex - the trigger is fear, and the duration beyond his control. But Eodwulf becomes a shadow, then a looming gargoyle of a man, then a shadow once more, and all of it is done with intention. He doesn’t doubt that the watcher would be dead before Caduceus could blink, if that’s what Eodwulf decided to do.

He grins at Caduceus as the man scurries away, and Caduceus returns the smile faintly, and wonders, who have I let myself follow into the dark?

He finds he knows the answer, and it doesn’t frighten him like it should.

The fluttering returns, moth wings between his ribs beating in time with Eodwulf’s heavy steps - loud and obvious, like they weren’t before. Like a war drum, their march is a warning for anyone else who might darken their path.

See, this is my street to walk. See, this person is under my protection. Hear me, and stay back.

They come at last to their destination: a little park with scattered trees, at the centre of which sits a stone building. Its sides are carved with olive branches and vines, and its doors are shut, and the coldness of death seeps from every crevice, and mingles with the dewy scent of grass and yesterday’s rain.

Eodwulf leads him to a bench, and they sit side by side, listening to the breeze in the leaves, not speaking, though Caduceus still has many things to say. He wants to ask where they are. He wants to know if Eodwulf talked to one of his friends about him, and if that’s the reason he brought him to a mausoleum, instead of some sweeter daytime sight.

He silently wonders if they both feel at home in a graveyard, and if there has ever been anyone else, who looked at one with the same reverence as him.

“It’s quiet here,” Eodwulf answers, as though he had asked, and Caduceus nods.

“It is,” he agrees. There’s nothing more that needs to be said on the matter, and somehow they both know it, without needing words. Eodwulf crosses his arms over his chest and leans back, tipping his head to stare at the stars above, and Caduceus tries to mimic him, but the bench isn’t meant for a person of his stature, and he ends up sitting straight again.

“So,” Eodwulf says, casual enough to tell Caduceus the conversation is about to become anything but. “So, you came.”

“I did,” Caduceus answers, and his voice is steady, but a smile doesn’t find his lips. Eodwulf turns his head, shifting, until the meat of his shoulders is facing Caduceus.

“I’m glad.” The twinkle in his eye is still there, and his lips hold the smile that Caduceus lost, as he shifts again, bringing their knees together. Caduceus swallows. “I thought you looked bored in there.”

“I don’t mind a tavern… but I also don’t drink,” Caduceus answers noncommittally. “So it does get a little dull at times.”

Eodwulf huffs a laugh, and sits back up. “You don’t like meat, and you don’t like drink.” His smile becomes a grin, his arms uncrossing, and Caduceus follows their movement with his eyes, mouth dry as kindling. “Is there anything you do like?”

“Well,” he says, with nothing to come after it. The moth in his chest beats its protest against the silence.

There’s a line here - a line, that he’s meant to keep track of. That he’s not meant to-

“Well?”

And then again, there are fingers in his hair, and then again, there’s a mouth close to his, and warm breath, rich with ale and bread and earthy things, and then again, Eodwulf is confident, and his grin is sure, and maybe-

He doesn’t need to be the only one who knows where the lines are.

Caduceus meets him halfway, and then lets himself be pulled closer, and closer, as fingers tangle in his hair, and broad arms encircle his back. He opens his mouth, and Eodwulf follows, and the wine is sharp on his tongue, for being the first he’s tasted. But the flavour changes, the longer he drinks.

No longer startling in its newness, the feeling melts down to something softer.

A new taste: heavy, and warm, and sweet.

#critical role #cr spoilers #cadwulf #my writing #this is barely edited but i had so much fun

502 notes · View notes

ruewrites · 3 years

Text

Just a Taste

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmo

Word Count: 1643

Warnings: Blood

A/N: Happy Day 5 of Solodeus Week! I'm super happy with how this one turned out. I chose to use Vampire for my prompt. I have another idea with Vampire!Solomon that I might do at some point. But I hope you all enjoy this one!

Solomon has been chasing vampires for years. He can still remember the day he lost everything clear in his mind. He remembered the vampires raiding his village, he remembered hiding, the screams, the smoke, fire, the smell of death lingering in the air. But most of all, Solomon remembered the sense of shame he felt. As a grown man now, he knew that there was nothing he could do, but the guilt of his childhood still lingered. As he stared into the puddles of blood running down the street, he made a promise amongst the corpses: He would have his revenge.

He found himself within a hunters' coven and the rest was history.

Solomon was a successful hunter, a skilled hunter. He'd killed many and never let his target escape him. He'd never had a slip up.

Well…

Not until now that is.

"Hunter," the whine from the back of his cart dragged him out of sleep and back into the night. Could the beast not let him sleep? With a grumble he pulled back the curtain and walked into the back.

He was met with big, orange eyes staring up at him. Solomon had taken percasions. He was chained properly and Solomon had a blindfold on standby. He'd been good so far, he hadn't tried to hypnotize Solomon in a while now, so he rewarded the creature.

As long as he didn't pull any funny business.

This one hadn't been the one he was after, but Solomon figured if he had him, he'd be able to take him to his master.

"What?" Solomon asked, not bothering to hide any ounce of annoyance that lingered in his voice, "What do you want?"

The vampire pouted and shifted in an attempt to get more comfortable in his chains, "I'm hungry, and the chains you have me in are too tight. My donor hadn't fed me yet when you barged in."

Donor.

So he hadn't always been one of those night beasties.

"You can't hunt for yourself then? What type of vampire are you?" Though, Solomon supposed he should be thankful for that. The more he stared at his little prisoner, the more he noticed how pampered he looked.

The vampire scoffed, “Hunting is for the lesser. I’m my donor’s prized jewel. He told me himself.”

“And yet he left you alone to get captured,” Solomon cut in. He ignored the growl that came from the vampire, “But I suppose I could be nice and go out. Maybe I’ll find you a nice rat or a rabbit-”

The gag interrupted his thoughts, “Really? That sounds disgusting! How could you even think of such a terrible thing?"

"Well, I guess you can starve then beastie."

"My name is Asmodeus, and couldn't I have just a little from you?"

Solomon shot him a look. Really? The creature wanted to drink from him? Did he honestly believe that Solomon would allow such a thing? Well, from the pout he was receiving, there was a very good chance that Asmodeus did believe that. Solomom had never met a vampire that was so…

Spoiled.

"No," Solomon said, "No you cannot feed from me. I'm more surprised you even asked, ignoring the idea that you also thought I'd say yes."

"You won't have to say yes when my donor comes," Asmo scoffed, seeming surprised that Solomon even dared say no to him, "Because he'll give you to me and maybe more as a little apology for being late feeding me and coming home to me."

"He abandoned you," Solomon wasn't sure where it came from. The more he talked with the vampire, he realized that he wasn't the one that he'd been after. There was no way Asmodeus was the one terrorizing the town over when he didn't even hunt for himself.

"I was not abandoned."

"Really? Because the way I see it, he fled and left you to take the heat."

Solomon didn't even flinch when the vampire attempted to spring forward, the chains straining to hold him back, fangs bared. Solomon had struck a nerve. He knew he had.

"You'll see," he growled, "He's going to come back for me, and when he does you'll be sorry."

Solomon doubted that. And as he stared down at Asmodeus, he couldn't help but feel sorry for him. The vampire he’d been after left Asmo behind to take his place. Most likely he’d been hoping that Solomon wouldn’t take a second thought, that he wouldn’t notice that this vampire couldn’t fend for himself.

And as he watched Asmo thrash and scream from his chains, he could feel sympathy leaking into his heart.

***

Days passed by. Solomon should have been making Asmodeus' donor's job easy for him. He was still trying to track him down and in turn he was bringing Asmo closer to him, but the vampire kept slipping through his fingers. To his credit, Asmodeus had kept his confidence in his donor for the first week, but Solomon had watched doubt finally creep into his eyes. And as his doubts grew, so did his hunger.

Apparently Asmodeus hadn't been tempting enough as bait.

Solomon stepped into the back once more. He was dirty and tired. Collapsing onto the floor, he stared at Asmodeus who was curled up opposite to him. Wheels started turning in his head.

"You should just kill me now instead of letting me starve to death," his voice was weak, and Solomon swore he heard him sniffle, "You made your point. I wasn't as special to him as he said I was. I wasn't worth anything, even after I gave up everything."

Solomon moved closer, and Asmo didn't even attempt to get up.

"What are you waiting for Hunter? Aren't you going to finish me? Or do you wish to humiliate me further?"

Solomon didn't answer, instead his hands moved to the chains. Asmo didn't seem to notice they were being undone until they hit the ground with a thumb.

"No. But I do have a proposition for you," he said. Slowly Asmo propped himself up in order to listen, "Why don't you join me? You can't be on your own as you are, and I need to track down your donor."

Solomon could see the idea swirling around Asmo's mind. While the betrayal was sitting in Solomon didn't doubt that he still held some sort of feelings for his donor.

So, Solomon's fingers moved up and pulled down the collar of his shirt, "I'll let you feed."

Asmo's eyes widened and fixed on his neck, but he did stay in his spot.

"I'll feed you and take care of you in exchange for your help," Solomon continued, keeping his locked on Asmo, "But I'll need you to swear your loyalty to me."

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, slowly, Asmo crawled over to him. He took his hand and looked up into Solomon's eyes, " I swear to you Hunter-"

"My name is Solomon."

Asmo nodded, "I swear to you Solomon that in exchange for my care and feeding that I will be and remain loyal to you, whatever it may be."

Solomon nodded and tugged down the collar of his shirt, "Good."

***

"Solomoooon!" Asmo tackled him as soon as he walked in the door.

"Hey hey! Careful Asmo, I'm not ready to feed you yet."

Living with a vampire had certainly been an adjustment, and Solomon couldn't tell any other vampire hunters about him.

He got used to the feeling of Asmo's fangs piercing his skin, but it still made a shudder run up his spine and a gasp escape his lips. That first night, Asmo had been quick to go for his neck, and Solomon wondered if he’d made a mistake as pain shot through him. Maybe Asmo would kill him right there, drain him of his blood. But he didn’t. He even licked the area after he was finished. At the time Solomon thought it was to catch anything he missed, but now he realized it was done to dull any remaining pain. Since then, Asmo tried to be more gentle. When they finished, Asmo would rest Solomon’s head in his lap, running his fingers through his hair and cooing gently to him. Sometimes he would even kiss Asmo’s forehead. He even started getting little snacks for Solomon for after. The more they went through their routine, the more Solomon found himself enjoying it. He felt closer to Asmo.

"I don't want to be fed, I want a kiss," Asmo pouted. Asmo usually asked for little affections, and Solomon did enjoy his reactions. They were sweet and made Solomon feel some sort of way.

"Remember we have work to do," Solomon murmured, leaning in close, "We're hot on the heels of the vampire who killed the duke."

Their lips met and Solomon relished in how Asmo held him and how his lips felt moving against his own, even as his fangs pierced him. When they pulled away, Asmo's tongue quickly darted out to lap up a little of the blood. But Solomon felt more running down the two pierce marks on his lips.

His cheeks went red as Asmo's index finger came up to wipe away some of the blood. Then he sucked on it.

"I know, it won't take me long to get ready," Asmo giggled, "I'll be back in just a second and ready for you." With that, he blew Solomon a kiss and disappeared.

Solomon covered his face and leaned against the wall.

What was he going to do with him?

Despite the thought, Solomon couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. Asmodeus had added something new into his life, something he enjoyed. His donor had made a mistake, he had lost a precious jewel. Solomon pushed himself off the wall and followed Asmo to where he’d disappeared.

#ruewrites #SolodeusWeek2021 #vampire!au #vampire!asmodeus #hunter!solomon #obey me #obey me solomon #obey me asmodeus #solodeus #soloasmo #asmosolo #asmodeus x solomon

27 notes · View notes

write4tomorrow · 4 years

Text

Weakness

Word Count: 3366

Pairing: Sith!Obi-Wan Kenobi x Jedi!Reader

Summary: Master Kenobi fell from the Jedi order many years ago, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t kept close tabs on the jedi order since. As Darth Dominus, he has recently discovered that he is part of a Force Dyad… with a jedi. How will he bring her to his side?

Genre: Angst / Fluff

A/N: This is part two to this one shot I wrote, but can be read as just a one shot. Also, in this universe, Count Dooku has two apprentices.

The only light in the dark conference room came from the blue hologram in Darth Dominus’ palm. He watched as the Jedi knight moved faster than he had seen any Jedi ever move. With two lightsabers, the wielder must be incredibly in tune with their surroundings and the force to fight without also hurting themselves. They had to be really good. The Jedi in Dominus' palm wasn’t just good, she was a master.

Dominus scowled at his own thoughts. This girl was going to stop him from taking the republic for himself. He had seen it time and time again in his dreams and his meditations and the occasional vision. You were going to be his downfall. Your face plagued him like the lingering flavor of honey after a burning cup of coruscanti tea. So why couldn’t he stop staring at the hologram? Why couldn’t he bring himself to confront this inevitable downfall?

Because it wasn’t inevitable. For every vision he saw of you turning against him, he saw another dream of you in beautiful crimson robes with a pair of red sabers to match. For every vision he saw of you standing against him, he saw another of you standing by his side. This was his curse, to be half of a dyad.

He had been able to keep it well hidden. No one knew except you and him but that didn’t mean he liked it. How had he wound up the other half of a Jedi? His one weakness was you and he hated both you and himself for it. So why couldn’t he stop gazing at you on the hologram? Why couldn’t he stop himself from reaching out to you through the force? And why didn’t you ever respond?

“Oh, Kenobi. You really can’t stop yourself, can you?” Darth Maul had crept into the room without Dominus noticing. He knew that using his jedi name would rattle him but Maul was always trying to rattle him. If only Dominus had been more aware of his own surroundings. He cursed Maul’s unnaturally quiet robotic legs and tried to deactivate the hologram. However, Maul used the force to pull the moving image of you out of Dominus’ grip.

“She’s good,” Maul teased, “do you think she moves those hips like that when-”

In a flash Dominus had ignited his lightsaber and sliced the hologram peice in half, narrowly missing Maul’s hand. Unfazed, Darth Maul raised an eyebrow at the sudden outburst.

“You’re distracted, and Tyrannus can tell.” At Maul’s words, Dominus’ face paled in the dark room. His saber was still drawn and he thought about taking his anger out on Maul. Instead, he tucked his saber back into his dark robe and ran a hand over his beard to calm himself.

“I will speak with Tyrannus. Don’t worry about her,” Dominus tried to push past Maul to leave the room, but Maul stepped in his way.

“Oh he knows about y/n,” Maul smiled as he said your name, “in fact, I came to tell you that he’s on his way to deal with her now.” Maul laughed as Dominus’s face lost all remaining color and the former Jedi left the room in a sprint.

*******************************

Reconnaissance missions weren’t your specialty, but you always enjoyed stepping into an undercover role. You were attending a separatist gala as a senator’s liaison. The actual senator was still on his ship, a few miles above the planet’s atmosphere, dealing with a pesky cusom’s agent by the name of Anakin Skywalker. Ahsoka Tano had accompanied you to the gala in the hopes that two listening ears were better than just one.

You hadn’t seen her in a few hours though and were beginning to worry. With your best smile, you excused yourself from the conversation with one of the banking clan members.

“Ahsoka,” you hissed into your coms, “Where are you?” After a moment of static, you heard Anakin’s voice answer.

“Her com may have died,” Anakin sighed, “Besides, the lovely senator has decided to just go home so I don’t need to be up here anymore. I am going to come down to you guys and see if I can find her.”

“Thanks, Anakin,” you whispered, “let me know if you find anything.” You felt a little better knowing that Anakin was on his way to you. You hadn’t realized it, but something was making you tense. Something felt wrong.

You knew better than to ignore your intuition. If something felt wrong, something probably was wrong. You felt the weight of your sabers in the small purse around your shoulder. Protectively you used one hand to cover your purse and the other to grab your black skirt. Lifting your dress up just a little, you tried to quickly leave the room. Perhaps some air would help clear your head and you would be able to think of a plan.

“There you are.” You stopped short as a body stepped into your way. With a quick glance up, you recognized the man. You had never met before, but Anakin and Ahsoka had told you many stories about Count Dooku. This was the man that talked Obi-Wan Kenobi into joining the separatists and the Sith. If Count Dooku was here, was Obi-Wan close as well?

“I’m sorry, sir,” you feigned politeness, “I don’t think I know-”

“Don’t play dumb, girl,” Dooku countered, “besides, if you don’t know me, perhaps you know her?” Dooku pulled out a small screen from his pocket and showed an image of Ahsoka. Your heart sank. Ahsoka was bound by some of the heaviest handcuffs you’d ever seen. Two separatists droids were keeping her on her knees.

“Take my arm and smile,” Dooku grinned as he spoke, “it’s an honor to finally meet you, y/n.” Without seeing another good option, you allowed yourself to be led out of the room. You hoped that Anakin would get here soon.

Dooku didn’t speak while he led you away. As you walked, he wordlessly took the small bag from around your shoulders and tucked your lightsabers into his own jacket pocket. You tried to think of a good way out of your current situation, but the walk was over before you could think of anything.

After a few short turns down increasingly reclusive hallways, Dooku pulled you into a storage room near one of the building’s exits. Upon seeing Ahsoka, you tried to move toward her, but Dooku pulled you back.

“Tell us what you want, Dooku,” you tried to keep your voice calm, “so we can all be on our way.”

“There is nothing you can do that I want,” Dooku said with a shrug. His eyes watched you for a reaction and you could tell he was expecting you to do something.

“Everybody wants something,” you returned, “and you’re talking to the best negotiator in the Jedi Order.” You did your best to match Dooku’s calm demeanor. He only smiled back at you.

“I’ve heard of your reputation as both negotiator and battle strategist,” Dooku glanced at Ahsoka, “but you’re going to have to do more than talk your way out of this one, dear Jedi.”

“Give me my sabers, dear captor,” you offered, “and we can exchange more than words.” Dooku laughed and drew himself up to his fullest height.

“Clever girl with a silver tongue, no wonder he likes you.” At Dooku’s words, you froze. Was he talking about… no. You pushed the thought of Obi-Wan Kenobi from your mind. That man - that Sith - took up too much of your time already. Sometimes it felt like you couldn’t get him out of your head, no matter how hard you tried. Even when you slept or mediated, you saw visions of him.

Even now, there was a nagging pull in your mind that usually meant he was trying to reach you. You closed your eyes, trying to push the feeling away.

“My ship will be here soon,” Dooku continued, “and you will board it with me or Ahsoka will die in this room.” You looked down at Anakin’s apprentice and could feel the fear well up inside of her. There was defiance too and you smiled as Ahsoka shook her head. She was brave and you adored her for it.

Please, please listen to me, You heard the familiar voice in your mind. It was Obi-Wan Kenobi and, just like you had time and time again, you tried to ignore him. Still, you felt him push harder than he ever had before.

Dooku is coming for you, y/n, Obi-Wan warned.

Dooku has me. You answered without keeping the mirth from your voice. There was a pause from Obi-Wan. Perhaps it was his shock that you had answered him at all. After all, you had done your best to stay radio silent over the past several months. But now you were straining to keep his presence at bay and you could feel both Ahsoka and Dooku looking at you. You tried to fake a smile but you felt Obi-Wan pushing his way into your mind.

I’m almost there, he said, be ready. He didn’t need to say more. You could feel him becoming stronger, closer. And you knew he meant to do something brash.

“When do we leave?” You asked Dooku.

“Y/n,” Ahsoka pleaded, “don’t do this.” Dooku nodded at the droid who took that as a signal to bring the end of a blaster down on Ahsoka’s head hard enough to make her cry out. You tried to push towards the padowan again, but Dooku pulled out his red saber and leveled it at your chest.

“We leave now,” Dooku glared at you as you thought about retaliating. Quietly, you made your way out of the room, closely followed by the Sith Lord. His saber was no longer ignited but he kept it in his hand as an idol threat. You gave Ahsoka one last look before he closed the door on her and the two droids.

“Follow me,” Dooku gestured toward the end of the hallway but you froze in your tracks. Standing in gorgeously dark robes at the end of the hall was none other than Obi-Wan Kenobi. You felt an overwhelming wave of something hopeful fill your chest. You wanted to run away from the Sith and you wanted to sprint toward him.

Dooku seemed just as surprised as you felt. But in his surprise, you realized that this was your opportunity to act. Using the force, you pushed Dooku back against the wall and felt your lightsabers in his blazer pocket. But you also felt Ahsoka’s. You couldn’t grab all four sabers and you didn’t have time to think about it.

Dooku pushed you away from himself but you were faster than him. You dashed back to the room that Ahsoka was in. You threw open the door and used her saber to cut the restrains. You left her to free herself and hurried back to deal with the two Sith lords in the hallway.

To your horror, Obi-Wan was waiting for you. He angrily launched a flurry of strikes towards you. Is he here to save you or kill you? You didn’t have a chance to ask him. Without a weapon, you were playing defense and he was merciless in his attack.

Run, Obi-Wan’s voice rang in your head, you were supposed to run. Obi-Wan pushed you farther away from Dooku with his attacks. You understood then that Obi-Wan was trying to help you. Over Obi-Wan’s shoulder, you saw that Ahsoka had escaped the droids and was running towards Dooku. Even if you wanted to run, you couldn’t leave Ahsoka. Not to mention, Dooku still had your sabers. You tried to get around Obi-Wan. You needed to find some way to help Ahsoka.

Obi-Wan pushed you around a corner, out of sight from Dooku and Ahsoka. You suddenly realized that he was steering you someplace.

“What are you doing?” You halted, hoping that the Sith lord before you wouldn’t strike you down. Just as you hoped, Obi-Wan turned his lightsaber off. But not even a breath later, he shoved you against the wall. Not with the force. No, with his bare hands, Obi-Wan held you in place against the wall. He spoke in shallow breaths that were somewhere between fury and desperation.

“Dooku will kill you,” He was so close his breath was mixing with your own. “If you don’t get out of here, he’ll… I’ll be forced to…”

“Why don’t you let me go, and I’ll just kill you both instead?” You tried to break Obi-Wan’s grip on you but he held strong.

“Stop joking around.” Obi pleaded.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t wear the right dress for surrendering.” You offered with an eye roll. Obi-Wan looked at your dress then and you saw the corners of his mouth turn up in the smallest smile.

“Darling, that dress fits you perfectly. Even if it didn’t, I’d find a million new dresses for you if you just come with me.” Obi-Wan’s eyes took a second to linger before looking back into your own.

“Obi-Wan-” you began, but he cut you off.

“Come with me, willingly. Come with me and I can tell Dooku that I will train you. You and I will rule the galaxy.” Obi-Wan’s voice was softer now, pleading.

“I can’t,” You began, but you wouldn’t let him know how much you wanted to, “I would rather be tortured as your Jedi captive than live as your pet.”

“There’s no way out of this! You come with us or- you have to come with me or I will have to kill you,” Obi-Wan’s voice cracked. You looked at his face and you could feel the turmoil in him.

“You don’t have to kill me-”

“I won’t let him hurt you!” Obi-Wan’s voice was strained and his words seemed to come out against his will, “I’ll kill you before I let him have you, y/n.”

“You don’t have to kill me, Obi-Wan.” your voice was just a whisper and something in Obi-Wan’s expression softened. This man in front of you seemed so desperate and you couldn’t tell why. Before he could say anything else, you heard Ahsoka cry out from the other hallway. You need to get to the padowan.

Obi-Wan seemed to sense your apprehension. He registered Ahsoka for the first time and released you. He cursed under his breath and turned his attention away from you for the briefest moment. He ran back into the alley with Dooku and Ahsoka with you close on his heels. You watched as he used the force to pick up the padawan and hurled her towards the hallway’s opposite exit. You took that as an opportunity to attack Obi-Wan. You didn’t want to harm him, but you needed to get out of here. You used the force to push Obi-Wan away from you in an attempt to clear an escape route. He fell to the side but before you could run, you felt an overwhelming pressure around your throat.

It was Dooku. Now that Ahsoka wasn’t here to distract him, he had turned his attention towards you and Obi-Wan. He tightened his invisible grip around your throat enough to make you gasp for air but not enough to fully suffocate you. You couldn’t help but admire how terribly effective it was.

“Darth Dominus,” Dooku strolled toward the pair of you, “I am surprised to see you here.” Obi-Wan rose to his feet and straightened his robes. He ran a hand through his golden hair.

“I heard you were going after Master y/n,” Obi-Wan said, “I wanted to help.” Obi-Wan looked over at you as you struggled to take in breath. His eyes were the best shade of gold and there was a warmth behind them that took your breath away more effectively than Dooku could imagine.

“Be mindful of your thoughts, Dominus,” Dooku chided. He turned to you and slowly pulled you off your feet. The pressure around your throat constricted too much. You saw spots in the air and blackness began to close in on your vision.

As he dropped you, the sound of Dooku laughing filled the hallway. Obi-Wan had dropped to a knee in front of his master. He must have said something to Dooku while you were fighting for breath.

“So it seems, my apprentice, you are half of a dyad.” Dooku gave Obi-Wan a dark smile, “I’ve suspected it for some time now. I hear you calling to her in the dark nights when you should be sleeping.” You and Obi-Wan exchanged looks, but it was too late. The secret was out.

“The two of you together will be the most powerful weapons in the whole galaxy,” Dooku kelt in front of you and grabbed your jaw. Obi-Wan quickly stood from his keeling position.

“Relax, my apprentice. I’ll have you both alive and whole. Together we will help Darth Sideous-” Dooku was cut off by a cry from the hallway. Obi-Wan, Dooku and you turned to see Anakin and Ahsoka standing at the other end of the hallway. You smiled from ear to ear and knew that this was your chance. Just as you had done earlier for Ahsoka’s sabers, you reached into Dooku’s jacket pocket and retrieved your lightsabers. You ignited both and began an attack on Dooku.

Anakin and Ahsoka rushed to your side. But Anakin froze as he locked eyes with Obi-Wan. The two men looked at one another. Master and apprentice was a bond that stayed with someone for life and you could see pain written on both of their faces.

Even though Anakin was distracted, you were able to push Dooku far enough against a wall to make a run towards the exit. Ahsoka ran after you and Anakin began to follow after a silent nod at his old master.

“Darth Dominus,” Dooku said loud enough for you to hear, “do you think she cares for you the same way you care for her?” Your blood turned to ice as you doubled back to see Dooku stand and turn on his apprentice.

Before you could do anything, Dooku used force lightning on Obi-Wan. His scream filled the hall ways and before you knew what you were doing, you were running back to help him. You didn’t make it far though. Both Ahsoka and Anakin grabbed you and dragged you back. They were probably talking to you but you couldn’t hear them. The only sound you could hear was Obi-Wan’s screams.

A weak voice pushed its way into your mind. Run was all it said. You knew Obi-Wan was telling you to go. You knew that Dooku was setting a trap, but you couldn’t just leave him. You hated yourself for it, but you couldn’t just leave.

It didn’t matter. Anakin and Ahsoka dragged you away before you could do anything else.

*******************************

“What were you thinking,” Ahsoka was astonished, “going back to help a sith lord?” You were aboard a small ship heading back to the Jedi temple. Anakin and Ahsoka had done a full medical test on you just to make sure you were okay before they began their own version of an interrogation. You barely had a chance to speak over the two.

“You almost- I mean, I miss Obi-Wan, but the man I knew is dead,” Anakin seemed almost angry, “And what did Count Dooku mean, ‘does she care for you’?”

“Do you know what a dyad in the force is?” you finally asked. Anakin immediately went quiet and Ahsoka gasped. Ah, so they did know.

“You’re not- no, no way,” Ahsoka said in a hushed voice. She didn’t believe it and to be honest, you didn’t want to believe it either. All you could do was nod. You had been able to keep it well hidden. No one knew except you and him but that didn’t mean you liked it. How had you wound up the other half of a Sith? His one weakness was you and yours was him. You could feel how much you hated him and yourself for it. So why couldn’t you stop thinking about him and wondering if he was okay? Why couldn’t he stop himself from reaching out to you through the force? And why couldn’t you ever bring yourself to respond?

“I need to tell the Council when we get back,” was all you said. Anakin and Ahsoka stayed silent, the weight of this news sitting heavily on their shoulders.

The faintest voice filled your mind then. You really did look good in that dress. For our next date, try blue.

Before you could stop yourself, you smiled. He was alive and he was okay. Well, okay enough to be snarky. And that was enough for you. You looked up and saw Anakin watching you.

“I’m so sorry, y/n,” was all Anakin could say.

A/N: Hi! I really like Sith Obi-Wan. I’m tagging people who asked to be tagged and who also asked if there would be a follow up to my last fic. Sorry I didn’t answer you, but I figured a part two was better than an answer. Anyway, thank you for reading! @emmamikaelson95 @fandom-lover-4 @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @good-night-starlight

276 notes · View notes

stitch1830 · 3 years

Text

CHARACTER DESCRIPTION: KANTO

So this is a character description for the character Kanto that @precious-metal-girl and I created for AUs where he is in a loving and committed relationship with Toph Beifong. Part of this is to help me keep track of all of his features and personality traits, and if others are looking to write about Kanto but aren't sure about how to describe him, feel free to pick and choose characteristics that meet your AU needs! This will (hopefully) be a living document where characteristics are added and changed over time. If you are curious about our AUs or want to know about a particular trait/personality, feel free to ask us questions!

......

Born: ~88/89 AG (summer)

Residence: Republic City

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Green

Element: Earthbending/Metalbending

Occupation: Deputy for the Republic City Police Department, Metalbender Division

Nicknames: Hotshot, Dep (short for Deputy), Slick, Botany Boy, Pretty Boy, Metalbrain, Metalhead, Rockhead, K, My Rock

Relationship: Toph Beifong

Background:

Kanto grew up near one of the Fire Nation colonies close to what is Republic City today (part of the reason why his name has FN influence). His father took many different jobs and tried to avoid fighting in the war as long as possible so he could stay with his family, while his mother was a seamstress for the town. Often, he would help his mother sew clothes, and because of that he was pretty crafty and good with his hands. He lost his parents at age 7; old enough to remember them and his childhood, but all the memories are pretty blurry.

What he does remember is that his family was pretty poor, but they always had something to laugh about.

He loved learning new skills with his dad, and had his mom read the same two books they had every single night. And one thing he always remembers is eating together as a family.

His parents died either in an accident for rebelling against a FN rule (maybe the FN wanted to take Kanto away for being an earthbender), or from protecting Kanto in general.

Kanto was always pretty feisty as a boy, pushing people’s buttons and egging people on. It only got worse when his parents died because he pushed buttons out of anger now.

He also had a lot of friends, but after, he didn’t talk to anyone for a while because he ran away. Most of his fighting skills were learned while on the run, he never got any formal training until he went to the metalbending academy (maybe 17 or 18? Toph managed a different part of the academy so she didn’t know him. That or he went to a different academy branch entirely).

One thing he remembers is that he was happiest with his family, so he cherishes the idea of a happy family unit, and he constantly searched for something that made him feel close to that happiness.

Personality:

The first impression people get of Kanto is that he is a no-good, arrogant, bad boy. He acts as if he’s the coolest person in town and always has something sassy to say in response. More than half of the words that come out of Kanto’s mouth are flirtatious and sarcastic, a combination that initially drives Toph Beifong crazy.

But in reality, Kanto is an extremely loyal man who’s rather selfless, putting himself in harm’s way so no one else has to. His initial personality is a front to protect himself so that he doesn’t befriend anyone too much, because he knows what it’s like to love people and lose them. He hated how he felt when he was orphaned and never wanted to feel that way again.

When his facade finally cracks with Toph and she sees the real him, he’s actually… a dork.

He’s got a very goofy personality, he gets excited about little things, and his passions do not necessarily align with his looks and his first impression. When he loves people, he does so with his full heart, but again, he’s hesitant to do so with many… His family are essentially the only ones that see him this way.

Looks:

Kanto is most certainly a hunk. He’s got a similar skin complexion to Toph, thick and wavy (borderline curly) black hair (Toph loves playing with it), broad chest and shoulders (a fit and toned body overall), a mischievous, slightly crooked grin (left corner turns up higher than the right) that makes all the women of RC swoon, a crooked nose from being punched in the face one too many times, and classic earthbender green eyes. He’s also pretty tall, that’s where Lin gets her height from, well over a head taller than Toph And despite being an earthbender, his hands and fingers are actually rather long and nimble. Some popular fanart interpretations of Kanto can be found here and here and here and here and here.

Interests:

Kanto likes flowers, he often brings new ones home (especially when he’s with Toph) so he can teach her about its qualities and so they have a nice and natural floral scent in their home. He’s obsessed with pro bending like Toph, and often will attend matches with her. Astronomy and biology are also interests of his. Toph and Kanto also have a cool rock collection, both are trying to best each other to find the coolest one. Kanto reads science fiction novels to Toph in their downtime and he’ll play the guitar or pipa.

Fears:

Kanto is afraid of bugs, he doesn’t care for large fires that can get out of control, and big animals make him nervous at first contact. When Lin’s in the picture, he freaks out when there are too many sharp corners in one place. He’s always afraid she’s gonna fall and hit her head. Kanto also doesn’t like those rip tides or currents in oceans/large bodies of water.

Some of his deeper level fears include losing his family. He cannot stand the idea of losing Lin or Toph, especially if the reason they are missing or gone is because of him. He’s lost his family before, and he’ll be damned if he loses them again.

Flaws:

A lot of his flaws stem from his stubbornness and confidence. He’s arrogant, overconfident, prideful, and impatient. He knows he’s good at his job and he’s not afraid to talk about his skills and talents, and unless he’s working specifically with Toph, he assumes he’s the best for the job.

He’s flirty, sarcastic, reckless, and a bit of a slob (just his home, he keeps a clean appearance). Kanto’s constantly ragging on coworkers, has comments for days, and it’s rare for him to speak in a serious tone while on the job. Just doesn’t happen.

He’s protective, reckless, a troublemaker, skeptical, and vengeful. When he actually finds love and has a family, he is extremely protective, to the point where if criminals threaten his family, he’s not afraid to take the law into his own hands to eradicate the problem. One of these would be his fatal flaw, maybe vengeful? His vengeful tendency could be from a need to retaliate to protect his family from a threat, and that ultimately may take him down.

His flaws mainly seem to come from his overconfident front that he gives to the world. He doesn’t let too many in, or, he lets people in, but they don’t see the real him. Kanto doesn’t trust people right away, but it’s easy to get along with everyone if you just have this confident and charismatic face on. But his ‘face’ seeped into his actual personality, so there are times when he shouldn’t blurt out the first stupid comment in his head, but he does.

Gaang First Impressions:

Aang: He’s always extremely happy and excited to meet new partners, so he was thrilled to meet Kanto. They definitely don’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, but Aang is great at being friends with everyone despite the differences, so there’s no animosity.

Katara: She’s skeptical at first, because Kanto acts like a douche and has a bad boy persona. Katara just doesn’t want to see Toph get hurt, so she interrogates the man a bit (a lot), but even though the things he says concern her, he’s a gentleman to Toph, very attentive to her needs. So, maybe he’s not so bad… Later on, she knows the bad boy look was all a facade and that Kanto is a sweetheart, and she grows to really like Kanto.

Zuko: He gives Kanto a very cold shoulder at first. He’s very protective of Toph because he thinks of her as a little sister. So, he crosses his arms, glares a bit, and Kanto glares back because that’s what he does at first. But then, they start going on double dates, and Zuko and Kanto turn out to have a lot more in common than they realize. They’re buddies now!

Sokka: Sokka’s attitude really depends on ship preference with him, but in most HC’s, he’s Toph’s best friend, so he would also be distant with Kanto. He wouldn’t like how cocky he is, or that he’s super tall and talented at many things… he’s not a fan. However, Toph is always super happy around Kanto, he makes her laugh, and no one is allowed to insult Toph without an ass whooping from both Kanto and Toph, so, he warms up to the guy. He’s been seen buying Kanto a beer after a long day of work as a truce, and he often goes to Kanto if he needs police paper signed and expedited (Kanto does the same with Sokka, it evens out).

Suki: Suki is pretty chill about it all. She’s pretty perceptive about personalities and whatnot, and she can detect a bit of a bad boy mask. So, she treats the introduction casually and is super cordial with Kanto. They never become best friends or anything, but she was one of his first “allies” in the Gaang, and for that he is forever grateful.

Other Facts:

His mannerisms are that he walks with a slow swagger. Often the slowest of the group, he takes his time whenever he walks places. But don’t let that fool you—he can sprint really fast. He leans back in almost all of his chairs, sometimes he leans too far back. Kanto was a notorious manspreader when he would sit down, but since being with Toph, she put a stop to that instantly. When he’s restless, he bounces his leg a lot, and usually only stops if Toph reminds him (usually a hand to his leg to calm him down). Kanto also runs his hand through his hair a ton to either push it off his face, or just on instinct. He fidgets with his hands, too, Toph does as well. Usually, the two will hold hands or play with each other’s fingers to ‘remedy’ their nervous tick. In extremely stressful situations (like an AU where Lin is kidnapped), Kanto usually throws up and doesn’t sleep at all.

Kanto’s voice is a mix of a rural and city accent, once Republic City becomes prominent. He uses slang in his speech often and mainly uses city words (he picked up a lot of city lingo when interacting with criminals and undercover work back in the day). There are a few words and phrases from his childhood that he uses that scream ‘rural kid’ and that is mainly when the distinction in his accent and speech is picked up. His voice is smooth and deep when he casually talks. When he yells, it becomes a bit gravelly and husky sounding. Oddly enough, when he whispers, the same thing happens.

Kanto smells like the earth or something with a forestry scent (cedar comes to mind). He wears cologne, and the scents he usually goes for are ones that smell like earth, wood, or resin. Kanto likes wearing cologne, but he can’t put too much on, otherwise it bothers Toph’s nose, and he typically checks to see which ones Toph likes, and he’ll purchase that cologne again because he knows she likes the smell. He naturally smells a bit like metal and dirt and a bit of smoke (he was a casual smoker before he had Lin). All these scents are not prominent, but by the end of the day, these are the scents that can usually be detected.

Some of his pet peeves include fake apologies, when people kick or shake the chair he is sitting in, any slightly insulting remark toward Toph, close talkers, people that interrupt frequently, and those that correct his grammar.

Kanto canonically only has one daughter, Lin. In this AU, he’s a loving and committed father who emphasizes putting his family first and protecting them. He doted and hovered over Toph while she was pregnant, cried tears of joy when Lin was born, and is very attentive and caring toward Lin. He’s the one that soothes her when she cries out at night, he’ll get up in the morning with her so Toph can sleep in, and when he comes home from work, he smothers her in kisses and gives her raspberries on the belly (affectionate). Even as a baby, Lin was a Daddy’s girl and Kanto spoiled her as much as possible.

In the relatively canon compliant AU, Kanto dies when Lin is about 6 months old. He left for work, had a run-in with a bloodbender (or an accident on the job), and never returned home. On the day of his death, Kanto planned on proposing to Toph, but never got the chance.

Lin knew about her father growing up, but he wasn’t talked about often because it is a touchy subject for Toph (and for most that knew him well). On her 13th birthday, Lin receives the engagement ring on a necklace, along with a handwritten letter from Kanto.

There are many AUs and headcanons related to where he lives, but those are very fluid and change all the time!

30 notes · View notes

bastillia · 4 years

Text

Rough Landing

Part 2 of First Lesson

Summary: Commander Ren has a few more things to teach you.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 8.4k

Warnings: cockwarming, overstimulation, threats during intimacy, inappropriate use of the Force, oral sex (ROUGH, m receiving), unsanitary sex location, public(ish) sex, kinda exhibition kink, no aftercare, uhh bit of cumplay

A/N: Whew alright I know it’s been 3 months, but we’re picking up pretty much right where we left off. Thank you all SO much for the love on part 1. And huge thanks to my incredible friends who have supported me, beta read, and helped me conquer my stuck points. I couldn’t have pulled this through without y’all. Enjoy!

***

There was plenty to like about being in space. For one, it was absolutely quiet.

Perfectly soundless. Unfathomably endless. In a way, the void between the stars had always been your perfect aegis; a blank slate to nurture everything you’d hoped to become. It held power in its silence, and possibility. It was calm, dark, vast-- it was home, for as much or little as you knew about the word.

If you thought about it, living aboard the roving flagship of the First Order had always given your life more or less a perfect structure. Most of the time, you didn’t even mind the predictability of it. Your days were purposeful and productive. If, sometimes, just a little boring. But, that was okay--you liked the quiet.

And you were never ever taking it for granted again.

“Stop moving.” Kylo Ren’s voice broke through the growing rumble of the hull. It was only the sensation of gloved fingers tightening down into your hip bones that finally alerted you to the fact that you were squirming. Again. You grimaced.

"I'm trying."

Friction from the gathering atmosphere punched the craft into a sharp rattle, and your heart struck your sternum as the controls lurched underneath your palms. Your fingers cinched down tight, the lack of circulation in your knuckles settling into a dull throb as you continued to wring the contoured grips, as if you could strangle some desperately needed assistance out of them that way.

Fuck.

Breathe.

You could do this, you just had to stay calm--think about home, about the tedium of whatever meeting was probably going on right now. About how all eyes would be on you if you were there, about the dumbstruck look on General Quinn’s face when you presented that fucking perfect dossier you’d compiled on some key New Republic official he’d been trying to track down for months.

Yes, think about that.

Not about the sweat beginning to break out across your skin, the unnerving rattling around you growing louder and louder. Not about what was still sheathed inside your twitching cunt, stretching you, demanding that your body yield to its presence.

Warm echoes of your last orgasm flared up with another clattering vibration of the atmosphere. It felt almost trapped within you, an electric refrain to the adrenaline melody that pounded your veins now. Your floor muscles quivered tight with it, eliciting an approving twitch from within your walls as Ren’s fingers flexed into the bruises on your hips.

It was incredible, really. How time had begun to feel almost obsolete until now. It had passed abstractly in the quiet serenity of space as you’d sat filled to your limit, feeling nothing but the commander, his breathing, the omnipresent ache of his cock. Your world nothing but an aroused haze-- stirred every so often by a subtle buck of his hips, a kiss to your neck, hot breath in the hollow of your ear whispering don’t move, don’t you fucking move. Good girl.

Your thoughts snapped back to the present with a vaguely wistful pang as the hull gave another violent shake.

Atmospheric entry. What was that, week five? Six? Of the TIE pilot training program? It was on the phase-3 test, you were certain. And you’d put credits down that none of the novice pilots had ever experienced the added curriculum of a cock shoved inside of them.

A warning squeeze stilled another involuntary shift of your hips.

You gritted your teeth against your discomfort, instead trying to let the adrenaline form a whetstone to sharpen your senses.

Breathe.

You could do this. You were way beyond just some novice trooper, you were a fucking lieutenant general of the First Order. And what did you do to earn that rank? You adapted. So, fucking adapt.

A jolt slammed the craft, and your muscles locked up as the head of Ren’s cock speared something tender and abused deep inside you. The ship squirreled under your grip, leaving you paralyzed as the movement of it set off every panic alarm in this new and untested region of your brain. Without missing a beat, two huge, leather-encased palms came up to wrap over your shaking hands, steadying you with remarkable certainty as they coaxed the vessel back under control.

“Focus, lieutenant." There was almost an amused purr in Ren’s throat, his voice low and close, utterly lacking in any kind of concern. Your pulse gradually came back down, and with it, your fear curled into a flicker of annoyance. If he was going to mock you, he could at least use your proper title.

You know.

The one you’d worked your ass off for.

The drag of fingertips across the bare skin of your upper thighs jolted you. Your body felt hyper-sensitized, like the sudden touch ignited a cascade of fission that couldn’t seem to find equilibrium anywhere. It fractured your brittle composure in two, just as the roaring blaze around the viewport flared again with a powerful tremor that kicked your heart back up in a sudden panic.

Sweat lined your palms, adrenaline congealing and turning to acid in your veins. You felt your nerve slip.

"Com-commander, s-sir, I--"

A hum. “Control yourself.”

It was only two words, but each one cut through your rising panic like a blaster shot to the sternum, rattling you to a realization.

Control.

That was the test all along. He’d laid it right out in front of you, challenged you to a game with incredibly fucked up stakes, and he was drawing his hand. Taking a seat at a proverbial Sabacc table, stretching out his chest and waiting for you to either bet up, or lose your nerve. The ante was rising, piece by piece as he silently tested the parameters of your breaking point.

But he wouldn’t find it. Not like this.

Fresh determination fixed your grip around the shaking controls. It was even enough to keep you from reacting this time when a dull pain lanced under your skin, his teeth catching a tender spot where he had marked your neck some time before. He growled. You tucked that card up your sleeve.

“Decelerate.”

His tone had shifted quieter in a way that made your ears prick, snapping your attention away from the dull ache of your insides. It sort of stunned you, actually, into something of a quiet curiosity.

His hand reached around you to swipe at a holopad on the console. An altimeter blinked to life, just before the soft heat of his lips returned to your ear.

“Drop to this zone.” He pointed to a region on the display. “Remain there until we get closer."

Remnants of panic still swam somewhere in your blood, but you managed to draw a careful breath and nod your understanding. Your ante was still on the table, you told yourself. But perhaps he’d decided that challenging you could wait. For now.

Refocusing, you caressed the controls. The ship banked beautifully, intuitively at your will, before lurching a final time as the thrusters hit a stable layer of atmosphere.

Beneath you, clouds floated in gossamer ribbons over the calm air, as tattered and thankful for its mercy as you felt. Farther down, the dim moonlight breathed monochrome shapes into being, half-swallowed by the murky vapor of shadow between them. Droplets condensed on the viewport as you dropped through the thin cloudbank, skittering shyly outwards and allowing the shapes to solidify into the oppressive grid of a cityscape.

Slowly, you could begin to make out vague details. Industrial sectors, shipyards, scrappy comms towers. The occasional twinkle of speeder headlights creeping between dilapidated buildings, and--

Your gaze snapped back to the holopad on the nav console, a deft swipe of your finger bringing up your coordinates. The planetary code blinked neutrally back at you, but the unmistakable string of numbers harpooned you with a bolt of clarity that had your ribs tightening down around your lungs. A question resurfaced from the bottom of your memory, curling up to slither coldly along the back of your neck.

“Commander?”

“Hm.”

“Why, um--” You faltered.

In truth, there was no reason for you to ask. The answer was already swimming around in your gut, acquainting itself with the sour feeling of dread that settled there. Waiting for your brain to analyze it while at the same time sitting in an insidious state of knowing that didn’t need to reach your head at all for you to feel its weight.

You swallowed, and adjusted your grip. “Why a TIE fighter? Why didn’t we bring the command shuttle?”

A pause. He reached around you, flicking a switch on the main console, and the Silencer’s headlights shuttered off with a resounding click. “We may need to leave quickly.”

For the first time since leaving the Supremacy, you felt something familiar settle inside of you. Deep and quiet, like the way sound doesn’t travel in space. It was the same, utterly instinctive feeling that took over every time you managed to get yourself in over your head-- when a negotiation turned volatile, when an unforeseen flaw surfaced in a mission strategy mid-execution. Those moments where the fixed parameters of your training ended, and the only thing left to take the pilot’s seat was your own intuition.

But this time, there was something else there with it. It glowed within the powerful shroud of calm, thrumming quietly, filling you with something potent and restless and--exciting, that you couldn’t quite place.

Real, physical danger was not something you had much direct experience with. The various moral complexities associated with putting others up against it at your command, you had come to know well. But you were here now. Facing it in the flesh, not protected by the reinforced hull and ion cannons of a Star Destroyer.

You were here, looking down on the dark streets of Corellia, a planet so lawless and foul and flat out fucking dangerous that the First Order had all but given up establishing a presence here long ago. Even the New Republic’s ties here were thin.

A tightness struck through your chest as you very suddenly realized that it was only a matter of time, now, before you were going to have to--

“Drop lower.” The commander shifted to tap something into the nav console. A flight course lit up the holopad, leading to a destination marker just a few klicks ahead. “Land here.”

The sector you entered seemed somehow even darker than the rest as you brought the Silencer down over the shadowed streets, hints of crumbling walls and rusted vents just barely illuminated by the occasional weak street lamp. No headlights, hardly any ground lighting--you were no ace pilot, obviously, and it took your full concentration just to maneuver the ship between the vague silhouettes of broken antenna towers, avoiding them where their spindly shadows jutted up from the rooftops. You jumped when Ren’s hands enveloped yours again.

“Right here.” He guided your hands, expertly swinging the craft around and into a hover above a dim alleyway, empty and lined on both sides with large, abandoned-looking industrial structures. Your pulse jumped. He released your hands, a finger drawing your attention to a switch on your right, then flicking it casually. “Landing gear.”

The hull rumbled and thumped. An array of green lights flashed to life in what you could only assume was an indication of the ship’s readiness for landing. If only you felt the same. Your hands were frozen on the controls, your mind simultaneously racing and completely blank. You waited dumbly for guidance, heart hammering, shallow little breaths trapping themselves high in your throat.

“Relax.” Ren’s voice permeated to your bones as both arms slid around your stomach, liquefying your fear into a trembling plea.

“P-please, Commander, I d-don--” You cut off with a shiver when his lips met your neck, his hips beginning to rock in a slow, enunciated rhythm that had your cunt immediately bearing down with need as you felt him harden. “Fuck, p-please, I don’t know how t--... h-how to--”

Your eyes rolled back as a hand slid down between your legs, the leather pad of his finger finding your clit stiff and sensitive, its touch featherlight. A hum rumbled under your shoulders. “Your intuition, lieutenant. Feel it, don’t think.”

Maker help you, there were a lot of things you could fucking feel right now. Namely, your commander’s cock slowly massaging your walls, lazy in its rhythm. Your grip on the controls banishing the circulation entirely from your knuckles. His fingers sliding down your slit, spreading as he reached the root of himself, shamelessly feeling the obscene way your body yielded to the thickness at his base. The lust that erupted low in your belly in response. The panic that was rising as you remembered your task, its sharp tendrils threatening to reach your head and overwhelm you.

Control yourself.

A turbulent breath shook some air back into your lungs as your tiny inner voice of reason managed to surface again. Collecting yourself, you let it expand, pushing each distraction away one by one as it went. Focus, it reminded you. Remember the card up your sleeve, get through this round.

You tethered your awareness to the ship, to the curve of the controls against your palms, to the way they extended like a continuation of your own neural circuits to command the sleek metal beast encircling you. A steady, downward press of your hands, and it purred its obedient response, settling slowly towards the ground below.

“Good girl,” Ren said. “Just like that.”

There was something--a tiny flicker of mischief in the shadows of his voice. Maybe you would have caught it quicker, but your tunneled focus left you one fatal step behind him, too slow to anticipate his move. His hand shifted, easily finding your raw clit against his fingertip, and pressed down--hard.

Electric. Everything was electric. Your vision doubled, the shredded remnants of your nerves shorting out and screaming against the paralyzing flood of sensation, ripping a ragged gasp from the bottom of your lungs. Maker, don’t scream, don’t fucking--

A shift of his finger and your hips jerked, an involuntary movement of sheer desperation for escape that carried right through your whole body and into the ship.

One wing dipped to the side, and it was only the sharp trill of a proximity alarm that managed to blast through to what was left of your reflexes just in time. A curse cut the air through your lips, your shaking hands grappling the controls into a clumsy counter-correction that swayed the craft wildly as you wrestled it back to center. The rocking slowly stilled, the ringing in your ears no longer from the alarm, but your own pulse bludgeoning your temples. Ren simply chuckled, and released your clit.

“Commander.” A few rapid blinks cleared the blur from your vision, but oxygen was still painful through the panic in your chest, leaving you frustratingly breathless. “With all due respect, sir, do you want me to crash your ship?”

“You won’t.” The smirk was audible in his voice. “Or is my confidence in your aptitude misguided, lieutenant?”

A slew of unkind words lashed themselves to your tongue, fighting for freedom with the fuel of indignation that scalded your throat like bile, but you swallowed both, smothering your thoughts into silence. Stay calm. Maintain control. You drew a tight breath. “No, sir.”

“Mm. Good.” He rocked his hips firmly up into you, and a pitiful little noise clutched in your throat. “Then land my ship, and perhaps your proficiency will be rewarded.”

Desire shot up your spine like a flare, igniting at the base of your brain and rocketing your thoughts clear past apprehension and ahead to the promise of relief. It was enough to allow bravery to wriggle back into your fingers, your hands finding the wherewithal to resume their task even as your lungs stalled in anticipation of another distraction.

But none came.

The relief that flooded you was immediate and powerful the second you felt solid ground settle under the landing gear. The hull groaned around you as the craft came to a full rest, wheezing like a fathier after a hard gallop, and you, its master, just thankful to have survived the race. But there was one more hurdle for you.

“You know this part.” Ren gestured vaguely to the console, still alive with various lights and indicators, many of which, no, you certainly did not know anything about.

Your eyes darted back and forth a few times before it hit you. Of course. The ignition sequence.

Presumably, to shut the fighter down, you would just need to… to do it backwards? That seemed like the logical course of action, at least. Stars, how long ago had you even taken off? The Supremacy already felt like a faint memory, the edges of its shape scattered through a hazed prism, each facet reflecting nothing but incandescent pleasure and the blinding heat of Kylo Ren.

But you had to remember. This was--you hoped--the final test, and there was no way you were going to fail. Maker, what was wrong with you, you were better than this, just think. The last thing he turned on had been…

Thrusters.

Right console, three switches. Bring all of those down. The roar of the ion engines quieted, taking the vibration of the hull down to a faint rumble. Okay, good, next was--

Ignition. Yes, ignition: off. Much quieter now, and stars, when was the last time you breathed? Fucking breathe. Okay, next.

Compressor: disengaged. Auxiliary last.

Everything went black as you killed the main power. Your breathing seemed to echo around in the stillness of the cockpit, your cunt twitching to life in acknowledgment of what was now pressing harder than beskar steel against your guts, amplified by the darkness. It was almost as if the power from the ship had never really shut down, but simply transferred into your own body instead, flicking your ignition switch and bringing your arousal roaring back to life with a vengeance.

Every line of the commander’s body against you was lighting up your awareness, filling the sensory void with his presence, the unbearable stillness of him. What had he meant when he said he’d reward you? You’d learned his lesson, yes, and passed every fucked up test he’d thrown at you to prove it. For that, you could commend yourself.

But if there was one lesson more poignant than the rest, one that now stuck like thermal sludge to every crevice of your understanding, it was that his next move could come at any moment--and not always in a way you could anticipate.

This seemed like one of those moments.

A shift of his chest under your shoulders made you jump, one arm reaching up somewhere you couldn’t see to flick a control, and the hatch cracked open with a hiss. The night air flooded the cockpit, all but drowning your racing thoughts as it drew in like a cool sigh to kiss the heat in your cheeks. Your head fell back, lungs gratefully accepting the damp and oddly foreign relief of atmospheric oxygen, even as the scent of it stuck in your mouth. It was thick, leaden with rain and crude fuel, but you hardly cared. It felt divine.

Beneath you, an impatient grunt and a single squeeze to your thighs brought you back to the present with a tiny flicker of alarm.

“Out.”

Your muscles froze.

“But, I--” Whatever you might have expected out of this moment, that was possibly the last thing you could have prepared for, and your brain was fumbling spectacularly in an attempt to process the one word.

Did he actually mean that? Was this another test? You didn’t even feel like you could move right now, let alone clamber out of the ship with your whole body aching and clenching as it was. And you were so full, and he was so hard, and now you were nearly trembling with need and--

And you took too long to act.

Wide hands locked around your waist, and then everything shifted--he was picking you up. Holy shit he was strong, he hoisted you upwards in one effortless motion, throwing your world into a blur. The only thing you distinctly registered through your disorientation was the feeling of his hard cock pulling along your tired walls, finally popping free for you to flutter and clench around nothing for a moment before your bare ass came down on the lip of the cockpit.

Cold metal bit your flesh, a harsh and unforgiving contrast to the warm lap you’d grown accustomed to. Fuck, everything was dark. But hearing him shift underneath you had you hurriedly swinging your legs around to jump down.

And... the ground was a lot farther down than you thought.

You landed hard. Hard enough for your knees to buckle, and you stumbled against the hobble around your thighs in a clumsy attempt to keep yourself upright. But before you could lose your balance you were moving again, being yanked by the arm and slammed back hard against the ship.

A huge, black mass crowded in on you, looming and pressing you back against creaking durasteel, the metal still warm under your shoulders as the ship settled from flight. Your heart slammed against the commander’s advance, eyes darting through shadow.

In the span of a shared breath, his mouth crashed down on yours, open and wanting and hungry in the darkness, and everything inside of you detonated.

The heat of his mouth was dizzying. You mewled into it, the feeling of him so strong and warm and everywhere, tugging at your hips, tongue sliding past your teeth. Your hands gravitated upwards for any leverage they could find just to pull him closer, to taste him deeper. A low, rumbling sound scraped the bottom of his chest and two huge hands encircled your wandering wrists, easily plucking them off of their feverish course and slamming them up beside your shoulders instead.

His exploration of your mouth grew brazen as he pinned you open, crushing you against unyielding steel, even taking a moment to suck at your bottom lip before his hot tongue was licking deep into you again, stealing your breath and coaxing soft sounds from your chest in its wake.

An immobilizing sensation locked your arms in place, keeping them tight against the ship even as his touch slid along your arms and around to the front of your torso. The extra sensations hardly even registered through the feeling of his mouth on yours until you realized you still couldn’t move while he was cupping your face with one hand, the other leather-encased palm flattening over the confines of your uniform, squeezing at the soft swell of your breasts hidden beneath.

A low growl into your mouth, a shift of pressure up your sternum, and then his fingers found and curled over your pressed collar. With one purposeful tug, the material popped open, and you gasped.

"Commander," you broke the kiss, your head spinning as his breath immediately blazed against your neck instead. His movements were impatient, uncharacteristically clumsy in their urgency as you felt the material of your top continue to separate all the way down to your cleavage. “Commander, w-we--”

Fuck, it was impossible to think, everything in your brain felt thick with a vibrating fog. You could feel tiny points of rational thought trying to take form, trying to remind you of where you were, of why this was risky. But they were like infant stars peeking through a hungry nebula, unable to solidify before being swallowed again.

"Fuck, w--” His tongue slowly rode the curve of your jaw, and stars, what were you even going to say? “W-we sho-shouldn’t-"

“Shouldn’t what?” he purred, smooth fingertips trailing slowly down the bare plane of your sternum and sliding under the open edge of your coat.

A soft whine was all you could muster, broken thoughts dissolving on your tongue the moment he cupped the curve of your breast and scooped it free of your neckline, pushing the fabric aside to let your nipple peak up against the open air.

The empty street was quiet enough that your breaths seemed to ricochet as they tripped softly over each other, sliding along the walls of the alley and joining the soft buzz of a flickering street lamp farther down. Stars, anyone could be listening-- watching, for all you knew. In a city like this, it was impossible to anticipate the stakes. Rife with the sorts of creatures who took refuge in shadow, even the darkness seemed to betray you, leaving every inch of exposed skin glowing as if the dim moonlight had suddenly adopted all the strength of a Tatooine sun.

Your heart raced. You scrambled to clutch at the caution left within yourself, for any remaining instinct that would tell you that this was wrong, that you shouldn’t be going along with this.

But you found no purchase. Your inhibitions were dissolving through your fingers-- dwarfed in Kylo Ren’s shadow, smothered under his hands, the power of his presence atomizing any need for your guarded reluctance and casting it into obsolescence.

And as you surrendered, suddenly every eye that might be watching, every ear that could be tuned to your pleasure just around a shadowed corner, was like a hit of fucking spice. The thrill of it arched your back, coaxed bolder sounds from your chest that bounced daringly off of the bullet-scuffed duracrete to fade into the darkness of the alley.

Ren gave voice to it first, a growl breaking through the roar between your ears.

“You’re enjoying this, lieutenant.” A swift yank of your undershirt revealed both of your tits to the damp air, and the chill of it settled wonderfully on the thin sheen of sweat that had gathered under your stiff uniform. The sigh that melted through your lips was as much confirmation as you could provide him.

“Filthy thing.” His voice was a darkened hiss as he roughly took both of your breasts in his hands. “You’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you? Right here in the fucking street.”

There was no doubt that he could sense the pleasure soaking your thoughts with every passing second, the heat coiling up through your body, breaking you into soft trembles against the solid seams of durasteel.

Stars, this was wrong.

But there was something about it--about being pinned up, shameless, tits bared and groped in the middle of a dirty Corellian backstreet like some cheap outer rim whore, that had you feeling freer and fucking hotter than you ever had in your life.

Yes.

He could do anything. Take anything. And right now, you’d fucking give it to him.

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, head nodding in desperate submission as your fingers wiggled against their invisible bonds. It was like your body was coming alive for the first time, finally catalyzed to its transition state, now burning and shifting and begging silently for him not to fucking stop touching you.

“I want to know, little whore--” His hand spread over your bare collarbones, the wide junction of a thumb and forefinger pressing the base of your windpipe. A gasping little moan left you as his lips brushed your jugular, heat striking up through your belly and all the way into your neck when his other hand urged your thighs apart to tease your slit. "I want to know just how far you can take me down this pretty throat."

Everything in you shuddered, and your unrelenting bonds were probably all that held you up against the sudden lack of support that your knees offered. Kylo Ren pressed the tip of one thick finger inside you, barely curling at your soaked entrance.

“Do you think you can swallow my cock, lieutenant?”

“Fuck. Yes, yes sir, please.” The breathless response left you before you even registered what you were saying, so thick was the need enshrouding your brain. It muddled your hearing, put everything else on a sensory delay to the pulsing heat that slid down and coiled up in your core.

And that’s why you almost didn’t catch the gritted command before the strong presence of his body suddenly drew away from you, leaving your head spinning.

“Get on your knees.”

The Force evaporated from around your forearms. The loss of physical support nearly made you buckle, your body sagging against the fighter and leaving you to clutch at a ridge of metal for balance. You’d heard him, vaguely, but your brain still felt spectacularly slow. You were having trouble remembering which way was up, blinking against the low light, and the small hesitation was enough.

In a flash of movement, his saber cleared the clip on his belt, cracking the air in two as it ignited in his hand and leveled to heat your neck.

"Now.”

For a second, everything was extraordinarily still. Your lungs, your mind, even the faint drizzle of mist seemed to suspend in the air, vaporize around the searing plasma, and equilibrate into a deathly quiet.

The red aura vibrated in your immediate periphery, engulfing your retinas and casting everything around it in near-total blackness, unwavering in its proximity as the cold street pressed your knees.

A very marked shift took place in the state of your awareness as you knelt, waiting-- feeling. Everything was hazy and warm before, but now. Oh, now, everything was hot, and sharp.

The snap of plasma echoing through the empty street sounded somehow both hushed and magnified. The gravelly bite of duracrete into your knees was both painful and electrifying. And all you could do was sit here and accept the way Kylo Ren drank you in, just hold absolutely still and let the tip of the saber rotate to your front, the light of it illuminating your bare chest.

And, fuck. Oh, fucking Maker--

You were wet.

Every beat of your heart was an enunciated hit to your core, giving your arousal a wicked edge that cut into every last molecule of your body. Your cunt ached more with every pulse, and yet Ren just held there, his breaths shaking the damp air between you as he gazed at your naked tits under the light of a weapon that could kill you in half an instant.

You were possessed, the danger and thrill of it flooding your skin with intoxicating fire, and in a moment of what might have been either immense bravery or unfathomable stupidity, your hand began to move.

Very, very slowly, it pulled along your belly, fingers twitching to splay downwards. The saber heated your knuckles, following as you guided it all the way to the apex of your thighs, where you paused. And then you sat back on your heels, spread your knees as far as they would go, and curled your hips forward, letting the crimson light gleam off of the wet shine of your cunt.

“Fuck,” Ren rasped from the shadows, something delirious and urgent unearthing itself from the gravel of his voice. Somewhere beyond the snapping hum of the blade, you heard the slick sound of leather moving over flesh. “Fuck- touch yourself. Sh-show me--”

But you were already moving. Your fingers slid into the wet heat of your folds, tender with arousal, the flesh plumped up from abuse. You dragged your slick all over yourself, spreading for him, pulling up to circle your neglected clit and letting out a soft sigh at the relief that saturated you in a deluge.

The cool air did little now to temper the exquisite heat that flooded your body as you pleasured yourself openly for him, whimpering when you felt a familiar swell prime itself deep within you. It brightened with every practiced curl of your fingers, blooming outwards to rival the lightsaber that illuminated you steadily, and it wasn’t long before your thighs began to clench, your hips rocking against the movement of your hand while heady gasps punched your chest, that luminous heat coming closer and closer to a blinding apex.

You began to flutter, tightening with closeness, but the blade shot up under your chin, freezing you in the one movement.

“Don’t cum.”

Your heart slammed in your throat, every muscle locking into place where it was. You could feel errant sparks biting your skin, daring you not to move or speak.

And then darkness swallowed you, a hiss of steam resounding as the saber abruptly disengaged. The lingering imprint of it marred your sight, and you gasped when the whirl of movement in front of you turned into a large hand snaking into your hair, hips crowding your face, and the warm, solid length of Kylo Ren’s cock pressing against your cheek.

You whined, stiff muscles liquefying as you turned your mouth towards it, moisture already welling under your tongue. But his fingers tightened at your scalp, stopping you.

“See what you do to me, little thing?”

His other hand gripped around his base, letting the weight of his cock thump against your cheek once, twice. Fuck, he was so hard, and if you thought he was big before, it was even more obvious now that he was pressed right up against your face, so close to the soft heat of your mouth.

You nodded and whimpered, letting your cheek brush against his erection, still damp with your own slick. He rocked his hips forward, and the sheer breadth of his stature dwarfed you as he pressed in closer, until your face tilted and your jaw rested up against the hard plane of his adonis belt. Heat seeped into your cheekbone, radiating from the saber hilt strapped deftly back to his hip, like a warm sun to the earth and smoke of his body.

An absolutely crippling wave of desperation crashed through you then, pulling an audaciously loud moan up tight through your chest that morphed into a pitifully sobbed out, “Please.”

The hand in your hair gave a firm tug until you were looking straight up his torso, the glint of his eyes just visible to your adjusting sight. He held you there, his strength commanding, voice slipping like dark matter through his vocal cords when he spoke.

“Are you going to let this whole filthy fucking city hear what a little whore you are?” He rocked your head back and forth by your hair, turning your neck muscles to liquid. “Begging for my cock?”

You bit your lip, too far gone to deny or assent. Perhaps caution would still be the smart thing, but stars--you didn’t fucking care any more. You’d let every wretched street rat on Corellia hear you beg for him, if it came down to it right now.

Not trusting yourself to answer verbally, you simply let your mouth fall open so that your wet tongue could drag over the tiny slip of exposed skin above his groin, never once taking your eyes off of his shadowed face. Your reward was a thick groan and a twitch of his cock by your cheek, shooting a hot spasm into your core. Ren huffed out a tense breath.

“Keep that fucking mouth open.”

He drew back and pumped himself, long and slow right in front of your obediently waiting tongue, black glove squeezing almost too roughly along his shaft until a thick bead of pre cum wept from his slit. Your brow pinched upwards as saliva pooled behind your bottom lip, threatening to drip down onto the duracrete, seep into a blaster hole and add to the memory that this roughened street would keep of you, so soft and wanting, incongruous next to its grit.

Ren stepped forward, obliterating your thoughts as finally, finally, he rested his thick head on your tongue, removing his own hand and letting you test the full weight of him in your mouth. Your moan was almost a sob when you closed your lips and dragged your tongue across his frenulum, letting him feel you, swirling the pre cum from his tip before sliding him deeper into the hot depths of your mouth.

“Fuck, good girl,” he hissed, resting both hands in your hair, but not controlling. You took him another inch, tongue working to lubricate your path, satisfaction unfurling when his chest heaved at the feeling. The taste of him shot a primal fire through you, equal parts sharp and masculine, the remnants of your own cum leaving a tang on your taste buds.

Arousal careened through your belly, and you couldn’t help but dip your hand between your thighs, fingers finding your clit stiff and sensitive as your tongue passed over a thick vein.

But he caught your movement, and your hands were immediately wrenched upwards by an invisible strength, both wrists flying up and into the waiting grip of Ren’s palms. You squeaked.

“Impudent thing,” he growled, and wrapped your smaller hands around the base of his cock, securing your grip with a warning squeeze before carding his fingers into your hair again. “Keep them there.”

You gave a tiny nod and a shallow whimper, briefly mourning for your aching clit yet almost instantly distracted again by a twitch of his shaft on your tongue. Relaxing your jaw, you took him further, letting him begin to feel the tight silk of your throat.

“Fuck--” every muscle in Ren’s body seemed to go rigid enough to rival the durasteel frame of his ship, and his fingers clenched tighter into your hair. “Yes, take it--” he hissed as you slipped back an inch and enveloped him again, relaxing to take him deeper.

You found a steady rhythm like this, gradually acclimating to the feeling of intrusion. It became a little easier with each appreciative sound you drew from the commander, arousal permeating your body’s natural defenses and slackening them, even as your throat began to protest the moment you got about halfway down his cock.

But as hard as you tried to ignore the sensation of breathlessness, your lungs still screamed for air. You got maybe eight or nine good strokes in before your lips drew off of him with an obscene pop, slick hands taking over to work his length while you gasped a few starved breaths.

It would have been easy to stay like this, jaw slack, lips plump and wet, simply marveling at the hard and beautifully flushed appendage in your palms. But then a finger tapped twice under your chin, breaking your daze with a wordless command that struck an immediate response--your eyes flicked up.

“Are you determined to test my doubts in your capabilities, lieutenant?” He laid a flat palm under your jaw and ran his thumb over your blushed lips, leather slipping lewdly over saliva. “Or must I teach you everything?”

Your heart struck your pelvic floor, dread and excitement charging up like a shot from a plasma cannon. “N-no. I--” Heat surged into your face. “I me-mean, I, uh--” Fuck, it was stupid to think you were somehow out of hot water. He expected more. Always, always, expected more, and now you were going to have to play your cards carefully. You swallowed against the thundering of your pulse. “I c-can take it, Commander, ple-please--”

“Can you?” He wiggled your jaw slightly in his palm, face tilting until a sliver of moonlight slanted across it like a translucent scar. You tensed, resisting the urge to shrink. “Or should I have selected someone more adequate?”

The plasma charge inside you flared, fusing atoms of dread into something deadlier with the affront. Your teeth gnashed, tension breaking your body into trembles under the strain of caution. “N-no, sir.” A muscle in his face twitched. “Please, I was... I w-was just--”

“Perhaps I should return you to General Quinn,” he said. “I’m sure he would be more than accepting of such inferior talents--”

You lunged, and in a single, smooth stroke, you swallowed his cock straight to the base, your body heaving its protest with a soundless convulsion.

A noise strangled in Ren’s throat, and a firm hand slid around the nape of your neck to hold you there, gagging and completely stripped of any capacity for breath.

It probably would have been too much for you to handle, were it not for the hot sparks of indignation that quickly soldered each fissure in your resolve. Each one forced you to soften, to accept the agonizing incursion, if nothing else just to prove that you could.

Relax.

Tears welled as you glanced up, funneling all of your willpower into sacrificing your need for breath. Movement was impossible with him holding you there, but the huge hand on the back of your neck spasmed, and your opportunity struck.

Doe-eyed, you gazed up and swallowed, letting your pharynx flex and ripple around the thick head of him just as hot tears spilled over to soak your cheeks, and one hand curled around to cup him by the balls.

You could almost hear something in him snap with the choked roar he let out, and it made your chest swell even as both of his hands coiled roughly into your hair and locked your head back. You met his stare, fire in your own, and gave him a challenging squeeze. In less than a second, your hands were no longer your own, seized by the Force and shackled down to your thighs, just before his hips drew back and oxygen smacked your lungs with a less than pretty sound.

He gave you no time to recover before his cock was gagging you again, his rhythm punctuated and slow, each thrust forcing submission from your body. Gravel shifted under your knees as you trembled with all of the muscular tension that you redirected away from your jaw, the coarse pain of it serving as a welcome diversion from the intense sensation of having your throat fucked.

Relax. Control yourself.

Wetness began to streak your face, tears and saliva converging on your chin, and the vague thought shimmered in the back of your mind as to what you must look like right now: a slutty mess completely at your commander’s mercy, drawing choked breaths only when he allowed it, tongue fluttering soft and wet under his thick shaft while your clit fucking throbbed between your legs. But from the broken sound that Ren let out as he watched another violent gag roll through you, you’d have thought it was the hottest thing he’d ever witnessed.

His grunt bottomed out into a snarl as one hand slid out of your hair, his palm turning outwards while two of his fingers began to curl in a salacious motion.

The fluid sensation of the Force coiled and rippled across your clit at his command, its motions just like your own fingers but even better, making your eyes nearly roll back in your skull. Ren gave a knowing hum as your moan was choked down into your throat by another thrust of his cock, and a bend of his fingers sent a toe-curling rumble over your swollen bundle of nerves.

“That’s it, lieutenant.”

The sound of his voice slid down your body, settling low in your belly where your orgasm was starting to simmer again. Even the ache in your jaw began to meld into your pleasure, making your head swim and buzz with the renewed promise of climax.

Ren’s breathing started to crack and falter, coming in half-formed curses through his ribs as he continued to steadily fuck your mouth, and it was clear that he must have been leaning on the edge of closeness for some time as well. You could feel it in the way his cock pulsed on your tongue, the way his stomach began to tense and flex.

Fuck, the thought of it--Kylo Ren, this grand enigma steeped in poise and brutality, a man who could obliterate life with a flex of his hand, was about to pull you apart by the threads, shatter you into pleasure with that same power and cum down your fucking throat.

The wave of arousal that slammed you was almost maddening, and it was all you could do to flatten your tongue over your teeth and swallow thickly around his cock once more before everything was coiling up tight and fast inside you.

His voice shot you to the precipice with a gritted out, “Fucking whore, let me f-feel you cum--”

There was a moment before it hit, like the way a seismic charge pulls in all of the sound around it into a single devastating point, and then with a choked sob you shattered, pulses of ecstasy ripping through your body while your cunt spasmed and wept its bliss onto the street with each unrelenting surge of the Force at your clit, wringing convulsions from you until you began to shake from the intensity of your orgasm.

You blinked the fresh tears from your eyes just in time to see Ren snarl above you, jaw tight and hips stuttering as the tension in his body threatened to snap, echoing in a rough pull of your hair. Pain seared your scalp as he pulled you off of his cock just in time for the first jets of his release to coat your tongue.

He groaned, a harsh sound that rivaled your surroundings in its sheer impurity, and he wrenched your head back further, working his length while thick ropes hit your open, gasping mouth, splattering your lips and chin with his bitter taste. He was grunting, swearing, panting through clenched teeth, and then--

Your name. Not your title, not a mocking belittlement of your rank, but your name, cracked through his lips, a desperate sound half-buried in the delirious stream of filth.

Before you could even process what you just heard, he sharply released your hair and stepped back, your invisible restraints dissipating and leaving you to crumple over on yourself, gasping and trembling and painted in cum.

Slowly, through the ring of pleasure and shock in your ears, you rubbed your sore jaw, before using your fingers to gather the warm mess around your lips. But just when you were about to slip them into your mouth, his voice stopped you, a graveled whisper from the shadows.

“Look at me.”

Breathless, you looked up, suddenly conscious of how plump and stained your face felt as the cool air began to dry the tears on your cheeks. Ren had already adjusted himself to decency, but your walls still fluttered with aftershocks of pleasure at the sight of his huge stature, swelling with deep breaths like a sated, black tide under the moon. You gazed at him in the dim light, holding his stare while you dipped your slippery fingers into your mouth and dutifully sucked the cum off of them, admittedly letting your tongue lick out along your knuckles just a little more than you probably needed to.

Ren’s nostrils flared, and he took a few strides in your direction. When his hand came out towards your face you flinched, but he simply curled his fingers under your chin and slowly passed his thumb over a spot on your cheek that you had missed, expressionless as he pushed it through your parted lips. He watched you like this for the smallest moment before he drew away again.

Your mind felt blank; wiped and recalibrated by the staggering intensity of whatever your life had become over the past few hours. Exhaustion settled on you with the weight of a freighter. The one thing still tethering you to reality was the sensation of oxygen drawing in and out of your lungs, sweeter now than it had ever felt in your life despite the taste of grease and rust in the air.

Stiffly, you began to readjust your clothing, pulling your undershirt and coat back over your breasts before beginning the painful process of climbing to your feet. As shaky and sore as they were, your legs somehow supported you, and you managed to wrestle your pants back up over the curve of your ass, only fumbling a little to secure them around your waist.

For some reason it was only after you were covered again that you even thought to look around the alley, a brief pang of fear seizing your ribs, but it was just as still as when you’d landed. Just as empty, just as quiet. Maybe even moreso.

You glanced back around to Ren where he stood by the connecting beam of the ship’s wing, still and ruminative, a sleek device raised in his hand. After a moment, he pressed a button and spoke into it.

"Report."

A crackle of static peeled through.

“Have eyes, dropping in,” you could faintly hear the voice on the other end say, and a spear of alarm jabbed you back to sudden alertness. Ren's eyes flicked to you, his face stone.

“Clear to land,” the commander returned through the commlink, before tucking it back into his pocket.

Your heart pumped uneasily against your ribs, your face surely a canvas of confusion. Ren cast you a blank look before grabbing a metal ridge on the ship and smoothly disappearing into the cockpit again.

Okay, this was getting unnerving. But the whine of an engine snapped your attention to the sky, where a standard-issue TIE fighter was descending with predatory swiftness upon the alley, its headlights killed, swooping into a hover just behind Ren’s Silencer. Half-shielded by the wing already, you recoiled instinctively into the shadow of it, as if you could find safety in the way it jutted forward like a protective talon.

You jumped when heavy boots hit the ground next to you again, looking up to see a masked Kylo Ren. He watched the other fighter land, standing silently as its cockpit popped open with a whisper of hydraulics. A shadowed figure leapt out, and you took a few steps backwards as it strode in your direction, vaulting the wing-support beam of the Silencer in a smooth motion before coming to a halt in front of the commander.

“Ren,” a dusky voice rasped through the tinny filter of a vocoder. He was masked as well, similar yet altogether different from the commander he addressed; rougher-looking, shrouded in strange black armor. As you stared, his head quirked, the mask tilting to settle on you. “Who’s this?”

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren smut #kylo x reader #star wars fanfiction #smut #first lesson series #rough landing #my works #masterlist

855 notes · View notes